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BRIEF VIEW 
 
 THE ENGLISH DRAMA. 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 (BKxlit^t IBtvioys ta i^t presort Cimc : 
 
 WITH SUGGESTIONS 
 
 FOR ELEVATING THE PRESENT CONDITION OF THE ART, 
 AND OF ITS PROFESSORS. 
 
 BY F. G. TOMLINS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the PAST AND PRESENT STATE OP DRAMATIC 
 ART AND LITERATURE," ETC. 
 
 LONDON: 
 C. MITCHELL, RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXL. 
 
^0% 
 
 WILLIAM STEVKNS, PRINTER, BELL YARD, 
 T£MPLK BAR. 
 
 ^/^ 
 
 ff 
 
JEREMIAH HOW, ESQ. 
 
 My Dear How. 
 Words are but a poor return for deeds, and yet, 
 as sincere expressions of sentiments, they may 
 sometimes produce substantial gratification, at least 
 to the utterer, and in this belief I dedicate my little 
 book to you, one of my oldest and kindest friends. 
 
 I do not fear but that the subject is worthy of 
 your attention, for it relates to poetry and the ele- 
 gant arts ; and in these you have been gifted with 
 a pure taste and a discriminating judgment, and to 
 their professors have ever shown a delicate atten- 
 tion and frequently valuable assistance. As to your 
 opinion of the manner in which they are here treated, 
 I may be more anxious ; but I am at least sure if 
 there is any merit, you will be one of the first to 
 
IV DEDICATION . 
 
 discover it, for your criticism is of that more rare 
 and difficult kind^ which elicits excellences as well 
 as deficiences. 
 
 I must Conclude, lest that worst of taints should 
 be thrown on our friendship, that it is the result of 
 interest, and is maintained by flattery. 
 
 ** No I let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp ; 
 And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, 
 Where thrift may follow fawning.*' 
 
 Friendship is too rare and too sacred a thing to 
 be sullied by even a suspicion, and I will therefore 
 content myself with saying, I am, more than words 
 can express, 
 
 Your sincere and obliged friend, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The greater part of the following pages were 
 originally published in The Sunday Times, under 
 the title of Dramatic Prolusions. They are now 
 repubUshed at the suggestion of, perhaps partial, 
 friends, who desire to possess them in a more por- 
 table shape. 
 
 The subject is one which has ever been passion- 
 ately pursued by the writer, from a feeling that we 
 possess a national drama unequalled, and indeed un- 
 approached by any othar country, ancient or modern. 
 To honour the illustrious dead, and do justice to 
 the living, should be the aim of every public writer, 
 and this sentiment has elicited the following pages. 
 In the struggle of 1832, the author took a share, to 
 the utmost of his abihty, and the only merit he now 
 ventures to claim, is the revival of the subject of the 
 monopoly, after a seven years' slumber, even in 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 opposition to the opinion of many experienced per- 
 sons, who declared there was not a glimmer of hope 
 for the oppressed drama. Such is, happily, not the 
 case, for the reception of the author's pamphlet on 
 ** The Past and Present State of Dramatic Litera- 
 ture," has elicited the almost universal assistance of 
 the press. It has also jenabled the writer to induce 
 persons more influential than himself to take an 
 interest in the cause, with whom it is now progress- 
 ing in the most promising manner. These results 
 are sufficient reward to the author, and he commits 
 his present trifling production and the not trifling 
 cause to the protection of the press and the public, 
 confident that they have the " grace to execute 
 justice and to maintain truth." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAOK 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE CLASSICAL DRAMA . . 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE ROMANTIC DRAMA . . .11 
 
 N 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PROGRESS OF THE ROMANTIC DRAMA . . 22 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE CLASSICAL AND THE ROMANTIC DRAMA CON- 
 TRASTED . . . . .35 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE MODERN CLASSICAL AND ROMANTIC FORMS 
 
 COMPARED . . . . .47 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 STATE OF THE ENGLISH STAGE THE METROPOLITAN 
 
 DRAMA . . . , .57 
 
via CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE PRESENT STATE OF THE ENGLISH STAGE — 
 
 METROPOLITAN DRAMA CONTINUED . . 70 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE PATENTS . . .82 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE LEGAL ENACTMENTS AFFECTING THE DRAMA . 95 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE EFFECT OF THE MONOPOLY ON ACTORS . 107 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE EFFECT OF THE MONOPOLY ON DRAMATIC LITERA- 
 TURE ..... 120 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE PROBABLE MEANS OF AMELIORATING THp STATE OF 
 THE DRAMA AND OF ITS PROFESSORS . 135 
 
•A 
 BRIEF VIEW 
 
 T HE E NGLISH DRAMA, 
 
 ■f^TuBRA^^ &C.&C. 
 
 PALIFO^S 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE CLASSICAL DRAMA. 
 
 Abstract Idea of the Drama — Classical and Romantic Drama 
 —Origin of the Classical Drama — The Nature of the Clas- 
 sical Drama. 
 
 The activity of the present age, exciting as it does, 
 by its spirit of adventure and discovery, the passions 
 and the imagination, is pecuharly adapted to the 
 development of the dramatic art. This tendency, 
 however, requires for its full manifestation other aids 
 than the mere capacity of the time to receive and 
 encourage it ; and to examine into the principles 
 that govern, and to trace, by the history of the past, 
 the circumstances that affect this portion of the fine 
 arts, is the aim of the present essays. They are not 
 undertaken to support any theory or party; they 
 are not issued with any idea of their infallibility ; 
 
 B 
 
2 ABSTRACT IDEA OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 and have little other claim on the reader than that 
 they are the production of one who has, on this sub- 
 ject at all events, read and examined for himself. 
 The illustrious Lessing prefaced his treatises on the 
 same subject with the following apology, which 
 must apply, in a tenfold degree, to the present 
 efforts — " Let my readers remember that these 
 papers are not intended to form a dramatic system. 
 I am not obliged to solve all the difficulties that I 
 myself start. It is of little consequence if my 
 thoughts are sufficiently connected, or if they are 
 sometimes contradictory. It is enough if they may 
 ■furnish matter on which my reader may exercise his 
 own judgment. I only wish to scatter fermenta 
 cognitionis" 
 
 The word *' drama" is one of the most compre- 
 hensive in our language, embracing extremes and 
 almost opposites ; although, to the utter confusion 
 of argument, it is frequently used as an expressive 
 definition of one kind of theatrical performance. 
 Of the variety it embraces some idea may be formed 
 by the list of abbreviations prefixed to Baker's Bio- 
 graphia Dramatica, wherein thirty-one different 
 kinds of plays are specified, from ^* tragical, comical, 
 historical, pastoral," to tragedy and comedy. Each 
 of these again vary greatly, for tragedy includes the 
 ' Siege of Damascus* and * Hamlet,* and comedy 
 comprises the ' Soldier's Daughter* and * Volpone ;' 
 the differences are, indeed, too numerous for classifi- 
 cation. They are all, however, connected by the 
 
CLASSICAL AND ROMANTIC DRAMA. 3 
 
 essential principle as defined byyohnson, who, after 
 Aristotle, says, *^ Drama, a poem in which the ac- 
 tion is not related but represented.^^ In which defi- 
 nition (though liable, like all others, to objection) two 
 things are more particularly to be observed : first, 
 that a drama of any kind must have poetry (that is, 
 the imagination must be exercised upon it), and, 
 secondly, that it must have action. In what mode 
 or form these two essential qualities will be deve- 
 loped, depends greatly on the individual exercising 
 the art, and on the taste of the audience ; but a 
 drama must possess them in a greater or less degree, 
 or its specification will be altered. As in every dis- 
 quisition reference must be occasionally made to 
 first principles, it is necessary to direct the reader's 
 attention to these facts ; for the want of the consi- 
 deration of which a great deal of learned argument 
 seems to have been cast away, each writer having 
 eulogised his favourite amusement at the expense of 
 others, which in their kind might be equally per- 
 fect. 
 
 Two of the chief modern divisions of the drama 
 have been the classical and the romantic, which 
 perhaps might be better expressed as the ancient 
 and modern, or the Aristotelian and the Shakspe- 
 rean ; and as these two classes are the most im- 
 portant, it will not be impertinent to dwell a little 
 on their relative claims and principles. 
 
 It is pretty well agreed by all persons who are 
 any authority on the subject, that the classical and 
 
4 CLASSICAL AND ROMANTIC DRAMA. 
 
 romantic drama may be considered as separate in- 
 ventions ; although by a strange process the one 
 may have arisen from the other. The romantic 
 arose undoubtedly from the religious mysteries, and 
 these are said to have arisen from barbarous imita- 
 tions of the classical. Whether this was the case or 
 not, little affects the question as to the originality of 
 the romantic drama, as the previous transmutation 
 of the classical drama into a religious mystery, 
 caused the romantic drama tp evolve from the latter 
 with an entirely new form and principles, and they 
 must be considered as two different classes, though 
 of the same family. They have, however, one 
 peculiarity in common ; they both had a religious 
 origin, and both of them subsequently became 
 obnoxious to priestcraft. The essential difference 
 between them seems to be traceable to national dif- 
 ferences, exemplified by equal opposition in other 
 branches of the arts of poetry and design, and 
 would seem to warrant that distinction which the 
 Greeks made between themselves and the rest of 
 the world by the epithet barbarian. Whether the 
 superiority thus claimed was entirely warranted, is 
 still a vexed question, and if the conception, and 
 not the execution, is the point at issue, it would 
 appear that the barbarians are gaining ground. It 
 would seem that if the classical productions were 
 inimitably executed, they were not so daringly con- 
 ceived ; and that there were many echoes in the 
 heart of human sympathies, which their stricter 
 
ORIGIN OF THE CLASSICAL DRAMA. 5 
 
 notions did not permit them to arouse. To one col- 
 lection of writings, but that they are appealed to as 
 inspired by Omnipotence, we might refer as a proof 
 that there are many chords of human sensibility 
 that were never touched by the refined genius of the 
 classical nations; and, at all events, in more modern 
 times we may name our own Shakspere as opening 
 a new region of poetic delight. The point, however, 
 is not to decide on the relative merits of the two 
 classes, but to point out their qualities, leaving the 
 taste (that child of association and sensibility) to 
 decide in its own wilful way. 
 
 For the origin of the classical drama, we are told, 
 we must transport ourselves to a village in Attica ; 
 the time, upwards of five hundred years before the 
 Christian era, where a Greek kind of harvest-home, 
 or vintage feast, gives a loose to rustic jollity. 
 Under a glowing sky we shall see the lusty youths 
 dancing with increased energy from the consumption 
 of the product the peculiar object of the divinity 
 they worship. On the ground, in the middle of a 
 large circle, lies a bundle, which, on nearer inspection, 
 proves to be a kind of sack made of a goat's skin 
 with the hair-side within. This sack, filled with 
 wine, already sufficiently smooth, is made more so 
 by being greased with oil. Reiterated are the shouts 
 which attend the failure of successive attempts of 
 the lively boors to hop on to this shpping, sHding 
 lump, and there maintain a footing. At last the 
 feat is performed, and the victor is rewarded with its 
 
O ORIGIN OF THE 
 
 contents for his cleverness. Having sacrificed the 
 flesh of the goat, whose skin they have thus made 
 sport with, they smear their faces with the lees of 
 the wine, and give a loose to rustic raillery and 
 gibing. Gratitude and idolatry are natural to the 
 heart of man, and the wiser and better contrived to 
 turn this exuberance of spirits to higher purposes. 
 Hymns of gratitude, coarsely but simply expressed, 
 were poured to the Being they supposed thus bounti- 
 fully supplied their wants, and they chanted the 
 double birth of their god Bacchus, or Dionysos, in 
 stanzas, afterwards named * Dithyrambic' In time 
 other ceremonies are introduced, and with them new 
 hymns. Repetition is itself a portion of regularity, 
 and induces system. A regular chorus of fifty was 
 next appointed to sing the praises of the vine-pro- 
 tecting deity, which danced in a circle round the 
 altar, chanting the, no doubt, previously prepared 
 odes. That too great a draught, however, might 
 not be made on the patience and devotion of the 
 laughter-loving boors, a minor chorus, representing 
 the attendants of the god (the shaggy satyrs), en- 
 livened the spectacle by their grotesque appearance, 
 monstrous grimaces, and exuberant mirth. 
 
 The ludicrous and the serious alternately sway 
 the mind and the feelings, and the generality of man- 
 kind are capable of very quick transition from one 
 to the other. By which of these it is most easy to 
 maintain a control over an audience is still a mooted 
 point: but as mediocre gravity, from its having 
 
CLASSICAL DRAMA. 7 
 
 some advantages, is more endurable than mediocre 
 wit, it is certain that the comic writers have more 
 frequently verged towards the grave, than the grave 
 towards the comic. Whether this was the case with 
 Thespis, the first introducer (as it is said) of the 
 heroic narrative, is not known. Whatever induced 
 him, he, however, has the credit of introducing be- 
 tween the foregoing ceremonies or performances, a 
 kind of monologue, wherein he enacted, with appro- 
 priate gesture, some incident from the history of a 
 popular god or hero, having no other interlocutors 
 but the chorus, whose songs he thus diversified. In 
 addition to this stroke of genius, he was a clever 
 manager. His chorus was well drilled, both in ex- 
 pression and gesture, and his fame spreading, he 
 moved from village to village. 
 
 Such is the popular account of the first dawn of 
 the drama ; but, like all inventions that are the pro- 
 duct of successive minds, its history is involved in 
 ^reat obscurity. The essential principle of the 
 drama, which is the imitation of action and feeling, 
 expressed by gesture and dialogue, seems to be a 
 natural expression. The youngest children mimic 
 and perform what they see ; and the rudest savages 
 describe with imitative gesture. The lively and 
 imaginative inhabitants of ancient Greece were pe- 
 cuharly likely to manifest this natural tendency, and 
 consequently we find in the very earliest times the 
 traces of a drama ; and it appears now to be the 
 opinion of the learned that the Dorian choruses, as 
 
» THE NATURE OF 
 
 being a kind of lyrical dialogue, were the first ma- 
 nifestations of the Grecian drama. Traces of a 
 dramatic principle to this extent might be found 
 still earlier in the Psalms of the Hebrew monarch. 
 The next step was the junction of the Ionian rhap- 
 sodes, a kind of minstrels who chanted the epic 
 poems. Impassioned recitation implies action, and 
 when two or more rhapsodes were alternately recited 
 from the Iliad or any popular poem, it must have 
 approached very close to dramatic dialogue. This 
 union of the heroic narrative with the religious 
 choral ode, is attributed to Thespis, though it is not 
 easy to understand exactly what new element he 
 introduced ; perhaps we shall approach nearest to 
 it if we designate it " Personation." He probably 
 ultimately threw aside the narrative entirely ; and 
 we know he used the mask, which he is said to have 
 invented, together with other arts calculated to 
 heighten the impersonation. 
 
 It is not the aim of this work to give a perfect 
 history of the drama, but only to trace it to its 
 origin, so far as will develop the principles on which 
 it is founded. We have now seen that the classical 
 drama was the offspring of a religious ceremony 
 and high-wrought poetry, and these two essential 
 qualities were destined to ever control and guide 
 it. Sanctioned by rehgion, and consecrated-subse- 
 quently by genius, the tragic drama of the ancients 
 took a permanent form, that was retained and com- 
 municated with all the tenacity and impetus of those 
 
THE CLASSICAL DRAMA. 
 
 powerful auxiliaries. jEschylus, Sophocles, and 
 Euripides, perfected the original outline, and did not 
 greatly vary from it, though iEschylus added a se- 
 cond, and Sophocles a third person to the scene. 
 The essential qualities of the drama were now de- 
 termined to consist of fine lyric poetry, lofty and 
 excursive, appealing to the wide circle of human 
 feelings, and manifesting preceptorial wisdom ; the 
 movement or story was subservient to the main reli- 
 gious and moral object of the drama, and the few 
 actors introduced were but sparing of action, though 
 they were occasionally placed in situations where 
 impassioned feelings were expressed in powerful 
 language. Their woes were minutely related, and 
 their feelings developed at a length which, to mo- 
 dern audiences, would seem tedious in the extreme. 
 And herein consists the vital difference between the 
 ancient and modern drama, a difference which it is 
 very necessary to observe in all disquisitions as to 
 their relative merits, and one which, in fact, renders 
 any lengthened comparison between them impos- 
 sible. 
 
 In the ancient drama the religious spectacle was 
 predominant, and the entertaining action only epi- 
 sodical. The lyric songs of the chorus, the splendid 
 spectacle, the eloquent language, was in itself nearly 
 sufficient for their audience ; and the action could 
 afford to be languid, if it was discriminated with a 
 knowledge of human nature, adorned with splendid 
 diction, and rendered effective by powerful appeals 
 
 ^'^^- ...- ^. 'r^-^X 
 
10 THE NATURE OF THE CLASSICAL DRAMA. 
 
 to the feelings. Its object was *' to raise the 
 genius," and to elevate the moral sentiments, by the 
 exhibition of heroic actions, and sublimed examples. 
 Its construction rendered it simple in its plot, 
 though it availed itself of all the external aids that 
 scenery, dresses, and such adjuncts could afford. 
 It partook of the nature of a highly-refined specta- 
 cle, appealing at once to the senses, the feelings, 
 and the judgment. It was lofty and overpowering, 
 touching and sublime. Thus originated, and thus 
 applied, what has it in common with our household 
 and domestic tragedy, which has for its foundation 
 reality, and is applied to map the heart of man 
 through the agency of an intricate series of incidents 
 and sensations? But the comparison, or rather the 
 dis-comparison, will be more effectively displayed 
 after we have glanced over the rise and progress of 
 the romantic or modern drama. 
 
ORIGIN OF THE ROMANTIC DRAMA. 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE ROMANTIC DRAMA. 
 
 Origin of the Romantic Drama — Miracle Plays — Moralities — 
 Dawn of the English Drama — Dramatic Tendency of the 
 16th Century. 
 
 It has been shown how the essential qualities of the 
 classical drama were engendered and developed; 
 and it will now be necessary to give the same atten- 
 tion to the origin of the romantic drama. 
 
 St. Augustin, who died about a.d. 430, refers in 
 his writings to heathen theatrical exhibitions as still 
 in existence, and of course condemns them, as well 
 for their licentiousness as for their connexion with 
 idolatry. Gregory Nazianzen, an earlier father of 
 the church, however, is said, nearly a century before, 
 to have constructed a drama on the Passion of 
 Christ, to counteract the profanities of the heathen 
 stage ; and thus to have laid the foundation of the 
 modern romantic drama. This, however, appears 
 not to be by any means proved, but it seems ex- 
 ceedingly probable that the ministers of the Christian 
 religion, who were able and politic, as well as pious 
 
12 MIRACLE PLAYS. 
 
 men, should contrive to turn the inordinate love of 
 public exhibitions, inherent in the Greek and Ro- 
 man nations, into a channel that would aid the ex- 
 tension of Christian doctrines. 
 
 The rapidly-increasing decay of the empire after 
 the fourth century, and the corruption of ancient 
 manners by the influx of successive barbarous na- 
 tions, has involved the three following centuries in 
 the dunnest obscurity, and left us little means of 
 ascertaining its physical or intellectual condition. 
 In the year 990, a patriarch of Constantinople, 
 named Theophylact, is said to have invented some 
 kind of theatrical exhibitions, which, though meant, 
 or pretending, to honour God and the saints, were 
 thought by his more sedate contemporaries to dis- 
 honour and scandalize them. At the end of the 
 12th century we find. Fitzstephen, in his ** Life of 
 Thomas a Becket," asserting ** that London had for 
 its theatrical exhibitions holy plays, and the repre- 
 sentation of miracles wrought by sacred confessors, 
 or representations of the agonies whereby the faith 
 of martyrs had been glorified." Hereafter we ap- 
 pear to have a more steady light to guide our pro- 
 gress, and it is indisputably proved that this kind of 
 drama had become widely spread and firmly esta- 
 blished, by the ' Chester Mysteries,' which were per- 
 formed towards the latter part of the 13th century, 
 about 1270. Of these productions, manuscript 
 copies have come down to us, though probably not 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS. 13 
 
 in the state they were originally composed. Mr. 
 Payne Collier (to whom all lovers of the drama and 
 of literary antiquities are deeply indebted) thinks 
 they were originally written in French. In speak- 
 ing of th^^ kind of productions, he says, *^ In their 
 earliest state these pieces were of the simplest con- 
 struction, merely following the incidents of Scrip- 
 ture, or of the pseudo-evangelium, the dialogue 
 being maintained by the characters there intro- 
 duced. By degrees, however, more invention was 
 displayed, particularly with reference to the persons 
 concerned in the conduct of the story.'* He also 
 tells us that, '^Besides a few other single pieces, 
 there exist in this country three sets of miracle 
 plays, which go through the principal incidents of 
 the Old and New Testaments." These collections 
 are * The Towneley,' or * Widkirk,* comprising 
 thirty plays ; ' The Coventry,' consisting of forty- 
 two plays ; and ' The Chester,' possessing twenty- 
 four. The titles of a few will give some idea of 
 their nature. In * The Coventry' are — ' The Crea- 
 tion/ * The Fall of Man,' ' The Death of Abel,' 
 * Noah's Flood,' * Abraham's Sacrifice,' ' Moses 
 and the Ten Tables,' ' The Genealogy of Christ,' 
 ' Anna's Pregnancy,' ' Pilate's Wife's Dream,' &c. 
 As miracle plays were originated by the ecclesi- 
 astics as a rude mode of exciting the admiration, and 
 fixing the attention of a barbarous populace on the 
 great events of the creed they taught, so they were 
 
14 MIRACLE PLAYS. 
 
 at first principally enacted by them. In process of 
 time, however, this duty was transferred to the 
 guilds of artisans of various cities, who performed 
 them, no doubt, as a species of agreeable devotion, 
 and who, while thus manifesting the fervour of their 
 faith, relieved the ecclesiastics of considerable ex- 
 pense. They were performed on stages or scaffolds, 
 and had many rude mechanical contrivances to aid 
 their representation, and lasted many hours for 
 successive days. The actors were numerous, and 
 the pageants costly. The language is so homely as 
 to appear absurd and almost blasphemous to us at 
 the present day; but as Mr. Collier says, ^* In 
 judging of the form, incidents, and language of 
 these productions, we must, of course, carry our 
 minds back to the period when they were written ; 
 we shall find then, that much that now seems ab- 
 surd, ludicrous, and profane, was then pious, awful, 
 and impressive." It appears they introduced comic 
 matter or music to enliven them. As these curious 
 productions had a great operation in moulding the 
 tastes of the audiences who were subsequently to 
 foster the modern drama, and in directing the 
 genius of the great dramatic authors who laid the 
 foundation of our national theatre, it may not be 
 uninteresting to give, from Mr. Collier, a slight 
 sketch of one of them : — 
 
 ** The first play, or pageant, of the Widkirk Col- 
 lection, includes ' The Creation, with the rebellion 
 
MIRACLE PLAYS. 15 
 
 and expulsion of Lucifer and his adherents.' The 
 Deity thus commences : — 
 
 * Ego sum alpha et o ; 
 I am the first the last also, 
 Oone God in majestic, 
 Mervelus of myght most, 
 Fader and son and hooly goost, 
 On God in trinyte.* 
 
 ** The work of creation is then begun, and, after 
 the Cherubim have sung, the Deity descends from 
 his throne and goes out; Lucifer usurps it, and asks 
 the Angels — , 
 
 * Gay felows how semys now me V 
 The good and bad angels disagree as to his appear- 
 ance ; but the dispute is terminated by the return of 
 the Deity, who expels Satan and his adherents from 
 heaven. Adam and Eve are then created in Para- 
 dise, and this piece ends with a speech from Satan, 
 lamenting their fehcity. Of the temptation and 
 fall of man we hear nothing, the second play re- 
 lating to the murder of Abel. It is opened by 
 Cain's ploughboy, called Gargon, with a sort of 
 prologue, in which, among other things, he warns 
 the spectators to be silent. Cain enters with a 
 plough and team, one of his mares being named 
 * Donnyng;' he quarrels with the Gargon, because he 
 will not drive for him, after which Abel arrives, and 
 wishes that * God may speed Cain and his man.' 
 Cain replies, unceremoniously desiring his brother 
 to kiss the honourable part of his person. The 
 
16 MORALITIES. 
 
 murder afterwards takes place, and Cain hides 
 himself: — 
 
 *Deu8. Cayn, Cayn I 
 
 Cat/n. Who is that callis me ? 
 
 I am yonder, may thou not se. 
 
 Detis. Cayn, where is thy brother Abell ? 
 
 Cayn. What asks thou me ? I trow in hell ; 
 At hell I trow he be : 
 Whoso were ther then might he se !' 
 
 Cain having been cursed, calls the boy and beats 
 him, * but to use his hand :' he acknowledges that 
 he has slain his brother, and the boy advises running 
 away, * lest the bayles us take.* This is followed by 
 some gross buffoonery, Cain making a mock pro- 
 clamation * in the king'si name,' and the boy repeat- 
 ing it blunderingly after him. Cain sends him away 
 with the plough and horses, and ends the pageant 
 with a speech to the spectators, bidding them fare- 
 well for ever before he goes to the devil." 
 
 Rude and barbarous as this appears, it contains 
 the germ of the elements that were subsequently to 
 invigorate our magnificent and original drama. It 
 will, however, be better to proceed with the pro- 
 gress of the drama, and hereafter to point out the 
 effect these early efforts produced. 
 
 Miracle plays, which we have seen were certainly 
 in full existence in Stephen's time, seem to have in- 
 creased in popularity until the reign of Henry VI., 
 when a very important change took place in them 
 by the introduction of a class of allegorical charac- 
 
MORALITIES. 17 
 
 ters, whereas in the early miracle plays none but 
 Scripture characters were personated. These alle- 
 gorical, or symbolical characters were no doubt 
 introduced to vary the sameness of the Scripture 
 characters, which probably had been nearly ex- 
 hausted by successive writers. Whatever may have 
 been the motive for their introduction, we find them 
 gradually creeping on the stage until they at last 
 entirely usurped the place of their predecessors. 
 
 Mr. Collier defines a Morality as " a drama, the 
 characters of which are allegorical, abstract,' or 
 symbolical, and the story of which is intended to 
 convey a lesson for the better conduct of human 
 life." They were acted on the same kind of stages 
 as the miracle plays, and,, like them, had many 
 characters, considerable machinery, and numerous 
 properties. 'The Castle of Perseverance,' one of 
 the earliest representations of the kind, had 36 cha- 
 racters ; amongst which were Mundus, Belial, Caro, 
 Humanus, Gens, Stultitia, Voluptas, Detractio, 
 Avaritia, Poenitentia, Mors, &c. Two of the prin- 
 cipal characters in all these performances were the 
 Devil and the Vice, and both have been the subject 
 of very minute research and dissertation by antiqua- 
 rian commentators. They were the delight of the 
 multitude, and seem to have been the Pantaloon and 
 Clown of those days. The Vice for a long time 
 teased and tormented the Devil, thrashing him with 
 his dagger of lath, and doubtless singing his legs 
 with hot pokers, and banging doors in his face, a la 
 c 
 
18 DAWN 01' THE ENGLISH DRAMA. 
 
 Grimaldi, in a way that seems to be inherently 
 pleasing in all ages, and is as mirth-cheering in this 
 period of vaunted refinement as in the barbarous one 
 of Edward IV. The Devil, however, in accordance 
 with sound morality, ultimately bore off his perse- 
 cutor to the place of his deserts, amidst the gibes 
 and exultation of those who had enjoyed his sallies, 
 but who were then, as now, perhaps, glad to com- 
 pound for the sin of thus rejoicing with him by sanc- 
 tioning his damnation. 
 
