‘Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.’
Aeneid, III. 658.
Printed by T. and A. Constable, (late) Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press
[1]. Mr Holcroft has made use of this incident in the first Volume of Hugh Trevor, see p. [40].
[2]. One Keys, who was also a contemporary of Mr H. in Stanton’s company, and has since been a dancing-master, was the father of Mrs. Mills, who played the Spoiled Child, Sophia, in The Road to Ruin, etc.
[3]. Weston is celebrated for his unrivalled power of face, for looking the fool more naturally than any one else. Mr Holcroft speaks of him in the following manner in the Theatrical Recorder.—‘As an actor, I remember him well: to think of a few unrivalled performers, and to forget Weston, is impossible. The range of characters that he personated was confined. The parts in which he excited such uncommon emotion, were those of low humour. He was the most irresistible in those of perfect simplicity: his peculiar talent was the pure personification of nature. I do not think it possible for an actor to be less conscious than Weston appeared to be, that he was acting. While the audience was convulsed with laughter, he was perfectly unmoved: no look, no motion of the body, ever gave the least intimation that he knew himself to be Thomas Weston. Never for a moment was Thomas Weston present: it was always either Jerry Sneak, Doctor Last, Abel Drugger, Scrub, Sharp, or the very character, whatever it was, he stood there to perform; and it was performed with such a consistent and peculiar humour, it was so entirely distinct from any thing we call acting, and so perfect a resemblance of the person whom the pencil of the poet had depicted, that not only was the laughter excessive, nay sometimes almost painful, but the most critical mind was entirely satisfied. I doubt if Garrick, or any other actor, had so complete a power of disguising himself, and of assuming a character with so little deviation from the conception he had previously formed. It was not only a perfect whole, but it was also unique.
‘He first appeared in tragedy, which he always considered as his forte, though he was utterly unqualified for it. It was much against his will that he was accidentally forced to play Scrub in the Beaux’ Stratagem, when he threw every one into raptures, except himself. Even the very boys followed him in the streets, exclaiming, “There—that’s he that played Scrub!” His first appearance in London was at a booth in Bartholomew Fair. He was afterwards engaged by Foote, who was the first person who introduced him to public notice, and who wrote the part of Jerry Sneak expressly for him. Several stories are told of the readiness of his wit, and presence of mind.
‘Shuter had long been the favourite of the galleries; and Weston, before he was well known, appeared as a substitute for Shuter, in the part of Sharp. Shuter’s name was in the play-bills; and when Weston appeared, the galleries vociferated, “Shuter, Shuter!” Mrs. Clive played the part of Kitty Pry, and was no less a favourite than the other. The uproar continued, and nothing could be heard but “Shuter, Shuter!” As soon as it was possible to be heard, Weston, in his own inimitable and humourous manner, asked aloud, in a seriously stupid amazement, and pointing to Mrs. Clive,—“Shoot her! Shoot her! Why should I shoot her? I am sure she plays her part very well!” The apparent earnestness and simplicity with which he asked this question, were so inimitable, and it so truly applied to the excellent acting of Mrs. Clive, that the burst of laughter was universal, and the applause which Weston deserved, attended him through the part.
‘Weston was no less remarkable for his dissipation and poverty, than for his comic excellence. It happened on a day that his name was in the play-bills, that he was arrested for a small sum, which he applied to the managers to discharge, which request they refused. Being known to the bailiff, Weston prevailed on him and his follower to go with him to the play, where he placed himself and them in the front of the two-shilling gallery.—Before the curtain drew up, an apology was made, that Mr Weston, being ill, could not possibly attend; and it was therefore hoped, another performer might supply his place. Weston rose, as he intended, and declared aloud, the apology was entirely false; he was there, well, and ready to do his part, but that he was in custody for a small debt, for which, though entreated, the managers had refused to give security. Weston had well foreseen the consequences: the managers were obliged to set him free. Another actor would have immediately been expelled the theatre; but for Weston no substitute could be found.’—Vol. ii. p. 112.