‘My proposals then, Sir, are, instead of author’s rights, to receive a salary, and that a very moderate one; for which, exclusive of the tragedy and comedy already mentioned, I will engage to write any recitatives, songs, or choruses, which may be wanted for pantomimes, or other temporary occasions in the theatre. The terms I require are ten pounds per week, under the following provisos. If either the tragedy or comedy are condemned by the public, I will furnish an afterpiece; should two out of the three miscarry, my salary shall be reduced to seven pounds per week; and should all three be unfortunate, to five; and to be in the receipt of only five pounds per week till one has succeeded, the arrears to be then paid. By this proposal Mrs. Siddons’s nights will not be encroached upon. I, as an author, shall have the interest of the house at heart, and shall neglect no opportunity of promoting that interest:—the terms are so moderate, the probabilities I presume are greatly that the proprietors should gain, not lose. My own reputation will make me exert myself to the utmost; and with respect to my fulfilling the conditions proposed, I will enter into any forfeiture, not exceeding the receipt of my whole salary, to fulfil them literally. Indeed, whatever my talents may be, my industry and facility will not be disputed. I set off for France to-morrow morning, where, Sir, there is at present a most popular piece, ‘The Marriage of Figaro,’ which I shall endeavour to procure; it will be to the advantage of the theatre to get first what I know is thought an object, and which, if these terms are agreeable to you, Sir, and the proprietors, I shall then be more earnest and expeditious, concerning. I must, however, add, I am by no means certain of obtaining it; on the contrary, I understand it will be attended with great difficulties. I must intreat, Sir, that this proposal remain totally a secret, if not acceded to; otherwise it might injure me: and the fear lest it might by accident become known, was the only motive that prevented me from making it sooner. Should this meet your approbation, you will greatly oblige me to signify as much as soon as possible, by sending a line directed to me at Paris.’
CHAPTER V
The Comedy of Seduction appeared in the year 1787, and was received with very great applause. Some few hints for this play were taken from Les Liaisons Dangereux; but it was chiefly original, and possessed great merit. In 1789, appeared the translation of the King of Prussia’s works, in twelve or thirteen volumes, and also the translation of the Essays of Lavater. For the former of these, Mr Holcroft received 1200l. from Robinsons, the booksellers. He had worked almost night and day to get it out soon, and to prevent the possibility of anticipation. He had, I believe, very early, and before the publication of the original work, procured a copy through the interest of the Prussian Ambassador. He complains, in one of his letters about this time, of the difficulty he had in translating the poetry of the great Frederic, for whom our author, though he translated his works, seems to have had no great predilection.[[11]] His translation of Lavater’s smaller work has certainly been the means of making the English public acquainted with the system of that ingenious and lively writer; but it was criticised with unusual severity by the authors of the Analytical Review, and this led to some disagreeable altercation between Mr Holcroft and the Reviewers.
In 1790, the German Hotel appeared at Covent Garden, a play which is little more than a translation from the German of Brandes. The plot is very neat and lively, and sometimes interesting: but there is very little besides plot and incident in the piece. Baron Thorck seems the counterpart of Squire Thornhill, in the Vicar of Wakefield. The most striking circumstance in this drama is the perfect preservation of the unities of time and place. In the present instance, this peculiarity adds to the natural effect of the scene by riveting the imagination to one spot, and thus giving a sort of reality to it, and by making the incidents follow one another in such quick succession, that the mind has no time to question their probability. The events are some of them the most improbable that can be supposed; yet such is the mechanical construction of the plot, that they seem inseparably interwoven with each other, and as if they could not happen otherwise. The whole play is like a scene really passing in a hall of a large Hotel, in the course of a few hours.
Mr Holcroft brought out the Comedy of The School for Arrogance, in the beginning of 1791. In consequence of some disagreement between Mr Holcroft and Mr Harris respecting former pieces, it was imagined it would not be very graciously received if the author were known; and a friend undertook for a time to father the piece. After the comedy had been twice performed, the author wrote the following letter to the manager of the theatre. It is published in the preface.
‘Sir, I have patiently waited the proper moment in which to write to you. That moment I hope is now come. I should be guilty of injustice, were I any longer to delay expressing my sense of the propriety with which you have acted relative to the School for Arrogance, after you had every reason to suppose it mine. Such conduct, Sir, is highly honourable; and is not only productive of the best effects, but must secure the best and most permanent applause. That you had conceived disadvantageous ideas of me, I knew; though I have no doubt, but I shall ultimately convince you, that, even supposing me to be mistaken, my motives have been laudable. With me you were irritated; but you had the justice to forget the man, and promote the interests of the piece. This I hold it my duty to say to the world at large. I am, Sir, etc.’
The School for Arrogance is, in its plan, founded on Le Glorieux of Destouches, but it is for the most part original. It is Mr Holcroft’s best play, with the exception of the Road to Ruin, and, perhaps, even this exception is doubtful. The last of these pieces is, no doubt, much more adapted for stage-effect; but I question whether the former would not be perused oftener, and with greater delight, in the closet. It is less eventful, less interesting, less showy and dazzling; but it has beauties more refined in the conception, and difficult in the execution. Such is the whole of the character of Count Conolly Villars, which is managed throughout with the nicest art. His pride of birth; the conflict between the feelings of love, and a sense of the honour of his family; and the rapid and delicate alternations of passion, arising from a constant fear of degrading himself, either by resisting or indulging the familiarity of others, are described without the violation of truth, perhaps, in a single instance. On the other hand, the contrast between the pride of wealth and that of ancestry, which the character of Lady Peckham gives the author an opportunity to display, has an effect equally forcible, whether we regard the immediate impression on the audience, or the moral lesson it conveys. The other characters are comparatively insignificant, though necessary and well supported. To expose the weaknesses of pride, as it is founded on the prejudice either of wealth or ancestry, may be said to form the whole business of the piece. This, however, is not done by pompous, laboured declamation, or satirical epigrams; but by shewing the effects of these prejudices on real characters and in natural situations. As this play is less known than some of Mr Holcroft’s other plays, we shall select the following scene for the entertainment of the reader.
‘Enter Count, bowing.
Lady Peckham. So, Sir! They tells me, Sir, that you and my foolish husband are colloguing together, for to marry my daughter! Is this troo, Sir?
Count. (with his usual polite haughtiness) If it were, Ma’am?