An Apology for the Life of Mr. Colley Cibber, Volume 1 (of 2) / Written by Himself. A New Edition with Notes and Supplement

Mrs. Leigh, the Wife of Leigh already mention'd, had a very droll way of dressing the pretty Foibles of superannuated Beauties. She had in her self a good deal of Humour, and knew how to infuse it into the affected Mothers, Aunts, and modest stale Maids that had miss'd their Market; of this sort were the Modish Mother in the Chances, affecting to be politely commode for her own Daughter; the Coquette Prude of an Aunt in Sir Courtly Nice, who prides herself in being chaste and cruel at Fifty; and the languishing Lady Wishfort in The Way of the World: In all these, with many others, she was extremely entertaining, and painted in a lively manner the blind Side of Nature.[183]

Mrs. Butler, who had her Christian Name of Charlotte given her by King Charles, was the Daughter of a decay'd Knight, and had the Honour of that Prince's Recommendation to the Theatre; a provident Restitution, giving to the Stage in kind what he had sometimes taken from it: The Publick at least was oblig'd by it; for she prov'd not only a good Actress, but was allow'd in those Days to sing and dance to great Perfection. In the Dramatick Operas of Dioclesian and that of King Arthur, she was a capital and admired Performer. In speaking, too, she had a sweet-ton'd Voice, which, with her naturally genteel Air and sensible Pronunciation, render'd her wholly Mistress of the Amiable in many serious Characters. In Parts of Humour, too, she had a manner of blending her assuasive Softness even with the Gay, the Lively, and the Alluring. Of this she gave an agreeable Instance in her Action of the (Villiers) Duke of Buckingham's second Constantia in the Chances. In which, if I should say I have never seen her exceeded, I might still do no wrong to the late Mrs. Oldfield's lively Performance of the same Character. Mrs. Oldfield's Fame may spare Mrs. Butler's Action this Compliment, without the least Diminution or Dispute of her Superiority in Characters of more moment.[184]

Here I cannot help observing, when there was but one Theatre in London, at what unequal Sallaries, compar'd to those of later Days, the hired Actors were then held by the absolute Authority of their frugal Masters the Patentees; for Mrs. Butler had then but Forty Shillings a Week, and could she have obtain'd an Addition of Ten Shillings more (which was refus'd her) would never have left their Service; but being offer'd her own Conditions to go with Mr. Ashbury[185] to Dublin (who was then raising a Company of Actors for that Theatre, where there had been none since the Revolution) her Discontent here prevail'd with her to accept of his Offer, and he found his Account in her Value. Were not those Patentees most sagacious Oeconomists that could lay hold on so notable an Expedient to lessen their Charge? How gladly, in my time of being a Sharer, would we have given four times her Income to an Actress of equal Merit?

Mrs. Monfort, whose second Marriage gave her the Name of Verbruggen, was Mistress of more variety of Humour than I ever knew in any one Woman Actress. This variety, too, was attended with an equal Vivacity, which made her excellent in Characters extremely different. As she was naturally a pleasant Mimick, she had the Skill to make that Talent useful on the Stage, a Talent which may be surprising in a Conversation and yet be lost when brought to the Theatre, which was the Case of Estcourt already mention'd: But where the Elocution is round, distinct, voluble, and various, as Mrs. Monfort's was, the Mimick there is a great Assistant to the Actor. Nothing, tho' ever so barren, if within the Bounds of Nature, could be flat in her Hands. She gave many heightening Touches to Characters but coldly written, and often made an Author vain of his Work that in it self had but little Merit. She was so fond of Humour, in what low Part soever to be found, that she would make no scruple of defacing her fair Form to come heartily into it;[186] for when she was eminent in several desirable Characters of Wit and Humour in higher Life, she would be in as much Fancy when descending into the antiquated Abigail[187] of Fletcher, as when triumphing in all the Airs and vain Graces of a fine Lady; a Merit that few Actresses care for. In a Play of D'urfey's, now forgotten, call'd The Western Lass,[188] which Part she acted, she transform'd her whole Being, Body, Shape, Voice, Language, Look, and Features, into almost another Animal, with a strong Devonshire Dialect, a broad laughing Voice, a poking Head, round Shoulders, an unconceiving Eye, and the most bediz'ning, dowdy Dress that ever cover'd the untrain'd Limbs of a Joan Trot. To have seen her here you would have thought it impossible the same Creature could ever have been recover'd to what was as easy to her, the Gay, the Lively, and the Desirable. Nor was her Humour limited to her Sex; for, while her Shape permitted, she was a more adroit pretty Fellow than is usually seen upon the Stage: Her easy Air, Action, Mien, and Gesture quite chang'd from the Quoif to the cock'd Hat and Cavalier in fashion.[189] People were so fond of seeing her a Man, that when the Part of Bays in the Rehearsal had for some time lain dormant, she was desired to take it up, which I have seen her act with all the true coxcombly Spirit and Humour that the Sufficiency of the Character required.

