Part 7 (2/2)
A noise of targets, or to see a fellow In a long motley coat guarded with yellow.
The prologue to Ben Jonson's ”Staple of News” entreats the audience to abstain from idle conversation, and to attend to his play, so that they may hear as well as see it.
He'd have you wise, Much rather by your ears than by your eyes; And prays you'll not prejudge his play for ill, Because you mark it not and sit not still, But have a longing to salute or talk.
Alas! what is it to his scene to know How many coaches in Hyde Park did show Last spring? what fun to-day at Medley's was?
If Dunstan or the Phoenix best wine has? &c. &c.
In the Induction the prologue is interrupted by the entrance of four gentlewomen, ”lady-like attired,” representative of Mirth, Tattle, Expectation, and Censure or Curiosity. The last-named is charged with coming to the theatre ”to see who wears the new suit to-day; whose clothes are best formed, whatever the part be; which actor has the best leg and foot; what king plays without cuffs, and his queen without gloves; who rides post in stockings and dances in boots.” It is to be noted, too, that at this time the audience occupying the humbler places in the theatre are very harshly spoken of in the prologues. They are referred to as--
The vulgar sort Of nutcrackers that only come for sport--
and as ”grounds of your people that sit in the oblique caves and wedges of your house, your sinful sixpenny mechanicks,” &c.
It is plain, however, that the rudeness of Ben Jonson's prologues had given offence, for, indeed, he employed them not merely to lecture his audience, but also to lash and laugh to scorn rival playwrights. So to ”The Magnetic Lady” no prologue was provided, but an Induction, in the course of which ”a boy of the house” discourses with two gentlemen concerning the play, and explains that the author will ”not be entreated to give it a prologue. He has lost too much that way already, he says. He will not woo the Gentile ignoramus so much. But careless of all vulgar censure, as not depending on common approbation, he is confident it shall super-please judicious spectators, and to them he leaves it to work with the rest by example or otherwise.” Further, the boy gives valuable advice upon the subject of criticism, bidding the gentlemen take seats and ”fly everything you see to the mark, and censure it freely, so you interrupt not the series or thread of the argument, to break or pucker it with unnecessary questions. For I must tell you that a good play is like a skein of silk, which, if you take by the right end you may wind off at pleasure on the bottom or card of your discourse in a tale or so--how you will; but if you light on the wrong end you will pull all into a knot or elf-lock, which nothing but the shears or a candle will undo or separate.”
After the Restoration prologues appear to have been held more than ever necessary to theatrical exhibitions. The writing of prologues even became a kind of special and profitable vocation. Dryden's customary fee for a prologue was five guineas, which contented him, until in 1682 he demanded of Southerne ten guineas for a prologue to ”The Loyal Brothers,” alleging that the players had hitherto had his goods too cheaply, and from that time forward ten guineas would be his charge. Dryden is to be accounted the most famous and successful of prologue writers, but it must be said that his productions of this cla.s.s are deplorably disfigured by the profligacy of his time, and that all their brilliancy of wit does not compensate for their uncleanness. Dryden's prologues are also remarkable, for their frequent recognition of the critics as a cla.s.s apart from the ordinary audience; not critics as we understand them exactly, attached to journals and reviewing plays for the instruction of the public, but men of fas.h.i.+on affecting judicial airs, and expressing their opinions in clubs and coffee-houses, and authors charged with attending the theatres in the hope of witnessing the demolition of a rival bard. The prologue to ”All for Love” opens with the lines--
What flocks of critics hover here to-day, As vultures wait on armies for their prey, All gaping for the carcase of a play!
And presently occurs the familiar pa.s.sage--
Let those find fault whose wit's so very small, They've had to show that they can think at all.
Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow; He who would search for pearls must dive below.
Fops may have leave to level all they can, As pigmies would be glad to lop a man.
Half wits are fleas, so little and so light, We scarce could know they live, but that they bite.
Another prologue begins--
They who write ill, and they who ne'er durst write, Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite; A playhouse gives them fame; and up then starts From a mean fifth-rate wit, a man of parts.
The more important critics are described as--
A jury of the wits who still stay late, And in their club decree the poor play's fate; Their verdict back is to the boxes brought, Thence all the town p.r.o.nounces it their thought.
”The little Hectors of the pit” are also spoken of, and there is mention of ”Fop-corner,” the prototype of ”Fop's-alley” of later years. Now, ”a kind, hearty pit” is prayed for, and now, in a prologue delivered before the University of Oxford, stress is laid upon the advantages of ”a learned pit.” It may be noted, too, that the prologues of Dryden, apart from their wit, and overlooking, if that can possibly be managed, their distressing grossness, are invaluable for the accurate and minute pictures they present of English life, manners, costumes, and character in the reign of Charles II.
In right of the many quotations it has supplied to literature and conversation, Dr. Johnson's prologue spoken by Garrick upon the opening of Drury Lane Theatre, in 1747, may claim to be considered the most famous production of its cla.s.s. It is not, in truth, however, a prologue as prologues are ordinarily understood, but rather an address, written to suit special circ.u.mstances, and having no connection with any particular play. Boswell describes it as ”unrivalled for just and manly criticism on the whole range of the English stage, as well as for poetic excellence,” and records that it was during the season often called for by the audience. Johnson's prologue to his friend Goldsmith's comedy of ”The Good-natured Man”
was certainly open to the charge brought against it of undue solemnity. The first lines--
Press'd with the load of life the weary mind Surveys the general toil of human kind--
when enunciated in the sepulchral tones of Bensley, the tragedian, were judged to have a depressing effect upon the audience--a conclusion which seems reasonable and probable enough, although Boswell suggested that ”the dark ground might make Goldsmith's humour s.h.i.+ne the more.” Goldsmith himself was chiefly disturbed at the line describing him as ”our little bard,” which he thought likely to diminish his dignity, by calling attention to the lowness of his stature. ”Little bard” was therefore altered to ”anxious bard.”
Johnson also supplied a prologue to Kelly's posthumous comedy of ”A Word to the Wise” (represented in 1770, for the benefit of the author's widow and children), although he spoke contemptuously of the departed dramatist as ”a dead staymaker,” and confessed that he hated to give away literary performances, or even to sell them too cheaply.
”The next generation,” he said, ”shall not accuse me of beating down the price of literature; one hates, besides, to give what one is accustomed to sell. Would not you, now”--and here he turned to his brewer friend, Mr. Thrale--”rather give away money than porter?” To his own tragedy of ”Irene,” Johnson supplied a spirited prologue, which ”awed” the house, as Boswell believed. In the concluding lines he deprecated all effort to win applause by other than legitimate means:
Be this at least his praise, be this his pride: To force applause no modern arts are tried; Should partial catcalls all his hopes confound, He bids no trumpet quell the fatal sound; Should welcome sleep relieve the weary wit, He rolls no thunders o'er the drowsy pit; No snares to captivate the judgment spreads, Nor bribes your eyes to prejudice your heads.
Unmoved, though witlings sneer and rivals rail, Studious to please, yet not ashamed to fail.
He scorns the meek address, the suppliant strain; With merit needless, and without it vain.
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