Part 18 (2/2)

In Garrick's time the charge rose to 64, and was afterwards advanced considerably. Still the actors had special sources of profit. Their admirers and patrons were not content to pay merely the ordinary prices of admission, but bought their tickets at advanced rates, and often sent presents of money in addition. Thus Betterton--whose salary, by-the-bye, was only 4 per week--took a benefit in 1709, when he received 76 for two-thirds of the receipts upon the ordinary scale--one-third being deducted by the manager for expenses--and a further sum of 450 for the extra payments and presents of his friends. The boxes and pit were ”laid together,” as it was called, and half-a-guinea was charged for admission. ”One lady gave him ten guineas, some two, and most one guinea. Further, he delivered tickets for more persons than the boxes, pit, and stage could hold, and it was thought that he cleared 450 at least over and above the 76.”

Certainly the great actor enjoyed on this occasion of his benefit what is popularly known as ”a b.u.mper.”[3]

[3] Macready, on the occasion of his taking a benefit, invariably refused to receive any payment in excess of the ordinary charges for admission to the theatre, and was wont, with a polite note of thanks, to return the balance to those who, as he judged, had overpaid him for their tickets.

The system of actors' benefits having thus become thoroughly established, was soon extended and made applicable to other purposes, for the most part of a charitable kind. Thus, in 1711, a benefit performance was given in aid of Mrs. Betterton, the widow of the late famous tragedian, who had herself been an actress, but had for some time ceased to appear on the stage owing to age and other infirmities.

The ”Tatler,” after an account of Betterton's funeral, describes feelingly the situation of his widow: ”The mention I have here made of Mr. Betterton, for whom I had, as long as I have known anything, a very great esteem and grat.i.tude, for the pleasure he gave me, can do him no good; but it may possibly be of service to the unhappy woman he has left behind him, to have it known that this great tragedian was never in a scene half so moving as the circ.u.mstances of his affairs created at his departure. His wife, after a cohabitation of forty years in the strictest amity, has long pined away with a sense of his decay, as well in his person as in his little fortune; and in proportion to that she has herself decayed both in health and reason.

Her husband's death, added to her age and infirmities, would certainly have terminated her life, but that the greatness of her distress has been her relief by her present deprivation of her senses. This absence of her reason is her best defence against age, sorrow, poverty, and sickness.”[4] Indeed, Steele constantly testifies his fondness for the theatre and kindly feeling towards the players, by calling attention to the benefit performances, and bespeaking the public favour for them, adding much curious mention and humorous criticism of the comedians who were especially the objects of his admiration--Pinkethman, Bullock, Underbill, Dogget, and others.

[4] The ”Tatler,” No. 167, May 4, 1710.

Other benefits, however, less urgently laid claim to the goodwill of the public. At the theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, in the year 1726, a performance was announced ”for the benefit of an author whose play is deferred till next season.” How far the efforts of this anonymous gentleman to raise money upon a sort of contingent reversion of literary distinction were encouraged by the playgoers, or whether his play ever really saw the light of the stage-lamps, can hardly now be discovered. By-and-by performances are given on behalf of objects wholly unconnected with players or playwrights. In 1742 a representation was advertised, ”For the entertainment of the Grand Master of the Ancient and Honourable Society of Free and Accepted Masons--for the benefit of a brother who has had great misfortunes.” A season or two later there was a benefit at Drury Lane ”for a gentleman under misfortunes,” when Oth.e.l.lo was played by an anonymous actor, afterwards to be known to fame as Mr. Samuel Foote. In subsequent years benefits were given ”for the sufferers by a late fire;” on behalf of the soldiers who had fought against the Pretender in the year '45; for ”Mrs. Elizabeth Forster, the granddaughter of Milton, and his only surviving descendant,”[5] when ”Comus” was performed, and a new prologue, written by Dr. Johnson, was spoken by Garrick; for ”the Lying-in Hospital in Brownlow Street;” while in the success of the production of Dr. Young's tragedy of ”The Brothers,” played at Drury Lane in 1753, the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel was directly concerned--the author having announced that the profits would be given in aid of that charity. Nevertheless, the receipts disappointed expectation; whereupon the author generously, out of his own resources, made up the sum of 1000. A special epilogue was written for the occasion by Mallet at Garrick's request; but this was so coa.r.s.ely worded, and so broadly delivered by Mrs. Clive, that Dr.

