1.7. CHAPTER VII.
The State of the Stage continued. The Occasion of Wilks's
commencing
Actor. His Success. Facts relating to his Theatrical Talent.
Actors more or less esteem'd from their private Characters.
THE Lincoln's-Inn-Fields Company were now,
in 1693,
[227.1]
a Common-wealth, like that of Holland,
divided from the Tyranny of Spain: But the
Similitude goes very little farther; short was the
Duration of the Theatrical Power! for tho' Success
pour'd in so fast upon them at their first Opening
that every thing seem'd to support it self, yet Experience
in a Year or two shew'd them that they had
never been worse govern'd than when they govern'd
themselves! Many of them began to make their
particular Interest more their Point than that of the
general: and tho' some Deference might be had to
the Measure and Advice of
Betterton, several of
them wanted to govern in their Turn, and were
often out of Humour that their Opinion was not
equally regarded—But have we not seen the same
Infirmity in Senates? The Tragedians seem'd to
think their Rank as much above the Comedians as
in the Characters they severally acted; when the
first were in their Finery, the latter were impatient
at the Expence, and look'd upon it as rather laid out
upon the real than the fictitious Person of the Actor;
nay, I have known in our own company this ridiculous
sort of Regret carried so far, that the Tragedian
has thought himself injured when the
Comedian pretended
to wear a fine Coat! I remember
Powel, upon
surveying my first Dress in the
Relapse, was out of
all temper, and reproach'd our Master in very rude
Terms that he had not so good a Suit to play
Cæsar
Borgia
[228.1]
in! tho' he knew, at the same time, my Lord
Foppington fill'd the House, when his bouncing
Borgia would do little more than pay Fiddles and
Candles to it: And though a Character of Vanity
might be supposed more expensive in Dress than
possibly one of Ambition, yet the high Heart of this
heroical Actor could not bear that a Comedian
should ever pretend to be as well dress'd as himself.
Thus again, on the contrary, when
Betterton proposed
to set off a Tragedy, the Comedians were sure
to murmur at the Charge of it: And the late
Reputation which
Dogget had acquired from acting
his
Ben in
Love for
Love,
made him a more declared
Male-content on such Occasions; he over-valued
Comedy for its being nearer to Nature than Tragedy,
which is allow'd to say many fine things that
Nature never spoke in the same Words; and supposing
his Opinion were just, yet he should have
consider'd that the Publick had a Taste as well as
himself, which in Policy he ought to have complied
with.
Dogget, however, could not with Patience
look upon the costly Trains and Plumes of Tragedy,
in which knowing himself to be useless, he thought
were all a vain Extravagance: And when he found
his Singularity could no longer oppose that Expence,
he so obstinately adhered to his own Opinion, that
he left the Society of his Old Friends, and came over
to us at the
Theatre-Royal: And yet this Actor
always set up for a Theatrical Patriot. This happened
in the Winter following the first Division of
the (only) Company.
[229.1]
He came time enough to the
Theatre-Royal to act the Part of
Lory in the
Relapse,
an arch Valet, quite after the
French cast, pert and
familiar. But it suited so ill with
Dogget's dry and
closely-natural Manner of acting, that upon the second
Day he desired it might be disposed of to another;
which the Author complying with, gave it to
Penkethman,
who, tho' in other Lights much his Inferior,
yet this Part he seem'd better to become.
Dogget
was so immovable in his Opinion of whatever he
thought was right or wrong, that he could never be
easy under any kind of Theatrical Government, and
was generally so warm in pursuit of his Interest that
he often out-ran it; I remember him three times, for
some Years, unemploy'd in any Theatre, from his
not being able to bear, in common with others, the
disagreeable Accidents that in such Societies are
unavoidable.
[230.1]
But whatever Pretences he had form'd
for this first deserting from
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, I
always thought his best Reason for it was, that he
look'd upon it as a sinking Ship; not only from the melancholy
Abatement of their Profits, but likewise from
the Neglect and Disorder in their Government: He
plainly saw that their extraordinary Success at first had
made them too confident of its Duration, and from
thence had slacken'd their Industry—by which he
observ'd, at the same time, the old House, where
there was scarce any other Merit than Industry,
began to flourish. And indeed they seem'd not
enough to consider that the Appetite of the Publick,
like that of a fine Gentleman, could only be kept
warm by Variety; that let their Merit be never so
high, yet the Taste of a Town was not always constant,
nor infallible: That it was dangerous to hold
their Rivals in too much Contempt;
[231.1]
for they found
that a young industrious Company were soon a Match
for the best Actors when too securely negligent: And
negligent they certainly were, and fondly fancied that
had each of their different Schemes been follow'd, their
Audiences would not so suddenly have fallen off.
