CHAP. I.

HAVING profeſſedly confined myſelf to the riſe and progreſs of the ſtage in this kingdom, I [2] ſhall decline entering into the minutiae of its origin in Greece, or its firſt introduction into Rome, Britain, or other countries; ſuch diſqui⯑ſitions would be foreign to my preſent purpoſe; moſt of theſe points are beſides ſufficiently known, and nearly all have been already ably treated on.

But, whilſt I endeavour to avoid every thing ſuperfluous or unneceſſary, I find myſelf obliged to confeſs, that my ſubject, at leaſt the earlier part of it, does not, by its fruitfulneſs, ſuffi⯑ciently compenſate for this excluſion. The era, on which I am about to enter, like the remote parts of all hiſtory, is not of a nature the moſt productive or entertaining: the informa⯑tion to be attained is but very little, and even that little ſo enveloped in the prevailing igno⯑rance and uncertainty of the times, that it affords but trifling materials for a clear or connected detail; even where accounts are moſt authentic, the remoteneſs of the periods prevents them from being, in any high degree, enlivened or intereſting.

At what time theatrical amuſements firſt ob⯑tained footing in this kingdom, has never yet been accurately aſcertained; the general opinion [3] is, that the drama aroſe later in this than in moſt countries of Europe. This peculiar excluſion of the ſtage, appears the more ſingular and ex⯑traordinary, as Ireland was ſo early celebrated as the ſeat of learning, and the parent of a ſuc⯑ceſſion of bards, poets, and men of eminent genius for ſeveral centuries. The Iriſh lan⯑guage is allowed to be remarkable for harmony, muſic, and variety of modulation; the fame of their bards in the earlier ages ſpread over all Europe. We are informed from the beſt autho⯑rity, that every ancient and noble family had, as one of their eſtabliſhed houſehold, a poet or hiſtoriographer, whoſe province it was, to cele⯑brate the martial and heroic deeds of their anceſ⯑tors, to record their eminent actions, and by ſinging their praiſes at all public and private aſſemblies, inſpire their deſcendants with a ge⯑nerous emulation: Even the kings had their poets laureat long before the invaſion of this iſland by the Engliſh; nay, in ſuch veneration were thoſe bards held, that they were permitted to wear robes of the ſame colour with the royal family; and had ample eſtates appropriated to them, that they might live in eaſe and inde⯑pendence. Every principal bard retained thirty of inferior note, and a bard of the ſecond claſs, [4] was attended by a retinue of fifteen; and in their great national triennial councils, where matters of the firſt importance were debated, they had particular ſeats allotted them.

Theſe bards ſeem to have been at their higheſt pitch of reputation about the year 558. Many of their compoſitions have reached us, which breathe all the beauty and ſweetneſs of eaſtern poetry, and reflect infinite honour on their me⯑mories. But, among all theſe, not a trace re⯑mains of any attempt towards a dramatic com⯑poſition: a circumſtance the more to be re⯑gretted, as thoſe pieces which they have left us are in the higheſt eſtimation, and afford us every reaſon to believe that this ſubject would have met with the moſt ample juſtice and ſupport in ſuch able hands.

But it is not this circumſtance alone, which gives us cauſe to wonder at the want of dramatic entertainments in this kingdom; a cuſtom, which in thoſe times, was prevalent throughout Europe, might be expected to have gained ſome eſtabliſhment here likewiſe. The cuſtom I allude to, is that of the myſteries or moralities, which were, with great popularity, repreſented [5] in moſt of the countries of Europe. Of theſe, however, the moſt minute inveſtigation will not furniſh us with the ſmalleſt traces here; unleſs we deem a claſs of mummers who ſtill ſtroll about the country at Chriſtmas, to be the remains of that kind of entertainment.

That the reader may have ſome idea of the nature of thoſe exhibitions, or myſteries, I ſhall ſelect an account of one in particular, which may ſerve to give us a little inſight into their general nature. It was exhibited in Cheſter, in the year 1327; continued for ſeveral days, and drew together a prodigious concourſe of people from all the adjacent country. In order that theſe people might be indulged in a greater facility of ſeeing and hearing, an amphitheatre was raiſed, for the occaſion, in a large open field, where the pro⯑ſpect was extended and uninterrupted. The repreſentation of one of thoſe pieces, which they called a play, took up ſeveral days, and, being attended with heavy expences, were performed at the charge of the different trading companies.

The firſt piece exhibited was, the Fall of Lucifer, the characters perſonated by the [6] company of Tanners; the ſecond, the Creation, by the Drapers; the third, the Deluge, by the Dyers; the fourth, Abraham, Melchiſedech and Lot, by the Barbers; the fifth, Moſes, Balak and Balaam, by the Carpenters; the ſixth, the Salutation and Nativity, by the Wrights; the ſeventh, the Shepherds feeding their Flocks by night, by the Painters and Gla⯑ziers; the eighth, the Three Kings of the Eaſt, by the Vintners; the ninth, the Oblation of the Three Kings, by the Mercers; the tenth, the Killing of the Innocents, by the Goldſmiths; the eleventh, the Purification, by the Black-ſmiths; the twelfth, the Temptation, by the Butchers; the thirteenth, the Laſt Supper, by the Bakers; the fourteenth, the Blindman and Lazarus, by the Glovers; the fifteenth, Jeſus and the Lepers, by the Corveſaries; the ſixteenth, Chriſt's Paſſion, by the Bowyers, Fletchers and Ironmongers; the ſeventeenth, the Deſcent into Hell, by the Cooks and Inn-keep⯑ers; the eighteenth, the Reſurrection, by the Skinners; the nineteenth, the Aſcenſion, by the Taylors; the twentieth, the Election of Saint Matthias, ſending of the Holy Ghoſt, &c. by the Fiſhmongers; the twenty-firſt, Antichriſt, by the Clothiers; and the twenty-ſecond, the Day of Judgment, by the Webſters.

[7]Each of thoſe pieces had their reſpective machinery, and the actors were dreſſed accord⯑ing to their ideas of character. The perform⯑ance was called, A repreſentation of the Old and New Teſtament. The reader may, perhaps, ſmile at the whimſical combinations of ſeveral of theſe pieces and performers; but that he may conceive a more perfect idea of the manner of conducting them, the proceeding was as follows:

The Deity, repreſented as an old man, firſt enters, creating the world: that done, he breathes life into Adam, leads him into paradiſe, and opens his ſide while ſleeping; Adam and Eve next appear, naked, but void of ſhame at being ſo; the old ſerpent then enters lamenting his fall; he converſes with Eve and tempts her; ſhe eats of the forbidden fruit, and gives part to Adam; they find themſelves naked, and being no longer ſo innocently unconſcious of their ſituation, ſeek for a remedy, and, accord⯑ing to their words, in the ſtage direction from the manuſcript, look out for Subligacula a foliis quibus tegamus pudenda; they cover their nakedneſs, and converſe with God's curſe; the ſerpent exits hiſſing. They are next repreſented as driven from paradiſe by four angels, and [8] the cherubim with a flaming ſword. Then Adam appears digging the ground and Eve ſpinning. Their children Cain and Abel then enter; the former kills his brother; Adam's lamentation; Cain is baniſhed, &c. A ſtrange medley! and ſufficient to ſhew us at once both the inclination of the times for theatrical repre⯑ſentations, and their rudeneſs in the execution of them.

But to return to my ſubject.—It was the unfortunate lot of the ſtage in this country, that its introduction and earlier progreſs were attended with more than uſual uncertainty. The ſiſter kingdom, can, with the greateſt accuracy, trace the advances of her Drama, ſtep by ſtep, among them, from the conqueſt to the preſent times; but theſe advantages are denied us. The period generally agreed upon for its firſt introduction into this kingdom, is the early part of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. But an abſtract from the annals of this city, mentions the performance of ſome plays in Henry the eighth's time, before the earl of Oſſory, then lord lieutenant, and ſeveral of the nobility in Hoggin-green, now called College-green.

[9]What theſe plays were, whether myſteries, moralities or interludes, we are left to con⯑jecture. But it muſt be remembered, that the firſt piece which bore the leaſt reſemblance to dramatic compoſition in the Engliſh language, was written about this time by John Heywood, the epigrammatiſt, and called Gammer Gurton's Needle. It is, indeed, on every account, pro⯑bable, that the introduction of the Drama into this kingdom was much earlier than is uſually imagined. The univerſal inclination, which all nations, even the moſt rude and uncultivated, have ever ſhewn for this ſpecies of entertain⯑ment, the peculiar taſte of this country for literature, with ſeveral other concurring reaſons, render it highly improbable, that Ireland ſhould ſtand a ſingle exception to ſo general an inſtitu⯑tion.

At the time, however, of Elizabeth, accounts became at leaſt more authentic. The inter⯑courſe between the two kingdoms was then more frequent. The Engliſh ſtage was riſing to higher repute, and could hardly fail of impart⯑ing to us, ſomething of that regularity which obſervation and experience had ſuggeſted to them. Shakeſpeare, Maſſinger, Beaumont, [10] Fletcher, and Johnſon, roſe to enlighten and refine the age, and we may, without prejudice or partiality, conclude, that Ireland partook, at leaſt in a remote degree, of this ſenſible change in the republic of letters. We are told, indeed, that Shakeſpeare's writings were at that time as high in eſtimation here as in London.

We have not, however, any account of a re⯑gular theatre being then eſtabliſhed here. Plays were occaſionally exhibited, as was cuſtomary in England, in the houſes of noblemen and gentlemen. Some of them, we find, were per⯑formed in the ball-room of the Caſtle of Dublin, in which the nobility were the principal actors. Mr. Aſhbury, afterwards manager, was in⯑formed by Mr. Ogilby, then deputy maſter of the revels, of ſome repreſentations there, at the latter end of Elizabeth's reign, when Blount, Lord Mountjoy, was lord-lieutenant, and it is thought that the gentlemen of the court were the performers on this occaſion. One of the plays then acted was Gorboduc, written by the right honourable Thomas Sackville, lord Buck⯑hurſt. Mr. Aſhbury ſaw a bill for wax-tapers, dated the 7th of September, 1601, queen Eliza⯑beth's birth day, for the play of Gorboduc, done [11] at the caſtle, one and twenty ſhillings and two groats. This dramatic piece was eſteemed the beſt of its kind at the time it was written. It was a favourite play of queen Elizabeth's; and was performed by the gentlemen of the Inner Temple, Whitehall, before the queen on the 18th of January, 1561, long before Shakeſpeare appeared on the ſtage.

This anecdote excepted, we find little relative to the ſtage, till the year 1635, the tenth of king Charles I. when the firſt theatre in Dublin was raiſed. It was built in Werburgh-ſtreet, and eſtabliſhed by John Ogilby, Eſq who was then hiſtoriographer to his majeſty, and maſter of the revels under the earl of Stafford, lord lieute⯑nant of this kingdom. This building we may reaſonably conclude, was far from poſſeſſing that convenience or elegance which modern improvements in theatrical architecture have enabled us to attain. Nor can we entertain a very high idea of the variety of its ſcenery and decorations. Even the London theatres, in Shakeſpeare's days, were conſiderably deficient in thoſe particulars. But notwithſtanding, we are informed, that this was tolerably large and commodious, with a gallery and pit; but no [12] boxes, except one on the ſtage for the lord lieutenant.

So very little can be collected with any degree of certainty of the company who performed at this theatre, that not even their names, or but few of the pieces they acted, have been tranſ⯑mitted to us. Almoſt all that can be aſcertained is, that they played with good ſucceſs, and were much followed. In 1638, three years after their commencement, they produced a new play, called the Royal Maſter, written by Shirley, an intimate friend of the manager. This writer, we are told, poſſeſſed ſome ſketches of Beaumont and Fletcher; which, if true, in a great meaſure accounts for the inequality ſo evident in all his pieces. The next year brought forth a tragi⯑comedy called Langartha, written by Henry Burnell, Eſq a native of Ireland. This piece was for ſeveral years in poſſeſſion of the ſtage, and was afterwards printed with theſe words in the title page, "as acted at the New Theatre in Dublin, 1641, with great applauſe." But to our mortification, none of the actors names were inſerted in the dramatis perſonae. Tragi⯑comedies were at this time highly in vogue. The plot of this play was taken from the Daniſh [13] hiſtory of Saxo Gramaticus, and 'tis whimſical enough to obſerve, that the prologue was ſpoken by an Amazon, armed with a battle-axe, to beſpeak the favour of the audience. It was, perhaps, in alluſion to this circumſtance, that the duke of Buckingham afterwards ſo ſucceſsfully introduced his prologue of Thunder and Light⯑ning in the Rehearſal.

But this fair beginning, and ſeemingly proſ⯑perous advance of the ſtage, received, a ſhort time after, a ſevere blow. Langartha was the laſt play that was acted at Werburgh-ſtreet theatre. The rebellion breaking out in the October of the ſame year 1641, involved the whole kingdom in confuſion. The drama naturally ſhared the fate of the ſtate, with which it was ſo intimately connected. The theatre was ſhut up by order of the lords juſtices, and never afterwards opened. What became of the performers we cannot learn. Perhaps, like ſome of their brethren in London on a ſimilar occaſion, they entered into the ſer⯑vice of their king and country. Of the manager, Mr. Ogilby, we are told, that, exhauſted and reduced by various misfortunes, he returned to England, where he intended to remain till the tumults ſhould ſubſide, and a happier revolution [14] of affairs afford him an opportunity of reſuming his former ſituation with ſafely and ſatisfaction.

A period of twenty years elapſed, before this wiſhed for change took place. At length, however, the nation having wearied itſelf out by inteſtine commotions, and Charles the ſecond being happily placed on the throne, things began to recover an appearance of tranquillity. At this time Mr. Ogilby's friends procured him a renewal of the patent from his majeſty, and in 1662 he returned to this kingdom, to the particular joy of his own acquaintance, and the ſatisfaction of the public in general. Compaſ⯑ſion for his ſufferings, and a reviving taſte for the drama in a ſhort time operated with ſuch force, as to influence the nobility and gentry to ſubſcribe towards the building of a new theatre. Smock-alley, then called Orange-ſtreet, was the ſpot fixed on: a place by its central ſituation, peculiarly adapted for ſuch a purpoſe. The foun⯑dation was quickly laid, and the work advanced with ſuch rapidity as to be ready for repre⯑ſentations in the ſame year 1662. A tragedy called Pompey, from the French of Corneille, was then acted at this theatre. This tranſ⯑lation was by Mrs. Catherine Phillips, the famed [15] Orinda, termed by her cotemporary poets the Engliſh Sappho. We hear alſo of another of this lady's tranſlations from the ſame author, called Horace. Neither of thoſe pieces were acted in England till after her death in 1664, near two years later than their performance here.

If we may be allowed to form an idea of the elegance of this theatre from its expence, we muſt imagine it to have been very conſiderable, as it is ſaid to have coſt upwards of two thouſand pounds, a great sum at that time; eſpecially when it is recollected, that new ſcenery and de⯑corations had not then been introduced, even in England. In all probability Smock-alley theatre was ſuperior to thoſe then in London; for according to Downes, ‘on the reſtoration, the ſcattered remnants of ſix play-houſes, which ſubſiſted in king Charles the firſt's time, formed a company and acted again at the Bull Play Houſe, then built them a new theatre in Gib⯑bons Tennis-Court, Clare-Market, at which two places they continued acting 1660, 1661, 1662, and part of 1663.’ The haſte however with which it was raiſed, was ſhortly after nearly proving fatal to it: for in the year 1671, during the repreſentation, part of it fell down, by which [16] accident two were killed, and many ſeverely wounded. This misfortune put another total ſtop to dramatic entertainments for a long time. By thoſe repeated croſſes and failures, Mr. Ogilby was at length ſo worn out and diſguſted, that finding his ſucceſs by no means correſpondent to his expectations, he finally returned to London, where he died in 1676.

CHAP. II.

THE death of Mr. Ogilby proved the fore⯑runner of a long interval of inaction to the ſtage. New troubles ariſing, and freſh tumults breaking forth, prevented its reſtoration. The unſettled ſtate of the kingdom during the ſecond James's reign, kept the public mind in too con⯑tinued a ſtate of alarm and apprehenſion to admit of any calm or peaceable relaxation. The peo⯑ple will neceſſarily attend to the preſervation of their ſafety, before they give way to the grati⯑fication of pleaſure. It was beſide, peculiarly the fate of this kingdom to bear a conſpicuous [18] part in the prevailing diſturbances, and be the melancholy ſcene of action for moſt of the events which enſued. Thus ſituated, every refined and rational entertainment was cruſhed, and ſup⯑preſſed by the hand of violence.

For theſe reaſons, the re-eſtabliſhment of the theatre did not take place, till the revolution had once more reſtored tranquillity, and preſented a proſpect of peace with her ſmiling train, re⯑turning to bleſs this divided kingdom with her permanent abode. Amongſt the various teſti⯑monies of joy for this event, the public deter⯑mined on the performance of a play. But the difficulty lay in procuring performers. The re⯑gular actors were diſperſed and ſcattered by the late war, and it was impoſſible at once to re⯑collect them. To ſupply this emergency, and at the ſame time to gratify their own inclinations, ſeveral gentlemen, principally officers about the caſtle, agreed to exhibit the tragedy of Othello. Mr. Aſhbury, who happened then to be in Dublin, was the only profeſſional actor amongſt them. He played Iago, and, from his approved knowledge of the drama, had the conduct of the whole. This play was performed gratis, at Smock-alley theatre, ſome time in December [19] 1691, and is marked by a peculiar circumſtance, which to every theatrical reader cannot fail to render it highly intereſting.

Amongſt the gentlemen who performed, was the celebrated Mr. Wilkes, who afterwards proved ſo great an ornament to the ſtage. This gentleman was deſcended from an antient family, ſeated for many generations at Broomſgrove in Worceſterſhire. The grandfather of our famous comedian, Judge Wilkes, raiſed a troop of horſe at his own expence, which was commanded by his brother colonel Wilkes, and voluntarily entered into the ſervice of king Charles the firſt, during the civil wars. But matters taking ſo unfortunate a turn with the royal party, the family ſuffered every perſecution which the violence of the times could ſuggeſt, and was at laſt obliged to take ſhelter in Ireland. It was at Rathfarnham, near Dublin, in the year 1670, that our hero was born. He received a liberal education, and it was, probably, from his ſkill in penmanſhip, that he was placed under ſecretary Southwell, as principal clerk. He here contracted an intimacy with Mr. Richards, an actor of great merit, who belonged to the Smock-alley company before it was broken up. During his acquaintance with this gentleman, [20] he uſed frequently to hear him rehearſe his parts, and was ofttimes induced to repeat ſome of the foregoing ſpeeches. The uncom⯑mon propriety of his delivery, and the many compliments he received on theſe occaſions, were the firſt means of attaching his mind to the ſtage, and ſo fully was his fame eſtabliſhed, that at the time of performing this play, the part of Othello was unanimouſly allotted to him, in conſideration of his ſuperior abilities. His execution of this difficult character ſo far exceeded the expectations of every one preſent, that from that time, he determined to give up his employment, though extremely lucrative, and devote his future life and abilities to the ſtage. The performance of this play, proved the means of reviving a ſpirit for dramatic exhi⯑bitions in this kingdom, and offered a favourable opportunity of re-eſtabliſhing the theatre.

On the death of Mr. Ogilby, in 1672, the patent, together with the office of maſter of the revels, was, by means of his intereſt with the duke of Ormond, conferred on Mr. Aſhbury. As this gentleman deſervedly claims a conſpi⯑cuous place in the following pages, it will be neceſſary to inform my readers, that he was born [21] in London, in the year 1638, of a reſpectable family, and received a claſſical education at Eaton ſchool. After the death of his father, his friends procured him a pair of colours in the army, under the duke of Ormond, with whom he firſt viſited this kingdom, in the laſt year of Oliver Cromwell's adminiſtration. During the war he had ſeveral opportunities of ſignalizing himſelf; particularly when governor Jones was ſeized in the Caſtle of Dublin, and ſecured in favour of Charles the Second. His merit ſoon raiſed him to the rank of lieutenant of foot, and ſhortly after, the duke of Ormond, then lord lieutenant, with whom he was in conſiderable favour, made him one of the gentlemen of his retinue, and deputy maſter of the revels under Mr. Ogilby.

Judging the preſent a favourable opportunity, Mr. Aſhbury applied to ſeveral of the nobility and gentry to promote the re-eſtabliſhment of the ſtage, and receiving very great encourage⯑ment, he repaired to London, to try what forces he could muſter. His ſucceſs there, was beyond his expectation. He returned with a number of capital performers, particularly the well-known Mrs. Butler, an actreſs of great [22] repute, and a prodigious favourite with King Charles the Second. This monarch had honour⯑ed her, by naming her chriſtian name Charlotte, and, as ſhe grew up, recommended her to the theatre, to which ſhe proved a valuable acqui⯑ſition. She was not only a good actreſs, but an excellent ſinger and dancer. Her fort chiefly conſiſted in comic characters. But ſhe was by no means confined to one line: for, with an elegant air, a ſweet-toned voice, and a ſenſible pronunciation, ſhe ſuſtained many parts in ſerious comedies with much reputation. In charac⯑ters of humour, ſhe was gay, lively, and enter⯑taining, and her ſecond Conſtantia in the Chances, was allowed by Cibber, who ſaw them both, to be ſuperior to Mrs. Oldfield's.

The circumſtance which proved the cauſe of her engaging with Mr. Aſhbury, may ſerve to ſhew us the humble ſtate of the London theatres at that time. Mrs. Butler, though at the head of her profeſſion, had a ſalary of no more than forty ſhillings per week; and it was in a fit of diſguſt, at not being able to obtain an increaſe of ten ſhillings, that ſhe liſtened to Mr. Aſhbury's propoſals. With her were engaged Mr. Wilkes, [23] and Mr. Eſtcourt, who had not as yet appeared on any ſtage, and was only known as a mimic.

With ſuch a company, and with the ſkill in Dramatic affairs which Mr. Aſhbury was allowed to have poſſeſſed, he could not fail of ſucceſs. He opened with Othello, March the 23d 1692, the day of proclaiming the end of the Iriſh war, and continued performing for ſeveral ſeaſons with the higheſt credit and profit. Many per⯑formers of eminence viſited Dublin during this period; amongſt the men, the names of Wilkes, Dogget, Keen, Norris, Griffith, Trefuſis, Eſtcourt, and afterwards Elrington, ſtand in high eſtimation. His principal ladies were Mrs. Aſhbury, his own wife, an excellent figure, and good actreſs, particularly in tender charac⯑ters in tragedy, and elegant ladies in comedy, Mrs. Knightly, Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Schoolding, Mrs. Hook, beſides the above-mentioned Mrs. Butler.

Some years after he received another conſider⯑able acceſſion of ſtrength. Barton Booth, Eſq having in vain applied to Mr. Betterton for admiſſion to the London ſtage, arrived in 1698 in Dublin. His ſucceſs was here much better, [24] and he agreed with the manager, to make his firſt appearance in Oroonoko. This he per⯑formed to a crouded houſe, and ſo much delighted Mr. Aſhbury, that immediately after the performance, he made him a preſent of five guineas; a ſum which, tho' not very conſiderable, was, however, peculiarly acceptable to him, as his laſt ſhilling was haſtening faſt to diſſolution. By this acceſſion, the company was rendered reſpectable, and continued to perform with very great ſucceſs. Indeed, if we may credit Mr. Chetwood, who was for a long time con⯑verſant with the ſtage, the performers at that time were not inferior to any ſince. But to convey every information which the ſubject admits of, I ſhall beg leave to preſent the reader with the manner in which three of Sir George Etheridge's comedies (then in great eſtimation) were performed; as alſo, with the repreſenta⯑tion of two more plays ſome years after, that he may be enabled both to judge of the ſtrength of the company, and the revolutions it ex⯑perienced during that time.

[25]About the year 1695, were performed,

• Lord Bevil by Mr. Schoolding.
• Lord Beaufort Mr. Buckley.
• Colonel Bruce Mr. Booth.
• Louis Mr. Keen.
• Sir Frederick Frolic Mr. Wilkes.
• Dufoy Mr. Bowen.
• Sir Nicholas Cully Mr. Norris.
• Wheedle Mr. Eſtcourt.
• Palmer Mr. Trefuſis.
• Graciana Mrs. Knightly.
• Aurelia Mrs. Aſhbury.
• Mrs. Rich Mrs. Hook.
• Letitia Mrs. Harriſon.
• Mrs. Grace Mrs. Martin.
• Jenny Mrs. Schoolding.

• Sir Oliver Cockwood by Mr. Norris.
• Sir Joſlin Jolly Mr. Eſtcourt.
• Mr. Courtall Mr. Wilkes.
• [26]Mr. Freeman by Mr. Booth.
• Mr. Rakehell Mr. Griffith.
• Thomas Mr. Trefuſis.
• Lady Cockwood Mrs. Smith.
• Ariana Mrs. Schoolding.
• Gatty Mrs. Hook.
• Mrs. Sentry Mrs. Aſhbury.
• Mrs. Gazet Mrs. Harriſon.
• Mrs. Trinket Mrs. Martin.

• Dorimant by Mr. Wilkes.
• Medley Mr. Booth.
• Old Bellair Mr. Eſtcourt.
• Young Bellair Mr. Elliot.
• Sir Fopling Flutter Mr. Griffith.
• Shoe-maker Mr. Bowen.
• Handy Mr. Norris.
• Parſon Mr. Trefuſis.
• Lady Townly Mrs. Smith.
• Loveit Mrs. Knightly.
• Belinda Mrs. Schoolding.
• [27]Emilia by Mrs. Elliott.
• Lady Woodville Mrs. Martin.
• Harriet Mrs. Aſhbury.
• Pert Mrs. Hook.
• Buſy Mrs. Harriſon.
• Orange Woman Mrs. Croſs.

About the year 1715, were performed,

• Timon by Mr. Th. Elrington.
• Alcibiades Mr. Evans.
• Apemantus Mr. Aſhbury.
• Nicias Mr. Fra. Elrington.
• Phoeax Mr. Thurmond.
• Oelius Mr.Trefuſis.
• Cleon Mr. Quin.
• Iſidore Mr. Hall.
• Thraſillus Mr. Dougherty.
• Demetrius Mr. Leigh.
• Poet Mr. Griffith.
• Painter Mr. Oates.
• Jeweller Mr. Bowman.
• Muſician Mr. Hallam.
• [28]Evandre by Mrs. Thurmond.
• Meliſſa Mrs. Wilkins.
• Chloe Mrs. Haywood.
• Thais Miſs Wilſon.
• Phrynia Miſs Schoolding.

Mrs. Haywood, mentioned here, was the au⯑thoreſs of the Fruitleſs Enquiry, and many other novels, as well as of three dramatic pieces. The Fair Captive, a tragedy; Wife to be Let, a comedy; and Frederick Duke of Brunſwick. Theſe pieces all died on their firſt viſiting the world.

• Colonel Careleſs by Mr. Aſhbury.
• Colonel Blunt Mr. Tho. Elrington.
• Lieutenant Story Mr. Evans.
• Mr. Day Mr. Fran. Elrington.
• Abel Mr. Quin.
• Obadiah Mr. Trefuſis.
• Teague Mr. Griffith.
• 1ſt Committee Man Mr. Hall.
• 2d Ditto Mr. Binns.
• [39]3d Committee Man by Mr. Bowman.
• Bookſeller Mr. Hallam.
• Bailiff Mr. Kendal.
• Mrs. Day Mrs. Martin.
• Arabella Mrs. Aſhbury.
• Ruth Mrs. Thurmond.
• Mrs. Chat Miſs Schoolding.

In the above play the celebrated Mr. Quin made his firſt appearance in the character of Abel.

"Diſtinguiſhed characters in the bills," ſays Mr. Chetwood, ‘at the time theſe plays were performed, were not in faſhion. They were printed in order, according as they ſtood, not regarding the merit of the actor. As for example, in Macbeth,—Dun⯑can, king of Scotland, appeared firſt in the bills, though acted by an inſignificant actor: and ſo every other perſon appeared, accord⯑ing to his dramatic dignity, all of the ſame ſized letter. But,’ adds he, ‘I can aſſure my readers, I have found it very difficult to pleaſe them, and ſome were to very fond of elbow-room, that they would have ſhoved [30] every body out but themſelves: as if one perſon was to do all, and have the merit of all. Like generals of an army, ſuch a victory was gained by ſuch a king, and ſuch a prince, while the other officers and ſoldiers were forgot. But as Trim tells us, in The Funeral, or Grief A-la-Mode, fifty thouſand of ſuch raſcals will make an Alexander.’

It may not be amiſs here, to take ſome notice of Mr. George Farquhar, who, though not a performer of eminence, by his writings at leaſt, will ever reflect honour on his country and him⯑ſelf. He was was born in Derry, in the year 1678, and entered into the Univerſity of Dublin, 1694. His father, dying ſoon after, he was left at full liberty to follow his own inclina⯑tions: when, by the intereſt of Mr. Wilkes, who was his particular friend through life, he was recommended to the manager of Smock-alley, in 1695, who engaged him at the low ſalary of twenty ſhillings per week. His firſt appearance was in Othello, in which he gained ſome applauſe. But he ſeemed not by nature to have been intended for the ſtage. His voice was weak, and he was ſubject to a timidity, which precluded all boldneſs of exertion, and [31] which his utmoſt efforts could never overcome. However, with the recommendations of a grace⯑ful perſon, and a ſenſible delivery, he remained for ſome time on the ſtage, and was tolerably well received. How long he might have con⯑tinued in this line, we know not; had not an unlucky accident which happened in 1697, put a period to his performing. Being to play Guyo⯑mar in the Indian Emperor, who kills Vaſquez, and having forgot to change his ſword for a foil, he wounded Mr. Price, who acted Vaſquez, dangerouſly, though not fatally. The impreſſion which this accident made on a mind ſo ſenſible, and the reflection on what might have been the conſequences, determined him to relinquiſh a profeſſion which might, perhaps, expoſe him to ſimilar miſtakes in future. He reſolved, there⯑fore, to comply with the frequent ſolicitations of his friend, Mr. Wilkes, who knew that the bent of his genius, was much more inclined to⯑wards writing than acting. Accordingly, having obtained a free benefit from Mr. Aſhbury, ever a friend to merit, he ſet off for London with the rough copy of Love and a Bottle. This piece was brought out, ſhortly after, with great ſuc⯑ceſs, and was ſoon ſucceeded by another, the Conſtant Couple, which in 1700, had a run in [32] London of 53, and in Dublin of 23 nights, cir⯑cumſtances which, every thing conſidered, were equally extraordinary.

In 1704 he again viſited Dublin, when his finances, like thoſe of moſt authors being low, and failing in a ſubſcription for his works, he obtained leave from the duke of Ormond, lord lieutenant, (being at that time in the army) to perform his own Sir Harry Wildair for a benefit. This attempt, though it augmented his finances, by bringing him in a hundred pounds, proved no increaſe to his theatrical reputation. He did not acquit himſelf at all to the ſatisfaction of his friends. His fate, indeed, ſeems to have been ſimilar to that of many excellent dramatic authors, whoſe acting is by no means equal to their writing, and who are incapable of repreſenting what they themſelves compoſe. Shortly after this, Mr. Farquhar returned to London, where he died in 1707, beloved and ſincerely lamented. The particulars of his death are too well known to require mentioning here.

Mr. Wilkes did not remain in Dublin long after his friend. On the death of Horden in [33] 1698, he received an invitation from Mr. Rich, manager of Covent-Garden, with an offer of four pounds a week. This was a propoſal too flattering to be rejected. The ſalary was at that time extraordinary, and equal to Mr. Bet⯑terton's. He accordingly took leave of Mr. Aſhbury. They parted good friends, nor did the manager repine at his loſs, when his ſudden advancement was the cauſe. His merit in a ſhort time raiſed him to the head of his profeſſion, and in 1711, we find him paying another viſit to his native country. Here he ſtaid three months, during which time he performed his favourite character of Sir Harry Wildair, nine⯑teen nights ſucceſſively at Smock-alley theatre.

Some time before this event, a remarkable circumſtance happened, which ſtrongly marks the ſuperſtitious caſt of the public mind. On St. Stephen's day, in the year 1701, the galleries of the theatre being uncommonly crouded, gave way, and, though no lives were loſt, yet ſeveral were hurt in endeavouring to get out. As this happened to be the firſt night of per⯑forming Shadwell's Libertine, a play extremely looſe, and improper for repreſentation, it gave occaſion to the people, to declare that the acci⯑dent [34] was a judgment on the ſpectators, for going to ſee it. Nay, ſo far did their extravagance carry them, that it was even aſſerted by ſome, that the candles burnt blue, and went out, that two or three times a dancer extraordinary, whom nobody knew, was ſeen, that he had a cloven foot, &c. &c. with many other ridicu⯑lous ſtories. This gentleman, I ſuppoſe it was, who made free with the galleries, and was the author of the whole diſturbance. This circum⯑ſtance, however, occaſioned its not being per⯑formed again for 20 years. It muſt, indeed, be confeſſed, that, though this accident might as well have happened at any other time, yet this piece is of a nature ſo very horrid, that it ſhould never be brought before the public; it has, therefore, with great propriety been laid aſide for many years, I hope never to be revived.

The next remarkable occurrence with regard to the ſtage, is the death of one of its principal ornaments, Joſeph Aſhbury, Eſq July 24th, 1720. He died at the advanced age of 82, retaining to his laſt moments his faculties entire. Mr. Aſhbury had always maintained an excellent character. He was eſteemed not only the beſt actor but the beſt teacher in the three kingdoms. [35] So high indeed was his reputation in the latter character, that he inſtructed the princeſs Anne, afterwards queen, in the part of Semandra in Mithridates, king of Pontus, which was acted by perſons of the firſt rank in the Banquetting-Houſe, Whitehall, where Mr. Aſhbury was prompter and conductor of the whole buſineſs. His abilities were peculiarly adapted to the ſitua⯑tion which he filled. He appears to have been poſſeſſed of much judgment in theatrical affairs, and under his management the Iriſh ſtage roſe to a degree of reſpectability, which it had not hitherto experienced. Nor was his private life leſs amiable or happy than his public. Univer⯑ſally beloved by a numerous acquaintance, and remarkably fortunate in the conjugal ſtate, his length of life was unaccompanied by a diminution of regard from his friends, and he was quickly followed to the grave, by a faithful and affec⯑tionate wife. Mr. Chetwood, who ſaw him in the decline of life, ſays ‘his perſon was of an advantageous height, well proportioned, and manly; and notwithſtanding his great age, erect: a countenance that demanded a reve⯑rential awe: a full, meaning eye, piercing, though not in its full luſtre, and yet I have ſeen him read letters and printed books without [36] any aſſiſtance from art. A ſweet ſounding, manly voice, without any ſymptoms of age in his ſpeech.’—He was maſter of the revels in Ireland under five monarchs, viz. king Charles the 2d, king James the 2d, king William the 3d, queen Anne, and king George the 1ſt.

CHAP. III.

AFTER the death of Mr. Aſhbury, the management of the theatre devolved to his ſon-in-law, Thomas Elrington, Eſq a gentleman of genius and ability, well qualified for ſo arduous an undertaking. He alſo ſucceeded his father-in-law as deputy maſter of the revels, and ſteward to the King's Inns of Court, then on the Inns-Quay. Still more to eſtabliſh his intereſt, and mark the favour in which he was held, a poſt in the Quit Rent Office was conferred upon him, and he was made gunner to the train of artillery, a gift of his friend lord Mountjoy, which, at the death of that nobleman, he had [38] permiſſion to diſpoſe of. This accumulation of favours on the manager, ſpoke fair for the ſuc⯑ceſs of the theatre; nor were the expectations of the public diſappointed. The ſtage, which his predeceſſor had taken ſuch pains to replant and cheriſh, was under his prudent conduct improved and extended. Its reputation was eſtabliſhed, and its profeſſors held in high eſtimation. Many of the firſt actors occaſionally viſited Dublin, particularly Mr. Henry Giffard, who came over to this kingdom from Lincoln's-Inn theatre in 1724, and remained till 1730, when he returned to London, and commenced manager of Good⯑man's Fields, a ſtation he filled many years with credit.—Amongſt the conſtant reſidents, we find Thomas Griffith, Eſq a gentleman deſcended from an ancient family in Wales, an excellent actor in comedy, a man of genius and an un⯑blemiſhed character, of whom I ſhall hereafter have occaſion to ſpeak, a Mr. John Evans, Mr. Vanderbank, Mr. Huſband, &c.

All the new pieces brought out at the London theatres were, under this judicious manager, carefully got up, and exhibited with reputation. The principal of theſe were, the Bold Stroke for a Wife, of Mrs. Centlivres; the Siege of Da⯑maſcus, [39] by Hughes; the Refuſal and Provoked Huſband, of Cibber; Buſiris and Revenge of Dr. Young; Steele's Conſcious Lovers, Gay's Beggars Opera, and Lillo's George Barnwell: concerning the two laſt, their great merit, and the ſingularity of their firſt reception, demand particular mention; and as the circumſtances are not generally known, I ſhall beg leave to treſpaſs on my readers patience by relating them.

