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Pap. ’ Do Montrort , . .. ,, .. ., a. 1 Miss Mudie’s debut ...... 2 Tlleatrioals intetdictcd at Cambridge I. am 7 Msdamo Clairon ...... *. 9 Foote, a11d th Mnyor ,...... 10 Pope’s opit:lph on Mnclrlin ,, ,. , , . 11 Tbc aator and t110 daisies .. . , D. . . it). Prinoo Hoare, and the Drury Lane mnnagcrs , 12 William Smith ., ...... 13 The first supprcssed play ...... 14 Cnldclon Do ln Baron ,. .. ., .. 15 Quin, and Mrs. Bellamy ...... 16 Marmontel’s tragedy of “Cleopatra,” .. .. 17 Ksmtlo’s ndtleronoe to the scene .. .. 18 Successful orluiraqua . . .. I. .. 18 Tlla grnnddTutbor of Mrs. Siddolls .. .. ib. Goldsmith *. .. ., .. ,. .. iba Moliere nnd ltnoine .. .. m D m a!, Pair advarlisornent .. .* .a . . ib Monoriff .. I. ,a ma .. 12 A mamgcr’s bull .* .. .. ,, it.

Droll illaident .L am ,I o. 22 VOL” II. A iv CONTENTS.

Page. Annouuoemeut of the death of rf Old DrorJI” in 1741 22 Epilogue to Tyrannic Cove,” .... 23 Characters in the Ancient Mysteries .... 25 Garrick and Barry ...... 27 “SIIOstoops to conquor,” ...... 28 Spanish play-bill ...... 29 Scaramouch, and Mollera ...... 30 Parody of R ponchor ...... 31 Stage feeling ...... 33 The onsuccesslul club ...... ib. Caprice of Gabrielli ...... 34 Royal theatricnls ...... 35 Jamos Miller ...... 38 The roasted ghost ...... ib. Kotzebue ...... 39 The Man of tho World,” ...... ib. . Frena11 spectacle ...... 40 U The Busy Body,” .e ...... ib, Poinsinet, the Prenoh dramatiat .. ,, ib. Sheridan versus Cunlberland ...... 4c Fine feeling ...... 42 Extrnordinary reoognition .. OC ea ib. Seats on tho slngc ...... 44 Tr~lll~\vil1 011t ,...... 46 Grirnnfdi’s granclfatbel ...... 47 Belterton’s death .. .. .* .. 50 Theatre of Puppots ...... 62 Ocoa4onal prologoc ...... 64 Garriolc’Y reading bohre royalty ...... 66 Dll,dio ...... i b. ïNanoklio, its Slylock .. I. .. I. 67‘ CONTENTS.

Drurr,’’ in 1742 Louis XLV. and Moliere O .a .I Epigram OLI tha late J. P. Kemble .o .I r. ..

George and David Garrick .D 0. J .... ,. .... Mrs. Robinson .. .. *I ,. .... Joy kills as well aa grief ...... Mr. Rollnocl, and Mr5, E-le .. *. l .. ** Poote, and Dr. Jobason s. *...... Tho way to keep hin^," ...... Fwquhar’s last mornants .a .. .. Carlini . .I ......

I. n. .I .. Mrs. Montagae .. .. Dido,” I ...... $3elviot, the French actor 94 ...... Scenery ...... I. Addison’s .. Cato,” ...... Mr. and Mrs. Bnrtley, at~dthe American P~~ritnns. .

.I Hardy, Illa Prend1 drametiat .. .* .... Pyate avd Qui11 ...... I .. Bpron, nrtd tho Dulce de Roquelnuro .. -4 .* Qartou Holiday......

a. Pancourt . . I...... b. I. ‘4 Recrniting Oflicor,” ......

I. French horso-podormap .. .. n. *. .. Sl~nter’+rcckouing .. .. bI .U I. Dufrmne, and tho Abb6 Pollcgrirl ...... ;Mwlomoisello Dutnesnil ...... A Xootch bull .a .. .m .e .* Tragedy in onrneht ...... *- .. Tllreo and t110 Deuoo .. mb 9. I. Epilogua to 8 clondealled Ihroo .. a am a. Mr. T. P. CooIco’s uaulioal advcnlures . .. Mrs. Mnttooks .. *I .o .. iv CONTENTS.

Page. weston L. m. b ...... 99 Me)nacbolf situation of Boissy, the Frenob dramatist 100 Theatrical dresses ...... 103 Impromptu ...... 106 Garrick’s debut, and retreat .. .. 1 o7 Master Betty .. .. m. e. ib. Stephen COSSO~I’Yphilippir; against players ., 108 Advice to R dramatist ...... 110 Cibber, Garrick, and Mrs. Bracegirdle .... ib. Cudoret, the French mimic ...... ib. Charles Bnnnisler ...... i. 111 Piron ...... 112 Macklin’s last appearance ...... 113 Nat. Lee, and Sir Roger L’Estrango .... ib. Rich, and Pootc ...... ih. Mademoiselle Felix ...... 114 A sbift for D ruffle ...... 116 Mrs. Garrick’s \rill ...... 117 sob ill er'^" Robbers,” ...... 120 Qain’s ‘‘ Goriolnnus” ...... ib. Fienry Jones, author or ‘(the Eerl of ESGCX~’ 121 Verbruggen ...... 122 Theatricals in tho titno OU Charles tho Second ib. Benslay, the tragedian, nud t110 Scotch oficer .. 123 ROSS,the celebraled George Bnrnurell .. 124 The .. Globo” Tbcatre ...... l25 Joe Haines ...... 127 Mnuden ...... 128 Thentriml plreea ...... 133 Racine, and the young author , , .. ib, The .. Curtain” Thentre ...... 135 S. CONTENTS. vii

Page- c‘ A horse I n horse ! my ltingdoln for a horso,” .. 137 Jackson’s interview aith the Archbishop of YOI~Ca- 138

Dramntic erect .. .. a. 139 Quinnult ...... a. 140 Moody, and tbc 1rigl~wny;nan .. .. il). Moliere’8 acting .. .. a. .. 141 George Frederick Cooko, and the Liverpool mana- gers ...... 142 Assortion without proof .. mb .. 143 Gookc’s oxplanation OF the hmily plate .. .. ib. Garriok, nnd Dr. Isill ...... 144 Garrick’s cpiqram ...... i b. Ptny linensing, in tho tirno or King Cllnrlos *. 145 Spralngpr Bnrrg . .. .. L. .. ib. Baron, tho French comedian ; n11d Dominique, thllar-

Ieqnin ...... W 146 Lines on Miss Patun .. .. a. 143 A dull oomody ., .. .. 143 Tho Whitorrinrfi Tlleatro m. .. 148

Quovo(l0 I I. .. e* .. 149 Poole nnd Mnokliu .. I + .. .. 160 Aeucllronistn .. I. .. .. 161 Truth will out .. I. .a ib. Pam direot m...... 152 Lottor of Old Yatm .. m. 0. ib. ShokRpoaro, nnd Queen Eliznbolh -8 .. Iliß Furowclll dintlor to John Ilcrxll~le .I .. 1.67 COIIIIUU,and OHO of lriH corncdial~s .. .. 163

DUfrOtlJlO m I. I. .I rm Iod,

Dcnth or U porlòrmcr on tho slnga .u .I 106

., ih. THE story of Miss Joanna Baillie’s play of .. aso 4d De Montfort” is founded on an interesting trial ., 281 .. 283 for murder, in the last century, of a gentleman .. ,, at)B who resided near the sea shore, and with whom the haplcss victim had been intimately acquaint- cd in his youthful clays. On the evening of th murder, thc rcsident in question, whom we will call Mr. B., was surprised by the entrance of his old comradc, who had heen shipwrecked on that part of the coast. Mr. U. welcomed hin1 with apparent cordiality and delight, and in- vitad him to spend a month or two at his mansion. ?’he gucst consented, and, the lxxt morning, was found murclererl in his bed. Mr. B. was arrested and tried, but nothing could VOL. II. 11 2 TIIE.4TRES

be proved against him, as he had the gout at the time, until his servant deposed tllat, at micl- night, she heard the door of bis chamber open, and, in two or three minutes aftcrward, that Of the stranger. Upon this he confessed ,and dmow- legcd, that what prompted him to commit the horrid deed was, that once, at schoo1, th 0th had contended for a prize, and won it. He executed shortly after. MISS NUDIE'S DEBUT. ON the 23rd of November, 1805, Miss Mudie, called The Theatrical Phenomelzon, a child ap- parently about eight years old, with but a compa- ratively diminutive figure even for that age, who, in the preceding season, hacl played the first rate comic characters at Birmingham, Liverpool, Dub- lin, and other theatres, made her debut at Covent

Garden, as Miss Peggy, in l' The Country Girl." It is true, she repeated the words of the part correctly ; her deportment was confident, unembamssed, and sprightly; her voice, for lm age, powerful; and her acting cvinccd intelli- gence and industry; in truth, considering her - performance as that of an infant, it was stlrprising : but, regarding it as a clranzntic persun@catian, it AND THEATRICALS. 3 was contemptible. In the first scene, the sense of had the gout at tlre house was goodnaturedly expressed ; for, when osed that, at mid- Moody promised tosend her back into thecountry, his chamber ope11I the audience very cordially expressed their con- ftcrward, that of currence by loud applause. In thesucceeding ssed, and acltnow- scenes, they were less equivocal; for, when she to cornmit the n came to be talked of as u wife, as a mistress, as sch001, the oW.r an object of love and jeulousy, the scene became i won it. He !VOS so ridiculous, that hissing and horse-laughing en- sued. The little child was also contrasted with the B UT. fine person of Miss Brunton, (now Countess of 805, Miss Mudic, Craven,) as Alithea, with a plume of three up- enon, a child q)- right ostrich feathers on her head, the whole con- with but a cornpa- stituting a figuré nearly seven feet high. for that age, who, When Yegg9 was with her guardian, &Ir, Mur- layed the first ratc ray, no very tall man, she clic1 riot reach much high- n, Liverpool, Dub- 1 er than his knee ; he was obliged to stoop even to debut at Covc~t x lay his hand on her head ; to bend bimself, to kiss ‘he Country her ; and, when she had to lay hold of his neck-. hc words of thc cloth to coax him, and to pat hiln on the cheek; lt was CollIident, he was almost obliged to go on all-fours. In her voice, for l~* the third act, Miss Peggy is scen walking in the ; evinccd inteIli- Park, dressed in boy’s clothes, under the care of , considering ~ICC her jedous guardian. Miss Mudie, instead of it was surprisirlg : appearing a fine young man, who ought to bc persanijcation, it 4 THEATRES shown the town,” looked shorter than before, and even too little to be safely put into breeches. the sce Yet Brunton, as her lover BeZviZZe, pursued her, been da and was transported to find her under this die- the Ilou guise ; and Mr. Murray, her pretended husband, great CC was thrown into an agony of despair, at the idea out som of another man taking her by the hand. The ab- La surdity was now too great to be endured, and there I ha1 Rre SI was a burst of censure from all partsof the house. who turn ther At last, Charles Kernble, as Hamourt, exclaimed, Let me introduce you, nephew ; you should This know each other, you are uery like, and of the the aufi same age.” The whole effect was SO out of cha- hissed, racter, so very ludicroug, that the audience soon plaudet decided against Miss Mudie. slìghtez At first, the audience did not hiss when shewas went o on the stage, from delicacy ; but, in1 ber absence, ple tefy they hissed the performance, to stop the play, conside if possible.Yet, as she confidently persevered, Manap they, at lcngth, hissed her, and called, vehemently, Gen o$! o#! Miss Mudie was mt, hawever, with- Tho l out CL strong party of ‘(warm friends,” to SUP. ceived at, port her; and to such a degree did the noise in- A hope, t1 ofSour jl crease, in the latter scenes, t!mt rrot a word could Gentletne : (who be heard on which, Miss Mudie had, hither- rvisll tn 111 to, appeared entirely occupied with the business of‘ [nay nat II fore, you 1 AND THEATRICALS. .5 the scene, and whose energy ‘had not in the least been damped by the marked disappcobation of the house,) walked to the front of the stage, with great confidence and çomposure, though not with- out some signs orindignation, and said,- ‘

‘c Tl10 great applause with which Miss Mudie has been re- ceived at several provincial thentres, encouraged, irlllcr friends, n Ilope, thRt her merit. might be such as to pass the tribunal of purjudgmcnt. (Trtolent lussiag.) Be assured, however, Gentlemen, thet Ule proprietors of this Theatre by no means mi311 tl) pregs any species of entertainment upon you, which o1ay not ¡neck your npprobation.-(LourE applause,) If,lhere- fore, you will permit Miss Mudie,”--(No ! N)1) 6 THEATRES

Mr. Kemble could not be heard for some time ; but, at last, neatly resumed,

‘I The drama’s laws, the drama’s patrons give ”’

I‘ We hope, however, that, as the play has proceeded so f3r, you will allow Miss Mudie to finish the characll?r.”

No ! No ! was vociferated from various parts of the house. Finding this ofno avail, Mr. Kemble tried his success with the fenznk part of the assemblage, by saying, with emphasis,

‘l Ladies and Gentlemen, q‘ Let me entreat, that you will allow Miss &Iudic to finish her part. Perhaps, when you are informed,that, after this night, Miss Aludie will be withdrawn from lhc stngc’, JO” will be induced, to complg.” This last appeal seemed to produce the desired effect, but the calm was deceilful ; for, upon the next appearance of the child, the uproar broke out with such violence, that she mas compelled ta retire. Mr. Murray then came forward, and re- quested to be heard for a few words, wbcn hc spolce as follows :-

(l Ladies and Gentlemen, If you ~vdlllave the kindness lo ~Ilowme to lrcspnss upon your patience fìvc minutes, MIYSSearle, willl yout indulgencc, will play MissMudie’s part, from thc com nlencrment of the fifth act.” ’ Order was ‘again restored : but, upon the ap- pearance of Miss Searle, hostilities were ungene- 3atrons give !” rously renewedbetwen the partisans of Miss ay has proceeded so Mudie, and the Anti-Roscianites. All was noise the character.” and confusion, When it was found that any interference mould but more embroil the fray,” n-n various parts F no avail, Mr* the remainder of the comedy was converted into pantomimic show, not a word being heard; and e fenzab part of emphasis, the curtain fell on the most imperfect performance ever witnessed on a London stage.

TEEATILJCALS INTERDICTED AT CAMBRIDGE.

copy Of a Letter from Lord North, respecting a Shou)man. TO the Right Worshipful, my loving, Friende, ‘icethe desircrl Mr. Dr, Hatcher, Vice Chauncelour of Cam- ; for, upon thC2 bridge. L‘ If your neighbour Robinson, good Mr. Vice I uproar brolca as cornpellecl ta Ghauncelour, have told you that he hath licence rmard, and m- from me to shew certayn games, suerly I must ords, when hc needs confesse that he abuseth me therein, or els, 1 have to rnuche abusecl myselfe in consenting to as great vanitie.Howbeit, I do assure myselfe w me lo trcspnhs he hath nothing to shew under my hande for Scade, with your any games, or if he have, it is far lawful games, t, from thc corn- which neither you nor any justice can restrayne ; 8 THEATRES seeing the lause doth alowe them, Sir, I do so muche midyke theis vayne and idle stories, as I wyll consent to noneof them. H do utterly mislyke any assembly of people, without the servis of God, or her Majesty, and therefore gyve my consent to withdraw hym from any of his showes, although he have warrant for the same, which you shale not find treue.

“ Concerning my man and usher, though all things be not treu, according to the informacion gyven me, so do 2: not leave all to be untreu ; and therefore leave the order to your good consider- ation, who I, heare, hath alredie bandlid the mat- ter with good wisedomc ; for which I hartily thank you, and howe meche more easelp you sldl deale with me and my man, so muche more it cause I have to thank you, and Fshall be the re- dier to requite it to your bodgc ; but if you fall to accusaslmns of slander, I trust you wyll gyve me justice, which will apple for the same, even in grcate and grievous slanders ministered agayast me. So I lesve you to the mercies OC our Heavenlie Father, whoe ever bless you.” ‘Cn haste, from ICirtling, 20th Sept. 1580, c c Your treue friend, “ROGER NORTII.” AND THEATRICALS. 9

them. Sir, I-do so MADAME CLAIRON. ~d idle stories, ng I Taxs celebrated lady, destined to be so dis- do utterly mislykc tinguished, was of the lowest extraction : the lout the servis of daughter of a violent and illiterate woman, who, ,herefore gyve my with blows and menaces, drove about the any of his showes, child, all day, to manual labour. I know not,”

9 the same, which said Clairon, of herself, LLwllenceT. derived my disgust, but I could not bear the idea to be amere usher, tbougb all work-woman, or to remain inactive in a corner.” I the ioformacion In her eleventh year, being loclred up in a room, 3 be untreu ; and as a punishment, with the miudows fastened, she II’ good consider- climbed upon a chair, to look about her. A new handlid the mat- object instantly absorbed her attention: in the which 1 hartily house opposite, she observed a celebrated actress lore easely you amidst her family, whose daughter was performing , so muche more her dancing lesson : the girl Clairon, the future l fihall be the TC- Mebornene, was struck by the influence of this but if you falì to graceful and affectionate scene--‘L All my little you wyll gyve being, (she relates) collected itselF into my eyes ; r the same, even 1 lost not a single motion: as soon as the lesson lem ministercc1 had ended, all the family applauded, and the mo- the mercies ol‘ ther embraced the daughter. That drfference er bless you.’’ of her fate, and mine, filled me with profound th Sept. 1580, grief; my tears hindered me from seeing any le friend, longer ; and when my beating heart allowed me ,OGER No RT 1r.” to re-ascend the chair, all had disappeared,” 10 . THBATlLES This was a discovery !-From thatmorneut she knew no rest ; she rejoiced when she could get her motherto confine her in that room. The happy girl was a divinity to theunhappy one, whose susceptible genius imitatedher in every ‘gesture and motion; and Clairon soon shewed the effect of her ardent studies, for she betrayed all the graces she had taught herself, ín the com- monestconcerns of life. She charmed her friends, and even softened her barbarous mother; and, in a word, she became an actress, without knowing what constituted an actress.

FOOTE, AND TIIB MAYOR. THIS humourist, travelling in the west of England, dined one day at an Ina. When thc cloth was removed, the landlord asked him how

he liked his fare. ‘I I llave dinecl as well as any man in England,” said Foote. (‘Except Mr. Mayor,”cried the landlord. I do not except any bodywhatever,” said he. But you MUS^,"

bawled the host, ‘1 1 won’t.”--“ You musL.”-At length, the skrife ended, by the landlord (who was a petty magistrate) taking Foote before the Mayor, who observed, it had bcen customary in that town, for a great number of years, always to ES AND THEATRICALS. 11

rom thatmonle11 t shc except the Mayor, and, accordingly, fined him a when she could get shilling for not conforming to tbis ancient custom. in that room. The Upon this sage decision Foote paid the shilling, o the unhappy O~C~at the same timeobserving, with great shrewdness, mitatecl her in every that he thought the landlord was the greatest lli~iron soon shewed fool in Christendom, except--ille Mayor. ies, for she betriyed POPE’S EPITAPH MACRLIN. t herself, in the corn- ON SEVERALyears before hì5 death, Mro Macklin She charmed her happened to be in a lavge company of ladies and x- barbarous mothcr ; gentlemen, among whom was the celebrated Mr. an actress, without Pope.-The conversation having turned upon actress. age, one of the ladies addressed herself to Mr. Pope, in words to the following effect :-<‘Mr. Pope, when Macklin dies, you must write his epitaph.”--“ That I will, madam,” said Pope ; nay, I will give it you now.”

6‘ Here lies the Jew That Sllakspcare drew.”

TIIE ACTOR AND TIrE DAISIES. A SON of Thespis, who had been some time upon the stage, was walking in the fields early in thc year, with iz young man who I~ucijust entered the profession ; suddenly the veteran ran out of thc path, stopped instantly, and putting forward

his foot on the grass, exclaimed, with ecstacy, ‘ l2 THEAT RES

U Three, by Heaven ! that for managers !” at :he same time snapping his fingers. “Three,” said his astonished companion ; 1L what do you mean by three?”--“ What do I mean,you hungry Ilunter of turnips ! you’ll know, before you have strutted in three barns more (three was, no doubt, in this case, an ominousnumber.) In winter, managers are the m’ost impudent fellows living, because they know we don’t like to travel, don’t like to leave our nests-fear the cold-and all that :-but when I can put my foot upon three daisies, ma- nagers may whistle for me.”

PRINCE IJOAltB AND TIIE DILWRP LANE MANAGERS. AT Florence, this ingenious dramatist, at the solicitations of Stephen Storace, produced that

clever piece, LC No Song, no Supper.” When both parties returned to England, neither thc merit of the piece, nor yet the delightful compositions of Storace, were sufficient to recommend it to the managers of Old Drury.” It was, couse- qumtly, brought out by Kelly, at his benefit, and not acted for the house, til2 its success wus esta- blished. Having thus experienced their liberal trcatlnent AND THEATItlCALS. 13 with a farce, he took the liberty of getting his managers !” at tllc next production, (a tragedy,) performed at Bath. , (‘Three,” said hi8 Mrs. Siddons honoured him by an application to do you mean by him to perfornl it for her benefit at Liverpool. u hungry Imnter of Notwithstanding his success,‘ the mana- 3u bave strutted in gers of Drury-lave were still inaccessible, and no doubt, in this his next production, The Cave of Traphonills,” 1 winter, managers was produced for the I>enefit of Mrs. Crouch, ving, because they and was universallysuccessful. This influenced lon’t like to leave hiln to future efforts ; and be wrote his admira- d all that:-but ble fmce, called ‘‘ The Prize,”-presented it,- Aree daisies, ma- it was refused; but Madam Storace blought it forward at her benefit. Its success was llighly flattering; atld the managers condescended, in the most obliging manner possible, to pour the dramatist, at the profits into their treasury ;--that the au thor re- :e, produced that ceived any thing, would be absurd to imagine. pper.” When bath ’WILLIAM SMITIIa neither the merit Tws gentleman was, for more than thirty-five htful compositions years, a performer on the London boards, having recornmelid it to rnnde his first appearance on Covcnt Garden ” It was, consc- stage, Jauuary the first, 1753, in the charac- at his benefit, ar1d ter of Tlleodosius. He retired from Z)rury-lane ; success was esta+ at the cncl of the season, 1788. FIc was du- cated at Eton School aucl $t. John’s Collcgc, r liberal treatment 14 TIIEATRES

Cambridge. His taking to thestage was occa- E sioned by some youthful irregularities ; but he ‘t i maintained, throughout his theatricnl career, the name of ‘I Gentleman Smith.” His first wife was a sister of the Earl of Sandwich, first lord of the Admiralty ;-she lived but a short time, and he married again. On Mr. Smith’s retiring from the stage, he went to live at Bury St. Etlnlund’s, where he was ~~niversally respected,and his com- pany courted. His manners mere those of the polished gentleman : though educated in n cer- tain school of acting, and living to a great age, Mr. S. was no bigot to his own times and manners, but he went up to LOI~OII,at difer- ent periods, to witness thevaunted powers of Betty, and of Kean, and pronounced the latter superior to all former professors of the art. Mr. Smith never published or brought out any piece; but he had altered the (‘Two Nolde 1iiasmen”of Beaumont aud Fletcher, and had begun an altcr- ation of Stdcspeare’s Plays, omitting the ex- ceptionable passages. He died September, 1819, aged 89.

THE FIRST SUPPRESSED PLAY.

“ THEGame of C~CSS,~’by Thornas Middlctun, ’has the merit of being one of the first, if not the AND TIIBATILICALS. 15 very first play, that was suppressed by authority, for political reasons. ’l’he game was played, 3s we are told by Langbaine, between one of the church of England, and one of the church of Etame, in the presence of Ignatius Loyola. This account of it does not promise much amusement, get a MS. note, talien by Capell from an old copy of the play, describes it as exceedingly populnr. After, nine days,” adds the writer, wherein I have heard the actors say, they took firteen hundred pounds, (this is an incredible . sum,) the Spanish faction got the play suppressed, and the authoc, Master Thomas Middleton, committed to prison, where he lay some tirne, and, at last, got out upon this petition to King James :

A lxuII\Icss gaule, coincd only for dcligh t, I Was play’d bclwirt tbc black house nnd liro while ; Tho whitc llr~lrscwon, yet still llle black doth hg Tbcy had the pow’r tQ put me in the bag. Use btlt your Roynl hand, ’twill set me frcc; Tis but rcnloving of a maa--thst’s MC ,”

CALDERON DE LA BARCA. CALDXZLONde la Barca, in one of his pieccs, cnllscl La Scisma d’Anglaterrs,’’ has taken the divorce of Henry VIII. as a subject, aucl, accord- 16 TIIEATRES ing to Davies, notill sustained the characters of Henry, Wolsey, and C’atherine. He paints the King as conscious of criminality, and Anne Bo- leyn as proud, insalent, ungrateful, and lascivi- ous. By a fiction of his owu, he causes her tu intrigue with the French ambassador. The king, too, overheard their discourse, sent her to the To- wer in a rage ; and she being there beheaded, ller dead body is afterwards brought upou the stage.

QUIN, AND nrlts. UELZABIY.

QUIN, tlle player, who blended with his glut- tony, and other sensual appetites, the virttles of generosity and kindqess, gave Mrs. Bellamy a singular proof, that he could feel for othors, and did not, as was thought by many, live for him@€ only. During the time that Ile had the chief management of Covent Garden Theatre, he revived Beaumont mcl Fletcher’s play of thc Maid’s Tragedy,” in which he performed tllc chn- racter of Mdantlzas ; Mrs. Pritchard, that of EvumZra; and Mrs. Bcllamy, that of Asp(;2)LtsìLtr One morning, aftcr the rehearsal, IIC desircc1 10 speak with her, iu the dressing room; SIN was not; a little surprised at so unexpected an illvitation; and was fcarfd she hac3 offcndccl a mall wllam AND TIIEATBICALS. l7 she esteemed and loved as a father, As soon, however, as she entered the room, her apprehen- slons were dissipated, for he cordially took her by the hand, and, with a smile, said to her, cc My dear girl ! you are vastly followed, I hear : do not let the love of finery, or any other induce- ments, prevail upon you to commit an indiscre- tion. Men, in general, are rascals ; you are yuung and engaging, and, therefore, ought to be doubly cautious. If you want any thing in my power, which money can purchase, come to me, and say, James Quin, give me such a thing ; and my purse shall be always at your service.” This fact was related by Mrs, Gellamy her- self.

nlARMONTEL’S TRAGEDY OF “CLEOPATRA.” IN this tragedy, which was much hissed, a rneclxmic had constructed an asp, so natural- ly, that it seemed perfectly alive : and RS it ap- proached the heroine, the eyes sparkled like fire, and it began to hiss. After the scene was over, one of the auditors asked a critic, who sat near him, how he hlccd the Play. <‘Why,’falth, (replied thc other,) I am of the same opinion as the asp.” VOL, II. C la THEATRES

RENBLE’SADHERENCE TO THE SCENE. OF all actors who loved to see things well done, or done in earnest, there were none more conspi- cuous for this laudable partiality than thelateJohn Kern&. One night,performing his favourite part of Penruddock in The Wheel of Fortune,” in one of the scenes ’he ought to have been shaken vio- lently by the party representing the character has wronged. This, on the night in question, was done so feebly, although the representative was an actor (Mr. Truman) mho had been a plodder in the Covent Garden Company for many years, that, when the scene concluded, the Manager sent for him to his dressing room, and gave him the following sensible -piece of Mr. Truman, you did not sllalre me in that scene so roughly as I expected ; I fear, sir, you remem- bered at the time that I was Marlager. Sir, when you are playing with me, you must forget that : the next time we play that scenc together 1: Iibpe, sir, yon will use mc roughly, pull me about violcntly, and tear my clothes : ’tis proper, sir, and keeps up c the cuuning of the scene.’ ” It is almost needless to add, that Mr. Truman pro- mised obedicncc, ancl left his Manngcr well sr,dj 7 \,l* AND TIIEATRICALS. 19

SUCCESSFUL EQUIVOQUE. IN th Theatre of La CGmedie Franpise, at Paris, while under the management of Moliere, a violent riot took place from a stop being put to the free admission of almost all descript:ons of the military. These ferocious personages forced thedoors of the theatre, knocking down the door-keepers, and sallied after the whole corn- panny, to treat them ln the same way. A young actor, named Bejart, who was dressed to play an old character, presented himself to the rioters ; and, as no argument is so powerful to a French- inan as a bon-mot, he disarmed their rage by thus addressing them ; Gentlemen, spare an old man of eighty, who has but three hows Lo exist.”

TIIE GRANDFATHER Oli‘ MRS. SIDDONS.

MR.WARD, the grandfatber ofthis illustrious actress, was cz performer in the time of Betterton. I-{c was the original Hazeroth in Fenton’s ‘‘ Ma- rinmne,” which was first acted in 1723. On the 22nd ofApril, 1760, he had a benefit in Dublin, when Miss Woffingtonmade her debut in Sir Harry Wìlduìr.

GOLDSMITH. G;nr,nnshfr-rIr received $1300 for the only two 20 TIIEATRES AN D TBEATRICALS. 21 To wlkh will bcadded, anew Pantomime entertainment, in grotesque characters, called HARLEQUIN SORCERER. €hleguin, Mr. Woodward ; Columbme, Miss Robinsol], be- ing her first appearance on any stage. N. B.-During the time of the fail, we shall begin at ten in the morning, and at nine at night. Aug7/st 10, 1741.” MONClzIE’P. AFTERthe appearance of cc The Abderites,” a comedy of one act, performed in 1732, written by the academician Moncriff, a critic, addressing himself to the author, said,--Lc The comedies of Moliere made 111s laugh ; and we cry at those of La Chaussé: but we neither laugh, nor cry, at your ‘Abderites.’ Like Theogenea, called, by the Athenians, the Poet of Snow, you keep us in perfect apathy, without exciting theleast emotion, either of grief or JOY.” A MANAGER’S BULL. AMONGthe MSS. sold with Kemble’s library, was a list of the performances at Covent Garden for several seasons, cluring the management of Rich, On the 171h December, 1748, the following entry was made : c( The Mcrry Wives of Windsor,” and the (‘Whnl d’y call it ?” by command of the Prince of Walm : Prince Georgc, Prince Edward, and three more P~~i~~ccsscs,were nt th 110~3~ this night.” i 22 THEATRES 6 I '1 DROLL INCIDENT- ,/ IN a French comic opera of one act, entitled '1 (l L'Abondance," one character in the piece per- sonified Virtue. The first appearance of it be- ing deferred, and the manager being requested to say how that happened, he replied, '' Mademi- selle Rosette, who is to play tíle part of' Virtue, has just been brought to bed, and we are obliged to wait for her recovery." The answer becom- ingpublic, the part was necessarily suppressed.

RNNOUNCZMBNT OF THE DEATlI OP '' OLD DRURY," IN 1741. '(On Saturday night, of a gradual decline, and in the 117th year of her age, died '' Old Madam Drury," who existed through six reigns, and saw many generations pass in review before her. She remembered Betterton in his declining age; lived in intimacy with Wikcs, Booth, and Cib- ber; and knew old Macklin when he was G stripling. Her hospitality exceeded that of the English character, even in the carly days of fati- vity,having, almost ihrough the whole of her life, entertained from one to two thousand persons of both sexes, six nights out of the seven in thc 9 AND THEATRICALS. 23

week. She was an excellentpoetess, could be graveand gay by turns,and yet, sometimes, (catchingthe disorder from intrusive guests,) could be dull enough iu all conscience. Her me- mory was most excellent, and her singing kept on such a gradual state of improvement, that it was allowed her voice was betterthe three or four last years of her life, than when she was in her prime, at the latter end of the last century. She had a rout of near two thousand people at her house the very night of her death ; and the old lady found herself in such high spirits, that lPATlI O8 ‘‘ OLV 141. she said she would give them No Supper” with- out a ‘t Song ;” which being complied with, she adual declinc, and fell gently back in her chair, and expired with- ied Old Madam out a groan. Dr. Palmer (one of the Family 1 six reigns, nnd Physicians) attendedher in herlast moments, review before Ilcra and announced her dissolutionto the company.” lis declining agc ; EPILOGUE TO ‘‘ TYILANNIC LOVE,” , Booth, and Cib- Spobenby Ne11 Guynn, wlien she was to be carried off dead when he was n by the bearers, 1678. mled that of thc DY DRYDEN. rarly days fccsti- oI‘ To tile Bearer. the whole of Ilcr HOLD are you mad, you d-d confounded dog? thousand persons c I am to rise, and speak the epilogue. f the seven in thn 24 THEATRES

To the Audience. I corne, kind gentlemen, strange news to tell ye ; I am the ghost ofpoor departed Nelly. Sweet ladies, be not frighten’d,--I’Il be civil ; I’m what I was-a little l~armlessdevil ; For, after death, we squires have just such natures We had, for all the world, when human creatures : And therefore I, that was an actress here, Play all my tricks in hell, a goblin there. Gallants,look to it; you say, there are no sprites ; But 1’11 come danci about your beds at nights ; And, ’faith, you’ll be in a sweei kind of‘ taking, When’I surprise you between sleep and waking : TOtell you true, I walk because I die Out of my calling, in a tragedy. O poet, d-d ddll poet, who could prove So senseless, to make NeIly die for love; Nay, what’s yet worse, to kill me in my prime, Of Easter-term, in tart and cheese-cake time ! I’11fit the fop ; for I’ll not one word say, T’ excuse his godly out-of-fashion play ; A play, which, if you dare but twice sit out, You’ll all be slander’d, and be thought devout. But farewell, gentlemen ! make haste to me ; I’m sure, ’ere long, to have gour company. RES AND THEATRICALS. 25 As for my epitaph, when I am gone, I'll trust no poet, but will write my own : '' Here Nelly lies, who,though she liv'd a slattern, Yet died a princess, acting in St. Cath'rine."