 The following titles of a few of these Moralities 
 will be sufficient to give some idea of their purport : 
 — * Mind,' ' Will and Understanding,' ' Mankind,' 
 * Nature,' ^ The World and the Child,' ^ Every 
 Man,' ' Interlude of Youth,' &c. 
 
 The moral plays seem sooner to have undergone 
 a change than the miracle, as we find they very soon 
 manifested a tendency towards the personification of 
 real life, and an inclination to forsake the generaliza- 
 tion of allegory, and descend to an imitation of in- 
 dividual character. Another kind of performance, 
 entitled Interludes, sprang from them, of which 
 John Heywood is thought to be the inventor. 
 These consisted of dialogues of a satirical and moral 
 nature, such as 'Whether riches were better than 
 love,' a * Contention between liberality and prodi- 
 gality,' &c. 
 
 We are now approaching the production of re- 
 gular comedy and tragedy, as brought to perfection 
 by Shakspere and his contemporaries. As early as 
 
FIRST REGULAR ENGLISH PLAY. J 9 
 
 the reign of Henry VII., the moral plays were inter- 
 spersed with individual characters, and in the fol- 
 lowing reign we have undoubted proof that the idea 
 of characterizing individual human beings had been 
 fully developed, as the comedy of ' Ralph Roister 
 Doister' proves. But because this is the first re- 
 gular piece of the kind yet discovered, it by no 
 means proves it was the first written, though it fully 
 explodes a notion, long and ignorantly maintained, 
 that ' Gammer Gurton's Needle' is the earliest re- 
 gular drama in the English language. This error 
 has been reiterated, until very lately, in books of 
 great pretensions, although Mr. Collier*s ** History 
 of Dramatic Poetry," published in 1831, proved the 
 contrary ; but a quotation from him, which was 
 widely circulated, through the medium of the Times 
 of last year, seems to have put an end to the repe- 
 tition of this favourite blunder of many descanters 
 on dramatic matters. 
 
 The sixteenth century is, perhaps, the most event- 
 ful history has ever recorded. The discoveries in 
 the East and West — the progress of the Reforma- 
 tion — the rapid application of printing — gave an 
 impetus to it that seems to have penetrated to all 
 classes. A perfect rage for public exhibitions, the 
 certain sign of an active age, appears to have seized 
 the public mind. Miracle plays were still per- 
 formed, as we may suppose, by those connected with 
 the ancient ecclesiastical establishment. Moralities 
 were also still in vogue, though their character was 
 
20 DRAMATIC TENDENCY 0? 
 
 gradually changing, by the intermixture of indivi- 
 dual personifications. Interludes, as before said, 
 were for a time the fashion ; but bore a short sway, 
 being tedious and ill-calculated to attract the mul- 
 titude. In addition to these, many novelties were 
 rapidly introduced. The learned caught the mania 
 of the period, and translations and paraphrases of 
 the classics appeared. The French, Spanish, and 
 Itahan dramas and romances were ransacked. Our 
 own histories were divided into scenes, and the his- 
 torical play — a thing utterly unknown to the an- 
 cients, and purely sui generis — was produced. Ne- 
 ver was such an age of revelry, masking, and pub- 
 lic pleasure ; all classes engaged in it, the learned 
 and the unlearned, rich and poor, high and low — 
 opposite religionists enlisted it in their polemical 
 disputes — opposite statesmen in their political. 
 Numerous works issued from the press — abusing 
 and defending — instructing or describing — opposing 
 or upholding it. We find privy councillors and va- 
 gabonds, the heads of colleges, Roman Catholic 
 and Protestant divines, knights, burgesses, and 
 bishops, all pursuing the fashionable literature. 
 Those who enacted it were equally multifarious. 
 Regular stage players, mimes, mummers, unthrifts, 
 choristers, ecclesiastics, guilds ofartizans, gentle- 
 men of the inns of court, collegians, apprentices, the 
 servants of noblemen — in fact, all classes and con- 
 ditions, partook of the furor, which seems to have 
 lasted longer, and spread wider, than any other 
 
THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 2l 
 
 fashionable rage yet recorded. This, however, was 
 only the surging of the waves, out of whose mighty 
 froth were to arise the geniuses destined to shed 
 an imperishable glory on our stage and our lite- 
 rature. 
 
22 PROGRESS OF THE ROMANTIC DRAMA. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PROGRESS OF THE ROMANTIC DRAMA. 
 
 Rise of the English Drama — Chronology of Early Plays — 
 The Development of Shakspere's Genius. 
 
 As it appears very difficult to give the reader who 
 is unacquainted with the minutise of the dramatic 
 history of the sixteenth century, any adequate idea 
 of the variety of its productions, and of the man- 
 ner in which our national drama was formed, by an 
 abridged narrative, it seems to be the simplest mode 
 to select, in chronological order, the great leading 
 events of the subject. In the following list no at- 
 tempt is made to give a complete statement, but 
 only such selections as shall give some idea of the 
 progress of the drama, till the time it assumed a 
 permanent shape — a period which can scarcely be 
 placed earlier than 1600. The materials are to be 
 found in the histories of Malone, Collier, &c., but 
 are so overlaid with controversy and documents 
 (necessary, perhaps, to give authority to those ex- 
 cellent writers), as to be very perplexing to the cur- 
 
CHRONOLOGY OF THE EARLY DRAMA. 23 
 
 sory reader. It seems, however, ungracious to say 
 even this, and no one caring either for the poUtical 
 or literary history of the period, should be without 
 Mr. Collier's most excellent and elaborate ** History 
 of English Dramatic Poetry, and Annals of the 
 Stage." 
 
 1504. — * The Nigramansir.' A moral play, by 
 John Skelton. 
 
 1512.—' The Mysterie of Candlemas Day.' By 
 John Pafre. 
 
 1517. — * The Nature of the Four Elements.' 
 By John Rastall. An endeavour to make the 
 stage a vehicle for scientific instruction. 
 
 1522.— * The Worlde and the Childe.' A mo- 
 rality. 
 
 1523. — Richard Edwards bom, 
 
 1527. — ' Whether Riches were better than Love.' 
 A dialogue; played before the King. — Sackville, 
 afterwards Lord Buckhurst and Earl of Dorset, 
 born. 
 
 1530. — ' Ralph Roister Doister.' By Nicholas 
 Udall. A paraphrase of Latin comedy ; the earliest 
 hitherto discovered. — 'The Bewte and good Pro- 
 perties of Women,' &c. An interlude from the 
 Spanish. 
 
 * 1532.—' A Pageaunte.' By Udall and Leland. 
 For Anne Boleyn's marriage. 
 
 1533. — ' The Mery Playe between Johan the 
 husband, Tyb, his wife, and Sir Johan, the Freest.' 
 A kind of farce. 
 
24 CHRONOLOGY OF 
 
 1540. — * A Satyre of the three Estaitis.' By 
 Sir David Lindsay. A political interlude. 
 
 1543. — First act of parliament controlling stage 
 representations. 
 
 1545. — The earliest known patent passed, creat- 
 ing a Master of the Revels, Plays, &c. 
 
 1549. — Stage playing prohibited as seditious. 
 
 1550. — * King Johan.' A play, in two parts, 
 by John Bale, Bishop of Ossory. A political, po- 
 lemical, historical morality. 
 
 1552. — Another proclamation against * Plaiers 
 and Printers without Licence.* — Peele born. 
 
 1553. — Lyly born — Munday born. 
 
 1556. — Lodge born. 
 
 1557. — Chapman born. — * A Mask of Almayns, 
 Pilgrymes, and Irishemen,* played before the Queen. 
 
 It would seem that from the death of Henry 
 VIII. (1547) to that of Mary (1558), the govern- 
 ment were inimical to theatrical, or rather stage, 
 representations, as calculated to ferment the dis- 
 sensions between the two churches. Soon after 
 the accession of Elizabeth the restriction was re- 
 moved, and the entertainment received a new im- 
 petus, and mostly a new form. 
 
 1559.— 'The Troas of Seneca.' Translated by 
 Jasper Hey wood. 
 
 1560. — ' Misogonus.' A comedy. Probably 
 translated from the Italian. — Robert Greene born. 
 
 1561, — * The Tragedy of Ferrex and Porrex.' 
 By T. Sackville, afterwards Earl of Dorset ; 
 
THE EARLY ENGLISH DRAMA. 25 
 
 formed, as regards sentiments and diction, on the 
 classical model. — ' Cambyses.' A mixture of 
 history and allegory. By T. Preston. 
 
 1562. — Samuel Daniel born. 
 
 1563. — ' The Tragical-Comedy of Appius and 
 Virginia.* Probably the earliest extant English 
 dramatic production, publicly represented, the plot 
 of which is derived from history. 
 
 1564. — Shakspere born. — Nash born. * Damon 
 and Pythias. A tragi-comedie.' By Richard Ed- 
 wards. 
 
 1566. — ' Gammer Gurton's Needle.' By Bishop 
 Still. A farcical comedy. — * The Supposes.' 
 Translated from ' Ariosto,' by Geo. Gascoigne. 
 Remarkable as being in prose. 
 
 1568. — ' Tancred and Sigismunda.* A tragedy. 
 
 1570. —The playhouse called ' The Theater,' in 
 Shoreditch, built ; supposed to be the first public 
 building of the kind in England. — * The Curtain,' 
 also near Shoreditch, erected very shortly after the 
 foregoing. 
 
 1572. — An act passed against the numerous 
 players who wandered over the country, who were 
 declared to be *' rogues and vagabonds," unless they 
 performed under the license of some nobleman, or 
 of two justices of the peace. 
 
 1574. — Ben Jonson born. 
 
 1576.— 'The History of Error.' A comedy.— 
 The Blackfriars Theatre erected. — The Whitefriars 
 ditto. — Fletcher born. — *The Paynter's Daughter,' 
 
26 CHRONOLOGY OF 
 
 and eight other * plaies, acted by the Lord Leices- 
 ter's servants,' * The Children of Powles/ &c., be- 
 fore the Queen, at Hampton Court. 
 
 1578. — * A Mask/ By H. Goldingham.— 
 ' Promos and Cassandra/ A play. By Geo. Whet- 
 stone. — * Arden of Feversham. A domestic tra- 
 gedie.' Supposed to have been played at this time, 
 under 'the name of 'Murderous Michael,' before 
 the Queen. 
 
 1580. — The Newington Butts Theatre erected. — 
 George Peele supposed to have come to London 
 from Oxford. — Lodge probably began writing for 
 the stage. — * The Famous Victories of Henry the 
 Fifth/ on which Shakspere*s play was founded. 
 Peele may be considered as one, if not the earliest, 
 of that celebrated class of which Shakspere was 
 subsequently the greatest. In their dramas for the 
 first time are found dehcious poetry, passion, and 
 character. Peele has the merit, as far as we can 
 obtain information, of being the first to cast the 
 drama into that poetic and philosophic shape it has 
 since retained. His dramas have many defects and 
 incongruities, but in them is to be found the divine 
 energy of genius. 
 
 1581. — * Seneca, his tenne Tragedies translated 
 into English,' now collected and published in 
 4to. 
 
 1583. — Marlowe took his bachelor's degree at 
 Cambridge. — ' Sir Philip Sidney's Apology of 
 Poetry,' wherein he attacks the Romantic drama. 
 
THE EARLY ENGLISH DRAMA. 27 
 
 1584.— * The Two Italian Gentlemen, or Fidele 
 and Fortunatus.' A comedy, by Munday. — ' An 
 Antic Play,' performed at Somerset Palace. — 
 ' The Arraignment of Paris.' A court show by 
 Peele. — Massinger born. — * Alexander and Cam- 
 paspe.' An historical play by Lyly. 
 
 1585. — The Rose and the Hope Theatres erected. 
 
 1586. — Blank verse probably first used on the 
 public stage, in Marlowe's * Tamburlaine.' — Ford 
 born. — 'The Wounds of Civil War.' An histo- 
 rical play, by Lodge. — Shakspere probably in 
 London and connected with the stage. — Beaumont 
 born (as conjectured). 
 
 1587. — Thomas Nash left Cambridge and came 
 to London. 
 
 1588.—' The First Fart of Jeronymo.' By Kyd. 
 — ' The Historic of Frier Bacon and Frier Bongay.' 
 By Greene. — The Paris Garden transformed into a 
 theatre. 
 
 1589. — Shakspere a joint proprietor of the Black- 
 friars theatre. — 'The Rare Triumph of Love and 
 Fortune.' A court entertainment. ' A knack to 
 Know a Knave ;' a mixture of comedy and mo- 
 rality. — ' The famous Chronick History of King 
 Edward the First.' By Peele. — Lyly had produced 
 six plays, the exact dates of the appearance of which 
 cannot be ascertained. 
 
 1590. — 'Antony. A tragedie.* By the Countess 
 of Pembroke, on the classical model. — ' Cornelia.' 
 A tragedy. Translated from the French. 
 
^8 EARLY ENGLISH DRAMA. 
 
 1591. — * The Troublesome Reign of King John.' 
 The foundation of Shakspere's. 
 
 1592. — Greene's ' Groat's worth of Wit' pub- 
 lished, wherein he attacks Shakspere, styling him 
 a * Johannes Factotum.' — Greene died. — Chettle 
 probably writing for the stage. — * Summer's Last Will 
 and Testament.' A show, by Nash, presented be- 
 fore the Queen. 
 
 1593.—* The Troublesome Reign of King Leir.' 
 On which Shakspere's is founded. — Marlowe died. 
 
 1594.— The Globe Theatre built.—* Cleopatra.' 
 By Daniel. On the classical model, with a preface 
 reprobating the romantic. — Shirley born. 
 
 1595.— The Swan Theatre erected.—' Old For- 
 tunatus.' By Dekker. 
 
 1596. — * Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Hu- 
 mour.* His first acted play. — Thomas Hey wood 
 probably began writing for the stage. 
 
 1598. — Chapman probably began writing for the 
 stage. — * Virtuous Octavia.' A tragedy on the clas- 
 sical model. By Samuel Brandon. — Mere's ' Wit's 
 Treasury' published, wherein he enumerates twelve 
 of Shakspere's plays. — Peele died. 
 
 1599. — The Fortune theatre erected. 
 
 Nothing can be more difficult to obtain than the 
 exact dates of these remote theatrical events, and 
 a due allowance must be therefore made. Many are 
 only approximations, founded on very careful and 
 laborious inquiry. Frequently the only date that 
 can be given to a play is that of its being printed, 
 
EARLY ENGLISH DRAMA. 29 
 
 although that did not take place very often till some 
 years after its production on the stage. Such as 
 they are they will be some guide to the perplexing 
 labyrinth of the history of the stage, and will serve 
 as landmarks for the reader to trace the gradual 
 progression and ultimate development of the Shak- 
 sperian drama. 
 
 The following authors had probably distinguished 
 themselves as dramatists ; and, perhaps, many 
 others, in the latter part of the last decade of the 
 sixteenth century: — Thomas Heywood, Drayton, 
 Dekker, Haughton, Middleton, Rowley, Field, May, 
 Davenport, Daborne, Marston, Webster, &c. The 
 extraordinary dramatic prolificness of this period 
 cannot be comprehended from the foregoing list, as 
 only a few of the prominent circumstances indicative 
 of the spirit and tendency of the period have been 
 selected. 
 
 We have now traced the rise of the romantic 
 drama, and have approached to the period when it 
 received its full and perfect form, and are, therefore, 
 now able to enter upon the examination of the qua- 
 lities which so essentially divide it from the classical, 
 a matter very necessary to be fully elucidated in 
 any examination of the condition and prospects of 
 the stage. Previous to so doing, however, a subject 
 not absolutely necessary to the conduct of our sub- 
 ject, but intimately connected with it, namely, the 
 period of Shakspere's first appearance a^ a dra- 
 matist, is well deserving of attention. 
 
30 THE DEVELOPMENT OF 
 
 Mr. Knight, in his ' Pictorial Shakspere ' (a work 
 to which may be given the high praise that it is 
 worthy of its subject), has started a new theory as 
 to the date of Shakspere's first play, and has sup- 
 ported his supposition with that mixture of critical 
 acumen and practical sense that peculiarly distin- 
 guishes his commentary. He is for placing the 
 earhest production in 1585, whilst Malone assigns 
 1589 in one place, and 1591 in another ; Chalmers 
 1589; and Drake 1590, as the date. Mr. Collier 
 thinks he came to London in 1586-7, was engaged in 
 patching the historical plays of * Henry the Sixth,' 
 but did not produce any thing original till 1593. AH 
 this may appear very unimportant to the general 
 reader, but it involves something more than a mere 
 literary discussion, for it affects some portion of the 
 fame of Shakspere, and consequently the capacity 
 of the human mind, by bringing in question whe- 
 ther he did not give the form and pressure of our 
 drama, as well as carry it to its utmost possible height. 
 If he wrote * The Two Gentlemen of Verona ' in 1585, 
 he undoubtedly preceded Marlowe in putting blank 
 verse on the public stage, and produced a more re- 
 gular drama than had yet been seen. If he did not 
 write until 1591, Peele, Greene, Marlowe, Lodge, 
 and Nash, must be considered as the fathers of our 
 legitimate drama of passion and character, and 
 Shakspere as the perfecter. 
 
 On Mr. Knight's side of the question lies proba- 
 bility, on the other some scattered facts and slender 
 
shakspere's genius. 31 
 
 inductions ; and, where nearly all is conjecture, no 
 decisive result can be obtained. The one great fact 
 that stands out an isolated landmark is, that Shak- 
 spere was a not inconsiderable shareholder in the 
 Blackfriars theatre (the Drury-lane of that time) in 
 1589. How came he so? He arrived poor in the 
 metropolis to seek a living. He was certainly in his 
 native place in 1 584-5. He had become an actor, 
 but it certainly was not for his acting he was thus 
 received amongst the sharers. 
 
 We are thus driven into the conclusion that his 
 writing must have procured him this distinction 
 What had he written is the next question that pre- 
 sents itself? Probably original plays, for the 
 adaptation of the plays of others could scarcely be 
 entrusted to the inexperienced hands of a young 
 genius who had not manifested his knowledge of 
 stage matters by any productions of his own. This 
 kind of work would be jealously watched by the 
 managers, and must ever have required great skill 
 and experience. Shakspere, mighty as he was, was 
 human, and it is scarcely possible that a genius so 
 ripe, so rich, so overflowing as his, should not have 
 its enthusiasm kindled into an original production, 
 and not by the mechanical botching of the inferior 
 productions of others. 
 
 Mr. Knight asks what principle is overthrown by 
 making him a great dramatic writer before he was 
 twenty-six ? — and answers, none. But a very great 
 principle is overthrown, for, as before stated, it 
 
32 THE DEVELOPMENT OF 
 
 would make him the founder of our regular ro- 
 mantic play, the introducer of blank verse, and 
 consequently as greatly original as he was splen- 
 didly poetical. 
 
 Although it is with diffidence that any one should 
 differ with Mr. Collier on matters to which he has 
 devoted so much ability, so perseveringly, and with 
 such unusual advantages, yet it would appear that 
 his just admiration for Marlowe has run away a little 
 with his usually cool judgment. He has certainly 
 proved that he wrote ^Tamburlaine,* and also that it 
 is a work of high genius ; but not satisfied with that, 
 he seems determined to prove that he gave the per- 
 manent mould to our drama by the introduction of 
 blank verse. To do this, as the date of * Tambur- 
 laine ' cannot be placed earlier than 1587, he comes 
 to the conclusion ** that Shakspere had not written 
 any of his original plays prior to 1593 (when Mar- 
 lowe was killed), although, anterior to that year he 
 might have employed himself in altering and im- 
 proving for representation some of the works of the 
 older dramatists." This adherance to the idea that 
 a young poet should be employed in what he is in 
 general the last to acquire, namely, a knowledge of 
 stage craft, and experience as to what would please 
 the popular humour, must appear absurd to all who 
 are acquainted practically with the theatre. '' Read- 
 ing and writing " may '* come by nature," but cer- 
 tainly not stage-managing. It also involves the im- 
 probability, that his extraordinary mind should 
 
SHAKSPERE S GENIUS. 
 
 33 
 
 slumber until his 30tli year, and then produce 
 twelve or fourteen five-act plays in five years. Mr. 
 Knight's supposition seems, after this, irresistible. 
 
 This, however, has its difficulties, and, perhaps, 
 cannot be allowed to be carried out to the extent he 
 seems to intimate, though it is not fair to judge of 
 his theory until he has, as promised, more amply 
 developed it in the biography. If conjecture may 
 be allowed, and, unfortunately, we have nothing 
 else as yet to enlighten us, Shakspere, in common 
 with all poets, was determined by some external 
 circumstance to the particular expression of his 
 poetical powers ; and, probably, when very young, 
 had written or sketched out two or three plays, with 
 which he arrived in London, and which were mode- 
 rately successful. Being also an actor, and cer- 
 tainly always a practical man, he became useful, 
 and probably almost indispensable, to his theatre ; 
 this led to his partnership, and to his earning the 
 title of *' Factotum," which the loose-living Greene 
 fixed on him in 1592. 
 
 The admirers of the older theory will say, and 
 perhaps with appearance of justice, that this early 
 connexion with the theatre at one or two-and- 
 twenty deprives him of those occupations, and that 
 practical and technical knowledge of business and 
 mankind, which all his works show, and which not 
 even his genius could have acquired without per- 
 sonal acquaintance with them. To this, however, 
 it may be some answer that he, probably from his 
 
34 DEVELOPMENT OF SHAKSPERE's GENIUS. 
 
 Station and his father's circumstances, was early, 
 perhaps at fourteen, put out into the world, and we 
 are certain such a genius would very rapidly ac- 
 quire this kind of knowledge. The question, how- 
 ever, will, no doubt, hereafter receive minute con- 
 sideration; and as it is rather an excrescence on 
 the present subject, it need not now be further 
 pursued ; but, at the same time, whoever takes up 
 the matter, will not be fitted for the discussion without 
 the careful investigation of Knight's text, which is 
 as near perfection as the extraordinary state of the 
 immortal works will allow, and of which it is no less 
 true than strange that it may be said the text of 
 Homer does not present greater difficulties to his 
 commentator. Steevens, and even Malone, give a 
 fabricated text from the various and varying copies, 
 but in Knight may be found all — the best in the 
 body, and the remainder in the notes. 
 
THE CLASSICAL AND ROMANTIC DRAMA. 35 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE CLASSICAL AND THE ROMANTIC DRAMA 
 CONTRASTED. 
 
 Forms of Poetry temporary — yEschylus and Shakspere — 
 The Classic and Romantic Forms — Elements of the Ro- 
 mantic—Requisites of the Romantic Form — Modern 
 Classical Drama — Theatrical Realization — The Nature of 
 Fiction. 
 
 The Greek drama, as perfected by Euripides, and 
 the English drama, as perfected by Shakspere, can 
 only be brought into juxta-position in order to test 
 the justice of that species of criticism which insists 
 upon trying the latter by a comparison with the 
 former. 
 
 Many persons, deeply versed in classic literature, 
 impressed as they justly are with the power and 
 genius of those remote writers, claim for them an 
 exclusive right to give to all time the form and 
 mould in which the imagination shall express itself. 
 And many scholars have been so deeply imbued 
 with the ancient method, as to declare any other 
 form " barbaric.*' 
 
 It belongs to genius of the highest cl ass to imp ress 
 
 "DNIVERSITY 
 
36 FORMS OF POETRY TEMPORARY. 
 
 on the literature it adopts a form co-existent with 
 its language and its nature. That it should do so 
 is natural and obvious. The highest exertion of the 
 intellect is to be universal ; but the highest exertion 
 yet exemplified has only been so in part. Job, 
 David, Homer, iEschylus and Shakspere, have been 
 but so in the expression and application of human 
 sentiments and sensations, and there is much in each 
 of them that is purely national, and even individual. 
 Indeed, without being so they would not have reach- 
 ed posterity, for they would not have interested the 
 present. 
 
 Poetry, although it embraces the highest philo- 
 sophic truth, does not express itself in abstract 
 terms, but develops itself by an appeal to those in- 
 herent qualities that acknowledge truth by the spon- 
 taneous emotions of the soul ; herein differing from 
 science, which, passing by the will, appeals solely 
 to the operation of the intellect. Poetry, therefore, 
 is inclined to swerve from the general to the par- 
 ticular — from the universal to the individual — from 
 the permanent to the temporary — from the natural 
 to the conventional. To attempt, therefore, to 
 thrust on one age and country the form and senti- 
 ment of another, is, in the language of Scott, to at- 
 tempt ** the cold resurrection of lifeless corpses 
 which have long slumbered in the tomb of antiquity." 
 There will be in all high class poetry a similarity by 
 the expression of passion and the combination of 
 fancy, that may excite a desire to enforce a simila- 
 
THE CLASSIC AND ROMANTIC FORMS. 37 
 
 rity in less essential matters ; and to this desire 
 alone is to be attributed the perpetual endeavour of 
 some sesthetical writers to compress the romantic 
 into the classical form. 
 
 In ^schylus and in Shakspere there is much 
 that is similar, but more that is dissimilar. The 
 same swelling passion, the same gorgeous diction, 
 the same glowing and magnificent description drawn 
 from strong observation and great sensibility. But 
 then, where, amid the statuary groups of iEschylus, 
 is to be found the landscape with which Shakspere 
 completed the representation, or the additional be- 
 ings with which he gave to the imaginative world a 
 life-like existence ? 
 
 The classical advocate, impressed with the inten- 
 sity of iEschylus, looks coldly on the living scenes 
 of Shakspere. Satisfied and filled with the glorious 
 outpourings of the Greek, raised and sublimed by 
 the glowing ardour of. his language, he fixes him as 
 the maximum of dramatic excellence, and denounces 
 any departure from liis form as barbaric. The lover 
 of the romantic, on the contrary, accustomed to test 
 the imitation by his observation of the existing 
 world, is dissatisfied with the narrowness of the 
 view, is overpowered with the monotonous grandeur 
 of the chorus, and perhaps with the slow moving 
 action that cumbrously, but powerfully, develops 
 the sufferings of the few actors. The lover of the 
 romantic drama misses the ever-varying shades of 
 character and passion, the rapid succession of events, 
 
38 THE CLASSIC AND ROMANTIC FORMS. 
 
 the continued flow of emotion. He finds that the 
 beings are above or beyond him, and at last becomes 
 oppressed by woes with which he has little sym- 
 pathy. Pity and terror are emotions which sooner 
 exhaust than any other, and they are the chief emo- 
 tions appealed to by the classical drama. Life, 
 warm, vigorous, energetic life, in all its variou^forms, 
 is the object of delineation with the romantic. 
 Wafted from scene to scene by the magic power of 
 the poet, the spectator makes no cold calculations 
 on minute probabilities ; he sees essential truth be- 
 fore him, and he asks not for particular. He is told, 
 or he concludes, that the necessary connexion be- 
 tween the circumstances has occurred. Interested 
 in the proceedings, he is impatient for the event, 
 and is only irritated by the Aristotelian, who would 
 delay them to tell him the necessary minutise had 
 transpired. Hamlet is discoursing sublimely on the 
 topic most interesting to human nature, the worth 
 and meaning of existence, and the modern spectator 
 cares little how he comes before him ; sufficient that 
 he is there : enough has been told of his escape, and 
 he is again before the audience floating in the full 
 stream of passion and poetry. 
 
