The Authors of the old Batchelor and of the Relapse were those whom Collier most labour'd to convict of Immorality; to which they severally publish'd their Reply; the first seem'd too much hurt to be able to defend himself, and the other felt him so little that his Wit only laugh'd at his Lashes.[300]
My first Play of the Fool in Fashion, too, being then in a Course of Success; perhaps for that Reason only, this severe Author thought himself oblig'd to attack it; in which I hope he has shewn more Zeal than Justice, his greatest Charge against it is, that it sometimes uses the Word Faith! as an Oath, in the Dialogue: But if Faith may as well signify our given Word or Credit as our religious Belief, why might not his Charity have taken it in the less criminal Sense? Nevertheless, Mr. Collier's Book was upon the whole thought so laudable a Work, that King William, soon after it was publish'd, granted him a Nolo Prosequi when he stood answerable to the Law for his having absolved two Criminals just before they were executed for High Treason. And it must be farther granted that his calling our Dramatick Writers to this strict Account had a very wholesome Effect upon those who writ after this time. They were now a great deal more upon their guard; Indecencies were no longer Wit; and by Degrees the fair Sex came again to fill the Boxes on the first Day of a new Comedy, without Fear or Censure. But the Master of the Revels,[301] who then licens'd all Plays for the Stage, assisted this Reformation with a more zealous Severity than ever. He would strike out whole Scenes of a vicious or immoral Character, tho' it were visibly shewn to be reform'd or punish'd; a severe Instance of this kind falling upon my self may be an Excuse for my relating it: When Richard the Third (as I alter'd it from Shakespear)[302] came from his Hands to the Stage, he expung'd the whole first Act without sparing a Line of it. This extraordinary Stroke of a Sic volo occasion'd my applying to him for the small Indulgence of a Speech or two, that the other four Acts might limp on with a little less Absurdity! no! he had not leisure to consider what might be separately inoffensive. He had an Objection to the whole Act, and the Reason he gave for it was, that the Distresses of King Henry the Sixth, who is kill'd by Richard in the first Act, would put weak People too much in mind of King James then living in France; a notable Proof of his Zeal for the Government![303] Those who have read either the Play or the History, I dare say will think he strain'd hard for the Parallel. In a Word, we were forc'd, for some few Years, to let the Play take its Fate with only four Acts divided into five; by the Loss of so considerable a Limb, may one not modestly suppose it was robbed of at least a fifth Part of that Favour it afterwards met with? For tho' this first Act was at last recovered, and made the Play whole again, yet the Relief came too late to repay me for the Pains I had taken in it. Nor did I ever hear that this zealous Severity of the Master of the Revels was afterwards thought justifiable. But my good Fortune, in Process of time, gave me an Opportunity to talk with my Oppressor in my Turn.
The Patent granted by his Majesty King George the First to Sir Richard Steele and his Assigns,[304] of which I was one, made us sole Judges of what Plays might be proper for the Stage, without submitting them to the Approbation or License of any other particular Person. Notwithstanding which, the Master of the Revels demanded his Fee of Forty Shillings upon our acting a new One, tho' we had spared him the Trouble of perusing it. This occasion'd my being deputed to him to enquire into the Right of his Demand, and to make an amicable End of our Dispute.[305] I confess I did not dislike the Office; and told him, according to my Instructions, That I came not to defend even our own Right in prejudice to his; that if our Patent had inadvertently superseded the Grant of any former Power or Warrant whereon he might ground his Pretensions, we would not insist upon our Broad Seal, but would readily answer his Demands upon sight of such his Warrant, any thing in our Patent to the contrary notwithstanding. This I had reason to think he could not do; and when I found he made no direct Reply to my Question, I repeated it with greater Civilities and Offers of Compliance, 'till I was forc'd in the end to conclude with telling him, That as his Pretensions were not back'd with any visible Instrument of Right, and as his strongest Plea was Custom, we could not so far extend our Complaisance as to continue his Fees upon so slender a Claim to them: And from that Time neither our Plays or his Fees gave either of us any farther trouble. In this Negotiation I am the bolder to think Justice was on our Side, because the Law lately pass'd,[306] by which the Power of Licensing Plays, &c. is given to a proper Person, is a strong Presumption that no Law had ever given that Power to any such Person before.
