Volume 1 — COMMUNICATIONS.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE DRAMATIC MISCELLANY.

Sir,

I send you herewith the first number of a series of Papers, the continuance of which will probably depend upon your opinion of their tendency to amuse or gratify your readers.

That they may not be tried by too rigid rules of criticism—and that more may not be expected from the writer than he means to perform, I deem it necessary to premise that the future numbers, like the present, are intended to consist of such anecdotes respecting the drama and dramatic writers, as I have heretofore, or hereafter may meet with in the course of a very desultory course of reading—of such information of that description, as I have collected in my progress through life—and of such remarks and reflections as they may excite in my mind.

Every One has his Fault.

Among the best dramatic performances that have appeared during the last half of the eighteenth century, I have no hesitation in giving this admirable comedy, by Mrs. Inchbald, a conspicuous place. For strongly marked characters, interesting incidents, correct sentiments, and chaste language, I know none to be preferred to it. It appeared here, at the opening of the New Theatre in 1793, under as much advantage, as if the authoress had actually studied the force of the company, and written the parts for the respective performers. I was somewhat dissatisfied at first with one particular character, lord Norland. I thought it hardly possible such a being could have been drawn from nature. A further view of mankind, has convinced me that I was in error. I annex the dramatis personæ, and leave the reader to judge whether a higher dramatic feast can probably be found at Covent Garden or Drury Lane.

Lord Norland,Mr. Whitlock,

Capt. Irwin,Mr. Fennel,

Sir Robert Ramble,Mr. Chalmers,

Mr. Placid,Mr. Moreton,

Harmony,Mr. Bates,

Solus,Mr. Morris,

Edward,Mrs. Marshal.

Lady Erwin,Mrs. Whitlock,

Mrs. Placid,Mrs. Shaw,

Miss Woburn,Mrs. Morris,

Miss Spinster,Mrs. Bates.

It may be heresy and schism to institute the most distant comparison between any modern writer and Shakspeare. But if so, I cannot help being a heretic and schismatic, for I believe that the scene between lord Norland, lady Irwin, and Edward, in which the latter abandons his grandfather, and flies into the arms of his mother, then newly discovered to him, is actually equal, for pathos and interest, to any scene ever represented in the English or any other language. Mrs. Inchbald, it is said, intended this drama for a tragedy, and made captain Irwin suffer death: but by the advice of her friends converted it into a comedy.

Prostitution of the Theatre.

Those who do not look beyond the mere surface of things, are prone to censure managers with great severity, when Theatres, which ought to be held sacred for exhibiting the grandest effusions of the human mind, are prostituted to puppet-shows, rope dancing, pantomimes and exhibitions of elephants, &c. Whatever of censure is due to this preposterous perversion, attaches elsewhere. It falls on those who frequent theatres. Dr. Johnson, in a prologue which he wrote for Garrick, places this idea in the strongest point of light.

And therefore if Romeo and Juliet, the Clandestine Marriage, the West Indian, the Gamester, Every one has his fault, and other dramatic works of this order, fail to afford attractions equal to Mother Goose, Cinderilla, the Forty thieves, an elephant, or a band of Indians, can it be a subject of surprise if the managers furnish those bills of fare, which possess the greatest gratification for that public on whom they depend?

Samuel Foote.

It is an old and trite maxim that ridicule is by no means a test of truth—and yet it is an equally ancient remark, that many a serious truth has been put out of countenance by ridicule, and that ridicule unsupported by wit or humour.

In a song sung by Mrs. Cibber, there was this line—

Of the justice of which no man can entertain a doubt. The wicked wit Foote parodied the line, thus

And actually destroyed the popularity of the song.

A spirited manager.

The latter part of the following interesting anecdote of Garrick is unaccountably omitted in his life, by his biographer, Arthur Murphy.

In the year 1755, the English Roscius expended large sums of money in preparing what he termed a Chinese Festival, a grand spectacle, on a most magnificent scale. He imported a large number of Swiss and Italians to appear in it, which excited considerable jealousy among the London populace, as a French war had then begun, and all foreigners were indiscriminately regarded as Frenchmen. There was considerable opposition made the first and second nights of its being exhibited—and the 3d night, November 18, there was a large party formed, who were determined to have it suppressed. Violent riots took place—"the rioters tore up the benches, broke the lustres, threw down the partitions of the boxes, and mounting the stage, demolished the Chinese scenery." The injury sustained by the manager was very considerable, and required several days, and a very large sum of money to repair.

