CHAPTER XXII

.

ENGLISH COMEDY.--BEN JONSON.--THE OTHER WRITERS OF HIS SCHOOL.--INTERRUPTION OF DRAMATIC PERFORMANCES.--COMEDY AFTER THE RESTORATION.--THE HOWARDS BROTHERS; THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM; THE REHEARSAL.--WRITERS OF COMEDY IN THE LATTER PART OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.--INDECENCY OF THE STAGE.--COLLEY CIBBER.--FOOTE.

In England, as in Athens of old, perfect comedy arose gradually out of the personalities of the rude dramatic attempts of an earlier period. Such productions as Ralph Roister Doister and Gammer Gurton's Needle were mere imperfect attempts at, we may perhaps rather say feelers towards, comedy itself--that drama, the object of which was to caricature, and thus to dissect and apply correctives to, the vices and weaknesses of contemporary society. The genius of Shakespeare was far too exquisitely poetical to qualify him for a task like this; it wanted some one who could use the lancet and scalpel skilfully, but soberly, and who was not liable to be led astray by too much vigour of imagination.

Such a one was Ben Jonson, whom we may rightly consider as the father of English comedy. "Bartholomew Fair," first performed at the Hope Theatre, on Bankside, London, on the 31st of October, 1614, is the most perfect and most remarkable example of the truly English comedy, remarkable, among many other things, for the extraordinary number of characters who were brought upon the stage in one piece, and who are all at the same time grouped and individualised with a skill that reminds us of the pictorial triumphs of a Callot or a Hogarth. London life is placed before us in all its more popular forms in one grand tableau, the one in which it would show itself in its more grotesque attitudes; the London citizen, his vain or easy wife, sharpers of every description, and their victims no less varied in character, the petty city officers, all come in for their share of satire. The different groups are distributed so naturally, that it is difficult to say who is the principal character of the piece--and who ever was the principal character in Bartholomew Fair? Perhaps the character of Cokes, the young booby squire from Harrow--for in those times even so near London as Harrow, a young squire was considered to be in all probability but a young country booby--strikes us most. It is said to have been at a later period the favourite character of Charles II. Among the other principal characters of the play are a proctor of the Arches Court named Littlewit, who imagines himself to be a _bel esprit_ of the first order; his wife, and her mother, dame Purecraft, who is a widow; Justice Overdo, a London magistrate, to whose ward, Grace Wellborn, Cokes is affianced in marriage; a zealous Puritan, named Zeal-of-the-land Busy, who is a suitor to the widow Purecraft, herself also a Puritan; Winwife, Busy's rival; and a gamester named Tom Quarlous, who figures as Winwife's friend and companion. All these meet in town, on the morning of the fair, Cokes under the care of a sort of steward or upper servant, named Waspe, who was of a quarrelsome disposition, and separate in groups among the crowd which filled Smithfield and its vicinity, each having their separate adventures, but meeting from time to time, and reassembling at the end. Cokes behaves as a simpleton from the country, longs for everything, and wonders at everything, buys up toys and gingerbread, is separated from all his companions, robbed of his money and even of his outer garments, and in this condition finally settles down at a puppet-show. Meanwhile the Puritan Busy, by his zeal against the "heathen abominations" of the fair on one hand, and Waspe, by his quarrelsome temper on the other, fall into a series of scrapes, which end in both being carried to the stocks. They are there joined by another important personage. Justice Overdo, who is distinguished by an extraordinary zeal for the right administration of justice and the suppression of social vices of all kinds, has come into the fair in disguise, in order to make himself acquainted with its various abuses, and he passes among them unknown; and his inquisitive intermeddling brings him into a variety of mishaps, in the course of which he also is seized by the constable, and allows himself to be taken to the stocks, rather than betray his identity. Thus all three, Busy, Waspe, and Overdo, are placed in the stocks at the same time; but Waspe, by a clever trick, escapes, and leaves the Puritan and the justice confined together, the one looking upon himself as a martyr for religion's sake, the other rather glorying in suffering through his disinterested zeal for the common good. They, too, after a while make their escape through an accidental oversight of their keepers, and mix again with the mob. The women, likewise, have been separated from their male companions, have fallen among sharpers and bullies, been made drunk, and escaped but narrowly from still worse disasters. They all finally meet before the puppet-show, which has fixed the attention of Cokes, and there justice Overdo discovers himself. Such are the materials of Ben Jonson's "Bartholomew Fair," the busiest and most amusing of plays. It is said, when first acted, to have given great satisfaction to king James, by the ridicule thrown upon the Puritans, and it continued to be a favourite comedy when revived after the Restoration.

"The Alchemist," by the same author, preceded "Bartholomew Fair," by four years, and was designed as a satire upon a class of impostors who, in that age, were among the greatest pests of society, and were instruments, one way or other, in the greatest crimes of the day. "The Alchemist" belongs, also, to the pure English comedy, but its plot is more simple and distinct than that of "Bartholomew Fair." It involves events which may have occurred frequently, at periods when the metropolis was from time to time exposed to the vicissitudes of the plague. On one of these occasions, Lovewit, a London gentleman, obliged to quit the metropolis in order to avoid the plague, leaves his town house to the charge of one man-servant, Face, who proves dishonest, associates himself with a rogue named Subtle, and an immoral woman named Dol Common, and introduces them into the house, which is made the basis for their subsequent operations. Subtle assumes the character of a magician and alchemist, while Dol acts various female parts, and Face goes about alluring people into their snares. Among their dupes are a knight who lives upon the town, two English Puritans from Amsterdam, a lawyer's clerk, a tobacco man, a young country squire, and his sister dame Pliant, a widow. The various intrigues in which these individuals are involved, show us the way in which the pretended conjurers and alchemists contributed to all the vices of the town. At length their base dealings are on the point of being exposed by the cunning of one upon whom they had attempted to impose, when Truewit, the master of the house, returns unexpectedly, and all is discovered, but the alchemist and his female associate contrive to escape. The object of their last intrigue had been to entrap dame Pliant, who was rich, into a marriage with a needy sharper; and Lovewit, finding the lady in the house, and liking her, marries her himself, and, in consideration of the satisfaction he has thus procured, forgives his unfaithful servant. Many have considered the Alchemist to be the best of Jonson's dramas. "Epicœne, or the Silent Woman," which belongs to the year 1609, is another satirical picture of London society, in which the same class of characters appear. Morose, an eccentric gentleman of fortune, who has a great horror for noise, and even obliges his servants to communicate with him by signs, has a nephew, a young knight named Sir Dauphine Eugenie, with whom he is dissatisfied, and he refuses to allow him money for his support. A plot is laid by his friends, whereby the uncle is led into a marriage with a supposed silent woman, named Epicœne, but she only sustains the character until the wedding formalities are completed, and these are followed by a scene of noise and riot, which completely horrifies Morose, and leads to a reconciliation with his nephew, to whom he makes over half his fortune. The earliest of Ben Jonson's comedies, "Every Man in his Humour," was composed in its present form in 1598, and is the first of these dramatic satires on the manners and character of the citizens of London, of whom it was fashionable at the courts of James I. and Charles I. to speak contemptuously. Kno'well, an old gentleman of respectability, is highly displeased with his son Edward, because the latter has taken to writing poetry, and has formed a friendship with another gentleman of his own age, who loves poetry and frequents the rather gay society of the poets and wits of the town. Wellbred has a half-brother, a "plain squire," named Downright, and a sister married to a rich city merchant named Kitely. Kitely, the merchant, who is extremely jealous of his wife, has a great desire to reform Wellbred, and draw him to a steadier line of life, a sentiment in which Downright heartily joins. Kitely's jealousy, and the steps taken to reform Wellbred, lead to the most comic parts of the play, which concludes with the marriage of young Kno'well to Kitely's daughter, Miss Bridget, and his reconciliation with his father. Among the other characters in the piece are captain Bobadil, "a blustering coward," justice Clement, "an old merry magistrate," his clerk, Roger Formal, and a country gull and a town gull.