 This enthusiasm of the imagination may be bar- 
 baric, but it may be equally wise with the more 
 logical enjoyment of the classical model, and the 
 question here to be discussed is not which form is 
 intrinsically the best, but which is most adapted for 
 modern representation; nor is it, perhaps, even ne- 
 
ELEMENTS OF THE ROMANTIC. 39 
 
 cessary to carry out the question thus far, but only 
 to point out that there is no necessity to coerce the 
 romantic into a classic mould. A very effective 
 drama could no doubt be produced on the ancient 
 model ; and, indeed, we see something very closely 
 approaching to it in the serious Italian opera. By 
 * Medea' we are interested, excited, and moved ; 
 when we rise from witnessing its performance, we 
 have had some hours of delight, and without making 
 any metaphysical inquiries of the source of our gra- 
 tification, we have our ears thrilling with delicious 
 music, and our souls filled with overpowering sensa- 
 tions. This would be sufficient of itself to show how 
 little the exercise of the reason has to do with dra- 
 matic amusement or even illusion. If brought to 
 the test of reahty and fact, nothing can be further 
 from them than this kind of opera, and yet it is not 
 only an innocent but a rational amusement, for it 
 helps to refine the taste and elevate the feeUngs. 
 
 The difference between the romantic and the classic 
 drama is undoubtedly essential, but it by no means 
 therefore happens that the latter is incompatible 
 with modern amusement. That the former is the 
 more national form is indeed apparent from its ori- 
 gin and progress, as will be acknowledged by an 
 examination of its history as pourtrayed in the pre- 
 ceding chapter. The numerous elements of its 
 composition are there displayed, and it will be ob- 
 served that the classic itself had a considerable in- 
 fluence upon it. From the Miracle play it derived 
 
40 ELEMENTS OF THE ROMANTIC. 
 
 the variety of its events, the number of its dramatis 
 personce, its grotesque pageantry, and the latitude of 
 its events and proceedings ; and, above all, it de- 
 rived from these sacred representations that influ- 
 ence with its audience, which led them to surrender 
 themselves to the poet's will, and be led whithersoever 
 his fancy directed. Accustomed to the most rapid 
 changes of persons and places, and to the exempli- 
 fication of miraculous occurrences, they were not, 
 hke the classical audiences, in perpetual search of 
 the real as related to the proceedings of the scene, 
 but were implicitly bound to receive as fact all that 
 the *' maker'' chose to impose on them. From the 
 
 * Moralities' the Shaksperian drama derived the 
 abstraction of its characters into species, and its 
 eloquent dissertation ; from the ' Interludes' its long 
 and vigorously sustained dialogue; from the 
 
 * Shows* and pantomimic representations its con- 
 stant movement and life-like action ; from -the 
 classical translation its more regular and condensed 
 form, as also that individualisation of the abstrac- 
 tion of a species which the Moralities had engen- 
 dered. It is not meant to assert that all these are 
 visible in all the productions of the Shaksperean era, 
 nor that individual genius did not greatly impress 
 and mould its form. But it will be seen that during 
 the sixteenth century these elements gradually un- 
 folded themselves, and towards its close became 
 mingled into one kind of drama. This form re- 
 quired the highest mental faculties for its full d«* 
 
REQUISITES OF THE SHAKSPERIAN DRAMA. 41 
 
 velopment, and consequently we find it complete 
 but in the production of one individual, though 
 many pourtrayed more than one of its essential re- 
 quisites in great perfection. 
 
 Fixed on this broad and magnificent basis, the 
 romantic drama demands an intimate and profound 
 knowledge of, and sympathy with, mankind, an 
 exuberant fancy, a lofty and inexhaustible ima- 
 gination, working on an observation various and in- 
 cessant — eloquence, and the power of numbers, 
 that can kindle and arouse the dullest — a judg- 
 ment, delicate and vigorous, that can weave innu- 
 merable circumstances into one homogeneous mass, 
 that shall have an enlarged and capacious unity : 
 and to all these must be added that indefinable 
 quahty, usually denominated genius, that shall give 
 a lively and imperishable interest to the whole. 
 
 With these requisites it will be allowed that, 
 whether superior or inferior to the classical form 
 as modernly exemplified, its production must be 
 much more rare and diflBcult. A painful story, a 
 fervent enthusiasm, and tolerable declamation, will 
 furnish a modern classical drama that may draw 
 more tears than * Hamlet' or ' Macbeth.' 
 
 To revive the actual classical drama has never 
 been urged by its fondest admirers, for its sentiment 
 and its principles are so opposed to modern notions, 
 that much of what was formerly solemn would now 
 appear absurd. The nearest approach to it have 
 bc^n some French and German plays (for Milton's 
 
42 MODERN CLASSICAL DRAMA. 
 
 * Agonistes/ and Mason's * Caractacus/ were never 
 intended for performance), and in these, though the 
 Greek form is scrupulously retained, even to the 
 chorus, yet the sentiment and interest is modern. 
 The Christian's feelings Eire incompatible with the 
 heathen's, and having no faith in their gods nor 
 their irreversible fate, we cannot be interested in the 
 unmitigated and undeserved sufferings of an Ores- 
 tes ; we turn from it as a revolting injustice, and as 
 we hope, so we continually solace ourselves with 
 the knowledge, that the whole is impossible. We 
 may admire the skill of the poet, and the beauty of 
 the poem, but the living dramatic interest escapes us. 
 The most that the moderns can do, or have done, 
 is to apply some of the Aristotelian rules, as derived 
 from the great Greek dramatists, to our theatres, 
 and these are chiefly the unities of time, place, and 
 action, which are thought to give reality to the re- 
 presentation. The ancients appear to have adhered 
 to them pretty closely (though by no means abso- 
 lutely), because the construction of their drama, 
 with its simple fable and religious chorus, required 
 little or no departure from them. In their drama, 
 a few actors, engaged in the depiction of some 
 single transaction, merely elaborate the feelings 
 connected with it, intensely and beautifully, but not 
 discursively ; they are bound by the singleness of 
 the proceeding, and hemmed in by the chorus. 
 Modern critics, however, a class always more ce- 
 lebrated for their logical than their imaginative 
 
THEATRICAL REALIZATION. 43 
 
 powers, have been for reducing every thing to 
 reality : they triumphantly announce realization to 
 be the end and object of the imitative arts, and 
 more particularly of the drama. Having assumed 
 this solecism, and almost without contradiction, 
 they proceeded to enforce the unities, and issued 
 their decrees against all the great masters of the ro- 
 mantic school, as savages and barbarians, whom no 
 men of taste were to admire, much less imitate. 
 By this law, Rymer and Voltaire adjudged Shak- 
 spere to be a blood-thirsty barbarian, and Mul- 
 grave outlawed him as a noble monster, at the same 
 time condescendingly regretting that he had not 
 been cast on more civilized times. The rest of the 
 romantic school were contemptible vagabonds, good 
 for nothing but to be plundered by their classical 
 betters, who would pick from them the few gems 
 they possessed, and consign the refuse to that large 
 literary dunghill called oblivion. 
 
 As this race of critics is not quite extinct, it may 
 be necessary to endeavour to refute their leading 
 error, that actual realization is the object of the 
 drama. That it is not, many of them feel, for they 
 cannot make ghosts and fairies real; they cannot 
 reconcile the success of plays full of solecisms ; they 
 think reality should please, but they see prize- 
 fighters driven from the stage, real elephants 
 hissed, and mock ones applauded, and they are be- 
 wildered ; they build theory on theory, denounce 
 vengeance on vengeance, with Aristotle in one 
 
44 THE NATURE OF FICTION. 
 
 hand and Horace in the other, and do every thing 
 b)it think it possible for themselves to err. 
 
 Had these gentlemen pleased to have observed 
 the progress of any play, however closely adhering 
 to their own rule, they would have found much that 
 was not real, though it might be made to appear so ; 
 they would find that the closest approximation to 
 fact leaves much undepicted, and they would have 
 found that there is an aptitude and readiness in the 
 mind to make large suppositions from small sugges- 
 tions, to take a part for the whole, to tell all a story 
 that is only half uttered, to carelessly omit much 
 that is absolutely necessary, and to make an appa- 
 rent whole out of prominent parts. They would 
 also find that a selected portion of a series of facts 
 would create a much greater sensation than the ac- 
 tual pourtrayal of them all. The reading of any 
 novel, or the speech of any advocate, might have 
 convinced them of all this ; or even the page of a 
 history, or the report of a police-ofiice. In all the 
 imaginative arts it is not the actual depicting, but 
 the appearance of reality, that affects us. When 
 Roderigo and lago stand in a street in Venice (the 
 very street itself in that city being almost a falsity), 
 we do not hiss them because they tell their secrets 
 in the public pathway ; we do not call to them that 
 they are committing an absurdity, but we plunge at 
 once into their story; we merge the smaller facts 
 into the more important ; we see a villain cheating 
 his dupe, and the intellectual interest catches hold 
 
THE IJATUUE OF FICTION. 45 
 
 of lis. The livelier the imagination and the nimbler 
 the apprehension of the spectator, the more efficient, 
 of course, is the impression of the representation. 
 But were all the facts that make up an event elabo- 
 rately displayed to a Boeotian mind, it would not 
 derive one iota more apprehension of the proceeding. 
 
 It may be doubted if the most sober mind takes 
 cognizance of all the facts of an event that actually 
 passes before it, but whether it does not in the world, 
 as in the theatre, miss a great deal, take much for 
 granted, and only observe the most striking and 
 salient points. The fallacies of philosophy, the 
 cheats of experienced jugglers, would go far to prove 
 that so far from its being natural to know all the 
 facts of a case, it is almost impossible to prevent 
 the mind from rushing to conclusions at a railroad 
 pace. 
 
 In the theatre it is certain that the mind is in this 
 state, and it requires but little skill to carry it on 
 from incident to incident with a very considerable 
 violation of the laws of probability. If a mind is 
 incapable of having its imagination ignited, and its 
 emotions excited, it will soon turn from the theatre 
 as a mockery it cannot understand ; and renounce 
 it altogether, like the unimaginative lady who re- 
 proved her niece for reading ** such a parcel oi false- 
 hoods as the Waverley novels." 
 
 The promoters of the unities have thus started on 
 a wrong principle ; they have thought the nearer 
 they approached to reality, the nearer they came to 
 
46 THE NATURE OF FICTION. 
 
 perfect illusion ; never considering that if they had 
 carried their proposition fully out, they would have 
 found they had worked out a fact, and had got to a 
 reality, and not to the appearance of one. They 
 did not perceive that illusion depends on the excite- 
 ment of the imagination, and not on the arousing 
 the senses and the judgment. Nor did they per- 
 ceive that a partial appearance of reality, slightly 
 exaggerated, was the best way to excite the imagi- 
 nation. 
 
UNITY OF ACTION 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE MODERN CLASSICAL AND ROMANTIC 
 FORMS COMPARED. 
 
 Unity of Action — The Sham-classical Drama — The Logical 
 School of Poetry — The Despotism of Criticism — Revival of 
 the Imaginative School — Shakspere amended — Shakspere's 
 Rejection of the Classical Rules. 
 
 The unities of time and place have been disposed of 
 in what has been said of attempting actual realiza- 
 tion on the stage ; and none but the most rigid of 
 the classical advocates demand a very absolute ex- 
 ercise of them, the ancients themselves making them 
 subservient to the circumstances of the fable. The 
 unity of action, however, is still held as a strong 
 fort in the classical region, and from it the chief 
 attacks are made on the romantic school. A rigid 
 adherence to it, indeed, gives an essential principle 
 to the drama, and forms as marked a distinction 
 between the two styles, as can well be imagined. 
 
 By the unity of the action the story is intended to 
 be confined to one deep channel, and made to elicit 
 strong and decisive effects, and thus to evolve a 
 series of situations rather than a series of events. 
 
48 THE SllAM-CLASSICAL DRAMA. 
 
 Those who prefer this kind of construction to the 
 more discursive form of the romantic, will, however, 
 generally be found to be those who have cultivated 
 what may be termed a logical exercise of the imagi- 
 nation. They still harp upon the real ; they are for 
 measuring every thing pourtrayed by their standard 
 of the probable ; they demand that the drama shall 
 be a strict copying — not an imitation of existence; 
 not a new world created by the poet, where the beings 
 are amenable to the decrees of the imagination, but 
 not to the by-laws of actual existence. With such 
 there is a deficiency of imagination, and, conse- 
 quently, of sensibility towards universal existence. 
 Their tastes are for the most part conventional, and 
 they have erected in their intellect certain standards 
 whereby all things are measured. These standards 
 are generally false, or if not intrinsically so, are ren- 
 dered such in their application, by the exaggerated 
 position they occupy in the minds of their owners. 
 All variations from these standards are deemed ab- 
 surd or low, and, consequently, these epithets abound 
 in the works of the critics after the restoration, and 
 - of the French school, towards Shakspere and the 
 whole of the romantic dramatists. 
 
 A great portion of the arrogance of these critics 
 arises from the insensibility of their natures, as well 
 as the poverty of their imaginations. Imbued with 
 exaggerated notions of the value of certain distinc- 
 tions, and with a sensual notiori of the beautiful, they 
 disregard all that is not coarsely obvious and striking. 
 
THE SHAM-CLASSICAL DRAMA. 49 
 
 To such the ' Winter's Tale' is twaddle, and the 
 ' Midsummer Night's Dream' nonsense ; whilst * Cato' 
 and the * Siege of Damascus' are perfection. In 
 these there is no trifling about common hedge flowers ; 
 princesses are not put on a par with peasant girls ; 
 there are no horrible anachronisms about Dukes of 
 Athens, but all is dignified and correct; the unity 
 of action is maintained, as well as the dignity of 
 manners and language ; and if they produce little 
 effect, it is because the audience is sunk in a beastly 
 state of nature that prefers the irregular barbarisms 
 arising from a larger and more extensive sympathy 
 with nature and mankind. 
 
 The character of the promoters and introducers 
 of this kind of drama will fully substantiate these 
 assertions. By the domination of the religious fana- 
 tics of the 17th century, the romantic English drama 
 was destroyed; and from 1648, there was a com- 
 plete cessation of the legitimate drama of passion, 
 character, and poetry. This drama was not revived, 
 but the theatre was patronised by Charles the Second, 
 and the sensual rout that formed his court. The 
 manners of the courtiers and gentry connected with 
 the town had also undergone a great change for the 
 worse. A tawdry magnificence supplied the place 
 of a real love for the fine arts ; a coarse sensuahty, 
 the chivalrous gallantry of their fathers ; and a low 
 cunning, the discursive philosophy of the former 
 period. The standard of honour and morality thus 
 low, the tastes were on a par with them. 
 
 E 
 
50 THE SHAM-CLASSICAL DRAMA. 
 
 By such persons was the modern classic form in- 
 troduced into this country filtered through the base 
 models of the French school. Then Mulgrave gained 
 credit as a poet for saying — 
 
 ** The unities of action, time, and place, 
 
 Which, if observed, give plays so great a grace." 
 
 Then Lansdowne honoured the burgess Shakspere 
 by putting * The Jew of Venice* into a readable 
 shape, the original author becomingly acknowledg- 
 ing, in the prologue, his obligations to his lordship : 
 
 ** These scenes in their rough native dress were mine ; 
 But now improved, with nobler lustre shine : 
 The^r*^ rude sketches Shakspere's pencil drew, 
 But aU the shining master-strokes are new. 
 This play, ye critics, should your fury stand. 
 Adorn' d and rescu'd by a faultless hand." 
 
 The same kind of condescension was extended by 
 the Duke of Buckingham to ' Julius Ceesar* and 
 the 'Chances;* by Mr. Waller to Beaumont and 
 Fletcher's 'Maid's Tragedy;* by Mr. Tate to 'Lear* 
 and ' King Richard the Second ;' by Mr. Otway to 
 ' Romeo and Juliet;* by Mr. Dryden and Sir W. 
 D*Avenant to the ' Tempest,* ' Troilus and Cressida,' 
 and ' Antony and Cleopatra ;* and by Mr. Crowne, 
 to 'Timonof Athens.* 'Macbeth' was rendered 
 endurable by turning it into an opera, which it still 
 continues to be ; and ' Richard the Third' is still 
 considered the best telling play on the boards, being 
 rendered, about the same period, by the genius of 
 
THE LOGICAL SCHOOL OF POETRY. 51 
 
 Mr. Gibber, a cento of its author's productions run 
 into a rising climax of rant, for the benefit of the 
 principal ranter of the day. 
 
 Strange fickleness of human nature, that these 
 considerate alterations, after having been duly ap- 
 preciated for more than a hundred and forty years, 
 should now again begin to be set aside for their 
 musty originals, although Thomson's ' Coriolanus* 
 still lingers in the mouth of one who claims to be 
 the most daring of stage- reformers — one who, 
 ** alarmed at the sound himself had made," dared 
 not to touch the operatic part of ' Macbeth,' or 
 boldly give the chronicle ' History of Henry V.' as 
 it came from the hands of him whom all call *' the 
 great magician," but in whose skill and power none 
 have the courage to fully confide. 
 
 The age of Charles the Second was not an imagi- 
 native one. Indeed, from the time of the Restora- 
 tion to the breaking out of the French Revolution, 
 a logical cultivation of the faculties and exercise of 
 the imagination prevailed. The Reformation in the 
 fifteenth century produced a greater mental develop- 
 ment than any event of modern history. The im- 
 pulse thus given, not only to the intellect but the 
 feelings and passions of mankind, produced an age 
 of the noblest imagination — a spirit of enterprise 
 the most daring — a standard of intellectual excel- 
 lence the most lofty. The spirit of chivalry and 
 honour had not departed from the public mind. 
 Renown was not then esteemed as a means but an 
 
52 THE LOGICAL SCHOOL OF POETRY. 
 
 end. Commerce even was more nobly allied, and 
 enterprise and honour were associated wMth her. 
 Poetry had still rendered to it the reverence due to 
 the teacher and the prophet ; but the impulse thus 
 communicated to the noblest quahties of our nature 
 gradually died away. Legislation and the current 
 of events were directed to tame men into peaceable 
 and subservient citizens. The religious contest, 
 latterly absorbing all the intellect of the period, 
 tended to the exclusive cultivation of the reasoning 
 faculties. Subtle analytical controversy was the 
 mode of its exemplification, and as it is one of our 
 peculiar qualities to rush into extremes, all that 
 could not be brought into the compass of a diagram, 
 or be analysed in the crucible of the logical rea- 
 soner, fell into contempt. Customs and manners 
 are the great preservers of sentiments, but these also 
 now underwent a complete alteration ; the fanatical 
 in religion thought it pious not only to destroy and 
 uproot all remnants of the Roman Catholic religion, 
 but indulged in the insane desire to destroy all that 
 was even co-existent with it. They cut off their 
 hair because Papists wore it long : they would have 
 pulled down cathedrals because Papists had prayed 
 in them : they forsook their national games because 
 Papists had practised them. The tastes of the 
 gentry had altered also : the excitement of the civil 
 wars had raised a spirit of ambition and love of 
 more extensive notoriety in the country gentlemen. 
 Political intrio^ue had lowered the standard of mora- 
 
THE DESPOTISM OF CRITICISM. 53 
 
 lity ; and the progress of legislation and the physical 
 sciences had reduced or destroyed all chivalric feel- 
 ing. The empire of the passions and the imagination 
 were abrogated, -and that of selfishness and logic 
 substituted. 
 
 The despotism of a narrow criticism may now be 
 said to have commenced. Every thing was to be 
 submitted to the test of reality ; and the products 
 of the imagination were not to be excepted. A 
 standard of perfection, graduated by the precepts of 
 Aristotle, was erected, and by this Procrustean 
 model the poet was to be tested. The profligate 
 but witty court lent its patronage to that exercise of 
 the intellect which more affected the understanding 
 than the feelings. The learned supported it by their 
 authority ; and the audience applauded it, because 
 it accorded with their low standard of philosophy 
 and sentiment. 
 
 Newton is said to have asked, '* What the Iliad 
 proved?'' and though this is a joke, it is sufficient 
 to indicate the temper and taste of the period. 
 Dryden, Roscommon, Mulgrave, and all the leading 
 literati were continually asking the question in their 
 critical essays, by inference, if not by words ; and 
 the alterations of our romantic drama already 
 alluded to, are a sufficient proof of the principle 
 which guided them. This tyrannical usurpation of 
 the logical school existed (it could never be said to 
 flourish) until the end of the last century, when 
 symptoms of an intellectual revolt took place, which. 
 
54 REVIVAL OF THE IMAGINATIVE SCHOOL. 
 
 beginning in the long-continued and yet unfinished 
 commentary on Shakspere's plays, gradually de- 
 veloped itself under the freedom which the out- 
 breaking of the French Revolution gave to all dis- 
 cussions, both literary and political. From this date 
 the drama of passion and imagination has been 
 struggling into existence again ; and would have 
 much sooner manifested itself, had not the law, embo- 
 dying the prejudice of an age, opposed its efforts. 
 
 Although the destruction of a sceptical philoso- 
 phy, and the consequent elevation of the standard of 
 morality, has done much to purify the general taste 
 in the last thirty years, yet the evil effects of a long 
 period of debasing influences and laws are still 
 apparent. We are still affected by the excellence 
 of some of the works produced in the logical school; 
 and are somewhat overpowered by the long-con- 
 tinued arrogance and dogmatism of its critics. 
 The comparative easiness, also, of producing some 
 kind of effect in this mode of expression, leads 
 mediocre minds and moderate abilities to adopt and 
 defend it. 
 
 The unity of the action is still considered as one 
 of the necessary principles of a correct drama by 
 very respectable authorities, who have abandoned 
 those of time and place. Their arguments, however, 
 when traced to their result, generally mean unity of 
 interest. They only demand a unity of the action, 
 because they deem it necessary to a unity of the 
 interest. 
 
SHAKSPERE AMENDED. 55 
 
 To test the effect of adhering to a strict unity of 
 action, let us see what the play of ' Othello' would 
 be if cast in that mode. The whole of the first act 
 would (as suggested by Johnson) have been narrated ; 
 how much this would have tended to increase the 
 intensity of the interest, every one will judge for 
 himself. The second act would have been cut to 
 one scene; indeed it interrupts '* the intensity'' in 
 anyway, and another batch of narrative, telling how 
 Cassio had disgraced himself, and been cashiered, 
 would have been better. The third act need only 
 include the working up of Othello's jealousy, and 
 all the filagree work indirectly developing the story, 
 should be hewn away. The fourth act is a series of 
 incidents sadly detracting from the main action, and 
 barbarously protracting the interest; which, however, 
 could be put aside for some good sound broad 
 declamation. The fifth act would make one good 
 scene, and, by the aid of a little homely and ex- 
 planatory description in the mouth of Emilia, instead 
 of all the characteristic vulgarity that is so inju- 
 diciously put into the mouth of a subordinate per- 
 sonage, we might come at once to the murder, which, 
 for the sake of decency, should be off the scene, as 
 also should Othello's suicide. After all, it would be 
 very inartificial, and therefore should never have 
 been written. ' Macbeth,' * Hamlet,' and * Lear,' 
 are equally unmanageable, and they must be irre- 
 mediably faulty, as it is impossible for critics to be 
 wrong who are guided by a work on taste, written, 
 
56 shakspere's rejection of classical rules. 
 
 upwards of two thousand years since, for a nation 
 whose language is dead, whose religion is exploded, 
 whose race is extinct, and whose manners and 
 habits are only imperfectly conjectured. 
 
 That Shakspere rejected the unities on principle 
 is certain ; for the discussion as to their application 
 to the English theatre had begun long before he 
 began to write for the stage, and he could not be 
 ignorant of the work of Sir Philip Sidney, nor of the 
 dramas of his contemporaries on the classic model. 
 Had he adopted it, though he would, doubtless, 
 have produced something infinitely superior to any 
 of the kind by a modern, we must have been de- 
 prived of an almost miraculous explication and 
 unfolding of human nature, ill supplied by the most 
 glorious declamations. We should have lost the 
 visible delineation of the modern and christian' 
 character, and the Teutonic nations would not have 
 had a voice for their vast and various characteristics. 
 
 Reference has not been made to the diction or 
 sentiments used by the writers of the modern, or, 
 as it ought really to be called, the sham -classical 
 drama, as that subject connects itself more naturally 
 with the subject of language, as employed by the 
 dramatists. In conclusion it may be safely said, 
 that we have not had one great play that keeps its 
 hold either on the reader or the audience, composed 
 on the modern classical model, whilst our noble 
 masterpieces all take the romantic form. 
 
STATISTICS OF LONDON. 57 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 STATE OF [THE ENGLISH STAGE— THE 
 METROPOLITAN DRAMA. 
 
 Surrey Theatre-^ The Victoria Theatre — Astley's Amphi- 
 theatre — Adelphi Theatre — The English Opera House — 
 The Strand Theatre— The Olympic Theatre— The Queen's 
 Theatre— The City of London Theatre —The Pavilion 
 Theatre— The Garrick Theatre— Sadler's Wells— The Hay- 
 market Theatre — The St. James's Theatre. 
 
 London, which extends its intellectual, if not its 
 topographical identity from Bethnal-green to Turn- 
 ham-green (ten miles) ; from Kentish -town to Brix- 
 ton (seven miles) ; whose houses are said to number 
 upwards of 200,000, and to occupy 20 square miles 
 of ground, has a population of little less than two 
 millions of souls, or rather mouths. Its leviathan 
 body is composed of nearly 10,000 streets, lanes, 
 alleys, squares, places, terraces, &c. It consumes 
 upwards of 4,360,0001bs. of animal food weekly, 
 which is washed down by 1,400,000 barrels of por- 
 ter annually, exclusive of other liquids. Its rental 
 is at least £7,000,000 a-year, and it pays for the 
 luxuries it imports at least £12,000,000 per annum, 
 
58 THE SURREY THEATRE. 
 
 duty alone. It has 237 churches, 207 Dissenting 
 places of worship, and upwards of 6,000 public- 
 houses, and 16 theatres. 
 
 It is with the latter alone, and the examination of 
 their performances, that our business lies. Eight 
 of them stand within ten minutes' walk of each other, 
 on one side of the river ; three on the other side, 
 within five minutes ; and the remaining five cast a 
 dim enlightenment on the more unknown and bar- 
 barous regions of the metropolis. 
 
 We will begin with the minor, following the epi- 
 cure's philosophical maxim of ** eat your best first, 
 because then you are always eating your best." 
 