Young took offence, and would not suffer the lines to be printed with his play.

[5] The lady is said to have been so little acquainted with diversion or gaiety, that she did not know what was intended when a benefit was offered her. Praiseworthy efforts were made in her interest, but the performance only produced 130.

Among the curiosities of benefits may be recorded a performance that took place at Drury Lane in 1744 on behalf of Dr. Clancy, the author of one or two plays, who published his memoirs in Dublin in 1750. Dr.

Clancy was blind, and the playbill was headed with the line from Milton, ”The day returns, but not to me returns.” The play was ”Oedipus,” and the part of Tiresias, the blind prophet, was undertaken by Dr. Clancy. The advertis.e.m.e.nts expressed a hope that ”as this will be the first instance of any person labouring under so heavy a deprivation performing on the stage, the novelty as well as the unhappiness of his case will engage the favour and protection of a British audience.” The performance, which must certainly have been of a painful kind, attracted a very numerous audience: and the fact may be regarded as proof that an appet.i.te for what is now designated ”the sensational” was not wholly unknown to the playgoers of the last century. It does not appear that Dr. Clancy's representation of the blind prophet was repeated, nor is it stated that as an histrionic effort it was particularly distinguished. It was enough perhaps that the part was played by a man who was really blind, instead of by one merely simulating blindness. Ultimately Dr. Clancy's case moved the pity of George II., and he was awarded during his life a pension of 40 a year from the privy purse.

Other authors have from time to time appeared on the stage to speak prologues, or to sustain complete characters; for instance, Tom Durfey, Otway, Farquhar, Savage, Murphy, and, to jump to later days, Sheridan Knowles. Their appearances, however, cannot be simply connected with benefits. In many cases they, no doubt, contemplated the adoption of the stage as a profession, though, as a rule, it must be said success was denied them in such respect. They played on their benefit-nights, of course, but their performances were not limited to those occasions.

It is not to be supposed that a benefit could be taken by an actor, or, at an earlier date, by an author, without his incurring much trouble in regard to preliminary arrangements. The mere issue of a list of entertainments, however attractive, was by no means sufficient. He was required to call at the houses of his patrons and friends, personally to solicit their support on the occasion, and to pay his respects to them. Any failure of attention on his part in this matter he was bound to make the subject of public explanation and apology. It must be remembered that the playgoers of a century ago were rather a family than a people. They were limited in number, returned to the theatre night after night, naturally demanding that constant change of programme which so distinguished the old stage, and has been so completely omitted from modern theatrical arrangements, and were almost personally known to the actors. This, of course, only refers to the visitors to the pit and boxes; the galleries were always presumed to be occupied by footmen and apprentices, and persons of no consideration whatever, while stalls were not yet in existence.

Strangers from the country were few--those from foreign parts fewer still. The theatre was regarded, as it were, from a household point of view; was in some sort supplementary to a man's home, and he therefore considered himself ent.i.tled to be heard and to take a personal interest in regard to its concerns and proceedings. Necessarily this feeling diminished as London grew in size and the audience increased in numbers, and finally became impossible. An actor knew at last his admirers only in the ma.s.s; while they lost inevitably all individual and private interest in his success. But long after the London players had ceased to make calls and to solicit patronage for their benefits, the practice still obtained in the provinces, and could on no account be abandoned. Thus, in early life, when a member of the country company of which her father, Roger Kemble, was manager, the great Mrs. Siddons has been seen, as a contemporary writer describes, ”walking up and down both sides of a street in a provincial town, dressed in a red woollen cloak, such as was formerly worn by menial servants, and knocking at each door to deliver the playbill of her benefit.” And to come to a later instance, the reader may bear in mind that before that ornament of Mr. Crummles's company, Miss Snevellici, took her benefit or ”bespeak” at the Portsmouth Theatre, she, in company with Nicholas Nickleby, and, for propriety's sake, the Infant Phenomenon, canva.s.sed her patrons in the town, and sold tickets to Mr.

and Mrs. Curdle, Mrs. Borum, and others.

