ard that they might give him a cead mille failthe. With exceeding complaisance he shifted his post, came round to the stage-box, where the Viceroy usually sits on command nights, received a real Irish gratulation, made the boys a speech, and then was suffered to go back again under reiterated peals of applause. Is not all this written down, with ample details, in Lockhart's life of his illustrious father-in-law? Wilks's natural benevolence showed itself on all occasions when an opportunity occurred. He was ever foremost in promoting charitable objects, whether for his own less fortunate countrymen and brethren of the sock, or for others who had no immediate claim. He originated the proposal by which a benefit was granted to assist the parishioners of St. Martin'sin-the-Fields to rebuild their church, and the Corinthian portico, so long obscured, but now distinctly seen and admired, stands as a monument of dramatic munificence. The wretched Savage, whose life has been so eloquently written by Dr. Johnson, received many tokens of Wilks's generosity. This reprobate was most probably an impostor also. His idle courses or ill-fortune reduced him to such distress that sometimes he slept on a bulk in the street, or was glad to creep into the theatre and seek a dog's bed between the scenes. Wilks took him by the hand, obtained for him more than one benefit, and called upon his reputed mother, Mrs. Brett, formerly Countess of Macclesfield, to rouse, if possible, her compassion. Such was his insinuating address that he actually extorted from her sixty guineas. She even promised one hundred and fifty more, but, being engaged in the bubble speculations of the time, she soon lost so much money by the South Sea scheme, that she made that the excuse for not keeping her word. At the same time she assured Wilks that Savage was not her son; that he was palmed upon her for the child, by Lord Rivers, which she had put out to nurse, and knew to be dead; and that she could never acknowledge a pretender in the character he claimed. This might be true or false; it might be a real conviction or a fabricated excuse. Her giving the money to Wilks has been set down as a decisive proof of the latter. It amounts, at the best, to no more than presumptive evidence. Savage's story was generally believed, and the eloquence of an accomplished pleader, such as Wilks, might surely obtain sixty guineas from a gay and wealthy lady of damaged reputation, in the hope of softening down an enduring scandal. Many people have paid money to get rid of offensive charges of which they were innocent. Why then should not the memory of this ill-conditioned woman have the benefit of the doubt accorded to even greater criminals, and which palliates, if it does not efface, an example of very unnatural barbarity, otherwise difficult to believe or comprehend? In 1708 or 9, Cibber, Doggett, Wilks, and Mrs. Oldfield were associated in a patent, as being the leading representatives of the English stage. Betterton was nearly on the shelf, and Booth had not then reached the eminence he afterwards attained, and which received its pedestal from his performance of Cato, in 1712. The triumvirate bought up the lady's interest for a secured salary of three hundred guineas per annum, and a benefit clear of all charges. For some time, the new management worked together harmoniously and prosperously; but, by-and-by, they fell out, and many of the best actors left them, and enlisted under rival banners. A promise of increased salary and promotion in parts was the true cause of their secession, and not dislike to Wilks's tyranny,as Cibber avers. Ryan chose £5 per week at Lincoln'sInn-Fields, with the part of Hamlet, in preference to Laertes, and fifty shillings at Drury-lane. Quin preferred the same double pay, with Tamerlane and Brutus, instead of the Dervise and Trebonius. Wilks was the Achilles of the confederate leaders, and, according to Cibber, as imperious, hot-headed, and absolute as that renowned firebrand. It appears certain that his temper was warm, and his rule coercive; but he was the most popular of the three with those who worked under them--as an officer is always held in esteem by the soldiers, who, while he makes them do their duty, sets the example of punctiliously performing his own. Cibber's heart was at the gaming table, and Doggett's on the stock ex change; while Wilks's entire energies were centred in his profession. The love of acting and the enjoyment of popular applause were as necessary to his existence as the circulation of his blood. Cibber, after maintaining that Wilks's violence drove Doggett from the stage, and forced eight of their most effective rank and file to go over to the enemy, makes a laboured and qualified amende, as follows:-"If, therefore, I have been obliged to show the temper of Wilks in its natural complexion, ought I not, in balance of his imperfections, to say, at the same time, of him that, if he was not the most careful or judicious, yet as Hamlet says of the king, his father-take him for all in all,' he was certainly the most