These comedies of London life became popular, and continued so during this and the following reign--in fact, the mass of those who attended the theatres could understand and appreciate them better than any others, and, what was more, they felt them. Among Jonson's contemporaries in the literature of this English comedy were Middleton and Thomas Heywood, both very prolific writers, Chapman, and Marston. Certain classes of characters are continually repeated in this comedy, because they belonged especially to the London society of the time, but the employment and distribution of these characters admitted of great variations, and they perhaps often had at the time a special interest, as representing known individuals, or as being combined in a plot which was built upon real incidents in London life. Among these were usually a country gentleman of fortune, who was very avaricious, and had a spendthrift son, or who had a daughter, a rich heiress, who was the object of the intrigues of spendthrift suitors; young heirs, who have just come to their estates, and are spending them in London; young country squires who are easy victims; a needy knight, as poor in principles as in money, who lived upon the public in every way he could; designing and unscrupulous women; bullies and sharpers of every description. In fact, we seem to be always in the smell of the tavern, and in the midst of dissipation. Then there are fat, sleek, and wealthy citizens, whole souls are entirely wrapt up in their merchandise, who are proud, nevertheless, of their position; and easy, credulous city wives, who are fond of finery and of praise, eager for gaiety and display, impatient of the rule of husbands, or of the dulness of home, and very ready to listen to the advances of the gay gallants from the court end of the town, or from the tavern. The city tradesman has generally an apprentice or two, sometimes very sober but perhaps more frequently dissipated, who play their parts in the piece; and often a daughter, who is either a model of modesty and all the domestic virtues, and is finally the reward of some hero of good principles, who has been temporarily led astray, and his character misinterpreted, or who is gay and intriguing, and comes to disgrace. But the favourite idea of excellence, or, to use a technical phrase, the _beau ideal_ of this comedy, appears to have been a wild youth, who goes through every scene of dissipation, in a gentlemanly manner (as the term was then understood), and comes out at the end of the play as an honest, virtuous man, and receives the reward for qualities which he had not previously displayed.

Sometimes the writers of this comedy indulged in personal, or even in political, allusions which brought them into trouble. In the year 1605, Ben Jonson, George Chapman, and John Marston, wrote jointly a comedy entitled "Eastward Hoe." It is a very excellent and amusing comedy, and was very popular. Touchstone, an honest goldsmith in the city, has two apprentices, Golding, a sober and industrious youth, and Quicksilver, who is an irreclaimable rake. Touchstone has also two daughters, the eldest of whom, Gertrude, affects the fine lady, and is ambitious of finding a husband in the fashionable world, while her younger sister, Mildred, is all virtue and humility. An attachment arises between Golding and Mildred. Another character in this drama is a needy, scheming knight, who lives upon the town, and rejoices in the name of Sir Petronel Flash. Sir Petronel is attracted by the rich dowry which the young lady, Gertrude, had to expect, pays his court to her, and easily works upon her vanity; and, her mother encouraging her, they are hastily married, contrary to the wishes of her father. The knight is supposed to possess a magnificent castle somewhere to the east of London, and the young bride and her mother proceed in search of this, from which the comedy derives its title of "Eastward Hoe," but they are involved in various disagreeable adventures in the search, which ends in the conviction that it is all a fable. Another character in the play is a greedy and unprincipled usurer, who is so jealous of his young and pretty wife, that he keeps her under lock and key; and this man is deeply involved in money-lending with Sir Petronel Flash, and they are engaged in a series of unprincipled transactions, which lead to the disgrace of them all, and in the course of which the virtue of the usurer's wife falls a sacrifice. Meanwhile the fortunes of the two apprentices have been advancing in directly opposite directions. Quicksilver, the unworthy apprentice, leaves his master, proceeds from bad to worse, and finally is committed to prison, for a crime the punishment of which was death. On the other hand, Golding has not only gained his master's esteem and married his daughter Mildred, and been adopted as the heir to his wealth, but he has merited the respect of his fellow-citizens, and has been promoted in municipal rank. It becomes Golding's duty to preside over the trial of his old fellow apprentice Quicksilver, but the latter escapes through Golding's generosity.

There is some sound morality in the spirit of this comedy, and a very large amount of immorality in the text. There was, indeed, a coarse licence in the relations of society at this period, which are but too faithfully represented in its literature. But there are two circumstances, accidentally attached to this drama, which give it a peculiar interest. When brought out upon the stage it contained reflections upon Scotchmen which provoked the anger of king James I. to such a degree, that all the authors were seized and thrown into prison, and narrowly escaped the loss of their ears and noses, but they obtained their release with some difficulty, and only through powerful intercession. In the copy which has been brought down to us through the press, we find no reflections whatever upon Scotchmen, so that it must have been altered from the original text. When we consider that, at this time, the English court and capital were crowded with needy Scottish adventurers, who were looked upon with great jealousy, it is not improbable that in the original form of the comedy, Sir Petronel Flash may have been a Scotchman, and intended not only as a satire upon the Scottish adventurers in general, but to have been designed for some one in particular who had the means of bringing upon the authors the extreme displeasure of the court.

The other circumstance which has given celebrity to this comedy, is one of still greater interest. After the Restoration, it was new modelled by Nicholas Tate, and brought again upon the stage under the title of "Cuckold's Haven." Perhaps through this remodelled edition, Hogarth took from the comedy of "Eastward Hoe," the idea of his series of plates of the history of the Idle and Industrious Apprentices.

