However trifling these Theatrical Anecdotes may seem to a sensible Reader, yet, as the different Conduct of these rival Actors may be of use to others of the same Profession, and from thence may contribute to the Pleasure of the Publick, let that be my Excuse for pursuing them. I must therefore let it be known that, though in Voice and Ear Nature had been more kind to Powel, yet he so often lost the Value of them by an unheedful Confidence, that the constant wakeful Care and Decency of Wilks left the other far behind in the publick Esteem and Approbation. Nor was his Memory less tenacious than that of Wilks; but Powel put too much Trust in it, and idly deferr'd the Studying of his Parts, as School-boys do their Exercise, to the last Day, which commonly brings them out proportionably defective. But Wilks never lost an Hour of precious Time, and was, in all his Parts, perfect to such an Exactitude, that I question if in forty Years he ever five times chang'd or misplac'd an Article in any one of them. To be Master of this uncommon Diligence is adding to the Gift of Nature all that is in an Actor's Power; and this Duty of Studying perfect whatever Actor is remiss in, he will proportionably find that Nature may have been kind to him in vain, for though Powel had an Assurance that cover'd this Neglect much better than a Man of more Modesty might have done, yet, with all his Intrepidity, very often the Diffidence and Concern for what he was to say made him lose the Look of what he was to be: While, therefore, Powel presided, his idle Example made this Fault so common to others, that I cannot but confess, in the general Infection, I had my Share of it; nor was my too critical Excuse for it a good one, viz. That scarce one Part in five that fell to my Lot was worth the Labour. But to shew Respect to an Audience is worth the best Actor's Labour, and, his Business consider'd, he must be a very impudent one that comes before them with a conscious Negligence of what he is about.[266] But Wilks was never known to make any of these venial Distinctions, nor, however barren his Part might be, could bear even the Self-Reproach of favouring his Memory: And I have been astonished to see him swallow a Volume of Froth and Insipidity in a new Play that we were sure could not live above three Days, tho' favour'd and recommended to the Stage by some good person of Quality. Upon such Occasions, in Compassion to his fruitless Toil and Labour, I have sometimes cry'd out with Cato——Painful Præeminence! So insupportable, in my Sense, was the Task, when the bare Praise of not having been negligent was sure to be the only Reward of it. But so indefatigable was the Diligence of Wilks, that he seem'd to love it, as a good Man does Virtue, for its own sake; of which the following Instance will give you an extraordinary Proof.
In some new Comedy he happen'd to complain of a crabbed Speech in his Part, which, he said, gave him more trouble to study than all the rest of it had done; upon which he apply'd to the Author either to soften or shorten it. The Author, that he might make the Matter quite easy to him, fairly cut it all out. But when he got home from the Rehearsal, Wilks thought it such an Indignity to his Memory that any thing should be thought too hard for it, that he actually made himself perfect in that Speech, though he knew it was never to be made use of. From this singular Act of Supererogation you may judge how indefatigable the Labour of his Memory must have been when his Profit and Honour were more concern'd to make use of it.[267]
But besides this indispensable Quality of Diligence, Wilks had the Advantage of a sober Character in private Life, which Powel, not having the least Regard to, labour'd under the unhappy Disfavour, not to say Contempt, of the Publick, to whom his licentious Courses were no Secret: Even when he did well that natural Prejudice pursu'd him; neither the Heroe nor the Gentleman, the young Ammon[268] nor the Dorimant,[269] could conceal from the conscious Spectator the True George Powel. And this sort of Disesteem or Favour every Actor will feel, and, more or less, have his Share of, as he has, or has not, a due Regard to his private Life and Reputation. Nay, even false Reports shall affect him, and become the Cause, or Pretence at least, of undervaluing or treating him injuriously. Let me give a known Instance of it, and at the same time a Justification of myself from an Imputation that was laid upon me not many Years before I quitted the Theatre, of which you will see the Consequence.