[231.2]
But alas! the Vanity of applauded Actors, when
they are not crowded to as they may have been,
makes them naturally impute the Change to any
Cause rather than the true one, Satiety: They are
mighty loath to think a Town, once so fond of them,
could ever be tired; and yet, at one time or other,
more or less thin Houses have been the certain Fate
of the most prosperous Actors ever since I remember
the Stage! But against this Evil the provident
Patentees had found out a Relief which the new
House were not yet Masters of,
viz. Never to pay
their People when the Money did not come in; nor
then neither, but in such Proportions as suited their
Conveniency. I my self was one of the many who
for six acting Weeks together never received one
Day's Pay; and for some Years after seldom had
above half our nominal Sallaries: But to the best of
my Memory, the Finances of the other House held
it not above one Season more, before they were
reduced to the same Expedient of making the like
scanty Payments.
[232.1]
Such was the Distress and Fortune of both these
Companies since their Division from the Theatre-Royal; either working at half Wages, or by alternate
Successes intercepting the Bread from one another's
Mouths;
[232.2]
irreconcilable Enemies, yet without Hope
of Relief from a Victory on either Side; sometimes
both Parties reduced, and yet each supporting their
Spirits by seeing the other under the same Calamity.
During this State of the Stage it was that the
lowest Expedient was made use of to ingratiate our
Company in the Publick Favour: Our Master, who
had sometime practised the Law,
[233.1]
and therefore loved a Storm better than fair Weather (for it was his own
Conduct chiefly that had brought the Patent into
these Dangers) took nothing so much to Heart as
that Partiality wherewith he imagined the People of
Quality had preferr'd the Actors of the other House
to those of his own: To ballance this Misfortune, he
was resolv'd, at least, to be well with their Domesticks,
and therefore cunningly open'd the upper
Gallery to them gratis: For before this time no
Footman was ever admitted, or had presum'd to
come into it, till after the fourth Act was ended: This
additional Privilege (the greatest Plague that ever
Play-house had to complain of) he conceived would
not only incline them to give us a good Word in the
respective Families they belong'd to, but would naturally
incite them to come all Hands aloft in the Crack
of our Applauses: And indeed it so far succeeded,
that it often thunder'd from the full Gallery above,
while our thin Pit and Boxes below were in the
utmost Serenity. This riotous Privilege, so craftily
given, and which from Custom was at last ripen'd
into Right, became the most disgraceful Nusance
that ever depreciated the Theatre.
[234.1]
How often have the most polite Audiences, in the most affecting
Scenes of the best Plays, been disturb'd and insulted
by the Noise and Clamour of these savage Spectators?
From the same narrow way of thinking, too,
were so many ordinary People and unlick'd Cubs of
Condition admitted behind our Scenes for Money,
and sometimes without it: The Plagues and Inconveniences
of which Custom we found so intolerable,
when we afterwards had the Stage in our Hands,
that at the Hazard of our Lives we were forced to
get rid of them; and our only Expedient was by
refusing Money from all Persons without Distinction
at the Stage-Door; by this means we preserved to
ourselves the Right and Liberty of chusing our own
Company there: And by a strict Observance of this
Order we brought what had been before debas'd
into all the Licenses of a Lobby into the Decencies
of a Drawing-Room.
[234.2]
About the distressful Time I was speaking of, in
the Year 1696,
[235.1]
Wilks, who now had been five Years
in great Esteem on the Dublin Theatre, return'd to
that of Drury-Lane; in which last he had first set
out, and had continued to act some small Parts for
one Winter only. The considerable Figure which
he so lately made upon the Stage in London, makes
me imagine that a particular Account of his first
commencing Actor may not be unacceptable to the
Curious; I shall, therefore, give it them as I had it
from his own Mouth.
In King James's Reign he had been some time
employ'd in the Secretary's Office in Ireland (his
native Country) and remain'd in it till after the
Battle of the Boyn, which completed the Revolution.
Upon that happy and unexpected Deliverance, the
People of Dublin, among the various Expressions of
their Joy, had a mind to have a Play; but the Actors
being dispersed during the War, some private Persons
agreed in the best Manner they were able to
give one to the Publick gratis at the Theatre. The
Play was Othello, in which Wilks acted the Moor;
and the Applause he received in it warm'd him to so
strong an Inclination for the Stage, that he immediately
prefer'd it to all his other Views in Life: for
he quitted his Post, and with the first fair Occasion
came over to try his Fortune in the (then only) Company
of Actors in
London. The Person who supply'd
his Post in
Dublin, he told me, raised to himself
from thence a Fortune of fifty thousand Pounds.
Here you have a much stronger Instance of an extravagant
Passion for the Stage than that which I
have elsewhere shewn in my self; I only quitted my
Hopes of being preferr'd to the like Post for it; but
Wilks quitted his actual
Possession for the imaginary
Happiness which the Life of an Actor presented to
him. And, though possibly we might both have
better'd our Fortunes in a more honourable Station,
yet whether better Fortunes might have equally
gratify'd our Vanity (the universal Passion of Mankind)
may admit of a Question.
