"The condition of an actor on the first night of his performing such a character as Macbeth is the most alarming, to a mind anxious to gain the public favour, of any condition that the pursuit of fame or fortune can cast man into . A dull plodding actor, whose utmost merit is mediocrity, is in no danger; he plods on from the indulgence of the publick, and their habit of seeing him, in safety; he never is in danger of offending by starts of genius, or by the unruly fire that the fury of his spirits enkindles. Mediocrity is his merit; mediocrity is all that is expected from him; mediocrity is his protection. But the actor that can be impassioned in the extreme, and is inflamed by Shakspeare's genius, will, on his first appearance in Macbeth, be carried out of the reach of sober judgment , and of wary, nice discretion; those passions and that flame will run away with him , will make him almost breathless , crack or hoarsen in his voice, arrest his memory, confine his sight , his action, gait, and deportment; and all that candour and the nicest judgment can expect from him is, that he shewed he understood his character, that he gave noble marks of genius and judgment, and that, when he had played the part half a dozen times, he would then charm and convince his audience
of his powers, and of his having a competent capacity for it.
"But let this man be but checked by a single hiss, all his fire will instantly cool; his spirits abate their motions; grief and despair will seize him, and at once he becomes the pining broken-hearted slave of the tyrant that ruined a wretch that was labouring to please him, who did not dare to resent the cruelty, nor to assist himself. A soldier in the very front of war, at the teeth of his enemy, and at the mouth of a cannon , is not in so wretched, nor in so fatal , so hopeless a state. The noble ardour of the soldier gives him hope, alacrity, effort, double, treble vigour and courage; the very danger adds to both, and to such a degree, as to make him lose even the idea of danger; and sure death, even death, in that state is preferable to an actor, who by his post is obliged to endure the hiss of a Reddish, or a Sparks ; or a critic who hisses him for daring to act a part of Mr. Garrick's, and who would damn him to want and infamy , to shew he is an admirer of Mr. Garrick."
Mr. Macklin then went on beseeching the audience to believe that the agitation he felt on Saturday evening prevented him from exerting his faculties; that he was then under the same terrors; and concluded by begging them to try his merits by uninterrupted attention for a few nights, and then applaud or reject him.
Messrs. Reddish and Sparks, though they knew Macklin had gained public approbation by his strange address, did not hesitate severally to make oath that Mr. Reddish never hissed the complainant; and that, when Sparks once did, Reddish warmly insisted that he should forbear. In addition to these assertions, Sparks published a letter, containing a positive denial of his being present at the second performance of Macbeth on the Saturday mentioned.
The reader to whom this scene is now first known cannot but perceive Macklin's aim in all his proceedings; and, if he entertains the same ideas of justice with myself, he will be pleased to find those aims completely disappointed. Whatever impropriety of conduct Reddish and Sparks might have been guilty of, Macklin had no right to disturb the public peace by making many hundreds of inconsiderate people judges of his or their private jealousies.
On Saturday evening the 6th of November Macklin acted the second part of his appeal to the audience, and affected to be literally overcome by the awful situation his opponents and himself stood in before Heaven and the frequenters of theatrical amusements. He called for a glass of water to prevent him from fainting; and the compassionate audience ordered him a chair, on which they desired he might sit and read his proofs in opposition to the oaths of
Reddish and Sparks. When he finished the play proceeded.
Transactions of this nature never fail to produce parties, which arrange themselves on either side of the question, as caprice, or justice, actuates the individuals who compose them. A trial of strength on this most important subject took place at Covent-garden Theatre on Thursday evening November 18, when a considerable number of persons raised a violent uproar, for the express purpose of preventing the commencement of the play in which Macklin was announced to perform. After some time had elapsed, the offender appeared, but to no purpose, as neither himself, his accusers, or approvers, could distinguish a word uttered by either; but the narrators of the disgusting occurrence say, that Macklin retired and threw off his dress for the character of Shylock, and re-appeared; that Mr. Bensley was commissioned by the Managers to pronounce—nobody would hear what—and retired; that Macklin dressed again, and again entered, but the noise, in which "Off " predominated, encreased with tenfold violence, and he was even commanded to go on his knees. This he positively refused, and made his "exit in a rage ." Mr. Woodward succeeded Mr. Bensley as a pacificator with equal success. The Managers at length, foreseeing perhaps fatal consequences, sent Mr. Owenson upon the Stage, who
held a large board before him on which they had written with chalk, "At the command of the publick, Mr. Macklin is discharged." This concession procured loud applause from the opposers of the actor; but his friends in the gallery, doubly exasperated, demanded "Shylock, Macklin, and Love a-la-mode," instead of "She Stoops to Conquer," which was begun by the Manager's direction. The confusion soon became general, and many persons left the Theatre. Mr. Fisher, one of the proprietors, entered, and attempted to speak; but Colman, and Colman alone, would satisfy the audience. That gentleman was at length induced to make (as he observed) his first appearance , attended by Colonel Lechmere; a general plaudit succeeded; and when silence could be obtained he said that, from the hour he had undertaken the management of the Theatre, his first wish had ever been to know the pleasure of the publick, that he might instantly comply with it; and, as a proof of the truth of his assertion, he referred the audience to the legible card which had just been offered to their perusal. Mr. Colman farther observed, that the Managers really had no other play in readiness besides "She Stoops to Conquer;" and recommended those who were displeased with it to receive their money and retire. A new trial of skill commenced between the contents and non-contents; the musick played, and the first scene of the above play was