Mr. Gay, the author of the Beggars Opera, was a man of acknowledged abilities. His former eminent productions, joined to his amiable cha⯑racter in private life, had ſecured him the friend⯑ſhip of the moſt diſtinguiſhed writers of the age. Under theſe circumſtances, and with ſuch in⯑trinſic merit as the Beggars Opera is allowed to poſſeſs, it might naturally be expected to have met with that reception which it after⯑wards ſo warmly experienced. But, this was by no means the caſe. The managers of Drury⯑lane, to whom it was firſt offered, peremptorily rejected it. Were it not authenticated beyond contradiction, we ſhould ſcarce credit, that ſuch judges as Wilkes, Booth, and Cibber muſt be of dramatic writing, ſhould be ſo far deceived [40] as to heſitate a moment in their opinion of ſuch a piece. It was with great difficulty that Mr. Rich, the manager of Lincoln's-Inn theatre, could be prevailed on to let it have a trial, and after the firſt rehearſal, he gave it up, as a piece which to a certainty would be condemned.

This general oppoſition to a work of ſuch ac⯑knowledged excellence, cannot fail, at firſt, to raiſe our ſurpriſe, but a little reflection may per⯑haps enable us, in ſome degree, to account for this ſeeming contradiction. The Beggars Opera was in a ſtile of compoſition which had not hitherto been tried, and concerning which, the public opinion was therefore more difficult to aſcertain. It derived a conſiderable part of its force from, and depended, in a great meaſure, for its ſucceſs, on a combination of circum⯑ſtances peculiar to that time. That exotic ſpecies of entertainment called Italian Operas, had for ſeveral years been riſing into faſhion, and at that time entirely engroſſed the attention of the higher and more faſhionable ranks of people. The ſeduction of foreign muſic, the novelty of thoſe unnatural warblers then imported, the charms of dancing, with the glare of decorations, had bewitched the fancy, and diverted the tide of encouragement, and applauſe, from the more [41] rational, though leſs gaudy repreſentations of the Engliſh theatre. This corruption of public taſte, and perverſion of judgment, it was Mr. Gay's intention, by humorouſly ſatirizing, to correct. The ſame loftineſs of ſtile, and unneceſſary ſlow of forced ſimiles, which, from an Italian hero, gave ſuch delight, when put into the mouths of ſharpers and highwaymen, could not fail to pro⯑duce an effect as ludicrous, as the former had been grand. But though the deſign of this piece was excellent, and the execution maſterly, not⯑withſtanding it was in every reſpect nouvelle, yet were the managers juſtifiable in their unwil⯑lingneſs to hazard a production, the boldneſs of which, though in caſe fortune was favourable, it might heighten its ſucceſs, would, if matters took an adverſe turn, but render its fall more ſevere.

Happily for the commonwealth of letters, the event proved their fears ill-grounded, and a long experience has ſhewn us, that independent of thoſe local temporary ſtrokes which attended its origin, the Beggars Opera has ſufficient ſterling merit to rank with the firſt dramatic pieces in the Engliſh language, and to enſure its ſucceſs at all times, and in all places.

[42]The managers were, it muſt be confeſſed, ſo far right in their judgment of the town, that on the firſt night, for a conſiderable time, the re⯑ception was doubtful. The firſt act paſſed with ſilent attention; not a hand moved, its origi⯑nality ſurpriſed them. At its concluſion, the audience roſe, and every man, fearful of his own judgment, ſeemed eager to learn that of his neighbour. The reſult however, was gene⯑rally in its favour. In the ſecond act they began to reliſh its ſatire, and diſcover its beauties: they then broke ſilence, and gave ſeveral marks of their approbation, to the great joy of the anxious author, and diſheartened performers. The laſt act was received with univerſal ap⯑plauſe.

Such was the firſt reception of a piece which will keep its place on the ſtage, as long as the ſtage exiſts. It was performed ſixty-three nights the firſt ſeaſon, and its fame quickly reached this kingdom, where it experienced, every thing conſidered, equal ſucceſs; for we find it advertiſed for the benefit of Mr. Vanderbank, a favourite comedian, December 28th 1728, for the fortieth time, independent of the many nights it was exhibited by Madam Violante's [43] Lilliputian Company, of whom, more here⯑after.

The very different fates of the original Mac⯑heath and Polly, have never, I believe, been noticed as they deſerve. Mr. Walker, the original Macheath, though a good actor, and raiſed by his performance of ſo popular a cha⯑racter, to the higheſt reputation, yet, for want of proper conduct, and through an immoderate attachment to liquor, died, many years after, neglected and forſaken; whilſt Miſs Fenton, the celebrated Polly, roſe to the diſtinguiſhed rank of Ducheſs of Bolton, which celebrated ſtation ſhe ſupported with the love and admira⯑tion of all.

In the year 1730, the tragedy of George Barnwell was brought out at the Theatre Royal, Covent-garden. The reception of this piece was alſo attended with ſeveral ſingular circumſtances which deſerve particular mention. Mr. George Lillo, the author, was born February 4th 1693, in the neighbourhood of Moorfields. His edu⯑cation, we may ſuppoſe, was rather limited, as he was bred a jeweller. But he poſſeſſed what was infinitely more valuable, the ſeeds of [44] genius, which time ripened and brought to ma⯑turity. His life was, like his writings, an in⯑ſtructive leſſon to mankind. Strongly attached to the muſes, he laid it down as a fundamental rule, that they ought always to be made ſub⯑ſervient to the cauſe of virtue and religion. He was peculiarly happy in the choice of his ſub⯑jects, and his management of them was no leſs meritorious. His pathos, irreſiſtibly took poſ⯑ſeſſion of the heart, and he had the art of working up the diſtreſſes of common and domeſ⯑tic life ſo judiciouſly, that they became more intereſting to the audience, than thoſe of kings and princes. It may with truth be averred, that George Barnwell has drawn more tears than the pompous tragedies of Alexander the Great, All for Love, &c.

Popular prejudice ran high againſt this play, previous to its repreſentation. Every one knew it to be founded on a well-known ancient ballad, and ſo contemptible an opinion did the critics entertain of it, that on its firſt night, thouſands of the original old ballad were purchaſed, in order to divert themſelves by drawing compa⯑riſons, and turning the whole into ridicule. But theſe all-wiſe gentlemen were highly diſ⯑appointed; [45] the merit of the play conquered their prejudices, it preſented them with ſcenes written ſo truly to the heart, that they were compelled to ſubſcribe to their power, and drop their ballads to take up their handkerchiefs.

Its ſucceſs in London was equal to its acknow⯑ledged merit, and it continued to draw crouded houſes for many nights. At the commencement of the ſeaſon, September 1731, it was got up in Dublin, and honoured on its firſt night with the preſence of his grace the duke of Dorſet, then lord lieutenant, when it met with great applauſe, and for many years maintained a diſ⯑tinguiſhed rank on the ſtage.

Before I quit this ſubject, I cannot help men⯑tioning two anecdotes relative to effects pro⯑duced by this tragedy. The firſt is related by Dr. Barrowby, a gentleman of veracity, of a youth an apprentice to an eminent merchant in London, who forcibly ſtruck by the fate of the unhappy Barnwell, confeſſed, that being ſeduced by the arts of a wicked woman, he had robbed his maſter; how far his guilt might have extend⯑ed, he ſhuddered to think; but fortunately their commerce was totally put a ſtop to by his [46] accidentally ſeeing the above play. The doctor adds, that upon a proper repreſentation of the whole to his maſter, he not only forgave him, but reſtored him to favour. Thus reſcued from the paths of deſtruction, he afterwards became a valuable member of the community.

A ſimilar inſtance is mentioned ſince that time, which the preſent Mr. Roſs, I am told, can atteſt. He, if I am rightly informed, for many years regularly received a preſent of twenty guineas from a gentleman, an entire ſtranger to him, whoſe apprentice had happily been reformed by ſeeing him in the character of George Barnwell. The worthy author of this tragedy wrote ſeveral other dramatic pieces, and died September 3d, 1739, in the 47th year of his age, univerſally beloved and lamented. I am ſorry to ſay, that for many years paſt, this excellent tragedy has grown unfaſhionable, and given place to many not poſſeſſed of half its merit.

I muſt here return back a few years to have an opportunity of introducing to my readers, a lady, who ſome time after, laid the ſtrongeſt claim to their admiration.

[47]The date of Madam Violante's arrival in this kingdom, and opening a theatrical booth in George's-lane, has hitherto been fixed to the year 1731. It is rather ſurpriſing that thoſe who wrote ſo near that period ſhould not be better informed. From the moſt authentic informa⯑tion I find, that this enterprizing lady, four years before, in 1727, engaged a very large houſe for⯑merly occupied by lord chief juſtice Whitchel, in Fownes's-court, on the ſpot where Fownes's-ſtreet has ſince been built. This houſe was well adapted to her purpoſe, it was uncommonly roomy and covered a large extent of ground. Behind it a ſpacious garden reached to where Crow-ſtreet theatre now ſtands. This houſe ſhe converted into a commodious booth, and brought over a company of tumblers and rope-dancers, who exhibited for ſome time with ſucceſs. In theſe performances Madam Violante bore a prin⯑cipal part, having been bred a very capital dancer. But, as in all public ſpectacles, where the mind is not feaſted, the eye ſoon grows weary and palled, ſo in this caſe, her audiences in a ſhort time decreaſed ſo much, that ſhe, fertile in ex⯑pedients, converted her booth into a play-houſe, and performed plays and farces.

[48]Fortune, who delights in ſporting with man⯑kind, and often calls her favourites from the moſt unlikely ſituations, ſeemed to have taken this ſpot under her peculiar care; for in this little theatre were ſown thoſe ſeeds of theatric genius, which afterwards flouriſhed and delighted the world. Madam Violante finding her efforts in exhibit⯑ing plays to fail, owing to the badneſs of the actors, formed a company of children, the eldeſt not above ten years of age. Theſe ſhe inſtruct⯑ed in ſeveral petit pieces, and as the Beggars Opera was then in high eſtimation, ſhe perfected her Lilliputian troop in it, and having prepared proper ſcenery, dreſſes, and decorations, ſhe brought it out before it had been ſeen in Dub⯑lin. The novelty of the ſight, the uncommon abilities of theſe little performers, and the great merit of the piece, attracted the notice of the town to an extraordinary degree. They drew crouded houſes for a conſiderable length of time, and the children of Shakeſpeare's and Johnſon's day, were not more followed, or admired, than thoſe tiny geniuſes.

Time, the true touchſtone of merit, afterwards proved that the public were not miſtaken in their judgment. I never have been able to obtain a [49] complete liſt of the members of this little com⯑munity, but from what I have collected, the names of ſeveral performers of great merit ap⯑pear. In the Beggars Opera, Miſs Betty Barnes, an excellent actreſs, and whom I have often ſeen play by the names of Mrs. Martin, and Mrs. Workman, perſonated Captain Macheath; the afterwards well known Maſter Iſaac Sparks, played Peachum; Maſter Beamſly, Lockit; Maſ⯑ter Barrington, afterwards ſo celebrated for Iriſhmen and low comedy, Filch; Miſs Ruth Jenks, who died ſome years afterwards, Lucy; Miſs Mackay, Mrs. Peachum; and from the Polly of that day, ſprung the beautiful, elegant, accompliſhed, captivating Woffington, to pleaſe and charm contending kingdoms.

This extraordinary character is a ſtriking in⯑ſtance, that the ſhining qualities of the mind, or graces of the perſon, are not confined to rank or birth, but are ſometimes to be met with in the moſt unfavourable ſituations. Miſs Woffing⯑ton's origin was ſuch as would puzzle a herald or antiquarian to trace. Her father's condition in life is enveloped in obſcurity, her mother for many years ſold fruit at the entrance of Fownes's-court, poor and honeſt; yet from ſuch parents, [50] unaſſiſted by friends, unimproved by education till able to attain it by her own aſſiduity, did this peculiar ornament of the drama, and favourite of the graces, riſe to a ſtation ſo celebrated, as to be able to ſet the faſhions, preſcribe laws to taſte; and, beyond any of her time, preſent us with a lively picture of the eaſy, well-bred wo⯑man of faſhion. In the courſe of the following pages, I ſhall have many opportunities of men⯑tioning her progreſs through life.

CHAP. IV.

ABOUT the year 1728, the Dublin theatre received a very material acquiſition in the perſon of Mr. Dennis Delane. This young gentleman was a native of Ireland, deſcended from an an⯑cient and reſpectable family. He received a liberal education in Trinity College, Dublin, a ſeminary which not only produced many men of the greateſt learning and abilities, but has alſo furniſhed ſome of the brighteſt luminaries of the Iriſh theatre. Mr. Delane made his firſt ap⯑pearance under Mr. Elrington on the Dublin ſtage, and met with a very favourable recep⯑tion. He was young, handſome, had an elegant figure, a powerful voice, a pleaſing addreſs, and [52] tolerably eaſy action. He was ſometimes de⯑ficient in judgment, but with the million, this was eaſily overlooked, and as his years encreaſed, his judgment ripened. In many parts in tragedy, particularly Alexander, he was eſteemed to have great merit. In comedy he performed the lovers, eſpecially Young Bevil, with ſucceſs. With ſuch requiſites he ſoon grew a great favourite with the public, and while he continued in this king⯑dom, ſupported a large caſt of capital characters with great reputation. At length in the year 1731, being offered extraordinary high terms from Mr. Giffard, of Goodman's-fields, he left Ireland, and enliſted under his banners. He ſoon after appeared with great eclat at that theatre, and proved a very powerful competitor againſt Quin, then in his meridian, it is ſaid that Mr. Quin, ſenſible of his great merit, pre⯑vailed on him to quit that obſcure part of the town, and generouſly divided the buſineſs with himſelf. This, if true, was a diſintereſtedneſs which deſerves remembrance. We afterwards find him making ſummer excurſions to his native country, where he had a ſmall paternal eſtate, and drawing crouded houſes at ſuch times, in Dublin.

[53]As Mr. Elrington's company, during the time Mr. Delane continued in it, ſeemed to undergo very little alteration, I ſhall beg leave to preſent my readers with a bill of one of their, fulleſt plays, a method, in my opinion, more likely to convey information, than whole pages of deſcrip⯑tion; and which I ſhall take the liberty to adopt at every period, where change of performers may render ſuch information neceſſary.

THEATRE ROYAL. By his Majeſty's Company of Comedians, For the Benefit of Mr. WARD, By Deſire of ſeveral Perſons of Quality, On Monday, March the 22d, 1731, will be acted the True and Ancient Hiſtory of KING RICHARD the THIRD, Written by the famous Shakeſpeare. Containing, the diſtreſſes and death of King Henry the Sixth. The artful acquiſition of the crown by King Richard the Third, The cruel murder of the young Princes, King Edward the Fifth, and his brother the Duke of York, in the tower, The fall of the Duke of Buckingham, The landing of the Duke of York at Milford Haven, The death of King Richard in the memorable battle of Boſworth-field, [54] being the laſt that was fought between the contending Houſes of York and Lancaſter. With many other hiſtorical paſſages. The Part of King Henry, to be performed by Mr. Elrington. Prince Edward, Mrs. Hamilton. Richard, Duke of York, Mr. Richard Elrington. Richard, Duke of Gloſter, Mr. Ward. Duke of Buckingham, Mr. Ralph Elrington. Earl of Richmond, Mr. Delane. Lord Stanley, Mr. Alcorn. Duke of Norfolk, Mr. Daſh. Treſſel, Mr.Simms. Lord Mayor, Mr. Vanderbank. Cateſby, Mr. Neale. Ratcliffe, Mr. Watſon. Tyrrel, Mr. Norris. Blunt, Mr. Hamilton. Deighton, Mr. Sheridan. Forreſt, Mr. Nichols. Lady Anne, Mrs. Sterling. Lady Elizabeth, Mrs. Ward. Ducheſs of York, Mrs. Lyddal. And a new humorous Opera Epilogue, to be ſpoken and ſung by Mrs. Sterling, in the character of Lady Anne's Ghoſt. The Songs to old Ballad Tunes. [55] To which will be added, a Tragi-Comic, Paſtoral Farce, called, THE WHAT D'YE CALL IT. Written by the Author of the Beggars Opera. The Part of Timothy Peaſcod to be performed by Mr. Layfield. Sir Roger, Mr. Vanderbank. Kitty Carrot, Mrs. Ward. With the Song beginning, "'Twas when the ſeas were roaring," &c. To be ſung by Mrs. Vanderbank. And a humorous Prologue to the Farce, To be ſpoken by Mr. Layfield. To begin exactly at ſix o'clock.

We may ſee by the above, that long bills and a quantum ſufficit of puffing, were conſidered then as well as now, neceſſary ingredients to⯑wards a benefit bill. Mr. and Mrs. Ward, were perſons of conſiderable merit, and a very ſhort time after the above benefit, on ſome occaſion, which we at preſent are ignorant of, revolted from the company, and took poſſeſſion of the booth in Fownes's-court, lately occupied by Madam Violante, who had removed to George's-lane. There they had another benefit, the Double Dealer, May the 5th, 1731, and at the [56] bottom of their advertiſement appeared the fol⯑lowing paragraph, ‘We are informed, that a great number of ladies and gentlemen have beſpoke this play, and that the town in general appear ready and willing to encourage our young comedians who have ſo ſeparated them⯑ſelves from the theatre-royal.’

This oppoſition however did very little injury to Mr. Elrington. A few months put a period to it, and we only find this theatre occaſionally opened afterwards.

Maſonry, that cement of ſociety, and moſt benevolent of all human inſtitutions, that divine emanation of love which unites all mankind in the brotherly bands of affection, had, in this kingdom, through ſome unaccountable neglect, been ſuffered for many years to lie buried in the ſhade of obſcurity, and its excellent precepts to remain untaught. About this time, however, the clouds which overſhadowed it paſſed away, and its refulgent brightneſs broke forth to cheer and illuminate the world; ſeveral lodges which had lain dormant, were revived, and ſeveral new ones conſtituted. As it needed only to be known to be admired, many of the firſt charac⯑ters [57] in the nation, on its revival, preſſed for⯑ward, and requeſted to be admitted members of this ancient, and honourable ſociety.

Amongſt many good effects ariſing from a renovation of this inſtitution, the theatre expe⯑rienced its ſhare. Maſons are, in general, warm friends of the drama, which they deem eſſential to the cauſe of virtue; and, as charity is one of their leading principles, they conſtantly devote the profits ariſing from one night's performance at the theatre every ſeaſon towards the relief of their diſtreſſed and indigent brethren. At this time however, in 1731, their laudable zeal carried them ſo far, as to make them beſpeak the tragedy of Cato, then remarkably popular, the male characters of which were all performed by gen⯑tlemen maſons: the prices were advanced, and ſo crowded or brilliant an audience had never, at that time, been ſeen in this kingdom.

Mr. Griffith, an excellent actor, and much eſteemed by the public, was at this period ſecretary to the grand lodge, and greatly be⯑loved by the brotherhood; his benefits were, in conſequence, conſtantly beſpoke by the grand maſter, who, attended by the brethren, always [58] walked in proceſſion to the theatre, and ſat on the ſtage thoſe nights. This circumſtance enſured him a full houſe, from which, and his gold tickets, he reaped great emolument.

As this gentleman bore a conſiderable ſhare in the tranſactions of the theatre for many years, and was one of its greateſt ornaments, the reader may, perhaps, deem ſome account of him neceſſary. Thomas Griffith, Eſq was de⯑ſcended from an ancient, and reſpectable family in Wales. Unavoidable misfortunes obliged his parents to ſettle in Dublin, where he was born in the year 1680. He received a liberal education, though afterwards bound apprentice to a mathematical-inſtrument-maker; but his lively genius ſoon grew diſguſted with his ſhac⯑kles, and deſpiſed the buſineſs he was condemned to. The theatre appeared to him an ample field for his abilities, and he reſolved to embrace the firſt opportunity of aſtoniſhing the world with his uncommon talents. Had his boyiſh vanity gone no further, it would have been well; but captivated by the charms of a young actreſs whoſe name has not reached us, he very imprudently married her before he had ſerved three years of his apprenticeſhip. The [59] conſequence was, his parents were obliged to buy the remainder of his time, and our young gentleman was rendered completely happy by being permitted to become actor under Mr. Aſhbury, who engaged him at a very low ſalary.

Fortunately, however, on his commencing actor, he contracted a friendſhip with Mr. Wilkes, which remained in full force till the death of that excellent comedian put a period to it. Though Mr. Griffith was then very young, Mr. Wilkes took him to London, and had him engaged for that ſeaſon at a ſmall ſalary. Chet⯑wood relates, that the Indian Emperor being ordered on a ſudden to be played, the part of Pizarro, a Spaniard, was wanting, which, with ſome difficulty, Mr. Griffith procured. Mr. Betterton, being a little indiſpoſed, would not venture out to rehearſal, for fear of increaſing his indiſpoſition, to the diſappointment of the audience. He, therefore, had not an opportunity of ſeeing our young gentleman rehearſe; but when at night, he came ready at the entrance, his ears were pierced with a voice not familiar to him, and caſting his eyes upon the ſtage, he beheld the diminutive Pizarro with a truncheon as long as himſelf. Aſtoniſhed at his figure, he [60] went up to old Downs, the prompter, and cry'd, Zounds! Downs, what ſucking Scara⯑mouch have you ſent on there? O Sir, replied Downs, he is good enough for a Spaniard, the part is ſmall. Betterton replied, If he had made his eyebrows his whiſkers, and each whiſker a line, the part would have been two lines too much for ſuch a monkey in buſkins. Poor Griffith, who ſtood on the ſtage, near the door, heard every ſyllable of this ſhort dialogue, and by his fears knew who was meant by it; but happily for him, he had no more to ſpeak in that ſcene. When the firſt act was over, he went to make his excuſe to Betterton, and ſaid, Indeed Sir, I had not taken the part, but that there was only I alone out of the play. I! I! replied Betterton, with a ſmile, thou art but the tittle of an I; after this night let me never ſee a trun⯑cheon in thy hand again, unleſs to ſtir the ſire. Griffith took his advice, laid aſide the buſkin and embraced the ſock, in which his light figure, pleaſing addreſs, and piercing eye, were of con⯑ſiderable advantage.

His ſtay in London was very ſhort, not liking his ſituation, he embraced an offer made him by Mr. Aſhbury, and returned to his native country. [61] Here his abilities had full ſcope, and he ſup⯑ported a very extenſive liſt of characters in the comedies of that time with great reputation. In this ſtation, his wit and humour gained him many friends of the firſt rank and quality; amongſt the reſt, lord Southwell, in the year 1710, gave him a lucrative poſt in the revenue, which he enjoyed till his death. He uſed often to ridicule his own ſmall figure, and in a bill of the mock tragedy of Alexander, he was always advertiſed thus:—The Part of Alexander the Great, to be performed by little Griffith.

But to return: The new Muſic-hall in Crow-ſtreet, as it was then called, being juſt finiſhed, and fitted up in an elegant manner, Mr. Griffith, joined by a Mr. Whyte from England, opened it with a ridotto, November 30th 1731, in a very ſuperb ſtyle, at which moſt of the nobility and gentry in Dublin were preſent. Entertain⯑ments of that kind had then ſeldom been ſeen in Ireland, and under their management were often repeated with ſucceſs. In the courſe of this ſeaſon, 1731, a new tragedy, called Love and Ambition, written by James Darcy, Eſq was brought out to a very ſplendid and numerous audience; the duke of Dorſet honoured it with [62] his preſence the firſt night, when it was re⯑ceived with great applauſe. However, it had not intrinſic merit to ſupport it on the ſtage, ſo after it had been repeated a few times, and the author had a benefit, by which he reaped con⯑ſiderable emolument, it was conſigned to ob⯑livion; it was afterwards printed, but at this time is not eaſily to be met with.

The ſtage had now attained a moſt reſpectable eminence. Its profeſſors were held in eſtima⯑tion, and their company courted. The manager was, moſt deſervedly, eſteemed and careſſed by all the nobility and gentry. His grace the duke of Dorſet, then lord-lieutenant, was remarkably fond of the drama, and a princely encourager of it; he commanded plays once or twice a week conſtantly, and was ſo well beloved, that his preſence always occaſioned a full houſe; he was extremely partial to Mr. Elrington, who uſed often to attend his levee, and his grace was preſent at ſeveral entertainments which he gave at the Cloyſters, on the Inns-quay, to the lord chancellor, judges, and gentlemen of the law, as ſteward of the ſociety.

[63]This pleaſing proſpect, however, was of a very ſhort continuance; the enſuing year was marked by the death of that great ſupport and ſoul of the ſtage, Mr. Elrington. The laſt cha⯑racter he performed was Lord Townly, in the Provoked Huſband, for the benefit of Mr. Vanderbank, an old actor of reputation; this was on the 26th of June, 1732. Shortly after, as he was conſulting with an architect on a plan for building a new theatre in Aungier-ſtreet, then in agitation, he was ſuddenly taken ill, and obliged to return home to his houſe in Drum⯑condra-lane. His diſorder increaſing, turned to a malignant fever, of which he expired on Saturday July 22d, 1732, aged 44 years.

This excellent actor, who was deſcended from a good family, was born in London, June 1688. Being a younger brother of a numerous offspring, his father bound him apprentice to an eminent upholſterer in Covent-garden, where Chetwood, from whom we have ſeveral of the following anecdotes, became acquainted with him. He early diſcovered an inclination to the drama, and whilſt an apprentice performed in ſeveral private plays. Once, when he was pre⯑paring to act in Sophoniſba, or Hannibal's Over⯑throw, [64] after Chetwood had written out the part of Maſſina, he came with the book to Elring⯑ton, to ſtudy his part of Maſſiniſſa; he found him finiſhing a velvet cuſhion, and gave him the book, but, alas! before he could ſecrete it, his maſter, a hot, voluble Frenchman, came in upon them, and the book was haſtily thruſt under the velvet into the cuſhion; his maſter, as uſual, rated him for idling his time, with a Morblieu! You Tom! why you not vark! Tom? and ſtood over him ſo long, that to their utter mortification they ſaw the book irrecoverably ſtitched up in the velvet, never to be retrieved till the cuſhion was worn to pieces. Poor El⯑rington caſt many a deſponding look on Chet⯑wood while he was finiſhing the fate of Sopho⯑niſba; every ſtitch went to their hearts. But the play was gone for ever.

Another time, they were ſo bold as to attempt the tragedy of Hamlet, where young Elrington had the part of the Ghoſt, and for the purpoſe had procured a ſuit of armour made of paſte⯑board, and neatly painted. The Frenchman however, had intelligence of the whole, and to their great ſurpriſe and mortification, made one of the audience. The Ghoſt on his firſt appear⯑ance [65] being dumb, the Frenchman only muttered between his teeth, and they were in hopes his paſſion would ſubſide. But when he began his firſt ſpeech to Hamlet, "Mark me!" he replied, "Begar, me vil marke you preſently!" and without any further ceremony, beat our poor Ghoſt off the ſtage, through the ſtreets, while every ſtroke on the paſteboard armour grieved the auditors, inſomuch, that three or four ran after the Ghoſt, and brought him back in triumph with the avenging Frenchman at his heels, who would not be appeaſed, till our Ghoſt promiſed him never to commit the offence of acting again; a promiſe made, like many others, without an intention of keeping. However, in the laſt year of his time, through the interceſſion of ſome friends, his rigid maſter gave him a little more liberty, and our young actor played many parts with ſuch applauſe, that he was at length taken notice of by Mr. Keene, an excellent performer at that time, who introduced him upon the ſtage in the part of Oroonoko, in the year 1711, where he met with ſo favourable a reception as to fix his future purſuits in life.

[66]The next ſeaſon he was invited to Ireland by Mr. Aſhbury, where he ſucceeded equal to his moſt ſanguine expectations, and before he had been twelve months in that kingdom, ſo far had he ingratiated himſelf into the good graces of Mr. Aſhbury and his family, that he gave him his only daughter in marriage. With this lady he lived happily many years, and had a numerous iſſue: two of his ſons Joſeph and Richard went on the ſtage, but had not abilities equal to the father. Thomas Elrington the younger, was a lieutenant in colonel Flemming's regiment, and afterwards married a lady of great fortune in the Weſt Indies.

Mr. Elrington was an excellent figure, tall and well proportioned, his voice was manly, ſtrong, ſweet, and full-toned, his action eaſy and graceful. He copied with ſucceſs, Mr. Verbruggen, one of the beſt actors of his time in tragedy and genteel comedy. Elrington's Oroonoko was one of the firſt pieces of acting ever ſeen. In his ſurpriſe on unexpectedly meeting with Imoinda, a ſituation which calls for an actor of the greateſt genius, he charmed all who ſaw his action, and heard his expreſſion. Davies ſays, he has heard Mr. Macklin ſpeak of [67] Elrington's excellence in this ſcene with rapture. Barry himſelf was not equally happy in this ſu⯑perior lover. Mr. Elrington was alſo in Bajazet a fine copy of Verbruggen. When the ma⯑nagers of Drury-lane gave Bajazet to Elrington in preference to John Mills, the latter com⯑plained to Booth of his diſgrace: Booth in re⯑turn told him, that Elrington would make nine ſuch actors as Mills.

Though Mr. Elrington was rapidly riſing in the eſtimation of all who ſaw him at Drury-lane, and had played many characters of conſe⯑quence with great reputation; yet we are told, that Cibber either could not or would not ſee his merit. Elrington after he had been a ſhort time on the ſtage, wiſhed much to play the part of Torriſmond in the Spaniſh Fryar; this requeſt Cibber oppoſed with all his might. A nobleman of great eminence, and a particular friend of Elrington's, intereſted himſelf ſo far, as to ſend for Cibber, whom he deſired to give his reaſons for not permitting the young player to try his abilities in a favourite part; ‘My lord,’ ſaid Cibber, ‘it is not with us as with you; your lordſhip is ſenſible that there is no difficulty in filling places at court; you can⯑not [68] be at a loſs for perſons to act their parts there. But I aſſure you, it is quite otherwiſe in our theatrical world; if we ſhould inveſt people with characters who are incapable of ſupporting them, we ſhould be undone.’

Repeated mortifications of this kind indu⯑ced Mr. Elrington to liſten to the overtures of Mr. Aſhbury, whoſe judgment could eaſily diſcern the extraordinary abilities and riſing genius of our young hero. The event fully juſtified his choice. He performed many years in Dublin with the higheſt reputation, and when invited over to London, on account of Booth's indiſpoſition in 1729, was the great ſupport of Drury-lane theatre. The managers were ſo well convinced of his importance to them, that they offered him his own conditions, if he would en⯑gage with them for a term of years. To this, Mr. Elrington with great modeſty replied; "I am truly ſenſible of the value of your offer, but in Ireland I am ſo well rewarded for my ſervices, that I cannot think of leaving it for any conſideration." "There is not," added he, "a gentleman's houſe in that kingdom to which I am not a welcome viſitant," this was an un⯑doubted truth, as few perſons in Dublin ever [69] lived more univerſally beloved, or died more ſincerely lamented by all ranks and degrees.

I ſhall cloſe this account of him with his character, extracted from one of the many pa⯑negyrics which the writers of his time have furniſhed us with.

"Thomas Elrington, Eſq was for near twenty years the ornament and delight of the Iriſh ſtage. His perfections as an actor are ſo well, and univerſally known, both here and in Eng⯑land, whither he has often been invited by the managers of both theatres in London, with the moſt advantageous offers, that it would be ſu⯑perfluous to dwell on them here. Nature cer⯑tainly formed him an actor, and to his amazing genius for repreſenting ſuch a variety of contrary characters, gave him a voice and perſon ſcarce ever equalled, and never excelled by any of his cotemporaries, or predeceſſors on the ſtage: and it is to be feared, will never be rivaled by any of his ſucceſſors. All who are lovers of the moſt polite, rational, and inſtructive of enter⯑tainments, the drama, muſt be ſenſibly concerned for the loſs of a man ſo eminent in his public profeſſion, and ſo amiable in his private life."

[70]Mr. Elrington was buried in St. Michan's church-yard, near the remains of his father-in-law, Joſeph Aſhbury, Eſq. The following was intended for his epitaph.

CHAP. V.

THE death of Mr. Elrington was a ſevere blow to the intereſts of the drama in Ireland, and the ſtage began to decline rapidly. The reader perhaps can ſcarcely imagine, that at this time, though not much above fifty years ago, our theatrical hiſtory is ſo much involved in obſcurity, that it is no eaſy talk to clear it up. The management as well as I can learn, de⯑volved to Mr. Francis Elrington, brother to the late manager, in conjunction with Mr. Griffith, Mr. Layfield, and ſome others whoſe names have not reached us.

[72]Of Mr. Griffith I have ſpoken already. The little that we know of Mr. Francis Elrington is, that he was born in London in the year 1692, that he held a ſmall poſt in the wardrobe, under his grace the duke of Montague, when hearing of the great ſucceſs of his brother in Ireland, he gave it up, and reſolved to court his for⯑tune on the ſtage in that kingdom. Though his abilities were not in any reſpect equal to thoſe of his brothers, yet were they by no means below mediocrity. His figure was good, and his voice agreeable. What he wanted in judgment, he endeavoured to make up by obſervation, and aſſiduity, and for many years the public re⯑ceived him with pleaſure in a variety of capital characters in tragedy and comedy. His grace the duke of Dorſet, a ſteady friend to the family, when lord-lieutenant of Ireland, gave him a place in the revenue, which he enjoyed till his death.

Mr. Lewis Layfield was an Engliſh gentle⯑man, who we are told had been in many em⯑ployments both by ſea and land. As an actor, he had a conſiderable ſhare of merit, his firſt appearance I believe was at Drury-lane. At the time I am now ſpeaking of, he was advanced [73] in years, and had for ſome time been a member of the Dublin theatre.

A theatrical ſtate will not, in my opinion, admit of a multiplicity of rulers, and is never ſo well governed as by one. Different tem⯑pers ſeldom accord, and though the intereſts of the ſeveral parties ſhould tend to the ſame points, yet frequently their prejudices or their prepoſſeſſions prevent them from purſuing proper directions. It cannot indeed from the nature of the ſubject be expected, that ſeveral diſtinct and independent abſolute powers, ſhould long ſubſiſt in harmony together, and experience ſhews us that ſuch connexions ſerve to divide and impair, rather than to unite and ſtrengthen. The management of Cibber, Wilkes, and Dogget, and afterwards (on his ſelling out) of Booth, may, I know, be urged as an exception. But let me aſk, where ſhall we find ſuch another triumvirate? yet, even amongſt them there was not peace or unanimity; and I cannot help re⯑marking here, that Cibber's portraits of his part⯑ners as drawn in his apology, do little honour to his heart, and are laſting ſtains on his memory.

[74]How far the theatrical partners abovemen⯑tioned agreed, I cannot, at this time pretend to ſay; but this much evidently appears, that, whe⯑ther from want of judgment or conduct, or other cauſes unknown to us, the affairs of the theatre ſoon began to wear an unpromiſing aſpect. Nevertheleſs, at firſt, they proceeded with ſpirit; they engaged ſeveral new actors and actreſſes, and having repaired and beautified Smock-alley theatre which began to decay, they opened the 5th of the enſuing October 1732, with the Iſland Princeſs, an opera by Motteaux, founded on a piece of the ſame name written by Flet⯑cher. On this occaſion ſeveral new ſcenes were painted, and a great deal of machinery incidental to the opera exhibited.

From the following circumſtance we may ſuppoſe that the wardrobe of the theatre was not then in the moſt ſplendid condition. In Faulk⯑ner's Journal of 1732, we meet with this curious paragraph, ‘The Rt. Hon. Lord Mountcaſhel has made a preſent to ſome of our managers of five ſuits of the fineſt laced and em⯑broidered cloaths that ever were ſeen on any ſtage.’—And again December 30th, ‘The fine cloaths lately given by the Right Hon. [75] Lord Viſcount Mountcaſhel, were for the uſe of the whole company, and it is hoped our nobility and gentry will follow that noble and generous example.’

About the year 1730, Madam Violante, whom I formerly mentioned, removed from the booth ſhe occupied in Fownes's-court, to one more commodious in George's-lane, where her Lil⯑liputian company, ſtill in great eſtimation, ac⯑companied her. Here ſhe continued to exhibit dramatic entertainments with pantomimes, tumbling and rope-dancing for ſome time with various ſucceſs.

We have every reaſon to imagine that the public, were at this time uncommonly fond of dramatic repreſentations. I have before men⯑tioned the great ſupport the duke of Dorſet gave the ſtage whilſt lord-lieutenant. Private playing was alſo much in faſhion. In January 1732-3, the Diſtreſt Mother was acted at the council chamber in the Caſtle of Dublin. Lord Viſcount Mountjoy, Lord Viſcount Kingſland, and other perſons of quality of both ſexes ſupported the different characters. The room was fitted up in the moſt elegant ſtile. All the [76] chambers and paſſages were illuminated with wax. There was a crowded audience of perſons of the firſt rank in the kingdom, and the whole was conducted with the greateſt regularity and decorum.