Upon his being formerly received into the Theatre-Royal (which was in the Winter after I had been initiated)
his Station there was much upon the same Class
with my own; our Parts were generally of an equal
Insignificancy, not of consequence enough to give
either a Preference: But Wilks being more impatient
of his low Condition than I was, (and, indeed, the
Company was then so well stock'd with good Actors
that there was very little hope of getting forward)
laid hold of a more expeditious way for his Advancement,
and returned agen to Dublin with Mr. Ashbury,
the Patentee of that Theatre, to act in his new Company
there: There went with him at the same time
Mrs.
Butler, whose Character I have already given,
and
Estcourt, who had not appeared on any Stage,
and was yet only known as an excellent Mimick:
Wilks having no Competitor in
Dublin, was immediately
preferr'd to whatever parts his Inclination led
him, and his early Reputation on that Stage as soon
raised in him an Ambition to shew himself on a
better. And I have heard him say (in Raillery of
the Vanity which young Actors are liable to) that
when the News of
Monfort's Death came to
Ireland,
he from that time thought his Fortune was made,
and took a Resolution to return a second time to
England with the first Opportunity; but as his Engagements
to the Stage where he was were too
strong to be suddenly broke from, he return'd not to
the
Theatre-Royal 'till the Year 1696.
[237.1]
Upon his first Arrival, Powel, who was now in
Possession of all the chief Parts of Monfort, and the
only Actor that stood in Wilks's way, in seeming
Civility offer'd him his choice of whatever he thought
fit to make his first Appearance in; though, in reality,
the Favour was intended to hurt him. But Wilks
rightly judg'd it more modest to accept only of a
Part of Powel's, and which Monfort had never
acted, that of Palamede in Dryden's Marriage Alamode.
Here, too, he had the Advantage of having
the Ball play'd into his Hand by the inimitable
Mrs. Monfort, who was then his Melantha in the
same Play: Whatever Fame Wilks had brought
with him from
Ireland, he as yet appear'd but a very
raw Actor to what he was afterwards allow'd to be:
His Faults, however, I shall rather leave to the
Judgments of those who then may remember him,
than to take upon me the disagreeable Office of being
particular upon them, farther than by saying, that in
this Part of
Palamede he was short of
Powel, and miss'd
a good deal of the loose Humour of the Character,
which the other more happily hit.
[238.1]
But however he
was young, erect, of a pleasing Aspect, and, in the
whole, gave the Town and the Stage sufficient Hopes
of him. I ought to make some Allowances, too, for
the Restraint he must naturally have been under
from his first Appearance upon a new Stage. But
from that he soon recovered, and grew daily more
in Favour, not only of the Town, but likewise of
the Patentee, whom
Powel, before
Wilks's Arrival,
had treated in almost what manner he pleas'd.
Upon this visible Success of Wilks, the pretended
Contempt which Powel had held him in began to
sour into an open Jealousy; he now plainly saw he
was a formidable Rival, and (which more hurt him)
saw, too, that other People saw it; and therefore
found it high time to oppose and be troublesome to
him. But Wilks happening to be as jealous of his
Fame as the other, you may imagine such clashing
Candidates could not be long without a Rupture: In
short, a Challenge, I very well remember, came from
Powel, when he was hot-headed; but the next Morning
he was cool enough to let it end in favour of
Wilks. Yet however the Magnanimity on either
Part might subside, the Animosity was as deep in
the Heart as ever, tho' it was not afterwards so
openly avow'd: For when
Powel found that intimidating
would not carry his Point; but that
Wilks,
when provok'd, would really give Battle,
[239.1]
he (
Powel)
grew so out of Humour that he cock'd his Hat, and
in his Passion walk'd off to the Service of the Company
in
Lincoln's-Inn Fields. But there finding
more Competitors, and that he made a worse Figure
among them than in the Company he came from, he
stay'd but one Winter with them
[239.2]
before he return'd to his old Quarters in
Drury-Lane; where, after
these unsuccessful Pushes of his Ambition, he at last
became a Martyr to Negligence, and quietly submitted
to the Advantages and Superiority which (during his
late Desertion)
Wilks had more easily got over him.
