An historical view of the Irish stage: from the earliest period down to the close of the season 1788. Interspersed with theatrical anecdotes, ... In two volumes. ... By Robert Hitchcock, ... [pt.1]

AN HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE IRISH STAGE.

CHAP. I.

Obscurity of first accounts of the stage in Ireland.— Its introduction not certain.—Later than in most kingdoms. — Irish language.—Bards.—Their dignity.—Office.—Writings.—No traces of the drama amongst them.—Mysteries and moralities. —Remarkable exhibition at Chester, 1327.— Plays on Hoggin-green.—At noblemens houses, and Castle of Dublin.—Gorboduc.—Theatre Werburgh-street, 1635.—Shirley's Royal Master. —Burnell's Langartha.—Rebellion.—Theatre shut.—Smock-alley theatre built 1662.—Death of Mr. Ogilby.

HAVING professedly confined myself to the rise and progress of the stage in this kingdom, I

shall decline entering into the minutiae of its origin in Greece, or its first introduction into Rome, Britain, or other countries; such disqui|sitions would be foreign to my present purpose; most of these points are besides sufficiently known, and nearly all have been already ably treated on.

But, whilst I endeavour to avoid every thing superfluous or unnecessary, I find myself obliged to confess, that my subject, at least the earlier part of it, does not, by its fruitfulness, suffi|ciently compensate for this exclusion. The era, on which I am about to enter, like the remote parts of all history, is not of a nature the most productive or entertaining: the informa|tion to be attained is but very little, and even that little so enveloped in the prevailing igno|rance and uncertainty of the times, that it affords but trifling materials for a clear or connected detail; even where accounts are most authentic, the remoteness of the periods prevents them from being, in any high degree, enlivened or interesting.

At what time theatrical amusements first ob|tained footing in this kingdom, has never yet been accurately ascertained; the general opinion

is, that the drama arose later in this than in most countries of Europe. This peculiar exclusion of the stage, appears the more singular and ex|traordinary, as Ireland was so early celebrated as the seat of learning, and the parent of a suc|cession of bards, poets, and men of eminent genius for several centuries. The Irish lan|guage is allowed to be remarkable for harmony, music, and variety of modulation; the fame of their bards in the earlier ages spread over all Europe. We are informed from the best autho|rity, that every ancient and noble family had, as one of their established household, a poet or historiographer, whose province it was, to cele|brate the martial and heroic deeds of their ances|tors, to record their eminent actions, and by singing their praises at all public and private assemblies, inspire their descendants with a ge|nerous emulation: Even the kings had their poets laureat long before the invasion of this island by the English; nay, in such veneration were those bards held, that they were permitted to wear robes of the same colour with the royal family; and had ample estates appropriated to them, that they might live in ease and inde|pendence. Every principal bard retained thirty of inferior note, and a bard of the second class,

was attended by a retinue of fifteen; and in their great national triennial councils, where matters of the first importance were debated, they had particular seats allotted them.

These bards seem to have been at their highest pitch of reputation about the year 558. Many of their compositions have reached us, which breathe all the beauty and sweetness of eastern poetry, and reflect infinite honour on their me|mories. But, among all these, not a trace re|mains of any attempt towards a dramatic com|position: a circumstance the more to be re|gretted, as those pieces which they have left us are in the highest estimation, and afford us every reason to believe that this subject would have met with the most ample justice and support in such able hands.

But it is not this circumstance alone, which gives us cause to wonder at the want of dramatic entertainments in this kingdom; a custom, which in those times, was prevalent throughout Europe, might be expected to have gained some establishment here likewise. The custom I allude to, is that of the mysteries or moralities, which were, with great popularity, represented

in most of the countries of Europe. Of these, however, the most minute investigation will not furnish us with the smallest traces here; unless we deem a class of mummers who still stroll about the country at Christmas, to be the remains of that kind of entertainment.

That the reader may have some idea of the nature of those exhibitions, or mysteries, I shall select an account of one in particular, which may serve to give us a little insight into their general nature. It was exhibited in Chester, in the year 1327; continued for several days, and drew together a prodigious concourse of people from all the adjacent country. In order that these people might be indulged in a greater facility of seeing and hearing, an amphitheatre was raised, for the occasion, in a large open field, where the pro|spect was extended and uninterrupted. The representation of one of those pieces, which they called a play, took up several days, and, being attended with heavy expences, were performed at the charge of the different trading companies.

The first piece exhibited was, the Fall of Lucifer, the characters personated by the

company of Tanners; the second, the Creation, by the Drapers; the third, the Deluge, by the Dyers; the fourth, Abraham, Melchisedech and Lot, by the Barbers; the fifth, Moses, Balak and Balaam, by the Carpenters; the sixth, the Salutation and Nativity, by the Wrights; the seventh, the Shepherds feeding their Flocks by night, by the Painters and Gla|ziers; the eighth, the Three Kings of the East, by the Vintners; the ninth, the Oblation of the Three Kings, by the Mercers; the tenth, the Killing of the Innocents, by the Goldsmiths; the eleventh, the Purification, by the Black-smiths; the twelfth, the Temptation, by the Butchers; the thirteenth, the Last Supper, by the Bakers; the fourteenth, the Blindman and Lazarus, by the Glovers; the fifteenth, Jesus and the Lepers, by the Corvesaries; the sixteenth, Christ's Passion, by the Bowyers, Fletchers and Ironmongers; the seventeenth, the Descent into Hell, by the Cooks and Inn-keep|ers; the eighteenth, the Resurrection, by the Skinners; the nineteenth, the Ascension, by the Taylors; the twentieth, the Election of Saint Matthias, sending of the Holy Ghost, &c. by the Fishmongers; the twenty-first, Antichrist, by the Clothiers; and the twenty-second, the Day of Judgment, by the Websters.

Each of those pieces had their respective machinery, and the actors were dressed accord|ing to their ideas of character. The perform|ance was called, A representation of the Old and New Testament. The reader may, perhaps, smile at the whimsical combinations of several of these pieces and performers; but that he may conceive a more perfect idea of the manner of conducting them, the proceeding was as follows:

The Deity, represented as an old man, first enters, creating the world: that done, he breathes life into Adam, leads him into paradise, and opens his side while sleeping; Adam and Eve next appear, naked, but void of shame at being so; the old serpent then enters lamenting his fall; he converses with Eve and tempts her; she eats of the forbidden fruit, and gives part to Adam; they find themselves naked, and being no longer so innocently unconscious of their situation, seek for a remedy, and, accord|ing to their words, in the stage direction from the manuscript, look out for Subligacula a foliis quibus tegamus pudenda; they cover their nakedness, and converse with God's curse; the serpent exits hissing. They are next represented as driven from paradise by four angels, and

the cherubim with a flaming sword. Then Adam appears digging the ground and Eve spinning. Their children Cain and Abel then enter; the former kills his brother; Adam's lamentation; Cain is banished, &c. A strange medley! and sufficient to shew us at once both the inclination of the times for theatrical repre|sentations, and their rudeness in the execution of them.

But to return to my subject.—It was the unfortunate lot of the stage in this country, that its introduction and earlier progress were attended with more than usual uncertainty. The sister kingdom, can, with the greatest accuracy, trace the advances of her Drama, step by step, among them, from the conquest to the present times; but these advantages are denied us. The period generally agreed upon for its first introduction into this kingdom, is the early part of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. But an abstract from the annals of this city, mentions the performance of some plays in Henry the eighth's time, before the earl of Ossory, then lord lieutenant, and several of the nobility in Hoggin-green, now called College-green.

What these plays were, whether mysteries, moralities or interludes, we are left to con|jecture. But it must be remembered, that the first piece which bore the least resemblance to dramatic composition in the English language, was written about this time by John Heywood, the epigrammatist, and called Gammer Gurton's Needle. It is, indeed, on every account, pro|bable, that the introduction of the Drama into this kingdom was much earlier than is usually imagined. The universal inclination, which all nations, even the most rude and uncultivated, have ever shewn for this species of entertain|ment, the peculiar taste of this country for literature, with several other concurring reasons, render it highly improbable, that Ireland should stand a single exception to so general an institu|tion.

At the time, however, of Elizabeth, accounts became at least more authentic. The inter|course between the two kingdoms was then more frequent. The English stage was rising to higher repute, and could hardly fail of impart|ing to us, something of that regularity which observation and experience had suggested to them. Shakespeare, Massinger, Beaumont,

Fletcher, and Johnson, rose to enlighten and refine the age, and we may, without prejudice or partiality, conclude, that Ireland partook, at least in a remote degree, of this sensible change in the republic of letters. We are told, indeed, that Shakespeare's writings were at that time as high in estimation here as in London.

We have not, however, any account of a re|gular theatre being then established here. Plays were occasionally exhibited, as was customary in England, in the houses of noblemen and gentlemen. Some of them, we find, were per|formed in the ball-room of the Castle of Dublin, in which the nobility were the principal actors. Mr. Ashbury, afterwards manager, was in|formed by Mr. Ogilby, then deputy master of the revels, of some representations there, at the latter end of Elizabeth's reign, when Blount, Lord Mountjoy, was lord-lieutenant, and it is thought that the gentlemen of the court were the performers on this occasion. One of the plays then acted was Gorboduc, written by the right honourable Thomas Sackville, lord Buck|hurst. Mr. Ashbury saw a bill for wax-tapers, dated the 7th of September, 1601, queen Eliza|beth's birth day, for the play of Gorboduc, done

at the castle, one and twenty shillings and two groats. This dramatic piece was esteemed the best of its kind at the time it was written. It was a favourite play of queen Elizabeth's; and was performed by the gentlemen of the Inner Temple, Whitehall, before the queen on the 18th of January, 1561, long before Shakespeare appeared on the stage.

This anecdote excepted, we find little relative to the stage, till the year 1635, the tenth of king Charles I. when the first theatre in Dublin was raised. It was built in Werburgh-street, and established by John Ogilby, Esq who was then historiographer to his majesty, and master of the revels under the earl of Stafford, lord lieute|nant of this kingdom. This building we may reasonably conclude, was far from possessing that convenience or elegance which modern improvements in theatrical architecture have enabled us to attain. Nor can we entertain a very high idea of the variety of its scenery and decorations. Even the London theatres, in Shakespeare's days, were considerably deficient in those particulars. But notwithstanding, we are informed, that this was tolerably large and commodious, with a gallery and pit; but no

boxes, except one on the stage for the lord lieutenant.

So very little can be collected with any degree of certainty of the company who performed at this theatre, that not even their names, or but few of the pieces they acted, have been trans|mitted to us. Almost all that can be ascertained is, that they played with good success, and were much followed. In 1638, three years after their commencement, they produced a new play, called the Royal Master, written by Shirley, an intimate friend of the manager. This writer, we are told, possessed some sketches of Beaumont and Fletcher; which, if true, in a great measure accounts for the inequality so evident in all his pieces. The next year brought forth a tragi|comedy called Langartha, written by Henry Burnell, Esq a native of Ireland. This piece was for several years in possession of the stage, and was afterwards printed with these words in the title page, "as acted at the New Theatre in Dublin, 1641, with great applause." But to our mortification, none of the actors names were inserted in the dramatis personae. Tragi|comedies were at this time highly in vogue. The plot of this play was taken from the Danish

history of Saxo Gramaticus, and 'tis whimsical enough to observe, that the prologue was spoken by an Amazon, armed with a battle-axe, to bespeak the favour of the audience. It was, perhaps, in allusion to this circumstance, that the duke of Buckingham afterwards so successfully introduced his prologue of Thunder and Light|ning in the Rehearsal.

But this fair beginning, and seemingly pros|perous advance of the stage, received, a short time after, a severe blow. Langartha was the last play that was acted at Werburgh-street theatre. The rebellion breaking out in the October of the same year 1641, involved the whole kingdom in confusion. The drama naturally shared the fate of the state, with which it was so intimately connected. The theatre was shut up by order of the lords justices, and never afterwards opened. What became of the performers we cannot learn. Perhaps, like some of their brethren in London on a similar occasion, they entered into the ser|vice of their king and country. Of the manager, Mr. Ogilby, we are told, that, exhausted and reduced by various misfortunes, he returned to England, where he intended to remain till the tumults should subside, and a happier revolution

of affairs afford him an opportunity of resuming his former situation with safely and satisfaction.

A period of twenty years elapsed, before this wished for change took place. At length, however, the nation having wearied itself out by intestine commotions, and Charles the second being happily placed on the throne, things began to recover an appearance of tranquillity. At this time Mr. Ogilby's friends procured him a renewal of the patent from his majesty, and in 1662 he returned to this kingdom, to the particular joy of his own acquaintance, and the satisfaction of the public in general. Compas|sion for his sufferings, and a reviving taste for the drama in a short time operated with such force, as to influence the nobility and gentry to subscribe towards the building of a new theatre. Smock-alley, then called Orange-street, was the spot fixed on: a place by its central situation, peculiarly adapted for such a purpose. The foun|dation was quickly laid, and the work advanced with such rapidity as to be ready for repre|sentations in the same year 1662. A tragedy called Pompey, from the French of Corneille, was then acted at this theatre. This trans|lation was by Mrs. Catherine Phillips, the famed

Orinda, termed by her cotemporary poets the English Sappho. We hear also of another of this lady's translations from the same author, called Horace. Neither of those pieces were acted in England till after her death in 1664, near two years later than their performance here.

If we may be allowed to form an idea of the elegance of this theatre from its expence, we must imagine it to have been very considerable, as it is said to have cost upwards of two thousand pounds, a great sum at that time; especially when it is recollected, that new scenery and de|corations had not then been introduced, even in England. In all probability Smock-alley theatre was superior to those then in London; for according to Downes,

on the restoration, the scattered remnants of six play-houses, which subsisted in king Charles the first's time, formed a company and acted again at the Bull Play House, then built them a new theatre in Gib|bons Tennis-Court, Clare-Market, at which two places they continued acting 1660, 1661, 1662, and part of 1663.

The haste however with which it was raised, was shortly after nearly proving fatal to it: for in the year 1671, during the representation, part of it fell down, by which

accident two were killed, and many severely wounded. This misfortune put another total stop to dramatic entertainments for a long time. By those repeated crosses and failures, Mr. Ogilby was at length so worn out and disgusted, that finding his success by no means correspondent to his expectations, he finally returned to London, where he died in 1676.

CHAP. II.

Othello acted at Smack-alley.—Account of Mr. Wilkes.—Mr. Ashbury made Master of the Revels.—Re-establishment of the Stage.—Mrs. Butler.—Estcourt.—Smack-alley opens again. —Names of the capital Performers.—Cast of Comical Revenge.—She would if she could.— The Man of Mode.—Timon of Athens.—Com|mittee.— Quin's first appearance.—Anecdotes of Farquhar.—Gallery gave way.—Death of Mr. Ashbury.

THE death of Mr. Ogilby proved the fore|runner of a long interval of inaction to the stage. New troubles arising, and fresh tumults breaking forth, prevented its restoration. The unsettled state of the kingdom during the second James's reign, kept the public mind in too con|tinued a state of alarm and apprehension to admit of any calm or peaceable relaxation. The peo|ple will necessarily attend to the preservation of their safety, before they give way to the grati|fication of pleasure. It was beside, peculiarly the fate of this kingdom to bear a conspicuous

part in the prevailing disturbances, and be the melancholy scene of action for most of the events which ensued. Thus situated, every refined and rational entertainment was crushed, and sup|pressed by the hand of violence.

For these reasons, the re-establishment of the theatre did not take place, till the revolution had once more restored tranquillity, and presented a prospect of peace with her smiling train, re|turning to bless this divided kingdom with her permanent abode. Amongst the various testi|monies of joy for this event, the public deter|mined on the performance of a play. But the difficulty lay in procuring performers. The re|gular actors were dispersed and scattered by the late war, and it was impossible at once to re|collect them. To supply this emergency, and at the same time to gratify their own inclinations, several gentlemen, principally officers about the castle, agreed to exhibit the tragedy of Othello. Mr. Ashbury, who happened then to be in Dublin, was the only professional actor amongst them. He played Iago, and, from his approved knowledge of the drama, had the conduct of the whole. This play was performed gratis, at Smock-alley theatre, some time in December

1691, and is marked by a peculiar circumstance, which to every theatrical reader cannot fail to render it highly interesting.

Amongst the gentlemen who performed, was the celebrated Mr. Wilkes, who afterwards proved so great an ornament to the stage. This gentleman was descended from an antient family, seated for many generations at Broomsgrove in Worcestershire. The grandfather of our famous comedian, Judge Wilkes, raised a troop of horse at his own expence, which was commanded by his brother colonel Wilkes, and voluntarily entered into the service of king Charles the first, during the civil wars. But matters taking so unfortunate a turn with the royal party, the family suffered every persecution which the violence of the times could suggest, and was at last obliged to take shelter in Ireland. It was at Rathfarnham, near Dublin, in the year 1670, that our hero was born. He received a liberal education, and it was, probably, from his skill in penmanship, that he was placed under secretary Southwell, as principal clerk. He here contracted an intimacy with Mr. Richards, an actor of great merit, who belonged to the Smock-alley company before it was broken up. During his acquaintance with this gentleman,

he used frequently to hear him rehearse his parts, and was ofttimes induced to repeat some of the foregoing speeches. The uncom|mon propriety of his delivery, and the many compliments he received on these occasions, were the first means of attaching his mind to the stage, and so fully was his fame established, that at the time of performing this play, the part of Othello was unanimously allotted to him, in consideration of his superior abilities. His execution of this difficult character so far exceeded the expectations of every one present, that from that time, he determined to give up his employment, though extremely lucrative, and devote his future life and abilities to the stage. The performance of this play, proved the means of reviving a spirit for dramatic exhi|bitions in this kingdom, and offered a favourable opportunity of re-establishing the theatre.

On the death of Mr. Ogilby, in 1672, the patent, together with the office of master of the revels, was, by means of his interest with the duke of Ormond, conferred on Mr. Ashbury. As this gentleman deservedly claims a conspi|cuous place in the following pages, it will be necessary to inform my readers, that he was born

in London, in the year 1638, of a respectable family, and received a classical education at Eaton school. After the death of his father, his friends procured him a pair of colours in the army, under the duke of Ormond, with whom he first visited this kingdom, in the last year of Oliver Cromwell's administration. During the war he had several opportunities of signalizing himself; particularly when governor Jones was seized in the Castle of Dublin, and secured in favour of Charles the Second. His merit soon raised him to the rank of lieutenant of foot, and shortly after, the duke of Ormond, then lord lieutenant, with whom he was in considerable favour, made him one of the gentlemen of his retinue, and deputy master of the revels under Mr. Ogilby.

Judging the present a favourable opportunity, Mr. Ashbury applied to several of the nobility and gentry to promote the re-establishment of the stage, and receiving very great encourage|ment, he repaired to London, to try what forces he could muster. His success there, was beyond his expectation. He returned with a number of capital performers, particularly the well-known Mrs. Butler, an actress of great

repute, and a prodigious favourite with King Charles the Second. This monarch had honour|ed her, by naming her christian name Charlotte, and, as she grew up, recommended her to the theatre, to which she proved a valuable acqui|sition. She was not only a good actress, but an excellent singer and dancer. Her fort chiefly consisted in comic characters. But she was by no means confined to one line: for, with an elegant air, a sweet-toned voice, and a sensible pronunciation, she sustained many parts in serious comedies with much reputation. In charac|ters of humour, she was gay, lively, and enter|taining, and her second Constantia in the Chances, was allowed by Cibber, who saw them both, to be superior to Mrs. Oldfield's.

The circumstance which proved the cause of her engaging with Mr. Ashbury, may serve to shew us the humble state of the London theatres at that time. Mrs. Butler, though at the head of her profession, had a salary of no more than forty shillings per week; and it was in a fit of disgust, at not being able to obtain an increase of ten shillings, that she listened to Mr. Ashbury's proposals. With her were engaged Mr. Wilkes,

and Mr. Estcourt, who had not as yet appeared on any stage, and was only known as a mimic.

With such a company, and with the skill in Dramatic affairs which Mr. Ashbury was allowed to have possessed, he could not fail of success. He opened with Othello, March the 23d 1692, the day of proclaiming the end of the Irish war, and continued performing for several seasons with the highest credit and profit. Many per|formers of eminence visited Dublin during this period; amongst the men, the names of Wilkes, Dogget, Keen, Norris, Griffith, Trefusis, Estcourt, and afterwards Elrington, stand in high estimation. His principal ladies were Mrs. Ashbury, his own wife, an excellent figure, and good actress, particularly in tender charac|ters in tragedy, and elegant ladies in comedy, Mrs. Knightly, Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Schoolding, Mrs. Hook, besides the above-mentioned Mrs. Butler.

Some years after he received another consider|able accession of strength. Barton Booth, Esq having in vain applied to Mr. Betterton for admission to the London stage, arrived in 1698 in Dublin. His success was here much better,

and he agreed with the manager, to make his first appearance in Oroonoko. This he per|formed to a crouded house, and so much delighted Mr. Ashbury, that immediately after the performance, he made him a present of five guineas; a sum which, tho' not very considerable, was, however, peculiarly acceptable to him, as his last shilling was hastening fast to dissolution. By this accession, the company was rendered respectable, and continued to perform with very great success. Indeed, if we may credit Mr. Chetwood, who was for a long time con|versant with the stage, the performers at that time were not inferior to any since. But to convey every information which the subject admits of, I shall beg leave to present the reader with the manner in which three of Sir George Etheridge's comedies (then in great estimation) were performed; as also, with the representa|tion of two more plays some years after, that he may be enabled both to judge of the strength of the company, and the revolutions it ex|perienced during that time.

About the year 1695, were performed,

The COMICAL REVENGE: OR, LOVE IN A TUB.

• Lord Bevil by Mr. Schoolding.
• Lord Beaufort Mr. Buckley.
• Colonel Bruce Mr. Booth.
• Louis Mr. Keen.
• Sir Frederick Frolic Mr. Wilkes.
• Dufoy Mr. Bowen.
• Sir Nicholas Cully Mr. Norris.
• Wheedle Mr. Estcourt.
• Palmer Mr. Trefusis.
• Graciana Mrs. Knightly.
• Aurelia Mrs. Ashbury.
• Mrs. Rich Mrs. Hook.
• Letitia Mrs. Harrison.
• Mrs. Grace Mrs. Martin.
• Jenny Mrs. Schoolding.

SHE WOULD IF SHE COULD.

• Sir Oliver Cockwood by Mr. Norris.
• Sir Joslin Jolly Mr. Estcourt.
• Mr. Courtall Mr. Wilkes.
• ...

• Mr. Freeman by Mr. Booth.
• Mr. Rakehell Mr. Griffith.
• Thomas Mr. Trefusis.
• Lady Cockwood Mrs. Smith.
• Ariana Mrs. Schoolding.
• Gatty Mrs. Hook.
• Mrs. Sentry Mrs. Ashbury.
• Mrs. Gazet Mrs. Harrison.
• Mrs. Trinket Mrs. Martin.

THE MAN OF MODE: OR, SIR FOPLING FLUTTER.

• Dorimant by Mr. Wilkes.
• Medley Mr. Booth.
• Old Bellair Mr. Estcourt.
• Young Bellair Mr. Elliot.
• Sir Fopling Flutter Mr. Griffith.
• Shoe-maker Mr. Bowen.
• Handy Mr. Norris.
• Parson Mr. Trefusis.
• Lady Townly Mrs. Smith.
• Loveit Mrs. Knightly.
• Belinda Mrs. Schoolding.
• ...

• Emilia by Mrs. Elliott.
• Lady Woodville Mrs. Martin.
• Harriet Mrs. Ashbury.
• Pert Mrs. Hook.
• Busy Mrs. Harrison.
• Orange Woman Mrs. Cross.

About the year 1715, were performed,

TIMON OF ATHENS: OR, THE MAN HATER.

• Timon by Mr. Th. Elrington.
• Alcibiades Mr. Evans.
• Apemantus Mr. Ashbury.
• Nicias Mr. Fra. Elrington.
• Phoeax Mr. Thurmond.
• Oelius Mr.Trefusis.
• Cleon Mr. Quin.
• Isidore Mr. Hall.
• Thrasillus Mr. Dougherty.
• Demetrius Mr. Leigh.
• Poet Mr. Griffith.
• Painter Mr. Oates.
• Jeweller Mr. Bowman.
• Musician Mr. Hallam.
• ...

• Evandre by Mrs. Thurmond.
• Melissa Mrs. Wilkins.
• Chloe Mrs. Haywood.
• Thais Miss Wilson.
• Phrynia Miss Schoolding.

Mrs. Haywood, mentioned here, was the au|thoress of the Fruitless Enquiry, and many other novels, as well as of three dramatic pieces. The Fair Captive, a tragedy; Wife to be Let, a comedy; and Frederick Duke of Brunswick. These pieces all died on their first visiting the world.

THE COMMITTEE: OR, THE FAITHFUL IRISHMAN.

• Colonel Careless by Mr. Ashbury.
• Colonel Blunt Mr. Tho. Elrington.
• Lieutenant Story Mr. Evans.
• Mr. Day Mr. Fran. Elrington.
• Abel Mr. Quin.
• Obadiah Mr. Trefusis.
• Teague Mr. Griffith.
• 1st Committee Man Mr. Hall.
• 2d Ditto Mr. Binns.
• ...

• 3d Committee Man by Mr. Bowman.
• Bookseller Mr. Hallam.
• Bailiff Mr. Kendal.
• Mrs. Day Mrs. Martin.
• Arabella Mrs. Ashbury.
• Ruth Mrs. Thurmond.
• Mrs. Chat Miss Schoolding.

In the above play the celebrated Mr. Quin made his first appearance in the character of Abel.

"Distinguished characters in the bills," says Mr. Chetwood,

at the time these plays were performed, were not in fashion. They were printed in order, according as they stood, not regarding the merit of the actor. As for example, in Macbeth,—Dun|can, king of Scotland, appeared first in the bills, though acted by an insignificant actor: and so every other person appeared, accord|ing to his dramatic dignity, all of the same sized letter. But,

adds he,

I can assure my readers, I have found it very difficult to please them, and some were to very fond of elbow-room, that they would have shoved

every body out but themselves: as if one person was to do all, and have the merit of all. Like generals of an army, such a victory was gained by such a king, and such a prince, while the other officers and soldiers were forgot. But as Trim tells us, in The Funeral, or Grief A-la-Mode, fifty thousand of such rascals will make an Alexander.

It may not be amiss here, to take some notice of Mr. George Farquhar, who, though not a performer of eminence, by his writings at least, will ever reflect honour on his country and him|self. He was was born in Derry, in the year 1678, and entered into the University of Dublin, 1694. His father, dying soon after, he was left at full liberty to follow his own inclina|tions: when, by the interest of Mr. Wilkes, who was his particular friend through life, he was recommended to the manager of Smock-alley, in 1695, who engaged him at the low salary of twenty shillings per week. His first appearance was in Othello, in which he gained some applause. But he seemed not by nature to have been intended for the stage. His voice was weak, and he was subject to a timidity, which precluded all boldness of exertion, and

which his utmost efforts could never overcome. However, with the recommendations of a grace|ful person, and a sensible delivery, he remained for some time on the stage, and was tolerably well received. How long he might have con|tinued in this line, we know not; had not an unlucky accident which happened in 1697, put a period to his performing. Being to play Guyo|mar in the Indian Emperor, who kills Vasquez, and having forgot to change his sword for a foil, he wounded Mr. Price, who acted Vasquez, dangerously, though not fatally. The impression which this accident made on a mind so sensible, and the reflection on what might have been the consequences, determined him to relinquish a profession which might, perhaps, expose him to similar mistakes in future. He resolved, there|fore, to comply with the frequent solicitations of his friend, Mr. Wilkes, who knew that the bent of his genius, was much more inclined to|wards writing than acting. Accordingly, having obtained a free benefit from Mr. Ashbury, ever a friend to merit, he set off for London with the rough copy of Love and a Bottle. This piece was brought out, shortly after, with great suc|cess, and was soon succeeded by another, the Constant Couple, which in 1700, had a run in

London of 53, and in Dublin of 23 nights, cir|cumstances which, every thing considered, were equally extraordinary.

In 1704 he again visited Dublin, when his finances, like those of most authors being low, and failing in a subscription for his works, he obtained leave from the duke of Ormond, lord lieutenant, (being at that time in the army) to perform his own Sir Harry Wildair for a benefit. This attempt, though it augmented his finances, by bringing him in a hundred pounds, proved no increase to his theatrical reputation. He did not acquit himself at all to the satisfaction of his friends. His fate, indeed, seems to have been similar to that of many excellent dramatic authors, whose acting is by no means equal to their writing, and who are incapable of representing what they themselves compose. Shortly after this, Mr. Farquhar returned to London, where he died in 1707, beloved and sincerely lamented. The particulars of his death are too well known to require mentioning here.

Mr. Wilkes did not remain in Dublin long after his friend. On the death of Horden in

1698, he received an invitation from Mr. Rich, manager of Covent-Garden, with an offer of four pounds a week. This was a proposal too flattering to be rejected. The salary was at that time extraordinary, and equal to Mr. Bet|terton's. He accordingly took leave of Mr. Ashbury. They parted good friends, nor did the manager repine at his loss, when his sudden advancement was the cause. His merit in a short time raised him to the head of his profession, and in 1711, we find him paying another visit to his native country. Here he staid three months, during which time he performed his favourite character of Sir Harry Wildair, nine|teen nights successively at Smock-alley theatre.

Some time before this event, a remarkable circumstance happened, which strongly marks the superstitious cast of the public mind. On St. Stephen's day, in the year 1701, the galleries of the theatre being uncommonly crouded, gave way, and, though no lives were lost, yet several were hurt in endeavouring to get out. As this happened to be the first night of per|forming Shadwell's Libertine, a play extremely loose, and improper for representation, it gave occasion to the people, to declare that the acci|dent

was a judgment on the spectators, for going to see it. Nay, so far did their extravagance carry them, that it was even asserted by some, that the candles burnt blue, and went out, that two or three times a dancer extraordinary, whom nobody knew, was seen, that he had a cloven foot, &c. &c. with many other ridicu|lous stories. This gentleman, I suppose it was, who made free with the galleries, and was the author of the whole disturbance. This circum|stance, however, occasioned its not being per|formed again for 20 years. It must, indeed, be confessed, that, though this accident might as well have happened at any other time, yet this piece is of a nature so very horrid, that it should never be brought before the public; it has, therefore, with great propriety been laid aside for many years, I hope never to be revived.

The next remarkable occurrence with regard to the stage, is the death of one of its principal ornaments, Joseph Ashbury, Esq July 24th, 1720. He died at the advanced age of 82, retaining to his last moments his faculties entire. Mr. Ashbury had always maintained an excellent character. He was esteemed not only the best actor but the best teacher in the three kingdoms.

So high indeed was his reputation in the latter character, that he instructed the princess Anne, afterwards queen, in the part of Semandra in Mithridates, king of Pontus, which was acted by persons of the first rank in the Banquetting-House, Whitehall, where Mr. Ashbury was prompter and conductor of the whole business. His abilities were peculiarly adapted to the situa|tion which he filled. He appears to have been possessed of much judgment in theatrical affairs, and under his management the Irish stage rose to a degree of respectability, which it had not hitherto experienced. Nor was his private life less amiable or happy than his public. Univer|sally beloved by a numerous acquaintance, and remarkably fortunate in the conjugal state, his length of life was unaccompanied by a diminution of regard from his friends, and he was quickly followed to the grave, by a faithful and affec|tionate wife. Mr. Chetwood, who saw him in the decline of life, says

his person was of an advantageous height, well proportioned, and manly; and notwithstanding his great age, erect: a countenance that demanded a reve|rential awe: a full, meaning eye, piercing, though not in its full lustre, and yet I have seen him read letters and printed books without

any assistance from art. A sweet sounding, manly voice, without any symptoms of age in his speech.

—He was master of the revels in Ireland under five monarchs, viz. king Charles the 2d, king James the 2d, king William the 3d, queen Anne, and king George the 1st.

CHAP. III.

Management of Mr. Elrington.—The Beggars Opera.—Singularity of its first reception.— Extraordinary fortune of its Macheath and Polly.—George Barnwell.—Anecdotes of ditto, —Dr. Barrowby.—Mr. Ross.—Madam Vio|lante opens a booth.—Her company of Lilli|putians perform the Beggars Opera.—Great success.—Miss Woffington's first appearance.

AFTER the death of Mr. Ashbury, the management of the theatre devolved to his son-in-law, Thomas Elrington, Esq a gentleman of genius and ability, well qualified for so arduous an undertaking. He also succeeded his father-in-law as deputy master of the revels, and steward to the King's Inns of Court, then on the Inns-Quay. Still more to establish his interest, and mark the favour in which he was held, a post in the Quit Rent Office was conferred upon him, and he was made gunner to the train of artillery, a gift of his friend lord Mountjoy, which, at the death of that nobleman, he had

permission to dispose of. This accumulation of favours on the manager, spoke fair for the suc|cess of the theatre; nor were the expectations of the public disappointed. The stage, which his predecessor had taken such pains to replant and cherish, was under his prudent conduct improved and extended. Its reputation was established, and its professors held in high estimation. Many of the first actors occasionally visited Dublin, particularly Mr. Henry Giffard, who came over to this kingdom from Lincoln's-Inn theatre in 1724, and remained till 1730, when he returned to London, and commenced manager of Good|man's Fields, a station he filled many years with credit.—Amongst the constant residents, we find Thomas Griffith, Esq a gentleman descended from an ancient family in Wales, an excellent actor in comedy, a man of genius and an un|blemished character, of whom I shall hereafter have occasion to speak, a Mr. John Evans, Mr. Vanderbank, Mr. Husband, &c.

All the new pieces brought out at the London theatres were, under this judicious manager, carefully got up, and exhibited with reputation. The principal of these were, the Bold Stroke for a Wife, of Mrs. Centlivres; the Siege of Da|mascus,

by Hughes; the Refusal and Provoked Husband, of Cibber; Busiris and Revenge of Dr. Young; Steele's Conscious Lovers, Gay's Beggars Opera, and Lillo's George Barnwell: concerning the two last, their great merit, and the singularity of their first reception, demand particular mention; and as the circumstances are not generally known, I shall beg leave to trespass on my readers patience by relating them.

Mr. Gay, the author of the Beggars Opera, was a man of acknowledged abilities. His former eminent productions, joined to his amiable cha|racter in private life, had secured him the friend|ship of the most distinguished writers of the age. Under these circumstances, and with such in|trinsic merit as the Beggars Opera is allowed to possess, it might naturally be expected to have met with that reception which it after|wards so warmly experienced. But, this was by no means the case. The managers of Drury|lane, to whom it was first offered, peremptorily rejected it. Were it not authenticated beyond contradiction, we should scarce credit, that such judges as Wilkes, Booth, and Cibber must be of dramatic writing, should be so far deceived

as to hesitate a moment in their opinion of such a piece. It was with great difficulty that Mr. Rich, the manager of Lincoln's-Inn theatre, could be prevailed on to let it have a trial, and after the first rehearsal, he gave it up, as a piece which to a certainty would be condemned.