diligent, most laborious, and most useful actor that I have ever seen upon the stage in fifty years." - Hear, now, honest prompter Downes (Rocius Anglicanus) who is quaint but unprejudiced "Mr. Wilks, proper and comely in person, of graceful port, mien, and air; void of affectation; his elevations and cadencies just-congruent to elocution, especially in genteel comedy, and not inferior in tragedy. The emission of his words free, easy, and natural; commanding alternately vehement applause and attentive silence in his audience (I mean the judicious) except where there are unnatural rants, as 'I'll mount the sky, And kick the gods like footballs, as I fly.' As Poet Durfey has it,'Which put the voice to such obstreperous stretch, Requires the lungs of a smith's bellows to reach.' He is, indeed, a finished copy of his famous predecessor, Mr. Charles Hart." Wilks often regretted that in tragedy he had not the full and strong voice of Booth to command and grace his periods with. But Booth used to say that if his ear had been equal to it, Wilks had voice enough to have reached higher excellence in tragedy than he attained. In sorrow, tenderness, or resignation, Wilks excelled Booth; but in the turbulent transports of the heart, Booth again bore the palm, and left all competition behind him. Actors are not remark able for lauding each other. Garrick qualified his warmest eulogiums with such drawbacks as, "Well, now-yes; it was good, but still," &c. Of King's Lord Ogleby, he said, “A clever piece of acting, certainly, but not exactly my Lord Ogleby.' The Kembles praised no one but themselves. John said of Edmund Kean, "This strange little man is painfully in earnest;" and Charles said of Young, "There's the great Zanga of the day for you!" Macready sneered at Edmund Kean, and Edmund Kean called Macready a humbug. Dowton refused to subscribe when a goblet was voted to Kean for his Sir Giles Overreach, and said it ought to be given to Joe Manden for his Marall. "You may cup Mr. Kean if you like," he added, "but you shall not bleed me. He wanted to play Sir Giles himself, which he asserted was a comic character, and never rested until the committee gave the town an opportunity of enjoying a hearty laugh at his Shylock. They tittered throughout, but the mirth reached its climax when he fainted in the arms of two attendant Jews, in the trial scene, on being told that he must 'presently become a Christian." Dowton also undervalued Farren's Lord Ogleby, which he fancied he could hit off more delicately, while nature with her own hand had stereotyped him for Mr. Sterling. Such are the vagaries of genius, blinded by vanity, which are equally mournful and unaccountable. Wilks did sometimes praise Booth, but Booth was never known to commend Wilks. He even disparaged him in Sir Harry Wildair. Cibber says, satirically, "If the judgment of the crowd were infallible, if applause and full houses are true tests of merit, I am afraid we shall be reduced to allow that the "Beggar's Opera," was the best written play, and Sir Harry Wildair, as Wilks played it, the best acted part that ever our English theatre had to boast of." 66 During Booth's inability to act, which lasted from 1729 until his death in 1733, Wilks was called upon to play two of his parts, Jaffier and Lord Hastings. Booth was, at times, in all other respects, except his inability to go on the stage, in good health, and went amongst the players for his amusement. Curiosity drew him to the theatre when Wilks acted these characters, in which he had himself appeared with uncommon lustre. All the world admired Wilks, except his brother manager. Amidst the repeated bursts of applause he elicited, Booth sat in gloomy silence. In 1721, Dryden's tragedy of "Aurungzebe," was reproduced with a powerful cast, and coinmanded five repetitions. Wilks, Booth, Mills, Mrs. Oldfield, and Mrs. Porter sustained the principal parts. Booth subdued the savage fierceness of Morat purposely. He was considered tame because he slurred some of the bombastic rant by which the character is disfigured. Wilks won superior credit in Aurungzebe, particularly in the speech on the vicissitudes and disappointments of life, perhaps the best specimen we have of the rhyming, tragic verse, so much the fashion of Dryden's day, which he freely indulged and defended in his " Essay on Dramatic Poetry." The lines are little remembered now, and are worth revival, not only for their intrinsic merit, but as a sample of an obsolete style: "When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat; Did you but know what joys your way attend, You would not hurry to your journey's end." 66 Wilks was fortunate in orginal parts, the great stepping stones of every actor's career. In his favourite line of high comedy, in addition to Farquhar's Archers, Mirabels, Plumes, and Wildairs, enough of themselves to make a rising actor, he had Carlos in "Love makes a Man," Sir Charles Easy in the "Careless Husband," Clerimont in the "Tender Husband," Careless in the Double Gallant,' Don Felix in the "Wonder," and Sir George Airy in the "Busy Body." The