University of Virginia Library

1.6. CHAPTER VI.

The Author's first Step upon the Stage. His Discouragements. The best Actors in Europe ill us'd. A Revolution in their Favour. King William grants them a Licence to act in Lincoln's-Inn Fields. The Author's Distress in being thought a worse Actor than a Poet. Reduc'd to write a Part for himself. His Success. More Remarks upon Theatrical Action. Some upon himself.

HAVING given you the State of the Theatre at my first Admission to it, I am now drawing towards the several Revolutions it suffer'd in my own Time. But (as you find by the setting out of my History) that I always intended myself the Heroe of it, it may be necessary to let you know me in my Obscurity, as well as in my higher Light, when I became one of the Theatrical Triumvirat.

The Patentees, [181.1] who were now Masters of this united and only Company of Comedians, seem'd to make it a Rule that no young Persons desirous to be Actors should be admitted into Pay under at least half a Year's Probation, wisely knowing that how early soever they might be approv'd of, there could be no great fear of losing them while they had then no other Market to go to. But, alas! Pay was the least of my Concern; the Joy and Privilege of every Day seeing Plays for nothing I thought was a sufficient Consideration for the best of my Services. So that it was no Pain to my Patience that I waited full three Quarters of a Year before I was taken into a Salary of Ten Shillings per Week; [181.2] which, with the Assistance of Food and Raiment at my Father's

House, I then thought a most plentiful Accession, and myself the happiest of Mortals.

The first Thing that enters into the Head of a young Actor is that of being a Heroe: In this Ambition I was soon snubb'd by the Insufficiency of my Voice; to which might be added an uninform'd meagre Person, (tho' then not ill made) with a dismal pale Complexion. [182.1] Under these Disadvantages,[182.2] I had but a melancholy Prospect of ever playing a Lover with Mrs. Bracegirdle, which I had flatter'd my Hopes that my Youth might one Day have recommended me to. What was most promising in me, then, was the Aptness of my Ear; for I was soon allow'd to speak

justly, tho' what was grave and serious did not equally become me. The first Part, therefore, in which I appear'd with any glimpse of Success, was the Chaplain [183.1] in the Orphan of Otway. There is in this Character (of one Scene only) a decent Pleasantry, and Sense enough to shew an Audience whether the Actor has any himself. Here was the first Applause I ever receiv'd, which, you may be sure, made my Heart leap with a higher Joy than may be necessary to describe; and yet my Transport was not then half so high as at what Goodman (who had now left the Stage) said of me the next Day in my hearing. Goodman often came to a Rehearsal for Amusement, and having sate out the Orphan the Day before, in a Conversation with some of the principal Actors enquir'd what new young Fellow that was whom he had seen in the Chaplain? Upon which Monfort reply'd, That's he, behind you. Goodman then turning about, look'd earnestly at me, and, after some Pause, clapping me on the Shoulder, rejoin'd, If he does not make a good Actor, I'll be d—'d! The Surprize of being commended by one who had been himself so eminent on the Stage, and in so positive a manner, was more than I could support; in a Word, it almost took away my Breath, and (laugh, if you please) fairly drew Tears from my Eyes! And, tho' it may be as ridiculous as incredible to tell you what a full Vanity and Content at that time possess'd me, I will still make it a Question whether Alexander himself, or Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, when at the Head of their first victorious Armies, could feel a greater Transport in their Bosoms than I did then in mine, when but in the Rear of this Troop of Comedians. You see to what low Particulars I am forc'd to descend to give you a true Resemblance of the early and lively Follies of my Mind. Let me give you another Instance of my Discretion, more desperate than that of preferring the Stage to any other Views of Life. One might think that the Madness of breaking from the Advice and Care of Parents to turn Player could not easily be exceeded: But what think you, Sir, of—-Matrimony? which, before I was Two-and-twenty, I actually committed, [184.1] when I had but Twenty Pounds a Year, which my Father had assur'd to me, and Twenty Shillings a Week from my Theatrical Labours, to maintain, as I then thought, the happiest young Couple that ever took a Leap in the Dark! If after this, to complete my Fortune, I turn'd Poet too, this last Folly indeed had something a better Excuse—Necessity: Had it never been my Lot to have come on the Stage, 'tis probable I might never have been inclin'd or reduc'd to have wrote for it: But having once expos'd my Person there, I thought it could be no additional Dishonour to let my Parts, whatever they were, take their Fortune along with it.—But to return to the Progress I made as an Actor.

Queen Mary having commanded the Double Dealer to be acted, Kynaston happen'd to be so ill that he could not hope to be able next Day to perform his Part of the Lord Touchwood. In this Exigence, the Author, Mr. Congreve, advis'd that it might be given to me, if at so short a Warning I would undertake it. [185.1] The Flattery of being thus distinguish'd by so celebrated an Author, and the Honour to act before a Queen, you may be sure made me blind to whatever Difficulties might attend it. I accepted the Part, and was ready in it before I slept; next Day the Queen was present at the Play, and was receiv'd with a new Prologue from the Author, spoken by Mrs. Barry, humbly acknowledging the great Honour done to the Stage, and to his Play in particular: Two Lines of it, which tho' I have not since read, I still remember.

After the Play, Mr. Congreve made me the Compliment of saying, That I had not only answer'd, but had exceeded his Expectations, and that he would shew me he was sincere by his saying more of me to the Masters.—He was as good as his Word, and the next Pay-day I found my Sallary of fifteen was then advanc'd to twenty Shillings a Week. But alas! this favourable Opinion of Mr. Congreve made no farther Impression upon the Judgment of my good Masters; it only serv'd to heighten my own Vanity, but could not recommend me to any new Trials of my Capacity; not a Step farther could I get 'till the Company was again divided, when the Desertion of the best Actors left a clear Stage for younger Champions to mount and shew their best Pretensions to Favour. But it is now time to enter upon those Facts that immediately preceded this remarkable Revolution of the Theatre.