CIIARACTERS IN TIIE ANCIENT MYSTERIXS. + As these profane spectacles were, for the most part, founded on the characters and events of Sacred Writ, or on the superstitions with which tllc fair form of rcligion was defaced,' the intro- duction upon the stslgc of the most holy as well as of the most unholy personifications, followed as a matter of course. Ou the personification of the Deity, and of each of the Personages of the Trinity, in particular, and on the represcntatioh of the Incarnation, the Passion, the Resurrection, and Ascension, it wou~dbe necdless to offer any comment; neither is the appearance on the stage of Adam and Eve, naked and not ashamed, a very tempting sub,ject for criticism. The Devil, a personage with whose character OW ancestors thought proper to make very free, was a particu- lar favourite with the audience; he was usually represented with horns, a very wide mouthB large cyes and nose, a. flame-coloured bearcl, a 26 THEATRES cloyen foot, and a tail.The Vice, his uniform atlendant, was also in high favour,and never failed to call forth roars of laughter, by the practical jokes which he inflicted upon the poor Devil, who was, on all occasions, the scape-goat ofthe piece. I-lis wit consisted in jumping 011 the Devil's back, and in the buf€’oonery of‘chas- tising him witha wooden sword, till his sa- tanic Majesty bellowed lustily under the inflic- tion, tothe no s~nallalnusetnent of the spec- tators. Of the treatment which sacred subjects underwent, in theirmetamorphosis into Mys- teries,the following portion of a dialogue, be- tween Noah and his wife, affords a tolerable specimen. ctWelcome, wife, into this boat,” exclaims the affectionate husband,as he politely hands his lady into the ark. ‘I Take thou that for thy note,” retortsthe amiable motlier oí‘ the post- diluvialn world, suiting the action to the word, and accompanying the latter by a dutiful box on tile ear. Wretched and impious as these productions appear to us, at the present day, they were the11 deemed serviceable to Ille cause of religiotl, Festivals and Ssists’ days were selected for their TILBS AND THEATRlCALS. 27

performance; and such was the importance at- tached to them, that a pardon of 1000 days was granted by the Pope, and 40 additional days by the Bishop of the Diocese, to all who should resort to the representation of the series of Myster~esat Chester ; (‘beginning with the Creation and Fall ofLucifer, and ending with the General Judgment of the World,” of which we have given a fuller account elsewhere.

WIIENGarrick and Barry became declared 1 rivals, Romeo and Juliet” was performed at both houses, till the town was thoroughly tired ; and loud complaints were made, that no theatri- cal entertainment could be procured, except Romeo and Juliet,” Garrick, wishing, himself, to put an end to a contest which was become absurd, wrote the following cpigram :-

l( Well, ~lint’sto night?” says angry Ned, As up fronr bod he rouses:

I* Romo again !’Iand shakes his head : A plague o’ both your houscs I”

Q11 th rival Leurs, by the same performers, thle two following were written :- 28 TBEATRES

Tile town has found out differeht wap~ To paix the different Lem; To Barry, they give loud huzzas ; To Garrick,-only tears. ANOTHER. A king ! Aye, ev’ry inch a king ! Such Barry doth appear: But Garrick’s quite a dlfferent thing- He’s, ev’ry inch, King Lcar.

(c srIE STOOPS TO CONQUER.” WHENGoldsmith’s comedy of She Stoops to Conquer” was to be brought out on the stage, he was at a loss what harne to give it ti11 the very lastmoment, and then, in great haste, called it, cc She Stoops to Conquer, or the Mistakes of a Night.” Sir Joshua Reynolds, who disliked this name for a play, offered a much better to him, saying, You ought to call it, ‘ The Belle’s Stratagem,’ and if you do not, I will d-a it.” However, Goldsmith chose to name it hinlseIf :IS above, and Mrs. Cowley Ilas since given that name to one of her comedies. Goldsmith was in great anxiety about its success ; he was much distressed in his finances at the time, and all his hopes hung on the cvent ; at the dinner preceding the representation of his play, his mouth became so parched and rRE9 AND THEATRICALS. 29 dry, from the agitation of his mind, that he was runable to swallow a single mouthful. The ac- tors themselves had great doubts of its success : but, contrary to their expectations, the play was received with great applause ; Sir Joshua and a largc party of friends going for the purpose of supporting it, if necessary. Tlle dinner party, tvhich took plam at the Shakspeare, is humour- ously described by Cumberland. Dr. Johnsot1 took the head of the table, and there were pre- sent the Burkes, Caleb Whitcfoord, Major Mills, &c. &c. ]E remenlbcr,” says the relator of this anec- dote, Dr. Goldsmith gave me an order soonafter, with which I went to seethis comedy, and the next time ‘I saw him, be inquired of me what my opinion vas of it. I told him that I would not presumc to be a judge of its urcrits. Hc then said, Did it make you laugh?” I answcrecl, Ex- ceedingly.”--‘( T11~11,”said the doctor, that is all I require,” 30 TI-IEATRZS faithful Protectress of the Spanish NTt'c ion-to the honour and Glory of the most holy Virgin Mary, for the benefit, and for the propagation of her worship, the company of Comedians will this day give a representation of the comic piece called ' Nanine.' The celebrated Italianwill also dance the Fandango, and the Theatre will be superbly illa- minated."

SCARAMOUCII, AND MOLIERES h the reign of Louis XIV, an Italian actor, who named himself Scaramouch, was so popular, that he saved money enough to buy an estate, and asked leave to return to his own country. Finding himself ill-treated there, he petitioned, and was permitted, to return. At this, though he was publicly blamed, the public rejoiced; and, for more than six months, crowclecl to see Scam- 7)1021Ch again. Moliere and his excellent cotn- pany fell illto neglect; the colnediahs murmured and reproached Moliere, on whom they depended as author and manager.--'L Why don't you write for our support? Must impotence and buffoonery carry all before them ? Is there 110 vnp to 1'011s~ the p1:hlio to clommnn SPIISC 1" XES AWD THEATRlCALS. 31

: Spanish Nwti0n-b Weary of such remonstrances, Moliere told the most holy Vir& therm they must, retire, like Scur~lnzo~ch,till the For the propagation ci town should wish for their return ; but that, for y of Comedians wi! his own part, he should suffer things to take ,ion of the colnic piecl their natural course; the public would not be always Scaramouch-mad; they would be tired

, will also dance t#! with bad things, as well as with good.-Moliere : will be superbly itla- had sagacity, and was a true prophet ; the very next comedy he wrote, the concourse was drawn to his house, and popularity was once again the friend of mcrit.

PAlLODY OP A POACHER. A poor strolling player was 01xe caught per- forming the part of a poacher, and being taIret1 before the Magistrates,assembled at a quarter sessions, for examination, one of them asked him what right he had to Id1 (z hare ? Whcn he replied in thc following ludicrousparody on Brutus's speed) to the Romans in defence of tlw death of CLWW.

'r Ilritons, IIongry-men,and Epicares ! Ilcor me fur 111y CRUYC, and be silrnt, that you may lwnr; trlicvc IUC for my horlour ; nntl llave respect Lo my 11onour, thal )ou may bclicvc. Ccr~sure mc in pur wisdom-~arl nwnke jour scms(% thtYOU ruay hc bcttcr judge. If tl~elche any in

11,:. 1 %.vqIl,-Y.,' ,!,,,!~f.~,,,,~~ftl,.~l~.~,~,l,T':,, r.,,; 1I1;t,, 32 TIIHATRES poacher’s lope for hare is no less than his. If, Lhcn, that friend demand, why a poacher rose agalnst a hare, this is n13 anwer,-not that I loved hare less, but that I loved enting more. Had you had rather this hare were living, and I Ilad died quite starving-or that this hare were dead, that I nligllt lire a jolly fellow ? As this Ilare was pretty, I weep for him; as he was plump, I honour him; as he was nimble, I rejoiced at it ; but, as he was eatable, I slew him. There is tears, for his beauty ; joy, for his condition ; 110- aour, for his speed ; and death for his tootllsomcness, Who is here FO cruel, would see me a starved man ? If any, spcallc, fur him have I offended-Who is here so silly thah would not take a tit-bit ? If ang, speak, for hina have I otheuded. Who is here so sleek that does not love his Lolly I‘ If an!, speak, fol him have I offendccl.” ‘i You have offended justice, Sirrah,” cricd olle of the magistrates, out of all patience at this long and strange harangue, which bcgm to invade the time that had awakened his appetitc.

“ Then, (cried the culprit, guezsing at the hungry feelings of the bench,) since justice is dissatis- fied, it must needs llave sometiling to devour- Heaven forbid, I should lrcep any gcrltlclnan from his drnncr-so, if you plcase, 1’11 wish your Lordship a good clay, ancl a good appetite.” The magistrates, eager to retire, and somewlmt pleased with the €ellow’s last wish, gave him a reprimand in exchange for his hare, ancl let him go. RBS Sl’AqJ% FEELfNF.

cc GarTick roused the fediliegs more than any actor,on rqcord,*and, mast probably, suffered as much f~p.$$eir eye~tion.’’ A gentleman Once nlaking>tlp+hove remark to Torn @g, the CD- mediqn, ,he recgived this reply :-‘‘ Posh ! he s,u#Tqrfrom, his,feelings,! Why, sir, I was plqyiug ,with,him,ope,night,inLear, when, in the middle of a ,Tost,passiortate *and affecting part, and ,when the whde,house was drowned in tears, be turned his head round to me, ancl putting hjs tongue in his cheek, ~vl~i,sperecl--”c~D-n me, Tom,,it ‘11 do.”-So much, €OP staye feeling.

gue, which began IF rakened his appetifk, lensing at the hungry :e justice is clissatis. nething to devour- reep any gentleman Ilcase, 1’11 wish your good a-ppctite.” etire, ancl sornewllal 5 t wish, gave him a hare, and let him go. 34 THEATRES

of condemnation-He could boast that, during a seven years' probation, his most endurable dra- matic bantling was R melo-drama, that set every body to sleep. 13; wore a silver catcall at his button-hole, and expressed his hopes that he should grow more stupid as he grew older ; and that, some night, if the acting was as intolerable as the dialogue, he shouId have to boast of thc people in the pit tearing up the benclles, and trying what was the thickness of skull 1)ossgessed by acting managers. CAPRICE OP GAISRIELLI. THEViceroy of Sicily once lnvitcd thc famous Gabrielli, (during her engagemcrl t at F'alcrmo,) t~ a dinner given to the principl uohillty. As she dicl not appear at tlle hour appo111tcc1,~1 mcs- senger was sent to say, that the company wnitctl for her. She was found reading in Ixcl. Sllc desired the messenger to malre her excuses, at~d to say, hat she really had foorgot,tcu hcr cuppgc- ment. His Excellency was willirlg to overloole this impertinence, but wllcn he rcpiwcl, in tile evening, with his guests, io the Upr:~~Gabrielli played her part with thc utmost ~lc:cr;lic";c'~lcc,nl1(1 sang all her airs in an under tonc. 'l'h! Viceroy, who was passionately fond af music:, ~llreatencd R ES AND TITE$TRICALS. 35 to punish her. She became more obstinate, and declared that they might make her cry, but they never should make her sing. His Excellency, at t,his declaration, grew enraged, and actually sent her to prison for twelve days. During this time, she gave sumptuous repasts, paid the debts of the poor prisoners, and distributed large sLlrns iu charity. The Viceroy was obliged to give way, and she was, finally, set at liberty, amidst the ae- clanmtiorls of the poor, whom she had relieved. With Gabriclli in sonle degree we sympathize, ABRIELLI. because her punishment was absurd, ancl she was the wonder of the age she lived in. It is only when similar airs are assulneci by artists of second or third rate importance, that tiley be- come ridiculous and conternptibIc. 'ROYAL TIIERTRICdLS. TIIEprinces of the I-Iouse of Brunswick have generally been partial to theatrical entertain- ments. George II. frequently visiled the thea- tres, notwithstanding the impek'fect knowledge which he Elad of the English language prevented his enjoying the beauties of the drama, as much as he otherwise might hwe done. This monarch WB$ at Drury Lane Theatre, when the Culloden despatches were presented to him from the Duke 36 THEAThEs “i of Cumberland, bis darling son. The ,instant his Majesty had opened them, and cnllected tho substance of the contents, he started up, whih the tears, streamed frqm his eyes, and in,mne glorious ejaculation, thanked his God, and an- nounced the victory. Garrick irnmediateiy caught the transporting sound. The orchetitra, by bis orders, struck up (I God save Great George our Kigg,” and >thewhole audience, in rapturous enthusiasm, joined the chorus. Prince Frederick of Wales possessed a taste similar ta his father, and was very fond of in- structing his children, at an early age, 89to re- peat moral speeches aut of plays ; and, with this view, he desired Mrs. Devenish, whose, first hus- band mas Mr. Rowe, the poet, to have:a correct edition of Rowels works printcd, which that lady accordingly dicl. The press w,as corrected, and the dedication was written, by Mr- Newtçm, afher- wards Risbop of Bristol. While his family were still very XQU,~~,the Iprince bad plays at Leicester I~OUSU,in,which

, the children of bis Royal I-J,ighqesss4ustainecl. the principal characters. These wcrc uqdcr the clireetiorl of the celebrated Quin ; aad,it,wasin reference to the instructions he thcn gayeV Priuqo %ES AND THbATRICALS. 37 George, that, on.hearing of the graceful manner in which he delivered his first speech from the throne, he exclaimed, with pride and exultation,

'l Ah, I taught the boy to speak." On the 4th of january, 1749, the chlldrcn of his Royal Highness, with the aid of some of the juvenile branches of the nobility, performed the tragedy of c' Cato," before their royal parents and ;L numerous audience of clistinguishcd personages. The following were the dramatis persona on this interesting occasion :

Portius, L 6 .Prince George.

Jubaa.. - 9 -Prince Edward.

Cato-. m 9.. 0 9 ,.Master Nugcnt.

Lucius q 9 a Master Montagu.

Sypbsx U Lord Northson.

Sernpronius 6 anlaster Evelyn.

Dccius.. 9 - - - - .Lord Milsin~ton.

Marcus 9 0. -Mastor Madden*

Marcia. 1 1 v q'- *PrincessAeghsta.

Lucia. I v 9 8 g 4 I I g Princess Elizabeth. Previous to the rising' of the curtain, Prince George, ther-1 eleven years of age, carne forward, and ¿leliverea an appropriate pologue. After the tragedy, Prillte Edward d'elivered al clever epilogue, which concluded this juvenile histrionic display.

d 38 THEATRES f J AMES MILLER. JAMES MILLER,a dramatic writer, who died in 1744, was theauthor of ten plays, three of which mere performed for thirty nights each in succession; yet he was left to starve, unless he . would purchase competence at the price of his independence, which he nobly refused.

THÉ ROASTED GHOST.

WHEN Garrick performed in Goodman’s-fields, the stage was what might be called a rapid de- went to the pit, and was very difficult to walk on, As fate would have it, it was the practice of all the ghosti to appear in real armour. The dress for this most august personage had, one night, ln honout of Garrick’s Hamlet, been borrowed from the Tower, and was somewhat stiff, partaking of the nature of its material. The moment the Iring of Denmark was put up from the stage door, un- able to keep his balance, he rolled clown to the lamps, where he lay confined in fires somewhat too lasting, until a mag, in the pit, drew the at= tention of the other performers to the pitiable ob-

ject, by crying out, ‘l The ghose will be burned.” t 1 AND THEATRICALS. 39

KOTZEBUE- THE best dramatic productions of this unfor- tunate author were written when he was in hia 26th year; after which time he sunk, without any assignable cause, into a depression of spirits, which soon degenerated into a confirmed melan- choly.-His passion for the drama alone preserv- ed its empire over him, and it was during that period that he wrote ‘( The Stranger,” and Lover’s Vows.” The forrneT, he wrote during the height of his disorder. Never, (says he,) either before or since, did I feel such a rapid flow of thoughts and ìmages : and I firmly believe, that there are some maladies, especially those by x which theirritation of the nerves is increased, which stretch the powers of the mind beyond their usual reach; just as, report says, discused muscles’ shells produce pearls.’’

THE MAN OF TIIE WORLD.” THIScomedy, by Macklin, was long perform- ed under its original title of “The True-born

Scotsman ;I’ (bear in mind, Macklin was an Irish- man ;) and was so announced at the Cape1 Street ’I’hcatre, Dublin, 1771; when the author played Sir Pertinnx Mm Sycophant. 40 ' TNEAT RES

PRE~JCHS'PECTACLE. ABOUTtenfyears ago, this volatile nation ch- matised the Episode of'' Sarnpson."-They turn- ed his adventures into a very diverting Ballet :- Sampson danced a Pas Seul, with tlie Gates of

Gaza on his back, i Delilah cut off his hair in tlw intervals of a tasteful Hornpipe ;and the Pidis- tines surrounded and seized their victim, amidst the evolutions of a Country Dance.

'' TGE BUSY POD*:'' TITISpIay,by Mrs.Centlivre,waa decried, before' its appearance, by all t& players ; and Wilk'i, tlk original Sir George A~TZJ,refused', for somd time, to accept a part in it. The audience, who went to the theatre, was so predetermined tigainst it, as to contemplate its condemnation'; alid yet it was received so favoriraljly, that it hail a run of thirteen nights.

POINSINET, TIIE FREMCII DIkAnrAll'IST,

TI-IIS author was, litre many of his bretsyen df the profession, obliged, sorn'etiinks, to xlnáke' tli;e payment of 11;s tradesmen's bills dépend dn txc caprice of an audience. I-Ie used to toll th6 foi- lowing ludicrous anecdote, ilrat aro'sc~,ciut of th¡& REY

circumstance. On the first representation of “ Tom Janes,” his tailor, attended by his foreman, had gone that-night to the theatre, and were ap- prehended as pickpockets. They hacl taken their stations in athe plt, and thecra€ty tailor was heard, from time to time, whispering to his squire, ‘‘ Shall I cut? shall I cut ?”-The words were understood to refer to the coGtting of purses, and they were handed over to the sentinel as sus- pected characters :they were, accordingly, on the point of being condt~ctedto prison, on this charge, when the master cried out, We are not cut-purses, WB are only tailors ; I have the honor of supplyingclothes to M. Poinsinet. I-Ie has ordered from me acoat, to be paid for out of the profits of this piece ;and as I amnot skilled in the drama, 1 lmve brought with me my foreman, who is un homme d’esprit, to tell me if the piece is goad, and if T may safely cut my cloth.” 42 THEATRES Mr. Sheridan, he observed, '' that was very un- grateful, for I am sure I laughed heartily at his tragedy of g The Battle of Hastings.' "

bPlNE PEELING. GARRICK,in his performance of the venerable &ar, acted so powerfqlly on the feelings of one of the sentinels, (mho were placed on each side of the front of the stage,) tht the poor fellow fainted away during the last scene. Lfter the play, Rut- tered by this unsophisticated token of applause, Garrick sent for the soldier into the grecn 1*00m, and gavehim a guinea. The man whose turn it was, the next nigh t, to do the duty, hearing of the good fortune of his conirade, wlde Garrick was performing Ranger, made a sham faint, to the no small amusement both of audience and pcrfar- mers.

EXTRAORDINARYRECOGNITION. TUE following event, though strange, is, nevertheless, true, and haIJpwed in the Glasgow Theatre, in the year 1793. Mrs. Cross, who played, in the previous wiratcr, at Covent Gardcll Theatre, went, in thc summer, to.Scotland, to !RB3 ABD THEATRICALS. 43 play with Mrs. Esten. When the season conclu- ded at Edinburgh, the company went to Glasgow. On one occasion, the Provost pwicl the Theatre 8 visit, and, as soon as Mrs. Cross came on the stage, he exclaimed, Ioudly, cc Stop the play, 'till I speak with that woman.'' The anxiety he mani- fested occasioned the manager instantly to sus- pend the performance. The curtain was droppecl, and the Provost went round to Mrs. Cross's dres- sing room. After a very few inquiries, he found her to be his wife! from whom he had been se- parated nearly twenty years. They each had supposedthc other dead.-The husband im- mediately took her home; and, the next evening, by way of showing that shehad not forgott,en the profession by which she had formerlyexisted, shemade her appearance in the Theatre as a spectator. SEATS ON TIIE S'PAGE. Ilr was customary, in the carlier ages of the RECOGNITION. Drama in England, to slcltnit that class of spec- tators, who f'requcnted the boxes, on the stage, and to accommodate them with stools, for the use of which thcy paid sixpence or a shilling, accord- ing to circurnstances. Tt would seem, however, that this absurd custotn was confined to the 44 THEAT'RES m;lnal]erhouses, or Private Theatres, as they were' termed ; where the company was leSS numerous, and more select. Here, the fastidious critic ; the wit, ambitiolis of distinction ; alld the gallaut, studidvs of the displaf df his' apparel or of his person ; were to be seen, seat'e'd' up~nstools, or reclinihg dpon the rushes with -

gfWitll allappliances and Iucans to bmt,"' witli every thmg that can promote the reality of the scene, and invigorate the exertion,have never seen equalled, and very seldom, indeed, approached. The following quotation, from the induction to Cpnthia's Revels,'' is quite in point. " And here I cnlcr." I Child. What I upon thc stage too ? 2 Child. Yes ; and I step forth liho ond of Lhe clr'lld'i.& and ask you, Would you llave o. stool, sir 3 3 Child. A stool, boy ! 2 Child- Aye, sir, if you'11 give me sixpence, 1'11 firld you om. 3 Child. For what, 1 pray tllee ? what shall I do with it ? S THEATRICALS. AND 45

12 Child. O lord, sir ! will you betray your, ignorance JD much 7 Why, thmze yourselJ in stnte on tlro strrge, QE otlgr gen- tdomerr l!se, sir ! Seated then at their ease, they layghed, talked, anci cracked jolcesTyiitheach other during the-per- formance, and had, as Decker says, ‘‘ a signed patent, to engross the ,whole con!modity, of cen- sure ; may lawfully presume ‘to be a guidar, and stand nt the ,helm, to steer the passage of the scenes.” The style and manner of the criticisms which they vented between the whiff of their pipes, are admirably ridiculed by Jonson, in the induc- tion quoted above.

gr Now, air, suppose I am one of your genteel auditors neans to boot,” that an come in, having paid my moncy at the,tloor, with bn-iote the reality ri much ado ; and Ilere I take m3 place, nnrl sit down. Z have the exertion, ~IUE uly three ~ortsof’ tobacco in my poclret, my, light by me, ancl :ry seldom, indeed thus I begin : [ut the breaks, he /altes his tabacco.] By this light! I wonder that any man ir so mad to conle to sec these quotation, from th: rascally tits play, here-[bey do act like so mapy wrens, m Is,” is quite in 13oin~ pismires ;--not tllc fifth part of a good face amongst ~hern I ter.” all.-And tllcn, tllcir music is aboloir~uble;--able to stretch IO ? :L tnan’s ears worse tlmn ten-pillories ; and I then, !Iltir .keone of tllc clritdm tlitties-most lamentnblc things, Iihe the pitiful íellows that II, sir ? rrlakc tllcm.-Pocts ! By this vapour, an ’twcre uot for tobacco, I ~hink-the very slurxh of ’cm would poison TYP. me sixpcncc, I’ll fiad J YII~IIMnot darc to colne in at their gates-A man w,ere Iwtlcr visit fikccn jails-or a duzcn or two of haq)itnIe-- tlmoncc aclvcuturc to corn ncw tl~era.” 46 THEATRES

The disgust which so ridiculous and absurd il custom could not fail to excite in the audience, at length,however, banished it from the Theatres ; although an attempt was made, in comparatively modern times, to revive it, in favour Of the Duchess of Queensberry, at the performance of the I‘ Village Opera,” at Drury Lane, in 1729. The ill success of this esperinlent was very ele- gantly alluded to by wit of the clay, in the following lines.

Bent on dire work, ,lnd kindly rode, the Town, Impatient, hissed thy sent, dcnr DUCIICSY,down ; Conscious, that there Ilad thy sort form appzar’d, Lost all in gaze, no vacant car h~~l~CSI(l. Thy lambent eysliad look’tl Llmr ~agcaway, And the relenting hiss, and RRV’~the plny. Ths,notin clouds (as Patllcr Humer sung), Such a4 fair Venus TULII~&neau flung, Had onr duII bard e:Rcap’d tllc drondful fright, But sunk, conccal’d, in an c.yc(’sy of light t !

TEUTII WILT, OUT. Tmlate John Palmer, whosc ratIlCr was a bill- sticker, and whose son occasionally practised in the same humble though hereditary occupation, strutting about, one evening, in the Grccn Roam, in a pair of glittering bucktes, II gentlcman p- RES AND THBATRICALS. 47 sent remarked, that they really resenlbled dia-

monds. ‘LSir,” said the actor, with much warmth, I would have you to know, I never wore any thing but diamonds.” I ask your pardon,” replied the gentleman; I rememberthe time when you more nothing but puste.” This pro- duced a loud Iaugh, which was heightened by Parsons jogging the ci-devant bill-sticker on the elbow, and ¿lryly saying, Jack, why dort’t

you stich him against the wall ? ”

GRlViALDl’S GRRNDPATIIGlt.

TITE grandfather of Grimaldi was a dancer of pat celebrity on the French and Itdiala stages, and was generally called,for distinction, Iron legs, heing considercd the beat jumper in the world. Hc o11cc jumped so high, that he broke a chande- lier; apiece of whlch hitting the Turkish Ambas- saclor, who was in the stage-box, be considered i t

was ;I premeditated aEront, and complained to thFretdl Court of‘ the outrage. But the most extrnardinnry circunrstancc concerning him, \vas his being put in prison for indcccrlcy on the stage, which is a circumstance (when we consider the license at tlmt time uscd there) most extraordinary. The French were, for R time, iljfatuatcd with Gri-

AND TIIEAT'ItICALS. , 49

4islbead, that it ,would be a ,good thbg (to iJltro- duce the .tmcient cl~oruson the stage, by way ,of explaining Grimaldi's dances. Grimaldi ap- .peared tv approve af the scheme ; but told him, as it was a kind of #improvementthat could o,nly be brought about by degrees, h,e had bettqr leaTn to dance first, ,whicll would make Iiln immqdiately useful. Flahaut set to work, and Grimaldi pro- mised to makebhirn a capital dancer. In the end, he got as much money together as he çodd; left his family; and, as before said, #followed Grimaldi. When the sabres of the banditti #were drawn to despatch thetroop of dancers, Grimaldi, who, at the danger of bis life, would have his joke, whispered Flahaut to talk Latin to them. The enthusiast, Flahaut, began ; and, for a fkw seconds, the sabres were suspended. Presently loudly vociferating chi, one of them, aiming a Mow at his head, cried feci ; which blow, had it struck him, must have silenced the orator fbr ever. But the most extraordinary part of the adven- ture remains tobe told. Grlmaldi's pnrtner, the lady before mentioned, in all the furor of roman tic . heroism, just as the word despatch hail been ut- tered, stepped forward, and, in a scream of-des- YOL. 11. E 50 THEATRES pair, implored the banditti to have mercy on her comrades ; offering, that,if they would be merciful, she would yie1d.herseIf up a sacrifice, and devote her,+# to their pleasure. She described how inany ways she would be useful to them, that she could dance to amuse them ; she could cook for them; and, to be brief, intimated,in the language of Debo.rah WoodcocK, that she had no objection ta any work they could put her to." In short, the thieves were appeased, and carried off the lady in triumph,but not till they had stripped the whole troop stark naked ; leavingthem nothing but the refuse of what they had pillaged from the baggage waggon, consisting of a few odds and . ends of pantomime dresses, Grimaldi put on an old Harlequin's jacket; poor Flahaut contented himself with the trowsers OC Scaramouch ;and, in this agreeable plight, they begged their way to Brussels.

RETTEltTON'S DEATII

WAS caused by want of caution, in a violent fit of the gout, His activity kept off thc disease longer than usual ; but the fit soon rcturncdupon him with greater violence, and it was the mow unfortunate, as it was at the timc of his benefit, ‘HEATRES AND THEATRICALS. 51

The play he had fixed upon was ‘t The Maid’s Tragedy,” in which he was to enact the part of MeEanthes ; and notice was given thereof by his

friend, Slr Richard Steele, in the (I Tatler ;” but, the fit intervening, that he might not disappoint the town, he was obliged to submit to external applications, in order to reduce the swelling- in his feet, which enabled him to appear 011 the stage, though he was obliged to use a slipper, He was observed, on that day, to have R more than ordinary spirit, and met with suitable applause; but the unhappy consequence of tam- pering with his distemper was, that it flew into his head, aud killed him. Mr. Booth, who knew him only in his decline, used to say, that he never saw him, off or on thc stage, without learning something from him ; and frequently observed, that Betterton was no actor ; that he put on his part with his clothes, an3 was the very man he undertook to be, till the play was over, and nothing more. SOexact was he in following nature, that the loolc of prise which he assumed in the chwactcr of HamEat, astonishecl ,Booth, when h~ first person- ated the Ghost, to a~zcha degree, that he

c

AND THEATRICALS, Lt ES 53 entrance of another strange figure, a fem&,who enteredinto a smart dialogue with the little black, whose gestures, grimaces, and contortions of lilnb, were amazingly absurd, although per- fectly in unison, in point of tune and Italia11 manner, With the recitation, which seemed to proceed from his inflexible lips. Had it not been for a certain awkward rigidity in their sidelong motions, when moving from one part of the stage lo another, and for the visibility of the wire at- tached to their heads, and descending from the roof‘ above the stage, one might have been deceiv- ed, for a short time, into a belief of the exis- tence of these strange personages. They walked about very clumsily, to be sure; but then, they bowed and curtsied, and flourished with their arms, and twisted themselves about with as much energy and propriety of effect, as most of those living puppets who infest the stages of the little Theatres in London. ‘I There were also two skeletons, who played their parts admirably. They glided about, and accompanied their hollow-voiced speech- es with exccllent gesticulations, while their flesh? less jaws moved quite naturally. Then, to crown all, there was n balbt of about a dozen 54 THEATRES of these puppets;and theydanced with all the agility of Vestris, and cut much higher than he ever did in his life. They actually did cut ex- tremely well in the air. All the airs and graces of the French opera-dancers, their pirouettes, spin- ning round with an horizontal leg, &C., were ad- mirably quizzed. One of these dancers, dressed like a Dutchman, stopped short, after a few ca- pers ; and, drawing a snuff-box from his pocket, took a pinch; then replaced the box, and set off again with a most exalted example of the mtrechat. His partnerhelped herself, from a pocketpislol, to a dram, and then recommenced her furious exertion !”

OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE. THElate amiable Mr. T. Warton, being at Winchester, on a visit to his brother, was soli- cited by a company of comedians, who per- formed over the butchers’ shambles, to write a suitable prologue for the commencement of their theatrical campaign. How well he succeeded, in apt allusion and genuine humour, there can be but one opinion. ‘‘ Whoe’er our stage examines, must excuse The wond’rous shifts of the Dramatic Muse i AND THEATRICALS. 55

Then kindly listen, while the prologue rambles From wit, to beef-from Shakspeare, to the shambles! Divided OI~Yby Qn.e flight of stairs, The actor swaggers, and the butcher swears! Quick the transition, when the curtain drops, From meek Monimia’s moans, to mutton chops l. While for Luthario’s loss Lavinia cries, Old women scold, and dealers d-n your eyes ! Here, Juliet listens to the gentle lark, There, in harsll chorus, hungry bull-dogs bark; CIeavers and scyrnitars give blow Tor blow, And heroes bleed above, and sheep below. While magic thunders shake the pit and box, Rebellows to the ruar the staggering ox. Cow-horns and trumpets mix their martial tunes; Kidneys and Icings, mouthing and marrow bones; Suet and sighs, blank verse and blood abound, And form a tragic-comedy around. With weeping lovers, dying calves complain; Confusion reigns-Chaos is come again ! Wither, your steelyards, butchers, bring, t80weigh Th pound of flesh Bntodo’s blood must pay ! Hither, your knives, ye Christians clad in blue, Bring, ta be whetted by the worthless Jew. Hard is our lot, who, seldom doom’d to eat, Cast a sheep's eye on this forbidden meat- Gaze on sirloins, which, at1 ! we cannot carve; And, in the midst of beef-and mutton-starve. But would ye to our hoose in crowds repair, ‘Ye generous captains, and ye blooming fair, 56 THEATRES

The fate of Tanlalus we should not fear, retiring, o( Nor pine for arepast that is so near ; concert, tu Monarch more would supperless remain, no Fith needf Mor pregnant Quegns for cutlets long in vain.” likewise re GAKRICIC’S‘ RE’ADINGBEFORE ROYALTY. on’one of IN the year 1777, Garrick was’ desired to read by a pry in a Play before the King and Qu‘een, at Bucki door, sett inghanl House, in the manner of Monsieur Le bib ; whic Texier, who had obtained great reputation by loved a k reading them sitting at a table, and acting there as wrved 3 he went on. Galtrick fixed upon his own Farce young gi of U Lethe,” in which he introduced, for the occa- blind of sion, the character of an’ ungrateful Jew. There former were present the King, Queen, Princess Royal, her beir

Duchess of Argyle, and one or twd more of the why d‘t, Ladies in waiting ; but the coldness with which side this select party beard him, so opposite to the applause he Md always’ been úsed to’ on the stage, had such an effect upon him, as to prcvent MACI; his exertions, or, to use Mr. G.’s own words much su in relating the circumstance, it was (said he) perform1 as if they had thrown a wet blanket over me.’’ he saw said Ma DIBDIN. foot on t IN the dialogue phPt ‘of ont; of Dibclin’s enter- heah of tainments, he observes something abaut fiddlers stage, j

l bATRES AN JI TIIEAT RICA LS. 57

retiring, occasionally, during the course of a collcert, to supply the chords of their instrumellts with needful rosin: following their example, he. likewise retires for a few minutes. It happened, on one of his nights, that Mrs. D. wasobserved, by a prying wag, through the crevice of the stage door, settling the composer’s neckcloth, or chin- bib ; which dose, the lady bestowed on her be- loved a kiss. The same prying wight also ob- servecl Miss Dibdin, an amiable and beautiful young girl of about 17, tl1rough the Venetian blind of the opposite box, and said, on the per- former taking his seat, udeanscious, no doubt, of ber being hist daughter, Dibdin, I say, Dibdin, why did not YOU take your rosin from t’other side ?”

