The Jubilee Celebrations at Stratford-upon-Avon in the newspapers

The Jubilee Celebrations at Stratford-upon-Avon in the newspapers

The following archive of newspaper clippings tracks the reporting on the Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon from its inception to its soggy end. It includes a wide range of materials: some of the papers enthusiastically supported Garrick’s plans, others saw it is a perfect opportunity for satire on the pretensions of the Manager.

St. James’s Chronicle or the British Evening Post May 6–9, 1769.

The Mayor, Aldermen, and Burgesses of Stratford-upon-Avon, in Warwickshire, have lately elected David Garrick, Esq. an honorary Burgess of that Corporation, and yesterday morning the proper officers of the corporation waited upon Mr. Garrick, at his house in Southampton-street, with his freedom inclosed in a box of curious workmanship, made from a mulberry tree planted by Shakespeare himself, accompanied with the following letter.

To David Garrick, Esq.

Sir,

The Mayor, Aldermen, and Burgesses of the ancient Borough of Stratford-upon-Avon, a town that glories in giving birth to the immortal Shakespeare; whose memory you have so highly honoured, and whose conceptions you have ever so happily expressed—rejoice in an opportunity of adding their mite to that universal applause your inimitable powers have most justly merited; and, as a mark of their esteem and gratitude, have respectfully transmitted to you the freedom of their borough, in a box made from a mulberry tree, undoubtedly planted by Shakespeare’s own hand, which they hope you will do them the honour of accepting.

By Order of the Mayor, Aldermen, and Burgesses, in Common-Council.

Stratford-upon-Avon, Signed by W. HUNT, Town-Clerk. May 3, 1769.

We hear that, in consequence of the above, a Jubilee in honour and to the memory of Shakespeare will be appointed at Stratford the beginning of September next, to be kept up every seventh year. Mr. Garrick, at the particular request of the Corporation and gentlemen of the neighbourhood, has accepted the stewardship. At the first Jubilee, a large handsome edifice, lately erected in Stratford by subscription, will be named Shakespeare’s Hall, and dedicated to his memory. The public will soon be informed of the particulars of the intended entertainments.

Whitehall Evening Post or London Intelligencer Aug. 1–3, 1769.

It is said that the Corporation of Stratford-upon-Avon are intent upon obtaining a grant of an annual Mulberry-fair, as well to aggrandize, as to commemorate, the famous old Tree, which has been the butt of the wits for some time past.

Middlesex Journal or Chronicle of Liberty Aug. 3–5, 1769.

Wednesday, eight chests filled with dominos and other masquerade dresses, were sent in a wagon from the Green-man and Still in Oxford Road, to Stratford upon Avon, for the masked ball which is to be there at the ensuing jubilee in honour of the immortal Shakespear.

Middlesex Journal or Chronicle of Liberty Aug. 5–8, 1769.

We hear that her royal highness the princess Amelia intends to honour the ensuing jubile at Stratford upon Avon, with her presence.

Lloyd’s Evening Post Aug. 7–9, 1769.

It has been in general believed, that the institution of the Stratford Jubilee was only a matter of taste and amusement; but the more sagacious see a great political view carried on at the bottom of it; this is, the population of that manufacturing part of the country, which will be effected by drawing great numbers of people from the neighbouring towns, to repose together on the verdant banks of the Avon. The season seems peculiarly favourable to this important view by its heat, should the same continue.

Public Advertiser Aug. 10, 1769.

Stratford-upon-Avon

The Steward of the Jubilee, appointed in honour and to the memory of Shakespeare, on the sixth, seventh, of September next, gives notice to the ladies and gentlemen, that, among other entertainments, there will be a Masquerade on Thursday the seventh to conclude the whole.

The ladies are desired to take notice, that at the Ball on the 5th, they may appear in negligees or in mantuas and petticoats, which ever they please.

Tickets for the approaching Jubilee, in honour of Shakespeare, at Stratford-upon-Avon, will be ready to be delivered next week at the following places:

The Theatre-Royal in Drury Lane; Tom’s Coffee-House, Russel-Street; Messrs. Becket and De [brundt]’s, Booksellers, in the Strand; Mr. Griffin’s, Bookseller, Catharine-Street; Mr. Jacksen’s Habit-Shop in Tavistock-Street; and Mr. Johnson’s Music Shop, at No. 11, York-Street, Covent Garden.