You have seen how complete a Set of Actors were under the Government of the united Patents in 1690; if their Gains were not extraordinary, what shall we impute it to but some extraordinary ill Menagement? I was then too young to be in their Secrets, and therefore can only observe upon what I saw and have since thought visibly wrong.

Though the Success of the Prophetess [187.1] and King Arthur [187.2] (two dramatic Operas, in which the Patentees had embark'd all their Hopes) was in Appearance very great, yet their whole Receipts did not so far balance their Expence as to keep them out of a large Debt, which it was publickly known was about this time contracted, and which found Work for the Court of Chancery for about twenty Years following, till one side of the Cause grew weary. But this was not all that was wrong; every Branch of the Theatrical Trade had been sacrific'd to the necessary fitting out those tall Ships of Burthen that were to bring home the Indies. Plays of course were neglected, Actors held cheap, and slightly dress'd, while Singers and Dancers were better paid, and embroider'd. These Measures, of course, created Murmurings on one side, and Ill-humour and Contempt on the other. When it became necessary therefore to lessen the Charge, a Resolution was

taken to begin with the Sallaries of the Actors; and what seem'd to make this Resolution more necessary at this time was the Loss of Nokes, Monfort, and Leigh, who all dy'd about the same Year: [188.1] No wonder then, if when these great Pillars were at once remov'd, the Building grew weaker and the Audiences very much abated. Now in this Distress, what more natural Remedy could be found than to incite and encourage (tho' with some Hazard) the Industry of the surviving Actors? But the Patentees, it seems, thought the surer way as to bring down their Pay in proportion to the Fall of their Audiences. To make this Project more feasible they propos'd to begin at the Head of 'em, rightly judging that if the Principals acquiesc'd, their Inferiors would murmur in vain. To bring this about with a better Grace, they, under Pretence of bringing younger Actors forward, order'd several of Betterton's and Mrs. Barry's chief Parts to be given to young Powel and Mrs. Bracegirdle. In this they committed two palpable Errors; for while the best Actors are in Health, and still on the Stage, the Publick is always apt to be out of Humour when those of a lower Class pretend to stand in their Places; or admitting at this time they might have been accepted, this Project might very probably have lessen'd, but could not possibly mend an Audience, and was a sure Loss of that Time, in studying, which might have

Mrs. Bracegirdle as "The Indian Queen"

[Description: Mezzotint Portrait, engraved by R.B. Parkes. Mrs. Bracegirdle as "The Indian Queen," in the play by Sir R. Howard and J. Dryden. After the picture by J. Smith and W. Vincent.]

been better employ'd in giving the Auditor Variety, the only Temptation to a pall'd Appetite; and Variety is only to be given by Industry: But Industry will always be lame when the Actor has Reason to be discontented. This the Patentees did not consider, or pretended not to value, while they thought their Power secure and uncontroulable: But farther their first Project did not succeed; for tho' the giddy Head of Powel accepted the Parts of Betterton, Mrs. Bracegirdle had a different way of thinking, and desir'd to be excus'd from those of Mrs. Barry; her good Sense was not to be misled by the insidious Favour of the Patentees; she knew the Stage was wide enough for her Success, without entring into any such rash and invidious Competition with Mrs. Barry, and therefore wholly refus'd acting any Part that properly belong'd to her. But this Proceeding, however, was Warning enough to make Betterton be upon his Guard, and to alarm others with Apprehensions of their own Safety, from the Design that was laid against him: Betterton upon this drew into his Party most of the valuable Actors, who, to secure their Unity, enter'd with him into a sort of Association to stand or fall together. [189.1] All this the Patentees for some time slighted; but when Matters drew towards a Crisis, they found it adviseable to take the same Measures, and accordingly open'd an Association on their part; both which were severally sign'd, as the Interest of Inclination of either Side led them.

During these Contentions which the impolitick Patentees had rais'd against themselves (not only by this I have mentioned, but by many other Grievances which my Memory retains not) the Actors offer'd a Treaty of Peace; but their Masters imagining no Consequence could shake the Right of their Authority, refus'd all Terms of Accommodation. In the mean time this Dissention was so prejudicial to their daily Affairs, that I remember it was allow'd by both Parties that before Christmas the Patent had lost the getting of at least a thousand Pounds by it.

My having been a Witness of this unnecessary Rupture was of great use to me when, many Years after, I came to be a Menager my self. I laid it down as a settled Maxim, that no Company could flourish while the chief Actors and the Undertakers were at variance. I therefore made it a Point, while it was possible upon tolerable Terms, to keep the valuable Actors in humour with their Station; and tho' I was as jealous of their Encroachments as any of my Co-partners could be, I always guarded against the least Warmth in my Expostulations with them; not but at the same time they might see I was perhaps more determin'd in the Question than those that gave a loose to their Resentment, and

when they were cool were as apt to recede. [191.1] I do not remember that ever I made a Promise to any that I did not keep, and therefore was cautious how I made them. This Coldness, tho' it might not please, at least left them nothing to reproach me with; and if Temper and fair Words could prevent a Disobligation, I was sure never to give Offence or receive it. [191.2] But as I was but one of three, I could not oblige others to observe the same Conduct. However, by this means I kept many an unreasonable Discontent from breaking out, and both Sides found their Account in it.

How a contemptuous and overbearing manner of treating Actors had like to have ruin'd us in our early Prosperity shall be shewn in its Place. [191.3] If future Menagers should chance to think my way right, I suppose they will follow it; if not, when they find what happen'd to the Patentees (who chose to disagree with their People) perhaps they may think better of it.