&

MACICLIN, AS “ SXIYLOCK.”

MACICLINwas very particular in Shylock; SO much so, that herequested Bobby Bates, who performed the part of Tubal, not to speak until

hc saw himstanding on a, certain spot; L( nay,” sec me I. said Macklin, <(nottill you place my right foot on this mil,” (pointing with his stick to the hèad of a, large nail which was driven into the stage.) Bobby promisecl to remember the old 58 THEATRES man’s instruction ; and, that he might have abet- ter view of the nail, he marked it in a conspi* cuous manner with a piece of chalk. Atnight, fiJacklin had forgotten the nail; therefore, when Tubal entered, and remained, for some time, with- out speaking, Macklin exclaimed, in an under voice, 61 Why the d-1 don’t you speak ?”-

U sir,’’ replied Bobby, ‘‘ put your ~ig’b~tfoot upon the na~l.” This so disconcertedthe veteran that it was with great difficulty he finished the part. LOUIS XIIr., AND MOLIERE. LOUISXlV. was informed, thatthe officers of his household had expressed, in a most offensive manner, how much they were mortilied at being obliged to cline at the tuble du controleur de la bouclte, with Moliere, valet de chambre to the King, becausehe performed as a comedian; and that celebrated genius had absented himself from their dinners. Louis, desirous of putting an end to the insults offered to one of thc first men of the age, said, one morning, to Moliere, They tell me, that you make meagre faTa here, and that the officers of my chamber c10 nut think YOU fit to eat with them. Perhaps you are bun- gry; 1 wake, myself, with a good appetite; sit AND TIIEATRICALS. 59 down to table, and let us have breakfast.” Mo- liere and llis majesty took their seats ; Louis help- ed his valet to the wing of a fowl, and himself to another, and ordered the entries farnilihs to bp, admitted. The most distitlguished and favoured of the householdmacle their appearance. ‘‘ You see,” said the Icing, ‘‘ I: am feeding Moliere, whom my valets-de-chambre do not think suficiently good company for them.” Fromthat moment, Mo- liere had no occasion to present himself at the table of persons on service, as all the court were pressing in their offers of service.

GEO2tGE AND DAVID GAlLltICK. GEORGE,the brother of the celebrated David Garrick, was particularly attentiveto him, and, on comingbehind the scenes, usually inquired, c‘ Has David wunted me ?” On its hing once asked, how George calne to die so soon after the demise of -60 THEATRZS his distinguished relative, it was answered (' D&- vid wanted ?tim." MRS. ROBINSON. THISlady has been no less distinguished for her genius as a writer in verse and prose, than for her exquisitebeauty and personal misfortunea. She was the daughter of Darby, who, failing, and dying soon after, his widow took her lovely daughter to Landon, where, at sixteen, she was induced to marry a young attorncy,,of speciouE appearance, of the name of Rabinson. Her hus- band, soon after, falling into difficulties, Mr. Garrick encouraged her to try the stage, for sub- sistence ; and, at nineteen, she playecl several parts with success, when the beauty of her person created interest and favour. One: night, after she had,playecl the partof Per- dita, she received from the Prince of Wales, by the hands of Lord Malden, a lock of his Royal High- ness's hair, enclosed in abillet, wich these words, To theadorable Perditu-Florixel; to be redeem- ed :' written in his own hand. The lock and the billet are now in the possession of Sir Richard Phil- lips. The vanityof a young woman in her situation relldered her an easy prep, and she soon after became the public mistress of the handsomegt RES

prince of bis age ; living in a style of Oriental splendour. Some jealousies soon after caused a separation, when she obtained an annuity of &500 per annum, for the remainder of her life, with €250 for her infant daughter by Mr. Robinson. The habits of luxury which she had acquired, du- ring her royal connexion, could not be shaken off. and she yielded to a sincere attachment to Colo- nel T-- ; and, in a journey by night, to render him a persod service, she caught cold, fol- lowed by a severe fever, and lost the use of the sinews of her knees, being then only twenty-two. This malady she never overcame, and was unable to stand upright, or walk, during the remainder of her life. She now devoted herself to poetry and liter- ature ; and many of her pieces, in feeling and high-wrought sentiment, will never be surpassed. She maintained her personal fascinations, and might have been considered one of the loveliest women in England, till her forty-seconcl year, when hcr scckntary 'life, joined to her incessant application to her pen, brought on a dropsy of the cllcst, of whic\l shc died. 62 TF1 EATRES

JOY BILLS AS WELL As GRIEF. MISS SMITH,a young lady who played the character of Amelia, in the comedy of “ The Twin Itivals,” at Covent Gardcn Theatre, some years ago, died,last week, in this town (Norwich), in the following extraordinary manner. A young gentleman of a good family and great expectancy had long l~ada tendre for her, but did not mnke her any serious offers, because be feared his friends would object to the match, on account of the young lady‘s want of fortune, she ha- ving given up everysbilling of some property which had been bequeathed tho her, to rescue hcr parents from ruin, Her theatrical prospccts not appearing very promising, the young gentle- man generously told her, that if sllc would quit the stage,he would make her his wife, in spitc of any objections of his friends ; as sllc really loved him, the excess of her joy was such, that she sunk into his arms, and died irnmcdiatcly.” (Prom a letter, datcd Feb. 1779.)

MR. IIOLLAND AND MRS. a-m. Holland, the trsgodian, who Qaurisbcd about 1760, was a great favouritc with tllc fair sex: :tnd the distinction with which some of them AND TIIBATRICRLS. 63 honoured him, has rendered him fa mous in the annals of gallantry. Among the chief oi‘ his amours, stands his intrigue with Mrs. E----le, which detail, we have little doubt, will ,amuse our readers. Our tragcdian had received many letters, sign- ed ‘‘ Leonora.” Some of them, replete wlth ex- travagant praise of him, as an actor ;and others, declaring, ‘‘ that the writer sl1ould bave thought herself blest, if he had fallen to her lot as a com- panion for life ; but, as fortune had cruelly denied her that extreme gratification, she should enjoy no rest till he had assured her,in +e most solemn manner, that he would attempt nothiug against her virtue, if he was indulged with an intcr- view ;”.Ille letter, which contained this declata- tion, enclosed a present of four lottery tickets, and mentioned, that a servant would call €or an answer in a few days. Our hero’s curiosity Iving hereby worked up to the highest pitch, he sent a most loving answer. Near a, lnonth elapsed before the impatient actor rcccivcd a, reply; which, l~owever,when it came, set his hart at rest. ’T’lx fitir one breathed the most tender sentiments, and assured him, that thcy rcmaiued unchanged. She had hem ill, 84 THEATRES and was ordered to the country for the recovery of her health, She desired him to accept a diamond ring, and wear it,constantly, for her sake. In about six weeks from this period, the Lady returned from the country ; and, inR letter, penned in the usual strain,assured him, that she had now determined to venture on an inter- view, and that she would call on him at his lodg- ings on the Sunday morning. In this irksome in- terval, ourtragedian's soul was continually up in arms, and formed ten thousand plans of the manner in which he should receive her Ladyship, oc her Grace. The happy moment at length arrived; and a plump well dressed female entered Holland's din- ing-room, when he exerted the utmost powers of his elocution in thanking her for the utuneritecl favour she conferred on him ; calling up all the assistance of stage-trick, by counterfeiting con- fusion, terror, &c. &c., on which the lady accosted him in this manner : (6 Sir, you may spare yourself your declarationsand transports for another person. I am not the lady who has been your correspondent, but an intimate friend, who can re- fuse her nothing; and, as she found herself inea- pable of meeting you alone, I undertook the THEATRES AND THEATRICALS. 65

task, from motives of pure friendship and com- passion : her coach is 'nom at the door ; she has a villa near town ; and, if you please, I will accom- pany YOU thither to dinner." This being arranged, they soon arrived at the villa. Holland was ushered into an elegant apart- ruent ancl regaled with chocolate, while his fair inamorata was mustering up courage to meet him. --.Every preparatory step being taken, he was suffered to approach his princess ; when" (as

Hume said of himself ancl Rousseau) 'I a very tellder scene ensued.'? We will pass over the under plots, &c,, and proceed to say, that lodg- ings were taken in town, where the happy couple met, as they thought, in the most secret manner ; but what was their surprise when they found, that an action was brought against Holland, by the caraged Mr. E. fobr Crim-Cm; and, above all, that the complaisant friendly go-between WELS to be produced by him as the sole witness to prove the deed. This stratagem operated like a thunder-bolt, and dispersed, nt omx, dl the loves and graces ; the lady retreated to obscu- rity, and the gentlenlan prepared for his defence- Als he had no doubt of the fact being fully ascer- tained, his ady resource was io prove, t1lG fmn VOL. IT. F G6 THE&TRBB

his salary, atld other circumstances, he was in- capable of paying large damages. This precau- tion was, however, rendered unnecessary, by a message from Mr. E., who, convinced Mr. 13. that it was his interest to make no cldence; as, in that case, no more than X50 damages would be claim- ed, and even that sum not received. 0 What could poor Holland do in this exigence ? Blank verse could be but of little use lo him; he, therefore, submitted quietlyto his faale, which turned out exactly as he had been promised: It plainly appearing, that her husband’s sole view was, to get ricl of a wife, for whom he had 110 rc- gard, without refunding a shilling of ber fortune, which was large ; and, in this honournblc pur- suit, he effected his purpose by means of‘ tllc vir- tuous lady who had insinuated ‘hersclf into the confidence of the credulous Mrs. E. Holland made his exit from tllc stngc of lif‘e, on the 7th of December, 1769, in ille 36th year of his age.

POOTE AND DR. JOIlN90N. Toar DAVIS,one cvcning, relatccl lo tl~cDoctor the intention of Footc to personify his fig~rc:~ dress, anil manner, upon the stage. Wcll,” T RES

says the Doctor, what is the price of a good stick?”--‘-‘ Sixpence,” said Torn. Then buy

me a shilling one,’’ added the Doctor ; I‘ for, on the night he does so, I’ll be in the stage-box ; and if the rascal attempts it, 11’11 do myself justice on his carcass, in face o€ that audience, who, wit- nessing my disgrace, shall also be spectators of his punishment.”~Foote, on hearing this, very wisely abandoned his project.

‘‘ THE WAY TO KEEP IIIM.” THEcharacters of Sir RashJill Constant and his lady, in this play, are said to have actually been taken from real life. Mr. French, a cousin to Mr. Murphy, a gentleman of fortune, who re- sicled in Hanover square, in the house afterwards occupied by Mrs. Piozzi, was much attached to his wire, but reluctant to slmw his conjugal affec- tion. He amply supplied her withmeans, but affected to object to her numerous visitors of rank, though be ncver joined her evening parties; aucI was proud of seeing her looking-glasses aclorncd with cords of invitation from the nobi- lity. 68 THEATRES

r.IRQUHAR’S LAST hlODIENTS. FA~QUIIARdied during the successful run of

tlle U Beaux Stratagem.” Mr. Wilkes often visited ]nim inhis illness. On one of these visits, Wilkes told Farquhar, that Mrs. Oldfield thought that he dealt too freely with the character of MTS.Sul- 7~12, in giving her to Archer without a proper divorce, which was not a security for her honour, To salve that,” replied the author, ‘‘ I’ll get a real divorce,--I’ll marry her myself, and give her my bond, she shall be a real widow in less than a fortnight.’?

CARLIXI. LAUGHTERis, by no means, an unequivocal symptom of a merry heart :-there is a remarkable anecdote ot Carhi, the drollest buffoon ever known on the Italian stage, at Paris. A French physician, being consulted by a person who was subject to the nmst gloomy fits of melancholy, advised his patient to mix in scenes of gaiety ; and, particularly, to frequent the Italian theatre : ‘c And (Said he) if Carlini does not dispel your gloomy COmphint, your case must be desperate indeed!”-iC Alas, Sir ! (replied the patient,) I

--- TRES AND TIIPATRICALS. G9 myself am Carlini: but while 1 divert all Paris with mirth, and make them almost die with laugh- ter, I am, myself3 actually dying with chagrin ancl melancholy !” Immoderate laughter, like the immoderate use of strong cordials, gives only a temporary appear- ance of cheerfulness, which is soon terkinated by an increased depression of spirits.

MRS. MONTAGUE.

A LADY of this name was formerly an actress at the Hull Theatre, and between her and Mrs. HudSotl, of the same company,violent quarrels and disputes were continuallyarising ; so much so, that each had a party distinguished by the appel- lations ofthe Montagues, and the Capulets.” On

January 3, 1777, (L Henry II.” was appointed to be pcrformed for Mrs. Hudson’s benefit; Rosa- nzond by Mrs. Hudson, and the Queen by Mrs. Montnguc. This was so repugnant to the inclina- tion oí‘ the latter Indy, that she sulked, and would not study the part. When the play was to Bave

begun, an apology was macle, staLing that ILillness had prevented Mrs. Montague from studying the putof Queen Elinor, and, therefore, she begged 70 THEATRES

to be permitted to read it.” Mrs. 1.udSOn’S frieds were instantly inflamed ; and, indeed, the whole of the audience declared that Mrs. M. mustl appeaf, and give an accouot of her conduct. At last, after a continued uproar and confusion, Queen Ehz.0rb appeared in a rage. She said, she would read, or she would not perform the part at all ; illness, and study for her own benefit, had prevented her. The audience, with one voice, told her, that if she did not perform the part, as was her duty, shemust depart thatinstant; for, ratlm than sub- mit to such intentional insult and effrontery, thy would desire the cook maid from the ale housc ‘ to read it!-On whicll she placed herself in a tragic attitude, and having obtained, by this stra- tagem, a moment’s truci, snicl aloud, SO, T may not be permitted to read thc Queen?”--“ No, No,

No ! Off; Off, Off !’’-c‘ Well, then,” said she, ‘‘ curse you all !” Upon this, she threw the book into the pit, and msdc Ilcr exit, amid slmwcrs of disapprobation ; but not cntircly without laugh- ter from those who cc smiled nt th tumult, and enjoyed the S~OTM.’’

“ DIDO.” OF this tragedy, the production of Jose$ AND TIIEATRICALS. 71 Reed, author of the“Register Office,” Mr. Ni: cholls, in his Id Literary Anecdotes,” gives some curious particulars. He also relates an anec- dote of Johnson concerning it. “ It happened that I was in Bolt Court on the day that Hen- derson, the justly celebrated actor, was first in- troduced to Dr. Johnson ; and the conversation turning on dramatic sub.jects, Henderson asked the Doctor’s opinion of IC Dido,” and its author.

6‘ Sir,” said Johnson, (‘I never did the man an injury, yet he wodd read his tragedy to me.”

IIELVIO’C, THE FRENCHACTOR. HRZVIOT,a celebrated French actor, was one day walking on the Boulevards at Paris, qccorn- panied by Baptiste and Gis lady, when they were attracted by the sounds of EL harp, played by an old bcggar. As thc talent of the harper was not of the first order, he obtained but little notice from the Parisian promenaders. Helviot, how- eyer, was so much intcrestedfor him, that he stept nsiclc with his companions, to propose ren- dering him a service. Madame Baptiste lowered her veil, ancl sat down to the harp; while her hus- band ancl I-IeIviot accampanied her in a trial of their voices. The excellence of the performance 72 THEATRES s9on attracted au immense crowd, whexpressed theiradmiration, by filling thehat of Helviot who held it for the benefit of the beggar, with pieces of silver. The joy of the old inan may

easily be conceived, '

SCENERY- Tmpresence of Scenery In the booths and temporary erections in Inn-yards, where the first rude companies of comediansexhibited, is not to be supposed; and the evidencecollected on the subject goes, for the most part, to prove, illat the first regular Theatres were nearly as destitute of scenic decorations as their beggarly predeces- sors. The absence of this essentialarticle of theatrical fumiture affords a decisiveproof oí' the excessive poverty of the first dramatic esta- blishments ; sincethe accouut-books of tho Mas ter of tbe Revels, for 157 1, and several subse- quent years, clearly point out the use of four va- rieties of scenery, in almost every play or masque exhibited atcourt. 1, temporary ercctions on the stage ; 2, painting on canvas, stretched m frames ; 3, mechanical contrivances ; ancl 4, fur- niture and properties generally. Th Ibllowing are extracts from the office books : AND THEATRICALS. 73

One l~undredand fifty ells of canvas, for the houses and properties made for the players.”

(1 A paynted cloth, and two frames.” Wm. Lyzartle for size, cullers, pots, nails, and pensills, uscd and occupied upon the painting of seven cilles, one .village, one country-house, one battlement, &c.”

1‘ One city and one battlement of canvas.”

6‘ Wm. Lyzarde, for paynting by great, CCX. yards of can- vas.’’ Six plays “furnished, perfected and gnmihlled, necessa- rily, and answerable to the mattel, person, and part to be played; having apt howeseß made of canvass, framed, fnhhioned nnd payynted accordingly, as might best serve their several purpose0 In fact, all sorts of scenery and machinery were put in requisition for the t‘ garnishing” o€ those representations which took place in the royal presence : castles, battlemnts, houses, arbours, prisons, altars, tombs, rocks and caves, devices of hell and hell-m~~th,and, on one occa- sion, a church is specified; wlhh appears, from another item, to Ewe contained a light. ‘Frees, hobby-horses, lions, dragons, and fish, also frcquently recur in the accounts. With re- spect ta machinery, the sun suspended. in a cloud; It flakes of yse, llayle stones, and snow- balls,” delicately composed of (( sugar plate, musk cumfetts, corianders prepared, clove cumT 74 THEATRES fetts, synnamon cumfetts, &c. :” thunder and lightning; cc acharrott of 14 foote long and 8 feote brode, with a rocke upon it, and a fountain therein, for Apollo and the Nine Mum;” are striking instances of the complicated nature of many of the contrivances made use of at Court. On the public stage, Ilowever, atthe same period, a simple hanging of arras or tapestry was all that appeared in the way of ornament; and this, as it became decayed or torn, was clumsily repaired by the display of pictures over the fractured places. A plain curtain, suspended in a corner, separated the most distant regions; and a board, inscribecl with the name of a country or city, indicated the scene of action, the change of whichwas marked by the removal of one board, and the substitution of another. A table, with pen and ink, thrust in, signified that the stage was a counting-house ; if these were with- drawn, and two stools prit in their places, it became a Tavern. When the Theatres were en- tirely destitute of scenery, the protruded board indicated that the empty stage was to bc consi- dered as a city, a house, a wood, or any other place ; and when scenes were first introduced,

E RES AND THBATRICALS. 75

the board was not immediately discontinued, but was used to denote, that thepainting exhibited re- presented such a particular city, house, or wood. It was long before the Thcatres became rich enough to aEord a change of scenery for every change of place throughout a play, so that it was freqllcntly the lot of one painting, in the space of a, few hours, torepresent the metro- polis of several different countries. Temporary erections for the purposes of the scene were, however, not uncommon : the tomb, in the last act of ‘‘ Romeo and Juliet ;” and, in the early his- torical plays, the frcquent recurrence of the walls of towns, attacks upon the gatcs, the appearance of thc citizcns ancl others, on the battlements, &c., rendercd some represcntation of these places indispcasablc. A very rude contrivance in front of the balcony would, however, generally be sufficient í‘or the purpose. Very complicated ma- chinery wm also nccessary in the representation of nmny of the old dramas. In proof of this, we necd only rcfer to two or thee stage directions,

in Xhakspcare. In the M Tempest,” Ariel enters like D. harpy, claps his wings on the table, and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes.”-In Cyrnbqliure,” Jupiter descends in tlmnder alid

RES AND THEATRICALS. 77 Eagie.-Tllc c;!: dicting, in the Spectator,” the established rules l at the biddiogc: of poetical justice ; because his own hero, with c. &e. all bis virtues, was to fall before a tyrant. CATO.” At length, ‘‘ the great, the important clay,’’ when Addison was to standthe hazard of the Theatre, arrived. That there might, however, be as little hazard as possible, Steele undertook to pack an audience. This, says Pope, hac1 Ileen tried, for the first time, in favonr of the Dis- tressed Mother,” and was now, with more cfficacy, practised for Cato.” The danger was soon over; the whole nation was, at that the, on fire with faction. The Whigs applauded every line in whicb liberty was mentioned, as a satire on thTories : ancl the Tories echoed every cheer, to shew that the satire was not felt. Bolingbroke cnllcd Booth to his box, and gave him fifty guineas, for dcfencling the cause of liberty against n pcrptud Dictator. The play, thus supported by the emulation of hctious praise, was acted, 11ight aftcr night, for a longer time than the A 78 THEATRES l The thought with which ‘‘ Cato” opens, appears to have been borrowed from Lee’s ‘‘ Alexander.”

11 The dann is overcast, the morning lours, And heavily in clouds brings on the day.” CATO.

IfThe morning rises black ; the louring sun, As if the dreadful business he foreknew, Driyes heavily his sable chariot on.” ALEXANDERTHE GREAT.

>IR. AND MRS. BARTLEY, AND THE AMERIC-4N PURITANS.

A CURIOUS instance of the Zazldable spirit which governs some of the Puritans in America occurred at Hertford, (the capital of the state of Connecticut,) during the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Bartley. It happened, as theywere going their first journey from New York to Boston, that they halted to breakfast at the principal hotel in Hertford. It was soon known that they were in the city, and before &Ir, Bartley had finished his meal, the landlord informed him that several gen- tlemen were in an adjoining room, and requested to speak with hm. Mr. Bartley waited upon them, and they explained to him that the fame which had attended Mrs. BartTey in New York, made them most anxious to llave an opportunity ES AND THEATRICALS. 79 of witnessing her talents in Hertford; that they had no Theatre, but a tolerably large Assembly- room, which they would fill, if she would engage to give readings or recitations. It was soon agreed that she should do sa, 011 her return from Boston. The night was fixed, and the room crowded to excess : her readings from Milton and Shaks- peare were highly approved of; and she promised to repeat them on her way to Boston, at her next visit. The inhabitants of Hertford apprised themselves of the perisd of her next engagement at Boston, and wrote to Mr. Bartley, requesting him to lend his quota to the promised evening’s enterlainment at I-Iestford. This was acceded to ; but, no sooner was the announcelnent made, than the rigid and puritanical part of the commu- uity set up an oulcry against these repeated in- novations ; ancl Mr. Ebenezer I-luntingdon, (the Attorney-Gcncral of the State,) resolved to put into execution it dormant act of the legislature, against tllc performance. In the mean time, Mr. and Mrs. Bardey (wholly unconsciousof what had been threatened) arrivecl, and were received as wzlrrnly as ever. The hour o€ performance 11avillg approached, thc room was again crowd-

/-” Sc) TUEATR ES

ed, and all mas on the eve of commencement, when a letter, addressed to the landlord of the hotel in which the assembly-room was situated, came from Ebenezer Huntingdon, stating, that if &Ir+and Mrs, Bartley proceeded in their unlaw- ful practices, he would prosecute them under the existing laws of the state. The contents of this letter were concealed from Mr. and Mrs. Bart- ley, and the performances went off with great eclaf. Shortly after Mr. and Mrs. Bartley had re- tired to rest, that night, the myrmidons of Ebe- nezer came with a writ, to serve it on the uncon- scious offenderç. The singularity of the proceecl- ings, together with the indelicacy of selecting the hour of miduight, as the proper period for the execution of such a process,rouSed the indignation of several gentlemen, mho were still in the hotel, and they gave their personal securities to produca Mr. Bartley the next day, or to auswer the con- sequence; at the same time depositing 500 dol- lars, to meet the expenses of the suit, A tremendous fall of snow rendered the roads impassable on the following day, and Mr. and &.Irs. Bartleg mere, consequently, detained. Still, thwhole transaction was carefully kept from their knowledge ; but some legal persons, who inter- TRES AND THEATRICALSe 81 ested themselves greatly in the matter; andp dif- fering as to the construction of the law from the Attorney-General, put tlie question in a train of judicial hearing, and were adventurous enough to invite Mr. and Mrs. Bartley to repeat the en- tertainments that evening, as the weather was SO unfavourable to the prosecution of their journey to Boston, They were still unconscious of what had happened ; ancl it was not until after mucl1 grave nrgwrmt in th court OF justice, and a decision hvourable to the accusecl, that Mrs. Bartlcy was made acquainted witb all that had occurred, by tllc gentlemen who liad so spiritedly clcfcadecl tllc prosecution at their own risk. A’U’D 82 THEATRES

those wl~osee your plays, do not wonder that you write so fast ; and those who read them, heartily wish you had never written at dl.” It is not impossible that such attacks as the above, which were not unfrequent, might, at length, have restrained or checked the propensity to write,nrhich influenced our hero ; but, unfortu- nately,his circumstances would not allow of his giving up the only means he possessed, of subsistence for himself and family. He continu- ed, for several years, writing two f?musam€lines a day, for a salary litCle betier than that of a journeyman tailor, in consequcnce of an agree- ment with a dramatic company, whom hc under- took to furnish will1 all they wantcd. Fortunately for thelibraries of those who possess the works of Hardy, as well as luclcily for his own fanle, only forty or tirty of all his dramatic host retnain ; nor can it bc said, thata perusal of these occasions any rcgrct for the loss of their departed cornpzL n1ons. He would frequcntly reply to tl~osc\v110 ccn- sured his Plays, cc What f‘aults socvcr my (IraInas nlay possess, it cannot be denied they arc just pictures of human life.’’ Grossly vinlatillg rikn1+ anit decorum, he fairly put his cllaracters to TRES bed. TheDeath of Achilles, or a Tradesman’s wife caught by her husband with another man, afforded, alike, to Hardy, subjects for tragedy. In one of his pieces, the curtain draws up and discovers ajille de joie sleeping in her bed. The plot turns on the entrance of two of her admirers, who quarrel for the prize ; they retire to settle the point, as such matters generally are settled ; and a third, more happy, creeping from beneath the bed, carrics off this second Helen. In one pnrticuhr, the plays of Hardy may be said to bear a near rcsemblance to life; they turn 011 qunrrelling aud kissing, as Butler observes, in his Hudibras.

“ IIe 6worc the world, ÍN tre could prove, Is ruade of fighting, and of love.” In one of his performances, a princess is mar- ried. In the first act her son, the hero, is born ; in the scconcl, educated ; in the tl~ird,a conqueror ; an outragcous lover in the fourth ; and, final- ly, mnrricd, in the fi€& act. This, it, nmg be said, is rcal life; for c10 we noi. every day see weddings whcrc the lady is a bride and a mother wtllin the spacc of cight and forty hours ! A gentleman of Paris, who fancied, that, wit11 84 THEATRES all the absurd improprieties of Hardy, he could perceive occasional sparks of genius, on a certain occasion,visited this dramatic writer, with the intention of advising him not to write so mucll, Inquiring, of his theatricalfriends, where Har. dy lived, this friendlycritic was directed to a mean lodging, in the obscurest part of the city. Almost breathless with climbing, he at last found the dramatist in tbc attic story, busily cngaged in his occupation, before a fire, on which a morsel of bouiEEe' was preparing ; he was rocking thecrndlc vith his foot, and writing on a box, set o11 its end; dressed only in a loose coat ; and the shirt, which he ought to have Elad on, his wife was washing in a corner of the room. The critic, disarrned by n sight, vcry diífcrcnt from that which disamcd the angry lover of our poet (Prior"), forgot every word thathc intcudcd to havesaid ; excused himsclf, by preteuding that hc had mistaken the name ; and, dropping a pul SC of Louis d'ors on the floor, he hurricil down stairs. Had lx entered 011 the subject, aod fsivcn thin- tended advice, it would, inall probab~lity,l~:lvc bec11 useless. It was the misfortune of IIardy, (ils it a!-

* A roscmludin n lady's rlcck. 3’ AND TI-IEATRICALS. 85 ways is a misfbrtane,) to write for bread ; and, in reply to the salutary admonition of his benevo- lent visitor, he wight have said, Bien obligk, Momieur, maisil faut vivre.--‘; Many thanks for your kindness, sir, but I cannot live without eating.”

POOTE AND QUIN. TIIIS celebrated mimic had signified,, in his advertisement, while he was exhibiting his imita- tions at one of the Theatres Royal, that lx. would, on a pal’ticulacevening, take off Quin ; who, being desirous of seeing his own picture, took a place i11 the stagc-box, and, when the audience had ceased applaudiug Foote, for the justness of the, representation, Quin bawls out, with a loud horse-laugh, I’m glad on’t ; the poor fellow will get a clean shirt by it.” Whea Foote i~nrnediately retorted, from the stage, ‘‘A clean shirt, master Quin !-a shirt of any kincl was a very novel thing in your family, sonle few years ago.”

BARON, AND THEDURE DE ROQUELAURE. TIJE famous, Baron was both an autbor and an actor; he wrote a comedy in five acts, called Les Adclphcs,” taken from the I‘ Adelpbi” of ANI 86 THEATRES

Terence; and, a few days before it was performed, 1 BAI the Duke de Roquelaure, addressing him, said, <

g c Cercle.” “7

HEATRXS 87

n BARTON 130LIDAY.

A DRAMATIST of this name was the author of a comedy called c‘ Technogamia, or, the Marriage of the Arts,” which was performed at Christ-Church Hall, Oxford, in 1617. Anto- ny Wood relates the fallowing anecdote of subsequent representation of the same piFce.- {‘The wits of these times being minded to show themselves beCore the Ring, (James I,) were re- solved, with leave, to act the same comedy at Woodstock. Whereupon, the author making some fuolish alterations in it, it wits accordingly acted on a. Sunday night, August 26, 1621 ; Lut it being too grave for the King, and too scho- lastic for the auditory; or, as some have said, the actors having taken too much wine before they began, his majesty, after two acts, offixed several tirncs to ~vitbdraw. At length, being persuadecl, by somc one near him, to stay till it was ended, lest thc young men should be discouraged, he. sat down, though much against his will ; where- upon, these verses were madc by a certain scho- lar :

4‘ AlChrist Clrarch &fw~~iugc~donc: beforc the l‘hg, Lest tht thC8C tnutcs shodd want an oírcring, 88 THEATILES TheKing himself did offer-what, 1 pray ? He offer’d, twice or thrice-to go away.” DANCOURT. WHENDancourt gave a new piece, if it were unsuccessful, to console himself, he was accus- tomed to go and sup with twoor three of his friends, at the sign of the Bagpipes,” kept by Gherit. One morning, after the rehearsal of‘ his comedy called ‘‘ Les Agioteurs, or Stock-bro- kers,” which was to be performed, for the first time, that evening, he asked one of his daugh- ters, not ten years of age, how she liked the piece ; ‘LAh, papa,” said the girl, ‘‘ you’ll go to night, and sup nt the sign of c The Bag-pipes,’ ’’

4c RECRUITINCT OFFICER.’’ FOOTErelates that the charactcrs of this play were taken, by Farquhar, from thc following originals : Justice Balance WRS a Mr. Bevcrlcy, a gentle.. man of strict honour and indcpendcnce, thcl1 Recorder of Shrewsbury. Another of the Justices was a. Mr. I-Iill, inhabitant of Shrewsbury. Worthy was a Mr. Owen, who livcd an tho horders of Shropshire. Captain Plume was Farqulmr himself. FIEATRES AND TIIEATRICRLS. 89 Captain Brazen, unknown. Sylvia was Miss Beverley, the daughter of the gentleman of that name, above mentioned. Melinda was a Miss Harnale, of Belsadine, near the Wrekin. Thc plot is supposed to be the author’s own invention.

PltENCII IlORSE-PERFORR1ER,.

Corneille wrote a tragedy called (c Andromeda,” with machinery, ta divert Louis XIV, when a boy ; the dccoratious of which were so grand, that they were engraved. The piece was revived, in 1682, with great success, and with the adclition of n living horse, to represent Pegasus. The horsc played his part admirably, and pranced as much in the air, as he could have done on t~?~m--rr~zn.Thc Italians have often brought on liviug horses in thcir graucl operas, but they bound with such prccautian, as to produce little cffect. Other n~canswere talten, in the tragedy of cc Rn- cl~0mecZ~,”to give the horse a warlike ardour : bcforc hc was hoistcd, by machinery, up in the air, Izc wits kept hsting so long that his appetite was cxtrcme; and whcn he appcarcd, a groom, be- hrnd th sccnes, stood sl~akingoats in a sieve. 90 TFIEATRES Pressed by hunger, the horse neighed, pawedwith his feet, ancl perfectly answered the end design- ed. By this stratagem, the piece had a great run, for every body waseager to visit this famed quadrupedal Roscius.

SEIUTER'S RECKONING.

IT is well known that this celebrated comedian, in the earlier part of his life, was tapster at a public house, in theneighbourhood of Covent Garden. A gentleman, one day, ordered him to call a hackney coach, which he didaccordingly. It so happened, that the gentleman lefthis gold hcacl- ed cane, and missing it, the next morning, went immediately to the public house, io inquire of the boy, Ned, (who called the coach,) whelher he could tell the number. Shuter, who was then no great adept in figures, except in his own way of scoring up a reckoning,immediately replied, It was two pots of porter, a shilling's worth of punch, and a paper of tobacco." The gentlcman, upon this, was as much at a loss as ever; till Ned took out his chalk, and tl~us scored down his reckoning :-4, 4, for two pots of porter, O, for a shilling's worth of punch ; and a line, across the two pots of porter, for a paper of tobacco, which ANI) TIIEA’CRIC,ILS. 91

DUPltESNP, AND THE ABBE PELLEGRIN.

DUFILESNY,a Flcnch author, having written L’Amant Masqub,” in three acts, had it reducecl to one act by the performers : and his comedies of five acts IVC~C gcncrally reduced to three. What !” said h,cxccssively picpd ; shall I ncvcr get a live-act piece 011 the stage?”-“ Ob, yes,” allswcred thAbbé, I‘ you have onlyto write a comedy in clcvcn acts ; six of which will be re- t,rellclled by thc cornedims.” In Fra.nce,thc come- dians arc heir awn ~na~~agcrs; except so far as govcnlmcat, intcrfcres, i

92 THEATRES

act, her imprecations are almost too horrible; among others,she exclaims, in theexcess of rage, “Je maadrais les Dieux, 9’11s me rendoicnt le our.''