latter he considered much below his mark, and the whole play so milkand-waterish, that he threw down his part at rehearsal, and exclaimed that no audience could endure such stuff for half an hour. His best efforts in tragedy were Hamlet, Castalio, Jaffier, Edgar, Macduff, and the Prince of Wales. He gave great_importance to the short part of Bucking, ham in "Henry the Eighth," and was much admired in Mark Antony. In Lord Townly ("Provoked Husband"), produced in 1728, he was Yet, fool'd with hope, men favour the supposed to have been unequalled, deceit ; even by Garrick or Barry. In the last scene, with Lady Townly, when he reproaches her with her faults, determines on a separation, and finally forgives her on repentance, he mingled a refined tenderness with his anger which moved the audience to tears, and produced an effect that no subsequent representative has ever reached. The history of this comedy, the joint production of Cibber and Vanburgh, is curious. Cibber's enemies, who had not forgiven the success of the "Nonjuror," were determined to damn the "Provoked Husband," and they nearly succeeded. The interruptions were numerous; and, during the fourth act, the hisses so preponderated that the actors paused, and with difficulty succeeded in overpowering the storm. The next day the papers unanimously announced a failure. Nevertheless, such was the inherent vitality of the piece, that it was acted for twentyeight successive nights, and left off to a receipt of £140, which could not be said of any new play throughout the preceding fifty years. The "Provoked Husband" is still on the acting list, despite the utter revolutions of times and manners, and the coarseness of the comic characters. Sir Francis Wronghead's account of his saying ay in the House of Commons, when he should have said no, is a rich stroke of humour, which seems to have been suggested by an anecdote which Burnet relates of Harley, afterwards Earl of Oxford, who was a personal favourite with Charles the Second. On some important question he voted in opposition to the Court, for which the King chid him severely. The next day he trimmed, and voted as his Majesty wished. The King took notice of it at night, and said, complacently, "You were not against me to-day." No, Sir," said Harley, "I was against my conscience to-day." This was so drily delivered that the King laughed heartily, and the joke furnished conversation for some time after. In 1732, his last season, Wilks appeared as Lord Modely, in the "Modish Couple," and as Bellamont in the "Modern Husband," two gay men of fashion in new plays. He still retained his youthful parts, and acted, for the last time, Carlos, in the Mistake," on the 15th of May, the concluding night of the regular season, four months only before his death. He never appears to have contemplated retirement, and may literally be said to have died in harness. Even when his physical powers exhibited the inroads of time, his elasticity of spirit soared above bodily decay, and to the last his eye sparkled, his step bounded, and his genius flashed when he faced the footlights and listened to the never-failing applause. Such are the excitements which enable enthusiastic actors to forget, for the moment, gout, rheumatism, or lumbago, and to rise victorious over the thousand enfeebling ailments that flesh is heir to. Davies writes ;-"In 'Love for Love,' I saw Wilks, in his old age, play Valentine with all the spirit and fire of youth." An eminent critic, speaking of this great artist, in 1729, said, Whatever he did upon the stage, let it be ever so trifling, whether it consisted in putting on his gloves, looking at his watch, lolling on his cane, or taking a pinch of snuff-every movement was marked with such an ease of breeding and manner-every thing told so strongly the involuntary motion of a gentleman, that it was impossible to consider the character he represented in any other light than that of reality. But, what was still more surprising, that person who could thus delight an audience by the gaiety and sprightliness of his manner, I met the next day in the street, hobbling to a hackney coach, seemingly so enfeebled by age and infirmities that I could scarcely believe him to be the same man." Robert Wilks died on the 27th of September, 1732, and according to the three given dates of his birth, aged either sixty-seven, sixty-six, or sixty-two. He was interred in the church-yard of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, where a monument was erected to him by his widow. At his own request he was buried at midnight, to avoid ostentation; yet this peculiar honour was paid to his memory, that the gentlemen of the choir belonging to the royal chapel came voluntarily and performed an anthem prepared for the occasion. Wilks was thrice married, and always unambitiously, from affection rather than interest. His second wife was Elizabeth, youngest daughter of Mr. Ferdinand Knapton, town clerk of Southampton and Steward of the New Forest. Respectable fortunes had been left to this lady and her two sisters, but, through some