After the vast Success of that new Species of Dramatick Poetry, the Beggars Opera,[270] The Year following I was so stupid as to attempt something of the same Kind, upon a quite different Foundation, that of recommending Virtue and Innocence; which I ignorantly thought might not have a less Pretence to Favour than setting Greatness and Authority in a contemptible, and the most vulgar Vice and Wickedness, in an amiable Light. But behold how fondly I was mistaken! Love in a Riddle[271] (for so my new-fangled Performance was called) was as vilely damn'd and hooted at as so vain a Presumption in the idle Cause of Virtue could deserve. Yet this is not what I complain of; I will allow my Poetry to be as much below the other as Taste or Criticism can sink it: I will grant likewise that the applauded Author of the Beggars Opera (whom I knew to be an honest good-natur'd Man, and who, when he had descended to write more like one, in the Cause of Virtue, had been as unfortunate as others of that Class;) I will grant, I say, that in his Beggars Opera he had more skilfully gratify'd the Publick Taste than all the brightest Authors that ever writ before him; and I have sometimes thought, from the Modesty of his Motto, Nos hæc novimus esse nihil,[272] that he gave them that Performance as a Satyr upon the Depravity of their Judgment (as Ben. Johnson of old was said to give his Bartholomew-Fair in Ridicule of the vulgar Taste which had disliked his Sejanus[273]) and that, by artfully seducing them to be the Champions of the Immoralities he himself detested, he should be amply reveng'd on their former Severity and Ignorance. This were indeed a Triumph! which even the Author of Cato might have envy'd, Cato! 'tis true, succeeded, but reach'd not, by full forty Days, the Progress and Applauses of the Beggars Opera. Will it, however, admit of a Question, which of the two Compositions a good Writer would rather wish to have been the Author of? Yet, on the other side, must we not allow that to have taken a whole Nation, High and Low, into a general Applause, has shown a Power in Poetry which, though often attempted in the same kind, none but this one Author could ever yet arrive at? By what Rule, then, are we to judge of our true National Taste? But to keep a little closer to my Point,
The same Author the next Year had, according to the Laws of the Land, transported his Heroe to the West-Indies in a Second Part to the Beggars Opera;[274] but so it happen'd, to the Surprize of the Publick, this Second Part was forbid to come upon the Stage! Various were the Speculations upon this act of Power: Some thought that the Author, others that the Town, was hardly dealt with; a third sort, who perhaps had envy'd him the Success of his first Part, affirm'd, when it was printed, that whatever the Intention might be, the Fact was in his Favour, that he had been a greater Gainer by Subscriptions to his Copy than he could have been by a bare Theatrical Presentation. Whether any Part of these Opinions were true I am not concerned to determine or consider. But how they affected me I am going to tell you. Soon after this Prohibition,[275] my Performance was to come upon the Stage, at a time when many People were out of Humour at the late Disappointment, and seem'd willing to lay hold of any Pretence of making a Reprizal. Great Umbrage was taken that I was permitted to have the whole Town to my self, by this absolute Forbiddance of what they had more mind to have been entertain'd with. And, some few Days before my Bawble was acted, I was inform'd that a strong Party would be made against it: This Report I slighted, as not conceiving why it should be true; and when I was afterwards told what was the pretended Provocation of this Party, I slighted it still more, as having less Reason to suppose any Persons could believe me capable (had I had the Power) of giving such a Provocation. The Report, it seems, that had run against me was this: That, to make way for the Success of my own Play, I had privately found means, or made Interest, that the Second Part of the Beggars Opera might be suppressed. What an involuntary Compliment did the Reporters of this falshood make me? to suppose me of Consideration enough to Influence a great Officer of State to gratify the Spleen or Envy of a Comedian so far as to rob the Publick of an innocent Diversion (if it were such) that none but that cunning Comedian might be suffered to give it them.[276] This is so very gross a Supposition that it needs only its own senseless Face to confound it; let that alone, then, be my Defence against it. But against blind Malice and staring inhumanity whatever is upon the Stage has no Defence! There they knew I stood helpless and expos'd to whatever they might please to load or asperse me with. I had not considered, poor Devil! that from the Security of a full Pit Dunces might be Criticks, Cowards valiant, and 'Prentices Gentlemen! Whether any such were concern'd in the Murder of my Play I am not certain, for I never endeavour'd to discover any one of its Assassins; I cannot afford them a milder Name, from their unmanly manner of destroying it. Had it been heard, they might have left me nothing to say to them: 'Tis true it faintly held up its wounded Head a second Day, and would have spoke for Mercy, but was not suffer'd. Not even the Presence of a Royal Heir apparent could protect it. But then I was reduced to be serious with them; their Clamour then became an Insolence, which I thought it my Duty by the Sacrifice of any Interest of my own to put an end to. I therefore quitted the Actor for the Author, and, stepping forward to the Pit, told them, That since I found they were not inclin'd that this Play should go forward, I gave them my Word that after this Night it should never be acted agen: But that, in the mean time, I hop'd they would consider in whose Presence they were, and for that Reason at least would suspend what farther Marks of their Displeasure they might imagine I had deserved. At this there was a dead Silence; and after some little Pause, a few civiliz'd Hands signify'd their Approbation. When the Play went on, I observ'd about a Dozen Persons of no extraordinary Appearance sullenly walk'd out of the Pit. After which, every Scene of it, while uninterrupted, met with more Applause than my best Hopes had expected. But it came too late: Peace to its Manes! I had given my Word it should fall, and I kept it by giving out another Play for the next Day, though I knew the Boxes were all lett for the same again. Such, then, was the Treatment I met with: How much of it the Errors of the Play might deserve I refer to the Judgment of those who may have Curiosity and idle time enough to read it.[277] But if I had no occasion to complain of the Reception it met with from its quieted Audience, sure it can be no great Vanity to impute its Disgraces chiefly to that severe Resentment which a groundless Report of me had inflam'd: Yet those Disgraces have left me something to boast of, an Honour preferable even to the Applause of my Enemies: A noble Lord came behind the Scenes, and told me, from the Box, where he was in waiting, That what I said to quiet the Audience was extremely well taken there; and that I had been commended for it in a very obliging manner. Now, though this was the only Tumult that I have known to have been so effectually appeas'd these fifty Years by any thing that could be said to an Audience in the same Humour, I will not take any great Merit to myself upon it; because when, like me, you will but humbly submit to their doing you all the Mischief they can, they will at any time be satisfy'd.