My having mentioned this Law, which so immediately affected the Stage, inclines me to throw out a few Observations upon it: But I must first lead you gradually thro' the Facts and natural Causes that made such a Law necessary.
Although it had been taken for granted, from Time immemorial, that no Company of Comedians could act Plays, &c. without the Royal License or Protection of some legal Authority, a Theatre was, notwithstanding, erected in Goodman's-Fields about seven Years ago,[307] where Plays, without any such License, were acted for some time unmolested and with Impunity. After a Year or two, this Playhouse was thought a Nusance too near the City: Upon which the Lord-Mayor and Aldermen petition'd the Crown to suppress it: What Steps were taken in favour of that Petition I know not, but common Fame seem'd to allow, from what had or had not been done in it, that acting Plays in the said Theatre was not evidently unlawful.[308] However, this Question of Acting without a License a little time after came to a nearer Decision in Westminster-Hall; the Occasion of bringing it thither was this: It happened that the Purchasers of the Patent, to whom Mr. Booth and Myself had sold our Shares,[309] were at variance with the Comedians that were then left to their Government, and the Variance ended in the chief of those Comedians deserting and setting up for themselves in the little House in the Hay-Market, in 1733, by which Desertion the Patentees were very much distressed and considerable Losers. Their Affairs being in this desperate Condition, they were advis'd to put the Act of the Twelfth of Queen Anne against Vagabonds in force against these Deserters, then acting in the Hay-Market without License. Accordingly, one of their chief Performers[310] was taken from the Stage by a Justice of Peace his Warrant, and committed to Bridewell as one within the Penalty of the said Act. When the Legality of this Commitment was disputed in Westminster-Hall, by all I could observe from the learned Pleadings on both Sides (for I had the Curiosity to hear them) it did not appear to me that the Comedian so committed was within the Description of the said Act, he being a Housekeeper and having a Vote for the Westminster Members of Parliament. He was discharged accordingly, and conducted through the Hall with the Congratulations of the Crowds that attended and wish'd well to his Cause.
The Issue of this Trial threw me at that time into a very odd Reflexion, viz. That if acting Plays without License did not make the Performers Vagabonds unless they wandered from their Habitations so to do, how particular was the Case of Us three late Menaging Actors at the Theatre-Royal, who in twenty Years before had paid upon an Averidge at least Twenty Thousand Pounds to be protected (as Actors) from a Law that has not since appeared to be against us. Now, whether we might certainly have acted without any License at all I shall not pretend to determine; but this I have of my own Knowledge to say, That in Queen Anne's Reign the Stage was in such Confusion, and its Affairs in such Distress, that Sir John Vanbrugh and Mr. Congreve, after they had held it about one Year, threw up the Menagement of it as an unprofitable Post, after which a License for Acting was not thought worth any Gentleman's asking for, and almost seem'd to go a begging, 'till some time after, by the Care, Application, and Industry of three Actors, it became so prosperous, and the Profits so considerable, that it created a new Place, and a Sine-cure of a Thousand Pounds a Year,[311] which the Labour of those Actors constantly paid to such Persons as had from time to time Merit or Interest enough to get their Names inserted as Fourth Menagers in a License with them for acting Plays, &c. a Preferment that many a Sir Francis Wronghead would have jump'd at.[312] But to go on with my Story. This Endeavour of the Patentees to suppress the Comedians acting in the Hay-Market proving ineffectual, and no Hopes of a Reunion then appearing, the Remains of the Company left in Drury-Lane were reduced to a very low Condition. At this time a third Purchaser, Charles Fleetwood, Esq., stept in; who judging the best Time to buy was when the Stock was at the lowest Price, struck up a Bargain at once for Five Parts in Six of the Patent;[313] and, at the same time, gave the revolted Comedians their own Terms to return and come under his Government in Drury-Lane, where they now continue to act at very ample Sallaries, as I am informed, in 1738.