But what found most Employment for her whole various Excellence at once, was the Part of Melantha in Marriage-Alamode.[190] Melantha is as finish'd an Impertinent as ever flutter'd in a Drawing-Room, and seems to contain the most compleat System of Female Foppery that could possibly be crowded into the tortured Form of a Fine Lady. Her Language, Dress, Motion, Manners, Soul, and Body, are in a continual Hurry to be something more than is necessary or commendable. And though I doubt it will be a vain Labour to offer you a just Likeness of Mrs. Monfort's Action, yet the fantastick Impression is still so strong in my Memory that I cannot help saying something, tho' fantastically, about it. The first ridiculous Airs that break from her are upon a Gallant never seen before, who delivers her a Letter from her Father recommending him to her good Graces as an honourable Lover.[191] Here now, one would think, she might naturally shew a little of the Sexe's decent Reserve, tho' never so slightly cover'd! No, Sir; not a Tittle of it; Modesty is the Virtue of a poor-soul'd Country Gentlewoman; she is too much a Court Lady to be under so vulgar a Confusion; she reads the Letter, therefore, with a careless, dropping Lip and an erected Brow, humming it hastily over as if she were impatient to outgo her Father's Commands by making a compleat Conquest of him at once; and that the Letter might not embarrass her Attack, crack! she crumbles it at once into her Palm and pours upon him her whole Artillery of Airs, Eyes, and Motion; down goes her dainty, diving Body to the Ground, as if she were sinking under the conscious Load of her own Attractions; then launches into a Flood of fine Language and Compliment, still playing her Chest forward in fifty Falls and Risings, like a Swan upon waving Water; and, to complete her Impertinence, she is so rapidly fond of her own Wit that she will not give her Lover Leave to praise it: Silent assenting Bows and vain Endeavours to speak are all the share of the Conversation he is admitted to, which at last he is relieved from by her Engagement to half a Score Visits, which she swims from him to make, with a Promise to return in a Twinkling.

If this Sketch has Colour enough to give you any near Conception of her, I then need only tell you that throughout the whole Character her variety of Humour was every way proportionable; as, indeed, in most Parts that she thought worth her care or that had the least Matter for her Fancy to work upon, I may justly say, That no Actress, from her own Conception, could have heighten'd them with more lively Strokes of Nature.[192]

I come now to the last, and only living Person, of all those whose Theatrical Characters I have promised you, Mrs. Bracegirdle; who, I know, would rather pass her remaining Days forgotten as an Actress, than to have her Youth recollected in the most favourable Light I am able to place it; yet, as she is essentially necessary to my Theatrical History, and as I only bring her back to the Company of those with whom she pass'd the Spring and Summer of her Life, I hope it will excuse the Liberty I take in commemorating the Delight which the Publick received from her Appearance while she was an Ornament to the Theatre.