 The Surrey Theatre has established, by its con- 
 stancy to one class of sentiment and spectacle, a kind 
 of standard, whereby may be represented certain dra- 
 matic performances, and ** a regular Surrey piece" is 
 the stereotyped phrase for a drama which, in three 
 acts, pourtrays the heroism of watermen below, and 
 the constancy of housemaids above bridge ; wherein 
 characters, the most heavenly, are continually 
 coming in contact with charactei:s very much the 
 reverse ; where the British navy is in every other 
 sentence declared to be the only perfection exempli- 
 fied on earth (if such an Irishism can be permitted), 
 and where the language is alone equalled by the 
 loftiness of the sentiment and the refinement of the 
 wit. It is not meant to assert that an occasional 
 "change does not come o'er the spirit of the scene," 
 and that pieces of ** a high and moral cast," 
 
THE VICTORIA THEATRE. 59 
 
 adorned with all the learning of **Lyson's Environs 
 of London," are not occasionally produced; when, 
 to meet the great occasion, a big- wig from one of 
 the leviathan legitimates is induced to emerge from 
 his constellation, and, in sohtary grandeur, to cul- 
 minate in St. George's-fields, spreading horror and 
 dismay to rival theatric thrones. Such was the so- 
 lemn transit of Mr. Cooper to pourtray the dismal 
 doom of Doctor Dodd ; wherein was uttered from 
 Dr. Johnson's solemn and capacious mind the origi- 
 nal consolation and information in the following 
 characteristic phraseology : *' You know, Doctor 
 Dodd, we must all die;*' whereupon the worthy phi- 
 losopher takes snuffj the bell tolls, and exit to the 
 '* Dead March in Saul." 
 
 The Victoria Theatre has, perhaps, sulGTered 
 more vicissitudes than any other. Its performances 
 have been of every kind, and of every quality. Me- 
 lodramas of the deepest dye and coarsest texture 
 were once its staple commodity — when Turpin cut 
 his horse's throat upon the stage, and the fact was 
 '* realized" by a quantity of red ochre. Here Kean 
 has performed ; as also his imitator, Junius Brutus 
 Booth ; and Mr. Sheridan Knowles, in some of his 
 own refined and genuine plays. Vestris's genteel 
 (there is no other term for them) company have ex- 
 changed the courtly audience of the Olympic, for the 
 porter-drinking one of this theatre. Here Mr. Serle 
 ('* the gentleman of acknowledged talent," latterly 
 employed as solemn censor to the works of the lite- 
 
60 astley's amphitheatre. 
 
 rati of the day for Covent-garden Theatre) used to 
 combat with Mr. Martin's *'tame wild beasts" — the 
 small Van Amburgh of his day. It has been every 
 thing by turns, but nothing long — ever aiming at 
 novelty, but never pursuing any course sufficiently 
 steadily to raise a character or secure a continuous and 
 respectable audience. In its attempt towards per- 
 forming the legitimate drama, it only pursued the 
 system of having one popular actor in the principal 
 character, and in that it was stopped by the larger 
 ** dogs-in-the-manger,'' the patent managers. Situ- 
 ated in one of the worst neighbourhoods, its audi- 
 ences are of the lowest kind, and if the Enghsh 
 Emperor or Empress should visit it, it would be 
 necessary to imitate the Roman potentate, by 
 drenching the audience with rose-water to neutra- 
 lize certain vile odours arising from gin and tobacco, 
 and bad ventilation. But even here is '' food for 
 philosophy;'* and the universality of the power of 
 dramatic genius, and the natural force of the mind 
 and heart, is demonstrated by the attention and 
 justice with which certainly one of the most un- 
 educated audiences appreciate genuine pathos, and 
 even genuine wit and poetry. 
 
 Astley's Amphitheatre is a name at which the 
 youthful heart bounds, and the olden one revives. 
 Jeremy Bentham pronounced it to be the genuine 
 English theatre, where John Bull, whatever supe- 
 rior tastes he might ape, was most sincerely at 
 home. Here there is, at all events, no humbug 
 
THE ADELPIII THEATRE. 61 
 
 about legitimate drama ; it openly proclaims in its 
 classic bills, ** Historical panoply, and the glorious 
 emblazonment of deeds of chivalry and skill," to be 
 ** the noblest aim of the dramatic muse;" it pour- 
 trays, as the acme of dramatic perfection, ^*the 
 Olympian revels at Babylon, where the Egyptian 
 colossi frown at us from three thousand ages," and 
 we see *' the vast shades of Semiramis and Osiris, 
 called from pyramidal slumbers by the gorgeous 
 wand" of Mr. Ducrow. Here we have the gauntlet 
 thrown down for spectacle, and it is said and sin- 
 cerely believed, to be the one great thing. Long may 
 the fool's legs be lashed by the elegant Mr. Widdi- 
 comb in the saw-dust circle, and long may it elicit 
 roars of merriment from children of large and small 
 growth. This theatre is what it pretends to be — a 
 place of amusement, and as such is respectably 
 conducted and respectably attended. 
 
 We will now cross the water, and step into the 
 '* great minor,'' on the opposite bank of Old Father 
 Thames — the Adelphi Theatre, where raelodrame, 
 with all her woes, maintains her empire. Here the 
 wild and wonderful, amidst blue fire and sinking 
 traps, give a terrible warning to the murderer and 
 the felon ; here " horrors upon horror's head " are 
 accumulated, and *' intense interest and excited 
 feelings " are enkindled by the continued casting of 
 children out of the flies on to featherbeds in the 
 cellars ; by agonised partings and melting meet- 
 
62 THE ENGLISH OPERA-HOUSE. 
 
 ings ; by frenzied fathers, mad daughters, and re- 
 morseful wives. Here also are sure to be first in- 
 troduced any foreign rarities, whether brute or 
 human ; here Ma'mselle D'Jeck (not a human 
 ma'mseile) made her elephantine curtesy to a British 
 pubhc ; here the mysterious Bayaderes displayed 
 their fine forms, animated by religious frenzy ; here 
 the dogs and cats *' imitated humanity most abomi- 
 nably ; " here Jim Crow danced his celebrated 
 melody ; and here again is to be seen a gentleman 
 elephant, whom the worthy manager informs us, 
 " surpasses in genius the celebrated Ma'mselle 
 D'Jeck, so long the favourite of a discerning public." 
 But let justice be done. The talent of Mrs. Yates, 
 the genius of O. Smith, have occasionally irradiated 
 the place with some gleams of intellect; and if 
 spectacle has been the staple commodity, it has been 
 more cleverly managed than at any other theatre, 
 not excepting '* the legitimate rivals," who have 
 basely and bunglingly imitated and pirated its talent 
 in this way. 
 
 The English Opera-House should now change 
 its name, for at the Concerts a la Musard any thing 
 but Enghsh music is performed. " An enlightened 
 British public " are beginning* to acknowledge that 
 a thing is not essentially vile because it is foreign, 
 and it is an unfortunate fact for the national vanity, 
 that foreign music is more pleasing than English. 
 The attempts at the drama latterly made here have 
 
THE STRAND AND OLYMPIC THEATRES. 63 
 
 been the convulsive throes of a decaying manage- 
 ment, and it is to be hoped no more such agonies 
 of the dramatic muse will be exhibited. 
 
 The little theatre in the Strand, or, to be more 
 precise, the Strand Theatre, is a kind of pocket- 
 house, where all is in proportion. It is noticeable as 
 a pleasing proof of the force of talent of any kind ; 
 which, in spite of thebullying threats of the leviathans 
 and the strong rivalry of the neighbourhood, con- 
 trived to create for itself a name with the public. 
 Without the aid of large capital, without an army of 
 supernumeraries, without the assumption of having 
 high intellect, without the aid of a clique, this httle 
 ill-built, and, at one time, despised theatre has 
 drawn some very good audiences, who have departed 
 well pleased with its tiny spectacles, its humorous 
 burlesques, its spirited actors. It exists, a strong 
 argument for permitting the same freedom to the 
 drama as to all other arts and professions. 
 
 The Olympic Theatre, silent and desolate, 
 mourns in solemn darkness its mistress's departure. 
 Here for seven years the genius of gentility presided. 
 The laws of the drawing-room were transferred to 
 the stage ; nothing that could weary, nothing that 
 could too rudely excite, nothing that could bore the 
 visitors, was to be permitted. Trifle and ices, cham- 
 pagne and rout-cakes, were the perpetual fare. 
 One-act farces, light, rapid, and sparkling, satirising 
 solecisms in gentility and violations of elegance; 
 two-act vaudevilles, with French sentiment and 
 
64 TfiE queen's theatre. 
 
 Spanish intrigue; mythological and semi -poetical 
 pieces, adapted to the display of voluptuous forms 
 and captivating action, were its stock productions. 
 If the rigid censor might affirm it had too much of 
 the fascination of the seraglio, let him look in the 
 faces of ^* the invincibles " and he would forget, not 
 only their foibles, but his own virtues. 
 
 The Queen's Theatre (not the Italian Opera), 
 in Tottenham Court-road, seems at humble distance 
 to follow the preceding, and its fair manageress or 
 supporter is generally some fascinating beauty, 
 whom an admiring ** friend" enables thus to show 
 the town her talents and his taste. Inferior to the 
 presiding Aspasia of the Olympic, the productions 
 have been in like ratio ; and consequently more 
 evanescent, making it difficult to fix the characte- 
 ristics of its performances. In the first few months 
 of 1833, it produced more successful pieces than 
 any other theatre was ever known to do — pieces 
 since transferred to a permanent existence on various 
 other stages; and as the Strand is a memento of 
 the advantages of a freedom of stage performances, 
 so this may be cited as a remarkable proof of the 
 withering influence of monopoly ; for here, under 
 the auspices of a set of young and vigorous writers, 
 might the legitimate drama have found a soil where- 
 in to have struck new shoots, and have produced 
 new blossoms, but the law forbade, and original 
 talent was driven to find success, as it most amply 
 did, in other channels of hterature. 
 
LONDON, PAVILION AND GARRICK THEATRES. 65 
 
 Though now in a large neighbourhood we have 
 many miles to travel to our next theatre, and we 
 must avail ourselves of an omnibus to arrive at the 
 City of London Theatre, in Shoreditch. Here 
 melodrame prevails — of the domestic kind, if the 
 condemned cell can be called so ; at all events its 
 audience seem very much at home at the realisation 
 of the Newgate calendar. The managers plead that 
 ** as the schoolmaster is abroad," they will kindly 
 supply his place, and give historical lectures from 
 the stage^ instead of spouting poetry, or enacting 
 passion ; and consequently, * Jack Sheppard ' ap- 
 pears in fetters of the exact fashion he wore, no pains 
 are spared to copy the dresses of the Greenwich 
 and Chelsea pensioners, and other recherche means 
 are taken to give the costume of the time from 
 Hogarth's prints and the Ladies' Magazine. 
 
 The Pavilion Theatre at Mile-end also devotes 
 itself to the exciting form of melodrame. Here the 
 Newgate calendar and tales of terror stand in the 
 same place as Homer did to the ancient dramatists. 
 Life, as it is emphatically said in this neighbour- 
 hood, is the chief thing to be pourtrayed, and there- 
 fore the deepest atrocities, the most squalid mise- 
 ries, the most revolting adventures are delineated. 
 The lives of gamblers, murderers, gaol-breakers are 
 pourtrayed with a defiance of the unities that will 
 even satisfy ourselves, and with a ** realisation'' that 
 the patent theatres envy. 
 
 The Garrick Theatre seems to have its chief 
 
 F 
 
66 Sadler's wells theatre. 
 
 recommendation in its name. Eight years ago Mr. 
 Elton proved the advantage of a theatre where tele- 
 scopes are not needed, by a very forcible and pure 
 reading of Sir Giles on this primitive-sized stage. 
 At present it is to be regretted that the law cannot 
 put a stop to that most suicidal of all theatrical pro- 
 ceedings, the making the stage the medium of out- 
 raging the feelings of a class. All connected with 
 the theatres, as well as the public, should join in 
 stopping performances like * The Gold Dust Rob- 
 bery ;' such conduct being at once painful to many 
 innocent persons, and also a villainous pandering to 
 the prejudices of the brutal and the unthinking to- 
 wards a portion of their fellow-countrymen, too long 
 oppressed by a narrow legislation. 
 
 In our haste to take our round we passed a very 
 celebrated minor, " Sadler's Wells." This was 
 from no disrespect, for although the Naiads and the 
 Nereides, as well as the Grimaldis and the Cartliches, 
 have forsaken the classic shores of the New River, 
 still it is one of the magnums of the minors. Its 
 sensible manager has collected a very superior com- 
 pany ; and although occasionally robbers, both fo- 
 reign and domestic, are the heroes of the pieces, yet 
 even the regular drama of passion and poetry has 
 been played here in a way pleasing to those who 
 think there are other characters in ' Othello' and * A 
 New Way to Pay Old Debts* besides the noble Moor 
 and Sir Giles ; poor old-fashioned critics, who do 
 not think the perpetual spouting of one individual 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE, 67 
 
 a compensation for the omission of the poetry, hu- 
 mour, and character of the remainder of the dramatis 
 personcB ; who desire to see an author*s meaning 
 equally pourtrayed, and who prefer the play should 
 make an impression, rather than one " robustious 
 perriwig-pated fellow," who tears not only his own, 
 but everybody else's speeches to rags. 
 
 The Haymarket Theatre will, we fear, like a 
 young lady on the borders of fashionable life, be 
 indignant if not classed with the majors ; however, 
 as it has no patent, and is itself an encroachment 
 on those sacred documents, we shall proceed to 
 characterise it. Under its present management it is 
 prosperous, and deservedly so ; its lessee being a 
 man of business, who, though he may have no 
 Quixotic ambition as to the drama, knows how to 
 cater very spiritedly to the taste of his audience. At 
 present it seems to flourish by the appearance of a 
 succession of favourite actors, who, when very popu- 
 lar, are, in theatrical parlance, called stars ; though 
 it must be confessed that some of only a fourth or 
 fifth magnitude, and scarcely fit to figure out of a 
 constellation, have been called to shed but a tiny 
 lustre on the scene. Whether the great tragic stars, 
 or the great comic ones, are best adapted to this 
 theatre, is a mooted point. Some might, in warm 
 weather, prefer * Love, Law, and Physic,* ' Paul 
 Pry' and Listen, to * Shy lock,' ' Norman,' and 
 Macready ; but chacun d son gouty we will return 
 to our mutton, giving all honour to the worthy 
 
68 ST. James's theatre and Italian opera. 
 
 manager, who might well be called the great magi- 
 cian of the day, from his power of commanding ''the 
 wandering stars." 
 
 The St. James's had nearly escaped our recollec- 
 tion ; but of it there is little to be said, it being yet 
 in its infancy^ and that not a very pleasing one. 
 Small vaudevilles and exploded operas were its chief 
 performances while open, and doubtless its veteran 
 proprietor wishes he had adhered to his once strongly 
 expressed abhorrence of stage-managing. At pre- 
 sent it is to be got rid of at any rate, and a painted 
 board tells us, " This house is to be let furnished or 
 unfurnished." 
 
 We have now made our weary round ; for the 
 Italian Opera comes not within our subject. Sui 
 generis, it stands apart from all other theatres, and 
 may almost be said to be a private house, being 
 chiefly supported by its annual subscribers. Long 
 may it be so, and no theatre can justly complain of 
 it, for it alone has rigidly adhered to its own class 
 of performances, without alternately pilfering and 
 being pilfered by its neighbours ; though indeed the 
 latter it has not escaped, for the *' legitimates" have 
 been so far consistent as even to rob its ballets for 
 spectacles, thus allowing nothing to escape their 
 "• activity." 
 
 From the dramatic tendency of the age there are 
 numerous concert-rooms ready to burst into theatres, 
 but they are repressed by the law. Bagnigge Wells 
 is bid to restrain her saucy pretensions ; the Eagle 
 
THE TAVERN THEATRES. 69 
 
 is chained down in his daring flight; and White 
 Conduit House is obliged to exhaust its exuberant 
 dramatic propensities in comic songs and country- 
 dances. It is sadly to be feared that the enormity 
 of vaudevilles is practised at some of these places : 
 that one-act farces have been compressed into one- 
 scene farces ; that melodrames have been emascu- 
 lated into small burlettas; and that even on one 
 occasion imitations were given of the principal tra- 
 gedians — which so far from being punished, should 
 have been rewarded as a remarkable discovery, the 
 race being apparently extinct. All these irregula- 
 rities, however, can be put down next parliament on 
 the petition of the '* legitimates," who, it is said, 
 have already succeeded in driving Punch from the 
 streets. 
 
 Such is the state of the minor drama in the City 
 proudly pronounced to be ** universi orbis terrarum 
 emporium.'' 
 
70 DRURY LANE THEATRE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PRESENT STATE OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. 
 —METROPOLITAN DRAMA CONTINUED. 
 
 Drury Lane Theatre — Covent Garden Theatre — Privileges of 
 the Patent Theatres — Patent Performances at Drury Lane 
 — Miss O'Neil — Privileged Performances at Covent Garden 
 — Mr. Macready's Management — Vestris's Management. 
 
 The Theatres-Royal, Drury-lane and Covent-gar- 
 den, are two very superb buildings, protected by 
 exclusive and arbitrary privileges, for the sole per- 
 formance of a splendid drama, such as English 
 literature alone possesses. 
 
 The theatre in Drury-lane, takes precedence 
 in rank, on account of its being the house at whicK 
 the king's servants performed at the time of granting 
 the exclusive patents by the merry monarch, whose 
 sport, like that of the mischievous boys to the frogs, 
 was death to the drama, though fun to himself and 
 the patentees. The outside is nearly as plain as a 
 pikestaff, but the inside is very superb. The visitor 
 to the boxes enters a very handsome rotunda, whence, 
 ascending an elegant staircase, he gains the interior 
 of the house. This presents about three quarters of 
 
COVENT GARDEN THEATRE. 71 
 
 a circle, and has an imposing effect, being lighted 
 from the ceiling by a superb chandelier, and arranged 
 into three tiers of boxes, a spacious pit, and exten- 
 sive galleries. The diameter of the house is fifty- 
 three feet, the height to the ceiUng fifty, and the 
 distance from the curtain to the centre box, sixty- 
 one feet. Three thousand six hundred people can 
 easily be seated in it, and upwards of four thousand 
 have been at one time within its walls. 
 
 CoVENT Garden Theatre is a finer building, 
 and has more architectural pretension, being de- 
 signed after the Temple of Minerva at Athens. It is 
 not quite so large as Drury-lane, and is intended to 
 accommodate about 3,000 persons, though 500 more 
 than that number have paid at its doors. 
 
 Both these theatres have, in one respect, acted 
 with extraordinary candour, Shakspere being put 
 outside Drury-lane, and the Muses of Tragedy and 
 Comedy suffering the same exclusion at Covent- 
 garden, thereby boldly and openly signifying that 
 they do not want to have any thing to do with them 
 within. Hundreds of thousands of pounds have 
 been expended in the erection of these splendid 
 buildings ; every thing that could attract the eye, 
 or dazzle it, has been effected. Machinery the most 
 complicated is employed in the business of the 
 stage ; innumerable passages aid the adit, or exit, of 
 the audience; the portion behind the curtain has 
 been equally lavishly attended to. Saloons covered 
 with glass, and furnished with ottomans, invite the 
 
7.2 PRIVILEGES OF THE 
 
 abandoned of both sexes to public profligacy, and, 
 in fact, they may be said to be magnificent temples 
 devoted to luxury and show, and, under bad ma- 
 nagement, to vice and immorality. 
 
 They are exclusively the theatres of royalty, being 
 invested, by patents from the crown, with the sole 
 performance of the regular drama. Here alone, 
 according to law, can the immortal works of Shak- 
 spere, Jonson, Massinger, Fletcher, Beaumont, 
 Ford, and the long line of illustrious poets and wits 
 who have shed a continuous lustre on English hte- 
 rature from Elizabeth's to Anne*s reign, find a living 
 voice and being. Splendid privilege ! — which must 
 confer upon its performers and managers the highest 
 intellectual dignity, and place them almost on the 
 pinnacle of the fine and intellectual arts. How 
 imposing must they seem to an educated foreigner ! 
 With what a thrilling and reverential deference must 
 he enter their classic walls, and fancy that he is 
 breathing a more empyreal atmosphere, redolent 
 with the brightest flashes of the poet, joyous with 
 the brilliant wit of accumulated ages. England has 
 erected two temples to conserve the genius of her 
 unrivalled dramatists ; her kings have heaped privi- 
 leges on them, senates have confirmed and enlarged 
 these prerogatives, capitalists have expended their 
 thousands of thousands in adorning and embellish- 
 ing them. Fatal delusion ! — he enters them, and 
 finds his eyes dazzled by the gorgeousness of the 
 audience part ; he cannot see the countenances of 
 
PATENT THEATRES. 73 
 
 the performers without the aid of a pocket telescope, 
 he cannot hear any thing except the ranted speeches ; 
 he hopes to enjoy a comedy of character and wit, 
 or a tragedy of pathos and passion ; but the per- 
 formances are ' Cymon,* the * SomnambuHst,' and 
 the * Invincibles f or, 'The Red Mask, or the 
 Council of Three,' and * St. George and the Dragon/ 
 He asks where he can see the drama he has studied, 
 and on which he heard Schlegel lecture so popu- 
 larly at Vienna? he is told that it does not pay ** to 
 do them" at these theatres, and that the others dare 
 not perform them. He shrugs his shoulders, says, 
 ** He thought dis vas de land of liberty, but it seems 
 they are worse off than the oppressed Austrians, who 
 permit their great dramatists to be performed, and 
 only prevent the low performances that debase the 
 public mind." Some adherent of the legitimates 
 immediately explains to his highness, that it is to 
 preserve the regular drama that the exclusive privi- 
 leges are granted, and running thro* the gamut of 
 the argument, repeats the words '* vested interest," 
 " sacrilege to Shakspere," ** prescriptive right," 
 *' all nonsense;" and, having exhausted his lungs, 
 pauses triumphantly for a reply ; but the noble fo- 
 reigner merely politely answers, *' I cannot under- 
 stand ; it appear ver strange to me ; you have the 
 finest drama of the whole world in your old books, 
 but the worst in the whole world on your modern 
 stages; it is one great mystery." Leaving the 
 foreigner to unravel the riddle as well as he is able, 
 
74 KEAN*S APPEARANCE. 
 
 we will endeavour to see, by an examination of the 
 proceedings of the two royal establishments, how far 
 he is right in his assertion. 
 
 Our business is with the present state of the 
 drama ; and, therefore, we need not go far back in 
 our inquiry. The last great epoch at Drury-lane 
 was Kean*s appearance in 1814, at which time the 
 theatre was in a most deplorable state, involved 
 deeply in debt, and at a very low ebb as regards 
 theatrical talent. Kean became the rage, and drew 
 by his popularity immense houses. His genius was 
 of the highest order — original, forcible, and abun- 
 dant ; but he had many faults, both as regard his 
 art and himself. He was greedy of applause, envi- 
 ous of rival talent, arrogant and overbearing, if not 
 as a man, as an actor ; his might lay in the splen- 
 dour of his imagination and the vigour of his pour- 
 tray al ; his weakness in the selfish engrossing of all 
 attention to himself; and he, perhaps, more than 
 any great actor, fomented the illiterate and narrow- 
 minded taste of only regarding one character in a 
 play, thus reducing it to a mere vehicle for the exhi- 
 bition of the talents of an individual. He was the 
 least of a stage reformer of any performer holding so 
 distinguished a place in the public estimation. He 
 preferred Gibber's theatrical * Richard the Third* to 
 Shakspere's dramatic, and he would have been the 
 last to have had one of his own ** points'' cut out to 
 heighten the general effect of the play. In these 
 respects, he was like the common run of actors, 
 
MANAGERIAL CUPIDITY. 75 
 
 seeking and caring only for the production of effects, 
 and careless whether the applause was elicited by 
 genius or trick. These remarks are made in no 
 disparaging spirit, but with the most glowing admi- 
 ration of his genius, which seemed truly the effect 
 of inspiration, and which flashed with almost superhu- 
 man power amidst a mass of mannerisms, and occa- 
 sional tricks, that only made it the more miraculous 
 and irresistible. He was the support of Drury-lane 
 Theatre, with some partial interruptions, until the 
 decay and melancholy break-up of his faculties. 
 And such was the poverty of talent and the state of 
 the regular drama, that long after his physical powers 
 had forsaken him he was dragged by the policy 
 of trading managers before the public. His 
 name, ** a tower of strength,'' was used with every 
 trick of theatrical management to prop the tot- 
 tering theatre ; and it was with the deepest regret 
 his intellectual admirers, who still were resolved to 
 see him to the very last, beheld him reel across that 
 stage, where his glorious energy had once inspirited 
 thousands. At length, utterly exhausted, he was 
 compelled to retire, and he left the theatre in a 
 worse state than he found it ; every thing had been 
 sacrificed to him, and he created a school of acting, 
 which, if not elevated by genius like his own, is 
 utterly unendurable. 
 
 Be it understood, that it is not intended by these 
 remarks to offer a critical estimate of the genius of 
 Kean, the memory of which is strong beyond words, 
 
76 PATENT PERFORMANCES AT DRURY-LANE. 
 
 in the feelings of those who suffered themselves to 
 be borne upward and along by his unrivalled en- 
 ergies. He is only alluded to here with relation to 
 the present subject, and with a view to show the 
 character and extent of his influence upon dramatic 
 art, in principle as well as practice. 
 
 About the same time, Mr. Young took leave of 
 the stage at this theatre, and with him departed the 
 last of a school of high attainments and cultivated 
 talent. 
 
 From this time the bills display a miserable strug- 
 gle for popularity ; show and scenery endeavouring to 
 supply the place of intellectual ability; and the fol- 
 lowing announcement sufficiently proves the uses to 
 which one of the national theatres was applied, 
 and we shall presently see it was pretty much the 
 same at the other privileged house: — '* Theatre 
 Royal, Drury-lane, Wednesday, Oct. 7, 1835. 
 ' Hamlet' and the * Maid of Cashmere.' The pub- 
 lic is respectfully requested to take notice that the 
 popular productions of the last two seasons, con- 
 sisting of ' Gustavus the Third,' 'Lestocq,' *The 
 Challenge,' * The Minister and Mercer,' ' The Red 
 Mask,' * Secret Service,' * My Neighbour's Wife,' 
 'The Regent,' *St. George and the Dragon,' * King 
 Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table,' * A 
 Good Looking Fellow,' 'The Revolt of the Harem,' 
 * Cinderella,' ' The Ferry and the Mill,' ' Scan 
 Mag :' — and all the other novelties produced during 
 that period, being by purchase of copyright, and by 
 
MISS o'neil. 77 
 
 authorship, the property of the lessee of this theatre, 
 and all the new scenery, machinery, dresses, and 
 decorations used in their representation, having 
 been transferred to this establishment, these pieces 
 can only be acted at Drury-lane." 
 
 Such was the unblushing announcement of the 
 lessee of the first theatre in England, which claimed 
 and exercised a patent for the exclusive right (with 
 one exception) of performing the genuine drama. 
 But worse remains behind ; all restraint was at last 
 abandoned. Mr. Van Amburgh's " tame wild 
 beasts" succeeded Mr. Ducrow*s horses and the 
 chief metropolitan theatre became a wild beast 
 show, and ultimately a shilling concert-room, where 
 the refuse of society assembled. 
 