[314] But (as I have observ'd) the late Cause of the prosecuted Comedian having gone so strongly in his Favour, and the House in Goodman's-Fields, too, continuing to act with as little Authority unmolested; these so tolerated Companies gave Encouragement to a broken Wit to collect a fourth Company, who for some time acted Plays in the Hay-Market, which House the united Drury-Lane Comedians had lately quitted: This enterprising Person, I say (whom I do not chuse to name,[315] unless it could be to his Advantage, or that it were of Importance) had Sense enough to know that the best Plays with bad Actors would turn but to a very poor Account; and therefore found it necessary to give the Publick some Pieces of an extraordinary Kind, the Poetry of which he conceiv'd ought to be so strong that the greatest Dunce of an Actor could not spoil it: He knew, too, that as he was in haste to get Money, it would take up less time to be intrepidly abusive than decently entertaining; that to draw the Mob after him he must rake the Channel[316] and pelt their Superiors; that, to shew himself somebody, he must come up to Juvenal's Advice and stand the Consequence:
Such, then, was the mettlesome Modesty he set out with; upon this Principle he produc'd several frank and free Farces that seem'd to knock all Distinctions of Mankind on the Head: Religion, Laws, Government, Priests, Judges, and Ministers, were all laid flat at the Feet of this Herculean Satyrist! This Drawcansir in Wit,[318] that spared neither Friend nor Foe! who to make his Poetical Fame immortal, like another Erostratus, set Fire to his Stage by writing up to an Act of Parliament to demolish it.[319] I shall not give the particular Strokes of his Ingenuity a Chance to be remembred by reciting them; it may be enough to say, in general Terms, they were so openly flagrant, that the Wisdom of the Legislature thought it high time to take a proper Notice of them.[320]
Having now shewn by what means there came to be four Theatres, besides a fifth for Operas, in London, all open at the same time, and that while they were so numerous it was evident some of them must have starv'd unless they fed upon the Trash and Filth of Buffoonry and Licentiousness; I now come, as I promis'd, to speak of that necessary Law which has reduced their Number and prevents the Repetition of such Abuses in those that remain open for the Publick Recreation.
While this Law was in Debate a lively Spirit and uncommon Eloquence was employ'd against it.[321] It was urg'd That one of the greatest Goods we can enjoy is Liberty. (This we may grant to be an incontestable Truth, without its being the least Objection to this Law.) It was said, too, That to bring the Stage under the Restraint of a Licenser was leading the way to an Attack upon the Liberty of the Press. This amounts but to a Jealousy at best, which I hope and believe all honest Englishmen have as much Reason to think a groundless, as to fear it is a just Jealousy: For the Stage and the Press, I shall endeavour to shew, are very different Weapons to wound with. If a great Man could be no more injured by being personally ridicul'd or made contemptible in a Play, than by the same Matter only printed and read against him in a Pamphlet or the strongest Verse; then, indeed, the Stage and the Press might pretend to be upon an equal Foot of Liberty: But when the wide Difference between these two Liberties comes to be explain'd and consider'd, I dare say we shall find the Injuries from one capable of being ten times more severe and formidable than from the other: Let us see, at least, if the Case will not be vastly alter'd. Read what Mr. Collier in his Defence of his Short View of the Stage, &c. Page 25, says to this Point; he sets this Difference in a clear Light. These are his Words:
"The Satyr of a Comedian and another Poet, have a different effect upon Reputation. A Character of Disadvantage upon the Stage, makes a stronger Impression than elsewhere. Reading is but Hearing at the second Hand; Now Hearing at the best, is a more languid Conveyance than Sight. For as Horace observes,
The Eye is much more affecting, and strikes deeper into the Memory than the Ear. Besides, Upon the Stage both the Senses are in Conjunction. The Life of the Action fortifies the Object, and awakens the Mind to take hold of it. Thus a dramatick Abuse is rivetted in the Audience, a Jest is improv'd into an Argument, and Rallying grows up into Reason: Thus a Character of Scandal becomes almost indelible, a Man goes for a Blockhead upon Content; and he that's made a Fool in a Play, is often made one for his Life-time. 'Tis true he passes for such only among the prejudiced and unthinking; but these are no inconsiderable Division of Mankind. For these Reasons, I humbly conceive the Stage stands in need of a great deal of Discipline and Restraint: To give them an unlimited Range, is in effect to make them Masters of all Moral Distinctions, and to lay Honour and Religion at their Mercy. To shew Greatness ridiculous, is the way to lose the use, and abate the value of the Quality. Things made little in jest, will soon be so in earnest: for Laughing and Esteem, are seldom bestow'd on the same Object."
