CHAP. VII. (continued 2)
Reading edition
The Tottenham-court Fair was unusually brilliant that year, and Lee, Harper, and Petit's droll of Whittington was attended by many of the Nobility, and the son of Ach Mahomet, Envoy from the Dey of Algiers.
The Theatre in Goodman's-fields opened for the season of 1732, encouraged by the subscription of several merchants and others, and was decorated by two pieces of painting, representing the King supporting Liberty, and Apollo and the Muses—the works of Hayman and Oram.
The St. James's Evening Post of September 19, 1732, has the ensuing paragraph: "We hear that Mr. Harvey and Mr. Lambert have been employed for some time in painting the scenes for the New Theatre in Covent-garden, and that Signior Amiconi, who painted the Lord Tankerville's excellent stair-case in St. James's square, is to shew his art in the cieling of that Theatre; and, in order thereto, hath prepared a design in which Apollo is represented, in an assembly of the Muses, dignifying Shakspeare with the Laurel. And as the several hands employed require some farther time for completing their undertaking, we are informed the Theatre in Lincoln's-inn-fields will be opened in a few days, it being now determined not to act in that of Covent-garden till the decorations are quite finished."
The present magnificent arched entrance from the Piazza's with columns and enrichments of the Ionic order was erected in the above year. The newspapers mention the Theatre as completely finished in November, and that it was to be opened on the 27th of that month, when the following lines made their appearance.
"Thespis, the first of the dramatic race, Stroll'd in a cart, for gain, from place to place: His actors rude, his profits came but slow; The poet he, and master of the show; To raise attention, he employ'd his art To build another, and more costly cart: New Asses he procur'd to drag the load, And gain'd the shouts of boys upon the road. Awhile the gay machine spectators drew; The people throng'd, because the sight was new; Thither they hurry'd once, and went no more, For all his actors they had seen before; And what it was they wish'd no more to see: The application Lun is left to thee."
There is some difference in our manner of resenting affronts offered to the publick or individuals, by those on the stage at present, from the mode adopted by Sir Robert Walpole in March 1733, who was present at the pantomimic entertainment, called "Love runs all dangers," performed at the Theatre in the Haymarket; when one of the Comedians presumed to hint at the Minister's intended Excise Act. At the conclusion of the performance his Lordship went behind the scenes, and demanded of the prompter whether the offensive words were part of the play: upon receiving an assurance they were not, he gave the actor a severe beating.
It has been mentioned in the third volume of "Londinium Redivivum," that the Princess Amelia rendered the New Tunbridge Wells a place of fashionable resort by drinking the water there for the restoration of her health; a wag made the following poetical queries in the year 1733:
"Whence comes it that the splendid great, To titles born and awful state, Thus condescend, thus check their will, And shape to Islington their way, To mix with those of vulgar clay? Astronomers, your glasses raise, Survey this meteor's dazzling blaze, And say portends it good or ill? Soon as Aurora gilds the skies, With brighter charms the ladies rise, To dart forth beams that save or kill: No homage at the toilette paid, Their thousand beauties unsurvey'd, Sweet negligence assistance lends, And all the artless graces blends That form the tempting dishabille. Behold the walks (a checquer'd shade) In all the pride of green array'd; How bright the Sun! the air how still! In wild confusion there we view, Red ribbands group'd with aprons blue, Curtsies, scrapes, nods, winks, smiles, and frowns, Lords, milk-maids, dutchesses, and clowns, All in their various dishabille!"
The pleasant gardens alluded to possessed, and still possess, greater attraction than any others in the vicinity of London; it is therefore by no means wonderful that once in an age they became the scene of attraction; but that noblemen, and men and women of fashion should, by any of the strange mutations of caprice, ever enter the booths of Bartholomew Fair, is to me astonishing. That they did is beyond a doubt; and even Cibber, Griffiths, Bullock, and Hallam, found it worth their while to expend large sums in erecting magnificent booths for their reception. Those prepared in August 1733 for the performance of Tamerlane, the Miser, the Ridotto al fresco, &c. had gilt boxes and other rich decorations, and were lighted by candles placed in glass lustres. A considerable number of gentlemen, tradesmen, and others, went in procession from the Bedford-arms to honour the commencement of the entertainments.
Some absurd persons were at the expence in October the same year of procuring a Holland smock, a cap, clocked stockings and laced shoes, which they offered as prizes to any four women who would run for them at three o'clock in the afternoon in Pall-Mall. The race attracted an amazing number of persons, who filled the streets, the window's, and balconies. The sport attendant on this curious method of killing time induced Mr. Rawlings, high Constable of Westminster, resident in Pall-Mall, to propose a laced hat as a prize to be run for by five men, which appears to have produced much mirth to the projector; but the mob, ever upon the watch to gratify their propensity for riot and mischief, committed so many excesses, that the sedate inhabitants of the neighbourhood found it necessary to apply to the Magistrates for protection, who issued precepts to prevent future races, directed to the very man most active in promoting them.
Senesino, the celebrated Italian performer, is said to have hired the Theatre in Lincoln's-inn-fields for the winter of 1733-4 as an Opera-house.
It is one of the singularities attendant on the present system of Theatrical amusements, that certain actors performing under a patent are gentlemen and ladies of merit, respectability, and fashion; but, leaving the magic circle, and acting for any other person than a patentee, they instantly become rogues and vagabonds . It was the same in 1733, when Messrs. Rich, Highmore, and others, patentees of Drury-lane and Covent-garden Theatres, issued a summons against a player of each of the companies employed by Giffard of Goodman's-fields, and Mills of the Haymarket. A hearing of this momentous affair commenced in November before Sir Thomas Clarges and other Justices at the vestry-room of the parish of St. George Hanover-square, in order to decide whether the Act of the 12th of Queen Anne constituted persons acting without the authority of a patent vagrants , or rogues and vagabonds . After much dispute between the counsel of both parties, Sir Thomas declared with great impartiality that the summons ought to have been worded rogues and vagabonds , in strict conformity with the words of the Statute, instead of vagrants ; that it was therefore nugatory; and as the persons implicated were reputable residents, he declined issuing another. By this decision the two Theatres were in some measure sanctioned by authority, though the performers certainly came within the meaning of the Law, which is too harsh and monopolizing, to the great injury of genuine merit thus denied the means of emulation; but the matter did not end as Sir Thomas Clarges wished, as will appear from the following letter addressed to "Mr. John Mills, and the rest of the persons acting at the Theatre in the Haymarket, lately belonging to the Theatres at Drury-lane and Covent-garden:"
"We have been daily in hopes, that, before this, the mediation of friends would have put an end to the differences that have for some time been between us; and though we are well advised of the unlawfulness as well as unreasonableness of your acting, yet we are extremely unwilling to take such methods as the Law prescribes, without first assuring you, that, if you think fit to return to your respective companies, we shall be ready on our parts to do whatever can be thought reasonable for us: but if you still persevere in your separation, which is greatly prejudicial to us, we shall be necessitated (though contrary to our inclinations) to proceed in such a manner as the Law directs, for supporting the Royal patents under which we act. We are in hopes of an amicable answer from you, directed to the Theatre in Drury-lane; and are your humble servants,
"Mary Wilks,
John Highmore,
John Ellys,
John Rich."
The above letter was conveyed to the Theatre in the Haymarket, but none of the actors were there; it was then sent to Mr. Mills, who returned it unopened; upon which the patentees directed it to Theophilus Cibber, who sent them this answer:
"I have received a letter from you, which speaks of several persons and different companies; but, as no particular names are mentioned, and the letter is directed to me alone, I can only answer for myself. I am well advised that what I am about is legal, and I know it is reasonable; and therefore I do not think of changing my present condition for servitude.
"Your humble servant,
Theophilus Cibber."
Soon after the parties had a trial in the Court of King's Bench on the following grounds: the Managers of the Haymarket Theatre took a lease of two Trustees appointed by the 36 sharers of Drury-lane Theatre, who, wishing that the grant of the Haymarket Theatre should be valid both in Law and Equity, consulted the sharers on the subject, when 27 agreed to the execution of the lease; but the Patentees, thinking otherwise, suffered an action of ejectment to be brought against them, which was decided in November in favour of the plaintiffs, though several unwarrantable methods were adopted to obtain a different verdict: one of those was the arrest of Mr. Harper, who was committed to Bridewell as a vagabond, in hopes to withdraw the attention of the plaintiffs Counsel from the cause at Westminster, and to enrage the publick, before whom he was to have appeared the same night in the character of Sir John Falstaff: but they totally failed in each of their ungenerous attempts, by the Company's permitting the imprisonment of poor Harper, and the house forgiving his non-appearance. Harper's case was afterwards argued before Lord Chief Justice Yorke by twelve Counsellors, six for the plaintiffs, and the same number for the defendants. The Judge admitted the player to bail upon his own recognizance; and ordered a feigned issue, to try the validity of the commitment on the last day of the term.
Charles Fleetwood, Esq. of Bromley-hall, Staffordshire, who was said to be worth 8000l. per annum , purchased five of the six shares of the patentees of Drury-lane Theatre in January 1734 for 3500l.; the seceding actors were determined in consequence to return to their stations at that playhouse.
Plays were not entirely confined to the regular Theatres at this period; for the Benchers of the Society of the Inner Temple gave a splendid entertainment, February 2, to the Lord Chancellor, the Master of the Rolls, Judges, Serjeants, and Counsellors at Law, when the Comedy of Love for Love was acted by the Company from the Haymarket on a temporary stage, fronting of which a gallery was erected for 100 ladies, who, with the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Cumberland, and many noblemen, witnessed the performance: the actors received 50l. for their exertions.
A baron of beef, weighing 175lb. and conveyed to the table by the exertions of four men, formed part of the solid entertainment presented to these defenders of the laws of Great Britain.