 Commencing with Covent-garden Theatre at the 
 same time as we did with Drury-lane, we find Miss 
 O'Neil for a few seasons supporting the intellectual 
 drama, but her secession was much earlier than that 
 of her great contemporary, Kean, and consequently 
 that kind of drama the sooner sank to its secondary 
 station. Examining the play-bills, we trace a suc- 
 cession of the most extravagant spectacles, which, 
 with false glare, misled and debauched the public 
 taste. * Cherry and Fair Star,' * The Vision of the 
 Sun,' *The Cataracts of the Ganges,' 'The Spirits of 
 the Moon,' ' Peter Wilkins,' * Cymon,' ' The Som- 
 nambulist,' ' Raymond and Agnes,' ' The Bottle 
 Imp,' * Past and Present, or, The Hidden Treasure,' 
 ' Cinderella,' Laporte, Taglioni, Paganini, *Timour 
 
78 MR. osbaldiston's management. 
 
 the Tartar/ * Manfred/ * Robert Macaire/ ' Paul 
 Clifford/ &c. Some attempts were made to give 
 the genuine drama, and in 1829, Miss F. Kemble 
 was put through the chief female characters, but 
 with a partial popularity. Mr. Osbaldiston^s ma- 
 nagement has been somewhat too violently abused. 
 His chief fault was his vile arrangements in the au- 
 dience part of the theatre, which, from his lowering 
 the prices, and neglecting appearances, and not ex- 
 ercising a proper control, became vulgar and dis- 
 gusting in the extreme. In the last part of his 
 lesseeship, however, more was done towards the 
 performance of the regular drama, than there ever 
 has been since. Several of Shakspere*s finest plays 
 were very strongly cast. Charles Kemble, Van- 
 denhofF, Macready, with Farren, G. Bennett, H. 
 Wallack, &c., to second, with dingy scenery, and 
 incorrect costume, drew as good, if not better 
 houses than Mr. Macready, solus cum solo, with 
 fine scenery and show. 
 
 The seasons of 1838 and 1839, have acquired 
 from a few followers of the theatre, a far too ex- 
 aggerated admiration. Mr. Macready found the 
 theatre in a state of filth, and he cleaned it. 
 Stimulated by the pique which induced him to take 
 the theatre, he exerted himself by every means in 
 his power to create a sensation. In the first of 
 his two seasons he failed, and could only proceed 
 with the assistance of those he employed. It was 
 now found necessary to have recourse to a system 
 
MR. macready's management. 79 
 
 of indirect puffing. Theatrical humbug (the latter 
 word has been rendered classical by a former pre- 
 sident of the Royal Society) was carried to its 
 greatest height ; and some adept in the art thought 
 of ** reviving-' the popular plays of Shakspere. 
 *' Correctness of costume** was a phrase invented 
 to excuse pageantry, as was ** accuracy of locality" 
 for spectacle. * Hamlet/ * Lear/ * Macbeth,' ' Co- 
 riolanus,' ' The Tempest,' ' Othello,' * Henry the 
 Fifth,' were now '* revived." * Romeo and Juliet,' 
 and * The Taming of the Shrew,' and * As You Like 
 It,' were only played, not revived. The revivals 
 consisted in new dressing and new scening these 
 little-known productions. An attempt was made 
 to claim merit for the restoration of the pure text, 
 but in no instance was this done. The same system 
 of interpolation — the same dislocation of the scenes 
 — the same mutilation of the dialogue — the same 
 destruction of the general for a particular effect — 
 the same spurious taste was pursued. It was said 
 by the zealots of the theatre, that Shakspere would 
 have delighted in seeing his plays thus performed ; 
 but as he would have perceived how they were mis- 
 interpreted he would have smiled at the conceit. 
 Had his illustrious commentators, Schlegel or 
 Goethe, witnessed such mangled restorations, they 
 would have pronounced the nation unworthy of the 
 greatest genius that ever existed. Had these plays 
 been put forward without puffery and pretence, 
 they^ would have passed as very excellent stage re- 
 
80 MR. macready's management. 
 
 presentations, remarkable for show and decoration, 
 but certainly not as intellectual comments on the 
 immortal works. ** Save me from my friends,'* is 
 the finest of all proverbs, and Mr. Macready must 
 have frequently uttered it. By injudicious and ex- 
 cessive praise for acting with common honesty, they 
 raised (most unjustly) a doubt of his character ; by 
 their claims for an unusual appreciation of Shak- 
 spere, they have incited the contumelious remarks 
 of those most profoundly acquainted with the great 
 plays; by a claim to extraordinary archaiological 
 accuracy they have excited a searching criticism 
 that has proved his knowledge to be superficial; 
 by exaggerated adulation, they have called atten- 
 tion to his deficiencies as an actor ; and by their 
 perfidious flattery, they seem to have confirmed him 
 in a declamatory style of acting, into which he 
 -appears to have settled, after alternating between 
 the passionate transitions and colloquialisms of 
 Kean, the polished declamation of Young, and the 
 studied graces of the Kembles. This foolish con- 
 duct is to be regretted, as it has called forth a spirit 
 of indignation against what appeared to be a usur- 
 pation of the rights and claims of other portions of 
 the theatrical world, and the more so, as it must be 
 allowed that Mr. Macready's management was of 
 great service to the art by raising it in the estima- 
 tion of the influential classes of society, and by 
 leading the way to a higher and better mode of 
 representation. 
 
VESTRIS'S MANAGEMENT. 81 
 
 The present management at Covent-garden is 
 proceeding with the taste that characterised it in its 
 former theatre. In the way of embellishment it is 
 surpassing the previous attempts, without making 
 any extraordinary claim for so doing. The course 
 it has already been compelled to take, proves, how- 
 ever, that the larger theatres have incapacitated 
 themselves for the fulfilment of their own patent pri- 
 vileges — and that unable, with any chance of suc- 
 cess, to make the regular drama the staple 
 commodity or *^ leading article,*' they must forsake 
 it, or be ruined. Thus situated, that kind of en- 
 tertainment will perish, without an alteration of 
 the law ; to consider the state of which shall be our 
 next point. 
 
82 THE HISTORY OF THE PATENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE PATENTS. 
 
 The Theatres at the Restoration — The Two Companies — Dorset 
 Gardens Theatre — Junction of the Patents — Betterton's 
 Patent — Lincoln's Inn Fields Theatre — Origin of the Opera 
 House — ^The Lord Chamberlain's Power — Both the Patents 
 suspended — Collier's License — Sir Richard Steele's License 
 — Successors to Steele's License — Drury Lane Patent — 
 Evil of Patent Grants. 
 
 The rise and progress of the English drama, its con- 
 nection with classical literature, the circumstances 
 that have affected, and the taste that has controlled 
 it, have now been discussed. Its existing state both 
 at the minor and larger houses has also been de- 
 lineated, and it can scarcely be denied that the pre- 
 sent drama of England is disgraceful to its literature 
 and intellect, and in comparison with other branches 
 of art and science, contemptibly beneath mediocrity. 
 To endeavour to trace the causes of this gradual 
 ** atrophy " of the art, is one of the chief objects of 
 the present volume; and as one, if not the sole 
 cause, appears to be the legislation that has been en- 
 
THE THEATRES AT THE RESTORATION. 83 
 
 acted towards it, we shall proceed to trace this 
 branch of its history. 
 
 From the year 1649 to the year 1660 theatrical 
 performances were forbidden bylaw, and the Puritans 
 hoped they had completely abolished an entertain- 
 ment which their fanaticism led them to consider as 
 incompatible with Christian purity. The Cavaliers, 
 however, on the contrary, were only furnished by 
 these proceedings with an additional stimulus to 
 promote this form of recreation, and on the res- 
 toration of Charles II., the merry monarch and his 
 court seem to have patronised the theatre as much 
 from contempt towards the Roundheads, as from 
 natural inclination. To secure a control over what 
 in that age was no mean organ of publicity, and 
 which then, in some degree, effected results now 
 gained by means of the newspaper press, and also 
 as a cheap means of rewarding the staunch adherence 
 of two zealous Cavaliers, exclusive patents were 
 granted to Sir William Davenant and Mr. Thomas 
 Killigrew. By these instruments it was designed to 
 confine the performance of all theatrical representa- 
 tions of whatever kind to the two patentees and 
 their assigns, and for a time this was effected ; and 
 an agreement was entered into as to the appropria- 
 tion of the old standard plays and of the existing 
 actors. In the spring of 1662 Davenant opened at 
 the theatre in Portugal-row, Lincoln's Inn-fields, 
 the performers having been sworn as *' the Duke of 
 York's Company of Comedians." Killigrew's act 
 
84 THE TWO COMPANIES. 
 
 who had also been sworn in by the Lord Chamber- 
 lain, and were entitled, *'The Company of the 
 King," performed at the Red Bull Theatre in 
 Clerkenwell, and at the Tennis Court, near Clare- 
 market, until the 8th of April, 1663, when a new 
 theatre, erected on a spot called the Riding-yard, 
 in Drury-lane, the site of the present theatre, was 
 opened by them. This new theatre had no connec- 
 tion with, and was not erected on the site of, the 
 Cockpit or Phoenix (the Drury-lane theatre of the 
 elder time), that being situated on the opposite side 
 of the way, higher up towards Great Queen-street. 
 
 These two companies, created as they were by the 
 court, shaped their course under its immediate 
 patronage and almost management, and from the 
 smallness of their size, in proportion to the popula- 
 tion, we feel assured that the court and its followers 
 must have been their principal audience and support. 
 At first some few of the plays of the elder dramatists, 
 and more particularly Beaumont and Fletcher's, 
 were performed. These, however, were gradually 
 superseded by the productions of Dryden and the 
 other wits of the day, who adapted themselves to 
 the taste of their audience, and entirely forsaking 
 the old path of nature and poetical imagination, 
 enlisted conventional sentiment, party spirit, court 
 flattery, and the corrupt taste of the time for fustian 
 rhyme, as the means of success. Even the comedy, 
 though very brilliant, was more that of manners and 
 diction than of character. 
 
JUNCTION OF THE PATENTS. 85 
 
 Sir W. Davenant died in 1668, and his widow, 
 Lady Davenant, was associated with Betterton and 
 Harris (the chief actors), and her eldest son, Dr. 
 Davenant, in the management of the theatre. The 
 performances under this proprietage were conducted 
 at the then newly-erected theatre in Dorset Gardens, 
 at the bottom of Dorset-street, on the banks of the 
 Thames. They consisted principally of operas and 
 spectacles, so soon was the taste of the town de- 
 bauched under the influence of monopoly. In 
 1681 (less than eighteen years after the granting of 
 the patents), the holders of Davenant's patent, in a 
 very base way, entered into a compact (against the 
 very letter and spirit of both patents) with the two 
 principal performers under Killigrew's patent (Hart 
 and Kynaston), to withdraw from that company — a 
 prehminary step to the junction of the two compaijies, 
 which ultimately took place in 1682, according to 
 Gildon, in 1684 according to Gibber, and in 1686 
 according to the Biographia Britannica (article 
 " Betterton.") In 1687 Dr. Davenant, having in- 
 herited his father's patent on his mother's death, 
 assigned it to his brother Alexander. Thomas Kil- 
 ligrew died in 1682, and it would seem that the 
 necessary transfer of his property had some con- 
 nection with the junction of the companies and 
 patents ; but these transactions are very indistinctly 
 narrated, most of the histories being partial state- 
 ments drawn up to answer some particular purpose. 
 
 In 1690, the proprietage of the two patents and 
 
86 Lincoln's inn fields theatre. 
 
 of the united company was vested in Christopher 
 Rich, an attorney, and certain other shareholders, 
 entitled ** Adventurers." It is no where distinctly 
 stated how this transfer of property took place, 
 but it is said that Rich paid only sixty pounds to 
 Alexander Davenant for his father's patent, so little 
 value was at that time attached to these documents. 
 The united company continued to perform with very 
 indifferent success until 1694, when the discontent 
 at Rich's arbitrary and disreputable conduct became 
 so viol'ent, that King William granted Betterton and 
 the chief actors a license or patent to perform on 
 their own account. On the granting of this new 
 license, the highest legal authorities were applied to 
 as to the exclusiveness of the original patents, and 
 it was the universal opinion that they could not be 
 binding on the successors of Charles, and that the 
 crown had a right to grant any license it pleased. 
 
 By this new license Betterton^s company was 
 styled *'The King's Company," notwithstanding 
 Killigrew's patent which Rich still held, and in vir- 
 tue of which, in conjunction with Davenant's, he 
 still acted. A new theatre was opened by Better- 
 ton on the 30th April, 1695, on the site of the old 
 one in Portugal Row, Lincoln's Inn Fields, and of 
 this Congreve and Vanburgh became ultimately 
 proprietors. Rich's company, consisting of Cibber, 
 Mrs. Oldfield, &c., continued performing at Drury- 
 lane, and occasionally at Dorset Gardens, under 
 both the patents, and though at first they were con- 
 
THE ITALIAN OPERA HOUSE. 87 
 
 siderably injured by the popularity of the new com- 
 pany, they ultimately regained their station ; and 
 the proprietors of the Lincoln's Inn Fields theatre, 
 which was now under the direction of Sir John 
 Vanburgh and Congreve, to whom Betterton*s 
 license had been assigned, resolved on erecting a 
 theatre that by its magnificence should force the 
 town, as they vainly expected, into support. 
 This was the origin of what is now called the 
 Opera House, which was erected by subscription, 
 and opened on the 9th April, 1705, for Italian 
 operas and the regular drama. The appearance of 
 this theatre was very magnificent, but it was so 
 badly constructed that it did not become popular 
 until it had undergone great alteration ; and Con- 
 greve (a cautious man) early resigned his share, and 
 Sir John Van burgh was compelled by the state of 
 his circumstances to assign his license and property 
 in it to a Mr. Owen Swiney (apparently an adven- 
 turer and a creature of Rich's), who accordingly be- 
 came the manager in 1706 or 1707. 
 
 The changes of the theatres at this time are very 
 intricate, and a system of conduct seems to have 
 been pursued by the government towards them, 
 which with our imperfect knowledge appears to be 
 arbitrary and venal in the extreme. Gibber gives 
 us several instances of the despotism of the Lord 
 Chamberlain, who felt himself authorised to commit 
 the actors to prison, suspend the performances, and 
 
88 THE LORD chamberlain's POWER. 
 
 even transfer the licenses and patents as he deemed 
 fit. 
 
 It appears that Rich, by involving the affairs of his 
 theatre in a continual mystery, and pleading poverty 
 and want of success, contrived to prevent his fellow 
 sharers or *' adventurers*' from participating in the 
 profits ; and that Sir Thomas Skipwith, who was 
 a large sharer with Rich, was so disgusted with his 
 proceedings, that he made over his share to a Co- 
 lonel Brett, a gentleman of fortune, in the idea that 
 ** being a great favourite with the people in power," 
 he might get something like justice. Under this 
 authority Colonel Brett acted, and by his interest 
 with the vice chamberlain he contrived to have it 
 ordered that Owen Swiney should be compelled to 
 give up the comedians (with whom he was succeed- 
 ing very well), and that it should be arranged that 
 the Haymarket theatre should have the sole power 
 of performing Italian Opera, and Drury Lane the 
 English drama, there to act as " Her Majesty's only 
 company of comedians." 
 
 This arrangement, however, was as brittle as any 
 of the previous arbitrary regulations, and in 1709, 
 the chief actors revolted from the control of Rich 
 and the patentees, who had, immediately they pos- 
 sessed the power, began again to oppress and cheat 
 them. By influence with the Lord Chamberlain, 
 this revolt was sanctioned, and Cibber and all the 
 good actors, with the exception of Booth, then a 
 
BOTH THE PATENTS SUSPENDED. 89 
 
 young man, and a few of no note, ** all walked out 
 of the house, to w^hich they never returned till they 
 became themselves the tenants and masters of it." 
 
 Rich, with his two patents, was now completely 
 silenced by the Lord Chamberlain, and forbad in 
 any way to exercise them — an extraordinary proof 
 that these documents, now held so sacred, were and 
 had been long considered as valid only during the 
 life of the grantor and the pleasure of the Chamber- 
 lain. This proprietor indeed was never allowed 
 again to exercise them, and they remained in abey- 
 ance for more than five years, the two theatres, 
 Drury Lane and the Haymarket, playing without 
 any regard to them the whole time. 
 
 On the suspension of the patents Rich still re- 
 tained Drury-lane, refusing to give up possession ; 
 a Mr. Collier, however, described as an ** adven- 
 turous barrister," and who was a member of par- 
 liament for Truro, conceiving some advantage 
 might be gained by it, exercised his ** court in- 
 fluence, which, wherever the stage was concerned, 
 was not inconsiderable,*' and obtained a license to 
 form a company, and take possession of Drury-lane 
 Theatre, which he did by forcible means, at the 
 head of a rabble, in November, 1709, having pre- 
 viously obtained a lease of the other shareholders. 
 His only object was to make money out of the 
 actors, and his license was granted to him by go- 
 vernment with this view, the whole transaction be- 
 ing, in fact, a most barefaced and disgraceful job. 
 
90 collier's license. 
 
 At the end of his first season (1710) Collier found 
 himself a loser, and depending on his court influence 
 applied a second time to the Lord Chamberlain that 
 he might compel Owen Swiney and the actors to 
 exchange the Haymarket and operas for Drury-lane 
 and the English drama ; and this, with an allow- 
 ance of two hundred a-year, and other advantageous 
 stipulations in addition, was ratified. 
 
 This proceeding would seem sufficiently arbitrary, 
 but there appears no limit to the absolutism and 
 venality of the court. Evidently incompetent to 
 what he aimed at, he in the next year (1711) ac- 
 tually compelled Swiney, ** by his court influence," 
 to go back to the Haymarket, which his bad ma- 
 nagement had greatly depreciated, while he took 
 again to Drury-lane, which Swiney and the actors 
 had worked into a profitable speculation. This 
 was Swiney 's ruin, and Cibber tells us that " he 
 was driven to attend his fortune in some more fa- 
 voured climate, where he remained twenty years 
 an exile. '^ Collier completed his honourable con- 
 duct by screwing a sinecure out of the Drury-lane 
 company of seven hundred a year, leaving them to 
 manage the theatre. It is well worthy of observa- 
 tion that by the last license, granted by Anne, all 
 others were specially revoked. 
 
 As the fluctuations of the proprietage of the 
 theatre henceforward were not so complex as here- 
 tofore, it may be as well to see how the exclusive 
 grants had now been disposed of. The patents of Da- 
 
SIR RICHARD STEELe's LICENSE. 91 
 
 venant and of Killegrew were lying dormant in Rich's 
 strong box ; the Haymarket theatre was enacting 
 Italian operas and the English drama, under the li- 
 cense originally granted toBettertonby King William, 
 and Drury-lane was opened under a Hcense granted 
 (as a parliamentary job) to Collier and his assigns. 
 
 Upon the death of Queen Anne (1st of August, 
 1714), Gibber says, *' Their license, however, being 
 to be renewed, the vacation gave the managers time 
 to cast about for the better alteration of it; and 
 since they knew the pension of seven hundred a 
 year, which had been levied upon them for Collier, 
 must still be paid to somebody, they imagined the 
 merit of a Whig might now have as good a chance 
 for getting into it, as that of a Tory had for being 
 continued in it. Having no obligations, therefore, 
 to Collier, who had made the last penny of them, 
 they applied themselves to Sir Richard Steele, who 
 had distinguished himself by his zeal for the house 
 of Hanover." It appears also that they felt a regard 
 towards Sir Richard for his long-continued support 
 of them in his periodical publications. This appeal 
 was successful, and the hcense or patent, through 
 the influence of Steele's great patron, the Duke of 
 Marlborough, was granted to the worthy knight, 
 and to ** the former actors, who were managers," 
 (Cibber, Wilks, Dogget, and Booth). This license 
 or patent had also the advantage of being for a spe- 
 cified period, namely — Sir Richard's life, and three 
 years after his death. 
 
92 SUCCESSORS TO Steele's license. 
 
 On the death of Steele, in 1729, the license was 
 renewed for twenty-one years from the 1st of Sep- 
 tember, 1730. This license passed from the assigns 
 of the four managers into the liands of Fleetwood, 
 and on its renewal to Lacy and Garrick, and subse- 
 quently to Sheridan, Linley, and Ford ; and on the 
 rebuilding of the theatre in 1792, in the costly man- 
 ner in which it was erected by the aid of subscrip- 
 tions, it became vested in the subscribers partially, 
 if not wholly. The cost of the erection and deco- 
 ration of this new theatre was about two hundred 
 thousand pounds. It was now determined to pur- 
 chase the dormant patent, as Killigrew's was termed, 
 and that document, after having been in abeyance 
 a hundred years, was sold by the proprietors of 
 Covent-garden Theatre to the Drury-lane proprie- 
 tage for twenty thousand pounds. As only a portion 
 of the money could be paid, the remainder was 
 left on mortgage, bearing interest, in the hands of 
 the Covent-garden proprietage. 
 
 In 1809 this new theatre was entirely destroyed 
 by fire, and the present one erected by a joint-stock 
 subscription company of sharers of five hundred and 
 one hundred pounds each. In 1816 the twenty-one 
 years* license was renewed, because, as it may be 
 supposed, the dormant patent had not been able to 
 be redeemed. It is said, however, that the license 
 was not renewed in 1837, but that the patent was 
 actually transferred to the proprietors of Drury-lane, 
 and that this theatre now performs by that docu- 
 
EVIL OF PATENT GRANTS. 93 
 
 ment, which after slumbering, and indeed after 
 being annulled by the deed of 1682, which united 
 the two companies, and revoked by the last license, 
 granted by Anne, was resuscitated at an interval of 
 a hundred and fifty-five years. Lawyers can alone 
 settle the question of there being any such legal 
 inherent vitality in a patent grant; but, at all 
 events, morally we are certain it is to be regretted 
 that the will of an individual can thus hamper the 
 movements of a century and a half, and extend the 
 narrow views of one period in so indefinite a manner, 
 into succeeding ages. 
 
 It has been asserted, upon no less authority than 
 a former lessee of the theatre, that Kllligrew's 
 patent is not in existence, it having perished with 
 other documents in the fire of 1809. By other 
 authority, perhaps equally worthy of credit, it is 
 said now to be in the possession of Coutts's banking- 
 house. The actual existence of the parchment has, 
 however, little to do with the legal, and certainly 
 nothing with the moral, question of the good or evil 
 of the monopoly. 
 
 The confusion and evil arising from endeavouring 
 to control by rigid provisions those things that will, 
 if left free, accommodate themselves to the wants and 
 wishes of the period, have been amply proved in the 
 brief history of the patents. Before entering upon 
 the laws and other circumstances coercing the 
 drama, we will conclude the present chapter with a 
 recapitulation of the state of tlie drama from the 
 granting of the patents. 
 
94 EFFECT OF THE PATENT GRANTS. 
 
 For the first twenty years the town had two 
 theatres ; for the succeeding twelve one theatre ; 
 for the next forty-three years two theatres ; for the 
 next twenty-one years six theatres, which lasted 
 until the commencement of the present century, 
 when the various minor theatres began to advance 
 from ''dumb show" to burletta and melodratne, 
 some with the license of the Chamberlain, and others 
 with that of the magistrates. The intellectual 
 drama was all this time confined to a most narrow 
 field. When there were only two theatres, one was 
 almost exclusively devoted to show and spectacle ; 
 and when there was only one, the regular drama 
 was less frequently played than operas and pageants. 
 After 1737, when these gradually increased to five, 
 the Haymarket was devoted to Italian opera ; the 
 little theatre there, which then was emerging from 
 being an exhibition-room, was principally devoted 
 to farces and light pieces ; Astley's to horsemanship 
 and feats of agility ; Covent-garden to pantomime 
 and spectacle ; and Drury-lane more exclusively to 
 the regular drama. We have seen with what strug- 
 gles the players maintained themselves at all, and 
 we also see that all this fostering and licensing, and 
 unlicensing, and all the fierce endeavour to maintain 
 the exclusive privileges, only engendered an evasion 
 of the law and deterioration of the art which is almost 
 beyond cure. At present three theatres can alone 
 perform any one of the productions of our fine 
 regular drama, while the whole sixteen may perform 
 ' Jack Sheppard.* 
 
THE licenser's act. 95 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE LEGAL ENACTMENTS AFFECTING THE 
 DRAMA. 
 
 The Licenser's Act — The Licensing Act — The State of Dra- 
 matic Literature — Effect of the Monopoly — Effect of the 
 25th Geo. IL The Law encourages the worst kind of 
 Drama — The Reform of the Theatre — Mr. Home's Dramas. 
 
 In addition to the licensing system and the patents, 
 the drama has been oppressed by very severe statu- 
 tory enactments. By an act passed in the 1 0th of 
 George the Second, confirmatory of one enacted in 
 the last year of Anne's reign, any actor who per- 
 formed in any kind of theatrical entertainment with- 
 out special license from the crown, or without having 
 a settlement in the place where he performed, was 
 to be deemed a rogue and vagabond. As it was 
 scarcely possible for an actor to have a settlement 
 in more than one place, this put an end to actors 
 visiting the provincial theatres, and threw an odium 
 as well as imposed a most galling restriction on the 
 pursuit of the art. This act is generally known as 
 the Licenser's Act, it having been passed at the in- . 
 stigation of Sir Robert Walpole, who smarted under 
 the ill-judged satire of Fielding. The latter certainly 
 
96 THE LICENSING ACT. 
 
 deserves no thanks from the lovers of the drama for 
 provoking the wrath of a minister so powerful and 
 so unscrupulous as Sir Robert, by making the stage 
 the medium of political aggression. By this law, 
 the preamble of which confesses the intention of 
 crushing the drama, or at least of placing it com- 
 pletely within the power of the crown, the Lord 
 Chamberlain's and even the King*s power is limited 
 to the granting licenses or patents in the City of 
 Westminster, or such place as the King shall per- 
 sonally reside in. Very stringent regulations are 
 made to enforce this act, and by it at the present 
 day, according to the most eminent legal authorities, 
 ** the representation of any kind of dramatic enter- 
 tainments, even of such pieces as may have been 
 denied exhibition at the patent theatres, and actually 
 purchased by the others, is an infringement of these 
 statutes, and subjects all parties proved to be con- 
 cerned in such representations to a penalty of fifty 
 pounds for each performance.*' By the 25th of 
 George II., chap. 36, (the Licensing Act), which 
 act was confirmed and enlarged by 28 Geo. III., 
 chap. 30, power is given to magistrates in Lon- 
 don and Westminster, and within twenty miles, in 
 sessions, to grant licenses for music and dancing 
 and other entertainments of the like kind ; and 
 power is given to magistrates in sessions to grant 
 a license to perform such plays as are represented 
 at the patent theatres, so as such place be not within 
 twenty miles of London. By the last provision the 
 
ANOMALOUS STATE OF THE LAW. 97 
 
 provincial theatres are legalised, but it is only by 
 an infringement of tlie former act that the London 
 minor tlieatres perform any dramatic entertainment 
 at all (except those licensed by the Lord Chamber- 
 lain situate in Westminster), and every night such 
 theatres enact any thing beyond singing and danc- 
 ing — which they always do — they are infringing 
 the law, and every one of the audience participates 
 in and countenances a breach of the laws, and con- 
 sequently performs an immoral act. This crime (for 
 such it is) is participated in by the magistrates who 
 leniently, but falsely, construe the words ** singing*' 
 and '^dancing" to mean any kind of drama, even 
 the regular, for they never hint at refusing the license, 
 though the regular drama be the customary per- 
 formance of the theatre. Such a state of the law is 
 anomalous in the extreme ; and, but that we are too 
 ready to use fictions, instead of adapting the law to 
 the morale of the circumstances, the common sense 
 of the nation would revolt at the fact of a large body 
 of men, some of the highest respectability, including 
 the magistrates, the managers, the actors, and the 
 audience, all committing or aiding in a breach of the 
 law, for which they are in no danger of rebuke or 
 punishment, and for which it would be next to im- 
 possible to get a jury to condemn them. As it 
 would be as vain as impolitic in the present day to 
 endeavour to restrain the rational amusements of 
 the multitude, it surely will not admit of a doubt 
 that it is quite time that the law should be altered ; 
 
 H 
 
98 THE STATE OF DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 
 
 and that, having become a scarecrow without power, 
 for the sake of the general state and force of good 
 government it should be removed from the statute- 
 book. Any proceedings so sanctioned by authority, 
 so supported by sound reasoning and popular feel- 
 ing, should not be allowed to be put in opposition 
 to the law, as a constant proof of its injustice and 
 its weakness. The habitual successful violation of 
 legal enactments ever destroys their moral power, 
 and encourages the popular mind in a contemptuous 
 and rebellious feeling, very opposed to jiist and pru- 
 dent legislation. 
 