This general opposition to a work of such ac|knowledged excellence, cannot fail, at first, to raise our surprise, but a little reflection may per|haps enable us, in some degree, to account for this seeming contradiction. The Beggars Opera was in a stile of composition which had not hitherto been tried, and concerning which, the public opinion was therefore more difficult to ascertain. It derived a considerable part of its force from, and depended, in a great measure, for its success, on a combination of circum|stances peculiar to that time. That exotic species of entertainment called Italian Operas, had for several years been rising into fashion, and at that time entirely engrossed the attention of the higher and more fashionable ranks of people. The seduction of foreign music, the novelty of those unnatural warblers then imported, the charms of dancing, with the glare of decorations, had bewitched the fancy, and diverted the tide of encouragement, and applause, from the more

rational, though less gaudy representations of the English theatre. This corruption of public taste, and perversion of judgment, it was Mr. Gay's intention, by humorously satirizing, to correct. The same loftiness of stile, and unnecessary slow of forced similes, which, from an Italian hero, gave such delight, when put into the mouths of sharpers and highwaymen, could not fail to pro|duce an effect as ludicrous, as the former had been grand. But though the design of this piece was excellent, and the execution masterly, not|withstanding it was in every respect nouvelle, yet were the managers justifiable in their unwil|lingness to hazard a production, the boldness of which, though in case fortune was favourable, it might heighten its success, would, if matters took an adverse turn, but render its fall more severe.

Happily for the commonwealth of letters, the event proved their fears ill-grounded, and a long experience has shewn us, that independent of those local temporary strokes which attended its origin, the Beggars Opera has sufficient sterling merit to rank with the first dramatic pieces in the English language, and to ensure its success at all times, and in all places.

The managers were, it must be confessed, so far right in their judgment of the town, that on the first night, for a considerable time, the re|ception was doubtful. The first act passed with silent attention; not a hand moved, its origi|nality surprised them. At its conclusion, the audience rose, and every man, fearful of his own judgment, seemed eager to learn that of his neighbour. The result however, was gene|rally in its favour. In the second act they began to relish its satire, and discover its beauties: they then broke silence, and gave several marks of their approbation, to the great joy of the anxious author, and disheartened performers. The last act was received with universal ap|plause.

Such was the first reception of a piece which will keep its place on the stage, as long as the stage exists. It was performed sixty-three nights the first season, and its fame quickly reached this kingdom, where it experienced, every thing considered, equal success; for we find it advertised for the benefit of Mr. Vanderbank, a favourite comedian, December 28th 1728, for the fortieth time, independent of the many nights it was exhibited by Madam Violante's

Lilliputian Company, of whom, more here|after.

The very different fates of the original Mac|heath and Polly, have never, I believe, been noticed as they deserve. Mr. Walker, the original Macheath, though a good actor, and raised by his performance of so popular a cha|racter, to the highest reputation, yet, for want of proper conduct, and through an immoderate attachment to liquor, died, many years after, neglected and forsaken; whilst Miss Fenton, the celebrated Polly, rose to the distinguished rank of Duchess of Bolton, which celebrated station she supported with the love and admira|tion of all.

In the year 1730, the tragedy of George Barnwell was brought out at the Theatre Royal, Covent-garden. The reception of this piece was also attended with several singular circumstances which deserve particular mention. Mr. George Lillo, the author, was born February 4th 1693, in the neighbourhood of Moorfields. His edu|cation, we may suppose, was rather limited, as he was bred a jeweller. But he possessed what was infinitely more valuable, the seeds of

genius, which time ripened and brought to ma|turity. His life was, like his writings, an in|structive lesson to mankind. Strongly attached to the muses, he laid it down as a fundamental rule, that they ought always to be made sub|servient to the cause of virtue and religion. He was peculiarly happy in the choice of his sub|jects, and his management of them was no less meritorious. His pathos, irresistibly took pos|session of the heart, and he had the art of working up the distresses of common and domes|tic life so judiciously, that they became more interesting to the audience, than those of kings and princes. It may with truth be averred, that George Barnwell has drawn more tears than the pompous tragedies of Alexander the Great, All for Love, &c.

Popular prejudice ran high against this play, previous to its representation. Every one knew it to be founded on a well-known ancient ballad, and so contemptible an opinion did the critics entertain of it, that on its first night, thousands of the original old ballad were purchased, in order to divert themselves by drawing compa|risons, and turning the whole into ridicule. But these all-wise gentlemen were highly dis|appointed;

the merit of the play conquered their prejudices, it presented them with scenes written so truly to the heart, that they were compelled to subscribe to their power, and drop their ballads to take up their handkerchiefs.

Its success in London was equal to its acknow|ledged merit, and it continued to draw crouded houses for many nights. At the commencement of the season, September 1731, it was got up in Dublin, and honoured on its first night with the presence of his grace the duke of Dorset, then lord lieutenant, when it met with great applause, and for many years maintained a dis|tinguished rank on the stage.

Before I quit this subject, I cannot help men|tioning two anecdotes relative to effects pro|duced by this tragedy. The first is related by Dr. Barrowby, a gentleman of veracity, of a youth an apprentice to an eminent merchant in London, who forcibly struck by the fate of the unhappy Barnwell, confessed, that being seduced by the arts of a wicked woman, he had robbed his master; how far his guilt might have extend|ed, he shuddered to think; but fortunately their commerce was totally put a stop to by his

accidentally seeing the above play. The doctor adds, that upon a proper representation of the whole to his master, he not only forgave him, but restored him to favour. Thus rescued from the paths of destruction, he afterwards became a valuable member of the community.

A similar instance is mentioned since that time, which the present Mr. Ross, I am told, can attest. He, if I am rightly informed, for many years regularly received a present of twenty guineas from a gentleman, an entire stranger to him, whose apprentice had happily been reformed by seeing him in the character of George Barnwell. The worthy author of this tragedy wrote several other dramatic pieces, and died September 3d, 1739, in the 47th year of his age, universally beloved and lamented. I am sorry to say, that for many years past, this excellent tragedy has grown unfashionable, and given place to many not possessed of half its merit.

I must here return back a few years to have an opportunity of introducing to my readers, a lady, who some time after, laid the strongest claim to their admiration.

The date of Madam Violante's arrival in this kingdom, and opening a theatrical booth in George's-lane, has hitherto been fixed to the year 1731. It is rather surprising that those who wrote so near that period should not be better informed. From the most authentic informa|tion I find, that this enterprizing lady, four years before, in 1727, engaged a very large house for|merly occupied by lord chief justice Whitchel, in Fownes's-court, on the spot where Fownes's-street has since been built. This house was well adapted to her purpose, it was uncommonly roomy and covered a large extent of ground. Behind it a spacious garden reached to where Crow-street theatre now stands. This house she converted into a commodious booth, and brought over a company of tumblers and rope-dancers, who exhibited for some time with success. In these performances Madam Violante bore a prin|cipal part, having been bred a very capital dancer. But, as in all public spectacles, where the mind is not feasted, the eye soon grows weary and palled, so in this case, her audiences in a short time decreased so much, that she, fertile in ex|pedients, converted her booth into a play-house, and performed plays and farces.

Fortune, who delights in sporting with man|kind, and often calls her favourites from the most unlikely situations, seemed to have taken this spot under her peculiar care; for in this little theatre were sown those seeds of theatric genius, which afterwards flourished and delighted the world. Madam Violante finding her efforts in exhibit|ing plays to fail, owing to the badness of the actors, formed a company of children, the eldest not above ten years of age. These she instruct|ed in several petit pieces, and as the Beggars Opera was then in high estimation, she perfected her Lilliputian troop in it, and having prepared proper scenery, dresses, and decorations, she brought it out before it had been seen in Dub|lin. The novelty of the sight, the uncommon abilities of these little performers, and the great merit of the piece, attracted the notice of the town to an extraordinary degree. They drew crouded houses for a considerable length of time, and the children of Shakespeare's and Johnson's day, were not more followed, or admired, than those tiny geniuses.

Time, the true touchstone of merit, afterwards proved that the public were not mistaken in their judgment. I never have been able to obtain a

complete list of the members of this little com|munity, but from what I have collected, the names of several performers of great merit ap|pear. In the Beggars Opera, Miss Betty Barnes, an excellent actress, and whom I have often seen play by the names of Mrs. Martin, and Mrs. Workman, personated Captain Macheath; the afterwards well known Master Isaac Sparks, played Peachum; Master Beamsly, Lockit; Mas|ter Barrington, afterwards so celebrated for Irishmen and low comedy, Filch; Miss Ruth Jenks, who died some years afterwards, Lucy; Miss Mackay, Mrs. Peachum; and from the Polly of that day, sprung the beautiful, elegant, accomplished, captivating Woffington, to please and charm contending kingdoms.

This extraordinary character is a striking in|stance, that the shining qualities of the mind, or graces of the person, are not confined to rank or birth, but are sometimes to be met with in the most unfavourable situations. Miss Woffing|ton's origin was such as would puzzle a herald or antiquarian to trace. Her father's condition in life is enveloped in obscurity, her mother for many years sold fruit at the entrance of Fownes's-court, poor and honest; yet from such parents,

unassisted by friends, unimproved by education till able to attain it by her own assiduity, did this peculiar ornament of the drama, and favourite of the graces, rise to a station so celebrated, as to be able to set the fashions, prescribe laws to taste; and, beyond any of her time, present us with a lively picture of the easy, well-bred wo|man of fashion. In the course of the following pages, I shall have many opportunities of men|tioning her progress through life.

CHAP. IV.

Mr. Delane's Debut.—Requisites and success.— Goes to London.—Bill of Richard the Third, and What-d'ye-call-it.—Another theatre opened. Revival of Masonry.—Masons act Cato.— Anecdotes of Mr. Griffith.—Music-hall in Crow-street built.—Ridottos there.—Death of Mr. Elrington.—His character.

ABOUT the year 1728, the Dublin theatre received a very material acquisition in the person of Mr. Dennis Delane. This young gentleman was a native of Ireland, descended from an an|cient and respectable family. He received a liberal education in Trinity College, Dublin, a seminary which not only produced many men of the greatest learning and abilities, but has also furnished some of the brightest luminaries of the Irish theatre. Mr. Delane made his first ap|pearance under Mr. Elrington on the Dublin stage, and met with a very favourable recep|tion. He was young, handsome, had an elegant figure, a powerful voice, a pleasing address, and

tolerably easy action. He was sometimes de|ficient in judgment, but with the million, this was easily overlooked, and as his years encreased, his judgment ripened. In many parts in tragedy, particularly Alexander, he was esteemed to have great merit. In comedy he performed the lovers, especially Young Bevil, with success. With such requisites he soon grew a great favourite with the public, and while he continued in this king|dom, supported a large cast of capital characters with great reputation. At length in the year 1731, being offered extraordinary high terms from Mr. Giffard, of Goodman's-fields, he left Ireland, and enlisted under his banners. He soon after appeared with great eclat at that theatre, and proved a very powerful competitor against Quin, then in his meridian, it is said that Mr. Quin, sensible of his great merit, pre|vailed on him to quit that obscure part of the town, and generously divided the business with himself. This, if true, was a disinterestedness which deserves remembrance. We afterwards find him making summer excursions to his native country, where he had a small paternal estate, and drawing crouded houses at such times, in Dublin.

As Mr. Elrington's company, during the time Mr. Delane continued in it, seemed to undergo very little alteration, I shall beg leave to present my readers with a bill of one of their, fullest plays, a method, in my opinion, more likely to convey information, than whole pages of descrip|tion; and which I shall take the liberty to adopt at every period, where change of performers may render such information necessary.

THEATRE ROYAL. By his Majesty's Company of Comedians, For the Benefit of Mr. WARD, By Desire of several Persons of Quality, On Monday, March the 22d, 1731, will be acted the True and Ancient History of KING RICHARD the THIRD, Written by the famous Shakespeare. Containing, the distresses and death of King Henry the Sixth. The artful acquisition of the crown by King Richard the Third, The cruel murder of the young Princes, King Edward the Fifth, and his brother the Duke of York, in the tower, The fall of the Duke of Buckingham, The landing of the Duke of York at Milford Haven, The death of King Richard in the memorable battle of Bosworth-field,

being the last that was fought between the contending Houses of York and Lancaster. With many other historical passages. The Part of King Henry, to be performed by Mr. Elrington. Prince Edward, Mrs. Hamilton. Richard, Duke of York, Mr. Richard Elrington. Richard, Duke of Gloster, Mr. Ward. Duke of Buckingham, Mr. Ralph Elrington. Earl of Richmond, Mr. Delane. Lord Stanley, Mr. Alcorn. Duke of Norfolk, Mr. Dash. Tressel, Mr.Simms. Lord Mayor, Mr. Vanderbank. Catesby, Mr. Neale. Ratcliffe, Mr. Watson. Tyrrel, Mr. Norris. Blunt, Mr. Hamilton. Deighton, Mr. Sheridan. Forrest, Mr. Nichols. Lady Anne, Mrs. Sterling. Lady Elizabeth, Mrs. Ward. Duchess of York, Mrs. Lyddal. And a new humorous Opera Epilogue, to be spoken and sung by Mrs. Sterling, in the character of Lady Anne's Ghost. The Songs to old Ballad Tunes.

To which will be added, a Tragi-Comic, Pastoral Farce, called, THE WHAT D'YE CALL IT. Written by the Author of the Beggars Opera. The Part of Timothy Peascod to be performed by Mr. Layfield. Sir Roger, Mr. Vanderbank. Kitty Carrot, Mrs. Ward. With the Song beginning, "'Twas when the seas were roaring," &c. To be sung by Mrs. Vanderbank. And a humorous Prologue to the Farce, To be spoken by Mr. Layfield. To begin exactly at six o'clock.

We may see by the above, that long bills and a quantum sufficit of puffing, were considered then as well as now, necessary ingredients to|wards a benefit bill. Mr. and Mrs. Ward, were persons of considerable merit, and a very short time after the above benefit, on some occasion, which we at present are ignorant of, revolted from the company, and took possession of the booth in Fownes's-court, lately occupied by Madam Violante, who had removed to George's-lane. There they had another benefit, the Double Dealer, May the 5th, 1731, and at the

bottom of their advertisement appeared the fol|lowing paragraph,

We are informed, that a great number of ladies and gentlemen have bespoke this play, and that the town in general appear ready and willing to encourage our young comedians who have so separated them|selves from the theatre-royal.

This opposition however did very little injury to Mr. Elrington. A few months put a period to it, and we only find this theatre occasionally opened afterwards.

Masonry, that cement of society, and most benevolent of all human institutions, that divine emanation of love which unites all mankind in the brotherly bands of affection, had, in this kingdom, through some unaccountable neglect, been suffered for many years to lie buried in the shade of obscurity, and its excellent precepts to remain untaught. About this time, however, the clouds which overshadowed it passed away, and its refulgent brightness broke forth to cheer and illuminate the world; several lodges which had lain dormant, were revived, and several new ones constituted. As it needed only to be known to be admired, many of the first charac|ters

in the nation, on its revival, pressed for|ward, and requested to be admitted members of this ancient, and honourable society.

Amongst many good effects arising from a renovation of this institution, the theatre expe|rienced its share. Masons are, in general, warm friends of the drama, which they deem essential to the cause of virtue; and, as charity is one of their leading principles, they constantly devote the profits arising from one night's performance at the theatre every season towards the relief of their distressed and indigent brethren. At this time however, in 1731, their laudable zeal carried them so far, as to make them bespeak the tragedy of Cato, then remarkably popular, the male characters of which were all performed by gen|tlemen masons: the prices were advanced, and so crowded or brilliant an audience had never, at that time, been seen in this kingdom.

Mr. Griffith, an excellent actor, and much esteemed by the public, was at this period secretary to the grand lodge, and greatly be|loved by the brotherhood; his benefits were, in consequence, constantly bespoke by the grand master, who, attended by the brethren, always

walked in procession to the theatre, and sat on the stage those nights. This circumstance ensured him a full house, from which, and his gold tickets, he reaped great emolument.

As this gentleman bore a considerable share in the transactions of the theatre for many years, and was one of its greatest ornaments, the reader may, perhaps, deem some account of him necessary. Thomas Griffith, Esq was de|scended from an ancient, and respectable family in Wales. Unavoidable misfortunes obliged his parents to settle in Dublin, where he was born in the year 1680. He received a liberal education, though afterwards bound apprentice to a mathematical-instrument-maker; but his lively genius soon grew disgusted with his shac|kles, and despised the business he was condemned to. The theatre appeared to him an ample field for his abilities, and he resolved to embrace the first opportunity of astonishing the world with his uncommon talents. Had his boyish vanity gone no further, it would have been well; but captivated by the charms of a young actress whose name has not reached us, he very imprudently married her before he had served three years of his apprenticeship. The

consequence was, his parents were obliged to buy the remainder of his time, and our young gentleman was rendered completely happy by being permitted to become actor under Mr. Ashbury, who engaged him at a very low salary.

Fortunately, however, on his commencing actor, he contracted a friendship with Mr. Wilkes, which remained in full force till the death of that excellent comedian put a period to it. Though Mr. Griffith was then very young, Mr. Wilkes took him to London, and had him engaged for that season at a small salary. Chet|wood relates, that the Indian Emperor being ordered on a sudden to be played, the part of Pizarro, a Spaniard, was wanting, which, with some difficulty, Mr. Griffith procured. Mr. Betterton, being a little indisposed, would not venture out to rehearsal, for fear of increasing his indisposition, to the disappointment of the audience. He, therefore, had not an opportunity of seeing our young gentleman rehearse; but when at night, he came ready at the entrance, his ears were pierced with a voice not familiar to him, and casting his eyes upon the stage, he beheld the diminutive Pizarro with a truncheon as long as himself. Astonished at his figure, he

went up to old Downs, the prompter, and cry'd, Zounds! Downs, what sucking Scara|mouch have you sent on there? O Sir, replied Downs, he is good enough for a Spaniard, the part is small. Betterton replied, If he had made his eyebrows his whiskers, and each whisker a line, the part would have been two lines too much for such a monkey in buskins. Poor Griffith, who stood on the stage, near the door, heard every syllable of this short dialogue, and by his fears knew who was meant by it; but happily for him, he had no more to speak in that scene. When the first act was over, he went to make his excuse to Betterton, and said, Indeed Sir, I had not taken the part, but that there was only I alone out of the play. I! I! replied Betterton, with a smile, thou art but the tittle of an I; after this night let me never see a trun|cheon in thy hand again, unless to stir the sire. Griffith took his advice, laid aside the buskin and embraced the sock, in which his light figure, pleasing address, and piercing eye, were of con|siderable advantage.

His stay in London was very short, not liking his situation, he embraced an offer made him by Mr. Ashbury, and returned to his native country.

Here his abilities had full scope, and he sup|ported a very extensive list of characters in the comedies of that time with great reputation. In this station, his wit and humour gained him many friends of the first rank and quality; amongst the rest, lord Southwell, in the year 1710, gave him a lucrative post in the revenue, which he enjoyed till his death. He used often to ridicule his own small figure, and in a bill of the mock tragedy of Alexander, he was always advertised thus:—The Part of Alexander the Great, to be performed by little Griffith.

But to return: The new Music-hall in Crow-street, as it was then called, being just finished, and fitted up in an elegant manner, Mr. Griffith, joined by a Mr. Whyte from England, opened it with a ridotto, November 30th 1731, in a very superb style, at which most of the nobility and gentry in Dublin were present. Entertain|ments of that kind had then seldom been seen in Ireland, and under their management were often repeated with success. In the course of this season, 1731, a new tragedy, called Love and Ambition, written by James Darcy, Esq was brought out to a very splendid and numerous audience; the duke of Dorset honoured it with

his presence the first night, when it was re|ceived with great applause. However, it had not intrinsic merit to support it on the stage, so after it had been repeated a few times, and the author had a benefit, by which he reaped con|siderable emolument, it was consigned to ob|livion; it was afterwards printed, but at this time is not easily to be met with.

The stage had now attained a most respectable eminence. Its professors were held in estima|tion, and their company courted. The manager was, most deservedly, esteemed and caressed by all the nobility and gentry. His grace the duke of Dorset, then lord-lieutenant, was remarkably fond of the drama, and a princely encourager of it; he commanded plays once or twice a week constantly, and was so well beloved, that his presence always occasioned a full house; he was extremely partial to Mr. Elrington, who used often to attend his levee, and his grace was present at several entertainments which he gave at the Cloysters, on the Inns-quay, to the lord chancellor, judges, and gentlemen of the law, as steward of the society.

This pleasing prospect, however, was of a very short continuance; the ensuing year was marked by the death of that great support and soul of the stage, Mr. Elrington. The last cha|racter he performed was Lord Townly, in the Provoked Husband, for the benefit of Mr. Vanderbank, an old actor of reputation; this was on the 26th of June, 1732. Shortly after, as he was consulting with an architect on a plan for building a new theatre in Aungier-street, then in agitation, he was suddenly taken ill, and obliged to return home to his house in Drum|condra-lane. His disorder increasing, turned to a malignant fever, of which he expired on Saturday July 22d, 1732, aged 44 years.

This excellent actor, who was descended from a good family, was born in London, June 1688. Being a younger brother of a numerous offspring, his father bound him apprentice to an eminent upholsterer in Covent-garden, where Chetwood, from whom we have several of the following anecdotes, became acquainted with him. He early discovered an inclination to the drama, and whilst an apprentice performed in several private plays. Once, when he was pre|paring to act in Sophonisba, or Hannibal's Over|throw,

after Chetwood had written out the part of Massina, he came with the book to Elring|ton, to study his part of Massinissa; he found him finishing a velvet cushion, and gave him the book, but, alas! before he could secrete it, his master, a hot, voluble Frenchman, came in upon them, and the book was hastily thrust under the velvet into the cushion; his master, as usual, rated him for idling his time, with a Morblieu! You Tom! why you not vark! Tom? and stood over him so long, that to their utter mortification they saw the book irrecoverably stitched up in the velvet, never to be retrieved till the cushion was worn to pieces. Poor El|rington cast many a desponding look on Chet|wood while he was finishing the fate of Sopho|nisba; every stitch went to their hearts. But the play was gone for ever.

Another time, they were so bold as to attempt the tragedy of Hamlet, where young Elrington had the part of the Ghost, and for the purpose had procured a suit of armour made of paste|board, and neatly painted. The Frenchman however, had intelligence of the whole, and to their great surprise and mortification, made one of the audience. The Ghost on his first appear|ance

being dumb, the Frenchman only muttered between his teeth, and they were in hopes his passion would subside. But when he began his first speech to Hamlet, "Mark me!" he replied, "Begar, me vil marke you presently!" and without any further ceremony, beat our poor Ghost off the stage, through the streets, while every stroke on the pasteboard armour grieved the auditors, insomuch, that three or four ran after the Ghost, and brought him back in triumph with the avenging Frenchman at his heels, who would not be appeased, till our Ghost promised him never to commit the offence of acting again; a promise made, like many others, without an intention of keeping. However, in the last year of his time, through the intercession of some friends, his rigid master gave him a little more liberty, and our young actor played many parts with such applause, that he was at length taken notice of by Mr. Keene, an excellent performer at that time, who introduced him upon the stage in the part of Oroonoko, in the year 1711, where he met with so favourable a reception as to fix his future pursuits in life.

The next season he was invited to Ireland by Mr. Ashbury, where he succeeded equal to his most sanguine expectations, and before he had been twelve months in that kingdom, so far had he ingratiated himself into the good graces of Mr. Ashbury and his family, that he gave him his only daughter in marriage. With this lady he lived happily many years, and had a numerous issue: two of his sons Joseph and Richard went on the stage, but had not abilities equal to the father. Thomas Elrington the younger, was a lieutenant in colonel Flemming's regiment, and afterwards married a lady of great fortune in the West Indies.

Mr. Elrington was an excellent figure, tall and well proportioned, his voice was manly, strong, sweet, and full-toned, his action easy and graceful. He copied with success, Mr. Verbruggen, one of the best actors of his time in tragedy and genteel comedy. Elrington's Oroonoko was one of the first pieces of acting ever seen. In his surprise on unexpectedly meeting with Imoinda, a situation which calls for an actor of the greatest genius, he charmed all who saw his action, and heard his expression. Davies says, he has heard Mr. Macklin speak of

Elrington's excellence in this scene with rapture. Barry himself was not equally happy in this su|perior lover. Mr. Elrington was also in Bajazet a fine copy of Verbruggen. When the ma|nagers of Drury-lane gave Bajazet to Elrington in preference to John Mills, the latter com|plained to Booth of his disgrace: Booth in re|turn told him, that Elrington would make nine such actors as Mills.

Though Mr. Elrington was rapidly rising in the estimation of all who saw him at Drury-lane, and had played many characters of conse|quence with great reputation; yet we are told, that Cibber either could not or would not see his merit. Elrington after he had been a short time on the stage, wished much to play the part of Torrismond in the Spanish Fryar; this request Cibber opposed with all his might. A nobleman of great eminence, and a particular friend of Elrington's, interested himself so far, as to send for Cibber, whom he desired to give his reasons for not permitting the young player to try his abilities in a favourite part;

My lord,

said Cibber,

it is not with us as with you; your lordship is sensible that there is no difficulty in filling places at court; you can|not

be at a loss for persons to act their parts there. But I assure you, it is quite otherwise in our theatrical world; if we should invest people with characters who are incapable of supporting them, we should be undone.

Repeated mortifications of this kind indu|ced Mr. Elrington to listen to the overtures of Mr. Ashbury, whose judgment could easily discern the extraordinary abilities and rising genius of our young hero. The event fully justified his choice. He performed many years in Dublin with the highest reputation, and when invited over to London, on account of Booth's indisposition in 1729, was the great support of Drury-lane theatre. The managers were so well convinced of his importance to them, that they offered him his own conditions, if he would en|gage with them for a term of years. To this, Mr. Elrington with great modesty replied; "I am truly sensible of the value of your offer, but in Ireland I am so well rewarded for my services, that I cannot think of leaving it for any consideration." "There is not," added he, "a gentleman's house in that kingdom to which I am not a welcome visitant," this was an un|doubted truth, as few persons in Dublin ever

lived more universally beloved, or died more sincerely lamented by all ranks and degrees.

I shall close this account of him with his character, extracted from one of the many pa|negyrics which the writers of his time have furnished us with.

"Thomas Elrington, Esq was for near twenty years the ornament and delight of the Irish stage. His perfections as an actor are so well, and universally known, both here and in Eng|land, whither he has often been invited by the managers of both theatres in London, with the most advantageous offers, that it would be su|perfluous to dwell on them here. Nature cer|tainly formed him an actor, and to his amazing genius for representing such a variety of contrary characters, gave him a voice and person scarce ever equalled, and never excelled by any of his cotemporaries, or predecessors on the stage: and it is to be feared, will never be rivaled by any of his successors. All who are lovers of the most polite, rational, and instructive of enter|tainments, the drama, must be sensibly concerned for the loss of a man so eminent in his public profession, and so amiable in his private life."

Mr. Elrington was buried in St. Michan's church-yard, near the remains of his father-in-law, Joseph Ashbury, Esq. The following was intended for his epitaph.

On THOMAS ELRINGTON, Esq.

Thou best of actors here interr'd, No more thy charming voice is heard, This grave thy corse contains: Thy better part, which us'd to move Our admiration and our love, Has fled its sad remains.

Tho' there's no monumental brass, Thy sacred relicks to encase, Thou wond'rous man of art! Each lover of the muse divine, O Elrington! shall be thy shrine, And carve thee in his heart!

CHAP. V.

Precipitate decline of the theatre.—F. Elrington, Griffith, and Layfield, managers.—Distrest Mother acted at the Castle.—Madam Violante lets her theatre to Sparks, Barrington, and Miss Mackay. — Shut up by the Lord Mayor. —Rainsford-street Theatre built.—Delane and Ryan visit Ireland.—Account of Government Plays.—Aungier-street opened.— Mr. Swan, manager.

THE death of Mr. Elrington was a severe blow to the interests of the drama in Ireland, and the stage began to decline rapidly. The reader perhaps can scarcely imagine, that at this time, though not much above fifty years ago, our theatrical history is so much involved in obscurity, that it is no easy talk to clear it up. The management as well as I can learn, de|volved to Mr. Francis Elrington, brother to the late manager, in conjunction with Mr. Griffith, Mr. Layfield, and some others whose names have not reached us.

Of Mr. Griffith I have spoken already. The little that we know of Mr. Francis Elrington is, that he was born in London in the year 1692, that he held a small post in the wardrobe, under his grace the duke of Montague, when hearing of the great success of his brother in Ireland, he gave it up, and resolved to court his for|tune on the stage in that kingdom. Though his abilities were not in any respect equal to those of his brothers, yet were they by no means below mediocrity. His figure was good, and his voice agreeable. What he wanted in judgment, he endeavoured to make up by observation, and assiduity, and for many years the public re|ceived him with pleasure in a variety of capital characters in tragedy and comedy. His grace the duke of Dorset, a steady friend to the family, when lord-lieutenant of Ireland, gave him a place in the revenue, which he enjoyed till his death.

Mr. Lewis Layfield was an English gentle|man, who we are told had been in many em|ployments both by sea and land. As an actor, he had a considerable share of merit, his first appearance I believe was at Drury-lane. At the time I am now speaking of, he was advanced

in years, and had for some time been a member of the Dublin theatre.

A theatrical state will not, in my opinion, admit of a multiplicity of rulers, and is never so well governed as by one. Different tem|pers seldom accord, and though the interests of the several parties should tend to the same points, yet frequently their prejudices or their prepossessions prevent them from pursuing proper directions. It cannot indeed from the nature of the subject be expected, that several distinct and independent absolute powers, should long subsist in harmony together, and experience shews us that such connexions serve to divide and impair, rather than to unite and strengthen. The management of Cibber, Wilkes, and Dogget, and afterwards (on his selling out) of Booth, may, I know, be urged as an exception. But let me ask, where shall we find such another triumvirate? yet, even amongst them there was not peace or unanimity; and I cannot help re|marking here, that Cibber's portraits of his part|ners as drawn in his apology, do little honour to his heart, and are lasting stains on his memory.

How far the theatrical partners abovemen|tioned agreed, I cannot, at this time pretend to say; but this much evidently appears, that, whe|ther from want of judgment or conduct, or other causes unknown to us, the affairs of the theatre soon began to wear an unpromising aspect. Nevertheless, at first, they proceeded with spirit; they engaged several new actors and actresses, and having repaired and beautified Smock-alley theatre which began to decay, they opened the 5th of the ensuing October 1732, with the Island Princess, an opera by Motteaux, founded on a piece of the same name written by Flet|cher. On this occasion several new scenes were painted, and a great deal of machinery incidental to the opera exhibited.

From the following circumstance we may suppose that the wardrobe of the theatre was not then in the most splendid condition. In Faulk|ner's Journal of 1732, we meet with this curious paragraph,

The Rt. Hon. Lord Mountcashel has made a present to some of our managers of five suits of the finest laced and em|broidered cloaths that ever were seen on any stage.

—And again December 30th,

The fine cloaths lately given by the Right Hon.

Lord Viscount Mountcashel, were for the use of the whole company, and it is hoped our nobility and gentry will follow that noble and generous example.

About the year 1730, Madam Violante, whom I formerly mentioned, removed from the booth she occupied in Fownes's-court, to one more commodious in George's-lane, where her Lil|liputian company, still in great estimation, ac|companied her. Here she continued to exhibit dramatic entertainments with pantomimes, tumbling and rope-dancing for some time with various success.

We have every reason to imagine that the public, were at this time uncommonly fond of dramatic representations. I have before men|tioned the great support the duke of Dorset gave the stage whilst lord-lieutenant. Private playing was also much in fashion. In January 1732-3, the Distrest Mother was acted at the council chamber in the Castle of Dublin. Lord Viscount Mountjoy, Lord Viscount Kingsland, and other persons of quality of both sexes supported the different characters. The room was fitted up in the most elegant stile. All the

chambers and passages were illuminated with wax. There was a crowded audience of persons of the first rank in the kingdom, and the whole was conducted with the greatest regularity and decorum.

We should naturally imagine that Dublin at that time was not so populous as to inspire any one with the idea of opening another theatre; and yet we find this was the case. The reason assigned by Chetwood, is, that Madam Violante finding her business decline, let her theatre to Mr. Luke Sparks, Mr. John Barring|ton, and Miss Mackay, afterwards Mrs. Mitchell, (three of her young performers) for three pounds per week. No great sum, yet as much as they were able to pay. These young adventurers were joined by several others whom love of fame, more than hopes of profit, incited. Mr. Sparks as being the oldest, and having played before in a country company, was appointed manager. From such performers without cloaths or scenes, little could be expected; however, they opened with Farquhar's comedy of

THE INCONSTANT: OR, THE WAY TO WIN HIM.

The three principal parts were played by our three adventurers, viz.

• Young Mirabel, Mr. Sparks.
• Duretete, Mr. Barrington.
• Bissarre, Miss Mackay.

Curiosity induced many to go for a few nights, but that satisfied, the theatre quickly grew de|serted, and the finances of the performers being soon exhausted, their only resource was to take benefits. Miss Mackay, being the heroine and a favourite with the public, resolved to try her fortune first. She chose the Fop's Fortune, and several ladies and gentlemen interesting them|selves for her, her house amounted to the amaz|ing sum of forty pounds!

Trifling as this appears now, it was then of such consequence and occasioned such an alarm to the actors of Smock-alley, that the managers applied to the lord-mayor to interpose his autho|rity and forbid their acting. This he readily consented to; they with difficulty obtained leave to play one night more, and finish with Woman's a Riddle. This suppression it seems was much resented by the public, and gave rise to the building of Rainsford-street theatre.

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The impropriety of this situation for a theatre must strike every person acquainted with the city of Dublin. The reason assigned for build|ing it there was, that it was out of the lord mayor's jurisdiction, and in the Earl of Meath's liberty, who granted a license to Mr. Thomas Walker for forty pounds per annum, which sum was meant to be distributed amongst the poor of his liberty.

This theatre, we are informed, was a very neat compact building, capable of containing about an hundred pounds at common prices, which were never raised but at benefits. The first play that was performed there was Con|greve's comedy of

LOVE FOR LOVE: Performed in the following manner,

• Sir Sampson Legend by Mr. Moore.
• Valentine Mr. Husband.
• Tattle Mr. Ravenscroft.
• Foresight Mr. Bourne.
• Ben Mr. Sparks.
• Trapland Mr. Daniel.
• Jeremy Mr. Roch.
• ...

• Angelica by Mrs. Ravenscroft.
• Mrs. Foresight Mrs. Smith.
• Mrs. Frail Miss Mackay.
• Miss Prue Miss Barnes.
• Nurse Mrs. Talent.

