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Theatrical revolutions during Mr. Quin's holding the first rank upon the stage. Anecdotes of managers and actors, which set the dramatic transactions of those times in a clear point of view. Theophilus Cibber's treachery to his master, and Quin's treatment of him. An adventure between our hero and a poet.

We now see Mr. Quin arrived at the summit of his profession, where he remained without a rival for full ten years. But, though he was in quiet possession of the first rank upon the stage, the stage itself did not continue in this peaceable state all this while. Various were the fermentations and revolutions of the theatre during the course of this period, some of the most remarkable of which I shall take notice of, as Mr. Quin's interest and character were very immediately connected with them.

The tyranny of the managers of Drury Lane house, to whom Booth and Cibber sold their shares, was so great that it was unanimously agreed by the whole company to desert their masters, and set up for themselves in the Little Theatre in the Haymarket, which they accordingly did in 1733. The managers, who were highly irritated at this proceeding, were advised to put the act of the twenty-first of Queen Anne in force against the deserted heroes. Sir Thomas Deveil, who was always a very active, though not a very successful, magistrate in all theatrical altercations, granted a warrant, by virtue whereof one of the chief performers was taken upon the stage, while he was performing, and committed to Bridewell: but he was discharged, as he was not within the meaning of the act, being a housekeeper, and having a vote for the representatives of the city of Westminster in parliament.

This unexpected triumph operated so strongly upon the Drury Lane managers, that Highmore and his confederates had no thoughts but of abdicating their thrones, which they proposed doing, however, only to the best bidder. And yet if these gentlemen patentees had either been acquainted with the real situation of their revolted actors' affairs, or had been possessed of fortitude enough to have undertaken another campaign, the deserters must have surrendered at discretion.

The manager of the other house had probably been let into the

secret, or gained such intelligence as made him think the Drury Lane patent a desirable acquisition. He accordingly framed the project of becoming the manager of both houses—what a torrent of pantomimes would the town have been deluged with! and what a comfortable situation would the best actors have been in, had this scheme taken place, when they would have had no other master to have flown to for redress and encouragement! The reason that this design proved abortive was that it could not be carried into execution by Rich alone, as he was deficient in the most material point-the res pecuniaria. He therefore made application to his friend Mr. Fleetwood, and proposed to him that he should purchase the patent in his name, as well to secure to him the property he should disburse, as to save appearances with the town, who would perhaps become jealous of what might be construed into a monopoly in Rich, and that he would pay Fleetwood at fixed periods such sums as would entitle him to a moiety of the profits as arising from Drury Lane.

When this project got wind, the actors in the Haymarket were in the utmost consternation lest it should succeed; as they would have been compelled to submit to whatever conditions he might have imposed, so calamitous was the state of their affairs, which became every day more desperate.

At this critical juncture a misunderstanding arose between Fleetwood and Rich; so that the first, who became a purchaser of five-sixths of the shares of Drury Lane house, broke off all connexion with Rich, and remained sole manager of that theatre. This was a favourable incident to the mutineers, who had a carte blanche offered them from Fleetwood, and they accordingly disposed of their scenes and wardrobe to him, and 'listed under his banner, with better salaries than were ever before paid any company. The general conditions were, two hundred pounds a year to each managing actor, and a clear benefit. Quin was engaged at the same time by Fleetwood, but upon still more advantageous terms, and such, indeed, as no hired actor ever had before. This was proof that he was now at the summit of his profession, and that he had no competitor either for recompense or applause.

Notwithstanding Theophilus Cibber was amongst the foremost of the mutineers who found protection under Mr. Fleetwood's banner, of so ungrateful a cast was the progeny of the laureate that, when Mr. Fleetwood was confined by a fit of the gout, he circulated reports that his affairs were in so bad a situation, and he was in such great arrears with his actors, that though he might recover from his indisposition there was no likelihood of

