drolled upon. Now for my own part, though I could never persuade my wit to have an open account with him (for, as he had no effects of his own, I did not think myself obliged to answer his bills;) notwithstanding I will be so charitable to his real manes, and to the ashes of his paper, as to mention one particular civility he paid to my memory, after he thought he had ingeniously killed me. Soon after the "Nonjuror" had received the favour of the town, I read in one of his journals the following short paragraph, viz. "Yesterday died Mr Colley Cibber, late comedian of the theatre-royal, notorious for writing the 'Nonjuror."" The compliment in the latter part I confess I did not dislike, because it came from so impartial a judge; and it really so happened that the former part of it was very near being true; for I had that very day just crawled out, after having been some weeks laid up by a fever. However I saw no use in being thought to be thoroughly dead before my time, and therefore had a mind to see whether the town cared to have me alive again; so the play of the "Orphan" being to be acted that day, I quietly stole myself into the part of the Chaplain, which I had not been seen in for many years before. The surprise of the audience at my unexpected appearance on the very day I had been dead in the news, and the paleness of my looks, seemed to make it a doubt whether I was not the ghost of my real self departed; but when I spoke, their wonder eased itself by an applause which convinced me they were then satisfied that my friend Mist had told a fib of me. Now, if simply to have shown myself in broad life and about my business, after he had notoriously reported me dead, can be called a reply, it was the only one which his paper while alive ever drew from me. How far I may be vain then in supposing that this play brought me into the disfavour of so many wits and valiant auditors as afterwards appeared against me, let those who may think it worth their notice judge. In the mean time, until I can find a better excuse for their sometimes particular treatment of me, I cannot easily

give up my suspicion: and if I add a more remarkable fact, that afterwards confirmed me in it, perhaps it may incline others to join in my opinion.

On the first day of the "Provoked Husband," ten years after the "Nonjuror" had appeared, a powerful party, not having the fear of public offence or private injury before their eyes, appeared most impetuously concerned for the demolition of it; in which they so far succeeded, that for some time I gave it up for lost; and, to follow their blows, in the public papers of the next day it was attacked and triumphed over as a dead and damned piece; swinging criticism was made upon it in general invective terms, for they disdained to trouble the world with particulars; their sentence, it seems, was proof enough of its deserving the fate it had met with. But this damned play was, notwithstanding, acted twenty-eight nights together, and left off at a receipt of upwards of a hundred and forty pounds; which happened to be more than in fifty years before could be then said of any one play whatsoever.

Now, if such notable behaviour could break out upon so successful a play (which too, upon the share sir John Vanbrugh had in it, I will venture to call a good one) what shall we impute it to? Why may not I plainly say, it was not the play, but me who had a hand in it, they did not like? And for what reason? If they were not ashamed of it, why did not they publish it? No; the reason had published itself-I was the author of the "Nonjuror." But perhaps, of all authors, I ought not to make this sort of complaint, because I have reason to think, that that particular offence has made me more honourable friends than enemies; the latter of which I am not unwilling should know (however unequal the merit may be to the reward) that part of the bread I now eat was given me for having writ the "Nonjuror."

And yet I cannot but lament, with many quiet spectators, the helpless misfortune that has so many years attended the stage; that no law has had force enough to give it absolute protection: for until we can civilize its auditors, the authors that write for it will seldom

have a greater call to it than necessity; and how unlikely is the imagination of the needy to inform or delight the many in affluence; or how often does necessity make many unhappy gentlemen turn authors in spite of nature?

What a blessing therefore is it, what an enjoyed deliverance, after a wretch has been driven by fortune to stand so many wanton buffets of unmanly fierceness, to find himself at last quietly lifted above the reach of them!

But let not this reflection fall upon my auditors without distinction; for though candour and benevolence are silent virtues, they are as visible as the most vociferous ill-nature; and I confess the public has given me more frequent reason to be thankful than to complain.

CHAPTER XVI.

