Part 14
Fortunately for Handel the publick were pleased with the performance of his Alexander's Feast at Covent-garden Theatre soon after his return; and, to add to his good fortune, he was solicited to compose two Italian Operas for Lord Middlesex, who had been compelled to take the direction of this difficult concern upon himself, to preserve it from total ruin. His success on this occasion operated powerfully with the multitude; and a benefit produced him 1500_l._ in the year 1738. An opportunity thus offered to effect a complete reconciliation with his former employers; but that asperity of temper and impatience of controul which always marked his character induced him to reject every proposal connected with subscriptions. After several unsuccessful attempts to establish the Opera at Covent-garden Theatre, he turned his attention to the composition of Oratorios, which he intended should have been _acted_ and sung; but the popular opinion, that such representations from Scripture would be a profanation of religion, deterred him from the design; and he caused them to be sung only as they are at present.
Similar to most human inventions, the Oratorio was of little service to the _Author_: posterity, according to custom, has had the honour of rewarding Handel's _memory_; and if an Angel composed new ones, they would certainly not succeed, till he had fled from the earth half a century, and till Handel has had _his_ day.
The Irish nation received our great musician and his oratorios with complacency; and as he gave the produce of the first performance of his Messiah in Dublin to the City prison, he soon secured their patronage. After considerably improving his circumstances, he returned to England, where his oratorios recovered from their previous depression, and received that approbation which a dread of having lost them probably excited. Handel gave the profits of an annual performance of the Messiah to the Foundling Hospital; and attended their oratorios regularly long after he had lost his sight by a _gutta serena_, and till within eight days of his death.
His present Majesty is passionately fond of Handel's musick; and that the publick are not less so, may be inferred by the eternal repetition of his Oratorios during the season of Lent; by which means, I shall be excused in observing, modern musical genius is depressed, and the pockets of conductors more readily filled. Hence the tiresome selections upon festivals and at concerts, where, if the audience is surprised by _a new_ movement, they exclaim, "Ah! this is _not like_ Handel's strains:"--True, but may they not be equally delightful?
The first _description_ of an Opera which I have met with is in the eleventh number of the Theatre, for November 18, 1758. As the writer appears to have entered into the subject with more than usual spirit, its insertion may possibly prove acceptable to the reader; but he will immediately discover that even our Theatres for pantomime now rival the antient Opera.
"King's Theatre. On Saturday the 18th instant was performed a new Opera called _Attalo_, with new decorations and dances. I have already thrown out a few loose hints with regard to the abovementioned performance; and as in this place I propose speaking of it a little more at large, I shall begin with observing, that an Opera has in one particular a manifest advantage over almost every theatrical entertainment, by admitting of that kind of shew and decoration, which if not absolutely rejected by the other daughters of the Drama, is at least, generally speaking, forced upon them: that is to say, though we sometimes see triumphs and processions in a few of our tragedies and comedies, yet the best judges have always looked on them as childish and ridiculous: whereas, the only design of an Opera being to delight, that gay finery which looks so unbecoming and out of character upon her two elder sisters, is a necessary part of her dress; and as nobody understands the method of placing those ornaments better than Mr. Vaneschi, so in the present case I think he has taken all the care imaginable to set off _Attalo_ to the best advantage.
"But a dry and circumstantial description of these matters would not only fall very short of what is meant to give an idea of, but also be tedious to the readers: for this reason therefore I shall hardly attempt to do any thing more in the present essay than to assure them that the finest scenes, the finest pantomime hitherto invented, even by that father of pantomimes himself, the manager of Covent-garden playhouse, are considerably inferior to those in the Opera of _Attalo_; but particularly, in the first act, where Semiramis enters in a triumphal car, supported by Medean and Bactrian slaves, and surrounded by a number of Assyrian soldiers who carry the spoils and trophies of an enemy which she is supposed lately to have conquered, we are presented with the scene of a square; not a dead piece of painted canvass, but one in which the prospective is executed in so masterly a manner, that one would almost swear it was something more than a mere _deceptio visûs_; to which, by the way, a pedestrian statue, which is elevated in the centre of the buildings, does not a little contribute.
"Scenes of this kind are seldom if ever to be seen in a common Theatre, where the other charges are so large and numerous, as well as the price so confined, that the profits of such a pompous apparatus would by no means answer the expence: the place in our English plays also is too often varied to allow of it; besides, the business of these stages is, properly speaking, to provide the understanding with substantial food, not to treat it with conserves and sweatmeats; and from this reason it proceeds that dances, which at the playhouses are only made use of as a garnish, are at the Opera (which may not unaptly be compared to a dessert or a collation) one of the principal parts of the entertainment.