‘I I’d curse the gods nere theg to give me life.” ‘‘ Get to the d-l, vile husseg !” exclaimed au old officer, sitting on the front seat of the stage-box, and, at the same time, giving her a push on the back. For a while, this act of undue interference interrupted the performance. When the noise ceased, RZademoiseIle turned, and thanked the officer for having bestowed on her the mostflatter- ing mark of applause she had ever received.

A SCOTCH BULL. A PnRw of actors played ‘‘ Douglas” at the Trades’ Hall, in Glasgow. The bills said, that ‘(his histrionic powers had procured him the ap- pellation of the g ThiTd Roscius;’ ” but, neverthe- less, added, cc that this was his $irst appearance on any stage.”

TRAGEDY IN EARNEST. DURINGa representation, at theThéatre de I’Impkratrice, at Paris, one of the principal cha- racters, a young nobleman, distrusting the fide- lity of his confidaut, draws his sword, and is about to plunge it in bis bosom, wlml the sub-

94 TEIEATRES ingly, the amateur imitator came forward, and, at the same moment, a second gentleman jump- ed from the stage-box, in the person of his in- dignant,but respected father, armed with a 1qe ash-plant, which he SO vigorously plied on the person of the young aspirant to dra- maticfame, that hemade a very llasty sortie. The manager, unfortunately for himself, interpos- ing, made up the trio, and had the honour of re- ceiving from the injured parent a. qzlantum-sztXpi- cit of castigation, in the presence of theaudi- ence then assembled.

PPILOGUE TO A CONDEXINED FARCE. BY the following slight detail, our readers will learn, that the would-be Charioteers of 1775 were thought as fit subjects for clramatic ridicule,

as those who sported ‘t the Buxton Bit, Bridoon so trim,-three Chasnuts and a Greg,” hut a fcw short years ago. On February 20th, 1779, a ncw farce, entitled Jehu,” was attempted to be pcrforlncd at Drury Lane Theatre, but it was rcceivcd with such ,un- welcome sounds, and such uncqnivocnl rn~rksof disapprobation, that thenlanagc’r ordered the cup- tain to be clroppcd in the middle of the second ss AND TIIEATRICALS. 95 96 THEATRES

I\hch given to gigglmg and hoydenish airs, While she’s always a crying, or saying her prayers.

Why she whines thus of late, many things have been said ~ Some pletend, ’tis because mit and humour me dcad. Be that as it may, says the Bard--‘ Mr. Ring ; My diligence, here, is a slight little thing ; But slight as it is, perchance, it may thrive, Could I get such a coachman as you ale, to dlivc.’ g First,’said I, g let me ask, if your tackle’s dltight; If your cattle have wind to run through n third night? For we know but too well, ’tis conl‘oulldccl dull working, Where all must depend on our flogging and jerking ; Besides, on the road, lllerc is notl~ir~gtllat cllecrs Your tits, like a few jingling bells nt thcir cars ; And the d--I a crotchet have you of r7 bong, To help eitlm clrivcr or caltlc alo~~g. ’Tis with coachmerl, as well a5 wih autl~ora,tllc way To whistle and sing, if thcy’vc Iiltlc to say ; These are tokens of old,everltnow~~10 porlcnrl, That the wit, on the journey, draws nenr to RB cnd. You, young scribblers, too, tlhk you I1cvcr can fail.

Gee up I off at once ! all tllc way lilic thc mail ! Wllilo the critics lie by, ’till you totter and red, When one of theln sticks n cl--d SlJOliC in your wl~cclj Then over yo11 go, ’tis in vain thnt you I~ollow TO tllc pat,& of poets ancl coacllr~lcu--rlp!r~~o. Just as C~rl~isllmcnflock rollrd a rvrcclc r~níhe Yllorc ; In a trice you’rc surrounded by criticq a scow j \l’ho, wllilc you nrc struggling, in vain, io got tooue, Will plucli you as Lare as :L Lirlcohsllirc gouw ;

98 THEATRES mas intense ; and mide clinging to the fkagments of the shattered ship, many brave seamen, wast- ed with toil, dropped, in the chillness of death, to a dark and stormy grave. Mr. Cooke con- c trived, by dint of great exertion, to reachthe shore alive ; when, being carried to a barn aclja- cent, he was recovered, and Som after was sent home. The fatigue he underwent during the cala- mity, had impaired his health, and he became se- verely afflicted with a rheumatic fever ; which, from its long duration, had nearly proved fatal : when recovered, he listened to the wishes of his friends, was invalided, and left the Royal Navy.

MRS. MATTOCKS.

MRS. Mattocks, the Actress, was as much ce- lebrated for the taste and elegance of her dress, as for her histrionic talents. Before her rnarri- age, when Miss Hallam, she appeared in the chs- ratter of Bertha, in the ‘‘ RoyalMerchant.” Rer- tha was the niece of the Governor of Bruges, and Miss Hallam, with great judgment, dressed exactly in the style of RubEn’s .reife, (Hdelza For- gnan,) as she appears in a celebrated picture by that artist EATRES AND THEATRICALS. 99 The Flemish female costume, though common i11 Ellgland during the reign of the Stuarts, was, at this period, unknown to the English stage : and, therefore, therevival of the Vandyke dress," as it is called by the ladies, who afterwards adopt- ed it, came forth with all the attractionof novelty. The metropolitan fashions did not, in the be- ginning of the late reign, takg such rapid flight jl from the centre to the extremities of the island, as they have been accustomed to do in modern tines ; therefore, the various dresses of Mrs. Mattocks, after they had passed theordeal of the female critics in the Theatre, and been there displayed to the admiration of the town, were frequently 'TOCRS. sent for by the principal ladies of Liverpool, ancl other towns in thecountry, who adopted ancl sprcnrl the fashion.

WESTON. Trrrs Comedian, being in the continual dread of bailiirs, was frequently obligecl tomake the Theatrc his place of residence. When living in the Hxytnarkct Tlwnlre, he was accustomedto shut the Imlf-door of the lobby, which had spikes at thc tap, and to bring a table and chair that !IC nlrght take the air, and smoke bis pip. To 1 O0 Tl-IEATILES this door a-bailiff, whose face was unknown tQ T;Veston, and who carried clothes under his arm9 covered with green baize, as if he were a tailor, carne, and requestedto speak with Mr. Foote. Weston unwarily opened the hatch, and the bailiff assumed his true character and exhibited his lvrit, Disguising his emotion,WCston desired the bailiff to follow him, that Mr. Foote might eitherpay the money, or give security. The man did as he desired ; and thus the deceiver was deceived. He had not made a legal capture, by touching Weston; the passage behind the side- boxeswas very clark, and the bailiff was obliged to grope slowly along. Weston knew the way ; gainecl the door, which, also, hacl spikes ;boltcd it, C~OSS- ed the stage, ran through the acljoiuing house of Mr. Foote, and escaped.

MELRNCIIOLY SI'IWATION OF ROISSY, ?'ZIE FRENCII DltA&lA'rIST. BOISSY,the author of several clranlatic pieces which were received with applause, met rvvith tile common fate of those who give themsclvcs up to the Muses. He laboured and toilecl inccssant]y; his works procured him fame, but not Isread. He languished, with a wife and child, under the AND TIIERTRICIILS. 101 1O2 THEATRES It occurred to one of Boissy’s friends, that it \vas very extraordinary he should never find him at home. At first, he thought the family were re- moved ; but, on being assured to the contrary, he became more uneasy : he called several times in one day; always-nobody at home! At last, he burst open the door. He saw his friend, with his wife and son, on a bed, pale and emaciated, scarcely able to speak. The boy lay in the middle, and the parents lay by his side, wit11 their arms thrown over him. The child stretched out his hands towards his deliverer, and his first word was-bread. It was now the third day, and not a morsel of food hacl entered hislips. The parents lay still in a perfect stupor; they had never heard the bursting open of door, and felt not the embraces of their agita- ted friend. Their l~ollow eyes were directed towards the boy, ancl the tenderest expressions of pity were in the looks with which they beheld him, and still saw him, dying. Their friend hastened to take measures for their deliver- ance. They thought they hac1 al~~adydone with all the troubles of the world, and wcre sudcjenly terrified at; being forcecl into them again. Voir1 of either sense or reflection, they submitted to tile ef- forts that were made to restore them to animation. At length, their friend hit upon the most efica- cious means ; he took the child from their arms, and thus called UP all the latent feelings of pa- rental tenderness : he gave the child to eat, who, I with one hand, held his bread, and, with the other, alternately shook the Iland of his father and mother : when his piteous moans at length roused them from their' death-likeslumber. l l

Their friend procured them broths, which he ~ cautiously put to their lips, and did not leave illem till every symptom of restored heaith was I fully visiblc. Thus was their deliverance con- I summated. Tl~istransaction made much noise in Paris, ad, nt letlgth, reached the ears of the Marchi- oness de Pompadour. Boissy's deplorable situ- atiou rr~ovcd her, She immediately sent him a llundred louis (l'ors, aud soou after procured him thc protîtabh place of Controlleur du Mer- cure de France, with a pension for his wife and child, if thcy outlived him.

T13EA'lQRlCALDILESSES. IN the representation af masques and reguIar dramas at Court, at the latter end of the 16th I04 THEATRES and beginning of the 17th century,the dresses worn by the performers were remarkable for their elegance and splendour. Gold, silver, silk, satin, velvet, andfeathers, in every variety of colour and combination, were exhausted in adorn- ing the actors, who were mostly persons of rank, Nor was splendour the only consideration; con- siderable pains were bestowed, and expense in- curred, in the provision of dresses, attributes, and ornaments, appropriate to the cllnracters repre- sented. It appears, from the accounts of the Master of the Revels, that these performances frequently put theCourt to an enormous ex- pense. However crnnlped by poverty, in the use of scenery, &c. various causes coubinecl io enable the Theatres to emulate, indress nt least, the costumes of the royal stage. The customary ha- bits of the noble and wealthy were extremely ,splendid ; and their rejected wardrobes found a ready sale at the Theatres, where a slight dimi- nution of their lustre was not very matcrial, ancl casual soils were well compensated by the cheap- ness of the purchase. As plays or masques were not generally acted more than once at Court, little necessity existed for,the preservation of tI1e ES AFD THEATRICALS. 105

dresses which werc used in them; and they, of course, readily found their way into the pos- session of the only persokls to whom they could be valuable. That particular pains werc some- times taken to preven t the dresses, &c., from fall- ing into thhands of the players, appears from a passage in Archbishop Laud's history of his ChanceIlorship, in which he gives an acconnt of a play acted before th Icing and Queen; at St. John's College, and which was so well lilted by the QUCe11, that she dcsired the apparel to be scnt to I-Itlmpton Court, that she might see her own players act it over again. With this request Laud complied, h~~rnblydesiring of the King- and Quem, tljat neither the play, nor clothes, nor stage, might come into the hands of the common players abroad, which was graciously granted." The drcsses of the (1Xerent Theatres, of course, varied, 111 quditp and variety, according to the opulcncc or poverty of thcir treasuries; but it: is certain, that, ai most ofthe principal play- houses, the apparcl was various, appropriaite, and clegant. The inventory of the propertics of the Lord Rdmird's Company, in 1598, affords suffi- cient proor of the fact. Kings figurecl in crowns, 1 O6 THEATRES imperid, plain, or surtnounted by a Suu; and globes and sceptres graced their hands ; Neptune Ilad his garland and his trident, and Mercury his wings. Armour was in common use on the stage. A greatquantity of the theatrical ward- robe was of satin, velvet, tafl‘ety, and cloth of gold; ornamented with gold and silver lace, or embroidery, probably producing an effectlittle inferior to what is now witnessed. Greene intro- duces a player, in his ‘‘ Groat’s worth of wit,” boasting that his share in the stage-upparel could not be sold for two hundred pounds :EL very consi- derable sum, indeed, in those days; and as the number of shares varied from twelve to forty, the whole amount, according to the most moderate computation, must have been very great.

IMPROMPTU. On Apple being thrown al Mr. CooKe, wJ& plqing S~TPertinax Mac Sgcoplbant. l SOMEenvious Scot, you say, the apple tllrew, Because the character was drawn too true

It can’t be SO, for all must know 6‘ right wee);’ That a true Scot had only thrown tlbcl>esl. ‘ES AND ‘l‘IJFATXtICALS, 107

GARRICK’S DEBUT, AND RETRXAT. A gentleman asking a friend, wllo had seen Garrick perform his first, and his last, character, if he thought hitn as good an actor when he took

his leave of the stage of G Old Drury,” as when ’he first played at Goodman’s Fields, he gave for an answer the following Ertempom. ‘r ISAWhim rising, in the E‘ast, In all his energetic glows ; I saw him setting, in the West, In greater splendour than he robe.”

MASTER BETTY. THEIst of Decemb~r,of the year 1803, forms an era in the annals of the British stage, as having brought bcfore a London audience, a ju- vcnile actor or very extraordinary acquirements, at Covent Gnrclen Theatre, as Achmet, in Bar- b~rossa.’’ WC allude to Master William Henry West Betty, who had just attained his thirteenth year, but had, in his previous provincial course, obtaincd the imposing name of the Young 220s- cius. The eagerness of the public to see this phcnon~cnonwas such, tht threc Theatres lnight Ipve been filled wit11 the crowd that sought ad- part of 1

110 THEATRES

ADVICE TO A DRAMATIST. YOURcomedy I’ve read, my friend, And like the haZf2you pilfer’d, best ; But, sure, the drama you might mend ; Take courage, man, and steal the rest !

CIBBER, GARRICK, AND MRS. BRACEGIRDLE. THIS actress retired from the stage atbout 30 years prior to the appearance of our English Roscius, and, at that time, was visited by many persons of distinction, from whom she heard the most extravagant accounts of the young per- former’s merit. Colley Cibber, however, spoke of him with great contempt, aclrnitting, that he was well enough, but not superior to his son Tbeo1lhilns.” Mrs. Bracegirdle immediately re- proved him, by saying, good-natureclly, ‘‘ Come, come, Colley, tell me if there is not sumethiug like envy in your character of the new actor ? The player who pleases evwy body must be a man of merit.”-The old critic felt the force of‘this ju- dicious rebuke, and, taking a pinch of sanfr, whis-

pered, IC Why, ’faith, Braceg, I believe yon are right ; the young fellow is clever.”

CADORET, T’LIE PRENCII TtlIRTIC.

A PERSON named Cadorct, known by the TRES AND TIIEATRICALS. Il 1 anagram Terodac, was so perfect a mimic that the audience really imagined, that they saw, and heard, the actors whom he imitated. In his part of‘ Metromane, be so finely caricatured the actors of histime, that this was an additional reason, for forbidding the actors of the comic opera to speak, a,nd confining them to song, It mas imagined, that, by this means, the scene of Netrcmane, wllich so highly offended the actors who were imitated, woulcl have been suppfessed. Rut the author here found but little dificulty ; as the comedians, then, (as they cla at present,) rather sang, tlmn spoke, thauthor sel their clecla- mation to music; and tlie notcs so nearly agreed with thc inflexions, and routine of the tragic xc- tors, that the clifference was scarcely perceptible.

TI:IS gentleman, who wa4 equally celebrated for 111s ready wit, as €or bis l>istrimic abilities, oncc asked Ille clranmtic writer, Miles Pcccr An- drews, when he intended bringing fort11 another

Play. (i Soon, very soon, (replicd the au thor ;) for my Muse is big, and will soon bc deliverzc1.”-

6s Well, then, (rejoined the actor, very archly,) I’ll colne to the groaning.” 112 TIIEATRES RES

RES

heroine an open warfare was, at length, carriecl on. New expedients, to disgust and humble the lattes, were daily resorted to ; and, every day, the actress became more firm against this persecution, at the salne time that her language ancl her sarcasms often drove her enemies to despair. It is kuown that, at Petersburg, the distinction of ranks requires that a cehain number only O€ llorscs should be harnessed to thecarriages. Mademoiselle Felix, who displxyecl her figure, in thc principal streetsof the capital, like a Princess, will1 four or six horses, receivcd an order to ap- pear with two only. E~lrngedal this prohibition, she rcsolvccl to violate it, and even to brave the Empress witbin the purlieus of her palace. For thls purpose, she dcmanded the equipage and car- riagc OC Count Soltikof, her lover, whose rank permittcc1 him to drive with six horscs. She mas now to II~seen taking turns in thPark of Cazorel until she fell in with the Ernpress, which was wllat shc htd most at l~cart.Enraged nt th bold- llcss ancl audacity of lbis girl, the lattcr instantly scllt an order to thc srlperintcndent of the police of pelersl>nrg., €or hcr to qui1 the city within tweuty-four ~IOU~S,and the I~nperialdominions wit\liIl tight days. Il1 another State, less despo-

?TRES AND TIIEhTILICALS* 117 Now, in the pocket, keep the Zef¿ from sight, JVh~lst,o’er your breast, you spread the ruffled right ; Now, in your r~be,the naked right repose, i Whilst, down your left, the woeful cambric flows. Thus, though Idfskill’d, as well as hayarray’d, You’d make a chauge which Garrick wvep made.”

MRS. GARRICK’S WILL. THISlady left to Mrs. Siildons a. pair of gloves which wcre ShaIrspeare’s, and were presented to her late husband during the Jubilee at Stratford, by onc of her (Mrs. S.’s) family. To the Theatrical Fund of Drury-lane Theatre, two 11undrcd p01111¿ls. To Hannah More, one hundred pounds. To Christopher Garrick, lrer nephew, the gold snuK-box, sct with diamonds, given her late hus- Iland by the King of Denmark. To Nathonid Egcrton Garrick, the snuff-box given to hcr late husband by the Duke of Parma. To her nephew, Christopher Garrick, and 111s wife, a11 the plate which was bought upon her marriage ; also a scrvicc of pswier, which her husband used, when a bachelor, bearing the name of Garrick, with a wish, that the same should al- 113 THEATRES mays remain with the head of the family ; aIso the picture of Ber husband, in the character of Richard the which was purchased by her i Third, after her husband's decease. TQNathaniel Egerton Garrick,a portrait, paint- ed by Zoffany, of her husband without a wig, which she bought, after his decease, of Mr. Brad- Shaw, to whom it had been given as a pre- sent. To Dowager Lady Amherst, her ring set with diamonds, having Kiog Charles's oak in it, and a small gold box used for keeping black sticking plaister. To Lady Anson, wife of Sir William Anson, her dejeuné set of Dresden procelain ; and, to the said Sir William Anson, her gold antique cameo ring. To the St. George's Hospital, Middlesex ditto, Lying-in ditto, Magdalen ditto, Refuge for the Destitute, and Society for the Indigent Blind, one hundred pounds each. To the London Orphan Society, fifty pounds. Three hundred pounds io be invested in' the name of the Vicar of Hampton for the time being, and the interest expended in a supply of coals for the poor of the parish. TOArchdeacon Pott, two hunclrecl pounds to- wards the education of the poor cllildren of St. Martin’s parish. To the Rev. Mr. Archer, minister of the Ro- man Catholic Chapcl, in Warwick Street, me hundrccl pounds, and a farther slxm of one hun- dred pounds for thceducation of the Charity Clddrcn of W arwiclc-street Chapel. There were innumerable other legacies of articles of platc, jcwels, lincn, &c. and money to a consi- clcrable amount, but of no material public inter- est. Her cxccutors were the R,ev. Tholnns Rac- kct ancl P1~cderick Beltz,Esq. To the former, she left books and prints to the value of one hundred pounds ; ancl, to the latter, fifty pounds in books and prints, ancl wehu~clred POLII~S in money. Aftcr discharging thc numerous legacies, her debts ancl funeral cxpcnscs, Mrs. Gnrrick direct- cd the rcsiduc of hcr estate, iuclnding a bond for six tllousnl~clpounds clue fiom the late ancl pre- sent Duke of Devonshire to the late Mr. Gar- rick, to be converted into cnsb, and afterwards invosled in Austrian securities for her niece, Eli- zabcth clc Saar, wife of‘ Peter dc Sau, of Vien- na, for her sole ugc and benefit, during her life ; and, after her death, to her grandchildren. 120 THEATUES

SCHILLER’S ROBBERS.” SOON afterthe appearance of the Robbers,’’ the scholars of the school of FTibozcrg, where it was represented, were so struck and captivated with the grandeur of its hero, MOOT, that they agreed to form a band, like his, in the forests OE Bohemia. They had elected a young nobleman for their chief, and had pitched on a beautiful young lady for his Amelia, whom they were to carry off II LI from her parents’ house, to accompany their flight. To the accomplishment of this purpose, they had bouncl themselves by the most solemn and im- pressive oaths. But the conspiracy was discover- ed by 811 accident, pdits execution prevented.

QUIN’S ‘‘ CORIOLANUS.” THE following ludicrousincident occurred during a Rehearsal of Coriolanus,” while it was preparing for the benefit o f Thomson’s sisters. Quin’s pronunciation was of the Old School. In this Garrick had macle an alteration. The onc pronounced the letter u open, the other sauncled it like an e, which occasioned the following mis- take. In thescene where the Roman ladies come in procession, to solicit Coriolanus to return to Rome, they arc attended by the Tribunes, and 3EBTl1ES

theCenturions of the Volscian Army, bearing fasces, their Ensigns ol‘authority. They are orderp ed by the Hero, the part of which was enacted by Quin, to lower them, as a, token of respect. But the me11 who personated the Centurions, imagin- ing, through Quia’s mode of enuuciation, that he said theirfaces, instead of theirfasces, all bowed their heads together.

HENRY JONES, AWTIIOR OP TIIR CARL op E9SEX ;’ TIIIS self-taught genius was a bricklayer, whom Lord Chesterfield patronized. Mis tra- gedy of the “Earl of Essex” obtained for him solne celebrity, and procured him a footing in tho Theatre, which enabled him to levy contri- butioas upon players, by writing puffs, and praising them in verse. The encl of Jones was melancholy, for a man of ability. After being intoxicated Tor two days, he was found, on the night of the third, crushed by a waggon in St. Martin’s-lane, without his coat or hat. He was carried to tbe parish work- house, and illere tcrminatecl his career, in the year 1770. His papcrs fell into the hands of Reddish the player, who volunteered as executor ; 128 THEATRES but Reddish was, at first, negligent; and, after- wards, deranged, and they never were pro- duced. VERBRUGGEN. VERBRUGGEN\.vas so passionately fond of act- ing

Iated by Colley Gibber, will give a tolerable idea of the ridiculous distress which occasional]y arcse from the absence of the now most attrac- tive ornaments of' the theatre. The King coming to the house rather before his usual time, found the dramatis persona'not ready to appear ; when his Majesty, not choosing to have as much pa- tience as his good subjects, sent one ofhis atten- dants to inquire thc cause of the delay. The Manager, lrnowitlg thai the best excuse he could malte to the " merry Monarch" would be the truth, wcnt to tllc Royal box, and plaiuly told his Majesty, that the Queer6 had ?lot yet shaved. CI~~zrlcs,good humouredly, accepted the apology, and Iaugbcd heartily until the mele Queen was efcminaied, and the curtain drawn up.

DENSLEY TIIE 'I'ILAGEDIAN, AND TIIE SCOTCH OPFICBZL. Mn. Bessley, before he went on the Stage, was a captain in the army. One day, while loang- ing in thpark, he Inet a Scotch officer, who had becn in the same regiment. The latter was happy to meet an 'c old companion of the war," but his chivalrous notions macle him ashamed to be seen witb a plslycr ; he, thereí'orc, sagaciously hur- I24 THEATRES A ried Bensley into an unfrequented coffee-house, when he asked him very gravely, (‘how he could clisgrace the corps, by turning play-actor.” Ben- sky replied, that he by no means considcred it in that light; that, on the contrary, an actor, who conducted himself creditably, moved in the first circles, and kept the best of company.--“ Weel, weel,” interrupted his friend, and what lnaun you get by this business of yours ?”-‘(I now, (answered Bensley,) get about a. thousand a- year.”--LL What, man! a thousancl a year! (ex- claimed the astonished Native of the Lalld Q€ Cakes ;) Hue you ony vacancies in your Corps 2’‘ ROSS, THE CELEBRATED GEORGE DARN- WELL WXIBNMr. Ross performed the character of George Bur~~zoeZZ,in 1752, the son of an emi- nent merchant was so struck with certain resem- blances to his perilous situation, arising from the arts of a real Milwood, that his agitation brought on a dangerous illness, in the course of which he confessed his error, mas forgiven by his fa- ther, and was furnished with the means of repair- ing ihe pecuniary wrongs he hac1 privately clone AN D TI-IEATRICALS 125

his employer. Mr. Ross used to declare, though he never knew his name, or saw the individual, to his knowledge, he received, for nine or ten years, at his berzcfit, a noie, sealed up, with ten guincas, and these words :-'< A tribute of gra. titucle from 011c who was highly obliged and say- ed from ruiu, by witnessing Mr. Ross's perform- ance of Geolyc Barn,roeEE."

TUE GLOB& mm'rrLE. 'rms ancient Theatre, memorable, above all otl~crs,for its conncxion with Xhalcspeare,~who first acted in it, slncl afterwarcls became one of the proprietors, was situated on the Bankside, nearly opposite to thc encl of Queen Street. It was ori- ginally a bcar garcleu ; but, about the year 1590, whcn ilre 1.~lillcclnmusclncntof benr baiting began to yield, in fasl~ionnblccstimation, to the attrac- tions of the resnscitatcd comedy, it was converted into a Thcatre ; and, in the year 1596, the proprie- tors hac1 tbc old edifice pullcd down, and a more commodious 1)uilcling ercctccl in its stead. The form of lhcncw Thcntk wlr;~hexagonal, cxtcrnally; but Mnlonc conjecturcs, thal ít was a rotunda within ; and the following passagc from Shaks- ‘126 THEATRES Al i TRES AND TIIEA‘I’ILICALS. 127 Banlrsicle, and to leave playing in London and Middlesex €or the most part. The number of watermen: and those that hve and are maintained by them, and by the only labour of the oar ancl scull, cannot be fewer tima forty thousand ; the cause of the greater ImIfofwhich multitude hath been the players playing in the Bankside.” 128 TIIZATILES men, Come to me to-morrow morning, and I’llsa- tisfy p¿.’’ The men bowed, and went away; and Joe, well pleased with the SUCC~SSof his strata- gem, bade them “ Good rnorniug.’’ Early on the following day, the bailifh, expecting the debt and charges, paid a visit to the Bishop ; when, being introduced, his lordship addressed them : Well, my good men, what are your scruples of conscience?”--“ Scruples ! (echoed the bailiffs,) Ive have no scruples ; we arc bailiffs, my lord,

your lordship will be as good as your word.” The bishop, on this, reflecting thnt his honour and name would be exposed, were hc not to comply, paid the debt and charges,

BIUNDEN. In theearly part of this celebrntccl comedi- an’s career, he suffered many and strange vi- cissitudes. At one period, having lcft Birtning- ham, he determind on a visit to St1’atf‘ord-upon-’ Avon, to view the birth-plncc of the immortal Bard. About this tim, the Warwickahire M,¡litia? NATRES were to be embodied, and great numbers of the recruits were assembled from dicerent parts of thecountry, to join the regimentat Stratford. Numbers presented themselves on the road, one of whom, seemingly more intclligcnt than the rest, our adventurer chose for his companion, and to ecrch otlyx their mutual necessities were imparted. Muden lear~~eclfrom his comrade tlmt the regiment would consist of a numerous l~oclyof mcn, and that it would not be difficult toobtain a night's lodging. I-Iis friend, whose hin necessity had renclercd fertile,suggested a thought which was approved of, aucl put in practicc; it was to present himself before the 8erjcnnt as a recruit, ancl, by that 1neans, obtain a billet for the night. Aftcr some tirne spcs'i by his friend in search- ing For thc Serjcnut's quarters, he at length DEN. fouucl hink. Thc 8crjcant inquired if Munden was of th regiment wl~o, replyillg in the aRirtnntivc, he obtained, for the night, bed and boarcl, and, in every respect, was cntertaincd as n gentlenian soldior. If the I.cnder will cd1 to mird Falstaff's description of his ragged regi- ~nc~rt,then will he bc able to forni some idea of this motley sct of heroes, in uulnber betwcen vor,. 11. K thirty and forty, assetnbled in a large room be- longing to an agedtenement which time had nearly shaken to its fall. After the cravings of nature wele satisfied, his mind, in spite of its dephsion, became elated, ancl diffused its influence over the whole assembly. Fromthe cherished stores of Shakspeare, Ot- way, nowe, and the moon-struck Lec, OW young actor drew forth a fund of entertainment, which enriched the evening, and rendered him The King of his company, who sighed, or smiled, as his effusions were mournful or merry. Nor was thetuneful Muse forgotten : many a welcomc song, by way of intedude, heightened ille euter- tainment, while heroes, fresh from the barn door, where, to its own stroItes, the flail resounded, and v110 had taken the last leave of' the plough- tail, listened with attention, ancl congratulad ted eachother on the acquisition they had gaiuecl in a lively fellow, who would convert three montlls of duty into so many months of plea- santry.But, alas! all carthly enjoyments have !heir close ; the hour of rest came on,and the call of the landlady nlust be obeyed. The mirth- fulcrew repaired to a room nllottcd for the night;

' on the floor wcrc spread beds of straw; but, at

132 THEATRES but as he had a view only to what he had obtain.. ed, namely, a slipper and a bed, he *felt not the

smallest incliiation to dare 'I the tented field." We, therefore, quittedhis military friends some- ing rather to enlist under the banners of MeZpomene than those of Mars, and, that evening, proceeded on his journey, and reach- ed Woodstock. Here he applied at one or two public houses for lodging, but in vain ; 110 doubt his appearance betrayed his poverty. Again his good genius reIieved him from distress, as, at a house, where he was making his request, he was recognized by a person, who hac1 Ieft Liverpool R few weeks before, in consequence of a law suit, in which a verdict had been given against hi m. At Liverpool this man had follow- ed the business of a gardener, which he quitted on the above occasion, and had flcd to this place, where, in the magnificent gardens of ßlenheirn, he again wielded the spade. Mlzch pleased at meeting Mundco, owing to B grateful remembrance of services which our actor had rendered him, daring the time he was 8 clerk to the gentleman who defended his suit, 14e ministered to his wants, ancl gave our ari. venturer a comfortable proof that good offices AND THEATRICALS. 133 are not always forgotten. In the morning he pursued his journey. Nothing material happened till he fortunately met a friend near Acton, to whom he lm1 written from Oxford, to meet him on thc road with money,-fortunately, it may be said -for a second day’s travels and fasting had nearly exhausted his strength, and he wasjust sinking beneath the pressure of l~ungerand fatigue. T’IIERTlZTCAL TREES. OF all the trees that I have known, Of pippin, nonpareil, anil warden, Give me that Tree so sweetly blown, The Vocal Tree of Covent Garden. But wouIL1 I choose a slender form Thnt dances with the elfin train, I’d slleltcr from tbc threat’ning storm Anil seck thc Tree of Drury Lane. JLACINB AND TUE YOUNG AUTHOR- Adherbal, Roi de Numidie,” is a tragedy written hy Ln Graigc Chancel, of which he give& ~hcrollowing intorcsting anccdotcs : “%cl1 I supposed I had finìshcd my tragcdy, I vcnturcd to lag it before the Princess de Conti- notwithstanding thle many defects, the Princess \

134 THEATRES found elzough in it to attract her attention, and therefore sent tothe celebrated Racine, and kind- ly begged him to read a piece,wrrttea by a young .gentleman, a page in her service, and freely and unequivocally to give her his opinion of it. Racine kept it a week, thenreturned it to the princess, and told her that he had read my tragedy with astonishment. That, to be sure, it was defective in many respects, but that if her highness would suffer me sometimes to colne and advise with him, it would shortly be in such R state as to be successfdly represented. I failed not, therefore,to be with him every day ; and I can truly affirm, that I learned more from him than from all the books I had read. He some- times took a pleasure in coavcrsing on the dif- ferent subjects, fabulous ancl historical, which he had considered, ancl in tvbich he discovercd in- teresting situations ; failing not to acquaint me with them. My tragedy bemg finis’hecl, it was presented and received. Instead of Jlxgurtllag’’ under which title a tragedy, by PechantrQ, had Ileen lately csaclernned, it was determincd to call it ‘‘ Aclherbal,” The Prince de Conti, who was kind enough to be present at the first representa- tion, placed me besicle himself upon the stage, saying that my youth would shut the mouth of criticism. Racine, who, from devotion, or from nlotivcs of policy, no longer frequented the Thea- tre, (the Ring having prcscribcd the same pri- vation to himself,) was, however, present the first time of prforlnatlcc, and seemed to take ex- trem pleasure, every time I was applauded." 1% THEATRES Ilouse called, pur excellence, the Theatre, is clear- IJ ascertained by the following passage in Stowe’s Survey, which appears entirely to llave escaped the notice of Theatrical critics, who have, one after anotl1er, without rhyme or reason, assigned different and even opposite parts of the town for

the situation of the latter. “ There was,’’ says Stowe,” formerly, in this neighbourhoocl, afatnous ‘5 well called IJoIy-well, (the name of which still 1 ‘1 survives in Holywell Lane,) and a very ancient building, called the Priory of St. John the Baptist, which being pulled do~n,on the suppression of the Monasteries, &c. in the reign of I-Ienry the Eighth, many houses were erected there for the lodging of Noblcnlea; and near thereunto are builded two public houses for acting comedies, tragedies, and histories whereof the onc is called l the Curtain, the other the Theatre, both standing 011 the south-west side, towards the fields.” This Theadrc,to judge fromits 11anwf:was proba- bly the first building erected in or near the metro- polis, for the exhibition of plays ; and the Czwlain probably derived its name from its bcing the íirst to adopt that very neceEsnry appendagc to tllc stage, The Curtain Road tool; its name from this AND TIIEATTLICALY. 13'1 Theatre, but no remains of the ancient building are now extant,

'' A IfonSE ! A HORSE! MY KINGDOM FOR A IIOltSE !"