We ſhould naturally imagine that Dublin at that time was not ſo populous as to inſpire any one with the idea of opening another theatre; and yet we find this was the caſe. The reaſon aſſigned by Chetwood, is, that Madam Violante finding her buſineſs decline, let her theatre to Mr. Luke Sparks, Mr. John Barring⯑ton, and Miſs Mackay, afterwards Mrs. Mitchell, (three of her young performers) for three pounds per week. No great ſum, yet as much as they were able to pay. Theſe young adventurers were joined by ſeveral others whom love of fame, more than hopes of profit, incited. Mr. Sparks as being the oldeſt, and having played before in a country company, was appointed manager. From ſuch performers without cloaths or ſcenes, little could be expected; however, they opened with Farquhar's comedy of

THE INCONSTANT: OR, THE WAY TO WIN HIM.

[77]The three principal parts were played by our three adventurers, viz.

• Young Mirabel, Mr. Sparks.
• Duretete, Mr. Barrington.
• Biſſarre, Miſs Mackay.

Curioſity induced many to go for a few nights, but that ſatisfied, the theatre quickly grew de⯑ſerted, and the finances of the performers being ſoon exhauſted, their only reſource was to take benefits. Miſs Mackay, being the heroine and a favourite with the public, reſolved to try her fortune firſt. She choſe the Fop's Fortune, and ſeveral ladies and gentlemen intereſting them⯑ſelves for her, her houſe amounted to the amaz⯑ing ſum of forty pounds!

Trifling as this appears now, it was then of ſuch conſequence and occaſioned ſuch an alarm to the actors of Smock-alley, that the managers applied to the lord-mayor to interpoſe his autho⯑rity and forbid their acting. This he readily conſented to; they with difficulty obtained leave to play one night more, and finiſh with Woman's a Riddle. This ſuppreſſion it ſeems was much reſented by the public, and gave riſe to the building of Rainsford-ſtreet theatre.

[78]The impropriety of this ſituation for a theatre muſt ſtrike every perſon acquainted with the city of Dublin. The reaſon aſſigned for build⯑ing it there was, that it was out of the lord mayor's juriſdiction, and in the Earl of Meath's liberty, who granted a licenſe to Mr. Thomas Walker for forty pounds per annum, which ſum was meant to be diſtributed amongſt the poor of his liberty.

This theatre, we are informed, was a very neat compact building, capable of containing about an hundred pounds at common prices, which were never raiſed but at benefits. The firſt play that was performed there was Con⯑greve's comedy of

• Sir Sampſon Legend by Mr. Moore.
• Valentine Mr. Huſband.
• Tattle Mr. Ravenſcroft.
• Foreſight Mr. Bourne.
• Ben Mr. Sparks.
• Trapland Mr. Daniel.
• Jeremy Mr. Roch.
• [79]Angelica by Mrs. Ravenſcroft.
• Mrs. Foreſight Mrs. Smith.
• Mrs. Frail Miſs Mackay.
• Miſs Prue Miſs Barnes.
• Nurſe Mrs. Talent.

This company was under the direction of Mr. Huſband, an actor of reputation. This gentleman was born in Pembrokeſhire, January 1672. His anceſtors were an ancient and re⯑putable family long ſeated in that country. He very early in life attached himſelf to the ſtage, but was upwards of two years before he could gain admiſſion. Though his figure was good, and he poſſeſſed moſt of the requiſites to form an actor, yet it was with difficulty he obtained leave to make his firſt appearance in the trifling character of Sir Walter Raleigh in the Earl of Eſſex. In this, however, he ac⯑quitted himſelf ſo well that his ſalary was fixed at ten ſhillings per week, the then common ſtipend of young actors. Time at length brought him forward, and he ſoon got better parts and a greater ſalary.

[80]In the year 1696, Mr. Dogget, being then in Ireland, recommended Mr. Huſband to Mr. Aſhbury as a very promiſing young actor. He ſet out from London in company with Trefuſis, an excellent comedian, and embarked for this kingdom, where, after a violent ſtorm at ſea, he landed with ſome difficulty. He was always well received by the public, and maintained an excellent character. At the time he embarked in this enterprize he was about ſixty years of age, rather too late in life. Amongſt the dra⯑matis perſonae of Love for Love the names of ſeveral perſons of merit appear, particularly Ravenſcroft, Bourne, Sparks, Mrs. Ravenſcroft, Miſs Mackay, Miſs Barnes, and Mrs. Talent.

The preciſe time of opening Rainsford-ſtreet theatre has not been recorded, I think it muſt have been the latter end of the year 1732, or early in 1733; for, on February 19th 1733, was exhibited at the new theatre in Rainsford-ſtreet, as it was then called, a new tragedy, called the Fate of Ambition, or the Treacherous Favourite, to a crowded audience. This piece was played a few nights, the author, whoſe name I cannot learn, had a benefit, and it was then conſigned to oblivion.

[81]As Smock-alley theatre had, for ſome years been in a ſtate of decay, the late Mr. Elring⯑ton before his death, formed a deſign of build⯑ing a new one, on a more extenſive ſcale than had hitherto been attempted. No ſooner were his intentions known, than a very large ſubſcrip⯑tion was entered into by many noblemen and perſons of rank and quality: in the liſt we find the names of men of the firſt fortunes, and moſt diſtinguiſhed underſtandings, who on this occaſion eagerly preſſed forward, fully con⯑vinced of what great utility to a riſing nation public amuſements are, when properly con⯑ducted.

A large lot of ground in Longford-ſtreet, ad⯑joining Aungier-ſtreet, was purchaſed. In choice of ſituation, they ſeemed to pay more regard to what was then principally the faſhionable end of the town, than to the mercantile or trading part; Dublin ſince that time has increaſed amazingly in buildings; almoſt a new town has ariſen north-eaſt of Capel-ſtreet and Bolton-ſtreet, a town which for ſo much, may vie with moſt in Europe.

[82]The death of Mr. Elrington, though it put a ſtop for a while to the deſign, did not prevent its being put in execution. The firſt ſtone of this new theatre was laid with great pomp and ceremony on Tueſday May the 8th, 1733, by the Rt. Hon. Richard Tighe; the ſecond, by the Hon. General Naper; the third, by William Tighe, Eſq and the fourth, by the Hon. Sir Edward Loveit Pearce, Knt. ſurveyor general of his Majeſty's works in Ireland, and architect of the parliament-houſe. Under each ſtone were placed ſeveral medals ſtruck for the occaſion, by Mr. Griffith, Mr. Elrington, and Mr. Layfield, managers of the old theatre-royal. A prodigious concourſe of people was aſſembled, and each ſtone was laid with flouriſh of trumpets, drums, a band of muſic, and loud acclamations of the multitude. Plenty of the choiceſt wines was provided for the gentry by the managers, ſeveral barrels of ale were given to the populace; each of the gentlemen who laid the foundation ſtones made preſents to the workmen; after which an elegant dinner was provided by the managers for the nobility and gentry.

After this the company remained playing at Smock-alley till the June following, when Mr. [83] Delane and Mr. Ryan arrived from London for the after ſeaſon. Mr. Delane, during the time he had been away, had riſen to the higheſt pitch of theatrical reputation. Mr. Ryan had never been in this kingdom before. Their firſt appear⯑ance was in Macbeth: Macbeth, Mr. Delane; Macduff, Mr. Ryan; Monday June 25th, 1733; they drew a very crouded houſe, and gave great ſatisfaction. Their next appearance was in the Provoked Huſband: Lord Townly, Mr. Delane; Manly, Mr. Ryan. Their other plays were, the firſt part of Henry the fourth, Hamlet, Othello, Delane's benefit, and the Conſtant Couple, for the benefit of Mr. Ryan. As they played but once or twice a week, theſe plays kept them till the middle of July, when the company ſet off for Cork, in which expedition Mr. Delane and Mr. Ryan accompanied them.

During the courſe of the laſt ſeaſon three theatres were open in Dublin: Smock-alley, Rainsford-ſtreet, and Madam Violante's in George's-lane, where plays were exhibited occa⯑ſionally; beſides the celebrated Tony Aſhton's medley in Patrick's-cloſe. This year, alſo, a new muſic-hall in Crow-ſtreet was built, by a Mr. Johnſon, on the ruins of which, in proceſs [84] of time, the preſent theatre aroſe. Here ridottos were performed under the direction of ſignior Arrigoni, a very celebrated Italian compoſer and performer on the violin.

The company on their return from Cork opened with what is uſually called a government play. As the term may not be underſtood by many of my readers, it is neceſſary to inform them, that the manager of the theatre-royal in Dublin receives ſuch a certain ſum annually from government for the performing of plays on par⯑ticular nights, ſuch as the King and Queen's birth-day, his Majeſty's acceſſion, &c. On theſe nights the ladies are always complimented with the freedom of the boxes: this cuſtom was eſta⯑bliſhed on the firſt riſe of the ſtage in Ireland.

And here I muſt obſerve, they were then in a quite different ſtyle to what they are at preſent: from the earlieſt time they were conſidered as the moſt faſhionable nights in the ſeaſon, and con⯑ſtantly honoured with the preſence of the lord lieutenant, or lords juſtices, for the time being; and ſo eſſentially neceſſary was the chief gover⯑nor's appearance deemed on ſuch occaſions, that November 4th, 1714, the anniverſary of King William the Third's birth-day, the tragedy of [85] Tamerlane, always appointed for that evening, was, by command, not to begin till an entertain⯑ment given by the lord mayor and city, at the tholſel, to the lord lieutenant, nobility, and gentry was over, that they might have time to repair from thence to the theatre. The boxes were, as I obſerved, free for the ladies, but only thoſe of the firſt rank and diſtinction ever availed themſelves of this compliment.

On the night above-mentioned, November 4th, 1733, the play choſen was Love for Love, per⯑formed in their beſt manner; an occaſional pro⯑logue was ſpoken by Mr. Griffith, and they were honoured with the preſence of the Duke and Ducheſs of Dorſet, and a very brilliant audience. Theſe nights continued faſhionable till Mr. Barry and Woodward's management, when, from what reaſon I cannot learn, they began to fall into diſrepute. For many years paſt they have been, in every reſpect, the very reverſe of what they were originally intended for, and at preſent, few perſons of credit reſort to the theatre on ſuch nights.

Such expedition was uſed in raiſing Aungier-ſtreet theatre, that it was completely finiſhed the following ſpring, in exactly ten months, and [86] on Saturday March the 19th 1733, it was opened with an occaſional prologue, ſpoken by Mr. Griffith, after which was preſented Far⯑quhar's comedy of

Captain Plume

by Mr. Joſeph Elrington.

Juſtice Balance

Mr. Layfield.

Captain Brazen

Mr. Ralph Elrington.

Worthy

Mr. Watſon.

Kite

Mr. Vanderbank.

Bullock

Mr. Frank Elrington.

1ſt Recruit

Mr. Reed.

2d Recruit

Mr. Butler.

Sylvia

Mrs. Bellamy.

Melinda

Mrs. Wrightſon.

Roſe

Mrs. Moreau.

Lucy

Mrs. Reynolds.

Of the above company I cannot ſay much in praiſe. The Elringtons were the beſt of the men, and they ſuſtained the three principal characters. Mr. Griffith, and Mr. Layfield, I have already mentioned. Mr. Vanderbank was an old actor of tolerable reputation. Mrs. [87] Bellamy was the mother of the celebrated actreſs of that name, ſhe was an excellent figure, but had not many abilities for the ſtage.

The expectations of the public were raiſed very high reſpecting this new theatre. The duke and ducheſs of Dorſet graced its opening with their preſence, and the houſe was greatly crowded with nobility and gentry. They ſeemed highly pleaſed with the manner in which the inſide of the theatre was laid out, and decorated. The performance was received with much ap⯑plauſe, and every thing wore a pleaſing face.

There certainly never was a more noble or diſintereſted deſign than that firſt formed of building and conducting this theatre. Its prin⯑ciples were the moſt liberal and extenſive that can be conceived. The plan at firſt laid down by the ſubſcribers, if properly carried into execu⯑tion, would in a ſhort time have produced the grandeſt theatrical conſtitution in the world, even ſuperior to the boaſted Athenian drama. The proprietors were noblemen and gentlemen of the firſt rank and conſequence in the nation, who, actuated by the nobleſt motives, agreed to ſuperintend the concerns of the ſtage, endea⯑voured [88] to advance its intereſts, and fix it on the moſt permanent and flouriſhing baſis, without the leaſt idea of emolument, in return. A committee was choſen from amongſt them, a chairman appointed, and every Saturday they met to appoint the plays, diſtribute the parts, and ſettle the great variety of buſineſs, which una⯑voidably ariſes from ſo great an undertaking. All the profits and emoluments accruing from the performances inſtead of going into the purſes of private perſons, were ſolely to be dedicated to the public ſervice. As the ſcheme extended, the beſt performers who could be procured, were to be engaged, pieces of undoubted merit were to be revived and brought forward, the wardrobe and ſcenery to be enlarged, and every decoration which the hand of taſte could point out, to be adopted to adorn the theatre. Such were the outlines of a deſign which promiſed as ſplendid dramatic entertainments as Greece or Rome ever exhibited! How worthy of imitation!

But vain and uncertain are all human pro⯑jects! Fair and flattering as the proſpect ap⯑peared, yet ſtrange to relate, the deſign never came to maturity. By what extraordinary [89] fatality it failed, I never have been able with certainty to learn. The reaſon generally given was that the former managers of Smock-alley who were continued by the proprietors, con⯑ducted buſineſs ſo injudiciouſly that they could not lay any claim to encouragement or ſucceſs. They found that prodigious ſums had been ex⯑pended on a theatre badly conſtructed. Expe⯑rience proved, that the architect failed in the two eſſential requiſites of accommodating it for hearing and ſeeing. It required uncommon powers of voice to fill every part of the houſe, and on full nights a great part of the people in both galleries could neither hear nor ſee, whereas, in a theatre properly deſigned, every ſpectator, though ever ſo diſadvantageouſly placed, ſhould with eaſe do both.

The public next obſerved, that the company in general had not merit equal to what they had a right to expect. The novelty of the houſe ſoon wore off, the attraction of curioſity ſub⯑ſided, and by degrees, their audiences grew thin. Another miſtake was their appointing a perſon almoſt unacquainted with theatrical affairs to ſuperintend the management; this was a Mr. Swan, a gentleman of character and for⯑tune, [90] yet living at York, who was much fitter for the calm ſcenes of domeſtic life, than the buſy buſtling ſpirit ſo neceſſary for a director of the ſtage.

Mr. Swan was long attached to the drama; he played once for Mr. Worſdale's benefit the part of Tamerlane with ſo much applauſe, that he was tempted to repeat it, and afterwards to per⯑form Othello and ſeveral other characters with tolerable ſucceſs. Mr. Swan at that time had an excellent figure, great judgment, and in all probability, had he continued, would have proved a capital actor. A perſon of diſtinction once aſked an actor his opinion of Mr. Swan's per⯑formance, who replied, "He play'd very well as a gentleman." "I ſhould be very glad," replied the other, "to ſee you play like him then."

CHAP. VI.

THE rivalſhip between the two theatres, Aungier-ſtreet and Rainsford-ſtreet, continued with various ſucceſs. The former had many advantages over the latter which could only be balanced by an unremitting aſſiduity. Early the enſuing winter the managers of Aungier-ſtreet got up Henry the Eighth with the Coronation, at great expence, and with much pomp and parade. This anſwered their purpoſe. The [92] public are ever to be caught by ſhew and ſpec⯑tacle. It drew crowded houſes for many nights, and amply repaid them; while poor Rainsford-ſtreet, which before maintained a tolerable ſtruggle, was now totally neglected.

Neceſſity is the mother of invention. Conſcious that they had not a capital ſufficient to vie with their wealthy competitors in ſplendor, they judi⯑ciouſly adopted the only conduct proper on ſuch an occaſion. What they could not outvie, they endeavoured to throw into ridicule. The Royal Merchant, or the Beggars Buſh, was got up with expedition, and in it they introduced a mock coronation of King Clauſe, which had a very great effect. In their mock proceſſion every form and minutiae of the other was obſerved, but burleſqued to the higheſt degree. This ſingular exhibition immediately turned the tide of popular curioſity. Poor King Harry was thinly attended, while King Clauſe rode tri⯑umphant ſeventeen nights, enſuring his ſubjects wealth and applauſe. But novelty is the ſoul of the theatre; the moſt favourite pieces when often repeated pall and fail in their effect, ſo in a ſhort time both their majeſties loſt their at⯑traction, and poverty the old evil again recurred.

[93]It might naturally be imagined that from the unpromiſing aſpect of the two theatres already eſtabliſhed, none would be ſo hardy as to think of a third, yet far from being deterred by theſe examples, the proprietors of the old theatre in Smock-alley reſolved once more to try their fortune. Having ſtrengthened themſelves with a few additional ſubſcribers, they pulled down the old building, and on Monday May 19th 1735, laid the firſt ſtone of the preſent theatre in Smock-alley with great pomp and ceremony.

Highly alarmed at this unexpected ſtroke, the managers of Aungier-ſtreet, at the cloſe of an unſucceſsful campaign, engaged Mr. Delane and Mr. Giffard for their later ſeaſon, who after play⯑ing a few nights proceeded with the company to Carlow races on their road to Cork. During their abſence, their new antagoniſts ſeemed to have got forward with uncommon diſpatch, for in leſs than ſeven months from the day the foun⯑dation of Smock-alley theatre was laid, it was finiſhed and played in. Notwithſtanding the un⯑common expedition uſed, the architect ſtudiouſly avoided the errors and miſtakes of former build⯑ers, and erected a ſtrong, elegant, commodious, well conſtructed theatre. The cavea, or au⯑dience [94] part, is remarkably well conſtructed for the two firſt requiſites, of ſeeing and hearing. In theſe eſſentials it gives place to none that ever I ſaw, and I think I may ſafely ſay is ſu⯑perior to moſt. It was opened on Thurſday December the 11th 1735, with the comedy of

Don Antonio

by Mr. Daſh.

Don Charino

Mr. Bourne.

Carlos

Mr. Ward.

Don Lewis

Mr. Caſhel.

Don Duart

Mr. Wetherelt.

Clody

Mr. Sparks.

Governor

Mr. Redman.

Sancho

Mr. Barrington.

Elvira

Miſs Boucher.

Louiſa

Mrs. Ward.

Angelina

Miſs Barnes.

In the above we find ſeveral good comedians. Mr. and Mrs. Ward, Mr. Sparks, Mr. Barring⯑ton [95] and Miſs Barnes, I have already ſpoken of. Mr. Robert Wetherelt, in the theatrical phraſe, may be ſaid to have been born on the ſtage, as his father and mother at the time of his birth, 1708, belonged to a country company at Stamford in Lincolnſhire; in his early years he belonged to Drury-lane, where he firſt diſplayed his genius in Squire Richard in the Journey to London. From thence he went to Goodman's-fields theatre where he married a ſiſter of Mr. Delane's. On the new company's being formed at Smock-alley, he was invited over, and made his firſt appear⯑ance in the above play, when he gave great ſatisfaction. He ſpent the remainder of his days in Ireland, eſteemed as one of the beſt actors of his time. He died in 1743 in the 35th year of his age, much regretted, and was buried in St. Andrew's church-yard. Mr. Oliver Caſhel was an Iriſh gentleman of a very ancient and reputable family. He commenced actor much about the time above-mentioned. His figure was agreeable and voice excellent, ſo that ſome years afterwards he played Captain Macheath with ſuch ſucceſs at Covent-garden as to occaſion it to run for many nights after it had lain dormant for ſome years.

[96]This gentleman was ſuddenly ſtruck ſpeechleſs on the ſtage in the part of Frankly in the Suſpicious Huſband, at Norwich, and notwith⯑ſtanding every remedy and aſſiſtance were ap⯑plied, expired in a few hours. Mr. Daſh and Mr. Bourne were two good comedians, eſ⯑pecially the latter. Miſs Boucher I know but little of. Mr. Redman I believe was the ſame who for many years afterwards belonged to Covent-garden. Beſides theſe were a Mr. Charles Morgan an actor of great merit in low comedy, Mr. John Morris, Mrs. Bullock, natural daughter of Mr. Wilkes, a very good actreſs, and ſeveral others.

Behold three theatres built in Dublin within the ſpace of five years! Rainsford-ſtreet, Aun⯑gier-ſtreet, and Smock-alley; not to mention Madam Violante's, and the theatre opened by Ward in Dame-ſtreet. A ſtranger would be led to imagine from theſe circumſtances, that its inhabitants were the moſt theatrical in the world, yet the reverſe was really the caſe, and the ſtage was rapidly declining, as the city at that time could not do more than ſupport one theatre properly.

[97]However the conteſt lay principally between Aungier-ſtreet and Smock-alley; as to Rainſ⯑ford-ſtreet, it had been for ſome time on the decline. Novelty had loſt its force, and its ſituation was too remote to be long ſupported. After this we hear very little concerning it. A play-houſe ought always to be nearly as central as poſſible, in order to accommodate all ranks and degrees of people. In this reſpect Smock-alley had the advantage of its rival. Aungier-ſtreet ſtill retained its authority of a theatre-royal, whilſt the other was opened by a licenſe from the Rt. Hon. the Lord-mayor granted to Mr. Lewis Duval the manager, under whoſe direction it was rebuilt. Both companies continued through the ſeaſon without any material occurrence, with little profit to themſelves, or pleaſure to the town. At the cloſe of it the Aungier-ſtreet company took their uſual route to Carlow, Kilkenny, Cork and Limerick, whilſt Mr. Duval's purſued an oppoſite direction, and opened at Belfaſt, July 16th 1736, with the comedy of the Stra⯑tagem, at which the earl of Antrim, lord Hillſ⯑borough, Clotworthy Skeffington, Eſq and many others of the nobility and gentry were preſent.

[98]On their return to town, both parties con⯑tinued their efforts with a variety of ſucceſs, though Duval ſeems to have been the moſt in⯑duſtrious and fortunate of the two. The Beg⯑gars Opera was got up for the purpoſe of in⯑troducing Mrs. Reynolds, then famous in the character of Macheath, with Mrs. Hinde in Lucy. Mr. Hinde was the original in the ſong of Mad Tom in this kingdom, which he re⯑peatedly ſung on the ſtage with great applauſe. A pantomime called Harlequin Spaniard was exhibited ſeveral nights, and brought tolerable houſes at Smock-alley theatre.

The tragedy of King Charles the Firſt was then performing with great eclat at Lincoln's-inn-fields. Its reputation in London made it a principal object to both theatres here; the moment it was publiſhed, copies were ſent over, the play was caſt, and put into ſtudy at both theatres. Duval's however brought it out firſt, and performed it to ſeveral crowded houſes. This popular tragedy was the production of an Iriſh pen. The author, Mr. Havard, was born in Dublin, July 1710. His father who was an eminent vintner, gave him a liberal education. He was deſigned for the profeſſion of a ſurgeon, [99] but the ſtage diſplayed ſuch charms, and made ſuch an impreſſion upon his juvenile mind, that early in life he relinquiſhed all other purſuits, and before the age of twenty had performed ſeveral characters at Smock-alley theatre with applauſe.

Ambition, and the hopes of riſing in his pro⯑feſſion, prompted him to leave Dublin in 1730, and offer his ſervices to Mr. Giffard, then ma⯑nager of Goodman's-fields theatre. Here he was engaged at a very low ſalary. However, his good ſenſe, gentleneſs of manners, and that unoffending behaviour, which marked his cha⯑racter through life, ſoon gained him the eſteem of the manager and the public.

Shortly after, he produced his tragedy of Scanderberg, which, conſidered as an eſſay of youth, has a tolerable ſhare of merit. In 1736, his friendſhip for Mr. Giffard, then in diſtreſs, induced him to try the ſtrength of his genius once more. For his ſubject he choſe the melancholy ſtory of king Charles the firſt, com⯑prehending the trial and principal events relat⯑ing to the death of that unhappy monarch. Such was his known indolence, and love of eaſe, [100] that we are informed upon this occaſion, Mr. Giffard inſiſted upon the power of keeping him confined under lock and key till the work was completed. This the good-natured author conſented to, and under cloſe confinement he remained till the piece was produced.

Whether this bodily reſtraint had any influence upon his muſe, 'tis hard to determine; thus much muſt be confeſſed, that the language of the play is rather ſtiff and metaphorical, however, the cha⯑racters are well drawn and exhibit faithful hiſ⯑torical portraits of the men and manners of the times. Peculiarly happy in the choice of his ſubject, it was impoſſible even for moderate abi⯑lities not to work up ſuch intereſting events to ſome advantage. Mr. Havard had much merit in this reſpect. Few, poſſeſſed of the leaſt ſpark of ſenſibility, can read the hiſtorian's relation of the unfortunate prince's taking his laſt leave of his children without the utmoſt emotion. On the ſtage its effect was prodigious. And my own obſervation can juſtify Mr. Davies's remark, that ‘never were tears ſo plentifully ſhed, as at the mournful ſeparation of Charles and the young princes.’

[101]Mr. Havard after being near forty years the approved ſervant of the public, having attained a moderate competence, and drawing towards the ſixtieth year of his age, exchanged the buſtle of the ſtage for eaſe and retirement, in which peaceful ſituation he died, much beloved and lamented.

But, to return to my ſubject: whether the taſte of the public was palled, or the managers of the two theatres had not judgment ſufficient to pro⯑cure them proper entertainment, is hard to be aſcertained; certain it is, that every day the ſtage ſunk in eſtimation, and to ſo low a condition was it now reduced, that when the reſpective companies uſed to finiſh in Dublin, they gave public notice of going to entertain the ladies and gentlemen at the races of Mullingar, Carlow, Clonmell, &c. nay, Carlow was then thought of ſuch conſequence, that a great contention enſued, and after a vigorous oppoſition the Aungier-ſtreet company got the victory, and obtained leave to perform. This was in Auguſt 1737. It was uſual then in Dublin to aſſure the public at the bottom of the bills, that they would not diſmiſs the audience; and amongſt other curious anecdotes we find at Smock-alley, [102] Mrs. Bullock advertiſed for the part of Clariſſa in the City Wives Confederacy, when they informed the public, that ‘Mrs. Bullock having performed this part in London for ſome years with great applauſe, it is thought the play will bring a large audience.’

The 30th of November 1737, both theatres were cloſed for ſix weeks, by order of the duke of Devonſhire, on account of the death of queen Caroline. The poor performers did not want this additional ſtroke of ill fortune at the begin⯑ning of a ſeaſon.

The winter campaigns now ſeem to furniſh very little worth notice. In ſummer, they were occaſionally viſited by a few performers of con⯑ſequence from London, whom the certainty of good benefits allured. Mr. Delane, Mr. Hal⯑lam, and Mr. Bridgewater, performed at Smock-alley in June 1737. In June 1739, the cele⯑brated Mr. Quin, then in the zenith of glory, accompanied by Mr. Giffard, played ſeveral nights at Smock-alley, and drew crowded houſes to their Spaniſh Fryar, and Torriſmond, Cato and Juba, Sir John Brute, and Heartfree, &c. Mr. Quin's benefit was 1261. at that time [103] eſteemed a great ſum. In June 1739, Mr. Delane, reinforced with Mr. Millward, reviſited this kingdom, and played a few nights at Smock-alley, where they appeared in Othello and Iago, Tamerlane and Bajazet, Brutus and Caſſius, Oreſtes and Pyrrhus, Bevil jun. and Sealand, &c. Mr. Woodward alſo performed for the firſt time in this kingdom at the ſame theatre, July 10th 1739, Sir Novelty Faſhion, in Love's Laſt Shift, with Harlequin in the farce, by the name of Mr. Lun, jun.

The enſuing winter brought Miſs Woffington forward to public notice as an actreſs. This ce⯑lebrated character had for ſome years quitted Madam Violante's booth, and been engaged at Aungier-ſtreet, where ſhe danced between the acts with Mr. William Delemain, Monſieur Moreau and others. On February 12th 1736-7, ſhe per⯑formed the part of Ophelia in Hamlet, being her firſt appearance in a ſpeaking character on that ſtage. She now began to unveil thoſe beauties, and diſplay thoſe graces and accompliſhments, which for ſo many years afterwards charmed mankind. Her eaſe, elegance, and ſimplicity, in Polly in the Beggars Opera, with the natural manner of her ſinging the ſongs, pleaſed much. [104] Her girls were eſteemed excellent, and her Miſs Lucy in the Virgin Unmaſked, brought houſes. But ſhe never diſplayed herſelf to more advan⯑tage, than in characters where ſhe aſſumed the other ſex. Her figure, which was a model of perfection, then free from reſtraints, appeared in its natural form. One of the firſt occaſions ſhe had to exhibit it was at her own benefit, when ſhe played Phillis in the Conſcious Lovers, and the Female Officer in a farce of that name with great reputation.

As I cannot purſue any regular order in the relation of the events of this time, I ſhall juſt throw together a few miſcellaneous obſervations on matters as they occur. The firſt is, that Mr. Duval, from what reaſon I cannot learn, gave up his licenſe of acting by permiſſion of the lord-mayor, and at the top of the bills at this time we find, By Authority of the Right Hon. Luke Gardiner, Eſq. December 14th 1739, two new pieces were produced; a tragedy called the Treacherous Huſband, and an opera called Whittington and his Cat; theſe were for the benefit of the author, who luckily is not re⯑corded, nor can I find the pieces ever were re⯑peated. Nearly in the ſame predicament ſtood [105] a new tragedy called Tamar Prince of Nubia, written, as the public were then informed, on the late famous revolution in China, by Michael Clancy, M. D. The affinity between Nubia and China I am not able to diſcover, however it was played, and ſoon after conſigned to the ob⯑livion it merited.

CHAP. VII.

THE dreadful ſevere winter in 1739-40, for a long time put a ſtop to all public diver⯑ſions. The poverty and diſtreſſes of the lower claſſes of people at that time can ſcarcely be de⯑ſcribed. The theatre felt this general calamity in its full force, and for near three months was entirely cloſed. In the April following, juſt after the opening, Miſs Woffington, now high in eſtimation, by deſire of ſeveral perſons of [107] quality, appeared for the firſt time in the cha⯑racter of Sir Harry Wildair, and charmed the town to an uncommon degree. A few days after the following lines appeared in print.

The fame of this accompliſhed actreſs had by this time reached the Britiſh capital, and advan⯑tageous propoſals being made to her from Mr. Rich, ſhe immediately embraced them, and ap⯑peared the winter following at the theatre royal in Covent-garden in her favourite character of Sir [108] Harry Wildair. The novelty of the attempt attracted the notice of all the dramatic connoiſ⯑ſeurs. The houſe was crowded, and ſo infinitely did ſhe ſurpaſs expectation, that the applauſe ſhe received was beyond any at that time ever known. The former ſtandard for acting the character was Mr. Wilkes. Every one who had attempted it after him fell very far ſhort. It was reſerved for Miſs Woffington to exhibit this elegant portrait of the Young Man of Faſhion in a ſtile perhaps beyond the author's warmeſt ideas. Her Sir Harry Wildair was the ſubject of converſation in every polite circle and fixed her reputation as an actreſs. It was repeated upwards of 20 nights the firſt ſeaſon, and never failed of drawing a moſt brilliant and numerous audience. Mr. Davies places this in 1738. I have undoubted authority for aſſerting her firſt performance of Sir Harry Wildair was in Dublin, April 1739. I muſt here obſerve that Mr. Davies was often miſinformed reſpecting the dates of theatrical anecdotes in Ireland, of which I ſhall produce proofs hereafter. Indeed, in compiling a work ſo complicated, it is almoſt impoſſible to avoid making ſome miſtakes re⯑ſpecting the dates of particular occurrences.

[109]In November 1740, Mr. Duval's company on their return from Drogheda opened at Smock-alley by permiſſion of the Right Hon. Luke Gardiner, with the comedy of the Funeral, in which Mrs. Furnival, an actreſs of great merit, played Lady Brumpton. Mrs. Furnival, I have been informed by the beſt judges, was poſſeſſed of as great abilities as almoſt any actreſs that ever appeared. Unhappily ſhe did not cultivate thoſe abilities to the beſt advantage. She was at this time eſteemed one of the beſt actreſſes on the ſtage, and ſuſtained for many years a great variety of characters, both in tragedy and comedy with reputation.

About this time the following curious bill was printed which I ſhall give at full length, and which I hope will prove acceptable to my readers.

For the Benefit of Mrs. BULLOCK's Daughter. By the Right Hon. the LORD MAYOR's Company of Comedians. By Particular Deſire, At the Theatre in SMOCK-ALLEY, On Friday the 10th of February, will be acted a Comedy, call'd, [110] LOVE FOR LOVE. The Part of Miſs PRUE to be performed by Mrs. BULLOCK's Daughter. All the other Parts to the beſt Advantage. With a new PROLOGUE to be ſpoke by HER. With the following Entertainments between the Acts, viz. Act I. The Song of Mad Tom by Mr. Hind. Act II. The Sailor's Dance by Monſ. Dumont and Mrs. Martin. Act III. A new Dialogue to be ſung between Mr. Eſte and Mrs. Reynolds. Act IV. The Scotch Dance by Mr. Morris and Mrs. Martin. Act V. A new Pantomime Dance, call'd, PIGMALION and the IVORY STATUE. The Statue of the Ivory Maid by Mrs. BULLOCK's Daughter. Boxes, 5s. 5d. Lattices, 4s. 4d. Pit, 3s. 3d. Gallery, 2s. 2d. To begin exactly at Half an Hour after Six o'Clock. Vivat Rex.

[111]Miſs Bullock became afterwards Mrs. Dyer, a very uſeful actreſs. Mrs. Bullock I believe died in Dublin about the year 1740. As the above bill is totally deficient of characters, the following may convey information which may make amends.

At the Deſire of ſeveral Perſons of Quality. For the Benefit of Mr. FOX, Pit-Door-Keeper, At the Theatre in SMOCK-ALLEY, On Thurſday the 4th of June, 1741, will be acted a Comedy call'd, The SQUIRE of ALSATIA. The Part of Sir William Belfond to be performed by Mr. Morgan. Sir Edward Belfond, Mr. Philips. Belfond Senior, Mr. Elrington. Truman, Mr. Eſte. Cheatly, Mr. Beamſly. Shamwell, Mr. Meek. Captain Hackum, Mr. I. Sparks. Lolpoop, Mr. C Morgan. Attorney, Mr. Huſband. The Part of the Squire to be performed by Mr. Wetherilt. Iſabella, Mrs. Barry. Tereſa, Mrs. Morgan. [112] Lucia, Mrs. Carmichael. Mrs. Termagant, Mrs. Wetherilt. To which will be added a Farce, called FLORA'S OPERA. The Part of Hob to be performed by Mr. C. Morgan. With ſeveral Entertainments of Dancing between the Acts. Act I. A new Dance call'd the Country Revels by Mr. Philips and others. Act II. The Wooden Shoe Dance by Mr. Morris. Act III. The Engliſh Maggot by Mr. Philips. Act IV. Pierrot in the Baſket by Mr. Morris. Act V. The Running Footman by Mr. Dele⯑main and others. Boxes, 5s. 5d. Lattices, 4s. 4d. Pit, 3s. 3d. Gallery, 2s. 2d. Beginning at Half an Hour after ſix o'Clock. Vivat Rex.

Amidſt this general decline of the ſtage, the managers of Aungier-ſtreet made an exertion which rouſed the curioſity of the public, and deſerves particularly to be noticed. In June 1741 their latter ſeaſon commenced with a bril⯑liancy never before known in the Iriſh dramatic annals. They engaged Mr. Quin then in his [113] meridian, Mrs. Clive, Mr. Ryan, and Made⯑moiſelle Chateneuf, then eſteemed the beſt female dancer in Europe.

Mr. Quin opened in his favourite part of Cato, to as crouded an audience as the theatre could contain. Mrs. Clive next appeared in Lappet in the Miſer; ſhe certainly was one of the beſt that ever played it. And Mr. Ryan came forward in Iago to Mr. Quin's Othello. With ſuch excellent performers, we may natu⯑rally ſuppoſe the plays were admirably ſuſtained. Perhaps it will ſcarcely be credited that ſo finiſhed a comic actreſs as Mrs. Clive could ſo far miſtake her abilities as to play Lady Townly to Mr. Quin's Lord Townly, and Mr. Ryan's Manly. Cordelia to Mr.Quin's Lear, and Ryan's Edgar, &c. However ſhe made ample amends by her performance of Nell, the Virgin Un⯑maſked, the Country Wife, and Euphroſyne in Comus, which was got up on purpoſe, and acted for the firſt time in this kingdom.

The maſque of Comus, though one of the moſt beautiful pieces of poetry in our language, yet requires to be uncommonly ſupported to render it pleaſing to an Engliſh audience. But [114] in this inſtance it was indeed a treat to the ju⯑dicious. Mr. Quin ſpoke Comus. The Elder Brother was played by Mr. Ryan, Mrs. Clive Euphroſyne, and the other characters were diſ⯑poſed of with great care and propriety. The celebrated Mr. Duburg prepared the muſic, Paſquilino led the band, and the dances were executed by Monſieur Laluze, Mademoiſelle Chateneuf and others. This was allowed to be the beſt entertainment preſented to the public for many years, and during the ſhort time they had to ſtay, was repeated three times.