However trifling these Theatrical Anecdotes may
seem to a sensible Reader, yet, as the different Conduct
of these rival Actors may be of use to others of
the same Profession, and from thence may contribute
to the Pleasure of the Publick, let that be my Excuse
for pursuing them. I must therefore let it be known
that, though in Voice and Ear Nature had been more
kind to Powel, yet he so often lost the Value of them
by an unheedful Confidence, that the constant wakeful
Care and Decency of Wilks left the other far behind
in the publick Esteem and Approbation. Nor
was his Memory less tenacious than that of Wilks;
but Powel put too much Trust in it, and idly deferr'd
the Studying of his Parts, as School-boys do their
Exercise, to the last Day, which commonly brings
them out proportionably defective. But Wilks never
lost an Hour of precious Time, and was, in all his
Parts, perfect to such an Exactitude, that I question
if in forty Years he ever five times chang'd or misplac'd
an Article in any one of them. To be Master
of this uncommon Diligence is adding to the Gift of
Nature all that is in an Actor's Power; and this
Duty of Studying perfect whatever Actor is remiss
in, he will proportionably find that Nature may have
been kind to him in vain, for though Powel had an
Assurance that cover'd this Neglect much better than
a Man of more Modesty might have done, yet, with
all his Intrepidity, very often the Diffidence and
Concern for what he was to say made him lose the
Look of what he was to be: While, therefore Powel
presided, his idle Example made this Fault so common
to others, that I cannot but confess, in the general
Infection, I had my Share of it; nor was my too
critical Excuse for it a good one,
viz. That scarce
one Part in five that fell to my Lot was worth the
Labour. But to shew Respect to an Audience is
worth the best Actor's Labour, and, his Business
consider'd, he must be a very impudent one that
comes before them with a conscious Negligence of
what he is about.
[241.1]
But
Wilks was never known to make any of these venial
Distinctions, nor, however barren his Part might be, could bear even
the Self-Reproach of favouring his Memory: And I have been astonished
to see him swallow a Volume of Froth and Insipidity in a new Play that
we were
sure could not live above three Days, tho' favour'd
and recommended to the Stage by some good person
of Quality. Upon such Occasions, in Compassion
to his fruitless Toil and Labour, I have sometimes
cry'd out with
Cato—Painful Præeminence! So
insupportable, in my Sense, was the Task, when the
bare Praise of not having been negligent was sure to
be the only Reward of it. But so indefatigable was
the Diligence of
Wilks, that he seem'd to love it, as
a good Man does Virtue, for its own sake; of which
the following Instance will give you an extraordinary
Proof.
In some new Comedy he happen'd to complain of
a crabbed Speech in his Part, which, he said, gave
him more trouble to study than all the rest of it had
done; upon which he apply'd to the Author either
to soften or shorten it. The Author, that he might
make the Matter quite easy to him, fairly cut it all
out. But when he got home from the Rehearsal,
Wilks thought it such an Indignity to his Memory
that any thing should be thought too hard for it,
that he actually made himself perfect in that Speech,
though he knew it was never to be made use of.
From this singular Act of Supererogation you may
judge how indefatigable the Labour of his Memory
must have been when his Profit and Honour were
more concern'd to make use of it.
[242.1]
But besides this indispensable Quality of Diligence,
Wilks had the Advantage of a sober Character in
private Life, which Powel, not having the least Regard
to, labour'd under the unhappy Disfavour, not to say
Contempt, of the Publick, to whom his licentious
Courses were no Secret: Even when he did well
that natural Prejudice pursu'd him; neither the
Heroe nor the Gentleman, the young Ammon
[243.1]
nor the Dorimant,[243.2]
could conceal from the conscious
Spectator the True George Powel. And this sort of
Disesteem or Favour every Actor will feel, and
more or less, have his Share of, as he has, or has not,
a due Regard to his private Life and Reputation.
Nay, even false Reports shall affect him, and become
the Cause, or Pretence at least, of undervaluing or
treating him injuriously. Let me give a known Instance
of it, and at the same time a Justification of
myself from an Imputation that was laid upon me
not many Years before I quitted the Theatre, of which
you will see the Consequence.
After the vast Success of that new Species of Dramatick
Poetry, the Beggars Opera,
[243.3]
The Year following I was so stupid as to attempt something of the
same Kind, upon a quite different Foundation, that
of recommending Virtue and Innocence; which I
ignorantly thought might not have a less Pretence
to Favour than setting Greatness and Authority in
a contemptible, and the most vulgar Vice and
Wickedness, in an amiable Light. But behold how
fondly I was mistaken!
Love in a Riddle
[244.1]
(for so my new-fangled Performance was called) was as
vilely damn'd and hooted at as so vain a Presumption
in the idle Cause of Virtue could deserve. Yet this
is not what I complain of; I will allow my Poetry
to be as much below the other as Taste or Criticism
can sink it: I will grant likewise that the applauded
Author of the
Beggars Opera (whom I knew to be
an honest good-natur'd Man, and who, when he had
descended to write more like one, in the Cause of
Virtue, had been as unfortunate as others of that
Class;) I will grant, I say, that in his
Beggars Opera
he had more skilfully gratify'd the Publick Taste
than all the brightest Authors that ever writ before
him; and I have sometimes thought, from the
Modesty of his Motto,
Nos hæc novimus esse nihil,
[245.1]
that he gave them that Performance as a Satyr upon
the Depravity of their Judgment (as
Ben. Johnson of
old was said to give his
Bartholomew-Fair in Ridicule
of the vulgar Taste which had disliked his
Sejanus
[245.2]
)
and that, by artfully seducing them to be
the Champions of the Immoralities he himself detested,
he should be amply reveng'd on their former Severity
and Ignorance. This were indeed a Triumph! which
even the Author of
Cato might have envy'd,
Cato!