If this was Truth and Reason (as sure it was) forty Years ago, will it not carry the same Conviction with it to these Days, when there came to be a much stronger Call for a Reformation of the Stage, than when this Author wrote against it, or perhaps than was ever known since the English Stage had a Being? And now let us ask another Question! Does not the general Opinion of Mankind suppose that the Honour and Reputation of a Minister is, or ought to be, as dear to him as his Life? Yet when the Law, in Queen Anne's Time, had made even an unsuccessful Attempt upon the Life of a Minister capital, could any Reason be found that the Fame and Honour of his Character should not be under equal Protection? Was the Wound that Guiscard gave to the late Lord Oxford, when a Minister,[323] a greater Injury than the Theatrical Insult which was offer'd to a later Minister, in a more valuable Part, his Character? Was it not as high time, then, to take this dangerous Weapon of mimical Insolence and Defamation out of the Hands of a mad Poet, as to wrest the Knife from the lifted Hand of a Murderer? And is not that Law of a milder Nature which prevents a Crime, than that which punishes it after it is committed? May not one think it amazing that the Liberty of defaming lawful Power and Dignity should have been so eloquently contended for? or especially that this Liberty ought to triumph in a Theatre, where the most able, the most innocent, and most upright Person must himself be, while the Wound is given, defenceless? How long must a Man so injur'd lie bleeding before the Pain and Anguish of his Fame (if it suffers wrongfully) can be dispell'd? or say he had deserv'd Reproof and publick Accusation, yet the Weight and Greatness of his Office never can deserve it from a publick Stage, where the lowest Malice by sawcy Parallels and abusive Inuendoes may do every thing but name him: But alas! Liberty is so tender, so chaste a Virgin, that it seems not to suffer her to do irreparable Injuries with Impunity is a Violation of her! It cannot sure be a Principle of Liberty that would turn the Stage into a Court of Enquiry, that would let the partial Applauses of a vulgar Audience give Sentence upon the Conduct of Authority, and put Impeachments into the Mouth of a Harlequin? Will not every impartial Man think that Malice, Envy, Faction, and Mis-rule, might have too much Advantage over lawful Power, if the Range of such a Stage-Liberty were unlimited and insisted on to be enroll'd among the glorious Rights of an English Subject?
I remember much such another ancient Liberty, which many of the good People of England were once extremely fond of; I mean that of throwing Squibs and Crackers at all Spectators without Distinction upon a Lord-Mayor's Day; but about forty Years ago a certain Nobleman happening to have one of his Eyes burnt out by this mischievous Merriment, it occasion'd a penal Law to prevent those Sorts of Jests from being laugh'd at for the future: Yet I have never heard that the most zealous Patriot ever thought such a Law was the least Restraint upon our Liberty.
If I am ask'd why I am so voluntary a Champion for the Honour of this Law that has limited the Number of Play-Houses, and which now can no longer concern me as a Professor of the Stage? I reply, that it being a Law so nearly relating to the Theatre, it seems not at all foreign to my History to have taken notice of it; and as I have farther promised to give the Publick a true Portrait of my Mind, I ought fairly to let them see how far I am, or am not, a Blockhead, when I pretend to talk of serious Matters that may be judg'd so far above my Capacity: Nor will it in the least discompose me whether my Observations are contemn'd or applauded. A Blockhead is not always an unhappy Fellow, and if the World will not flatter us, we can flatter ourselves; perhaps, too, it will be as difficult to convince us we are in the wrong, as that you wiser Gentlemen are one Tittle the better for your Knowledge. It is yet a Question with me whether we weak Heads have not as much Pleasure, too, in giving our shallow Reason a little Exercise, as those clearer Brains have that are allow'd to dive into the deepest Doubts and Mysteries; to reflect or form a Judgment upon remarkable things past is as delightful to me as it is to the gravest Politician to penetrate into what is present, or to enter into Speculations upon what is, or is not likely to come. Why are Histories written, if all Men are not to judge of them? Therefore, if my Reader has no more to do than I have, I have a Chance for his being as willing to have a little more upon the same Subject as I am to give it him.