When we consider the ridicule which was continually thrown upon them in this earlier period of the English comedy, we can easily understand the bitterness with which the Puritans regarded the stage and the drama. When they obtained power, the stage, as might be expected, was suppressed, and for some years England was without a theatre. At the Restoration, however, the theatres were opened again, and with greater freedom than ever. At first the old comedies of the days of James I. and Charles I. were revived, and many of them, modified and adapted to the new circumstances, were again brought upon the stage. The original comedies which appeared immediately after the Restoration, were often marked with a political tinge; as the stage saw its natural protectors in the court, and in the court party, it embraced their politics; and Puritans, Roundheads, Whigs, all whose principles were supposed to be contrary to royalty and arbitrary power, fell under its satire. Such was the character of the comedy of "The Cheats," by a play-writer of some repute named Wilson, which was brought out in 1662. The object of this play appears to have been, in the first place, to satirise the Nonconformists or Puritanical clergy--with whom were classed the astrologers and conjurers, who had increased in number during the Commonwealth time, and infested society more than ever--and the city magistrates, who were not looked upon as being generally over-loyal. The three cheats who are the heroes of this comedy, are Scruple, the Nonconformist, Mopus, a pretender to physic and astrology, and alderman Whitebroth. Direct personal attacks had been introduced into the comedy of the Restoration, and it is probable that somebody of influence was satirised under the name of Scruple, for the play was suppressed by authority, and at a later period, when it was revived, the prologue announces this fact in the following words:--

_Sad news, my masters; and too true, I fear, For us--Scruple's a silenc'd minister. Would ye the cause? The brethren snivel, and say, 'Tis scandalous that any cheat but they._

Many of the dramatists of the Restoration were men of good and aristocratic families, witty and profligate cavaliers, who had returned from exile with their king. The family of the earl of Berkshire produced no less than four writers of comedy, all brothers, Edward Howard, colonel Henry Howard, sir Robert Howard, and James Howard, while their sister, the lady Elizabeth Howard, was married to the poet Dryden. Edward Howard's first dramatic piece was a tragi-comedy entitled "The Usurper," which came out in 1668, and was intended as a satire upon Cromwell. His best known comedies were "The Man of Newmarket," and "Woman's Conquest." Colonel Henry Howard composed a comedy entitled "United Kingdoms," which appears not to have been printed. To James Howard, the youngest of the brothers, the play-going public, even then rather a large one, owed "The English Mounsieur," and "All Mistaken, or the Mad Couple." Sir Robert Howard was the best writer of the four, and wrote both tragedies and comedies, which were afterwards published collectively. The best of his comedies is "The Committee," which was first brought on the stage in 1665, and through some chance, certainly not by its merit, continued to be an acting play during the whole of the last century.

"The Committee" is by far the best of the dramatic writings of the Howards. Its design was to turn to ridicule the Commonwealth men and the Puritans. Colonel Blunt and colonel Careless are two royalists, whose estates are in the hands of the committee of sequestrations, and who repair to London for the purpose of compounding for them. The chairman of the committee is a Mr. Day, a worldly-minded and sufficiently selfish Puritan, but who is ruled by his more crafty and still less scrupulous wife, a designing and very talkative woman. Both are of low origin, for Mrs. Day had been a kitchen-woman, and both are very proud and very tyrannical. Among the other principal characters are Abel Day, their son, Obadiah, the clerk to the committee, a man in the interest of the Days, and an Irish servant named Teague, who had been the servant of Careless's dear friend, a royalist officer killed in battle, and whom the colonel finds in great distress, and takes into his own service out of charity. The character of Teague is a very poor caricature upon an Irishman, and his blunders and bulls are of a very spiritless description. Here is an example. Teague has overheard the two colonels state that they should be obliged to take the Covenant, and express their reluctance to do it, and in his inconsiderate zeal, he hurries away to try if he cannot take the covenant for them, and thus save them a disagreeable operation. In the street he meets a wandering bookseller--a class of pedlars who were then common--and a scene takes place which is best given in the words of the original:--

_Bookseller._--New books, new books! A Desperate Plot and Engagement of the Bloody Cavaliers! Mr. Saltmarshe's Alarum to the Nation, after having been three days dead! Mercurius Britannicus--

_Teague._--How's that? They cannot live in Ireland after they are dead three days!

_Book._--Mercurius Britannicus, or the Weekly Post, or the Solemn League and Covenant!

_Teag._--What is that you say? Is it the Covenant you have?

_Book._--Yes; what then, sir?

_Teag._--Which is that Covenant?

_Book._--Why, this is the Covenant.

_Teag._--Well, I must take that Covenant.

_Book._--You take my commodities?

_Teag._--I must take that Covenant, upon my soul, now.

_Book._--Stand off, sir, or I'll set you further!

_Teag._--Well, upon my soul, now, I will take the Covenant for my master.

_Book._--Your master must pay me for't, then!

_Teag._--I must take it first, and my master will pay you afterwards.

_Book._--You must pay me now.

_Teag._--Oh! that I will [_Knocks him down_]. Now you're paid, you thief of the world. Here's Covenants enough to poison the whole nation.

[_Exit._

_Book._--What a devil ails this fellow? [_Crying_]. He did not come to rob me, certainly; for he has not taken above two-pennyworth of lamentable ware away; but I feel the rascal's fingers. I may light upon my wild Irishman again, and, if I do, I will fix him with some catchpole, that shall be worse than his own country bogs.

[_Exit._

In the sequel, Teague is caught by the constables, and is liberated at the interference of his master, who pays twopence for the book. The plot of the comedy is but a simple one, and is neither skilfully nor naturally carried out. Colonel Blunt comes to London from Reading in the inside of a stage-coach, having for his travelling companions Mrs. Day, her supposed daughter Ruth, and Arabella, a young lady whose father is recently dead, leaving his estates in the hands of the committee of sequestrations. Ruth is, in truth, a young lady whose estates the Days have, under similar circumstances, robbed her of, and it is their design to treat Arabella in the same manner, under disguise of forcing her to marry their son Abel, a vain silly lad. To effect this, as the committee itself requires some influencing to engage them in the selfish plans of their chairman, Day and his wife forge a letter from the exiled king, complimenting the former on his great power and influence and talents as a statesman, and offering him great rewards if he will secretly promote his cause. Day communicates this to the committee under the pretext that it is his duty to make them acquainted with all such perfidious designs that might come to his knowledge, and they, convinced of his honesty and value to them, give up Arabella's estates to the Days, and she falls entirely under their power. Meanwhile, on the one hand, Arabella has gained the confidence of Ruth, who makes her acquainted with the whole plot against her and her estates, and on the other, Ruth falls in love with colonel Careless, and colonel Blunt is smitten with the charms of Arabella, and all this takes place in the committee room. Various incidents follow, which seem not very much to the purpose, but at last, as the marriage of Arabella to Abel Day is pressed forward, the two young ladies, although as yet they have hardly had an interview with the colonels, resolve to make their escape from the house of the chairman of the committee, and fly to their lovers for protection. A short absence from the house of Mr. and Mrs. Day and their son together, presents the desired opportunity, and Day having accidentally left his keys behind him, the idea suggests itself to Ruth to open his cabinet, and gain possession of the deeds and papers of her own estates and those of Arabella. As she had before this secretly observed the private drawer in which they were placed, she met with no difficulty in effecting her purpose, and not only found these documents, but also with them the forged letter from the king, and some letters addressed to Day by young women whom he was secretly keeping, and who demanded money for the support of children they had by him, and alluded to matters of a still more serious character. Ruth takes possession of all these, and thus laden, the two damsels hurry away, and reach without interruption the house where they were to meet the colonels. The Days return home immediately after the departure of their wards, and at once suspect the real state of affairs, which is fully confirmed, when Mr. Day finds that his most private drawer has been opened, and his most important papers carried off. They immediately proceed in search of the fugitives, having sent orders for a detachment of soldiers to assist them, and the house in which the lovers have taken refuge is surrounded before they have had time to escape. Finding it useless to attempt resistance by force, the besieged call for a parley, and then Ruth frightens Day by acquainting him with the contents of the private letters she has become possessed of, and his wife by the knowledge she has obtained of the forged letter, which also she has in her possession. The Days are thus overreached, and the play ends with a general reconciliation. The ladies are left with the titles of their estates, and with their lovers, and we are left to suppose that they afterwards married, and were happy.