As ſoon as Aungier-ſtreet theatre cloſed, Mr. Ryan and Mrs. Clive returned to London. Mr. Quin ſeems to have attended the company to Cork and Limerick, for we find him the next ſeaſon at Aungier-ſtreet theatre. Mr. Duval went as uſual to Belfaſt and Newry.

Both theatres opened the enſuing October, and, ſtrange to relate, Mr. Quin's firſt part was Juſtice Balance in the Recruiting Officer, on a government night.

But, as I before obſerved, the beſt performers were ſelected for thoſe nights, which were then [115] the moſt crowded and faſhionable. Mr. Quin for ſome time played his Jaques, Apemantus, Richard, Cato, Sir John Brute, and Falſtaff, un⯑ſupported; but he ſoon received a powerful re⯑inforcement. On Saturday December 21ſt 1741, Mrs. Cibber made her firſt appearance in this kingdom, in Indiana in the Conſcious Lovers, to Mr. Quin's Young Bevil. This extraordinary actreſs had been for ſome years rapidly riſing in her profeſſion, and had then attained that emi⯑nence ſhe ſo deſervedly held till her death. Mrs. Cibber's agreement with the proprietors of Aungier-ſtreet was for three hundred pounds, a ſum they were well enabled to pay from the money ſhe drew, though to her firſt night there was not ten pounds.

This extraordinary acquiſition could not fail to turn the ſcale in favour of the theatre which poſſeſſed ſuch capital performers. Mr. Quin's Chamont, and Mrs. Cibber's Monimia were re⯑peated ſeveral times. They played together Comus and the Lady, the Duke in Meaſure for Meaſure, and Iſabel. The Spaniſh Fryar and Queen, Horatio and Caliſta, &c. with uncom⯑mon applauſe, and generally to crowded houſes.

[116]Mr. Duval on his part was not idle. He en⯑gaged Mr. Wright, an actor of great merit, who made his firſt appearance in Lear. This gentle⯑man, with Mrs. Furnival, Mr. Wetherilt, Mr. Morgan, Mr. Elrington, Mr. Iſaac Sparks, compoſed the principal part of the Smock-alley company. Names too feeble to oppoſe to thoſe of Quin and Cibber. Duval alſo invited over Mr. Chetwood, who had been prompter upwards of twenty years at Drury-lane. To his advice and experience the Dublin ſtage owed many im⯑provements. By his direction a machiniſt from one of the London theatres was engaged, who firſt worked the wings by means of a barrel underneath, which moved them together at the ſame time with the ſcenes. This was publicly boaſted of as a maſter-piece of mechaniſm; at preſent it is well underſtood and conſtantly prac⯑tiſed.

This winter a new muſic-hall was built in Fiſhamble-ſtreet, by the ſubſcribers to the muſical ſociety then held at the Bull's-Head, and their firſt concert in it was on October the 2d, 1741. Shortly after, the famous Mr. Handel, whoſe memory muſt be dear to all lovers of muſic, came over here, and his firſt oratorio was per⯑formed [117] in the new muſic-hall the December following, in which Mrs. Cibber ſung ſeveral of the principal ſongs. After the departure of Mr. Quin for London, which was in February 1742, ſo great was her character, that ſhe con⯑tinued to draw houſes, eſpecially in Polly in the Beggars Opera, which was often repeated, and allowed by the firſt judges to be ſuperior to any that ever played it.

In February 1741, the tragedy of Guſtavus Vaſa, or the Deliverer of his Country, which had become ſo popular from its rejection by the lord-chamberlain, when it was ready for repre⯑ſentation at the theatre-royal Drury-lane, was got up with much care and attention at Aungier-ſtreet, and was performed ſeveral nights with great ſucceſs. The author, Henry Brooke, Eſq was a native of this kingdom, and gained great reputation as a writer by his Farmers Letters. In 1738 the drama firſt felt the weight of a licenſer's power by his reſtriction of the above tragedy. Mr. Brooke however was not injured by the prohibition, for on publiſhing the play by ſubſcription, he gained upwards of a thouſand pounds by it. The operation of the act not extending to Ireland, and it having a [118] conſiderable ſhare of merit, it kept poſſeſſion of the ſtage for ſeveral years.

To an emulation between the rival theatres, the public was, in all probability, indebted for the great pleaſure of ſeeing ſuch capital per⯑formers. The extraordinary attraction of Quin and Cibber at Aungier-ſtreet, obliged Duval to uſe every effort to ſtem the torrent. His endea⯑vours ſucceeded equal to his moſt ſanguine ex⯑pectations, and Smock-alley in turn reigned triumphant. For his latter ſeaſon he engaged Mr. Giffard, Miſs Woffington, and Mr. Garrick. Either of theſe latter names would have com⯑manded the attention of the town without any other aid, but ſuch combined powers had never heretofore appeared on the Iriſh ſtage.

June 15th 1742, Miſs Woffington opened in her favourite character of Sir Harry Wildair, and charmed her beholders beyond expreſſion. On the Friday following, Mr. Garrick appeared in Richard the Third. His name drew crowds, and more were obliged to return than could gain admiſſion. Thoſe who were fortunate enough to ſucceed, were in raptures at his performance. Great as their expectations were, his execution [119] exceeded them. His ſecond part was Chamont in the Orphan, which he repeated, Monimia by Mrs. Furnival; his third Lear, Cordelia, Miſs Woffington, and Edgar, Mr. Giffard, with his own farce of the Lying Valet, in which he played Sharp. After a few unſucceſsful at⯑tempts, Aungier-ſtreet cloſed with Mrs. Cib⯑ber's Andromache, the laſt character this admi⯑rable actreſs performed in this kingdom.

Mr. Garrick, Giffard, and Miſs Woffington continued playing till the 19th of Auguſt, during which time they acted Clodio, Carlos and An⯑gelina in the Fop's Fortune; Richard, Henry and Lady Anne; Pierre and Jaffier, Belvidera, Furnival, with Schoolboy by Garrick; Hamlet Garrick, Ophelia, Woffington; their laſt were, Captain Plume and Sylvia, Serjeant Kite by Mr. Walker, the original Macheath, who had juſt come over.

Though great was Garrick's name, and much expected from him, yet his ſucceſs exceeded all imagination. He was careſſed by all ranks of people as a theatrical phenomenon. At the ſame time juſtice obliges us to acknowledge, that Miſs Woffington contributed largely [120] towards the extraordinary entertainment the pub⯑lic received, and was nearly as great a favourite. With truth it may be ſaid they were two of the firſt performers of the age.—No wonder then, that during the hotteſt months of the year, the theatre was each night crowded with perſons of the firſt conſequence. However, the exceſſive heats proved fatal to many, and an epidemic diſtemper ſeized and carried off numbers, and which from the circumſtance was called the Garrick Fever.

Highly ſatisfied with the profit and reputation ariſing from this excurſion, and delighted with the generous and hoſpitable reception they ex⯑perienced from the nobility and gentry of this kingdom, and which they always acknowledged in the warmeſt terms, Mr. Garrick and Miſs Woffington returned to London, to reap new honours in the field of theatrical glory.

CHAP. VIII.

THERE is a point which human perfection can attain, beyond which it is impoſſible to go. The managers of both theatres ſeemed to have reached this ultimatum. They had now feaſted the public with the performance of the beſt actors, Quin and Cibber, Garrick and Woffington. Their reſources thus exhauſted, neceſſity obliged them eagerly to ſeize on the firſt novelty which preſented itſelf. Unſatisfied with the ſituation of affairs at Aungier-ſtreet, Mr. Swan came forward as acting manager and occa⯑ſional actor. He laudably, at the beginning of [122] the ſeaſon, opened a ſubſcription for eight of Shakeſpeare's principal plays, which however did very little. But Duval, unmindful of the reputation he had ſo lately acquired, by a ſingle ſtroke debaſed the Iriſh ſtage to a degree never known before. This was by engaging a com⯑pany of tumblers and rope-dancers, who, though the firſt in Europe, ſhould not have been ſuf⯑fered to diſgrace the walls of the loweſt ſtage in it. Such diverſions are very well in their proper place, but ſhould never be admitted to contaminate the inſide of a theatre. However, they drew the admiring multitude, and ſo far anſwered the end of the manager.

Leſt I ſhould be thought not to do juſtice to the merits of theſe extraordinary gentry, I ſhall here preſent the reader with one of their curious advertiſements.

By permiſſion of the Rt. Hon. Luke Gardiner, Eſq. At the Theatre SMOCK-ALLEY,

This preſent evening, Tueſday December 7th, 1742, will be preſented by the celebrated com⯑pany of Germans, Dutch, Italians and French, ſeveral feats of activity, conſiſting of Rope-dancing, Tumbling, Vaulting, Equilibres, and [123] Ground Dancing. Madam Garman performs on the Rope with Stilts, (never done here) and will alſo perform on the Slack Rope. Monſieur Dominique will perform the ſurpriſing equilibres of the Circle, never attempted by any but himſelf, in which he is drawn up forty feet high on his head, fires off two piſtols, and is let down again in the ſame poſture. Monſieur Dominique and Monſieur Guittar perform the ſurpriſing tumble over the double Fountain. Monſieur Dominique tumbles through an Hogſhead of Fire in the Middle, and a lighted Torch in each Hand, &c.

O ſhame, where is thy bluſh! The very boards which but a few months before were trod by the firſt actors of the age, now "ſated with celeſtial food, and feeding upon garbage." To the credit however of public taſte, none but the very loweſt of the people went to ſee them. The galleries were crouded, but 'twas a reproach to be ſeen in the boxes. Every perſon of ſenſe lamented the diſgrace and decline of the ſtage, now perverted from its nobleſt uſes. On ſuch occaſions, ſurely the interference of the legiſlature is not only highly laudable, but eſſentially neceſſary. Mr. Swan, [124] with a ſpirit which did him credit, endeavoured to expoſe the baleful encroachment to the utmoſt of his power. On this occaſion he delivered the following prologue with great propriety, which was loudly and judiciouſly applauded.

[126]Theſe well-meant efforts of the Aungier-ſtreet company were, however, ineffectual. The per⯑formers had not merit ſufficient to attract the notice of the public. The ſtage indeed had long been in a declining condition. To effect this a variety of cauſes concurred. The city was not then populous enough to ſupport two theatres. If one had a tolerable run of ſucceſs, ruin was the conſequence to the other. Salaries were badly paid, buſineſs was totally neglected, whilſt irregularity and indecorum pervaded the whole.

Though one party had deſcended ſo low as to call in the aid of tumbling and rope-dancing to their aſſiſtance; the other, diſdaining ſuch un⯑worthy reſources, had recourſe to the nobler and more rational powers of muſic to ſuccour poor neglected Shakeſpeare. The celebrated Dr. Arne, ſo eminent for his muſical abilities, had lately viſited the kingdom, and was at that time performing at the new Muſic-hall in Fiſhamble-ſtreet, where he had under his direc⯑tion a company of the beſt ſingers ever heard in Dublin.

Theſe the proprietors engaged, and in order to exhibit them to the higheſt advantage, revived [127] the Maſque of Comus, with every expence and attention neceſſary to render it worthy of public notice. Dr. Arne conducted the muſical depart⯑ment; he new ſet the whole piece, divided the choruſſes into parts, which till then had been ſung in uniſon, and was warmly intereſted in its ſucceſs. Meantime the manager prepared new ſcenery, dreſſes, and decorations. The parts were caſt as follows:—Comus, Mr. Swan; firſt Spirit, Mr. Sparks; ſecond Spirit, Mr. Watſon; Elder Brother, Mr. Bardin; Younger Brother, Mr. J. Elrington; the Lady, Mrs. Elmy; the ſong of "Sweet Echo," accompanied on the German Flute by Mr. Neale; Paſtoral Nymph and Sabrina, by Mrs. Arne; Euphroſyne, Mrs. Bailden; Principal Bacchanal, by Madam Sybille, both pupils of Dr. Arne; a double orcheſtre, led by Dr. Arne. The prologue was ſpoken by Mr. Swan, the epilogue by Mrs. Furnival.

After all theſe preparations it was brought out on the 10th of January, 1742-3, to a crouded houſe, when it was received with the higheſt marks of applauſe, and amply repaid the mana⯑ger's pains and expence, by being often repeated with ſucceſs. This induced the manager to get [128] up ſeveral other muſical pieces, which were per⯑formed with much credit and profit.

But I muſt haſten from ſo unintereſting a ſubject. Too long have I been obliged to pre⯑ſent my readers with a diſagreeable portrait of the Iriſh ſtage. 'Tis time to draw a veil over the diſgraceful and humiliating ſtate in which the drama had languiſhed ſince the days of Aſhbury and Elrington. Temporary gleams of ſunſhine had occaſionally intervened, but they ſoon vaniſhed, and only ſerved by contraſt to augment the gloom which ſucceeded. A brighter period now approaches in which the ſtage re⯑gained, nay even ſurpaſſed its former luſtre, and ſhone forth with a ſplendor worthy the Greek and Roman days.

From the moſt trivial circumſtances ofttimes the greateſt and moſt unlooked-for events ſpring; thus, the appearance and ſucceſs of a new actor produced ſome time after the moſt remarkable change ever known in the theatrical affairs of Ireland.

On the 29th of January, 1742-3, the part of Richard the Third was attempted by a young [129] gentleman at Smock-alley theatre. This attempt ſucceeded beyond the moſt ſanguine expectations of the friends of our young candidate for fame, and equalled any firſt eſſay ever remembered by the oldeſt performers on the Iriſh ſtage. Thus encouraged, our adventurer a few days after undertook the character of Mithridates, in the tragedy of that name, written by Lee, in which he ſo amply confirmed public opinion, that he threw off the diſguiſe, and was ſhortly after an⯑nounced to the town for a ſecond performance of Richard by the name of Mr. Sheridan.

This gentleman was the ſon of the Rev. Dr. Sheridan, a character well known in the literary world, eſteemed a man of great abilities, and often celebrated by Dr. Swift, with whom he lived in the moſt intimate habits of friendſhip. Mr. Sheridan was born in the year 1719, and early diſcovering ſigns of genius, was at a proper age ſent to Weſtminſter-ſchool, where he re⯑mained till he was prepared to enter the univer⯑ſity of Dublin. After going through his ſtudies with great eclat, and taking his degrees, he quitted college, contrary to the wiſhes of his friends, who ſtrongly urged him to undertake the arduous taſk of reading for a fellowſhip.

[130]Perhaps it would have been better for him⯑ſelf in the end, if he had taken their advice. With ſuch abilities, his path to eaſe and inde⯑pendence had then been eaſy, and ſucceſs, in all probability, would ſoon have crowned his endea⯑vours. Inſtead of that, the profeſſion he em⯑braced, involved the greateſt part of his life in a perpetual round of anxious toil, and unceaſing fatigue, wherein he experienced every ſpecies of ingratitude and perfidy.

Fortunately however for the intereſts of the drama, the bent of his genius led him to the purſuit of fame in her alluring images. He long had cheriſhed an extraordinary predilection for the ſtage, and though at that time it pre⯑ſented proſpects far from inviting, yet nothing could diſſuade him from indulging his darling paſſion. The extraordinary ſucceſs he met with amply juſtified his determination. Like Garrick, he at firſt ſhone forth a finiſhed actor, and at once attained the heights which many others ſpend years in labouring to gain.

He repeated Richard for his own benefit, February 19th, to a numerous audience, and ſhortly after in Hamlet gave freſh proofs of his [131] uncommon talents. The remainder of the ſeaſon he ſtudied and played Brutus in Julius Caeſar, Carlos in the Fop's Fortune, Othello, Lord Townly, and Cato; his performance of the latter added much to his reputation.

The ſummer birds of paſſage this year were Mr. Theophilus Cibber with Mr. and Mrs. Giffard at Smock-alley, and Mr. Havard at Aungier-ſtreet. The former brought money, but the latter was of no great ſervice; however, altogether they were ſome relief to the public, who began to be heartily tired with liſtening to diſputes which had long ſubſiſted between ma⯑nagers and performers, and conſtantly witneſſing ſcenes of diſorder and irregularity at both theatres.

Mr. Theophilus Cibber made his firſt appear⯑ance in Lord Foppington in his father's comedy of the Careleſs Huſband. Mr. and Mrs. Gif⯑fard were the Sir Charles Eaſy, and Lady Betty Modiſh. The pieces revived on this occaſion were the Relapſe, Lord Foppington, Cibber; Lovelace and Berinthia, by the Giffards; with Cibber's Mock Doctor. The Old Batchelor, in which they played Fondlewife, Belmour and Letitia, with the Schoolboy by Cibber. The [132] Conſcious Lovers, Tom, Bevil, and Indiana, with the Rehearſal, in which Cibber played Bays.

Not ſatisfied with a reputation juſtly acquired in comedy, we find Mr. Cibber exhibiting his beautiful perſon, and charming with his har⯑monious tones in tragedy. Accordingly, much to his own ſatisfaction, he played Polydore in the Orphan, Syphax in Cato, and Lothario in the Fair Penitent; in the latter Mr. Giffard performed Altamont, Mr. Sheridan, Horatio, and Mrs. Giffard, Caliſta: perhaps the public will not readily believe that Cibber's vanity could tempt him ſo far as to play Othello; ſuch however really was the caſe; Wright, an actor of merit, acted Iago. Mr. and Mrs. Giffard, Caſſio and Deſdemona. At the cloſe of the ſeaſon, the Giffards with Mr. Cibber and Mr. Havard returned to England. Of Mr. Sheridan I ſhall have occaſion to ſpeak largely.

Envy is the ſure attendant on merit, and with a jaundiced eye converts into blemiſhes its greateſt beauties. The high reputation, and rapid riſe of Mr. Sheridan, even thus early, procured him many enemies. Parties were [133] formed againſt him, and every endeavour made uſe of to impede his ſucceſs. However, his fame was too well eſtabliſhed to ſuffer by ſuch unfair methods, they only ſerved to render him more popular. The following letters written by a large party of young gentlemen in the college, who were diſappointed in ſeeing him perform Cato, will confirm this fact.

What gave riſe to the above I cannot juſtly ſay, but the conſequence was, that at the par⯑ticular [135] deſire of a very conſiderable number of ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Sheridan played the part of Cato a few nights afterwards at Aungier-ſtreet theatre to a very ſplendid audience, and received every tribute of applauſe which his late unfair treatment, and maſterly performance of the character merited. The night following the theatre cloſed.

CHAP. IX.

THE interval which ſucceeded produced what had been long wiſhed for by every un⯑prejudiced and diſintereſted lover of the drama, a coalition of parties between the contending theatres. Convinced by ſad experience, that each had been for many years playing a loſing game, and wearied out with vexatious unprofit⯑able diſputes, the proprietors of both concluded it would be for their mutual advantage to unite intereſts, and perform in Aungier-ſtreet theatre only. This ſalutary expedient however, did not

anſwer the end propoſed. In forming a new company out of the two old ones, it became neceſſary to reject many: theſe thinking them⯑ſelves aggrieved, had the addreſs, by fraudulent means, I believe, to obtain the old leaſe of Smock-alley theatre from Duval the principal proprietor, and took poſſeſſion, determined, deſperate as their ſituation was, to form an oppoſition.

As their numbers were too few to play any piece, they were under the neceſſity of engaging a little company then acting in the North, who elated with the hopes of reaping fame and profit in the metropolis, haſtily repaired bag and bag⯑gage to Dublin. From ſuch reinforcements little could be expected. Luckily however for them, Mr. Sheridan had not acceded to the terms offered him by the Aungier-ſtreet ma⯑nagers, which were, an hundred pounds for playing till the benefits commenced, and an hundred pounds enſured by his own benefit. Theſe he rejected, and with ſome degree of reaſon, he ſaid that it was 50l. leſs than Mrs. Furnival's ſalary, that it was leſs than Made⯑moiſelle Chateneuf's, and about a third of what they gave Mr. Arne and Mr. Lowe.

[138]The Mr. Lowe alluded to by Mr. Sheridan was the celebrated ſinger of that name, then in his meridian, who made his firſt appearance in Ireland in the part of Macheath in the Beggars Opera, which was played eight nights. Peachum by Mr. Sparks, Lockit by Mr. Beamſly, Filch by Mr. Dyer, Lucy by Mrs. Bayley, Mrs. Peachum Miſs Polly Davis, and Polly by Made-moiſelle Chateneuf.

Mr. Sheridan ſaw with concern the fallen ſituation of the ſtage, and thus early formed a deſign of removing its diſorders and reforming its abuſes. To accompliſh this romantic project his ambition led him to aſpire to the government of the whole. He inſiſted on the ſole ma⯑nagement of the theatre, and in return he offered the proprietors to ſecure them five hundred pounds per year. This they refuſing with diſ⯑dain, he immediately went over to the other party, who opened a few days after with the tragedy of Richard, thus advertized.—"The part of King Richard the Third by Mr. Sheridan, King Henry by Mr. Elrington, and all the reſt of the parts by perſons who never appeared on this ſtage." Amongſt theſe new performers were Mrs. Storer who played Lady Anne, and [139] Mr [...]. [...] the Queen. O [...] the [...]inder we cannot boaſt.

A paper war now enſued between the rival theatres, in which each as uſual in ſuch caſes, laid the whole blame on the other. A ſhort time however determined the diſpute. The party Mr. Sheridan eſpouſed were ſo deſtitute of merit, that his utmoſt abilities were inſuf⯑ficient to ſupport them; ſo after a ſtruggle of a few weeks, he accepted of a capital engagement from the manager of Drury-lane theatre, and left Dublin in January 1744.

On his withdrawing himſelf, oppoſition ceaſed, a few of the principal actors of Smock-alley were taken into favour, and the united com⯑panies played occaſionally at each theatre. Every thing went on in the uſual train. Bad manage⯑ment with the conſtant attendants, irregularity and poverty, ſtill prevailed.

At this unfavourable juncture did Mr. Barry make his firſt debut, on that ſtage which for many years afterwards he ſo powerfully ſup⯑ported. And here I cannot help obſerving, that whilſt the pens of the firſt writers of the age [140] have been employed in recording [...], and ſounding the praiſes of Garrick, the abilities of his cotemporary competitors in the dramatic field of glory, Sheridan and Barry, were only occaſionally mentioned, and ſlightly paſſed over.

Very imperfect indeed has been the infor⯑mation we have relative to Mr. Barry. The little that can be depended on, I ſhall commu⯑nicate to my readers. Spranger Barry, Eſq was born in Skinner-row, Dublin, in the year 1717. He was deſcended from a very good family, and nearly related to Barry, the laſt lord Santry. He received a tolerable education, and ſucceeded his father an eminent ſilver-ſmith in buſineſs: in this ſituation he married and re⯑mained ſeveral years in the ſame ſtreet he was born in. At what time he diſcovered a pro⯑penſity for the ſtage, we cannot learn, when he commenced actor he was about 27 years of age.

In one of her happieſt moments did nature produce this excellent actor, and with an un⯑ſparing hand ſhe bountifully heaped her choiceſt favours on him. It was impoſſible for imagina⯑tion to conceive a more perfect or finiſhed figure than he at that time poſſeſſed. To this [141] figure was added a voice, the harmony and melody of whoſe ſilver tones were reſiſtleſs, and ever will be remembered whilſt memory holds her ſeat, by thoſe who had the happineſs of hearing that great actor in the zenith of his theatrical glory. His carriage and action, though far from finiſhed, were by no means ungraceful, and in both of theſe, time made a wonderful improvement.

The character of Othello was judiciouſly choſen for Mr. Barry's firſt appearance. It is one of Shakeſpeare's maſter-pieces, and in my opinion one of the fineſt portraits ever drawn, and requires greater abilities in an actor to ſuſtain. His perſon was happily adapted to re⯑preſent the noble Moor, and his powers to de⯑lineate the various affecting tranſitions of love, jealouſy, rage, and tenderneſs, which peculiarly mark the character.

As at this diſtance of time every information relative to the firſt appearance of ſo great an ornament to the drama, muſt naturally excite attention, the following bill of that night's en⯑tertainment, will I hope, prove an acceptable curioſity.

[142]By his Majeſty's Company of Comedians. For the Benefit of Mr. SPRANGER BARRY. At the Theatre-Royal in Smock-Alley, On Wedneſday the 15th of February Inſt. will be acted the Tragedy of OTHELLO, The Part of Othello to be performed by Mr. BARRY. Being the firſt Time of his Appearance on any Stage. Iago, by Mr. WRIGHT. Duke, Mr. Vanderbank. Brabantio, Mr. Beamſly. Roderigo, Mr. Morgan. Caſſio, Mr. J. Elrington. Lodovico, Mr. Bardin. Montano, Mr. Watſon. Deſdemona, by Mrs. BAYLY. And the Part of Emilia by Mrs. FURNIVAL. With Singing by Mr. Lowe, and Entertainments of Dancing by Mademoiſelle Chateneuf. N. B. By Order of the Proprietors, Tickets given out for this Play at the Theatre-Royal in Aungier-Street, will be taken the ſame Night at the Theatre-Royal in Smock-Alley. Boxes, Stage and Lattices, 5s. 5d. Pit, 3s. 3d. Gallery, 2s. 2d.

[143]The curioſity of his attempt drew a crowded houſe, and his performance was as might natu⯑rally be expected, uncommonly applauded. The public were in raptures at this ſpecimen of ſuch extraordinary abilities, and congratulated themſelves on ſo valuable an acquiſition to their favourite amuſement. Thus received, he was eaſily prevailed on to gratify his friends by a repetition of Othello which juſtified them in their opinion, and confirmed their hopes of his proving one of the firſt actors of the age. Pierre was his next part, in which he met with equal ſucceſs, though ſome years afterwards he found Jaffier more ſuited to diſplay the tender⯑neſs of his feelings.

Perhaps there is not in dramatic hiſtory any thing more ſingular or worthy remarking than the following. That three of the greateſt per⯑formers of the age, Garrick, Barry, and She⯑ridan, were born within three years of each other, and appeared on the ſtage within the ſame compaſs of years. Mr. Garrick was born in 1716, Mr. Barry in 1717, and Mr. Sheridan in 1719. Mr. Garrick came out in 1741, Mr. Sheridan in 1743, and Mr. Barry in 1744.

[144]I ſhall cloſe this ſeaſon with preſenting my readers with the bills of two plays which I hope will convey a juſt idea of the ſtage in Ireland at this period.

At the particular Deſire of ſeveral Ladies of Quality. For the Benefit of Mrs. FURNIVAL. By his Majeſty's Company of Comedians. At the Theatre-Royal in Aungier-Street, On Monday next, being the 6th of February, 1743-4, will be revived a Comedy called, the MERCHANT OF VENICE. As Written by Shakeſpeare. The Part of Portia to be performed by Mrs. Furnival. Baſſanio, by Mr. Ralph Elrington. Antonio, by Mr. J. Elrington. Morochius, Mr. Beamſly. Tubal, Mr. I. Sparks. Launcelot, Mr. Barrington. Gobbo, Mr. Morgan. Salarino, Mr. Watſon. Salanio, Mr. Dyer. Duke, Mr. Vanderbank. Neriſſa, Miſs Bullock. Jeſſica, Miſs Douglaſs. [145] The Part of Gratiano to be performed by Mr. Sparks. The Part of Lorenzo, with the Songs proper to the Character, by Mr. Lowe. And the Part of Shylock the Jew, to be per⯑formed by Mr. Wright. With Entertainments of Dancing by Monſ. Dumont, Madem. Chateneuf, and Mr. Morris. To which will be added a Farce, call'd The VIRGIN UNMASK'D. The Part of the Virgin to be performed by Mademoiſelle Chateneuf. Being the firſt Time of her appearing in that Character. Quaver the Singing Maſter to be performed by Mr. Lowe.

At the Particular Deſire of ſeveral Ladies of Quality. For the Benefit of Mr. P. MORRIS. By his Majeſty's Company of Comedians. At the Theatre-Royal in Smock-Alley, To-morrow being Wedneſday the 23d of May, 1744, will be acted a Comedy, called WOMAN'S A RIDDLE. The Part of Sir Amorous Vainwit by Mr. Sparks. And the Part of Vulture by Mr. Morris. [146] Courtwell, Mr. R. Elrington. Colonel Manly, Mr. J. Elrington. Afpin, Mr. Barrington. Butler, Mr. I. Sparks. Miranda, Mrs. Paſqualino. Clarinda, Mrs. Bayly. Neceſſary, Miſs Bullock. Betty, Mrs. Phillips. With ſeveral Entertainments of Dancing. End of Act II. A ſerious Dance by Made⯑moiſelle Roland. End of Act III. The Dutch Skipper by Mr. Philips. End of Act VI. A Dance called La Marie, and the Louvre and Minuet, by Monſ. Moreau and Mademoiſelle Roland. End of the Play, A new Dance by Mademoiſelle Roland. To which will be added a Farce, called THE DEVIL TO PAY; Or, THE WIVES METAMORPHOS'D. The Part of Sir John Loverule by Mr. Morris. The Part of Nell to be performed by Mademoiſelle Roland. Being the firſt Time of her appearing in that Character. Boxes, Stage and Lattices, 5s. 5d. Pit, 3s. 3d. Gallery, 2s. 2d.

[147]With ſuch a powerful addition as Mr. Barry, and reinforced by the aſſiſtance of Mr. Foote who firſt viſited Ireland at that time, the managers opened their winter campaign in high ſpirits. Mr. Foote brought a few crowded audiences, and was well received. Mr. Barry performed but ſeldom, but when he did, it was generally to good houſes. His new characters were Lear, Young Bevil, Henry the Fifth, Oreſtes and Hotſpur. The Guſtavus Vaſa of Brooke was at this time revived with altera⯑tions, and was performed ſeveral nights with tolerable ſucceſs.

Notwithſtanding the pains taken to prevent an oppoſition, the performers whom I formerly mentioned as excluded on forming the new company, being driven from Smock-alley, grew deſperate, and as their laſt reſource, haſtily erected a little theatre in Capel-ſtreet, and having obtained permiſſion of the Rt. Hon. the Lord Mayor, they ſtiled themſelves the City Com⯑pany of Comedians, and being joined by a few diſcontented actors who diſliked their ſituations, opened on Thurſday January 17th l744-5, with Shakeſpeare's play of

Duke

by Mr. Rivers.

Morochius

Mr. Brouden.

Antonio

Mr. Townſend.

Baſſanio

Mr. Marſhall.

Gratiano

Mr. Hall.

Lorenzo

Mr. Corry.

Shylock

Mr. Wright.

Tubal

Mr. Bourne.

Launcelot

Mr. Morgan.

Portia

Mrs. Brouden.

Neriſſa

Mrs. Phillips.

Jeſſica

Miſs Lewis.

Though there were a few perſons of merit in this new formed community, particularly Wright, Bourne, and Morgan, yet ill accom⯑modated and deſtitute of wardrobe and ſcenery, there was not the leaſt probability of ſtanding againſt any ſuch eſtabliſhed company, accordingly they languiſhed for a few years, and then gra⯑dually ſunk into obſcurity.

Towards the cloſe of this winter, the pro⯑prietors of Aungier-ſtreet and Smock-alley [149] theatres finding their affairs beyond their power to retrieve, and the ſtage reduced to the loweſt ebb, as their dernier reſort, and at the requeſt of the public, ſolicited Mr. Sheridan to return, and take on himſelf the ſole direction and management of the ſtage, offering to veſt him with unlimited authority to act in every reſpect as he ſhould think proper.

This was the only atonement in their power for a long ſeries of ill conduct and imprudence, but this indeed compenſated for all their former errors.

Where both parties were ſo willing, prelimi⯑naries were ſoon adjuſted. Every thing being ſettled to Mr. Sheridan's entire ſatisfaction, he came to Dublin in May, and performed a few nights in conjunction with Mr. Barry.

Having thus attained his utmoſt wiſh, Mr. Sheridan's firſt care was to engage ſuch a com⯑pany as muſt from their uncommon merit enſure ſucceſs. Miſs Bellamy, a young actreſs then riſing rapidly into fame, was applied to, and ſuch advantageous terms offered as ſhe readily em⯑braced. Though all the incidents related by [150] this extraordinary lady in the memoirs of her life, are not in every reſpect ſtrictly true, yet it is certain ſhe was then conſidered as a very valuable acquiſition to the Iriſh ſtage.

Mr. Lacy, patentee of Drury-lane theatre, was alſo prevailed upon to ſpend a few months in Dublin. But Mr. Sheridan's grand object was, if poſſible, to engage Mr. Garrick, then juſtly eſteemed the firſt actor of the age. The aſſiſtance of ſo capital a performer would ſtamp a degree of certainty upon the great undertaking he had embarked in.

This was a delicate point to compaſs, for we may recollect, that Mr. Sheridan was now ſole manager of the Iriſh ſtage, the darling of the public, and could with the greateſt propriety play every character he choſe. Thus ſituated, and ſeconded by ſo eminent an actor as Mr. Barry, whoſe abilities did not in the leaſt interfere with his, it might naturally be expected he would behold with a jealous eye, any perſon whoſe ex⯑traordinary merit might ſhake or leſſen his new acquired power. Yet thus circumſtanced, with a diſintereſtedneſs and public ſpirit ſeldom ſhewn, Mr. Sheridan uſed every effort to engage the [151] only man on the ſtage whoſe uncommon talents he had reaſon to entertain a jealouſy of.

He accordingly wrote a letter to Mr. Garrick to this purpoſe: "that underſtanding he had expreſſed a wiſh to pay a ſecond viſit to Ireland, he informed him, that as he was then ſole manager of the Iriſh ſtage, he ſhould be happy to ſee him in Dublin, and that he would give him every advantage and encouragement he could in reaſon expect." In ſhort, he made an offer to divide the profits ariſing from their united repreſentations with him, after deducting the expences incurred. And as there had been a ſort of rivalſhip and coolneſs between them before Mr. Sheridan left London, he at the ſame time frankly told him, that he muſt expect nothing from his friendſhip, but all that the beſt actor had a right to command, he might be very certain ſhould be granted.

Mr. Garrick was at colonel Wyndham's when he received this letter. After looking it over, he put it into the colonel's hand, ſaying, "this is the oddeſt epiſtle I ever read in my life." "It may be an odd one," replied the colonel, after he had peruſed it, "but it is ſurely an honeſt [152] one. I ſhould certainly depend upon a man that treated me with that openneſs and ſimplicity of heart." Mr. Garrick accordingly accepted the invitation, and repaired to Ireland.

On his landing in Dublin, he was met by Mr. Sheridan, who offered to fulfil his promiſe, of ſharing profits and loſſes. Though nothing could be fairer than this propoſal, yet Mr. Gar⯑rick inſiſted on a ſtipulated ſum for performing during the winter. The other objected to the demand, and perſiſted in his firſt offer, which, as he juſtly obſerved, was the moſt reaſonable; for then Mr. Garrick would receive as much money as he brought, and others would not be loſers. In the other caſe he perhaps might be the only gainer. After ſome little diſpute, which Mr. Sheridan decided, by taking out his watch, and inſiſting upon an anſwer in five minutes, Mr. Garrick ſubmitted, and the affair terminated in the moſt amicable manner.

Thus prepared, Mr. Sheridan took the field early the next ſeaſon with ſuch a company as Dublin had till then never beheld, and which her theatrical annals cannot parallel. The com⯑bined powers of Mr. Garrick, Mr. Lacy, Mr. [153] Elrington, Mrs. Furnival, and Miſs Bellamy, beſides many others of merit, ſuch as Walker, Frank Elrington, Morris, Bardin, Vanderbank, Sullivan, Beamſly, Mrs. Walker, Mrs. Storer, Mrs. Elmy, Miſs Jones, &c. were united with his own to entertain the town, who beheld with joy this happy beginning of their favourite reign.

CHAP. X.

THIS important buſineſs being ſettled, the ma⯑nager entered upon the arduous, and then eſteem⯑ed chimerical plan, of reforming and reſtoring the ſtage to its native purity. Great was his taſk, and Herculean were his labours. Happily, nature had amply endowed him with the moſt eſſential requiſites for ſo difficult and dangerous an undertaking. His temper was remarkably mild and gentle, yet was he unremittingly per⯑ſevering in accompliſhing whatever he embarked in. Though he always endeavoured to convince, and demonſtrate the propriety of his orders, rather than command, yet was he reſolute in en⯑forcing compliance to whatever he was aſſured [155] was right. His underſtanding was clear and comprehenſive, and a liberal education enabled him to behold objects in their proper light.

Paſſionately devoted to the ſtage, he had long beheld with regret, the humiliating condition to which it was reduced: deſpiſed and deſerted by the grave, the rational, and every lover of order and decency. He ſaw the magnitude of the buſineſs he was engaged in, yet he deſpaired not. Intimately acquainted with the ſtate of the Greek and Roman drama, when arrived at their higheſt point of perfection, he nobly laboured with unceaſing aſſiduity, towards the attainment of a grand object, that of RAISING THE IRISH THEATRE TO AN EQUAL DEGREE OF RESPECTABILITY.