The Patentees then, who by their united Powers

had made a Monopoly of the Stage, and consequently presum'd they might impose what Conditions they pleased upon their People, did not consider that they were all this while endeavouring to enslave a Set of Actors whom the Publick (more arbitrary than themselves) were inclined to support; nor did they reflect that the Spectator naturally wish'd that the Actor who gave him Delight might enjoy the Profits arising from his Labour, without regard of what pretended Damage or Injustice might fall upon his Owners, whose personal Merit the Publick was not so well acquainted with,. From this Consideration, then, several Persons of the highest Distinction espous'd their Cause, and sometimes in the Circle entertain'd the King with the State of the Theatre. At length their Grievances were laid before the Earl of Dorset, then Lord Chamberlain, who took the most effectual Method for their Relief. [192.1] The Learned of the Law were advised with, and they gave their Opinion that no Patent for acting Plays, &c. could tie up the Hands of a succeeding Prince from granting the like Authority where it might be thought proper to trust it. But while this Affair was in Agitation, Queen Mary dy'd, [193.1] which of course occasion'd a Cessation of all publick Diversions. In this melancholy Interim, Betterton and his Adherents had more Leisure to sollicit their Redress; and the Patentees now finding that the Party against them was gathering Strength, were reduced to make sure of as good a Company as the Leavings of Betterton's Interest could form; and these, you may be sure, would not lose this Occasion of setting a Price upon their Merit equal to their own Opinion of it, which was but just double to what they had before. Powel and Verbruggen, who had then but forty Shillings a Week, were now raised each of them to four Pounds, and others in Proportion: As for myself, I was then too insignificant to be taken into their Councils, and consequently stood among those of little Importance, like Cattle in a Market, to be sold to the first Bidder. But the Patentees seeming in the greater Distress for Actors, condescended to purchase me. Thus, without any farther Merit than that of being a scarce Commodity, I was advanc'd to thirty Shillings a Week: Yet our Company was so far from being full, [194.1] that our Commanders were forced to beat up for Volunteers in several distant Counties; it was this Occasion that first brought Johnson [194.2] and Bullock [194.3] to the Service of the Theatre-Royal.

Forces being thus raised, and the War declared on both Sides, Betterton and his Chiefs had the Honour of an Audience of the King, who consider'd them as the only Subjects whom he had not yet deliver'd from arbitrary Power, and graciously dismiss'd them with an Assurance of Relief and Support —Accordingly a select number of them were impower'd by his Royal Licence [194.4] to act in a separate Theatre for themselves. This great Point being obtain'd, many People of Quality came into a voluntary Subscription of twenty, and some of forty Guineas a-piece, for erecting a Theatre within the Walls of the Tennis-Court in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. [194.5] But as

it required Time to fit it up, it gave the Patentees more Leisure to muster their Forces, who notwithstanding were not able to take the Field till the Easter-Monday in April following. Their first Attempt was a reviv'd Play call'd Abdelazar, or the Moor's Revenge, poorly written, by Mrs. Behn. The House was very full, but whether it was the Play or the Actors that were not approved, the next Day's Audience sunk to nothing. However, we were assured that let the Audiences be never so low, our Masters would make good all Deficiencies, and so indeed they did, 'till towards the End of the Season, when Dues to Ballance came too thick upon 'em. But that I may go gradually on with my own Fortune, I must take this Occasion to let you know, by the following Circumstance, how very low my Capacity as an Actor was then rated: It was thought necessary at our Opening that the Town should be address'd in a new Prologue; but to our great Distress, among several that were offer'd, not one was judg'd fit to be spoken. This I thought a favourable Occasion to do my self some remarkable Service, if I should have the good Fortune to produce one that might be accepted. The next (memorable) Day my Muse brought forth her first Fruit that was ever made publick; how good or bad imports not; my Prologue was accepted, and resolv'd on to be spoken. This Point being gain'd, I began to stand upon Terms, you will say, not unreasonable; which were, that if I might speak it my self I would expect no farther Reward for my Labour: This was judg'd as bad as having no Prologue at all! You may imagine how hard I thought it, that they durst not trust my poor poetical Brat to my own Care. But since I found it was to be given into other Hands, I insisted that two Guineas should be the Price of my parting with it; which with a Sigh I received, and Powel spoke the Prologue: But every Line that was applauded went sorely to my Heart when I reflected that the same Praise might have been given to my own speaking; nor could the Success of the Author compensate the Distress of the Actor. However, in the End, it serv'd in some sort to mend our People's Opinion of me; and whatever the Criticks might think of it, one of the Patentees [196.1] (who, it is true, knew no Difference between Dryden and D'urfey) said, upon the Success of it, that insooth! I was an ingenious young Man. This sober Compliment (tho' I could have no Reason to be vain upon it) I thought was a fair Promise to my being in favour. But to Matters of more Moment: Now let us reconnoitre the Enemy.

After we had stolen some few Days March upon them, the Forces of Betterton came up with us in terrible Order: In about three Weeks following, the new Theatre was open'd against us with a veteran Company and a new Train of Artillery; or in plainer

English, the old Actors in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields began with a new Comedy of Mr. Congreve's, call'd Love for Love; [197.1] which ran on with such extraordinary Success that they had seldom occasion to act any other Play 'till the End of the Season. This valuable Play had a narrow Escape from falling into the Hands of the Patentees; for before the Division of the Company it had been read and accepted of at the Theatre-Royal: But while the Articles of Agreement for it were preparing, the Rupture in the Theatrical State was so far advanced that the Author took time to pause before he sign'd them; when finding that all Hopes of Accommodation were impracticable, he thought it advisable to let it take its Fortune with those Actors for whom he had first intended the Parts.