On the 15th of March 1734, the Players of the Revels to the King, assisted by Sheriffs-officers, went in a body to Drury-lane Theatre, which was delivered into their possession by Mr. Fleetwood as a matter of form.
Ranelagh-house, Chelsea, the residence of the nobleman of that title, was sold in 1733 to an eminent builder named Timbrell for 3200l., who advertised it for sale in the following year, as a freehold, with garden, kitchen-garden, and offices, and a smaller house and garden with fruit-trees, coach-houses, &c. &c. These, I apprehend, were the first vicissitudes of Ranelagh, preparatory to its conversion into a place of amusement.
Farinelli engaged to perform fifty nights during the season of 1734-5 for a salary of 1500 guineas and a benefit.
The King gave his annual 1000l. to the Managers of the Opera-house on this occasion, and added 500l. as a subscription to Mr. Handel, who had Operas at Covent-garden Theatre, in consequence of a dispute with the latter, which caused an expenditure of 12,000l. at the Haymarket and 9000l. to Handel.
Farinelli's benefit at the close of this season surpassed every other previously received. The Theatre was so contrived as to accommodate 2000 spectators, whose admission money, added to the following sums given by the Nobility, amounted to more than 2000l.: the Prince of Wales, 200 guineas; the Spanish Ambassador, 100l.; the Imperial, 50l.; the Duke of Leeds, the Countess of Portmore, Lord Burlington, and the Duke of Richmond, 50l. each; Colonel Paget, 30l.; and Lady Rich, 20l. &c. &c. The pit was filled at four o'clock; and as the Stage was crowded with beauty and fashion, no scenes were used during the performance: gilt leather hangings were substituted, which usually adorned that part of the Theatre at Ridottos. Many of the songs in the Opera were new; that which preceded the chorus was composed by Farinelli, and so vehemently applauded, that he sung it a second time at the request of the audience, though the chorus was over, and the musicians had retired from the orchestra.
The Prince of Wales soon after presented this favourite singer with a richly wrought gold snuff-box set with rubies and diamonds, containing a pair of diamond knee-buckles, and a purse of 100 guineas.
A great deal was written for and against Theatrical amusements in 1735, when the Legislature intended to prevent an increase of Theatres, yet but little information can be obtained from those essays; indeed the matter of fact may almost be said to be confined to the statements in the following extract from the Universal Spectator, No. 340: "What will ensue from new play-houses being erected may be seen by that at Goodman's-fields: the street where it is built used formerly to be inhabited by silk-throwsters, ribband-weavers, and others whose trades employed the industrious poor; immediately on setting up this Playhouse, the rents of the houses were raised, as the landlords could then let them to more profitable tenants; and now there is a bunch of grapes hanging almost at every door; besides an adjacent Bagnio or two; an undoubted proof that innocence and morality are not the certain consequences of a Playhouse. I could urge this much farther; but, as the regulation of the number of Theatres is now before the Parliament, they only are to determine whether the continuance of this Theatre, or the increase of others, are consistent with the public good. Since the above was written, I have received information that a great number of apprentices and gentlemen , who play for their diversion, have formed a new company at York-buildings, which shews the necessity for the number of players and playhouses to be regulated, or else the whole nation may degenerate into a set of Stage-players."
A shocking accident occurred during the representation of Dr. Faustus at Covent-garden Theatre in October 1736. Four servants, the representatives of Lun, Nivelon, Salway, and Mrs. Moreau, in the characters of harlequin, the miller, his wife, and man, had entered a car which was to be supposed to convey them an aërial journey; but unfortunately the wires broke when the machine had elevated the people to the greatest height intended, whence they were precipitated on the stage. Harlequin had his head bruised and wrist strained, the miller's arm was broken, his man had his scull fractured, and died a few days after, and the poor woman had a thigh broken and knee-pan shattered.
The Opera of Atalanta, composed by Handel, was acted at Covent-garden Theatre in May 1736 in honour of the marriage of the Prince of Wales: the scenery on this occasion was adapted to the circumstances of the day, and represented an avenue to the Temple of Hymen intermixed with statues of Deities, beyond which a triumphal arch supported the arms of the happy pair; directly above, Fame, seated on a cloud, was supposed to sound the names of Fredericus and Augusta exhibited in transparent characters. Through the arch appeared the façade of a Temple, consisting of four columns and a pediment, on which two Cupids were represented embracing, and supporting the coronet and feathers of the Principality of Wales: the Temple of Hymen closed the brilliant scene.
The proprietor of Vauxhall-gardens found it necessary to publish the following statement in 1736:
"As the master of the Spring-gardens at Vauxhall has always been ambitious of obliging the polite and worthy part of the Town, by doing every thing in his power that may contribute to their ease and pleasure: he for that reason was induced to give out tickets, but in no other view than to keep away such as are not fit to intermix with those persons of quality, ladies, gentlemen, and others, who should honour him with their company. This method he has already tried: and the publick having been so indulgent as to approve of his constant endeavours to serve them, it is with the utmost regret he finds himself obliged to make a change with respect to the tickets; and that for the following reasons.
"First, with regard to the conveniency of the company—his entertainments being made (as he presumes) so very reasonable, such numbers might probably be induced to flock to it, from this large and populous City (and especially in hot and sultry weather), that it would be impossible to accommodate a great part of them. The consequence of this would be, that as every person had paid a shilling for his ticket, he would expect an equivalent for it; but, as there would be no opportunity of doing this in the great hurry, it might cause such a disturbance as would for ever ruin his entertainment.
"Secondly, with respect to his own security—because counterfeit tickets may be taken by the servants (who are the first receivers) in a great hurry of business, as has already been found by experience.
"Because of the ill use which his servants (who are very numerous) make of the tickets, by admitting as many persons as they please for nothing, and that in the following manner:
"A person takes a ticket at the door, and pays a shilling for it; he then goes to a servant with whom he is acquainted, who returns the shilling to him, and takes his ticket, for which the master must allow the servant a shilling when he comes to account with him. In this case, it is manifest, the person is admitted for nothing. In the other case, the servant may make a private advantage of the tickets, and that as follows: a person sells his ticket to the servant (suppose for ten pence), here the servant would gain two-pence, which is all the person pays for being admitted; and the master gets nothing, because he must allow the whole shilling to the servant as above.
"As it is obvious from these several considerations, that the company may be vastly incommoded, and the master in danger of being ruined; because servants may be induced to encourage great numbers of the inferior sort to come to the gardens, since this would be so much to their advantage: for these reasons he humbly presumes, that the publick will be fully convinced of the necessity he is under of taking a shilling at the gate for the future, without giving a ticket for it; and his servants have strict orders to solicit no person to call for any thing, upon pain of being immediately discharged."
Some wags amused the publick with a most solemn exhibition in June 1736, which originated from a call of Serjeants at Law. Those merry gentlemen, well acquainted with classic story, dressed a huge Owl in a coif and band, and placed him on a broom staff over a door opposite Lancaster-court. Minerva's favourite bird was afterwards observed to behave with great gravity, and particularly during the time his learned brethren were passing in procession under him; one flap of his band was inscribed Ecce! the other Fratrem.
The recent amusements afforded by riding asses as ponies, and racing on them, although strong efforts of modern sagacity, were anticipated by our forefathers. An Ass-race attracted vast crowds of people to May-fair in 1736, where there was doubtlessly much good betting.
Fleetwood, the proprietor of Drury-lane Theatre, offered a reward of fifty guineas for the discovery of the author or authors of an incendiary letter sent to him in 1737:
"Sir,
"We are willing to admonish you before we attempt our design; and provide you will use us civil, and admit us into your gallery, which is our property according to formalities; and if you think proper to come to a composition this way, you'll hear no further; and if not, our intention is to combine in a body incognito, and reduce the playhouse to the ground; we are
"Indemnified."
Fog's Weekly Journal contains a well-written and whimsical explanation of the motives which produced the above extraordinary letter—the production, doubtless, of a Committee of aggrieved footmen, remarkable then, and certainly at present, for propriety of behaviour and modesty of demeanour.
March 12, 1737: "The footmen and other livery servants attending the nobility and gentry frequenting the Theatre Royal in Drury-lane, having (on account of their vociferations during the acts, as well as the intervals) been expelled the uppermost gallery of the house, in which they and their ancestors had sat and voted , in all affairs that came upon the Stage , time immemorial; thus, conceiving themselves to have an indefeasible hereditary right to the said gallery, and this expulsion to be a high infringement on their liberties, and to the end that posterity might see they were not wanting to vindicate the honour of their cloth, and maintain the whole body of the livery in the full and free enjoyment of all their antient rights and privileges; on Saturday night last a great number of them, provided with staves and truncheons , and well-fortified with three threads and twopenny , assembled at the doors of the said Theatre, when their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales, others of the Royal Family, and many of the Nobility, were in the house; and having made a practicable breach, entered at the same, and carried the stage-door by mere dint of oak , bearing down all the box-keepers, candle-snuffers, supernumeraries, and pippin-women , that stood in their way, in which assault 25 or 26 persons were said to be desperately wounded. Justice De Veil, luckily chancing to be present in the house (as he was once before when a disturbance of the like kind happened), immediately interposed his Magisterial authority, commanding the proclamation against riots to be read; but so great was the confusion, they might as well have read Cæsar's Commentaries. At length the disorder boding very bad consequences, the Justice, supported by the foot-guards, prudently seized some of the principal rioters, and ordered them to be reposited in Newgate, till their claims can be inquired into in a more regular and judicial way, and the whole matter set in a true light.