'tis true, succeeded, but reach'd not, by full forty Days,
the Progress and Applauses of the
Beggars Opera.
Will it, however, admit of a Question, which of the
two Compositions a good Writer would rather wish
to have been the Author of? Yet, on the other
side, must we not allow that to have taken a whole
Nation, High and Low, into a general Applause,
has shown a Power in Poetry which, though often
attempted in the same kind, none but this one
Author could ever yet arrive at? By what Rule,
then, are we to judge of our true National Taste?
But to keep a little closer to my Point.
The same Author of the next Year had, according
to the Laws of the Land, transported his Heroe to
the West-Indies in a Second Part to the Beggars
Opera;
[246.1]
but so it happen'd, to the Surprize of the
Publick, this Second Part was forbid to come upon
the Stage! Various were the Speculations upon this
act of Power: Some thought that the Author, others
that the Town, was hardly dealt with; a third sort,
who perhaps had envy'd him the success of his first
Part, affirm'd, when it was printed, that whatever the
Intention might be, the Fact was in his Favour, that
he had been a greater Gainer by Subscriptions to his
Copy than he could have been by a bare Theatrical
Presentation. Whether any Part of these Opinions
were true I am not concerned to determine or consider.
But how the affected me I am going to tell
you. Soon after this Prohibition,
[246.2]
my Performance was to come upon the Stage, at a time when many
People were out of Humour at the late Disappointment,
and seem'd willing to lay hold of any Pretence
of making a Reprizal. Great Umbrage was taken
that I was permitted to have the whole Town to my
self, by this absolute Forbiddance of what they had
more mind to have been entertain'd with. And,
some few Days before my Bawble was acted, I was
inform'd that a strong Party would be made against
it: This Report I slighted, as not conceiving why
it should be true; and when I was afterwards told
what was the pretended Provocation of this Party, I
slighted it still more, as having less Reason to suppose
any Persons could believe me capable (had I
had the Power) of giving such a Provocation. The
Report, it seems, that had run against me was this:
That, to make way for the Success of my own Play,
I had privately found means, or made Interest, that
the Second Part of the
Beggars Opera might be
suppressed. What an involuntary Compliment did
the Reporters of this falshood make me? to suppose
me of Consideration enough to Influence a great
Officer of State to gratify the Spleen or Envy of a
Comedian so far as to rob the Publick of an innocent
Diversion (if it were such) that one but that
cunning Comedian might be suffered to give it
them.
[247.1]
This is so very gross a Supposition that it
needs only its own senseless Face to confound it;
let that alone, then, be my Defence against it. But
against blind Malice and staring inhumanity whatever
is upon the Stage has no Defence! There
they knew I stood helpless and expos'd to whatever
they might please to load or asperse me with. I had
not considered, poor Devil! that from the Security
of a full Pit Dunces might be Criticks, Cowards
valiant, and 'Prentices Gentlemen! Whether any
such were concern'd in the Murder of my Play I am
not certain, for I never endeavour'd to discover any
one of its Assassins; I cannot afford them a milder
Name, from their unmanly manner of destroying it.
Had it been heard, they might have left me nothing
to say to them: 'Tis true it faintly held up its
wounded Head a second Day, and would have spoke
for Mercy, but was not suffer'd. Not even the Presence
of a Royal Heir apparent could protect it.
But then I was reduced to be serious with them;
their Clamour then became an Insolence, which I
thought it my Duty by the Sacrifice of any Interest
of my own to put an end to. I therefore quitted the
Actor for the Author, and, stepping forward to the
Pit, told them,
That since I found they were not
inclin'd that this Play should go forward, I gave them
my Word that after this Night it should never be
acted agen: But that, in the mean time, I hop'd they
would consider in whose Presence they were, and for
that Reason at least would suspend what farther
Marks of their Displeasure they might imagine I had
deserved. At this there was a dead Silence; and
after some little Pause, a few civiliz'd Hands signify'd
their Approbation. When the Play went on, I observ'd
about a Dozen Persons of no extraordinary
Appearance sullenly walk'd out of the Pit. After
which, every Scene of it, while uninterrupted, met
with more Applause than my best Hopes had expected.
But it came too late: Peace to its !Manes!
I had given my Word it should fall, and I kept it by
giving out another Play for the next Day, though I
knew the Boxes were all lett for the same again.