Mr. Congreve was then in such high Reputation as an Author, that besides his Profits from this Play, they offered him a whole Share with them, which he accepted; [197.2] in Consideration of which he oblig'd himself, if his Health permitted, to give them one new Play every Year. [197.3] Dryden, in King Charles's

Time, had the same Share with the King's Company, but he bound himself to give them two Plays every Season. This you may imagine he could not hold long, and I am apt to think he might have serv'd them better with one in a Year, not so hastily written. Mr. Congreve, whatever Impediment he met with, was three Years before, in pursuance to his Agreement, he produced the Mourning Bride; [199.1] and if I mistake not, the Interval had been much the same when he gave them the Way of the World. [200.1] But it came out the stronger for the Time it cost him, and to their better support when they sorely wanted it: For though they went on with Success for a Year or two, and even when their Affairs were declining stood in much higher Estimation of the Publick than their Opponents; yet in the End both Sides were great Sufferers by their Separation; the natural Consequence of two Houses, which I have already mention'd in a former Chapter.

The first Error this new Colony of Actors fell into was their inconsiderately parting with Williams and Mrs. Monfort [200.2] upon a too nice (not to say severe) Punctilio; in not allowing them to be equal Sharers with the rest; which before they had acted one Play occasioned their Return to the Service of the Patentees. As I have call'd this an Error, I ought to give my Reasons for it. Though the Industry of Williams was not equal to his Capacity; for he lov'd his Bottle better than his Business; and though Mrs. Monfort was only excellent in Comedy, yet their Merit was too great almost on any Scruples to be added to the Enemy; and at worst, they were certainly much more above those they would have ranked them with than they could possibly be under

those they were not admitted to be equal to. Of this Fact there is a poetical Record in the Prologue to Love for Love, where the Author, speaking of the then happy State of the Stage, observes that if, in Paradise, when two only were there, they both fell; the Surpize was less, if from so numerous a Body as theirs, there had been any Deserters.

These Lines alluded to the Revolt of the Persons above mention'd.

Notwithstanding the Acquisition of these two Actors, who were of more Importance than any of those to whose Assistance they came, the Affairs of the Patentees were still in a very creeping Condition; [201.2] they were now, too late, convinced of their Error in having provok'd their People to this Civil

War of the Theatre! quite changed and dismal now was the Prospect before them! their Houses thin, and the Town crowding into a new one! Actors at double Sallaries, and not half the usual Audiences to pay them! And all this brought upon them by those whom their full Security had contemn'd, and who were now in a fair way of making their Fortunes upon the ruined Interest of their Oppressors.

Here, tho' at this time my Fortune depended on the Success of the Patentees, I cannot help in regard to Truth remembring the rude and riotous Havock we made of all the late dramatic Honours of the Theatre! all became at once the Spoil of Ignorance and Self-conceit! Shakespear was defac'd and tortured in every signal Character—Hamlet and Othello lost in one Hour all their good Sense, their Dignity and Fame. Brutus and Cassius became noisy Blusterers, with bold unmeaning Eyes, mistaken Sentiments, and turgid Elocution! Nothing, sure, could more painfully regret [202.1] a judicious Spectator than to see, at our first setting out, with what rude Confidence those Habits which actors of real Merit had left behind them were worn by giddy Pretenders that so vulgarly disgraced them! Not young Lawyers in hir'd Robes and Plumes at a Masquerade could be

less what they would seem, or more aukwardly personate the Characters they belong'd to. If, in all these Acts of wanton Waste, these Insults upon injur'd Nature, you observe I have not yet charged one of them upon myself, it is not from an imaginary Vanity that I could have avoided them; but that I was rather safe, by being too low at that time to be admitted even to my Chance of falling into the same eminent Errors: So that as none of those great Parts ever fell to my Share, I could not be accountable for the Execution of them: Nor indeed could I get one good Part of any kind 'till many Months after; unless it were of that sort which no body else car'd for, or would venture to expose themselves in. [203.1] The first unintended Favour, therefore, of a Part of any Value, Necessity threw upon me on the following Occasion.

As it has been always judg'd their natural Interest, where there are two Theatres, to do one another as

much Mischief as they can, you may imagine it could not be long before this hostile Policy shew'd itself in Action. It happen'd, upon our having Information on a Saturday Morning that the Tuesday after Hamlet was intended to be acted at the other House, where it had not yet been seen, our merry menaging Actors, (for they were now in a manner left to govern themselves) resolv'd at any rate to steal a March upon the Enemy, and take Possession of the same Play the Day before them: Accordingly, Hamlet was given out that Night to be Acted with us on Monday. The Notice of this sudden Enterprize soon reach'd the other House, who in my Opinion too much regarded it; for they shorten'd their first Orders, and resolv'd that Hamlet should to Hamlet be opposed on the same Day; whereas, had they given notice in their Bills that the same Play would have been acted by them the Day after, the Town would have been in no Doubt which House they should have reserved themselves for; ours must certainly have been empty, and theirs, with more Honour, have been crowded: Experience, many Years after, in like Cases, has convinced me that this would have been the more laudable Conduct. But be that as it may; when in their Monday's Bills it was seen that Hamlet was up against us, our Consternation was terrible, to find that so hopeful a Project was frustrated. In this Distress, Powel, who was our commanding Officer, and whose enterprising Head wanted nothing but Skill to carry him through