This company was under the direction of Mr. Husband, an actor of reputation. This gentleman was born in Pembrokeshire, January 1672. His ancestors were an ancient and re|putable family long seated in that country. He very early in life attached himself to the stage, but was upwards of two years before he could gain admission. Though his figure was good, and he possessed most of the requisites to form an actor, yet it was with difficulty he obtained leave to make his first appearance in the trifling character of Sir Walter Raleigh in the Earl of Essex. In this, however, he ac|quitted himself so well that his salary was fixed at ten shillings per week, the then common stipend of young actors. Time at length brought him forward, and he soon got better parts and a greater salary.

In the year 1696, Mr. Dogget, being then in Ireland, recommended Mr. Husband to Mr. Ashbury as a very promising young actor. He set out from London in company with Trefusis, an excellent comedian, and embarked for this kingdom, where, after a violent storm at sea, he landed with some difficulty. He was always well received by the public, and maintained an excellent character. At the time he embarked in this enterprize he was about sixty years of age, rather too late in life. Amongst the dra|matis personae of Love for Love the names of several persons of merit appear, particularly Ravenscroft, Bourne, Sparks, Mrs. Ravenscroft, Miss Mackay, Miss Barnes, and Mrs. Talent.

The precise time of opening Rainsford-street theatre has not been recorded, I think it must have been the latter end of the year 1732, or early in 1733; for, on February 19th 1733, was exhibited at the new theatre in Rainsford-street, as it was then called, a new tragedy, called the Fate of Ambition, or the Treacherous Favourite, to a crowded audience. This piece was played a few nights, the author, whose name I cannot learn, had a benefit, and it was then consigned to oblivion.

As Smock-alley theatre had, for some years been in a state of decay, the late Mr. Elring|ton before his death, formed a design of build|ing a new one, on a more extensive scale than had hitherto been attempted. No sooner were his intentions known, than a very large subscrip|tion was entered into by many noblemen and persons of rank and quality: in the list we find the names of men of the first fortunes, and most distinguished understandings, who on this occasion eagerly pressed forward, fully con|vinced of what great utility to a rising nation public amusements are, when properly con|ducted.

A large lot of ground in Longford-street, ad|joining Aungier-street, was purchased. In choice of situation, they seemed to pay more regard to what was then principally the fashionable end of the town, than to the mercantile or trading part; Dublin since that time has increased amazingly in buildings; almost a new town has arisen north-east of Capel-street and Bolton-street, a town which for so much, may vie with most in Europe.

The death of Mr. Elrington, though it put a stop for a while to the design, did not prevent its being put in execution. The first stone of this new theatre was laid with great pomp and ceremony on Tuesday May the 8th, 1733, by the Rt. Hon. Richard Tighe; the second, by the Hon. General Naper; the third, by William Tighe, Esq and the fourth, by the Hon. Sir Edward Loveit Pearce, Knt. surveyor general of his Majesty's works in Ireland, and architect of the parliament-house. Under each stone were placed several medals struck for the occasion, by Mr. Griffith, Mr. Elrington, and Mr. Layfield, managers of the old theatre-royal. A prodigious concourse of people was assembled, and each stone was laid with flourish of trumpets, drums, a band of music, and loud acclamations of the multitude. Plenty of the choicest wines was provided for the gentry by the managers, several barrels of ale were given to the populace; each of the gentlemen who laid the foundation stones made presents to the workmen; after which an elegant dinner was provided by the managers for the nobility and gentry.

After this the company remained playing at Smock-alley till the June following, when Mr.

Delane and Mr. Ryan arrived from London for the after season. Mr. Delane, during the time he had been away, had risen to the highest pitch of theatrical reputation. Mr. Ryan had never been in this kingdom before. Their first appear|ance was in Macbeth: Macbeth, Mr. Delane; Macduff, Mr. Ryan; Monday June 25th, 1733; they drew a very crouded house, and gave great satisfaction. Their next appearance was in the Provoked Husband: Lord Townly, Mr. Delane; Manly, Mr. Ryan. Their other plays were, the first part of Henry the fourth, Hamlet, Othello, Delane's benefit, and the Constant Couple, for the benefit of Mr. Ryan. As they played but once or twice a week, these plays kept them till the middle of July, when the company set off for Cork, in which expedition Mr. Delane and Mr. Ryan accompanied them.

During the course of the last season three theatres were open in Dublin: Smock-alley, Rainsford-street, and Madam Violante's in George's-lane, where plays were exhibited occa|sionally; besides the celebrated Tony Ashton's medley in Patrick's-close. This year, also, a new music-hall in Crow-street was built, by a Mr. Johnson, on the ruins of which, in process

of time, the present theatre arose. Here ridottos were performed under the direction of signior Arrigoni, a very celebrated Italian composer and performer on the violin.

The company on their return from Cork opened with what is usually called a government play. As the term may not be understood by many of my readers, it is necessary to inform them, that the manager of the theatre-royal in Dublin receives such a certain sum annually from government for the performing of plays on par|ticular nights, such as the King and Queen's birth-day, his Majesty's accession, &c. On these nights the ladies are always complimented with the freedom of the boxes: this custom was esta|blished on the first rise of the stage in Ireland.

And here I must observe, they were then in a quite different style to what they are at present: from the earliest time they were considered as the most fashionable nights in the season, and con|stantly honoured with the presence of the lord lieutenant, or lords justices, for the time being; and so essentially necessary was the chief gover|nor's appearance deemed on such occasions, that November 4th, 1714, the anniversary of King William the Third's birth-day, the tragedy of

Tamerlane, always appointed for that evening, was, by command, not to begin till an entertain|ment given by the lord mayor and city, at the tholsel, to the lord lieutenant, nobility, and gentry was over, that they might have time to repair from thence to the theatre. The boxes were, as I observed, free for the ladies, but only those of the first rank and distinction ever availed themselves of this compliment.

On the night above-mentioned, November 4th, 1733, the play chosen was Love for Love, per|formed in their best manner; an occasional pro|logue was spoken by Mr. Griffith, and they were honoured with the presence of the Duke and Duchess of Dorset, and a very brilliant audience. These nights continued fashionable till Mr. Barry and Woodward's management, when, from what reason I cannot learn, they began to fall into disrepute. For many years past they have been, in every respect, the very reverse of what they were originally intended for, and at present, few persons of credit resort to the theatre on such nights.

Such expedition was used in raising Aungier-street theatre, that it was completely finished the following spring, in exactly ten months, and

on Saturday March the 19th 1733, it was opened with an occasional prologue, spoken by Mr. Griffith, after which was presented Far|quhar's comedy of

THE RECRUITING OFFICER: The Characters of which were filled as follows:

Captain Plume

by Mr. Joseph Elrington.

Justice Balance

Mr. Layfield.

Captain Brazen

Mr. Ralph Elrington.

Worthy

Mr. Watson.

Kite

Mr. Vanderbank.

Bullock

Mr. Frank Elrington.

1st Recruit

Mr. Reed.

2d Recruit

Mr. Butler.

Sylvia

Mrs. Bellamy.

Melinda

Mrs. Wrightson.

Rose

Mrs. Moreau.

Lucy

Mrs. Reynolds.

Of the above company I cannot say much in praise. The Elringtons were the best of the men, and they sustained the three principal characters. Mr. Griffith, and Mr. Layfield, I have already mentioned. Mr. Vanderbank was an old actor of tolerable reputation. Mrs.

Bellamy was the mother of the celebrated actress of that name, she was an excellent figure, but had not many abilities for the stage.

The expectations of the public were raised very high respecting this new theatre. The duke and duchess of Dorset graced its opening with their presence, and the house was greatly crowded with nobility and gentry. They seemed highly pleased with the manner in which the inside of the theatre was laid out, and decorated. The performance was received with much ap|plause, and every thing wore a pleasing face.

There certainly never was a more noble or disinterested design than that first formed of building and conducting this theatre. Its prin|ciples were the most liberal and extensive that can be conceived. The plan at first laid down by the subscribers, if properly carried into execu|tion, would in a short time have produced the grandest theatrical constitution in the world, even superior to the boasted Athenian drama. The proprietors were noblemen and gentlemen of the first rank and consequence in the nation, who, actuated by the noblest motives, agreed to superintend the concerns of the stage, endea|voured

to advance its interests, and fix it on the most permanent and flourishing basis, without the least idea of emolument, in return. A committee was chosen from amongst them, a chairman appointed, and every Saturday they met to appoint the plays, distribute the parts, and settle the great variety of business, which una|voidably arises from so great an undertaking. All the profits and emoluments accruing from the performances instead of going into the purses of private persons, were solely to be dedicated to the public service. As the scheme extended, the best performers who could be procured, were to be engaged, pieces of undoubted merit were to be revived and brought forward, the wardrobe and scenery to be enlarged, and every decoration which the hand of taste could point out, to be adopted to adorn the theatre. Such were the outlines of a design which promised as splendid dramatic entertainments as Greece or Rome ever exhibited! How worthy of imitation!

But vain and uncertain are all human pro|jects! Fair and flattering as the prospect ap|peared, yet strange to relate, the design never came to maturity. By what extraordinary

fatality it failed, I never have been able with certainty to learn. The reason generally given was that the former managers of Smock-alley who were continued by the proprietors, con|ducted business so injudiciously that they could not lay any claim to encouragement or success. They found that prodigious sums had been ex|pended on a theatre badly constructed. Expe|rience proved, that the architect failed in the two essential requisites of accommodating it for hearing and seeing. It required uncommon powers of voice to fill every part of the house, and on full nights a great part of the people in both galleries could neither hear nor see, whereas, in a theatre properly designed, every spectator, though ever so disadvantageously placed, should with ease do both.

The public next observed, that the company in general had not merit equal to what they had a right to expect. The novelty of the house soon wore off, the attraction of curiosity sub|sided, and by degrees, their audiences grew thin. Another mistake was their appointing a person almost unacquainted with theatrical affairs to superintend the management; this was a Mr. Swan, a gentleman of character and for|tune,

yet living at York, who was much fitter for the calm scenes of domestic life, than the busy bustling spirit so necessary for a director of the stage.

Mr. Swan was long attached to the drama; he played once for Mr. Worsdale's benefit the part of Tamerlane with so much applause, that he was tempted to repeat it, and afterwards to per|form Othello and several other characters with tolerable success. Mr. Swan at that time had an excellent figure, great judgment, and in all probability, had he continued, would have proved a capital actor. A person of distinction once asked an actor his opinion of Mr. Swan's per|formance, who replied, "He play'd very well as a gentleman." "I should be very glad," replied the other, "to see you play like him then."

CHAP. VI.

Henry the Eighth and Coronation at Aungier-street.—Burlesqued at Rainsford-street.—Smock-alley theatre rebuilt, and opened with Love makes a Man.—Characters of the performers. —Wetherell, Cashel, &c. —Three theatres built in five years.—Aungier-street company visit Carlow, Kilkenny, Cork, &c.—Duval's Belfast. — King Charles 1st by Havard.— Anecdotes of him.—Reduced condition of the stage.—London performers visit Dublin in the summer.—Mrs. Woffington. — Dr. Clancey's Prince of Tamar.

THE rivalship between the two theatres, Aungier-street and Rainsford-street, continued with various success. The former had many advantages over the latter which could only be balanced by an unremitting assiduity. Early the ensuing winter the managers of Aungier-street got up Henry the Eighth with the Coronation, at great expence, and with much pomp and parade. This answered their purpose. The

public are ever to be caught by shew and spec|tacle. It drew crowded houses for many nights, and amply repaid them; while poor Rainsford-street, which before maintained a tolerable struggle, was now totally neglected.

Necessity is the mother of invention. Conscious that they had not a capital sufficient to vie with their wealthy competitors in splendor, they judi|ciously adopted the only conduct proper on such an occasion. What they could not outvie, they endeavoured to throw into ridicule. The Royal Merchant, or the Beggars Bush, was got up with expedition, and in it they introduced a mock coronation of King Clause, which had a very great effect. In their mock procession every form and minutiae of the other was observed, but burlesqued to the highest degree. This singular exhibition immediately turned the tide of popular curiosity. Poor King Harry was thinly attended, while King Clause rode tri|umphant seventeen nights, ensuring his subjects wealth and applause. But novelty is the soul of the theatre; the most favourite pieces when often repeated pall and fail in their effect, so in a short time both their majesties lost their at|traction, and poverty the old evil again recurred.

It might naturally be imagined that from the unpromising aspect of the two theatres already established, none would be so hardy as to think of a third, yet far from being deterred by these examples, the proprietors of the old theatre in Smock-alley resolved once more to try their fortune. Having strengthened themselves with a few additional subscribers, they pulled down the old building, and on Monday May 19th 1735, laid the first stone of the present theatre in Smock-alley with great pomp and ceremony.

Highly alarmed at this unexpected stroke, the managers of Aungier-street, at the close of an unsuccessful campaign, engaged Mr. Delane and Mr. Giffard for their later season, who after play|ing a few nights proceeded with the company to Carlow races on their road to Cork. During their absence, their new antagonists seemed to have got forward with uncommon dispatch, for in less than seven months from the day the foun|dation of Smock-alley theatre was laid, it was finished and played in. Notwithstanding the un|common expedition used, the architect studiously avoided the errors and mistakes of former build|ers, and erected a strong, elegant, commodious, well constructed theatre. The cavea, or au|dience

part, is remarkably well constructed for the two first requisites, of seeing and hearing. In these essentials it gives place to none that ever I saw, and I think I may safely say is su|perior to most. It was opened on Thursday December the 11th 1735, with the comedy of

LOVE MAKES A MAN: OR, THE FOP'S FORTUNE. Performed in the following manner.

Don Antonio

by Mr. Dash.

Don Charino

Mr. Bourne.

Carlos

Mr. Ward.

Don Lewis

Mr. Cashel.

Don Duart

Mr. Wetherelt.

Clody

Mr. Sparks.

Governor

Mr. Redman.

Sancho

Mr. Barrington.

Elvira

Miss Boucher.

Louisa

Mrs. Ward.

Angelina

Miss Barnes.

In the above we find several good comedians. Mr. and Mrs. Ward, Mr. Sparks, Mr. Barring|ton

and Miss Barnes, I have already spoken of. Mr. Robert Wetherelt, in the theatrical phrase, may be said to have been born on the stage, as his father and mother at the time of his birth, 1708, belonged to a country company at Stamford in Lincolnshire; in his early years he belonged to Drury-lane, where he first displayed his genius in Squire Richard in the Journey to London. From thence he went to Goodman's-fields theatre where he married a sister of Mr. Delane's. On the new company's being formed at Smock-alley, he was invited over, and made his first appear|ance in the above play, when he gave great satisfaction. He spent the remainder of his days in Ireland, esteemed as one of the best actors of his time. He died in 1743 in the 35th year of his age, much regretted, and was buried in St. Andrew's church-yard. Mr. Oliver Cashel was an Irish gentleman of a very ancient and reputable family. He commenced actor much about the time above-mentioned. His figure was agreeable and voice excellent, so that some years afterwards he played Captain Macheath with such success at Covent-garden as to occasion it to run for many nights after it had lain dormant for some years.

This gentleman was suddenly struck speechless on the stage in the part of Frankly in the Suspicious Husband, at Norwich, and notwith|standing every remedy and assistance were ap|plied, expired in a few hours. Mr. Dash and Mr. Bourne were two good comedians, es|pecially the latter. Miss Boucher I know but little of. Mr. Redman I believe was the same who for many years afterwards belonged to Covent-garden. Besides these were a Mr. Charles Morgan an actor of great merit in low comedy, Mr. John Morris, Mrs. Bullock, natural daughter of Mr. Wilkes, a very good actress, and several others.

Behold three theatres built in Dublin within the space of five years! Rainsford-street, Aun|gier-street, and Smock-alley; not to mention Madam Violante's, and the theatre opened by Ward in Dame-street. A stranger would be led to imagine from these circumstances, that its inhabitants were the most theatrical in the world, yet the reverse was really the case, and the stage was rapidly declining, as the city at that time could not do more than support one theatre properly.

However the contest lay principally between Aungier-street and Smock-alley; as to Rains|ford-street, it had been for some time on the decline. Novelty had lost its force, and its situation was too remote to be long supported. After this we hear very little concerning it. A play-house ought always to be nearly as central as possible, in order to accommodate all ranks and degrees of people. In this respect Smock-alley had the advantage of its rival. Aungier-street still retained its authority of a theatre-royal, whilst the other was opened by a license from the Rt. Hon. the Lord-mayor granted to Mr. Lewis Duval the manager, under whose direction it was rebuilt. Both companies continued through the season without any material occurrence, with little profit to themselves, or pleasure to the town. At the close of it the Aungier-street company took their usual route to Carlow, Kilkenny, Cork and Limerick, whilst Mr. Duval's pursued an opposite direction, and opened at Belfast, July 16th 1736, with the comedy of the Stra|tagem, at which the earl of Antrim, lord Hills|borough, Clotworthy Skeffington, Esq and many others of the nobility and gentry were present.

On their return to town, both parties con|tinued their efforts with a variety of success, though Duval seems to have been the most in|dustrious and fortunate of the two. The Beg|gars Opera was got up for the purpose of in|troducing Mrs. Reynolds, then famous in the character of Macheath, with Mrs. Hinde in Lucy. Mr. Hinde was the original in the song of Mad Tom in this kingdom, which he re|peatedly sung on the stage with great applause. A pantomime called Harlequin Spaniard was exhibited several nights, and brought tolerable houses at Smock-alley theatre.

The tragedy of King Charles the First was then performing with great eclat at Lincoln's-inn-fields. Its reputation in London made it a principal object to both theatres here; the moment it was published, copies were sent over, the play was cast, and put into study at both theatres. Duval's however brought it out first, and performed it to several crowded houses. This popular tragedy was the production of an Irish pen. The author, Mr. Havard, was born in Dublin, July 1710. His father who was an eminent vintner, gave him a liberal education. He was designed for the profession of a surgeon,

but the stage displayed such charms, and made such an impression upon his juvenile mind, that early in life he relinquished all other pursuits, and before the age of twenty had performed several characters at Smock-alley theatre with applause.

Ambition, and the hopes of rising in his pro|fession, prompted him to leave Dublin in 1730, and offer his services to Mr. Giffard, then ma|nager of Goodman's-fields theatre. Here he was engaged at a very low salary. However, his good sense, gentleness of manners, and that unoffending behaviour, which marked his cha|racter through life, soon gained him the esteem of the manager and the public.

Shortly after, he produced his tragedy of Scanderberg, which, considered as an essay of youth, has a tolerable share of merit. In 1736, his friendship for Mr. Giffard, then in distress, induced him to try the strength of his genius once more. For his subject he chose the melancholy story of king Charles the first, com|prehending the trial and principal events relat|ing to the death of that unhappy monarch. Such was his known indolence, and love of ease,

that we are informed upon this occasion, Mr. Giffard insisted upon the power of keeping him confined under lock and key till the work was completed. This the good-natured author consented to, and under close confinement he remained till the piece was produced.

Whether this bodily restraint had any influence upon his muse, 'tis hard to determine; thus much must be confessed, that the language of the play is rather stiff and metaphorical, however, the cha|racters are well drawn and exhibit faithful his|torical portraits of the men and manners of the times. Peculiarly happy in the choice of his subject, it was impossible even for moderate abi|lities not to work up such interesting events to some advantage. Mr. Havard had much merit in this respect. Few, possessed of the least spark of sensibility, can read the historian's relation of the unfortunate prince's taking his last leave of his children without the utmost emotion. On the stage its effect was prodigious. And my own observation can justify Mr. Davies's remark, that

never were tears so plentifully shed, as at the mournful separation of Charles and the young princes.

Mr. Havard after being near forty years the approved servant of the public, having attained a moderate competence, and drawing towards the sixtieth year of his age, exchanged the bustle of the stage for ease and retirement, in which peaceful situation he died, much beloved and lamented.

But, to return to my subject: whether the taste of the public was palled, or the managers of the two theatres had not judgment sufficient to pro|cure them proper entertainment, is hard to be ascertained; certain it is, that every day the stage sunk in estimation, and to so low a condition was it now reduced, that when the respective companies used to finish in Dublin, they gave public notice of going to entertain the ladies and gentlemen at the races of Mullingar, Carlow, Clonmell, &c. nay, Carlow was then thought of such consequence, that a great contention ensued, and after a vigorous opposition the Aungier-street company got the victory, and obtained leave to perform. This was in August 1737. It was usual then in Dublin to assure the public at the bottom of the bills, that they would not dismiss the audience; and amongst other curious anecdotes we find at Smock-alley,

Mrs. Bullock advertised for the part of Clarissa in the City Wives Confederacy, when they informed the public, that

Mrs. Bullock having performed this part in London for some years with great applause, it is thought the play will bring a large audience.

The 30th of November 1737, both theatres were closed for six weeks, by order of the duke of Devonshire, on account of the death of queen Caroline. The poor performers did not want this additional stroke of ill fortune at the begin|ning of a season.

The winter campaigns now seem to furnish very little worth notice. In summer, they were occasionally visited by a few performers of con|sequence from London, whom the certainty of good benefits allured. Mr. Delane, Mr. Hal|lam, and Mr. Bridgewater, performed at Smock-alley in June 1737. In June 1739, the cele|brated Mr. Quin, then in the zenith of glory, accompanied by Mr. Giffard, played several nights at Smock-alley, and drew crowded houses to their Spanish Fryar, and Torrismond, Cato and Juba, Sir John Brute, and Heartfree, &c. Mr. Quin's benefit was 1261. at that time

esteemed a great sum. In June 1739, Mr. Delane, reinforced with Mr. Millward, revisited this kingdom, and played a few nights at Smock-alley, where they appeared in Othello and Iago, Tamerlane and Bajazet, Brutus and Cassius, Orestes and Pyrrhus, Bevil jun. and Sealand, &c. Mr. Woodward also performed for the first time in this kingdom at the same theatre, July 10th 1739, Sir Novelty Fashion, in Love's Last Shift, with Harlequin in the farce, by the name of Mr. Lun, jun.

The ensuing winter brought Miss Woffington forward to public notice as an actress. This ce|lebrated character had for some years quitted Madam Violante's booth, and been engaged at Aungier-street, where she danced between the acts with Mr. William Delemain, Monsieur Moreau and others. On February 12th 1736-7, she per|formed the part of Ophelia in Hamlet, being her first appearance in a speaking character on that stage. She now began to unveil those beauties, and display those graces and accomplishments, which for so many years afterwards charmed mankind. Her ease, elegance, and simplicity, in Polly in the Beggars Opera, with the natural manner of her singing the songs, pleased much.

Her girls were esteemed excellent, and her Miss Lucy in the Virgin Unmasked, brought houses. But she never displayed herself to more advan|tage, than in characters where she assumed the other sex. Her figure, which was a model of perfection, then free from restraints, appeared in its natural form. One of the first occasions she had to exhibit it was at her own benefit, when she played Phillis in the Conscious Lovers, and the Female Officer in a farce of that name with great reputation.

As I cannot pursue any regular order in the relation of the events of this time, I shall just throw together a few miscellaneous observations on matters as they occur. The first is, that Mr. Duval, from what reason I cannot learn, gave up his license of acting by permission of the lord-mayor, and at the top of the bills at this time we find, By Authority of the Right Hon. Luke Gardiner, Esq. December 14th 1739, two new pieces were produced; a tragedy called the Treacherous Husband, and an opera called Whittington and his Cat; these were for the benefit of the author, who luckily is not re|corded, nor can I find the pieces ever were re|peated. Nearly in the same predicament stood

a new tragedy called Tamar Prince of Nubia, written, as the public were then informed, on the late famous revolution in China, by Michael Clancy, M. D. The affinity between Nubia and China I am not able to discover, however it was played, and soon after consigned to the ob|livion it merited.

CHAP. VII.

Severe winter.—Miss Woffington's Sir Harry Wildair in Dublin.—Her great success in London.—Mrs. Furnival.—Miss Bullock's benefit.—The Squire of Alsatia.—Mr. Quin, Mr. Ryan, Mademoiselle Chateneuf, and Mrs. Cibber perform at Aungier-street.—Mr. Wright, Mr. Morgan, and Mr. Chetwood, at Smock-alley.—Music-hall in Fishamble-street built.—Handel's Oratorios.—Gustavus Vasa. —Garrick, Giffard, and Miss Woffington en|gaged by Duval.—Extraordinary success.— Return to London.

THE dreadful severe winter in 1739-40, for a long time put a stop to all public diver|sions. The poverty and distresses of the lower classes of people at that time can scarcely be de|scribed. The theatre felt this general calamity in its full force, and for near three months was entirely closed. In the April following, just after the opening, Miss Woffington, now high in estimation, by desire of several persons of

quality, appeared for the first time in the cha|racter of Sir Harry Wildair, and charmed the town to an uncommon degree. A few days after the following lines appeared in print.

On Miss Woffington's playing Sir Harry Wildair.

Peggy, the darling of the men, In Polly won each heart; But now she captivates again, And all must feel the smart.

Her charms resistless conquer all, Both sexes vanquished lie; And who to Polly scorn'd to fall, By Wildair ravish'd die.

Wou'd lavish nature, who her gave This double power to please; In pity give her, both to save, A double power to ease.

The fame of this accomplished actress had by this time reached the British capital, and advan|tageous proposals being made to her from Mr. Rich, she immediately embraced them, and ap|peared the winter following at the theatre royal in Covent-garden in her favourite character of Sir

Harry Wildair. The novelty of the attempt attracted the notice of all the dramatic connois|seurs. The house was crowded, and so infinitely did she surpass expectation, that the applause she received was beyond any at that time ever known. The former standard for acting the character was Mr. Wilkes. Every one who had attempted it after him fell very far short. It was reserved for Miss Woffington to exhibit this elegant portrait of the Young Man of Fashion in a stile perhaps beyond the author's warmest ideas. Her Sir Harry Wildair was the subject of conversation in every polite circle and fixed her reputation as an actress. It was repeated upwards of 20 nights the first season, and never failed of drawing a most brilliant and numerous audience. Mr. Davies places this in 1738. I have undoubted authority for asserting her first performance of Sir Harry Wildair was in Dublin, April 1739. I must here observe that Mr. Davies was often misinformed respecting the dates of theatrical anecdotes in Ireland, of which I shall produce proofs hereafter. Indeed, in compiling a work so complicated, it is almost impossible to avoid making some mistakes re|specting the dates of particular occurrences.

In November 1740, Mr. Duval's company on their return from Drogheda opened at Smock-alley by permission of the Right Hon. Luke Gardiner, with the comedy of the Funeral, in which Mrs. Furnival, an actress of great merit, played Lady Brumpton. Mrs. Furnival, I have been informed by the best judges, was possessed of as great abilities as almost any actress that ever appeared. Unhappily she did not cultivate those abilities to the best advantage. She was at this time esteemed one of the best actresses on the stage, and sustained for many years a great variety of characters, both in tragedy and comedy with reputation.

About this time the following curious bill was printed which I shall give at full length, and which I hope will prove acceptable to my readers.

For the Benefit of Mrs. BULLOCK's Daughter. By the Right Hon. the LORD MAYOR's Company of Comedians. By Particular Desire, At the Theatre in SMOCK-ALLEY, On Friday the 10th of February, will be acted a Comedy, call'd,

LOVE FOR LOVE. The Part of Miss PRUE to be performed by Mrs. BULLOCK's Daughter. All the other Parts to the best Advantage. With a new PROLOGUE to be spoke by HER. With the following Entertainments between the Acts, viz. Act I. The Song of Mad Tom by Mr. Hind. Act II. The Sailor's Dance by Mons. Dumont and Mrs. Martin. Act III. A new Dialogue to be sung between Mr. Este and Mrs. Reynolds. Act IV. The Scotch Dance by Mr. Morris and Mrs. Martin. Act V. A new Pantomime Dance, call'd, PIGMALION and the IVORY STATUE. The Statue of the Ivory Maid by Mrs. BULLOCK's Daughter. Boxes, 5s. 5d. Lattices, 4s. 4d. Pit, 3s. 3d. Gallery, 2s. 2d. To begin exactly at Half an Hour after Six o'Clock. Vivat Rex.

Miss Bullock became afterwards Mrs. Dyer, a very useful actress. Mrs. Bullock I believe died in Dublin about the year 1740. As the above bill is totally deficient of characters, the following may convey information which may make amends.

At the Desire of several Persons of Quality. For the Benefit of Mr. FOX, Pit-Door-Keeper, At the Theatre in SMOCK-ALLEY, On Thursday the 4th of June, 1741, will be acted a Comedy call'd, The SQUIRE of ALSATIA. The Part of Sir William Belfond to be performed by Mr. Morgan. Sir Edward Belfond, Mr. Philips. Belfond Senior, Mr. Elrington. Truman, Mr. Este. Cheatly, Mr. Beamsly. Shamwell, Mr. Meek. Captain Hackum, Mr. I. Sparks. Lolpoop, Mr. C Morgan. Attorney, Mr. Husband. The Part of the Squire to be performed by Mr. Wetherilt. Isabella, Mrs. Barry. Teresa, Mrs. Morgan.

Lucia, Mrs. Carmichael. Mrs. Termagant, Mrs. Wetherilt. To which will be added a Farce, called FLORA'S OPERA. The Part of Hob to be performed by Mr. C. Morgan. With several Entertainments of Dancing between the Acts. Act I. A new Dance call'd the Country Revels by Mr. Philips and others. Act II. The Wooden Shoe Dance by Mr. Morris. Act III. The English Maggot by Mr. Philips. Act IV. Pierrot in the Basket by Mr. Morris. Act V. The Running Footman by Mr. Dele|main and others. Boxes, 5s. 5d. Lattices, 4s. 4d. Pit, 3s. 3d. Gallery, 2s. 2d. Beginning at Half an Hour after six o'Clock. Vivat Rex.

Amidst this general decline of the stage, the managers of Aungier-street made an exertion which roused the curiosity of the public, and deserves particularly to be noticed. In June 1741 their latter season commenced with a bril|liancy never before known in the Irish dramatic annals. They engaged Mr. Quin then in his

meridian, Mrs. Clive, Mr. Ryan, and Made|moiselle Chateneuf, then esteemed the best female dancer in Europe.

Mr. Quin opened in his favourite part of Cato, to as crouded an audience as the theatre could contain. Mrs. Clive next appeared in Lappet in the Miser; she certainly was one of the best that ever played it. And Mr. Ryan came forward in Iago to Mr. Quin's Othello. With such excellent performers, we may natu|rally suppose the plays were admirably sustained. Perhaps it will scarcely be credited that so finished a comic actress as Mrs. Clive could so far mistake her abilities as to play Lady Townly to Mr. Quin's Lord Townly, and Mr. Ryan's Manly. Cordelia to Mr.Quin's Lear, and Ryan's Edgar, &c. However she made ample amends by her performance of Nell, the Virgin Un|masked, the Country Wife, and Euphrosyne in Comus, which was got up on purpose, and acted for the first time in this kingdom.

The masque of Comus, though one of the most beautiful pieces of poetry in our language, yet requires to be uncommonly supported to render it pleasing to an English audience. But

in this instance it was indeed a treat to the ju|dicious. Mr. Quin spoke Comus. The Elder Brother was played by Mr. Ryan, Mrs. Clive Euphrosyne, and the other characters were dis|posed of with great care and propriety. The celebrated Mr. Duburg prepared the music, Pasquilino led the band, and the dances were executed by Monsieur Laluze, Mademoiselle Chateneuf and others. This was allowed to be the best entertainment presented to the public for many years, and during the short time they had to stay, was repeated three times.

As soon as Aungier-street theatre closed, Mr. Ryan and Mrs. Clive returned to London. Mr. Quin seems to have attended the company to Cork and Limerick, for we find him the next season at Aungier-street theatre. Mr. Duval went as usual to Belfast and Newry.

Both theatres opened the ensuing October, and, strange to relate, Mr. Quin's first part was Justice Balance in the Recruiting Officer, on a government night.

But, as I before observed, the best performers were selected for those nights, which were then

the most crowded and fashionable. Mr. Quin for some time played his Jaques, Apemantus, Richard, Cato, Sir John Brute, and Falstaff, un|supported; but he soon received a powerful re|inforcement. On Saturday December 21st 1741, Mrs. Cibber made her first appearance in this kingdom, in Indiana in the Conscious Lovers, to Mr. Quin's Young Bevil. This extraordinary actress had been for some years rapidly rising in her profession, and had then attained that emi|nence she so deservedly held till her death. Mrs. Cibber's agreement with the proprietors of Aungier-street was for three hundred pounds, a sum they were well enabled to pay from the money she drew, though to her first night there was not ten pounds.

This extraordinary acquisition could not fail to turn the scale in favour of the theatre which possessed such capital performers. Mr. Quin's Chamont, and Mrs. Cibber's Monimia were re|peated several times. They played together Comus and the Lady, the Duke in Measure for Measure, and Isabel. The Spanish Fryar and Queen, Horatio and Calista, &c. with uncom|mon applause, and generally to crowded houses.

Mr. Duval on his part was not idle. He en|gaged Mr. Wright, an actor of great merit, who made his first appearance in Lear. This gentle|man, with Mrs. Furnival, Mr. Wetherilt, Mr. Morgan, Mr. Elrington, Mr. Isaac Sparks, composed the principal part of the Smock-alley company. Names too feeble to oppose to those of Quin and Cibber. Duval also invited over Mr. Chetwood, who had been prompter upwards of twenty years at Drury-lane. To his advice and experience the Dublin stage owed many im|provements. By his direction a machinist from one of the London theatres was engaged, who first worked the wings by means of a barrel underneath, which moved them together at the same time with the scenes. This was publicly boasted of as a master-piece of mechanism; at present it is well understood and constantly prac|tised.

This winter a new music-hall was built in Fishamble-street, by the subscribers to the musical society then held at the Bull's-Head, and their first concert in it was on October the 2d, 1741. Shortly after, the famous Mr. Handel, whose memory must be dear to all lovers of music, came over here, and his first oratorio was per|formed

in the new music-hall the December following, in which Mrs. Cibber sung several of the principal songs. After the departure of Mr. Quin for London, which was in February 1742, so great was her character, that she con|tinued to draw houses, especially in Polly in the Beggars Opera, which was often repeated, and allowed by the first judges to be superior to any that ever played it.

In February 1741, the tragedy of Gustavus Vasa, or the Deliverer of his Country, which had become so popular from its rejection by the lord-chamberlain, when it was ready for repre|sentation at the theatre-royal Drury-lane, was got up with much care and attention at Aungier-street, and was performed several nights with great success. The author, Henry Brooke, Esq was a native of this kingdom, and gained great reputation as a writer by his Farmers Letters. In 1738 the drama first felt the weight of a licenser's power by his restriction of the above tragedy. Mr. Brooke however was not injured by the prohibition, for on publishing the play by subscription, he gained upwards of a thousand pounds by it. The operation of the act not extending to Ireland, and it having a

considerable share of merit, it kept possession of the stage for several years.