"The Welsh footmen are said to have been the most contumacious in this affair; for after several meetings and mature considerations had, at the Goat and Harp alehouse, they unanimously resolved to support this essential privilege, at the hazard of their limbs and liveries; and likewise ordered a message to their brethren at the Ship victualling-house in the Old Palace-yard, Westminster, requiring the sense of that venerable body of brass-button Senators , at this knotty and critical conjuncture. Were these pertinacious gentlemen but to look into history, they, perhaps, may find by what means their predecessors forfeited the privilege of wearing swords: for Rapin and others write, "That in the fourth year of Henry VI. a Parliament was held at Leicester, which was called the Parliament of batts, because, their footmen not being allowed swords , they followed their masters to the House with batts and cudgells in their hands. And it must be allowed that they have made a pretty good use of them ever since."
Numbers of anonymous letters were thrown down the areas of people of fashion after this affair, denouncing vengeance against those who assisted in depriving them of their liberty and property, as they were pleased to term their riots and the gallery of Drury-lane Theatre. Two footmen were committed without bail or mainprize to answer for their conduct; and, while in Newgate, received supplies of every kind through the generous subscriptions of their sympathising brethren. At the same time 50 men mounted guard at the Theatre every night under the direction of Colonel De Veil.
Mary-le-bon Gardens were opened previous to 1737; and till that year were entered gratis by all ranks of people; but the company resorting to them becoming more respectable, Mr. Gough, the keeper, determined to demand a shilling as entrance-money, for which the party paying was to receive an equivalent in viands.
Mr. Chetwynd and Mr. Odell, Inspectors of Plays under the Lord Chamberlain, were granted seats at each house gratis in 1738.
The ensuing proposals were published by the master of Vauxhall-gardens in March 1738:
"The entertainment will be opened the latter end of April or beginning of May (as the weather permits), and continue three months or longer, with the usual illuminations and band of musick, and several considerable additions and improvements to the organ.
"A thousand tickets only will be delivered out, at 24 shillings each; the silver of every ticket to be worth 3s. 6d. and to admit two persons every evening (Sundays excepted) during the season.
"Every person coming without a ticket to pay 1s. each time for admittance.
"No servants in livery to walk in the gardens.
"All subscribers are desired not to permit their tickets to get into the hands of persons of evil repute, there being an absolute necessity to exclude all such.
"All possible endeavours will be used that the particulars provided at the entertainment may be the best in their several kinds; and, that the Company may judge of the reasonableness of them, printed tables of the prices of each will be fixed up in different parts of the gardens.
"Receipts will be delivering from this day till Thursday the 13th of April inclusive, and no longer, by Mr. Thomas Cox, bookseller, under the Royal Exchange; Mr. John Stagg, bookseller, in Westminster-hall; and at the Spring-gardens above-mentioned; at all which places tickets will be ready for delivery on Tuesday the 18th of April. N. B. As the striking the tickets and engraving the names must necessarily employ a considerable time, the subscribers are desired to take out receipts as soon as may suit their conveniency, in order that the tickets may be delivered at the time mentioned."
The Watermen's company gave notice, at the same time, that two of their beadles would attend at Vauxhall-stairs from five o'clock till eleven, to prevent impositions by the members of their Society.
Mrs. Arne sung at a Concert established in the succeeding winter at the Great Room, Panton-street, the band of which was selected from that of the Opera-house; but the singularity most attractive consisted of an organ combined with a harpsichord played by clock-work, which exhibited the movements of an orrery and air pump, besides solving astronomical and geographical problems on two globes, and shewing the moon's age with the Copernican system in motion; in the canopy, Apollo, and the Muses, &c. &c.
A company of French Comedians hired the Little Theatre in the Haymarket for the season of 1738, and attempted to play "L'Embarras des Richesses;" but the audience, evidently assembled to drive the performers from London, commenced a violent riot, in which they proceeded till Mr. Hewit, a fencing-master, had one of his cheeks cut almost off by a sword, and the actors had fled through the back-windows into Suffolk-street; every thing that could be broken within the house was completely demolished, and a wag, alluding to the title of the play, wrote these lines:
"Zealous for Britain, and to teach it sense, The Gallic players came over——not for pence ; And as first trials oft give projects health, Wisely they open'd with "The Plague of Wealth." The grateful Britons, conscious what they ow'd For unsought favours with such grace bestow'd; To prove they lik'd the donor's wholesome lore, Return'd them cashless to their native shore."
The assertion in the latter line however is not true, as a handsome subscription was made to enable the disappointed Comedians to return in comfort to France, which amounted to 600l.
Handel hired the Opera-house in 1738, for the performance of Oratorios twice a week.
One of the most extraordinary events upon record in the history of the stage occurred in 1749, when the Duke of Montague, in concert with some other wits, determined to make trial of the credulity of the publick, in order to ascertain how far it would extend: in the accomplishment of this purpose they inserted several most absurd and ridiculous advertisements in the newspapers, one of which announced that on Monday, the 16th of January, a man would enter a common wine-bottle on the stage, and sing in it. Contrary to all probable calculation, the Little Theatre in the Haymarket received an overflowing audience, who waited without musick and with exemplary patience till eight o'clock. At that hour the usual testimonies of discontent appeared, to the terror of the proprietors of the house. And the contrivers of the scheme being now totally at a loss how to dismiss their dupes, a person was at length deputed to offer the return of the admission-money. At the same moment another unfortunately added, that the Conjuror would enter a pint bottle for double prices. The riot then became general, and some injury occurred to the ladies' dresses and the gentlemen's wigs in effecting their escape from the Theatre. A party who were determined on mischief remained, and proceeded to demolish the boxes, benches, scenes, &c. &c. which they carried into the street, and burnt before the Guards arrived to prevent it.
Though the following incident, and some others of a similar nature, are not intrinsically worth notice; yet, as they serve to fill the general outline I have undertaken to sketch of the manners of the last century, they are necessarily introduced. During the season of 1757 the audience of Covent-garden Theatre missed their favourite actor Barry; and finding that the month of December had arrived without producing him, they loudly demanded his appearance, when Mr. Smith, stepping forward, assured them, that to his knowledge Mr. Rich was then engaged in a treaty with Mr. Barry. This information satisfied the majority; but, several riotous persons continuing their vociferation, partial battles took place in the pit, and even blood was shed before the civil and military powers conveyed the delinquents to the office of Justice Fielding.
An article inserted in the London Chronicle in November 1758 expresses the writer's surprize that the Theatres and Opera-house were not furnished with ventilators, as he was convinced many severe complaints had been and were then caused by the profuse perspirations of individuals suddenly encountering the chill air of the streets.
Spouting Clubs, or, in other words, assemblies of persons ardent admirers of the antient art of Acting, were known before the middle of the century, and have flourished, under the influence of some unavoidable mutations, to the present moment. The violent action of the members, their improper emphasis, and their grimaces, have frequently been successfully ridiculed; but the evil still exists in private Theatres, where it is asserted some vices are acquired which are not very creditable to the possessors; and I shall only add that in my opinion youth is generally sufficiently presuming without having recourse to this improper mode of education . Influenced by this conviction, I am always grieved to hear of private plays at colleges and schools, and particularly at female boarding-schools. It is from the latter custom, that we have witnessed so much folly in the recent exhibition of heroes and legislators by infant girls and boys , whose feeble and shrill voices pronounce denunciations and elevated sentiments which are often injured by the imperfect organs even of our best tragic adults. To illustrate this assertion more forcibly, let posterity be informed, that we enlightened inhabitants of London have actually listened to the ensuing speech with rapture uttered by children under fifteen years of age, and little more than four feet in height:
"A thousand hearts are great within my bosom. Advance our standards, set upon our foes, Our antient word of courage, fair St. George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons: Upon them, Victory sits on our helms[204:A]."
Let it also be recorded, that the season of 1806 produced a juvenile Theatre , which was well attended. But let us return to the Spouting-clubs, lest we pass them without due notice: that indeed they received in 1759, when these excellent lines appeared in the London Chronicle, to which I can add nothing new.
"THE SPOUTING CLUB.
A Poetical Dish newly cooked up
By Rigdum Funnidos, Esq.
Professor of Bombast and Blank Verse in the University of Queerumania.
Conamur tenues grandia.