The plot of "The Committee," it will be seen, is not a very capital one, but the manner in which it is worked out is still worse. The dialogue is extremely tame, and the incidents are badly interwoven. When I say that the example of wit given above is the best in the play, and that there are not many attempts at wit in it, it will hardly be thought that it could be amusing, and we cannot but feel astonished at the popularity which it once enjoyed. This popularity, indeed, is only explained by the fashion of ridiculing the Puritans, which then prevailed so strongly; and it perhaps retained its place on the stage during the last century chiefly from the circumstance of its wanting the objectionable qualities which characterised the written plays of the latter half of the seventeenth century.

"The Committee" is, after all, one of the very best comedies of the school of dramatists represented by the brothers Howard. Contemporary with this school of flat comedies, there was a school of equally inflated tragedy, and both soon became objects of ridicule to the satirists of the day. Of these, one of the boldest was George Villiers, duke of Buckingham, the son of the favourite of king James I., and equally celebrated for his talents and his profligacy. Buckingham is said to have planned and begun his satirical comedy of "The Rehearsal" as early as the year 1663, and to have had it ready for representation towards the December of 1665, when the breaking out of the great plague caused the theatres to be closed. After this interruption its author, who was a desultory writer, appears to have laid it aside for some time and then, new objects for satire having presented themselves, he altered and modified it, and it was finally completed in 1671, when it was brought out at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden. It is said that Buckingham was assisted in the composition of this satire, but it is not stated in what manner, by Butler, and by Martin Clifford, of the Charter-house. It is understood that, in the first form of his satire, Buckingham had chosen the Hon. Edward Howard for its hero, and that he afterwards exchanged him for Sir William Davenant, but he finally fixed upon Dryden, whose tragedies and comedies are certainly not the best of his writings--possibly some personal pique may have had an influence in the selection. Nevertheless, with Dryden, the Howards, Davenant, and one or two other writers of comedy, come in for their share of ridicule. Dryden, under the name of Bayes, has composed a new drama, and a friend named Johnson goes to witness the rehearsal of this play, taking with him a country friend of the name of Smith. The play itself is a piece of mockery throughout, made up of parodies, often very happy, on the different play-writers of the day, and especially upon Dryden; and it is mixed up with a running conversation between Bayes, the author, and his two visitors, which is full of satirical humour. The first part of the prologue explains to us sufficiently the spirit in which this satire was written.

_We might well call this short mock-play of ours A posie made of weeds instead of flowers; Yet such have been presented to your noses, And there are such, I fear, who thought 'em roses. Would some of 'em were here, to see this night What stuff it is in which they took delight. Here, brisk, insipid rogues, for wit, let fall Sometimes dull sense, but oft'ner none at all; There, strutting heroes, with a grim-fac'd train, Shalt brave the gods, in king Cambyses vein. For (changing rules, of late, as if men writ In spite of reason, nature, art, and wit) Our poets make us laugh at tragedy, And with their comedies they make us cry._

A short account of this satire will, perhaps, be best understood, if I explain that the antagonism of two contending kings of Granada having been a favourite idea of Dryden in his tragedies, Buckingham is said to have designed to ridicule him in making two, not rival, but associate kings of Brentford, though others say that these two kings of Brentford were intended for a sneer upon king Charles II. and the duke of York. These two kings are the heroes of Bayes's play. The first act of "The Rehearsal" consists of a discussion between Bayes, Johnson, and Smith, on the general character of the play, in which Bayes exhibits a large amount of vanity and self-confidence, said to have been a characteristic of all these play-writers of the earlier period of the Restoration, and he informs them that he has "made a prologue and an epilogue, which may both serve for either; that is, the prologue for the epilogue, or the epilogue for the prologue, (do you mark!) nay, they may both serve, too, 'egad, for any other play as well as this." Smith observes, "That's indeed artificial." Finally Bayes explains, that as other authors, in their prologues, sought to flatter and propitiate their audience, in order to gain their favourable opinion of the plot, he, on the contrary, intended to force their applause out of them by mere dint of terror, and for that purpose, he had introduced as speakers of his prologue, no less personages than Thunder and Lightning. This prologue, disengaged from the remarks of Bayes and his friends, runs as follows:--

_Enter_ THUNDER _and_ LIGHTNING.

_Thun._--I am the bold Thunder.

_Light._--The brisk Lightning I.

_Thun._--I am the bravest Hector of the sky.

_Light._--And I fair Helen, that made Hector die.

_Thun._--I strike men down.

_Light._--I fire the town.

_Thun_.--Let critics take heed how they grumble, For then I begin for to rumble.

_Light_.--Let the ladies allow us their graces, Or I'll blast all the paint on their faces, And dry up their peter to soot.

_Thun_.--Let the critics look to't.

_Light_.--Let the ladies look to't.

_Thun_.--For the Thunder will do't.

_Light_.--For the Lightning will shoot.

_Thun_.--I'll give you dash for dash.

_Light_.--I'll give you flash for flash. Gallants, I'll singe your feather.

_Thun_.--I'll Thunder you together.

_Both_.--Look to't, look to't; we'll do't, we'll do't; look to't; we'll do't. [_Twice or thrice repeated._

Bayes calls this "but a slash of a prologue," in reply to which, Smith observes, "Yes; 'tis short, indeed, but very terrible." It is a parody on a scene in "The Slighted Maid," a play by Sir Robert Stapleton, where Thunder and Lightning were introduced, and their conversation begins in the same words. But the poet has another difficulty on which he desires the opinion of his visitors. "I have made," he says, "one of the most delicate, dainty similes in the whole world, 'egad, if I knew how to apply it. 'Tis," he adds, "an allusion to love." This is the simile--

_So boar and sow, when any storm is nigh Snuff up, and smell it gathering in the sky; Boar beckons sow to trot in chesnut groves, And there consummate their unfinished loves: Pensive in mud they wallow all alone, And snore and gruntle to each others moan._

It is a rather coarse, but clever parody on a simile in Dryden's "Conquest of Granada," part ii.:--

_So two kind turtles, when a storm is nigh, Look up, and see it gathering in the sky; Each calls his mate to shelter in the groves, Leaving, in murmurs, their unfinished loves; Perch'd on some dropping branch, they sit alone, And coo, and hearken to each other's moan._

It is decided that the simile should be added to the prologue, for, as Johnson remarks to Bayes, "Faith, 'tis extraordinary fine, and very applicable to Thunder and Lightning, methinks, because it speaks of a storm." In the second act we come to the opening of the play, the first

## scene consisting of whispering, in ridicule of a scene in Davenant's

"Play-house to Let," where Drake senior says--

_Draw up your men, And in low whispers give your orders out._

In fact, the Gentleman-Usher and the Physician of the two kings of Brentford appear upon the scene alone, and discuss a plot to dethrone the two kings of Brentford, which they communicate by whispers into each other's ears, which are totally inaudible. In Scene ii., "Enter the two kings, hand in hand," and Bayes remarks to his visitors, "Oh! these are now the two kings of Brentford; take notice of their style--'twas never yet upon the stage; but, if you like it, I could make a shift, perhaps, to show you a whole play, writ all just so." The kings begin, rather familiarly, because, as Bayes adds, "they are both persons of the same quality:"--

_1st King._--Did you observe their whispers, brother king?