Those ladies and gentlemen who may have occasion for tickets, are requested to send notice to some of the above places, that a sufficient number may be provided.

Public Advertiser Aug. 10, 1769.

Masquerade

Any ladies or gentlemen desirous of making up habits against the approaching masquerade at Stratford upon Avon, or any other occasion, may see select and choice collection of original drawings for the purpose, containing a great variety of agreeable characters, and may at a very easy expense have the advertiser’s opinion and superintendance [sic] in making up the dresses, he having great experience and some taste in those affairs, by applying at or opposite Mr. Wright’s, Haberdasher, Clanville-Street, the Upper En­­d of Rathbone Place, facing Soho-Square.

Lloyd’s Evening Post Aug. 9–11, 1769.

We hear the Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon will open on Tuesday, the fifth of September next, with a public breakfasting, after which Dr. Arne’s celebrated Oratorio, called Judith, will be performed by the most capital singers that can be procured; and in the evening will be an Assembly.

The second day’s entertainment will commence with the performance of an Ode, written by Mr. Garrick, in honour of the immortal Shakespeare, and set to musick by Dr. Arne; between the airs, several passages of this piece will be spoken by our celebrated English Roscius. After this will be a grand procession, in which all the remarkable characters in Shakespeare’s plays, such as Othello, Lear, Falstaff, Touchstone, Pistol, &c. &c. will make their appearance, and this day will terminate with a concert of vocal and instrumental music.

The entertainment of the third day will consist of a repetition of the Ode, and a sumptuous masked ball, which will conclude the Jubilee.

Dublin Mercury Aug. 12–15, 1769.

Shakespeare: an Ode. Offered to the Mayor and corporation of Stratford upon Avon for their Jubilee, to be held the 6th of September in honour of Shakespeare.

I.

’Twas at the solemn feast, for laurels won
By WILLIAM, old John SHAKESPEARE’s son,
Aloft in awful state
The May’r of STRATFORD sate,
Rais’d on a wool-pack’d throne:
His aldermen were plac’d around,
Their brows with spreading antlers crown’d,
(So city spouses should be found)
The lovely May’ress by his side
Sat like a plumb High-German bride,
Not less for fat renown’d than pride.
Happy, happy, happy May’r!
None but the fat,
None but the fat,
None but the fat deserves the bouncing fair.

II.

The Bard of FERNEY plac’d on high
Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touch’d the wooden lyre:
The notes, tho’ lame, ascend as high
As civic joys require.
The song began from GARRICK’s toil,
Who left his Litchfield’s native soil,
(Such were his hopes of golden spoil)
King RICHARD’s crooked form bely’d the man:
Sublime on high-heel’d shoes he trod,
When first he courted Lady ANNE
In Goodman’s-fields, till then an unfrequented road.
As HASTINGS next round PRICHARD’s waist he curled,
Or shewed, in DRUGGER’s rags, an ideot to the world.
The list’ning crowd admire the lofty sound,
A present SHAKESPEARE, loud they shout around;
A present SHAKESPEARE, loud the raftor’d hall rebound.
With prick’d up ears,
His May’rship hears,
Assumes the play’r,
Affects to stare,
And shook the room about his ears.

III.

The praise of ven’son, then, the rapt enthusiast sung,
Of ven’son, whether old or young:
The jolly haunch in triumph comes;
Sound the trumpets; beat the drums;
Flush’d with a purple grace,
It shews its currant-jelly face:
Now gives each feeder breath: it comes, it comes:
Ven’son, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys can best reveal;
Fat of ven’son is a treasure,
Eating is the glutton’s pleasure:
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet as stuffing is with veal.

IV.

Sooth’d with the sound, the May’r grew vain;
Eat all his custard o’er again;
And thrice he pick’d the bones of geese and turkeys slain.
The Poet saw his stomach rise,
His watring mouth, his longing eyes;
And while he necks and sides defy’d
Chang’d his note, and check’d his pride.
He chose a Tyburn muse
Soft pity to infuse:
He sung the Deer-stealer’s untimely fate
By law severe, tho’ good,
Swinging, swinging, swinging, swinging,
Swinging in too high a state,
For spilling Sylvan blood.
Deserted at his utmost need
By those his former thefts had fed,
Expos’d, ev’n near his native town,
With not a friend to cut him down.
With joyless looks the May’r dejected sate,
Tho’ still revolving in his soul
The various turns of spits below;
And now and then a backward sigh he stole,
While streams Pactolian sought their vent to flow.

