possible giving the mortifying refusal, and at length after having perhaps driven the poor poet to his last shirt, acquit himself in the most polite terms possible; a hungry author would certainly damn him for a fawning equivocating scoundrel, and for the next toast, in small beer give "More beef, and less complaisance." But if, like a certain manager, who has presided for almost twenty years over the best regulated company of comedians in Europe, he should, when a play is offered to him, read it with attention, be always accessible to the author and diligent in giving a fair and candid opinion of the piece without equivocation or disguise, and such an opinion as would constantly stand the test of sound criticism; no one but the vain, self-sufficient, disappointed poetaster would ever be offended at a similar conduct, and even such a contemptible animal as this, must not be so callous to all literary fame, as not to be better pleased with a genteel representation of his errors and inability, than to be damned the first night of his piece's representation, to the lowest regions of public infamy.

I shall illustrate this observation with a genuine anecdote. In the reign of Queen Anne, a solemn bard, who, like Bayes in the Rehearsal, wrote only for fame and reputation, upon the second day's public triumph of his muse, marching in a stately full bottomed peruke into the lobby of the house with a lady of condition in his hand, and raising his voice to the Sir Fopling sound, that became the mouth of a man of quality, and calling out"Hey, box-keeper, where is my lady such a one's servant?" was unfortunately answered by honest John Trott, (which then happened to be the box-keeper's real name) "Sir, we are dismissed; there was not company enough to pay candles." In which mortal astonishment it may be sufficient to leave him, exclaiming against the barbarous taste of the age, their want of judgment, and the like.

But the difficulties and embarrassments which managers labour under, are not confined merely to poets; they have many refractory subjects in their commonwealth-many turbulent spirits in their state, who are constantly raising commotions; the progress of which nothing but the most vigilant attention, animating the utmost latitude of human prudence, can frequently prevent. And therefore if when they have gained the public esteem, by affording the town a rational and variegated amusement, they may be supposed to be handsomely rewarded for their pains, it is no more than what they most laboriously earn. No reasonable man ever grudged a lord chancellor his income, and if small things may be compared with great, by a parity of reasoning,

no generous man should covet the much inferior profits of the far more laborious and embarrassing task of a theatrical manager. Perhaps the reader may not be thoroughly acquainted with the vocations of a dramatic governor and therefore I shall give him a short sketch of them, as Colley Cibber represented them to the court of King's Bench when he was counsel in his own cause depending with Sir Richard Steele.

THE DUTY OF A MANAGER.

"By our books it is apparent, that the managers have under their care no less than a hundred and forty persons in constant daily pay; and among such numbers, it will be no wonder, if a great number of them are unskilful, and sometimes untractable, all which tempers are to be led or driven, watched and restrained, by the continual skill, care and patience of the managers. Every manager is obliged in his turn to attend two or three times every morning at the rehearsal of plays and other entertainments for the stage, or else every rehearsal would be but a rude meeting of mirth and jollity. The same attendance is as necessary at every play, during the time of its public action, in which one or more of us have constantly been punctual, whether we have any part in the play or not. A manager ought to be at the reading of every new play when it is at first offered to the stage, though there is seldom one of those plays in twenty, which, upon hearing, proves to be fit for it; and upon such occasions the attendance must be allowed to be as painfully tedious, as the getting rid of the authors of such plays must be disagreeable and difficult. Besides this, a manager is to order all new clothes, to assist in the fancy and propriety of them, to limit the expense and to withstand the unreasonable importunities of some, who are apt to think themselves injured, if they are not finer than their fellows. A manager is to direct and oversee the painters, machinists, musicians, singers and dancers, to have an eye upon the doorkeepers, under servants and officers, who, without such care, are too often apt to defraud us, or neglect their duty."

Such are the outlines of the duty of a manager, which must appear no very easy employment to fill with propriety, as it necessarily requires a thorough knowledge of all the things that relate to the stage and its decorations, and an uncommon share of sense and foresight, to apply them to the most advantage. I shall make no farther comment upon this business, which, perhaps, to some of my readers, may be considered as a tedious digression, though so immediately connected with the person and subject I am writing upon.

CHAPTER VIII.

A view of the stage at the time of Mr. Garrick's first appearance. His superior abilities impartially represented.