In pursuance of this principle, we find a notice in the bill for Mr.

Bickerstaff's benefit, at Drury Lane, in May, 1723: ”Bickerstaff being confined to his bed by his lameness, and his wife lying now dead, has n.o.body to wait on the quality and his friends for him, but hopes they'll favour him with their appearance.” And when, just before Mr.

Ryan's benefit at Covent Garden in 1735, he had been attacked by a footpad and seriously injured--several of his teeth having been shot out, and his face and jawbone much shattered--he addressed a letter in _The Daily Post_ to his friends, in which he stated the uncertainty of his being ever able to appear on the stage again, and expressed his hopes ”that they would excuse his not making a personal application to them.” So again, on the occasion of Mr. Chapman's benefit, in 1739, there appears in the playbill an announcement: ”N.B.--I being in danger of losing one of my eyes, and advised to keep it from the air, therefore stir not out to attend my business at the theatre. On this melancholy occasion I hope my friends will be so indulgent as to send for tickets to my house, the corner of Bow Street, Covent Garden, which favour will be gratefully acknowledged by their obedient, humble servant, THOMAS CHAPMAN.” The excuses set forth in these announcements appear to be very sufficient, and no doubt were so regarded by the patrons in each case, while at the same time they demonstrate the conduct required ordinarily of persons anxious for public support on the occasion of their benefits. Excuses of a lighter kind, however, seem frequently to have been held adequate by the players. Mr.

Sheridan, the actor, notifies in 1745 that, ”as his benefit was not appointed till last Friday, he humbly hopes that such ladies and gentlemen as he shall omit to wait on will impute it rather to a want of time than to a want of respect and knowledge of his duty.” And Mr.

Yates, who about the same time had migrated from the West-end stage to the humbler theatre in Goodman's Fields, and announced Fielding's ”Miser” for his benefit--”the part of Lovegold to be attempted by Mr.

Yates after the manner of the late Mr. Griffin”--apologises ”for not waiting on ladies and gentlemen, as he is not acquainted with that part of the town.” Whether this somewhat lofty plea of ignorance of their neighbourhood, however, affected unfavourably the actor's claims upon the denizens of Goodman's Fields, cannot now be ascertained. In time notices of this kind disappeared altogether from the playbills.

At the present day an actor, of course, does his best to conciliate patronage, and in his own immediate circle of friends some little canva.s.sing probably takes place to promote the sale of tickets; but these matters are arranged privately, and the general public is relieved from the calls of actors and their personal appeals for support. Indeed, the old system is now in a great degree reversed, and the actor's place of abode is often stated in his advertis.e.m.e.nts in order that the public may call upon him to obtain tickets for his benefit, if they prefer that course to purchasing them in the usual way at the box-office of the theatre. In the case of actresses this plan has often been found efficacious in diminis.h.i.+ng the exuberant ardour of certain youthful supporters of the stage, by enabling them to discover that the fair performer who had peculiarly stirred their dramatic sympathies, was hardly seen to such advantage by daylight, in the seclusion of her private dwelling, as when under the glare of gas, with distance lending enchantment to rouge and pearl-powder, and casting an accommodating veil over divers physical deficiencies and unavoidable deteriorations.