"I should be extremely glad were it in my power to oblige the readers even with a faint idea of these: they all know, I believe, that Signior Galini is universally allowed to be one of the finest dancers in Europe; but at the King's Theatre, where he at present performs, he not only gives us the strongest proofs of his executive powers, but also of his skill in designing, by having composed three of the prettiest ballets I ever saw; and for plot, movement, humour, and, if I may make use of the expression, gesticulated wit, they are equal, I believe, to any, even of those which Lewis the Fourteenth himself was so fond of.
"In the first dance, the scene of which, by the way, may more properly be called an emulation than a copy of nature, being that of a forest half cut down, where the trees are represented in the liveliest manner, and the prospect of clouds and blue mountains extended to an amazing distance; Forti and Bononi, in the characters of a woodman and his wife, carry the grotesque to a most entertaining degree of extravagance. Bononi is allowed to excel in this way every one who has gone before her; for Galini, as his genius is very different, so it is greatly preferable to this. His dancing indeed may be considered as a kind of dumb musick, since there is hardly a note which he does not express by some significant gesture. Carlini, his partner, is pretty much in the same mode, and when they appear after the second act in a very extensive plain, interspersed with villages, there cannot perhaps be imagined two more agreeable figures. But the third and last ballet, in which the four principal dancers come out together, surpasses all the rest. The prospect is that of a rock, which being open in two or three different places, discovers a wide river, and, in appearance, at least half a mile long, the transparency of the water is so well imitated, that we see the shadows of several flags and bullrushes, which grow upon it; nor is a distant village, which appears at one side, a small addition to the beauty of the view: down this rock come the figure dancers, who are met at the door of a cottage by Signior Galini and his friends; it is a kind of rural feast, and the music is so antic and lively, that that alone would be sufficient, I should think, to put an audience into a good humour.
"I had forgot to mention a scene in this Opera which is remarkably beautiful; I am told it was painted by the celebrated Salvandoni, and is the representation of a magnificent hall, adorned with arms and trophies. There was a full house; and the spectators expressed their approbation by unanimous applause."
The Oratorio of Judas Maccabæus was performed on the 18th of January 1760 at the Music-room in Dean-street, Soho, which was the first night of subscription. The pit seats were 10_s._ 6_d._ and the gallery 5_s._; the performers Signora Passerini, Miss Frederick, Mr. Hudson, and Mr. Champness; and the chorus contained the best singers of the Chapel Royal and St. Paul's. The music-room is now Christie's Auction-room for furniture, and seems in a state of ruin.
WHITE CONDUIT HOUSE[224:A].
_And to_ White Conduit _House We will go, will go, will go_.
Grub-street Register.
"Wish'd Sunday's come--mirth brightens ev'ry face, And paints the rose upon the house-maid's cheek, Harriot, or Moll, more ruddy. Now the heart Of prentice resident in ample street, Or alley kennel-wash'd, Cheapside, Cornhill, Or Cranborne, thee for calcuments renown'd, With joy distends. His meal meridian o'er, With switch in hand, he to the White Conduit House Hies merry-hearted. Human beings here In couples multitudinous assemble, Forming the drollest groupe that ever trod Fair Islingtonian plains. Male after male, Dog after dog succeeding--husbands--wives-- Fathers and mothers--brothers--sisters--friends And pretty little boys and girls. Around, Across, along, the garden's shrubby maze, They walk, they sit, they stand. What crowds press on Eager to mount the stairs, eager to catch First vacant bench or chair in long-room plac'd! Here prig with prig holds conference polite, And indiscriminate the gaudy beau And sloven mix. Here he, who all the week Took bearded mortals by the nose, or sat Weaving dead hairs, and whistling wretched strain-- And eke the sturdy youth, whose trade it is Stout oxen to contund,--with gold-bound hat And silken stocking strut. The red-arm'd belle Here shews her tasty gown, proud to be thought The butterfly of fashion: and forsooth Her haughty mistress deigns for once to tread The same unhallow'd floor--'Tis hurry all And rattling cups and saucers. Waiter here, And waiter there, and waiter here and there, At once is call'd--Joe--Joe--Joe--Joe--Joe-- Joe on the right--and Joe upon the left, For ev'ry vocal pipe re-echoes Joe. Alas, poor Joe! Like Francis in the Play He stands confounded, anxious how to please The many-headed throng. But should I paint The language, humours, custom of the place, Together with all curt'sies, lowly bow, And compliments extern, 'twould swell my page Beyond its limits due. Suffice it then For my prophetic Muse to say, 'So long As Fashion rides upon the wing of Time, While tea and cream and butter'd rolls can please, While rival beaux and jealous belles exist, So long, White-conduit house, shall be thy fame.'
W. WOTY."
One of the entertainments of 1760 was the performance on goblets containing water at different heights, which, rubbed on the rims by a wet finger, produces very sweet sounds, and when rapidly combined will make complete musick. Mr. Puckeridge was celebrated for performances of this description, which were much admired for some time, but are now nearly out of fashion.