William Bullock

[Description: Mezzotint Portrait, engraved by R.B. Parkes. William Bullock. After the picture by Thomas Johnson. Ad Vivum pinxit et fecit]

the most desperate Attempts; for, like others of his Cast, he had murder'd many a Hero only to get into his Cloaths. This Powel, I say, immediately called a Council of War, where the Question was, Whether he should fairly face the Enemy, or make a Retreat to some other Play of more probable Safety? It was soon resolved that to act Hamlet against Hamlet would be certainly throwing away the Play, and disgracing themselves to little or no Audience; to conclude, Powel, who was vain enough to envy Betterton as his Rival, proposed to change Plays with them, and that as they had given out the Old Batchelor, and had chang'd it for Hamlet against us, we should give up our Hamlet and turn the Old Batchelor upon them. This Motion was agreed to, Nemine contradicente; but upon Enquiry, it was found that there were not two Persons among them who had ever acted in that Play: But that Objection, it seems, (though all the Parts were to be study'd in six Hours) was soon got over; Powel had an Equivalent, in petto. that would ballance any Deficiency on that Score, which was, that he would play the Old Batchelor himself, and mimick Betterton throughout the whole Part. This happy Thought was approv'd with Delight and Applause, as whatever can be suppos'd to ridicule Merit generally gives joy to those that want it: Accordingly the Bills were chang'd, and at the Bottom inserted, The Part of the Old Batchelor to be perform'd in Imitation of the Original. Printed Books of the Play were sent for in haste, and every Actor had one to pick out of it the Part he had chosen: Thus, while they were each of them chewing the Morsel they had most mind to, some one happening to cast his Eye over the Dramatis Personæ, found that the main Matter was still forgot, that no body had yet been thought of for the Part of Alderman Fondlewife. Here we were all aground agen! nor was it to be conceiv'd who could make the least tolerable Shift with it. This Character had been so admirably acted by Dogget, that though it is only seen in the Fourth Act, it may be no Dispraise to the Play to say it probably ow'd the greatest Part of its Success to his Performance. But, as the Case was now desperate, any Resource was better than none. Somebody must swallow the bitter Pill, or the Play must die. At last it was recollected that I had been heard to say in my wild way of talking, what a vast mind I had to play Nykin, by which Name the Character was more frequently call'd. [206.1] Notwithstanding they were thus distress'd about the Disposal of this Part, most of them shook their Heads at my being mention'd for it; yet Powel, who was resolv'd at all Hazards to fall upon Betterton, and having no concern for what might become of any one that serv'd his Ends or Purpose, order'd me to be sent for; and, as he naturally lov'd to set other People wrong, honestly said before I came, If the Fool has a mind to blow himself up at once, let us ev'n give him a clear Stage for it. Accordingly the Part was put into my Hands between Eleven and Twelve that Morning, which I durst not refuse, because others were as much straitned in time for Study as myself. But I had this casual Advantage of most of them; that having so constantly observ'd Dogget's Performance, I wanted but little Trouble to make me perfect in the Words; so that when it came to my turn to rehearse, while others read their Parts from their Books, I had put mine in my Pocket, and went thro' the first Scene without it; and though I was more abash'd to rehearse so remarkable a Part before the Actors (which is natural to most young People) than to act before an Audience, yet some of the better-natur'd encouraged me so far as to say they did not think I should make an ill Figure in it: To conclude, the Curiosity to see Betterton mimick'd drew us a pretty good Audience, and Powel (as far as Applause is a Proof of it) was allow'd to have burlesqu'd him very well. [207.1] As I have question'd the certain Value of Applause, I hope I may venture with less Vanity to say how particular a Share I had of it in the same Play. At my first Appearance one might have imagin'd by the various Murmurs of the Audience, that they were in doubt whether Dogget himself were not return'd, or that they could not conceive what strange Face it could be that so nearly resembled him; for I had laid the Tint of forty Years more than my real Age upon my Features, and, to the most minute placing of an Hair, was dressed exactly like him: When I spoke, the Surprize was still greater, as if I had not only borrow'd his Cloaths, but his Voice too. But tho' that was the least difficult Part of him to be imitated, they seem'd to allow I had so much of him in every other Requisite, that my Applause was, perhaps, more than proportionable: For, whether I had done so much where so little was expected, or that the Generosity of my Hearers were more than usually zealous upon so unexpected an Occasion, or from what other Motive such Favour might be pour'd upon me, I cannot say; but in plain and honest Truth, upon my gong off from the first Scene, a much better Actor might have been proud of the Applause that followed me; after one loud Plaudit was ended and sunk into a general Whisper that seem'd still to continue their private Approbation, it reviv'd to a second, and again to a third, still louder than the former. If to all this I add, that Dogget himself was in the Pit at the same time, it would be too rank Affectation if I should not confess that to see him there a Witness of my Reception, was to me as consummate a Triumph as the Heart of Vanity could be indulg'd with. But whatever Vanity I might set upon my self from this unexpected Success, I found that was no Rule to other People's Judgment of me. There were few or no Parts of the same kind to be had; nor could they conceive, from what I had done in this, what other sort of Characters I could be fit for. If I sollicited for any thing of a different Nature, I was answered, That was not in my Way. And what was in my way it seems was not as yet resolv'd upon. And though I reply'd, That I thought any thing naturally written ought to be in every one's Way that pretended to be an Actor; this was looked upon as a vain, impracticable Conceit of my own. Yet it is a Conceit that, in forty Years farther Experience, I have not yet given up; I still think that a Painter who can draw but one sort of Object, or an Actor that shines but in one Light, can neither of them boast of that ample Genius which is necessary to form a thorough Master of his Art: For tho' Genius may have a particular Inclination, yet a good History-Painter, or a good Actor, will, without being at a loss, give you upon Demand a proper Likeness of whatever nature produces. If he cannot do this, he is only an Actor as the Shoemaker was allow'd a limited Judge of Apelle's Painting, but not beyond his Last. Now, tho' to do any one thing well may have more Merit than we often meet with, and may be enough to procure a Man the Name of a good Actor from the Publick; yet, in my Opinion, it is but still the Name without the Substance. If his Talent is in such narrow Bounds that he dares not step out of them to look upon the Singularities of Mankind, and cannot catch them in whatever Form they present themselves; if he is not Master of the Quicquid agunt homines, [210.1] &c. in any Shape Human Nature is fit to be seen in; if he cannot change himself into several distinct Persons, so as to vary his whole Tone of Voice, his Motion, his Look and Gesture, whether in high or lower Life, and, at the same time, keep close to those Variations without leaving the Character they singly belong to; if his best Skill falls short of this Capacity, what Pretence have we to call him a complete Master of his Art? And tho' I do not insist that he ought always to shew himself in these various Lights, yet, before we compliment him with that Title, he ought at least, by some few Proofs, to let us see that he has them all in his Power. If I am ask'd, who, ever, arriv'd at this imaginary Excellence, I confess the Instances are very few; but I will venture to name Monfort as one of them, whose Theatrical Character I have given in my last Chapter: For in his Youth he had acted Low Humour with great Success, even down to Tallboy in the Jovial Crew; and when he was in great Esteem as a Tragedian, he was, in Comedy, the most complete Gentleman that I ever saw upon the Stage. Let me add, too, that Betterton, in his declining Age, was as eminent in Sir John Falstaff, as in the Vigour of it, in his Othello.