The author steps out of his way.-Pleads his theatrical cause in chancery.-Carries it.-Plays acted at Hamptoncourt.-Theatrical anecdotes in former reigns.-Ministers and managers always censured.-The difficulty of supplying the stage with good actors, considered.-Courtiers and comedians governed by the same passions.-Examples of both. The author quits the stage.-Why.

HAVING brought the government of the stage through such various changes and revolutions to this settled state, in which it continued to almost the time of my leaving it; it cannot be supposed, that a period of so much quiet, and so long a train of success, (though happy for those who enjoyed it,) can afford such matter of surprise or amusement, as might arise from times of more distress and disorder. A quiet time in history, like a calm in a voyage, leaves us but in an indolent station, To talk of our affairs when they were no

longer ruffled by misfortunes would be a picture without shade, a flat performance at best. As I might therefore throw all that tedious time of our tranquillity into one chasm in my history, and cut my way short at once to my last exit from the stage I shall at least fill it up with such matter only as I have a mind should be known, how few soever may have patience to read it. Yet, as I despair not of some readers who may be most awake, when they think others have most occasion to sleep; who may be more pleased to find me languid than lively, or in the wrong than in the right; why should I scruple (when it is so easy a matter too) to gratify their particular taste by venturing upon any error that I like, or the weakness of my judgment misleads me to commit? I think, too, I have a very good chance for my success in this passive ambition, by showing myself in a light I have not been seen in.

By your leave then, gentlemen, let the scene open, and at once discover your comedian at the bar! There you will find him a defendant, and pleading his own theatrical cause in a court of chancery. But, as I choose to have a chance of pleasing others, as well as of indulging you, gentlemen, I must first beg leave to open my case to them; after which, my whole speech upon that occasion shall be at your mercy.

In all the transactions of life, there cannot be a more painful circumstance than a dispute at law with a man with whom we have long lived in an agreeable amity. But when sir Richard Steele, to get himself out of difficulties, was obliged to throw his affairs into the hands of lawyers and trustees, that consideration then could be of no weight. The friend or the gentleman had no more to do in the matter. Thus, while sir Richard no longer acted from himself, it may be no wonder if a flaw was found in our conduct, for the law to make work with. It must be observed then, that about two or three years before this suit was commenced, upon sir Richard's totally absenting himself from all care and management of the stage (which by our articles of partnership he was equally, and jointly obliged with us

to attend) we were reduced to let him know, that we could not go on at that rate; but that if he expected to make the business a sinecure, we had as much reason to expect a consideration for our extraordinary care of it; and that during his absence, we therefore intended to charge ourselves at a salary of 17. 13s. 4d. every acting day (unless he could show us cause to the contrary) for our management. To which, in his composed manner, he only answered, that to be sure we knew what was fitter to be done than he did; that he had always taken a delight in making us easy, and had no reason to doubt of our doing him justice. Now whether under this easy style of approbation he concealed any dislike of our resolution, I cannot say; but if I may speak my private opinion, I really believe, from his natural negligence of his affairs, he was glad at any rate to be excused an attendance which he was now grown weary of. But whether I am deceived or right in my opinion, the fact was truly this, that he never once directly or indirectly complained or objected to our being paid the above-mentioned daily sum in near three years together; and yet still continued to absent himself from us and our affairs.

But

notwithstanding he had seen and done all this with his eyes open, his lawyer thought here was still a fair field for a battle in chancery, in which, though his client might be beaten, he was sure his bill must be paid for it. Accordingly to work with us he went. But not to be so long as the lawyers were in bringing this cause to an issue, I shall at once let you know, that it came to a hearing before the late sir Joseph Jekyll, then master of the rolls, in the year 1726. Now, as the chief point in dispute was, of what kind or importance the business of a manager was, or in what it principally consisted, it could not be supposed, that the most learned counsel could be so well apprized of the nature of it, as one who had himself gone through the care and fatigue of it. I was therefore encouraged by our counsel to speak to that particular head myself; which I confess I was glad he suffered me to undertake; but