Informed on every ſubject, and attentive to the minuteſt circumſtance, no part eſcaped his penetrating eye. The buſineſs of the ſtage was reduced to a regular ſcience, in which the moſt trifling parts of the great machine, equally con⯑tributed towards the movement and beauty of the whole.

[156]We muſt not however imagine that all this was accompliſhed in a day. It was the work of years. Perfection is only to be attained by perſeverance, and it is worthy to be remarked, that the laſt day of his management was in every reſpect, as laudable and as praiſeworthy as his firſt.

Non-payment of ſalaries he knew was the radical ſource of diſorders. Who would attend rehearſals, or take pains in their profeſſion, when they were uncertain of any recompenſe, and perhaps, had not even the means of ſub⯑ſiſtence? Poverty begot careleſſneſs and indif⯑ference, and in the end drove many to diſgrace⯑ful actions, which nothing but neceſſity could excuſe.

It is ſcarcely credible, though ſtrictly true, that before Mr. Sheridan's time, the great Iſaac Sparks had but twelve ſhillings per week, Mr. Dyer, eight ſhillings, Mr. Elrington, a guinea, and the reſt in proportion. Miſerable as theſe pittances were, they many weeks re⯑ceived not above the half of their reſpective demands. Perhaps the following, though from unqueſtionable authority, will at this time be

hardly believed. So reduced were their finances, and exhauſted their credit, that the acting mana⯑gers, as they were called, were once obliged to repair to the theatre on the evening of a play, dinnerleſs. The firſt ſhilling that came into the houſe they diſpatched for a loin of mutton, the ſecond for bread, the third for liquor, and ſo on till they had ſatisfied the calls of nature, when they prepared for the buſineſs of the night.

Mr. Sheridan's firſt care therefore was to raiſe moſt of the actor's ſalaries, and for this purpoſe, he eſtabliſhed a fund for the regular diſcharge of ſalaries and tradeſmens bills. This rule he never deviated from, and amidſt all his diſtreſſes, on the wreck of his fortune in 1754, he could, with an honeſt pride, publicly boaſt in a pamphlet he then publiſhed, that "Every Saturday ſaw the weekly ſalary of each perſon diſcharged at the treaſurer's office, and that the books of that office will ſhew, that at the cloſe of the account laſt Saturday, there was not a demand upon him of any performer whatſoever, from his firſt undertaking the management twelve years ago, to that hour, left unpaid."

[158]It may be naturally ſuppoſed, that he had at firſt many difficulties to encounter. The ſtage had long been under the direction of ſeven ma⯑nagers, who in deriſion were called by the town, the ſeven wiſe maſters. Bad habits, confirmed by time, were hard to be eradicated. Perform⯑ers were unuſed to regularity, and the taſte of the town was palled and violated. Nevertheleſs when the work of reformation was a little ad⯑vanced, the taſk grew much eaſier. His me⯑thods were ſo gentle, and at the ſame time ſo ſa⯑lutary, that they carried conviction with them.

The good ſenſe of the actors pointed out to them the propriety of the manager's conduct, and the neceſſity there was of conforming to his directions. He conſtantly attended the rehear⯑ſals, and ſettled the buſineſs of each ſcene with preciſion. Not the moſt trifling incident of the night's performance was omitted at the laſt morning's practice; and, though the ſtricteſt at⯑tendance was required, yet were the rehearſals ſo reaſonably appointed, that it was in every per⯑ſon's power to comply, and ſeldom was he under the diſagreeable neceſſity of being obliged to en⯑force obedience by forfeits: he rightly judged that money gained by thoſe means was the ſeve⯑reſt [159] of loſſes, and rather than be forced to recur to them, when admonition failed, he choſe ſooner to part with the performer, however valuable, who continued to offend in this manner.

At rehearſals, his great jugdment and know⯑ledge of the ſtage, amply qualified him for an inſtructor; and his regulations were ſo proper, and conveyed in ſo pleaſing a manner that they were irreſiſtible, and could not fail of being com⯑plied with. His higheſt ambition ſeemed to center in being conſidered as the father of his company.

The minutiae of the ſtage were alſo diligently attended to. His decorations were truly elegant, and his plays were dreſſed with characteriſtic propriety. Indeed, he has frequently been blamed for launching into expences which the profits of the performances were unable to repay. Upon the whole, we may with confidence aſſert, that, during Mr. Sheridan's management, plays were conducted in a ſtyle equal in moſt reſpects to any the Britiſh ſtage ever produced. How meritorious then was the man who raiſed the Iriſh theatre to ſuch an eminence!

[160]The importance of the ſubject will, I hope plead my excuſe for ſo long a digreſſion. To return. The campaign opened early in October 1744. After playing a few weeks he brought out Miſs Bellamy, November 11th, at Aun⯑gier-ſtreet, in Monimia; Caſtalio by Mr. Barry; Polydore by Mr. Lacy; Chamont, himſelf. Miſs Bellamy, as a young promiſing actreſs, pleaſed much. Her ſecond part was Deſdemona, to Mr. Sheridan's Othello.

Like a ſkilful general, Mr. Sheridan reſerved his greateſt ſtrength for a corps de reſerve. Mr. Garrick did not come forward till the novelty of the other performers was, in ſome meaſure, abated. His firſt appearance was at Smock-alley theatre, Monday December 9th, in the character of Hamlet; Queen, Mrs. Furnival; Ophelia, Mrs. Storer. His reception was ſuch as his un⯑common merit and extraordinary character de⯑ſerved.

The ſuperior manner in which plays in gene⯑ral, but particularly tragedies, were then ſup⯑ported, muſt appear from the names of Garrick, Sheridan, Barry, Bellamy and Furnival, in one piece; what a feaſt for the dramatic amateur! [161] In order to give the abilities of Mr. Garrick every fair play, Mr. Sheridan generouſly con⯑ſented to their playing capital characters alter⯑nately, as Richard, Hamlet, &c. and to give a peculiar ſtrength they agreed each to play Iago to Mr. Barry's Othello. Amongſt the tragedies remarkably ſtrong were, the Fair Penitent, Lo⯑thario, Mr. Garrick; Horatio, Mr. Sheridan; Altamont, Mr. Barry, who we are told played it ſo very finely as to make it appear equally reſpec⯑table with the two former characters. Sciolto, Mr. Beamſly; Caliſta, Mrs. Furnival, and Lavi⯑nia, Miſs Bellamy. And the Orphan, Mr. Garrick, Chamont; Barry, Caſtalio; Beamſly, Arcaſto; Sheridan, Polydore; and Bellamy, Monimia.

The characters which Mr. Garrick played that winter in Dublin, were in the following order: Hamlet, Richard, Bayes, Archer, Lothario, Mac⯑beth, Lear, Baſtard in King John, Sir John Brute, School Boy, Chamont, Oreſtes, Othello, Iago, Haſtings, and Sharp in his own farce of the Lying Valet. The two laſt were for his own benefit, and the laſt time of his ever performing in this kingdom.

[162]Never did the drama experience ſo ſudden a tranſition as from the laſt to the preſent ſeaſon. The winter before all was diſgrace, poverty, and empty benches, whilſt ruin and deſolation reigned triumphant. Now order came ſmiling forward, and in her train followed peace, plenty, honour and public eſteem. The nobleman and man of faſhion; the ſons of ſcience; the grave citizen, and the modeſt fair, long baniſhed from the theatre, now with pleaſure enjoy⯑ed once more their favourite rational amuſe⯑ment.

The witty earl of Cheſterfield was then lord lieutenant of Ireland. His attachment to the ſtage had been long known. Delighted to ſee ſuch excellence, he commanded plays very frequently. His popularity alone would have enſured a bril⯑liant and crowded attendance. Mr. Davies, in his life of Garrick obſerves, that, "Though he was very gracious to Mr. Sheridan, and admitted his viſits at the caſtle, he took not the leaſt notice of Mr. Garrick; nay, when they both waited on him with candles on the night of Mr. Garrick's benefit, he ſpoke very kindly to Mr. Sheridan, but did not even return the ſalute of the other," He adds, "It ſeems his lordſhip, [163] when in Ireland, had a mind to convince the people of that kingdom, that his heart was en⯑tirely Iriſh."

It muſt be confeſſed, lord Cheſterfield often practiſed the duplicity he ſo ſtrongly recom⯑mended to his ſon. An inſtance occurs in the preſent caſe: When in Dublin he profeſſed the higheſt eſteem for Mr. Sheridan, and gave every encouragement to his plan of forming an acade⯑my to teach oratory; and, on his departure, he made uſe of theſe expreſſive words: "Never let the thoughts of your oratorical inſtitution go out of your mind." Yet, a few years after⯑wards, when Mr. Sheridan waited upon him in London to fulfil his promiſe, that celebrated pa⯑tron of men of genius, the witty, the generous, the liberal-minded earl of Cheſterfield, bounti⯑fully preſented him with a guinea, as his contri⯑bution towards one of the nobleſt plans deviſed by human wiſdom!

I muſt here beg leave to ſet Mr. Davies right in one particular. In his life of Mr. Garrick, he ſays, "During the management of the Dub⯑lin ſtage by Garrick and Sheridan, a genius ſtarted up whoſe eminence," &c. meaning Mr. [164] Barry. In the firſt place Mr. Garrick had no ſhare in the management, though he had in the profits; the former was Mr. Sheridan's ſole province. As to Mr. Barry I have ſtat⯑ed before, that he firſt played in February, 1744.

Indeed, Mr. Garrick was ſo pleaſed with his growing merit, that he generouſly bore teſtimo⯑ny to it in ſeveral letters written to his friends in London, during his reſidence here, aſſuring them, he was the beſt lover he had ever ſeen on the ſtage.

To Mr. Sheridan's honour, be it obſerved, that through the whole of the connection be⯑tween him and Mr. Garrick that ſeaſon, ſuch was his ſtrict adherence to his engagements and open unreſerved behaviour, that they parted good friends, Mr. Garrick acknowledging he was the man of honour and the gentleman.

In the beginning of May 1746, he finiſhed his theatrical campaign, and, in company with Mr. Victor, afterwards treaſurer and manager returned to London, highly pleaſed with a [165] trip which infinitely ſurpaſſed his expectations, both in ſame and profit.

About a fortnight after his departure, Mr. Sheridan cloſed his firſt ſeaſon, the moſt ho⯑nourable and brilliant that had then ever mark⯑ed the Iriſh dramatic annals.

CHAP. XI.

PREVIOUS to the commencement of the next ſeaſon, we find the above-mentioned Mr. Victor, who liking his reception had re⯑turned, made deputy-manager and treaſurer to Mr. Sheridan. Mr. Victor was a gentleman of abilities, and ſeemed well qualified for ſuch an office. Mr. Lacy, on his return to London en⯑gaged Mr. Barry, whoſe talents he entertained a high opinion of, at a very conſiderable ſalary, for Drury-lane, where he pleaſed much and drew crowded houſes.

The loſs of two ſuch capital performers as Garrick and Barry, was a ſevere blow on Mr. [167] Sheridan's riſing proſpects. However he began with alacrity, and opened a ſubſcription for ſix of Shakeſpeare's plays. The comedy of Much Ado About Nothing was revived, and truly anſwered its name, for it brought nothing. That failing, Romeo and juliet was got up with a characteriſtic pomp and ſplendor never before exhibited on the ſtage in Ireland.

It muſt be confeſſed that Mr. Sheridan never had much of the lover in his compoſition, and was totally unfit to repreſent the tender ſighing Romeo, yet with Miſs Bellamy's Juliet, now a very great favourite, and the pictureſque manner in which he diſplayed the funeral proceſſion, the curioſity of the town was ſo much attracted as to occaſion it to be performed nine nights to full houſes, an extraordinary circumſtance at that time.

Though Mr. Sheridan's efforts ſince he com⯑menced manager were crowned with ſuch ſucceſs, yet oppoſition had not entirely ceaſed: the little theatre in Capel-ſtreet opened January 8th 1746-7, with the Provoked Huſband, in which Miſs Maſon, the preſent Mrs. Heaphy, performed Miſs Jenny. She was then very [168] young, and had juſt appeared on the ſtage, where ſhe played the girls with the utmoſt ſucceſs. It is with the higheſt pleaſure I embrace every occaſion through the courſe of this work, of paying a juſt tribute to thoſe perſons whoſe abilities and character have added luſtre to a profeſſion where example ought to enforce pre⯑cept, and I am happy to point out the preſent inſtance where both, after a ſeries of years ſpent in the ſervice of the public, are rewarded with a genteel competency, and crowned by the eſteem and friendſhip of the firſt characters in Ireland.

On the 3d of March Mr. Giffard jun. made his firſt appearance in this kingdom, at Capel-ſtreet theatre, in Sir Harry Wildair in the Con⯑ſtant Couple; Colonel Standard, Mr. Wright, Vizard, Mr. O'Brien, Beau Clincher, Mr. Layfield, Young Clincher, Mr. Maſon, Alder⯑man Smuggler, Mr. Mynitt, Jubilee Dicky, Mr. Dale, Lady Lurewell, Mrs. Dale, Angelica, Miſs Maſon, Lady Darling, Mrs. Maſon, Parley, Mrs. Layfield; with the Devil to Pay, Jobſon, Mr. Layfield, and Nell, Mrs. Layfield.

But to return to Mr. Sheridan. Notwith⯑ſtanding the emoluments ariſing from the repre⯑ſentation [169] of Romeo, the profits of the ſeaſon were likely to turn out but indifferent, if a for⯑tunate accident had not happened which rouſed the ſpirit of the public, and in the end, proved of the greateſt advantage to the intereſts of the drama.

As this was an event of much conſequence in theatrical hiſtory, productive of great good to the ſtage, and which reflected the higheſt honour on the manager, I muſt beg the reader's indul⯑gence with being a little particular on the ſub⯑ject. The following relation is chiefly taken from Mr. Victor, who was a witneſs to every tranſ⯑action, and therefore muſt have been well in⯑formed.

Mr. Sheridan although he had accompliſhed many ſalutary reformations, and advanced the credit of the ſtage into ſuch high repute, yet was there one evil remaining, which ſet his power at defiance, and that was the admiſſion of gentlemen behind the ſcenes, both at rehearſal and at night. Every idler who wore a laced coat, as lace was then in faſhion, thought it entitled him to this privilege.

[170]It was then the cuſtom for the young gen⯑tlemen of the college, to crowd every morning to rehearſal, and many times have the poor diſ⯑treſſed actors been ſeen rehearſing within a circle of forty or fifty of thoſe gentlemen whoſe time ought to have been better employed. At night they uſed to take a pride in ſtanding on the ſtage in ſight of the audience, indulging themſelves in very improper liberties, and often diſturbing the performance with their irregularities.

Mr. Sheridan long wiſhed to quell this hydra, but was afraid of the encounter. Cuſtom, time immemorial, had ſanctified this breach of all order and decency, and the privilege was too pleaſing and too much extended to expect it to be quietly reſigned.

Many pages were written on the ſubject, to prove, "that a well regulated theatre is an honour as well as advantage to a kingdom. That it is the moſt certain means of giving ſtrangers a high opinion of our good ſenſe and politeneſs, and at the ſame time accommodating the nobility and gentry with that entertainment which they not only had a right to enjoy, but which, if they were diſappointed of here, they would certainly [171] remove to another kingdom to obtain; that therefore it was highly neceſſary the legiſlature ſhould take the theatre under their protection, and ſecure it from the inſolence of wanton and diſſolute men."

But every public and private remonſtrance were treated with contempt; many methods were propoſed, but all ineffectual.—At length chance brought about what deſign had never been able to accompliſh.

At the repreſentation of the comedy of Aeſop, written by Sir John Vanbrugh, on the 19th of January 1746-7, a young gentleman of the name of Kelly, went to the pit much intoxicated with liquor, an indecency at that time too frequent there, when climbing over the ſpikes, he got upon the ſtage, and very ſoon made his way to the green-room where ſeveral of the female per⯑formers were aſſembled.

Unawed by the decorum which conſtantly reigned there, he addreſſed Mrs. Dyer an actreſs of excellent character, in ſuch groſs and indecent terms, as obliged all the women quickly to retire and take refuge in their dreſſing-rooms. Thither [172] he purſued them, and on being refuſed admit⯑tance, made ſuch a noiſe as diſturbed the buſineſs of the ſtage then going forward. Miſs Bellamy who played Doris, being then wanted to go on was afraid to venture out, till Mr. Sheridan dreſſed for his character of Aeſop, had the of⯑fender taken away and conducted back to the pit.

Enraged at his diſappointment, this intrepid hero took a baſket of oranges which ſtood-near him, and the next time the manager came on the ſtage, amuſed himſelf by throwing them at him. Mr. Sheridan juſtly provoked at the in⯑dignity offered him, inſtantly addreſſed the au⯑dience for protection, who immediately inter⯑fered, and with ſome difficulty ſilenced Mr. Kelly, but not before he had loudly and repeatedly, called Mr. Sheridan ſcoundrel and raſcal! Who with the moſt becoming ſpirit and propriety an⯑ſwered "I am as good a gentleman as you are."

As ſoon as the play was over Mr. Kelly not content with the miſchief he had already occa⯑ſioned, forced his way in at the ſtage door, and up to Mr. Sheridan's dreſſing-room, and there repeated the names he had ſo liberally beſtowed on him from the pit: this naturally provoked [173] Mr. Sheridan, though ſo even tempered, to ſtrike him ſeveral times, which the doughty hero took with the utmoſt patience, and retired to a club of his companions, to whom he related his ſad diſ⯑aſter, who, incenſed that a ſcoundral player ſhould preſume to ſtrike a gentleman, united in denouncing vengeance againſt the offending manager, and all who ſhould take his part.

A few nights after, Mr. Sheridan being adver⯑tiſed for Horatio in the Fair Penitent, their threats had ſuch an effect on him, that at the par⯑ticular requeſt of many of his friends, he declin⯑ed going to the theatre that evening, and re⯑queſted Mr. Dyer to go on the ſtage, and by acquainting the audience with his reaſons, to apologize for his conduct: This was no ſooner performed than about fifty of the party with Kelly at their head, roſe up in the pit, and climbing over the ſpikes on the ſtage, went directly to the green-room, from thence to all the dreſſing-rooms, broke open thoſe that were locked, ran up to the wardrobe and thruſt their ſwords into all the cheſts and preſſes of cloths, by way of feeling, they ſaid, if Sheridan was concealed there. After many of theſe acts of violence, a party went off to his houſe in Dorſet-ſtreet, but upon [174] finding he had provided for their reception, they thought proper to retire.

This tranſaction was on a Thurſday night. The next day it was the general topic of public converſation through the city. Parties ran high, and though the ſober and diſpaſſionate took the manager's part, numbers were not wanting who, either through family connections or a ſpirit of licentiouſneſs, threatened revenge in all public places. On the Saturday morning, the fol⯑lowing letter appeared in Faulkner's Journal, written unknown to the manager, by Mr. Victor.

[179]The tendency of this early letter, was to ſet the people right, and to give a favourable, though juſt impreſſion of Mr. Sheridan's conduct, how⯑ever it was was ſoon anſwered, and within a month (the time the diſpute laſted) there were as many pamphlets publiſhed as would make a large octavo volume. The whole company, nay, the whole kingdom, were at laſt engaged in this quarrel, which not only threatened the ruin of all whoſe bread was depending on the theatre, but the lives and fortunes of many without doors, who were ſo raſh as to engage publicly in the affair, which was nothing more than the honour of an actor, but his cauſe was a noble one, a de⯑fence of decency, and the decorum of the ſtage; in which he was ſupported by all perſons of worth and honor, and by the laws of his country.

On this occaſion, a moſt noble ſpirit was raiſed and diffuſed throughout the city, I may ſay the whole kingdom, with great rapidity. This ſpirit firſt ſhewed itſelf at the repreſent⯑ing the tragedy of Richard the Third, advertiſed for the firſt trial play, after the grand riot, and as it was the firſt inſtance where the rights of the audience, and the duty and privileges of the [180] actors were freely aſſerted, it deſerves parti⯑cular notice.

When the play was advertiſed, loud threats were uttered againſt the manager, and a general declaration, that he ſhould never be permitted to play till he had made a proper ſubmiſſion. But the lovers of liberty and a free theatre, were not to be deprived of their favourite entertainment, by the unreaſonable humour of any ſet of men; they looked upon theſe menacing dictates as ſo many inſults to the laws and to the public, and therefore reſolved to oppoſe theſe ſons of riot and outrage to the utmoſt.

The principal inhabitants alſo began at this juncture to aſſemble, and reſolved to encourage and protect the manager. Several citizens ad⯑vanced in years, who were ſeldom ſeen at a theatre, were ſo ſenſible of the advantages and importance of a well regulated ſtage, that they declared to Mr. Sheridan and his friends, that they would now more than ever, appear there, and doubted not being able to protect the mana⯑ger, and the actors in general, in the diſcharge of their duty.

[181]With aſſurances of this kind, and a conſciouſ⯑neſs of his being in the right, Mr. Sheridan con⯑ſented to the performance of Richard. The houſe filled earlier than uſual. There was a brilliant appearance of ladies, gentlemen, and citizens of eminence, and no ſmall number of the youths of the univerſity. Theſe were diſ⯑perſed throughout the theatre, but chiefly in the pit; yet in ſuch a manner, that thoſe who beſt knew faces, could ſee no room to ſuſpect any thing like a concerted aſſembly, however they might afterwards have been found to agree in ſentiments.

Whether the author of this diſturbance was acquainted with this diſpoſition of the audience or not, is not certain, but it will appear he was not prepared for the reception which his riotous propoſals received. His friends came to the houſe late, in ſmall but well known groupes, and placed themſelves chiefly in the boxes. Their leaders either were not in town, or had not time to collect themſelves, and ſettle their plan of operation.

The play opened with great quietneſs; but at the latter end of the firſt act, when Richard ap⯑peared, [182] a confuſed noiſe was heard from differ⯑ent parts, but chiefly from the boxes, of a ſub⯑miſſion, a ſubmiſſion, a ſubmiſſion, off, off, off. Mr. Sheridan advanced with reſpectful bows to the audience, but was prevented ſpeaking by louder and more diſtinct ſounds of, no ſub⯑miſſion, no ſubmiſſion, go on with the play.

At this critical moment Lucas the celebrated Charles, then well known for his glorious ſtruggles in the cauſe of liberty, roſe up in the pit, and aſſert⯑ed the rights of the audience, and the freedom of the ſtage. He expreſſed his aſtoniſhment and deteſtation of men bringing their private quarrels with managers or players, into the theatre, and ſuch he apprehended the preſent caſe to be; but ſince the diſpute was introduced, it muſt, like other diſputes, there be determined by the majority. He preſumed every ſober per⯑ſon in the houſe came to receive the entertainment promiſed in the bills, for which he paid his money at the door. The actors then, he obſerved, were the ſervants of the audience, and under their pro⯑tection during that performance; and he looked upon every inſult or interruption given to them in the diſcharge of their duty, as offered to the audi⯑ence. He apprehended the matter in diſ⯑pute, [183] was no breach of the duty of the manager or actors, cognizable to any perſons preſent; but whether it were ſo, or thought otherwiſe by the houſe, the queſtion might eaſily be deter⯑mined. He therefore moved that thoſe who were for preſerving the decency and freedom of the ſtage, ſhould diſtinguiſh themſelves by the holding up of hands, judging, that when they ſhould come to know their numbers and ſuperi⯑ority, they would ſilence or turn out their oppo⯑nents.

He was heard with great reſpect, and ſaluted with ſhouts of applauſe, and on a diviſion, the numbers were ſo great againſt the rioters, that afraid of the conſequences, they ſuddenly went off, and left the performance of that night in quiet.

CHAP. XII.

THUS repulſed they reſolved ſtill upon further vengeance. The manager and thoſe who took his part, were doomed to deſtruction. The firſt perſon they ſingled out, was Mr. Lucas, who ſo nobly ſpoke in the defence of the rights of the audience and the ſtage. A num⯑ber of thoſe gentlemen aſſaulted him one night ſoon after this in the ſtreets. Next day he pub⯑liſhed an advertiſement, which was diſtributed all over the city, informing the public, that a [185] number of rude diſorderly perſons, in the habits of gentlemen, who had for ſome time paſt in⯑feſted the public places of the city, and diſturb⯑ed the peace of the theatre, had aſſaulted him, and offering a reward of five pounds to be paid on the apprehending and convicting any of thoſe offenders.

Before this riot began, the Fair Penitent had been advertiſed for the annual benefit of the hoſpital for incurables, and the governors, who were all perſons of conſequence, demanding the performance of their benefit play, ſent the ma⯑nager (who was to perform the part of Horatio) word, that they would take upon them to de⯑fend him that night; reſting aſſured no ſet of men would oppoſe a charity play, eſpecially as all the ladies of quality exerted their intereſts, and were to honour it with their preſence.

The bills were accordingly poſted up, and the governors went early to the theatre with their white wands. The boxes and pit would have been filled with ladies, if about thirty gentlemen had not early taken poſſeſſion of the middle of two or three benches, near the ſpikes of the orcheſ⯑tra. There were above an hundred ladies [186] ſeated on the ſtage, and when the curtain drew up, nothing could equal the brilliant appearance of the houſe.

At the entrance of Mr. Sheridan, (who had the honour of being uſher'd in by the governors) thoſe thirty men, all armed, roſe up in the pit, and ordered him off; they were joined by ſome few placed in both galleries. Mr. Sheridan im⯑mediately withdrew, and then violent diſputes began between the governors on the ſtage, and the gentlemen in the pit, and ſomething like challenges paſſed.

The diſpute now aſſumed a very ſerious aſ⯑pect. Among the governors was a ſtudent of the univerſity in his bachelor's gown, whom a gentleman near the ſpikes of the pit, threw an apple at, and called a ſcoundrel, and (as he de⯑clared) ſaid they were all a pack of ſcoundrels. Juſtly incenſed at this affront, away flew the ſcholar to the college, and returned in about twenty minutes with as many youths armed for the combat. Luckily the rioters had moſt fortunately left the pit a very few minutes before the ſcholars arrived, and to prevent any further diſturbance, it was agreed by the ma⯑nagers [187] of the charity and Mr. Sheridan to diſ⯑miſs the houſe, ſo they were obliged to return to the college.

The next day however, they ſeiſed ſeveral of the principal rioters, the firſt and greateſt of⯑fender, was compelled to kneel down on his bare knees, in all the courts of the college, and to repeat a form they had prepared for him: the others were excuſed kneeling, and only read their ſubmiſſion, and aſked pardon of the col⯑lege.

The lords juſtices now thought proper to in⯑terfere, and to order the maſter of the revels to ſhut up the theatre by his authority, which was accordingly done. This was a wiſe and prudent ſtep. The theatre was made the ſeat of war, and it was impoſſible to ſee where the diſturb⯑ances might end.

And now the lawyers came in for their ſhare of the quarrel. The young gentleman who began this was taken up for aſſaulting Mr. Sheridan, and Mr. Sheridan was indicted for aſſaulting and beating the gentleman. Various were the reports, and wagers on the events of [188] theſe trials. Nobody at that time would believe, that a jury could be found in Dublin that would find a GENTLEMAN guilty! However they were miſtaken. When the time drew near, the lord chief juſtice Marlay ſent for the high ſheriff, and directed him to make out, and bring a liſt of ſufficient and able jurors to his lordſhip.

The day appointed for the trials of both par⯑ties came on. The curioſity of the public was rouſed to a great degree. Mr. Sheridan ap⯑peared as the firſt culprit, and was tried for aſſaulting and beating the gentleman, as Mr. Kelly was conſtantly ſtiled in the diſpute. But it appearing fully to the jury, on the oaths of three or four men, whoſe honeſty was unqueſ⯑tioned, that the gentleman gave the manager ſuch abuſive and provoking language, in his dreſſing-room, as compelled him to beat him out of it, and that no other perſon touched him, the jury acquitted the priſoner without going out of the box.

Then the GENTLEMAN appeared at the bar, and many were the witneſſes examined: for ſo many perſons are employed behind the ſcenes of a well regulated theatre, that there were a [189] multitude of witneſſes to prove the facts charged in the indictment. In the courſe of the trial, Mr. Sheridan was called upon the table, and when he was there, anſwering the queſtions propoſed to him by the court and bench, a very eminent though not a very mannerly counſellor, on the ſide of the priſoner, got up and ſaid, "He wanted to ſee a curioſity? I have often ſeen (continued he) a gentleman ſoldier, and a gen⯑tleman taylor, but I have never ſeen a gentleman player." Mr. Sheridan, without the leaſt em⯑barraſſment, modeſtly bowed, and ſaid, "Sir, I hope you ſee one now." A loud murmur of applauſe ran through the court, and the coun⯑ſellor, notwithſtanding his effrontery, ſat down abaſhed, and never aſked him another queſtion.

Mr. Juſtice Ward tried both the cauſes in the preſence of the lord chief juſtice, and a full bench, who all ſeemed inſpired with the ſpirit of the chief juſtice, to do every thing in their power to puniſh thoſe deſtroyers of public liberty! In ſhort the JURY found the GENTLE⯑MAN priſoner GUILTY, and the ſentence was, a fine of five hundred pounds, and three months impriſonment.

[190]After the ſentence was given, the lord chief juſtice was pleaſed to obſerve, that attention ſhould be chiefly given to the conduct of thoſe gentlemen at the theatre, as that was the place of public reſort, and added, That any perſon who forced his way behind the ſcenes, WHERE MONEY WAS NOT TAKEN, if apprehended and brought before that court, and the fact-proved there, he SHOULD FEEL THE UTMOST SE⯑VERITY OF THE LAW.

This Mr. Kelly, when the law-ſuit firſt com⯑menced, imagined he ſhould be liberally ſup⯑ported, and hundreds ſubſcribed to carry it on, but upon conviction he found himſelf wholly deſerted, and after ſuffering a week's confine⯑ment, became ſo thoroughly ſenſible of his error, that he was obliged at laſt to apply to Mr. Sheridan, who inſtantly requeſted government to relinquiſh the fine of 500l. which was granted him; and then became ſolicitor and bail him⯑ſelf to the court of king's bench for the enlarge⯑ment of the young gentleman.

Thus, ample redreſs was procured for the manager and actors, by obtaining that reſpect to be paid to the ſcenes of the theatre-royal in Dublin, [191] which no other theatre till then had the hap⯑pineſs to maintain: for, from that hour not even the firſt man of quality in the kingdom, ever aſked or attempted to get behind the ſcenes, and before that happy era, every perſon who was maſter of a ſword, was ſure to draw it on the ſtage door-keeper, if he denied him entrance.

And thus was the long uſurped tyranny of a ſet of wanton, diſſolute gentlemen (the greateſt nuiſance that any city ever groaned under) effectually ſubdued, and the LIBERTIES OF THE PEOPLE RECOVERED BY A SPIRITED PUBLIC, AIDED BY A WORTHY LORD CHIEF JUSTICE AND AN HONEST JURY!

CHAP. XIII.

BUT to return to the buſineſs of the theatre. The remainder of the ſeaſon proved excellent, and fluſhed with his late happy conqueſts, the manager, the enſuing ſpring, went to London to recruit. There he engaged Mr. Woodward and the Mechels, then the beſt dancers on the ſtage, for the following winter. Theſe both proved of ſervice to the theatre.

[193]Mr. Woodward made his firſt appearance in the Buſy Body, September 28th, 1747, and was well received by the public. He was at that time riſing into ſame, and even had great merit both as a comedian and harlequin; in the for⯑mer he ſupported an extenſive liſt of comedies with reputation, and being remarkably atten⯑tive to his buſineſs ſoon became a great favourite with the town.

But the manager had great expectations from his pantomimes, in which he principally excell⯑ed. By agreement he was to revive two or three old pantomimes, and to get up a new one at a limited expence. It has been a general obſervation which long experience has confirm⯑ed, that in Ireland thoſe ſort of entertainments have not the ſame force or attraction as in Lon⯑don; and the manager of Dublin, who em⯑barks largely in ſuch undertakings, generally finds they do not ſufficiently reimburſe him for his trouble and expence.

This was the caſe in the preſent inſtance. The revived pantomimes, though well got up, added but little to the receipts of the theatre, and the new one, though brought out in the month [194] of February after the town had been properly prepared and advertiſed, was played to an audience under 100l. The ſecond night it was tacked to Mr. Sheridan and Miſs Bellamy in the Fair Penitent, yet were the receipts not above twenty pounds. However, altogether it proved a profitable ſeaſon to the manager, and the be⯑nefits, with the aſſiſtance of Mr. Woodward, were in general good.

At the end of March, Mr. Sheridan took another trip to London, to provide for the fol⯑lowing ſeaſon, and left Mr. Victor, deputy ma⯑nager, the trouble of appointing, ſettling, and ſecuring the charges of the ſeveral benefit plays; a buſineſs not eaſy to accompliſh with ſo large a body of people, who each have at ſuch times, ſeperate intereſts of their own, which re⯑quire a manager's utmoſt addreſs to accom⯑modate.

Elated with his ſucceſs, and flattered by the idea of being able to raiſe the ſtage to a greater degree of eminence, Mr. Sheridan now launch⯑ed out into expenſive engagements, which the Iriſh theatre, at that time, was not able to repay. Amongſt the moſt conſiderable of theſe, his [195] agreement with Mr. and Mrs. Macklin ſtood foremoſt.

Perhaps it can hardly be credited at this day, that the receipts of the Dublin theatre could in⯑duce its manager to give them eight hundred pounds per annum for two years. Yet in ſuch high eſtimation did the preſent father of the ſtage ſtand upwards of forty years ago! 'Tis true the manager was a loſer by this engagement, as he was by ſeveral others, which he entered into at the ſame time.

As muſical pieces began then to be the faſhion, Mr. Sheridan reſolved to ſpare no ex⯑pence in preſenting the public with the beſt en⯑tertainment in that line he could poſſibly pro⯑cure. Accordingly he engaged Mr. Lampe, who was eſteemed one of the beſt compoſers of the time. Signor Paſquali, a remarkable fine performer on the violin, for the leader of his band. Mrs. Lampe, Mrs. Storer, Mrs. Mozeen, Mr. Howard, and Mr. Sullivan, all capital in muſical performances. The ſalaries of all theſe amounting to the enormous ſum of fourteen hundred pounds each ſeaſon, was a total loſs to the manager, as the profits of their performances [196] did not reach to one hundred and fifty pounds, which was paid for the writing of their mu⯑ſic.

Mr. and Mrs. Macklin brought money. His Shylock, Sir Paul Plyant, Miſer; Ben in Love for Love; Sir Gilbert Wrangle in the Refuſal; Scrub in the Stratagem; Trinculo in the Tem⯑peſt, &c. were maſterly pieces of acting, and univerſally admired. Mrs. Macklin's Lappet, Lady Wrangle, Lady Wronghead, Nurſe in Romeo, and characters in that ſtyle, had great merit. The beſt of Mr. Sheridan's engagements for that ſeaſon was Mrs. Bland, ſince Mrs. Hamilton; ſhe was a very uſeful actreſs, went through a great deal of buſineſs both in tragedy and comedy very reſpectably, and had but a moderate ſalary.

This winter Henry Brooke, Eſq author of Guſtavus Vaſa, produced an allegorical piece called Jack the Giant Queller. The high repu⯑tation of the author made Mr. Sheridan em⯑brace the offer of exhibiting it with great plea⯑ſure. The utmoſt attention was beſtowed on preparing it for repreſentation, it drew a croud⯑ed houſe, was well performed, and went off with [197] much applauſe; but ſuch was the ſpirit of party at that time, that the next morning, by order of the lords juſtices, who ſent their prohibi⯑tion to the manager, the piece was immediately withdrawn. The reaſon given for this extra⯑ordinary proceeding was, that in ſeveral of the ſongs, ſatirical hints were thrown out againſt bad governors, lord mayors, and aldermen. A few years afterwards, when the times were more tranquil, this piece was revived, when it appeared it bad not genuine merit enough to enſure its ſucceſs.

This ſeaſon a lady of good family appeared by the name of Danvers, in the character of Indiana, and was received with ſingular marks of indulgence and approbation. Some time after ſhe played Monimia, Athenais, Sigiſmunda, &c. with reputation. In about a year after⯑wards ſhe married Mr. Victor, and retired from the ſtage.

The manager, during the courſe of this ſeaſon, experienced that his receipts were not equal to his expenditures; and towards the cloſe of it the theatre ſuſtained a great loſs in being deprived of Miſs Bellamy, then a very great favourite [198] with the town. Mr. Garrick, from the many opportunities he had of ſeeing her abilities when they performed together in 1746, was too well convinced of her merit not to uſe every means to engage her; accordingly he made her propoſals, which ſhe immediately accepted, and ſhe returned to London, where ſhe remained ſome years in high reputation.

Towards the latter end of this campaign, Mr. Brookes's alteration of Bankes's Eſſex, was brought cut with much ſucceſs. And I ſhall cloſe my account of it with the following bill, as the company, the enſuing winter, in ſome meaſure, aſſumed a new face, and was ſtrength⯑ened with a reinforcement of ſeveral capital per⯑formers.