I have mention'd this particular Fact to inforce what I before observ'd, That the private Character of an Actor will always more or less affect his Publick Performance. And if I suffer'd so much from the bare Suspicion of my having been guilty of a base Action, what should not an Actor expect that is hardy enough to think his whole private Character of no consequence? I could offer many more, tho' less severe Instances of the same Nature. I have seen the most tender Sentiment of Love in Tragedy create Laughter, instead of Compassion, when it has been applicable to the real Engagements of the Person that utter'd it. I have known good Parts thrown up, from an humble Consciousness that something in them might put an Audience in mind of—what was rather wish'd might be forgotten: Those remarkable Words of Evadne, in the Maid's Tragedy—A Maidenhead, Amintor, at my Years?—have sometimes been a much stronger Jest for being a true one. But these are Reproaches which in all Nations the Theatre must have been us'd to, unless we could suppose Actors something more than Human Creatures, void of Faults or Frailties. 'Tis a Misfortune at least not limited to the English Stage. I have seen the better-bred Audience in Paris made merry even with a modest Expression, when it has come from the Mouth of an Actress whose private Character it seem'd not to belong to. The Apprehension of these kind of Fleers from the Witlings of a Pit has been carry'd so far in our own Country, that a late valuable Actress[278] (who was conscious her Beauty was not her greatest Merit) desired the Warmth of some Lines might be abated when they have made her too remarkably handsome: But in this Discretion she was alone, few others were afraid of undeserving the finest things that could be said to them. But to consider this Matter seriously, I cannot but think, at a Play, a sensible Auditor would contribute all he could to his being well deceiv'd, and not suffer his Imagination so far to wander from the well-acted Character before him, as to gratify a frivolous Spleen by Mocks or personal Sneers on the Performer, at the Expence of his better Entertainment. But I must now take up Wilks and Powel again where I left them.
Though the Contention for Superiority between them seem'd about this time to end in favour of the former, yet the Distress of the Patentee (in having his Servant his Master, as Powel had lately been), was not much reliev'd by the Victory; he had only chang'd the Man, but not the Malady: For Wilks, by being in Possession of so many good Parts, fell into the common Error of most Actors, that of over-rating their Merit, or never thinking it is so thoroughly consider'd as it ought to be, which generally makes them proportionably troublesome to the Master, who they might consider only pays them to profit by them. The Patentee therefore found it as difficult to satisfy the continual Demands of Wilks as it was dangerous to refuse them; very few were made that were not granted, and as few were granted as were not grudg'd him: Not but our good Master was as sly a Tyrant as ever was at the Head of a Theatre; for he gave the Actors more Liberty, and fewer Days Pay, than any of his Predecessors: He would laugh with them over a Bottle, and bite[279] them in their Bargains: He kept them poor, that they might not be able to rebel; and sometimes merry, that they might not think of it: All their Articles of Agreement had a Clause in them that he was sure to creep out at, viz. Their respective Sallaries were to be paid in such manner and proportion as others of the same Company were paid; which in effect made them all, when he pleas'd, but limited Sharers of Loss, and himself sole Proprietor of Profits; and this Loss or Profit they only had such verbal Accounts of as he thought proper to give them. 'Tis true, he would sometimes advance them Money (but not more than he knew at most could be due to them) upon their Bonds; upon which, whenever they were mutinous, he would threaten to sue them. This was the Net we danc'd in for several Years: But no wonder we were Dupes, while our Master was a Lawyer. This Grievance, however, Wilks was resolv'd, for himself at least, to remedy at any rate; and grew daily more intractable, for every Day his Redress was delay'd. Here our Master found himself under a Difficulty he knew not well how to get out of: For as he was a close subtle Man, he seldom made use of a Confident in his Schemes of Government:[280] But here the old Expedient of Delay would stand him in no longer stead; Wilks must instantly be comply'd with, or Powel come again into Power! In a word, he was push'd so home, that he was reduc'd even to take my Opinion into his Assistance: For he knew I was a Rival to neither of them; perhaps, too, he had fancy'd that, from the Success of my first Play, I might know as much of the Stage, and what made an