The Adventures of Roderick Random
manager’s insincerity in amusing me so long, when he knew from the
beginning that he could not gratify my desire. But his lordship
reprimanded me for my freedom, said Mr. Brayer was a man of honour, and
imputed his behaviour with respect to me nothing else but
forgetfulness. And indeed I have had some reason, since that time, to
be convinced of his bad memory; for, in spite of appearances, I will
not allow myself to interpret his conduct in any other way. Lord Rattle
observing me very much affected with my disappointment, offered his
interest to bring on my play at the other house, which I eagerly
accepting, he forthwith wrote a letter of recommendation to Mr.
Bellower, actor and prime minister to Mr. Vandal, proprietor of that
theatre, and desired me to deliver it with my tragedy, without loss of
time. Accordingly, I hastened to his house, where after having waited a
whole hour in the lobby, I was admitted to his presence, and my
performance received with great state. He told me he was extremely busy
at present, but he would peruse it as soon as possible, and bade me to
call again in a week. I took my leave, not a little astonished at the
pert and supercilious behaviour of this stage player, who had not
treated me with good manners; and began to think the dignity of a poet
greatly impaired since the days of Euripides and Sophocles; but all
this was nothing in comparison of what I have since observed.
“Well, Mr. Random, I went back at the appointed time, and was told that
Mr. Bellower was engaged, and could not see me, I repeated my visit a
few days after, and having waited a considerable time was favoured with
an audience, during which, he said, he had not as yet read my play.
Nettled at this usage, I could contain myself no longer, but, telling
him, I imagined he would have paid more deference to Lord Rattle’s
recommendation, demanded my manuscript with some expression of
resentment. “Ay,” said he in a theatrical tone, “with all my heart.”
Then pulling out the drawer of the bureau at which he sat, he took out
a bundle, and threw it upon a table that was near him, pronouncing the
word, “There!” with great disdain. I took it up, and perceiving with
some surprise, that it was a comedy, told him it did not belong to me;
upon which he offered another which I also disclaimed. A third was
produced, and rejected for the same reason. At length he pulled out a
whole bundle, and spread them before me, saying, “There are seven—take
which you please—or take them all.” I singled out my own, and went
away, struck dumb with admiration at what I had seen—not so much on
account of his insolence, as of the number of new plays which from this
circumstance I concluded were yearly offered to the stage. You may be
sure, I did not fail to carry my complaint to my patron, who did not
receive it with all the indignation I expected; but taxed me with
precipitation, and told me I must lay my account with bearing with the
humours of the players, if I intended to write for the stage. “There is
now no other remedy,” he said, “but to keep it till the next season for
Mr. Brayer, and alter it at your leisure, in the summer, according to
his directions.” I was now reduced to a terrible alternative, either to
quit all hopes of my tragedy, from which I had all along promised
myself a large share of fortune and reputation, or to encounter eight
long months of adversity in preparing for and expecting its appearance.
This last penance, painful as it was, seemed most eligible to my
reflection at that time, and therefore I resolved to undergo it.
“Why should I tire you with particulars of my consequence? I wrestled
with extreme poverty until the time of my probation was expired; and
went to my Lord Rattle in order to remind him of my affair, when I
understood, to my great concern, that his lordship was just on the
point of going abroad, and which was still more unfortunate for me, Mr.
Brayer had gone into the country; so that my generous patron had it not
in his power to introduce me personally, as he intended: however, he
wrote a very strong letter to the manager in my favour, and put him in
mind of the promise he had made in behalf of my play.
“As soon as I was certified of Brayer’s return, I went to his house
with this letter, but was told he was gone out. I called again next day
early in the morning, received the same answer, and was desired to
leave my name and business: I did so, and returned the day after, when
the servant still affirmed that his master was gone abroad; though I
perceived him, as I retired, observing me through a window. Incensed at
this discovery, I went to a coffee-house hard by, and, inclosing his
lordship’s letter in one from myself, demanded a categorical answer. I
sent it to his house by a porter, who returned in a few minutes, and
told me Mr. Brayer would be glad to see me at that instant. I obeyed
the summons, and was received with such profusion of compliments and
apologies, that my resentment immediately subsided, and I was even in
pain for the concern which this holiest man showed at the mistake of
his servant, who, it seems, had been ordered to deny him to everybody
but me. He expressed the utmost veneration for his good and noble
friend, Lord Rattle, whom he should always be proud to serve; promised
to peruse the play with all dispatch, and give me a meeting upon it:
and, as a testimony of his esteem, made me a present of a general order
for the season, by which I should be admitted to any part of the
theatre. This was a very agreeable compliment to me, whose greatest
pleasure consisted in seeing dramatic performances, and you need not
doubt that I often availed myself of my privilege. As I had an
opportunity of being behind the scenes when I pleased, I frequently
conversed with Mr. Brayer about my play, and asked when he meant to put
it into rehearsal; but he had always so much business upon his hands,
that it remained with him unopened a considerable while; and I became
very uneasy about the season, that wasted apace, when I saw in the
papers another new play advertised, which had been written, offered,
accepted, and rehearsed, in the compass of three months. You may easily
guess how much I was confounded at this event! I own to you that, in
the first transports of my anger, I suspected Mr. Brayer of having
acted towards me in the most pitiful perfidious manner; and was
actually glad at his disappointment in the success of his favourite
piece, which, by the strength of art, lingered till the third night,
and then died in a deplorable manner. But now that passion has no share
in my reflection, I am willing to ascribe his behaviour to his want of
memory or want of judgment, which, you know, are natural defects, that
are more worthy of compassion than reproach.