V.

The bard of FERNEY smil’d to see
That sleep was in the next degree:
’Twas but a drowsy strain to keep,
For nurses talk their babes asleep.
Gently dull, in hum-drum numbers,
Thus he sooth’d his soul to slumbers:
Picking bones is toil and trouble,
Sillabub an empty babble;
Never ending, still beginning,
Eating, still the substance missing:
Think, if fat be worth thy winning,
Thy wife is surely worth the kissing:
Both wife and ven’son see besides thee!
Take what fate, they cook, provides thee!
The many rend the skies with loud applause;
So steep was crown’d tho’ FERNEY won the cause.
The May’re scarce able to keep ope his eyes,
Peep’d at the food
That warm’d his blood,
And lick’d his lips, and lick’d his lips,
And lick’d his lips, (to stir in vain he tries:)
At length, as sunk in sleep’s soft arms he stretches,
The snorting Magistrate b—t his breeches

VI.

Now strike the salt-box once again:
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain:—
Break the bands of sleep asunder
With noise more frequent than his postern thunder!
Hark! hark! the horrid sound
Has rais’d up his head,
Tho’ as heavy as lead,
And he stares and stinks around!
Revenge, revenge, dread FERNEY cries,
See the Critics arise!
See the volumes they rear
Only fit to curl hair,
Tho’ each hop’d for an Editor’s prize!
Behold the snarling band,
Each with a farthing candle in his hand!
Those are critical ghosts who for SHAKESPEARE were slain,
And unbury’d remain
On stalls in Clare-court, Drury-lane.
Give the sun’rels due
To the wretched crew!
Behold how they toss their noses on high!
Bid them seek Cloacina’s abodes
Congenial temples for such hostile gods!
The company, pleas’d such expedient was hit on,
The May’r snatch’d up CAPEL’s edition to sh—t on;
His wife the door unbarr’d,
To light him to the yard,
As HARTLEY held the link that sing’d the fam’d North Briton.
Let GARRICK yield our May’r the prize,
Or both divide the crown:
This, rais’d an Author to the skier;
That, threw his Critics down.

Lloyd’s Evening Post Aug. 14–16, 1769

Song.

Come, brothers of Stratford, these flocks let us shear,
Which bright as if wash’d in our Avon appear!
The coolest are they who from fleeces are free,
And who are such trimmers, such trimmers as we?
Sing Tantarara shear all, &c. &c.

We harbour no lodgers but such as can pay,
We ask for a room but two guineas a day;
On the length of each pocket we fasten our eyes,
And learn from Al Fresco’s to rob in disguise.
Sing, &c.

By mode and caprice are these Londoners let,
For dinner they’ll pay what we charge ’em a head:
Our wives and our daughters will more of them tell,
For where ven’son’s plenty, the flesh will rebel.
Sing, &c.

The Giant from Dublin we never can dread,
Our Hall is too low for so lofty a head:—
Little—and—take the cash at its door,
Their gold from the rich, and their pence from the poor.
Sing, &c.

As soon as they’re gone, all our gains we’ll reveal;
As light as the flocks we have shear’d they shall feel;
While we with their money are jolly and gay,
And leave to next year the return of the day.
Sing Tantarara shear all, &c. &c.

Middlesex Journal or Chronicle Aug. 15–17, 1769.

Extract of a Letter from Stratford-upon-Avon, Aug. 10.

“Agreeable to my promise, I have sent you a sketch of the intended diversions of our jubilee.

On the morning of the 6th of September the jubilee will be opened by the firing of cannon. At twelve the ladies go to the church, where an oratorio will be performed: from the church, the band in grand chorus will proceed to the great booth, where dinner will be prepared; after that, songs, glees, &c. will fill up the time till the ode is performed; the recitative part by Mr. Garrick, who will crown a statue of Shakespeare with laurel. The ode is long, and excellent in its way; the musick is composed by Dr. Arne, who, I hear, has succeeded happily. After the ode, there will be a ball, which finishes the day.—The next day, which is the principle one, will be opened (if the weather permits) with a very extraordinary cavalcade of various characters in different plays of Shakespeare, preceded by six satyrs playing upon reeds: these tragi-comic heroes advance to the great booth and stand round the statue of Shakespeare; then Garrick again repeats the ode. He then goes to the hall to dedicate that to Shakespeare. From this time to dinner they dress for the evening entertainments, whilst the town is to be amused with the singing of a variety of ballads, &c. wrote upon the occasion. After dinner the catches and glees as before till the ode is again performed: then the fireworks (which are very curious indeed) and the town will be illuminated: I hear a Cleopatra will sail down the Avon. As the masquerade will finish the day, it is imagined that the ladies and gentlemen will see the fireworks in their masquerade habits; for the fireworks will be best seen from the great booth.