To an emulation between the rival theatres, the public was, in all probability, indebted for the great pleasure of seeing such capital per|formers. The extraordinary attraction of Quin and Cibber at Aungier-street, obliged Duval to use every effort to stem the torrent. His endea|vours succeeded equal to his most sanguine ex|pectations, and Smock-alley in turn reigned triumphant. For his latter season he engaged Mr. Giffard, Miss Woffington, and Mr. Garrick. Either of these latter names would have com|manded the attention of the town without any other aid, but such combined powers had never heretofore appeared on the Irish stage.

June 15th 1742, Miss Woffington opened in her favourite character of Sir Harry Wildair, and charmed her beholders beyond expression. On the Friday following, Mr. Garrick appeared in Richard the Third. His name drew crowds, and more were obliged to return than could gain admission. Those who were fortunate enough to succeed, were in raptures at his performance. Great as their expectations were, his execution

exceeded them. His second part was Chamont in the Orphan, which he repeated, Monimia by Mrs. Furnival; his third Lear, Cordelia, Miss Woffington, and Edgar, Mr. Giffard, with his own farce of the Lying Valet, in which he played Sharp. After a few unsuccessful at|tempts, Aungier-street closed with Mrs. Cib|ber's Andromache, the last character this admi|rable actress performed in this kingdom.

Mr. Garrick, Giffard, and Miss Woffington continued playing till the 19th of August, during which time they acted Clodio, Carlos and An|gelina in the Fop's Fortune; Richard, Henry and Lady Anne; Pierre and Jaffier, Belvidera, Furnival, with Schoolboy by Garrick; Hamlet Garrick, Ophelia, Woffington; their last were, Captain Plume and Sylvia, Serjeant Kite by Mr. Walker, the original Macheath, who had just come over.

Though great was Garrick's name, and much expected from him, yet his success exceeded all imagination. He was caressed by all ranks of people as a theatrical phenomenon. At the same time justice obliges us to acknowledge, that Miss Woffington contributed largely

towards the extraordinary entertainment the pub|lic received, and was nearly as great a favourite. With truth it may be said they were two of the first performers of the age.—No wonder then, that during the hottest months of the year, the theatre was each night crowded with persons of the first consequence. However, the excessive heats proved fatal to many, and an epidemic distemper seized and carried off numbers, and which from the circumstance was called the Garrick Fever.

Highly satisfied with the profit and reputation arising from this excursion, and delighted with the generous and hospitable reception they ex|perienced from the nobility and gentry of this kingdom, and which they always acknowledged in the warmest terms, Mr. Garrick and Miss Woffington returned to London, to reap new honours in the field of theatrical glory.

CHAP. VIII.

Rope-dancers and Tumblers engaged by Duval.— Mr. Swan's Prologue.—Masque of Comus at Aungier-street.—Mr. Sheridan's first appear|ance in Richard.—Great success.—Character. —Theo. Cibber, Mr. and Mrs. Giffard, and Mr. Havard visit Ireland.—Plays they per|formed in.—Riot at Smock-alley—Letters from Trinity-college in consequence.—Mr. Sheridan plays Cato.—Season closes.

THERE is a point which human perfection can attain, beyond which it is impossible to go. The managers of both theatres seemed to have reached this ultimatum. They had now feasted the public with the performance of the best actors, Quin and Cibber, Garrick and Woffington. Their resources thus exhausted, necessity obliged them eagerly to seize on the first novelty which presented itself. Unsatisfied with the situation of affairs at Aungier-street, Mr. Swan came forward as acting manager and occa|sional actor. He laudably, at the beginning of

the season, opened a subscription for eight of Shakespeare's principal plays, which however did very little. But Duval, unmindful of the reputation he had so lately acquired, by a single stroke debased the Irish stage to a degree never known before. This was by engaging a com|pany of tumblers and rope-dancers, who, though the first in Europe, should not have been suf|fered to disgrace the walls of the lowest stage in it. Such diversions are very well in their proper place, but should never be admitted to contaminate the inside of a theatre. However, they drew the admiring multitude, and so far answered the end of the manager.

Lest I should be thought not to do justice to the merits of these extraordinary gentry, I shall here present the reader with one of their curious advertisements.

By permission of the Rt. Hon. Luke Gardiner, Esq. At the Theatre SMOCK-ALLEY,

This present evening, Tuesday December 7th, 1742, will be presented by the celebrated com|pany of Germans, Dutch, Italians and French, several feats of activity, consisting of Rope-dancing, Tumbling, Vaulting, Equilibres, and

Ground Dancing. Madam Garman performs on the Rope with Stilts, (never done here) and will also perform on the Slack Rope. Monsieur Dominique will perform the surprising equilibres of the Circle, never attempted by any but himself, in which he is drawn up forty feet high on his head, fires off two pistols, and is let down again in the same posture. Monsieur Dominique and Monsieur Guittar perform the surprising tumble over the double Fountain. Monsieur Dominique tumbles through an Hogshead of Fire in the Middle, and a lighted Torch in each Hand, &c.

O shame, where is thy blush! The very boards which but a few months before were trod by the first actors of the age, now "sated with celestial food, and feeding upon garbage." To the credit however of public taste, none but the very lowest of the people went to see them. The galleries were crouded, but 'twas a reproach to be seen in the boxes. Every person of sense lamented the disgrace and decline of the stage, now perverted from its noblest uses. On such occasions, surely the interference of the legislature is not only highly laudable, but essentially necessary. Mr. Swan,

with a spirit which did him credit, endeavoured to expose the baleful encroachment to the utmost of his power. On this occasion he delivered the following prologue with great propriety, which was loudly and judiciously applauded.

Prologue spoken by Mr. SWAN at the Theatre-royal, Aungier-street, January 19th, 1742-3, to the Tragedy of Othello.

Oppress'd by foreign arts the drooping stage, In Shakespeare's name demands your honest rage, Whilst anticks vault o'er sense and nature's laws, Invade the muses seat, and gather rude applause From boys, who stare away their slender wits, And teeming dames diverted into fits.

With guarded step, high pois'd upon the rope, The dancer traverses the tott'ring slope; Wanton extends her half dress'd limbs in air, And kindly blushes in each modest fair!

Lo! next succeeds the tumblers plastic train, Perversely raising aukward mirth from pain; Degraded in the serpents tort'rous coil, See one climb downward with ingenious toil.

The next▪ as wide from nature, shews his skill, He swallows upwards his prepost'rous meal; Inverts high Heaven's intent in forming man, Prone to the earth his head, sublime his feet profane, Distorted nature shocks the aching sight, And horrid wonders dreadfully delight.

The vaulting tribe to close the monstrous scene With all their skill prepare the nice machine; O'er tiers of men, through tubs, the gaping crowd, See leapfrog spring by mighty force of wood.

Let other nations boast this senseless art, Our's raise the genius, and improve the heart. The stage first trod in virtue's nobler cause, Now seeks protection of its injur'd laws. Let ancient order warm the honest breast, For nature in lov'd Shakespeare's works confest; Be it your glory to assert the stage, To raise the sinking genius of the age, To lend the tragic muse your gen'rous aid, And rescue sense from folly's wid'ning shade.

Instead of British zeal for Shakespeare's name, By building monuments to guard his fame; You give the immortal poet nobler praise, And in your bosoms treasure up his lays.

These well-meant efforts of the Aungier-street company were, however, ineffectual. The per|formers had not merit sufficient to attract the notice of the public. The stage indeed had long been in a declining condition. To effect this a variety of causes concurred. The city was not then populous enough to support two theatres. If one had a tolerable run of success, ruin was the consequence to the other. Salaries were badly paid, business was totally neglected, whilst irregularity and indecorum pervaded the whole.

Though one party had descended so low as to call in the aid of tumbling and rope-dancing to their assistance; the other, disdaining such un|worthy resources, had recourse to the nobler and more rational powers of music to succour poor neglected Shakespeare. The celebrated Dr. Arne, so eminent for his musical abilities, had lately visited the kingdom, and was at that time performing at the new Music-hall in Fishamble-street, where he had under his direc|tion a company of the best singers ever heard in Dublin.

These the proprietors engaged, and in order to exhibit them to the highest advantage, revived

the Masque of Comus, with every expence and attention necessary to render it worthy of public notice. Dr. Arne conducted the musical depart|ment; he new set the whole piece, divided the chorusses into parts, which till then had been sung in unison, and was warmly interested in its success. Meantime the manager prepared new scenery, dresses, and decorations. The parts were cast as follows:—Comus, Mr. Swan; first Spirit, Mr. Sparks; second Spirit, Mr. Watson; Elder Brother, Mr. Bardin; Younger Brother, Mr. J. Elrington; the Lady, Mrs. Elmy; the song of "Sweet Echo," accompanied on the German Flute by Mr. Neale; Pastoral Nymph and Sabrina, by Mrs. Arne; Euphrosyne, Mrs. Bailden; Principal Bacchanal, by Madam Sybille, both pupils of Dr. Arne; a double orchestre, led by Dr. Arne. The prologue was spoken by Mr. Swan, the epilogue by Mrs. Furnival.

After all these preparations it was brought out on the 10th of January, 1742-3, to a crouded house, when it was received with the highest marks of applause, and amply repaid the mana|ger's pains and expence, by being often repeated with success. This induced the manager to get

up several other musical pieces, which were per|formed with much credit and profit.

But I must hasten from so uninteresting a subject. Too long have I been obliged to pre|sent my readers with a disagreeable portrait of the Irish stage. 'Tis time to draw a veil over the disgraceful and humiliating state in which the drama had languished since the days of Ashbury and Elrington. Temporary gleams of sunshine had occasionally intervened, but they soon vanished, and only served by contrast to augment the gloom which succeeded. A brighter period now approaches in which the stage re|gained, nay even surpassed its former lustre, and shone forth with a splendor worthy the Greek and Roman days.

From the most trivial circumstances ofttimes the greatest and most unlooked-for events spring; thus, the appearance and success of a new actor produced some time after the most remarkable change ever known in the theatrical affairs of Ireland.

On the 29th of January, 1742-3, the part of Richard the Third was attempted by a young

gentleman at Smock-alley theatre. This attempt succeeded beyond the most sanguine expectations of the friends of our young candidate for fame, and equalled any first essay ever remembered by the oldest performers on the Irish stage. Thus encouraged, our adventurer a few days after undertook the character of Mithridates, in the tragedy of that name, written by Lee, in which he so amply confirmed public opinion, that he threw off the disguise, and was shortly after an|nounced to the town for a second performance of Richard by the name of Mr. Sheridan.

This gentleman was the son of the Rev. Dr. Sheridan, a character well known in the literary world, esteemed a man of great abilities, and often celebrated by Dr. Swift, with whom he lived in the most intimate habits of friendship. Mr. Sheridan was born in the year 1719, and early discovering signs of genius, was at a proper age sent to Westminster-school, where he re|mained till he was prepared to enter the univer|sity of Dublin. After going through his studies with great eclat, and taking his degrees, he quitted college, contrary to the wishes of his friends, who strongly urged him to undertake the arduous task of reading for a fellowship.

Perhaps it would have been better for him|self in the end, if he had taken their advice. With such abilities, his path to ease and inde|pendence had then been easy, and success, in all probability, would soon have crowned his endea|vours. Instead of that, the profession he em|braced, involved the greatest part of his life in a perpetual round of anxious toil, and unceasing fatigue, wherein he experienced every species of ingratitude and perfidy.

Fortunately however for the interests of the drama, the bent of his genius led him to the pursuit of fame in her alluring images. He long had cherished an extraordinary predilection for the stage, and though at that time it pre|sented prospects far from inviting, yet nothing could dissuade him from indulging his darling passion. The extraordinary success he met with amply justified his determination. Like Garrick, he at first shone forth a finished actor, and at once attained the heights which many others spend years in labouring to gain.

He repeated Richard for his own benefit, February 19th, to a numerous audience, and shortly after in Hamlet gave fresh proofs of his

uncommon talents. The remainder of the season he studied and played Brutus in Julius Caesar, Carlos in the Fop's Fortune, Othello, Lord Townly, and Cato; his performance of the latter added much to his reputation.

The summer birds of passage this year were Mr. Theophilus Cibber with Mr. and Mrs. Giffard at Smock-alley, and Mr. Havard at Aungier-street. The former brought money, but the latter was of no great service; however, altogether they were some relief to the public, who began to be heartily tired with listening to disputes which had long subsisted between ma|nagers and performers, and constantly witnessing scenes of disorder and irregularity at both theatres.

Mr. Theophilus Cibber made his first appear|ance in Lord Foppington in his father's comedy of the Careless Husband. Mr. and Mrs. Gif|fard were the Sir Charles Easy, and Lady Betty Modish. The pieces revived on this occasion were the Relapse, Lord Foppington, Cibber; Lovelace and Berinthia, by the Giffards; with Cibber's Mock Doctor. The Old Batchelor, in which they played Fondlewife, Belmour and Letitia, with the Schoolboy by Cibber. The

Conscious Lovers, Tom, Bevil, and Indiana, with the Rehearsal, in which Cibber played Bays.

Not satisfied with a reputation justly acquired in comedy, we find Mr. Cibber exhibiting his beautiful person, and charming with his har|monious tones in tragedy. Accordingly, much to his own satisfaction, he played Polydore in the Orphan, Syphax in Cato, and Lothario in the Fair Penitent; in the latter Mr. Giffard performed Altamont, Mr. Sheridan, Horatio, and Mrs. Giffard, Calista: perhaps the public will not readily believe that Cibber's vanity could tempt him so far as to play Othello; such however really was the case; Wright, an actor of merit, acted Iago. Mr. and Mrs. Giffard, Cassio and Desdemona. At the close of the season, the Giffards with Mr. Cibber and Mr. Havard returned to England. Of Mr. Sheridan I shall have occasion to speak largely.

Envy is the sure attendant on merit, and with a jaundiced eye converts into blemishes its greatest beauties. The high reputation, and rapid rise of Mr. Sheridan, even thus early, procured him many enemies. Parties were

formed against him, and every endeavour made use of to impede his success. However, his fame was too well established to suffer by such unfair methods, they only served to render him more popular. The following letters written by a large party of young gentlemen in the college, who were disappointed in seeing him perform Cato, will confirm this fact.

To Mr. FAULKNER.

SIR,

Trinity College, 17th July 1743.

Upon a strict and impartial enquiry into the reasons of Mr. Sheridan's not appearing on Thursday last in the character of Cato, we find them so strong and satisfactory, that our resolu|tion, we hope, will be favourably looked on, of seeing him righted, and the insolence of others properly chastised, who, either through envy or malice, would remove the strongest inducement we have to visiting the playhouse, and conse|quently deprive us of the satisfaction we propose to ourselves from the most rational amusements; and it is expected, none will condemn us for frustrating the malicious contrivance of some designing wretches, and by so doing convince them, their envious but shallow practices shall always prove abortive, whenever they tend to wrong or depress merit.

An apology of this nature we could not but judge absolutely necessary, to prevent any mis|constructions we might possibly expose ourselves to, to find one of the principal characters bur|lesqued by one every way unequal to it.

To Mr. SHERIDAN.

Trinity College, 17th July 1743.

The reasons you assign for not performing the part of Cato are more than sufficient to jus|tify you in the opinion of every unprejudiced person, and though your resentment is equally just, we hope it will not deprive us of the satis|faction we promise ourselves from so eminent a genius. As the declarations of some malicious persons may possibly have made you apprehen|sive of being hereafter insulted, we take this opportunity, with the greatest deference to those whose judgment is to be regarded, of publicly assuring you, that the just sense we have of your merit, and the ill usage you have met with, have determined us not only to support you, but frustrate any malicious schemes theatrical politi|cians may form to your disadvantage.

What gave rise to the above I cannot justly say, but the consequence was, that at the par|ticular

desire of a very considerable number of ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Sheridan played the part of Cato a few nights afterwards at Aungier-street theatre to a very splendid audience, and received every tribute of applause which his late unfair treatment, and masterly performance of the character merited. The night following the theatre closed.

CHAP. IX.

The proprietors of both theatres unite.—A new opposition formed in Smock-alley.—Mr. Sheridan joins them.—Goes to London.—Mr. Barry's first appearance in Othello.—His character.— Mr. Foote plays at Aungier-street.—New theatre in Capel-street opens with the Merchant of Venice.—Mr. Sheridan recalled and appointed sole manager.—Engages Mr. Lacy, Miss Bel|lamy, and Mr. Garrick.—List of his performers.

THE interval which succeeded produced what had been long wished for by every un|prejudiced and disinterested lover of the drama, a coalition of parties between the contending theatres. Convinced by sad experience, that each had been for many years playing a losing game, and wearied out with vexatious unprofit|able disputes, the proprietors of both concluded it would be for their mutual advantage to unite interests, and perform in Aungier-street theatre only. This salutary expedient however, did not

answer the end proposed. In forming a new company out of the two old ones, it became necessary to reject many: these thinking them|selves aggrieved, had the address, by fraudulent means, I believe, to obtain the old lease of Smock-alley theatre from Duval the principal proprietor, and took possession, determined, desperate as their situation was, to form an opposition.

As their numbers were too few to play any piece, they were under the necessity of engaging a little company then acting in the North, who elated with the hopes of reaping fame and profit in the metropolis, hastily repaired bag and bag|gage to Dublin. From such reinforcements little could be expected. Luckily however for them, Mr. Sheridan had not acceded to the terms offered him by the Aungier-street ma|nagers, which were, an hundred pounds for playing till the benefits commenced, and an hundred pounds ensured by his own benefit. These he rejected, and with some degree of reason, he said that it was 50l. less than Mrs. Furnival's salary, that it was less than Made|moiselle Chateneuf's, and about a third of what they gave Mr. Arne and Mr. Lowe.

The Mr. Lowe alluded to by Mr. Sheridan was the celebrated singer of that name, then in his meridian, who made his first appearance in Ireland in the part of Macheath in the Beggars Opera, which was played eight nights. Peachum by Mr. Sparks, Lockit by Mr. Beamsly, Filch by Mr. Dyer, Lucy by Mrs. Bayley, Mrs. Peachum Miss Polly Davis, and Polly by Made-moiselle Chateneuf.

Mr. Sheridan saw with concern the fallen situation of the stage, and thus early formed a design of removing its disorders and reforming its abuses. To accomplish this romantic project his ambition led him to aspire to the government of the whole. He insisted on the sole ma|nagement of the theatre, and in return he offered the proprietors to secure them five hundred pounds per year. This they refusing with dis|dain, he immediately went over to the other party, who opened a few days after with the tragedy of Richard, thus advertized.—"The part of King Richard the Third by Mr. Sheridan, King Henry by Mr. Elrington, and all the rest of the parts by persons who never appeared on this stage." Amongst these new performers were Mrs. Storer who played Lady Anne, and

Mr••. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Queen. O•• the ••••••••inder we cannot boast.

A paper war now ensued between the rival theatres, in which each as usual in such cases, laid the whole blame on the other. A short time however determined the dispute. The party Mr. Sheridan espoused were so destitute of merit, that his utmost abilities were insuf|ficient to support them; so after a struggle of a few weeks, he accepted of a capital engagement from the manager of Drury-lane theatre, and left Dublin in January 1744.

On his withdrawing himself, opposition ceased, a few of the principal actors of Smock-alley were taken into favour, and the united com|panies played occasionally at each theatre. Every thing went on in the usual train. Bad manage|ment with the constant attendants, irregularity and poverty, still prevailed.

At this unfavourable juncture did Mr. Barry make his first debut, on that stage which for many years afterwards he so powerfully sup|ported. And here I cannot help observing, that whilst the pens of the first writers of the age

have been employed in recording 〈…〉〈…〉, and sounding the praises of Garrick, the abilities of his cotemporary competitors in the dramatic field of glory, Sheridan and Barry, were only occasionally mentioned, and slightly passed over.

Very imperfect indeed has been the infor|mation we have relative to Mr. Barry. The little that can be depended on, I shall commu|nicate to my readers. Spranger Barry, Esq was born in Skinner-row, Dublin, in the year 1717. He was descended from a very good family, and nearly related to Barry, the last lord Santry. He received a tolerable education, and succeeded his father an eminent silver-smith in business: in this situation he married and re|mained several years in the same street he was born in. At what time he discovered a pro|pensity for the stage, we cannot learn, when he commenced actor he was about 27 years of age.

In one of her happiest moments did nature produce this excellent actor, and with an un|sparing hand she bountifully heaped her choicest favours on him. It was impossible for imagina|tion to conceive a more perfect or finished figure than he at that time possessed. To this

figure was added a voice, the harmony and melody of whose silver tones were resistless, and ever will be remembered whilst memory holds her seat, by those who had the happiness of hearing that great actor in the zenith of his theatrical glory. His carriage and action, though far from finished, were by no means ungraceful, and in both of these, time made a wonderful improvement.

The character of Othello was judiciously chosen for Mr. Barry's first appearance. It is one of Shakespeare's master-pieces, and in my opinion one of the finest portraits ever drawn, and requires greater abilities in an actor to sustain. His person was happily adapted to re|present the noble Moor, and his powers to de|lineate the various affecting transitions of love, jealousy, rage, and tenderness, which peculiarly mark the character.

As at this distance of time every information relative to the first appearance of so great an ornament to the drama, must naturally excite attention, the following bill of that night's en|tertainment, will I hope, prove an acceptable curiosity.

By his Majesty's Company of Comedians. For the Benefit of Mr. SPRANGER BARRY. At the Theatre-Royal in Smock-Alley, On Wednesday the 15th of February Inst. will be acted the Tragedy of OTHELLO, The Part of Othello to be performed by Mr. BARRY. Being the first Time of his Appearance on any Stage. Iago, by Mr. WRIGHT. Duke, Mr. Vanderbank. Brabantio, Mr. Beamsly. Roderigo, Mr. Morgan. Cassio, Mr. J. Elrington. Lodovico, Mr. Bardin. Montano, Mr. Watson. Desdemona, by Mrs. BAYLY. And the Part of Emilia by Mrs. FURNIVAL. With Singing by Mr. Lowe, and Entertainments of Dancing by Mademoiselle Chateneuf. N. B. By Order of the Proprietors, Tickets given out for this Play at the Theatre-Royal in Aungier-Street, will be taken the same Night at the Theatre-Royal in Smock-Alley. Boxes, Stage and Lattices, 5s. 5d. Pit, 3s. 3d. Gallery, 2s. 2d.

The curiosity of his attempt drew a crowded house, and his performance was as might natu|rally be expected, uncommonly applauded. The public were in raptures at this specimen of such extraordinary abilities, and congratulated themselves on so valuable an acquisition to their favourite amusement. Thus received, he was easily prevailed on to gratify his friends by a repetition of Othello which justified them in their opinion, and confirmed their hopes of his proving one of the first actors of the age. Pierre was his next part, in which he met with equal success, though some years afterwards he found Jaffier more suited to display the tender|ness of his feelings.

Perhaps there is not in dramatic history any thing more singular or worthy remarking than the following. That three of the greatest per|formers of the age, Garrick, Barry, and She|ridan, were born within three years of each other, and appeared on the stage within the same compass of years. Mr. Garrick was born in 1716, Mr. Barry in 1717, and Mr. Sheridan in 1719. Mr. Garrick came out in 1741, Mr. Sheridan in 1743, and Mr. Barry in 1744.

I shall close this season with presenting my readers with the bills of two plays which I hope will convey a just idea of the stage in Ireland at this period.

At the particular Desire of several Ladies of Quality. For the Benefit of Mrs. FURNIVAL. By his Majesty's Company of Comedians. At the Theatre-Royal in Aungier-Street, On Monday next, being the 6th of February, 1743-4, will be revived a Comedy called, the MERCHANT OF VENICE. As Written by Shakespeare. The Part of Portia to be performed by Mrs. Furnival. Bassanio, by Mr. Ralph Elrington. Antonio, by Mr. J. Elrington. Morochius, Mr. Beamsly. Tubal, Mr. I. Sparks. Launcelot, Mr. Barrington. Gobbo, Mr. Morgan. Salarino, Mr. Watson. Salanio, Mr. Dyer. Duke, Mr. Vanderbank. Nerissa, Miss Bullock. Jessica, Miss Douglass.

The Part of Gratiano to be performed by Mr. Sparks. The Part of Lorenzo, with the Songs proper to the Character, by Mr. Lowe. And the Part of Shylock the Jew, to be per|formed by Mr. Wright. With Entertainments of Dancing by Mons. Dumont, Madem. Chateneuf, and Mr. Morris. To which will be added a Farce, call'd The VIRGIN UNMASK'D. The Part of the Virgin to be performed by Mademoiselle Chateneuf. Being the first Time of her appearing in that Character. Quaver the Singing Master to be performed by Mr. Lowe.

At the Particular Desire of several Ladies of Quality. For the Benefit of Mr. P. MORRIS. By his Majesty's Company of Comedians. At the Theatre-Royal in Smock-Alley, To-morrow being Wednesday the 23d of May, 1744, will be acted a Comedy, called WOMAN'S A RIDDLE. The Part of Sir Amorous Vainwit by Mr. Sparks. And the Part of Vulture by Mr. Morris.

Courtwell, Mr. R. Elrington. Colonel Manly, Mr. J. Elrington. Afpin, Mr. Barrington. Butler, Mr. I. Sparks. Miranda, Mrs. Pasqualino. Clarinda, Mrs. Bayly. Necessary, Miss Bullock. Betty, Mrs. Phillips. With several Entertainments of Dancing. End of Act II. A serious Dance by Made|moiselle Roland. End of Act III. The Dutch Skipper by Mr. Philips. End of Act VI. A Dance called La Marie, and the Louvre and Minuet, by Mons. Moreau and Mademoiselle Roland. End of the Play, A new Dance by Mademoiselle Roland. To which will be added a Farce, called THE DEVIL TO PAY; Or, THE WIVES METAMORPHOS'D. The Part of Sir John Loverule by Mr. Morris. The Part of Nell to be performed by Mademoiselle Roland. Being the first Time of her appearing in that Character. Boxes, Stage and Lattices, 5s. 5d. Pit, 3s. 3d. Gallery, 2s. 2d.

With such a powerful addition as Mr. Barry, and reinforced by the assistance of Mr. Foote who first visited Ireland at that time, the managers opened their winter campaign in high spirits. Mr. Foote brought a few crowded audiences, and was well received. Mr. Barry performed but seldom, but when he did, it was generally to good houses. His new characters were Lear, Young Bevil, Henry the Fifth, Orestes and Hotspur. The Gustavus Vasa of Brooke was at this time revived with altera|tions, and was performed several nights with tolerable success.

Notwithstanding the pains taken to prevent an opposition, the performers whom I formerly mentioned as excluded on forming the new company, being driven from Smock-alley, grew desperate, and as their last resource, hastily erected a little theatre in Capel-street, and having obtained permission of the Rt. Hon. the Lord Mayor, they stiled themselves the City Com|pany of Comedians, and being joined by a few discontented actors who disliked their situations, opened on Thursday January 17th l744-5, with Shakespeare's play of

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Performed in the following manner:

Duke

by Mr. Rivers.

Morochius

Mr. Brouden.

Antonio

Mr. Townsend.

Bassanio

Mr. Marshall.

Gratiano

Mr. Hall.

Lorenzo

Mr. Corry.

Shylock

Mr. Wright.

Tubal

Mr. Bourne.

Launcelot

Mr. Morgan.

Portia

Mrs. Brouden.

Nerissa

Mrs. Phillips.

Jessica

Miss Lewis.

Though there were a few persons of merit in this new formed community, particularly Wright, Bourne, and Morgan, yet ill accom|modated and destitute of wardrobe and scenery, there was not the least probability of standing against any such established company, accordingly they languished for a few years, and then gra|dually sunk into obscurity.

Towards the close of this winter, the pro|prietors of Aungier-street and Smock-alley

theatres finding their affairs beyond their power to retrieve, and the stage reduced to the lowest ebb, as their dernier resort, and at the request of the public, solicited Mr. Sheridan to return, and take on himself the sole direction and management of the stage, offering to vest him with unlimited authority to act in every respect as he should think proper.

This was the only atonement in their power for a long series of ill conduct and imprudence, but this indeed compensated for all their former errors.

Where both parties were so willing, prelimi|naries were soon adjusted. Every thing being settled to Mr. Sheridan's entire satisfaction, he came to Dublin in May, and performed a few nights in conjunction with Mr. Barry.

Having thus attained his utmost wish, Mr. Sheridan's first care was to engage such a com|pany as must from their uncommon merit ensure success. Miss Bellamy, a young actress then rising rapidly into fame, was applied to, and such advantageous terms offered as she readily em|braced. Though all the incidents related by

this extraordinary lady in the memoirs of her life, are not in every respect strictly true, yet it is certain she was then considered as a very valuable acquisition to the Irish stage.

Mr. Lacy, patentee of Drury-lane theatre, was also prevailed upon to spend a few months in Dublin. But Mr. Sheridan's grand object was, if possible, to engage Mr. Garrick, then justly esteemed the first actor of the age. The assistance of so capital a performer would stamp a degree of certainty upon the great undertaking he had embarked in.

This was a delicate point to compass, for we may recollect, that Mr. Sheridan was now sole manager of the Irish stage, the darling of the public, and could with the greatest propriety play every character he chose. Thus situated, and seconded by so eminent an actor as Mr. Barry, whose abilities did not in the least interfere with his, it might naturally be expected he would behold with a jealous eye, any person whose ex|traordinary merit might shake or lessen his new acquired power. Yet thus circumstanced, with a disinterestedness and public spirit seldom shewn, Mr. Sheridan used every effort to engage the

only man on the stage whose uncommon talents he had reason to entertain a jealousy of.

He accordingly wrote a letter to Mr. Garrick to this purpose: "that understanding he had expressed a wish to pay a second visit to Ireland, he informed him, that as he was then sole manager of the Irish stage, he should be happy to see him in Dublin, and that he would give him every advantage and encouragement he could in reason expect." In short, he made an offer to divide the profits arising from their united representations with him, after deducting the expences incurred. And as there had been a sort of rivalship and coolness between them before Mr. Sheridan left London, he at the same time frankly told him, that he must expect nothing from his friendship, but all that the best actor had a right to command, he might be very certain should be granted.

Mr. Garrick was at colonel Wyndham's when he received this letter. After looking it over, he put it into the colonel's hand, saying, "this is the oddest epistle I ever read in my life." "It may be an odd one," replied the colonel, after he had perused it, "but it is surely an honest

one. I should certainly depend upon a man that treated me with that openness and simplicity of heart." Mr. Garrick accordingly accepted the invitation, and repaired to Ireland.

On his landing in Dublin, he was met by Mr. Sheridan, who offered to fulfil his promise, of sharing profits and losses. Though nothing could be fairer than this proposal, yet Mr. Gar|rick insisted on a stipulated sum for performing during the winter. The other objected to the demand, and persisted in his first offer, which, as he justly observed, was the most reasonable; for then Mr. Garrick would receive as much money as he brought, and others would not be losers. In the other case he perhaps might be the only gainer. After some little dispute, which Mr. Sheridan decided, by taking out his watch, and insisting upon an answer in five minutes, Mr. Garrick submitted, and the affair terminated in the most amicable manner.

Thus prepared, Mr. Sheridan took the field early the next season with such a company as Dublin had till then never beheld, and which her theatrical annals cannot parallel. The com|bined powers of Mr. Garrick, Mr. Lacy, Mr.

Elrington, Mrs. Furnival, and Miss Bellamy, besides many others of merit, such as Walker, Frank Elrington, Morris, Bardin, Vanderbank, Sullivan, Beamsly, Mrs. Walker, Mrs. Storer, Mrs. Elmy, Miss Jones, &c. were united with his own to entertain the town, who beheld with joy this happy beginning of their favourite reign.

CHAP. X.

Mr. Sheridan undertakes to reform the stage. His great attention to business, diligence, punc|tuality. — Remarkable success, — Uncommon strength of the company.—Earl of Chesterfield patronizes the theatre.—His behaviour to Mr. Sheridan, and Mr. Garrick.—Mr. Garrick returns to London.—Season closes.

THIS important business being settled, the ma|nager entered upon the arduous, and then esteem|ed chimerical plan, of reforming and restoring the stage to its native purity. Great was his task, and Herculean were his labours. Happily, nature had amply endowed him with the most essential requisites for so difficult and dangerous an undertaking. His temper was remarkably mild and gentle, yet was he unremittingly per|severing in accomplishing whatever he embarked in. Though he always endeavoured to convince, and demonstrate the propriety of his orders, rather than command, yet was he resolute in en|forcing compliance to whatever he was assured

was right. His understanding was clear and comprehensive, and a liberal education enabled him to behold objects in their proper light.

Passionately devoted to the stage, he had long beheld with regret, the humiliating condition to which it was reduced: despised and deserted by the grave, the rational, and every lover of order and decency. He saw the magnitude of the business he was engaged in, yet he despaired not. Intimately acquainted with the state of the Greek and Roman drama, when arrived at their highest point of perfection, he nobly laboured with unceasing assiduity, towards the attainment of a grand object, that of RAISING THE IRISH THEATRE TO AN EQUAL DEGREE OF RESPECTABILITY.

Informed on every subject, and attentive to the minutest circumstance, no part escaped his penetrating eye. The business of the stage was reduced to a regular science, in which the most trifling parts of the great machine, equally con|tributed towards the movement and beauty of the whole.

We must not however imagine that all this was accomplished in a day. It was the work of years. Perfection is only to be attained by perseverance, and it is worthy to be remarked, that the last day of his management was in every respect, as laudable and as praiseworthy as his first.

Non-payment of salaries he knew was the radical source of disorders. Who would attend rehearsals, or take pains in their profession, when they were uncertain of any recompense, and perhaps, had not even the means of sub|sistence? Poverty begot carelessness and indif|ference, and in the end drove many to disgrace|ful actions, which nothing but necessity could excuse.

It is scarcely credible, though strictly true, that before Mr. Sheridan's time, the great Isaac Sparks had but twelve shillings per week, Mr. Dyer, eight shillings, Mr. Elrington, a guinea, and the rest in proportion. Miserable as these pittances were, they many weeks re|ceived not above the half of their respective demands. Perhaps the following, though from unquestionable authority, will at this time be

hardly believed. So reduced were their finances, and exhausted their credit, that the acting mana|gers, as they were called, were once obliged to repair to the theatre on the evening of a play, dinnerless. The first shilling that came into the house they dispatched for a loin of mutton, the second for bread, the third for liquor, and so on till they had satisfied the calls of nature, when they prepared for the business of the night.

Mr. Sheridan's first care therefore was to raise most of the actor's salaries, and for this purpose, he established a fund for the regular discharge of salaries and tradesmens bills. This rule he never deviated from, and amidst all his distresses, on the wreck of his fortune in 1754, he could, with an honest pride, publicly boast in a pamphlet he then published, that "Every Saturday saw the weekly salary of each person discharged at the treasurer's office, and that the books of that office will shew, that at the close of the account last Saturday, there was not a demand upon him of any performer whatsoever, from his first undertaking the management twelve years ago, to that hour, left unpaid."