"NOW o'er the world, in sable cincture clad, Night rolls her awful clouds. Her misty veil Hangs black'ning 'fore the eye, whose visual orb In vain attempts to penetrate the gloom Condens'd; save where the cotton 'mers'd in oil Within some glassy concave yields its flame Twinkling; and save where in the servile hand Behind a rattling coach, the tædal stick Held waving glimmers on the face of things. Free from the business of the bustling day, This interval indulging, to the Club Of Spouters I repair; where mortal forms, Borne high upon the feathers of conceit, Rise into air; while puffing blasts of wind, Bursting from loosely-flying Fancy's cave, Blow them to regions where Theatra dwells. Here, o'er the summit of a chair I loll; My circumspective eyes explore the room. A groupe of staring objects strike my sight; Features distinct and various. While upon The table's oval, the resplendent cup Its pure contents and frothy surface boasts Invigorant. Virginia's plant matur'd Lies in the centre. With a clay-form'd tube Each member graces his extended hand. Above the rest, with looks erect and sage, Deputed sits the regent of the night, In elbow-chair pre-eminent. His hand The silence-knocking hammer wields. Before His optic balls are plac'd two shining plates, Betwixt whose pewter confines, interspers'd With glittering pieces of argental coin, Lie wide-spread half-pence, jingling at the touch. There great he sits, with glee magnificent, The strong potation quaffing. On the slate The num'rous pots he marks, with aspect keen. So, with superior power invested, sits A constable elate, in dome rotund, Imbibing porter solid. With an air Self-confident he scrawls the captive's name. Now moves around, with circulation quick, The tankard less'ning. Strait again receives Its due completion. Like the changing tide It ebbs and flows alternate. Curling spires Ascending paint the plaster'd canopy Fuliginous: the wafture dims the sight, And thro' the smoaky mist the candles shine Azure. But lo! a Roscian stands erect Stentorophontes. Him long time I mark'd, Saw meditation hover o'er his brow, And all his faculties absorb'd in thought. He bends his head addressive to the board, And thus harangues—"Why sit we here thus mute, "And frustrate all the purpose of our meeting? "Already has the hoarse-lung'd watchman bawl'd "Past nine o'clock." So saying, forth he stalks, With step theatric. Mark his buskin tread, And eye-balls rolling. Rang'd along the floor The candles blaze. And now the signal giv'n, All bend their eyes on him—No longer now Pauses the youth, but storms in wild Macbeth. Lo! now apparent on his horrid front Sits grim distortion. Every feature's lost, Screw'd horrible, unhumaniz'd—On stage Of quack itinerant thus have I seen An Andrew wring the muscles of his face, Deforming nature, and extort the grin And wonder of the many-headed crowd. He spoke; when strait a loud applauding noise Ensues: the clap of hands and thump of feet Commingling. Knuckles on the table's verge With fury beating, and the sound of sticks Junctive confirm the rattle of applause. Tremble the pewter vases, and within The fluid fluctuates. The surging pipes Roll from their beds of tin. The wooden plain Is strew'd on all sides with the clatt'ring ruin. Lo! now another of theatric mould "Rises in clouded majesty," yclep'd Ranter. Forth issue from his steaming mouth These long imprisoned Alps of tow'ring smoke, "Riding upon the bosom of the air." Him had his inauspicious cruel stars Destin'd to oil, to dress the flowing curl, And with nice hand to weave the yielding hair. But each revolving, rising, setting sun Beheld this hero looking on his trade With eyes indignant. His exalted soul Launch'd 'yond the limits of his narrow sphere. Fraught with extended notions of the stage, His ample-daring mind the drama's laws Sole entertain'd—The tonsor now assumes The part of Richard, and with awkward strut Affects majestic air.—So at the wake Roger begins the dance, but, wanting skill, Betrays himself unequal to the task. Thy graceful periods, so oft admir'd, Divine inspir'd Shakspeare! on his tongue Imperfect die away. His labour'd speech Sounds gutt'ral, like the hoarsely croaking race Upon the banks of some pellucid stream. Scarce had he finish'd, when salutes his ears The mingled noise upon the dusty floor Reverberated. Down the shaver sits Well-pleas'd. And next upstarts Hibernia's son, Like some enthusiast on a tripod rais'd With apish gesture, and with strange grimace, To rant unto the multitude. The cork Intruded swift into the candle's blaze Is nigrified, and marks th'aspiring youth With whiskers bold. Ferocity now darts From either eye her broad unmeaning stare; In Bajazet he raves, and low'ring bids Defiance. 'Yond just Nature's ample pow'r He rants elaborate. His roaring voice Calls echo forth respondent. On the mart Of fishy Billingsgate thus have I heard A harsh lung-cracking noise, nor yet to this Dissimilar. He ended; but the tribe Withhold the grasp'd-at banners of applause. Then down he sits, with woeful aspect dull. But strait emerging from a sea of thought, He swallows hasty the salubrious stream, And re-inthrones his abdicated soul. Bronzoides next his meteor lays down Igniferous. Him had his parents sent To London (seat of business)—there the laws Of England's state to learn and exercise. For him a well-experienced Don was found, Whose quick-turn'd eyes foresaw each quibble quaint, And quirk evasive. As an osier light, That bending yields to ev'ry blast of wind, His heart to fraud was flexible,—his heart, Where dark Deceit, in honest guise array'd, Had sown its seeds, and poison'd ev'ry grain Which, warm'd by potent Truth's congenial ray, With Virtue's plenteous harvest might have teem'd. But fruitless was the youth's parental aim, Tho' sedulous. For scarce two years had roll'd Since fair Augusta first had bless'd his eyes, When great Bronzoides first soliloquiz'd: 'Was it for this, that o'er the classic deep I sail'd, and landed on poetic shores? Have I for this flew round the Aonian mount With plumes immortal, and so often play'd With spotless Muses, in Pierian meads? Am I, ye Gods, eternally to scribe Inglorious? No—Some power uplifts my soul, Buoyant, above the common class of earth's Dull reptiles. Hence, ye wrong-adjudg'd Reports; Ye dry collections, hence. I leave ye all To those grave, solid-looking fools, whose ears Tautology best charms. Oh! Shakspeare, come With all thy pupils. Fire my glowing breast, Expand my genius, and enlarge my soul.' Kindled that instant at the raptur'd thought, His intellects, high tow'ring flew to realms Dramatic. There the storehouse of his brain He fill'd redundant. Here he tries his skill Theatric, ere upon the graceful stage With steps adventurous he dares to tread. So children dabble in the shallow stream Playful, till fear forsakes their little souls; Then bold they rush into the middle Thames. 'List, list, O list'—Oh! how his tuneful voice Rises and falls, as Oysterella's soft And strong, when ev'ry street and curving lane Adjacent echo the testaceous cry. He spouted—and receiv'd his share of praise. Inflated with the swellings of conceit, And newly flush'd with large-aspiring hopes Of excellence, uprises Leatheronzo Fam'd. In repairing worn-out calcuments None was his equal. No one better knew The pointed awl to handle. Yet his breast With rage dramatic glow'd. In mad-struck Lear The scene he opens: but for want of crown Paus'd his mock-majesty. Around the place Long time his eyes terrific roll'd. At length 'In a black corner of the room he spied' An empty urinal—Fir'd at the sight, He snatch'd the vacuum, and to his head Adapted it well pleas'd. Now, now he raves With brazen lungs, until a sudden jerk His action terminates. Upon the floor Down drops the jordan. As it rolls along It rings applause unto his list'ning ear. Lo! now springs forward with elastic step, A son of Comedy, Soccado call'd. The tunic dazzling with its golden pride, The button-hole gay-wrought with wondrous art, The mode-cut collar, and well-fancied sleeve, Had oft proclaim'd his taste. Yet not to this Was his great soul confin'd. Theatra now, Dramatic goddess, whispers in his ear, And bids him shine away in Foppington. Where's now that stately flatness of the gait? That easy stiffness where? so often seen In thee, O Cibber! and so oft admir'd, Alas! how faintly, rudely copied here! With joints inflexible, and neck oblique, An object stiff'ning to the sight he stands In attitude unmeaning, and deprives Each injur'd word of its emphatic due. He finish'd, when the wonted noise begins, Loud as his all-attentive ears can wish; Nor less than that which shakes the bending stairs To the Theatric semicircled seats, Hight upper gallery, ductive, when some Grand-habited scene-boasting pantomime, From 'hind their compters, and from cleaning knives, And from tenebrious porter-breathing cells, Where all day long in glee they tippling sat, Calls forth the terrene quick-ascending gods. Prologues and epilogues increase the sport, To periodize the humours of the night Now far advanced; goes round the jovial song, The laugh-exciting catch, or wanton tale Re-iterated. Bacchus, King of Joys, Twines not his vine-branch here. "Trueman's entire" Reigns arbitrary. With its vapours bland Their giddy-rolling heads anointed turn Upon an axis brittle. Total noise Its anarchy extends. But oh! how soon Terrestrial mirth evaporates. Amidst Their jocund glee, and lovely-floating hours, Enter the Constables. Ten watchmen brave Their presence dignify. Amazement chill Sits on each spouting face. So looks the wretch Involv'd in debt, when first he spies the front— The front most hated of a Catch-pole grim. Not e'en Macbeth stands more appall'd with fear, When murder'd Banquo's horrid-glaring ghost Disturbs the regal banquet. Such, so great Their fear unmanly, that their passive souls To their hard fate submit. Restless all, All walk desponding to the round-house dire; And one sad exit terminates the scene. All hail to thee! thou young dramatic bard! Ingenious M-rp-y, hail! Before thy shrine I bend the knee. This epidemic rage Well hast thou ridicul'd. Oh! may thy scenes On Fame's high-pending annals be enroll'd: And as thy Muse shall henceforth deign to grace Th'enlighten'd scene, and with a steady hand To hold up Nature's mirrour, may the tribe Of snarling Critics, with invidious eyes, View the bright image, and confess it true."
The reader will of course forgive the chasms in dates which he frequently meets with, by recollecting that most of the amusements of the people of London occur in succession annually: the Theatres, the Opera, concerts, exhibitions, Ranelagh, and Vauxhall, have always had their regular stated periods of opening; and when nothing remarkable took place at either, it is by no means necessary they should be mentioned under every year. The Vauxhall season of 1759 produced some unpleasant animadversions; and the proprietors were publicly called upon to prevent the infamous conduct of loose women and their male companions, whose yells have been described as issuing from the dark walks in sounds full as terrific as "the imagined horror of Cavalcanti's bloodhounds:" indeed the latter were charged with driving ladies from their friends into those recesses where dangerous terrors were wantonly inflicted.
Handel's Decease
Occurred on the 6th of April, 1759. As this eminent composer may justly be said to have formed a new æra of musick in England, and to have established the Opera, and the fame of his Oratorios perhaps for centuries to come; a sketch of his life from his arrival in this Island cannot be altogether unacceptable, particularly as it must contain a general history of those amusements with which he became connected. Handel was born at Hall in Upper Saxony February 24, 1684, but did not visit England till he had attained his 26th year, and when perfect master of his profession. The stranger, though only upon leave of absence from the Court of Hanover, where he received a pension of 1500 crowns per annum , and held the place of Master of the Elector's chapel, was presented to Queen Anne, and favourably received; thus honoured, Handel soon enjoyed the patronage of her courtiers, and immediately commenced his career by correcting the errors of the Italian Opera, if that could be so called which had been translated into the English language. As this celebrated composer found it, the most pathetic parts of the Italian musick frequently fell upon words expressive of anger, and vice versâ; he therefore composed Rossi's Rinaldo, written after an outline by Aaron Hill, who favoured the publick with an English version of it.