While I thus measure the Value of an Actor by the Variety of Shapes he is able to throw himself into, you may naturally suspect that I am all this while leading my own Theatrical Character into your Favour: Why really, to speak as an honest Man, I cannot wholly deny it: But in this I shall endeavour to be no farther partial to myself than known Facts will make me; from the good or bad Evidence of which your better Judgment will condemn or acquit me. And to shew you that I will conceal no Truth that is against me, I frankly own that had I been always left to my own choice of Characters, I am doubtful whether I might ever had deserv'd an equal Share of that Estimation which the Publick seem'd to have held me in: Nor am I sure that it was not Vanity in me often to have suspected that I was kept out of the Parts I had most mind to by the Jealousy or Prejudice of my Cotemporaries; some Instances of which I could give you, were they not too slight to be remember'd: In the mean time, be pleas'd to observe how slowly, in my younger Days, my Good-fortune came forward.

My early Success in the Old Batchelor, of which I have given so full an Account, having open'd no farther way to my Advancement, was enough, perhaps, to have made a young Fellow of more Modesty despair; but being of a Temper not easily dishearten'd, I resolv'd to leave nothing unattempted that might shew me in some new Rank of Distinction. Having then no other Resource, I was at last reduc'd to write a Character for myself; but as that was not finish'd till about a Year after, I could not, in the Interim, procure any one Part that gave me the least Inclination to act it; and consequently such as I got I perform'd with a proportionable Negligence. But this Misfortune, if it were one, you are not to wonder at; for the same Fate attended me, more or less, to the last Days of my remaining on the Stage. What Defect in me this may have been owing to, I have not yet had Sense enough to find out; but I soon found out as good a thing, which was, never to be mortify'd at it: Though I am afraid this seeming Philosophy was rather owing to my Inclination to Pleasure than Business. But to my Point. The next Year I produc'd the Comedy of Love's last Shift; yet the Difficulty of getting it to the Stage was not easily surmounted; for, at that time, as little was expected form me, as an Author, as had been from my Pretensions to be an Actor. However, Mr. Southern, the Author of Oroonoko, having had the Patience to hear me read it to him, happened to like it so well that he immediately recommended it to the Patentees,

and it was accordingly acted in January 1695. [213.1] In this Play I gave myself the Part of Sir Novelty, which was thought a good Portrait of the Foppery then in fashion. Here, too, Mr. Southern, though he had approv'd my Play, came into the common Diffidence of me as an Actor: For, when on the first Day of it I was standing, myself, to prompt the Prologue, he took me by the Hand and said, Young Man! I pronounce thy Play a good one; I will answer for its Success, [213.2] if thou dost not spoil it by thy own Action. Though this might be a fair Salvo for his favourable Judgment of the Play, yet, if it were his real Opinion of me as an Actor, I had the good Fortune to deceive him: I succeeded so well in both, that People seem'd at a loss which they should give the Preference to. [214.1] But (now let me shew a little more Vanity, and my Apology for it shall come after) the Compliment which my Lord Dorset (then Lord-Chamberlain) made me upon it is, I own, what I had rather not suppress, viz. That it was the best First Play that any Author in his Memory had produc'd; and that for a young Fellow to shew himself such an Actor and such a Writer in one Day, was something extraordinary. But as this noble Lord has been celebrated for his Good-nature, I am contented that as much of this Compliment should be suppos'd to exceed my Deserts as may be imagin'd to have been heighten'd by his generous Inclination to encourage a young Beginner. If this Excuse cannot soften the Vanity of telling a Truth so much in my own Favour, I must lie at the Mercy of my Reader. But there was a still higher Compliment pass'd upon me which I may publish without Vanity, because it was not a design'd one, and apparently came from my Enemies, viz. That, to their certain Knowledge, it was not my own: This Report is taken notice of in my Dedication to the Play. [214.2] If they spoke Truth, if they knew what other Person it really belong'd to, I will at least allow them true to their Trust; for above forty Years have since past, and they have not yet reveal'd the Secret. [215.1]

