Читать книгу: «Their Majesties' Servants. Annals of the English Stage (Volume 1 of 3)», страница 18

Much expectation had been raised by this piece, and it was realised to the utmost. It was otherwise with the "Wonder," from which little was expected, but much success ensued.⁹⁹ The sinning wife and moaning husband of the tragedy were the lively lady and the quick-tempered lover of this comedy. The Violante of Mrs. Oldfield and the Don Felix of Wilks were talked of in every coffee-house. The wits about the door, and the young poets in the back room at the new house set up by Button, talked as vivaciously about it as their rivals at Tom's, on the opposite side of the way; and every prophecy they made of the success of the comedy in times to come, does credit to them as soothsayers.

The death of Queen Anne, on the 1st of August 1714, cannot be said to have prematurely closed the summer season of this year. However, the actors mourned for a month, and then a portion of them played joyously enough, for a while, in Pinkethman's booth, at Southwark Fair.

At this period the stage lost a lady who was as dear to it as Queen Anne, namely, Mrs. Bradshaw. Her departure, however, was caused by marriage, not by death; and the gentleman who carried her off, instead of being a rollicking gallant, or a worthless peer, was a staid, solemn, worthy antiquary, Martin Folkes, who rather surprised the town by wedding young Mistress Bradshaw. The lady had been on the stage about eighteen years; she had trodden it from early childhood, and always with unblemished reputation. She had her reward in an excellent, sensible, and wealthy husband, to whom her exemplary and prudent conduct endeared her; and the happiness of this couple was well established. Probably, when Martin was away on Friday evenings, at the Young Devil Tavern, where the members of the Society of Antiquaries met, upon "pain of forfeiture of sixpence," Mrs. Folkes sat quietly at home, thinking without sadness of the bygone times when she won applause as the originator of the characters of Corinna, in the "Conspirator,"¹⁰⁰ Sylvia, in the "Double Gallant," and Arabella Zeal, in the "Fair Quaker." In other respects, Mistress Bradshaw is one of the happy, honest women who have no history.

If the age of Queen Anne was not quite so fully the golden age of authors as it has been supposed to be, it was still remarkable for a patronage of literature hitherto unparalleled. Addison, Congreve, Gay, Ambrose Philips, Rowe, were among the dramatic authors who, with men of much humbler pretensions, held public offices, were patronised by the great, or lived at their ease. With the death of this Queen, the patent or licence, held by Wilks, Cibber, Booth, and Dogget, died also. In the new licence, Steele, who, since we last met with him at the play had endured variety of fortune, was made a partner. He had married that second wife whom he treated so politely in his little failures of allegiance. He had established the Tatler, co-operated in the Spectator, had begun and terminated the Guardian, and had started the Englishman. He had served the Duke of Marlborough in and out of office, and had been elected M.P. for Stockbridge, after nobly resigning his Commissionership of Stamps, and his pension as "servant to the late Prince George of Denmark." He had been expelled the House for writing what the House called seditious pamphlets, and had then returned to literature, and now to occupation as a manager. From the new government, under the new king, by whom he was soon after knighted, Steele had influence enough to ultimately obtain a patent, in the names of himself, Booth, Wilks, and Cibber, which protected them from some small tyrannies with which they were occasionally visited by the officials in the Lord Chamberlain's office.

The season of 1714-15 was not especially remarkable, save for this, that the great actors who were patentees frequently played small parts, in order to give young actors a chance. It was not given, however, to every young actor; for, on the 20th of April, 1715, when Rowe's "Lady Jane Grey" was produced (Dudley, Booth; Lady Jane, Mrs. Oldfield), the very insignificant part of the Lieutenant of the Tower was played by a new actor from Ireland, – one James Quin, who was destined to equal Booth in some parts, and to be surpassed in some, by an actor yet at school, – David Garrick.