_2nd King._--I did, and heard, besides, a grave bird sing, That they intend, sweetheart, to play us pranks.

_1st King._--If that design appears, I'll lay them by the ears, Until I make 'em crack.

_2nd King._--And so will I, i' fack!

_1st King._--You must begin, _mon foi_.

_2nd King._--Sweet sir, _pardonnez moi_.

Bayes observes that he makes the two kings talk French in order "to show their breeding." In the third act, Bayes introduces a new character, prince Prettyman, a parody upon the character of Leonidas, in Dryden's "Marriage-a-la-Mode." The prince falls asleep, and then his beloved Cloris comes in, and is surprised, upon which Bayes remarks, "Now, here she must make a simile." "Where's the necessity of that, Mr. Bayes?" asks the critical Mr. Smith. "Oh," replies Bayes, "because she's surprised. That's a general rule. You must ever make a simile when you are surprised; 'tis a new way of writing." Now we have another parody upon one of Dryden's similes. In the fourth scene, the Gentleman-Usher and Physician appear again, discussing the question whether their whispers had been heard or not, a discussion which they conclude by seizing on the two thrones, and occupying them with their drawn swords in their hands. Then they march out to raise their forces, and a battle to music takes place, four soldiers on each side, who are all killed. Next we have a scene between prince Prettyman and his tailor, Tom Thimble, which involves a joke upon the princely principle of non-payment. A scene or two follows in a similar tone, without at all advancing the plot; although it appears that another prince, Volscius, who, we are to suppose, supports the old dynasty of Brentford, has made his escape to Piccadilly, while the army which he is to lead has assembled, and is concealed, at Knightsbridge. This incident produces a discussion between Mr. Bayes and his friends:--

_Smith._--But pray, Mr. Bayes, is not this a little difficult, that you were saying e'en now, to keep an army thus concealed in Knightsbridge?

_Bayes._--In Knightsbridge?--stay.

_Johnson._--No, not if inn-keepers be his friends.[100]

_Bayes._--His friends? Ay, sir, his intimate acquaintance; or else, indeed, I grant it could not be.

_Smith._--Yes, faith, so it might be very easy.

_Bayes._--Nay, if I don't make all things easy, 'egad, I'll give 'em leave to hang me. Now you would think that he is going out of town; but you will see how prettily I have contrived to stop him, presently.

[100] Knightsbridge, as the principal entrance to London from the west, was full of inns.

Accordingly, prince Volscius yields to the influence of a fair _demoiselle_, who bears the classical name of Parthenope, and after various exhibitions of hesitation, he does not leave town. Another scene or two, with little meaning, but full of clever parodies on the plays of Dryden, the Howards, and their contemporaries. The first scene of the fourth act opens with a funeral, a parody upon colonel Henry Howard's play of the "United Kingdoms." Pallas interferes, brings the lady who is to be buried to life, gets up a dance, and furnishes a very extempore feast. The princes Prettyman and Volscius dispute about their sweethearts. At the commencement of the fifth act the two usurping kings appear in state, attended by four cardinals, the two princes, all the lady-loves, heralds, and sergeants-at-arms, &c. In the middle of all this state, "the two right kings of Brentford descend in the clouds, singing, in white garments, and three fiddlers sitting before them in green." "Now," says Bayes to his friends, "because the two right kings descend from above, I make 'em sing to the tune and style of our modern spirits." And accordingly they proceeded in a continuous parody:--

_1st King._--Haste, brother king, we are sent from above.

_2nd King._--Let us move, let us move; Move, to remove the fate Of Brentford's long united state.

_1st King._--Tara, tan, tara!--full east and by south.

_2nd King._--We sail with thunder in our mouth. In scorching noon-day, whilst the traveller stays, Busy, busy, busy, busy, we bustle along, Mounted upon warm Phœbus's rays, Through the heavenly throng, Hasting to those Who will feast us at night with a pig's pettytoes.

_1st King._--And we'll fall with our plate In an olio of hate

_2nd King._--But, now supper's done, the servitors try, Like soldiers, to storm a whole half-moon pie.

_1st King._--They gather, they gather, hot custards in spoons: But, alas! I must leave these half-moons, And repair to my trusty dragoons.

_2nd King._--O stay! for you need not as yet go astray; The tide, like a friend, has brought ships in our way, And on their high ropes we will play; Like maggots in filberts, we'll snug in our shell, We'll frisk in our shell, We'll firk in our shell, And farewell.

_1st King._--But the ladies have all inclination to dance, And the green frogs croak out a coranto of France.

All this is quite Aristophanic. It is interrupted by a discussion between Bayes and his visitors on the music and the dance, and then the two kings continue:--

_2nd King._--Now mortals, that hear How we tilt and career, With wonder, will fear The event of such things as shall never appear.

_1st King._--Stay you to fulfil what the gods have decreed.

_2nd King._--Then call me to help you, if there shall be need.

_1st King._--So firmly resolved is a true Brentford king, To save the distressed, and help to 'em bring, That, ere a full pot of good ale you can swallow, He's here with a whoop, and gone with a halloo.

The rather too inquisitive Smith wonders at all this, and complains that, to him, the sense of this is "not very plain." "Plain!" exclaims Bayes, "why, did you ever hear any people in the clouds speak plain? They must be all for flight of fancy, at its full range, without the least check or control upon it. When once you tie up sprites and people in clouds to speak plain, you spoil all." The two kings of Brentford now "light out of the clouds, and step into the throne," continuing the same _dignified_ conversation:--

_1st King._--Come, now to serious council we'll advance.

_2nd King._--I do agree; but first, let's have a dance.

This confidence of the two kings of Brentford is suddenly disturbed by the sound of war. Two heralds announce that the army, that of Knightsbridge, had come to protect them, and that it had come _in disguise_, an arrangement which puzzles the author's two visitors:--

_1st King._--What saucy groom molests our privacies?

_1st Herald._--The army's at the door, and, in disguise, Desires a word with both your majesties.

_2nd Herald._--Having from Knightsbridge hither march'd by stealth.

_2nd King._--Bid 'em attend a while, and drink our health.

_Smith._--How, Mr. Bayes? The army in disguise!

_Bayes._--Ay, sir, for fear the usurpers might discover them, that went out but just now.

War itself follows, and the commanders of the two armies, the general and the lieutenant-general, appear upon the stage in another parody upon the opening scenes of Dryden's "Siege of Rhodes:"--

_Enter, at several doors, the_ GENERAL _and_ LIEUTENANT-GENERAL, _armed cap-à-pie, with each a lute in his hand, and his sword drawn, and hung with a scarlet riband at the wrist_.

_Lieut.-Gen._--Villain, thou liest.