Such, then, was the Treatment I met with: How
much of it the Errors of the Play might deserve I
refer to the Judgment of those who may have Curiosity
and idle time enough to read it.
[249.1]
But if I had no occasion to complain of the Reception it met with
from its
quieted Audience, sure it can be no great
Vanity to impute its Disgraces chiefly to that Severe
Resentment which a groundless Report of me had
inflam'd: Yet those Disgraces have left me something
to boast of, an Honour preferable even to the
Applause of my Enemies: A noble Lord came
behind the Scenes, and told me, from the Box, where
he was in waiting,
That what I said to quiet the
Audience was extremely well taken there; and that I
had been commended for it in a very obliging manner.
Now, though this was the only Tumult that I have
known to have been so effectually appeas'd these
fifty Years by any thing that could be said to an
Audience in the same Humour, I will not take any
great Merit to myself upon it; because when, like me,
you will but humbly submit to their doing you all
the Mischief they can, they will at any time be
satisfy'd.
I have mention'd this particular Fact to inforce
what I before observ'd, That the private Character
of an Actor will always more or less affect his
Publick Performance. And if I suffer'd so much
from the bare Suspicion of my having been guilty of
a base Action, what should not an Actor expect that
is hardy enough to think his whole private Character
of no consequence? I could offer many more, tho'
less severe Instances of the same Nature. I have
seen the most tender Sentiment of Love in Tragedy
create Laughter, instead of Compassion, when it
has been applicable to the real Engagements of the
Person that utter'd it. I have known good Parts
thrown up, from an humble Consciousness that something
in them might put an Audience in mind of—
what was rather wish'd might be forgotten: Those remarkable
Words of Evadne, in the Maid's Tragedy—
A Maidenhead, Amintor, at my Years?—have
sometimes
been a much stronger Jest for being a true
one. But these are Reproaches which in all Nations
the Theatre must have been us'd to, unless we could
suppose Actors something more than Human Creatures,
void of Faults or Frailties. 'Tis a Misfortune
at least not limited to the
English Stage. I have
seen the better-bred Audience in
Paris made merry
even with a modest Expression, when it has come
from the Mouth of an Actress whose private Character
it seem'd not to belong to. The Apprehension
of these kind of Fleers from the Witlings of a Pit
has been carry'd so far in our own Country, that a
late valuable Actress
[251.1]
(who was conscious her Beauty
was not her greatest Merit) desired the Warmth of
some Lines might be abated when they had made
her too remarkably handsome: But in this Discretion
she was alone, few others were afraid of undeserving
the finest things that could be said to them.
But to consider this Matter seriously, I cannot but
think, at a Play, a sensible Auditor would contribute
all he could to his being well deceiv'd, and not suffer
his Imagination so far to wander from the well-acted
Character before him, as to gratify a frivolous Spleen
by Mocks or personal Sneers on the Performer, at
the Expence of his better Entertainment. But I
must now take up
Wilks and
Powel again where I
left them.
Though the Contention for Superiority between
them seem'd about this time to end in favour of the
former, yet the Distress of the Patentee (in having
his Servant his Master, as
Powel had lately been),
was not much reliev'd by the Victory; he had only
chang'd the Man, but not the Malady: for
Wilks,
by being in Possession of so many good Parts, fell
into the common Error of most Actors, that of overrating
their Merit, or never thinking it is so thoroughly
consider'd as it ought to be, which generally
makes them proportionably troublesome to the
Master, who they might consider only pays them to
profit by them. The Patentee therefore found it as
difficult to satisfy the continual Demands of
Wilks
as it was dangerous to refuse them; very few were
made that were not granted, and as few were granted
as were not grudg'd him: Not but our good Master
was as sly a Tyrant as ever was at the Head of a
Theatre; for he gave the Actors more Liberty, and
fewer Days Pay, than any of his Predecessors: He
would laugh with them over a Bottle, and bite
[252.1]
them in their Bargains: He kept them poor, that they might
not be able to rebel; and sometimes merry, that they
might not think of it: All their Articles of Agreement
had a Clause in them that he was sure to creep
out at,
viz. Their respective Sallaries were to be paid
in such manner and proportion as others of the same
Company were paid; which in effect made them all,
when he pleas'd, but limited Sharers of Loss, and
himself sole Proprietor of Profits; and this Loss or
Profit they only had such verbal Accounts of as he
thought proper to give them. 'Tis true, he would
sometimes advance them Money (but not more than
he knew at most could be due to them) upon their
Bonds; upon which, whenever they were mutinous,
he would threaten to sue them. This was the Net
we danc'd in for several Years: But no wonder we
were Dupes, while our Master was a Lawyer. This
Grievance, however,
Wilks was resolv'd, for himself
at least, to remedy at any rate; and grew daily more
intractable, for every Day his Redress was delay'd.