Mrs. Bracegirdle was now but just blooming to her Maturity; her Reputation as an Actress gradually rising with that of her Person; never any Woman was in such general Favour of her Spectators, which, to the last Scene of her Dramatick Life, she maintain'd by not being unguarded in her private Character.[193] This Discretion contributed not a little to make her the Cara, the Darling of the Theatre: For it will be no extravagant thing to say, Scarce an Audience saw her that were less than half of them Lovers, without a suspected Favourite among them: And tho' she might be said to have been the Universal Passion, and under the highest Temptations, her Constancy in resisting them served but to increase the number of her Admirers: And this perhaps you will more easily believe when I extend not my Encomiums on her Person beyond a Sincerity that can be suspected; for she had no greater Claim to Beauty than what the most desirable Brunette might pretend to. But her Youth and lively Aspect threw out such a Glow of Health and Chearfulness, that on the Stage few Spectators that were not past it could behold her without Desire. It was even a Fashion among the Gay and Young to have a Taste or Tendre for Mrs. Bracegirdle. She inspired the best Authors to write for her, and two of them,[194] when they gave her a Lover in a Play, seem'd palpably to plead their own Passions, and make their private Court to her in fictitious Characters. In all the chief Parts she acted, the Desirable was so predominant, that no Judge could be cold enough to consider from what other particular Excellence she became delightful. To speak critically of an Actress that was extremely good were as hazardous as to be positive in one's Opinion of the best Opera Singer. People often judge by Comparison where there is no Similitude in the Performance. So that, in this case, we have only Taste to appeal to, and of Taste there can be no disputing. I shall therefore only say of Mrs. Bracegirdle, That the most eminent Authors always chose her for their favourite Character, and shall leave that uncontestable Proof of her Merit to its own Value. Yet let me say, there were two very different Characters in which she acquitted herself with uncommon Applause: If any thing could excuse that desperate Extravagance of Love, that almost frantick Passion of Lee's Alexander the Great, it must have been when Mrs. Bracegirdle was his Statira: As when she acted Millamant[195] all the Faults, Follies, and Affectations of that agreeable Tyrant were venially melted down into so many Charms and Attractions of a conscious Beauty. In other Characters, where Singing was a necessary Part of them, her Voice and Action gave a Pleasure which good Sense, in those Days, was not asham'd to give Praise to.

She retir'd from the Stage in the Height of her Favour from the Publick, when most of her Cotemporaries whom she had been bred up with were declining, in the Year 1710,[196] nor could she be persuaded to return to it under new Masters upon the most advantageous Terms that were offered her; excepting one Day, about a Year after, to assist her good Friend Mr. Betterton, when she play'd Angelica in Love for Love for his Benefit. She has still the Happiness to retain her usual Chearfulness, and to be, without the transitory Charm of Youth, agreeable.[197]

If, in my Account of these memorable Actors, I have not deviated from Truth, which, in the least Article, I am not conscious of, may we not venture to say, They had not their Equals, at any one Time, upon any Theatre in Europe? Or, if we confine the Comparison to that of France alone, I believe no other Stage can be much disparag'd by being left out of the question; which cannot properly be decided by the single Merit of any one Actor; whether their Baron or our Betterton might be the Superior, (take which Side you please) that Point reaches, either way, but to a thirteenth part of what I contend for, viz. That no Stage, at any one Period, could shew thirteen Actors, standing all in equal Lights of Excellence in their Profession: And I am the bolder, in this Challenge to any other Nation, because no Theatre having so extended a Variety of natural Characters as the English, can have a Demand for Actors of such various Capacities; why then, where they could not be equally wanted, should we suppose them, at any one time, to have existed?

How imperfect soever this copious Account of them may be, I am not without Hope, at least, it may in some degree shew what Talents are requisite to make Actors valuable: And if that may any ways inform or assist the Judgment of future Spectators, it may as often be of service to their publick Entertainments; for as their Hearers are, so will Actors be; worse, or better, as the false or true Taste applauds or discommends them. Hence only can our Theatres improve or must degenerate.