Charles Johnson was, of course, ready with a comedy, stolen from various sources, – "Country Lasses." Gay, who had returned from Hanover with the third Earl of Clarendon, whose secretary he had become, after leaving the service of the Duchess of Monmouth, produced his hilarious burlesque of old and modern tragedies, – the "What d'ye call It?" The satire of this piece was so fine, that deaf gentlemen who saw the tragic action and could not hear the words, and the new sovereign and court who heard the words but could not understand their sense, were put into great perplexity; while the honest galleries, reached by the solemn sounds, and taking manner for matter, were affected to such tears as they could shed, at the most farcical and high-sounding similes. It was only after awhile that the joke was comprehended, and that the "What d'ye call It?" was seen to be a capital burlesque of "Venice Preserved." The very Templars, who of course comprehended it all, from the first, and went to hiss the piece, for the honour of Otway, could not do so, for laughing; and this only perplexed the more the matter-of-fact people, not so apt to discover a joke.¹⁰¹

Rowe's "Lady Jane" did not prove so attractive as "Jane Shore." There were only innocence and calamity wherewith to move the audience; no guilt; no profound intrigue. But there is much force in some of the scenes. The very variety of the latter, indeed, was alleged against the author, as a defect, by the many slaves of the unity of time and place. It was objected to Rowe, that in his violation of the unities he went beyond other offenders, – not only changing the scene with the acts, but varying it within the acts. For this, however, he had good authority in older and better dramatists. "To change the scene, as is done by Rowe, in the middle of an act, is to add more acts to the play; since an act is so much of the business as is transacted without interruption. Rowe, by this licence, easily extricates himself from difficulties, as in 'Lady Jane Grey,' when we have been terrified by all the dreadful pomp of public execution, and are wondering how the heroine or poet will proceed; no sooner has Jane pronounced some prophetic rhymes than – pass and be gone – the scene closes, and Pembroke and Gardiner are turned out upon the stage." The critic wished to stay and witness a "public execution," not satisfied with the pathos of the speech uttered by Jane, and which, for tenderness, sets the scene in fine contrast with that of the quarrelling and reconciliation between Pembroke and Guilford. Rowe's Jane Grey interests the heart more fully than Jane Shore or Calista: but the last two ladies have a touch of boldness about them, in which the first, from her very innocence, is wanting; and audiences are, therefore, more excited by the loudly-proclaimed wrongs of the women who have gone astray than by the tender protests of the victim who suffers for the crimes of others.

George Powell ended his seven and twentieth season this year, at the close of which he died. For the old actor gone, a young actress appeared, – Mrs. Horton, "one of the most beautiful women that ever trod the stage." She had been a "stroller," ranting tragedy in barns and country towns, and playing Cupid, in a booth at suburban fairs. The attention of managers was directed towards her; and Booth, after seeing her act in Southwark, engaged her for Drury Lane, where her presence was more agreeable to the public than particularly pleasant to dear Mrs. Oldfield.

CHAPTER XVI
COMPETITION, AND WHAT CAME OF IT

"Augustus," as it was the fashion to call George I., by performing a justifiable act, inflicted some injury this year, by restoring the Letters Patent of Charles II. to Christopher Rich, of which the latter had been deprived, and under which his son, John, opened the revived theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, on the 18th December 1714, with the "Recruiting Officer." The enlarged stage was "superbly adorned with looking-glasses on both sides;" a circumstance which Quin said "was an excellent trap to such actresses who admired their own persons more than they attended to the duties of their profession." Some good actors left Drury for the Fields; – Keen, the two Bullocks, Pack, Spiller, Cory, Knap, Mrs. Rogers, and Mrs. Knight. Cibber rather contemptuously says of such of the above as he names, that "they none of them had more than a negative merit, – being able only to do us more harm by leaving us without notice, than they could do us good by remaining with us; for, though the best of them could not support a play, the worst of them, by their absence, could maim it, – as the loss of the least pin in a watch may obstruct its motion."

John Rich's company in the Fields either played old pieces, or adaptations from them, or "from the French"; none of which deserved even a passing word, except a roaring farce – pieces which now grew popular – called "Love in a Sack," by Griffin, whom I notice not as an indifferent author, but as an excellent comedian, who made his first appearance in a double capacity. Griffin may also be noticed under a double qualification. He was a gentleman and a glazier. His father was a Norfolk rector, and had been chaplain to the Earl of Yarmouth, – that gallant Sir Robert Paston, who was in France and Flanders with James, Duke of York. In the Paston Free School, at North Walsham, Griffin learnt his "rudiments," having done which his sire apprenticed him to the useful but not dignified calling of a glazier. The "'prentice lad," disgusted at the humiliation, ran away, took to strolling, found his way, after favourable report, to Rich's theatre, and there proved so good an actor, that the Drury Lane management ultimately lured him away to a stage where able competitors polished him into still greater brilliancy. The season concluded on the last day of July¹⁰² 1715 with a "benefit for Tim Buck, to release him out of prison."