It may be naturally supposed, that he had at first many difficulties to encounter. The stage had long been under the direction of seven ma|nagers, who in derision were called by the town, the seven wise masters. Bad habits, confirmed by time, were hard to be eradicated. Perform|ers were unused to regularity, and the taste of the town was palled and violated. Nevertheless when the work of reformation was a little ad|vanced, the task grew much easier. His me|thods were so gentle, and at the same time so sa|lutary, that they carried conviction with them.

The good sense of the actors pointed out to them the propriety of the manager's conduct, and the necessity there was of conforming to his directions. He constantly attended the rehear|sals, and settled the business of each scene with precision. Not the most trifling incident of the night's performance was omitted at the last morning's practice; and, though the strictest at|tendance was required, yet were the rehearsals so reasonably appointed, that it was in every per|son's power to comply, and seldom was he under the disagreeable necessity of being obliged to en|force obedience by forfeits: he rightly judged that money gained by those means was the seve|rest

of losses, and rather than be forced to recur to them, when admonition failed, he chose sooner to part with the performer, however valuable, who continued to offend in this manner.

At rehearsals, his great jugdment and know|ledge of the stage, amply qualified him for an instructor; and his regulations were so proper, and conveyed in so pleasing a manner that they were irresistible, and could not fail of being com|plied with. His highest ambition seemed to center in being considered as the father of his company.

The minutiae of the stage were also diligently attended to. His decorations were truly elegant, and his plays were dressed with characteristic propriety. Indeed, he has frequently been blamed for launching into expences which the profits of the performances were unable to repay. Upon the whole, we may with confidence assert, that, during Mr. Sheridan's management, plays were conducted in a style equal in most respects to any the British stage ever produced. How meritorious then was the man who raised the Irish theatre to such an eminence!

The importance of the subject will, I hope plead my excuse for so long a digression. To return. The campaign opened early in October 1744. After playing a few weeks he brought out Miss Bellamy, November 11th, at Aun|gier-street, in Monimia; Castalio by Mr. Barry; Polydore by Mr. Lacy; Chamont, himself. Miss Bellamy, as a young promising actress, pleased much. Her second part was Desdemona, to Mr. Sheridan's Othello.

Like a skilful general, Mr. Sheridan reserved his greatest strength for a corps de reserve. Mr. Garrick did not come forward till the novelty of the other performers was, in some measure, abated. His first appearance was at Smock-alley theatre, Monday December 9th, in the character of Hamlet; Queen, Mrs. Furnival; Ophelia, Mrs. Storer. His reception was such as his un|common merit and extraordinary character de|served.

The superior manner in which plays in gene|ral, but particularly tragedies, were then sup|ported, must appear from the names of Garrick, Sheridan, Barry, Bellamy and Furnival, in one piece; what a feast for the dramatic amateur!

In order to give the abilities of Mr. Garrick every fair play, Mr. Sheridan generously con|sented to their playing capital characters alter|nately, as Richard, Hamlet, &c. and to give a peculiar strength they agreed each to play Iago to Mr. Barry's Othello. Amongst the tragedies remarkably strong were, the Fair Penitent, Lo|thario, Mr. Garrick; Horatio, Mr. Sheridan; Altamont, Mr. Barry, who we are told played it so very finely as to make it appear equally respec|table with the two former characters. Sciolto, Mr. Beamsly; Calista, Mrs. Furnival, and Lavi|nia, Miss Bellamy. And the Orphan, Mr. Garrick, Chamont; Barry, Castalio; Beamsly, Arcasto; Sheridan, Polydore; and Bellamy, Monimia.

The characters which Mr. Garrick played that winter in Dublin, were in the following order: Hamlet, Richard, Bayes, Archer, Lothario, Mac|beth, Lear, Bastard in King John, Sir John Brute, School Boy, Chamont, Orestes, Othello, Iago, Hastings, and Sharp in his own farce of the Lying Valet. The two last were for his own benefit, and the last time of his ever performing in this kingdom.

Never did the drama experience so sudden a transition as from the last to the present season. The winter before all was disgrace, poverty, and empty benches, whilst ruin and desolation reigned triumphant. Now order came smiling forward, and in her train followed peace, plenty, honour and public esteem. The nobleman and man of fashion; the sons of science; the grave citizen, and the modest fair, long banished from the theatre, now with pleasure enjoy|ed once more their favourite rational amuse|ment.

The witty earl of Chesterfield was then lord lieutenant of Ireland. His attachment to the stage had been long known. Delighted to see such excellence, he commanded plays very frequently. His popularity alone would have ensured a bril|liant and crowded attendance. Mr. Davies, in his life of Garrick observes, that, "Though he was very gracious to Mr. Sheridan, and admitted his visits at the castle, he took not the least notice of Mr. Garrick; nay, when they both waited on him with candles on the night of Mr. Garrick's benefit, he spoke very kindly to Mr. Sheridan, but did not even return the salute of the other," He adds, "It seems his lordship,

when in Ireland, had a mind to convince the people of that kingdom, that his heart was en|tirely Irish."

It must be confessed, lord Chesterfield often practised the duplicity he so strongly recom|mended to his son. An instance occurs in the present case: When in Dublin he professed the highest esteem for Mr. Sheridan, and gave every encouragement to his plan of forming an acade|my to teach oratory; and, on his departure, he made use of these expressive words: "Never let the thoughts of your oratorical institution go out of your mind." Yet, a few years after|wards, when Mr. Sheridan waited upon him in London to fulfil his promise, that celebrated pa|tron of men of genius, the witty, the generous, the liberal-minded earl of Chesterfield, bounti|fully presented him with a guinea, as his contri|bution towards one of the noblest plans devised by human wisdom!

I must here beg leave to set Mr. Davies right in one particular. In his life of Mr. Garrick, he says, "During the management of the Dub|lin stage by Garrick and Sheridan, a genius started up whose eminence," &c. meaning Mr.

Barry. In the first place Mr. Garrick had no share in the management, though he had in the profits; the former was Mr. Sheridan's sole province. As to Mr. Barry I have stat|ed before, that he first played in February, 1744.

Indeed, Mr. Garrick was so pleased with his growing merit, that he generously bore testimo|ny to it in several letters written to his friends in London, during his residence here, assuring them, he was the best lover he had ever seen on the stage.

To Mr. Sheridan's honour, be it observed, that through the whole of the connection be|tween him and Mr. Garrick that season, such was his strict adherence to his engagements and open unreserved behaviour, that they parted good friends, Mr. Garrick acknowledging he was the man of honour and the gentleman.

In the beginning of May 1746, he finished his theatrical campaign, and, in company with Mr. Victor, afterwards treasurer and manager returned to London, highly pleased with a

trip which infinitely surpassed his expectations, both in same and profit.

About a fortnight after his departure, Mr. Sheridan closed his first season, the most ho|nourable and brilliant that had then ever mark|ed the Irish dramatic annals.

CHAP. XI.

Mr. Victor appointed deputy manager.—Great loss of Barry and Garrick.—Romeo and Juliet re|vived.—Riot at the representation of Aesop.— Mr. Sheridan insulted.—The consequence.— Letter to Mr. Faulkner.—Public spirit of the citizens.—Mr. Sheridan plays Richard.—Tri|umphs over his enemies, who vow vengeance against him.

PREVIOUS to the commencement of the next season, we find the above-mentioned Mr. Victor, who liking his reception had re|turned, made deputy-manager and treasurer to Mr. Sheridan. Mr. Victor was a gentleman of abilities, and seemed well qualified for such an office. Mr. Lacy, on his return to London en|gaged Mr. Barry, whose talents he entertained a high opinion of, at a very considerable salary, for Drury-lane, where he pleased much and drew crowded houses.

The loss of two such capital performers as Garrick and Barry, was a severe blow on Mr.

Sheridan's rising prospects. However he began with alacrity, and opened a subscription for six of Shakespeare's plays. The comedy of Much Ado About Nothing was revived, and truly answered its name, for it brought nothing. That failing, Romeo and juliet was got up with a characteristic pomp and splendor never before exhibited on the stage in Ireland.

It must be confessed that Mr. Sheridan never had much of the lover in his composition, and was totally unfit to represent the tender sighing Romeo, yet with Miss Bellamy's Juliet, now a very great favourite, and the picturesque manner in which he displayed the funeral procession, the curiosity of the town was so much attracted as to occasion it to be performed nine nights to full houses, an extraordinary circumstance at that time.

Though Mr. Sheridan's efforts since he com|menced manager were crowned with such success, yet opposition had not entirely ceased: the little theatre in Capel-street opened January 8th 1746-7, with the Provoked Husband, in which Miss Mason, the present Mrs. Heaphy, performed Miss Jenny. She was then very

young, and had just appeared on the stage, where she played the girls with the utmost success. It is with the highest pleasure I embrace every occasion through the course of this work, of paying a just tribute to those persons whose abilities and character have added lustre to a profession where example ought to enforce pre|cept, and I am happy to point out the present instance where both, after a series of years spent in the service of the public, are rewarded with a genteel competency, and crowned by the esteem and friendship of the first characters in Ireland.

On the 3d of March Mr. Giffard jun. made his first appearance in this kingdom, at Capel-street theatre, in Sir Harry Wildair in the Con|stant Couple; Colonel Standard, Mr. Wright, Vizard, Mr. O'Brien, Beau Clincher, Mr. Layfield, Young Clincher, Mr. Mason, Alder|man Smuggler, Mr. Mynitt, Jubilee Dicky, Mr. Dale, Lady Lurewell, Mrs. Dale, Angelica, Miss Mason, Lady Darling, Mrs. Mason, Parley, Mrs. Layfield; with the Devil to Pay, Jobson, Mr. Layfield, and Nell, Mrs. Layfield.

But to return to Mr. Sheridan. Notwith|standing the emoluments arising from the repre|sentation

of Romeo, the profits of the season were likely to turn out but indifferent, if a for|tunate accident had not happened which roused the spirit of the public, and in the end, proved of the greatest advantage to the interests of the drama.

As this was an event of much consequence in theatrical history, productive of great good to the stage, and which reflected the highest honour on the manager, I must beg the reader's indul|gence with being a little particular on the sub|ject. The following relation is chiefly taken from Mr. Victor, who was a witness to every trans|action, and therefore must have been well in|formed.

Mr. Sheridan although he had accomplished many salutary reformations, and advanced the credit of the stage into such high repute, yet was there one evil remaining, which set his power at defiance, and that was the admission of gentlemen behind the scenes, both at rehearsal and at night. Every idler who wore a laced coat, as lace was then in fashion, thought it entitled him to this privilege.

It was then the custom for the young gen|tlemen of the college, to crowd every morning to rehearsal, and many times have the poor dis|tressed actors been seen rehearsing within a circle of forty or fifty of those gentlemen whose time ought to have been better employed. At night they used to take a pride in standing on the stage in sight of the audience, indulging themselves in very improper liberties, and often disturbing the performance with their irregularities.

Mr. Sheridan long wished to quell this hydra, but was afraid of the encounter. Custom, time immemorial, had sanctified this breach of all order and decency, and the privilege was too pleasing and too much extended to expect it to be quietly resigned.

Many pages were written on the subject, to prove, "that a well regulated theatre is an honour as well as advantage to a kingdom. That it is the most certain means of giving strangers a high opinion of our good sense and politeness, and at the same time accommodating the nobility and gentry with that entertainment which they not only had a right to enjoy, but which, if they were disappointed of here, they would certainly

remove to another kingdom to obtain; that therefore it was highly necessary the legislature should take the theatre under their protection, and secure it from the insolence of wanton and dissolute men."

But every public and private remonstrance were treated with contempt; many methods were proposed, but all ineffectual.—At length chance brought about what design had never been able to accomplish.

At the representation of the comedy of Aesop, written by Sir John Vanbrugh, on the 19th of January 1746-7, a young gentleman of the name of Kelly, went to the pit much intoxicated with liquor, an indecency at that time too frequent there, when climbing over the spikes, he got upon the stage, and very soon made his way to the green-room where several of the female per|formers were assembled.

Unawed by the decorum which constantly reigned there, he addressed Mrs. Dyer an actress of excellent character, in such gross and indecent terms, as obliged all the women quickly to retire and take refuge in their dressing-rooms. Thither

he pursued them, and on being refused admit|tance, made such a noise as disturbed the business of the stage then going forward. Miss Bellamy who played Doris, being then wanted to go on was afraid to venture out, till Mr. Sheridan dressed for his character of Aesop, had the of|fender taken away and conducted back to the pit.

Enraged at his disappointment, this intrepid hero took a basket of oranges which stood-near him, and the next time the manager came on the stage, amused himself by throwing them at him. Mr. Sheridan justly provoked at the in|dignity offered him, instantly addressed the au|dience for protection, who immediately inter|fered, and with some difficulty silenced Mr. Kelly, but not before he had loudly and repeatedly, called Mr. Sheridan scoundrel and rascal! Who with the most becoming spirit and propriety an|swered "I am as good a gentleman as you are."

As soon as the play was over Mr. Kelly not content with the mischief he had already occa|sioned, forced his way in at the stage door, and up to Mr. Sheridan's dressing-room, and there repeated the names he had so liberally bestowed on him from the pit: this naturally provoked

Mr. Sheridan, though so even tempered, to strike him several times, which the doughty hero took with the utmost patience, and retired to a club of his companions, to whom he related his sad dis|aster, who, incensed that a scoundral player should presume to strike a gentleman, united in denouncing vengeance against the offending manager, and all who should take his part.

A few nights after, Mr. Sheridan being adver|tised for Horatio in the Fair Penitent, their threats had such an effect on him, that at the par|ticular request of many of his friends, he declin|ed going to the theatre that evening, and re|quested Mr. Dyer to go on the stage, and by acquainting the audience with his reasons, to apologize for his conduct: This was no sooner performed than about fifty of the party with Kelly at their head, rose up in the pit, and climbing over the spikes on the stage, went directly to the green-room, from thence to all the dressing-rooms, broke open those that were locked, ran up to the wardrobe and thrust their swords into all the chests and presses of cloths, by way of feeling, they said, if Sheridan was concealed there. After many of these acts of violence, a party went off to his house in Dorset-street, but upon

finding he had provided for their reception, they thought proper to retire.

This transaction was on a Thursday night. The next day it was the general topic of public conversation through the city. Parties ran high, and though the sober and dispassionate took the manager's part, numbers were not wanting who, either through family connections or a spirit of licentiousness, threatened revenge in all public places. On the Saturday morning, the fol|lowing letter appeared in Faulkner's Journal, written unknown to the manager, by Mr. Victor.

To Mr. FAULKNER,

SIR,

Dublin, Jan. 25, 1746.

As the character and conduct of Mr. She|ridan are, by a late unhappy accident become the universal topic of all conversation in this metropolis, I am therefore induced, by a late in|timacy with him, to give the public, by your pa|per, a portrait of this actor.

He is the son of the late Rev. Dr. Sheridan, a gentleman that was well known in this king|dom. This, his son, was early sent in life to

Westminster school in London, and, when fitted for the university, was entered of this college, and class-fellow with most of the nobility and gentry of this kingdom of his time, and took his degree there of bachelor of arts. Well, then he was born and has had the education of a GENTLE|MAN—ay, but says the herald, he degraded him|self, when his fortunes, as well as his singular abilities, led him to the stage. It may be so. Though in my private thoughts, that opinion, though common, is like many others that are too easily received by mankind, and built on a false hypothesis. However, that I may not ap|pear too singular, it shall be granted. Well then, let us view him in this degraded light, be|cause this survey will best answer my present purpose.—All the gentlemen I have hitherto met with, when degraded, have been lost to vir|tue, and have fallen a sacrifice to those passions and vices that drew them from the path of ho|nour; but this young man, as a proof that his fortunes alone threw him into this degraded light, remains in his moral character unsullied. As the manager of the theatre (since that has been his province) his ambition has been to cul|tivate good manners and decency, and his la|bours and good example have hitherto been at|tended

with good success. The actors live in unusual harmony and have pursued their busi|ness with the utmost regularity; they are reward|ed with their salaries; tradesmen's bills are now punctually paid, and the town (it is universally confessed) has been better entertained this winter than ever was known by so thin a company of tolerable actors: to what can this be owing, but to the good conduct and ability of the ma|nager?

In his present profession, I may say without flattery or partiality, that when we consider the variety of characters he appears in, he is arrived at an amazing degree of perfection for his years. In private life, when his labours have blest him with success, I have known him to take more pleasure in assisting his relations and distressed friends, than the finest gentleman can pretend to enjoy in consuming the bounties of fortune. But what avail these qualities, these musty moral qualities? He has offended it seems some GEN|TLEMEN, and how? why, in doing his duty as manager of the theatre; he met with an unex|pected and violent insult from a single person in the pit (one whom he was obliged to order from behind the scenes, after his indecent behaviour

there) at a time when he was receiving the applauses of the audience in the character of Aesop. In this surprize he was compelled to make an address to the people, and in that disorder of mind, it seems, he made use of one indecent word, that to these gentlemen was exceptionable.—Now, can any thing be more likely than to suppose, in that confusion, he forgot he was a degraded man?

Let us suppose, any one of his gentlemen adversaries surprised into a necessity of address|ing a public assembly: how few are there, out of a much larger body, that could speak on the oc|casion, unexceptionably? alas how few! But though I did not hear Mr. Sheridan that night, I can safely depend on the judgment of two or three gentlemen of sense and honour, who told me, that his behaviour, though provoked, was far from indecent or improper. However, it was by some gentlemen it seems thought otherwise, and one word was displaced, and for that, what had like to be his punishment? why, he was very near wanting all the surgeons in Dublin to dress his wounds. O tempore! O mores!

In London, in the year 1722, a riot was committed at the theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, by a set of profligate young men of quality, which shut up that play-house for eight or nine days. But the legislature (by the king's direc|tion) entered so warmly into the affair, that the rioters thought proper to make the suffering manager ample satisfaction: and his majesty ordered a guard to attend that theatre from this accident, which Mr. Rich enjoys to this day.

At the last riot in Drury-lane theatre, in 1743, his majesty was pleased to give the same direction, and the lord chief justice Lee declared from the bench, it was his opinion, that a conti|nual hissing was a manifest breach of the peace, as it was the beginning of a riot.

As the people of this nation are under the same gracious sovereign, and protected by the same laws: and as our chief magistrates are per|sons of the highest honour and integrity, now is the time to assert your LIBERTIES, and prove yourselves as freeborn subjects as your brethren of England.

I am Sir, Your humble servant.

The tendency of this early letter, was to set the people right, and to give a favourable, though just impression of Mr. Sheridan's conduct, how|ever it was was soon answered, and within a month (the time the dispute lasted) there were as many pamphlets published as would make a large octavo volume. The whole company, nay, the whole kingdom, were at last engaged in this quarrel, which not only threatened the ruin of all whose bread was depending on the theatre, but the lives and fortunes of many without doors, who were so rash as to engage publicly in the affair, which was nothing more than the honour of an actor, but his cause was a noble one, a de|fence of decency, and the decorum of the stage; in which he was supported by all persons of worth and honor, and by the laws of his country.

On this occasion, a most noble spirit was raised and diffused throughout the city, I may say the whole kingdom, with great rapidity. This spirit first shewed itself at the represent|ing the tragedy of Richard the Third, advertised for the first trial play, after the grand riot, and as it was the first instance where the rights of the audience, and the duty and privileges of the

actors were freely asserted, it deserves parti|cular notice.

When the play was advertised, loud threats were uttered against the manager, and a general declaration, that he should never be permitted to play till he had made a proper submission. But the lovers of liberty and a free theatre, were not to be deprived of their favourite entertainment, by the unreasonable humour of any set of men; they looked upon these menacing dictates as so many insults to the laws and to the public, and therefore resolved to oppose these sons of riot and outrage to the utmost.

The principal inhabitants also began at this juncture to assemble, and resolved to encourage and protect the manager. Several citizens ad|vanced in years, who were seldom seen at a theatre, were so sensible of the advantages and importance of a well regulated stage, that they declared to Mr. Sheridan and his friends, that they would now more than ever, appear there, and doubted not being able to protect the mana|ger, and the actors in general, in the discharge of their duty.

With assurances of this kind, and a conscious|ness of his being in the right, Mr. Sheridan con|sented to the performance of Richard. The house filled earlier than usual. There was a brilliant appearance of ladies, gentlemen, and citizens of eminence, and no small number of the youths of the university. These were dis|persed throughout the theatre, but chiefly in the pit; yet in such a manner, that those who best knew faces, could see no room to suspect any thing like a concerted assembly, however they might afterwards have been found to agree in sentiments.

Whether the author of this disturbance was acquainted with this disposition of the audience or not, is not certain, but it will appear he was not prepared for the reception which his riotous proposals received. His friends came to the house late, in small but well known groupes, and placed themselves chiefly in the boxes. Their leaders either were not in town, or had not time to collect themselves, and settle their plan of operation.

The play opened with great quietness; but at the latter end of the first act, when Richard ap|peared,

a confused noise was heard from differ|ent parts, but chiefly from the boxes, of a sub|mission, a submission, a submission, off, off, off. Mr. Sheridan advanced with respectful bows to the audience, but was prevented speaking by louder and more distinct sounds of, no sub|mission, no submission, go on with the play.

At this critical moment Lucas the celebrated Charles, then well known for his glorious struggles in the cause of liberty, rose up in the pit, and assert|ed the rights of the audience, and the freedom of the stage. He expressed his astonishment and detestation of men bringing their private quarrels with managers or players, into the theatre, and such he apprehended the present case to be; but since the dispute was introduced, it must, like other disputes, there be determined by the majority. He presumed every sober per|son in the house came to receive the entertainment promised in the bills, for which he paid his money at the door. The actors then, he observed, were the servants of the audience, and under their pro|tection during that performance; and he looked upon every insult or interruption given to them in the discharge of their duty, as offered to the audi|ence. He apprehended the matter in dis|pute,

was no breach of the duty of the manager or actors, cognizable to any persons present; but whether it were so, or thought otherwise by the house, the question might easily be deter|mined. He therefore moved that those who were for preserving the decency and freedom of the stage, should distinguish themselves by the holding up of hands, judging, that when they should come to know their numbers and superi|ority, they would silence or turn out their oppo|nents.

He was heard with great respect, and saluted with shouts of applause, and on a division, the numbers were so great against the rioters, that afraid of the consequences, they suddenly went off, and left the performance of that night in quiet.

CHAP. XII.

The rioters assault Mr. Lucas, who offers a reward for apprehending them.—Annual play for the benefit of the hospital for incurables.—Mr. Sheridan again attacked, and prevented from performing.—Disputes at the theatre.—House obliged to be dismissed.—Rioters forced to beg pardon of the collegians.—The lords justices order the theatre to be shut.—Lawsuits commenced.—Mr. Sheridan tried and acquit|ted.—Mr. Kelly fined three hundred pounds' and to be three months imprisoned.

THUS repulsed they resolved still upon further vengeance. The manager and those who took his part, were doomed to destruction. The first person they singled out, was Mr. Lucas, who so nobly spoke in the defence of the rights of the audience and the stage. A num|ber of those gentlemen assaulted him one night soon after this in the streets. Next day he pub|lished an advertisement, which was distributed all over the city, informing the public, that a

number of rude disorderly persons, in the habits of gentlemen, who had for some time past in|fested the public places of the city, and disturb|ed the peace of the theatre, had assaulted him, and offering a reward of five pounds to be paid on the apprehending and convicting any of those offenders.

Before this riot began, the Fair Penitent had been advertised for the annual benefit of the hospital for incurables, and the governors, who were all persons of consequence, demanding the performance of their benefit play, sent the ma|nager (who was to perform the part of Horatio) word, that they would take upon them to de|fend him that night; resting assured no set of men would oppose a charity play, especially as all the ladies of quality exerted their interests, and were to honour it with their presence.

The bills were accordingly posted up, and the governors went early to the theatre with their white wands. The boxes and pit would have been filled with ladies, if about thirty gentlemen had not early taken possession of the middle of two or three benches, near the spikes of the orches|tra. There were above an hundred ladies

seated on the stage, and when the curtain drew up, nothing could equal the brilliant appearance of the house.

At the entrance of Mr. Sheridan, (who had the honour of being usher'd in by the governors) those thirty men, all armed, rose up in the pit, and ordered him off; they were joined by some few placed in both galleries. Mr. Sheridan im|mediately withdrew, and then violent disputes began between the governors on the stage, and the gentlemen in the pit, and something like challenges passed.

The dispute now assumed a very serious as|pect. Among the governors was a student of the university in his bachelor's gown, whom a gentleman near the spikes of the pit, threw an apple at, and called a scoundrel, and (as he de|clared) said they were all a pack of scoundrels. Justly incensed at this affront, away flew the scholar to the college, and returned in about twenty minutes with as many youths armed for the combat. Luckily the rioters had most fortunately left the pit a very few minutes before the scholars arrived, and to prevent any further disturbance, it was agreed by the ma|nagers

of the charity and Mr. Sheridan to dis|miss the house, so they were obliged to return to the college.

The next day however, they seised several of the principal rioters, the first and greatest of|fender, was compelled to kneel down on his bare knees, in all the courts of the college, and to repeat a form they had prepared for him: the others were excused kneeling, and only read their submission, and asked pardon of the col|lege.

The lords justices now thought proper to in|terfere, and to order the master of the revels to shut up the theatre by his authority, which was accordingly done. This was a wise and prudent step. The theatre was made the seat of war, and it was impossible to see where the disturb|ances might end.

And now the lawyers came in for their share of the quarrel. The young gentleman who began this was taken up for assaulting Mr. Sheridan, and Mr. Sheridan was indicted for assaulting and beating the gentleman. Various were the reports, and wagers on the events of

these trials. Nobody at that time would believe, that a jury could be found in Dublin that would find a GENTLEMAN guilty! However they were mistaken. When the time drew near, the lord chief justice Marlay sent for the high sheriff, and directed him to make out, and bring a list of sufficient and able jurors to his lordship.

The day appointed for the trials of both par|ties came on. The curiosity of the public was roused to a great degree. Mr. Sheridan ap|peared as the first culprit, and was tried for assaulting and beating the gentleman, as Mr. Kelly was constantly stiled in the dispute. But it appearing fully to the jury, on the oaths of three or four men, whose honesty was unques|tioned, that the gentleman gave the manager such abusive and provoking language, in his dressing-room, as compelled him to beat him out of it, and that no other person touched him, the jury acquitted the prisoner without going out of the box.

Then the GENTLEMAN appeared at the bar, and many were the witnesses examined: for so many persons are employed behind the scenes of a well regulated theatre, that there were a

multitude of witnesses to prove the facts charged in the indictment. In the course of the trial, Mr. Sheridan was called upon the table, and when he was there, answering the questions proposed to him by the court and bench, a very eminent though not a very mannerly counsellor, on the side of the prisoner, got up and said, "He wanted to see a curiosity? I have often seen (continued he) a gentleman soldier, and a gen|tleman taylor, but I have never seen a gentleman player." Mr. Sheridan, without the least em|barrassment, modestly bowed, and said, "Sir, I hope you see one now." A loud murmur of applause ran through the court, and the coun|sellor, notwithstanding his effrontery, sat down abashed, and never asked him another question.

Mr. Justice Ward tried both the causes in the presence of the lord chief justice, and a full bench, who all seemed inspired with the spirit of the chief justice, to do every thing in their power to punish those destroyers of public liberty! In short the JURY found the GENTLE|MAN prisoner GUILTY, and the sentence was, a fine of five hundred pounds, and three months imprisonment.

After the sentence was given, the lord chief justice was pleased to observe, that attention should be chiefly given to the conduct of those gentlemen at the theatre, as that was the place of public resort, and added, That any person who forced his way behind the scenes, WHERE MONEY WAS NOT TAKEN, if apprehended and brought before that court, and the fact-proved there, he SHOULD FEEL THE UTMOST SE|VERITY OF THE LAW.

This Mr. Kelly, when the law-suit first com|menced, imagined he should be liberally sup|ported, and hundreds subscribed to carry it on, but upon conviction he found himself wholly deserted, and after suffering a week's confine|ment, became so thoroughly sensible of his error, that he was obliged at last to apply to Mr. Sheridan, who instantly requested government to relinquish the fine of 500l. which was granted him; and then became solicitor and bail him|self to the court of king's bench for the enlarge|ment of the young gentleman.

Thus, ample redress was procured for the manager and actors, by obtaining that respect to be paid to the scenes of the theatre-royal in Dublin,

which no other theatre till then had the hap|piness to maintain: for, from that hour not even the first man of quality in the kingdom, ever asked or attempted to get behind the scenes, and before that happy era, every person who was master of a sword, was sure to draw it on the stage door-keeper, if he denied him entrance.

And thus was the long usurped tyranny of a set of wanton, dissolute gentlemen (the greatest nuisance that any city ever groaned under) effectually subdued, and the LIBERTIES OF THE PEOPLE RECOVERED BY A SPIRITED PUBLIC, AIDED BY A WORTHY LORD CHIEF JUSTICE AND AN HONEST JURY!

CHAP. XIII.

Mr. Sheridan goes to London.—Engages Mr. Woodward and the Mechels.—Pantomimes seldom answer in Dublin.—Mr. and Mrs. Macklin, Mrs. Vincent, Mrs. Bland, Miss Minors, Mrs. Mozeen, Mrs. Storer, Mr. and Mrs. Lanpe, Signior Pasquali, Mr. Sul|livan, engaged.—Season not favourable.—Jack the Giant Queller brought out.—Does not suc|ceed.—Miss Bellamy goes to Drury-lane.— Miss Danvers's first appearance.—Bill of the Miser.—Theophilus Cibber visits Ireland again. Mr. Digges's first appearance in Jaffier.—His Character.—Mr. Mossop's entre in Zanga.

BUT to return to the business of the theatre. The remainder of the season proved excellent, and flushed with his late happy conquests, the manager, the ensuing spring, went to London to recruit. There he engaged Mr. Woodward and the Mechels, then the best dancers on the stage, for the following winter. These both proved of service to the theatre.

Mr. Woodward made his first appearance in the Busy Body, September 28th, 1747, and was well received by the public. He was at that time rising into same, and even had great merit both as a comedian and harlequin; in the for|mer he supported an extensive list of comedies with reputation, and being remarkably atten|tive to his business soon became a great favourite with the town.

But the manager had great expectations from his pantomimes, in which he principally excell|ed. By agreement he was to revive two or three old pantomimes, and to get up a new one at a limited expence. It has been a general observation which long experience has confirm|ed, that in Ireland those sort of entertainments have not the same force or attraction as in Lon|don; and the manager of Dublin, who em|barks largely in such undertakings, generally finds they do not sufficiently reimburse him for his trouble and expence.

This was the case in the present instance. The revived pantomimes, though well got up, added but little to the receipts of the theatre, and the new one, though brought out in the month

of February after the town had been properly prepared and advertised, was played to an audience under 100l. The second night it was tacked to Mr. Sheridan and Miss Bellamy in the Fair Penitent, yet were the receipts not above twenty pounds. However, altogether it proved a profitable season to the manager, and the be|nefits, with the assistance of Mr. Woodward, were in general good.

At the end of March, Mr. Sheridan took another trip to London, to provide for the fol|lowing season, and left Mr. Victor, deputy ma|nager, the trouble of appointing, settling, and securing the charges of the several benefit plays; a business not easy to accomplish with so large a body of people, who each have at such times, seperate interests of their own, which re|quire a manager's utmost address to accom|modate.

Elated with his success, and flattered by the idea of being able to raise the stage to a greater degree of eminence, Mr. Sheridan now launch|ed out into expensive engagements, which the Irish theatre, at that time, was not able to repay. Amongst the most considerable of these, his

agreement with Mr. and Mrs. Macklin stood foremost.

Perhaps it can hardly be credited at this day, that the receipts of the Dublin theatre could in|duce its manager to give them eight hundred pounds per annum for two years. Yet in such high estimation did the present father of the stage stand upwards of forty years ago! 'Tis true the manager was a loser by this engagement, as he was by several others, which he entered into at the same time.

As musical pieces began then to be the fashion, Mr. Sheridan resolved to spare no ex|pence in presenting the public with the best en|tertainment in that line he could possibly pro|cure. Accordingly he engaged Mr. Lampe, who was esteemed one of the best composers of the time. Signor Pasquali, a remarkable fine performer on the violin, for the leader of his band. Mrs. Lampe, Mrs. Storer, Mrs. Mozeen, Mr. Howard, and Mr. Sullivan, all capital in musical performances. The salaries of all these amounting to the enormous sum of fourteen hundred pounds each season, was a total loss to the manager, as the profits of their performances

did not reach to one hundred and fifty pounds, which was paid for the writing of their mu|sic.

Mr. and Mrs. Macklin brought money. His Shylock, Sir Paul Plyant, Miser; Ben in Love for Love; Sir Gilbert Wrangle in the Refusal; Scrub in the Stratagem; Trinculo in the Tem|pest, &c. were masterly pieces of acting, and universally admired. Mrs. Macklin's Lappet, Lady Wrangle, Lady Wronghead, Nurse in Romeo, and characters in that style, had great merit. The best of Mr. Sheridan's engagements for that season was Mrs. Bland, since Mrs. Hamilton; she was a very useful actress, went through a great deal of business both in tragedy and comedy very respectably, and had but a moderate salary.

This winter Henry Brooke, Esq author of Gustavus Vasa, produced an allegorical piece called Jack the Giant Queller. The high repu|tation of the author made Mr. Sheridan em|brace the offer of exhibiting it with great plea|sure. The utmost attention was bestowed on preparing it for representation, it drew a croud|ed house, was well performed, and went off with

much applause; but such was the spirit of party at that time, that the next morning, by order of the lords justices, who sent their prohibi|tion to the manager, the piece was immediately withdrawn. The reason given for this extra|ordinary proceeding was, that in several of the songs, satirical hints were thrown out against bad governors, lord mayors, and aldermen. A few years afterwards, when the times were more tranquil, this piece was revived, when it appeared it bad not genuine merit enough to ensure its success.

This season a lady of good family appeared by the name of Danvers, in the character of Indiana, and was received with singular marks of indulgence and approbation. Some time after she played Monimia, Athenais, Sigismunda, &c. with reputation. In about a year after|wards she married Mr. Victor, and retired from the stage.

The manager, during the course of this season, experienced that his receipts were not equal to his expenditures; and towards the close of it the theatre sustained a great loss in being deprived of Miss Bellamy, then a very great favourite

with the town. Mr. Garrick, from the many opportunities he had of seeing her abilities when they performed together in 1746, was too well convinced of her merit not to use every means to engage her; accordingly he made her proposals, which she immediately accepted, and she returned to London, where she remained some years in high reputation.