There is another Point, relating to the hard Condition of those who write for the Stage, which I would recommend to the Consideration of their Hearers; which is, that the extreme Severity with which they damn a bad Play seems too terrible a Warning to those whose untried Genius might hereafter give them a good one: Whereas it might be a Temptation to a latent Author to make the Experiment, could he be sure that, though not approved, his Muse might at least be dismiss'd with Decency: But the Vivacity of our modern Criticks is of late grown so riotous, that an unsuccessful Author has no more Mercy shewn him than a notorious Cheat in a Pillory; every Fool, the lowest Member of the Mob, becomes a Wit, and will have a fling at him. They come now to a new Play like Hounds to a Carcase, and are all in a full Cry, sometimes for an Hour together, before the Curtain rises to throw it amongst them. Sure those Gentlemen cannot but allow that a Play condemned after a fair Hearing falls with thrice the Ignominy as when it is refused that common Justice.

But when their critical Interruptions grow so loud, and of so long a Continuance, that the Attention of quiet People (though not so complete Criticks) is terrify'd, and the Skill of the Actors quite disconcerted by the Tumult, the Play then seems rather to fall by Assassins than by a Lawful Sentence.[198] Is it possible that such Auditors can receive Delight, or think it any Praise to them, to prosecute so injurious, so unmanly a Treatment? And tho' perhaps the Compassionate, on the other side (who know they have as good a Right to clap and support, as others have to catcall, damn, and destroy,) may oppose this Oppression; their Good-nature, alas! contributes little to the Redress; for in this sort of Civil War the unhappy Author, like a good Prince, while his Subjects are at mortal Variance, is sure to be a Loser by a Victory on either Side; for still the Common-wealth, his Play, is, during the Conflict, torn to pieces. While this is the Case, while the Theatre is so turbulent a Sea and so infested with Pirates, what Poetical Merchant of any Substance will venture to trade in it? If these valiant Gentlemen pretend to be Lovers of Plays, why will they deter Gentlemen from giving them such as are fit for Gentlemen to see? In a word, this new Race of Criticks seem to me like the Lion-Whelps in the Tower, who are so boisterously gamesome at their Meals that they dash down the Bowls of Milk brought for their own Breakfast.[199]

As a good Play is certainly the most rational and the highest Entertainment that Human Invention can produce, let that be my Apology (if I need any) for having thus freely deliver'd my Mind in behalf of those Gentlemen who, under such calamitous Hazards, may hereafter be reduced to write for the Stage, whose Case I shall compassionate from the same Motive that prevail'd on Dido to assist the Trojans in Distress.

Non ignara mali miseris succurrere disco. Virg.[200]

Or, as Dryden has it,

I learn to pity Woes so like my own.

If those particular Gentlemen have sometimes made me the humbled Object of their Wit and Humour, their Triumph at least has done me this involuntary Service, that it has driven me a Year or two sooner into a quiet Life than otherwise my own want of Judgment might have led me to:[201] I left the Stage before my Strength left me, and tho' I came to it again for some few Days a Year or two after, my Reception there not only turn'd to my Account, but seem'd a fair Invitation that I would make my Visits more frequent: But to give over a Winner can be no very imprudent Resolution.[202]

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,[203] 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;[204] 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.[205] Under these Disadvantages,[206] 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[207] 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,[208] 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.[209] 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[210] and King Arthur[211] (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:[212] 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 was 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 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.[213] 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 or Inclination of either Side led them.

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.[214] 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.[215] 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.[216] 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.[217] 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,[218] 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 my self, 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,[219] that our Commanders were forced to beat up for Volunteers in several distant Counties; it was this Occasion that first brought Johnson[220] and Bullock[221] 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[222] 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.[223] 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[224] (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;[225] 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;[226] in Consideration of which he oblig'd himself, if his Health permitted, to give them one new Play every Year.[227] 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;[228] and if I mistake not, the Interval had been much the same when he gave them the Way of the World.[229] 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[230] 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 Surprize was less, if from so numerous a Body as theirs, there had been any Deserters.