In the following October, Drury commenced a season which, save a few days of summer vacation, extended to the close of August 1716. During this time, Shakspeare's best plays were frequently acted, old comedies revived with success, and obscure farces played and consigned to oblivion. The great attempt, if not success, of the season, was the comedy of the "Drummer, or the Haunted House," first played in March 1716, and not known to be Addison's till Steele published the fact after the author's death. Tonson, however, knew or suspected the truth, for he gave £50 for the copyright. Wilks, Cibber, Mills, and Mrs. Oldfield could not secure a triumph for the play – which Steele thought was more disgraceful to the stage than to the comedy. There is a novel mixture of sentiment, caricature, and farcical incident in this piece. Warton describes it as "a just picture of life and real manners; where the poet never speaks in his own person, or totally drops or forgets a character, for the sake of introducing a brilliant simile or acute remark; where no train is laid for wit, no Jeremys or Bens are suffered to appear." More natural, it was less brilliant than the artificial comedies of Congreve; but its failure probably vexed the author, as it certainly annoyed the publisher. Tickell omitted it from his edition of Addison's works, but Steele gave these reasons for ascribing it to the latter; they are a little confused, but they probably contain the truth: – "If I remember right, the fifth act was written in a week's time… He would walk about his room, and dictate in language with as much freedom and ease as any one could write it down… I have been often thus employed by him… I will put all my credit among men of wit, for the truth of my averment, when I presume to say, that no one but Mr. Addison was in any other way the writer of the 'Drummer.' … At the same time, I will allow that he has sent for me … and told me, that 'a gentleman, then in the room, had written a play that he was sure I would like; but it was to be a secret; and he knew I would take as much pains, since he recommended it, as I would for him.'"

At Lincoln's Inn Fields, the season of 1715-16 had this of remarkable in it, that John Rich revived the "Prophetess," as it enabled him to display his ability in the introduction and management of machinery, and his success in raising the prices of admission. Bullock's farce, the "Cobbler of Preston," was begun on a Friday, finished the next day, and played on the Tuesday following – in order to anticipate Charles Johnson's farce, – like this, derived from the introduction to the "Taming of the Shrew," at Drury Lane. Of the other plays – one, the "Fatal Vision," was written by Aaron Hill, who, having lost property and temper in a project how to extract olive oil from beech-nuts, endeavoured to inculcate in his piece the wrongfulness of giving way to rash designs and evil passions. This play he dedicated to the two most merciless critics of the day, Dennis and Gildon. Then of the "Perfidious Brother," it is only to be stated that it was a bad play stolen by young Theobald from Mestayer, a watchmaker, who had lent him the manuscript. That an attorney should have the reprehensible taste to steal a worthless play seemed a slur upon the lawyer's judgment. Another new play, the "Northern Heiress," by Mrs. Davys, a clergyman's widow, but now the lively Irish mistress of a Cambridge coffee-house, reminds me of the five-act farces of Reynolds, with its fops, fools, half-pay officers, fast gentlemen, and flippant ladies. There are ten people married at the end, a compliment to matrimony, at the hands of the widow; but there is a slip in poetical justice; for, a lover who deserts his mistress, when he finds, as Lord Peterborough did of Miss Moses, that her fortune was not equal to his expectations, marries her, after discovering that he was mistaken.

Herewith we come to the Drury Lane season of 1716-17. Booth, Wilks, and Cibber had a famous company, in which Quin quietly made his way to the head,¹⁰³ and Mrs. Horton's beauty acted with good effect on Mrs. Oldfield. In the way of novelty, Mrs. Centlivre produced a tragedy, the "Cruel Gift," in which nobody dies, and lovers are happily married. The most notable affair, however, was the comedy, "Three Hours after Marriage," in which Gay, Pope, and Arbuthnot, three grave men, who pretended to instruct and improve mankind, insulted modesty, virtue, and common decency, in the grossest way, by speech or inuendo. There is not so much filth in any other comedy of this century, and the trio of authors stand stigmatised for their attempt to bring in the old corruption. In strange contrast we have Mrs. Manley, a woman who began life with unmerited misfortune, and carried it on with unmitigated profligacy, producing a highly moral, semi-religious drama, "Lucius."

But while moral poets were polluting the stage, and immoral women undertaking to purify it, a reverend Archdeacon of Stowe, the historian, Lawrence Echard, in conjunction with Lestrange, put on the stage of Drury Lane, a translation of the "Eunuchus" of Terence. It did not survive the third night; but the audience might have remarked how much more refinedly the Carthaginian of old could treat a delicate subject than the Christian poets of a later era – or, to speak correctly, than the later poets of a Christian era.