Towards the latter end of this campaign, Mr. Brookes's alteration of Bankes's Essex, was brought cut with much success. And I shall close my account of it with the following bill, as the company, the ensuing winter, in some measure, assumed a new face, and was strength|ened with a reinforcement of several capital per|formers.

By their Excellencies the Lords Justices Special Command. For the Benefit of Mr. WATSON. At the Theatre-Royal in Smock-Alley. On Monday next, the 8th of May, 1749, will be presented a Comedy, called The MISER. (Being the last Time of performing it this Season.)

The Part of Lovegold, to be performed by Mr. Macklin. Frederick, Mr. J. Elrington. Ramelie, Mr. Barrington. Mr. Decoy, Mr. Beamsly. James, Mr. Storer. Mrs. Wisely, Miss Jones. Wheedle, Miss Orfeur. Clermont, Mr. Ross. The Part of Harriet, to be performed by Mrs. Vincent. Furnish, Mr. Duncomb. Sparkle, Mr. Watson. Sattin, Mr. Williams. List, Mr. Vaughin. The Part of Mariana, to be performed by Mrs. Bland, And the Part of Lappet, by Mrs. Macklin. With singing between the Acts, by Mr. Sullivan, Mrs. Lampe, Mrs. Storer, and Mrs. Mozeen. To which will be added, a Pantomime Enter|tainment, in which will be represented the wonderful Escape of HARLEQUIN, ALIAS DON JUMPEDO, INTO A QUART BOTTLE. As it has been exhibited for Sixty Nights running, with universal Applause at the Theatre-Royal in Covent Garden.

The manager having sustained a heavy loss by his agreement with the musical party, of which another year remained, and dreading the weight of their salaries for the next winter, he very judiciously contrived to transfer them to the musical society, then held at the music-hall in Fishamble-street, for which profitable release he received three hundred guineas, being the a|mount of the yearly subscription of the society.

Thus freed, Mr. Sheridan was at liberty to seek for fresh entertainment for the public, and he was happy in his choice. The ensuing cam|paign was one of the most brilliant that had then ever been known in Dublin. The theatre opened on his majesty's birth day, November 1749, with the Comedy of Love for Love; Va|lentine, Mr. Sheridan; Ben, Mr. Macklin; Miss Price, Miss Mason; and Angelica, Mrs. Bland.

Mr. Theophilus Cibber, then in great estima|tion in London, paid Ireland a second visit this season, and added much to the strength of the comedies. A Miss Griffith, a tolerable actress, made her first appearance on the stage at this time. But what must for ever render this

period memorable to all lovers of the drama was, that it was marked by the first essays of two such capital performers as Mr. Digges and Mr. Mossop.

Few candidates for theatrical fame ever en|tered the lists with greater expectations, or ex|cited general curiosity more than Mr. Digges. His family connections, and the many singular circumstances which marked his entrance into life, were so well known to the fashionable world, that his first entre on the stage engaged the attention of the politest circles. As the fol|lowing anecdotes relative to this gentleman, which I received from unquestionable authority, have never before been made public, I hope they will prove acceptable to my readers.

West Digges, Esq was born about the year 1720, a period, which I before observed, was made remarkable by giving birth to Garrick, Barry and Sheridan. His father was colonel Digges of the guards, a gentleman of family and fortune, and nearly allied to some of the first nobility in England. With many others, he rashly engaged deeply in the fatal South Sea scheme, which involved so many families in

ruin, in the year 1721. The consequence was the entire loss of a large paternal estate in Kent, which he was obliged to dispose of.

He did not long survive this wreck of his fortune. At his death, he left his children, two sons, of whom West was the eldest, to the guardianship of the present duke of Montague, and the late Earl De Lawarr. To the title and estate of the latter, young Digges was at that time, and for many years after, presumptive heir.

By the time he had reached his eighteenth year, an event happened which at once put an end to his expectations respecting the family title and estate. This was the birth of the present Earl De Lawarr. So severe and un|expected a stroke made a total revolution in his circumstances. The remains of his father's for|tune were too inconsiderable to support him in the sphere he had been accustomed to move in, and the old earl was not remarkable for his ge|nerosity. He however bought the young disin|herited Digges a commission, and sent him off to Scotland to join his regiment with scarce money enough to defray his expences. The

younger brother was in like manner provided for in the navy, where he rose to the rank of captain of one of his majesty's ships of war.

The army is perhaps one of the worst schools for a young man of fashion to learn oeconomy in. Military gentlemen in general, have, from a liberality of sentiment, too great a contempt for money. Mr. Digges, bred with such elevated views, and accustomed to such profusion, could not on this sudden change of fortune alter his mode of living, or contract his expences. In a few years whilst he remained in Scotland he in|curred debts, which through life afterwards he was never able to discharge.

Unsupported by his family he was obliged to return to London, where he sold his commissi|on. In all probability had he not taken this rash step, but remained in the army, his merit and connections would in time, have raised him to the highest degree of eminence. In London he contracted an acquaintance with Theophilus Cibber, who introduced him to his father the laureat. This connection turned his views to|wards a theatrical life. The stage displayed a thousand charms to his imagination, and opened

a source of inexhaustible wealth. To apply to either of the London theatres he knew would be in vain; the interest of his family would prevent every attempt of that sort.

There was at that time a treaty depending between Mr. Theophilus Cibber and Mr. She|ridan, Cibber therefore advised him to try his fortune in Ireland, under the auspices of so libe|ral a manager. Mr. Digges readily embraced the idea, and on applying to Mr. Sheridan re|ceived every encouragement he possibly could wish for.

Mr. Digges possessed almost every requisite to form a great actor. Nature had bountifully bestowed her favours upon him. His figure was happily suited to represent the hero, lover, or man of fashion. His person was tall and elegant, yet manly; a countenance open yet ex|pressive; an eye marking and full of vivacity. His address was easy and engaging; his man|ners refined and polished. He had received the most liberal education, and he seemed to have been formed in the school of Chesterfield; few men ever sacrificed more to the graces than Mr. Digges. No man was ever a greater fa|vourite

with the fair, or a more pleasing desira|ble companion amongst his own sex.

His trial part was chosen with judgment. It was Jaffier, a character which afforded ample scope for his abilities. Wednesday November 27th, 1749, the tragedy of Venice Preserved was advertised: Pierre, Mr. Sheridan; Renault, Mr. Cibber; Belvidera, Miss Danvers; "and the part of Jaffier by Mr. Digges, a gentleman lately arrived from England, who never yet appeared on any stage." Except Mr. Barry, the public had never till then beheld so finished a figure as Mr. Digges. His easy elegant deportment charmed his auditors. He supported his character with feeling, tenderness, and variety, beyond expecta|tion, and they had only to regret a harshness in his voice, which time afterwards harmonized prodigiously.

Before the town had time to praise this new favourite, another adventurer was introduced to their notice. The very next evening announced the tragedy of the Revenge. "The part of Zanga by Mr. Mossop, a gentleman of this kingdom, who never appeared on any stage." Perhaps there never was a more striking con|trast

than between these two competitors for public favour

Henry Mossop, Esq was born in the year 1729; his father was a clergyman in the coun|try of Ireland, of excellent character, and univer|sally beloved. As he resided mostly at his rectory at Tuam, he sent his son Henry to Dublin to his brother, who kept a bookseller's shop, who put him under the care of Mr. Butler, a clergyman, who kept a grammar school in Digges-street, Dublin; here he remained upwards of five years, till he was prepared to enter the university.

During the time he remained there he pursued his studies with diligence and credit, and after taking his degrees, he left the kingdom, being invited by an uncle to London, who promised to provide for him. However his reception there not answering his expectations, and not having any brilliant prospects in view, his thoughts inclined him to try the stage, to which he had long been attached whilst in Ireland.

Full of this idea he offered himself first to Mr. Garrick, and then to Mr. Rich, both of whom, after he had given them specimens

of his abilities, pronounced him totally unfit for the stage. And here I must, though perhaps contrary to universal opinion, justify the above gentlemen, and managers in general, from the severe imputations they lie under from the many performers whom in the course of their business they are forced to reject; at the same time I am obliged to condemn the mode of trial gene|rally adopted on these occasions.

A lady or gentleman with a high opinion of their own abilities, confirmed by a few partial friends, who perhaps have neither taste nor judgment, think they have nothing to do but apply to the manager, who must be blind indeed if he does not instantly coincide with their own and friends opinion, and that all they have to do, is to repeat a few speeches, or sing a few songs, when they will be instantly accepted; that then they appear in public, are admired beyond any degree of comparison with those now on the stage, and that their fortune is in|stantly made.

This delirium takes entire possession of them; they gain an audience of the manager; good manners obliges him to treat them with respect;

they urge their claims, and he naturally desires them to give a specimen of their different talents. Perhaps there is not in nature a more ludicrous scene than on such occasions. The awkwardness of the situation throws the young candidates into a variety of unnatural attitudes, whilst fear generally takes away their powers, and throws them into confusion.

The manager, not finding that merit he ex|pected, dismisses them with a cold promise of a distant day, or a wish that in a country company they would for some time, acquire a more inti|mate acquaintance with the drama. Thus re|pulsed, they never conceive themselves deficient, but lay the whole blame on the manager's want of judgment. And yet I will venture to assert, that had Mr. Garrick been desired to give a spe|cimen of his abilities in such a predicament, that the best judges living could not have formed a proper opinion of what he afterwards proved.

But to return. Rejected by Mr. Garrick and Mr. Rich, Mossop next applied to a friend and school-fellow of his, then an actor in Smock-alley Theatre, to mention him to Mr. Sheridan.

This friend was Mr. Francis Gentleman, a man of genius and abilities, who about a year before had made his appearance in Aboan. Mr. Sheridan gave Mr. Mossop a cordial invitation; he came over and had his choice of parts, and very judiciously chose Zanga in the Revenge, in which he displayed an astonishing degree of beautiful wildness. His action was what in some measure it ever remained, awkward and unpicturesque. The pit was crouded with col|legians, who supported their fellow student in the warmest manner, and though through his performance an untutored manner predominated, yet at times such extraordinary marks of genius broke forth, as evidently indicated his future greatness, and confirmed his friends and the audience in the sanguine expectations they had formed of his abilities.

Dramatic entertainments had now arrived to a perfection often wished but never expected in Ireland. The public beheld united in one the|atre, the names of Sheridan, Mossop, Digges, Macklin, Cibber, Ross, Elrington, Bardin, Mor|gan, Sparks, Kennedy, Sullivan, Howard, Beamsly. Mrs. Bland, Mrs. Macklin, Miss Danvers, Miss Griffith, Mrs. Storer, Mrs.

Lampe, Mrs. Mozeen, Mrs. Kennedy, besides others of less note. The tragedies in general were most capitally supported. In Julius Caesar Mr. Sheridan played Brutus; Mr. Mossop, Cassius, and Mr. Digges, Antony. In the Or|phan, Chamont, Sheridan; Castalio, Digges; Polydore, Mossop; Chaplain, Cibber; Moni|mia, Miss Danvers. In Jane Shore, Hastings, Digges; Gloster, Mossop; Dumont, Sheridan; Jane Shore, Danvers; Alicia, Bland.

With so capital a company, no wonder that this was a most profitable and brilliant season to the manager; at the close of it he found his receipts increased two thousand pound beyond any of the preceding years.

CHAP. XIV.

Mr. and Mrs. Macklin leave Ireland and take a company to Chester.—Mr. King and Miss Cole engaged.—The former a great favourite.— Monsieur Billioni and Madam Paget, dancers, from Paris.—Anecdotes of Mr. Robertson.— Misunderstanding between the manager and Mr. Mossop.—The latter engages before the season closes, with Mr. Garrick at Drury-lane. — Mr. Sheridan agrees to give Miss Woffington four hundred pounds for the win|ter.—Her uncommon attraction.—Verses on her.—Her engagement double for the ensuing winter.—Her amiable character.—Bill of Love for Love.

MR. Macklin's agreement concluding with the last season, he collected a very excellent company, and opened a temporary theatre in Chester, where he performed several months during the summer with great success. To re|pair his loss the manager entered into several engagements of consequence. The opening of

the next campaign, September the 19th 1750, presented Miss Cole, a very pleasing little actress from Drury-lane, in Isabella in the Busy Body, and Miss Lucy in the Virgin Unmasked.

Two capital dancers from Paris, Monsieur Billioni, and Madam Paget, were added to Mon|sieur Granier and Miss Baker, who altogether formed an excellent group, and gave great en|tertainment. But Mr. Sheridan's principal novelty was Mr. Thomas King, from Drury-lane theatre, who, though then a very young man, was allowed to possess an extraordinary share of merit, and deemed a valuable acquisi|tion to any theatre. He made his first appear|ance in the character of Ranger in the Suspi|cious Husband, and was highly approved of by the town. This excellent comedian remained several years in Ireland, improving every day in his profession, and the esteem of the public. His many virtues in private, joined to his abi|lities on the stage, deservedly gained him the esteem and friendship of those who were so for|tunate as to be intimate with him.

Amongst the theatrical appearances which mark the early part of this season, we find the

name of Mr. James Robertson, who performed the little comic part of Snap in Love's Last Shift, being his first appearance on any stage. I hope my reader will pardon me if I embrace the opportunity of introducing this gentleman to their acquaintance, and at the same time pay a just tribute to a very worthy character.

Mr. James Robertson is a native of Ireland, and deservedly esteemed one of its ornaments. He is descended from a respectable family, and received a liberal education. A love of science and the belles lettres early distinguished his character. When a young man he bore a con|siderable part in compiling, digesting, and writing that voluminous mass of information, the Universal History. With the profits arising from this work he purchased an annuity for the life of a wife tenderly beloved, and whom he had the misfortune to lose in a year or two after|wards.

Chance some years afterwards conducted him to the York theatre, of which he continued up|wards of twenty years a most valuable mem|ber. During that time he amused himself with occasional excursions in the fields of Fancy, and

culling flowers on the mount of Parnassus. Several of his novels, tales, prologues, epilogues, &c. have great merit. As an actor his abili|ties lay chiefly in the comic line, in which I will venture to say few excelled him. For some years past he has retired from the stage, and now advanced in years enjoys the blessings of a moderate independent competence, amidst a number of friends who honour and esteem him.

Notwithstanding the excellence of the com|pany, the receipts this season, though far from being bad, were not equal to those of the last. Mr. Mossop and Mr. Digges still continued great favourites with the public, yet their novelty was worn off, and the curiosity of the town abated. Before the season was near over a misunderstanding arose between the manager and Mr. Mossop, which ended in the latter ab|ruptly quitting Ireland, and engaging with Mr. Garrick at Drury-lane.

Though I willingly bear testimony of Mr. Mossop's merit, yet justice obliges me to confess, that he had several peculiarities in his disposition which rendered it not easy to live on terms of

friendship with him. The following anec|dote told of him by his friend Mr. Gentlemen, may amongst many be selected to shew his ca|pricious haughtiness.

After performing the character of Zanga for three successive nights at his first onset, he chose Richard for his fourth appearance, and most unaccountably dressed the character in white satin puckered. Mr. Sheridan justly ob|serving that it had a most coxcombly appear|ance, the remark reached Mr. Mossop's ear, who next morning went to the manager's room, and most emphatically addressed him thus: "Mr. She-ri-dan, I hear you said I dressed Richard like a Cox-comb: that is an af-front: you wear a sword, pull it out of the scab-bard; I'll draw mine, and thrust it into your bo-dy." This fu|rious attack Mr. Sheridan smiled at, an expla|nation took place, and the affair had an amica|ble conclusion.

The departure of Mr. Mossop was a loss to the theatre, however it was amply compensated by the engagements of the ensuing winter. On Monday October 7th, 1751, was introduced to the knowledge of the public, Tottenham

Heaphy, Esq one of the most respectable cha|racters that ever graced public or private life. This gentleman, who is sprung from a very good family in the south of Ireland, early in life en|tered into the service of his king and country, and in Ligonier's horse, then esteemed the finest regiment in Europe, served several campaigns in Flanders under the late duke of Cumberland. At the conclusion of the peace in 1748, being at liberty to follow the bent of his inclinations, his genius led him to the stage, for which his figure and abilities well qualified him. He per|formed a few nights at Capel-street theatre, but his first appearance at Smock-alley, was in the character of Manley, in the Provoked Husband, in which he was very favourably received, and proved the many years he continued on the stage, a most valuable support to the drama.

Mr. Davies, the author of the life of Garrick, and Mrs. Davies, a couple remarkable for their great utility, were also engaged by Mr. Sheri|dan, and came out in Sciolto, in the Fair Peni|tent, and Indiana. But what gave peculiar bril|liancy to the season, was the manager's engage|ment with Miss Woffington. This lady had per|formed, since she left Dublin, at Covent-garden

theatre, where she had improved to a great degree, and stood in high favour with the Lon|don audience.

In the summer of 1751, she returned to Ireland, expecting, as the theatre was now established on a permanent footing, to be en|gaged on her first application. This however, Mr. Sheridan, who had not seen her for several years past, seemed at first unwilling to do. At length, by the interposition of several friends, to whom her merits were better known, he con|sented to give her four hundred pound for the season, and she appeared for the first time in Lady Townly, on the same night that Mr. Heaphy performed Manly.

Her reception was such as surpassed the most sanguine expectations of her friends, and asto|nished the manager, who was highly pleased with his acquisition. It is almost impossible to describe the raptures the audience were in at be|holding so beautiful, elegant and accomplished a woman, or the happy consequences which re|sulted to Mr. Sheridan. Her next character was Andromache, in the Distrest Mother, in which Mr. Sheridan played Orestes; Mr. Digges,

Pyrrhus; and Mrs. Bland Hermione. The house was uncommonly crowded, and the same profusion of applause attended her performance throughout.

The public papers every day were filled with panegyrics, on her person, elegant deportment and inimitable acting. She was compared to Caesar; she came, she saw, she overcame. From the numerous productions of the day I have selected one written by a gentleman of some eminence in the literary world.

On Miss Woffington.

Whilst you, the pride and glory of the stage, At once improve, and please the giddy age, The well play'd character, our wonder draws, And still attention marks the due applause. Explore the theatres, how very few Express the passion Which the poet drew; Mad with the love of praise, the actor tries Like Bayes to elevate and to surprize; And women oft, whose beauty charms alone, Neglect the poets part, to play their own; But you, each character so close pursue, We think the author copied it from you;

True judge of nature! justly you despise, To practise tricks by which so many rise.

Hail then! in whom united we behold, Whatever grac'd the theatres of old; A form above description, and a mind, By judgment temper'd, and by wit refin'd. Cut off in beauty's prime! when Oldfield died, The Muses wept, and threw their harps aside; But now resume the lyre, amaz'd to see, Her greatest beauties far outdone by thee.

Nor was her merit confined to one peculiar line of acting; her next character was Phillis in the Conscious Lovers; Young Bevil, Sheridan; Myrtle, Digges; Tom, Mr. King; Cimberton, Mr. Cibber, and Indiana, Miss Davies. She afterwards performed Constance, King John; Cleopatra, All for Love; Lady Betty Modish, Estifania, Rosalind, Zara, Mourning Bride; and, to finish the round, Lothario, in the Fair Penitent.

But the parts in which she peculiarly charmed the public, and continued to draw the most crowded audiences to, were Charlotte, in Cib|ber's Nonjuror; Lady Townly, Hermione and

Sir Henry Wildair. Each of these very oppo|site characters, in which it was difficult to say which she excelled most in, she repeated ten nights, and the receipts of the theatre, on these nights alone, amounted to upwards of four thou|sand pounds. On an average, an hundred pounds each night, an instance never known at that time, or perhaps since, on the Irish stage, to four old stock plays, as in the drama|tic phrase they are denominated.

From the above circumstances we may con|clude, that the season must have proved uncom|monly profitable to the manager. The ensuing winter the company continued much the same; but as Mrs. Woffington was the cause of such unlooked for success, Mr. Sheridan gladly con|sented to double her engagement, making it eight hundred pounds for the winter; and her attraction still continuing, the manager of conse|quence reaped a golden harvest.

To her honour be it ever remembered, that whilst thus in the zenith of her glory, courted and caressed by all ranks and degrees, it made no alteration in her behaviour; she remained the same gay, affable, obliging, good-natured

Woffington to every one around her. She had none of those occasional illnesses which I have sometimes seen assumed by capital performers, to the great vexation and loss of the manager, and disappointment of the public: she always acted four times each week.

Not the lowest performer in the theatre did she refuse playing for, out of twenty-six be|nefits, she acted in twenty-four, and one of the other two was for Mrs. Lee, who chose to treat the town with an exhibition of her own Juliet. Such traits of character must endear the memo|ry of Mrs. Woffington to every lover of the drama.

I shall dismiss this season with presenting a bill of Love for Love, acted February, 11th, 1752, as by it will be seen how capitally the comedies were supported: Valentine, Mr. Sheridan; Scandal, Mr. Digges; Tattle, Mr. Cibber; Je|remy, Mr. King; Sir Sampson Legend, Mr. Sparks; Ben, Mr. Stevens; Foresight, Mr. Mynitt; Angelica, Mrs. Bland; Miss Prue, Miss Cole; Mrs. Foresight, Mrs. Lee; Nurse, Mrs. Mynitt; and Mrs. Frail, Mrs. Woffing|ton.

CHAP. XV.

Institution of the Beef Stake Club.—Mrs. Wof|fington, president.—Mr. Sowdon, Mrs. Green, and Mr. Costello engaged.—Appearance of Mr. Dexter in Oroonako; Anecdotes relative to him.—The Theatre in great repute.—Spirit of Party appears.—Beef Stake Club noticed.—The Tragedy of Mahomet got up.—A Speech in it encored.—Play repeated.—Manager's Speech to the Performers.

A VERY remarkable circumstance occurred about this time, which, as it was productive of the most fatal consequences to the stage in Ire|land, ought not to be passed over in silence; this was the institution of the Beef Stake Club.

As every community have their peculiar cus|toms, so in most theatres, for time immemorial, the performers used to devote one day in the week, generally Saturday, to dine together, and spend a few hours in mirth and social friendship; from this hint the manager formed his plan, but

it differed widely in execution. The mem|bers it was composed of were mostly lords or members of parliament, and amounted to thirty or forty in number.

A very large apartment in the manager's house, adjoining the theatre, was dedicated to this convivial meeting, where every thing was furnished in the most plenteous and elegant stile at his expence: here, strange to relate, the gay▪ volatile, enchanting Woffington, being the only female admitted, was, by unanimous con|sent, voted into the chair, which she filled with a grace and ease peculiar to herself.

It will readily be believed, that such a select assembly enjoying such entertainment, free of all expence, and enlivened by the sprightly sallies and jeu d'esprits of so lovely a president, were as happy as any set of mortals on earth could be; each indulged the hilarity of his disposition, and all was wit, repartee and glee, happy for the theatre, if the public had beheld this assembly in its true light, harmless and void of all de|sign.

But to return. Mr. Sheridan opened his next season, October 10th, 1752, with Mr. Digges's Macheath, and Miss Falkner's Polly. Mr. Digges has been thought by many to be the best Macheath who ever performed it; for my own part, though I confess he had great merit in the part, yet I could not help considering him as too excentric. Of Miss Falkner I know very little. The next night Mr. Sowdon made his first ap|pearance in Othello, a character he had not many requisites for; and a few nights after introduced that excellent comic actress Mrs. Green, in the part of Flippanta, and Mr. Costollo in Money-trap, in the comedy of the City Wives Confede|racy.

These were the only new performers of merit engaged at the beginning of the season. Mr. Sowdon remained many years on the Irish stage, and though not an actor of the very first merit, yet he supported a variety of business with repu|tation, and always lived esteemed and respected, Mrs. Green was justly a great favourite, and much liked by the public, and at the end of her engagement the winter following, she returned to London, where she remained one of the first comic actresses of her time.

In May 1753 Mr. Dexter appeared in the cha|racter of Oroonoko, and Mrs. Woffington played the Widow Lackit: this gentleman was a native of Ireland, much about the same age of Mr. Mossop, with whom he was school fellow, and afterwards fellow student in Trinity College, Dublin. The first trial of his abilities was about two years before, under Mr. Garrick, in Drury-lane, in the same character of Oroonoko; and it is remarked, by Mr. Davies, of him, that he was so unconcerned about his approaching per|formance, that he continued in conversation with his friends in the pit, on the first night of his performing, till the second music, which is ge|nerally played about half an hour beford the cur|tain is drawn up, put him in mind that it was time to think of the stage apparatus.

The applause which Mr. Dexter gained in this first essay was beyond expectation; Mr. Gar|rick was so charmed with the prospect of his success, that he wrote to a friend, at some dis|tance from the capital, in the strongest terms of the young actor's favourable reception, and de|clared he had wonderful expectations from the first proof he had given of his abilities. Mr. Dexter continued to act Oroonoko several times

successively with applause, but it was observed, that every time he acted, he abated in power to please the audience: the public had been surpriz|ed into an approbation which the actor wanted abilities to confirm.

Mr. Dexter, however, proved a valuable ac|quisition to the stage, and though he seldom rose above mediocrity, yet in the extensive round of characters which he performed, it could not be said he ever gave offence. His figure was tall and elegant, his address easy, his manners gentle, modest and uniform; he lived universally belov|ed, and many years after, when he died, was sincerely lamented.

I am now drawing near one of the most disagree|able events in theatric history, and which holds up a striking picture of the uncertainty of this life. Established on the firmest basis of conti|nued unequivocal public approbation, the manager fondly hoped he was now beginning to reap the deserved harvest of his several years unceasing toils. With infinite labour had he overcome all difficulties, and from the lowest depths of de|spair, retrieved the honour of the stage, nor did he desist till he had raised it to an eminence her

sister Britain was proud to own, nay even in some particulars to copy after.

At this time the theatre was the fashionable re|sort of all ranks. Crowded every night with the first characters in the kingdom, it was in reality a source of entertainment and instruction. Its exhibitions might grace a Greek or Roman stage. Propriety, order and decorum presided over the whole. Its professors were held in the highest estimation, admitted into the first assemblies, and treated with the utmost respect. Such were the effects of Mr. Sheridan's manage|ment.

Unwillingly must I quit so pleasing a portrait, to exhibit one of a very different complexion: most unhappily for the drama, the spirit of party had for some years past been advancing with rapid strides over this divided nation. The dae|mon of discord had lighted his infernal torch, and scattered his destructive brands in every pro|vince of this distracted kingdom. Hitherto the monster had not found entrance into the theatre, but once admitted, he plunged its inhabitants in|to the worst of calamities, and spread desolation through the whole.

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Mr. Sheridan's conduct as yet had defied the most envenomed enquiry: from the innocent circumstance of forming the celebrated Beef Stake Club, did the most fatal consequences arise, and what at any other time would have passed unheeded, now gave the most unpardon|able offence. 'Tis true the members were per|sons generally attached to the court, and the usual routine of toasts drank on this occasion were of a similar complexion. But neither the founder, members, or lovely president ever de|signed it as a school for politics, they unsuspect|ingly enjoyed the present moment in all the de|lights which wit and mirth could inspire.

No sooner had popular prejudice beheld him with a jaundiced eye, than his most innocent actions were misconstrued into settled design, and many idle stories were circulated to his dis|advantage. At this very critical juncture, did the manager most unluckily bring forward the tragedy of Mahomet. It cannot be supposed he had any particular design in performing it at this time; on the contrary, it appears, that it was cast the season before, but laid aside as it was then too late, and would interfere with the be|nefits.

However, no sooner was it announced, than the opposite party took the alarm, and resolved to demonstrate their sentiments by publicly mark|ing whatever passages in the piece they thought applicable to their opinions. On Saturday Fe|bruary 2d, 1754, it was advertised: Zaphna, Mr. Sheridan; Mahomet, Mr. Sowdon; Alca|nor, Mr. Digges, and Palmira, Mrs. Woffing|ton. The night of performance the house filled directly, and in the pit were placed the leaders of opposition. In the first act Alcanor has this speech, which at that time was deemed so re|markably applicable:

If, ye powers divine! Ye mark the movements of this nether world, And bring them to account? Crush, crush those vipers, Who, singled out by the community To guard their rights, shall, for a grasp of ore, Or paltry office, sell them to the foe.

Scarce had he finished this speech, when a loud encore from the pit hindered the perform|ance from proceeding. Mr. Digges amazed and confounded at so unprecedented and unexpected a desire, was for some moments unable to deter|mine,

but the encore continuing with encreasing violence, he at length complied with its voice, and spoke the whole speech over again: this triumph obtained, their applause was unbounded, and the performance suffered to continue, with this remarkable circumstance, that during the remainder, their great favourites Mr. Sheridan and Mrs. Woffington, went through their scenes, which are the finest in the play, without the least notice, whilst the character of Alcanor, on every occasion, was marked with their loudest approbation.

As this seemed evidently the work of party, it is astonishing, and at this time unaccountable, why the manager suffered this objectionable piece to be again given out; sorry I am to say, that in this fatal instance his usual prudence and good sense seemed to have totally deserted him. A manager, as he is the steward of the public at large, ought carefully to avoid attaching himself to any particular interest; but when matters were so enflamed, that even the most rational persons were prejudiced, and could not reason coolly on political subjects, to throw such an op|portunity in their way, seems, at this day, an un|accountable infatuation.

The reasons he afterwards assigned appeared totally insufficient; they were, "that he had con|sulted some of the coolest of his friends, who told him, they could see no reason why he should lose all the advantage of the time and labour, which it cost him and the company to prepare this play, because about twenty persons in a for|mer audience had stamped the name of a party play on it; that he received many messages that the play was desired, and unless performed would be insisted on;" this proves that each party look|ed on it in that light.

A month however elapsed before a repetition of this fatal piece took place; all was quiet in the town and theatre, and in all probability the former exhibition entirely forgot; happy would it have been if he had not revived it in their me|mory. On the 2d of March it was again an|nounced, and on the Friday morning before, he sent a general summons to the company to meet him in the green-room, where, being all assem|bled, he read the following lecture, which as it does him infinite credit, and will best demon|strate the purity of his intention, I think well worthy a place in this history.

"I am sorry to find that party has become so universal in Dublin, as to make its appearance visibly on the stage; I am sure that is a most im|proper place for it, on which account I think it my duty to lay before you the rule by which you ought to act at this juncture. I do not pretend to dictate to you in your private capacities, eve|ry man born under our happy constitution has a right to think as he pleases, and speak his senti|ments, provided they are not repugnant to the laws of the land, and the rules of civil society. In your theatrical character I have an undoubted right at least to advise you. I lay it down as a maxim, that the business of an actor is to divest himself, as much as possible, of his private sen|timents, and to enter, with all the spirit he is master of, into the character he represents; and this is an indisputable claim which the public in general have upon him. But if an actor in order to please part of that public, should, by any unusual emphasis, gesture or significant look, mark out a passage in his part (which at another juncture he would have passed by lightly) as a party stroke, he, in that instance, steps out of his feigned character into his natural one, than which nothing can be more disgusting or insolent to any auditor, who came with no other intent but that

of seeing the play; such a performer ought to be looked upon by the public as an incendiary, as one who throws the brand of discord amongst them; for supposing persons of a different way of thinking should take it into their head to resent and oppose this behaviour, the theatre in that case, instead of being a place of pleasure and en|tertainment, would become a scene of riot and disor|der. I was in hopes that the example I had set upon this occasion, would have had so much influence as to make admonitions unnecessary; for what|ever my private sentiments may have been, I defy any person to charge me justly, that the least glimpse of them appeared in my conduct, either as a manager or an actor. I understand my duty to the public too well; it is my business to take all the precautions and care in my power, that the audience shall enjoy their entertainment in peace, and not by any act of mine, to encou|rage and foment party feuds. Indeed I laid it down as a fixed resolution to observe in my pub|lic conduct a strict neutrality; I determined to exhibit plays in the same order which I should have done had the town been entirely free from party; and as on the one hand I would lay no old play aside, lest it might appear an application to the times, so on the other I would revive none

purely to serve that end; for though I knew ma|ny plays, that, in the present disposition of the people, would have filled my house many nights, and consequently my purse, yet I should have looked upon myself in so doing as a time-serving, a prostitutor of the stage, and a betrayer of the public.

"Though it must be allowed, that the rule I had laid down for my conduct, was the fittest to be observed by the manager of a free stage, yet I was far from escaping censure. Persons of both parties have often took offence at passages which they themselves applied, and conclusions were drawn, that the play was played on purpose, &c. and indeed this was unavoidable, for plays in ge|neral being pictures of life, and tragedies mostly of high life, and of persons concerned in state affairs, it was not possible but that many inci|dents, characters and sentiments might bear ap|plication from minds biassed by party. This is more particularly the case with our English plays, whose authors have chosen more subjects, and written more freely upon government, than any other nation under the sun. You all know that the parts of the play of Mahomet were delivered out, and the representation of it intended last

year; but before it could be got ready the season was so far advanced, that it was thought not prudent to hazard the performance of a new play to thin audiences.

"The necessary amputations practised on eve|ry play, were performed at different times on this at rehearsals, according as the scenes were found tedious in repeating, and many of them were done at the request of the actors con|cerned in the scenes. I do not remember that any performer during the several readings and rehearsals took notice of any passage that might be applicable, or any sentiment that might be termed a party one; and yet they are generally as sagacious in finding out such things as most people; indeed in point of story, characters, in|cidents, and moral, I consider it as one of the most unexceptionable plays that could be per|formed. And after having several times looked it over again with the utmost attention, I own myself stupid enough to be still of the same way of thinking; nor can I see how the tragedy itself, or any part of it, can be applied to the present times, without great straining of the sense and words. However as some persons judged other|wise, I thought proper to lay it by awhile, that

people might have time to read and examine it coolly; if that be done, I make no doubt but all prejudices will be effaced. I have therefore ven|tured to give it once more to the public, directly as it was performed before, without diminution, alteration, or addition of a syllable.

"As it was at the representation of this play, that an innovation was attempted, and given way to, never known before in the theatre, I think it my duty to lay before you my senti|ments upon the dangerous consequences which may attend it to the stage in general, and to all actors in particular. I mean a right claimed by the audience, to encore speeches in plays.

"If it be once established as a rule, that one part of an audience have a right to encore a speech, upon the fame principle, any other part of that audience may claim the same right.

"If they have a right to have it once repeated, why not several times as well as once? Why not any other speech as well as that one? And why not as many speeches as they shall think proper?

"If one party should encore a speech, because they think it makes for their purpose, may not another party encore as many as they think will make for them? Nay, may they not from a mere spirit of opposition encore every speech, as often as they shall think proper? In this case, I do not see how we should be able to get through one act of a play.

"If one part of an audience should cry out Encore, have not the rest an undoubted right to cry out, No more, as the first claim is neither founded on reason or custom? In such a case, is not an actor certain of disobliging one party or other? And is he not liable to the resentment and ill treatment of one or the other?