 The evil effects of the narrow and venal policy 
 exercised towards the stage manifest themselves in 
 every direction of the subject. It has, as we have 
 seen, produced an absurd and derogatory position 
 as regards the law, and we shall find that, as regards 
 its literature and its acting, it has been equally 
 injurious. 
 
 A pamphlet (by the author of this volume) on 
 **The Past and Present State of Dramatic Litera- 
 ture" (and which at least has been useful in proving 
 that the press of the country is on the side of a free 
 trade in the drama, that principle having been sup- 
 ported by upwards of a hundred newspapers, with 
 the exception of four), has entered more particu- 
 larly on this branch of the subject, and by a variety 
 of facts shows that while the drama was unshackled, 
 plays were far higher literary productions, and far 
 more numerous than since. It will be sufficient. 
 
ErFECT OF THE MONOPOLY, 99 
 
 therefore, here to trace the progress of that new 
 kind of drama engendered by the peculiar position 
 of the theatres with regard to the law. 
 
 On the granting the exclusive patents, but two 
 theatres (frequently only one at a time) were per- 
 mitted to perform what is considered the best kind 
 of drama ; but, although the quality could be dic- 
 tated, it was found impossible to restrain the quan- 
 tity ; and in consequence of the increasing demands 
 of the people, additional theatres were allowed to 
 perform an inferior kind of entertainment. Oppressed 
 and fettered by the patronage, and almost surveil- 
 lance, of the court, after the Restoration, the drama 
 became a mere echo of its sentiments and tastes. 
 Its guides and rulers being sensualists, it became 
 sensual in the extreme, and unable to maintain the 
 false energy and wit that for awhile made a show of 
 intellect, it in less than twenty years had recourse 
 to spectacle and music for its almost entire support. 
 It is the property of all monopolies to be the crea- 
 ture of a few and not of the many ; and the mono- 
 poly of the theatre has proved no exception to this 
 principle. As it passed from manager to manager 
 it received the impress of its governors, who were 
 swayed but by one motive, the making it a medium 
 of profit. It is seldom that the proprietor of an 
 exclusive privilege is of so elevated an understanding 
 as to be able to guage the real taste or capacity of 
 the public mind ; but, at the best, he is usually 
 guided by a clique of those whom he deems to be 
 
100 EFFECT OF THE MONOPOLY. 
 
 the leading intellects of the day, and, indeed, who 
 may be so, and yet totally unequal in genius to 
 appeal to, or to excite, the loftier qualities and capa- 
 cities of the public. Such was the case with the 
 theatre. The wits presided over it in Charles II. 's 
 time, to the exclusion of genuine poetry and passion. 
 The sentimentalists, Otway, Lee, Rowe, &c. next 
 succeeded ; and in after times came the light satirists 
 of fashionable life, Congreve, Steele, &c. During 
 each of these theatrical dynasties, there was, un- 
 doubtedly, ample space for a more universal drama, 
 such as had existed in the olden time — the drama 
 of nature, character, and observation ; but the law, 
 by narrowing the theatrical area, precluded the pos- 
 sibility of its manifesting itself, and the favourers of 
 the monopoly then, with the ignorant injustice that 
 usually adheres to the unjustly exalted, proclaimed 
 that the taste for it was extinct, and that it had run 
 its natural course. To such it was vain to say that 
 the skilful delineation of human nature would always 
 interest, and that there was the same material to 
 work upon as ever, and, probably, the same genius 
 to excite it, provided the way was cleared, and per- 
 fect freedom afforded for its manifestation. That 
 this was the fact is proved by the various attempts 
 that were made to throw off the incubus of the mo- 
 nopoly. Two of the greatest geniuses in their kind 
 that England ever produced first manifested their 
 talents in opposition to the law. Fielding and 
 Garrick both appeared at illegal theatres, and the 
 
THE RESULT OF THE 25tH GEO. II. 101 
 
 latter, who may be said to have restored nature to 
 the drama, only overpowered the legal impediments 
 to his career, by the possession of abilities so much 
 beyond the usual average of talent, that it is fair to 
 conclude that many actors and dramatists of great 
 ability were unable to pass the barriers thrown 
 around the drama by partial legislation. 
 
 That the pubhc taste for theatrical entertainments 
 was and is indestructible, is proved by the increase 
 of the theatres, the demand for which was so strong 
 that, in opposition to the real wishes of the court 
 and the ministers, it was found to be judicious to 
 relax some of the rigidity of the law ; and fifteen 
 years after the passing of the licenser's act, the ma- 
 gistrates were empowered (25th Geo. II., c. 36) **to 
 grant licenses for music and dancing and other 
 entertainments of the like kind." Could the framers 
 of this act have known that they were laying the 
 foundation for an extension of the drama of the 
 lowest kind, and multiplying playhouses of the worst 
 sort, they would have withdrawn in horror from the 
 proposition. Such, however, was the case. From 
 this time we find the smaller theatres advanced from 
 singing and dancing and feats of agility to recitative, 
 and so on to burletta, vaudeville, farce, melodrame. 
 At this point the law stopped them ; they were ad- 
 vancing towards an intellectual amusement, and 
 they must be stayed, as that had already been sold 
 to patent retailers. That the taste of the multitude 
 would have been elevated to the enjoyment of the 
 
102 THE REFORM OF THE THEATRE. 
 
 higher and better drama, can no more be disputed 
 than that it has risen by the free disseminatton of 
 the noblest works of literature to a due appreciation 
 of them. Had Shakspere been as freely acted as 
 printed, audiences would have fully appreciated him 
 and his class on the stage as on the table. Such 
 was, however, not the case ; and we have now ac- 
 cumulated a mass of theatrical literature almost 
 frightful to contemplate for its meanness and its^ 
 absurdity, its debasing influence and revolting vul- 
 garity. There are some extraordinary exceptions 
 to this sweeping denunciation; but could anyone 
 undergo the punishment of perusing the whole of 
 the minor drama from the time of passing this act 
 to the present time, he would confess it to be just 
 in the main. 
 
 This strange position of the law which encourages 
 the production of the worst kind of writing and 
 acting, is a contradiction so outrageous, that if it 
 referred to any commercial matter, it would be 
 swept away at a vote. But the state of the public 
 amusements, though affecting the whole of society 
 generally, does not affect a large class so par- 
 ticularly as to induce a vehement call for the re- 
 dress of the wrong. The audiences, who are the 
 parties really most concerned, are in the state of 
 children, who are not likely to call out for a better 
 system of education; but, on the contrary, only 
 clamour for an increase of stimulants — for more 
 show and noise, to satisfy their misdirected tastes* 
 
EXPECTATIONS FROM THE LEGISLATURE. 103 
 
 The actors are, in general, occupied with immediate 
 results, and though bitterly suffering from the unjust 
 system, have not foresight and unanimity sufficient 
 to make themselves regarded. The stage dramatists 
 are nearly in the same position, and are content to 
 remain in their humiliating station as intellectual 
 tailors to the theatres, providing shows and adapting 
 parts to the commands of their employers. 
 
 If reform come to the theatres, it must emanate 
 from a higher and more intellectual class, who, 
 knowing the capacity of the drama, regret its de- 
 graded situation. There are yet in the higher walks 
 of literature and the state men who have agreeable 
 associations with the theatre, and a genuine relish 
 for our splendid dramatic literature. The House of 
 Lords and the government itself, possess many 
 members who have done honour to the dramatic 
 muses. The premier himself has laid offerings on 
 the shrine of Thalia. Lord Holland has revealed 
 the Spanish drama to us; and no doubt Lord 
 Brougham, in his Briareus-like pursuits, has com- 
 mented on the subject, if he has not himself added 
 to its stores. Would that they would consider the 
 subject worthy, as it is, of legislation, and remove 
 from it those shackles that have degraded it into 
 a low and disreputable trade. The talents of the 
 other house would cordially support them. Many 
 of these have distinguished themselves as dramatists, 
 and a very strong phalanx of names presents itself. 
 Shell, Talfourd, Bulwer, Lord Morpeth, Lord Mahon, 
 
104 POPULARITY OF THE SUBJECT. 
 
 Lord J. Russell, Emmerson Tennentj Monckton 
 Milnes, D'Tsraeli, Gaily Knight, Lord Francis Eger- 
 ton, and numerous others of all parties and political 
 creeds, have manifested a genius for literature, and 
 many have made worthy offerings to the dramatic 
 muses, and should endeavour to award the rights 
 due to them. 
 
 The educated part of the public would echo their 
 appeal, and the literature of the nation would sup- 
 port it. Journals and works on all sides, from the 
 * Quarterly * and ' Edinburgh Reviews,' to the smallest 
 weekly paper, have declared the necessity of legisla- 
 tion, and have tacitly agreed to consider it, as it is, a 
 perfectly open question, unconnected with politics, 
 and belonging solely to literature and the fine arts. 
 
 That there is something ** rotten in the state" 
 would be alone siifficiently proved by the fact that the 
 author of 'Cosmo de Medici,' the * Death of Mar- 
 lowe,' and the * Essays on the Undeveloped Charac- 
 ters of Shakspere,' is not one of the foremost writers 
 for the stage as he is for the study. This author is 
 cited, because he is gifted with the highest dramatic 
 faculty, and he, of all the moderns who have yet 
 tried *' the bow of Ulysses," has best succeeded in 
 speeding an arrow into the bull's eye. His two 
 noble dramas are not mere wordy imitations of the 
 elder dramatists, catching only their quaintness and 
 ferocity, but kindred productions, inspired by a like 
 vigorous and splendid imagination, alike guided by 
 the instinct of a lofty genius, at once penetrating 
 
NEGLECT OF GENIUS. 105 
 
 and universal. The tragedy of * Cosmo de Medici' 
 has the might of Marlowe in it, and *' In sceptred 
 pall comes sweeping by," a deep and rushing 
 stream of human woe, resistless in its course. *The 
 Death of Marlowe ' is a superb piece of animation 
 and diction, worthy of the noblest period of our 
 high impassioned drama. These are no frigid imita- 
 tions of a worn-out form, no forced emanations of 
 an over-cultivated talent, but the outpourings of a 
 rich and abundant genius. They are here alluded to 
 as the strongest amongst many of the proofs of the 
 vile state of the theatre, which, so far from coveting, 
 shuns such productions, avoiding them as things it 
 cannot comprehend, and therefore dreads. To such 
 works, as to Shelley's ' Cenci,' performance can add 
 no honours, and the neglect of them can only be a 
 reproach to the managers and their patrons. Were 
 the restrictions removed, there can be no doubt, 
 however, that such works, and others of the same 
 class, if not quality, would quickly find a theatre for 
 themselves; and though at first they might have **afit 
 audience and few," they would ultimately engender 
 a better taste, and leaven the whole theatric circle. 
 
 It does not come within the scope of this outline 
 to estimate the various abilities of living dramatists; 
 and the one now referred to is selected as a proof 
 of the neglect by the theatres of true dramatic ge- 
 nius. At present there are two classes of dramatic 
 writers : the one for the stage, the other for the 
 closet. The former has doubtless amongst it many 
 
106 LIVING DRAMATISTS. 
 
 writers of high ability, who have stooped themselves 
 to the conventional demands of a corrupted stage ; 
 and who, if placed in their right position, above in- 
 stead of below the actors, would produce dramas 
 of the highest and best class. Mr. Knowles has 
 done wonders, shackled as he has been by the state 
 of the theatres, and, the magnanimity with which 
 he has dared to pourtray the finest and loftiest part 
 of our natures, has secured him a lasting position 
 amongst our great dramatists. Mr. Jerrold's various 
 powers, embracing pathos and satire, have mani- 
 fested themselves not only to the delight, but to the 
 improvement of the age; and, in a better state of 
 theatrical affairs, there can be no doubt, directed to 
 the highest form and aim of the drama, they would 
 rank him with those elder poets he was amongst 
 the first to emulate on the modern stage. Other 
 names are not mentioned, from the want of space to 
 characterise their excellencies ; and of the writers 
 for the closet more will be said hereafter. 
 
 It remains but to prove to the actors, dramatists, 
 and all connected with the theatres, the absolute 
 necessity of seeking a reform in the law, in order to 
 revive their pursuit and profession, and put it on a 
 level with the other branches of the fine arts. At 
 the same time, let it be always borne in mind, no 
 privileges are sought for, it being only required that 
 the law shall remove obsolete and partial barriers, 
 and give to the cultivators of dramatic art, as to all 
 other pursuits, freedom to work their own way. 
 
SUPINENESS OF THE ACTORS. 107 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE EFFECT OF THE MONOPOLY ON ACTORS. 
 
 Supineness of the Actors — Exclusiveness of the Patent Thea- 
 tres — The Monopoly destructive to Actors — The Despotism 
 of popular Actors — The Monologue System — The means 
 of elevating the condition of Actors — The Wrongs of In- 
 tellectual Actors — Modem Theatrical Management — Dete- 
 rioration of the Art — Advantages of the Free System to 
 Actors. 
 
 There appear to be many actors who have not yet 
 decided as to the good or evil of the monopoly in 
 the drama. Some very intelligent men are to be 
 met with who, though suffering all the evils engen- 
 dered by the partial state of the law, yet cling to 
 the national theatres with the same kind of devotion 
 that the wooden-shoed serfs of the ancien regime of 
 France formerly did to the ** Grande Nation.'* It 
 has been said that as the individual pride lessens, 
 the national increases — on the principle that when 
 the more immediate causes of gratulation decrease, 
 we seek the remoter to sustain the vanity inherent in 
 <)ur nature. And this seems to be the case with re- 
 gard to the theatre ; its professors apparently cling to 
 
108 EXCLUSIVENESS OF THE PATENT THEATRES. 
 
 the splendour of Drury-lane and Covent-garden 
 Theatres as emblems of their professional grandeur, 
 and as the links which connect them with the world 
 of wealth and power. These are their Versailles 
 and Tuileries ; and no matter how depresoed their 
 own condition may be, they still derive some grati- 
 fication from being an integral portion of a pursuit 
 having such ostentatious marks of its existence. 
 
 Exclusiveness has always its charms, and often 
 its power. The unthinking always consider it as 
 indicative of merit, and therefore capable of con- 
 ferring honour. The patent theatres could always 
 confer distinction ; and when in their flourishing 
 state they possessed many performers of hiffh attain- 
 ments and ability, it certainly was creditable and 
 serviceable to belong to them,/ Even then, however, 
 the system of exclusiveness had" the same cruel ope- 
 ration, and many men. of genius, if not of the very 
 highest class, yet of a raie very much beyond that 
 of the average, withered under their ban ; and, 
 driven to rant and melodrame, or sawdust and 
 buffoonery, with crushed hopes and desperate wills 
 have passed their lives in the cheerless misery of 
 an imaginative profession unimaginatively pursued. 
 
 It has been the aim of the writer to test his asser- 
 tions and positions by the history of the theatres ; 
 and it will be found that this method will substan- 
 tiate the statement that the monopoly of the patent 
 theatres is the great cause of the sufferings of actors 
 and the degradation of dramatic art, and that, 
 
THE MONOPOLY DESTRUCTIVE TO ACTORS. 109 
 
 if not cliecked, it must prove its entire ruin. We 
 see that the actors, as well as the stage writers, have 
 deteriorated, and are sinking to a state of dissolute- 
 ness and contempt, from which, if allowed to reach 
 the utmost point of degradation, it will be next to 
 impossible to retrieve them. 
 
 The difficulties that beset the highest rank of 
 acting, the hazards of its position, the uncertainty 
 of its rewards, and the dubiousness of its station as 
 regards polished society, are such as to deter men 
 possessing the requisite attainments and abilities 
 from attempting the pursuit. The ultimate object 
 of candidates for the highest theatrical honours is to 
 be permanently fixed at one of the national theatres. 
 But to get there requires qualities rarely united in 
 one being, and to maintain themselves when there, 
 a combination of circumstances" beyond their con- 
 trol. Owing to the vast size of the theatres, and the 
 enormous rent and expenses, the managers play a 
 desperate game, and make a stupendous outlay to 
 command success. Variety and novelty are the 
 chief objects they keep in view, in order to attract 
 and secure the heterogeneous class that can alone fill 
 their theatres. For this purpose they engage three, 
 if not four, companies of actors : a set for tragedy 
 and comedy — one for melodrame and pantomime — 
 a large operatic company — and another for spectacle 
 and ballets. To the regular actor and actmg, this 
 is fatal. If a prima donna become a favourite, there 
 is a run on the piece, and the other three sets, or 
 
110 HAZARDS OF THE PROFESSION. 
 
 two of them at least, are what is technically termed, 
 *' shelved;*' that is, they are for forty, or fifty, or 
 even a hundred nights, entirely withdrawn from the 
 pubHc notice, and -from the practice of their art. 
 In many instances they have been harassed by 
 petty arts until they have thrown up their engage- 
 ments in disgust, and if they do not suffer in this 
 way, they rust in an idleness that is equally injuri- 
 ous to them. This would not be the case if there 
 was not a monopoly, because then these four kind 
 of companies would each find a theatre for itself, and 
 the portion of the public who might still like to 
 witness the species of drama it preferred, would 
 have the advantage of doing so, and not be, as at 
 present, debarred from it during the run of one par- 
 ticular piece. 
 
 When the law gave exclusive permission to the 
 patentees to perform all kinds of stage represen- 
 tations, it did not contemplate the variety that has 
 since arisen, nor foresee the evil it would produce. 
 In addition to the other evils, is the overpowering 
 authority it gives to one or two individuals. If a 
 great tragedian becomes a favourite, he as certainly 
 becomes a petty despot. By every art of the 
 managers, his, perhaps just, celebrity is fostered into 
 being **the rage." Puffs from every quarter of the 
 newspaper compass create a tornado of talk ; friendly 
 claqueurs form bands (as in the case of Kean's 
 " Wolves'') to support him ; all the other actors are 
 sacrificed to him; dramatists bow down before him, 
 
DESPOTISM OF POPULAR ACTORS. Ill 
 
 and the audience are bewildered into an undistin- 
 guisbing- admiration. His will has now become 
 absolute, and even the managers tremble before 
 " the brazen image" which they themselves have set 
 up. Kemble's conduct to Colman, Kean's conduct 
 to Bucke and to Grattan, are still fresh in the re- 
 membrance of the theatrical world. A more recent 
 instance, however, is said to have occurred with the 
 leading tragedian of the day, who, it is reported, 
 issued his *' ukase," whilst performing at the Hay- 
 market, to the manager of the first national theatre, 
 forbidding him to perform ' Hamlet,' and those 
 plays in which he intended to appear four months 
 after, until he came to perform them ; thus — if he 
 has done so — dictating to, and controlling the 
 pleasures of the town, and depriving a very worthy 
 brother actor (Mr. Elton) of the opportunity of dis- 
 playing his abilities in those characters most suit- 
 able to him. If such be the case — and the assertion 
 is very rife in theatrical circles — it bespeaks the 
 drama to have sunk to a state beneath contempt ; and 
 renders the profession of acting one so exposed to in- 
 sult and degradation as to be unworthy of an in- 
 tellectual and cultivated person. We are^ ourselves 
 witness to one piece of despotism on the part of 
 *' the tragedian" alluded to, in his performance of 
 * Shylock,' where he violated Shakspere's text, and 
 deprived a very pleasing actor (Hemming) of the 
 little dialogue he had, in order to heighten, as he 
 conceived, but in fact to throw a false glare on, 
 
112 THE MONOLOGUE SYSTEM. 
 
 some of his own points. This piece of bad taste, as 
 well as selfishness, occurred in the scene where 
 Salanio and Salarino banter Shylock on the flight of 
 his daughter. The dialogue was not '* effective,*' 
 as given by Shakspere, and therefore the speeches 
 of the inferior characters were jumbled together to 
 suit the superior actor. Will these mighty actors 
 never learn that a true pluy, such as one of Shak- 
 spere's, is not a block of wood rudely carved, but a 
 living tree, *' with boughs, twigs, leaves, buds, 
 blossoms, and fruit,** and that these attempts to clip 
 it, like the box-trees of the former cits* gardens, 
 into grotesque shapes, is a barbarism and valgarity 
 that cannot any longer be tolerated. 
 
 These '' fantastic tricks,*' and an infinite variety 
 of others, tend to destroy the drama at its root. Not 
 only are new plays written to display alone the pecu- 
 liarities of one, or at the most, two favourities, but 
 the ancient heir-looms of the theatre are mangled to 
 suit the distortions of the reigning mime. The art of 
 acting is withered and corrupted, and a play will 
 soon be modelled on what some " great tragedian'* 
 is said to have desired. Gibber's ' Richard III.', with 
 every part but Glo'ster's *' cut to lines such as 
 Catesby's." Had there not been a monopoly which 
 enabled the few to take advantage of the many, by 
 thus juggling them, the men of taste and power who 
 were actors, would have revolted from the base 
 system, and would have found a sufficiently en- 
 lightened audience to have supported them : but as 
 
THE »IONOLOGUE SYSTEM. 113 
 
 the law exists, the perverted system is upheld by 
 every device that can allure the senses, and abase 
 the judgment ; and all better models being re- 
 pressed, the playgoers themselves become corrupted, 
 and acquiesce in the error. Give freedom to the 
 theatre, and a healthier and sounder taste will revive. 
 ** The stars" will soon pale their ineffectual fires, or 
 be contented to shine in their constellations. 
 
 The profession of an actor appears at present to 
 be the very worst an intellectual man can select. 
 Its requisites are more various, its difficulties 
 greater, its remuneration (except to an exorbitantly 
 paid few) worse, and more uncertain, and its duties 
 more harassing, than those of any other. In ad- 
 dition to these impediments, it cannot be denied 
 (although it is excessively unjust) that an odium still 
 clings to it, arising from long existing prejudices, 
 greatly fostered by the state of the art, and the con- 
 duct of many of its followers. The more ascetically 
 religious portion of society have inherited a rooted 
 aversion to it from the misinterpretation of the 
 elders of the church, who, in the early periods of 
 Christianity, denounced theatrical exhibitions as 
 irremediably connected with idolatry. This taint in 
 the public estirnation has been greatly maintained 
 by the legal position of the majority of the class, 
 and the consequent deterioration of the art. It is 
 a sign of the height of civilization, when one class 
 is ready to abandon an hereditary conventional su- 
 periority over another, or even to abolish invidious 
 
114 WRONGS OF INTELLECTUAL ACTORS. 
 
 distinctions not arising from inherent qualities ; but 
 this sign of refinement is not the characteristic of 
 the present age, notwithstanding its vast claims to 
 liberality. Nothing can obliterate such prejudices 
 but a long and steady course of respectability, and 
 this it is at present scarcely possible for the ma- 
 jority of the profession to pursue ; and therefore it 
 is that the regeneration of the theatre is so im- 
 portant to actors. Until the pursuit of the majority 
 is legalised, and put into a position to enable men 
 of education and talent to derive the same estima- 
 tion and emolument from it, as from any other in- 
 tellectual employment, it is in vain to hope for a 
 reform. This alone can be done by giving the same 
 freedom to it as to all other professions, and thus 
 widening the field of success, and destroying the 
 petty impediments that at present encumber the 
 way. 
 
 The situation of the intellectual actor seems to be 
 worse than ever. He shifts from theatre to theatre, 
 and is associated, at the will of his manager, with 
 horses and wild beasts. He is made to partake of 
 the risk of the loss at the theatre where he is, though 
 he has no share in the gains beyond his stipulated 
 salary. He is the first to suffer ; and it now seems 
 a common proceeding to declare half or almost no 
 salaries at the end of the week, provided the houses 
 have fallen off. The injustice of making him thus 
 participate in the risk is so much the greater, as it 
 is incurred for the most part upon a portion of the 
 
MODERN THEATRICAL MANAGEMENT. 115 
 
 speculation in which he is in no way concerned. 
 The manager ventures some thousands in a spec- 
 tacle, and if it fails of eflPect, the regular actor 
 immediately feels it in the reduction of his salary, 
 or perhaps its total loss. He thus runs the risk of 
 the three companies incorporated under one ma- 
 nagement, and the failure of the operatic, melodra- 
 matic, or pantomimic company involves him in ruin. 
 Was he playing in a theatre specially devoted to his 
 branch of the art, he would at all events incur only 
 the risk of his own pursuit. It may be said that he 
 participates in their success ; but this, were it so, 
 would be equally unjust to the others ; and it is not 
 the case, as at the utmost it only enables him to gain 
 his stipulated salary. 
 
 All this is only one of the hydra heads of the mo- 
 nopoly. The patent theatres involve such a risk of 
 capital, that capitalists avoid them, and their mana- 
 gers have latterly been mere speculators with little 
 or nothing to lose. Theatrical management has 
 thus become a species of gambling, and the most 
 honourable only pay when their receipts permit them. 
 The patent theatres have thus virtually become 
 share-theatres of the worst kind, for if they are ever 
 so successful the actor only gets his salary ; whereas, 
 if they are the reverse, he loses every thing by the 
 bankruptcy, or insolvency, of the lessee. 
 
 It is not only in pocket that the regular actor is a 
 sufferer by the patent theatres being made mere 
 exhibition places for music, scenery, and extraordi- 
 
116 DETERIORATION OF THE ART. 
 
 nary performances — but he also suffers in reputa- 
 tion and personal independence. He is sacrificed 
 to every novelty, and either forced out of his line, 
 or entirely thrown aside. Even if his class of 
 drama is performed, if he is not, or is not esteemed 
 to be, a first-rate actor, his part is sacrificed to 
 heighten the effect of the prominent performer ; and 
 in the new plays he is merely considered as a foil to 
 the ** leading tragedian. *' The system also engenders 
 the meanest intrigues and the pettiest despotism. 
 
 The deterioration in the art of acting may also be 
 traced to the same source. The impetus given to 
 melodrame and farce by the law allowing only that 
 class of dramas at the great majority of the theatres, 
 has fostered it to the exclusion of the drama of 
 character and passion ; and the country theatres 
 principally performing the inferior kind, there are no 
 schools for acting left. Even in London, the actors 
 of the patent theatres have deteriorated, and Farren 
 is cited by the writers of the press as a proof of the 
 destruction of good acting by such means, and 
 Charles Mathews as an instance of not having a 
 good school wherein to acquire his art. Several 
 actors of tolerable natural ability have been edu- 
 cated at the minor metropolitan houses only, and 
 though now engaged at the regular theatres, are 
 totally unacquainted with the real drama of the 
 country, or as it is technically phrased, " are not 
 up in the stock parts.'' The business of the ster- 
 ling plays, which is mostly traditional, and origi- 
 
INCLIJJATION FOR THE INTELLECTUAL DRAMA. 117 
 
 nally derived from the supervision of the dramatist, 
 is being lost; and it was very justly observed by 
 one of the newpapers, that the '* business of * Much 
 Ado about Nothing/ was evidently not known at 
 Drury Lane." 
 