In this season I find the first trace of a "fashionable night," and a later hour for beginning the play than any of subsequent times. I quote from Genest: – "18 June, 1717. By particular desire of several Ladies of Quality. 'Fatal Marriage.' Biron, Booth; Villeroy, Mills; Isabella, Mrs. Porter; Victoria, Mrs. Younger. An exact computation being made of the number which the Pit and Boxes will hold, they are laid together; and no person can be admitted without tickets. By desire, the play is not to begin till nine o'clock, by reason of the heat of the weather – nor the house to be opened till eight." What a change from the time when Dryden's Lovely exclaimed: —

 
"As punctual as three o'clock at the playhouse!"
 

The corresponding season (1716-17) at Lincoln's Inn requires but brief notice. Rich, who had failed in attempting Essex, played, as Mr. Lun, Harlequin, in the "Cheats, or the Tavern Bilkers," a ballet-pantomime – the forerunner of the line of pantomime which, notwithstanding our presumed advance in civilisation, still has its admirers. In novelty, Dick Leveridge, the singer, produced the burlesque of "Pyramus and Thisbe" – those parts being played by himself and Pack, with irresistible comic effect, especially when caricaturing the style of the Italian opera, where your hero died in very good time and tune. English opera was not altogether neglected in the Fields, but little was accomplished in the way of upholding the drama. Bullock produced a comedy, which he was accused of stealing from a manuscript by Savage – "Woman's a Riddle." It is a long, coarse farce, in which the most decent incident is the hanging of Sir Amorous Vainwit, from a balcony, as he is trying to escape in woman's clothes, which are caught by a hook, and beneath which a footman stands with a flambeau. We learn, too, from this comedy, that young ladies carried snuff-boxes in those days.

Taverner, the proctor, also produced a comedy quite as extravagant, and not a whit less immoral than Bullock's – the "Artful Husband." It had, however, great temporary success, quite enough to turn the author's head, and by his acts to show that there was nothing in it.

The "Artful Husband," however, brought into notice a young actor who had but a small part to play, – Stockwell. His name was Spiller. The Duke of Argyle thought, and spoke well of him before this. On the night in question, Spiller, who dressed his characters like an artist, went through his first scenes exquisitely, and without being recognised by his patron, who came behind the scenes, and had recommended him warmly to the notice of Rich. Genest says he hopes this story is true. I am sure it is not improbable; and for this reason. I once saw Lafont acting the Son in "Père et Fils." Opposite to the side on which he made his exit an aged actor, who represented the father, passed me. I was delighted with the truth and beauty of his acting, and at the end of the scene asked who he was. To my astonishment, I heard that Lafont, whom I had well known as an actor for more than twenty years, was playing both parts. This identifying power was Spiller's distinguishing merit. Riccoboni saw the young actor play an old man with a perfectness not to be expected but from players of the longest experience. "How great was my surprise," says Riccoboni, "when I learnt that he was a young man, about the age of twenty-six. I could not believe it; but owned that it might be possible, had he only used a broken and a trembling voice, and had only an extreme weakness possessed his body, because I conceived that a young actor might, by the help of art, imitate that debility of nature to such a pitch of excellence; but the wrinkles of his face, his sunk eyes, and his loose yellow cheeks, the most certain marks of age, were incontestable proofs against what they said to me. Notwithstanding all this, I was forced to submit to truth, because I was credibly informed that the actor, to fit himself for the part of this old man, spent an hour in dressing himself, and disguised his face so nicely, and painted so artificially a part of his eyebrows and eyelids, that at the distance of six paces it was impossible not to be deceived."

In the next season, at Drury (1717-18), the only remarkable piece produced was Cibber's adaptation of "Tartuffe," under the name of the "Nonjuror." In the lustre of the "Nonjuror" paled and died out the first play by Savage, "Love in a Veil." Not twenty years had elapsed since this luckless and heartless young vagabond was born, in Fox Court, Gray's Inn Lane, his unknown mother, but not that light lady, the Countess of Macclesfield, wearing a mask. Savage had passed from a shoemaker's shop to the streets, had written a poem on the Bangorian Controversy, had adapted a play translated from the Spanish, by the wife of Mr. Baron Price, and which Bullock re-adapted and produced at Drury Lane before Savage could get his own accepted. "Love in a Veil" seems to have been founded on an incident in the Spanish comedy; but however this may be, it failed to obtain the public approval. The author, however, did not altogether fail; generous Wilks patronised the boy, and Steele, befriending a lad of parts, designed to give him £1000, which he had not got, with the hand of a natural daughter, whom the young and wayward poet did not get. The "Nonjuror" alone survives as a memorial of the Drury season of 1717-18.