By their Excellencies the Lords Juſtices Special Command. For the Benefit of Mr. WATSON. At the Theatre-Royal in Smock-Alley. On Monday next, the 8th of May, 1749, will be preſented a Comedy, called The MISER. (Being the laſt Time of performing it this Seaſon.) [199] The Part of Lovegold, to be performed by Mr. Macklin. Frederick, Mr. J. Elrington. Ramelie, Mr. Barrington. Mr. Decoy, Mr. Beamſly. James, Mr. Storer. Mrs. Wiſely, Miſs Jones. Wheedle, Miſs Orfeur. Clermont, Mr. Roſs. The Part of Harriet, to be performed by Mrs. Vincent. Furniſh, Mr. Duncomb. Sparkle, Mr. Watſon. Sattin, Mr. Williams. Liſt, Mr. Vaughin. The Part of Mariana, to be performed by Mrs. Bland, And the Part of Lappet, by Mrs. Macklin. With ſinging between the Acts, by Mr. Sullivan, Mrs. Lampe, Mrs. Storer, and Mrs. Mozeen. To which will be added, a Pantomime Enter⯑tainment, in which will be repreſented the wonderful Eſcape of HARLEQUIN, ALIAS DON JUMPEDO, INTO A QUART BOTTLE. As it has been exhibited for Sixty Nights running, with univerſal Applauſe at the Theatre-Royal in Covent Garden.

[200]The manager having ſuſtained a heavy loſs by his agreement with the muſical party, of which another year remained, and dreading the weight of their ſalaries for the next winter, he very judiciouſly contrived to transfer them to the muſical ſociety, then held at the muſic-hall in Fiſhamble-ſtreet, for which profitable releaſe he received three hundred guineas, being the a⯑mount of the yearly ſubſcription of the ſociety.

Thus freed, Mr. Sheridan was at liberty to ſeek for freſh entertainment for the public, and he was happy in his choice. The enſuing cam⯑paign was one of the moſt brilliant that had then ever been known in Dublin. The theatre opened on his majeſty's birth day, November 1749, with the Comedy of Love for Love; Va⯑lentine, Mr. Sheridan; Ben, Mr. Macklin; Miſs Price, Miſs Maſon; and Angelica, Mrs. Bland.

Mr. Theophilus Cibber, then in great eſtima⯑tion in London, paid Ireland a ſecond viſit this ſeaſon, and added much to the ſtrength of the comedies. A Miſs Griffith, a tolerable actreſs, made her firſt appearance on the ſtage at this time. But what muſt for ever render this [201] period memorable to all lovers of the drama was, that it was marked by the firſt eſſays of two ſuch capital performers as Mr. Digges and Mr. Moſſop.

Few candidates for theatrical fame ever en⯑tered the liſts with greater expectations, or ex⯑cited general curioſity more than Mr. Digges. His family connections, and the many ſingular circumſtances which marked his entrance into life, were ſo well known to the faſhionable world, that his firſt entre on the ſtage engaged the attention of the politeſt circles. As the fol⯑lowing anecdotes relative to this gentleman, which I received from unqueſtionable authority, have never before been made public, I hope they will prove acceptable to my readers.

Weſt Digges, Eſq was born about the year 1720, a period, which I before obſerved, was made remarkable by giving birth to Garrick, Barry and Sheridan. His father was colonel Digges of the guards, a gentleman of family and fortune, and nearly allied to ſome of the firſt nobility in England. With many others, he raſhly engaged deeply in the fatal South Sea ſcheme, which involved ſo many families in [202] ruin, in the year 1721. The conſequence was the entire loſs of a large paternal eſtate in Kent, which he was obliged to diſpoſe of.

He did not long ſurvive this wreck of his fortune. At his death, he left his children, two ſons, of whom Weſt was the eldeſt, to the guardianſhip of the preſent duke of Montague, and the late Earl De Lawarr. To the title and eſtate of the latter, young Digges was at that time, and for many years after, preſumptive heir.

By the time he had reached his eighteenth year, an event happened which at once put an end to his expectations reſpecting the family title and eſtate. This was the birth of the preſent Earl De Lawarr. So ſevere and un⯑expected a ſtroke made a total revolution in his circumſtances. The remains of his father's for⯑tune were too inconſiderable to ſupport him in the ſphere he had been accuſtomed to move in, and the old earl was not remarkable for his ge⯑neroſity. He however bought the young diſin⯑herited Digges a commiſſion, and ſent him off to Scotland to join his regiment with ſcarce money enough to defray his expences. The [203] younger brother was in like manner provided for in the navy, where he roſe to the rank of captain of one of his majeſty's ſhips of war.

The army is perhaps one of the worſt ſchools for a young man of faſhion to learn oeconomy in. Military gentlemen in general, have, from a liberality of ſentiment, too great a contempt for money. Mr. Digges, bred with ſuch elevated views, and accuſtomed to ſuch profuſion, could not on this ſudden change of fortune alter his mode of living, or contract his expences. In a few years whilſt he remained in Scotland he in⯑curred debts, which through life afterwards he was never able to diſcharge.

Unſupported by his family he was obliged to return to London, where he ſold his commiſſi⯑on. In all probability had he not taken this raſh ſtep, but remained in the army, his merit and connections would in time, have raiſed him to the higheſt degree of eminence. In London he contracted an acquaintance with Theophilus Cibber, who introduced him to his father the laureat. This connection turned his views to⯑wards a theatrical life. The ſtage diſplayed a thouſand charms to his imagination, and opened [204] a ſource of inexhauſtible wealth. To apply to either of the London theatres he knew would be in vain; the intereſt of his family would prevent every attempt of that ſort.

There was at that time a treaty depending between Mr. Theophilus Cibber and Mr. She⯑ridan, Cibber therefore adviſed him to try his fortune in Ireland, under the auſpices of ſo libe⯑ral a manager. Mr. Digges readily embraced the idea, and on applying to Mr. Sheridan re⯑ceived every encouragement he poſſibly could wiſh for.

Mr. Digges poſſeſſed almoſt every requiſite to form a great actor. Nature had bountifully beſtowed her favours upon him. His figure was happily ſuited to repreſent the hero, lover, or man of faſhion. His perſon was tall and elegant, yet manly; a countenance open yet ex⯑preſſive; an eye marking and full of vivacity. His addreſs was eaſy and engaging; his man⯑ners refined and poliſhed. He had received the moſt liberal education, and he ſeemed to have been formed in the ſchool of Cheſterfield; few men ever ſacrificed more to the graces than Mr. Digges. No man was ever a greater fa⯑vourite [205] with the fair, or a more pleaſing deſira⯑ble companion amongſt his own ſex.

His trial part was choſen with judgment. It was Jaffier, a character which afforded ample ſcope for his abilities. Wedneſday November 27th, 1749, the tragedy of Venice Preſerved was advertiſed: Pierre, Mr. Sheridan; Renault, Mr. Cibber; Belvidera, Miſs Danvers; "and the part of Jaffier by Mr. Digges, a gentleman lately arrived from England, who never yet appeared on any ſtage." Except Mr. Barry, the public had never till then beheld ſo finiſhed a figure as Mr. Digges. His eaſy elegant deportment charmed his auditors. He ſupported his character with feeling, tenderneſs, and variety, beyond expecta⯑tion, and they had only to regret a harſhneſs in his voice, which time afterwards harmonized prodigiouſly.

Before the town had time to praiſe this new favourite, another adventurer was introduced to their notice. The very next evening announced the tragedy of the Revenge. "The part of Zanga by Mr. Moſſop, a gentleman of this kingdom, who never appeared on any ſtage." Perhaps there never was a more ſtriking con⯑traſt [206] than between theſe two competitors for public favour

Henry Moſſop, Eſq was born in the year 1729; his father was a clergyman in the coun⯑try of Ireland, of excellent character, and univer⯑ſally beloved. As he reſided moſtly at his rectory at Tuam, he ſent his ſon Henry to Dublin to his brother, who kept a bookſeller's ſhop, who put him under the care of Mr. Butler, a clergyman, who kept a grammar ſchool in Digges-ſtreet, Dublin; here he remained upwards of five years, till he was prepared to enter the univerſity.

During the time he remained there he purſued his ſtudies with diligence and credit, and after taking his degrees, he left the kingdom, being invited by an uncle to London, who promiſed to provide for him. However his reception there not anſwering his expectations, and not having any brilliant proſpects in view, his thoughts inclined him to try the ſtage, to which he had long been attached whilſt in Ireland.

Full of this idea he offered himſelf firſt to Mr. Garrick, and then to Mr. Rich, both of whom, after he had given them ſpecimens [207] of his abilities, pronounced him totally unfit for the ſtage. And here I muſt, though perhaps contrary to univerſal opinion, juſtify the above gentlemen, and managers in general, from the ſevere imputations they lie under from the many performers whom in the courſe of their buſineſs they are forced to reject; at the ſame time I am obliged to condemn the mode of trial gene⯑rally adopted on theſe occaſions.

A lady or gentleman with a high opinion of their own abilities, confirmed by a few partial friends, who perhaps have neither taſte nor judgment, think they have nothing to do but apply to the manager, who muſt be blind indeed if he does not inſtantly coincide with their own and friends opinion, and that all they have to do, is to repeat a few ſpeeches, or ſing a few ſongs, when they will be inſtantly accepted; that then they appear in public, are admired beyond any degree of compariſon with thoſe now on the ſtage, and that their fortune is in⯑ſtantly made.

This delirium takes entire poſſeſſion of them; they gain an audience of the manager; good manners obliges him to treat them with reſpect; [208] they urge their claims, and he naturally deſires them to give a ſpecimen of their different talents. Perhaps there is not in nature a more ludicrous ſcene than on ſuch occaſions. The awkwardneſs of the ſituation throws the young candidates into a variety of unnatural attitudes, whilſt fear generally takes away their powers, and throws them into confuſion.

The manager, not finding that merit he ex⯑pected, diſmiſſes them with a cold promiſe of a diſtant day, or a wiſh that in a country company they would for ſome time, acquire a more inti⯑mate acquaintance with the drama. Thus re⯑pulſed, they never conceive themſelves deficient, but lay the whole blame on the manager's want of judgment. And yet I will venture to aſſert, that had Mr. Garrick been deſired to give a ſpe⯑cimen of his abilities in ſuch a predicament, that the beſt judges living could not have formed a proper opinion of what he afterwards proved.

But to return. Rejected by Mr. Garrick and Mr. Rich, Moſſop next applied to a friend and ſchool-fellow of his, then an actor in Smock-alley Theatre, to mention him to Mr. Sheridan. [209] This friend was Mr. Francis Gentleman, a man of genius and abilities, who about a year before had made his appearance in Aboan. Mr. Sheridan gave Mr. Moſſop a cordial invitation; he came over and had his choice of parts, and very judiciouſly choſe Zanga in the Revenge, in which he diſplayed an aſtoniſhing degree of beautiful wildneſs. His action was what in ſome meaſure it ever remained, awkward and unpictureſque. The pit was crouded with col⯑legians, who ſupported their fellow ſtudent in the warmeſt manner, and though through his performance an untutored manner predominated, yet at times ſuch extraordinary marks of genius broke forth, as evidently indicated his future greatneſs, and confirmed his friends and the audience in the ſanguine expectations they had formed of his abilities.

Dramatic entertainments had now arrived to a perfection often wiſhed but never expected in Ireland. The public beheld united in one the⯑atre, the names of Sheridan, Moſſop, Digges, Macklin, Cibber, Roſs, Elrington, Bardin, Mor⯑gan, Sparks, Kennedy, Sullivan, Howard, Beamſly. Mrs. Bland, Mrs. Macklin, Miſs Danvers, Miſs Griffith, Mrs. Storer, Mrs. [210] Lampe, Mrs. Mozeen, Mrs. Kennedy, beſides others of leſs note. The tragedies in general were moſt capitally ſupported. In Julius Caeſar Mr. Sheridan played Brutus; Mr. Moſſop, Caſſius, and Mr. Digges, Antony. In the Or⯑phan, Chamont, Sheridan; Caſtalio, Digges; Polydore, Moſſop; Chaplain, Cibber; Moni⯑mia, Miſs Danvers. In Jane Shore, Haſtings, Digges; Gloſter, Moſſop; Dumont, Sheridan; Jane Shore, Danvers; Alicia, Bland.

With ſo capital a company, no wonder that this was a moſt profitable and brilliant ſeaſon to the manager; at the cloſe of it he found his receipts increaſed two thouſand pound beyond any of the preceding years.

CHAP. XIV.

MR. Macklin's agreement concluding with the laſt ſeaſon, he collected a very excellent company, and opened a temporary theatre in Cheſter, where he performed ſeveral months during the ſummer with great ſucceſs. To re⯑pair his loſs the manager entered into ſeveral engagements of conſequence. The opening of [212] the next campaign, September the 19th 1750, preſented Miſs Cole, a very pleaſing little actreſs from Drury-lane, in Iſabella in the Buſy Body, and Miſs Lucy in the Virgin Unmaſked.

Two capital dancers from Paris, Monſieur Billioni, and Madam Paget, were added to Mon⯑ſieur Granier and Miſs Baker, who altogether formed an excellent group, and gave great en⯑tertainment. But Mr. Sheridan's principal novelty was Mr. Thomas King, from Drury-lane theatre, who, though then a very young man, was allowed to poſſeſs an extraordinary ſhare of merit, and deemed a valuable acquiſi⯑tion to any theatre. He made his firſt appear⯑ance in the character of Ranger in the Suſpi⯑cious Huſband, and was highly approved of by the town. This excellent comedian remained ſeveral years in Ireland, improving every day in his profeſſion, and the eſteem of the public. His many virtues in private, joined to his abi⯑lities on the ſtage, deſervedly gained him the eſteem and friendſhip of thoſe who were ſo for⯑tunate as to be intimate with him.

Amongſt the theatrical appearances which mark the early part of this ſeaſon, we find the [213] name of Mr. James Robertſon, who performed the little comic part of Snap in Love's Laſt Shift, being his firſt appearance on any ſtage. I hope my reader will pardon me if I embrace the opportunity of introducing this gentleman to their acquaintance, and at the ſame time pay a juſt tribute to a very worthy character.

Mr. James Robertſon is a native of Ireland, and deſervedly eſteemed one of its ornaments. He is deſcended from a reſpectable family, and received a liberal education. A love of ſcience and the belles lettres early diſtinguiſhed his character. When a young man he bore a con⯑ſiderable part in compiling, digeſting, and writing that voluminous maſs of information, the Univerſal Hiſtory. With the profits ariſing from this work he purchaſed an annuity for the life of a wife tenderly beloved, and whom he had the misfortune to loſe in a year or two after⯑wards.

Chance ſome years afterwards conducted him to the York theatre, of which he continued up⯑wards of twenty years a moſt valuable mem⯑ber. During that time he amuſed himſelf with occaſional excurſions in the fields of Fancy, and [214] culling flowers on the mount of Parnaſſus. Several of his novels, tales, prologues, epilogues, &c. have great merit. As an actor his abili⯑ties lay chiefly in the comic line, in which I will venture to ſay few excelled him. For ſome years paſt he has retired from the ſtage, and now advanced in years enjoys the bleſſings of a moderate independent competence, amidſt a number of friends who honour and eſteem him.

Notwithſtanding the excellence of the com⯑pany, the receipts this ſeaſon, though far from being bad, were not equal to thoſe of the laſt. Mr. Moſſop and Mr. Digges ſtill continued great favourites with the public, yet their novelty was worn off, and the curioſity of the town abated. Before the ſeaſon was near over a miſunderſtanding aroſe between the manager and Mr. Moſſop, which ended in the latter ab⯑ruptly quitting Ireland, and engaging with Mr. Garrick at Drury-lane.

Though I willingly bear teſtimony of Mr. Moſſop's merit, yet juſtice obliges me to confeſs, that he had ſeveral peculiarities in his diſpoſition which rendered it not eaſy to live on terms of [215] friendſhip with him. The following anec⯑dote told of him by his friend Mr. Gentlemen, may amongſt many be ſelected to ſhew his ca⯑pricious haughtineſs.

After performing the character of Zanga for three ſucceſſive nights at his firſt onſet, he choſe Richard for his fourth appearance, and moſt unaccountably dreſſed the character in white ſatin puckered. Mr. Sheridan juſtly ob⯑ſerving that it had a moſt coxcombly appear⯑ance, the remark reached Mr. Moſſop's ear, who next morning went to the manager's room, and moſt emphatically addreſſed him thus: "Mr. She-ri-dan, I hear you ſaid I dreſſed Richard like a Cox-comb: that is an af-front: you wear a ſword, pull it out of the ſcab-bard; I'll draw mine, and thruſt it into your bo-dy." This fu⯑rious attack Mr. Sheridan ſmiled at, an expla⯑nation took place, and the affair had an amica⯑ble concluſion.

The departure of Mr. Moſſop was a loſs to the theatre, however it was amply compenſated by the engagements of the enſuing winter. On Monday October 7th, 1751, was introduced to the knowledge of the public, Tottenham [216] Heaphy, Eſq one of the moſt reſpectable cha⯑racters that ever graced public or private life. This gentleman, who is ſprung from a very good family in the ſouth of Ireland, early in life en⯑tered into the ſervice of his king and country, and in Ligonier's horſe, then eſteemed the fineſt regiment in Europe, ſerved ſeveral campaigns in Flanders under the late duke of Cumberland. At the concluſion of the peace in 1748, being at liberty to follow the bent of his inclinations, his genius led him to the ſtage, for which his figure and abilities well qualified him. He per⯑formed a few nights at Capel-ſtreet theatre, but his firſt appearance at Smock-alley, was in the character of Manley, in the Provoked Huſband, in which he was very favourably received, and proved the many years he continued on the ſtage, a moſt valuable ſupport to the drama.

Mr. Davies, the author of the life of Garrick, and Mrs. Davies, a couple remarkable for their great utility, were alſo engaged by Mr. Sheri⯑dan, and came out in Sciolto, in the Fair Peni⯑tent, and Indiana. But what gave peculiar bril⯑liancy to the ſeaſon, was the manager's engage⯑ment with Miſs Woffington. This lady had per⯑formed, ſince ſhe left Dublin, at Covent-garden [217] theatre, where ſhe had improved to a great degree, and ſtood in high favour with the Lon⯑don audience.

In the ſummer of 1751, ſhe returned to Ireland, expecting, as the theatre was now eſtabliſhed on a permanent footing, to be en⯑gaged on her firſt application. This however, Mr. Sheridan, who had not ſeen her for ſeveral years paſt, ſeemed at firſt unwilling to do. At length, by the interpoſition of ſeveral friends, to whom her merits were better known, he con⯑ſented to give her four hundred pound for the ſeaſon, and ſhe appeared for the firſt time in Lady Townly, on the ſame night that Mr. Heaphy performed Manly.

Her reception was ſuch as ſurpaſſed the moſt ſanguine expectations of her friends, and aſto⯑niſhed the manager, who was highly pleaſed with his acquiſition. It is almoſt impoſſible to deſcribe the raptures the audience were in at be⯑holding ſo beautiful, elegant and accompliſhed a woman, or the happy conſequences which re⯑ſulted to Mr. Sheridan. Her next character was Andromache, in the Diſtreſt Mother, in which Mr. Sheridan played Oreſtes; Mr. Digges, [218] Pyrrhus; and Mrs. Bland Hermione. The houſe was uncommonly crowded, and the ſame profuſion of applauſe attended her performance throughout.

The public papers every day were filled with panegyrics, on her perſon, elegant deportment and inimitable acting. She was compared to Caeſar; ſhe came, ſhe ſaw, ſhe overcame. From the numerous productions of the day I have ſelected one written by a gentleman of ſome eminence in the literary world.

Nor was her merit confined to one peculiar line of acting; her next character was Phillis in the Conſcious Lovers; Young Bevil, Sheridan; Myrtle, Digges; Tom, Mr. King; Cimberton, Mr. Cibber, and Indiana, Miſs Davies. She afterwards performed Conſtance, King John; Cleopatra, All for Love; Lady Betty Modiſh, Eſtifania, Roſalind, Zara, Mourning Bride; and, to finiſh the round, Lothario, in the Fair Penitent.

But the parts in which ſhe peculiarly charmed the public, and continued to draw the moſt crowded audiences to, were Charlotte, in Cib⯑ber's Nonjuror; Lady Townly, Hermione and [220] Sir Henry Wildair. Each of theſe very oppo⯑ſite characters, in which it was difficult to ſay which ſhe excelled moſt in, ſhe repeated ten nights, and the receipts of the theatre, on theſe nights alone, amounted to upwards of four thou⯑ſand pounds. On an average, an hundred pounds each night, an inſtance never known at that time, or perhaps ſince, on the Iriſh ſtage, to four old ſtock plays, as in the drama⯑tic phraſe they are denominated.

From the above circumſtances we may con⯑clude, that the ſeaſon muſt have proved uncom⯑monly profitable to the manager. The enſuing winter the company continued much the ſame; but as Mrs. Woffington was the cauſe of ſuch unlooked for ſucceſs, Mr. Sheridan gladly con⯑ſented to double her engagement, making it eight hundred pounds for the winter; and her attraction ſtill continuing, the manager of conſe⯑quence reaped a golden harveſt.

To her honour be it ever remembered, that whilſt thus in the zenith of her glory, courted and careſſed by all ranks and degrees, it made no alteration in her behaviour; ſhe remained the ſame gay, affable, obliging, good-natured [221] Woffington to every one around her. She had none of thoſe occaſional illneſſes which I have ſometimes ſeen aſſumed by capital performers, to the great vexation and loſs of the manager, and diſappointment of the public: ſhe always acted four times each week.

Not the loweſt performer in the theatre did ſhe refuſe playing for, out of twenty-ſix be⯑nefits, ſhe acted in twenty-four, and one of the other two was for Mrs. Lee, who choſe to treat the town with an exhibition of her own Juliet. Such traits of character muſt endear the memo⯑ry of Mrs. Woffington to every lover of the drama.

I ſhall diſmiſs this ſeaſon with preſenting a bill of Love for Love, acted February, 11th, 1752, as by it will be ſeen how capitally the comedies were ſupported: Valentine, Mr. Sheridan; Scandal, Mr. Digges; Tattle, Mr. Cibber; Je⯑remy, Mr. King; Sir Sampſon Legend, Mr. Sparks; Ben, Mr. Stevens; Foreſight, Mr. Mynitt; Angelica, Mrs. Bland; Miſs Prue, Miſs Cole; Mrs. Foreſight, Mrs. Lee; Nurſe, Mrs. Mynitt; and Mrs. Frail, Mrs. Woffing⯑ton.

CHAP. XV.

A VERY remarkable circumſtance occurred about this time, which, as it was productive of the moſt fatal conſequences to the ſtage in Ire⯑land, ought not to be paſſed over in ſilence; this was the inſtitution of the Beef Stake Club.

As every community have their peculiar cuſ⯑toms, ſo in moſt theatres, for time immemorial, the performers uſed to devote one day in the week, generally Saturday, to dine together, and ſpend a few hours in mirth and ſocial friendship; from this hint the manager formed his plan, but [223] it differed widely in execution. The mem⯑bers it was compoſed of were moſtly lords or members of parliament, and amounted to thirty or forty in number.

A very large apartment in the manager's houſe, adjoining the theatre, was dedicated to this convivial meeting, where every thing was furniſhed in the moſt plenteous and elegant ſtile at his expence: here, ſtrange to relate, the gay▪ volatile, enchanting Woffington, being the only female admitted, was, by unanimous con⯑ſent, voted into the chair, which ſhe filled with a grace and eaſe peculiar to herſelf.

It will readily be believed, that ſuch a ſelect aſſembly enjoying ſuch entertainment, free of all expence, and enlivened by the ſprightly ſallies and jeu d'eſprits of ſo lovely a preſident, were as happy as any ſet of mortals on earth could be; each indulged the hilarity of his diſpoſition, and all was wit, repartee and glee, happy for the theatre, if the public had beheld this aſſembly in its true light, harmleſs and void of all de⯑ſign.

[224]But to return. Mr. Sheridan opened his next ſeaſon, October 10th, 1752, with Mr. Digges's Macheath, and Miſs Falkner's Polly. Mr. Digges has been thought by many to be the beſt Macheath who ever performed it; for my own part, though I confeſs he had great merit in the part, yet I could not help conſidering him as too excentric. Of Miſs Falkner I know very little. The next night Mr. Sowdon made his firſt ap⯑pearance in Othello, a character he had not many requiſites for; and a few nights after introduced that excellent comic actreſs Mrs. Green, in the part of Flippanta, and Mr. Coſtollo in Money-trap, in the comedy of the City Wives Confede⯑racy.

Theſe were the only new performers of merit engaged at the beginning of the ſeaſon. Mr. Sowdon remained many years on the Iriſh ſtage, and though not an actor of the very firſt merit, yet he ſupported a variety of buſineſs with repu⯑tation, and always lived eſteemed and reſpected, Mrs. Green was juſtly a great favourite, and much liked by the public, and at the end of her engagement the winter following, ſhe returned to London, where ſhe remained one of the firſt comic actreſſes of her time.

[225]In May 1753 Mr. Dexter appeared in the cha⯑racter of Oroonoko, and Mrs. Woffington played the Widow Lackit: this gentleman was a native of Ireland, much about the ſame age of Mr. Moſſop, with whom he was ſchool fellow, and afterwards fellow ſtudent in Trinity College, Dublin. The firſt trial of his abilities was about two years before, under Mr. Garrick, in Drury-lane, in the ſame character of Oroonoko; and it is remarked, by Mr. Davies, of him, that he was ſo unconcerned about his approaching per⯑formance, that he continued in converſation with his friends in the pit, on the firſt night of his performing, till the ſecond muſic, which is ge⯑nerally played about half an hour beford the cur⯑tain is drawn up, put him in mind that it was time to think of the ſtage apparatus.

The applauſe which Mr. Dexter gained in this firſt eſſay was beyond expectation; Mr. Gar⯑rick was ſo charmed with the proſpect of his ſucceſs, that he wrote to a friend, at ſome diſ⯑tance from the capital, in the ſtrongeſt terms of the young actor's favourable reception, and de⯑clared he had wonderful expectations from the firſt proof he had given of his abilities. Mr. Dexter continued to act Oroonoko ſeveral times [226] ſucceſſively with applauſe, but it was obſerved, that every time he acted, he abated in power to pleaſe the audience: the public had been ſurpriz⯑ed into an approbation which the actor wanted abilities to confirm.

Mr. Dexter, however, proved a valuable ac⯑quiſition to the ſtage, and though he ſeldom roſe above mediocrity, yet in the extenſive round of characters which he performed, it could not be ſaid he ever gave offence. His figure was tall and elegant, his addreſs eaſy, his manners gentle, modeſt and uniform; he lived univerſally belov⯑ed, and many years after, when he died, was ſincerely lamented.

I am now drawing near one of the moſt diſagree⯑able events in theatric hiſtory, and which holds up a ſtriking picture of the uncertainty of this life. Eſtabliſhed on the firmeſt baſis of conti⯑nued unequivocal public approbation, the manager fondly hoped he was now beginning to reap the deſerved harveſt of his ſeveral years unceaſing toils. With infinite labour had he overcome all difficulties, and from the loweſt depths of de⯑ſpair, retrieved the honour of the ſtage, nor did he deſiſt till he had raiſed it to an eminence her [227] ſiſter Britain was proud to own, nay even in ſome particulars to copy after.

At this time the theatre was the faſhionable re⯑ſort of all ranks. Crowded every night with the firſt characters in the kingdom, it was in reality a ſource of entertainment and inſtruction. Its exhibitions might grace a Greek or Roman ſtage. Propriety, order and decorum preſided over the whole. Its profeſſors were held in the higheſt eſtimation, admitted into the firſt aſſemblies, and treated with the utmoſt reſpect. Such were the effects of Mr. Sheridan's manage⯑ment.

Unwillingly muſt I quit ſo pleaſing a portrait, to exhibit one of a very different complexion: moſt unhappily for the drama, the ſpirit of party had for ſome years paſt been advancing with rapid ſtrides over this divided nation. The dae⯑mon of diſcord had lighted his infernal torch, and ſcattered his deſtructive brands in every pro⯑vince of this diſtracted kingdom. Hitherto the monſter had not found entrance into the theatre, but once admitted, he plunged its inhabitants in⯑to the worſt of calamities, and ſpread deſolation through the whole.

[228]Mr. Sheridan's conduct as yet had defied the moſt envenomed enquiry: from the innocent circumſtance of forming the celebrated Beef Stake Club, did the moſt fatal conſequences ariſe, and what at any other time would have paſſed unheeded, now gave the moſt unpardon⯑able offence. 'Tis true the members were per⯑ſons generally attached to the court, and the uſual routine of toaſts drank on this occaſion were of a ſimilar complexion. But neither the founder, members, or lovely preſident ever de⯑ſigned it as a ſchool for politics, they unſuſpect⯑ingly enjoyed the preſent moment in all the de⯑lights which wit and mirth could inſpire.

No ſooner had popular prejudice beheld him with a jaundiced eye, than his moſt innocent actions were miſconſtrued into ſettled deſign, and many idle ſtories were circulated to his diſ⯑advantage. At this very critical juncture, did the manager moſt unluckily bring forward the tragedy of Mahomet. It cannot be ſuppoſed he had any particular deſign in performing it at this time; on the contrary, it appears, that it was caſt the ſeaſon before, but laid aſide as it was then too late, and would interfere with the be⯑nefits.

[229]However, no ſooner was it announced, than the oppoſite party took the alarm, and reſolved to demonſtrate their ſentiments by publicly mark⯑ing whatever paſſages in the piece they thought applicable to their opinions. On Saturday Fe⯑bruary 2d, 1754, it was advertiſed: Zaphna, Mr. Sheridan; Mahomet, Mr. Sowdon; Alca⯑nor, Mr. Digges, and Palmira, Mrs. Woffing⯑ton. The night of performance the houſe filled directly, and in the pit were placed the leaders of oppoſition. In the firſt act Alcanor has this ſpeech, which at that time was deemed ſo re⯑markably applicable:

Scarce had he finiſhed this ſpeech, when a loud encore from the pit hindered the perform⯑ance from proceeding. Mr. Digges amazed and confounded at ſo unprecedented and unexpected a deſire, was for ſome moments unable to deter⯑mine, [230] but the encore continuing with encreaſing violence, he at length complied with its voice, and ſpoke the whole ſpeech over again: this triumph obtained, their applauſe was unbounded, and the performance ſuffered to continue, with this remarkable circumſtance, that during the remainder, their great favourites Mr. Sheridan and Mrs. Woffington, went through their ſcenes, which are the fineſt in the play, without the leaſt notice, whilſt the character of Alcanor, on every occaſion, was marked with their loudeſt approbation.

As this ſeemed evidently the work of party, it is aſtoniſhing, and at this time unaccountable, why the manager ſuffered this objectionable piece to be again given out; ſorry I am to ſay, that in this fatal inſtance his uſual prudence and good ſenſe ſeemed to have totally deſerted him. A manager, as he is the ſteward of the public at large, ought carefully to avoid attaching himſelf to any particular intereſt; but when matters were ſo enflamed, that even the moſt rational perſons were prejudiced, and could not reaſon coolly on political ſubjects, to throw ſuch an op⯑portunity in their way, ſeems, at this day, an un⯑accountable infatuation.

[231]The reaſons he afterwards aſſigned appeared totally inſufficient; they were, "that he had con⯑ſulted ſome of the cooleſt of his friends, who told him, they could ſee no reaſon why he ſhould loſe all the advantage of the time and labour, which it coſt him and the company to prepare this play, becauſe about twenty perſons in a for⯑mer audience had ſtamped the name of a party play on it; that he received many meſſages that the play was deſired, and unleſs performed would be inſiſted on;" this proves that each party look⯑ed on it in that light.

A month however elapſed before a repetition of this fatal piece took place; all was quiet in the town and theatre, and in all probability the former exhibition entirely forgot; happy would it have been if he had not revived it in their me⯑mory. On the 2d of March it was again an⯑nounced, and on the Friday morning before, he ſent a general ſummons to the company to meet him in the green-room, where, being all aſſem⯑bled, he read the following lecture, which as it does him infinite credit, and will beſt demon⯑ſtrate the purity of his intention, I think well worthy a place in this hiſtory.

[232]"I am ſorry to find that party has become ſo univerſal in Dublin, as to make its appearance viſibly on the ſtage; I am ſure that is a moſt im⯑proper place for it, on which account I think it my duty to lay before you the rule by which you ought to act at this juncture. I do not pretend to dictate to you in your private capacities, eve⯑ry man born under our happy conſtitution has a right to think as he pleaſes, and ſpeak his ſenti⯑ments, provided they are not repugnant to the laws of the land, and the rules of civil ſociety. In your theatrical character I have an undoubted right at leaſt to adviſe you. I lay it down as a maxim, that the buſineſs of an actor is to diveſt himſelf, as much as poſſible, of his private ſen⯑timents, and to enter, with all the ſpirit he is maſter of, into the character he repreſents; and this is an indiſputable claim which the public in general have upon him. But if an actor in order to pleaſe part of that public, ſhould, by any unuſual emphaſis, geſture or ſignificant look, mark out a paſſage in his part (which at another juncture he would have paſſed by lightly) as a party ſtroke, he, in that inſtance, ſteps out of his feigned character into his natural one, than which nothing can be more diſguſting or inſolent to any auditor, who came with no other intent but that [233] of ſeeing the play; ſuch a performer ought to be looked upon by the public as an incendiary, as one who throws the brand of diſcord amongſt them; for ſuppoſing perſons of a different way of thinking ſhould take it into their head to reſent and oppoſe this behaviour, the theatre in that caſe, inſtead of being a place of pleaſure and en⯑tertainment, would become a ſcene of riot and diſor⯑der. I was in hopes that the example I had ſet upon this occaſion, would have had ſo much influence as to make admonitions unneceſſary; for what⯑ever my private ſentiments may have been, I defy any perſon to charge me juſtly, that the leaſt glimpſe of them appeared in my conduct, either as a manager or an actor. I underſtand my duty to the public too well; it is my buſineſs to take all the precautions and care in my power, that the audience ſhall enjoy their entertainment in peace, and not by any act of mine, to encou⯑rage and foment party feuds. Indeed I laid it down as a fixed reſolution to obſerve in my pub⯑lic conduct a ſtrict neutrality; I determined to exhibit plays in the ſame order which I ſhould have done had the town been entirely free from party; and as on the one hand I would lay no old play aſide, leſt it might appear an application to the times, ſo on the other I would revive none [234] purely to ſerve that end; for though I knew ma⯑ny plays, that, in the preſent diſpoſition of the people, would have filled my houſe many nights, and conſequently my purſe, yet I ſhould have looked upon myſelf in ſo doing as a time-ſerving, a proſtitutor of the ſtage, and a betrayer of the public.

"Though it muſt be allowed, that the rule I had laid down for my conduct, was the fitteſt to be obſerved by the manager of a free ſtage, yet I was far from eſcaping cenſure. Perſons of both parties have often took offence at paſſages which they themſelves applied, and concluſions were drawn, that the play was played on purpoſe, &c. and indeed this was unavoidable, for plays in ge⯑neral being pictures of life, and tragedies moſtly of high life, and of perſons concerned in ſtate affairs, it was not poſſible but that many inci⯑dents, characters and ſentiments might bear ap⯑plication from minds biaſſed by party. This is more particularly the caſe with our Engliſh plays, whoſe authors have choſen more ſubjects, and written more freely upon government, than any other nation under the ſun. You all know that the parts of the play of Mahomet were delivered out, and the repreſentation of it intended laſt [235] year; but before it could be got ready the ſeaſon was ſo far advanced, that it was thought not prudent to hazard the performance of a new play to thin audiences.

"The neceſſary amputations practiſed on eve⯑ry play, were performed at different times on this at rehearſals, according as the ſcenes were found tedious in repeating, and many of them were done at the requeſt of the actors con⯑cerned in the ſcenes. I do not remember that any performer during the ſeveral readings and rehearſals took notice of any paſſage that might be applicable, or any ſentiment that might be termed a party one; and yet they are generally as ſagacious in finding out ſuch things as moſt people; indeed in point of ſtory, characters, in⯑cidents, and moral, I conſider it as one of the moſt unexceptionable plays that could be per⯑formed. And after having ſeveral times looked it over again with the utmoſt attention, I own myſelf ſtupid enough to be ſtill of the ſame way of thinking; nor can I ſee how the tragedy itſelf, or any part of it, can be applied to the preſent times, without great ſtraining of the ſenſe and words. However as ſome perſons judged other⯑wiſe, I thought proper to lay it by awhile, that [236] people might have time to read and examine it coolly; if that be done, I make no doubt but all prejudices will be effaced. I have therefore ven⯑tured to give it once more to the public, directly as it was performed before, without diminution, alteration, or addition of a ſyllable.

"As it was at the repreſentation of this play, that an innovation was attempted, and given way to, never known before in the theatre, I think it my duty to lay before you my ſenti⯑ments upon the dangerous conſequences which may attend it to the ſtage in general, and to all actors in particular. I mean a right claimed by the audience, to encore ſpeeches in plays.