When Handel had remained here one year, the full term of his leave of absence, he returned to Hanover, but promised to re-visit the Queen at the first convenient opportunity: that occurred in 1712, and he composed his Te Deum and Jubilate after the signing of the peace of Utrecht. Queen Anne, highly gratified with his exertions, granted him a pension of 200l. for life, and added her commands to the solicitations of the Nobility, that he should assume the management of the Opera-house. This he complied with, and violated in consequence an engagement he was under to return to the Elector's Court. When that Prince ascended the British throne, Handel, conscious of his offence, dared not venture into his presence; and his friends even thought stratagem preferable to intercession in restoring him to favour. To accomplish this, Baron Kilmanseck and several of the English nobility engaged the King in a party of pleasure upon the Thames: at that hour of relaxation the King was surprized with those grand movements yet known as Handel's Water-piece, which were composed expressly for the occasion, and performed under his direction in a boat attendant on the Monarch. The scheme was successful beyond expectation; and from that hour the fortunate musician received both honours and rewards from George I. The Earl of Burlington and the Duke of Chandos were his warmest patrons and admirers: the latter indeed retained him at Canons as master of his splendid choral establishment for the offices of religion; and as Buononcini and Attilio were then composers for the Opera, he did not frequently interfere with their province.
At length the period arrived destined to rouse the powers of Handel as a composer and a tyrant. Several persons of distinction had determined to found an Academy of Musick in the Haymarket, in order to insure a constant supply of Operas from the pen of the unrivalled Saxon, which they intended should be performed under his direction. The subscription for this purpose amounted to 50,000l.; and they procured the King's name for 1000l. to grace the head of the list. Thus authorised and enabled, Handel went to Dresden for performers of celebrity, and engaged Senesino and Duristanti, with whom he returned to England, when they acted his Opera of Radamisto to a most crowded audience, which honoured him with the loudest plaudits. From that day the powerful partizans of Buononcini, and those of Handel, became irreconcileable enemies; though their enmity was so far controuled as to permit an agreement between them, that the rival masters should alternately compose the acts of Mutius Scævola, and thus afford a criterion by which their superiority was to be determined. Handel conquered; and, his reputation firmly established, he reigned sole monarch of the Academy for nine years. At the close of that period Senesino accused Handel of oppression, and Handel treated Senesino as a rebel against his authority; the publick immediately divided on this important question; and, to complete their vexation, Faustina and Cuzzoni quarrelled. Harmony ceased in every point of view, and the Academy was dissolved; but Handel maintained his post at the Haymarket, where he soon discovered that with Senesino he had dismissed the majority of his audiences. In this dilemma he entered into an agreement with the celebrated Heidegger to perform Operas on their own account; they accordingly engaged several new performers; but the Nobility, exasperated at the Saxon's tyrannical conduct, entered into a subscription, with which they opened the Theatre in Lincoln's-inn-fields, countermatching his Italians with the incomparable Farinelli. The contest was continued three years in conjunction with Heidegger; and Handel persisted one year after his partner retired: he then left the Haymarket to his rivals.
Chagrined and disappointed, he endeavoured to establish himself at Lincoln's-inn-fields, and afterwards became a partner with Mr. Rich at Covent-garden Theatre, where he found, to his great mortification, that his musick, however sublime, was not a match for Farinelli's voice; yet he persisted till he had almost ruined his fortune, and actually deranged his faculties, besides causing a paralytic stroke, which deprived him of the use of his right arm: he was however recovered from the latter calamities by using the baths of Aix-la-chapelle about the year 1736.
Fortunately for Handel the publick were pleased with the performance of his Alexander's Feast at Covent-garden Theatre soon after his return; and, to add to his good fortune, he was solicited to compose two Italian Operas for Lord Middlesex, who had been compelled to take the direction of this difficult concern upon himself, to preserve it from total ruin. His success on this occasion operated powerfully with the multitude; and a benefit produced him 1500l. in the year 1738. An opportunity thus offered to effect a complete reconciliation with his former employers; but that asperity of temper and impatience of controul which always marked his character induced him to reject every proposal connected with subscriptions. After several unsuccessful attempts to establish the Opera at Covent-garden Theatre, he turned his attention to the composition of Oratorios, which he intended should have been acted and sung; but the popular opinion, that such representations from Scripture would be a profanation of religion, deterred him from the design; and he caused them to be sung only as they are at present.
Similar to most human inventions, the Oratorio was of little service to the Author : posterity, according to custom, has had the honour of rewarding Handel's memory ; and if an Angel composed new ones, they would certainly not succeed, till he had fled from the earth half a century, and till Handel has had his day.
The Irish nation received our great musician and his oratorios with complacency; and as he gave the produce of the first performance of his Messiah in Dublin to the City prison, he soon secured their patronage. After considerably improving his circumstances, he returned to England, where his oratorios recovered from their previous depression, and received that approbation which a dread of having lost them probably excited. Handel gave the profits of an annual performance of the Messiah to the Foundling Hospital; and attended their oratorios regularly long after he had lost his sight by a gutta serena, and till within eight days of his death.
His present Majesty is passionately fond of Handel's musick; and that the publick are not less so, may be inferred by the eternal repetition of his Oratorios during the season of Lent; by which means, I shall be excused in observing, modern musical genius is depressed, and the pockets of conductors more readily filled. Hence the tiresome selections upon festivals and at concerts, where, if the audience is surprised by a new movement, they exclaim, "Ah! this is not like Handel's strains:"—True, but may they not be equally delightful?
The first description of an Opera which I have met with is in the eleventh number of the Theatre, for November 18, 1758. As the writer appears to have entered into the subject with more than usual spirit, its insertion may possibly prove acceptable to the reader; but he will immediately discover that even our Theatres for pantomime now rival the antient Opera.
"King's Theatre. On Saturday the 18th instant was performed a new Opera called Attalo, with new decorations and dances. I have already thrown out a few loose hints with regard to the abovementioned performance; and as in this place I propose speaking of it a little more at large, I shall begin with observing, that an Opera has in one particular a manifest advantage over almost every theatrical entertainment, by admitting of that kind of shew and decoration, which if not absolutely rejected by the other daughters of the Drama, is at least, generally speaking, forced upon them: that is to say, though we sometimes see triumphs and processions in a few of our tragedies and comedies, yet the best judges have always looked on them as childish and ridiculous: whereas, the only design of an Opera being to delight, that gay finery which looks so unbecoming and out of character upon her two elder sisters, is a necessary part of her dress; and as nobody understands the method of placing those ornaments better than Mr. Vaneschi, so in the present case I think he has taken all the care imaginable to set off Attalo to the best advantage.
"But a dry and circumstantial description of these matters would not only fall very short of what is meant to give an idea of, but also be tedious to the readers: for this reason therefore I shall hardly attempt to do any thing more in the present essay than to assure them that the finest scenes, the finest pantomime hitherto invented, even by that father of pantomimes himself, the manager of Covent-garden playhouse, are considerably inferior to those in the Opera of Attalo; but particularly, in the first act, where Semiramis enters in a triumphal car, supported by Medean and Bactrian slaves, and surrounded by a number of Assyrian soldiers who carry the spoils and trophies of an enemy which she is supposed lately to have conquered, we are presented with the scene of a square; not a dead piece of painted canvass, but one in which the prospective is executed in so masterly a manner, that one would almost swear it was something more than a mere deceptio visûs; to which, by the way, a pedestrian statue, which is elevated in the centre of the buildings, does not a little contribute.
"Scenes of this kind are seldom if ever to be seen in a common Theatre, where the other charges are so large and numerous, as well as the price so confined, that the profits of such a pompous apparatus would by no means answer the expence: the place in our English plays also is too often varied to allow of it; besides, the business of these stages is, properly speaking, to provide the understanding with substantial food, not to treat it with conserves and sweatmeats; and from this reason it proceeds that dances, which at the playhouses are only made use of as a garnish, are at the Opera (which may not unaptly be compared to a dessert or a collation) one of the principal parts of the entertainment.
"I should be extremely glad were it in my power to oblige the readers even with a faint idea of these: they all know, I believe, that Signior Galini is universally allowed to be one of the finest dancers in Europe; but at the King's Theatre, where he at present performs, he not only gives us the strongest proofs of his executive powers, but also of his skill in designing, by having composed three of the prettiest ballets I ever saw; and for plot, movement, humour, and, if I may make use of the expression, gesticulated wit, they are equal, I believe, to any, even of those which Lewis the Fourteenth himself was so fond of.
"In the first dance, the scene of which, by the way, may more properly be called an emulation than a copy of nature, being that of a forest half cut down, where the trees are represented in the liveliest manner, and the prospect of clouds and blue mountains extended to an amazing distance; Forti and Bononi, in the characters of a woodman and his wife, carry the grotesque to a most entertaining degree of extravagance. Bononi is allowed to excel in this way every one who has gone before her; for Galini, as his genius is very different, so it is greatly preferable to this. His dancing indeed may be considered as a kind of dumb musick, since there is hardly a note which he does not express by some significant gesture. Carlini, his partner, is pretty much in the same mode, and when they appear after the second act in a very extensive plain, interspersed with villages, there cannot perhaps be imagined two more agreeable figures. But the third and last ballet, in which the four principal dancers come out together, surpasses all the rest. The prospect is that of a rock, which being open in two or three different places, discovers a wide river, and, in appearance, at least half a mile long, the transparency of the water is so well imitated, that we see the shadows of several flags and bullrushes, which grow upon it; nor is a distant village, which appears at one side, a small addition to the beauty of the view: down this rock come the figure dancers, who are met at the door of a cottage by Signior Galini and his friends; it is a kind of rural feast, and the music is so antic and lively, that that alone would be sufficient, I should think, to put an audience into a good humour.
"I had forgot to mention a scene in this Opera which is remarkably beautiful; I am told it was painted by the celebrated Salvandoni, and is the representation of a magnificent hall, adorned with arms and trophies. There was a full house; and the spectators expressed their approbation by unanimous applause."