_Gen._--Arm, arm, Gonsalvo, arm. What! ho! The lie no flesh can brook, I trow.

_Lieut.-Gen._--Advance from Acton with the musqueteers.

_Gen._--Draw down the Chelsea cuirassiers.

_Lieut.-Gen._--The band you boast of, Chelsea cuirassiers, Shall in my Putney pikes now meet their peers.

_Gen._--Chiswickians, aged, and renowned in fight, Join with the Hammersmith brigade.

_Lieut.-Gen._--You'll find my Mortlake boys will do them right, Unless by Fulham numbers over-laid.

_Gen._--Let the left wing of Twick'n'am foot advance, And line that eastern hedge.

_Lieut.-Gen._--The horse I raised in Petty France Shall try their chance, And scour the meadows, overgrown with sedge.

_Gen._--Stand: give the word.

_Lieut.-Gen._--Bright sword.

_Gen._--That may be thine, But 'tis not mine.

_Lieut.-Gen._--Give fire, give fire, at once give fire, And let those recreant troops perceive mine ire.

_Gen._--Pursue, pursue; they fly, That first did give the lie! [_Exeunt._

Thus the battle is carried on in talk between two individuals. Bayes alleges, as an excuse for introducing these trivial names of places, that "the spectators know all these towns, and may easily conceive them to be within the dominions of the two kings of Brentford." The battle is finally stopped by an eclipse, and three personages, representing the sun, moon, and earth, advance upon the stage, and by dint of singing and manœuvring, one gets in a line between the other two, and this, according to the strict rules of astronomy, constituted the eclipse. The eclipse is followed by another battle of a more desperate character, to which a stop is put in an equally extraordinary manner, by the entrance of the furious hero Drawcansir, who slays all the combatants on both sides. The marriage of prince Prettyman was to form the subject of the fifth act, but while Bayes, Johnson, and Smith withdraw temporarily, all the players, in disgust, run away to their dinners, and thus ends "The Rehearsal" of Mr. Bayes's play. The epilogue returns to the moral which the play was designed to inculcate:--

_The play is at an end, but where's the plot? That circumstance the poet Bayes forgot. And we can boast, though 'tis a plotting age, No place is freer from it than the stage._

Formerly people sought to write so that they might be understood, but "this new way of wit" was altogether incomprehensible:--

_Wherefore, for ours, and for the kingdom's peace, May this prodigious way of writing cease; Let's have, at least once in our lives, a time When we may hear some reason, not all rhyme. We have this ten years felt its influence; Pray let this prove a year of prose and sense._

English comedy was certainly greatly reformed, in some senses of the word reform, during the period which followed the publication of "The Rehearsal," and, in the hands of writers like Wycherley, Shadwell, Congreve, and D'Urfey, the dulness of the Howards was exchanged for an extreme degree of vivacity. The plot was as little considered as ever--it was a mere peg on which to hang scenes brilliant with wit and _repartee_. The small intrigue is often but a frame for a great picture of society in its forms then most open to caricature, with all the petty intrigues inseparable from it. "Epsom Wells," one of Shadwell's earlier comedies, and perhaps his best, will bear comparison with Jonson's "Bartholomew Fair." The personages represented in it are exactly those which then shone in such society--three "men of wit and pleasure," one of the class of country squires whom the wits of London loved to laugh at, and who is described as "a country justice, a public spirited, politick, discontented fop, an immoderate hater of London, and a lover of the country above measure, a hearty true English coxcomb." Then we have "two cheating, sharking, cowardly bullies." The citizens of London are represented by Bisket, "a comfit-maker, a quiet, humble, civil cuckold, governed by his wife, whom he very much fears and loves at the same time, and is very proud of," and Fribble, "a haberdasher, a surly cuckold, very conceited, and proud of his wife, but pretends to govern and keep her under," and their wives, the first "an impertinent, imperious strumpet," and the other, "an humble, submitting wife, who jilts her husband that way, a very ----." One or two other characters of the same stamp, with "two young ladies of wit, beauty, and fortune," who behave themselves not much better than the others, and a full allowance of "parsons, hectors, constables, watchmen, and fiddlers," complete the _dramatis personæ_ of "Epsom Wells." With such materials anybody will understand the character of the piece, which was brought out on the stage in 1672. "The Squire of Alsatia," by the same author, brought upon the stage in the eventful year 1688, is a vivid picture of one of the wildest phases of London life in those still rather primitive times. Alsatia, as every reader of Walter Scott knows, was a cant name for the White Friars, in London, a locality which, at that time, was beyond the reach of the law and its officers, a refuge for thieves and rogues, and especially for debtors, where they could either resist with no great fear of being overcome, or, when resistance was no longer possible, escape with ease. With such a scene, and such people for characters, we are not surprised that the printed edition of this play is prefaced by a vocabulary of the cant words employed in it. The principal characters in the play are of the same class with those which form the staple of all these old comedies. First there is a country father or uncle, who is rich and severe upon the vices of youth, or arbitrary, or avaricious. He is here represented by sir William Belfond, "a gentleman of about £3000 per annum, who in his youth had been a spark of the town; but married and retired into the country, where he turned to the other extreme--rigid, morose, most sordidly covetous, clownish, obstinate, positive, and forward." He must have a London brother, or near relative, endowed with exactly contrary qualities, here represented by sir Edward Belfond, sir William's brother, "a merchant, who by lucky hits had gotten a great estate, lives single with ease and pleasure, reasonably and virtuously, a man of great humanity and gentleness and compassion towards mankind, well read in good books, possessed with all gentlemanlike qualities." Sir William Belfond has two sons. Belfond senior, the eldest, is "bred after his father's rustic, swinish manner, with great rigour and severity, upon whom his father's estate is entailed, the confidence of which makes him break out into open rebellion to his father, and become lewd, abominably vicious, stubborn, and obstinate." The younger Belfond, Sir William's second son, had been "adopted by Sir Edward, and bred from his childhood by him, with all the tenderness and familiarity, and bounty, and liberty that can be;" he was "instructed in all the liberal sciences, and in all gentleman-like education; somewhat given to women, and now and then to good fellowship; but an ingenious, well-accomplished gentleman; a man of honour, and of excellent disposition and temper." Then we have some of the leading heroes of Alsatia, and first Cheatly, who is described as "a rascal, who by reason of debts, dares not stir out of Whitefryers, but there inveigles young heirs in tail; and helps 'em to goods and money upon great disadvantages; is bound for them, and shares with them, till he undoes them; a lewd, impudent, debauched fellow, very expert in the cant about the town." Shamwell is "cousin to the Belfonds, an heir, who, being ruined by Cheatly, is made a decoy-duck for others; not daring to stay out of Alsatia, where he lives; is bound with Cheatly for heirs, and lives upon them, a dissolute, debauch'd life." Another of these characters is captain Hackum, "a block-headed bully of Alsatia; a cowardly, impudent, blustering fellow; formerly a sergeant in Flanders, run from his colours, retreating into Whitefryers for a very small debt; where by the Alsatians he is dubb'd a captain; marries one that lets lodgings, sells cherry-brandy, and is a bawd." Nor is Alsatia without a representative of the Puritanical part of society, in Scrapeall, "a hypocritical, repeating, praying, psalm-singing, precise fellow, pretending to great piety; a godly knave, who joins with Cheatly, and supplies young heirs with goods and money." A rather large number of inferior characters fill up the canvas; and the females, with two exceptions, belong to the same class. The plot of this play is very simple. The elder son of sir William Belfond has taken to Alsatia, but sir William, on his return from abroad, hearing talk of the fame of a squire Belfond among the Alsatians, imagines that it is his younger son, and out of this mistake a considerable amount of misunderstanding arises. At last sir William discovers his error, and finds his eldest son in Whitefryers, but the youth sets him at defiance. The father, in great anger, brings tipstaff constables, to take away his son by force; but the Alsatians rise in force, the officers of the law are beaten, and sir William himself taken prisoner. He is rescued by the younger Belfond, and in the conclusion the elder brother becomes penitent, and is reconciled with his father. There is an underplot, far from moral in its character, which ends in the marriage of Belfond junior. It is a busy, noisy play, and was a great favourite on the stage; but it is now chiefly interesting as a vivid picture of London life in the latter half of the seventeenth century. "Bury Fair," by Shadwell, is another comedy of the same description; with little interest in the plot, but full of life and movement. If "The Squire of Alsatia" was noisy, "The Scowrers," another comedy by the same author, first brought on the stage in 1691, was still more so. The wild and riotous gallants who, in former times of inefficient police regulation, infested the streets at night, and committed all sorts of outrages, were known at different periods by a variety of names. In the reign of James I. and Charles I. they were the "roaring boys;" in the time of Shadwell, they were called the "scowrers," because they scowered the streets at night, and rather roughly cleared them of all passengers; a few years later they took the name of Mohocks, or Mohawks. During the night London lay at the mercy of these riotous classes, and the streets witnessed scenes of brutal violence, which, at the present day, we can hardly imagine. This state of things is pictured in Shadwell's comedy. Sir William Rant, Wildfire, and Tope, are noted scowrers, well known in the town, whose fame has excited emulation in men of less distinction in their way, Whachum, "a city wit and scowrer, imitator of sir William," and "two scoundrells," his companions, Bluster and Dingboy. Great enmity arises between the two parties of rival scowrers. The more serious characters in the play are Mr. Rant, sir William Rant's father, and sir Richard Maggot, "a foolish Jacobite alderman" (it must be remembered that we are now in the reign of king William). Sir Richard's wife, lady Maggot, like the citizen's wives of the comedy of the Restoration generally, is a lady rather wanting in virtue, ambitious of mixing with the gay and fashionable world, and somewhat of a tyrant over her husband. She has two handsome daughters, whom she seeks to keep confined from the world, lest they should become her rivals. There are low characters of both sexes, who need not be enumerated. Much of the play is taken up with street rows, capital satirical pictures of London life. The play ends with marriages, and with the reconciliation of sir William Rant with his father, the serious old gentleman of the play. Shadwell excelled in these busy comedies. One of the nearest approaches to him is Mountfort's comedy of "Greenwich Park," which is another striking satire on the looseness of London life at that time. As in the others, the plot is simply nothing. The play consists of a number of intrigues, such as may be imagined, at a time when morality was little respected, in places of fashionable resort like Greenwich Park and Deptford Wells.