Actor valuable, as either of them: He saw, too, that tho' they had each of them five good Parts to my one, yet the Applause which in my few I had met with, was given me by better Judges than as yet had approv'd of the best they had done. They generally measured the goodness of a Part by the Quantity or Length of it: I thought none bad for being short that were closely-natural; nor any the better for being long, without that valuable Quality. But in this, I doubt, as to their Interest, they judg'd better than myself; for I have generally observ'd that those who do a great deal not ill, have been preferr'd to those who do but little, though never so masterly. And therefore I allow that, while there were so few good Parts, and as few good Judges of them, it ought to have been no Wonder to me, that as an Actor I was less valued by the Master or the common People than either of them: All the Advantage I had of them was, that by not being troublesome I had more of our Master's personal Inclination than any Actor of the male Sex;[281] and so much of it, that I was almost the only one whom at that time he us'd to take into his Parties of Pleasure; very often tete à tete, and sometimes in a Partie quarrèe. These then were the Qualifications, however good or bad, to which may be imputed our Master's having made choice of me to assist him in the Difficulty under which he now labour'd. He was himself sometimes inclin'd to set up Powel again as a Check upon the overbearing Temper of Wilks: Tho' to say truth, he lik'd neither of them, but was still under a Necessity that one of them should preside, tho' he scarce knew which of the two Evils to chuse. This Question, when I happen'd to be alone with him, was often debated in our Evening Conversation; nor, indeed, did I find it an easy matter to know which Party I ought to recommend to his Election. I knew they were neither of them Well-wishers to me, as in common they were Enemies to most Actors in proportion to the Merit that seem'd to be rising in them. But as I had the Prosperity of the Stage more at Heart than any other Consideration, I could not be long undetermined in my Opinion, and therefore gave it to our Master at once in Favour of Wilks. I, with all the Force I could muster, insisted, "That if Powel were preferr'd, the ill Example of his Negligence and abandon'd Character (whatever his Merit on the Stage might be) would reduce our Company to Contempt and Beggary; observing, at the same time, in how much better Order our Affairs went forward since Wilks came among us, of which I recounted several Instances that are not so necessary to tire my Reader with. All this, though he allow'd to be true, yet Powel, he said, was a better Actor than Wilks when he minded his Business (that is to say, when he was, what he seldom was, sober). But Powel, it seems, had a still greater Merit to him, which was, (as he observ'd) that when Affairs were in his Hands, he had kept the Actors quiet, without one Day's Pay, for six Weeks together, and it was not every body could do that; for you see, said he, Wilks will never be easy unless I give him his whole Pay, when others have it not, and what an Injustice would that be to the rest if I were to comply with him? How do I know but then they may be all in a Mutiny, and mayhap (that was his Expression) with Powel at the Head of 'em? By this Specimen of our Debate, it may be judg'd under how particular and merry a Government the Theatre then labour'd. To conclude, this Matter ended in a Resolution to sign a new Agreement with Wilks, which entitled him to his full Pay of four Pounds a Week without any conditional Deductions. How far soever my Advice might have contributed to our Master's settling his Affairs upon this Foot, I never durst make the least Merit of it to Wilks, well knowing that his great Heart would have taken it as a mortal Affront had I (tho' never so distantly) hinted that his Demands had needed any Assistance but the Justice of them. From this time, then, Wilks became first Minister, or Bustle-master-general of the Company.[282] He now seem'd to take new Delight in keeping the Actors close to their Business, and got every Play reviv'd with Care in which he had acted the chief Part in Dublin: 'Tis true, this might be done with a particular View of setting off himself to Advantage; but if at the same time it served the Company, he ought not to want our Commendation: Now, tho' my own Conduct neither had the Appearance of his Merit, nor the Reward that follow'd his Industry, I cannot help observing that it shew'd me, to the best of my Power, a more cordial Commonwealth's Man: His first Views in serving himself made his Service to the whole but an incidental Merit; whereas, by my prosecuting the Means to make him easy in his Pay, unknown to him, or without asking any Favour for my self at the same time, I gave a more