"If it be once eſtabliſhed as a rule, that one part of an audience have a right to encore a ſpeech, upon the fame principle, any other part of that audience may claim the ſame right.

"If they have a right to have it once repeated, why not ſeveral times as well as once? Why not any other ſpeech as well as that one? And why not as many ſpeeches as they ſhall think proper?

[237]"If one party ſhould encore a ſpeech, becauſe they think it makes for their purpoſe, may not another party encore as many as they think will make for them? Nay, may they not from a mere ſpirit of oppoſition encore every ſpeech, as often as they ſhall think proper? In this caſe, I do not ſee how we ſhould be able to get through one act of a play.

"If one part of an audience ſhould cry out Encore, have not the reſt an undoubted right to cry out, No more, as the firſt claim is neither founded on reaſon or cuſtom? In ſuch a caſe, is not an actor certain of diſobliging one party or other? And is he not liable to the reſentment and ill treatment of one or the other?

"In ſuch a ſituation the actors would be in a much worſe condition than the muſicians for⯑merly were. We all know the dreadful uſage they met with, in conſequence of a claim of that nature from the galleries. They aſſumed a right of calling for what tunes they pleaſed, but not always agreeing upon the tune, one party roared out for one, and the other was as clamor⯑ous for another; as the muſicians could not poſ⯑ſibly play both together, they thought that play⯑ing [238] them one after another would ſatisfy all par⯑ties, but that would not do. If they played the one, the advocates for the other thought they had a right to precedence, and ſaluted them with a volley of apples and oranges. At laſt the out⯑rage roſe to ſuch an height, that they threw glaſs bottles and ſtones, cut ſeveral of the per⯑formers, and broke their inſtruments. Then there was no reſource found, but that of order⯑ing the band never to go into the box, but to play behind the ſcenes, at leaſt till the pit was ſo full that they might be protected. This expedi⯑ent being often put in practice, put an end to the claim, and the band afterwards performed ſuch pieces as were allotted to them without in⯑terruption. But the actors could not poſſibly have ſuch an aſylum; they cannot play their parts behind the ſcenes, their duty obliges them to a poſt open to the battery of an incenſed mul⯑titude, ſome of whom would ſhower their re⯑ſentment on them through malevolence or per⯑ſonal pique, others through mere wantonneſs. Nor is this an imaginary or unlikely thing; eve⯑ry one who remembers the ſtate of the ſtage be⯑fore it was reſcued from ſlavery, muſt know that the thing often happened, merely through pri⯑vate reſentment.

[239]"In ſhort, if this new claim is to be forced down our throats, I do not ſee where the matter will end. I know not why new claims may not be made every night; I know not why they may not inſiſt upon performers doing whatever they pleaſe; in that caſe, I know no human being in ſo deplorable a ſtate of ſlavery as an actor would be.

"In ſhort, this is a blow ſtruck at the very vitals of the ſtage, calculated to deſtroy all taſte in the audience, and ſpirit in the performers; to breed perpetual feuds and diviſions amongſt the ſpectators, and entail perpetual ſlavery upon the actors. I hope you have all too great a ſenſe of li⯑berty, and have the good of the ſociety too much at heart, to encourage ſo fatal an encroachment upon your rights; and in that hope I ſhall leave you entirely free, to act as you think proper, wiſhing that your conduct may rather be the re⯑ſult of a manly ſenſe of freedom, than obedience to an order. In all new caſes, indeed, I would rather perſuade than direct, convince than com⯑mand.

"To you, Mr. Digges, I muſt particularly apply, as you were the firſt tragedian I ever [240] heard of, who repeated a ſpeech upon the encore of an audience. I am in hopes it was the ſud⯑denneſs of the thing, and want of time to reflect upon the ill conſequences which might attend it. Yon have now heard my arguments upon that head; if you think they are of weight, I ſuppoſe you will act accordingly; if not, remember I do not give you any orders upon this occaſion, you are left entirely free to act as you pleaſe."

CHAP. XVI.

WHEN the manager had finiſhed this excel⯑lent lecture, the juſtice of which every one al⯑lowed, Mr. Digges roſe up, and obſerved, that as the foregoing diſcourſe on the duties of an ac⯑tor was entirely levelled at him, and as the play was to be performed the night following, when [242] in all probability the ſame demand would be again made on him, critically ſituated as he was, he deſired to know from the manager how he ſhould conduct himſelf? To this Mr. Sheridan replied, he would give him no directions, but leave him to do as he thought proper. Mr. Digges then ſaid, "Sir, if I ſhould comply with the demand of the audience, and repeat the ſpeech, am I to incur your cenſure?" The manager replied, "Not at all; I leave you to act in that matter as you think proper."

The next evening gave the deciſive blow: ſcarce were the doors open before all parts of the theatre were crowded; but as the pit on ſuch occaſions is generally the principal ſcene of ac⯑tion, ſo here the enemy ſeemed to have collect⯑ed their greateſt force. No ſooner did Alcanor make his appearance, than he was welcomed with uncommon tokens of applauſe, and ſcarce was this memorable ſpeech delivered, before a general demand of Encore! Encore! iſſued from every part of the houſe.

Mr. Digges, who, we muſt ſuppoſe, was pre⯑pared for this attack, ſeemed for ſome moments to be confounded; but the violence of the en⯑core [243] ſtill continuing with unabated fury, he ſtepped forward and made a motion to be heard; when ſilence was obtained, he ſaid, "It would give him the higheſt pleaſure imaginable to com⯑ply with the requeſt of the audience, but he had his private reaſons for begging they would be ſo good as to excuſe him, as his compliance would be greatly injurious to him."

Such an apology might naturally be expected, would rather inflame than appeaſe a multitude already ripe for miſchief, who only wanted a pretence to wreak their vengeance on the devot⯑ed object; accordingly the cry of Manager! Manager! Sheridan! Sheridan! was echoed through the houſe.

It has often been remarked, that on the moſt trying occaſions in life, when moſt we need it, our preſence of mind forſakes us. It might tru⯑ly be ſaid ſo of Mr. Sheridan at this critical mo⯑ment; in all probability, if he had immediately come forward, and obeyed their ſummons, the uproar would have ceaſed, and the miſchief been avoided. He naturally would have re⯑queſted to know their pleaſure; in anſwer to which they certainly would have aſked, if it was [244] by his orders Mr. Digges forbore to gratify their demand. To this, with the greateſt truth, he could have replied, no; on the contrary, he knows I left him entirely at liberty to follow his own inclinations. Unreaſonable as they were, and I will ſuppoſe them unreaſonable enough at that time, yet ſuch a declaration muſt have ſi⯑lenced them, or turned their vengeance on its proper object, the actor, whoſe imprudence continued all this diſturbance.

Unfortunately Mr. Sheridan acted the direct contrary. On the clamour continuing he order⯑ed the curtain down, and ſent the Prompter on to acquaint the audience, that they were ready to perform the play, if it was ſuffered to go on in quiet, if not they were at liberty to take their money again: this meſſage, as might be expected, was not heard, and the Prompter obliged immediately to withdraw.

Still there was a moment left which, if pro⯑perly improved, might have prevented the im⯑pending deſtruction. But it was not to be▪ Mr. Sheridan on finding they perſiſted in calling for him, with ſome agitation ſaid, "They have [245] no right to call upon me—I'll not obey their call; I'll go up to my room and undreſs myſelf."

Some of his friends, Mr. Adderley in particu⯑lar, left the boxes and followed him to his dreſ⯑ſing room, and adviſed him not to undreſs, but to go down and pacify the audience: Mr. Adder⯑ly even offered to undertake, that the gentlemen of the pit ſhould not offer any inſult to him, of which he ſeemed ſo apprehenſive. Mr. Sheri⯑dan replied, he had not the leaſt apprehenſions from the gentlemen of the pit, but his fears were of the behaviour of the galleries: That he was ſorry to ſay, the hour was now arrived, when he could no longer ſupport the ſtage upon a footing which the world had approved of for many years, therefore he was determined to withdraw: that he ſhould take another opportunity of convinc⯑ing him, that he was now drove to the fatal ne⯑ceſſity before-mentioned; but he was under too much perturbation of mind at preſent, to be able to do it as clearly as he could wiſh.

Mr. Adderley finding his mediation could be of no ſervice, inſtead of returning to the pit went directly home, and Mr. Sheridan being undreſſed, got into a chair, and was carried to [246] his own houſe in Dorſet-ſtreet. The uproar ſtill continuing, Mrs. Woffington was at length per⯑ſuaded to try the force of her eloquence in aſſuag⯑ing the fury of this many-headed monſter; but this was as impolitic a ſtep as could be taken, her known connexions with the court party pre⯑cluded all chance of her ſucceſs; as great a favou⯑rite as ſhe was on every other occaſion, here her influence was entirely loſt, and beauty, for once, failed in commanding reſpect and admiration.

As their laſt reſource, Mr. Digges was pre⯑vailed upon to go forward; he did ſo; ſilence and attention immediately ſucceeded; he can⯑didly informed the audience, that Mr. Sheridan had laid him under no injunction not to repeat the ſpeech, and therefore ſhould not, on that ac⯑count have incurred their diſpleaſure. Had this declaration been made at firſt, in all probability it would have prevented every miſchief which enſued; but it was now too late, and this was only looked upon as a pretence to mitigate their reſentment. The ſtorm was raiſed, and they inſiſted upon Mr. Sheridan's appearing, and an⯑ſwering for himſelf. On being informed that he was gone home, they inſiſted on his being ſent for, and added, that they would patiently wait an [247] hour, as he was known to live at ſome diſtance; accordingly they ſat quietly down to amuſe them⯑ſelves till the time elapſed.

Meſſengers were immediately diſpatched to the manager, to acquaint him with the ſituation of affairs, and the reſolution of the houſe; but un⯑happily no arguments could prevail on him to return back. This infatuation, for ſuch it muſt be called, when his all was at ſtake, was really aſtoniſhing. When the hour was expired, they renewed their call, and after continuing it ſome⯑time, and no manager appearing, they proceeded very methodically to buſineſs. Two of their leaders, perſons of gravity and condition, roſe up in the middle of the pit, went over to the boxes, and handed out the ladies with a great deal of politeneſs; this accompliſhed, a young gentleman ſtood up in the middle of the pit, and cried out, "God bleſs his Majeſty King George, with three huzzas!" At the end of the laſt huzza they fell to work with ſuch fury, that in leſs than ten minutes the audience part was en⯑tirely demoliſhed.

Had their vengeance ceaſed here, the damage might have eaſily been repaired; but not content with [248] the miſchief they had already committed, their rage knew no bounds; drawing their ſwords they leaped upon the ſtage, and launched into every exceſs which the moſt ſavage brutality could urge them to; and a theatre, which, a few hours before, might have reflected honour on the moſt civilized nation, was in a few mo⯑ments left an unexampled monument of barbarity.

After deſtroying every ſcene within their reach, they proceeded to the wardrobe, which they found too well defended; then, as the laſt effort of their revenge, they tore out the grate of the box-room, and dragged it into the middle of the room, in hopes, as it was full of burning coals, that it would ſet fire to the houſe altoge⯑ther; in this they were likewiſe prevented, as after their departure in triumph, it was removed to its original ſituation.

It can ſcarcely be credited that in ſo capital a city as Dublin, ſuch horid outrages ſhould con⯑tinue ſo many hours without the intervention of the civil magiſtrate; but the unfortunate mana⯑ger ſeemed marked for deſtruction. The lord mayor was ill of the gout, the ſheriffs were not to be found, and it was paſt one o'clock in the [249] morning before any perſon above a deputy con⯑ſtable could be procured, and long before that time the miſchief had ceaſed, and revenge had glutted her fierceſt feelings.

Here let us pauſe, and, with an eye of pity, look back upon the dreadful ſcene of havock and deſtruction, which, in an unlucky hour, blaſt⯑ed the fair hopes of ſo many years. Ill-fated manager! hard was your lot to direct the dra⯑matic ſtate in ſuch perilous times. Party rage and malice have long ſince, thank heaven, ex⯑hauſted their envenomed ſhafts—But who ſhall repair your wrongs? The great ſcheme of your life is defeated by one blow, and the fruits of eight years indefatigable pains, blaſted in one night. You awake from a dream, and find that the beſt and moſt vigorous of your years have been employed to no purpoſe!

This cruel treatment immediately determined Mr. Sheridan to give up all ideas of manage⯑ment. He advertized his theatres to be let or ſold; and took leave of the public in a very pa⯑thetic and affecting addreſs.

[250]As 'tis is the midſt of misfortunes that the truly great mind ſhines in its native luſtre, ſo never did Mr. Sheridan's conduct appear in ſuch noble colours as at this intereſting period. Though uſed with ſuch unparalleled cruelty, and his fortunes ruined paſt all hopes of retrieving, yet feeling for the performers under his care, who innocently were involved in his diſtreſſes, he reſolved they ſhould not partake, and with a diſintereſtedneſs which will ever add honour to his character, generouſly gave them up the uſe of his theatre, or what remained of it, with the wardrobe and ſcenery, for their benefits during the reſt of the ſeaſon, not only without any emolu⯑ment, but at a certain loſs each night to himſelf.

Accordingly the theatre, after undergoing a few temporary repairs, opened again March 18th, 1754, about a fortnight after the riot, by com⯑mand of the duke and ducheſs of Dorſet, for Mrs. Woffington's benefit, with the tragedy of All for Love, to a very crowded audience; after which the benefits, moſt of which were good, continued without intermiſſion, till the middle of May, when the theatre cloſed, and Mrs. Wof⯑fington returned to London.

CHAP. XVII.

THE theatres, after being advertiſed for ſome months, were at length taken by Mr. Sowdon and Mr. Victor. Theſe gentlemen had ſome proper⯑ty, and were tolerably well qualified for ſuch an undertaking. They agreed with Mr. Sheridan for two years certain, paying him five pounds for every acting night, and advancing him two thouſand pounds, on a mortgage of the theatres. This buſineſs concluded, Mr. Victor ſet about repairing the damages which Smock-alley theatre had ſuſtained, and Mr. Sowdon ſet off for Lon⯑don to recruit.

[252]In this expedition he was extremely ſucceſsful, and returned with a great deal of novelty. The principal object of his purſuit was Mr. Barry: as at this dangerous and critical juncture no perſon ſeemed ſo proper to ſupport the new govern⯑ment, and ſupply the loſs of ſo great a favourite as the late manager. Mr. Barry was fully ſenſi⯑ble of his own importance, and inſiſted upon eight hundred pounds ſalary for himſelf, and five hundred pounds for Miſs Noſſiter, a young lady then under his protection. Theſe were great terms, but neceſſity obliged the managers to comply with them.

However they made a more moderate agree⯑ment with Mrs. Gregory, afterwards Mrs. Fitz⯑henry. This lady was then but young on the ſtage, having played but one winter at Covent-Garden: ſhe was engaged for three hundred pounds, and proved a moſt valuable acquiſition. Luckily for the managers, in their covenant with Mr. Barry, they ſtipulated, that he ſhould be obliged to perform ſixty nights in the ſeaſon, ſo that the eight hundred pounds divided into ſixty parts was about fourteen pounds per night, by which means, though he was remarkably aſſidu⯑ous, yet at the concluſion of the ſeaſon nine of [253] the nights were wanting to complete the ſixty, and conſequently a great ſaving to the new ma⯑nagers.

Every thing being prepared, Smock-alley thea⯑tre opened, under the auſpices of Meſſrs. Sow⯑don and Victor, October 7th, 1754, with the comedy of The Suſpicious Huſband. Ranger, by Mr. King; Frankly, Mr. Dexter; Bellamy, Mr. Heaphy; Strickland, Mr. Sowdon; Mrs. Strickland, Miſs Danvers; Jacintha, Mrs. Cow⯑per (from Drury-lane); and Clarinda, Miſs Ken⯑nedy (from Covent-garden). The play went off extremely well, and the audience ſeemed highly pleaſed. For though every moderate perſon la⯑mented the ſevere fate of Mr. Sheridan, and de⯑plored the ſituation he was reduced to, yet as the injury was irreparable, they thought it much more prudent to remain quiet at preſent, than by an unſucceſsful attempt to revive the ſpirit of op⯑poſition, the abetters of which, aſhamed of their late unjuſtifiable proceedings, were on this occa⯑ſion the moſt forward in ſupporting the theatre.

Beſides the reinforcement above-mentioned, Mr. Lacy, from Drury-lane, paid Ireland a ſe⯑cond viſit, and opened in King Lear; and Mr. [254] Love, a very good comedian, from the ſame theatre, made his firſt appearance in Sir John Falſtaff, in which he ſucceeded remarkably well, and during the remainder of the ſeaſon, he play⯑ed a variety of characters in comedy with much reputation.

Mrs. Gregory was brought forward in Her⯑mione, in The Diſtreſſed Mother, a character ſhe ſuſtained with an uncommon degree of merit, and on her firſt night received that juſt tribute of approbation, which conſtantly attended her performance. The firſt time Mr. Barry was an⯑nounced he drew a very brilliant and crowded audience: he appeared in his favourite Othello, and was received with that warmth of applauſe which his uncommon merit ſo highly intitled him to. In the courſe of this work I ſhall en⯑deavour to throw together a few remarks on the various excellencies of this great actor; at pre⯑ſent I ſhall only obſerve, that every one notic⯑ed with pleaſure how much he had improved during his abſence, and congratulated the ma⯑nagers on their judicious choice of the only per⯑ſon capable of ſuſtaining the Iriſh ſtage in its preſent predicament.

[255]Miſs Noſſiter cloſed the liſt of capital per⯑formers. The firſt of December ſhe played Ju⯑liet, with Mr. Barry's Romeo, and Mr. King's Mercutio, in which, making every allowance for a young actreſs, ſhe gave evident proofs of genius and ability.

With this company the town ſeemed very well ſatisfied. Mr. Barry generally drew crowd⯑ed houſes. As the reader perhaps may be curi⯑ous to know the receipts of the theatre at this pe⯑riod, it luckily happens that I am in poſſeſſion of the amount of twenty-ſix of Mr. Barry's nights, which, for his ſatisfaction, I ſhall here preſent, only premiſing, that when they com⯑menced Mr. Barry's novelty was in ſome mea⯑ſure abated.

[256]

[257]I ſhall juſt obſerve on the above, that thoſe were eſteemed good houſes, and ſufficient to enable the managers to make good their engage⯑ments of ſixteen hundred pounds for the ſeaſon to three capital performers: Mr. Barry, then de⯑ſervedly at the head of his profeſſion, Miſs Noſ⯑ſiter, and Mrs. Gregory, excluſive of the other actors and actreſſes. When in proper time thoſe receipts are compared with the extraordinary ſums which Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Crawford, and others have drawn at different times, the public perhaps will be ſurprized to find how much Dub⯑lin has increaſed in population and wealth, and improved in taſte for theatrical performances ſince that period.

But to return. Though the ſpirit of party had in ſome meaſure ſubſided, yet ſtill the re⯑mains of it rankled in the breaſts of a few. Its firſt appearance was in a demand of the revival of the fatal play of Mahomet. The managers, apprehenſive of ſerious conſequences, for ſome evaded the demand, but fearing to incenſe the multitude, the play was at length promiſed. With the utmoſt anxiety they waited the event of this dreaded deſire, which fortunately turned out very contrary to their expectations. There [258] was not above ſixty pounds in the houſe; and as the actor, Mr. Gwinnap, who performed Alca⯑nor, was inſtructed to yield obedience to the audience, their favourite ſpeech was encored, and immediately repeated; this done, the remain⯑der of the performance went off as quiet and ſilent as poſſible.

Aſhamed of their defeat, the leaders of oppo⯑ſition laid the whole miſcarriage of their deſigns on the manner in which the parts were perform⯑ed, not having the names of Barry or Mrs. Gre⯑gory to ſupport them; and, as their laſt effort, requeſted it might be given out once more: this was complied with, when, to their utter morti⯑fication, ſo few came to the houſe that it was obliged to be diſmiſſed. Thus ended an affair which in the beginning, had been productive of ſo much miſchief; and ſuch a difference does even a very few years often make in the minds and actions of an audience.

This ſeaſon cloſed the 9th of June, much to the manager's ſatisfaction. Mr. Barry and Miſs Noſſiter returned to London, and Mr. Sowdon was under the neceſſity of ſupplying their places to the beſt advantage. And here I ſhall conclude [259] this chapter, with preſenting my reader with two bills; the one tragedy and the other come⯑dy, which I hope may in ſome meaſure convey a juſt idea of the company under the new ma⯑nagers:

(Not acted this ſeaſon.) This preſent Friday, the 14th of March, 1755, will be preſented a tragedy, called, THE MOURNING BRIDE. Oſmyn, by Mr. Barry, (Being his firſt appearance in that character.) King, Mr. Sowdon. Gonſalez, Mr. Layfield. Garcia, Mr. Ricard. Perez, Mr. Stayley. Alonzo, Mr. Watſon. Selim, Mr. Hamilton. Leonora, Miſs Maſon. Almeria, by Miſs Noſſiter, Zara, by Mrs. Gregory, (Being their firſt appearance in thoſe Characters.) At the End of the Third Act, a Dance, called, The Wood-Cutters, by Miſs Hilliard, Mr. Mc. Neil, and others. [260] And after the Play will be preſented, a Panto⯑mime Entertainment, called, THE CONSTANT CAPTIVE. In which will be introduced, the celebrated Skeleton Scene. With Dancing by Miſs Hilliard and Mr. Mc. Neil. Harlequin, Mr. Meſſink. Clown, Mr. Layfield.

For the Benefit of Mr. Goodfellow At the Theatre-Royal in Smock-alley, on Thurſ⯑day the 15th of May, 1755, will be revived, a Comedy called, TWELFTH NIGHT. (Written by Shakeſpeare.) Sir Andrew Aguecheek, Mr. King. Sir Toby Belch, Mr. Sparks. Orſino, Mr. Ricard. Sebaſtian, Mr. Stayley. Antonio, Mr. Goodfellow. Malvolio, Mr. Love. Valentine, Mr. R. Elrington. Curio, Mr. Williams. Fabian, Mr. Watſon. Clown, Mr. Cunningham. [261] Olivia, by Miſs Kennedy. Maria, Mrs. Kennedy. Viola, Mrs. Cowper. With a FARCE, And Entertainments of Dancing by Miſs Hilliard, Mr. Mc. Neil, Mr. Harvey, Maſter Blake, and others.

CHAP. XVIII.

DEPRIV [...] of the aſſiſtance of Mr. Bar⯑ [...] [...] [...]aturally turned their eyes to⯑wards Mr. Moſſop. Though they had luckily ſaved themſelves under the heavy engagements of the laſt winter, yet were they unwilling to run ſuch another hazard▪ therefore, in order to avoid the riſque of g [...]ng ſo large a ſum to any capital performer, they agreed with Mr. Moſſop that he ſhould have a third of the profits. The nightly expence was eſtimated at forty pounds, after which the overplus was to be divided be⯑tween Mr. Victor, Mr. Sowdon and Mr. Moſ⯑ſop.

[263]This was a prudent precaution; but they omitted a moſt material circumſtance, which was, the obliging him to perform a certain num⯑ber of nights; ſo that though Mr. Moſſop really drew a great deal of money, yet as he found that playing once a week would certainly excite curioſity, more than if he acted three or four times, ſo he naturally availed himſelf of it, and through the courſe of the ſeaſon performed only twenty-four nights; the conſequences of which were, that as Mrs. Gregory, whoſe ſalary was moſt deſervedly advanced to four hundred pounds, was only ſtudied in a few of Mr. Moſ⯑ſop's tragedies, and ſeldom appeared in comedy, the managers, at the cloſe of the engagements, found themſelves out of po [...] whilſt Mr M [...] ⯑ſop's emoluments, benefits [...] very great, amounted to between eight and nine hundred pounds.

However, beſides t [...] ſtrength of Mr. Moſ⯑ſop and Mrs. Gregory, the managers had not been remiſs in providing a great deal of no⯑velty. A number of new performers and pieces were brought forward in the courſe of the win⯑ter. Mr. Stamper, a comedian of much me⯑rit, appeared in the character of the Miſer, [264] which he ſupported with great juſtice and na⯑ture; his Scrub, Foreſight, and many parts in that line of buſineſs were well received by the public, and he was conſidered as a real acquiſi⯑tion to the drama. A young gentleman of the name of Kirkpatrick played Romeo, and after⯑wards Altamont, Eſſex, &c. with ſome ſucceſs; and Mrs. Glen, from Covent-garden, was an⯑nounced to the town in Juliet.

But the moſt material advantage the mana⯑gers reaped at this time, was the reinforcement of a ſtrong muſical party. Dr. Arne having then under his direction a very excellent company of vocal performers, engaged for the repreſentation of three operas, Eliza, Alfred, and the Fairies, by a ſubſcription for ten nights each. This was a great relief to the buſineſs of the theatre; theſe operas filled up the vacant nights, at the ſame time that they anſwered Dr. Arne's purpoſe, as he obtained a large ſubſcrip⯑tion, they being patronized by the Lord Lieutenant, the Marquis of Hartington, after⯑wards Duke of Devonſhire, and by moſt of the nobility.

[265]Theſe operas were in general well ſupported by Mr. Sadler, Mrs. Arne, the celebrated Miſs Brent, who, though very young at that time, gave every aſſurance of her future fame, and a Miſs Polly Young, a child poſſeſſed of an un⯑common fine voice and manner. At the cloſe of this very ſeaſon Miſs Brent ſtudied and play⯑ed for the firſt time, the part of Polly in the Beg⯑gars Opera, a character in which ſhe drew ſuch extraordinary houſes in London, a few years after.

In this place, I muſt once for all beg leave to obſerve, that as it was my earneſt wiſh through the whole of this performance, to exhibit to the public a faithful portrait of the Iriſh ſtage, in all its various viciſſitudes and changes, and to pre⯑ſent every information which I could collect on the ſubject, ſo I deemed it eſſential to mention the regular ſucceſſion of performers of any emi⯑nence, who from time to time have appeared on the Dublin theatre; that however defective in other reſpects this work might be, yet, upon examination, it would be found a faithful dra⯑matic chronicle. This, I hope, will in part ex⯑cuſe its many imperfections, and apologize for the otherwiſe unintereſting details of the firſt [266] appearances of ſeveral perſons, who, but for this conſideration, were not of ſufficient conſequence to interrupt the narrative.

But to return. As the managers principal re⯑liance were upon Mr. Moſſop and Mrs. Gre⯑gory, great care was taken in bringing them properly forward. The pieces ſelected to ſhew theſe two performers to advantage were judi⯑ciouſly choſen; Mr. Moſſop came out in his favourite Zanga, a character he was univer⯑ſally admired in, after which he played Richard, Pierre, Horatio, &c.

The tragedy of Barbaroſſa, written by Dr. Browne, was brought out at Drury-lane in 1755, by Mr. Garrick, with great ſucceſs, and engaged the manager's attention. This play has cer⯑tainly ſome capital defects, amongſt which may be reckoned an exceſs of action, and extravagance of paſſion approaching to bombaſt, yet is the plot founded on the ſtrongeſt of all human con⯑nexions, maternal and filial affections; and though no ſubject is more common, or has been oftener treated upon, yet it is always ſure to command our attention and intereſt our feelings.

[267]As the ſucceſs of this tragedy was an object worth the attention of the managers, they be⯑ſtowed a conſiderable ſhare of pains in getting it up. It was performed, for the firſt time, in Dublin, on February 2d, 1756, and was re⯑ceived with much applauſe. Mrs. Gregory's performance of Zaphira juſtly acquired her great reputation; it was an original character, (a ſin⯑gular advantage to any performer) which added much to her fame.

Though the part of Achmet was not in every reſpect ſuited to the abilities of Mr. Moſſop, yet he threw ſo much ſpirit and force into it, and gave the whole ſo high a colouring, that he re⯑ceived uncommon applauſe. The interview and diſcovery in the third act between the mother and ſon were finely ſupported by Mrs. Gregory and Mr. Moſſop, and produced an admirable effect. The play was often repeated and brought crowded houſes. Indeed it muſt be acknow⯑ledged, that independent of the capital manner in which it was acted, it has a good deal of in⯑trinſic merit, and will always keep poſſeſſion of the ſtage.—Coriolanus was at this time revived, in which Mr. Moſſop and Mrs. Gregory ap⯑peared to great advantage.

[268]Coriolanus has been, by the beſt judges of acting, always eſteemed one of Mr. Moſſop's maſter-pieces. All the ſtern fierceneſs of the proud, haughty, unrelenting Roman was admi⯑rably adapted to his powers. He often wanted variety but never force. His laſt act was un⯑commonly fine, and the remembrance of it will not readily be effaced from the memory of thoſe who were ſo happy as to partake of that pleaſure. With equal judgment he ſupported Shakeſpeare's Meaſure for Meaſure. His Duke was truly a capital piece of acting, in which he never was excelled. Nor muſt we in juſtice omit Mrs. Gregory's Iſabella, which deſervedly added much to her reputation.

Very little elſe worth noticing occurred the remainder of this ſeaſon, except the mention of two pieces that were brought out by the well-known Henry Brooke, Eſq. The firſt was a revival of Jack the Giant Queller, which failed, and with difficulty reached the third night. The other was a tragedy called Injured Honour. This piece was founded on an old Engliſh ſtory, at the time of the firſt invaſion of the Danes. It was extremely well received, brought ſeveral [269] good houſes, and the author's night was ho⯑noured with the preſence of the lord lieutenant.

In the ſpring following, Mr. Woodward, having obtained leave from the manager of Drury-lane theatre to perform in Dublin, imme⯑diately concluded an agreement with Mr. Sowdon for nine nights on ſhares, and on the 17th of May he opened in Marplot and Captain Flaſh, in both of which he gave great ſatis⯑faction. His other characters were Captain Bobadil in Every Man in his Humour, Scrub and the Apprentice, Atall in the Double Gal⯑lant, the Copper Captain and Petruchio. This trip proved mutually advantageous to both par⯑ties, and Mr. Woodward cleared upwards of two hundred pounds by the expedition.

This laſt effort cloſed the management of Meſſrs. Victor and Sowdon. Though men of character and probity, and tolerably converſant in the buſineſs of directing a theatre, yet they found the weight too great to ſupport, and they heartily wiſhed to extricate themſelves with credit and without loſs.

CHAP. XIX.

THE miſts of prejudice and party were now nearly diſſipated, the calm and diſpaſſionate eye of reaſon beheld objects in their proper light, and the public looked upon Mr. Sheridan as a much injured man, to whom they were under infinite obligations, which could no other way be com⯑penſated than by reſtoring him to the ſtation he lately held with ſo much honour. On his leaving Ireland he had entered into an agreement with Mr. Rich, of Covent-garden, for a ſhare of the [271] profits on ſuch nights as he ſhould perform the enſuing winter, when he played a variety of cha⯑racters with the greateſt reputation. He then quit the ſtage, and was at this time buſily em⯑ployed in bringing to perfection a plan he had long at heart, of forming a ſyſtem of education on a more liberal and extenſive ſcale than any hitherto ſtruck out, which, if carried into execu⯑tion, muſt be productive of the moſt beneficial conſequences to his native kingdom.

All eyes being turned on Mr. Sheridan, the general voice of the nation ſoon reached him; and as the amor patriae was ever the ruling prin⯑ciple in his breaſt, he willingly obeyed the wel⯑come invitation, and prepared to re-aſſume the throne he was ſo rudely forced to abdicate. Money was raiſed to pay off the mortgage, and in a ſhort time he was fully reinſtated in his do⯑minions. Mr. Victor was not of the opinion, that 'twas better to reign in hell than ſerve in heaven; on the contrary, he cheerfully deſcended to his former ſtation of deputy-manager and trea⯑ſurer, both which offices he diſcharged with credit; and Mr. Sowdon was likewiſe content, after wielding for two years the theatrical ſceptre, to fall into the ranks, where he was of real ſervice.

[272]At this juncture, with a ſpirit worthy of a ma⯑nager who preſided over the dramatic entertain⯑ments of a kingdom, as ſoon as Mr. Sheridan was aſſured of returning, he called upon Mr. Barry in London, in company with a gentleman a common friend to both, and made him overtures of all kinds, to engage him the next ſeaſon to bear a principal part in the theatre he was in⯑vited back to. At the ſame time aſſuring him, that his chief buſineſs to Ireland was only to en⯑deavour to re-eſtabliſh the ſtage once more on a reſpectable footing; that he ſhould not continue on it more than a year or two at moſt, and in that caſe, it ſhould be Mr. Barry's own fault if his ſtation there was not as eligible as he could wiſh.

Mr. Barry at firſt did not ſeem to reliſh the propoſal. He mentioned a deſign which his friends had, of building a theatre for him. Mr. Sheridan then offered, either to engage him on a certain ſalary, or if he liked it better, to admit him to a ſhare of the profits for the enſuing ſeaſon, and afterwards to let the theatre to him. Before they parted Mr. Barry ſeemed inclined to come into ſome one of the propoſals, promiſed to conſider the matter, and in a few days to call [273] upon Mr. Sheridan and let him know the reſult of his determination. But he never called, nor ever afterwards wrote or ſpoke to Mr. Sheridan on the ſubject.

Thus diſappointed, he was obliged to return to Ireland, without accompliſhing an union which would have prevented the innumerable miſchiefs produced a few years after by an oppoſition. On his arrival he ſet about the re-eſtabliſhment of the ſtage with alacrity. The theatre was much wrecked, and obliged to undergo a thorough repair. The ſcenery was almoſt unfit for uſe; he therefore immediately ſet Mr. Lewis, a good ſcene-painter, to work, who in a few months completed three or four ſets of ſcenes and wings. The wardrobe alſo received a con⯑ſiderable addition, and matters ſeemed to wear a promiſing aſpect.

Nor was he remiſs in procuring the beſt en⯑tertainment for the public which the times would admit of. Unable to obtain Mr. Barry, he entered into an engagement with Mr. Lee, then an actor of reputation, whom he had never ſeen perform, for four hundred pounds for the ſeaſon. Though he did not entirely anſwer the [274] manager's expectations, yet he ſupported a line of firſt characters with tolerable reputation. But he concluded a much heavier and leſs profit⯑able contract with ſignior Mareneſi and ſignora Bugiani, to whom he gave a thouſand pounds. Though they were then eſteemed the beſt dancers in Europe, yet certainly they could not be worth half that ſum to him at that time.

And here I cannot help obſerving, that through the whole of Mr. Sheridan's conducting the Iriſh ſtage, it appears to me that his greateſt error was, his engaging to give larger ſalaries to par⯑ticular performers than the theatre could then afford. And though theſe engagements were all punctually fulfilled, yet he left precedents which his ſucceſſors have found very difficult to imitate. Beſides theſe already mentioned, he produced a great deal of other novelty. Several performers of merit were brought out, amongſt whom were two ſiſters, Miſs G. and Miſs M. Phillips, young ladies of a good family, who for many years afterwards were well received in a variety of characters, both in tragedy and comedy; Mr. Glover, an excellent comedian and a reſpectable character; Miſs Wells, and ſeveral others.

[275]Every neceſſary preparation being made, the theatre opened once more under Mr. Sheridan, October 18th, 1756, with the comedy of the Buſy Body, Marplot by Mr. King, who at this time was a great favourite with the public. This gentleman ſupported an extenſive round of cha⯑racters, and that of a very motley complexion; as Ranger, the Miſer, Abel Drugger, Duretete, Scrub, Lord Lace, Bayes, Tattle, Oſtric, Fine Gentleman, Tom, Trinculo, &c. with great and deſerved applauſe; and I am happy that my ſub⯑ject in this place furniſhes me with an opportu⯑nity of paying a juſt tribute to the public worth and private virtues of one of the greateſt orna⯑ments which our ſtage at preſent can boaſt of.

It might naturally be expected, that the recol⯑lection of paſt events would enhance the pleaſure of the preſent evening, and that nothing could poſſibly happen to interrupt the harmony of the firſt night's performance. But little dependence ought to be placed on the moſt flattering appear⯑ances. At the opening of the ſecond act a few young men in the pit called out Apology! Apology! which was ſeconded by the ſame number in both the galleries. Mr. Dexter, who performed Sir George Airey, and who was [276] remarkable for his modeſt behaviour, being on the ſtage at the time of this unexpected demand, was ſo confuſed, that unable to make any anſwer he bowed and retired to conſult Mr. Victor, who happened to be behind the ſcenes at that time. Mr. Victor deſired him to go on again directly, and if the demand was repeated to ac⯑quaint the audience, that Mr. Sheridan was really ill of a cold which confined him to his apartment, and that he did not doubt but when be was recovered, he would give them every ſatisfaction they deſired.

But this would not by any means content them. They had collected ſpirits enough to make a beginning, which gathered ſtrength by degrees. They inſiſted upon Mr. Dexter's go⯑ing to him, as they knew his houſe was adjoin⯑ing the theatre, and bringing them a poſitive promiſe from him. Finding them determined, Mr. Dexter came off again, and with Mr. Victor went to Mr. Sheridan, to whom they related the demand of the audience. He ſeemed greatly diſturbed by the account Mr. Dexter gave him, but after ſome deliberation, alarmed at the recol⯑lection of paſt ſcenes, it was concluded that Mr. Dexter ſhould return and aſſure the audience [277] that when Mr. Sheridan was recovered, he would make an apology on the ſtage, and that public no⯑tice ſhould be given of it in the bills and advertiſe⯑ments. Upon Mr. Dexter's delivering this de⯑claration he was received with univerſal applauſe, and the performance concluded without any further interruption.