Some nights after, Garrick appeared on the stage in the character of Archer, and was imperiously and unjustly called upon to beg pardon of the audience. At this, his indignation was enkindled, and he advanced resolutely forward, stating the injury his property had sustained, and assuring them that "he was above want, superior to insult, and unless he was that night permitted to perform his duty to the best of his abilities, he would never—never appear upon the stage again." The audience were struck with the justice and propriety of what he said—felt ashamed of the vile scenes that had taken place, and of the indignity that had been offered to an old, a tried, and a deserving favourite; and by an instantaneous burst of applause, bore a strong testimony against the rioters and in favour of the respectable manager.

Moody.

The preceding anecdote leads me to give another of the same description, respecting Moody, a very valuable performer, one of Garrick's company.

In the beginning of the year 1763, very considerable riots took place in Drury-Lane, in consequence of an effort on the part of Garrick to abolish a shabby practice that had prevailed in London from time immemorial. This was, to admit persons into the theatre after the third act, at half price. Great devastation was committed on every thing that could be destroyed in the theatre. A wicked villain took a light, and was deliberately setting fire to the scenes, which might have caused the death of a portion of the misguided agents in this disgraceful outrage. Moody fortunately perceived him, resolutely interposed, and prevented the perpetration of his nefarious design. The next night that he appeared, he was instantly called upon to beg pardon, for an act which merited the highest gratitude. Moody addressed the audience—"Gentlemen, if by hindering the house from being burned, and saving many of your lives, I have given you cause of displeasure, I ask your pardon." This exasperated them still further, and there was an universal outcry that he should beg pardon on his knees. Moody had too much spirit, and too high a sense of his own dignity, to comply—and resolutely addressed them once more—"Gentlemen, I will not degrade myself so low, even in your opinion. By such an act, I should be an abject wretch, unfit ever to appear before you again." This said, and having made his bow, he retired. Garrick "received him with open arms," and applauded him for his spirited conduct. The riot still continued, and the manager being called for, he went before the audience, and a loud clamour having been made to dismiss Moody for what was unjustly styled his insolence, Garrick assured them that he should not perform on that stage while he remained under their displeasure. He then went behind the scenes; and, once more embracing Moody, pledged himself to pay his salary, notwithstanding his temporary exile.

Theatrical Licenses.

Although it is generally known that no new dramatic performance can be introduced on the stage in England, without the previous license of the Lord Chamberlain, it is not by any means equally well known to what cause this regulation owes its origin. Henry Fielding composed a theatrical representation to which he gave the name of Pasquin, the object of which was to satirize some of the most conspicuous characters in England, and among the number were the minister and many of his friends. This satirical performance became very popular, and was exhibited to crowded audiences for fifty successive nights. The exasperated minister, Robert Walpole, was determined to repress the licentiousness of the stage, and accordingly had a bill brought into parliament to prohibit the representation of any dramatic performance whatever, unless it had received the permission of the Lord chamberlain. This act, which was carried in spite of the utmost opposition, took from the crown the power of licensing any more theatres, and inflicted considerable penalties on those who should violate its restrictions.[E]

Mrs. Centlivre. The Busy Body.

The theatrical history affords numberless instances of the fallacy and folly of dogmatic decisions, and premature judgments. It were endless to relate the cases of dramatic performances, which, previous to their being acted, were regarded by managers and actors as execrable, and certain of condemnation—and yet have lived a century beyond the existence of their judges. And the instances are at least as numerous of managers forming the most flattering anticipations of the success, and the consequent emoluments of performances which were, to use the technical term of the theatre, damned by the unanimous consent of the audience.

The Busy Body, by Mrs. Centlivre, is a very remarkable case in point. It was decried before its appearance by all the players—Mr. Wilkes, the Garrick of his day, for a time absolutely refused to take a part in it—And the audience went to the theatre, so far prejudiced against it, as to contemplate its condemnation. Yet it was so favourably received, that it had a run of thirteen nights; and, after a lapse of an entire century, for it was first represented in 1709, it is still received with applause, and ranks deservedly high among the stock plays.

Gay.——Beggar's opera.