The great booth, in which the ode will be performed, is proposed to hold about 2000 people at least; and that every one may be accommodated in respect to the hearing of it, it is said Mr. Garrick, if desired, will repeat it more than once.”

Whitehall Evening Post Aug. 15–17, 1769.

A Trip to the Jubilee

The wise men of Avon, by shrewd deputation,
Presented to Garrick their wooden donation,
And wish’d, as I’m told,
It had been all of gold,
Like these his great actorship had some time since
Of Denmark’s young king, and the Parmesan prince.
My good friends, said he,
It is all one to me,
Tho’ the box be cut of a Mulberry-tree;
For ’tis just the same thing,
Tho’ itself be not gold, if but gold it will bring.
The philosopher’s stone,
It is very well known,
Is a genius, like mine,
That can carve, clip, and coin,
Or like to King Midas convert, at a touch,
Wood to gold, or, what’s better, turn little to much:
Hence, so long as the world’s full of niseys and ninneys,
My Mulberry-box will be full of good guineas.
The Mayor of Old Stratford, in strange agitation,
To have miss’d being ’prenticed to such a vocation,
Replied, Would your actorship teach us the way,
We are apt, and don’t doubt that out parts we could play;
This present of wood
Shews our hearts to be good;
But if one we are told
How to turn it to gold.
The trunk of the tree we would bring on our backs,
Lop the boughs, stack the roots, and you still should go snacks.
Enough, friends, says he,
Bring the Mulberry-tree,
And I will ensure you a fine Jubilee.
“A Jubilee! Gemini! George! what is that?”
No questions; I know, my good friends, what I’m at;
Make me but your JUBILEE-DAVY, my trick is
To turn all the world into JUBILEE-DICKIES.*

M.H.

*See Farquhar’s Constant Couple.

Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser Aug. 22, 1769.

Among the gentleman in the literary world, the following, it is said, intend to honour the jubilee at Stratford upon Avon with their company, viz. Mr. Samuel Johnson, James Harris, Esq; Samuel Foote, Esq; George Keate, Esq; George Coleman; Esq; George Steevens, Esq; Richard Owen Cambridge, Esq; Edmund Burke, Esq;—Webb, Esq; Richard Barengers, Esq; Rev. Mr. Thomas Warton, Rev. Mr. Percy, Rev. Mr. Farmer, Rev. Mr. Franklin, Rev. Mr. Fawkes, Rev. Dr. Dodd, Mr. Mason, Mr. Gray, Dr. Akenside, Dr. Hawkesworth, Mr. Baretti, Dr. John Hill, Arthur Murphy, Esq; Dr. Nugent, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Bickerstaff, Mr. Kelly, Mr. Glover, Mr. Reed, Mr. Wm. Woty, Mr. G. A. Steevens, Mr. Harvard, Mr. Sheridan, and Mr. Macklin.

Lloyd’s Evening Post Aug. 23, 1769.

An Epistle to Mr. Kenrick, on his declining to accept an Invitation to Stratford upon Avon.*

How, Mr. Kenrick, is it true
That you, of all the world, shou’d you!
Of Shakespeare be neglectful?
Not to the Jubilee come down,
’Gainst Sept. the 6th, to Stratford town!
How monstrous disrespectful!

We thought that you, to whom the Bard
Had shewn that singular regard.

*Written in imitation of Mr. K’s Epistle to D. Garrick, Esq. on his return from Italy.

St. James Chronicle of the British Evening Post Aug. 22–24, 1769.

We hear that a great Personage having expressed his desire to hear the Ode in Honour of Shakespeare, which is to be performed at Stratford-upon-Avon, Mr. Garrick was sent for, and read his performance, which afforded great satisfaction.

Middlesex Journal or Chronicle of Liberty Aug. 22–24, 1769.