DURINGthe year 1778, their Majesties, in re- viewing the Sumner encampments, visited VVin- chester, and honoured the College with their presence. Dr. Wsrton's house, at that period, was filled with men of exalted and acknowledged talents, among whom were Lord Palmerston, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Messrs. Stanley, T. Warton, and D. Garrick. ?'o the latter a very whimsical l accident occurred. The horse that carried him to the rcview, on his casually alighting, by some means got loose, and ran away. In this dilemma, assuming the attitude of Richan3 111. amidst tile astonished soldiery, he exclaimed, A horse ! A horse !my Kingdont fir a horse," which reach- ing the ears of the King, hc said, ('These must be the tones of Garrick ; see, it' l-tc is on the ground.'' Mr. Garrick was immediately sought, and, pre- sently €ound, and presented to his Majesty, ~~110, among many other complinlents, assured him, that his dclivery of Shnkspeare .would never pgss undiscovered, J ACI

JackSon.’’ I bowed. (6 You resickin th Temple.”

-61 I do, my Lord.”-“ You belong to the Law.”

(L No, my Lord.”--‘c I judged so by the place of your residence."--No answer from me to this cle- hate mode of enforcing the qucstion. ‘‘ I have a memorial from you, respecting your father, but I sentfor you to know more fully from yourself the particulars respecting it.” I related every thing I knew, concerning the matter, minutely. His Grace list,ened to me with great attention, and promised to make imrncdiate inquiry into thc facts I hacl stated. 1WS on q legs, aud on the point of dcpar~ing,wl1e11 I ob- served to his Grace, that whcn he asked if 1 be- longed to the Law, I had continued silent. I now informed him, that I had no intention of con-

140 TIIEqTRES of the scene, that, in the delusion of his imagina- tion, upon the Countess of Nottingham's denying

L the receipt of the ring, which Essex had sent by her, to claim a pronise of favour, he exclaimed, Tis false ! she has it in her bosom ;" and im- mediately seized the mock Countess, to mekc her deliver it up.

QUINAULT. ON the first night of the performance of C( L'Amant Indiscret," Quinault, the author OF the comedy, took a country gentleman, who came to Paris on account of a law-suit,. with him, to see it, and with whomhe hacl just been in search of his attorney. The cuuntry gentlcmsn was greatly surprisecl, when the piece was over, to hear persons of the first. rank congratulate Quinault, and to see them publicly cmbrnce him ; but his surpris'e was still more increased dien he afterwards heard-Quinault discuss points of law with his attorney, and state the casc of the gentleman, his friend, s9 clearly, that he foresaw he shouId gain the cause,

MOODY, AND TIIE IXIGIIWAYMAN. MOODY,the actor, was rubbed of his watch and money. He begged the highwayman to let him have cash enough to carry him to town, and AND TIrEATRlCALS. 141 the fellow replied, ‘l Well, master Moody, as I know you, I’ll lend you half a guinea; but, re- member, honour among thieves !” A few days after, he was taken, and Moody, hearing that he was at ‘‘ The Brown Bear,” in Bow‘Street, went to inquire after his watch ; but when hebegan to speak of it, the, Fellow exclaimed, ‘( Is that what you want? I thought you had come to pay the half-guinea you borrowed of me.”

MOLIEILl.:’S -4CTING.

TIIOUGIIa inan of so much wit, Moliere’s de- portment was serions, his manners grave, alld his taciturnity remarkable; yet, on the stage, he pdo~nxclmany of the most farcical parts. One evening, having to personate Sancho YCI~ZCJIU, and enter riding on an ass, he mounted behiid the scenes, waiting for his cue, but the ass, not undcrstanding thc prompter, would not wait ; nor could Moliere Ilinder him from lnalring his entrance. In vain did the distressed Suncho tug thc haltcr ; in vain 1~ cdlcrl to his favourite, Baron, and to his scrvaut-maid, La Foreste, to comc to his assistance. Seeing her master on the crupper pulling with all bis mlght, the girl laughccl so heartily, that she had not tkc power 142 THEATRES to move ; and Moliere was at last obliged to hold by the sidescenes, and let the ass slip from under him, who went forward, and presented him self to the audience.

GEORGE FltEDERICIZ COORE, AND THE LIVER- POOL RE ANAGERS. DURINGKean’s visit to Whitehaven, in 1823, he related the following nnecdote of George Fre- derick Cooke. When George was playing at Liverpool, the managers found great difficulty in keeping him sober; but, after repeated transgres- sions, he solemnly promised not to off’cnd again during his stay. In the evening of the clay on which the promise was macle, Georgc was not to be found, when wanted for Sir Pertinax Mac Syco- phant; the audience grew irnpnticnt; the manager stormed, and all was in ILmost ndtnired disorder.’’ After a long search, one of the managers found him at a pot-house near tbc Theatre, whcrc he was drinking, with great composure ancl persc- verance, out of a verysmall ybass. (‘Oh ! Mr.

Cooke,” exclaimed the irritated mauztger, ‘l you have again bralreu your solemn promise. Did you not tell me you would give over drinking ?” George surveyecl the manager ,with the most provoking ES

coolaess, and said, I certainly did make such a proInise, but you cannot expect a man to reform n11 at once. 1 have give& over drinking, in a great measuye,’’ holding up the small glass, in exultution, to the Manager’s nose.

ASSERTION ’CVITIIOUT PROOF. Mn. BORDEN,the author of several popular

theatrical pieces, gave Drury Lane Theatre the i I:‘ titlcof n wilderrtcss. This reaching the ears of Sheridan, lie did not forget it, for when, a short tirne afterwards, he was requested to accept a tragedy, by Mr. Boaden : No, no ;” said She- ridan, he wise and discreet author calls our house a wilderness-Now, I don’t mind allowing thc oracle to have his opinion; but it is really too much Tor llim to expcct, that I will suffer him to prove his words.”

COOICE’S EXPLANATION OP T‘UE FAMILY PLATE-

A DOASTFUL gcntlemnn in America happened to meution to Coolre, when the latter was in one of his MW Xctrcasm humours, that his, family ’CWS mongst the oldest in Marylaud. Coolce aslreci him if‘ hc hac1 carefully prescrvcd the family plate ? and ou being questioned as ta his meaning, re-

plied, (( The fetters ancl handcu.s.” 144 TIIEATRES ANI

GARRICK, AND DR. IIILL. IN 1759, Dr. Hill wrote a pamphlet, entitled c( To David Garrick, Esq. The Petition of I i11 behalf of herself and sisters.” The purport of it \vas, to cllarge Mr. Garrick with mis-pronouncing some words, including the letter I-as furm, for firm-vurtuc,for virtue-and others. The pamph- let is now forgotten, but the following epigram, which Mr. Garrick wrote on the occasion, deserves to be preserved -

To Dr. H111,U~VL his cc Petition of I, to David Gar~ick,Esq.’’ Jf ’tis true, LI you say, that I’ve injured a Iclter, 1’11 cllange my notes soon, and I hope for the better; May the just right of letters, as wll as of ruen , Ilereaftcr bc fixed hy the tongue and the pen ! Most devoutly 1wish that they boll1 llavc their duc, And that I may be ncver mistaken for YUU. ’RES AND TIIBATRICALBa 145

PLAY LICENSING, IN THE TIME OF KING CHARLES. TIIEdisgusting and overstrained fastidiousness of our presentlicenser, whose delicacycannot tolerate even passages of a decidedly loyal ten- dency, is not without example in the earlier times oí‘ our drama. Thesetasteless and offi- cious personages have always been more ready to prove their authority than their judgment. The most deEectabZe of them, Sir Henry Herbert, in

his examination of L( The Uri ts”of Davenant, had, it appears, marlred a namber of harmless interjec- tions, whichmight hve subjected the poet to sonle punishment;but Charles, mho probably suspected bis Master of the Revels of a tendency towards Puritanism; interfered, and Sir Henry Ilas thus recorded his spleen ancl disappointment.

(C The Kiug is plcascd to talre faith, death, ’slzght, &c. for assavcrations, ancl no oaths- to which I t10 humbly submit as my master’s judgment: but,, under favour, c10 conceive them to be oaths, farces, anil. enter them here, to declare my submission cI1rcc is; an(1 opinion.” pic, c is. AN [EATRES AN D TI1 EATRICA LS. 147

sirous that thosc of the Italian Theatre should speak nothing but French. The question wa8 brolrght behe Louis XIV.; and Baron and Do- miniclue were appointcd the advocates for each party. Baron was the famous actor, who had Ileen educated by Moherc ; and Dominique was 1-10 less celebrated as a harlequin. When the fbr- nier had e11dccZ his harangue, the Icing made EL sign 10 Dominique to speak in turn. After vari- ous llarlcquitlatle antics, he addressed himself to thc Inonarcll, and asked--“ In what language docs your lnajcaty command me to speak?”- Speak as you pleasc,” replied thIGq.-“ That is exactly what I wish,” slnswcred Dominique ;

‘6 my cause is gainccl ! 1 humbly thank your ma- j~sty.’’ The Ring lauglled I~cartily,at being thus cwtrappcd, My word is given,” said he ; it canmot bc rccallccl,” 148 THEATRES A Slerns rather strange, and, at first sigllt,, Might very well surprise one ; Though, if you judge the matler right, You’ll own her scheme a wise one.

For, surely, every modest belle, Of wedded joys ambitious, Must say that Pnto7t acted well, And think her plan judicious. FOTmanly brogues ’tis best to wait, Till one great point is carried, Then, Paton, lay your tempting boit. Nat wear them-till yodye ~n~~rietl.

A DULL COMEDY.

WHEN Sir Charles Sedley’s comedy of ‘‘ Bel- larnira” was performed, the roof of the theatre fell down ; by which, however, few people werc hurt, except ille author. This occasioned Sir Fleet- wood Shepherd to say, that there was so much fire in his play, that it blew up poet, house, and all. No,” replied the good-natured author, the play was so heavy, that ït broke down the house, anil buried the poor poet in his own rub- bish.”

THISappears to have been one OC th Inose ancient Theatres, as it is enurneratcd by an author AND TIIEATRICALS. 149 who wrote in the beginning of the seventeenth cen- tury, as one ofthe play-houses destroyed by the (L cautious citizens '' in 1580 ; at which time, the magistrates of the City obtained leave of Queen Elizabeth, to pull down all the Theatres within their liberties. From this time, there is a corn- pleteblank in the history of thistheatre, until the year 1613, when a license was granted by James the First, for the erection of a new play- house on the spot : and it may, therefore, reason- ably bc concluded, it had remained, during the interval, in ruins.This license was not, how- ever, acted upon till 1629, when a Theatre was erected under its authority in Salisbury Corlrt ; and a company, called the Phce's Servants, per- formedthere until the suppression of the play- llouses by thePuritans, in 1648. It was again opened after the Restoration, but soon sunk into obscurity and neglect.

QUEVEDO. DON Francisco de Quevedo describesan in- cident in his life of Paul, the Spanish barber :-

LC When I was writing a ,play," says he, t( th maid used to bring up my dinner, and leave it thcre ; md it was my way, to act all I wrote, and talk aloud, as if I had been on the stage. As the (II--1 would have it, when'the maid was coming up the stairs, which were dark and upright, with the dish of ,meat and plates in her hancls, I was at the time composing a scene of hunting a bear ; and being wholly intent vpon my play, cried out, as loud as I could,

f'l?iy,fly the bloody bear ! taLe lleccl, I say ; Alas! I'm kill'd, and you'll I~ecomeils prey."

The poor wench, who was a silly Gallician, Ilcar- ing me roar that I vas killed, and she in clanger of becoming a prey to the bear, thought it. had been a real matter of fact, and that I called out, to save herself. Upon this conceit, she took to her heels, and treading on her coats in the con- fusion, tumbled clown all the stairs,- The soup was spilt, the karthen pots broken, and SIN rar1 out, roaring in the street, that Q bear wall killing a man !"

Poem AND MACICLIN. FOOTE,who was ever in the two extremes OP fortune, now, exalted tb the top of the wheol, ancl, anont prostrated at the bottom, hnppened to be in the latter situation, when he mcl Macklin onee happened to meet, They 'were in tho Bodford ATRES AND TIIEATRICALS. 151

Coffee-house, when Foote, perhaps, to keep up the appearance of prosperity, at least, was every now and thendisplaying a fine gold repeater, which he kept dangling in his hand, or putting to his ear. At last, he suddenly exclaimed, Zounds ! my watch is stopped !’’-cc Pho ! ph0 !” said Macklin,never mind that, Sam ; you may depend upon it, it will soon go.”

ANACHRONISRI. DURINGYoung’s engagement at Bath, in the winter of 1820- I, (‘Henry VIII.” was revived, to exhibit him in the character of Cardinal wol- sq. The representative of one of the bishops, fancying that snuff-taking was a distinguishing characteristic of a churchman, indulged his nose freely throughout the play, forgettirlg that the scene was laid at a period of nearly fifty years before tobacco was brought into England.

TILUTH WILL OUT. A Mn. Herbert, a country comedian of some celebrity, whcn a child, and just able to speak sufficiently for the stage, represented the part of the juvenile Dulce of York, in ‘c Richard III.” When he should llave said--“ Oh ! mother, mo- I52 TFIEATRES . ,ther!” he made a pause-The daughter .of Mel- pornene, who acted the Queen, gave him the sen- tence several times, to which he at last replied- ‘‘ Mother ! you are not my mother-give me leather breeches, and Iet me go home.”

PUFF DIRECT. A FRENCHdramatist devised a singular me- thod of alluring the public to the representatioll of his pieces. On the day on which any of then1 was announced, he set out in the morning, went Till through all the streets and squares of Paris, stop- I ping at those placeswhere the play-bills were usually posted ; and when five or six persons had collected, he wpuld cry at once, in a vehement tone-LC Faith, the French will le treated with an excellent piece to-night, and I’ll be there for one This peregrination was thencontinued in the Same manner, and its object became, in some measure, successful.

LETTER OF OLD YATES.

(lTo ilte Editor of the Public Aduertiser. “ &n, THOUGHitis not my professión to write, but to -retail the writings of others, yet, I find the spirit. RES A N D TIXEATRICALS. 15.3 move me to llazclrd some observations on a very good humoured, sprightly, elegant paragraph, in your paper of yesterday. The facetious gen- tleman is pleased to say, that (‘Yates, und his wife, bave retired fronl the stage, with. 36,0002. or 40,0002. and that they are remarkable for their comcly appearance, though one is, from the- atrical dates, 70 ; the other above 60 years of age.” ’Tis wonderful so wise a man should br: mistaken, hut the facts are#

‘‘ Tlmtrical dates do not prave them to be, ihc one 70, the other more than 60 years of age. In respect to myself, that I am remarkable for my comely apgenrancc; that I cm, though uot, worh pite 40,000E. eat my mutton without an engagement, and yet owe no man any thing, are offe~~cesta which I nrn ready to plead gullty ; if cornclinass is R sin, heaven help me ! I say ; and RS ta awing no man any tiling, in these days, when it is the genteclest thing in the world to pay 170 man anything, J must c’en stand trial bcforc a jury OC honest tradesmen, who, 1 dare 154 THEATRES AE say, will acquit me from the singularity of the case. 4' In respect to theatrical dates, I have, to be Sure, told the chimes at midnight, some five and thirty years ago ; which, as I find myself just as healthy and alert as in thosedeliglltful days, I do not tllink at all disqualifies me for my ge- nera] cast of characters, in which I have pleased as good judges as your correspondent, nor is it absolutely necessary that the Miser, Fondlewife, Gomez, Dan Manztel, Sir TVil~%lWiIwozdd, 4c. &C. shouJd have the first down oí' a beard on their chins ; but I will whisper something in the gentleman's ear, that whilst such writcrs, as he, are allowed to assassinate honest people in the dark, by abusive anonymous paragraphs, ~~obody that has mutton to eat-will look out for tlux.trica1 engagements, but quietly let the stage fall into that happy state, When one Egyplian darkness covers all."

L' SOmuch for mysclf, and now for Mrs. yates.

I' That she is a pretty enough actress, as timeg go, and by no means uncomely, I willingly allow; but that she is more than 60, or will be tllesc dozen years, at least, may bear something of 8 doubt. IEA TILES AND TI-JEATRICALS. 155

L‘ AS her first appearance was on Drury Lane stage, and in the full meridian of its glory, the date is easily ascertained ; but to save the gen- tleman’s trouble, as he see1116 a bad calculator, I

will inform him, it was in Mr. Crisp’s t‘ Virginia,” in the year 1754, (29 years ago) and that she was then as pretty a plump rosy Hebe as one shall see on a summer’s day. She had the hullour, (an honour never con- ferred on any other person) of being introduced as a. young beginner by a prologue written and spoken by Mr. Garrick, in which the folIowing lines am to the present prpose.

1‘ If noveltios can please to night, we’ve two; Tho’ English both, yet spare ’ern, a3 theg’re new.

I. i o one, at ]cast, your usual favor 5hUw ; A fen~aleavks it-can n man say--)ro Sllould you indulge our novice yet unseen, Ancl cruwn lier, with your hands, a tragic Queen i Stlould you, wih s~nilcs,D confidence impart ‘ru cdln tl~osc.frws whiclr speak B feeling heart, Assist encl) struggle of ingcnoous shame WIlic~lcurbs a genius in it3 rond to fame: WiLII une wis~lmore, Iler w11oIe alnbition ends, ~11~tlopcu sonle lncrìt to deserve some friends.”

And LIOW givc me Icave, sir, to tell your Cor- yespondent a story on the first coming to England, of Signor Trebbi. 156 TI-IEATlt ES

A worthy gentleman, the editor of a news- paper, paid him a morning visit, and illformed him he was a public writer, andhad charac- ters of all prices. L I understand you7 sir,’ said Trebbi, ‘ and have heard of YOU; 1 hve no guineas to throw away so ill ; but I am a uriter too, et vda ma phm~! this is my pela ;’ showing him a good English oaken towel. Signor Trebbi was so good as to leave me his pen, the only’ one I shall make use of against malevolence in future, when the writer does me the honour of making himsel’f known to me. I am, Sir, ‘‘ Your obedient humble servant, RICIIAXLDYATES.” “Saturday, October 18,1785.”

SIIAKSPEARE AND QUEEN ELIZAHETII.

IT is well known that Qucen Elizabeth was a great admirer of the immortal Shakspeare, and used frequently (as was the custom with pcrsons of great rank in those days) to appear upon the stage before the audience, or to sit delighted be- hind the scenes, when the plays of our bard were performed. One evening, when Sllakspcare him- self was personating the part of a King, the au- 'HBATlL ES dience knew of her Majesty being in the house. She crossed the stage when he was performing, and, on receiving the accustomed greeting from the audience, moved politely to the poet, but he did not notice it ! When behind the scenes, she caught his eye, and nov ved again, but still he would not throw off his character, to notice her : this made her Majesty think of some means by which she might know, whether be would rleparl, or not, from the dignity of his character, while on the stage.-Accordingly, as he was ilbout to make his exit, she stepped before him, tlropped her glove, and re-crossed the stage, which Shakspeare noticing, took up, with. these words, immediately after finishing his speech, and so aptly were they delivered, that they seemed to belong to it :

*'Ancl tllougll IIOIY tent on this llisll embassy, Yet stoop we to take up our Cousin's glove !" Me then walked off the stage, and presented the glove to thc Qucen, who was greatly pleased

with his I I)eIIaviour, and cotnplimelltcd him upon I~Cpropriety of it. anxious to mark his retreat from the stage wit11 those honours which his high professiorla1 cha- racter deserved, invited him to a splendid ban- quet; at which it was intendedto present him with a superb silver Vase, bearing a suitable i,\- scription. The entertaiamcmttook place on the 26th June 1817, at the Freemasons' Tavern-ht the Vase not being completed,its presentatimi l was necessarily postponed to a future day. At half-past seven o'clock, the Stewards (who- were composed of the principal performers of Covent-Garden and Drury-Ime Theatres) en- teredthe room, ushering in Lord Welland, n'Ir. Kemble, the Duke of Bedford, Lord Ersklne, Lord Petersham, the Marquis of Worcester, the Marquis of Lansdown,the Earl of Aberdeen, J. W. Crolrer, Esq., T. Campbell, Esq., the Rev. G, Crabbe, T. Moore, Esq., II. Twiss, Esq., B. West, Esq., Presiclcnt of the Royal Academy ; flaxm ma^^, Esq., R. A., Mans. Talma, &c. &c. Lord Holland took the Chair, supported on his right hand by ?Mr. ICemble, and on his left by the Duke of Bedford. After the cloth had been removed, Non No&s Domine was performed in a very superior style, by several siugers of tirs t-rate erninonce. AND THEATRICALS, 169 The Kiry-TJiePrince Regent-The Queen und the rest of the Royal Family-were drank with the accustomed honours, and were fol- lowed by the usual airs. Lord Holland then rose and said--" Gen- tlemen, in pursuance of the poceedings o€ this day, I hoped to have the honour and satisfaction of presenting to my friend, who sits near me, the piece of plate which it is your wish to bestow on him, as an indication of the high sense you entertain of his abilities. But, unfortunately, I am prevented from performing that grateful duty-the rich and beautiful work, designed for the Vase, not being yet completed. Here is, howevcr, a drawing of the Vase, which wiIl be handed round the room., I have also a copy of thc inscription intended for it, which, if you pIeasc, I will read to you." I-lis Lordship then read as follows :- TO J. P. I(unrnLx, Esq. on his retirement from the Stnge, Ofwtlioll, fur 34 years, he t~aabeen tho ornament and prdc ; WJIicIlto his learning, taste, nn,d genius, is indchted for its present state of improvement; Rhicil, \111t]er his auspices, and prditing by his constant

]~/)(JLI~,II~OS~ wortlrily directed to the support of the legiti- Illute drnmfl, and nore pntticularly to the Hlory of SI-IAKSPERRE, 160 THEATRES

arrived at a degree of splendour ,and prosyerity before unknown ; and v~t~ich,from his high character, has acquired an increase of honour and dignity ; THIS VASE, From a numerous body of his admirers, As a mark of their gratitude, respect, and afkctinn, Was presented, by the hands of their President, 00the 27th of June, 1817.

'/ I 1 Time may api But ne'er efE Pride of the British Stage, When Cata spp: A long and last Adieu ! Whose image brought the heroic age Reviv*dto Fancy's view. To the deer What English Like fields refresh'd with dewy Ilght, With him a When the Sun smiles his laut, Thy parting presedce makes nlore bright And get a MI Our memory of the past. His transpc And to each 1 And memory conjurcs feelings up. The Grace: rhat wine and musio need not swcll, As high WL: lift the festal CUP,

To l' Kemble, Pare thcc wcll.'' ATRES IL61

p Por ill canPoetry cxpress Full many a tone of thought sublime ; And Painting nwte and motionless Steals but one glance from Time.

But by the mighty Actor brougbt, Illusion’s wcdded trillmphv come- Verse censes to be airy thonght, And Sculpture to bo dumb.

Time may agail\ revive, Bu t nc’cr cfhco the chnrm ; When Cato spolrc ir, hirn alive, Or Wotspur hirldletl warm. 162 THEATRES Those tears upon Cordelia’s bosom shed, In doubt more touching than despair

If ’twas reality he felt- Had Shakspeare’s self amidst you been, Friends, he had seen you melt, And triumph’d to have seen !

And there mas many an hour Ofblended kindred fame, When Siddons’s auxiliar power And Sister Magic came.

Together at the MUSC’Sside Her Tragic Palagons had grown- They were tllc children of her pride, The columns of her throne.

And undivided favour ran Frotn heart to heart in their applause- Save for the gallantry of filan, In lovelier Woman’s cause.

Pair as sonle classic dome Robust and richly grac’d, Your Remble’s spirit was thc bome Of Genius and of ‘raste-

Taste, like the dent dial’s power, That, when super~~allight is giv‘n, Can measure inspiration’s hau;, And tell its height in Heaven. EATRES AND TI-IEATRICALS. 163

Cordelia’s bosons shdt At once ennobled and correct, touching thnn despair i His mind survey’d the Tragic page, And what the Actor could effect, I fdt- The Scholar could presage. e’s self amidst you ~JPCII, !enyou melt, Tl~esewere his traits of wo~th- to have seen ! And must we lose thcm now ? And shdl the scene no more shew forth ny an hour His sternly pleasing brow ? Ired fame, ]xiliar pówcr AIM! the mord brings n tew- ic came. ’Tis alt a transient hour below, And we that wodd detain thee here, use’s side 0urst:lveR as fleetly go. gons had gtown- Yet Ylmll our Intcst age dren of her pritlr, r1L his parting scene review- ter throne. Trido of the British Stage, A long and last adieu ! hfkr tho recilation of the Ode, the four last lines, set to music by Mr. T. Cookc, werc admirably sung. COLhZhN, AND ONE OF IIIS COMLDTANSI AN actor of little consequence hnving been engsgcd at the Haymarkct Theatre, during the reign of he elder Colman, llar1 the part of one of

the scholars in IL The Pacllock,” sent him. S ir did’s power, (said he, addressing the manager,) I am nston- a1 light is giv.11~ ishecl at getting this part, SO much bencnth me ; ion’s hour, I,csides, how can n lnm of my sizc and figure ìn Heaven. look Iikc n scholar?” Intlced, (rcpliecl Colman,) you sccm Letter fed thcm tnzcght.l’ P 64 THEATRES

DuFRESNE.

QUINAULT Dufresne,who was bornin 1692, at all early age became au actor 011 the French Theatre, and mas acknowledged to have been the most able, and judicious, as well as popular, siace the death of Baron. ~ufiesnepossessed a fine figure, a charming voice, ,and an air at once graceful and noble. Le Iiain, on the otherhand, who succeeded to his parts and reputation, in consequence of the earlypatronage of Voltaire, although pos- sessing more eminent professional qualifications, was, perhaps, less successful for many years, for nature had been more sparing of hcr boum ties to him; and it was long before the in- habitants of Paris could prevail on tllclnselves ;O declare in favour of a man, who did not happen to be giftecl wit11 externa1 attractions., Whilst Quitmdt Dufresneappeared in high tragicand comic characters, his elderbrother ciistinguished himself, aftbough in a less degree, in the Same line of acting ; while, of two sisters, both on the stage at the sanle time, the elder played the characters of waiting women ta xd- nliration, the younger affected the reputntion ES of being n women of talents, and it was the bust- ness of herrlife to give dinners to all the wits of herqday. It was observed by a French author, it cost far more pains and trouble to gratify this species of ambition, tlmn it did Crolnwell to become Protector of Et~gland.'~ Dufresne quitted the stage in disgust, at ra- ther an early' period of life, Happening, one clay,' to commence his part in a low tone of voice, which was strictly suitnble to the characterhe had assumed, the pit cried out several times '' louder ! louder !" on which the áctor,who was extremely piqued at this unseasonable inter-

vention, replied : Ir aut1 yon, gentlemen, not quite so loud." I-Ire was sent to prison, and ob- ligcd to apologize : but he immediately withdrew, after this painful ceremony. Re died 25 years after, in 17G7.

DEATII qr A I'E1LFC)ILM.ER ON TIPE STAGE, ON the evening of the 20th of June, 1517,

durit~gthe,performance Qf the tragedy of '6 Jane Shore,'' in the Leeds Theatre, Mr. Cummins, who played tllc part of Dumont,,had just repeated ihe benedictory words :- 166 * TEIEATRES AN T

Be witness for IIIC, yc celestial hosts, Such mercy, and suc11 pardon, 3s my soul Accords to thee, and begs of Heaven, to show thee, May such befa11 Inen at my latest 11uur"- when he fell down on the stage, and instantly ex-' pired. The shock inflicted upon the feelings of the audience soon spread through the town, and so general a tribute to departed worth, as was every where manifested, was seldom witnessed. The performance, of course, immediately closed, For some time Mr. Cummins, the circumstances of whose death so nearly resembled those of Mr. Palmer, had laboured underthat alarming malady denominated an ossgcation of the heart ;,and to this circumstance, added to the strength of his feelings in the mimic scene, is to be attributed his death. Mr. Cummins held nn elevated rank in the York company for nearly half a century.

MATHEWS.

1, THIScelebrated mimic once applied to the late Tate Wilkinson for an engagement, offirjng him- self as a low corneclisln ; Wilkinson, lboking at, his stature, replied, '' low comedian ?y'-cr Aye, sir," answered he, "low comedian." Evetp one who has seen Mathews, must have obaerved tho siugular habit of his mouth, when he speaks. AND TIIEATRICALS. 167 168 TIlERTRES rims. DIDIEIL'S" FAREWELL ADDRESS. Spoken, nt thBath Theatre, Feb. 7, 1807. CAN none remember, nay, I lmow all must, When thgreat Sicldoas gave her reasons just, For quitting those whose approbation drew He? wond'rous merits, first, to public view? TJwee reasons, only, could that pro13 unfix, Whilst dame Didier, alas ! has sixty-six; Look il? my Tace, and there so plain appears Th' unerring mark of six-and-sixty years, My reasons are not little girls and boys, Their doating parents' anxious cares and joys ; But twelve long months (of good deeds or of crimes), Repeated over six-and-sixty times ? Though I might boast, that many a comic bro- ther, I-Iacl, of lhis theatre, long hail'd me-mother. Nay, whilst WC'YC Garricks, infmtile and raw, I may be termed this stage's-Grand-mamma.

Twice twenty years ago, my lot was cast- Here should n~yscenes offutarc life be past ;

*l This Indy wns daugbtw to n pcrson of respectability, in WaIcs, ancl sister to Mr. Du Bellnn~y,of Covent Garden 'rlleatre, And ’tis with pride and gratitude, I own, A happier fortune, few have ever known.

When first you saw me, by your partial aid, The romping girls, pert chamber-maids,I play’d ; And oft, transform’d by elegant attire- Begg’d you her court-bred Ladyship admire ! And that my vanity would not refuse The highest efforts of the comic Muse- Your Townlys, Teazles, Rosdinds so gay, I had presumption, gentle friends, to play; But ne’er did this ambition reach my heart, I never squinted through a tragic part.

’Tis long experience only, makes us sage;”- By that we find our level, on the stage; In homely parts, with simple nature’s aims, Aslgîeld, and other rusticated dames, Aunt Heidelbergs, and matrons in brocades, Your Mal-a-p~ops,and antiquated maids, My forte, I struck on-and with exultation, Your laugh I construed into approbation.

A few more years, should health continue still, This humble sphere, I yet, perhaps, might fill;

But L‘ blest retirement, friend to life’s dccline,” Bids me my labours, and their fruits, resign ; a

AND THEATRICALS. 171 Content with pittance, early toil has macle, The frugal savings of yo~~rgenerous aicl.

Deem not, my heart insensible, 01’ cold, That I no cambric handkerchief unfold ; With bosom throbbing, and withfaultering spcech, Your kind indulgence for this step beseech- This face, I ne’er thform ofwoe could teach. Nor do I think, with arrogance and pride, That this, my place, can never bc supplied !

I’m pIeas’c1 io leave you thus-brim full of glee : - You must be pleas’d your bounty makes me free ; My worthy nmlftgers, whose gentle sway Made forty winters one bright holiday, Must too be plcas’cl, that an old servant goes, From anxious toilmg, io lm eve’s repose ; And with her faithful mate can thus retire, Where hrita has piled, and leisure trims the fire ; Where life’s ruck care no more may intervene, TO may their studies, Cor anotl~erscene.

UAlLTON BOOTII, AND TIIE OSI?OlLD MAN.

INperforming Othcllo, once, to CL thin audience, this cclcbratcd tragediancast sl~cha languor over scvcral sccllcs in wbich he was concerned, 172 THEATRES that nobody could discern their favourite RCIOT. But, ill the third act, as if roused from a lethargy, to the most animating vigour, he displayed such Uncommon fìre and force, that theplayers and-the audience seemed to be equally electrified by this nuddeu exertion of his powers. Theact being concluded, the our and his companions withdrew into the green-room, when - Cibber, mho personated The Ancient, said to

him, ‘l Pr’ythee, Earton, what was the charm that inspired you so all on a sudden?”--“ Why, Colley, I saw, by chance, an Oxford Man in the pit, whose judgment I revere more than that of a whole audience.” This Oxford Man (accord- ing to Davis, in his Dramatic Miscellanies,) was a Mr. Toolie, of Queen’s College, Oxford, between whom and Mr. Booth there was an intimate ancl inviolable friendship. When Mr. Toolie went to London, those whom he cbiefly visited were Dr. Rawlinson and Mr. Booth. He had a strollg passion for the stage, from thle indulging of which he was finally dissuaded by the latter, 011 account of his many personal defects.

‘‘ SIIE STOOPS TO CC)NQUlIR.” Tnn subject of this comedy is attributed to

174 THEATRES supper, invited his host and the fanlily to par- take of it, treated them to a bottle or two of wine, andp on going to bed, ordered a hot cake to be prepared for his breakfast; nur was it until his departure, when he called for the bill, that he discovered, that while he imagined he was at an inn, be had been hospitably entertained in a pri- vate family of the first respectability in Ihe coun- try. This story, the narrator says, was confirmed to him by the late Sir Thomas Featberstoae,bart., a short time before his death. This anecdote rests upon the authority of the poet's niece, Mrs. Catherine Hudson, daughter of the Rev. Henry Goldsmith, oí' Lissoy.