Here our Master found himself under a Difficulty
he knew not well how to get out of: For as he was
a close subtle Man, he seldom made use of a Confident
in his Schemes of Government:
[253.1]
But here the old Expedient of Delay would stand him in no
longer stead;
Wilks must instantly be comply'd
with, or
Powel come again into Power! In a word,
he was push'd so home, that he was reduc'd even to
take my Opinion into his Assistance: For he knew
I was a Rival to neither of them; perhaps, too, he
had fancy'd that, from the Success of my first Play,
I might know as much of the Stage, and what made
an Actor valuable, as either of them: He saw, too,
that tho' they had each of them five good Parts to
my one, yet the Applause which in my few I had
met with, was given me by better Judges than as
yet had approv'd of the best they had done. They
generally measured the goodness of a Part by the
Quantity or Length of it: I thought none bad for
being short that were closely-natural; nor any the
better for being long, without that valuable Quality.
But in this, I doubt, as to their Interest, they judg'd
better than myself; for I have generally observ'd
that those who do a great deal not ill, have been
preferr'd to those who do but little, though never so
masterly. And therefore I allow that, while there
were so few good Parts, and as few good Judges of
them, it ought to have been no Wonder to me, that
as an Actor I was less valued by the Master or the
common People than either of them: All the Advantage
I had of them was, that by not being troublesome
I had more of our Master's personal Inclination
than any Actor of the male Sex;
[254.1]
and so much of it, that I was almost the only one whom at that
time he us'd to take into his Parties of Pleasure;
very often
tete à tete, and sometimes in a
Partie
quarrèe. These then were the Qualifications, however
good or bad, to which may be imputed our
Master's having made choice of me to assist him in
the Difficulty under which he now labour'd. He
was himself sometimes inclin'd to set up
Powel again
as a Check upon the over-bearing Temper of
Wilks:
Tho' to say truth, he lik'd neither of them, but was
still under a Necessity that one of them should
preside, tho' he scarce knew which of the two Evils
to chuse. This Question, when I happen'd to be
alone with him, was often debated in our Evening
Conversation; nor, indeed, did I find it an easy
matter to know which Party I ought to recommend
to his Election. I knew they were neither of them
Well-wishers to me, as in common they were
Enemies to most Actors in proportion to the Merit
that seem'd to be rising in them. But as I had the
Prosperity of the Stage more at Heart than any
other Consideration, I could not be long undetermined
in my Opinion, and therefore gave it to our
Master at once in Favour of
Wilks. I, with all the
Force I could muster, insisted, "That if
Powel were
"preferr'd, the ill Example of his Negligence and
"abandon'd Character (whatever his Merit on the
"Stage might be) would reduce our Company to
"Contempt and Beggary; observing, at the same
"time, in how much better Order our Affairs went
"forward since
Wilks came among us, of which I
"recounted several Instances that are not so necessary
"to tire my reader with. All this, though he
"allow'd to be true, yet
Powel, he said, was a better
"Actor than
Wilks when he minded his Business
"(that is to say, when he was, what he seldom was,
"sober). But
Powel, it seems, had a still greater
"Merit to him, which was, (as he observ'd) that
"when Affairs were in his Hands, he had kept the
"Actors quiet, without one Day's Pay, for six
"Weeks together, and it wa snot every body could
"do that; for you see, said he,
Wilks will never be
"easy unless i give him his whole Pay, when others
"have it not, and what an Injustice would that be
"to the rest if I were to comply with him? How
"do I know but then they may be all in a Mutiny,
"and
mayhap (that was his Expression) with
Powel
"at the Head of 'em?" By this Specimen of our
Debate, it may be judg'd under how particular and
merry a Government the Theatre then labour'd.
To conclude, this Matter ended in a Resolution to
sign a new Agreement with
Wilks, which entitled
him to his full Pay of four Pounds a Week without
any conditional Deductions. How far soever my
Advice might have contributed to our Master's settling
his Affairs upon this Foot, I never durst make the
least Merit of it to
Wilks, well knowing that his
great Heart would have taken it as a mortal Affront
had I (tho' never so distantly) hinted that his
Demands had needed any Assistance but the Justice
of them. From this time, then,
Wilks became
first Minister, or Bustle-master-general of the Company.