One of the characteristicks of our various Theatres is the benefits, or, more properly speaking, the plays which are acted at the close of each season for the individual profit of the several performers. When an actor takes a benefit, he pays all the expences of the evening, and incurs the risk of great charges and small profits. Under the dread of losing, he exerts every nerve to fill the Theatre, and frequently lays heavy contributions on tradesmen, who, through some existing circumstances, think themselves bound to take tickets, and dispose of them as they can to their friends: and he solicits the wealthy without risking the imputation of mendicacy, because they know the actor has from 10_l._ to 20_l. per_ week salary. The benefit-night at length arrives, and the doors are besieged at an early hour by crowds determined not to lose the entertainment they have unwillingly paid for; in due time they rush forward, clamour prevails, and the quiet casual spectator is entirely deprived of hearing the play[227:A]. Mrs. Clive, the justly celebrated comic actress, has enabled me to illustrate this subject by the following spirited letter, addressed to "the Author of the Daily Gazetteer," concerning her benefit, and printed in April 1761. If the reader should wish still further illustrations, I beg leave to refer him to the various _apologies_ for theatrical lives which have been published by Cibber, Bellamy, Wilkinson, &c. &c.
"SIR, As I never read your paper, I did not hear of the malicious letter you had published against my benefit, till the very day, when it was too late to endeavour to prevent the mischief it might do me, as it was most artfully put in your paper the day before, as well as the day of my play. It is dated from George's Coffee-house; but your correspondent must excuse me for not believing it came from thence, as I have always heard that Coffee-house was frequented by gentlemen, not one of whom, I am confident, would have done me an undeserved mischief. I could not possibly suppose Mr. Shuter was capable of asking any body to write such a letter for him, as I never did him, or any performer, the least injury; on the contrary, I have had the greatest pleasure when it has been in my power to serve them in their benefits, from the highest class of actors down to the very lowest. But though he was not concerned in the writing of it (as he has declared he was not), it is too palpable to admit of the least doubt, that it must be wrote by some of his acquaintance, in order to serve his benefit by destroying mine.--That indeed was not quite in their power, as I had the honour to have a most noble and splendid appearance of persons of the first distinction that night at my play; who have been constant in their goodness and favour to me, and who were not to be influenced by a wretched Letter-writer. The loss I most certainly sustained by it I should have submitted to in silence, as it is with the utmost diffidence and reluctance I appear before the public in this light: but there is a most malicious and wicked insinuation in his letter, which I think myself under an absolute necessity to reply to.
"The Letter-writer, with great ease, desires the Publick not to go to my benefit, notwithstanding I had taken infinite pains to endeavour to entertain them the whole season through; his reason for that extraordinary request is, that I was to have a French farce, wrote by a poor wretched author, translated into English, and called _The Island of Slaves_:--and then, with great art and malice, he jumbles together some popular words, as, _French Farce_, _English Liberty_, _Island of Slaves_! 'What can Englishmen have to do in the _Island of Slaves_?' Poor wretched insinuation! Is it possible for any body to suppose, if there had been one syllable in the piece that had the least tendency to sneer at, or affront, the liberties of this country, that the managers would have suffered it to have been acted; or that the Lord Chamberlain would have given his sanction; or that I could have been such a fool as to dare to affront the publick with such a performance on my own benefit-night? I hope I may be indulged (though a woman) to say I have always despised the French Politicks; but I never yet heard that we were at war with their Wit.
"It is imputed to _me_, by the author of the letter, as a crime, that I should have a piece taken from the French for my benefit; when at the same time I believe one part in three of the Comedies and little pieces, that are now acting at both the Theatres, are acknowledged to be taken from the French; besides those that both antient and modern authors have sneaked into the Theatres without confessing from whence they came. I shall take the liberty to mention two that are known translations: _The Confederacy_, by Sir John Vanbrugh, one of our best Comedies, revived about two years ago, and acted to crowded houses with great applause; _The Guardian_, another French piece, brought on about the same time, and received with the highest approbation: both these performances acted at a time when we were at war with France, as we are now. 'Ay,' but says the good-natured Letter-writer, '_The Island of Slaves_ (tremendous title!)' I think I have made his malice appear pretty plain; I shall not have the least difficulty in making his ignorance full as conspicuous. It does not seem, by the style of his letter, that he is very intimately acquainted with his own language, but it is evident he knows nothing of the French; for if he had been capable of reading Mons. Marivaux's _Isle des Esclaves_, he could not have been quite so clumsy a critick, as to say he is a poor paltry author, when he is acknowledged by all people of taste and judgment to be one of the very best writers the French have. Then, as to his malicious insinuation, _The Island of Slaves_ is so very far from being a satire upon English liberty, that there is the highest compliment paid to it: the people of that island having quitted their native country (Athens) because 'they would not be Slaves,' and established themselves in an island, where, when their passions have subsided, and they begin to forget the injuries they received in their own country, they make the most noble, humane, sensible laws. I cannot pretend to give an account of the whole piece in this letter; but I may with great truth say, there was not any thing in it that was exceptionable; great spirit and humour in two of the characters, and fine sentiments throughout the whole; some part, perhaps, too grave for what is generally expected in pieces after a play. I shall beg leave to insert a few lines (not a translation) which concluded the piece: after Philo (one of the Islanders) has convinced the Athenians, who are then in his power, of their follies, he promises to provide them ships to send them into their own country; Cleanthe (one of the characters) says:
'We are all equally obliged to you, most amiable Philo, for your goodness to us; and if we should be so fortunate to arrive safe at Athens, I hope we shall have influence enough to prevail with them, when we recount our adventures, to imitate the incomparable laws of this ever happy Island.'