BURNING OF TRE LONDON TIIEdTItES. IN June, 1789, the splendid fabric of the Ita- lian Opera house, in the Haymarket, was totally destroyed by fire ; ancl from thenature bf its materials and its construction, a more awful con- flagration has been seldom witnessed in the me- tropolis. In September, 1S06, Covent Garden Theatre was also totally destroyed by fire, with several ad- joining houses ; and a number of persons having assembled in the passage lcading from tile TRE8 AND TIIEATILICALS. 175

piazza to the Theatre, the doors were closed against them by the falling in of the buildings, and upwards of twentypersons who vere un- able to escape, were either burnt to death or bu- ried ia the ruins. In the February following, a similar catas- trophe befel the splendid Theatre of Drury Lane, which had been built but a few years before. This being the largcst and most elevated builcl- ing in the metropolis, and being composed of materials pecdiarly combustible, exhibited, dur- ing the two or three hours in which it became a prey to the Aarncs, one of the most sublime spectacles ever witnessed. In every street within half n mile of tho Tllcatre the light was intense, and the energy of tilo fiames was so great, that picccs of burning w00ci of a foot superficies wcrc carried, by tllc direction of a moderate wind, above two miles, the whole atmosphere in the samo dircction bcing filled with small pieces, 111 a slatc of combustion. A11 the music in score, and hundreds of ma- nuscript plays, ancl a grcnt variety of theatrical curiosities, which hacl been preservcd under successive managements, were lost by these fires. In no case was it ascertahed how they originated ; but it was at the tme feared that they mere occasioned by some religious fanatic of thatclass who imagine that, in spite of their salutary effect in refining the taste, and im- proving the manners of the people. Theatres are merely temples of Satan, and, therefore, de- struction is an acceptable service to God.

LIFE’S TRAGEDY, BY SIR WALTEIL RALFJGII. MAN’Slife’s a Tragedy,-his mother’s womb, From which he enters, is the ’tiring room ; This spacious earth, the Theatre ; arid the Stage, That country which he lives in :-Fassions, rage, Folly, and Vice are actom-The first cry, The prologue to the ensuing Tragecly :-- The former act, consisteth of dumb shows ; The second, he to more perfection grows ; I’ th’ third, he is a nlan j and doth begin F To venture Vice, and act the deeds of sin ; I’ th’ foourth declines ; I’ th’ fifthJ diseases clog And trouble him :-then eath’s his epilogue. AND TBEATRICALS, 177

@IIAILLOTTE CIBBEB, COLLEYCibber had a daughter of the name of Charlotte, who married a Mr. Starke. She was brought up to the stage; but her subsequent life was one continued series of misfortunes, af- fliction, nncl distress, which she sometimes con- trived a little to,nllevinte by the productions of her pen. About the year 1755, she had written a novel for the press, (6 which," says Mr. Barnuel Whyte, who relates the rnclnnclloly tale, I axcompaniecl my friend, a bookseller, to hear read. SIE was at that t,ime a widow : her habi- t,ntion a wretcIlec1 tllatchecl hovel, situated on the road to Islington, not very distant from the New-Rivcr-bead ; wllerc, at that time, it was cus- tolunry for scavengers to deposit the sweepings of thc streets. The night prccecling, II heavy rain hacl l'nllcn, which renclcrcd this extraordinary seat of the Muscs ~zcarly inacccssible, ancl WC could only approach, by wading nllnost knee-clcep in the mud. WC clid not, uttcn~pt to pull the latch- string, butkuoclcecl nt the cloor, which was open- ed by a tall, meagre, ragged, figure, wit11 a blue apron, indicating, what otllerwisc was doubtful, that it was a fende before us; a perfect model t'or the Copper Captain's tattercc1 landlady, VOL. 11. B 175 THEATRES A that deplorableexhibition of thefair sex, in c‘ Rule a Wife.” She, with a trembling voice, and constrqined smife, desired us to walk in. The first object that presented itself was a dresser; cleao, it must be confessed, but wretcl1edly fur- nished. To the right, we perceived the mistress of the house, sitting on a broken chair, underthe mantle-piece, by a small fire. At the authoress‘ feet, on the flounce of her dingy petticoat, reclined a dog, almost a skeleton, who saluted us with

a snarl :--l Have done,’ said shc, Fidele, these are friends.” “The tone of her voice was not bars11 ; it had something in it humble and disconsolate, a min- gled effort of authority and pleasure. Poor soul ! feq were her visitors of that description ; no won- der the creaturebarked O. A rnagpic was perched upon the top ring of her chair ; and on her lap was placed a pair of mutilated bellows-the pipe was gone. These were used as a succedancum for a :Ir E PRIXC , writing-desk, on which lay displayed her hopes and treasure,-the manuscript of llcr novel ; her inkstand was a broken tes-cup ; hcr pen was worn to a stump ; a rough dcal board, with three hobbling supporters, was brought for our conve- nience ; on which, without further cercmny, we l AND TIIEATRICALS 179 contrived to sit down, ancl enter upon business, "The wol.lr was read, remarks made, alterations suggested, and agreed to, and thirty guineas de- manded for the COPY. The squalid hand-maiden, who had been an attentivelistener, stretched forward her tawny neck, with an eye of anxious expectation. The bookseller offered five guineas ; our authoress did not appear hurt; disappoint- ments had rendered her lnincl callous ; however, sonle altercation ensued, which terminated by the booltscller doubling his first proposal, which was acceptecl." Such 1s the story OF the once admired danghler of ColleyCibber, l~oet laureate, and patentee of Drury-Lane Theatre, who was born in afluente, educated with care and tender- ness, and who, though possessing considerable talents, terminated her miserable existence on a duughill t

1'1IE PRINCE OP ANNAMABOO, AND STEPHEN ILnMBLL WUKXStephen ICemble was manager at New-

caEtle, and the houscs were rather flat, no less ;t person arrived in town than Prince Annatmboo, wllo offered his servicesfor a very moderate con- 180 THEATRES A sideration. Accordingly, the bills of the day an- nounced, (( that, between the acts o€ the play, Prince Annamaboo would give a lively represen- tation of the scalping operation ; hc lvould, like- wise, give the Indian war-whoop, in all its various tones ; the tomahawk exercise, and the mode of feasting at an Abyssinian banquet.” The evening arrived, and many people atten- ded to witness these prirlcely imitations. At the end of the third act, his highness walked forward, with dignified step, flourishinE his tomahatvk, and rending the air, exclaiming, I‘ Ha, ha ! ho, ho !” Next entered a man with his face blackened, and a piece of bladder fastened to his head with gum : the Prince, with a large carvmg knife, commenced bis scalpingoperation, which he performed in it style truly imperial, holding up the skin in token of triumph. Next came the war-whoop, which was a combination of dreadful and discordant souncls : Instly, the Abyssinian banquet, consisting of raw beef-steaks ; these he made into rolls, as large as bis mouth would ad- mit, and devoured them in a princely nud rligni. fied manner. Having completed his cannibal repast, he flourished his tomahawk again, ex- claiming ‘‘ Ha, hn! ho, ho !” ancl made his ‘3 AND TFIBATTLlCdLS. 181 1 exit. The next day, the manager, in the middle of I, the market-place, espied the most puissant Prince of An~an~:~boo,selling pen-knives, scissors, ancl yuills,lin tho character of a Jew pedlar. What!” said ICernble, my Prince, is that you ? Are not you a pretty Jewish scounclrel to impose upon us in this manner,” Noses turned roufid, looked sur- l prised, and replied, Prince be hanged !LI vas11 no prince, I vas11 no prince; I vash acting, like , you. YOU vnsh kings, princes, emperors, to day,-Stepben Kemblc to-morrow 1 1 uasJL 7um- bw~-you vnsh Immbuug-all vuslt humbug.’o GARltICK. TIIE diffidence of Garrick, at first, withheld him from trying his strength upon a London Tlleatrc : hc thought the baznrd too great; and, therefore, commenced his noviciate il1 acting with a company of plnyers, then ready to set out for Ipswich, under tl~cdirection of Mr. Gifford and Mr. Dunstall, in the summer of 1741; The first effort of his theatrical talents was’ exerted in dboan, in cc Oroonoko ;O and met with ap- pIausc, eqL1al to his most sanguine desires. Under the assnmcd name of Lydtlal, he not only cnncted a variety of characters il.1 plays, particularly C‘lm-

naont, in the ‘t Captain Brazen, in the 182 TI1 BATRES l‘ Recruiting Officer ;” and Sir Harry but he Iikewise attemptedthe active feats of Harleph. In every essay he was gratified wit11 constant and loud applause; and Ipswich has always boasted of having first seen and encou- raged this memorable actor, Having thus %vied his powers before a provin- cial audience, and taken all necessary steps for appearing to advantage upon a London stage, he made his first appearance before a London audi- ence,October 19, 1741, at Goodman’s Fields, when he acted Richard III., for the first time, His acting was atte,nded with the loudest accla- mations of applause ; and his fame so quickly spread through the town, that the more esta- blished Theatres of Drury Lane and Covent Gar- dell were deserted, The inhabitants of tho’ most polite part of the town were drawn after him; and, although the Theatre, in Goodman’s Fields, was spoken of contemptuously, in tllc public journals of that time, (‘as a great ease to the

Ladies of L Rag Fair,’ who were forced to trudge as far as Lincoln’s Illn Fields, to nix themselves with the laclies of quality,” this Theatre ’was now to be seen full of the splendor ol St. James’s ancl Grosvenor Square.

AND THEATRICALS. 183 We must not wonder that the playerswere the last to admire this rising genius ; who, according to his biographer, (and surely he must know,)

4‘ 4‘ are more liable to envy and jealousy than per- sons of most other professions.” Quin and Cibber could not concealtheir uneasiness and disgust at his great success. The patentees also of Drury Lane and Covent Garden Theatres were seriously alarmecl at the great deficiency in the receipts of their houses, and at the crowds which constantly filled the Theatre of Goodman’s Fields; for GifT‘ord, the managerthere, having found the aclvnntnge from Garrick’s acting, had admitted him to a full moiety of the profits ; and Garrick, in coascquence of his being perpetually admired, acted almost every night; and, to a long and fatiguing cllaracter in the play, he would fre- quently add allother in the farce, Those paten- tees, tlm~cfore,united their effort to destroy the newly-raised seat of Theatrical empire, and, for this purpose, had recourse to law. Anact of Parliament, tlm eleventh George II., eo-operiteil with their endeavours ; which were í‘urthcr aided by Sir Jolm Barnard, who, for some reasons, was inccnsed against the comedians OE Goodman’s Fields; in consequence of which, l. 84 THEATRE3 Garrick entered into an agreement with Fleet- wood, patentee of Drury Lane, for S'500 a yeay; and, soon after, Gifforcl and his wife macle the best terms they could with the same proprie- tor.

THE BLACK-FRIARS THERTIIE. THEsituation of this ancient Theatre was close upon the spot where Apothecaries' Hall now - stands, and tbere is still a place in the neighbour- hood, called Playhouse Yard. (Thedate of its erection is uncertain, butit was contemporary with the Globe, and belqnged to the same com- pany, who were called cc The King's Servants;* and who played alternately at each of them ; that is to say, at. the GZo6e in the Summer, aqd by dayhght ; and at the Black-friars in Winter, and by candle-Iigl1t,, The Blackfriars is stated to have been a ppivate Theatre ; but it is not easy to ascertain what it was that constituted thdis- tinction. When it WRS first erected, it appears to have been proposed, that none but persons of respectability, or, in the phraseology of the times, select and judicious citizens," should be ad- mitted. To this the following passage from cc Pasquil and Katharille,'' refers. ‘’ 1 lilrc thc audience that frequenteth there, With much applauac : R man shall not be chnak’d With Ille strong sceat of garlic, nor be pasted TOth bn1111y jacket of a bccr-brewer.” These limitations were, however, soon forgot- tell by the proprietors ; for, probably, there were not so many citizens, of the select ’and judi- i cious” sort, as would suEce to fill the house, nlthough we are told, that it was but a small building. The doors were, consequently, throl.~n opcn to all, ancl it multitude of loose characters seem to have gathered around it, as round its more celcbratcd. contemporary. At least, such is thc complaint against it in the following dialo- gue betwecn Bi~dand Flowerdew, two of the sanctified fraternity of Blackfriars:’ taken from Rnndolph’s ‘‘ Muses’ Looking-glass,” which was firvt acted at this Theatre in 1630. Flow. I Irave Ilenrd our friar Call LJlny-llouscs thc collcgcv of transgression, Wl~crcinthe vcven dcndly sins are studicd, Bid. WJly tlrcn tllc city will, in lime, be made An univcruily of iniquity. Wo clwcll by Dlack-frycm collcgc, wllcre 1 wonder How tl~nCprohnc ncst of pernicious birds Dare roost llrcrlrvulrcs there in tIlc midst of 118, So many good and well-disposctl person Alleyn appears, at one time, to have been pro- prietor of this Theatre, as well as The Fortune,” and to have been at a considerable expense in re- building it, as we learn from the following entry in his diary, which is still preserved, at Dulwich College, under the date of Septemlxr, 1618. Money disbursed for the building of the Bluckfriers for ihiv year, and in anno 1617, wllen it first bcgan, with the 4001. disbursed by my fahu ; buying in of leases, charges in law, and the bnilding itself, is $1iO~; O : 2.”

AUGUSTUS VON KOTZEBUE. M. KOTZEBUEwas the son of a counsellor of legation of the Duchy of Weimall. Having be- come, at the age of‘twenty, private secretary to General Bour, one of the best informed military men in Prussia, lm gained the gooci-will of the Empress Catharine, for whom he composed some pieces, which were actecl at the Theatre of the Hermitage. Induced by a romanticattachment, he mm- ried a noble Russian lady. He was quick- ly raised to the situation of president of the civil government at Revel, in Esthonin,and to the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and wits clecorated wit11 the insignia of several orclers. TIw inde- ES 188 THEATRES AN1 ing implements ; and the English admiral, corn- tnanding in the Baltic, permitted the present of peace to pass unmolested. Kotzebue took part in the manifestoes and diplomatic notes of the Russian Cabinet, published in 1811 and 1812. The Emperor Alexander recompensed his ser- vices by naming him at first, i11 18 13, consul ge- neral of Konigsberg; and aftorwarcls, in 1816, by connecting him with the department of foreign affairs, as counsellor of state. In 1817, he received a commissiou to go to Germany, in order to send reports directly to the Emperor AIexander on the state of literature and public opinion in Germany. He settled for this purpose at Weimar, where he published, at the same time, a Literary Journal, in which he constituted himself judge of all writing in every branch of literature which he thought worthy ofnotice, and, at the sanle time, delivered his opinions onpditics, and on thc spirit of the times, in the manner which his opponents consi- dered partial and illiberal in the extreme. His Cossack-like tactics, with which he made war upon all liberal ideas, especially the wishes of the people, for representative constitutions, freedom for the press? &c., in the name of souncl

190 THEATRES

IRELAND’S SHRICSPEARE. TI~Elate Mr. Samuel Jrcland, originally a silk- merchant in Spital-fields, was led, by his taste for literary antiquities, to abandon trade for those pursuits, and publishedseveral elegant Tours, which may beregarded as works of stsndarcl taste. Olle of them consisted of ‘‘ A Tour on the River Avon;’’ during which he was led to ex- plore, with ardent curiosity, every thing that re- lated to our immortal Bard. During the excL1r- sion, he was accompanied by his son, a sprightly youth of sixteen, who imbibed a portion of ]lis father’s rnania on the subject of Shakspeare. The youth, perceiving the grcat importance which his father attachecl to every relic of tllc poet, allcl the eagerness wlth which he sought for ally of his MS. remains, conccivecl lllnt it \vould not be difficult to gratify his father by some production of his own, in the language and manner of Ille time. This idea possessed his mincl for a certain pc- riod ; and, in 1793, being th1 in his c4glltecnlh year, he produced some MSS. professed to be in the hand-writing of Shakspcarc, which hc gaicl Ilad been given to him by a gentleman possessed of many other old papers. This young lzml bc- ing articled to a Solicitor in Chancery, easily fa- g4' I, bricated, in the first iostance. a deed of mort- , , gage from Shakspeare to Michael Fraser. The 18 extacy wllich his father expressed, urged him to forge other documents, describedas coming from

the salne quarter. Emboldened by success, he 8, ventured upon higher compositions in prose and verse, and, at length, commenceclthe discovery of an original drama, under the title of "Vortigern," which he exhibited, act by act, written in the pe- riod of two months. Having provided himself' with the paper o€ the period, being the fly-leaves of' old books, and with ink prepared by a book- binder, no suspicion was entertained of decep tion. The father, who was a maniac upon such sub,jecls, gave such credit to the supposed dis- covery, that the attention of the literary world, and all England, was drawn to it, insomuch that the son, who had announced other papers, found it impossiblc to retreat, and was thus goaded into thc production of the series he bad an- nou11ccd. Thc house o€ Mr. Ireland, in NorToZkStreet, was crowciecl to excess by persons of the highest 192 THEATRES

I FHEATRES AND TIIEATRTCALS. 3 93

he also produced a play called, cd Henrey the Second ;” and although there were such incon- gruities in both, its were not inconsistent with Shakspeare’s dritlllas, both plays contained pas- sages o€ beauty and originality. The inge- nuous adrrlission of the son did not, however, screen the responsible fdler from obloqq, and the re-action of public opinion affected his fortunes and his health. Mr. Ireland was th dupe of his zeal on such subjects; and the son never contemplatecl, at the outset, the un- fortunate cffcct wllich took place, being partly consummated, by the enthusiasm of certain aclmi- rers of Xhakspcnrc, some of whom, as Drs. Pprr nod Warton, fell on their knees before the papers ; and, by their idolatry, inspired hullclreds of others wit11 n similar cnthusiasm. The juvenile author was filled with astonishment ancl alarm, but, at that stage, it was out of his power to check it. Mr. Ireland died about 1802 : his son is still living.

the piece did not succeed. V’UL. II. 194 TI-IPATRES It was still confidentlyasserted, that she needed only to be brou& forward in parts equal to her genius, to shine forth a theatrical star of the-first magnitude ; and her friends lamented the selfish policy of Garrick, who avoided bringing her forward, from a fear, that she would divide the public attention with him. AS his jealousy, even of female performers, was well known, the trutfi of the assertion was never doubted ; and an anecdote in particular was circulated, that on an occasion of dispute with Miss Younge, who had begun, as well as other actresses, to show a re-

fractory temper, he had said, “ 1’11 tell you this ; you llad better not give yourself airs, for there is a U;oman in the JLO‘ZIS~,who, if I choose to bring her forward, would eclipse you all in youth, beauty, and talent.’’ These mysterious expressions were considered by Yates, Younge, and Abington, the three reign- ing female favourites, as merely an cmply boast; and much mirth was excited by the idea of Gar- rick’s ‘‘ Green Room GO~L~CSS,”Îor such was the name she had obtained, in consequence of the praises he hac1 bestowed on her. Her attrnc- tion, however, was not sufficient to enable her to obtain a reuewer1 cngagemcnt at the end of’

196 THEATRES no disadvantage of dress could conceal her tran- scendent meritfrom an eye so penetrating as that of Mr. Sheridan ; and, after the play was over, he went behind the scenes, to get introduced ta her, and to compliment her, ìn thehighest terms, on her performance. Such it distinction, from a judge of his acknow- ledged merit, could not fail of being highly flat- tering. Mr, Sheridan said, I am surprised, madam, that, with such talents, you should con- fine yourself to the country : talents, that would be sure of commanding, in London, fame and success."-The actress modestly replied, that she had already tried London, but without the suc- cess which had been anticipated; qnd that she was advised, by her friends, to be content with the fame and profit to be obtained from Bath, particularly as her voice was deemed unequal to the extent of B London Theatre. Mr. Sheridan, who had judged very differently of this actress's powere from what her modesty induced her to do herself, spoke, immec]iately on his return to London, to Mr. King, the acting manager of Drury Lane Theatre, strenuously re- commending to him, if he &d any regard to the interests of the Theatre, to engage a performer I l ! AND TIIEATRICALS. 197 ,

~ I of abilities SO distinguished. His zeal for tile l SUCC~SSof his protegke did not stop here ;but,

l upon her being engaged, he directed her, with a l l truly kind solicitude, in the choice of a part for her firgt appearance. With the usual preference of young and handsome actresses for dlaracters of pomp and show, she inclined tomthat’ofEuplmsia, in t‘ The Grecian Daughter;” but the juster taste of Mr. Sheridan determined her in favour of the far more favourable and affecting character of Isa- bella ;and the judgment with which the selection was made, was~arnplyconfirmed by the bursts of rapturous admirátion’, which hailed, after the lohg obscurity to which the jealousy.df contemporary talent had condemned her exertions, the full blaze of the transcendent merit of Mrs. Sid- dons ! Thekindaess of Mr. Sheridan, which did not now terminate, shewed itself in every possible way in her Belralf, and was gratefully ackhowledged by the object of it ; who, when at the height of her professional prosperity, was wont to term him Thfather of my fortune, and my fame.”

FARINELLI* TIIIS Italian Biuger flouriahed in 1736. One 19s THEATRES God, one Farinelli,” was the enthusiastic and impious exchnation of one of his female admi- rers, whose beauty, not animated byrgOod sense, mme to ( procured for her rank and fortune. The nett annual receipt of Farinelli, while in EngIand, was, by his own confession, in an hour of gaiety, four thousand pounds; but Philip v,, King of Spain, unwilling that England should possess :G HT P OUT give 1 sL1ch a, treasure, enticed him to Madrid, by a To pension of two- thousand pounds a year: -to this income was added the dignity and m emo- lument of a knight of Calatrava.-After the death of his royal patron, this fortunate candidate for public favour retired to enjoy a splendid in? dependence in his native country, and built a magnificent house near Bologna, where hc was visited by several English travellers. SHAICSPEARE’S REMAINS. SBAKSPEAREhas anathematized, in some:lines on his tomb, any one who might disturb .his bones ; yet,rabout the year 1811, in digging a TRE 1 grave for a deceased ecclesiastic, the grave- digger proceeded so near to Shakspcare’s coffin, as to break away a part Òf it: and Mr. Wheeler, the ingenious historian of Stratford, was tempted by curiosity, and stimulated by the anathema, to THEATRES AND TXIEATRICRLS. 199

thrust his hand into the coffin, aucl take hold of the bnrcl’s skull; which, however, he did not presume to disturb. EPIGRAM. Ola reading of a gcmtleman ofthe nnmc of LightjìJot beirrg robbed dllotes to a cu~zsidet~ahleanmuat, at the door (rf Drury Lane lhcatre, whoagoi~~gto see Mr. Kemz, in A new way to pay old debts.” LIGHTFOOT,perhaps, had walk’d some miles To give the play his praise and penny ; To find ere he could see Sir Giles, One Overvw.xh at least too many. ’Tis hardf” he cried, to be thus cross’d,- By one’s own base relation robb‘d ; For, doubtless, what Lighvoot has lost;, LightJcinger has that instant fobb’d.

64 ’But hence, vain grief!-Away í‘rom me ! That man is half afool who frets ; My moncy gone, il’s time ta see

This same g New Way to Pay Old Debts.’” GEORGE FREDERICK C001C.E. TIIE late George F. Cooke had been per- firming at the old Theatre, Limerick. The last night of his appearance, he acted Petruchio, and, nlittle before t11e fall of the curtain; 11e’lmd paid such constant attention to a little keg of whiskey, that the í‘urnes overpowered his faculties, and in 20 o THEATlCES bestowing the whip upon the unfortunate Gmntio, he belaboured him so severely, that the miserable actor roared in downright earnest, every now and then threatening Cooke with a retaliation, who, doubly inspired on the occasion, both by the he- verage he had drank, and the protection of the audience, persevered till he hacl macle a clear stage for himself. The actor who had been thus treated vowed vengeanceon Cooke, which he \vas determined to inflict the moment he hacl un- dressed himself. %ornewhat sobered 'by 'these threats, Petrzlchio.bethoug~bimself'df ,the advice of Hudibras-

, 6' He who figlrts, and ryns away, Mgy live to fight another day." Heedless of the strangeness 9f his dreas, he instantly slipped down the back stairs, and sought, refuge in one of the obscure alIeys behind the Theatre. It was then just twelve o'clock, and as Cooke bad rambled out of the high street, he did not even encouIlter a watchman asleep an his post. 'The sounds of woe, issuing with strange q~~empity~froman humble hvt, prescatly attracted his attention ; they proceeded from ap assemblage ofpersons, who (according to acustorn still conti- nuedin the Southern parta ofIreland, on the death AND THEATRICALS. 20 I of a relation, or even acquaintance) were assem- bled round a dead body, chaunting a dismal song, or howl, in full chorus. The reader must bear in mind the broad brimmed hat and whimsical dress of Petrucla’o, and that, most likely, not one individual assembled in that place had ever seen a play; imagine, then, if possible, the wonder and horror of the poor simple souls, when George Frederick applied his shoulder to the slender wicket o€ the cabin, plunged into the midst of the group, sword in’ hand, oversetting those he first encountered, and advaucing up to the foot of the bed, on which the body of an old woman was placed, exclaiming, ìn bis own rough way, with 16~1eyes dietended to*theutmost extent by intoxicatim--

d’ How now, yc secretblack and midnight hags, What is’t ye do ?” ‘Thunderstruck by the figure of the apparition, and the tones which proceeded from il, some of tJ1e mourners sought shelter under the bed, others crept hdf way up the chimney, while the relnainder sallied out into the lane, praying, most fervently, to be released from the visitation of the devil, for a. human being nonc could suppose George, who, left alone with the shrivelled re- 202 THEATRES mains of the old peasant, taking her parckment- coloured hand, pathetically exclaimed-

(( O, my love ! my wife ! Death that hath suck’d the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. Thou art not conquered-beauty’s ensign yet Is crimson on thy lips.J’-

cl Beauty !-no, hang me, if it is,tlmugll ;

Avaunt, thou horrid spectre !lJ

t‘ But stop,” said George, for bis eye at that instant rested on a jug. of whiskey punch, smo- king in the chimney corner ;-he eagerly grasped

the handle and cried, I

rr Hcre’a to mg love.’’ The affrighted company taking by degrees a littlecourage, ventured, one by one, to peep through the key-hole, and then observing George had thrown away his sword, returned into the apartment, when he, in order to encourage them, Don’t fear me ; ’tis only George Frederick Cooke; come, sit down, 1’11 smoke with you, and drink with you, aye, and pray with YOU, my jolly lads and lasses.” Tlms re-assured, George became gradually a great favourite with them, ancl revelled in the delights o€ tobacco and whiskey, cc until his eye-lids could no longer AND THEATRICALS. 203 204 THEATKES agree, and then the piece was to conclude with a full hymn of thanksgiving for the deliverance of' so many individuals.

GENEROSITY OF BIR. KEAN* INthe year1817, when Mr. Kean was playing at Euxton, the prices were raised, and the housewas quite full. MI-. K. was to have half of the money taken at the doors. Next day, the manager, as by agreement, carried the half to Mr. IL; but he being informed that the manager hadexperienced the frowns of fortune,refused to accept of it.

I'll have none of it," (said he) " and my reason is this ;you have ni72e children to maintain, and I have only one."

PLOT OF A PARCE, ACTED DEEOBE CIIAILLES lx'. OF FRANCE. 'TREfollowing story will give the reader some idea of the Ancient Farce. t' h the month of August, 1550, an advocate fell into such melancholy and alienation of mind, that he affirmed and believed himself to be dead. For this reason he mould neither speak, laugh,eat, nor walk, but continued to lie in bed. We became, at last, so weak that it was every hour expected that he would expire, when a nephew of his wife hap- AND TIIEATRICALS. 206 pened to arrive; who, after having endeavoured ineffectually to persuade his uncle to eat, began to think of efl'ecting a cure by artifice: with this intent, he caused himself to be clothed in a wind- ing sheet, in the manner OC bodies about to be buried, except that his face was uncovered ; and to be carried and placed on a table, with four light- ed wax candles around him, in the chamber where his uncle was lying. Every thing was so well imitated, that 110 one who saw him could re- frain from langhier; not even the very nurse of the sick advocate, affliciecl as she was, nor the nepl~ew himself,. could forbear, he being moved by the strange grimaces of the personsaround 11im cndeavouring to contain tllernselves. The paticnt, í'or whom all this was done, asked his wire who was upon the table? and she answered, It is the corpse of your deceased nephew.' Nay,' answered the sick man, how can he be dead, since I have just seen him laugh till his sidcs aclml?' to which the wife answered, that the dead 1augl;llcd. The advocate was desirous of malring the exporimcnt upon hirnself, ordered them to bring a looking glass, and tried whether he could laugh. Finding the thing very possible, he was pcrsunded that the clead had that faculty : cl, with this, his cure bcgan. 206 TIIEATRES

54 The nephew, after having continued lying upon the table about three hours, asked for Some food, that he might eat. A capon was presently brought to him, which he devoured, and likewise a pint ofwine. Seeing this, the advocate asked whether the dead could eat? and being assured they could, and did, he then demanded some food, which was brought to him, and he ate with a good appetite. From this time, he continued to perform the actions of a man of souucl understandmg, and his melancholy went gradually. This history was made into a farce, then printed, and afterwards played beforehis Majesty, Charles IX."

n1IcRAm STOPPELAEIL, THE ACTOR. THISvotary of the mimic art was a native of the Sister Ide, ancl had been educated at Trinity College, Dublin; but imbibing a love for acting, he quitted those academic bowers for the stage, in which,pursuit hc attained but little emi- nence. Ne wns more celebrated €or his blunders than for his acting, and for a singular faculty he possessed of uttering absurd speeches, and dis- agreeable truths, without any design to offenci the party to whom they were addressed : one AND THEATRICALS. 2 07 sample of his ability’in that way will give the reader a more perfect idea of his character. Rich WS~Stalking to some of his performers, when Stoppdaer was present,concerning the very disproportioned agreement he bad just en- tered into with one of his tragedians, named Hal- land, when Stoppelner stepped up to him and said, Upon my sod, sir, he got the blind side of you there.” Ricl1 was somewhat nettled at this rernwl~,and being apprehensive of hearing sorne- thing from the same quarter still more offensive, he lcft the company. As soon as themanager was out of hcaring, one of the party observed to Stoppdaer, that his speech was exceedingly im- proper, and greatly affronting, as every body kuew that Mr. Rich had a great blemish in one

of his cyes. ‘C Upon my word (replied th& un- conscious Stoppclaer) 1 never heard of it before : 1’11 WL the tlliug to rights, for 1’11 go immediately, ancl ask his p~lrd011.’’ ~S’l‘~LA~)KLI)iNAI1E’PILECAUTXON-

AT the ellcl of 6‘ Don JII~III,” there is an air sung by tllc ion, in embracing one o€ his f’air ones. 111 this air the words occur, IC Viun In Li- /,erta !’! 110t, d comse, in the sense of, politics, but in tile SCnSc of gallantry. It was thought 208 THEATRES dangeroust by the dramatic censors of Paris, in 1521, to allow a viva to be raised to .Liberty, even in an Italian song, and the actor was or- dered to substitute the words &‘Vivu la Hilarita !” against all the rules of sense and metre. In this manner it is always sung, to the great amuse- ment of the sensible dilletanti, who know the Ei- berty taken with the original.

DR. JOHNSON’S IRENE.” In 1749, Garrick having become manager of DruryLane, employed the theatrical power, \vit11 which he had just been vested, in bringing out Johnson’s tragedy of ‘‘ Irene,” which had long been kept back : but in this benevolentpurpose he met vith no,little difficulty from the temper of Johnson, who could not brook that a Drama which be hadformed with lnuchstudy, ancl whichhe had been obliged to keep for more than the nine years of Horace, should be reversed ancl altered nt the pleasure of an actor ; yet Garrick knew that with- out severa1 alterations it would be unfit for the stage. A violent dispute having ensued between them, Garrick applied io the Rev. Dr. Taylor to luterpose. Johnson was, at first, very obstinate:

‘‘ Sir,” said he, L‘ the fellow wants me to make AND TIIEATRTCAES, 209 Mal~omefrun mad, that he may have an opportu- nity of tossing his hands, and kicking his heels.'' He, however, was prevailed upon to comply with Garrick's wishes, and to permit a certain number of cllanges to be made, but still not enough to ensure its successful reprcsentation. Before the curtain drew up, cat-calls were whistliug, which alarmed some of Johnsou's friends. The prologue, written in a. manly strain, awed the audience, by the extraordinary spirit and dignity iiisplayed in some of its lines ; and the play went on smoothly until it approached to the conclusion, when Mrs. Pritchard, the hero- ine, was to be strangled before the audience, and hacl to speak two lines with the bow-stringround

her neck. The audience criecl out 'I murder !

nlurdcr !Ir Shc atternptcd to rspcak, but in vain ; and, at last, she quitted thc stagc alive. This passage was afterwards expunged, and was &ricd off to suffer death behindthe

scelles, as thc phy now has it. 'L Trenc" was pro- duced 011 the Gill of Feb. 1749, and performed nillc nights. Johllsan rcccivcd $100 for th copy right from Dodsley, ancl netted X195 : 17s. by thrcc benciil nights.

VOL, II. P

k 21 o THEATRES

THE COCKPIT, IN DRURY LANE. THISTheatre had originally been dedicated to the purpose which its name imports ; it was al- so frequently called the Plzoenix, from the cir- . cumstance of that fabulous bird having been chosen for its sign, when it was converted into a Play-House. It was situated opposite the Castle Tavern, and there is still in existence, a passage from Drury Lane into Great Wild Street, called Cock-pit alley; and Phœnix alley, leading from Long Acreinto Hart Street, probably owes its title to the neighbouring Theatre. This house was pulled down by the populace on the 4th of May 1617; and, during the work of demolition, many persons were killed and wounded by the falling in of its walls. It appears, from a letter sent, on this occasion, by the Privy Council to the Lord Mayor and Justices, that the Inob consisted of many thou- sands of persons, who, smitten with the love of morality, began by pulling down the bagnios, and in the height of their zed, extended their Rofor- mation to this Theatre. The House was speedily rebuilt, and the performances were continued until 1648. Soon after the Restoration, Thomas Killemew obtained a license for the buildine: of AND THEATRICALS. 211 a new Theatre, which he erected on the site of the Old Cock-pit; and his Company, who had now obtained the appellation of '' The King's Company," removed to this Theatre, which was opened on the 8th of April, 1663, with Beaumont and Fletcher'E; Conledy of '' The Humourous Lieutenant."

MILS. JORDAN. THIS once inimitable actress, whose talents and amiable disposition will long continue to hold a place in the tablet of memory, while per- forming in Glasgow, was presented by the audi- ence with a gold medal, wllich they enclosed in the following letter.-- ('MADAM, Accept this trifle from the Glasgow audience, who ATO 89 great admirers of genius a9 thc critics of Edin- burgh." 011one side of the medal is the Glasgow arms which is a, tree; &c. On the reverse, a feather, with the following inscription.