mismanagement, they were lost, and the three were compelled to work as dressmakers for a livelihood. The second Mrs. Wilks bore him eight children, who all died in infancy. His eldest daughter, Frances, by his first wife, married a Captain Price; she also died, of small pox, before she was twenty, and in the same year with her mother-in-law, 1714. After remaining a widower for seven years, Wilks united himself to Mrs. Mary Fell, relict of Charles Fell, Esq., of an ancient family in Lancashire, who survived him. She, too, was in reduced circumstances, and had to maintain herself and children by the needle. Wilks having bought some linen for shirts, requested an acquaintance to get them made by a good sempstress, and they were given to Mrs. Fell. When half-a-dozen were sent home, Wilks was so pleased with the niceness of the work that he requested the gentlewoman to bring the remainder herself. This she did, and an acquaintance thereupon commenced which wound up in a happy 66 marriage. Not long after, a friend asked him how, with his position and means, he could sacrifice himself to a woman who had nothing. The reply was characteristic. Sir, as Providence has been pleased to give me a competency sufficient to maintain myself and a family, could I do better than take to my arms an amiable and virtuous lady who wanted that blessing? Love was the only motive that prompted me, and the circumstances she was in rather serve to increase my affection; and as I am fully conconvinced our regard is reciprocal, there will be no room for complaint on either side. I shall look upon her children as my own; they shall want nothing that is desirable, nor am I under any apprehension of their not discharging a filial duty to me, since they have been educated in the best principles." By his last will he left his widow sole executrix and legatee, bequeathing to her all he possessed, which consisted chiefly of his house, plate, and furniture, in Bow-street, and his interest in a new patent, dating from the 1st of September, 1732. Wilks seems to have carried his generosity too far. A man who, for more than twenty years, had been in the receipt of £1,000 per annum should have realized enough to leave his widow in a more affluent condition. The London Magazine for December, 1732, said "The case of Mrs. Wilks deserves the utmost concern. The humane temper and universal benevolence of her late husband left her little, besides her share in the patent, for her support." We here close our memoir of Robert Wilks, who appears to have possessed many admirable qualities as a man, and to have ranked justly amongst the greatest actors of his age. His fame stood higher with his contemporaries than it does with posterity. But living estimation is of more value to the object of it than posthumous praise; it smooths the rough paths of life, encourages the labourer in his task, assures him that he toils not in vain, and gives him payment in substantial cash rather than in doubtful promissory notes. ALPHONSE KARR; OR, SOME AMENITIES OF FRENCH LITERATURE. "INGENUAS didiscisse," &c., is a proverb, the exceptions to which would outweigh the rule when applied to the sayings and doings of authors by profession. The uncomplimentary remarks of politicians and rival haberdashers on each other, want colour when placed beside those that issue from the pens of novelists, dramatists, and literary critics. The will and venom of the first two classes may be as strong to inflict annoyance, but the vehicle is unfamiliar to them. Were the contest to be carried on viva voce, they would, doubtless, acquit themselves effectively; but in stereotyping what should be given off in earnest heat, the animus, the zest, and the aroma, are lost; and the litera scripta, though bitter, is as flat as soda-water when the carbonic acid has escaped. Bob Acres was sensible of this inherent defect in a written challenge, when he begged leave of Sir Lucius to begin his warlike missive with an oath. But your man of letters is more accustomed to ease his mind and heart by the pen than the tongue; and, consequently, the spirit and substance of his invective produce the combined effect of the painting and the varnish of a stirring subject, or the mingled flavour of grape juice and carbonic acid in champagne. There occasionally occur among our men of letters some pretty fencing matches, but they want the airiness and pungency of the little controversies that arise among their brethren of the palette and the steel pen in Paris. On our side the Manche it is a battle of broad-swords or clubs; on the other, the fight is waged with feather-tipped arrows, sharp-pointed, swift, and sure. VOL. LXIII.-NO. CCCLXXV. Whatever quarrels the mere man of letters may have to maintain, the number is insignificant compared with the hostile affairs of those who appoint themselves arbiters in matters political or literary. And as no Parisian sets any value on his incognito, the idea of "battle and conflict" cannot be absent a moment from the critic's mind when penning his charge. Alphonse Karr kept literary people 22 |