As benefits became common, and they were relegated to the close of the season, when the general appet.i.te for theatrical entertainments may be presumed to be tolerably satiated, the actors found it very necessary to put forward performances of an unusual kind to attract patronage and stimulate the curiosity of the public. It was understood that on these occasions criticism was suspended, and great licence was permissible. A benefit came to be a kind of dramatic carnival. Any and everything was held to be lawful, and efforts of an experimental kind were almost demanded--certainly excused under the circ.u.mstances. The player who usually appeared wearing the buskin now a.s.sumed the sock, and the established comedian ventured upon a flight into the regions of tragedy. Novelty of some sort was indispensable, and the audience, if they might not wholly approve, were yet expected to forbear condemning. The comic actors especially availed themselves of their privileges, and on the strength of their popularity--the comedian always establis.h.i.+ng more intimate and friendly relations between himself and his audience than are permitted to the tragedian--indulged in very strange vagaries. Mr. Spiller, on the occasion of his benefit at the theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields in 1720, issued an advertis.e.m.e.nt: ”Whereas I, James Spiller, of Gloucesters.h.i.+re, having received an invitation from Hildebrand Bullock, of Liquorpond Street, London, to exercise the usual weapons of the n.o.ble science of defence, will not fail to meet this bold invader, desiring a full stage, blunt weapons, and from him much favour.” At another time the same actor announced his benefit in a kind of mock electioneering address, requesting the vote and interest of the public on the ground of his being ”a person well affected to the establishment of the theatre.” To recite an epilogue while seated on the back of an a.s.s was a favourite expedient of the comedians of the early Georgian period, while the introduction of comic songs and mimicry--such as the scene of ”The Drunken Man,” and the song of ”The Four-and-Twenty Stock-Jobbers,”

which Mr. Harper performed on his benefit-night in 1720--was found to be a very attractive measure. Authors who were on friendly terms with the actors, or had reason to be grateful to them, frequently gave them short pieces or wrote special epilogues for their benefits. Sheridan's farce, ”St. Patrick's Day, or the Scheming Lieutenant,” was a present to Clinch, the actor, and first produced on his benefit-night in 1775.

Goldsmith felt himself so obliged to Quick and Lee Lewes, who had been the original Tony Lumpkin and Young Marlow in ”She Stoops to Conquer,” that for the one he adapted a farce from Sedley's translation of ”Le Grondeur,” and supplied the other with an occasional epilogue, written in his pleasantest manner. When Shuter selected ”The Good-natured Man” for his benefit, the gratified author, in a fit of extravagant kindness, sent the actor ten guineas--possibly the last he had at the time--for a box ticket.

On the occasion of his first benefit in London, Garrick furnished his patrons with a remarkable proof of his versatility, for he represented extreme age in ”King Lear,” and extreme youth in the comedy of ”The Schoolboy.” At his second benefit he again contrasted his efforts in tragedy and comedy by appearing as Hastings in ”Jane Sh.o.r.e,” and Sharp in the farce of ”The Lying Valet.” Kean, for his benefit, danced as harlequin, gave imitations of contemporary performers, and sang the song of ”Tom Tug” after the manner of Mr. Incledon. Other actors of very inferior capacity made similar experiments, the fact that the performance was ”for a benefit,” and ”for one night only,” being esteemed in every case a sufficient justification of any eccentricity.

It would be hopeless to attempt any detailed account of the many strange deeds done for the sake of benefits. Actresses have encroached upon the repertory of their male playfellows, as when Mrs. Woffington appeared as Lothario, Mrs. Abington as Scrub, Mrs. Siddons as Hamlet, and when portly Mrs. Webb attempted the character of Falstaff. Actors have laid hands on characters which usually were deemed the exclusive property of the actresses--as when Mr. Dowton resigned his favourite part of Sir Anthony Absolute and donned the guise of Mrs. Malaprop.

The Kembles have sought to make their solemn airs and sepulchral tones available in the reckless scenes and hilarious utterances of farce--and exuberant comedians of the Keeley and Liston pattern have ventured to tincture with whimsicality the woes of tragedy. To draw a crowded house and bring money to the treasury was the only aim.

Benefits, in fact, followed the argument of the old drinking song--merriment at all costs to-night, and sobriety, somehow, on the morrow--until the benefit season came round again, and then--_da capo!_

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