Bays from OUI' tree you could not gather, No branch of it cleserveu the name. So tnko it dl, call it B feather, And placc it in your cap $fame. 212 THEATRES AND TIIEATXLXCALS, 213 prevails, till th place is illumined by a pale fire. Tl10 dead rive froill Ihcir graves. The guard and people sink to the ground, terrified at the miracles. Jehus is pierced by Longinus. Nirrth.-The taking down from the cross. Persons .- ~~SUE,Mary Mngdnlcn, Salorne, Joseph of Arimathea, people. %nth.-Tbo gravo of Jesus. Eleventh.-7’11c ascension of Jesus, in two movements. Persons : Jcsus, and his disciples : accompanied with double Greek firu. Jesus asccncls in a cloucl to Ileaven. N.B.-Ncw decorations.”

GARRlCR, AND PRLVILLE TIIE PRENCI-1 COMEDIAN. TUP,last time that GarTick was at Paris, Pre- villc invited hiln to his Villa. Preville was reckoned he most accomplished comedian of t11c Frcncll Theatre. Garrick being in a gay humour, proposcil to travcl in one of the hired co~cl~es,ht go to Versailles, on which road tltc Villa of Preville was situated. When thy got in, lie ordered thc coachma‘n to drive on, who answered he would ¿lo so when he go his complimcnt of four passengcrs. A droll whin1 seized Garrick, and he determincd to give his brotlm playcr a specimcn of his art. While thcoachman, therdore, was attentively 2 14 THEATRES plying for passengers, Garrick slipped out of the door, went round the coach, and, by his won- derful command of countenance,palmed him- self upon the coachman as another passenger ; this he did twice, and was admitted, each time, as a freshpassenger, to the astonishmentand admiration of Preville. He whipped out 8 third time, and, addressing himself to the coachman, was answered in a surly tone, ‘‘ that he had al- ready got his compliment: ;” and he tvould have driven off without him, had not Preville called out, that as the stranger appeared to be a very little man, they would, to accommodate the gen- tleman, contrive to make room.

TOM D’URFEY. THISsingular individual was a lively genius, and diverting Companion, and a cheerful, honest, good-natured fellow. I-Ie was the delightaof the best companies, from the beginning of Charles the Second’sreign to the latter part of that of George the First. Tom shared the usual fate of those whose only merit is tacontribute to merriment; and, towards the latter part of his life, he stood in need of assistance to prevent his passing the remainder of it in prison : to AND TI-IEATRICA.LS. 21 5 speak in his own words, After haying written more Odes than Rorace, and about four times a5 many Comedies as Terence, he found himself reduced to great difficulties by the importunities of a sel of men, who, of late years, had furnished him with the accommodations of life, and would not, as WC say, be paid will1 a song."

SUSANNAII CENTLIVRE. THIS distinguished Dramatist discovered, at an carly period, a propensity to poetry, ancl is said to have written a song beforeshe had attain- cd her seventh year. She was left an orphan at an early age, having had the misfortune to lose her father bcforc she was ten years old, and her mother bcfobre shehad completed her twelfth year. Having been treated with SL degree of harshness by those, to whosc care she was committed nftcr the death of her mother, she resolved, whilst very young, to quit the country, and proceed to London to seek her fortune. The circumstances of her Iifc, st this period, are involved in much obscurity, ancl thc particulars which are recorded seem somcwlmt romantic ; it is said, that she at- tomptcd her journey to hecapital alone, on foot, and on her way thither was met by Anthony Hammond, Esq. father of the author of the Love Elegies : this gentleman, who was then a metnber of the University of Cambridge, was struck with her youth and beauty, and offered to take her under his protection. Either her distress, inclina- tion, or inexperience, induced her to comply with his proposal, and she accompanied him to Cam- bridge ; where, havingequipped her in boy's clothes, he introduced her to his college inti- mates as a re1ation;who mas come down to see the University, and to pass some time with him. Under this disguise, an amorous intercourse was carried on between them for some months ; but, at length, being probably apprehensive that the affair would become known in the University, he persuaded her to go to London, which she agreed to ; and he generously presented her with a-considerable sum of moneys and recommended her, by letter, to a lady in town, with whom he was well acquainted; assuring her, at the same time, that he would speedily follow her; this promise appears, however, not to have been per- formed ; yet, notwithstmding her unfavourable introductioninto life, she was married, in her sixteenth year, to a nephew of Sir Stephen Fox, AN D THEATRICALS. 217 who did not live more than a tweIvernont11 after their marriage : but she, possessing both wit and personal attractions, soon obtained the consola- tion of another husband, whose name was Carrol. He was an officer in the army, and was, unfortu- nately, killed in a duel, about a gear and a half after their marriage ; and she became, a second time, a widow. It was at this period of her life that she pre- sented herself before the public as a dramatic authoress, to which she was probably, in some degrec, induced by the narrowness of her circum- stsnccs. Some or her earlier pieces were published under tbe name of Carrol. Her attachment to dramatic amusements was so great, that she not only distinguisl~ccl herself as a writer for the Theatre, but, also, became a performer in it ; though it is far from probable that she attained any great celebrity as an actress, as she appegrrs never to have played at the Theatres of the Me- tropolis. In 1706, sheacted the part of Alex- ander the Great, in Lee's tragedy of the " Rid Queens," at Windsor, where the Court then was ; and, in this heroic character, she made SO powerful an impression upon the heart of Mr. Joseph Gentlivre, (yeoman of the lnoutll, or principal 21 8 TI-IBATRES cook to Queen Anne,) that he soon after married her, and with him she lived happily until her decease, which happened December Ist, 1723.

EMERY, THE COMEDIAS* TISIS admirable actor was, at one period of his career, celebrated for his personation of the incorruptible, but tender-hearted 8entinel, in Pizarro.”

One evening, tt Pizarro” was advertised, and the audience, having waited beyond .the usual time €or the curtain to rise, became impatient; when, at length, an actor came forward, and informed the audience, that in consequence of the absence of a principal per- former, they were obliged to request a few mi- nutes longer indulgence. The actor was scarcely off the stage when Mr. John Kemble, dressed Y for Bolla, malBeci on and said,--“ Ladies anil Gentlemen, at the request of the principal performers in the play of this evening, .I nm to inform you, that the person alluded to is Mr. Emery !” The house received this explanation mithout any expression of disappointment. Searcely had Mr. Kemble quitted the stage, when, dressed in a great coat, dirty boots, and a AND THEATRICALS. 219 face red with haste, and wet with perspiration, on rushed the culpnt. Emery staid solne moments before th audience, apparently much agitated2 and at length delivered himself to this effect- " Ladics and Gentlemen, this is the first time I llave ever had occasion CO appear before you as an npOlQgist. As I have been the sole cause of the delay in gourentertainment, allow me, shortly, to offer my excuse ; when I am sure I, shall obtain an acquittal, especially Crom the fair part of this brilliant asscmblagc.Ladies, (for you I must particularly address) my wife !"--and herethe poor fellow's feelings almost overcame him- cc my wifc was but anhour since brought to bed, and I["-thunders of applause interrupted the and X ran í'or the doctor."-" You've said enough !" exclaimed a hundred tongues. " I could 1101 leave her, ladies, until I knew she was

saf'c.''-- 61 I3rav0, Emery, you've said enough !" 1va.s re-cchoccl from all parts of the house. Emery was completely overpowcred; and, after making anotl~ineffectual attempt to proceed, retired ; llaving first; placed his hand upon his heart,' ancl bowed gratefully to all parts of the house. The play proceeded without interruption, but il ap1mmil that Emory had not forgotten his 22 o THEATRES obligation to Kernble ; for, in that scene before the prison in which RoZZu tries to corruptthe sentinel by money, thefollowing strange inter- ruption occurred in the dialogue :-

Ralla, Have you a wife p Sentinel. I have. Rolla. Children? Sentinel. I had two this morning-I have got three now. Loud applause followed this retaliation, which continued so long, that the entireeffect of the scene was lost: and Mr. Ihmble, after wait- ing some time in awkward confusion, terminated it by abruptly rushing into the prison.

THEATRICAL CENSORSIIIP. SIR RobertWalpole hzls the reputation of being the contriver of the Act of Parliament, for submittingtheatrical performances to the in- spection of the Lord Chamberlain, and, thereby, establishing a censorship on the drama, which would, at once, stop the voice of censure upon his long reign of power, from that quarter. The manner of effecting this purpose gave great offence. An underling was procured to scribble a dra- AND TIIEATRICALS. 221 matic piece, under the title of The Golden Rump," a. farrago of obscenity, blasphemy, and political abuse; and, in short, a ridicule of every moral and religious institution. It was then presented to Gifford, (one of the managers,) who, prcviously taught, his part, brought it to the Minister. He, shoched at such a mass of enor- mity, cawicd it down to the House, recited some of the most exceptionable passages; and an act ' for submitting TIIE DRAIVIA,to the Lord Cham- berlain's inspection, passed almost unanimously.

SIIEILIL)AN, TIIQJTSON, ANDGARRICK. Mn. Thomas Sheridan, father of the celebrated RichardUrinsley Sheridaa, used to relate the fol- lowing anccdote :-When the famous Thomson, author of The Sca~ons,~'had his tragedy, called c'Tmcrcd and Sigismunda," performed at Drury Lane Theatre, several f'riencls joined Mr. Shcriclm to entreat Thornsou to shorten speeches, wlzich tbcy foresaw would wcary the audience but thy oEencled the poet, without effecting their purpose. Garrick, who played the part of Tmcrcd, listened, and said notlling ; but at re- l~earmls,though npparcntly perfectin his part, continucd, occabionnlly, to takc the prompter' 222 THEATRES copy, and read. The first night, however, without a whisper of his intention, he curtailed his own part,wherever his judgmentdirected, and the applause he received was great; while Mr. She- ridan, and otheractors, who had longand te- dious parts,laboured on withgreat difficulty. The conduct of Garrick saved the piece; and Thomson, thoughenraged when he heard the first omissions, returned Garrick, in thc end, his hearty thanks. DEATH OP JOHN ICEMIBLE~ AN extract from a private letterfrom Lausanne, dated February 28, 2823, from which it appears, that he died in consequence of an attack of con- tinued apoplexy, will best explain the particulars of the demise of this celebrated tragedian. ('Dear Sir,-I have not folgotten your request, that, on my arrival at Lausanne, I ~Iwuldpwscnt 'your best recollcc- tions to your flielld, Mr. Rcmblc. 1 came hcwon Monday evening, the 24,t.h inst. and he died on tlle 2Glh inst. Our great tragedian is no mort , and he who, in histrionic art, could so well depict tlle final pangs of nature, Ilas brcn called upon in turn to act the part in sad reality. On Sunday, the 23rd inst. he was, in his own estimation, so very comfortable, that he seemed, on that day, in particularly good spirits. The next morning he arose, apparently quitc well, break- fasted at nine, and, subscqucntly, went into an acljoiningroo~n

R AND TI-IEATRICALS. 223 224 THEATRES

The Dean of Raphoe, who was then living at Lausanne, read the funeral service at the house of Mr. K. ; and Mr. Cheeseborough, the resident clergyman, performed the melancholy service of the grave, The age of 66 is recorded on the coffin. Mr. Cheeseborough read prayers to Mr. K., when he could attend to them, and was with Cl him when he died. The death of Mr. IL was sincerely felt by all persons at Lausanne, and his remains were followed to the grave by all the resident English, and by many Swiss. The Eng- lish had no 'parties during the week, and one foreign lady put off a spIendid pasty on account of Mr. K.'s decease.

PROVINCIAL TI-IBATRICALS. AT an inn in a market town, where a company of camedians were murdering the language of some of our best dramatic writers, an Irish gen- tleman sat in the kitchen smoking his pipe, and regardingrnith pleasure a fowl tlmt was roasting for his supper. A tall meagre fellow staked in, and, after an earnest melancholy look at the fowl, he retired with a sigh : he repeated the visit a second time, and That fowl will never be clone in time,"--" What do you mean?" 1ES

said the Zrishman, That is í‘or my supper, and you shan’t touch a feather o’it.’’-L‘ Oh, (replied the other,) you misunderstaud me ; I do notwant the fowl, but ‘I: am to play Oroono7zo this even- ing, and we cannot begin for want of the jack- chain !’’ 22 6 TIIZATRES sisted that his young hero should print his name in front of the epistle, as it was directed to him. This was done, and the impression was sold off with the comedy.”

EPITAPII ON AN ACTOR. FROMearly youth, traia’dto the Thespian art, On life’s great stage, I’ve pluy’d my varied pwt ; My entrance was auspicious ; never boy, In his debut, received more flatt’ring joy : My Lfirst and second act pass’d smooth away, Alternately in study, and in play; I then advmc’d more forwarcl it1 the scene, Ancl oft neglect madeforfeiis intervene. My passions drew me into tmgic scrapes, And ill-laid plots brought with them dire mis- haps. Contic evellts, however, were not scarce, And past dilemmas then became ayarce. Though want of property I’ve often known, My wardrobe slender never macle me groan ; In various slmpes, not always at my ease, I managed still to bztstla tlhrouyh the picce : Though wrong behind the curtain I might do, My inward prompter kept me still in cue. L- 228 THEATRES

TO Mn, JOHN HUNNIEXKAN.

011, hopeful ou th, and let thy happy strain Redeem the glory of the Stage again; Lessen the loss af Shakspeare’s death by thy Successful pen, and fortunate phantasy. He did not only write but act, and so Thon dost not only aet, but writest too. Between you there no difere~tce appems, But what muy be made up with equal yeam This is my suffrage, and 1 scorn mg pen Should crown the heads of undeserving men. What became of Hunnieman, after the suspeu- sion of dramatic performances, cannot be learn- ed; for, from this time ve lose all traces of many of the most celebrated performers. Some, we know, took the field under the banners of their sovereign, others applied themselves lo trade; bnt very few indeed of those who delighted the au- dience of the days of Charles t’me first, survived to appear before his son.

EDWARD ALLETN, TIIE ANCIENT COMEpPAN. THrs cclebntcd comeclian, who flourished in the reign of Elizabeth and James I., was born in London, on the first of September 1566, of respectableparents. He was contemporary with Shakspeare, and was an original actor in some of his inimitable plays. Re was in the.rnwt inti- BATRES AND TIIEATRTCALS, 229

mate habitswith our immortal poet, as well as Ben Jonson. They used frequently to spend their evenings together at the Globe, in company with a few 0th congenial spirits. A letter from one of the club is still preserved, which contains a curious anecdote, and shews the estimation in wllich Alleyn was held by his contemporaries. Rn extract is here given, without adhering to the orthography :-

l' I nover longcd for thy company more than lagt night ; we were all very merry at the Globe, when Ned Alleyn did rlot scruple to nfirm pleasantly to thy friend Wili. (Shnkspenro) that he Ilad stolen his speech about the quality of an actor's excellcncy, in Hamlet," his tragedy, from convcrsation manifold, which had passed between them, and opinions given by Alleyn touching the subject. Shalcspeare did not take the talk in good sort: but Jonson put an end t0 thstrife, with remarking,--" This affair needcth no conten- ti011 : you stole it from Ned, no doubt; do not marvel ; have you not seen him act timesout of number 1"'- Alleyn was, indeed, the Garrick of his day : and is equally celebrated with that famous actor for versatile genius, corporeal agility, lively tem- per, and powerful elocution. They also resembled cBc11 other in another respect, in wlrich they dif- fcr from most of their professional brethren, prudence and economy. 2 30 THEATRES Acting seems to have been a lucrative profes- sion in Allep’s time ; for he left a large fortune, which he devoted chiefly to charitable pur- poses. It must, however, be remembered, that AIIeyn was the - proprietor of a Theatre, as well as an actor, and that he had the direction of mother fasionable amusement in those days, viz. the King’s Bear Garden, whichis said to have pro- duced him a clear profit of X500 a year. ’ Al- leyn, overflowing with riches, and satiated with public fame, prepared to close the scene with some eclat. For this purpose, he founded Dulwich College. Thebuilding was built from the plan of Injgo Jones, who was one of the witnesses to the deed of settlement; and the institution, as founded by AlJeyn, S till continues. Alleyn expended ibout &lO,OOO in the building: and that it might besuitably sup- ported, he appropriated lands to the amount of 5800a-year, for the maintenance of one master, one warden, and four fellows. The master and warden were always to’be of the name of Alleyn, or Allen. Six poor men, and as many poor’women, were to be supported in the hospital ; besides twelve poor boys, who were ta be educated in AND TIIEATRXCALS. 231 good litcrature, tilí tbc age of fourteen or six- teen, alil then -put out to honest trades and calli11g.s. Alleyn was only forty-eight years of age, wheu he made this endowment, and he took care to see it carried intó' effect. But, what is still more extraordinary, after the hospital was completed, hewas so plaased with the institution that lm resolved to be, himself, one o%the first pensioners. Accordkgly, during: the -remainder of his life, he conformed strictly to the rules -of the housq and appearecl perfectly satisfied with tlm allowance which his bounty bad made for the indigont. Along with this apparent' selfgdeaial he still displayed a lnuclablc attention to his telnporsll 'interest; : and either for his own gra- tification, or with n. view to the' pliblic good, hc continuecl, even after bis establishment a€ tho hospital, to draw considerable profits ad ma- nager of tho Thcatrc. Besicles' 111e above, he founded sovcral alms-housas in London and Soulllwarlc, with competent provision. This singular nnd estimable character died November the 25th,, 1626, ancl lips buried iris the Chixpel of tllC Collcge. PONT-ALAIS. PONT-~LAISwas author, aclor, and manager 232 THEATRES of the Mysteries, in the fifteenth century. His repartees, and manner of delivering them, pro- cured him admission to the first families ; nay, he had even the honour of frequently approach- ing Louis XII. and Francis I. of France. He was deformed; and one day saluting a Cardinal, who was the same, he placed birnsélf so as to touch back to back, and said, '' You see, Mon- seigneur, that, in despite of the proverb, mom- tains may meet." Before it was customary to print play-bills, an actor used to accompany a drummer to squares, thoroughfares, and public places, make an eulogium on the piece, and invite I the public to see it performed.%One Sunclay morn- ing, Pont-Alais hacl the audacity to cause his I drum to be beaten, and a new piece announced, in sermoll time, in the open place, opposite the church of Saint Eustache. The curate, seeing the people crowd out of the church, left his pul- pit, went up to the actor, and asked, (( Who made you daring enough ta bent your drum, while I preach ?''-'L Aad who made you daring enough to preach, while my drum is beating ?'' * This has been donc, in small country (owns of England, in the memory of many persons, now living.

--m------. .- AN D TIIEATRICALS. 293 replied Pont-Alais. This insolent repartee ren- dered the curate silent for the moment; but, on application to the magistrate, Pont-Alais was for some months imprisoned. Pont-Alais’s barber complainecl, that the parts given him to perform were too insignificant ; on which Pont-Alais gave him thpart of one of the Icings of the East, seat- ed him on ahigh throne, and standhg behind his shouldcrs, maliciously repented :

Je srlis des moitdrcs le mineur, Et ]l’ni pns vaillent nn ceston; Mais le roi d’ fnde, le mnjeur, M’a souvent ras6 le menton.

I’m the least of the least,

Not ;I sixperlce to save me ; I3111 tllis king of tho Ihst Vcry oftcrr llar s71u’u’d me.

l3XTRACT BILOM A LBTTEn T’O SECRETAILY mRLSINGIIAhZ, AGAINST STAGE PLAYS, TIIEdaily abuse of stage plays is such an ofencc to the godly, and so great an hindrance to thc Gospel, as the Papists do exceedingly rcjoice at the blctnish thereof; and not \dthout causo for9every day in the week, the players’ bills arc sct up in sunilry places. Morne, in the name of 234 THEATltES Her Majesty’s men; some, the Earl of Leicester’s; some, the Earl of Oxford’s ; the Lord Admiral’s, and divers others ; so that, when the bells toll to the lectures,the trumpets sound to the stages. The play-houses are pestered, when the churches are naked : at the one, it is not possible to get a place; at the other, seats are plenty. It is woeful to see 200 proud players in their silks, when 300 poor people starve in the streets. But, if this mischief must be tolerated, let efery stage in London pay a weekly pension to the poort that ex hoc malo perveniat ali’quid bonum. But it were rather to be wished, that players might be used, as Apollo did his laugh- ing, seme1 ìn ~wIo.~?

‘L TIIE SPANTSEI FRIAR.” THIS tragedy, which is by far thebest of Dryden’s dramatic efforts, was much decried, both by his enemieb and the adherents of the Duke of York, 011 its firstrepresentation. The former said it was merely stolen from other au- thors ;though it trenclled too much on the Popish religion. The witty Charles, however?thought otherwise; he said, in regard to the latter, that knaves in every profession should alike be sub- 11:

l i

AND TIIXATBICALS. 235

1 Sect to ridicule ; ad,as to the first,'!leexcl&med, '' Aword in your ear, gentlemen ! Steal me sueh anothcr play, any of you, and I will frequent it as mucl1 as I cl0 Tc The $panish Friar."

morrds CAT BIUSTC. WIIENFootc first opened the Theatre in the Haymarket, amongst other ingenious projects, he proposed to entertain the public with an imi- tation of Cat-music : to accomplish this, he en- gaged n man famous for his skill in mimicking the mewing of Cats. This person, from his possessing this singular faculty, was called

U Cat Harris."-Foote, having fixed a rehearsal of this odd concel't, Harris, from some circuw stances or other, neglected to attend. Foote ac- cordingly requested Shuter would endeavour to find him out, and bring him with him. Shuter, as in duty bound, sallied forth on this momen- taus expedition ; alil after wandering for some time, was directed to a courl in the Minories, where this extraordinary musician lived. He ac- cordingly bent his steps thither, and having reached thc plncc of his destination, not know- ing thc 1mm+ Shuter vcry sagaciously began Ah’D 236 TIIEATRES

Cat solo. This had the desired effect ;for the other looked out of the witdow in a twinkling, and an- swered him with a cantata of the same sort.

‘(Come along, my lad,” (hollst’d Shuter ;) “ I want no better information than that thou art the man:-Mr. Foote stays for us ; we cannot begin the Cat-Opera without YOU.’’

THE GERMAN BOURGOMASTER. F~RNERLY,in many of the Theatres of Paris, were to be seen workmen in the pit, with their aprons on, and women with their hair in curl pa- pers, children at the breast, ancl poodle dogs. A similar abuse existed at the Theatre in one of the towns of Germany. The better bred in- habitants complained to the Bourgornaster, mho listellecl to their grievance, ancl issuecl the fol- lowing orcler Desirous that this town should be distinguished from others by the delicacy and purity of its manuers, my paternal solicitude is first directed to this Theatre, which is the source of a thousand disorders. For example, there are mothers, who seek arnusemcnt with so much avidity, that they take their children to the The- atre, rather than be deprived of that spectacle, ATlLES AND THEATRICALS. 23’2

l i‘

li 233 THEATRES us :’ and other expressions of a like nature. Is it proper that a child, still at the breast, shouldsuck in the poison distilled from these phrases,and learn already that its mother may be a cruel pa- rent?-We order as foIlows :-

I‘ It is hereby pasitively forbidden, infuture, to carry, or lead, any children, or dogs, into the Theatre. Ancl 7rve do €urther politely beg, that the inhabitants of this town will, henceforth, leave their infants in their cradles, and their clogs in their kennels.”

cmrs OP LON DON. IN the comedy of The Three Ladies of Lon- don,” &o. London, 1684, t’hcre is tllc fdlow~ug 239 ‘i DRAMATIC ERRORS. IN Beaumont ancl Fletchec’s Humorous Lieutenant,” a play in which Antzgonus ancl Demetrius are the heroes, and where, 110- cessarily, thescene is laid many years before the Christian æra, Demetrius is introduced discharginga pistol ; an anachronism so very ridiculous and inconsistent with the genius and learning of the two dramatic bards, that one com- mentator, fired with the true spirit of attachment to his authors, has ventured to assert, that the blunder was introduced on purpose to render the comedy still more burlesque !”

ROBERT COS. WHEN the Theatres were silenced during the civil wars, Robert Cox, whose name does not appear in any of the lists of actors prcfixecl to the early editions of Slmlcspearc, Ben Jonson, and Beaumont and Fletcher, empIoyec1 himself in eolnposing drolls, or light pieces, in a great mca- sure, similar to those which, in the early part of the last century, were actccl at Bartholomew and Southwark Fairs, by regular compnnics of co- medians. The mosl serious or thcse procluctio~ls, which were a€t‘tcr.rvardscollected in n volunlc, now

AN D AND THEATRICALS. 24 1

become exceedingly scarce, had a dash of the comic in them,though for the most part they were Farces of one act, with singing and dancing, as Hobbind, Singing Simpson, and Simpletou. the Smith. By the connivance of thelicensers, into whose favour this zealous and adroit purveyor OF amuse-

~ ment ingratiated himself, he contrived, as we have nlentioned elsewhere, in our account of the Red Bull Thcatre, lo get his pieces acted under the colour of rope-dancing, &c. The principal parts, in these trifling substitutes far the regular drama, werc actcd by Cox himself, with such life, spirit, aucl nature, that he restored to the people their almost forgotten custom of widening their jaws into risibility. Xuch was the effect procluced by his performancc of yoz~ng Simpleton the Srnith, at a ccruntry fair, thnt the noted master of a forgc in the village, very gravely offered to take him for his journeyman, and to allow hiln twelve pencc a weck more than the rest. I would

accept your offer,” returned Cox, “ but you see P !lave u good shop of wy own.” This comcdinn travelled all over thc kingdom with his compny, whicl~ appcnrs to llave coa- VOL Il. It 242 THEATRES A3D sisted of himself, a man, and a boy. The universi- ties themselves opened their arms to receive this master of merriment. Whenhe ment to Stur- bitch Fair,he did not forget to renew his acquaintance with the heads of houses at Cam- bridge ; and at Oxford he got so far into the good graces of a poetical butler, that he was pleased to oblige him with a prologue, that he mightappear in form, as he had once seen the members of a college, when they acted a play at Christmas. By pursuing this method of itinerant exhibi- tion, and by never staying long in any one place, Cox acquired considerable sums of money, which there is 110 doubt that he sharecl with his old colleagues, many of whom were reduced tothe most miserable condition, having no means of procuring their bread. There is per- haps no class of men more alive than the players to the feelings of humanity, and more ready to relieve one another’s wants,

IVYCIIERLEY, AND THE DUCIIESS OF CLEVELAND. WTCHZRLEY was a very lmrldsome nl~n. His acquaintance with the famous Duchpss of

244 THEATRES found by FTee-wiEl, representing a lewd de- bauchee, who, vith his disscjlute coplpany, Inzu- yimtion, relate their manner of life, and describe the stews and other places of base resort with considerable bumour. Thcse arc presently join- ed by Hycke Scorner, who is drawn as a libertine returned from travel, and who, agreeably t0 his name, SCOESat religion. These three are de- scribed as extremely vicious, ad glorying in every act of wickedness ; at lcngth two of them quarrel, and‘ Pity endeavours to part the fray : on this they fall upon him, put hitu in the stocks, and then leave him. Pity then clescants in a kind of lyric rnea~ureOLI the profligacy of the age, and in this situation isfound by Perse- verance and Contemplcttion, who set him at liberty,and advise him to go in search of the delinquents. As soon as he is gone, Free-wibb again makes his appearance, ancl after relating, in a highly comic manner, some or his rogueries and escapes from justice, is rebukecl by the two holy lmn, who, after a long altercation, nt length convert him and his libertine companion, Imagination, from their vicious course of 11fe ; and the play ends with a few verses from Pe7- severance by way OC epilogue. AND TIIEATRICALS. 245

It wou1d be superfluous to point out the ab- surdities in the plot and conduct of this play. They are evidently great. It is sufficient to ob- serve that, excepting the moral and religious re- flections of Pity, &c., the piece is of it. comic cast, and contains a humorous display of some of tbc vices of the age. Indeed the author has generally been so lit& attentive to the allegory, that WC need only substitute other names to his personages, ancl we have real charslcters and living manners, capable of fornling the grounci- work of a very excellent comedy.

QUIN, T~rouorr that great performer, James Quin, made bis srst appearance at Drury Laue in 17 18, yct it wns not till the year 1720, that he had an opportunity of displaying his great theatrical powers. Upon the revival of The Merry Wives of Windsor," nt thc Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, OC which Rich was manager, there was no one in the wllolc colnpany who would under- take the pari of Falstqf. Rich was therefore inelincd to give up all thoughts of representing it, whm Quin, happening to come in his way, Raid, If ha pleased, he would attempt it." 246 THEATRES AN Hem,” said Rich, taking a pinch of snuff:

IC you attempt FaZsiaf! why (hem !) you might as well think of acting Cuto after Booth. The character of FaEsta& youug man, is quite anoc- thercharacter from what you think (taking anotherpinch of snuff), It is not a little sni- velling part that, that-in short, that any one can do. There IS not st man among you that has any idea of the part but myself. It is quite out of yourwalk. No, never think of Fd~t~~ff- never tlkk of Fulstaf-it is quite, quite out of your walk, indeed, young man.” This was the reception his first effort of step- ping out of his trifling walk met with ; and for some days he laidaside all thoughts of ever enacting FaEsta#, or, indeed, speaking upon the stage,except it were to deliver a message. Ryan, who, at that time, Ilad the ear and coniì- dence of Rich, having heard Quin, long before he thought of coming ont upon the stage, repeat some passages in the character of Falstafl, pre- vailed upon the manager to letQuin rchenrse them before him, which he accordingly did, but not much to his ~naster’ssatisfaction. However, as the case was desperate, ancl either (L The Merry Wives of Windsor” must be laicl aside, or Quin AND TITEbTltICALS. 247 perform FnIsta$, this alternative at length pre- vaiIed upon Rich to let Quin play the part. The first night of his appearance in this character, he surprised and astonished the au- dience: no actor before ever entered into the spirit of tbe author, and it seemed as if Shaks- peare had, by intuition, drawn the knight for Quin only to represent. The just applause he met with on this occasion, is incredible ; conti- nual clappings and peals of laughter in some measure interrupted the representation; which on that account was prolonged to a late hour. It would, howcver, be injustice to the other per- formers, not to acknowledge that they contri- butcd to thc success of this representation, which had a very great run, and was of eminent service to the company. Ryan ’was excellent in the part of FOT^ ;Spiller, reckoned among the great- est comedians of that time, performed one of the sirongest parts, tIlnt, OC Doctor Cams; and Da- heme, another very good actor, l did Juslice srLnuow. When Quin engaged at Drury Lane, dmUt tile year 1761, he succeeded the elder Mills, in all the capital parts of tragedy; and Delane SUP- 248 THPATRES plied his place in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, after having performed for some time, with tolerable success, at Goodman’s Fields. But it was upon Booth’s quitting the stage, on account of his illness, that Quin shone forth in all his splendor; and yet he had the diffidence,,upon the first night of his appearance in Cato to insist, in the bills, that the part, of Cato would be only attempted by Mr. Quin. The modesty of this invitation produced a full house, and afavourable auI dieuce; but the actor’s own peculiar merit effected more. Whenhe came to that part of the play where his dead son is brought in upon the bier, Quin, in speaking these words,- cc Thanks to the gods ; my boy has done his duty !” so affected the whole house, that they cried out, with B continual acclamation, Booth ontclone ! Booth outdone !” Yet this was not the summit of his applause ; for when he. repeated the famous soliloquy, he was encored to that degree, that, though it was submitting to an impropriety, he indulged tile audience with its repetition. There was at that time upon Drury-Lane Thcntre, a, subaltern player, whose name never AND TI-IEATRICALS. 249 250 THEATRES

WIGNELL, THE ACTOR. ONEof old Mr. Sheridan’s favouritecharac- ters was Cato, and on its revival at Covent- Garden Theatre, a Mr. Wignell assumed his old established part of PUT’iiuS, adhaving stepped forward with a prodigious though an accustomed strut, began -

‘l The dawn is overcast ; the morning lowers ; And lleavilg, in clouds, brings on the clay.” The audience began upon this to vociferntc

’L Prologue ! prologue ! prologue !” when Wig- ncll, findmg them resolute, without betraying any emotion, pause, or change in his voic@%nd mm- Ber, Lut in all the pomp of tragedy and hackney.: ed decIarnation, proceeded as if it were a part of the @y-

cc Ladies and gentlemen, there has been no Prologue spoken to this play thcae twenty yean- . The great, the importantday, big with the falc Of Cato and of Rome.” This wonderful effusion put the audience in good humour : they laughed immoderately, clap- ped, and shouted ‘( Bravo !” and Wignell still AND TIIZATILICALSI 25 1 AN 252 THEATRES formed of his son’s misconduct, publicly express- ed to him the indignation which he felt at it. How, rascal,” said he, ‘‘ the Queen of France doss ?der duty ; she begs you to dance ; and you do not do yours ! You are but a blackguard : I will punis11 you effectually : 1 will deprzue POIL of my tzarne !’’

A BEMALE FALSTAFF. IN the summer of 1786, a Mrs. Webb perform- ed the character of F&n$ at the Haymarket Theatre, for her benefit: as might be conjec- tured, it produced a crowded audience. This lady was induced to the attempt by her uncom- mon corpulence. She died November 24, 1793.

THE MIMIC RECLdIMED, IN the beginning of the last century, a. comc- dian, of the nape of Griffin, celebrated for his talents as a mimic, was employed by a comic author to imitate the personal peculiarities of the celebrated Dr. Woodward, whom he inteudecl to .introduce on th9 stage as Dr. Fossile, in Three Mour,s after Marriage.” The mimic, dressed as a countryman, waited 011 the doctor, with R long catalogue of complaints, with which he said his wife was afflicted. The physician llearcl with AND THEATRICALS* 253 A

POJVELL, AND WARREN, IIIS DRESSER.

