A NEW HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. CHAPTER I. DISORDERS. THE idea of self-importance which the actor exhibited during this period is shown by the following advertisement issued by one of reputation, and belonging to the "old set," namely, Boheme. At the bottom of the bill for April 27th, 1723, he announced: "Whereas I am informed that there is a report about the town that the managers of Drury Lane have lately endeavoured to seduce me from Lincoln's Inn Fields, I think myself obliged, in justice to the said managers, to declare that the said report is entirely false; and do hereby acknowledge that I first made overtures to be received into their company, for reasons at that time to myself best known, and further that it was never proposed by either of the said managers or myself that I should quit Lincoln's Inn Fields without six months' warning given to supply my part, and a discharge in writing from the managers of Lincoln's Inn Fields." VOL. II. B A tide of violence seemed destined to pursue actors. In March, 1735, an extraordinary incident befell Ryan. Towards midnight, after the play was over, he was going through Queen Street, and was crossing, when he heard a person dogging him closely. A villain immediately clapped a pistol to his mouth and fired; it was believed to be only charged with powder. Ryan exclaimed: "Friend, you have killed me, but I forgive you"-a very noble speech, and showing what his first thought was. He was taken to a surgeon's, and it was found that his teeth had been shot away and his jawbone shattered. To a good actor this was ruin, and in an address to the public it was stated that it was uncertain that he would ever appear again. For his benefit a large audience assembled, and the Prince of Wales sent him a "gold ticket" of ten guineas. He was eventually so far cured as to be able to resume his profession, but though there was always a whistling sound in his voice that gave a sort of grotesqueness, he was so sound and judicious an actor that he always commanded an audience and held an excellent position.* Ryan had an affray with some watermen, the result of which is thus naïvely reported: "His voice was originally a sharp shrill treble, but he received a blow on the nose which turned that feature a little out of its place, though not so much as to occasion any deformity, made an alteration in his voice also by no means to its advantage, yet still it continued not disgusting." *Davies declares that this defect did not exist, and that his elocution was excellent; but from Wilkinson's Mimicry, and the recorded jest in which he was bidden to make his son as good an actor as himself by getting him shot through the mouth, it seems most probable. But he retained a dreadful scar. It is curious how we can find links of a chain that will join us to a very remote period. A short time since I talked with an old gentleman who knew intimately Jack Taylor of the "Sun." Taylor had talked with Tom Davies, Johnson's friend, who described to him Ryan recounting his meeting with Betterton. Ryan had enjoyed a kind of prescriptive claim to all the lovers in tragedy and fine gentlemen in comedy, at the theatres in Lincoln's Inn Fields and Covent Garden, for nearly thirty years. In a conversation which I had with him some years before his death (says Davies), he told me that he began the trade of acting when he was a boy of about sixteen or seventeen years of age; and that one of his first parts, which was suddenly put into his hands in the absence of a more experienced player, was Seyton, an old officer in " Macbeth," when Betterton acted the principal character. As Betterton had not seen Ryan before he came on the stage, he was surprised at the sight of a boy in a large full-bottomed wig, such as our judges now wear on the Bench. However, by his looks he encouraged him to go on with what he had to say; and when the scene was over he commended the actor, but reproved old Downes, the prompter, for sending a child to him instead of a man advanced in years. The first dawn of his good fortune was the distinction paid him by Mr. Addison, who selected him from the tribe of young actors to play the part of Marcus in "Cato." The author and his friend Steele invited him to a tavern some time before the play was acted, and instructed him in his part. The old gentleman felt an honest pleasure in recollecting that early mark of favour bestowed on him by men of such eminence. In his person Ryan was something above the middle size; in his action and deportment rather easy than graceful; he was often awkward in the management of his head, by raising his chin and stretching out his neck; his voice was very powerful, but harsh and dissonant. Some time after, a man who lay dying in an hospital, being wounded in a street scuffle, sent to beg Mr. Ryan would come to him, which the actor did. The fellow confessed that he was the man who had fired at him, and begged his forgiveness. We have seen that in Clare Market and its neighbourhood were taverns frequented by the actors, where many drinking brawls and fatal scuffles had taken place. As we pass through these uncleanly slums, we see some of the old houses still remaining, and there is now standing close to Portugal Street a much-begrimed old tavern known as The Black Jack, which was frequented by players in the days of William the Third and Anne. Near it is another old house of call, that projects over the street, supported on columns. It is not difficult to fancy this place the scene of such incidents as are described in a roystering ballad of the day, written by a player, and in which he pictures the jolly life of the player: Mr. John Leigh (says Chetwood) I think was born in Ireland. He commenced actor, however, on the Irish theatre. He was a person of some education, with a particular amiable form, and genteel address, in so much that he gained the appellative of "Handsome Leigh." A good figure was the chief advantage in the parts he performed. He was called from this kingdom to fill up the troop of comedians raised to garrison the New Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, in the year 1714, at its first opening, where he set forth the first night in Captain Plume, in "The Recruiting Officer," which occasioned the following lines wrote on the back of one of their bills: 'Tis right to raise recruits, for faith, they're wanted, For not one acting soldier's here, 'tis granted. Mr. Leigh, I believe, might have been in the good graces of the fair sex, if his taste had led him that way. He has wrote several humorous songs. Here follows a sample, which, as it is a theatrical anecdote, will require a little illustration by way of notes. To the Tune of "Thomas, I cannot." My scandalous neighbours of Portugal Street I'll sing you a song, tho' my voice be not sweet, As merry a sonnet as times can afford, Of Egleton,* Walker, Jack Hall,† and my lord, [Mr. Chetwood here interrupts his ballad If you doubt of the truth, to confirm every word, II. First Egleton coax'd the fool over the way * Mr. Egleton, commonly called Baron Egleton, for taking that title upon him in France, where he squandered away a small patrimony. His person was perfectly genteel, and a very pleasing actor; but through a wild road of life he finished his journey in the twenty-ninth year of his age. + Mr. John Hall, a sharer in old Smock Alley Theatre, above thirty years ago. He went from hence with Mr. Leigh to the New Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields. He was something too corpulent, and a thickness of speech that might be mimicked with ease, which adds some humour to this ballad. He understood music, and was once a dancing-master, and the original Lockit in "The Beggar's Opera." A waiter at a coffee-house in Portugal Street, over against the stage-door; a person in understanding pretty near on a par with my lord. |