“About this time I happened to be in company with a gentlewoman, who,
having heard of my tragedy, told me, she was well acquainted with the
wife of a gentleman who was very well known to a lady, who had great
interest with a person who was intimate with Earl Sheerwit: and that,
if I pleased, she would use her influence in my behalf. As this
nobleman had the character of a Maecenas in the nation, and could stamp
a value upon any work by his sole countenance and approbation, I
accepted her offer with eagerness, in full confidence of seeing my
reputation established, and my wishes fulfilled in a very short time,
provided that I should have the good fortune to please his lordship’s
taste. I withdrew the manuscript from the hands of Mr. Brayer, and
committed it to the care of this gentlewoman, who laboured so
effectually in my interest, that in less than a month it was conveyed
to the earl, and in a few weeks after, I had the satisfaction to hear
that he had read and approved it very much. Transported with this piece
of intelligence, I flattered myself with the hopes of his interesting
himself in its favour, but, hearing no more of this matter in three
whole months, I began (God forgive me!) to suspect the veracity of the
person who brought me the good tidings; for I thought it impossible
that a man of his rank and character, who knew the difficulty of
writing a good tragedy, and understood the dignity of the work, should
read and applaud an essay of this kind, without feeling an inclination
to befriend the author, whom his countenance alone could raise above
dependence. But it was not long before I found my friend very much
wronged by my opinion.
“You must know, that the civilities I had received from Lord Rattle,
and the desire he manifested to promote the success of my play,
encouraged me to write an account of my bad fortune to his lordship,
who condescended so far as to desire, by letter, a young squire of a
great estate, with whom he was intimate, to espouse my cause, and, in
particular, make me acquainted with one Mr. Marmozet, a celebrated
player, who had lately appeared on the stage with astonishing eclat,
and bore such sway in the house where he acted, that the managers durst
not refuse anything he recommended. The young gentleman, whom Lord
Rattle had employed for this purpose, being diffident of his own
interest with Mr. Marmozet, had recourse to a nobleman of his
acquaintance, who, at his solicitation, was so good as to introduce me
to him; and the conversation turning upon my performance, I was not a
little surprised, as well as pleased, to hear that Earl Sheerwit had
spoken very much in its praise, and even sent Mr. Marmozet the copy,
with a message, expressing a desire that he would act in it next
season. Nor was this favourite actor backward in commending the piece,
which he mentioned with such expressions of regard, that I do not
choose to repeat: assuring me that he would appear in it, provided he
should be engaged to play at all during the ensuing season. In the
meantime, he desired I would give him leave to peruse it in the
country, whither he intended to remove next day, that he might have
leisure to consider and point out such alterations as might, perhaps,
be necessary for its representation; and took my direction, that he
might communicate by letter the observations he should make. Trusting
to these assurances, and the interest which had been made in my behalf,
I hugged myself in the expectation of seeing it not only acted, but
acted to the greatest advantage, and this I thought could not fail of
recompensing me in ample manner for the anxiety and affliction I had
undergone; but six weeks being elapsed, I did not know how to reconcile
Mr. Marmozet’s silence with his promise of writing to me in ten days
after he set out for the country; however, I was at last favoured with
a letter, importing that he had made some remarks on my tragedy, which
he would freely impart at meeting, and advised me to put it, without
loss of time, into the hands of that manager, who had the best company;
as he himself was quite uncertain whether or not he should be engaged
that winter. I was a good deal alarmed at this last part of his letter,
and advised about it with a friend, who told me, it was a plain
indication of Mr. Marmozet’s desire to get rid of his promise; that his
pretended uncertainty about acting next winter was no other than a
scandalous evasion; for, to his certain knowledge, he was already
engaged, or at least in terms, with Mr. Vandal; and that his design was
to disappoint me, in favour of a new comedy, which he had purchased of
the author, and intended to bring upon the stage for his own advantage.
“In short, my dear sir, this person, who, I must own, is if a sanguine
complexion, handled the moral character of Mr. Marmozet with such
severity, that I began to suspect him of some particular prejudice, and
put myself upon my guard against his insinuations. I ought to crave