The new Light in which the Character of Sir Novelty had shewn me, one might have thought were enough to have dissipated the Doubts of what I might now be possibly good for. But to whatever Chance my Ill-fortune was due; whether I had still but little Merit, or that the Menagers, if I had any, were not competent Judges of it; or whether I was not generally elbow'd by other Actors (which I am most inclin'd to think the true Cause) when any fresh Parts were to be dispos'd of, not one Part of any consequence was I preferr'd to 'till the Year following: Then, indeed, from Sir John Vanbrugh's favourable

Opinion of me, I began, with others, to have a better of myself: For he not only did me Honour as an Author by writing his Relapse as a Sequel or Second Part of Love's last Shift, but as an Actor too, by preferring me to the chief Character in his own Play, (which from Sir Novelty) he had ennobled by the Style of Baron of Foppington. This Play (the Relapse) from its new and easy Turn of Wit, had great Success, and gave me, as a Comedian, a second Flight of Reputation along with it. [216.1]

As the Matter I write must be very flat or impertinent to those who have no Taste or Concern for the Stage, and may to those who delight in it, too, be equally tedious when I talk of no body but myself, I shall endeavour to relieve your Patience by a Word or two more of this Gentleman, so far as he lent his Pen to the Support of the Theatre.

Though the Relapse was the first Play this agreeable Author produc'd, yet it was not, it seems, the first he had written; for he had at that time by him (more than) all the Scenes that were acted of the Provok'd Wife; but being then doubtful whether he should ever trust them to the Stage, he thought no more of it: But after the Success of the Relapse he was more strongly importun'd than able to refuse it

to the Publick. Why the last-written Play was first acted, and for what Reason they were given to different Stages, what follows will explain.

In his first Step into publick Life, when he was but an Ensign and had a Heart above his Income, he happen'd somewhere at his Winter-Quarters, upon a very slender Acquaintance with Sir Thomas Skipwith, to receive a particular Obligation from him which he had not forgot at the Time I am speaking of: When Sir Thomas's Interest in the Theatrical Patent (for he had a large Share in it, though he little concern'd himself in the Conduct of it) was rising but very slowly, he thought that to give it a Lift by a new Comedy, if it succeeded, might be the handsomest Return he could make to those his former Favours; and having observ'd that in Love's last Shift most of the Actors had acquitted themselves beyond what was expected of them, he took a sudden Hint from what he lik'd in that Play, and in less than three Months, in the beginning of April following, brought us the Relapse finish'd; but the Season being then too far advanc'd, it was not acted 'till the succeeding Winter. Upon the Success of the Relapse the late Lord Hallifax, who was a great Favourer of Betterton's Company, having formerly, by way of Family-Amusement, heard the Provok'd Wife read to him in its looser Sheets, engag'd Sir John Vanbrugh to revise it and gave it to the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. This was a Request not to be refus'd to so eminent a Patron of the Muses as the

Lord Hallifax, who was equally a Friend and Admirer of Sir John himself. [218.1] Nor was Sir Thomas Skipwith in the least disobliged by so reasonable a Compliance: After which, Sir John was agen at liberty to repeat his Civilities to his Friend Sir Thomas, and about the same time, or not long after, gave us the Comedy of Æsop, for his Inclination always led him to serve Sir Thomas. Besides, our Company about this time began to be look'd upon in another Light; the late Contempt we had lain under was now wearing off, and from the Success of two or three new Plays, our Actors, by being Originals in a few good Parts where they had not the Disadvantage of Comparison against them, sometimes found new Favour in those old Plays where others had exceeded them. [218.2]

Of this Good-fortune perhaps I had more than my Share from the two very different chief Characters I had succeeded in; for I was equally approv'd in Æsop as the Lord Foppington, allowing the Difference to be no less than as Wisdom in a Person deform'd may be less entertaining to the general Taste than

Folly and Foppery finely drest: For the Character that delivers Precepts of Wisdom is, in some sort, severe upon the Auditor by shewing him one wiser than himself. But when Folly is his Object he applauds himself for being wiser than the Coxcomb he laughs at: And who is not more pleas'd with an Occasion to commend than accuse himself?

Though to write much in a little time is no Excuse for writing ill; yet Sir John Vanbrugh's Pen is not to be a little admir'd for its Spirit, Ease, and Readiness in producing Plays so fast upon the Neck of one another; for, notwithstanding this quick Dispatch, there is a clear and lively Simplicity in his Wit that neither wants the Ornament of Learning nor has the least Smell of the Lamp in it. As the Face of a fine Woman, with only her Locks loose about her, may be then in its greatest Beauty; such were his Productions, only adorn'd by Nature. There is something so catching to the Ear, so easy to the Memory, in all he writ, that it has been observ'd by all the Actors of my Time, that the Style of no Author whatsoever gave their Memory less trouble than that of Sir John Vanbrugh; which I myself, who have been charg'd with several of his strongest Characters, can confirm by a pleasing Experience. And indeed his Wit and Humour was so little laboured, that his most entertaining Scenes seem'd to be no more than his common Conversation committed to Paper. Here I confess my Judgment at a Loss, whether in this I give him more or less

than his due Praise? For may it not be more laudable to raise an Estate (whether in Wealth or Fame) by Pains and honest Industry than to be born to it? Yet if his Scenes really were, as to me they always seem'd, delightful, are they not, thus expeditiously written, the more surprising? let the Wit and Merit of them then be weigh'd by wiser Criticks than I pretend to be: But no wonder, while his Conceptions were so full of Life and Humour, his Muse should be sometimes too warm to wait the slow Pace of Judgment, or to endure the Drudgery of forming a regular Fable to them: Yet we see the Relapse, however imperfect in the Conduct, by the mere Force of its agreeable Wit, ran away with the Hearts of its Hearers; while Love's last Shift, which (as Mr. Congreve justly said of it) had only in it a great many things that were like Wit, that in reality were not Wit: And what is still less pardonable (as I say of it myself) has a great deal of Puerility and frothy Stage-Language in it, yet by the mere moral Delight receiv'd from its Fable, it has been, with the other, in a continued and equal Possession of the Stage for more than forty Years. [220.1]

As I have already promis'd you to refer your Judgment of me as an Actor rather to known Facts than my own Opinion (which I could not be sure would keep clear of Self-Partiality) I must a little farther risque my being tedious to be as good as my Word.