"I have done with your Correspondent: now, Mr. Gazetteer, I must say two or three words to you. I desire you would let me know who was the author of that letter; or it is possible I may convince you, I am so truly an English woman, and so little inclined to be a _slave_, as not to suffer any one to do me an injury with impunity.
"I am informed, you have more than once drawn yourself into scrapes, by the delicacy of your paper. If you comply with this request, in giving up your author, I shall think you intend to reform your manners; and in that case you will stand a chance of being read by your humble servant,
C. CLIVE.
"_Henrietta-street, Covent-garden, April 3, 1761._
"P.S. If I can have leave from the person who did me the honour to translate _The Island of Slaves_ for me, I shall print it; when every one that pleases may see how extremely ill I have been treated."
Benefits more congenial to the benevolent mind are, much to the credit of the proprietors of our places of public amusement, frequently given to Charitable Institutions: a short bill dated in May 1761 will explain those as they were and are now announced:
"Ranelagh-house, Tuesday the 9th of June, will be an Assembly for the benefit of the Middlesex Hospital. The doors will be open, and the concert begin, at the usual time. At ten o'clock a magnificent fire-work will be played off on the canal in the garden; and to conclude with a ball.
"N. B. There will be no collection made for the Charity. Tickets half a guinea each, &c."
I have in another place recommended the reader to visit Smithfield at eleven o'clock at night, in order to obtain a perfect knowledge of the _amusements_ substituted for a Fair. The facetious George Alexander Steevens wrote the following ludicrous but strictly just description of it about 1762:
"Here was, first of all, crowds against other crowds driving, Like wind and tide meeting, each contrary striving; Shrill fiddling, sharp fighting, and shouting and shrieking, Fifes, trumpets, drums, bagpipes, and barrow-girls squeaking, Come, my rare round and sound, here's choice of fine ware, Though _all_ was not sound sold at _Bartelmew_ Fair. There was drolls, hornpipe-dancing, and showing of postures, With frying black-puddings, and opening of oysters; With salt-boxes, solo's, and gallery folks squawling; The tap-house guests roaring, and mouth-pieces bawling; Pimps, pawnbrokers, strollers, fat landladies, sailors, Bawds, baillies, jilts, jockeys, thieves, tumblers, and taylors: Here's Punch's whole play of the Gunpowder plot, Wild beasts all alive, and pease-pudding all hot, Fine sausages fried, and the black on the wire; The whole court of France, and nice pig at the fire; Here's the up-and-downs, who'll take a seat in the chair? Tho' there's more up-and-downs than at Bartelmew Fair. Here's Whittington's cat, and the tall dromedary, The chaise without horses, and Queen of Hungary; Here's the merry-go-rounds, 'Come, who rides? come, who rides?' Sir; Wine, beer, ale, and cakes, fire-eating besides, Sir. The fam'd learned dog, that can tell all his letters; And some men, as scholars, are not much his betters."
Drury-lane Theatre was much improved in 1762, by lengthening the stage, enlarging the boxes and pit, and rebuilding the galleries. This alteration probably originated from the hopes of additional profit. Another in the management had its rise from the same cause; but the publick were less satisfied than with the former, as in the latter the advantage was by no means mutual between the proprietors and their patrons. The managers intimated that nothing under full prices would be taken during the performance; and the intimation received no opposition till January 1763: at that period symptoms of resistance appeared; and the publick complained that the time had been when they were admitted to the boxes for 4_s._ 6_d._ to witness plays performed by Booth, Wilkes, Cibber, Doggett, Norris, Penkethman, Johnson, Griffin, Porter, and Oldfield; and were then compelled to pay 5_s._ to hear _half a play_ acted by Garrick, Cibber, Yates, King[236:A], Packer[236:A], Holland, Obrien[236:B], Bransby, Palmer, and Ackman.