"In such a situation the actors would be in a much worse condition than the musicians for|merly were. We all know the dreadful usage they met with, in consequence of a claim of that nature from the galleries. They assumed a right of calling for what tunes they pleased, but not always agreeing upon the tune, one party roared out for one, and the other was as clamor|ous for another; as the musicians could not pos|sibly play both together, they thought that play|ing

them one after another would satisfy all par|ties, but that would not do. If they played the one, the advocates for the other thought they had a right to precedence, and saluted them with a volley of apples and oranges. At last the out|rage rose to such an height, that they threw glass bottles and stones, cut several of the per|formers, and broke their instruments. Then there was no resource found, but that of order|ing the band never to go into the box, but to play behind the scenes, at least till the pit was so full that they might be protected. This expedi|ent being often put in practice, put an end to the claim, and the band afterwards performed such pieces as were allotted to them without in|terruption. But the actors could not possibly have such an asylum; they cannot play their parts behind the scenes, their duty obliges them to a post open to the battery of an incensed mul|titude, some of whom would shower their re|sentment on them through malevolence or per|sonal pique, others through mere wantonness. Nor is this an imaginary or unlikely thing; eve|ry one who remembers the state of the stage be|fore it was rescued from slavery, must know that the thing often happened, merely through pri|vate resentment.

"In short, if this new claim is to be forced down our throats, I do not see where the matter will end. I know not why new claims may not be made every night; I know not why they may not insist upon performers doing whatever they please; in that case, I know no human being in so deplorable a state of slavery as an actor would be.

"In short, this is a blow struck at the very vitals of the stage, calculated to destroy all taste in the audience, and spirit in the performers; to breed perpetual feuds and divisions amongst the spectators, and entail perpetual slavery upon the actors. I hope you have all too great a sense of li|berty, and have the good of the society too much at heart, to encourage so fatal an encroachment upon your rights; and in that hope I shall leave you entirely free, to act as you think proper, wishing that your conduct may rather be the re|sult of a manly sense of freedom, than obedience to an order. In all new cases, indeed, I would rather persuade than direct, convince than com|mand.

"To you, Mr. Digges, I must particularly apply, as you were the first tragedian I ever

heard of, who repeated a speech upon the encore of an audience. I am in hopes it was the sud|denness of the thing, and want of time to reflect upon the ill consequences which might attend it. Yon have now heard my arguments upon that head; if you think they are of weight, I suppose you will act accordingly; if not, remember I do not give you any orders upon this occasion, you are left entirely free to act as you please."

CHAP. XVI.

Mr. Digges asks the Manager how to conduct himself.—His Answer.—Speech encored.—Mr. Digges declines repeating it.—Mr. Sheridan called upon by the Audience.—Refuses to appear. Curtain ordered down.—Riot continues.—Mrs. Woffington endeavours to appease the Storm but in vain.—Mr. Sheridan quits the House.—The Ladies handed out, and the inside of the Theatre demolished.—No civil Magistrate to be found.— Reflections on the hard treatment of the Mana|ger, who retires from the Stage.—He generously gives up his Theatre to the Performers for their Benefits.—It opens again for Mrs. Woffington's Benefit.

WHEN the manager had finished this excel|lent lecture, the justice of which every one al|lowed, Mr. Digges rose up, and observed, that as the foregoing discourse on the duties of an ac|tor was entirely levelled at him, and as the play was to be performed the night following, when

in all probability the same demand would be again made on him, critically situated as he was, he desired to know from the manager how he should conduct himself? To this Mr. Sheridan replied, he would give him no directions, but leave him to do as he thought proper. Mr. Digges then said, "Sir, if I should comply with the demand of the audience, and repeat the speech, am I to incur your censure?" The manager replied, "Not at all; I leave you to act in that matter as you think proper."

The next evening gave the decisive blow: scarce were the doors open before all parts of the theatre were crowded; but as the pit on such occasions is generally the principal scene of ac|tion, so here the enemy seemed to have collect|ed their greatest force. No sooner did Alcanor make his appearance, than he was welcomed with uncommon tokens of applause, and scarce was this memorable speech delivered, before a general demand of Encore! Encore! issued from every part of the house.

Mr. Digges, who, we must suppose, was pre|pared for this attack, seemed for some moments to be confounded; but the violence of the en|core

still continuing with unabated fury, he stepped forward and made a motion to be heard; when silence was obtained, he said, "It would give him the highest pleasure imaginable to com|ply with the request of the audience, but he had his private reasons for begging they would be so good as to excuse him, as his compliance would be greatly injurious to him."

Such an apology might naturally be expected, would rather inflame than appease a multitude already ripe for mischief, who only wanted a pretence to wreak their vengeance on the devot|ed object; accordingly the cry of Manager! Manager! Sheridan! Sheridan! was echoed through the house.

It has often been remarked, that on the most trying occasions in life, when most we need it, our presence of mind forsakes us. It might tru|ly be said so of Mr. Sheridan at this critical mo|ment; in all probability, if he had immediately come forward, and obeyed their summons, the uproar would have ceased, and the mischief been avoided. He naturally would have re|quested to know their pleasure; in answer to which they certainly would have asked, if it was

by his orders Mr. Digges forbore to gratify their demand. To this, with the greatest truth, he could have replied, no; on the contrary, he knows I left him entirely at liberty to follow his own inclinations. Unreasonable as they were, and I will suppose them unreasonable enough at that time, yet such a declaration must have si|lenced them, or turned their vengeance on its proper object, the actor, whose imprudence continued all this disturbance.

Unfortunately Mr. Sheridan acted the direct contrary. On the clamour continuing he order|ed the curtain down, and sent the Prompter on to acquaint the audience, that they were ready to perform the play, if it was suffered to go on in quiet, if not they were at liberty to take their money again: this message, as might be expected, was not heard, and the Prompter obliged immediately to withdraw.

Still there was a moment left which, if pro|perly improved, might have prevented the im|pending destruction. But it was not to be▪ Mr. Sheridan on finding they persisted in calling for him, with some agitation said, "They have

no right to call upon me—I'll not obey their call; I'll go up to my room and undress myself."

Some of his friends, Mr. Adderley in particu|lar, left the boxes and followed him to his dres|sing room, and advised him not to undress, but to go down and pacify the audience: Mr. Adder|ly even offered to undertake, that the gentlemen of the pit should not offer any insult to him, of which he seemed so apprehensive. Mr. Sheri|dan replied, he had not the least apprehensions from the gentlemen of the pit, but his fears were of the behaviour of the galleries: That he was sorry to say, the hour was now arrived, when he could no longer support the stage upon a footing which the world had approved of for many years, therefore he was determined to withdraw: that he should take another opportunity of convinc|ing him, that he was now drove to the fatal ne|cessity before-mentioned; but he was under too much perturbation of mind at present, to be able to do it as clearly as he could wish.

Mr. Adderley finding his mediation could be of no service, instead of returning to the pit went directly home, and Mr. Sheridan being undressed, got into a chair, and was carried to

his own house in Dorset-street. The uproar still continuing, Mrs. Woffington was at length per|suaded to try the force of her eloquence in assuag|ing the fury of this many-headed monster; but this was as impolitic a step as could be taken, her known connexions with the court party pre|cluded all chance of her success; as great a favou|rite as she was on every other occasion, here her influence was entirely lost, and beauty, for once, failed in commanding respect and admiration.

As their last resource, Mr. Digges was pre|vailed upon to go forward; he did so; silence and attention immediately succeeded; he can|didly informed the audience, that Mr. Sheridan had laid him under no injunction not to repeat the speech, and therefore should not, on that ac|count have incurred their displeasure. Had this declaration been made at first, in all probability it would have prevented every mischief which ensued; but it was now too late, and this was only looked upon as a pretence to mitigate their resentment. The storm was raised, and they insisted upon Mr. Sheridan's appearing, and an|swering for himself. On being informed that he was gone home, they insisted on his being sent for, and added, that they would patiently wait an

hour, as he was known to live at some distance; accordingly they sat quietly down to amuse them|selves till the time elapsed.

Messengers were immediately dispatched to the manager, to acquaint him with the situation of affairs, and the resolution of the house; but un|happily no arguments could prevail on him to return back. This infatuation, for such it must be called, when his all was at stake, was really astonishing. When the hour was expired, they renewed their call, and after continuing it some|time, and no manager appearing, they proceeded very methodically to business. Two of their leaders, persons of gravity and condition, rose up in the middle of the pit, went over to the boxes, and handed out the ladies with a great deal of politeness; this accomplished, a young gentleman stood up in the middle of the pit, and cried out, "God bless his Majesty King George, with three huzzas!" At the end of the last huzza they fell to work with such fury, that in less than ten minutes the audience part was en|tirely demolished.

Had their vengeance ceased here, the damage might have easily been repaired; but not content with

the mischief they had already committed, their rage knew no bounds; drawing their swords they leaped upon the stage, and launched into every excess which the most savage brutality could urge them to; and a theatre, which, a few hours before, might have reflected honour on the most civilized nation, was in a few mo|ments left an unexampled monument of barbarity.

After destroying every scene within their reach, they proceeded to the wardrobe, which they found too well defended; then, as the last effort of their revenge, they tore out the grate of the box-room, and dragged it into the middle of the room, in hopes, as it was full of burning coals, that it would set fire to the house altoge|ther; in this they were likewise prevented, as after their departure in triumph, it was removed to its original situation.

It can scarcely be credited that in so capital a city as Dublin, such horid outrages should con|tinue so many hours without the intervention of the civil magistrate; but the unfortunate mana|ger seemed marked for destruction. The lord mayor was ill of the gout, the sheriffs were not to be found, and it was past one o'clock in the

morning before any person above a deputy con|stable could be procured, and long before that time the mischief had ceased, and revenge had glutted her fiercest feelings.

Here let us pause, and, with an eye of pity, look back upon the dreadful scene of havock and destruction, which, in an unlucky hour, blast|ed the fair hopes of so many years. Ill-fated manager! hard was your lot to direct the dra|matic state in such perilous times. Party rage and malice have long since, thank heaven, ex|hausted their envenomed shafts—But who shall repair your wrongs? The great scheme of your life is defeated by one blow, and the fruits of eight years indefatigable pains, blasted in one night. You awake from a dream, and find that the best and most vigorous of your years have been employed to no purpose!

This cruel treatment immediately determined Mr. Sheridan to give up all ideas of manage|ment. He advertized his theatres to be let or sold; and took leave of the public in a very pa|thetic and affecting address.

As 'tis is the midst of misfortunes that the truly great mind shines in its native lustre, so never did Mr. Sheridan's conduct appear in such noble colours as at this interesting period. Though used with such unparalleled cruelty, and his fortunes ruined past all hopes of retrieving, yet feeling for the performers under his care, who innocently were involved in his distresses, he resolved they should not partake, and with a disinterestedness which will ever add honour to his character, generously gave them up the use of his theatre, or what remained of it, with the wardrobe and scenery, for their benefits during the rest of the season, not only without any emolu|ment, but at a certain loss each night to himself.

Accordingly the theatre, after undergoing a few temporary repairs, opened again March 18th, 1754, about a fortnight after the riot, by com|mand of the duke and duchess of Dorset, for Mrs. Woffington's benefit, with the tragedy of All for Love, to a very crowded audience; after which the benefits, most of which were good, continued without intermission, till the middle of May, when the theatre closed, and Mrs. Wof|fington returned to London.

CHAP. XVII.

The Theatre taken by Messrs. Victor and Sowdon— Mr. Barry, Miss Nossiter, Mrs. Gregory, Mr. Lacy and Miss Kennedy engaged.—Thea|tre opens.—Receipts of twenty-six of Mr. Barry's Nights.—Mahomet revived.—Does not bring money.—Is performed without the least Disturbance.—Season closes.—Mr. Barry and Miss Nossiter return to London.

THE theatres, after being advertised for some months, were at length taken by Mr. Sowdon and Mr. Victor. These gentlemen had some proper|ty, and were tolerably well qualified for such an undertaking. They agreed with Mr. Sheridan for two years certain, paying him five pounds for every acting night, and advancing him two thousand pounds, on a mortgage of the theatres. This business concluded, Mr. Victor set about repairing the damages which Smock-alley theatre had sustained, and Mr. Sowdon set off for Lon|don to recruit.

In this expedition he was extremely successful, and returned with a great deal of novelty. The principal object of his pursuit was Mr. Barry: as at this dangerous and critical juncture no person seemed so proper to support the new govern|ment, and supply the loss of so great a favourite as the late manager. Mr. Barry was fully sensi|ble of his own importance, and insisted upon eight hundred pounds salary for himself, and five hundred pounds for Miss Nossiter, a young lady then under his protection. These were great terms, but necessity obliged the managers to comply with them.

However they made a more moderate agree|ment with Mrs. Gregory, afterwards Mrs. Fitz|henry. This lady was then but young on the stage, having played but one winter at Covent-Garden: she was engaged for three hundred pounds, and proved a most valuable acquisition. Luckily for the managers, in their covenant with Mr. Barry, they stipulated, that he should be obliged to perform sixty nights in the season, so that the eight hundred pounds divided into sixty parts was about fourteen pounds per night, by which means, though he was remarkably assidu|ous, yet at the conclusion of the season nine of

the nights were wanting to complete the sixty, and consequently a great saving to the new ma|nagers.

Every thing being prepared, Smock-alley thea|tre opened, under the auspices of Messrs. Sow|don and Victor, October 7th, 1754, with the comedy of The Suspicious Husband. Ranger, by Mr. King; Frankly, Mr. Dexter; Bellamy, Mr. Heaphy; Strickland, Mr. Sowdon; Mrs. Strickland, Miss Danvers; Jacintha, Mrs. Cow|per (from Drury-lane); and Clarinda, Miss Ken|nedy (from Covent-garden). The play went off extremely well, and the audience seemed highly pleased. For though every moderate person la|mented the severe fate of Mr. Sheridan, and de|plored the situation he was reduced to, yet as the injury was irreparable, they thought it much more prudent to remain quiet at present, than by an unsuccessful attempt to revive the spirit of op|position, the abetters of which, ashamed of their late unjustifiable proceedings, were on this occa|sion the most forward in supporting the theatre.

Besides the reinforcement above-mentioned, Mr. Lacy, from Drury-lane, paid Ireland a se|cond visit, and opened in King Lear; and Mr.

Love, a very good comedian, from the same theatre, made his first appearance in Sir John Falstaff, in which he succeeded remarkably well, and during the remainder of the season, he play|ed a variety of characters in comedy with much reputation.

Mrs. Gregory was brought forward in Her|mione, in The Distressed Mother, a character she sustained with an uncommon degree of merit, and on her first night received that just tribute of approbation, which constantly attended her performance. The first time Mr. Barry was an|nounced he drew a very brilliant and crowded audience: he appeared in his favourite Othello, and was received with that warmth of applause which his uncommon merit so highly intitled him to. In the course of this work I shall en|deavour to throw together a few remarks on the various excellencies of this great actor; at pre|sent I shall only observe, that every one notic|ed with pleasure how much he had improved during his absence, and congratulated the ma|nagers on their judicious choice of the only per|son capable of sustaining the Irish stage in its present predicament.

Miss Nossiter closed the list of capital per|formers. The first of December she played Ju|liet, with Mr. Barry's Romeo, and Mr. King's Mercutio, in which, making every allowance for a young actress, she gave evident proofs of genius and ability.

With this company the town seemed very well satisfied. Mr. Barry generally drew crowd|ed houses. As the reader perhaps may be curi|ous to know the receipts of the theatre at this pe|riod, it luckily happens that I am in possession of the amount of twenty-six of Mr. Barry's nights, which, for his satisfaction, I shall here present, only premising, that when they com|menced Mr. Barry's novelty was in some mea|sure abated.

1755	Irish Money.
Jan. 1st. Essex	£ 51 10 3
3d. Distressed Mother	54 3 4
8th. Orphan	77 11 4
10th. Ditto	56 18 7
15th. Venice Preserved	66 1 8
Carried over	306 5 2
	1755

	Irish Money.
1755 Brought over	£ 306 5 2
Jan. 17th. Macbeth	126 10 8
20th. Othello	86 4 8
22d. Jane Shore	76 2 1
23d. Romeo	72 8 5
24th. Macbeth	104 2 2
27th. Essex	96 18 1
29th. Hamlet	43 9 11
31st. King John	78 0 0
Feb. 3d. Oroonoko	75 17 9
5th. Macbeth	63 12 11
11th. Essex	72 7 4
14th. Theodosius	54 4 5
17th. Siege of Damascus	87 0 1
19th. Oroonoko	45 4 7
21st. Romeo	73 12 3
24th. Philoclea, a new Tragedy	95 12 1
26th. Siege of Damascus	65 1 1
28th. Henry V.	36 18 10
Mar. 5th. Philoclea	53 10 0
10th. Theodosius	42 8 3
12th. Othello	58 2 5
The amount of the twenty-six nights	1813 15 2

I shall just observe on the above, that those were esteemed good houses, and sufficient to enable the managers to make good their engage|ments of sixteen hundred pounds for the season to three capital performers: Mr. Barry, then de|servedly at the head of his profession, Miss Nos|siter, and Mrs. Gregory, exclusive of the other actors and actresses. When in proper time those receipts are compared with the extraordinary sums which Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Crawford, and others have drawn at different times, the public perhaps will be surprized to find how much Dub|lin has increased in population and wealth, and improved in taste for theatrical performances since that period.

But to return. Though the spirit of party had in some measure subsided, yet still the re|mains of it rankled in the breasts of a few. Its first appearance was in a demand of the revival of the fatal play of Mahomet. The managers, apprehensive of serious consequences, for some evaded the demand, but fearing to incense the multitude, the play was at length promised. With the utmost anxiety they waited the event of this dreaded desire, which fortunately turned out very contrary to their expectations. There

was not above sixty pounds in the house; and as the actor, Mr. Gwinnap, who performed Alca|nor, was instructed to yield obedience to the audience, their favourite speech was encored, and immediately repeated; this done, the remain|der of the performance went off as quiet and silent as possible.

Ashamed of their defeat, the leaders of oppo|sition laid the whole miscarriage of their designs on the manner in which the parts were perform|ed, not having the names of Barry or Mrs. Gre|gory to support them; and, as their last effort, requested it might be given out once more: this was complied with, when, to their utter morti|fication, so few came to the house that it was obliged to be dismissed. Thus ended an affair which in the beginning, had been productive of so much mischief; and such a difference does even a very few years often make in the minds and actions of an audience.

This season closed the 9th of June, much to the manager's satisfaction. Mr. Barry and Miss Nossiter returned to London, and Mr. Sowdon was under the necessity of supplying their places to the best advantage. And here I shall conclude

this chapter, with presenting my reader with two bills; the one tragedy and the other come|dy, which I hope may in some measure convey a just idea of the company under the new ma|nagers:

(Not acted this season.) This present Friday, the 14th of March, 1755, will be presented a tragedy, called, THE MOURNING BRIDE. Osmyn, by Mr. Barry, (Being his first appearance in that character.) King, Mr. Sowdon. Gonsalez, Mr. Layfield. Garcia, Mr. Ricard. Perez, Mr. Stayley. Alonzo, Mr. Watson. Selim, Mr. Hamilton. Leonora, Miss Mason. Almeria, by Miss Nossiter, Zara, by Mrs. Gregory, (Being their first appearance in those Characters.) At the End of the Third Act, a Dance, called, The Wood-Cutters, by Miss Hilliard, Mr. Mc. Neil, and others.

And after the Play will be presented, a Panto|mime Entertainment, called, THE CONSTANT CAPTIVE. In which will be introduced, the celebrated Skeleton Scene. With Dancing by Miss Hilliard and Mr. Mc. Neil. Harlequin, Mr. Messink. Clown, Mr. Layfield.

For the Benefit of Mr. Goodfellow At the Theatre-Royal in Smock-alley, on Thurs|day the 15th of May, 1755, will be revived, a Comedy called, TWELFTH NIGHT. (Written by Shakespeare.) Sir Andrew Aguecheek, Mr. King. Sir Toby Belch, Mr. Sparks. Orsino, Mr. Ricard. Sebastian, Mr. Stayley. Antonio, Mr. Goodfellow. Malvolio, Mr. Love. Valentine, Mr. R. Elrington. Curio, Mr. Williams. Fabian, Mr. Watson. Clown, Mr. Cunningham.

Olivia, by Miss Kennedy. Maria, Mrs. Kennedy. Viola, Mrs. Cowper. With a FARCE, And Entertainments of Dancing by Miss Hilliard, Mr. Mc. Neil, Mr. Harvey, Master Blake, and others.

CHAP. XVIII.

Managers engage Mr. Mossop.—Barbarossa got up.—Coriolanus, and Measure for Measure revived.—Mr. Stamper, Dr. Arne, Miss Brent, &c. engaged.—Jack the Giant Quel|ler, and the new Tragedy of Injured Honour performed.—Mr. Woodward arrives.—Mr. Sowdon and Mr. Victor resign the Manage|ment.

DEPRIV•••• of the assistance of Mr. Bar|•••••• 〈…〉〈…〉 ••aturally turned their eyes to|wards Mr. Mossop. Though they had luckily saved themselves under the heavy engagements of the last winter, yet were they unwilling to run such another hazard▪ therefore, in order to avoid the risque of g••••ng so large a sum to any capital performer, they agreed with Mr. Mossop that he should have a third of the profits. The nightly expence was estimated at forty pounds, after which the overplus was to be divided be|tween Mr. Victor, Mr. Sowdon and Mr. Mos|sop.

This was a prudent precaution; but they omitted a most material circumstance, which was, the obliging him to perform a certain num|ber of nights; so that though Mr. Mossop really drew a great deal of money, yet as he found that playing once a week would certainly excite curiosity, more than if he acted three or four times, so he naturally availed himself of it, and through the course of the season performed only twenty-four nights; the consequences of which were, that as Mrs. Gregory, whose salary was most deservedly advanced to four hundred pounds, was only studied in a few of Mr. Mos|sop's tragedies, and seldom appeared in comedy, the managers, at the close of the engagements, found themselves out of po•••••••• whilst Mr M••••+sop's emoluments, benefits 〈…〉〈…〉 very great, amounted to between eight and nine hundred pounds.

However, besides t•••• strength of Mr. Mos|sop and Mrs. Gregory, the managers had not been remiss in providing a great deal of no|velty. A number of new performers and pieces were brought forward in the course of the win|ter. Mr. Stamper, a comedian of much me|rit, appeared in the character of the Miser,

which he supported with great justice and na|ture; his Scrub, Foresight, and many parts in that line of business were well received by the public, and he was considered as a real acquisi|tion to the drama. A young gentleman of the name of Kirkpatrick played Romeo, and after|wards Altamont, Essex, &c. with some success; and Mrs. Glen, from Covent-garden, was an|nounced to the town in Juliet.

But the most material advantage the mana|gers reaped at this time, was the reinforcement of a strong musical party. Dr. Arne having then under his direction a very excellent company of vocal performers, engaged for the representation of three operas, Eliza, Alfred, and the Fairies, by a subscription for ten nights each. This was a great relief to the business of the theatre; these operas filled up the vacant nights, at the same time that they answered Dr. Arne's purpose, as he obtained a large subscrip|tion, they being patronized by the Lord Lieutenant, the Marquis of Hartington, after|wards Duke of Devonshire, and by most of the nobility.

These operas were in general well supported by Mr. Sadler, Mrs. Arne, the celebrated Miss Brent, who, though very young at that time, gave every assurance of her future fame, and a Miss Polly Young, a child possessed of an un|common fine voice and manner. At the close of this very season Miss Brent studied and play|ed for the first time, the part of Polly in the Beg|gars Opera, a character in which she drew such extraordinary houses in London, a few years after.

In this place, I must once for all beg leave to observe, that as it was my earnest wish through the whole of this performance, to exhibit to the public a faithful portrait of the Irish stage, in all its various vicissitudes and changes, and to pre|sent every information which I could collect on the subject, so I deemed it essential to mention the regular succession of performers of any emi|nence, who from time to time have appeared on the Dublin theatre; that however defective in other respects this work might be, yet, upon examination, it would be found a faithful dra|matic chronicle. This, I hope, will in part ex|cuse its many imperfections, and apologize for the otherwise uninteresting details of the first

appearances of several persons, who, but for this consideration, were not of sufficient consequence to interrupt the narrative.

But to return. As the managers principal re|liance were upon Mr. Mossop and Mrs. Gre|gory, great care was taken in bringing them properly forward. The pieces selected to shew these two performers to advantage were judi|ciously chosen; Mr. Mossop came out in his favourite Zanga, a character he was univer|sally admired in, after which he played Richard, Pierre, Horatio, &c.

The tragedy of Barbarossa, written by Dr. Browne, was brought out at Drury-lane in 1755, by Mr. Garrick, with great success, and engaged the manager's attention. This play has cer|tainly some capital defects, amongst which may be reckoned an excess of action, and extravagance of passion approaching to bombast, yet is the plot founded on the strongest of all human con|nexions, maternal and filial affections; and though no subject is more common, or has been oftener treated upon, yet it is always sure to command our attention and interest our feelings.

As the success of this tragedy was an object worth the attention of the managers, they be|stowed a considerable share of pains in getting it up. It was performed, for the first time, in Dublin, on February 2d, 1756, and was re|ceived with much applause. Mrs. Gregory's performance of Zaphira justly acquired her great reputation; it was an original character, (a sin|gular advantage to any performer) which added much to her fame.

Though the part of Achmet was not in every respect suited to the abilities of Mr. Mossop, yet he threw so much spirit and force into it, and gave the whole so high a colouring, that he re|ceived uncommon applause. The interview and discovery in the third act between the mother and son were finely supported by Mrs. Gregory and Mr. Mossop, and produced an admirable effect. The play was often repeated and brought crowded houses. Indeed it must be acknow|ledged, that independent of the capital manner in which it was acted, it has a good deal of in|trinsic merit, and will always keep possession of the stage.—Coriolanus was at this time revived, in which Mr. Mossop and Mrs. Gregory ap|peared to great advantage.

Coriolanus has been, by the best judges of acting, always esteemed one of Mr. Mossop's master-pieces. All the stern fierceness of the proud, haughty, unrelenting Roman was admi|rably adapted to his powers. He often wanted variety but never force. His last act was un|commonly fine, and the remembrance of it will not readily be effaced from the memory of those who were so happy as to partake of that pleasure. With equal judgment he supported Shakespeare's Measure for Measure. His Duke was truly a capital piece of acting, in which he never was excelled. Nor must we in justice omit Mrs. Gregory's Isabella, which deservedly added much to her reputation.

Very little else worth noticing occurred the remainder of this season, except the mention of two pieces that were brought out by the well-known Henry Brooke, Esq. The first was a revival of Jack the Giant Queller, which failed, and with difficulty reached the third night. The other was a tragedy called Injured Honour. This piece was founded on an old English story, at the time of the first invasion of the Danes. It was extremely well received, brought several

good houses, and the author's night was ho|noured with the presence of the lord lieutenant.

In the spring following, Mr. Woodward, having obtained leave from the manager of Drury-lane theatre to perform in Dublin, imme|diately concluded an agreement with Mr. Sowdon for nine nights on shares, and on the 17th of May he opened in Marplot and Captain Flash, in both of which he gave great satis|faction. His other characters were Captain Bobadil in Every Man in his Humour, Scrub and the Apprentice, Atall in the Double Gal|lant, the Copper Captain and Petruchio. This trip proved mutually advantageous to both par|ties, and Mr. Woodward cleared upwards of two hundred pounds by the expedition.

This last effort closed the management of Messrs. Victor and Sowdon. Though men of character and probity, and tolerably conversant in the business of directing a theatre, yet they found the weight too great to support, and they heartily wished to extricate themselves with credit and without loss.

CHAP. XIX.

Public opinion respecting Mr. Sheridan.—He is recalled to the management of Smock-alley theatre. —He makes proposals to Mr. Barry which are not accepted.—Repairs the theatre.—Engages Mr. Lee, the two Miss Phillips's, and Mr. Glover.—Obliged to make an apology.—His reception.—Mr. and Mrs. Wilder arrive.— Their success.—Mr. Foote engaged.—Douglas brought out.—The upper gallery converted into upper boxes.—Receipts of twenty-one of Mr. Sheridan's nights.

THE mists of prejudice and party were now nearly dissipated, the calm and dispassionate eye of reason beheld objects in their proper light, and the public looked upon Mr. Sheridan as a much injured man, to whom they were under infinite obligations, which could no other way be com|pensated than by restoring him to the station he lately held with so much honour. On his leaving Ireland he had entered into an agreement with Mr. Rich, of Covent-garden, for a share of the

profits on such nights as he should perform the ensuing winter, when he played a variety of cha|racters with the greatest reputation. He then quit the stage, and was at this time busily em|ployed in bringing to perfection a plan he had long at heart, of forming a system of education on a more liberal and extensive scale than any hitherto struck out, which, if carried into execu|tion, must be productive of the most beneficial consequences to his native kingdom.

All eyes being turned on Mr. Sheridan, the general voice of the nation soon reached him; and as the amor patriae was ever the ruling prin|ciple in his breast, he willingly obeyed the wel|come invitation, and prepared to re-assume the throne he was so rudely forced to abdicate. Money was raised to pay off the mortgage, and in a short time he was fully reinstated in his do|minions. Mr. Victor was not of the opinion, that 'twas better to reign in hell than serve in heaven; on the contrary, he cheerfully descended to his former station of deputy-manager and trea|surer, both which offices he discharged with credit; and Mr. Sowdon was likewise content, after wielding for two years the theatrical sceptre, to fall into the ranks, where he was of real service.

At this juncture, with a spirit worthy of a ma|nager who presided over the dramatic entertain|ments of a kingdom, as soon as Mr. Sheridan was assured of returning, he called upon Mr. Barry in London, in company with a gentleman a common friend to both, and made him overtures of all kinds, to engage him the next season to bear a principal part in the theatre he was in|vited back to. At the same time assuring him, that his chief business to Ireland was only to en|deavour to re-establish the stage once more on a respectable footing; that he should not continue on it more than a year or two at most, and in that case, it should be Mr. Barry's own fault if his station there was not as eligible as he could wish.

Mr. Barry at first did not seem to relish the proposal. He mentioned a design which his friends had, of building a theatre for him. Mr. Sheridan then offered, either to engage him on a certain salary, or if he liked it better, to admit him to a share of the profits for the ensuing season, and afterwards to let the theatre to him. Before they parted Mr. Barry seemed inclined to come into some one of the proposals, promised to consider the matter, and in a few days to call

upon Mr. Sheridan and let him know the result of his determination. But he never called, nor ever afterwards wrote or spoke to Mr. Sheridan on the subject.

Thus disappointed, he was obliged to return to Ireland, without accomplishing an union which would have prevented the innumerable mischiefs produced a few years after by an opposition. On his arrival he set about the re-establishment of the stage with alacrity. The theatre was much wrecked, and obliged to undergo a thorough repair. The scenery was almost unfit for use; he therefore immediately set Mr. Lewis, a good scene-painter, to work, who in a few months completed three or four sets of scenes and wings. The wardrobe also received a con|siderable addition, and matters seemed to wear a promising aspect.

Nor was he remiss in procuring the best en|tertainment for the public which the times would admit of. Unable to obtain Mr. Barry, he entered into an engagement with Mr. Lee, then an actor of reputation, whom he had never seen perform, for four hundred pounds for the season. Though he did not entirely answer the

manager's expectations, yet he supported a line of first characters with tolerable reputation. But he concluded a much heavier and less profit|able contract with signior Marenesi and signora Bugiani, to whom he gave a thousand pounds. Though they were then esteemed the best dancers in Europe, yet certainly they could not be worth half that sum to him at that time.

And here I cannot help observing, that through the whole of Mr. Sheridan's conducting the Irish stage, it appears to me that his greatest error was, his engaging to give larger salaries to par|ticular performers than the theatre could then afford. And though these engagements were all punctually fulfilled, yet he left precedents which his successors have found very difficult to imitate. Besides these already mentioned, he produced a great deal of other novelty. Several performers of merit were brought out, amongst whom were two sisters, Miss G. and Miss M. Phillips, young ladies of a good family, who for many years afterwards were well received in a variety of characters, both in tragedy and comedy; Mr. Glover, an excellent comedian and a respectable character; Miss Wells, and several others.

Every necessary preparation being made, the theatre opened once more under Mr. Sheridan, October 18th, 1756, with the comedy of the Busy Body, Marplot by Mr. King, who at this time was a great favourite with the public. This gentleman supported an extensive round of cha|racters, and that of a very motley complexion; as Ranger, the Miser, Abel Drugger, Duretete, Scrub, Lord Lace, Bayes, Tattle, Ostric, Fine Gentleman, Tom, Trinculo, &c. with great and deserved applause; and I am happy that my sub|ject in this place furnishes me with an opportu|nity of paying a just tribute to the public worth and private virtues of one of the greatest orna|ments which our stage at present can boast of.

It might naturally be expected, that the recol|lection of past events would enhance the pleasure of the present evening, and that nothing could possibly happen to interrupt the harmony of the first night's performance. But little dependence ought to be placed on the most flattering appear|ances. At the opening of the second act a few young men in the pit called out Apology! Apology! which was seconded by the same number in both the galleries. Mr. Dexter, who performed Sir George Airey, and who was

remarkable for his modest behaviour, being on the stage at the time of this unexpected demand, was so confused, that unable to make any answer he bowed and retired to consult Mr. Victor, who happened to be behind the scenes at that time. Mr. Victor desired him to go on again directly, and if the demand was repeated to ac|quaint the audience, that Mr. Sheridan was really ill of a cold which confined him to his apartment, and that he did not doubt but when be was recovered, he would give them every satisfaction they desired.

But this would not by any means content them. They had collected spirits enough to make a beginning, which gathered strength by degrees. They insisted upon Mr. Dexter's go|ing to him, as they knew his house was adjoin|ing the theatre, and bringing them a positive promise from him. Finding them determined, Mr. Dexter came off again, and with Mr. Victor went to Mr. Sheridan, to whom they related the demand of the audience. He seemed greatly disturbed by the account Mr. Dexter gave him, but after some deliberation, alarmed at the recol|lection of past scenes, it was concluded that Mr. Dexter should return and assure the audience

that when Mr. Sheridan was recovered, he would make an apology on the stage, and that public no|tice should be given of it in the bills and advertise|ments. Upon Mr. Dexter's delivering this de|claration he was received with universal applause, and the performance concluded without any further interruption.

Every mind susceptible of the finer feelings of humanity, may readily conceive what passed in the bosom of the manager on this occasion. How|ever, he saw there was no contending with the severity of his fate, therefore he nobly prepared to meet it with becoming fortitude. Too much affected to deliver this apology on a night in which he had a character to play, he advertised it previous to the comedy of the Suspicious Husband, October the 25th 1756. The theatre was early crowded to behold the unmanly tri|umph of despotism over reason and justice. Such a spectacle perhaps, was never presented to the public before or since. A manager who de|served a statue raised to perpetuate the memory of the good he had done, obliged to appear like a criminal before that tribunal which he had so often furnished with the most noble and rational entertainment! But he was equal to this arduous task.