I have elsewhere allow'd that my want of a strong and full Voice soon cut short my Hopes of making any valuable Figure in Tragedy; and I have been many Years since convinced, that whatever Opinion I might have of my own Judgment of Capacity to amend the palpable Errors that I saw our Tragedians most in favour commit; yet the Auditors who would have been sensible of any such Amendments (could I have made them) were so very few, that my best Endeavour would have been but an unavailing Labour, or, what is yet worse, might have appeared both to our Actors and to many Auditors the vain Mistake of my own Self-Conceit: For so strong, so very near indispensible, is that one Article of Voice in the forming a good Tragedian, than an Actor may want any other Qualification whatsoever, and yet have a better chance for Applause than he will ever have, with all the Skill in the World, if his Voice is not equal to it. Mistake me not; I say, for Applause only—but Applause does not always stay for, nor always follow instrinsick Merit; Applause will frequently open, like a young Hound, upon a wrong Scent; and the Majority of Auditors, you know, are generally compos'd of Babblers that are profuse of their Voices before there is any thing on foot that calls for them. Not but, I grant, to lead or mislead the Many will always stand in some Rank of a necessary Merit; yet when I say a good Tragedian, I mean one in Opinion of whose real Merit the best Judges would agree.

Having to far given up my Pretensions to the Buskin, I ought now to account for my having been, notwithstanding, so often seen in some particular Characters in Tragedy, as Jago, [222.1] Wolsey, Syphax, Richard the Third, &c. If in any of this kind I have succeeded, perhaps it has been a Merit dearly purchas'd; for, from the Delight I seem'd to take in my performing them, half my Auditors have been persuaded that a great Share of the Wickedness of them must have been in my own Nature: If this is true, as true I fear (I had almost said hope) it is, I look upon i rather as a Praise than Censure of my Performance. Aversion there is an involuntary Commendation, where we are only hated for being like the thing we ought to be like; a sort of Praise, however, which few Actors besides my self could endure: Had it been equal to the usual Praise given to Virtue, my Cotemporaries would have thought themselves injur'd if I had pretended to any Share of it: So that you see it has been as much the Dislike others had to them, as Choice that has thrown me sometimes into these Characters. But it may be farther observ'd, that in the Characters I have nam'd, where there is so much close meditated

Mischief, Deceit, Pride, Insolence, or Cruelty, they cannot have the least Cast or Profer of the Amiable in them; consequently, there can be no great Demand for that harmonious Sound, or pleasing round Melody of Voice, which in the softer Sentiments of Love, the Wailings of distressful Virtue, or in the Throws and Swellings of Honour and Ambition, may be needful to recommend them to our Pity or Admiration: So that, again, my want of that requisite Voice might less disqualify me for the vicious than the virtuous Character. This too may have been a more favourable Reason for my having been chosen for them—a yet farther Consideration that inclin'd me to them was that they are generally better written, thicker sown with sensible Reflections, and come by so much nearer to common Life and Nature than Characters of Admiration, as Vice is more the Practice of Mankind than Virtue: Nor could I sometimes help smiling at those dainty Actors that were too squeamish to swallow them! as if they were one Jot the better Men for acting a good Man well, or another Man the worse for doing equal Justice to a bad one! 'Tis not, sure, what we act, but how we act what is allotted us, that speaks our intrinsick Value! as in real Life, the wise Man or the Fool, be he Prince or Peasant, will in either State be equally the Fool or the wise Man—but alas! in personated Life this is no Rule to the Vulgar! they are apt to think all before them real, and rate the Actor according to his borrow'd Vice or Virtue.

If then I had always too careless a Concern for false or vulgar Applause, I ought not to complain if I have had less of it than others of my time, or not less of it than I desired: Yet I will venture to say, that from the common weak Appetite of false Applause, many Actors have run into more Errors and Absurdities, than their greatest Ignorance could otherwise have committed: [224.1] If this Charge is true, it will lie chiefly upon the better Judgment of the Spectator to reform it.

But not to make too great a Merit of my avoiding this common Road to Applause, perhaps I was vain enough to think I had more ways than one to come at it. That, in the Variety of Characters I acted, the Chances to win it were the stronger on my Side —That, if the Multitude were not in a Roar to see me in Cardinal Wolsey, I could be sure of them in Alderman Fondlewife. If they hated me in Jago, in Sir Fopling they took me for a fine Gentleman; if they were silent at Syphax, no Italian Eunuch was more applauded than when I sung in Sir Courtly. If the Morals of Æsop were too grave for them, Justice Shallow was as simple and as merry an old Rake as the wisest of our young ones could wish me. [224.2] And

though the Terror and Detestation raised by King Richard might be too severe a Delight for them, yet the more gentle and modern Vanities of a Poet Bays, or the well-bred Vices of a Lord Foppington, were not at all more than their merry Hearts or nicer Morals could bear.

These few Instances out of fifty more I could give you, may serve to explain what sort of Merit I at most pretended to; which was, that I supplied with Variety whatever I might want of that particular

Skill wherein others went before me. How this Variety was executed (for by that only is its value to be rated) you who have so often been my Spectator are the proper Judge: If you pronounce my Performance to have been defective, I am condemn'd by my own Evidence; if you acquit me, these Out-lines may serve for a Sketch of my Theatrical Character.