TEIE first season of performing the c‘ Fair Pe- nitent,” Mr. Powell represented the part of Lo- thako: he had a dresser named Warren, who claimed a privilege (which at &at time existed) of pelforming the dead part of the Hero in the 5th doleful act. Powell, being ignorant of the station his mm had taken, called loudly í‘or him behind the scenes in the middle of the act. The sad representative of Death, hearing his master’s voice, and knowing that he waspassionate, instantly replied, ‘‘ Iiere I am, sir.” Powell, being still ignorant of the situaticm of his ser-

vant, immediately rqoined, L‘ Come here, this

moment, you son of a -$ or I will break all the bones in your skin.” Warren now could nt) longer delay or resist, and jumped up. hung with sables, which \us it were to Ilcightcn ]lis embarrassment) were tied to thc hnadlcs of the bier. This, added to the roar in the ho~sp, urged lm speed so earnestly, that, with tllc bier in his rear, he ran against ancl threw Over U!

*f.1 256 TIIEATRES liberty, Sir Robert, finding that he had been then several days in Dublin, asked him the reason of his not coming to him before. The honest Hiberniananswered, with great exultation, that

LC he had been all the time spreading the news, and getting drunk for joy among his friends.” Be, in fact, executedhis businesswith unconlmoo fidelity and despatch ; but theextraordin,,ry effect which the happy event of his embassy had on poor Paddy, was toogreat to suffer him to think with any degree of prudence OH any thing else. The excess of his joy was such, that he forgot the impatienceand anxiety of a tender parent ; and until he gave that joy suffi- cient vent among a11 his intimates,he never thought of imparting the news where it was 1nost desired. From this Sir Robert took the first hint of that oclcl composition of fidelity ancl blun- ders which he Ilas so humourously tvorlsecl up in the character of Tengue. AND THEATRICALS. 257 Sir,” said Macklin, Barry comes into the garden, strutting and talking aloud like a lord, about his love, that 1 wonder the Caplets do not come out, and toss the fellow in a blanket.” WeII, my dear Mack,” exclaimed Garrick, dg go on.”’-Lc NOW,”said Macklin, how does Garrick act this P Why, sir, sensible that the family are at enmity with him and his house, he comes creeping in upon Ais toes, whispering his love, and looking about him just like a thief in the night.”

JOE MILLER, JESTER AND COMEDIAN. MANYa would-be wit, who has Joe MiIler conslnntly on his lips, might probably be induced to make a pilgrimage to bis grave, if he knew that it was as near to him as the place called the Green Cllurch Yard, or Burial Ground, in Portu- gal Street, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, belonging to the parish of St, Clement’s Dane, and close by the oncc cclebrsted Lincoln’s Inn Fields Theatre, wllcrc Garrick became so famous. Miller’s cpitaph, by Stcplxn Duck, is on a handsome stonc an the lcft haad sirle on entering the burial ground, nearly under the window of the worltholm. Thc inscription was originally on vor,. II. S h 258 THEATRES another stone ; but Time had taken such liberties tyith it, that, in the year 1816, the churchwarden for the time being, greatly to his credit, caused th, present one to be erected. The following is the inscription on the present stone :-

‘l Here lie the remains of Honest: Joe Miller, Who was A tender Husband, A sincere Friend, A facetious Companion, And an excellent Comedian. He departed this life the 15th Day of August, 1738, aged 54 Years.

If Humour, Wit, and Honesty, could save The humourous, witty, honest, from the Grave, The Grarehad not so soon this tenant found, Whom Honesty, and Wit, and Humour, crown’d ; Could but Esteem and Love preserve our breath, And guard us longer from thç ytrolce of Death, The stroke of DealIl on hin1 hacl Inter fell, Whom a11 mankind estecm’d and lov’d so wdL- S, DUCE,”

From respect to social worth, mirthftd qualities, :incl histrionic excellence,commemorated by poetic talent in humble life, the abovc inscriplion, which time hari noarly obliterated, has been preserved and transferred to this stone by order of Mr. Jnrvis Buck, Cl~nrchwarden,A, D. 1816.” AND TIXEATRICALS. 259

MATXXEWS AND POOTE. THE attempts of Mathews to delight an au- dience by the mere force of his own gentus and talents, are not without precedent. It was prac- tised by Foote half a century ago, apd with similar aucccss ; not for a few nights only, but for several scasons. Leaving the beaten paths

Q E the stngc, and disdaining to be the ICparrot of he poet's thoughts," Foote strack out into a new ancl untrodden course, by which he added ta the amusements of the town, and at the same time supplied the deficiencies of an exhausted fortune. The hint was borrowed from Worsdale, e comedian of that day, who used to entertain private company with a, humorous exhibition of the foibles of his acquaintances, in which he united the powcrs of exquisite mimicry to a gent knowlcdgc of nature. Voote, whose ~QWWSin both were enlarged by ;I ~norcIibcral echcation, and by keeping better wn1pa,ny, rcsolvccl to entertain the town with numicry more diversified, and less vulgar, than that of Wrorsrlalc ; and with this view he, in the yrr~r1747, opcncd the lit c Theatre in the Hay- mrlcct ~i;,llB dramatic piece of his own writing, 260 THEATRES and his own performing, called '' The Diversions of the Morning." This piece consisted of uothing more than introducing several well known cha- racters about town, who had little merit or much absurdity. For instance, Dr. Taylor, the oculist, and two or three more, whose lectures, conver- sation, and peculiarities, he had very happily hit in the diction of his drama, and which he still more exactly personified by a humorous repre- sentation. In this piece, in the character of a Z'heatricd Director, he satirized or imitated, with

great accuracy and humour, the several styles of 6 acting of every principal performer of the day, Foote's mimicry being too personal to be per- mitted,he met with some opposition from the civil magistrate, supported by the act for limiting the uumber of playhouses, and licensing proper works for the stage. Thisinduced him, there- fore, to alter the titleof his piece, so tlmt, instead of inviting the town to see it play, he only en- treated the favour of his friendsto '' Tea ;" giving his Tea, through a run of upwards of forty mornings, to a crowded and splendid corn- pany. The ensuing season, he produced another piece of the same kind, called '' An Auction of l

I

AND THEATRICALS. 26 1- Pictures.” In this he introduced several new characters,particularly Sir Thomas De Veil,’ the acting magistrate for Westminster; Mr. COCIC, thecelebrated auctioneer ; and the no

less famous orator, Henley. Neither the I‘ Auc- tion of the Pictures,’? nor the Diversions of the Nlorning,” have been printed, and it is probable that they were only calculated for exhibition. Footc gained a competent income by these cxhibitions in the nzetropolis; he also repeated

tlmn in Irelaud ; and in one of his pieces, called ~ The Orator,” introduced the character of‘Peter PUTUgTq7h, n. counterpart of Faulkner, the prin ter, of Dublin, whose manners and dress he so completely imitated, thatthe poor persecuted printer could not appear in public, without ex- 262 THEATRES Al periencing the scoffs andthe jeers of every urchin in the street. But what most affected FaulIreer, was a ludicrousstory which Foote made him tell, of his passage with his wife from Dublin to Holyhead. Faulkner, thus “so cruelly exposed, became alarmed, and commenced an action against Foote, by which he recovered damages, to the amoullt of three hundred pounds. This drove Foote back to England, where he was received with the favour to which he had been accustomed.

‘‘ THE BBGGAX’S OPERA.” THE following account is told respecting the cause which gave rise to this popular piece, and the success which it afterwards met with :-- Upon the accession of George II. to the throne, Gay was offered the piace of a gentleman-usher to the then youngestprincess, Louisa ; a pos t which hethought beneath his acceptance; and resenting the offer as an affront, in that ill humour with the Court, be wrote the ‘‘ Beggar’s Opera,’’ as a satire on the Italian Opera, than patronized bythe Court. On its beingbrought upon the stage, Nov. 1727, it was received with greater applause thah had ever been known before, R#U TZIEATRICALS. 263 on any other similar occasion ; for, besides being acted in London sixty-three days, without inter- ruption, aud renewed the next season with success, it spread into all the great towns of England; was played in many places to the thirtieth and fortieth time ; at Bath and Bristol fifty times, &c: It made its progress into Wales, Scotland,, and Ireipd, wlzere it was performed twenty-four days successively ; and,lastly, was acted in Minorca. The ladies carried about with them the favourite songs, in it, on their fans ; and houses were furnished with them on screens. The fame of it was not confined only to the atrtllor ; Miss Lavinia Fenton, who enacted Polly, tit1 then obscure, became, nt once, the favourite of the town; her portrait was engraved, and sold in great numbars ; her life written ; books o letters and verses to her, published ; and pam- phlets made of her sayings and jests ; and, to Qrown all, after being the mother of several antc- nuptial children, she obtained the title and rank of a Duchess, by her marriagc with Charles, third Duke of Bolton.

. FlXl3,NCI-E TllAGIJDIRN AND ARTIST. A FRENCH actor, accustomed to perform 264 TWEATllES the part of Achilles, wished to have his portrait taken, and desired it might be in that character, stipulating to give the painter forty crowns for his work. The son of Melpornene had been a journeyman carpenter; and the painter, who was informed that he WRS a bad paymaster, thought proper to devise a modeof being revenged, should Achilks play him any trick ;he, therefore, painted the figure in oil, the shield excepted, which was in distemper. The likeness was acknowleged to be great; but the actor, that he might pay as little as possible, pretended to find many faults, and declared he would only pay half the sum agreed upon. Very well,” replied the painter ;

‘t however, I will give you a secret for making the colours more brilliant. Take a sponge,dip it in vinegar, and pass it over the picture several times.”-The actor thanked him for this advice, applied the sponge, washed away the shield of AchiZZes, and instead of that hero, beheld a carpenter holding a saw.

ELKANAH SETTLE, INthe latter part of his life, was so reduced as to attend a booth in Bartholomew Fair, kept by a Mrs. Myons and ber daughter, Mrs. Lee, AND TIIPATRICRLS. 265 and received a salary from them for writing drolls, W1kh Were generally approved. He was also obliged, in his old age, to appear as a performer in these wretched theatrical exhibitions ; and in a farce, called St. George of England,” acted a Dragon, inclosed in a case of green leather of his own invention. To this circumstance Dr. Young alludes, in the following lines in his epis- tle to Pope :-

Cr Poor‘ Elkanah, all other changes past, Far bread, in Smilhfield, dragons hiss’d at last ; Spit streams of fire, to malre the butchers gape, And fourld his manners suited to his shape.” At last, he obtained admission to the Charter EIOUBB,and died there, Feb. 12, 1723-4. The writer of a periodical paper, entitled The Briton, spkalcs of him as then just dead ; and adds, he was a man of tall stature, red face, short black hair, lived in the city., and had a. numerous poeti- cal issue, but shared the misfortune of several othor gentlemen,-to survive them all.”

NOSEY, THE FIDDLER. Mn. CJI~VETTI,the famous player on the vio- lincello, so wellknown at the Theatres by the nick- name of Nosey, one night, during his performauce

I l 266 THEATRES in the Orchestra, received a violent blow on the CARD nose with a potatoe, thrown from the upper gal- lery; being a man of spirit, he, with difficulty, containedl-rimself till the conclusion of the piece, when running up into the galIery, and demanding who was the scoundreI that dared to assault him, the man beiug pointed out, Cervetti seized him by the collar, dragged him into the passage, and gave him a hearty thrashing. Some years after, when returning from a nde, he met, near Paddington, a cart-load of convicts going to Tyburn. One of them, recognizing him, cried out, Nosey ! and telling the surrounding po-

pu1acC::that he t had soinething df importante to sayto 2Vosey; Ccfve~%as stopped, and his horse led np to the cart, where he soon recognized the man who had thrown the poiatoe, who told him that :being just about to leave the. woxhlp wishing to die in peace with all manlaind, he kacl' taken thc liberty of stopping him to ask his for- giveness fsr the offence he had formerly commit- ted, and to assure him of his entire forgiveness, for the drubbing he had inflicted on him; then, wishing him a goocl day, he bid the carman drive on. This story was often related by Cervetti td his friends. 7

CARDINAL RICIJZLIEU, AND TIXP SONS OB TI-IESPIS.

A SET of strolling players, in Cardinal Riche- lieu's time, had met with success in performing farces of the lowest kind, so that the company of the Hotel-de-Bourgogne complained of them to the Cardinal ; who, being fond o€ every thing dramatic, sent for them to perform before hi,m in the Palais' Royal, which they did so much to his satidfaction that he would not forbid their per- formance. The piece thy exhibited before him is too CU. riouse to be omitted here, Gros Guilkaume, om of the principal characters in this exhibition, who is repregented to Be as thicE $S he was long, and who often, by 'mehm óf 'a dress with hoops atretched a&to$s, 'formed-:himself into then fighe of a h~gskîed~~w'aa, iw iJiis farce, SU~~QS~~ISE the wife of 'Ar&ji;np~ho,je3lou's of Gapyuille, is determinecl to cut off: her head. Infuriated with this idea, he seizes her by the hair, with a drawn sabre în bis hnncl; whilc she, upon her knees, conjures him, by every thing that was tender, to abato hi8 anger. She first reminds him of their past loves and courtships-how she rubbed his back, when he 268 THEATRES had the rheumatism; and his beIly, when he had Subject and thegripes; and how particularly charmed she (for that WB ancestors to was with him when he wore his clear httle flan- nelnight cap,-but all in vain ! Will nothing Then, God i move thee ?” cried this amiable fair one, in a fit aerd compl of the last despair-“ Then, O, thou barbarian! calls for Dt think of the bacon and cabbage I fried for your his tribunal supper yesterday evening.”-fC Oh, the sorcer- sonage who ess !” cried Tudupin,--‘c I can’t resist her-she *nun appear knows how to take me by my foible-the bacon! --tile bacon quite unmans me ;and the very fat is now rising in my stomach :-&e on, thou charmer-fry cabbage, and be dutifid.” Riches,) bl forsake him

270 TEIEATRES descends to sing his requiem, slnd the Epilogu e is spoken by a personage, calied Doctor, who recapitulates the whole, slnd delivers the moral, as follows :--

‘I This moral men may havein mind i Ye heavens, take it if worth, both old and young, And forsake €‘Tide for he deceiveth you in the end, And remember Beauty, Piue-wzts, Slrength, and Dis- They all, at the last, do Eve~y-masforsake, [cmtior~, Save his Good-deeds, these doth he take . But, beware, an’ they be small, Before God ,he hath no help at all. More excuse may there be for Every-man, Alas ! how shall we do then ? Por, after Death, amend may no man malre, For, then, Met-cy and Pity doth him forsake ; If his reckoning be not clear, wheu he cloth corne, God will say,-lte, maledieti, in ignem eternurn : And he that hath his account whole and sound, High in heaven he shall be crown’d ; Unto which place God bring u3 all thílher, That we may live body and HO^ togcthcr. Therelo help the Trinity ; Amen, say ye, for Saint Cllari ty !”

HARRY ROWE, TrrE YORK TnunwwrER. THISwell known genius was born at York, in the year 1726. Me was a trumpeter to th AN D TE-IEATRICALS. 27 B

Duke of Icingston’s light-horse, at the battle of Culloden, in the year 1746, and attended the high Sheriffs of Yorkshire, as a trumpeter, at the assizes, upwards o€ forty-six years. He was the master of a puppet-show ; and, for many successive years, opened his little Theatre, in that city, during the summer seasons ; and attended his artificial comedians to various other parts of the kingdom, during the course of the winter. In the year 1797, he published, at York, an edition OF Shakspcare’s Macbeth,” 12mo. with notes and emendations by himself,” and embel- líshcd with his portrait. A second edition of this work appeared in 1799-1800. Thc reason for thi‘s publication, he relates in the Prcface ;-the following are his words : ;

c’ I nln tuastcr of the pnppct-show ; and as, from the mturc of my omployruont, I am obliged to have afew stock plays ready for rel)rescntation, whcncver I am acciden- tally visited by a pnrty of ladies and gentlemon, I have ;rtldcd thc tragcdy of Macbeth” to my green-room COI- Icctirm. Tilt alterations thnt I hava rmde in this play are Ivarrantcd, from a carch1 pcrusd of a very old lnanuscript in thc posucssion of my promptcr, one of whose ancestors, Iiu: ruutIlwlB ~idn,na:, ruah sprcadcr and candle BIlU@hn ab 272 THEATRES AN I the Globe play-house, as appears from the following memo- randum, on a bfank page of the manuscript.

t This day, ilIarch thefozwih, 1598, received tlre sum ofseuett shillings und four-perm for six bundles of rushes, and two pnir qf Brass stmfers.’ ”

Our commentator’s erudition likewise manifest- ed itseIf in a dramatic piece which he wrote, enti- tled “NO Cure, No Pay.’’ In the early part of his life he distinguished himself by Bis filial af- fection, in the support of hispoor and aged parents, through the various means above de- tailed; will not, then, the feeling heart experience a pang at being irnfo&ed, that, bowed domnby age, poverty, infirmity, and a long and painful illness, Harry Rowe expired in the poor-house at York, many years ago !

DBRTII OP SOIIN PALMER, TI~Elast engagement of this eminent actor was at Liverpool; and, on the morning of the clay on which he was to have performed TheX~rnngcr, he received, for the first time, the distressing in- telligence of the death of his secoud son, a youth in whom his tenderesthopcs were cen- tered, and whose amiable mnnners had brought AND THEATRICALS. 273

illto action the tenderest affections of a parent The Play, in consequence of this, was deferred ; during the interval, he had in vain endea- voured to calm the agitation of his mind.-The succes with which he performed the part called for a second representation (August 2, 1793,) in which he fell a sacrifice to thepoignancy of his own feelings, and when the audience were doomed to witness a catastrophe which was truly melancl~oly. In the fourth act, Baron Sreiyzfort obtains an interview with The Stranger, whom he discovers to be bis old friend. He prevails on him to re- late the cause of his seclusion from the world : in this relation the feelings of Mr. Palmer were visibly much agitated, and, at the momenthe mentioned his wife and children,having utter- cd (as in the character,) c' t7w.e 2s another and n better world !" he fell lifeless onthe stage. 'l'h audience supposed for the moment that his fall was nothing mure than a studiedaddition to the part ; but on seelni him carried off in deadly stiffness, the utmost astonishment and terror became depicted in every cauntenance. Hnrncrton, Callan, arrd Mara, were the persons who couvcycd thlifeless corpse from the stage vor,. II. l! 274 THEATRES into the Green-room. Medical assistance was immediately procured; his veins were opened, but they-yielded not a single drop of blood, apd every other means of resuscitatian were had recourse to, without effect. The gentletrtep of the faculty, finding every endeavour ineffectual, formally announced his, death. Thesurgicalroperations upon the body continued about an hour ; after which, all hopes of recovery having vanished, he- was carried home to his lodgings, on a bier, where a regular inventory mas taken of his property. Mr. Aick- in, the manager, came on the stage to announce the mélancholy event to the audience, but was so completely overcome with grief as.to be incapa- ble of uttering a sentence, and was at length forced to retire, without being abl~to make him- self understood : he mas bathed in terns, and, for the moment, sunk under the generous, feelings of his manIy nature. Incledon then came for- ward, and mustered sufficient resolution to corn- municate the dreadful circurnstaace.-The housc was ittstantly evacuated, in mournful silence, and the people forming themselves into parties, con- templated the fatal occurrence in the open squarcg tlll a late hour next mornmg. Doctors Mitchell :9 AND THEATgICALS. 375 276 THEATRES

rectly, which were carried on with some degree Shnt the CU actors standi of decency on both sides. The justice first in- kvith their bs formed us, that he was come there as a magis- trate to maintain the king’s authority : that Co- firelocks. P lonel Pulteney,with a full company of the guards, Qously turnc was without, to support him in the execution of middle of it, his office ; and that it was the king’s command hry procee the play should be acted, ancl that the obstructing, thing of the it was opposing the king’s authority ; and if that thought it S were done he must read the proclamation, after ration, thel which, all offenders would be secured by the had owned guards in waiting directly. the affair) t cc To allthese most arbitrary tllreatenings, immediate1 and the abuse of his majesty’s name, the reply dc Then1 was in the following effect: that the audience but all th had a legal right to shew theirdislike to any could maks play, or actors;that the judicature of the pit upon this had been acknowledged and acquiesced to, time in all parte immemorial; ancl, as thepresent set oí‘ actors was ridic were to take their fate from the public, theywere opened W’ free to receive them as they pleased. By this twelve wo time, the hour of six drew near. The French and they and Spanish ambassadors, with their ladies, tllc two of pe late Lord and Lady Gage, and Sir Thomas Ro- After this binson, a commissioner o€ the cxcisc, all ap- but, had peared in the stage-box together. At that ill- AND TEIERTRICALS. 27 7 stant the curtain drew up, and discovered the actors standing between two files of grenadiers, with their bayonets fixed, and resting upon their firelocks. At this, the whole pit rose and unani- tnously turned to the justices, who sat in the middle of it, to demand the reason of such arbi- trary proceedings. The justices either knew no- thing of the soldiers being placed there, or else thought it safest to declare so. At that decla- ration, theydemanded of Justice Dcvcil (who had owned himself the commanding officer in the afhir) to order them off the stage : be did so itnmecliately, and they disappeared. cc Then began tbc serenade ; not only catcalls, but all the variousportable instruments that could make a disagreeable noise, were brought upon this occasion, and were continually tuning in all parts of the house ; an attempt at spealcing was riciiculous ; tbc actors retired ; and they opened with a grand dance of twelve men and twelve wolneu ; but even that was prepared for, and they were dircctly saluted with a bushel or two of peas, which. made their capering unsafe. After this, they attempted to open the comedy : but, had the actor a voice oí' thunder, it would 27 8 THEATRES

have been lost ,in theconfused strains from a thowand various instruments. ‘‘ Here, at the waving of Deveìl’s hat, all were silent, and (standing up on his seat) he made a proposal to the house, to this effect : That, if they persisted in the opposition, he must read the proclamation ; that, if they would permit the play to go on, and, be acted through that night, ONE of he would promise, on his honour, to lay their 3 dislikes and resentments before the king, and he doubted not but a speedylendmould be put to their acting. The answer to this proposal was very short and very expressive. No treaties ; No treaties.” At this, the justice called for can- Royal Dru dles, to read the proclamation, and ordered the In Octo1 cc The Nc guards to be in readiness ; but a gentleman seized Mr. Deveil’s hand, stretched out for the Gardeh T candle, and begged of him, to consider of what before the i played, ho he was going to do, for his own sake, for our’s, booksell( €or the king’s ; that he saw the unanimous reso- a lution of the house, and that the appearance of arid the au soldiers ip the pit would throw us all into a tu- face replet mult, and must end with the lives of many. This a title id V earnest remonstrance made the justice turn pale EPITAP and passive. At this pause, the actors made a AND TIIEATRICALS. 279 :cl strains from n second attempt to go on, and the uproar*revived, which continuing some time, t116 Ambassadors and their ladies left the box, which occasioned an universal lmza from the whole house ; and, , after calling for sotne time for ‘the curtain, down it fell .” CONDEMNED FARCES. ONEof Fielding’s farces having been hissea from the stage; when published, instead of the usual annunciation, in the title, of As it was per- formed, &C.” he substituted the more corrwt

reaclirlg o€, ICAs it was damzed at ‘the Theatre Royal Drury Lane.” In October 1813, a very witty farce, entitled The Nondescript,” wasplayed at Covent Garden Theatre, and completeIy condemned bcfore the end of the first act. The humour it dis- played, however, was SO striking, that it induced a bookseller to pdlslish it on his own account; and the author very gcnêrously sent him a pre- face replete with facetiousness, and a sketch of a title in whicll it was stated it was not performed.

EPITAPII ON SACILSON, OF THE NORWICH COMPANY*

Tnonrns Jscltson, who WRS a favourite provin- 280 THEATRES Al cia1 actor, lies buried in the church-yard of Gil- lingham, Norfolk, with the following curious epitaph inscribed on the tombstone.

M Sacred to the memory of Thomas Jackson, Comedian, who was engaged December 21,iP61, to play a comic cast of char racters in this great Theatre, the World, for many of which he was prompted by nature to excel. The season beiug ended, his bene$ over, the cha?*gesall paid, and his nccormt closed, . GARRICK, A he made his exit in the Tragedy of ‘ Death,’ an the 17th ,of Wum Chu March, 1798, in full assurance of being called once more to Tehearsal; when he hopes to find his forfeits all cleared, his cast ofpn~tsbettered, and his situation made agreeable by Hirn who paid the great stock-debt for the love he bore topet- formers in general.” have nothing I sons of Ap( GARRICK, AND WHITFIELD. from sustainir WHENMr. Whitfield was building his Taber- could not COI nacle, in Tottenham Court Road, he employed the ever, recomm same carpenters that worked for Mr. Garrick at who bad just Drury Lane Theatre. The reverendgentleman uncertain sea was at that time short of cash, and the carpenter run the ris had remained unpaid for some weeks. Being, waited upon one day, in conversation with Mr. Garrick, he wished. entreated the manager to advance him a little The poem moaey, as he ha4 been disappointed by Mr, end of Eve 1 Whitfield. Garrick assisted the tradesman, and chill was th AND THEATRICALS. 281 immediately waited upon Mr. Khitfield; when, apologizing for his visit, he intimated to him what his carpenter had insinuated, at the same time offering a S500 Bank-note. It was accepted ; and thus this Tabernacle of the Sectarian was raised by the Monarch of thle Stage.

GAILRICR, AND CIIURCHILL'S '' ROSCIAD."

WHENChurchill finished his 'r Rosciad," he

I waited 011 an eminent bookseller with the manu- I script, but he had suffered so severely by the publication of poetry, that he was determined to have nothing more to do with any of the rhyming sons of Apollo, unless he were indemnified from sustaining loss. This condition Churchill could not comply with. The bookseller, how- ever, recommended to him a worthy young man, who had just vcntured bis little fortune on the uncertain sea of ink, and who would probably run the risk of the publication. Churchill waited upon him, and found every thing as he wished. The poem was printed, advertised, and, at the end of five days, ten copies were sold. Chur- chill was tlm-derstruck, and the bookseller was A 288 THEATRES little less chagrined. At the end of four days boxes from pul: formed into pri more, he found that six other copies were sold : the poet was almost frantic, and hurried away to of the prices 01 ; for a friend, to .acquaint him with his hard fate. His pit the friend, who was intimate with Garrick, posted to pd the latter him the next morning, and informed him what a Qle engagemer beautiful picture of his astonishing abilities had The apeuinl the performan jus t appeared ih dg The Rosciad.” Garrick swal- lowed the gilded pill with avidity, instantly sent in the costur for the poem, read it, and sounded its praises speak an add every where. The next evening the publisher dich had sle had not a single copy leftEt,and, in a few weeks, years. Be W: Churchill found himself richer than any poet wheestate lay at that time on Parnassus, so extensive was the sale of the Rosciad.”

THE o. r. WAR. ring, bvt in v; ON the 18th of September, 1809, he p~*esent cc Bu Catalar magnificent Temple of Melpomene and Thalia, bo5c watch Covent Garden Theatre, was opened to the pub- in alarming I lic ; and, on that night, commenced a contest be- ged him to d tween the managers and the public, without any The play p parallel in theatrical history, was heard, SI The chief causes of disagreement were, in the lated tones o first place, the alienation of an entire bier of she seemed the progrew AND THEATl~ICALS. boxes from public occupancy, which were trans- formed into private lozes;-secondly, the raising of the prices of the entrance money to the boxes and pit ;the former being advanced from 6s. to 7s. and the latter from 3s. 6d. to 4s.; and, thirdly, thengagement of Madame Catalani. T’he opcuing play pas Macbeth,” Prior to the performance of wJl~icb,Mr. KembIe appeared in the costume of the Scottish Thane, to speak an address, written by George Colman, a which had sle,pt in the lap of oblivion for some years. He was received with vollles of hissing, booting, groans, and catcalls. He appeared to speak the pointless address, anl~ouncedfor the occasion, but whether he did so or not, ìt was im- possible to discern. His attitudes were implo- ring, but in vain. Cries of No imposition,”- Ir No Catalani :’’and, for the first time, the sym- bolic watch-word of ‘‘ Old prices,” resounded in plarming unison through the house, and obli- ged him to desist, The play proceeded in pantomimo ; not a word was heard, save now and then the deeply modu- laled tones of Mrs. Xiddops. On her entrance she seemed disturbed by tho clamour : but in the progressive s’tagas of her action, she went 2 84 THEATRES *through herpart with wonderful composure. Mr. Kemble appeared greatly agitated, yet in no instance did his trouble interrupt him in carrying on the ‘c cunning of the scene :” Perhaps a finer dumb shew was never witnessed. In thescene where C. Kemble, as Macdufl, triumphs over the fallenusurper, the audience took considerable delight. Many cried out, ‘‘ Well dune, kill him, Charley !” and exulted in the ideal pangs of the dying Mucbeth. The performances of the evening closed with the entertainment of the ‘(Quaker,” who mas as dumb as though ‘(the spirit did not move him.” The whole was over before ten o’clock. After the curtain dropped, the audience kept their seats, in expectationof the managerscoming forward. They were loudly called for, yet did not condescend to appear. The only excess in which the spectators indulged was a noisy disapproval of, whatthey conceived to be, unjustifiable innovs- tions on their prescriptive rights ; they continued clamorous even after midnight. There was a complete rivalry between the public and the ma- nagers, in exhaustion of patience. When Mr. KelnbIe made his first appearance to speak the address, a paper was handed to him AND THEATRICALS. 285 ~ from the pit ; he glanced at it, and, as it is sup- posed, found it not to be friendly, for he blushed, and huddled it into his pocket. The audience singled him out as the object of their peculiar disapprobation, and in the entire second act, stood up wit11 their backs turned to hinz. Indeed, tI1rough the whole play, they kept a standing po- sition .on the benches, with their hats on. A candle was thrown st Mr. kiston, during the per- formance of the ‘( Quaker.” When the magistrates appeared, the indignant cries of No police in a Theatre” induced those ill-advised men to malre their congBs, and retire. Constables attempted to clear the pit and galle- ries; in the former they met with opposition, and evasion in tllc latter; the tenants o€ the upper gallery dropping themsclvcs quietly into thc under. By clcgrces, the uproar subsided into the loyal effusion of Gocl Save the Ring,” when those who remailleil, retired, and the house was cleared at halt‘-pnst twelve. The above concise detail of th tumult that occurrccl an thc firs1 night of the re-opening of Covcnt Ciardcn Thcntre, inay be talcen as a fair sampXc of lha divcrsionspractised tberein for 256 TEIEATRES AN

sixty-six nights in successian, when peace was Th’ ear-piercir proclaimed by both public and managers ; both The plaguy plí parties agreeing to the reduction of the pit-pice The voice Ste Sibilant !-all from 4s. to 3s. 6d. the advancement of the boxes From dreams, from 6s. 7s. and thereduction in point of num- to And ye, y( ber of the primte boxes, together with the non-en- Whose barha gagement of Madame Catalani, Of Belzebub During this Theatric War,” it may be No more the guessed the wits werenot backward in showering Flank’d and Of myrmido~ down their lampoons on the hapless managers. Nomore the Kernble, of course, came in for his full share of O’erwhelrn’$ pasquinades, some of which are cestainly worthy of being treasuredhere from which we select the two fbllowing. All, all,, our SOLILOQUYOF THE Moon OF COVENT GAnocs. By the loud I had been happy if th’ united House, c That prices Pit, galleries, and boxes,-all had paid Thrown ope] Their money cheerily, and riot we Ilad none, Farewell,- Oh ! now for ever farewell, ambition’s hope ! A Farewelt applause ! and side-long glances From the boxes, tllro’ the slicks of fan, By t1 Or from behind tlle kerchief-veiled face. AS r Faremell our goldenhopee of swelling bags, To l( And long account at banker’s. A Farewell, ye wanton toys of feather’d Cupid But In th’ anti-chambcls of the private nnnunlv ! Tom Hark the loud twanging of the bugle-horn, Jc AND THEATRICALS.

Th’ ear-piercing whistle, and terrific bell, The plaguy placard, drum, and deaf’ning rattle ; The voice Stentorian, and the serpent’shiss ! Sibilant l-all, all awake me From dreams delusive of eternal triumph ! And ye, ye catcalls, of infernal sound, Whose barbarous sounds might even split the ears Of Belzebub himself,--cease your holrific din. No more the valiant Dan, with host of Israel, Flanlr’d and supported by the Bow-street tribe CIf myrmidons, and bruisers squaring in the pit i- No more the phalanx dares to face the town. O’erwhelm’d by numbers and determin’d hate ;- No morc the Odenin the boxes now Support the managers,-bu€ placards wave, And O. P’s. shine from every box I-initials hateful : -411, all,, our effortg arc in vain, and fate decides By the loud voice of the people,-irresistiblz, c That prices bç reduced, and privacies Thrown open,- FareweII,-OtheElo’s occupation’s gwe !

- ANACREONIN BOWSTREET. By tire nuthor of“ My Pocket Book.” As rapt I sweep the golden lyre, To love I cry, Ir my notes inspire, And let me sing of Rosa :” ut TltCSptRIZ wurs fill a11 my strain, Tam I-Iarris,jzmior, hopeless swain ! John Kenlble and Mendoza. 288 Tl-IEATRES AND THEATRICALS.

Then, if T to tlle stage belong, O ! let me sing the charms of song, Of Billington and Braham ! In vain, again my wishes fail, I siug of nonght but ltenuy bail, Of Townsend and of Graham.

The soul of harmony is dead, And vilest discord reigns instead, With rioting and battles. To shrieking owls are turn’d my doves, To O. P. men the little loves : Mglyre to horns and rattles.

THE UNSUCCESSFUL GIIOST. Arunf‘ortunate ddbzstant who made his appear- ance as the Ghost, in IC Hamlet,” was so rudely treated by the audience, that, in the midst of the scene, he took off his visor, and put the audience in perfect good humour by saying, Ladies ancl Gentlemen, it was my hope to please you ; if I have failed, L nlustgive up the Ghost.”

END OF VOL. II.

LONDON I’lintcrl by D. S. Maunce, Fcnchurcll-street. :il. rd, tlfl, c r I

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