Verbruggen died in 1708. Among his many original characters were Oroonoko, Bajazet, Altamont, and Sullen. He survived his wife about five years. I think if she loved Will Mountfort, she stood in some awe of fiery Jack Verbruggen; who, in his turn, seems to have had more of a rough courtesy than a warm affection for her. "For he would often say," remarks Anthony Aston, "D—— me! though I don't much value my wife, yet nobody shall affront her!" and his sword was drawn on the least occasion, which was much in fashion in the latter end of King William's reign. And let me add here, that an actor's sword was sometimes drawn for the king. James Carlisle, a respectable player, whose comedy, "The Fortune Hunters," was well received in 1689, was not so tempted by success as to prefer authorship to soldiership in behalf of a great cause. When the threatened destruction of the Irish Protestants was commenced with the siege of Londonderry, Carlisle entered King William's army, serving in Ireland. In 1691, he was in the terrible fray in the morass at Aghrim, under Ginkell, but immediately led by Talmash. In the twilight of that July day, the Jacobite general, St. Ruth, and the poor player from Drury Lane, were lying among the dead; and there James Carlisle was buried, with the remainder of the six hundred slain on the victor's side, before their surviving companions in arms marched westward.
Carlisle's fellow-actor, Bowen, was a "low comedian" of some talent, and more conceit. A curious paragraph in the Post-Boy, for November 16th, 1700, shows that he left the stage for a time, and under singular circumstances. The paragraph runs thus:—
"We hear that this day Mr. Bowen, the late famous comedian at the new Play-house, being convinced by Mr. Collier's book against the stage, and satisfied that a shopkeeper's life was the readiest way to heaven of the two, opens a cane shop, next door to the King's Head Tavern, in Middle Row, Holborn, where it is not questioned but all manner of canes, toys, and other curiosities, will be obtained at reasonable rates. This sudden change is admired at, as well as the reasons which induced him to leave such a profitable employ; but the most judicious conclude it is the effect of a certain person's good nature, who has more compassion for his soul than for his own."
Bowen was not absent from the stage more than a year. He was so jealous of his reputation, that when he had been driven to fury by the assertion that Johnson played Jacomo, in the "Libertine," better than he did, and by the emphatic confirmation of the assertion by Quin, he fastened a quarrel on the latter, got him in a room in a tavern, alone, set his back to the door, drew his sword, and assailed Quin with such blind fury, that he killed himself by falling on Quin's weapon. The dying Irishman, however, generously acquitted his adversary of all blame, and the greater actor, after trial, returned to his duty, having innocently killed, but not convinced poor Bowen, who naturally preferred his Jacomo to that of Johnson.[45]
Peer, later in life, came to grief also, but in a different way. The spare man was famous for two parts; the Apothecary, in "Romeo and Juliet," and the actor who humbly speaks the prologue to the play in "Hamlet." These parts he played excellently well. Nature had made him for them; but she was not constant to her meek and lean favourite; for Peer grew fat, and being unable to act any other character with equal effect, he lost his vocation, and he died lingeringly of grief, in 1713, when he had passed threescore years and ten. He had been property-man also, and in this capacity the theatre owed him, at the time of his decease, among other trifling sums, "threepence, for blood, in 'Macbeth.'"[46]
Norris, or "Jubilee Dicky," was a player of an odd, formal, little figure, and a squeaking voice. He was a capital comic actor, and owed his by-name to his success in playing Dicky, in the "Constant Couple." So great was this success, that his sons seemed to derive value from it, and were announced as the sons of Jubilee Dicky. He is said to have acted Cato, and other tragic characters, in a serio-burlesque manner. He was the original Scrub, and Don Lopez in the "Wonder," and died about the year 1733.
Dogget, who was before the public from 1691 to 1713, and who died in 1721, was a Dublin man—a failure in his native city, but in London a deserved favourite, for his original and natural comic powers. He always acted Shylock as a ferociously comic character. Congreve discerned his talent, and wrote for him Fondlewife in the "Old Batchelor," Sir Paul Pliant in the "Double Dealer," and the very different part of Ben in "Love for Love." This little, lively, cheerful fellow, was a conscientious actor. Somewhat illiterate—he spelt "whole" phonetically, without the w—he was a gentleman in his acts and bearing. He was prudent too, and when he retired from partnership in Drury Lane Theatre, with Cibber and Wilks (from 1709 to 1712), on the admission of Booth, which displeased him, he was considered worth £1000 a year. The consciousness of his value, and his own independence of character, gave some trouble to managers and Lord Chamberlains. On one occasion, having left Drury Lane, at some offence given, he went to Norwich, whence he was brought up to London, under my Lord's warrant. Dogget lived luxuriously on the road, at the Chamberlain's expense, and when he came to town, Chief Justice Holt liberated him, on some informality in the procedure.
Little errors of temper, and extreme carefulness in guarding his own interests, are now forgotten. Of his strong political feeling we still possess a trace. Dogget was a staunch Whig. The accession of the house of Brunswick, dated from a first of August. On that day, in 1716, and under George I., Dogget gave "an orange-coloured livery, with a badge, representing Liberty," to be rowed for by six watermen, whose apprenticeship had expired during the preceding year. He left funds for the same race to be rowed for annually, from London Bridge to Chelsea, "on the same day for ever." The match still takes place, with modifications caused by changes on and about the river; but the winners of the money-prizes, now delivered at Fishmongers' Hall, have yet to be thankful for that prudence in Dogget, which was sneered at by his imprudent contemporaries.
Dogget never took liberties with an audience; Pinkethman was much addicted to that bad habit. He would insert nonsense of his own, appeal to the gallery, and delight in their support, and the confusion into which the other actors on the stage were thrown; but the joke grew stale at last, and the offender was brought to his senses by loud disapprobation. He did not lose his self-possession; but assuming a penitent air, with a submissive glance at the audience, he said in a stage aside, "Odso, I believe I have been in the wrong here!" This cleverly-made confession brought down a round of applause, and "Pinkey" made his exit, corrected, but not disgraced. Another trait of his stage life is worthy of notice. He had been remarkable for his reputation as a speaking Harlequin, in the "Emperor of the Moon." His wit, audacity, emphasis, and point, delighted the critics, who thought that "expression" would be more perfect if the actor laid aside the inevitable mask of Harlequin. Pinkethman did so; but all expression was thereby lost. It was no longer the saucy Harlequin that seemed speaking. Pinkey, so impudent on all other occasions, was uneasy and feeble on this, and his audacity and vivacity only returned on his again assuming the sable vizard.
Pinkethman was entirely the architect of his own fortune. He made his way by talent and industry. He established the Richmond Theatre, and there was no booth at Greenwich, Richmond, or May-Fair, so well patronised as his. "He's the darling of Fortunatus," says Downes, "and has gained more in theatres and fairs in twelve years than those who have tugged at the oar of acting these fifty."