The Oratorio of Judas Maccabæus was performed on the 18th of January 1760 at the Music-room in Dean-street, Soho, which was the first night of subscription. The pit seats were 10s. 6d. and the gallery 5s.; the performers Signora Passerini, Miss Frederick, Mr. Hudson, and Mr. Champness; and the chorus contained the best singers of the Chapel Royal and St. Paul's. The music-room is now Christie's Auction-room for furniture, and seems in a state of ruin.
WHITE CONDUIT HOUSE[224:A].
And to White Conduit House We will go, will go, will go. Grub-street Register.
"Wish'd Sunday's come—mirth brightens ev'ry face, And paints the rose upon the house-maid's cheek, Harriot, or Moll, more ruddy. Now the heart Of prentice resident in ample street, Or alley kennel-wash'd, Cheapside, Cornhill, Or Cranborne, thee for calcuments renown'd, With joy distends. His meal meridian o'er, With switch in hand, he to the White Conduit House Hies merry-hearted. Human beings here In couples multitudinous assemble, Forming the drollest groupe that ever trod Fair Islingtonian plains. Male after male, Dog after dog succeeding—husbands—wives— Fathers and mothers—brothers—sisters—friends And pretty little boys and girls. Around, Across, along, the garden's shrubby maze, They walk, they sit, they stand. What crowds press on Eager to mount the stairs, eager to catch First vacant bench or chair in long-room plac'd! Here prig with prig holds conference polite, And indiscriminate the gaudy beau And sloven mix. Here he, who all the week Took bearded mortals by the nose, or sat Weaving dead hairs, and whistling wretched strain— And eke the sturdy youth, whose trade it is Stout oxen to contund,—with gold-bound hat And silken stocking strut. The red-arm'd belle Here shews her tasty gown, proud to be thought The butterfly of fashion: and forsooth Her haughty mistress deigns for once to tread The same unhallow'd floor—'Tis hurry all And rattling cups and saucers. Waiter here, And waiter there, and waiter here and there, At once is call'd—Joe—Joe—Joe—Joe—Joe— Joe on the right—and Joe upon the left, For ev'ry vocal pipe re-echoes Joe. Alas, poor Joe! Like Francis in the Play He stands confounded, anxious how to please The many-headed throng. But should I paint The language, humours, custom of the place, Together with all curt'sies, lowly bow, And compliments extern, 'twould swell my page Beyond its limits due. Suffice it then For my prophetic Muse to say, 'So long As Fashion rides upon the wing of Time, While tea and cream and butter'd rolls can please, While rival beaux and jealous belles exist, So long, White-conduit house, shall be thy fame.'
W. Woty."
One of the entertainments of 1760 was the performance on goblets containing water at different heights, which, rubbed on the rims by a wet finger, produces very sweet sounds, and when rapidly combined will make complete musick. Mr. Puckeridge was celebrated for performances of this description, which were much admired for some time, but are now nearly out of fashion.
One of the characteristicks of our various Theatres is the benefits, or, more properly speaking, the plays which are acted at the close of each season for the individual profit of the several performers. When an actor takes a benefit, he pays all the expences of the evening, and incurs the risk of great charges and small profits. Under the dread of losing, he exerts every nerve to fill the Theatre, and frequently lays heavy contributions on tradesmen, who, through some existing circumstances, think themselves bound to take tickets, and dispose of them as they can to their friends: and he solicits the wealthy without risking the imputation of mendicacy, because they know the actor has from 10l. to 20l. per week salary. The benefit-night at length arrives, and the doors are besieged at an early hour by crowds determined not to lose the entertainment they have unwillingly paid for; in due time they rush forward, clamour prevails, and the quiet casual spectator is entirely deprived of hearing the play[227:A]. Mrs. Clive, the justly celebrated comic actress, has enabled me to illustrate this subject by the following spirited letter, addressed to "the Author of the Daily Gazetteer," concerning her benefit, and printed in April 1761. If the reader should wish still further illustrations, I beg leave to refer him to the various apologies for theatrical lives which have been published by Cibber, Bellamy, Wilkinson, &c. &c.
"Sir, As I never read your paper, I did not hear of the malicious letter you had published against my benefit, till the very day, when it was too late to endeavour to prevent the mischief it might do me, as it was most artfully put in your paper the day before, as well as the day of my play. It is dated from George's Coffee-house; but your correspondent must excuse me for not believing it came from thence, as I have always heard that Coffee-house was frequented by gentlemen, not one of whom, I am confident, would have done me an undeserved mischief. I could not possibly suppose Mr. Shuter was capable of asking any body to write such a letter for him, as I never did him, or any performer, the least injury; on the contrary, I have had the greatest pleasure when it has been in my power to serve them in their benefits, from the highest class of actors down to the very lowest. But though he was not concerned in the writing of it (as he has declared he was not), it is too palpable to admit of the least doubt, that it must be wrote by some of his acquaintance, in order to serve his benefit by destroying mine.—That indeed was not quite in their power, as I had the honour to have a most noble and splendid appearance of persons of the first distinction that night at my play; who have been constant in their goodness and favour to me, and who were not to be influenced by a wretched Letter-writer. The loss I most certainly sustained by it I should have submitted to in silence, as it is with the utmost diffidence and reluctance I appear before the public in this light: but there is a most malicious and wicked insinuation in his letter, which I think myself under an absolute necessity to reply to.
"The Letter-writer, with great ease, desires the Publick not to go to my benefit, notwithstanding I had taken infinite pains to endeavour to entertain them the whole season through; his reason for that extraordinary request is, that I was to have a French farce, wrote by a poor wretched author, translated into English, and called The Island of Slaves:—and then, with great art and malice, he jumbles together some popular words, as, French Farce , English Liberty , Island of Slaves ! 'What can Englishmen have to do in the Island of Slaves?' Poor wretched insinuation! Is it possible for any body to suppose, if there had been one syllable in the piece that had the least tendency to sneer at, or affront, the liberties of this country, that the managers would have suffered it to have been acted; or that the Lord Chamberlain would have given his sanction; or that I could have been such a fool as to dare to affront the publick with such a performance on my own benefit-night? I hope I may be indulged (though a woman) to say I have always despised the French Politicks; but I never yet heard that we were at war with their Wit.
"It is imputed to me , by the author of the letter, as a crime, that I should have a piece taken from the French for my benefit; when at the same time I believe one part in three of the Comedies and little pieces, that are now acting at both the Theatres, are acknowledged to be taken from the French; besides those that both antient and modern authors have sneaked into the Theatres without confessing from whence they came. I shall take the liberty to mention two that are known translations: The Confederacy, by Sir John Vanbrugh, one of our best Comedies, revived about two years ago, and acted to crowded houses with great applause; The Guardian, another French piece, brought on about the same time, and received with the highest approbation: both these performances acted at a time when we were at war with France, as we are now. 'Ay,' but says the good-natured Letter-writer, 'The Island of Slaves (tremendous title!)' I think I have made his malice appear pretty plain; I shall not have the least difficulty in making his ignorance full as conspicuous. It does not seem, by the style of his letter, that he is very intimately acquainted with his own language, but it is evident he knows nothing of the French; for if he had been capable of reading Mons. Marivaux's Isle des Esclaves, he could not have been quite so clumsy a critick, as to say he is a poor paltry author, when he is acknowledged by all people of taste and judgment to be one of the very best writers the French have. Then, as to his malicious insinuation, The Island of Slaves is so very far from being a satire upon English liberty, that there is the highest compliment paid to it: the people of that island having quitted their native country (Athens) because 'they would not be Slaves,' and established themselves in an island, where, when their passions have subsided, and they begin to forget the injuries they received in their own country, they make the most noble, humane, sensible laws. I cannot pretend to give an account of the whole piece in this letter; but I may with great truth say, there was not any thing in it that was exceptionable; great spirit and humour in two of the characters, and fine sentiments throughout the whole; some part, perhaps, too grave for what is generally expected in pieces after a play. I shall beg leave to insert a few lines (not a translation) which concluded the piece: after Philo (one of the Islanders) has convinced the Athenians, who are then in his power, of their follies, he promises to provide them ships to send them into their own country; Cleanthe (one of the characters) says:
'We are all equally obliged to you, most amiable Philo, for your goodness to us; and if we should be so fortunate to arrive safe at Athens, I hope we shall have influence enough to prevail with them, when we recount our adventures, to imitate the incomparable laws of this ever happy Island.'
"I have done with your Correspondent: now, Mr. Gazetteer, I must say two or three words to you. I desire you would let me know who was the author of that letter; or it is possible I may convince you, I am so truly an English woman, and so little inclined to be a slave , as not to suffer any one to do me an injury with impunity.
"I am informed, you have more than once drawn yourself into scrapes, by the delicacy of your paper. If you comply with this request, in giving up your author, I shall think you intend to reform your manners; and in that case you will stand a chance of being read by your humble servant,
C. Clive.
"Henrietta-street, Covent-garden, April 3, 1761.
"P.S. If I can have leave from the person who did me the honour to translate The Island of Slaves for me, I shall print it; when every one that pleases may see how extremely ill I have been treated."
Benefits more congenial to the benevolent mind are, much to the credit of the proprietors of our places of public amusement, frequently given to Charitable Institutions: a short bill dated in May 1761 will explain those as they were and are now announced:
"Ranelagh-house, Tuesday the 9th of June, will be an Assembly for the benefit of the Middlesex Hospital. The doors will be open, and the concert begin, at the usual time. At ten o'clock a magnificent fire-work will be played off on the canal in the garden; and to conclude with a ball.
"N. B. There will be no collection made for the Charity. Tickets half a guinea each, &c."