 The size of the patent theatres is also excessively 
 injurious to actors, requiring an union of bodily and 
 mental powers in one individual that reduces the 
 chances of success considerably. Even to the very 
 few whose " physique" is sufficient for ** the wilder- 
 ness," it is very injurious, seducing them into rant 
 and exaggeration ; and to many very imaginative 
 and passionate actors, it must present an impassable 
 barrier. 
 
 Such being the state of the case, it seems difficult 
 to understand how actors, attached to the intellec- 
 tual, or indeed any, portion of the drama, can hesi- 
 tate as to the effect of the monopoly. Were it re- 
 moved, there can be no doubt that three or four of 
 the lesser theatres would immediately devote them- 
 selves to the regular drama, and capitalists would 
 be found, who are now restrained by the state of 
 the law, to afford means to enact it properly. It is 
 not the ability of a theatrical ** star" that is required 
 to enact a good play, but the combination of an in- 
 telligent set of actors, who can relish and express 
 the merits of the author. As at present performed 
 illegally at the minor theatres, it is certainly no gra- 
 tification to see it enacted by a second-rate melo- 
 
118 ADVANTAGES OF THE FREE SYSTEM. 
 
 dramatic company, with one tolerable actor as ** a 
 star.'* 
 
 The public, which is as prone to follow good as 
 bad example, would soon recognise the better from 
 the worse, and such is the indestructibility of the 
 drama that it would quickly revive, in spite of the 
 long oppression it has endured. Amongst the other 
 advantages to actors of a number of moderate sized 
 theatres over two immense ones, would be the steadi- 
 ness and respectability it would give the actor by 
 keeping him constantly before the public at one 
 theatre, and thus enable him to attain that most 
 desirable of all things in English society, ** a local 
 habitation and a name." He would not then be 
 confounded withi the vagabond conduct of a mob 
 of inferior performers, horse-riders, and menagerie 
 men ; he would not be involved in the extensive 
 speculation of pageants. He would belong to a 
 band of intellectual men, who would know how to 
 maintain their station from the aggressions of vulgar 
 charlatanism, and they would have, at all events, to 
 be under the guidance of educated men, for none 
 other could conduct such a theatre prosperously. 
 The number of theatres of the like kind would secure 
 an opportunity to rising talent, and a security 
 against managerial oppression ; and, without in- 
 curring the charge of promising a theatrical ** mil- 
 lenium," it may be safely said that the destruction 
 of the monopoly, and the consequent distribution of 
 
RESULT TO ACTORS. 119 
 
 the audiences and the various species of the drama 
 to a greater number of smaller theatres, would give 
 the actor a wider means of success, a freer market 
 for his talents, a more permanent means of perfect- 
 ing himself in his art, a steadier, if not a higher, 
 remuneration, a better school of instruction, and 
 altogether a firmer and more reputable station in 
 society. 
 
120 THE ABANDONMENT OF THE HIGH DRAMA. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE EFFECT OF THE MONOPOLY ON 
 DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 
 
 The Abandonment of the High Drama — ^The Law fosters the 
 Worst kind of Drama — The Labours of Dramatic Composi- 
 tion — The Impediments of the Dramatist — Fate of Five- 
 Act Plays — The Arrogance of Success — The Better Drama 
 discouraged — The Historical Painter and the Dramatist — 
 The Difficulties of the High Dramatist— The Neglect of 
 Genius. 
 
 One of the greatest evils of monopoly is the liability 
 of its abuse, and of all monopolies the theatrical has 
 been the most abused. The patentees have claimed 
 exclusively the privilege of giving to the public the 
 genuine and highest drama, but they have also dis- 
 torted this privilege into the right of withholding it. 
 All the licenses, and even the patents of Charles II., 
 infer that the privilege granted would be exercised, 
 and not merely made a plea for preventing the ex- 
 hibition of the genuine drama. The holders of the 
 patents and their lessees, however, have considered 
 themselves as in no way bound to encourage and 
 
THE LAW FOSTERS THE WORST KIND OF DRAMA. 121 
 
 promote the genuine drama, but have only exercised 
 their exclusive grants to turn their theatres into 
 popular exhibition places. Not a single foreign or 
 native monstrosity has appeared but it has been 
 eagerly sought after by the managers of the large 
 theatres to bring money to their treasuries ; and in 
 this proceeding they have had to run races with the 
 minor houses, by whom they have frequently been 
 forestalled. Rope dancers, ladder-walkers, cats and 
 dogs, monkeys, and men-imitators of monkeys, any 
 body or any thing that it was conjectured could at- 
 tract, have been snapped at by them. Murphy was 
 offered the price of a first-rate drama to lecture on 
 the weather, and the Bayaderes were only prevented 
 appearing on their boards by the superior activity 
 of Mr. Yates. With what pretence of justice, after 
 a century of conduct of this kind, they can lay claim 
 to any exclusive privilege it is difficult to imagine. 
 The maintenance of a monopoly, which is only ex- 
 ercised to the destruction of the production it was 
 meant to foster, is an outrage on common sense and 
 justice so obvious, that if once fairly brought before 
 the legislature it must be abolished. 
 
 Our present object is to trace the operation of 
 this vile system upon the hterature of the drama, 
 which, to whatever cause it may be attributed, every 
 one acknowledges has dwindled to a state as in- 
 jurious as it is contemptible. In developing the 
 results of the exclusive principles, we find them 
 operating in a variety of ways, but all to the same 
 
122 THE LABOURS OP 
 
 injurious result. It has already been shown how 
 it affects actors, and it operates in the same mode 
 upon the dramatists — creating a demand for inferior 
 productions, and increasing the difficulties of the 
 higher class of writers. The law says to all the 
 theatres — play burletta, farces, melodrames, dance, 
 sing, fight mock battles, show wild beasts, enact ' Tom 
 and Jerry ' and ' Jack Sheppard,' as much and as 
 often as you please, but perform no moral or poetical 
 plays without our license, and but at two or three 
 places. The result, of course, is, that the dramatic 
 talent and inclination is turned into the worst and 
 meanest channel ; and the taste of the public is con- 
 sequently gradually lowered to it, until it becomes 
 insensible to, and almost incapable of, enjoying the 
 higher and purer kind. 
 
 The martyrdom which a writer of the higher draipa 
 has to endure is greater than in any other mental 
 endeavour, not even excepting the historical painter. 
 To compose a five- act play that shall produce its 
 just effect is a labour which none can comprehend 
 who have not attempted it. To produce an homoge- 
 neous work from a variety of minute incidents and 
 events — to construct a plot that shall be interesting, 
 but not intricate — to develop character with pro- 
 fundity and simphcity — to clothe the strongest 
 throes of the passions in the immortal language 
 and figures of the imagination — to create with 
 such art that it shall be received for nature — is not 
 the result of an idle outpouring of a rhapsodical 
 
DRAMATIC COMPOSITION. 123 
 
 brain, but the united effort of the highest faculties 
 of man. It is not given to the grandest genius to 
 produce such a work with ease, not even to Shak- 
 spere. It is conceived at first rudely and dimly, 
 and but by glimpses gradually unfolds itself to the 
 artist. Fitfully do its noblest parts present them- 
 selves, frequently fading ere the lower faculty can 
 fix them in words. New powers present themselves 
 as he proceeds in his work ; and the perturbed and 
 glowing imagination " bodies forth " a variety of 
 forms, which the nice instinct of genius has to shade 
 into keeping with the noble whole. That which is 
 the efiect of frequent efforts and various inspira- 
 tions has to be fused into '' one entire and perfect 
 chrysolite,*' so that it may come on the auditor 
 and spectator as the continuous emanation of one 
 conception. Having poured forth the stores of 
 collected observation, having given, by his instinc- 
 tive genius, substance and imperishable existence to 
 the rhapsodical visions of his imaginative faculty ; 
 having wound up his whole mental being to the 
 strongest and most potent exercise of its combined 
 faculties ; having instructed himself in the lower art 
 of what will affect those he addresses, he completes 
 his play — the result of a severe exercise of his high- 
 est faculties, and the produce of a mental labour 
 great as the mind of man can undergo. In all this 
 he has been sustained by the strong flow of his 
 energies ; and if they have ever flagged, he has re- 
 newed them by an ardour kindled at the imperish- 
 
124 THE IMPEDIMENTS OF THE DRAMATIST. 
 
 able fame of his immortal predecessors. The only 
 reward he can know, is acted success — the know- 
 ledge of his might to move the minds of his fellow- 
 men — the consciousness of a noble aim, and a solid 
 reliance on his abiding fame. 
 
 In the present state of theatrical affairs, when 
 such a drama is composed, the miseries of its author 
 begin. Warm from composition, and elated by the 
 consciousness of the merit of his work, and having 
 submitted his production to rigid revision, he pro- 
 ceeds to get it acted. One of the two patent 
 theatres is his aim, and if he is wealthy or well re- 
 commended, he obtains an interview, or rather an 
 audience, with the managed, who, amidst a bevy of 
 scene-painters, mechanists, dancers, musicians, &c. 
 at last desires that the dramatic aspirant be intro- 
 duced. He is received with a kind of theatrical 
 royalty, and treated with an ill-concealed conde- 
 scension. The manager assures him that he is over- 
 whelmed with business, and implies that none but 
 intellect of the highest order and a frame of hercu- 
 lean vigour could endure what he has to go through. 
 Having thus sufficiently abased, as he conceives, the 
 mind of the dramatist, the subject of the interview 
 is entered upon, not without frequently-renewed 
 hints of the v^Juable time the manager is thus 
 squandering. The nature of the performance is 
 then inquired — if a tragedy, is it domestic or classic? 
 
 Has it a fine female part for Miss ? Is the 
 
 leading character calculated to display the abilities 
 
FATE OF FIVE-ACT PLAYS. 125 
 
 of Mr. ? Is it a full piece? What are the 
 
 situations ? Wherein rests its force ? If these 
 should, by a miracle, be answered to his satisfaction, 
 he is delighted with the opportunity of encouraging 
 young merit — he has always done so. Nobody 
 regrets, more than he does, the vile taste of the 
 public for show and scenery — but what can he do ? 
 The overwhelmed dramatist is then assured his work 
 shall be put into the hands of a very first-rate man 
 to be examined. He can make no promises of ac- 
 ceptation — he has already heaps of dramas — three 
 or four first-rate tragedies — seven or eight comedies 
 — besides several very clever operas and melodrames, 
 one from a member of parhament, another from the 
 very first novelist of the day — besides numerous 
 pieces from the leading actors — and one (but it must 
 not be mentioned) from the greatest and most in- 
 exorable critic of the age. This must be attended 
 to — not that he thinks much of it — but if it is not, 
 the Easter piece on which he has spent two thousand 
 pounds, will be pronounced a disgrace to Bariholo- 
 mew Fair, and he will be ruined. However, he 
 shall be very happy to give his very earliest atten- 
 tion to the present ^^piece" which he is sure, from 
 the party introducing the dramatist, must possess 
 very considerable merit. The bewildered author is 
 then bowed out, and left to wander over the stage 
 amidst the perils of trap-doors and sliding-boards. 
 
 What will follow this interview it is difficult to 
 predicate. He may never hear of the manager or 
 
126 FATE OF FIVE- ACT PLAYS. 
 
 his work again. He may have it returned with a 
 fulsome letter, with another author's production in- 
 stead of his own. If by any extraordinary circum- 
 stances the play should be approved, either because 
 it has very applicable popular allusions (perhaps to 
 the Queen's marriage), or the other great expecta- 
 tions may have missed fire, then a polite letter is 
 received by the dramatist, the play possesses great 
 genius, and the manager ** will be happy to avail 
 himself of it when circumstances may suit." The 
 author now fancies success and fame are his ; all his 
 toils are rewarded ; all his doubts of his own capa^ 
 cities, which had begun to oppress him, clear away, 
 and he sees his name enrolled amongst the acknow- 
 ledged dramatists. Miserable dupe ! — now comes 
 his bitterest suffering. He waits in ill-repressed im- 
 patience weeks, perhaps months ; at last the wel- 
 come summons arrives; the parts are perhaps cast 
 — the scenery appointed — the name even announced 
 — the puffs preliminary issued of " a truly noble 
 tragedy, &:c.," — when lo ! suddenly the whole 
 vision melts away — the manager is never to be seen 
 — the porters are surly or rude — the season closes, 
 and the manager, perhaps, by great dexterity, is 
 caught by the \nhappy dramatist getting into the 
 Dover mail fo: a continental trip. He was about to 
 write — the most unforeseen circumstances had arisen 
 to prevent the bringing out that most beautiful tra- 
 gedy — the leading actor had taken a sudden disgust 
 to the part — or it would have been ruin to stop the 
 
FATE OF FIVE-ACT PLAYS. 127 
 
 successful career of the gentleman who walked on 
 his head over the pit, or of the new singer — the 
 
 member for had sent in a splendid melo- 
 
 drame, and he brought, by his private connexion, 
 three nights certain to the whole boxes — the drama- 
 tist of the day had been reconciled, and he was 
 obliged to take his new play — there was, moreover, 
 a disrelish in the public mind for the tragic, it was 
 not the rage just now; and, in fine, a theatre is a 
 mercantile speculation, and the great outlay, the 
 caprice of the public, the difficulty of knowing what 
 the critics wanted — he did not think they knew 
 themselves — must plead his excuse with any reason- 
 able mind ; he did not wish to behave unhandsomely 
 
 to any man — and if Mr. would bring him a 
 
 good broad farce, with three old men's parts and 
 a country boy, he would accept it at once — next 
 season. 
 
 The dramatist has now nothing to do but to hang 
 or drown himself, or burn the result of all his labours. 
 Probably, about two years have now elapsed from 
 the completion of his play, and he finds himself with 
 nothing but a heap of bitter disappointment for his 
 trouble. What becomes of him no one knows or 
 cares, but he vanishes from the visible world, and 
 *' may hang, or starve, or drown, '* for what it mat- 
 ters. His friends pity or despise him, and he is set 
 down as that most baited of human monsters, ** a 
 disappointed author." If he prints his productions, 
 the critics pass a hasty sentence on a portion of 
 
128 THE ARROGANCE OF SUCCESS. 
 
 them, and the rest are divided between the author's 
 friends and the butter-shop. 
 
 It will be said that this picture is overcharged ; 
 but names and dates could be given to verify in- 
 stances of the same kind — not only one but many. 
 Does not the long delay in producing such a play 
 as ' Mary Stuart' (formerly Rizzio), prove the case ? 
 Where is the ' Spanish Maid V the ' Spendthrift V 
 Will Mr. Macready give a list of the plays he par- 
 tially accepted, or that were presented and refused 
 on grounds Hke the foregoing? The editor of the 
 * Monthly Magazine* tells us, " There was even a 
 joke current that Messrs. Macready, Talfourd, and 
 Bulwer, had met in private conclave for the support 
 of the legitimate drama — the two latter engaging to 
 write it, and the former to act it. The manuscripts 
 of less favoured individuals were turned over to Mr. 
 Kenney, to read or not as he pleased, with a cer- 
 tainty of their never being used. No wonder that 
 great negligence was observed towards these un- 
 fortunate bantlings. Some of them were even lost. 
 Among the missing there was one, at least, on which 
 Mr. Macready had expressed a very high opinion, 
 and the same may have been the case with others.'* 
 Amongst other wrongs and insults to dramatists 
 (and Mr. Macready erred particularly in this), is the 
 continual encouragement to any one whose play is 
 noticed, or application answered, to write another; 
 thus inducing an injurious and useless expenditure 
 of mind, and consumption of time, it being well 
 
THE BETTER DRAMA DISCOURAGED. 129 
 
 known that the arrangements of the theatre preclude 
 the possibility of their being accepted when com- 
 pleted. It has been said, indeed, by an eminent 
 literary man of the day, that if Mr. Macready's 
 answers to authors had all been thrown in a heap 
 together, they would equally apply to any one, no 
 matter how directed, and that they each would con- 
 tain this inducement to write. This thoughtless 
 conduct arises from the arrogance of success, and an 
 utter contempt and disregard for the literature of 
 the drama except as a medium for theatrical display. 
 It is one of the worst results of that system which 
 gives the successful actor thousands a-year, whilst 
 the author cannot get hundreds. The actor also is 
 by no mearis without the prejudices of his nation, 
 and he cannot help feeling, and, generally, grossly 
 displaying, his estimate of the difference of pecuniary 
 circumstances between the dramatist of the suburbs 
 and himself of a fashionable square. He has also 
 generally so far advanced in classical literature as 
 to be able to construe ** irritabile genus,'' a phrase 
 which he takes literally and applies superciliously to 
 authors, who are to be alone controlled, as he thinks, 
 by the coarsest flattery, or the most tremendous 
 ** crow-bar." 
 
 Such being the state of circumstances (and in- 
 numerable proofs can, and, if necessary, shall be 
 given, to show the case, instead of being exaggerated, 
 is not half stated), it is apparent that the better kind 
 of drama is being sacrificed to the evil results of 
 
 K 
 
130 THE BETTER DRAMA DISCOURAGED. 
 
 monopoly. The large theatres, aiming at every 
 thing, cannot afford to encourage it, and if they 
 could, there is not sufficient space to give dramatists 
 of the better kind a fair opportunity. The worser 
 and coarser kind only have a chance, and the fate 
 of those who attempt more is such as has been here 
 depicted. 
 
 With a knowledge of all these circumstances and 
 irrefragable proofs of their existence, it is hard for 
 the dramatist to hear (but sufferance is his badge), 
 and that, too, at the moment that his play is refu- 
 sed, " that there is no difficulty in getting a play 
 upon the stage that is likely to succeed,*' and that 
 at least he (the manager) *' has the consolation of 
 knowing, that he never has declined one the event- 
 ful success of which has convicted him of partial 
 judgment.'* As a refutation to this, we would refer 
 to the unbiassed and general opinion of the * Sea 
 Captain,' and to our confidence in the ultimate suc- 
 cess of Mr. Leigh Hunt's play ; as also of ' The 
 Spanish Maid,' ' The Spendthrift,' and five others 
 of the very first mark and hkelihood. One of these 
 i^ *' grieved Mr. Macready to decline from circnim- 
 stances," f >nd of all was expressed a just admiration, 
 in defian(.e of the assertion ** that there is no dif- 
 ficulty in getting a play upon the stage likely to 
 succeed." 
 
 It is not meant to blame Mr. Macready, or any 
 theatrical manager, for not accepting plays unsuit- 
 able to his purposes and views, but to denounce that 
 
THE HISTORICAL PAINTER AND^E JBtRAItfi 
 
 system which renders a Hving national drama im^p 
 possible. At the same time it is unworthy of any 
 man to claim the honours of a patron of art when 
 his conduct is that of a mere trader, and to demand 
 the honours of a reformer and a martyr when he is 
 only a copyist and a speculator. 
 
 The dramatist has also to endure the scorns of the 
 vulgar, as being an unsuccessful author, without 
 even a trial ; his refusal at the great theatres, though 
 arising from all the causes enumerated, and the pos- 
 session of the stage by a few, being invariably at- 
 tributed to want of ability. Men capable of appre- 
 ciating the circumstances even join in this injustice, 
 and an artist of considerable skill in his department 
 of art has been heard frequently to reiterate that the 
 dramatist had nothing to complain of. This, from 
 one also devoted to the fine arts, must be peculiarly 
 annoying to the dramatic writer, and it would be 
 well to put him in the place of the man he thus de- 
 rides. Let him spend twelvemonths in the produc- 
 tion of an historical painting, let him have under- 
 gone all the labour of mind and body to produce a 
 work of genius, and then let a law be passed by 
 which he could only present it at two places for ex- 
 hibition and sale ; let him be told that nothing but 
 caricatures and curiosities answered at one place, 
 and at the other that they kept their own painters 
 for what httle demand there might be for such 
 '* pieces;" let him be told that, if he tried again, 
 he must put his figures in this or that attitude, that 
 
132 THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE HIGH DRAMATIST. 
 
 he must use one particular kind of colour, and that 
 he must follow the examples required by Mr. Strut, 
 who was the principal person there ; thus refused, 
 let him take his picture back to his garret, as the 
 law would not permit him to show it any where but 
 at two places already occupied, and then let him be 
 told by a successful playwright that the historical 
 painter had nothing to complain of. 
 
 This is truly the case of the regular dramatist. 
 Excluded from the patent theatres, unlike other 
 authors or artists, he has no market. He cannot 
 go from publisher to publisher, or print for himself, 
 like the novelist, for unacted plays will not sell ; 
 and, indeed, if constructed to act, are not well 
 adapted for mere reading. He risks his labour and 
 his genius on two throws of the die, and if they fail, 
 he loses all, whilst he sees the vaudevillist and the 
 melodramatist have the whole field to themselves. 
 Did not tastes merge into passions, the intellect 
 would never be attracted to the subject, but it has 
 ever been the glory of genius to contend with ap- 
 parent impossibilities, and to devote itself to art for 
 the sake of art alone; not only forsaking the 
 voluptuous and the agreeable, but enduring all the 
 penalties of those who forsake Mammon ; and, above 
 all, the insolence of success, more arrogant, as it is, 
 than even the insolence of office. 
 
 The dramatists and the actors have one interest, 
 and if they will but pursue their claim, it is impos- 
 sible that the legislature can any longer refuse them 
 
FATE OF THE POETICAL DRAMA. 133 
 
 justice. The public and ihe public taste are also 
 interested in the question, and if attention is once 
 roused, its mighty fiat will soon be issued against the 
 system. 
 
 We cannot more forcibly conclude the present chap- 
 ter than by using the words of Mr. Home, as given 
 by him in a very able introduction to a new edition 
 of ' SchlegeFs Lectures on Dramatic Art and Litera- 
 ture,' in which brief but comprehensive essay he 
 has embodied the philosophy and argument of the 
 question : — 
 
 " An easy access to all the stages — all being 
 equally permitted (as every sane mind must na- 
 turally think they ought) to accept the finest dramas 
 they can obtain — and speedy production of accepted 
 pieces, will afford the only chance of restoring the 
 English drama. In such a case we should find the 
 pure dramatic ore of many writers, at present, in 
 most instances, quite unknown to the stage, soon 
 wrowght into available and influential works. But, 
 under the patent system of exclusion, the author of 
 the ^ Bride's Tragedy ' is heard of no more ; the fine 
 execution and high promise of the * Jew of Arragon' 
 and * Woman's Love,' are suffered to die out of 
 mind ; and the author of the * Provost of Bruges,' 
 though it was a successful tragedy, gives up the 
 time-wasting task of again finding the opening. Of 
 recent unacted publications, it is not to be doubted 
 that a most intense dramatic excellence (notwith- 
 standing the perversity of construction in * Andrea 
 
134 THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 of Hungary ' and * Giovanni of Naples *), exists in 
 Landor ; that D'Israeli, and the author of the * Lords 
 of Ellingham,* possess dramatic capacities that en- 
 title them to a fair trial before the public ; while 
 the passionate imagination and pathos of George 
 Stephens seem to spring out of the ground like one 
 of the old Elizabethan dramatists revivified/* 
 
 We cannot also refrain from quoting the same 
 author^s statement of the indestructibility of the 
 drama. 
 
 " It has been argued that the drama has done its office, and 
 that highly educated people are becoming too intellectually re- 
 fined to enjoy any such exhibitions. Which is the class — who 
 are they who compose this body assumed to be thus intellec- 
 tually superior to the acted drama ? Is it the aristocracy ? 
 They prefer the opera, the scenery, the wardrobe, and heroic 
 Eglintonian pageantry. Is it the middle classes ? They are 
 the very followers and only supporters of the true drama. Is 
 it the working classes? The large minority delight in the im- 
 passioned drama, and humbly reverence its power ; the majo- 
 rity flock to the external shows. There is no such class ; nor 
 can a score of analytic philosophers, whose tastes require a 
 more tranquil food, constitute any sufficient foundation for such 
 an argument. The true drama must be indestructible, because 
 it is based on indestructible principles of human nature. Its 
 elevating appeal, when properly made, must ever be success- 
 ful so long as the elements of humanity remain unchanged. 
 Passion ai\d imagination may require some change in the forms 
 of their ft od, but its substance must remain the same, or their 
 existence be compromised. True dramatic power can only 
 cease to produce its effect where humanity ceases to feel. The 
 exercise and effect of such power may not be confined to the 
 theatre ; but it must always produce its natural effect in a 
 theatre when appropriately represented. Progress of refine- 
 ment, theories of philosophy, changes in taste, and caprices of 
 fashion, must all succumb before the commanding spirit that 
 searches and uplifts the heart of man, and shakes with cor- 
 responding fire the Promethean tree that ramifies throughout 
 jhis mortal being." 
 
EVIL OF THE MONOPOLY TO THE PUBLIC. 135 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 THE PROBABLE MEANS OF AMELIORATING 
 
 THE STATE OF THE DRAMA AND OF 
 
 ITS PROFESSORS. 
 
 Evil of the Monopoly to the Public — ^The Invalidity of the 
 Patents — The State of the Law — Applying to the Legisla- 
 ture — The Law must be enlarged or enforced — Bubble 
 Companies — Patentees no Exclusive Rights — Perpetual In- 
 solvency of Lessees of the Patent Theatres — Public Taste 
 created by Talent — Royal Academy for Dramatic Art. 
 
 The benefit arising to actors and dramatists by 
 throwing open the whole of the theatres to the best 
 kind of performances, has been illustrated, and it 
 remains but to say a few words on the advantages 
 accruing from such a proceeding to the public. 
 
 The very extent of the metropolis seems itself an 
 overpowering argument in its favour ; and why the 
 inhabitants of Maida Hill and the Edgware-road, 
 the immense districts of Marylebone and Camden 
 Town, Holloway and Hackney, Mile-end and Pop- 
 lar, the Kent-road, Camberwell and Brixton, Clap- 
 ham, Vauxhall, Pimlico, Brompton, Kensington, 
 and Bayswater, should be compelled to travel up to 
 the neighbourhood of Coven t- garden to see a play 
 
136 THE INVALIDITY OF THE PATENTS. 
 
 of Shakspere's or Knowles's legally performed, is 
 a question certainly very unsatisfactorily answered 
 by saying that it pleased Charles II. to command 
 that, during his reign, there should only be two 
 theatres in the metropolis, his motive being, that the 
 performance of theatrical entertainments should af- 
 ford a means of living to two of his private friends. 
 