When direct Arguments against this Bill were found too weak, Recourse was had to dissuasive ones: It was said that this Restraint upon the Stage would not remedy the Evil complain'd of: That a Play refus'd to be licensed would still be printed, with double Advantage, when it should be insinuated that it was refused for some Strokes of Wit, &c. and would be more likely then to have its Effect among the People. However natural this Consequence may seem, I doubt it will be very difficult to give a printed Satyr or Libel half the Force or Credit of an acted one. The most artful or notorious Lye or strain'd Allusion that ever slander'd a great Man, may be read by some People with a Smile of Contempt, or, at worst, it can impose but on one Person at once: but when the Words of the same plausible Stuff shall be repeated on a Theatre, the Wit of it among a Crowd of Hearers is liable to be over-valued, and may unite and warm a whole Body of the Malicious or Ignorant into a Plaudit; nay, the partial Claps of only twenty ill-minded Persons among several hundreds of silent Hearers shall, and often have been, mistaken for a general Approbation, and frequently draw into their Party the Indifferent or Inapprehensive, who rather than be thought not to understand the Conceit, will laugh with the Laughers and join in the Triumph! But alas! the quiet Reader of the same ingenious Matter can only like for himself; and the Poison has a much slower Operation upon the Body of a People when it is so retail'd out, than when sold to a full Audience by wholesale. The single Reader, too, may happen to be a sensible or unprejudiced Person; and then the merry Dose, meeting with the Antidote of a sound Judgment, perhaps may have no Operation at all: With such a one the Wit of the most ingenious Satyr will only by its intrinsick Truth or Value gain upon his Approbation; or if it be worth an Answer, a printed Falshood may possibly be confounded by printed Proofs against it. But against Contempt and Scandal, heighten'd and colour'd by the Skill of an Actor ludicrously infusing it into a Multitude, there is no immediate Defence to be made or equal Reparation to be had for it; for it would be but a poor Satisfaction at last, after lying long patient under the Injury, that Time only is to shew (which would probably be the Case) that the Author of it was a desperate Indigent that did it for Bread. How much less dangerous or offensive, then, is the written than the acted Scandal? The Impression the Comedian gives to it is a kind of double Stamp upon the Poet's Paper, that raises it to ten times the intrinsick Value. Might we not strengthen this Argument, too, even by the Eloquence that seem'd to have opposed this Law? I will say for my self, at least, that when I came to read the printed Arguments against it, I could scarce believe they were the same that had amaz'd and raised such Admiration in me when they had the Advantage of a lively Elocution, and of that Grace and Spirit which gave Strength and Lustre to them in the Delivery!
Upon the whole; if the Stage ought ever to have been reform'd; if to place a Power somewhere of restraining its Immoralities was not inconsistent with the Liberties of a civiliz'd People (neither of which, sure, any moral Man of Sense can dispute) might it not have shewn a Spirit too poorly prejudiced, to have rejected so rational a Law only because the Honour and Office of a Minister might happen, in some small Measure, to be protected by it.[324]
But however little Weight there may be in the Observations I have made upon it, I shall, for my own Part, always think them just; unless I should live to see (which I do not expect) some future Set of upright Ministers use their utmost Endeavours to repeal it.
And now we have seen the Consequence of what many People are apt to contend for, Variety of Playhouses! How was it possible so many could honestly subsist on what was fit to be seen? Their extraordinary Number, of Course, reduc'd them to live upon the Gratification of such Hearers as they knew would be best pleased with publick Offence; and publick Offence, of what kind soever, will always be a good Reason for making Laws to restrain it.