unquestionable Proof of my preferring the Publick to my Private Interest: From the same Principle I never murmur'd at whatever little Parts fell to my Share, and though I knew it would not recommend me to the Favour of the common People, I often submitted to play wicked Characters rather than they should be worse done by weaker Actors than my self: But perhaps, in all this Patience under my Situation, I supported my Spirits by a conscious Vanity: For I fancied I had more Reason to value myself upon being sometimes the Confident and Companion of our Master, than Wilks had in all the more publick Favours he had extorted from him. I imagined, too, there was sometimes as much Skill to be shewn in a short Part, as in the most voluminous, which he generally made choice of; that even the coxcombly Follies of a Sir John Daw might as well distinguish the Capacity of an Actor, as all the dry Enterprizes and busy Conduct of a Truewit.[283] Nor could I have any Reason to repine at the Superiority he enjoy'd, when I consider'd at how dear a Rate it was purchased, at the continual Expence of a restless Jealousy and fretful Impatience——These were the Passions that, in the height of his Successes, kept him lean to his last Hour, while what I wanted in Rank or Glory was amply made up to me in Ease and Chearfulness. But let not this Observation either lessen his Merit or lift up my own; since our different Tempers were not in our Choice, but equally natural to both of us. To be employ'd on the Stage was the Delight of his Life; to be justly excused from it was the Joy of mine: I lov'd Ease, and he Pre-eminence: In that, he might be more commendable. Tho' he often disturb'd me, he seldom could do it without more disordering himself:[284] In our Disputes, his Warmth could less bear Truth than I could support manifest Injuries: He would hazard our Undoing to gratify his Passions, tho' otherwise an honest Man; and I rather chose to give up my Reason, or not see my Wrong, than ruin our Community by an equal Rashness. By this opposite Conduct our Accounts at the End of our Labours stood thus: While he lived he was the elder Man, when he died he was not so old as I am: He never left the Stage till he left the World: I never so well enjoy'd the World as when I left the Stage: He died in Possession of his Wishes; and I, by having had a less cholerick Ambition, am still tasting mine in Health and Liberty. But as he in a great measure wore out the Organs of Life in his incessant Labours to gratify the Publick, the Many whom he gave Pleasure to will always owe his Memory a favourable Report—Some Facts that will vouch for the Truth of this Account will be found in the Sequel of these Memoirs. If I have spoke with more Freedom of his quondam Competitor Powel, let my good Intentions to future Actors, in shewing what will so much concern them to avoid, be my Excuse for it: For though Powel had from Nature much more than Wilks; in Voice and Ear, in Elocution in Tragedy, and Humour in Comedy, greatly the Advantage of him; yet, as I have observ'd, from the Neglect and Abuse of those valuable Gifts, he suffer'd Wilks to be of thrice the Service to our Society. Let me give another Instance of the Reward and Favour which, in a Theatre, Diligence and Sobriety seldom fail of: Mills the elder[285] grew into the Friendship of Wilks with not a great deal more than those useful Qualities to recommend him: He was an honest, quiet, careful Man, of as few Faults as Excellencies, and Wilks rather chose him for his second in many Plays, than an Actor of perhaps greater Skill that was not so laboriously diligent. And from this constant Assiduity, Mills, with making to himself a Friend in Wilks, was advanced to a larger Sallary than any Man-Actor had enjoy'd during my time on the Stage.[286] I have yet to offer a more happy Recommendation of Temperance, which a late celebrated Actor was warn'd into by the mis-conduct of Powel. About the Year that Wilks return'd from Dublin, Booth, who had commenced Actor upon that Theatre, came over to the Company in Lincolns-Inn-Fields:[287] He was then but an Under-graduate of the Buskin, and, as he told me himself, had been for some time too frank a Lover of the Bottle; but having had the Happiness to observe into what Contempt and Distresses Powel had plung'd himself by the same Vice, he was so struck with the Terror of his Example, that he fix'd a Resolution (which from that time to the End of his Days he strictly observ'd) of utterly reforming it; an uncommon Act of Philosophy in a young Man! of which in his Fame and Fortune he afterwards enjoy'd the Reward and Benefit. These Observations I have not merely thrown together as a Moralist, but to prove that the briskest loose Liver or intemperate Man (though Morality were out of the Question) can never arrive at the necessary Excellencies of a good or useful Actor.