 The consideration of the origin of the patents 
 here forces itself upon us, and it will appear by the 
 history of these documents in the eighth chapter, 
 that if they had any vitality beyond the life of the 
 grantor, they have been violated by the laws them- 
 selves. They were granted not to give any one 
 kind of drama particularly to the patentees, but to 
 circumscribe the number of theatres. They do not 
 say that the regular drama is alone actable by the 
 patentees, but that ** all entertainments of* the stage 
 whatsoever" shall be alone performed by the two 
 patentees. The subsequent statutes, and particu- 
 larly the 25th of George the Second, by which all 
 the minor theatres are licensed to perform any other 
 entertainments of the stage but the regular drama, 
 is, therefore, a total annulment of the principle of 
 the patents. It does the very thing the patents 
 specially forbid, viz., allows ** divers companies of 
 players" to represent *' entertainments of the stage 
 within our cities of London and Westminster, and 
 the suburbs thereof." The only exception it made 
 in favour of the two patent theatres was the handing 
 them over to the Lord Chamberlain^^ allowing them 
 
PATENTS NEVER PLEADED. 137 
 
 to perform under his control, and at his will and 
 pleasure. How the patents can ever be referred to 
 after this complete annihilation of them by the acts 
 of parliament, seems unaccountable. They, indeed, 
 have never been pleaded in any legal proceedings, 
 the informations against the minor theatres always 
 being laid under the 25th George the Second, and 
 the other statutes. Some stress has at times been 
 attempted to be placed on the fact of the personal 
 sanction of the King and of the Prince of Wales to 
 what was called the *^ Opera Arrangement*' in 1792, 
 wherein the validity of the patents was acknow- 
 ledged ; but as the private acts of the King, much 
 less of the Prince of Wales, do not carry any legal 
 authority, except performed through the medium of 
 the Privy Council, it is quite a chimerical argument. 
 The statutes have not acknowledged them, and 
 the crown lawyers have invariably decided that they 
 are of no avail beyond the hfe of the grantor. In- 
 deed, Mr. Charles Kemble, when examined before the 
 Dramatic Committee, on being asked, '' But what is 
 the use of your patent rights if the Lord Chamber- 
 lain has the power of granting licenses for the legiti- 
 mate drama anywhere he may think proper in 
 Westminster ?" — answers, ** Of none — it is a great 
 injury to us if he does it;'' and subsequently 
 acknowledges that it would be a breach of faith, 
 and not of law, if other theatres were permitted to 
 act the regular drama in Westminster. It appears, 
 then, that the law stands thus : — Westminster is 
 
138 
 
 THE LAW MUST BE 
 
 placed under the jurisdiction of the Lord Chamber- 
 lain, and he may license or unlicense as many 
 theatres as he chooses for any kind of drama within 
 that city. Beyond that district, the 25th of George 
 the Second, and the other statutes control the drama, 
 and they, for particular and temporary political 
 purposes, or, as Sir Robert Walpole expressed it on 
 his introduction of the first bill, " to prevent the 
 morals of the people from being corrupted by hbi- 
 dinous writers for the stage, to protect government 
 from the attacks of disaffected or disappointed peo- 
 ple through the same channel, and to shield private 
 characters from the envenomed shaft of wicked wit, 
 envy, and malevolence," permitted no plays to be 
 performed without a license from the magistrates, 
 and authorised them only to license places for 
 "music and dancing, and other like entertainments 
 of the stage." 
 
 Those interested, therefore, in the amelioration 
 and elevation of the stage, appear to have only to 
 call the attention of the legislature to the alteration 
 of the circumstances of the drama, to the vast 
 increase of the metropolis, and to the total cessation 
 of the motives that induced these acts of parliament. 
 They can have, surely, nothing to do in order to 
 obtain an alteration of the law, but to point out the 
 inefficacy and the injuriousness of its present state. 
 The time is come when the law should either be so 
 strictly enforced as to prevent all dramatic per- 
 formances, except at the patent theatres, or else 
 
ENLARGED OR ENFORCED. 139 
 
 repeal the acts, which being relaxed by the magis- 
 trates, permit a spurious drama that poisons instead 
 of invigorates the pubHc morals. With this pro- 
 ceeding the patentees have nothing to do. The law 
 took it entirely out of their hands and power when 
 it legislated on the subject, and it is entirely a ques- 
 tion of public advantage and morality. If the 
 patents have any validity, only two theatres can be 
 allowed in London and the whole of the suburbs ; 
 and, indeed, only one, as by the deed of 1682, 
 uniting the patents, one of them was voluntarily 
 and completely annihilated. As before said, but it 
 cannot be too often enforced, the advantage granted 
 to the patentees by Charles the Second was not any 
 particular species of the drama, but the entire mono- 
 poly of theatres. This right has been contravened 
 by every subsequent sovereign, and, finally, totally 
 abrogated by a succession of acts of parliament. In 
 fact, the patentees have no right as patentees, and 
 they know it. They fall back, as Mr. Charles 
 Kemble did, on the assertion, that their ** right is 
 founded on a general belief on the part of those who 
 have embarked their property in these concerns, on 
 the faith of the royal word, and on the faith of the 
 patent." 
 
 It is utterly incredible that those whose business 
 it was to examine into the validity of these docu- 
 ments, and who doubtless had recourse to the highest 
 legal authority, could imagine that there was any 
 
140 BUBBLE COMPANIES. 
 
 property in the patent. The fact appears to be, 
 that when the large theatres were so extravagantly 
 rebuilt by the joint-stock proprietage, it was neces- 
 sary to hold out this exclusive privilege of the pa- 
 tents as an inducement, and as a something whereon 
 to rest a semblance of security to the subscribers for 
 their enormous outlay ; and this it was that made 
 Mr. Whitbread and Mr. Sheridan think it worth 
 while to pay twenty thousand pounds for what was 
 called the Dormant Patent (Killigrew's), which, in- 
 deed, was dormant, having been annulled by mutual 
 contract in 1682, declared void by William the 
 Third, specially revoked by Anne, abrogated by the 
 statutes of the Georges, and never having been made 
 the least use of for upwards of one hundred and 
 twenty-seven years. When Drury-lane was burned 
 down, there wasadebt of 500,000/., and to compen- 
 sate this there was nothing but the old materials and 
 the insurance, amounting to 30,000/. The purchase- 
 money of the patent was nothing in comparison of 
 this debt, and the new subscribers would never 
 have come forward without some plausible assurance 
 of an ultimate return of their advances ; but like 
 other speculators, they should have looked to the 
 validity of the security proposed, before embarking 
 in the sc^ieme, and have examined into the real value 
 of this bit of old parchment before being deluded 
 into a belief of its importance. As well might tlie 
 numerous speculators in the various bubble compa- 
 
TPIE PATENTEES HAVE NO EXCLUSIVE RIGHTS. 141 
 
 nies claim a compensation from the public, on the 
 plea " that they had a general belief" that they were 
 safe speculations. 
 
 There is not a statute of the realm that has been 
 a hundred years without being greatly modified, and 
 yet Mr. Dunn, when asked ** Do you consider Killi- 
 grew's patent eternal V* replies, ** I believe it is." 
 Every thing else may change, London stretch to 
 treble its extent, tastes may alter, stipulations may 
 be violated, but the immortal patents shall remain 
 untouched " amid the wreck of matter and the 
 crush of worlds.'* 
 
 The question, however, of freedom to the drama, 
 does not rest with these " eternal" documents, but 
 with the legislature. That has chosen to say, there 
 may be sixteen theatres instead of two in direct 
 violation of the ** merry monarch's" edict; and has 
 now only to add that instead of playing a debasing, 
 they shall have the opportunity of enacting a more 
 elevating and instructing species of performance. 
 
 The very utmost that the most scrupulous regard 
 for vested interests could demand, would be some 
 slight immunity to the patentees. And to this there 
 can be no claim, for they have,' as the foregoing 
 facts will prove, no exclusive rights, and if any 
 among them have been deluded into the idea that 
 they have, they should, like all other indiscreet 
 persons, bear the result of their own imprudence. 
 If the legislature were to listen to anything of the 
 kind, they must think themselves very graciously 
 
142 NO PROFIT FROM THE PATENTS. 
 
 dealt with if the privilege of performing the regular 
 drama in Westminster was left to them, the regions 
 beyond that being declared perfectly free to perform 
 any kind of entertainment. This would be giving 
 them the full benefit of their obsolete patents, and be 
 doing a tardy justice to the public; though even 
 this limitation would be any thing but creditable to 
 sound and enlightened legislation. 
 
 As in all cases of compensation some damage is 
 supposed, it becomes necessary to examine how 
 this plea could be established by the patentees. 
 The first inquiry would naturally be, whether any 
 one of the lessees gave a single hundred pounds a 
 year more for either of the large theatres in conse- 
 quence of this alleged exclusive privilege of per- 
 forming the regular drama? Did Mr. Bunn, who 
 never performed it ? Did Mr. Elliston, who openly 
 declared there was no such privilege, and who sub- 
 sequently defied his old landlords by playing the 
 regular drama in their despite at the Surrey Theatre? 
 Did Mr. Osbaldiston, who took a minor company 
 to Co vent-garden ? Or Mr. Hammond, who has 
 done the same to Drury-lane ? It may be said that 
 Mr. Macready did ; but he is the strongest instance 
 of all to the contrary, for he made the risk and ha- 
 zard of playing the regular drama a strong plea for 
 paying ^ess than any one else. Mr. Harris, the 
 principal proprietor of Covent-garden Theatre, de- 
 posed, in the Court of Chancery, that this theatre 
 did not gain a shilling by the regular drama from 
 
THE REGULAR DRAMA UNPROFITABLE. 143 
 
 1809 to 1821, but was supported by the Christmas 
 pantomimes and those kind of performances. If 
 such was the case during a period when so many 
 excellent actors graced its boards, what must it 
 not have lost by the re gular drama from that pe- 
 riod to the present ? Mr. Bunn's balance-sheet 
 speaks volumes ; as would Captain PolhilFs private 
 accounts, and those of other capitalists. 
 
 It is evident that the renters and proprietors get 
 nothing by the vaunted patents, and therefore can- 
 not assert they would lose any thing by their formal 
 abolishment. It seems, indeed, very probable that 
 the two houses would let more profitably, if they 
 were unencumbered by the patents, either for gla- 
 diatorial exhibitions, musical and public meetings, or 
 some very extensive scientific or religious purposes. 
 It was understood at one time that parties were in 
 treaty with the proprietors with this view; and to this, 
 sooner or later, must they come. The raising a 
 claim, therefore, to clog the legislature in its honest 
 enactments is preposterous, and cannot be main- 
 tained either on the plea of a recognised right or of 
 a real injury. 
 
 It will doubtless be asked if the public take an 
 interest m this matter, and whether they would fre- 
 quent the theatres conducted on the new principle ? 
 It may safely be said that they would. And if it is 
 again asked why the Brixton and Clapham people 
 do not frequent the Surrey Theatre, it may be an- 
 
144 PUBLIC TASTE CREATED BY TALENT. 
 
 swered by saying, that although that and other 
 minor theatres occasionally violate the law and play 
 the regular drama, yet their whole arrangements are 
 essentially inferior, and are not made with a view to 
 a high class of performance. Were the regular 
 drama legalised, and capitalists could feel secure in 
 investing their money in such undertakings, there 
 can be no doubt that we should shortly see such a 
 theatre as the Haymarket, at the least, in each of the 
 great suburb districts, and they would soon attract 
 educated and respectable audiences. 
 
 The want of actors and dramatists is then urged, 
 but it is a principle that may safely be relied upon in 
 such a dense population and state of society as ours, 
 that the demand will always create a supply. Genius 
 is scarce, but talent is always plentiful, and let it have 
 but an opportunity of exerting itself, and give it fair 
 means of being trained, and there will be no grounds 
 to fear any deficiency of supply. Talent seems to en- 
 gender talent, and if any illustration of this were 
 needed, the newspaper press would afford an un- 
 answerable proof of the truth of this proposition. 
 
 It was the fashion, some years since, to argue that 
 if any other than the two theatres were allowed, the 
 good actors would be spread about at the lesser the- 
 atres. The reverse of this, however, proves to be the 
 case, and at the present time, companies from the 
 smaller houses occupy the two patent theatres. If 
 such is the case under the present disabilities, what 
 
 / 
 
THE DEMAND CREATES THE SUPPLY. 145 
 
 miglit we not expect from a better system where 
 the smaller theatres would be good schools for the 
 larger ? 
 
 Whilst upon the subject of schools of acting, one 
 argument may be noticed, which, though of little 
 validity, is frequently urged in favour of the mono- 
 poly : namely, that when theatrical performances 
 were more strictly confined to two theatres there 
 were a better class of actors and writers. With 
 regard to the latter, this is an entire mistake, and 
 with respect to the former, the multiplicity of talent 
 arose from a principle that never varies, namely, 
 that a demand creates a supply, where the raw ma- 
 terial is attainable. The theatre was reputable and 
 profitable, and talent of course was thus drawn to 
 it. If it is said that the theatre was successful be- 
 cause it was confined to two places of representation 
 — the history of the drama contradicts it, and we 
 refer those who assert this to Chapter VIII. of this 
 work, or to the pamphlet on *' The Past and Pre- 
 sent State of Dramatic Art and Literature," for a 
 refutation. Besides, were it the fact, the legislature 
 has scarcely the power, in the present state of the 
 metropolis and the population, to again confine '* all 
 kinds of theatrical representations" to Drury-lane and 
 Covent-garden ; though even that would be less inju- 
 rious than the present anomalous state of the law. 
 
 Before taking leave of the subject of the mode of 
 raising the school of acting, it is impossible not to 
 'ndulge in a suggestion that has long engaged our 
 
 L 
 
146 ROYAL ACADEMY FOll DRAMATIC ART. 
 
 attention — namely, the founding a school of instruc- 
 tion for the various professors of the art. His ma- 
 jesty George IV. founded a royal academy for music; 
 and were the present gracious monarch to found a 
 royal academy for the dramatic art, it "would be a 
 useful and popular grant. Painting and sculpture 
 received their encouragement in the previous reign, 
 music in the next, and the drama, ever the latest to 
 be noticed, may claim favour in this. It is not meant 
 to overwhelm it with a corporation that would in 
 time become the tool of a clique, but merely to give 
 to young practitioners that means of acquiring the 
 elements of their profession that are now within 
 the means of all other pursuers of the fine arts. One 
 of the great causes of the degradation of the stage, 
 as a profession, is the influx of a number of disrepu- 
 table persons into it, who fly to it from loose and 
 profligate dispositions, and diseased and depraved 
 imaginations. This is one of the unfortunate pur- 
 suits that it is deemed requires no previous training 
 to enter upon, the received opinion being, that 
 any person totally incompetent for any other may 
 adopt this with success. 
 
 The necessity of an institution like the one now 
 proposed was obviated in the early times of the 
 drama by a variety of assistances that no longer ex- 
 ist. The actors who were not dramatists in Eliza- 
 beth's time were generally youths brought up in the 
 choirs of the cathedral, where they acquired one 
 great requisite, a musical modulation of the voice. 
 
ROYAL ACADEMY FOR DRAMATIC ART. 147 
 
 They were also carefully instructed in their art by 
 educated men, or the great dramatists themselves. 
 Subsequently the eminent actors took apprentices, 
 many of whom proved the brightest ornaments of 
 the stage. Kynaston and Hart were apprentices of 
 the older actors, and handed down the traditional 
 business and imaginings of the original dramatists 
 and artists. Thus was given a means of reaping the 
 advantage of accumulated talent, and we find its 
 result in the abundance of good actors that existed 
 together. 
 
 The institution proposed should be founded and 
 endowed by the Queen, and be patronised and sup- 
 ported by the cultivated and enlightened portion of 
 the aristocracy. Schools for learning the elements 
 of the art sliould be opened, and the celebrated 
 actors and dramatists should be appointed profes- 
 sors to lecture on the various branches of the art. 
 Amongst the acquirements more particularly to be 
 learned would be, graceful and effective carriage, 
 gesture, and enunciation, though only the elements 
 could be attempted to be enforced, sufficient aid 
 being given to rouse the taste and fancy of the 
 scholar. So much of fencing, music and dancing, 
 as are requisite, and stage demeanour, would also 
 form a principal portion of the needful instruction. 
 Such an institution, keeping watch as it would over 
 those who were admitted, would do much to purify 
 the profession, and draw a strong line between the 
 large mob of assistants and the really educated 
 
148 ROYAL ACADEMY FOR DRAMATIC ART. 
 
 actor. It would pr'^'vent the pursuit being over- 
 stocked withimbeciles, and raise it in public estima- 
 tion. It would no longer be pursued as a disgrace, 
 and as an employment that deprived a man of all 
 intercourse with respectable society until he had 
 obtained metropolitan notoriety. 
 
 It is not meant to assert that genius could be pro- 
 duced by such a means, but talent undoubtedly 
 might ; and it would be much more for the advan- 
 tage of the drama, and much more agreeable to the 
 audience, to have a talented company that played 
 with taste and judgment a fine play, in a level 
 manner, than even the highest single ability, with 
 miserable assistants. 
 
 The idea of such an institution can only be thrown 
 out here ; and those who are influential in the pro- 
 fession as actors or dramatists can alone carry it 
 out. There can be little doubt, however, that the 
 illustrious personage alluded to, who has already 
 manifested a very laudable taste for the drama, 
 would, if properly applied to, extend her powerful 
 and graceful patronage to a noble art too long the 
 object of neglect and even persecution. Such an 
 example would elicit a corresponding feeling in the 
 higher classes, and with the expense of very little 
 labour and cost, a foundation might be laid to pro- 
 mote the undertaking, that would raise the art at 
 once to its proper position with other intellectual 
 and tasteful pursuits. 
 
 The writer's labours have now drawn to an end, 
 
xiOYAL ACADEMY FOR DRAMATIC ART. 149 
 
 and, in taking leave of his readers, he has only to 
 assure them that he has but endeavoured to throw 
 out his own views for others to work on as they 
 may 'deem fit. He has had but one motive, and 
 that is to benefit the drama, and if he has gained 
 one influential mind in the cause, or ehcited any 
 irieas that may be beneficial to it, he is more than 
 satisfied. He has spoken frankly and freely on all 
 points, but has been careful to assert no fact that he 
 cannot maintain, nor any argument that he did not 
 deem feasible. If he has appeared to speak depre- 
 ciatingly of any person, he has only done so to 
 render justice to all parties; and he hopes that 
 it will not be asserted, because he may have alluded 
 to some weaknesses or errors, that he is incapable 
 of giving credit in those particulars where it may 
 be due. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 OPINIONS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT AND OTHER EMINENT 
 WRITERS, 
 
 ©n t^t ^tatc of t\)t J3rama. 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 ** Where then are we to look for that unfortunate counterbalance, which 
 confessedly depresses the national drama, in despite of the advantages we 
 have enumerated ? We apprehend it will be found in the monopoly pos- 
 sessed by two large establishments, which, unhappily for the progress of 
 national taste, and, it is said, without any equivalent advantage to the pro- 
 prietors, now enjoy the exclusive privilege of dramatic representation. It 
 must be distinctly understood, that we attribute these disadvantages to the 
 system itself, and by no means charge them upon those who have the admi- 
 nistration of either theatre. The proprietors have a right to enjoy what the 
 law invests in them ; and the managers have probably discharged their duty 
 to the public as honourably as circumstances would admit of; but the system 
 has led into errors which aflfect public taste and even public morals. 
 
 • «**«* 
 
 " The monopoly of the two large theatres has operated unfavourably both 
 upon theatrical writers and performers. The former have been in many in- 
 stances, if not absolutely excluded from the scene, yet deterred from 
 approaching it, in the same manner as men avoid attempting to pass through 
 a narrow wicket, which is perpetually thronged by an importunate crowd. 
 Allowing the managers of these two theatres, judging in the first and in the 
 last resort, to be possessed of the full discrimination necessary to a task so 
 difficult; supposing them to be at all times alike free from partiality and 
 from prejudice ; still the number of plays thurst upon their hands must pre- 
 vent their doing equal justice to all, and must frequently deter a man of real 
 talents, either from pride or modesty, from entering a competition clogged 
 with delay, solicitation, and other circumstances, haudsuheunda ingenio siu). 
 
 * « ft * • « 
 
 " If, however, it were possible so to arrange interests, that the patents of 
 the present theatres should cover four, or even six, of smaller size, dedicated 
 to the same purpose, we conceive that more good actors would be found, and 
 more good plays written ; and, as a necessary consequence, that good society 
 would attend the theatre in sufficient numbers to enforce respect to decency. 
 The access to the stage would be rendered easy to both authors and actors ; 
 and although this might give scope to some rant and false taste, it could not 
 fail to call forth much excellence, that must otherwise remain latent or 
 repressed. The theatres would be relieved of the heavy expense at present 
 incurred, in paying performers who do not play ; and in each maintaining 
 three theatrical corps for the separate purposes of tragedy, comedy, and 
 musical pieces ; only one of which can be productive labourers on the same 
 evening, though all must be supported and paid. According to our more 
 thrifty plan, each of these companies would be earning at the same time the 
 fruits of their professional industry. The hours of representation, in one or 
 
OPINION'S ON THE DRAMA. 151 
 
 more of these theatres, might be rendered more convenient to those in high 
 life, whilst the middling classes might enjoy a rational and classical enter- 
 tainment after the business of the day." 
 
 QUARTERLY REVIEW. 
 ** But these are obvious evils, the natural consequence of that monopoly, 
 unknown in the history of the early stage, which having begun by doing its 
 utmost to ruin the drama, with more than poetic justice ends by raining the 
 proprietors. Hence the absolute necessity of show and decoration in thea- 
 tres, which have outgrown the ordinary faculties both of actors and spec- 
 tators 3 where no one can be heard without an exertion of voice, almost alM'ays 
 fatal to its melody, and to its variety of intonation ; and where no one can 
 hear without an overstrained attention, the effort of which is often so painful 
 as to destroy all the interest of the scene. Hence, a more serious evil ! In 
 order, at all events, to people this enormous edifice, those disgraceful 
 arrangements, which would not be endured in the most dissolute capital of 
 the Continent, and which seem intended to justify the moral denunciations of 
 those who entertain religious scruples about the stage. Hence, at all events 
 to dazzle the eyes, the body of the house is lighted and gilt with such ex- 
 cessive splendour as to be highly detrimental to scenic effect, which requires 
 that the light should be concentred as much as possible upon the stage; 
 while the scenery, obliged to out -glitter the body of the theatre, can rarely 
 venture on chaste or quiet colouring. These, however, as we have observed, 
 are obvious evils ; but we are inclined to take into the account another cir- 
 cumstance, little suspected to be highly prejudicial to the genuine drama — 
 the perfection of the histrionic art. The actor, from a subordinate part of the 
 general illusion, has usurped the principal, and claims as his own the whole 
 undivided interest of the audience. With our simple ancestors, the play was 
 everything j the actor, we conceive, of much less importance. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 "We will venture to predict, that so long as the dramatic writer is sunk to 
 a subordinate station in the general corps dramatique, second to the me- 
 chanist and scene-painter, as well as to the actor — only in somewhat higher 
 relative position than the opera poet to the composer of music — so long as 
 even a really good play, feebly or inadequately performed, would have no 
 chance of success, so long the drama will remain far below the poetic average 
 of the elder period." 
 
 EDINBURGH REVIEW. 
 
 ** In many countries the government actually expends large sums on the 
 theatre. In other states, the I'ulers of which we are apt to stigmatise as 
 tyrants, much money and great attention are bestowed to facilitate and 
 encourage the amusements of the people. Such a disposition of the public 
 treasure is, no doubt, contrary to the genius of our constitution ; it is not to 
 be expected or desired ; but we may reasonably demand that the sources of 
 innocent, or rather of instructive recreation, should not be dried up rashly, 
 or wantonly diverted by unjust and pernicious interference. * * * There 
 were more theatres in London formerly, in proportion to the population, 
 than in any other city in Europe ; now there are fewer -, for by an odious and 
 unjust monopoly the number is restricted ; nor is this, however grievous, 
 the only restraint to which the drama is subject. 
 
 " The present age is too much inclined to make human life, in every de- 
 partment, resemble a great lottery, in which there are a very few enormous 
 prizes, and all the rest of the tickets are blanks. The stage has not escaped 
 the evil we complain of j on the contrary, it is a striking example of the mis- 
 chief of this unequal partition. The public are of opinion, that it is impos- 
 sible to reward a small number of actors too highly, and to pay the remainder 
 at too low a rate ; to neglect the latter enough, or to be sufficiently attentive 
 to the former. On our stage, therefore, the inferior parts, and, indeed, all 
 
152 OPINIONS ON THE DRAMA. 
 
 but one or two, and especially in tragedies, where the inequalit/is more in- 
 tolerable, and more inexcusable, are sustained in a very inadequate manner. 
 In foreign theatres, on the contrary, and especially in France, the whole per- 
 formance is more equal, and consequently more agreeable. There is, per- 
 haps, less difference than is commonly supposed between the best performers, 
 and those in the next class. Whatever the difference be, it is an inconve- 
 nience and imperfection that ought to be palliated : but we aggravate it. The 
 first-rate actor always does his best, because the audience expect it, and 
 reward him with their applause, but no one cares for the performer of second- 
 rate talents. The general effect, therefore, of our tragedies is very unsatis- 
 factory ; for that is far greater where all the characters are tolerably well sup- 
 ported than where there is one good actor, and all the other parts are in- 
 humanly murdered. This latter is too often the case on our stage ; for with 
 us art does little, nothing being taught systematically. The French players, 
 on the contrary, are thoroughly drilled, and well instructed in every 
 requisite." . 
 
 SCHLEGEL. 
 " To this must be added, by way of rendering the vulgarity of our theatre 
 almost incurable, the radically depraved disposition of everything having any 
 reference to the theatre. The companies of actors ought to be under the 
 management of intelligent judges, and persons practised in the dramatic art 
 and not themselves players. Engel presided for a time over the Berlin 
 theatre, and eye-witnesses universally assert that he elevated it to an unusual 
 height. What Goethe has effected in the management of the theatre of 
 Weimar, in a small town, and with small means, is known to all good thea- 
 trical judges in Germany. Rare talents he can neither create nor reward, but 
 he accustoms the actors to order and discipline, to which they are generally 
 altogether disinclined, and thereby gives to his representations a unity and 
 harmony, which we do not witness on larger theatres, where every individual 
 plays as his own fancy prompts him. The incorrect manner in which their 
 parts are got by heart, and the imperfection of their oral delivery, I have 
 elsewhere censured. I have heard verses mutilated by a celebrated player in 
 a manner vvhich would at Paris be considered unpardonable in a beginner. 
 I know that in a certain theatre, when they were under the melancholy 
 necessity of representing a piece in verse, they wrote out the parts as prose, 
 that the players might not be disturbed in their darling but stupid affectation 
 of nature, by observation of the quantity. How many " periwig-pated 
 fellows" (as Shakspere called such people) ** must we suffer, who imagine 
 they are affording the public an enjoyment when they straddle along the 
 boards with their awkward persons, considering the words which the poet 
 has given them to repeat merely as a necessary evil. Our players are less 
 anxious to please than the French. By the creation of standing national 
 theatres as they are called, by which in several capitals people suppose that 
 they have done something advantageous, and likely to improve the histrionic 
 art, they have on the contrary put a complete end to all competition." 
 
 SIR EDWARD COKE. 
 ** Every gift or grant from the king has this condition either expressly or 
 tacitly annexed to it, Ita quod patria per donationem illam magis solito non 
 oneratur seu gravetur, and, therefore, any grant made in grievance or pre- 
 judice of the subject is void; and 13 H. IV. 14 b, the king's grant which tends 
 to the charge and prejudice of the subject is void. The 2d incident to a 
 monopoly is, that after the monopoly is granted, the commodity is not so 
 good and merchantable as it was before ; for the patentee having the sole 
 trade, regards only his private beneftt, and not the commonwealth. 3rd. It 
 tends to the impoverishment of divers artificers and others." 
 
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