I have in another place recommended the reader to visit Smithfield at eleven o'clock at night, in order to obtain a perfect knowledge of the amusements substituted for a Fair. The facetious George Alexander Steevens wrote the following ludicrous but strictly just description of it about 1762:
"Here was, first of all, crowds against other crowds driving, Like wind and tide meeting, each contrary striving; Shrill fiddling, sharp fighting, and shouting and shrieking, Fifes, trumpets, drums, bagpipes, and barrow-girls squeaking, Come, my rare round and sound, here's choice of fine ware, Though all was not sound sold at Bartelmew Fair. There was drolls, hornpipe-dancing, and showing of postures, With frying black-puddings, and opening of oysters; With salt-boxes, solo's, and gallery folks squawling; The tap-house guests roaring, and mouth-pieces bawling; Pimps, pawnbrokers, strollers, fat landladies, sailors, Bawds, baillies, jilts, jockeys, thieves, tumblers, and taylors: Here's Punch's whole play of the Gunpowder plot, Wild beasts all alive, and pease-pudding all hot, Fine sausages fried, and the black on the wire; The whole court of France, and nice pig at the fire; Here's the up-and-downs, who'll take a seat in the chair? Tho' there's more up-and-downs than at Bartelmew Fair. Here's Whittington's cat, and the tall dromedary, The chaise without horses, and Queen of Hungary; Here's the merry-go-rounds, 'Come, who rides? come, who rides?' Sir; Wine, beer, ale, and cakes, fire-eating besides, Sir. The fam'd learned dog, that can tell all his letters; And some men, as scholars, are not much his betters."
Drury-lane Theatre was much improved in 1762, by lengthening the stage, enlarging the boxes and pit, and rebuilding the galleries. This alteration probably originated from the hopes of additional profit. Another in the management had its rise from the same cause; but the publick were less satisfied than with the former, as in the latter the advantage was by no means mutual between the proprietors and their patrons. The managers intimated that nothing under full prices would be taken during the performance; and the intimation received no opposition till January 1763: at that period symptoms of resistance appeared; and the publick complained that the time had been when they were admitted to the boxes for 4s. 6d. to witness plays performed by Booth, Wilkes, Cibber, Doggett, Norris, Penkethman, Johnson, Griffin, Porter, and Oldfield; and were then compelled to pay 5s. to hear half a play acted by Garrick, Cibber, Yates, King[236:A], Packer[236:A], Holland, Obrien[236:B], Bransby, Palmer, and Ackman.
The audience of Covent-garden Theatre seized the first opportunity of demanding that full prices should no longer be insisted upon for half plays and the farce, except when new pieces were represented; and received a promise from the proprietors of acceding to their wishes.
Mr. Garrick of Drury-lane Theatre resisted, and published this notice in the Advertiser:
"The Managers of Drury-lane Theatre having been suddenly called upon last night, to answer the charge of an innovation in regard to their prices, Mr. Garrick acquainted the audience that he was not conscious that the managers had done any thing in this respect, in which they were not fully authorised by the established usage of the Theatre; and that, if there had been the slightest innovation, it should be rectified:—and this unexpected complaint being grounded on the assertion contained in a printed paper, which had been the same day industriously circulated in Coffee-houses, and distributed through every part of the Theatre, Mr. Garrick promised to publish a full answer to the charges contained in that paper; but, the clamour still continuing, the performance of the play was entirely prevented. The Managers, therefore, find themselves under the necessity of informing the publick, that a full and satisfactory answer will be published accordingly; and it is hoped that they will, with their usual candour, suspend their judgment on this occasion till the appearance of such answer, which will be in a few days."
The Tragedy of "Elvira" was announced for the evening succeeding the above address; and the Theatre was filled by a number of persons, who were determined to enforce their resolution of seeing plays as usual at half price. They commenced their operations by ordering the orchestra to play the musick of "Roast-beef" and "Britons strike home," which was complied with. When Mr. Holland appeared to speak the Prologue, he was immediately driven from the stage: Mr. Garrick then came on, and endeavoured to explain his reasons for the alteration complained of; but in vain, and the tumult was excessive. The following question at length issued from the pit: "Will you, or will you not, give admittance for half price after the third act, except during the first winter of a new Pantomime?" The Manager again attempted to explain without effect: yes , or no , were the only words granted him. Yes , accompanied by an expression of indignation, escaped the lips of Roscius; and the Theatre shook with sounds of triumph.
Mr. Ackman, who had offended the audience on the evening when this affair was first noticed by the publick, then received a summons to appear and apologise for his conduct: this order he promptly obeyed; but our old veteran Moody, when called upon for the same purpose, seemed refractory, or was misconceived, through the noise which issued from all parts of the Theatre. The audience commanded him, in consequence, to drop upon one knee, and thus solicit their pardon: this imperious order justly roused the actor's resentment, and he retired without compliance. Mr. Garrick was afterwards obliged to promise, Mr. Moody should not appear again upon his stage till he had appeased their displeasure: the play then went on as usual.
Mr. Beard conceived himself under the necessity of publishing "The case concerning the late disturbance at Covent-garden Theatre fairly stated, and submitted to the sense of the publick in general," which follows.
"As the opposition to full price at Drury-lane Theatre was founded upon the pretence of its having been exacted on unjustifiable occasions, it was imagined, that let what would be the event of that dispute, the Managers of Covent-garden Theatre ought in no sort to be affected by it, as no such complaint had ever been pretended against them; yet, when Mr. Garrick thought proper to wave his private advantage, for the sake of the public peace, it was deemed necessary for the same laudable purpose, to perform such pieces only for the present at Covent-garden, as could by no means bring the point, which had been so lately and so violently agitated, into immediate debate again, and even latter account was taken to Love in a Village.
"When the Opera of Artaxerxes was revived (a piece as distinct from the common course of business as even an Oratorio itself), it was generally understood, the peculiarity of the performance, together with the apparent extraordinary expence attending it, would sufficiently exempt it from the limitations which had been prescribed at the other Theatre; accordingly it was advertised, in the same manner it had ever been, at full price .—Mr. Beard received some private hints the evening before the intended representation, though not till after the bill was sent to the press, that an opposition was intended by some particular persons; but flattered himself that the candour and justice of the Public in general would distinguish in a case so particularly circumstanced; and when he was called upon the stage, would have humbly offered such reasons, as, had they been calmly and dispassionately heard, might possibly have prevented the violence which ensued. In this he was continually prevented by an incessant and clamourous demand of a general and decisive Yes or No .—As Manager only, and Trustee for other Proprietors, he thought himself totally unimpowered to resign up their rights by so sudden and concise a conveyance; and, as the point in dispute was an essential matter of Property, conceived their concurrence absolutely necessary to any determination on his part, which, at this juncture, was impossible to be obtained.—In this difficult situation, where acquiescence subjected him to a breach of that trust which had been reposed in him, and refusal exposed him to insult and displeasure, his submitting rather to the latter, than be guilty of the former, it is hoped, will be deemed an offence not altogether worthy so severe a resentment.
"However unfortunately he may have incurred the imputation of insolence, obstinacy, or at least imprudence, in not immediately submitting to the demands proposed; yet, when it is considered that these demands were enforced by part of the audience only, and that he had then great reason to believe such submission would be very far from producing the salutary effect of theatrical tranquillity, he may not perhaps be judged so blameable.
"Mr. Beard had at that time received several anonymous threatening letters and notices concerning many other branches of what they call reformation .—He was ordered by one to add a farce to Love in a Village, or the house should be pulled about his ears.—By another, he was commanded to put a stop to the farther representation of that Opera, upon the penalty of enforcing his compliance by a riot the next night of performance; and very lately received certain information of meetings which have already been held, and an association forming, to reduce the prices at the Theatre to what they were forty years since, though it is notorious the expence of theatrical entertainments are more than doubled. For these reasons, he looked upon the occasion of the present disturbance only as a prelude to future violence; as the first, not the last salutation of this extraordinary kind, to be expected; and apprehended, that too easy an acquiescence might possibly prove rather encouragement than prevention.
"Nevertheless, in gratitude for the many favours and indulgences received from the Publick, and from an earnest desire to promote that order and decorum so essential in all public assemblies, the proprietors have now jointly authorized Mr. Beard to declare, that they shall think themselves equally bound with the Managers of the other Theatre, to an observance of those limitations which they have agreed to.
"Mr. Beard, though sensible how unworthy an object his character is for the attention of the Publick, yet hopes his zeal to have it appear in a fair light will not be deemed impertinence, and therefore begs leave to mention one occurrence that relates particularly to himself. It has been industriously reported, that both before and after Mr. Garrick's submission to the point in dispute, he himself had expressly promised to give it up likewise, but has now insolently dared to resume a right, which he had already disclaimed. How incapable Mr. Beard is of such a conduct, he flatters himself those who know him will testify: to those who do not, it may not be unnecessary solemnly to declare, that so far from ever making such a promise, he constantly insisted, that it neither was in his power or intention to comply with the demand.
John Beard."
This imprudent statement might have produced fatal consequences, had the Police been as little attentive to the preservation of the public peace as Mr. Beard: on the contrary, the Magistrates held a meeting, and issued an intimation that every riotous proceeding would be immediately checked, and the perpetrators prosecuted under the Act which contains this clause: "That if any persons unlawfully, riotously, and tumultuously assemble together, to the disturbance of the public peace, shall unlawfully, and with force, demolish or pull down, or begin to demolish or pull down, any dwelling-house, house, barn, stable, or other out-house, they shall be adjudged felons; and on conviction, shall suffer death, as in cases of felony, without benefit of clergy."