To conclude, let us now consider this Law in a quite different Light; let us leave the political Part of it quite out of the Question; what Advantage could either the Spectators of Plays or the Masters of Play-houses have gain'd by its having never been made? How could the same Stock of Plays supply four Theatres, which (without such additional Entertainments as a Nation of common Sense ought to be ashamed of) could not well support two? Satiety must have been the natural Consequence of the same Plays being twice as often repeated as now they need be; and Satiety puts an End to all Tastes that the Mind of Man can delight in. Had therefore this Law been made seven Years ago, I should not have parted with my Share in the Patent under a thousand Pounds more than I received for it[325]——So that, as far as I am able to judge, both the Publick as Spectators, and the Patentees as Undertakers, are, or might be, in a way of being better entertain'd and more considerable Gainers by it.
I now return to the State of the Stage, where I left it, about the Year 1697, from whence this Pursuit of its Immoralities has led me farther than I first design'd to have follow'd it.
A small Apology for writing on. The different State of the two Companies. Wilks invited over from Dublin. Estcourt, from the same Stage, the Winter following. Mrs. Oldfield's first Admission to the Theatre-Royal. Her Character. The great Theatre in the Hay-Market built for Betterton's Company. It Answers not their Expectation. Some Observations upon it. A Theatrical State Secret.
I now begin to doubt that the Gayeté du Cœur in which I first undertook this Work may have drawn me into a more laborious Amusement than I shall know how to away with: For though I cannot say I have yet jaded my Vanity, it is not impossible but by this time the most candid of my Readers may want a little Breath; especially when they consider that all this Load I have heap'd upon their Patience contains but seven Years of the forty three I pass'd upon the Stage, the History of which Period I have enjoyn'd my self to transmit to the Judgment (or Oblivion) of Posterity.[326] However, even my Dulness will find somebody to do it right; if my Reader is an ill-natur'd one, he will be as much pleased to find me a Dunce in my old Age as possibly he may have been to prove me a brisk Blockhead in my Youth: But if he has no Gall to gratify, and would (for his simple Amusement) as well know how the Playhouses went on forty Years ago as how they do now, I will honestly tell him the rest of my Story as well as I can. Lest therefore the frequent Digressions that have broke in upon it may have entangled his Memory, I must beg leave just to throw together the Heads of what I have already given him, that he may again recover the Clue of my Discourse.
Let him then remember, from the Year 1660 to 1682,[327] the various Fortune of the (then) King's and Duke's two famous Companies; their being reduced to one united; the Distinct Characters I have given of thirteen Actors, which in the Year 1690 were the most famous then remaining of them; the Cause of their being again divided in 1695, and the Consequences of that Division 'till 1697; from whence I shall lead them to our Second Union in——Hold! let me see——ay, it was in that memorable Year when the two Kingdoms of England and Scotland were made one. And I remember a Particular that confirms me I am right in my Chronology; for the Play of Hamlet being acted soon after, Estcourt, who then took upon him to say any thing, added a fourth Line to Shakespear's Prologue to the Play, in that Play which originally consisted but of three, but Estcourt made it run thus:
This new Chronological Line coming unexpectedly upon the Audience, was received with Applause, tho' several grave Faces look'd a little out of Humour at it. However, by this Fact, it is plain our Theatrical Union happen'd in 1707.[329] But to speak of it in its Place I must go a little back again.