We owe the piece to fear and hatred of the Pope and the Pretender. It addressed itself to so wide a public that Lintot gave the liberal sum of a hundred guineas for the copyright, and it was so acceptable to the King that he gave a dedication fee of twice that number of guineas to the author, who addressed him as "dread Sir," and spoke of himself as "the lowest of your subjects from the theatre." Cibber adds, "Your comedians, Sir, are an unhappy society, whom some severe heads think wholly useless, and others, dangerous to the young and innocent. This comedy is, therefore, an attempt to remove that prejudice, and to show what honest and laudable uses may be made of the theatre, when its performances keep close to the true purposes of its institution." Cibber goes on to remark, that perhaps the idly and seditiously inclined may cease to disturb their brains about embarrassing the government, if "proper amusements" be provided for them. For such his play is rather a chastisement than an amusement, and he thinks that would have been all the better taken had it not been administered by a comedian. The Nonjurors, whose allegiance was paid to the Pretender, were perhaps not worthy of a more exalted scourger; but he fears that truth and loyalty demanded a nobler champion. He flatteringly alludes to the small number of malcontents. His piece had either crushed them, or their forces were not so great as supposed, "there being no assembly where people are so free, and apt to speak their minds, as in a crowded theatre, of which," says the courtly fellow, "your Majesty may have lately seen an instance in the insuppressible acclamations that were given on your appearing to honour this play with your royal presence."

On the night of representation, Rowe, in a prologue – he was now Poet Laureate and Land Surveyor of the Customs in the Port of London, deprecated the piece being considered unjustifiably discourteous.

 
"Think not our colours may too strongly paint
The stiff non-juring separation saint.
Good breeding ne'er commands us to be civil
To those who give the nation to the devil!"
 

The play was admirably acted by Booth, Colonel Woodvil; Mills, Sir John; Wilks, Heartley; Cibber, Dr. Wolf (the Cantwell of the modern arrangement); and Walker (soon to be famous as Captain Macheath), Charles. Mrs. Porter played Lady Woodvil, and Mrs. Oldfield turned the heads and touched the hearts of all lively and susceptible folks by her exquisite coquetry, in Maria. The play was not a servile imitation of, but an excellent adaptation to modern circumstances of, the "Tartuffe." Thoroughly English, it abounds with the humour and manner of Cibber, and despite some offences against taste, it was at this time the purest comedy on the stage. There was farce enough for the gallery, maxim and repartee, suggestions and didactic phrases for the rest of the house. The success surpassed even expectation. It raised against Cibber a phalanx of implacable foes – foes who howled at everything of which he was, afterwards, the author; but it gained for him his advancement to the poet-laureateship, and an estimation which caused some people to place him, for usefulness to the cause of true religion, on an equality with the author of "The Whole Duty of Man!" Cibber foresaw the tempest, and, probably, also the prosperous gales which were to follow, to which there is some allusion in the Epilogue spoken by Mrs. Oldfield, which, of course, had a fling against marriage: —

 
"Was't not enough that critics might pursue him?
But must he rouse a party to undo him?
These blows, I told him, on his plays would fall:
But he, unmov'd, cried, – 's blood! we'll stand it all!"
 

In the theatre itself the opposition to the piece was confined, Cibber says, to "a few smiles of silent contempt. As the satire was chiefly employed on the enemies of the Government, they were not so hardy as to own themselves such, by any higher disapprobation or resentment." They made up for this constrained silence, as above noted, and Mist's Journal, for fifteen years, lost no opportunity of mauling the detested offender. With the editor of that paper, says Cibber, "though I could never persuade my wit to have an open account with him (for, as he had no effects of his own, I did not think myself obliged to answer his bills), notwithstanding, I will be so charitable to his real manes, and to the ashes of his paper, as to mention one particular civility he paid to my memory after he thought he had ingeniously killed me. Soon after the 'Nonjuror' had received the favour of the town, I read in one of his journals the following short paragraph: – 'Yesterday died Mr. Colley Cibber, late comedian of the Theatre Royal, notorious for writing the Nonjuror.' The compliment, in the latter part, I confess," adds Cibber, "I did not dislike, because it came from so impartial a judge."