An element of satire was now introduced into English comedy which does not appear to have belonged to it before--this was mimicry. Although the principal characters in the play bore conventional names, they appear often to have been intended to represent individuals then well known in society, and these individuals were caricatured in their dress, and mimicked in their language and manners. We are told that this mimicry contributed greatly to the success of "The Rehearsal," the duke of Buckingham having taken incredible pains to make Lacy, who acted the part of Bayes, perfect in imitating the voice and manner of Dryden, whose dress and gait were minutely copied. This personal satire was not always performed with impunity. On the 1st of February, 1669, Pepys went to the Theatre Royal to see the performance of "The Heiress," in which it appears that sir Charles Sedley was personally caricatured, and the secretary of king Charles's admiralty has left in his diary the following entry:--"To the king's house, thinking to have seen the Heyresse, first acted on Saturday, but when we come thither we find no play there; Kynaston, that did act a part therein in abuse to sir Charles Sedley, being last night exceedingly beaten with sticks by two or three that saluted him, so as he is mightily bruised, and forced to keep his bed." It is said that Dryden's comedy of "Limberham," brought on the stage in 1678, was prohibited after the first night, because the character of Limberham was considered to be too open a satire on the duke of Lauderdale.

Another peculiarity in the comedies of the age of the Restoration was their extraordinary indelicacy. The writers seemed to emulate each other in presenting upon the stage scenes and language which no modest ear or pure mind could support. In the earlier period coarseness in conversation was characteristic of an unpolished age--the language put in the mouths of the actors, as remarked before, smelt of the tavern; but under Charles II. the tone of fashionable society, as represented on the stage, is modelled upon that of the brothel. Even the veiled allusion is no longer resorted to, broad and direct language is substituted in its place. This open profligacy of the stage reached its greatest height between the years 1670 and 1680. The staple material of this comedy may be considered to be the commission of adultery, which is presented as one of the principal ornaments in the character of the well-bred gentleman, varied with the seducing of other men's mistresses, for the keeping of mistresses appears as the rule of social life. The "Country Wife," one of Wycherley's comedies, which is supposed to have been brought on the stage perhaps as early as 1672, is a mass of gross indecency from beginning to end. It involves two principal plots, that of a voluptuary who feigns himself incapable of love and insensible to the other sex, in order to pursue his intrigues with greater liberty; and that of a citizen who takes to his wife a silly and innocent country girl, whose ignorance he believes will be a protection to her virtue, but the very means he takes to prevent her, lead to her fall. The "Parson's Wedding," by Thomas Killigrew, first acted in 1673, is equally licentious. The same at least may be said of Dryden's "Limberham, or the Kind Keeper," first performed in 1678, which, according to the author's own statement, was prohibited on account of its freeness, but more probably because the character of Limberham was believed to be intended for a personal satire on the unpopular earl of Lauderdale. Its plot is simple enough; it is the story of a debauched old gentleman, named Aldo, whose son, after a rather long absence on the Continent, returns to England, and assumes the name of Woodall, in order to enjoy freely the pleasures of London life before he makes himself known to his friends. He takes a lodging in a house occupied by some loose women, and there meets with his father, but, as the latter does not recognise his son, they become friends, and live together licentiously so long, that when the son at length discovers himself, the old man is obliged to overlook his vices. Otway's comedy of "Friendship in Fashion," performed the same year, was not a whit more moral. But all these are far outdone by Ravenscroft's comedy of "The London Cuckolds," first brought out in 1682, which, nevertheless, continued to be acted until late in the last century. It is a clever comedy, full of action, and consisting of a great number of different incidents, selected from the less moral tales of the old story-tellers as they appear in the "Decameron" of Boccaccio, among which that of the ignorant and uneducated young wife, similar to the plot of Wycherley's "Country Wife," is again introduced.