From 1697 to this Union both Companies went on without any memorable Change in their Affairs, unless it were that Betterton's People (however good in their Kind) were most of them too far advanc'd in Years to mend; and tho' we in Drury-Lane were too young to be excellent, we were not too old to be better. But what will not Satiety depreciate? For though I must own and avow that in our highest Prosperity I always thought we were greatly their Inferiors; yet, by our good Fortune of being seen in quite new Lights, which several new-written Plays had shewn us in, we now began to make a considerable Stand against them. One good new Play to a rising Company is of inconceivable Value. In Oroonoko[330] (and why may I not name another, tho' it be my own?) in Love's last Shift, and in the Sequel of it, the Relapse, several of our People shew'd themselves in a new Style of Acting, in which Nature had not as yet been seen. I cannot here forget a Misfortune that befel our Society about this time, by the loss of a young Actor, Hildebrand Horden,[331] who was kill'd at the Bar of the Rose-Tavern,[332] in a frivolous, rash, accidental Quarrel; for which a late Resident at Venice, Colonel Burgess, and several other Persons of Distinction, took their Tryals, and were acquitted. This young Man had almost every natural Gift that could promise an excellent Actor; he had besides a good deal of Table-wit and Humour, with a handsome Person, and was every Day rising into publick Favour. Before he was bury'd, it was observable that two or three Days together several of the Fair Sex, well dress'd, came in Masks (then frequently worn) and some in their own Coaches, to visit this Theatrical Heroe in his Shrowd. He was the elder Son of Dr. Horden, Minister of Twickenham, in Middlesex. But this Misfortune was soon repair'd by the Return of Wilks from Dublin (who upon this young Man's Death was sent for over) and liv'd long enough among us to enjoy that Approbation from which the other was so unhappily cut off. The Winter following,[333] Estcourt, the famous Mimick, of whom I have already spoken, had the same Invitation from Ireland, where he had commenc'd Actor: His first Part here, at the Theatre-Royal, was the Spanish Friar, in which, tho' he had remembred every Look and Motion of the late Tony Leigh so far as to put the Spectator very much in mind of him, yet it was visible through the whole, notwithstanding his Exactness in the Out-lines, the true Spirit that was to fill up the Figure was not the same, but unskilfully dawb'd on, like a Child's Painting upon the Face of a Metzotinto: It was too plain to the judicious that the Conception was not his own, but imprinted in his Memory by another, of whom he only presented a dead Likeness.[334] But these were Defects not so obvious to common Spectators; no wonder, therefore, if by his being much sought after in private Companies, he met with a sort of Indulgence, not to say Partiality, for what he sometimes did upon the Stage.
In the Year 1699, Mrs. Oldfield was first taken into the House, where she remain'd about a Twelvemonth almost a Mute[335] and unheeded, 'till Sir John Vanbrugh, who first recommended her, gave her the Part of Alinda in the Pilgrim revis'd. This gentle Character happily became that want of Confidence which is inseparable from young Beginners, who, without it, seldom arrive to any Excellence: Notwithstanding, I own I was then so far deceiv'd in my Opinion of her, that I thought she had little more than her Person that appear'd necessary to the forming a good Actress; for she set out with so extraordinary a Diffidence, that it kept her too despondingly down to a formal, plain (not to say) flat manner of speaking. Nor could the silver Tone of her Voice 'till after some time incline my Ear to any Hope in her favour. But Publick Approbation is the warm Weather of a Theatrical Plant, which will soon bring it forward to whatever Perfection Nature has design'd it. However, Mrs. Oldfield (perhaps for want of fresh Parts) seem'd to come but slowly forward 'till the Year 1703.[336] Our Company that Summer acted at the Bath during the Residence of Queen Anne at that Place. At that time it happen'd that Mrs. Verbruggen, by reason of her last Sickness (of which she some few Months after dy'd) was left in London; and though most of her Parts were, of course, to be dispos'd of, yet so earnest was the Female Scramble for them, that only one of them fell to the Share of Mrs. Oldfield, that of Leonora in Sir Courtly Nice; a Character of good plain Sense, but not over elegantly written. It was in this Part Mrs. Oldfield surpris'd me into an Opinion of her having all the innate Powers of a good Actress, though they were yet but in the Bloom of what they promis'd. Before she had acted this Part I had so cold an Expectation from her Abilities, that she could scarce prevail with me to rehearse with her the Scenes she was chiefly concern'd in with Sir Courtly, which I then acted. However, we ran them over with a mutual Inadvertency of one another. I seem'd careless, as concluding that any Assistance I could give her would be to little or no purpose; and she mutter'd out her Words in a sort of mifty[337] manner at my low Opinion of her. But when the Play came to be acted, she had a just Occasion to triumph over the Error of my Judgment, by the (almost) Amazement that her unexpected Performance awak'd me to; so forward and sudden a Step into Nature I had never seen; and what made her Performance more valuable was, that I knew it all proceeded from her own Understanding, untaught and unassisted by any one more experienc'd Actor.[338] Perhaps it may not be unacceptable, if I enlarge a little more upon the Theatrical Character of so memorable an Actress.[339]