his ever returning to the management of the stage; nay, he prevailed upon his father to exert his influence with the L-d C -n, in order to obtain a licence for another playhouse, as Mr. Fleetwood had very injuriously treated his principal actors. These reports, which were the offspring of The.'s brain, had just the effect which every honest man would desire. It was upon this occasion that some opprobrious words passed between Quin and Cibber, who denied his having had any hand in the propagation of these calumnies. Quin, who had always looked upon him as an impertinent coxcomb, had now as much reason to abhor as he had before to despise him, and when The. talked about satisfaction in a gentlemanlike manner, Quin said with a laugh, "Quarrelling with such a fellow is like- (using an indecent expression), and walked off as cool as if nothing had happened. This was more cutting to The. than if he had said the severest sarcasm that could have been uttered. He never forgave Quin for it, but merely on this account abuses him upon every occasion in what he calls an Apology for his Life, which is one of the most trifling, insignificant productions that was ever put together; for it cannot be said to be written, as everything that is worth reading in it is stolen from his father's Apology. This was also the source of that quarrel which afterwards ended in a duel and a flight at the Bedford coffee house, and which will be found in the sequel of this Life.

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When Cibber had thus thrown himself out of Fleetwood's confidence, Quin supplied his place in presiding over rehearsals, and the perusal of such new plays as were offered.

There is a story told of him, concerning his behaviour to an author upon one of these occasions, which carries with it a good deal the air of truth. A poet had put a tragedy which he had just finished, into his hands one night behind the scenes, whilst he was still dressed for the character he had performed. Quin put it into his pocket, and never thought any more about it: the bard who was very impatient to know his sentiments with regard to the piece, waited upon him one morning, in order to hear his doom. Quin gave some reasons for its not being proper for the stage, after having learned the title and the fable, which he was before entirely unacquainted with: upon which the poet, whose muse had flattered him with the perspective view of a new suit of clothes, as well as the clearing the chandler's shop score, in a faltering voice desired to have his piece returned. There," said Quin, "it lies in the window." Upon which poor Bayes repaired to the window and took up a play which proved to be a comedy, and his muse had brought forth a direful tragedy;

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whereupon he told Quin of the mistake;-who very pleasantly said, “Faith, then, Sir, I have certainly lost your play." "Lost my play!" cries the poet, almost thunderstruck. "Yes, by but I have," replied Quin,—" but look ye, here is a drawer full of both comedies and tragedies-take any two you will in the room of it." But this in no way satisfied the poet, who imagined that no one's Pegasus had so luxuriant a district to graze on as his own upon the common of Parnassus. "My play or a benefit; if not, sir, I shall commence a prosecution against you and the manager.' Such were the terms of the bard:-he had the run of the house, and was completely satisfied; being fully persuaded that his next production (which, by-the-bye, was the identical same in a rough copy) would not fail of being performed.

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CHAPTER VII.

The difficult task of managers, particularly with regard to writers; the manner in which the different managers of this century have behaved upon these occasions. The genteel method Mr. Garrick pursues. An author's disgrace upon the second night of the representation of his piece. The duty of a manager according to the poet laureate.

THE story related of Mr. Quin, in the last chapter, when he was deputy manager of Drury Lane house, naturally leads to some reflections upon the embarrassments the masters of playhouses most frequently meet with upon these occasions.

If a manager refuses a play by saying "that he has so many pieces to bring on this season that he would not amuse the gentleman with hopes to his prejudice, while, perhaps, the manager of the other house would be very glad of the performance," he is looked upon as a stupid, ignorant coxcomb, to say anything of a play before he has seen it; or that if ignorance is not the ground-work of his behaviour, partiality must be so; or else he may be giving the preference to contemptible works, whilst he refuses to accept of those that may be of great worth and excellence. If, like Wilkes, when he was one of the patentees, he should pay the author compliments on his piece that it did not deserve, and omit mentioning such beauties as might have escaped him, none but a fool could be pleased, and such could never be the author of a work of this nature, and as a man of sense he must hold the manager's judgment in the highest contempt. If, like the laureate, he returned a poet his play with saying "That it was not fit for the stage," an author might pertinently reply "If, Sir, in other respects it is a good piece, it may be easily rendered theatrical, as this is a mechanical quality and is like the jeu de theatre to an actor;-it can never confer merit, but may hide defects." If, like the late Mr. Rich, whose judgments were always particularly laconic, he should communicate his answer as this manager constantly did, in the same identical four words,— "It will not do;"-an author might perhaps shrewdly add,-"for you-who form the same opinion upon all works except pantomimes." Or if, indeed, like Mr. Fleetwood, who piqued himself upon being the gentleman, more particularly on these occasions, as he had gentlemen only to deal with, he should avoid as long as

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