The corruption of morals had become so great, that when women took up the pen, they exceeded in licentiousness even the other sex, as was the case with Mrs. Behn. Aphra Behn is understood to have been born at Canterbury, but to have passed some part of her youth in the colony of Surinam, of which her father was governor. She evidently possessed a disposition for intrigue, and she was employed by the English government, a few years after the Restoration, as a political spy at Antwerp. She subsequently settled in London, and gained a living by her pen, which was very prolific in novels, poems, and plays. It would be difficult to point out in any other works such scenes of open profligacy as those presented in Mrs. Behn's two comedies of "Sir Patient Fancy" and "The City Heiress, or Sir Timothy Treat-all," which appeared in 1678 and 1681. Concealment of the slightest kind is avoided, and even that which cannot be exposed to view, is tolerably broadly described.

It appears that the performance of the "London Cuckolds" had been the cause of some scandal, and there were, even among play-goers, some who took offence at such outrages on the ordinary feelings of modesty. The excess of the evil had begun to produce a reaction. Ravenscroft, the author of that comedy, produced on the stage, in 1684, a comedy, entitled "Dame Dobson, or the Cunning Woman," which was intended to be a modest play, but it was unceremoniously "damned" by the audience. The prologue to this new comedy intimates that the "London Cuckolds" had pleased the town and diverted the court, but that some "squeamish females" had taken offence at it, and that he had now written a "dull, civill" play to make amends. They are addressed, therefore, in such terms as these:--

_In you, chaste ladies, then we hope to-day, This is the poet's recantation play. Come often to 't, that he at length may see 'Tis more than a pretended modesty. Stick by him now, for if he finds you falter, He quickly will his way of writing alter; And every play shall send you blushing home, For, though you rail, yet then we're sure you'll come._

And it is further intimated,--

_A naughty play was never counted dull-- Nor modest comedy e'er pleased you much._

"I remember," says Colley Cibber in his "Apology," looking back to these times, "I remember the ladies were then observed to be decently afraid of venturing bare-faced to a new comedy, till they had been assured they might do it without the risk of an insult to their modesty; or if their curiosity were too strong for their patience, they took care at least to save appearances, and rarely came upon the first days of acting but in masks (then daily worn, and admitted in the pit, the side boxes, and gallery), which custom, however, had so many ill consequences attending it, that it has been abolished these many years." According to the _Spectator_, ladies began now to desert the theatre when comedies were brought out, except those who "never miss the first day of a new play, lest it should prove too luscious to admit of their going with any countenance to the second."

In the midst of this abuse, there suddenly appeared a book which created at the time a great sensation. The comedies of the latter half of the seventeenth century were not only indecent, but they were filled with profane language, and contained scenes in which religion itself was treated with contempt. At that time there lived a divine of the Church of England, celebrated for his Jacobitism--for I am now speaking of the reign of king William--for his talents as a controversial writer, and for his zeal in any cause which he undertook. This was Jeremy Collier, the author of several books of some merit, which are seldom read now, and who suffered for his zeal in the cause of king James, and for his refusal to take the oath of allegiance to king William. In the year 1698 Collier published his "Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English stage," in which he boldly attacked the licentiousness of the English comedy. Perhaps Collier's zeal carried him a little too far; but he had offended the wits, and especially the dramatic poets, on all sides, and he was exposed to attacks from all quarters, in which Dryden himself took an active part. Collier showed himself fully capable of dealing with his opponents, and the controversy had the effect of calling attention to the immoralities of the stage, and certainly contributed much towards reforming them. They were become much less frequent and less gross at the opening of the eighteenth century.

Towards the end of the reign of king Charles II., the stage was more largely employed as a political agent, and under his successor, James II., the Puritans and the Whigs were constantly held up to scorn. After the Revolution, the tables were turned, and the satire of the stage was often aimed at Tories and Non-jurors. "The Non-juror," by Colley Cibber, which appeared in 1717, at a very opportune moment, gained for its author a pension and the office of poet-laureate. It was founded upon the "Tartuffe" of Molière, for the English comedy writers borrowed much from the foreign stage. A disguised priest, who passes under the name of Dr. Wolf, and who had been engaged in the rebellion of 1715, has insinuated himself into the household of a gentleman of fortune, of not very strong judgment, Sir John Woodvil, whom, under the title of a Non-juror, he has not only induced to become an abettor of rebels, but he has persuaded him to disinherit his son, and he labours to seduce his wife and to deceive his daughter. His baseness is exposed only just soon enough to defeat his designs. Such a production as this could not fail to give great offence to all the Jacobite party, of whatever shade, who were then rather numerous in London, and Cibber assures us that his reward was a considerable amount of adverse criticism in every quarter where the Tory influence reached. His comedies were inferior in brilliance of dialogue to those of the previous age, but the plots were well imagined and conducted, and they are generally good acting plays.

To Samuel Foote, born in 1722, we owe the last change in the form and character of English comedy. A man of infinite wit and humour, and possessed of extraordinary talent as a mimic, Foote made mimicry the principal instrument of his success on the stage. His plays are above all light and amusing; he reduced the old comedy of five acts to three acts, and his plots were usually simple, the dialogue full of wit and humour; but their peculiar characteristic was their open boldness of personal satire. It is entirely a comedy of his own. He sought to direct his wit against all the vices of society, but this he did by holding up to ridicule and scorn the individuals who had in some way or other made themselves notorious by the practice of them. All his principal characters were real characters, who were more or less known to the public, and who were so perfectly mimicked on the stage in their dress, gait, and speech, that it was impossible to mistake them. Thus, in "The Devil upon Two Sticks," which is a general satire on the low condition to which the practice of medicine had then fallen, the personages introduced in it all represented quacks well known about the town. "The Maid of Bath" dragged upon the stage scandals which were then the talk of Bath society. The nabob of the comedy which bears that title, had also his model in real life. "The Bankrupt" may be considered as a general satire on the baseness of the newspaper press of that day, which was made the means of propagating private scandals and libellous accusations in order to extort money, yet the characters introduced are said to have been all portraits from the life; and the same statement is made with regard to the comedy of "The Author."

It is evident that a drama of this inquisitorial character is a dangerous thing, and that it could hardly be allowed to exist where the rights of society are properly defined; and we are not surprised if Foote provoked a host of bitter enemies. But in some cases the author met with punishment of a heavier and more substantial description. One of the individuals introduced into "The Maid of Bath," extorted damages to the amount of £3,000. One of the persons who figured in "The Author," obtained an order from the lord chamberlain for putting a stop to the performance after it had had a short run; and the consequences of "The Trip to Calais," were still more disastrous. It is well known that the character of lady Kitty Crocodile in that play was a broad caricature on the notorious duchess of Kingston. Through the treachery of some of the people employed by Foote, the duchess obtained information of the nature of this play before it was ready for representation, and she had sufficient influence to obtain the lord chamberlain's prohibition for bringing it on the stage. Nor was this all, for as the play was printed, if not acted,--and it was subsequently brought out in a modified form, with omission of the part of lady Kitty Crocodile, though the characters of some of her agents were still retained,--infamous charges were got up against Foote, in retaliation, which caused him so much trouble and grief, that they are said to have shortened his days.

The drama which Samuel Foote had invented did not outlive him; its caricature was itself transferred to the caricature of the print-shop.

##