WE now approach that period, when the great theatrical luminary, who has shone with such transcendent splendour for five and twenty years, first made his appearance upon our horizon. Let us for a moment view the state of the stage at this crisis, and the principal actors whom he so far and suddenly eclipsed, that their names were scarce ever after mentioned but as mere theatrical satellites. We must however exclude from this number our buskined hero, though it must at the same time be acknowledged, that he lost his rank in many parts that he before performed without a rival.

Quin was at that time at the head of the Drury-lane company, and had not met with any sort of competitor since the death of Booth, till Delane having gained the ascendant at Covent-garden, had some blind admirers, who put him upon an equal footing with Quin, of whom he was little more than the copy; and even in those very points which the nicer judges condemned him for, particularly a monotony, which the critics called languid; but this defect Quin could emerge from whenever he chose to exert himself, which he was the more assiduous in now doing, as even his petty rivalship created an emulation in him to distinguish his superiority. On the other hand Quin's solemn sameness of pronunciation, which communicated so much dignity to the part of Cato, could never be imitated by Delane: add to this, that Quin's action was always elegant, and suited to the character he appeared in; whereas Delane's was seldom or never so. In a word though the prejudiced, or ill judges might rank Delane in the same class as Quin, the town, whose opinion seldom errs in this respect, by a great majority pronounced our hero still unrivalled.

These then were the two principal actors, at the time that Mr. Garrick made his first appearance in the character of Richard the Third at Goodman's Fields in the year 1740-1 when that theatre was under the management of Mr. Gifford. He displayed at the very earliest dawn a somewhat more than meridian brightness; his excellence dazzled and astonished everyone; and the seeing a

young man, in no more than his twenty-fourth year, and a novice to the stage, reaching at one single step that height of perfection, which maturity of years and long practical experience had not been able to bestow on the then capital performers of the English stage, was a phenomenon, which could not but become the object of universal speculation and as universal admiration. Quin was the only actor that could be opposed to him in any particular character; but it was soon manifested that Garrick's universality, by reason of his natural endowments and acquired accomplishments, would no longer admit of any competitor for theatrical fame for Mr. Garrick though low in his person, is well shaped and neatly proportioned, and having added the qualifications of dancing and fencing to that natural gentility of manner which no art can bestow, but which our great mother nature endows many with from infancy; his deportment is constantly easy, natural and engaging; his complexion is dark, and the features of his face are pleasingly regular, and animated by a full black eye, brilliant and penetrating: his voice is clear, melodious and commanding, and although it may not possess the strong over-bearing powers of Mossop's, or the musical sweetness of Barry's, yet it appears to have a much greater compass of variety than either, and from Mr. Garrick's judicious manner of conducting it, enjoys that articulation and piercing distinctness, which renders it equally intelligible, even to the most distant parts of an audience, in the gentle whispers of murmuring love, the half smothered accents of in-felt passion, or the professed and sometimes awkward concealments of a side speech in comedy, as in the rants of rage, the darings of despair or the open violence of tragical enthusiasm. Such are the outlines of a picture, that is completely original, whose every feature bears the stamp of nature; for it is from her alone, that this great performer has taken all his lessons; and as she is in herself inexhaustible, it is not surprising that her darling son should find an unlimited scope for change and diversity. To what else can we attribute those innumerable variations of passion which he can so promptly express? Rage and ridicule, doubt and despair, transport and tenderness, compassion and contempt, love, jealousy, fear, fury and simplicity; these and many more that want a name, all in turn take possession of his features, while each in turn appears to be the sole possessor of those features. One night old age sits on his countenance, as if the wrinkles she had stamped were indelible; the next, the gaiety and bloom of youth seem to overspread his face, and smoothe even those marks, which time and muscular conformation may have really made there. Of these truths no

one can be ignorant, who has ever seen him in the several characters of Lear, or Hamlet, Richard, Dorilas, Romeo, or Lusignan; in his Ranger, Bayes, Drugget, Kitely or Benedick. In a word, there never existed any one performer, that came near his excellence in so great a variety of opposite characters.

And now I have done this justice to Mr. Garrick's singular merit, let it be at the same time remembered, that Quin was still by far the best Sir John Brute, our only Cato, and remained quite unrivalled in Sir John Falstaff. And indeed, Quin had still many partisans who would not allow Garrick to be his superior in any tragic character; but as prejudice and partiality, doubtless then prompted them to support this opinion, it would be ridiculous now to maintain it, when even these very sticklers for Quin have long since been convinced of their error; and if they have not publicly recanted, they have been actuated more by pride than candour.