There is a still more striking illustration of the position I laid down in the preceding paragraph, than that afforded by the Busy Body. The Beggar's opera was offered to Cibber and the other managers of Drurylane theatre, and after examination was rejected by them, as not likely to prove successful. The managers of the other theatre had a more correct anticipation of the issue of this production, and hailed it with joy and gladness. The event justified their opinion—for never was there a more extraordinary degree of success than attended this rejected performance. It had the unprecedented run of fifty three nights, I believe successively, the first season in London—It spread into every town in the three kingdoms, where there was a theatre, and was every where received with unbounded applause. The songs were printed on ladies' fans—and Miss Fenton, who performed the part of Polly, and who, previous to her appearance in that character was in an inferior grade, became a first rate favourite, and was so high in the public opinion, that she was finally married to a peer of the realm. Gay's profits by this piece were above two thousand pounds sterling, or nearly nine thousand dollars.[F]

A Wine merchant.

Garrick, soon after his arrival in London, went into partnership with his brother Peter, in the wine trade. Their circumstances were very moderate. Foote, with whom it was a universal rule, never to spoil a good story by a scrupulous adherence to truth; very often, at a subsequent period, excited merriment at the expense of the modern Roscius, by the narrative of his adventures at that era of his life. He used to amuse his companions by telling them, that he remembered the time when little Davy lived in Durham court, with three quarts of vinegar in his cellar, and took upon himself the style and title of a wine merchant.

Garrick once more.

It is mortifying to reflect how the fairest fame may be destroyed, and the best character be travestied in the public estimation, by a jest, a bon mot, or an epigram, which contains any very pointed allusion. The story tells to advantage. It is no diminution of its chance of progress, that it is in the very last degree void of even the shadow of foundation. Its wit, its humour, or its malignity embalms it, and saves it from destruction. It enlivens social circles—It spreads abroad, and gathers strength as it goes: It is received as complete evidence almost as if it had been judicially established.

These ideas are excited by the excellent and revered character, whose name I have prefixed to this sketch. Of his avarice Foote circulated some droll stories, which have had considerable currency, and found their way into most of the jest books that have been published for these thirty years. And it has been in consequence pretty generally believed that Garrick was a miserable, narrow-souled creature, whom the auri sacra fames would lead to any kind of meanness, and who was incapable of a liberal or munificent action. Of him I acknowledge I had formed this opinion: and such has been the opinion of most of my acquaintances. It gives me great pleasure to find that the charge is totally groundless; and that few men ever made a better use of their wealth—none were more ready with their purse on every occasion where distress or misfortune petitioned for assistance, or when any public spirited undertaking had a fair claim upon private liberality.

Malone's sketch of his life, and Boswell's life of Johnson, contain numberless illustrious instances of his beneficence. Johnson, who was much in the habit of collecting money among his friends for the relief of persons in distress or embarrassment, repeatedly declared, that Garrick was always ready on these occasions, and that his contributions exceeded those of other persons in equal circumstances.

Garrick's liberality in the establishment of the fund for the relief of superannuated actors, would alone be sufficient to rescue him from the charge of avarice. He gave a benefit play yearly for that purpose, in which he always acted a leading character. He bestowed on the association two houses for the meetings of the managers;—and when the latter resolved to sell them, as unnecessary, Garrick bought them at the valuation which was set upon them. He afterwards bequeathed them by his will to the increase of the fund.

As it was damned.

One of Henry Fielding's farces having been hissed from the stage, the author, when he published it, instead of the usual annunciation, "as it was performed at the theatre royal," &c. substituted a more correct reading, "as it was damned at the theatre royal, Drury Lane." This laudable example of candor has never since been copied by any of the bards whose performances have experienced the same awful fate.

Vindication of Lord Rochester.

A miscreant of the name of Fishbourne in the reign of Charles II. published a vile play, called Sodom, so detestably obscene, that the earl of Rochester, then in the full career of licentiousness and debauchery, finding it ascribed to him, thought it necessary publicly to disclaim the infamy of the authorship. This circumstance, coupled with the gross tendency of most of even the best plays of that time, must convey to the reader a tolerably correct idea how far the wretched author had outstripped his companions in the career of turpitude.

An elegant translation.

One Gordon (not Thomas Gordon, the translator of Tacitus) translated Terence in the year 1752, and rendered the words, ignarum artis meretricis, "quite a stranger to the trade of these b——s."

Beware of a too free use of the bottle.

One Henry Higden, a dramatic writer about the close of the seventeenth century, wrote a comedy, called the Wary Widow, in which he introduced so many drinking scenes, that the actors were completely drunk before the end of the third act, and being therefore unable to proceed with the play, they dismissed the audience.

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