Every mind ſuſceptible of the finer feelings of humanity, may readily conceive what paſſed in the boſom of the manager on this occaſion. How⯑ever, he ſaw there was no contending with the ſeverity of his fate, therefore he nobly prepared to meet it with becoming fortitude. Too much affected to deliver this apology on a night in which he had a character to play, he advertiſed it previous to the comedy of the Suſpicious Huſband, October the 25th 1756. The theatre was early crowded to behold the unmanly tri⯑umph of deſpotiſm over reaſon and juſtice. Such a ſpectacle perhaps, was never preſented to the public before or ſince. A manager who de⯑ſerved a ſtatue raiſed to perpetuate the memory of the good he had done, obliged to appear like a criminal before that tribunal which he had ſo often furniſhed with the moſt noble and rational entertainment! But he was equal to this arduous taſk.

[278]When the curtain drew up he advanced to the front of the ſtage, with a paper in his hand, fearing in the confuſion which muſt unavoidably attend him, to truſt entirely to his memory. It was the univerſal opinion of the beſt judges who were ſpectators of this trying moment, that no man within their obſervation ever appeared before the public with more propriety. Tears guſhed from the eyes of ſeveral of his male auditors. As ſoon as his ſpeech, which was modeſt, ex⯑preſſive and conciſe, was concluded, the loudeſt acclamations ſucceeded. So powerful is truth, that not a heart but participated his diſtreſſes. Reiterated plaudits ſpoke their ſenſations which continuing as he was retiring, he advanced again, and with broken faultring accents ſpoke as follows, "Your goodneſs to me at this impor⯑tant criſis, has ſo deeply affected me, that I want powers to expreſs myſelf; my future actions ſhall. ſhew my gratitude."

If ever there was a moment peculiarly marked with diſgrace to the feelings of a Dublin audi⯑ence, it was on the preſent occaſion; and poſte⯑rity who read the page muſt bluſh at the dege⯑neracy of the times, which could reduce a man of Mr. Sheridan's abilities and ſentiments to the [279] humiliating ſituation of apologizing to the de⯑ſtroyers of his property, for their ruining his fortune and demoliſhing the labours of ſo many years! But I muſt quit the ungrateful ſubject.

A few nights after, Mr. Sheridan appeared in the character of Hamlet, and was received by a very brilliant audience with that warmth of ap⯑plauſe which a ſenſe of his injuries inſpired. He afterwards drew ſeveral good houſes to his Richard, Tamerlane, Shore, Horatio, &c. Mr. Lee's firſt appearance was in Lear; he then per⯑formed Haſtings, Iago, Hotſpur, &c. In the Fair Penitent we find Horatio, Mr. Sheridan; Lothario, Mr. Lee; Sciolto, Mr. Heaphy; Altamont, Mr. Dexter; Lavinia, Miſs Grace Phillips, and Caliſta, Miſs M. Phillips; and in the Conſcious Lovers, Bevil jun. Mr. Sheridan; Myrtle, Mr. Lee; Tom, Mr. King; Cimberton, Mr. Glover; Sealand, Mr. Heaphy; Phillis, Miſs Grace Phillips, and Indiana, Miſs Phillips.

But this part of the ſeaſon is to be particularly noticed for introducing to the knowledge of the public Mr. James Wilder, a good comedian, a moſt reſpectable citizen, and, to ſum up all, a worthy honeſt man. Mr. and Mrs. Wilder arrived in Dublin from Drury-lane theatre early [280] in the winter, and made their firſt appearance at Smock-alley, on Saturday December 17th 1756, in the parts of Macheath and Polly in the Beggars Opera; in which they acquitted themſelves ſo highly to the ſatisfaction of the audience, that they brought the opera once more into faſhion, and occaſioned it to be performed once a week during the ſeaſon, upwards of twenty nights, beſides benefits, to crowded houſes. In Captain Macheath, Mr. Wilder ſung a new ſong called a Cock and a Bull, which be⯑came ſo great a favourite that it was regularly advertiſed each time along with the opera. Their great ſucceſs in thoſe characters induced the manager to get up the elegant muſical entertain⯑ment of the Oracle. Mrs. Wilder was young, a good figure, and eſteemed excellent in the girls. Her Cynthia and Mr. Wilder's Oberon pleaſed much, and the piece was played a number of nights with ſingular applauſe.

The Tempeſt was revived much about this time with great care and expence. Mr. Sheri⯑dan's Proſpero was excellent; Mr. King was capital in Trinculo; the reſt of the parts were well diſpoſed of, and the piece brought five or ſix good houſes. Coriolanus and Barbaroſſa were alſo got up, but did not do much.

[281]Though there reigned ſuch perfect harmony between the manager and the public, yet his ears were conſtantly dinned with the report of an oppoſition. At firſt he was unwilling to credit the rumour, but facts carried demonſtra⯑tion. The ground choſen for this new ſcene of action was the muſic-hall in Crow-ſtreet, which was to be demoliſhed, and a new theatre erected. Mr. Sheridan finding too much truth in the report, before affairs were too far ad⯑vanced, diſpatched Mr. Victor to London, to treat with Mr. Barry the intended manager, and endeavour to diſſuade him from ſo hazardous an undertaking, ſince he might have the united theatres, and as Mr. Victor ſays, "to obſerve to him that inconteſtable fact, that a monopoly in a great city, was of more worth to a manager than any other conſideration whatever." Thus commiſſioned Mr. Victor left Dublin in April, about the ſame time that Mr. Foote, who was engaged to give a ſpirit to the latter end of the ſeaſon, arrived.

Mr. Foote opened in Sir Charles Buck in his own comedy of The Engliſhman returned from Paris, and afterwards performed Bayes, Hartop in the Knights, Fondlewiſe in the Old Batche⯑lor, [282] &c. He drew money, and his trip turned out advantageouſly to himſelf and the manager.

Much about this time the tragedy of Douglas made a great noiſe in the world. Mr. Garrick, whoſe judgment was very ſeldom called in queſ⯑tion, moſt unluckily perſevered in rejecting this play, though very powerful intereſt was made to bring it on. The greateſt men are ſometimes wrong; this certainly was his caſe in the preſent inſtance. Few people could read ſo affecting a ſtory without emotion. The novelty of the manners, the ſeveral intereſting ſituations, and the peculiar ſtrokes of nature in the ſcenes be⯑tween Lady Randolph and her ſon, muſt make an impreſſion on the moſt obdurate boſoms. Accordingly we find its ſucceſs was uncommon, and far beyond the run of modern tragedies.

Succeſsful as it was at other theatres, its power failed in Dublin at this time. It is true, nature had not formed Mr. Sheridan to perſonate the blooming Douglas, nor had he any lady at that time who could in any meaſure do juſtice to the exquiſite feelings of Lady Randolph. In a few years after, Mr. Digges, and then Mr. Barry, an⯑ſwered our utmoſt ideas of the blooming Norval; [283] but it was reſerved for Mrs. Crawford in the ſorrowful Matilda, to charm the public with one of the moſt beautiful pieces of domeſtic diſtreſs ever exhibited. If the reader would wiſh to know how the tragedy was at the preſent ſupported, it was in this manner. Young Norval, Mr. She⯑ridan; Old Norval, Mr. Lee; Lord Randolph, Mr. Dexter; Glenalvon, Mr. Stayley; Anna, Miſs Grace Phillips; and Lady Randolph, Mrs. Kennedy, who, though a good actreſs in comedy, had but few pretenſions to the buſkin. It was performed but two nights, and then laid aſide.

I omitted mentioning in its proper place, that at the beginning of the ſeaſon, amongſt other regulations adopted by the manager, he determined if poſſible to put an end to the num⯑berleſs complaints of the outrages committed by the frequenters of the upper gallery, by convert⯑ing it into boxes, and raiſing the price to half a crown. This anſwered the end propoſed, but proved highly detrimental to his intereſt. For as moſt things are governed by faſhion, ſo novelty and whim drew the ladies, and conſe⯑quently the gentlemen in ſuch numbers to the upper boxes, that thoſe below were in a great meaſure deſerted, and the pit thinned of courſe. [284] However by this regulation peace and order were ſuddenly reſtored, and the theatre once more became a place of quiet, as well as rational entertainment.

Before I cloſe this chapter, I ſhall preſent my readers with the receipts of twenty-one of Mr. Sheridan's nights. They may convey an idea of the ſucceſs of the theatre, and contraſted with thoſe of Mr. Barry's before-mentioned, will ſhew what eſtimation Mr. Sheridan was held in by the public.

[285]

On an average 77l. 17s. 2d. per night.

CHAP. XX.

LET us now turn our eyes to London, and enquire into the ſucceſs of Mr. Victor in his important negociation. At his firſt interview with Mr. Barry, he informed him of Mr. She⯑ridan's propoſals, and mentioned on what advan⯑tageous [287] terms he might become ſole manager of the united theatres of Smock-alley and Aungier-ſtreet, if he had any exceptions to a partnerſhip with Mr. Sheridan, and by that means the hazard and expence of building a new theatre might be prevented. Unluckily for both parties, theſe offers were rejected. Mr. Barry declared, that he was too far advanced in engagements to recede, and that let what would be the conſe⯑quence, he was determined to perſevere. Indeed it appears through the whole, that he had long reſolved on it, as I formerly mentioned that Mr. Sheridan had applied to him before he could poſſibly have made any advances, and ſuch a project could only have exiſted in his own idea.

Diſappointed in the principal deſign of his journey, all Mr. Victor could do, was after a long train of tedious negociation to engage Mrs. Gregory and Mrs. Hamilton, the former at five hundred, and the latter at four hundred pounds for the ſeaſon.

Colley Cibber in his apology ſays, "we nei⯑ther aſked actors, nor were deſired by them, to ſign any written agreement whatever. The [288] rates of their reſpective ſalaries were only entered in our daily pay roll, which plain record every one looked upon as good as city ſecurity." Such a line of conduct might have anſwered very well in the laureat's time, but had Mr. Cibber lived in thoſe days he would have found it neceſſary to have ſtronger ties than thoſe. However, Mrs. Gregory and Mr. Victor had ſuch a mutual confidence in each other, that though he acted only as Mr. Sheridan's agent, yet Mrs. Gregory was content with a written memorandum, mentioning the ſum ſhe was to have. With Mrs. Hamilton, whoſe huſband was a ſtranger, Mr. Victor luckily happened to be more particu⯑lar. An attorney drew up the article in form, and a penalty of five hundred pounds annexed to it. The conſequence proved that he acted prudently; for Mr. Rich, manager of Covent-garden theatre, finding ſhe was engaged, inſiſted on her breaking her articles, promiſing to in⯑demnify her from all damage. A lawſuit was then inſtituted, and after a tedious proceſs of three years Mr. Rich was at laſt obliged to pay the five hundred pounds penalty, with coſts.

Soon after this it appeared that Mr. Wood⯑ward had embarked jointly with Mr. Barry in [289] the grand ſcheme he had on foot. No perſon could be ſelected more proper for ſuch an under⯑taking. Mr. Woodward had a great name in the theatrical world, was poſſeſſed of ſome property, and his character for honeſty and punctuality would go far in eſtabliſhing a new dramatic ſtate. Mr. Macklin alſo ſeems to have been intereſted on the ſame ſide, for on Mr. Victor's return from London, he met Mr. Barry and Mr. Macklin at Holyhead; they embarked together in the ſame packet, and landed at Dunleary the latter end of June.

In a ſhort time after, the walls of the late muſic-hall in Crow-ſtreet, and ſeveral adjacent buildings were levelled to the ground, and the foundation laid of the new theatre, which, as Mr. Victor prophetically obſerved, was "A foundation of misfortunes to many." Mr. Barry and Mr. Macklin remained in Dublin till the September following, when the former having obtained a ſufficient number of ſubſcribers to the new thea⯑tre, and arranged every other matter relative to his great deſign, they returned to London.

Mr. Sheridan finding every effort to prevent an oppoſition ineffectual, endeavoured to make [290] the beſt defence he could. Smock-alley theatre opened on the 10th of October 1757 with The Fair Quaker of Deal, and on the 24th he came for⯑ward himſelf in the character of Hamlet to a very good houſe. And a few days after Mrs. Gregory, now Mrs. Fitzhenry, appeared in Ca⯑liſta, a part ſhe always performed remarkably well, and was moſt cordially received by the lov⯑ers of the drama. Mr. Foote alſo who continued with Mr. Sheridan, gave the public his Ben in Love for Love, Fondlewife, and a few other cha⯑racters. It has been remarked that in the laſt mentioned character Mr. Foote remembered that great maſter of acting, Colley Cibber, conſe⯑quently had the merit of imitating him tolerably well; but his Ben, Sir Paul Plyant, and moſt of the characters he did not write himſelf, were not ſo succeſsful. In his own pieces he ſtood alone, and his original acting, good or bad, ſet criticiſm at defiance. At this, time he treated the public with his tea, at which it was the faſhion to laugh.

At his tea table be introduced a young gentle⯑man as pupil to Mr. Puzzle, who ſoon attracted the attention of the town and deſerves particular mention. This young gentleman's name was [291] Wilkinſon, the ſon of a clergyman of excellent character. Mr. Wilkinſon from his earlieſt years diſcovered a peculiar inclination for the ſtage, which as he grew up ripened into a ſettled determination of turning actor the firſt opportunity. In conſequence of this deſign he conſtantly frequented the theatres, and as he poſſeſſed extraordinary powers for imitation, few of the performers of any merit eſcaped his critical notice.

About this time chance threw Mr. Foote in his way. Struck with the eccentricity of his genius, and the particularity of his manner, our hero's lively imagination delighted in exhibiting his peculiarities, in which he was remarkably ſucceſsful. Finding Mr. Foote engaged at Dublin, he voluntarily offered to accompany him over at his own expence. This being immediately accept⯑ed, they both arrived early in the winter. Mr. Foote being obliged to return in December, our young hero thought this a good opportunity for trying his abilities. He therefore determined to remain behind, and ſoon after commenced his theatrical career with great eclat. Diffident of his own powers, he at firſt only ventured to treat the [292] audience with tea, (as the entertainment was called) in Mr. Foote's manner.

His ſucceſs in this attempt was ſo great, that it emboldened him to higher purſuits, and hav⯑ing played Cadwallader in the ſtile of the author with remarkable applauſe, and given imitations of Mrs. Woffington, Mr. Sparks, with moſt of the capital performers, and even of Mr. Foote himſelf, with great truth and humour, he on the 19th of January ventured on the arduous taſk of ſupporting the very difficult character of Othello. In this however, as he was perfectly converſant with Mr. Barry's ſtile and manner, he greatly exceeded public expec⯑tation. After this he appeared in ſeveral other characters with much reputation, and having obtained an excellent benefit, he returned to England highly ſatisfied with his firſt eſſay, and much pleaſed with the liberality and hoſpitality of the Iriſh nation.

In juſtice to Mr. Wilkinſon it muſt be ac⯑knowledged, that independent of his powers of mimickry, he poſſeſſed capital abilities for the ſtage. I have ſpent ſeveral happy years under his command, and as far as my judgment can [293] bear teſtimony, have, during that time, ſeen him perform a variety of characters in tragedy and comedy, with great truth and merit. So very flattering was his reception in Dublin at that time, that we afterwards often find him making ſhort, pleaſant, and profitable excurſions to Ire⯑land, whoſe audience he always proſeſt the higheſt veneration for.

Fortune a few years afterwards rewarded his merits, and placed him at the head of the theatres-royal, York, Hull, and Leeds, paten⯑tee and ſole proprietor: as reſpectable a the⯑atrical ſituation as any out of London, where he has realized a conſiderable property, and over which theatres he ſtill continues to pre⯑ſide with the higheſt credit; an excellent ma⯑nager, univerſally beloved and eſteemed by thoſe who have the happineſs of his acquaint⯑ance.

I muſt now return, and introduce to my read⯑ers, one of the greateſt, and I hope I maybe allowed to ſay, one of the moſt deſerving favou⯑rites the Dublin theatre ever boaſted. On Wedneſday December 7th 1757, Mr. Foote was announced for Captain Brazen in the Re⯑cruiting [294] Officer, and the part of Captain Plume by Mr. Ryder, being his firſt appearance on this ſtage. So valuable an acquiſition paſſed not unnoticed; he was received with the warmeſt applauſe. The genius of the drama adopted him as her own, whilſt the foſtering hand of public approbation brought him forward, and crowned his endeavours with never-fading laurel.

I ſhall not here enter into an inveſtigation of Mr. Ryder's various merits. Such an enquiry would in my opinion at preſent be too prema⯑ture, and will come with more propriety in the latter part of this work, when I mean to diſcuſs the ſubject at large, and treat it with all the attention and judgment I am maſter of, unin⯑fluenced by faſhion, or unprejudiced by party. Suffice it at preſent to ſay, that the firſt night he diſplayed great abilities, which time after⯑wards matured and brought to perfection, and ſo diſcernible was his merit, that the audience conſtantly embraced every opportunity of teſ⯑tifying their ſenſe of it.

The material events of this ſeaſon beſides thoſe I have mentioned were but few. The [295] duke of Dorſet, then lord-lieutenant, was remark⯑ably fond of the drama, and with the ducheſs conſtantly honoured the theatre with their pre⯑ſence once or twice a week. This fortunate at⯑tachment to the ſtage not only rendered it faſhion⯑able, but inſpired Mr Sheridan with hopes of being able to divert the impending ſtorm which for ſome time had been gathering round him. Crow-ſtreet theatre began now to rear its for⯑midable head, and threaten unknown dangers to poor Smock-alley. The public already began to divide in opinion. The preſs teemed with publications from both parties. Each had an appearance of reaſon, and each had their parti⯑zans who eſpouſed their reſpective intereſts with all the warmth which ſuch conteſts uſually in⯑ſpire.

It may perhaps be expected that in this place I ſhould give a review of the reaſons advanced by each party. Thoſe offered by Mr. Sheridan againſt an oppoſition, and the arguments made uſe of by Mr. Barry's and Mr. Woodward's friends againſt a theatrical monopoly. This I muſt beg leave to decline for the preſent, and reſerve a full diſcuſſion of the pleadings uſed on both ſides to a more proper period, which I take to be [296] many years after, when the bill for an excluſive patent was brought into parliament and paſſed. I ſhall then endeavour to throw every light in my power on the ſubject, and leave the reader free to form his judgment from a fair impartial review of the whole.

The manager finding all his endeavours to ſtop the progreſs of the building of the new theatre to be in vain, gave over the attempt and ſtrove to make the beſt defence the nature of his ſitu⯑ation would admit. In March juſt before the benefits commenced, he made application to the whole company in order to aſcertain to a cer⯑tainty thoſe who would continue under his ſtan⯑dard. He began with Mrs. Fitzhenry, who was a very great favourite that ſeaſon. The ſalary ſhe then had was five hundred pounds for the winter, this he offered her again, which ſhe declined. He then raiſed it to ſix hundred pounds, well knowing that without her and a few of the principal performers it would be un⯑ſafe for him to article with ſo large a body of people, many of whom had great ſalaries and were only uſeful. In return Mrs. Fitzhenry gave him to underſtand, that ſhe could come to no concluſion till ſhe had heard from the oppo⯑ſite [297] party. This unexpected and rather unge⯑nerous proceeding ſo incenſed Mr. Sheridan, that in the warmth of reſentment he imprudently de⯑clared againſt entering into articles with any one. The conſequence of this raſh declaration was, that Mr. King and Mr. Dexter not per⯑ceiving any certainty of their being retained, in a few days after ſigned with Mr. Barry's attorney for the enſuing ſeaſon.

Thus was the firſt fatal blow given by Mrs. Fitzhenry. At that time ſhe ſtood in the higheſt eſtimation, and would have proved a powerful addition in either ſcale. Had ſhe remained firm to the cauſe, the manager would cheerfully have entered into articles with every member of the company; which with the addition of Mr. Digges and Mrs. Ward expected from Edin⯑burgh, would, in all probability, have formed a force too ſtrong for any powers that could be brought againſt them. 'Tis true Mr. Barry and Mr. Woodward were the firſt in their reſpective lines of playing. Yet the many unavoidable difficulties which ſuch an undertaking is at firſt involved in, eſpecially the collecting ſuch a com⯑pany whoſe merit would in any meaſure accord with theirs, made their project rather hazardous.

[298]But be that as it might, the ſudden and unex⯑pected loſs of two capital performers of ſuch conſequence as Mr. King and Mr. Dexter, alarmed Mr. Sheridan. He ſaw his error, and endeavoured too late to retrieve it. He imme⯑diately ſet about a vigorous oppoſition. At the concluſion of the ſeaſon Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Victor repaired to London, to endeavour to procure novelty for the winter. It was deter⯑mined to engage Mr. Digges and Mrs. Ward, who were to be in Dublin at the opening of the ſeaſon, to ſet forward in the tragedies, and Mr. Theophilus Cibber to ſtrengthen the comedies, as upon them they placed great reliance.

Fully aware of Mr. Woodward's great ex⯑cellence in pantomime, which they imagined would be one of the new manager's principal objects, they reſolved to oppoſe him in the beſt manner they could. Accordingly Mr. Sheridan purchaſed of Mr. Roſamon, the manager of Sadler's Wells, whoſe pantomimes were then in great eſteem, an entire panto⯑mime. The ſtory, muſic, ſcenery and ma⯑chinery all complete for one hundred pounds, which originally coſt five. Mr. Roſamon's [299] carpenter was alſo hired at the ſame time to ſet out with the work, and ſit it to Smock-alley ſtage. Maddox, the celebrated wire-dancer was likewiſe articled for two hun⯑dred pounds, to be the Harlequin, and to ex⯑hibit his dexterity on the wire.

CHAP. XXI.

THE opening of the theatrical campaign was now anxiouſly looked for by both parties. Never till then had the public been ſo divided, or intereſted in the affairs of the drama. The [301] leaders of each theatre were men ſo eminent in their profeſſion, that they naturally excited the attention of the town.

The acknowledged abilities of Mr. Sheridan, the amiableneſs of his private character, his long tried and approved conducting of the ſtage, joined to the unmerited treatment he ſo recently received, moſt deſervedly ſecured him the friend⯑ſhip of the ſenſible and judicious. The diſcern⯑ing few beheld with concern the approaching diſſenſions, which in all probability would ſpeedily deprive them of that harmony and re⯑gularity which had been juſt reſtored. But their weak efforts were ineffectual. The love of novelty is the darling paſſion of makind. 'Tis interwoven in our nature, and diſplays its pre⯑dominance on almoſt every occaſion. But it is no where more conſpicuous than in the fluctu⯑ating opinions of the public reſpecting the drama.

Beſides, many circumſtances operated in fa⯑vour of the new theatre. Mr. Barry had, even from his firſt attempt, been a peculiar fa⯑vourite with the public, and ſtood remarkably high in the general opinion. With juſtice he was allowed to be, without exception, in a par⯑ticular [302] line, the firſt actor of the age. In private, perſuaſion dwelt upon his tongue, he had the happy art of accommodating himſelf to the foibles and peculiarities of every perſon he converſed with, and his rhetoric never failed to accompliſh the moſt difficult points he had to carry. In public, his extraordinary merit, beau⯑tiful figure, engaging manner, and the intereſt⯑ing caſt of parts he played, all ſerved to eſtabliſh his fame, and render him uncommonly popular. Mr. Woodward was a plain honeſt man, much admired in Ireland, who by great profeſſional merit had ſaved a tolerable fortune which ambi⯑tion urged him to venture upon a very uncer⯑tain foundation. Theſe circumſtances with the aid of a new company, new theatre, &c. ſeemed to preponderate the ſcale againſt the old houſe.

On Monday the 23d of October 1758, the new theatre in Crow-ſtreet opened with an oc⯑caſional prologue ſpoken by Mr. Woodward. After which was performed the comedy of She Would And She Would Not, or the Kind Im⯑poſtor, written by Cibber, a very excellent act⯑ing comedy. The characters ſuſtained in the following manner: Don Manuel, Mr. Arthur, from the Bath theatre; Don Philip, Mr. Jeffer⯑ſon; [303] Octavio, Mr. White; Soto, Mr. Lay⯑field; Diego, Mr. Mynitt; Don Lewis, Mr. Read; Corregidor, Mr. Younger, afterwards prompter at Covent-garden theatre; and Trap⯑panti, Mr. King; Roſara, Mrs. Knipe; Flora, Miſs Willis; Viletta, Mrs. Mynitt; and Hy⯑polita, Mrs. Jefferſon.

Except Mr. King who indeed was a great fa⯑vourite with the public, moſt of the other names were unknown, ſo that even the novelty of the firſt night could not attract a numerous au⯑dience. Thoſe however who were there, ſpoke highly of the theatre, ſcenery, and decorations, but the merits of the new performers ſeemed but coldly reliſhed. The next night the new mana⯑gers gave the town a ſpecimen of the abilities of the muſical part of their company in the Beggars Opera, where that excellent ſinger Mr. Vernon made his firſt appearance in Macheath, Mrs. Pye was the Lucy, Mrs. Chambers, a ſweet ſinger and very pretty figure, was the Polly. Theſe, with a hornpipe from the celebrated Aldridge, conſtituted the novelty of that evening, and pleaſed better than the preceding, yet when repeated the night after did not bring above twenty pounds.

[304]Theſe bad houſes alarmed the new managers, and made them take the field ſooner than they deſigned. On the third of November Mr. Barry came forward in Hamlet, when he was welcomed by a crowded and brilliant audience, who through his whole performance gave him the moſt flat⯑tering teſtimonies of their intended ſupport and encouragement.

Having thus fairly launched our new comers, common civility obliges us to return to our de⯑ſerving old friends, and enquire how they pro⯑ceed. With very unequal ſpirits, and diſagree⯑able proſpects did they prepare for the conteſt. Mr. Victor, the deputy manager, returned from London about the middle of October, and began to muſter his forces. But when it was known that Mr. Sheridan had not as yet left London, diſtruſt and diſmay ſat upon every countenance. However, a few days after, Mr. Brown, late manager of the Bath company, who had been engaged by Mr. Victor, arrived, and in their ſituation proved a moſt fortunate acquiſition.

The abilities of this gentleman yet live in the memory of many, and thoſe acknowledge that in a particular line, ſuch as the Copper Captain, [305] Benedict, Braſs in the Confederacy, Don John in the Chances, &c. they never ſaw a better, not even Mr. Garrick excepted, though they were amongſt his moſt favourite parts. Had Mr. Brown come in a more fortunate ſeaſon, doubtleſs he would have been of the higheſt ſer⯑vice to the cauſe he eſpouſed. As it was, though his extraordinary merit was confeſſed and ad⯑mired, yet it was not ſufficient at firſt to attract public notice.

Mr. Brown opened Smock-alley theatre with his Copper Captain. Mrs. Sheriffe from Bath, an actreſs of merit, played Margaritte, and Mrs. Kennedy, late Miſs Orfeur, Eſtifania. Their proſpect indeed was highly diſagreeable. But twelve pounds the firſt night. However what the audience wanted in numbers, they made up in applauſe, which was unbounded. The ſecond night brought 281. and the third, near 40l. Afterwards it became the only eſta⯑bliſhed comedy of the ſeaſon.

About the ſecond or third week after they opened, the ſpirits of the Smock-alley company, which by that time had been much depreſſed, were ſomewhat raiſed by the arrival of Mr. Digges, [306] and Mrs. Ward from Edinburgh. The repu⯑tation of Mr. Digges had been rapidly riſing ſince his firſt commencement, and he had juſt quitted a kingdom, where he was as great a fa⯑vourite as ever Mr. Garrick was in London. With great judgment therefore was he pitched upon by Mr. Sheridan, as the only perſon likely to oppoſe Mr. Barry with any likelihood of ſuc⯑ceſs. Mrs. Ward, though not a capital, was a very uſeſul actreſs, and as far as they then knew, equal to any in that line at Crow-ſtreet.

But though a numerous train of miſchiefs cer⯑tainly ſprung from theatrical oppoſitions, yet one good they were evidently productive of, that was, the introducing at ſuch times a greater number of eminent performers to the public notice, than one theatre could poſſibly admit of. The preſent moment is, amongſt many others, an evident inſtance of the truth of this aſſertion. There were in Dublin at this time, Mr. Barry, Mr. Digges, Mr. Dexter, Mr. Heaphy, Mr. Sowdon, Mr. Jefferſon, Mr. Walker, Mr. Woodward, Mr. King, Mr. Ryder, Mr. Brown, Mr. Iſaac Sparks, Mr. Arthur, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Glover, Mr. Francis Aickin, Mr. Stayley, Mr. Vernon, Mr. Wilder, &c. Mrs. Fitzhenry, [307] Mrs. Ward, the two Miſs Philips, Mrs. Chal⯑mers, mother to the preſent Mr. Chalmers, a good actreſs in tragedy and genteel comedy. Mrs. Chambers, Mrs. Storer, Mrs. Kennedy, Miſs Maſon, Mrs. Walker, Mrs. Jefferſon, &c. and Mrs. Dancer.

To an oppoſition we certainly are indebted for ſo immediate a knowledge of the laſt men⯑tioned inimitable actreſs. This lady was born at Bath, had been but a ſhort time on the ſtage, and was engaged from the theatre-royal York at a venture, ignorant of her great merit or of the excellence which ſhe afterwards diſplayed. The firſt appearance which this darling child of nature made in Ireland, was at Crow-ſtreet thea⯑tre, in the part of Cordelia to Mr. Barry's Lear, the 8th of November 1758, and her ſecond was Monimia in the Orphan, characters well choſen, eſpecially the latter, to diſplay the pa⯑thetic powers, and exquiſite ſenſibility which ſo peculiarly characteriſe her acting above all others. Juſtice however obliges me to confeſs, that her firſt ſeaſon did not promiſe that perfection ſhe has ſince attained, and that many of her firſt efforts were regarded by the public eye with coldneſs and indifference. Hence 'tis highly [308] probable but for the inſtructions of ſo great a maſter as Mr. Barry, Mrs. Crawford had never arrived at her preſent excellence.

As this volume has already extended beyond the limits I at firſt intended, I ſhall defer enter⯑ing into a critical examination of the reſpective abilities of the performers I have hitherto men⯑tioned, till the ſecond volume, in the courſe of which I mean to attempt the ſubject, and en⯑deavour, as far as in my power lies, to place in a fair point of view the different merits of Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Barry, Mr. Moſſop, Mr. Digges, Mr. Woodward, Mr. Ryder, Mrs. Dancer, Mrs. Fitzhenry, &c. In the mean while I muſt return to my ſubject.

Though there were a number of excellent performers in each company, yet the general opinion ran ſtrongly in favour of Crow-ſtreet theatre. But the arrival of Mr. Sheridan with a reinforcement from Sadler's Wells, and the aſſiſtance of Mr. Theophilus Cibber, would it was hoped reſtore the balance. Meantime Mr. Digges and Mrs. Ward opened in Haſtings and Jane Shore, and were extremely well received. As they were the originals in Mr. Hume's new [309] tragedy of Douglas, and had performed it a number of nights with remarkable ſucceſs at Edinburgh, it was got ready with the utmoſt ex⯑pedition, and notwithſtanding it was announced at the other theatre, it was brought out and acted ſeveral nights to tolerable houſes, without being attempted at Crow-ſtreet.

But this was only a temporary relief, for the ſhip that contained the pantomime, Mr. Maddox the wire-dancer, and Mr. Theophilus Cibber, with upwards of ſeventy paſſengers beſides, pe⯑riſhed in a dreadful ſtormy night in November, on the coaſt of Scotland. This was a fatal ſtroke, and was quickly followed by another; Mr. Sheridan, on whom they placed their ſole dependence, declined coming over. Mr. Victor obſerves "that he certainly intended it, and in conſequence put himſelf to great inconvenience in the ſummer by advancing the money neceſſary for purchaſing and forwarding the ſcenery and machinery of the pantomime, and other relative expences. And beſides that loſs, by his not coming he knew a loſing ſeaſon muſt be the conſequence; therefore that he was prevented by the unhappy ſituation of his affairs from coming to ſerve himſelf as well as his company, muſt be called his misfortune, and not his fault."

[310]No ſooner was it known that Mr. Sheridan had given up the idea of returning to Ireland, than Mrs. Fitzhenry who till then had remained neuter, though ſix hundred pounds ſalary had been offered her by Mr. Victor, accepted of Mr. Barry's terms, and in haſte ſigned articles. This was the finiſhing ſtroke to their diſtreſſes, both their friends and the public then gave them up as loſt. There being now no poſſibility of their contending, Mr. Victor propoſed as the only reſource, that benefits ſhould commence in January, and to get through them as well as their circumſtances would admit. Theſe would keep them, till the latter end of March. At that time he was promiſed the aſſiſtance of Mr. Macklin and his daughter, for a dozen nights, when by their novelty, and by exhibiting a new piece or two of Mr. Macklin's writing, he was in hopes they might cloſe the ſeaſon with ſome little advantage.

This offer, as their dernier reſort, was cheer⯑fully embraced by the company. Benefits im⯑mediately began, and, conſidering the ſituation of affairs, were in general remarkably ſucceſsful, upwards of three thouſand pounds being taken in twenty-eight nights. As there were ſome [311]arrears due to the performers, owing to the bad⯑neſs of the receipts at the beginning of the ſeaſon, Mr. Victor took but ſixteen pounds in caſh from each, to pay the contingencies, as muſic, ſer⯑vants, &c. and allowed every perſon twenty-four pounds of their arrears, which made forty pounds, the ſum then uſually paid by each per⯑former for their benefit charges.

Meantime the new managers experienced but a moderate ſhare of ſucceſs, especially conſider⯑ing the great novelty they had produced. How⯑ever, every thing was conducted with regularity, ſalaries were punctually paid, and harmony per⯑vaded the whole. The company was acknowledg⯑ed to be remarkably well choſen. Mr. Barry, Mr. Sowden, who had gone over to their party, Mr. Dexter, Mr. Jefferſon, Mrs. Fitzhenry, and Mrs. Dancer, ſupported the tragedies with great eclat. And many of the comedies, with, their aid in aſſiſtance to Mr. King and Mr. Woodward, were moſt capitally performed. Towards the latter end of the ſeaſon the pantomime of Har⯑lequin Fortunatus was got up under Mr. Wood⯑ward's direction, and brought out with great applauſe. This has always been eſteemed one of the beſt of thoſe ſort of exhibitions. The [312] ſtory is regular and pleaſing, the muſic well adapted, and the tricks good. It has often been revived in Ireland ſince that time, and generally anſwers the end propoſed.

About this time the Smock-alley company received their final ſentence. Mr. Macklin on whom they had placed their laſt hopes, informed Mr. Victor the latter end of March, that it was impoſſible for him to fulfil his promiſe, as his daughter's ill ſtate of health would not permit her to undertake ſuch a journey and voyage. On the receipt of this letter, Mr. Victor found it impoſſible to withſtand their fate any longer, and having received Mr. Sheridan's inſtructions how to proceed, he on the 20th of April aſſem⯑bled the whole company, when he communi⯑cated this laſt piece of intelligence, and then candidly proceeded to inform them, that ſuch unforeſeen diſappointments had rendered it ut⯑terly out of his power to keep them any longer together, therefore he was under the neceſſity of diſſolving the company from acting any longer on Mr. Sheridan's account, and to cloſe the ſeaſon.

[313]But in this diſagreeable ſituation, as he wiſhed to render them every ſervice in his power, that the theatre, clothes, and ſcenes were at their ſervice as long as they would find it expedient. Fully convinced of the propriety of this conduct, which circumſtances ſufficiently juſtified, the company accepted of this propoſal, and in a few days they drew up the following advertiſement which they publiſhed, ſigned by the principal performers of the community.

This advertiſement produced very little good, the ſeaſon was too far advanced, and the public were not ſufficiently intereſted in their misfor⯑tunes. They played a few nights to bad houſes, and were obliged to cloſe the 28th of May, as [315] their opponents did on the 6th of June, with the pompous tragedy of Alexander the Great.

We have now arrived at that period of dra⯑matic hiſtory, which finally cloſes Mr. Sheridan's management. Here, with my reader's leave, I ſhall pauſe, and in juſt compliment to the vir⯑tues of ſo eminent a man, to whom the ſtage has ſo many obligations, cloſe the firſt volume of this work.—

Sincerely lamenting, that ſuch unparalleled treatment ſhould be the reward of ſo many years ſpent in a purſuit ſo noble as the advancement of the drama. And heartily wiſhing, that inſtead of his native country, his happier ſtars had placed him at the head of a London theatre, where, in all probability, long ere this, Fortune had crowned his labours, and Fame, in preſenting the buſt of Garrick to poſterity, had reſerved a place for Sheridan, encircled with a portion of thoſe wreaths, which at preſent ſo juſtly adorn the brows of our immortal Roſcius.