[256.1]
He now seem'd to take new Delight in
keeping the Actors close to their Business, and got
every Play reviv'd with Care in which he had acted
the chief Part in
Dublin: 'Tis true, this might be
done with a particular View of setting off himself to
Advantage; but if at the same time it served the
Company, he ought not to want our Commendation:
Now, tho' my own Conduct neither had the Appearance
of his Merit, nor the Reward that follow'd his
Industry, I cannot help observing that it shew'd me,
to the best of my Power, a more cordial Commonwealth's
Man: His first Views in serving himself
made his Service to the whole but an incidental
Merit; whereas, by my prosecuting the Means to
make him easy in his Pay, unknown to him, or without
asking any Favour for my self at the same time,
I gave a more unquestionable Proof of my preferring
the Publick to my Private Interest: From the same
Principle I never murmur'd at whatever little Parts
fell to my Share, and though I knew it would not
recommend me to the Favour of the common
People, I often submitted to play wicked Characters
rather than they should be worse done by
weaker Actors than my self: But perhaps, in all this
Patience under my Situation, I supported my Spirits
by a conscious Vanity: For I fancied I had more
Reason to value myself upon being sometimes the
Confident and Companion of our Master, than
Wilks
had in all the more publick Favours he had extorted
from him. I imagined, too, there was sometimes as
much Skill to be shewn in a short Part, as in the
most voluminous, which he generally made choice
of; that even the coxcombly Follies of a Sir
John
Daw might as well distinguish the Capacity of an
Actor, as all the dry Enterprizes and busy Conduct
of a
Truewit.
[258.1]
Nor could I have any Reason to
repine at the Superiority he enjoy'd, when I consider'd
at how dear a Rate it was purchased, at the
continual Expence of a restless Jealousy and fretful
Impatience—These were the Passions that, in
the height of his Successes, kept him lean to his last
Hour, while what I wanted in Rank or Glory was
amply made up to me in Ease and Chearfulness.
But let not this Observation either lessen his Merit
or lift up my own; since our different Tempers were
not in our Choice, but equally natural to both of us.
To be employ'd on the Stage was the Delight of
his Life; to be justly excused from it was the Joy
of mine: I lov'd Ease, and he Pre-eminence: In
that, he might be more commendable. Tho' he
often disturb'd me, he seldom could do it without
more disordering himself.
[258.2]
In our Disputes, his
Warmth could less bear Truth than I could support
manifest Injuries: He would hazard our Undoing
to gratify his Passions, tho' otherwise an honest
Man; and I rather chose to give up my Reason, or
not see my Wrong, than ruin our Community by an
equal Rashness. By this opposite Conduct our
Accounts at the End of our Labours stood thus:
While he lived he was the elder Man, when he died
he was not so old as I am: He never left the Stage
till he left the World: I never so well enjoy'd the
World as when I left the Stage: He died in Possession
of his Wishes; and I, by having had a less
cholerick Ambition, am still tasting mine in Health
and Liberty. But as he in a great measure wore
out the Organs of Life in his incessant Labours to
gratify the Publick, the Many whom he gave Pleasure
to will always owe his Memory a favourable
Report—Some Facts that will vouch for the Truth
of this Account will be found in the Sequel of these
Memoirs. If I have spoke with more Freedom of
his quondam Competitor
Powel, let my good Intentions
to future Actors, in shewing what will so much
concern them to avoid, be my Excuse for it: For
though
Powel had from Nature much more than
Wilks; in Voice and Ear, in Elocution in Tragedy,
and Humour in Comedy, greatly the Advantage of
him; yet as I have observ'd, from the Neglect and
Abuse of those valuable Gifts, he suffer'd
Wilks to
be of thrice the Service to our Society. Let me
give another Instance of the Reward and Favour
which, in a Theatre, Diligence and Sobriety seldom
fail of:
Mills the elder
[259.1]
grew into the Friendship of
Wilks with not a great deal more than those useful
Qualities to recommend him: He was an honest,
quiet, careful Man, of as few Faults as Excellencies,
and
Wilks rather chose him for his second in many
Plays, than an Actor of perhaps greater Skill that
was not so laboriously diligent. And from this constant
Assiduity,
Mills, with making to himself a
Friend in
Wilks, was advanced to a larger Sallary
than any Man-Actor had enjoy'd during my time
on the Stage.
[260.1]
I have yet to offer a more happy
Recommendation of Temperance, which a late celebrated
Actor was warn'd into by the mis-conduct of
Powel. About the Year that
Wilks return'd from
Dublin, Booth, who had commenced Actor upon that
Theatre, came over to the Company in
Lincolns-Inn-Fields:
[260.2]
He was then but an Under-graduate of
the Buskin, and, as he told me himself, had been for
some time too frank a Lover of the Bottle; but
having had the Happiness to observe into what
Contempt and Distresses
Powel had plung'd himself
by the same Vice, he was so struck with the Terror
of his Example, that he fix'd a Resolution (which
from that time to the End of his Days he strictly
observ'd) of utterly reforming it; an uncommon Act
of Philosophy in a young Man! of which in his
Fame and Fortune he afterwards enjoy'd the Reward
and Benefit. These Observations I have not
merely thrown together as a Moralist, but to prove
that the briskest loose Liver or intemperate Man
(though Morality were out of the Question) can
never arrive at the necessary Excellencies of a good
or useful Actor.