When the curtain drew up he advanced to the front of the stage, with a paper in his hand, fearing in the confusion which must unavoidably attend him, to trust entirely to his memory. It was the universal opinion of the best judges who were spectators of this trying moment, that no man within their observation ever appeared before the public with more propriety. Tears gushed from the eyes of several of his male auditors. As soon as his speech, which was modest, ex|pressive and concise, was concluded, the loudest acclamations succeeded. So powerful is truth, that not a heart but participated his distresses. Reiterated plaudits spoke their sensations which continuing as he was retiring, he advanced again, and with broken faultring accents spoke as follows, "Your goodness to me at this impor|tant crisis, has so deeply affected me, that I want powers to express myself; my future actions shall. shew my gratitude."

If ever there was a moment peculiarly marked with disgrace to the feelings of a Dublin audi|ence, it was on the present occasion; and poste|rity who read the page must blush at the dege|neracy of the times, which could reduce a man of Mr. Sheridan's abilities and sentiments to the

humiliating situation of apologizing to the de|stroyers of his property, for their ruining his fortune and demolishing the labours of so many years! But I must quit the ungrateful subject.

A few nights after, Mr. Sheridan appeared in the character of Hamlet, and was received by a very brilliant audience with that warmth of ap|plause which a sense of his injuries inspired. He afterwards drew several good houses to his Richard, Tamerlane, Shore, Horatio, &c. Mr. Lee's first appearance was in Lear; he then per|formed Hastings, Iago, Hotspur, &c. In the Fair Penitent we find Horatio, Mr. Sheridan; Lothario, Mr. Lee; Sciolto, Mr. Heaphy; Altamont, Mr. Dexter; Lavinia, Miss Grace Phillips, and Calista, Miss M. Phillips; and in the Conscious Lovers, Bevil jun. Mr. Sheridan; Myrtle, Mr. Lee; Tom, Mr. King; Cimberton, Mr. Glover; Sealand, Mr. Heaphy; Phillis, Miss Grace Phillips, and Indiana, Miss Phillips.

But this part of the season is to be particularly noticed for introducing to the knowledge of the public Mr. James Wilder, a good comedian, a most respectable citizen, and, to sum up all, a worthy honest man. Mr. and Mrs. Wilder arrived in Dublin from Drury-lane theatre early

in the winter, and made their first appearance at Smock-alley, on Saturday December 17th 1756, in the parts of Macheath and Polly in the Beggars Opera; in which they acquitted themselves so highly to the satisfaction of the audience, that they brought the opera once more into fashion, and occasioned it to be performed once a week during the season, upwards of twenty nights, besides benefits, to crowded houses. In Captain Macheath, Mr. Wilder sung a new song called a Cock and a Bull, which be|came so great a favourite that it was regularly advertised each time along with the opera. Their great success in those characters induced the manager to get up the elegant musical entertain|ment of the Oracle. Mrs. Wilder was young, a good figure, and esteemed excellent in the girls. Her Cynthia and Mr. Wilder's Oberon pleased much, and the piece was played a number of nights with singular applause.

The Tempest was revived much about this time with great care and expence. Mr. Sheri|dan's Prospero was excellent; Mr. King was capital in Trinculo; the rest of the parts were well disposed of, and the piece brought five or six good houses. Coriolanus and Barbarossa were also got up, but did not do much.

Though there reigned such perfect harmony between the manager and the public, yet his ears were constantly dinned with the report of an opposition. At first he was unwilling to credit the rumour, but facts carried demonstra|tion. The ground chosen for this new scene of action was the music-hall in Crow-street, which was to be demolished, and a new theatre erected. Mr. Sheridan finding too much truth in the report, before affairs were too far ad|vanced, dispatched Mr. Victor to London, to treat with Mr. Barry the intended manager, and endeavour to dissuade him from so hazardous an undertaking, since he might have the united theatres, and as Mr. Victor says, "to observe to him that incontestable fact, that a monopoly in a great city, was of more worth to a manager than any other consideration whatever." Thus commissioned Mr. Victor left Dublin in April, about the same time that Mr. Foote, who was engaged to give a spirit to the latter end of the season, arrived.

Mr. Foote opened in Sir Charles Buck in his own comedy of The Englishman returned from Paris, and afterwards performed Bayes, Hartop in the Knights, Fondlewise in the Old Batche|lor,

&c. He drew money, and his trip turned out advantageously to himself and the manager.

Much about this time the tragedy of Douglas made a great noise in the world. Mr. Garrick, whose judgment was very seldom called in ques|tion, most unluckily persevered in rejecting this play, though very powerful interest was made to bring it on. The greatest men are sometimes wrong; this certainly was his case in the present instance. Few people could read so affecting a story without emotion. The novelty of the manners, the several interesting situations, and the peculiar strokes of nature in the scenes be|tween Lady Randolph and her son, must make an impression on the most obdurate bosoms. Accordingly we find its success was uncommon, and far beyond the run of modern tragedies.

Successful as it was at other theatres, its power failed in Dublin at this time. It is true, nature had not formed Mr. Sheridan to personate the blooming Douglas, nor had he any lady at that time who could in any measure do justice to the exquisite feelings of Lady Randolph. In a few years after, Mr. Digges, and then Mr. Barry, an|swered our utmost ideas of the blooming Norval;

but it was reserved for Mrs. Crawford in the sorrowful Matilda, to charm the public with one of the most beautiful pieces of domestic distress ever exhibited. If the reader would wish to know how the tragedy was at the present supported, it was in this manner. Young Norval, Mr. She|ridan; Old Norval, Mr. Lee; Lord Randolph, Mr. Dexter; Glenalvon, Mr. Stayley; Anna, Miss Grace Phillips; and Lady Randolph, Mrs. Kennedy, who, though a good actress in comedy, had but few pretensions to the buskin. It was performed but two nights, and then laid aside.

I omitted mentioning in its proper place, that at the beginning of the season, amongst other regulations adopted by the manager, he determined if possible to put an end to the num|berless complaints of the outrages committed by the frequenters of the upper gallery, by convert|ing it into boxes, and raising the price to half a crown. This answered the end proposed, but proved highly detrimental to his interest. For as most things are governed by fashion, so novelty and whim drew the ladies, and conse|quently the gentlemen in such numbers to the upper boxes, that those below were in a great measure deserted, and the pit thinned of course.

However by this regulation peace and order were suddenly restored, and the theatre once more became a place of quiet, as well as rational entertainment.

Before I close this chapter, I shall present my readers with the receipts of twenty-one of Mr. Sheridan's nights. They may convey an idea of the success of the theatre, and contrasted with those of Mr. Barry's before-mentioned, will shew what estimation Mr. Sheridan was held in by the public.

1758	Irish Money.
Jan. 28th. Essex	£ 96 0 9
31st. Distressed Mother	90 8 1
Feb. 2d. Venice Preserved	88 1 6
4th. Provoked Husband	56 11 0
6th. Hamlet	118 4 11
9th. Essex	69 0 2
11th. Phaedra	99 4 8
13th. Merchant of Venice	79 7 1
16th. Comus	41 8 9
18th. Stratagem	79 13 7
Carried over	818 0 6
	1758

	Irish Money.
1758 Brought over	£ 818 0 6
20th. Macbeth	98 1 11
27th. Richard 3d	110 19 9
Mar. 3d. Tancred	87 3 1
4th. Merchant of Venice	54 19 9
6th. Coriolanus	58 7 10
9th. Phaedra	44 5 1
10th. Douglas	84 0 3
11th. Richard	100 14 7
13th. Romeo	57 8 4
15th. Tancred	43 0 2
16th. Douglas	73 19 10
Total 21 nights	£ 1631 1 11

On an average 77l. 17s. 2d. per night.

CHAP. XX.

Mr. Victor fails in his negociation with Mr. Barry.—Engages Mrs. Gregory and Mrs. Hamilton.—A lawsuit in consequence of the latter's breaking her articles, and Mr. Rich obliged to pay five hundred pounds.—Mr. Barry and Mr. Macklin arrive.—Founda|tion of the new theatre in Crow-street laid. —Smock-alley opens.—Mr. Wilkinson makes hit first appearance.—Anecdotes of him.—He plays a variety of characters.—Mr. Ryder opens in Captain Brazen.—Duke of Bedford honours the theatre with his patronage.—Mr. Sheridan prepares to oppose Mr. Barry and Mr. Woodward.—Part of his company go over to the adverse side.—Public expectations greatly raised by the intended rivalship.

LET us now turn our eyes to London, and enquire into the success of Mr. Victor in his important negociation. At his first interview with Mr. Barry, he informed him of Mr. She|ridan's proposals, and mentioned on what advan|tageous

terms he might become sole manager of the united theatres of Smock-alley and Aungier-street, if he had any exceptions to a partnership with Mr. Sheridan, and by that means the hazard and expence of building a new theatre might be prevented. Unluckily for both parties, these offers were rejected. Mr. Barry declared, that he was too far advanced in engagements to recede, and that let what would be the conse|quence, he was determined to persevere. Indeed it appears through the whole, that he had long resolved on it, as I formerly mentioned that Mr. Sheridan had applied to him before he could possibly have made any advances, and such a project could only have existed in his own idea.

Disappointed in the principal design of his journey, all Mr. Victor could do, was after a long train of tedious negociation to engage Mrs. Gregory and Mrs. Hamilton, the former at five hundred, and the latter at four hundred pounds for the season.

Colley Cibber in his apology says, "we nei|ther asked actors, nor were desired by them, to sign any written agreement whatever. The

rates of their respective salaries were only entered in our daily pay roll, which plain record every one looked upon as good as city security." Such a line of conduct might have answered very well in the laureat's time, but had Mr. Cibber lived in those days he would have found it necessary to have stronger ties than those. However, Mrs. Gregory and Mr. Victor had such a mutual confidence in each other, that though he acted only as Mr. Sheridan's agent, yet Mrs. Gregory was content with a written memorandum, mentioning the sum she was to have. With Mrs. Hamilton, whose husband was a stranger, Mr. Victor luckily happened to be more particu|lar. An attorney drew up the article in form, and a penalty of five hundred pounds annexed to it. The consequence proved that he acted prudently; for Mr. Rich, manager of Covent-garden theatre, finding she was engaged, insisted on her breaking her articles, promising to in|demnify her from all damage. A lawsuit was then instituted, and after a tedious process of three years Mr. Rich was at last obliged to pay the five hundred pounds penalty, with costs.

Soon after this it appeared that Mr. Wood|ward had embarked jointly with Mr. Barry in

the grand scheme he had on foot. No person could be selected more proper for such an under|taking. Mr. Woodward had a great name in the theatrical world, was possessed of some property, and his character for honesty and punctuality would go far in establishing a new dramatic state. Mr. Macklin also seems to have been interested on the same side, for on Mr. Victor's return from London, he met Mr. Barry and Mr. Macklin at Holyhead; they embarked together in the same packet, and landed at Dunleary the latter end of June.

In a short time after, the walls of the late music-hall in Crow-street, and several adjacent buildings were levelled to the ground, and the foundation laid of the new theatre, which, as Mr. Victor prophetically observed, was "A foundation of misfortunes to many." Mr. Barry and Mr. Macklin remained in Dublin till the September following, when the former having obtained a sufficient number of subscribers to the new thea|tre, and arranged every other matter relative to his great design, they returned to London.

Mr. Sheridan finding every effort to prevent an opposition ineffectual, endeavoured to make

the best defence he could. Smock-alley theatre opened on the 10th of October 1757 with The Fair Quaker of Deal, and on the 24th he came for|ward himself in the character of Hamlet to a very good house. And a few days after Mrs. Gregory, now Mrs. Fitzhenry, appeared in Ca|lista, a part she always performed remarkably well, and was most cordially received by the lov|ers of the drama. Mr. Foote also who continued with Mr. Sheridan, gave the public his Ben in Love for Love, Fondlewife, and a few other cha|racters. It has been remarked that in the last mentioned character Mr. Foote remembered that great master of acting, Colley Cibber, conse|quently had the merit of imitating him tolerably well; but his Ben, Sir Paul Plyant, and most of the characters he did not write himself, were not so successful. In his own pieces he stood alone, and his original acting, good or bad, set criticism at defiance. At this, time he treated the public with his tea, at which it was the fashion to laugh.

At his tea table be introduced a young gentle|man as pupil to Mr. Puzzle, who soon attracted the attention of the town and deserves particular mention. This young gentleman's name was

Wilkinson, the son of a clergyman of excellent character. Mr. Wilkinson from his earliest years discovered a peculiar inclination for the stage, which as he grew up ripened into a settled determination of turning actor the first opportunity. In consequence of this design he constantly frequented the theatres, and as he possessed extraordinary powers for imitation, few of the performers of any merit escaped his critical notice.

About this time chance threw Mr. Foote in his way. Struck with the eccentricity of his genius, and the particularity of his manner, our hero's lively imagination delighted in exhibiting his peculiarities, in which he was remarkably successful. Finding Mr. Foote engaged at Dublin, he voluntarily offered to accompany him over at his own expence. This being immediately accept|ed, they both arrived early in the winter. Mr. Foote being obliged to return in December, our young hero thought this a good opportunity for trying his abilities. He therefore determined to remain behind, and soon after commenced his theatrical career with great eclat. Diffident of his own powers, he at first only ventured to treat the

audience with tea, (as the entertainment was called) in Mr. Foote's manner.

His success in this attempt was so great, that it emboldened him to higher pursuits, and hav|ing played Cadwallader in the stile of the author with remarkable applause, and given imitations of Mrs. Woffington, Mr. Sparks, with most of the capital performers, and even of Mr. Foote himself, with great truth and humour, he on the 19th of January ventured on the arduous task of supporting the very difficult character of Othello. In this however, as he was perfectly conversant with Mr. Barry's stile and manner, he greatly exceeded public expec|tation. After this he appeared in several other characters with much reputation, and having obtained an excellent benefit, he returned to England highly satisfied with his first essay, and much pleased with the liberality and hospitality of the Irish nation.

In justice to Mr. Wilkinson it must be ac|knowledged, that independent of his powers of mimickry, he possessed capital abilities for the stage. I have spent several happy years under his command, and as far as my judgment can

bear testimony, have, during that time, seen him perform a variety of characters in tragedy and comedy, with great truth and merit. So very flattering was his reception in Dublin at that time, that we afterwards often find him making short, pleasant, and profitable excursions to Ire|land, whose audience he always prosest the highest veneration for.

Fortune a few years afterwards rewarded his merits, and placed him at the head of the theatres-royal, York, Hull, and Leeds, paten|tee and sole proprietor: as respectable a the|atrical situation as any out of London, where he has realized a considerable property, and over which theatres he still continues to pre|side with the highest credit; an excellent ma|nager, universally beloved and esteemed by those who have the happiness of his acquaint|ance.

I must now return, and introduce to my read|ers, one of the greatest, and I hope I maybe allowed to say, one of the most deserving favou|rites the Dublin theatre ever boasted. On Wednesday December 7th 1757, Mr. Foote was announced for Captain Brazen in the Re|cruiting

Officer, and the part of Captain Plume by Mr. Ryder, being his first appearance on this stage. So valuable an acquisition passed not unnoticed; he was received with the warmest applause. The genius of the drama adopted him as her own, whilst the fostering hand of public approbation brought him forward, and crowned his endeavours with never-fading laurel.

I shall not here enter into an investigation of Mr. Ryder's various merits. Such an enquiry would in my opinion at present be too prema|ture, and will come with more propriety in the latter part of this work, when I mean to discuss the subject at large, and treat it with all the attention and judgment I am master of, unin|fluenced by fashion, or unprejudiced by party. Suffice it at present to say, that the first night he displayed great abilities, which time after|wards matured and brought to perfection, and so discernible was his merit, that the audience constantly embraced every opportunity of tes|tifying their sense of it.

The material events of this season besides those I have mentioned were but few. The

duke of Dorset, then lord-lieutenant, was remark|ably fond of the drama, and with the duchess constantly honoured the theatre with their pre|sence once or twice a week. This fortunate at|tachment to the stage not only rendered it fashion|able, but inspired Mr Sheridan with hopes of being able to divert the impending storm which for some time had been gathering round him. Crow-street theatre began now to rear its for|midable head, and threaten unknown dangers to poor Smock-alley. The public already began to divide in opinion. The press teemed with publications from both parties. Each had an appearance of reason, and each had their parti|zans who espoused their respective interests with all the warmth which such contests usually in|spire.

It may perhaps be expected that in this place I should give a review of the reasons advanced by each party. Those offered by Mr. Sheridan against an opposition, and the arguments made use of by Mr. Barry's and Mr. Woodward's friends against a theatrical monopoly. This I must beg leave to decline for the present, and reserve a full discussion of the pleadings used on both sides to a more proper period, which I take to be

many years after, when the bill for an exclusive patent was brought into parliament and passed. I shall then endeavour to throw every light in my power on the subject, and leave the reader free to form his judgment from a fair impartial review of the whole.

The manager finding all his endeavours to stop the progress of the building of the new theatre to be in vain, gave over the attempt and strove to make the best defence the nature of his situ|ation would admit. In March just before the benefits commenced, he made application to the whole company in order to ascertain to a cer|tainty those who would continue under his stan|dard. He began with Mrs. Fitzhenry, who was a very great favourite that season. The salary she then had was five hundred pounds for the winter, this he offered her again, which she declined. He then raised it to six hundred pounds, well knowing that without her and a few of the principal performers it would be un|safe for him to article with so large a body of people, many of whom had great salaries and were only useful. In return Mrs. Fitzhenry gave him to understand, that she could come to no conclusion till she had heard from the oppo|site

party. This unexpected and rather unge|nerous proceeding so incensed Mr. Sheridan, that in the warmth of resentment he imprudently de|clared against entering into articles with any one. The consequence of this rash declaration was, that Mr. King and Mr. Dexter not per|ceiving any certainty of their being retained, in a few days after signed with Mr. Barry's attorney for the ensuing season.

Thus was the first fatal blow given by Mrs. Fitzhenry. At that time she stood in the highest estimation, and would have proved a powerful addition in either scale. Had she remained firm to the cause, the manager would cheerfully have entered into articles with every member of the company; which with the addition of Mr. Digges and Mrs. Ward expected from Edin|burgh, would, in all probability, have formed a force too strong for any powers that could be brought against them. 'Tis true Mr. Barry and Mr. Woodward were the first in their respective lines of playing. Yet the many unavoidable difficulties which such an undertaking is at first involved in, especially the collecting such a com|pany whose merit would in any measure accord with theirs, made their project rather hazardous.

But be that as it might, the sudden and unex|pected loss of two capital performers of such consequence as Mr. King and Mr. Dexter, alarmed Mr. Sheridan. He saw his error, and endeavoured too late to retrieve it. He imme|diately set about a vigorous opposition. At the conclusion of the season Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Victor repaired to London, to endeavour to procure novelty for the winter. It was deter|mined to engage Mr. Digges and Mrs. Ward, who were to be in Dublin at the opening of the season, to set forward in the tragedies, and Mr. Theophilus Cibber to strengthen the comedies, as upon them they placed great reliance.

Fully aware of Mr. Woodward's great ex|cellence in pantomime, which they imagined would be one of the new manager's principal objects, they resolved to oppose him in the best manner they could. Accordingly Mr. Sheridan purchased of Mr. Rosamon, the manager of Sadler's Wells, whose pantomimes were then in great esteem, an entire panto|mime. The story, music, scenery and ma|chinery all complete for one hundred pounds, which originally cost five. Mr. Rosamon's

carpenter was also hired at the same time to set out with the work, and sit it to Smock-alley stage. Maddox, the celebrated wire-dancer was likewise articled for two hun|dred pounds, to be the Harlequin, and to ex|hibit his dexterity on the wire.

CHAP. XXI.

Different opinions of the public respecting the approaching opposition.—Characters of the re|spective managers.—Crow-street theatre opens with the Kind Impostor.—Mr. Vernon's first appearance in Macheath.—Mrs. Chambers in Polly.—Mr. Browne arrives.—Opens in the Copper Captain.—Favourably received.—Mr. Digges and Mrs. Ward from Edinburgh.— One good arising from opposition.—List of the capital performers then in Dublin. — Mrs. Dancer.—Douglas revived.—The ship in which Mr. Theophilus Cibber, and Mr. Maddox em|bark, with the pantomime, &c. lost at sea.—Mr. Sheridan declines coming over. — Smock-alley company obliged to go on benefits.—Great success of Crow-street.—Mr. Macklin disappoints Mr. Victor.—Smock-alley obliged to close.—Period of Mr. Sheridan's management.—His character.

THE opening of the theatrical campaign was now anxiously looked for by both parties. Never till then had the public been so divided, or interested in the affairs of the drama. The

leaders of each theatre were men so eminent in their profession, that they naturally excited the attention of the town.

The acknowledged abilities of Mr. Sheridan, the amiableness of his private character, his long tried and approved conducting of the stage, joined to the unmerited treatment he so recently received, most deservedly secured him the friend|ship of the sensible and judicious. The discern|ing few beheld with concern the approaching dissensions, which in all probability would speedily deprive them of that harmony and re|gularity which had been just restored. But their weak efforts were ineffectual. The love of novelty is the darling passion of makind. 'Tis interwoven in our nature, and displays its pre+dominance on almost every occasion. But it is no where more conspicuous than in the fluctu|ating opinions of the public respecting the drama.

Besides, many circumstances operated in fa|vour of the new theatre. Mr. Barry had, even from his first attempt, been a peculiar fa|vourite with the public, and stood remarkably high in the general opinion. With justice he was allowed to be, without exception, in a par|ticular

line, the first actor of the age. In private, persuasion dwelt upon his tongue, he had the happy art of accommodating himself to the foibles and peculiarities of every person he conversed with, and his rhetoric never failed to accomplish the most difficult points he had to carry. In public, his extraordinary merit, beau|tiful figure, engaging manner, and the interest|ing cast of parts he played, all served to establish his fame, and render him uncommonly popular. Mr. Woodward was a plain honest man, much admired in Ireland, who by great professional merit had saved a tolerable fortune which ambi|tion urged him to venture upon a very uncer|tain foundation. These circumstances with the aid of a new company, new theatre, &c. seemed to preponderate the scale against the old house.

On Monday the 23d of October 1758, the new theatre in Crow-street opened with an oc|casional prologue spoken by Mr. Woodward. After which was performed the comedy of She Would And She Would Not, or the Kind Im|postor, written by Cibber, a very excellent act|ing comedy. The characters sustained in the following manner: Don Manuel, Mr. Arthur, from the Bath theatre; Don Philip, Mr. Jeffer|son;

Octavio, Mr. White; Soto, Mr. Lay|field; Diego, Mr. Mynitt; Don Lewis, Mr. Read; Corregidor, Mr. Younger, afterwards prompter at Covent-garden theatre; and Trap|panti, Mr. King; Rosara, Mrs. Knipe; Flora, Miss Willis; Viletta, Mrs. Mynitt; and Hy|polita, Mrs. Jefferson.

Except Mr. King who indeed was a great fa|vourite with the public, most of the other names were unknown, so that even the novelty of the first night could not attract a numerous au|dience. Those however who were there, spoke highly of the theatre, scenery, and decorations, but the merits of the new performers seemed but coldly relished. The next night the new mana|gers gave the town a specimen of the abilities of the musical part of their company in the Beggars Opera, where that excellent singer Mr. Vernon made his first appearance in Macheath, Mrs. Pye was the Lucy, Mrs. Chambers, a sweet singer and very pretty figure, was the Polly. These, with a hornpipe from the celebrated Aldridge, constituted the novelty of that evening, and pleased better than the preceding, yet when repeated the night after did not bring above twenty pounds.

These bad houses alarmed the new managers, and made them take the field sooner than they designed. On the third of November Mr. Barry came forward in Hamlet, when he was welcomed by a crowded and brilliant audience, who through his whole performance gave him the most flat|tering testimonies of their intended support and encouragement.

Having thus fairly launched our new comers, common civility obliges us to return to our de|serving old friends, and enquire how they pro|ceed. With very unequal spirits, and disagree|able prospects did they prepare for the contest. Mr. Victor, the deputy manager, returned from London about the middle of October, and began to muster his forces. But when it was known that Mr. Sheridan had not as yet left London, distrust and dismay sat upon every countenance. However, a few days after, Mr. Brown, late manager of the Bath company, who had been engaged by Mr. Victor, arrived, and in their situation proved a most fortunate acquisition.

The abilities of this gentleman yet live in the memory of many, and those acknowledge that in a particular line, such as the Copper Captain,

Benedict, Brass in the Confederacy, Don John in the Chances, &c. they never saw a better, not even Mr. Garrick excepted, though they were amongst his most favourite parts. Had Mr. Brown come in a more fortunate season, doubtless he would have been of the highest ser|vice to the cause he espoused. As it was, though his extraordinary merit was confessed and ad|mired, yet it was not sufficient at first to attract public notice.

Mr. Brown opened Smock-alley theatre with his Copper Captain. Mrs. Sheriffe from Bath, an actress of merit, played Margaritte, and Mrs. Kennedy, late Miss Orfeur, Estifania. Their prospect indeed was highly disagreeable. But twelve pounds the first night. However what the audience wanted in numbers, they made up in applause, which was unbounded. The second night brought 281. and the third, near 40l. Afterwards it became the only esta|blished comedy of the season.

About the second or third week after they opened, the spirits of the Smock-alley company, which by that time had been much depressed, were somewhat raised by the arrival of Mr. Digges,

and Mrs. Ward from Edinburgh. The repu|tation of Mr. Digges had been rapidly rising since his first commencement, and he had just quitted a kingdom, where he was as great a fa|vourite as ever Mr. Garrick was in London. With great judgment therefore was he pitched upon by Mr. Sheridan, as the only person likely to oppose Mr. Barry with any likelihood of suc|cess. Mrs. Ward, though not a capital, was a very usesul actress, and as far as they then knew, equal to any in that line at Crow-street.

But though a numerous train of mischiefs cer|tainly sprung from theatrical oppositions, yet one good they were evidently productive of, that was, the introducing at such times a greater number of eminent performers to the public notice, than one theatre could possibly admit of. The present moment is, amongst many others, an evident instance of the truth of this assertion. There were in Dublin at this time, Mr. Barry, Mr. Digges, Mr. Dexter, Mr. Heaphy, Mr. Sowdon, Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Walker, Mr. Woodward, Mr. King, Mr. Ryder, Mr. Brown, Mr. Isaac Sparks, Mr. Arthur, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Glover, Mr. Francis Aickin, Mr. Stayley, Mr. Vernon, Mr. Wilder, &c. Mrs. Fitzhenry,

Mrs. Ward, the two Miss Philips, Mrs. Chal|mers, mother to the present Mr. Chalmers, a good actress in tragedy and genteel comedy. Mrs. Chambers, Mrs. Storer, Mrs. Kennedy, Miss Mason, Mrs. Walker, Mrs. Jefferson, &c. and Mrs. Dancer.

To an opposition we certainly are indebted for so immediate a knowledge of the last men|tioned inimitable actress. This lady was born at Bath, had been but a short time on the stage, and was engaged from the theatre-royal York at a venture, ignorant of her great merit or of the excellence which she afterwards displayed. The first appearance which this darling child of nature made in Ireland, was at Crow-street thea|tre, in the part of Cordelia to Mr. Barry's Lear, the 8th of November 1758, and her second was Monimia in the Orphan, characters well chosen, especially the latter, to display the pa|thetic powers, and exquisite sensibility which so peculiarly characterise her acting above all others. Justice however obliges me to confess, that her first season did not promise that perfection she has since attained, and that many of her first efforts were regarded by the public eye with coldness and indifference. Hence 'tis highly

probable but for the instructions of so great a master as Mr. Barry, Mrs. Crawford had never arrived at her present excellence.

As this volume has already extended beyond the limits I at first intended, I shall defer enter|ing into a critical examination of the respective abilities of the performers I have hitherto men|tioned, till the second volume, in the course of which I mean to attempt the subject, and en|deavour, as far as in my power lies, to place in a fair point of view the different merits of Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Barry, Mr. Mossop, Mr. Digges, Mr. Woodward, Mr. Ryder, Mrs. Dancer, Mrs. Fitzhenry, &c. In the mean while I must return to my subject.

Though there were a number of excellent performers in each company, yet the general opinion ran strongly in favour of Crow-street theatre. But the arrival of Mr. Sheridan with a reinforcement from Sadler's Wells, and the assistance of Mr. Theophilus Cibber, would it was hoped restore the balance. Meantime Mr. Digges and Mrs. Ward opened in Hastings and Jane Shore, and were extremely well received. As they were the originals in Mr. Hume's new

tragedy of Douglas, and had performed it a number of nights with remarkable success at Edinburgh, it was got ready with the utmost ex|pedition, and notwithstanding it was announced at the other theatre, it was brought out and acted several nights to tolerable houses, without being attempted at Crow-street.

But this was only a temporary relief, for the ship that contained the pantomime, Mr. Maddox the wire-dancer, and Mr. Theophilus Cibber, with upwards of seventy passengers besides, pe|rished in a dreadful stormy night in November, on the coast of Scotland. This was a fatal stroke, and was quickly followed by another; Mr. Sheridan, on whom they placed their sole dependence, declined coming over. Mr. Victor observes "that he certainly intended it, and in consequence put himself to great inconvenience in the summer by advancing the money necessary for purchasing and forwarding the scenery and machinery of the pantomime, and other relative expences. And besides that loss, by his not coming he knew a losing season must be the consequence; therefore that he was prevented by the unhappy situation of his affairs from coming to serve himself as well as his company, must be called his misfortune, and not his fault."

No sooner was it known that Mr. Sheridan had given up the idea of returning to Ireland, than Mrs. Fitzhenry who till then had remained neuter, though six hundred pounds salary had been offered her by Mr. Victor, accepted of Mr. Barry's terms, and in haste signed articles. This was the finishing stroke to their distresses, both their friends and the public then gave them up as lost. There being now no possibility of their contending, Mr. Victor proposed as the only resource, that benefits should commence in January, and to get through them as well as their circumstances would admit. These would keep them, till the latter end of March. At that time he was promised the assistance of Mr. Macklin and his daughter, for a dozen nights, when by their novelty, and by exhibiting a new piece or two of Mr. Macklin's writing, he was in hopes they might close the season with some little advantage.

This offer, as their dernier resort, was cheer|fully embraced by the company. Benefits im|mediately began, and, considering the situation of affairs, were in general remarkably successful, upwards of three thousand pounds being taken in twenty-eight nights. As there were some

arrears due to the performers, owing to the bad|ness of the receipts at the beginning of the season, Mr. Victor took but sixteen pounds in cash from each, to pay the contingencies, as music, ser|vants, &c. and allowed every person twenty-four pounds of their arrears, which made forty pounds, the sum then usually paid by each per|former for their benefit charges.

Meantime the new managers experienced but a moderate share of success, especially consider|ing the great novelty they had produced. How|ever, every thing was conducted with regularity, salaries were punctually paid, and harmony per|vaded the whole. The company was acknowledg|ed to be remarkably well chosen. Mr. Barry, Mr. Sowden, who had gone over to their party, Mr. Dexter, Mr. Jefferson, Mrs. Fitzhenry, and Mrs. Dancer, supported the tragedies with great eclat. And many of the comedies, with, their aid in assistance to Mr. King and Mr. Woodward, were most capitally performed. Towards the latter end of the season the pantomime of Har|lequin Fortunatus was got up under Mr. Wood|ward's direction, and brought out with great applause. This has always been esteemed one of the best of those sort of exhibitions. The

story is regular and pleasing, the music well adapted, and the tricks good. It has often been revived in Ireland since that time, and generally answers the end proposed.

About this time the Smock-alley company received their final sentence. Mr. Macklin on whom they had placed their last hopes, informed Mr. Victor the latter end of March, that it was impossible for him to fulfil his promise, as his daughter's ill state of health would not permit her to undertake such a journey and voyage. On the receipt of this letter, Mr. Victor found it impossible to withstand their fate any longer, and having received Mr. Sheridan's instructions how to proceed, he on the 20th of April assem|bled the whole company, when he communi|cated this last piece of intelligence, and then candidly proceeded to inform them, that such unforeseen disappointments had rendered it ut|terly out of his power to keep them any longer together, therefore he was under the necessity of dissolving the company from acting any longer on Mr. Sheridan's account, and to close the season.

But in this disagreeable situation, as he wished to render them every service in his power, that the theatre, clothes, and scenes were at their service as long as they would find it expedient. Fully convinced of the propriety of this conduct, which circumstances sufficiently justified, the company accepted of this proposal, and in a few days they drew up the following advertisement which they published, signed by the principal performers of the community.

THEATRE ROYAL.

May 2d 1759.

AS Mr. Sheridan, by a letter to Mr. Victor, closed his interest in this season's performance, on Friday last the 27th of April, we whose names, are underwritten, have determined to perform for our joint profit, through this present term. We cannot address the public on this occasion, without first expressing our most grateful thanks for the constant instances of favour and protec|tion, which we have experienced through the whole course of this season; at a time also when every endeavour was used, and every theatrical art exerted, to oppose a set of persons, who were unexpectedly deserted and abandoned.

Unforeseen losses will, it is hoped, recom|mend us to the continued patronage of the town. And we beg leave to assure the public, that it shall be our pride, and study, to perform the ensuing representations with as much accu|racy and diligence, now we are left to our own conduct, as we have been compelled to suffer irregularity and confusion, from having been subjected to a variety of disappointments.

• W. Digges.
• H. Brown.
• I. Sparks.
• T. Heaphy.
• L. Kennedy.
• W. Fred. Glover.
• J. Wilder.
• T. Ryder.
• G. Stayley.
• F. Aickin.
• J. Watson.
• T. Farrel.
• R. Hurst.
• S. Ward.
• E. Kennedy.
• S. Wilder.
• M. Phillips.
• E. Farrel.
• A. Mason.
• E. Glover.
• E. Storer.

This advertisement produced very little good, the season was too far advanced, and the public were not sufficiently interested in their misfor|tunes. They played a few nights to bad houses, and were obliged to close the 28th of May, as

their opponents did on the 6th of June, with the pompous tragedy of Alexander the Great.

We have now arrived at that period of dra|matic history, which finally closes Mr. Sheridan's management. Here, with my reader's leave, I shall pause, and in just compliment to the vir|tues of so eminent a man, to whom the stage has so many obligations, close the first volume of this work.—

Sincerely lamenting, that such unparalleled treatment should be the reward of so many years spent in a pursuit so noble as the advancement of the drama. And heartily wishing, that instead of his native country, his happier stars had placed him at the head of a London theatre, where, in all probability, long ere this, Fortune had crowned his labours, and Fame, in presenting the bust of Garrick to posterity, had reserved a place for Sheridan, encircled with a portion of those wreaths, which at present so justly adorn the brows of our immortal Roscius.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.