Though this Part of Leonora in itself was of so little value, that when she got more into Esteem it was one of the several she gave away to inferior Actresses; yet it was the first (as I have observ'd) that corrected my Judgment of her, and confirm'd me in a strong Belief that she could not fail in very little time of being what she was afterwards allow'd to be, the foremost Ornament of our Theatre. Upon this unexpected Sally, then, of the Power and Disposition of so unforeseen an Actress, it was that I again took up the two first Acts of the Careless Husband, which I had written the Summer before, and had thrown aside in despair of having Justice done to the Character of Lady Betty Modish by any one Woman then among us; Mrs. Verbruggen being now in a very declining state of Health, and Mrs. Bracegirdle out of my Reach and engag'd in another Company: But, as I have said, Mrs. Oldfield having thrown out such new Proffers of a Genius, I was no longer at a loss for Support; my Doubts were dispell'd, and I had now a new Call to finish it: Accordingly, the Careless Husband[340] took its Fate upon the Stage the Winter following, in 1704. Whatever favourable Reception this Comedy has met with from the Publick, it would be unjust in me not to place a large Share of it to the Account of Mrs. Oldfield; not only from the uncommon Excellence of her Action, but even from her personal manner of Conversing. There are many Sentiments in the Character of Lady Betty Modish that I may almost say were originally her own, or only dress'd with a little more care than when they negligently fell from her lively Humour: Had her Birth plac'd her in a higher Rank of Life, she had certainly appear'd in reality what in this Play she only excellently acted, an agreeably gay Woman of Quality a little too conscious of her natural Attractions. I have often seen her in private Societies, where Women of the best Rank might have borrow'd some part of her Behaviour without the least Diminution of their Sense or Dignity. And this very Morning, where I am now writing at the Bath, November 11, 1738, the same Words were said of her by a Lady of Condition, whose better Judgment of her Personal Merit in that Light has embolden'd me to repeat them. After her Success in this Character of higher Life, all that Nature had given her of the Actress seem'd to have risen to its full Perfection: But the Variety of her Power could not be known 'till she was seen in variety of Characters; which, as fast as they fell to her, she equally excell'd in. Authors had much more from her Performance than they had reason to hope for from what they had written for her; and none had less than another, but as their Genius in the Parts they allotted her was more or less elevated.
In the Wearing of her Person she was particularly fortunate; her Figure was always improving to her Thirty-sixth Year; but her Excellence in acting was never at a stand: And the last new Character she shone in (Lady Townly) was a Proof that she was still able to do more, if more could have been done for her.[341] She had one Mark of good Sense, rarely known in any Actor of either Sex but herself. I have observ'd several, with promising Dispositions, very desirous of Instruction at their first setting out; but no sooner had they found their least Account in it, than they were as desirous of being left to their own Capacity, which they then thought would be disgrac'd by their seeming to want any farther Assistance. But this was not Mrs. Oldfield's way of thinking; for, to the last Year of her Life, she never undertook any Part she lik'd without being importunately desirous of having all the Helps in it that another could possibly give her. By knowing so much herself, she found how much more there was of Nature yet needful to be known. Yet it was a hard matter to give her any Hint that she was not able to take or improve. With all this Merit she was tractable and less presuming in her Station than several that had not half her Pretensions to be troublesome: But she lost nothing by her easy Conduct; she had every thing she ask'd, which she took care should be always reasonable, because she hated as much to be grudg'd as deny'd a Civility. Upon her extraordinary Action in the Provok'd Husband,[342] the Menagers made her a Present of Fifty Guineas more than her Agreement, which never was more than a Verbal one; for they knew she was above deserting them to engage upon any other Stage, and she was conscious they would never think it their Interest to give her cause of Complaint. In the last two Months of her Illness, when she was no longer able to assist them, she declin'd receiving her Sallary, tho' by her Agreement she was entitled to it. Upon the whole she was, to the last Scene she acted, the Delight of her Spectators: Why then may we not close her Character with the same Indulgence with which Horace speaks of a commendable Poem: