Ad Lalauze, sc
CHAPTER VI.
The Author's first Step upon the Stage. His Discouragements. The best Actors in Europe ill us'd. A Revolution in their Favour. King William grants them a Licence to act in Lincoln's-Inn Fields. The Author's Distress in being thought a worse Actor than a Poet. Reduc'd to write a Part for himself. His Success. More Remarks upon Theatrical Action. Some upon himself.
Having given you the State of the Theatre at my first Admission to it, I am now drawing towards the several Revolutions it suffer'd in my own Time. But (as you find by the setting out of my History) that I always intended myself the Heroe of it, it may be necessary to let you know me in my Obscurity, as well as in my higher Light, when I became one of the Theatrical Triumvirat. The Patentees,[203] who were now Masters of this united and only Company of Comedians, seem'd to make it a Rule that no young Persons desirous to be Actors should be admitted into Pay under at least half a Year's Probation, wisely knowing that how early soever they might be approv'd of, there could be no great fear of losing them while they had then no other Market to go to. But, alas! Pay was the least of my Concern; the Joy and Privilege of every Day seeing Plays for nothing I thought was a sufficient Consideration for the best of my Services. So that it was no Pain to my Patience that I waited full three Quarters of a Year before I was taken into a Salary of Ten Shillings per Week;[204] which, with the Assistance of Food and Raiment at my Father's House, I then thought a most plentiful Accession, and myself the happiest of Mortals.
The first Thing that enters into the Head of a young Actor is that of being a Heroe: In this Ambition I was soon snubb'd by the Insufficiency of my Voice; to which might be added an uninform'd meagre Person, (tho' then not ill made) with a dismal pale Complexion.[205] Under these Disadvantages,[206] I had but a melancholy Prospect of ever playing a Lover with Mrs. Bracegirdle, which I had flatter'd my Hopes that my Youth might one Day have recommended me to. What was most promising in me, then, was the Aptness of my Ear; for I was soon allow'd to speak justly, tho' what was grave and serious did not equally become me. The first Part, therefore, in which I appear'd with any glimpse of Success, was the Chaplain[207] in the Orphan of Otway. There is in this Character (of one Scene only) a decent Pleasantry, and Sense enough to shew an Audience whether the Actor has any himself. Here was the first Applause I ever receiv'd, which, you may be sure, made my Heart leap with a higher Joy than may be necessary to describe; and yet my Transport was not then half so high as at what Goodman (who had now left the Stage) said of me the next Day in my hearing. Goodman often came to a Rehearsal for Amusement, and having sate out the Orphan the Day before, in a Conversation with some of the principal Actors enquir'd what new young Fellow that was whom he had seen in the Chaplain? Upon which Monfort reply'd, That's he, behind you. Goodman then turning about, look'd earnestly at me, and, after some Pause, clapping me on the Shoulder, rejoin'd, If he does not make a good Actor, I'll be d——'d! The Surprize of being commended by one who had been himself so eminent on the Stage, and in so positive a manner, was more than I could support; in a Word, it almost took away my Breath, and (laugh, if you please) fairly drew Tears from my Eyes! And, tho' it may be as ridiculous as incredible to tell you what a full Vanity and Content at that time possess'd me, I will still make it a Question whether Alexander himself, or Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, when at the Head of their first victorious Armies, could feel a greater Transport in their Bosoms than I did then in mine, when but in the Rear of this Troop of Comedians. You see to what low Particulars I am forc'd to descend to give you a true Resemblance of the early and lively Follies of my Mind. Let me give you another Instance of my Discretion, more desperate than that of preferring the Stage to any other Views of Life. One might think that the Madness of breaking from the Advice and Care of Parents to turn Player could not easily be exceeded: But what think you, Sir, of——Matrimony? which, before I was Two-and-twenty, I actually committed,[208] when I had but Twenty Pounds a Year, which my Father had assur'd to me, and Twenty Shillings a Week from my Theatrical Labours, to maintain, as I then thought, the happiest young Couple that ever took a Leap in the Dark! If after this, to complete my Fortune, I turn'd Poet too, this last Folly indeed had something a better Excuse—Necessity: Had it never been my Lot to have come on the Stage, 'tis probable I might never have been inclin'd or reduc'd to have wrote for it: But having once expos'd my Person there, I thought it could be no additional Dishonour to let my Parts, whatever they were, take their Fortune along with it.—But to return to the Progress I made as an Actor.
Queen Mary having commanded the Double Dealer to be acted, Kynaston happen'd to be so ill that he could not hope to be able next Day to perform his Part of the Lord Touchwood. In this Exigence, the Author, Mr. Congreve, advis'd that it might be given to me, if at so short a Warning I would undertake it.[209] The Flattery of being thus distinguish'd by so celebrated an Author, and the Honour to act before a Queen, you may be sure made me blind to whatever Difficulties might attend it. I accepted the Part, and was ready in it before I slept; next Day the Queen was present at the Play, and was receiv'd with a new Prologue from the Author, spoken by Mrs. Barry, humbly acknowledging the great Honour done to the Stage, and to his Play in particular: Two Lines of it, which tho' I have not since read, I still remember.
But never were in Rome nor Athens seen,
So fair a Circle, or so bright a Queen.