The evening of March 3, proved the truth of my assertion, that Mr. Beard had acted imprudently in publishing his address. Covent-garden Theatre was crowded by gentlemen that seemed little affected by the threats of the Police, who began the operations of the night by calling for "Hearts of Oak," and "Britons, strike home;" and, when the curtain rose, a tumult commenced, which soon drove the actors from their presence; and the name of Beard echoed from every side of the house. That gentleman appeared, and, alarmed at his previous temerity, declared he had complied with their request in publick, and came before them to confirm it. This declaration was in part approved; but the audience required that all prosecutions against individuals, by the Managers, originating in this dispute, should be immediately discontinued. Mr. Beard assented as far as related to himself, and retired. Exasperated by this evasion, another and more spirited effort succeeded; and behold the Manager once more before his Judges, prepared to promise any thing and every thing the audience demanded. Violent applause followed, and the play was begun without interruption about forty minutes after seven o'clock.
The Peace of 1763 was celebrated with uncommon splendour throughout Europe, and particularly in St. James's Park, where a grand fire-work was exhibited. Our amiable Queen, animated by the same impulse, contrived an amusement for his Majesty on his birth-night equally calculated to surprise and please. The Queen induced her royal consort to pass several days previous to the 4th of June at St. James's; and in that interval a great number of persons were employed in preparing a superb temple and bridge, to be illuminated with upwards of 4000 lamps, in the gardens of Buckingham-house. Such was the secrecy used, that the King entertained not the least suspicion of the design in progress, and was consequently astonished on returning to the above palace at ten o'clock, when the window-shutters were suddenly thrown open, at the brilliancy of the scene, which presented an orchestra containing upwards of fifty performers led by Dr. Boyce, amongst whom were the most eminent singers of the day, and the front of a temple ornamented with emblematic paintings conveying the most grateful intimations.
The following article, extracted from the London Chronicle for August 1763, must produce a sensation of regret in the recollection of those who were partial to the amusements of Ranelagh:
"The only defect in the elegance and beauty of the amphitheatre at Ranelagh, is an improper and inconvenient orchestra, which, breaking into the area of that superb room about twenty feet farther than it ought to do, destroys the symmetry of the whole, and diffuses the sound of the musick with such irregular rapidity, that the harmonious articulations escape the nicest ear, when placed in the most commodious attitude: it also hurts the eye upon your first entry.
"To remedy these defects, a plan has been drawn by Messrs. Wale and Gwin, for adding a new orchestra, which, being furnished with a well-proportioned curvature over it, will contract into narrower bounds the modulations of the voice, and render every note more distinctly audible. It will by its form operate upon the musical sounds in the same manner as concave glasses affect the rays of light by collecting them into a focus. The front of this orchestra being planned so as to range parallel to the balustrade, the whole area also will be disencumbered of every obstruction that might incommode the audience in their circular walk. There is likewise provision made in this plan for a stage capable of containing 30 or 40 performers, to officiate as chorus-singers, or otherwise assist in giving an additional solemnity on any extraordinary occasion."
This, or a similar plan, was afterwards adopted.
The irregularities mentioned in a preceding page as having occurred at Vauxhall were noticed on the day appointed for licensing places of amusement in 1763, when the proprietor pledged himself that the dark walks should thenceforward be lighted, no bad women, known to be such, admitted, and that a sufficient number of watchmen should be provided to keep the peace.
The ridiculous custom of placing two centinels on the stage during the performance of plays was not discontinued in the above year, as a soldier employed for that purpose highly entertained an audience in October by laughing at the character of Sir Andrew Ague-cheek in Twelfth-night, till he actually fell convulsed upon the floor.
Violence and exertion are common occurrences at the doors of the English Theatres every evening when pieces or performers of superior attraction are to be seen; but it very rarely happens that those marks of ill-breeding are practised at the entrances of the Opera-house. When the Hereditary Prince of Brunswick went to the Opera in January 1764, the eagerness of a titled and fashionable mob was such, that the male part fought their way with drawn swords, the females fainted, and lost shoes, caps, ruffles, &c. &c. quite as rapidly as those they condescended to imitate at the other Theatres.
A letter signed "Theatricus," inserted in the London Chronicle, vol. XV. contains a rapid but masterly sketch of the state of Theatrical amusements between 1700 and 1763. Under this impression I shall transfer it to this work:
"A DISSERTATION ON THE THEATRE.
"Since I was a boy, I have been an admirer of the Drama, and have, for near sixty years past, observed the revolutions of the stage (in England and Ireland) more than those of the State.
"The first play I remember to have seen was The Maid's Tragedy in the year 1710; the famous Mr. Betterton acted Melanthius; he died the week following, after having been above fifty years the ornament of the stage. With great satisfaction I recollect the memorable theatrical year 1712, when Cato was first acted: never were the expectations of the Town more fully satisfied, nor more emulation shewn by the performers. I was at that time in the first form at Westminster-school; our master offered a premium of a gilt Horace for the best Latin translation of Cato's soliloquy in the fifth act. I had sufficient vanity to be one of the candidates; but, to my great mortification, was told, 'that it was a good first attempt,' and saw the premium delivered to my class-fellow, who, a few years ago, enjoyed one of the best deaneries in the church.
"My uncle used frequently to take me of a Sunday evening to Button's Coffee-house; it was there I first saw Addison and Congreve; he was intimate with Sir Richard Steele, and belonged to a club with the unfortunate Mr. Budgell.
"I remember the stage in its greatest glory, during the management of Wilks, Booth, and Cibber; its decline under the elegant but unfortunate Fleetwood; and its revival, with uncommon lustre, under Garrick. I must do justice to this last mentioned performer in saying, that it is to him alone we owe the bringing of Tragedy nearer to Nature than in the days of the Triumvirate. This one of them confessed to me not a year before his death; for formerly a turgid vociferation, or effeminate whine, were mistaken for the best display of the heroic and tender passions; but these caricatures are neglected for the real likenesses, which that great master of his art, Garrick, has truly delineated. I have often wished that the Stage could be brought under the regulations hinted at by Mr. Addison; then it would be, to use his own words, 'a source of the highest and most rational amusement.'
"I look upon the principal structures of the Drama, to be Tragedy and Comedy ; the most interesting circumstances of Tragedy may be reduced to two different heads, viz. the elevated (such as Julius Cæsar, Coriolanus, &c.) and the tender and affecting (as Romeo, and the Orphan); but that tragedy must ever have the preference which unites the pathetic with the sublime.
"Tragedy should never go beyond the natural; that which is great in it never goes farther than heroism; it is a living picture, so that its beauty consists in its resemblance with the truth.
"Comedy is a feigned action, in which is represented the ridiculous, in order to correct it; it rebukes with a smile, and corrects with a facetious stroke: the matter of comedy is civil life, of which it is an imitation: it ought to be every where enlivened with all possible care, to have fine and easy strokes of wit and satire, which present the ridiculous in the most glaring point of view; it should be pure, easy, and natural, have no borrowed passions or constrained actions; morality and instruction ought to be infused into the several parts, so that we might feel instruction, but not see it.
"Tragedy imitates the beautiful, and the great; Comedy imitates the ridiculous: one elevates the soul, and forms the heart; the other polishes the behaviour, and corrects the manners. Tragedy humanizes us by compassion, and restrains us by fear; Comedy makes us laugh, because the faults of the little are trifling, we fear not their consequences.
"If examples have some force and life when trusted to paper, how much greater must their vigour be, when they live in the player, and are moved and speak in the most lofty sentiments, and all the eloquence of action. The spectator imagines that a series of ages having revolved back, and the distance of places being contracted, he is suddenly conveyed into those places and ages, in which the subject of the drama happened; or else, that past times being renewed, the subject is again acted in his presence. You do not on these occasions read silently in your closet the illustrious acts of antient heroes, who have immortalized themselves by the love they displayed for their country, their parents, their children, &c. These wonderful men are called from their tombs where they have so long slumbered, appear again in the world, and you behold their generous, their pious strife.
"In Athens the Stage was impowered by the Legislature to instruct the ignorant vulgar, and, as a censor, to reform the rude populace; it was its duty to make Tragedy a school of wisdom, and Comedy of reproof. The poets rendered the Theatre beneficial to the world, by appointing Tragedy to calm the passions by terror and pity, and Comedy to reform the mind by ridicule and censure. The duty of the Poet was, as Horace expresses it—aut prodesse aut delectare.
"I am sorry to say that some of our comic writers have been too fond of familiarizing their audiences to vice; and we need make no doubt that the immorality of the stage has contributed to the depravity of manners too visible amongst all ranks of people, and fulfils what Juvenal says,
——nullâ virtute redemptum A vitiis.——
"Farce I consider as the gleanings of the Drama. I remember when it was seldom used; those who have seen the Theatrical Calendar for the years 1708 and 1709, will confirm what I assert. Dogget, one of the first Comedians of his time, was three years before he could obtain leave to have his farce of The Country Wake performed; and, when granted, it was provided he acted the principal part (Hob). Farquhar, from the success of his comedies, and interest with the Duke of Ormond his patron, obtained leave for his farce of The Stage Coach; and Cibber, with great difficulty, brought on his School Boy; before these times the plays of Shakspeare, Jonson, &c. did not need the aid of farce. It must be allowed, that the farces by Garrick, and some by Foote, have met with much success, and abound with the utile dulci; but the generality of those now in possession of the Stage are, as Dryden says, 'a compound of extravagances, fit only to entertain such people as are judges of neither men nor manners.' To confirm this great Poet's opinion, I appeal to those who have seen a new farce last season at Crow-street Theatre, devoid both of wit and satire, and composed of vulgar phrases, beneath a Bartholomew-fair droll; however, I applaud the author for not printing it; if he had, it must certainly have suffered the fate it most justly deserved, to be condemned by all its readers[252:A].
"Pantomime first dawned, in the year 1702, at Drury-lane, in an entertainment, called, The Tavern Bilkers; it died the fifth night. It was invented by Weaver, a dancing-master at Shrewsbury, who, from the encouragement of the Nobility, invented a second, called The Loves of Mars and Venus, performed at the same Theatre, in the year 1716, with vast success; which occasioned Sir Richard Steele to write the following lines on the back of one of the play-bills at Button's Coffee-house.