The stage lost this year an excellent actor, Irish Bowen, who, at the age of fifty-two, was slain in duel by young Quin.¹⁰⁴ Hitherto the sword had dealt lightly with actors. In 1692, indeed, Sandford nearly killed Powell, on the stage. On the 13th of October they were acting together, in "Œdipus, King of Thebes," when the former, to whom a real dagger had been delivered by the property-man, instead of a weapon, the blade of which run up, when the point was pressed, into the handle, gave poor Powell a stab three inches deep; the wound was, at first, thought to be mortal, but Powell recovered. Five years later, in July 1697, I find brief mention in the papers of a duel between an actor and an officer. The initials only of the principals are given: "Mr. H., an actor, of Lincoln's Inn Fields Theatre, fought Mr. D., an officer, at Barnes Elms." Whether the former was young Hodgson or young Harris is not now to be determined, nor the grounds of the quarrel. The issue of it was that the player dangerously wounded the soldier; and it is added, that both parties exhibited brilliant courage. Bowen was the original representative of Sir Joshua¹⁰⁵ Wittol ("Old Batchelor"), Jeremy ("Love for Love"), and Foigard ("Beaux' Stratagem").

Quin passed over to Lincoln's Inn Fields in this season of 1717-18, where he played Hotspur, Tamerlane, Morat ("Aurungzebe"), Mark Antony, and created the part of Scipio, in the "Scipio Africanus," written by young Beckingham, the pride of Merchant Tailors' School. Beckingham must also have been the pride of Fleet Street, and especially of the craft of linen-drapers, of which his father was a worthy and well-to-do member. The piece was played on the 18th of February 1718. The author was then but nineteen years of age, and was full of bright promise. A tragedy by one so young, excited the public, and most especially the juvenile public, at Merchant Tailors', where Dr. Smith was head-master. The Doctor and sub-masters held the stage in abhorrence till now, when a brilliant alumnus was likely to shed lustre on the corporation of "Merchant Tailors and Linen Armourers." Now they proclaimed high jubilee, gave the lads a half-holiday on the author's night, and joyfully saw the whole school swarming to the pit of Lincoln's Inn, to uphold the tragedy by this honoured condiscipulus. The masters, in this, acted against their own former precept and example; but they made amends for it by religious zeal, and by expelling all the Jewish pupils from the school! Israel was the scapegoat, and the Christian sense of propriety was gratified. But Quin's Scipio established a taste for theatricals at Merchant Tailors', where classical plays were acted, for some years, as at Westminster. Beckingham's tragedy exhibits a romantic story, or stories, in a classical costume. There is severity enough to gratify rigid tastes, with a little of over-warmth of action on the part of one of three lovers, which shows that the young poet was not unread in the older masters.

But there were worse and better plays than "Scipio" brought out on the same stage this season. Taverner failed in a pendant to his "Artful Husband," the "Artful Wife." Bullock did little for the credit of the stage by his farce of the "Perjuror," and Sir Thomas Moore justly criticised his own tragedy of "Mangora, King of the Timbusians," when he called it a "trifle." It is a very noisy trifle, concerned with love, battle, murder, and worse, between the Spaniards and South American Indians. Rich thought its bustle might carry its absurdities successfully through, and Sir Thomas stimulated the actors, when at rehearsal, by inviting them to supper, at which Leigh, the two Bullocks, Williams, Ogden, Knapp, and Giffard, Mistresses Knight, Bullock, and Kent, made a joyous party, as hilarious as the audience was, whose laughter alone prevented them from hissing down the nonsense of an obscure man who was knighted for some forgotten service – certainly not for any rendered to the Muses.

The piece of this season which had stuff in it to cause it to live to our own times, was Mrs. Centlivre's "Bold Stroke for a Wife." Sprightly Mrs. Centlivre was as fervent a Whig as Cibber, and had written verses enough in praise of Brunswick to entitle her to be Poetess-Laureate, had the Princess Caroline had a voice in the matter, when Rowe died this very year, and Newcastle recommended tipsy Eusden for the office of "birthday fibber." The "Bold Stroke," laughed at and denounced by Wilks, and taken reluctantly in hand by the actors, is a fair specimen of that lighter comedy which borders upon farce, but in which the fun is genuine, and the incidents not so improbable but that they may be accepted, or, by the rapidity of their succession, laughed at and forgotten.