Poet’s Corner

To the Publisher of the Middlesex Journal.

Sir,

As I suppose Mr. G—k would wish to make every thing relative to the Stratford Jubilee held in lasting remembrance, I have sent you a poetical version of his admirable letter of thanks, which I would propose to have set to musick by Dr. Thomas Augustine Arne, and be the finishing piece, or grand chorus at the conclusion of the Jubilee. I have, I believe, kept up to the spirit of the original: if I have added, ’tis only in such places where the author did not speak out.

Gentlemen,

My gratitude ne’er can I fully express,
For th’honour of making me brother burgess
Of Stratford on Avon, which ever shall be
Remember’d and rev’renc’d for Shakespear—and me.

Vast reasons for joy I could gladly reveal,
In short, I the cause can no longer conceal;
Good brethren ’tis this—that by solemn decree,
The S—s of a borough should make a S—e free!

For the box and the freedom* most thankful am I,
A box made of wood, which no †money could buy!

Whilst mem’ry bolds feat, will I never forget
The freedom and box—What a wonderful debt!
Who the Devil cou’d have dreamt you’d have done such a feat,
As to name little David with Shakespear the great!

Chorus.

Who the Devil cou’d have thought, &c.

The Stratford Laureat.

*No wonder Mr. G—k should be so pleased with the gift of freedom, as he had given up all pretensions to his own, by voting for Dir. W.B.P. at the Brentford election.

†The literal meaning of the word inestimable. See his letter.

Public Advertiser Aug. 24, 1769.

To the Printer of the Public Advertiser

Sir,

Though my late journey to Stratford-upon-Avon was rather involuntary, and owing to the magical effect of Mr. Keate’s poetry upon a piece of wood, which serves the purpose of a leg I lost in the service of the public upon the stage, I think my trouble was not altogether thrown away, as I have been enabled to make some improvements upon the entertainments of the Jubilee. I had the virtue to withstand the Mayor’s pressing invitation, from a well founded fear that venison and home-brew’d might make the flesh rebel; and you know, Mr. Printer, that a wooden leg is not very fit for the soft tread and noiseless step of nocturnal intrigue. In vain was it insinuated that the antlers of the Aldermanic Woolcombers sat so easy upon their brows, that no notice would be taken of my false steps; the guinea tickets shew that they are not altogether disinterested, and I had no mind to heal, with my small allowance from the theatrical fund, the wounds of connubial reputation.

An epilogo-epigrammatical letter from the Steward, full of wit-marking italics, and ending, as usual, in a point, had no better success; and had not the Ferneyan lyre interfered I believe my indolence would scarcely permit my veneration for Shakespeare to carry me to the Warwickshire Athens. The repetition of the Ode had no effect upon my head, but the wood which composes one of my feet felt all the tremors of poetic sensibility. The Bard set off, the wood stretched after him with irresistible force, and I, having no time to disengage the rest of my body from the enchanted leg, was obliged to follow. My hopping, my capering, and bounding, and striding after the Poet, who raised the whole country with the hue and cry of his song, was perhaps a no less piece of amusement to any, than any one Act of the entertainments at Stratford will be to the guinea spectators of the Jubilee.

Upon my arrival I found the worthy Corporation very busy, together with the Steward with all his theatrical insignia, superintending three axe-men, who were patching up an old, leaky, flat-bottomed Ferny boat for a barge for falling down the Avon with a Cleopatra in the manner of the Egyptian Queen of that name upon the Cydnus. This piece of naval elegance was soon finished with all the magnificence and propriety of taste. The cordage is made of the small guts of stolen deer, the sails of fine blankets in the manner of Indian shawls, the sides were decorated with festoons of flowers, interspersed with emblematical horns; a wooden Falstaff waving his lath sword looked fiercely forward from the prow; and Macbeth’s Witches with their besoms ran round a kettle that actually seemed to boil in basso relievo upon the stern.

The rehearsal of the falling down of Cleopatra came on on Saturday last. In the centre of the Sutilis Cymba on a woolpack, reclined in all the ease of magnificent fat, lay that paragon of virtue, who is dignified with the title of the Royal Sovereign, and is so hospitable to all those who pass near Somerset-House in the night. In her face was pictured universal benevolence, which added grace to those solid charms, which, like Solomon’s mistress, make her terrible as an army with banners. Six link-boys from Drury-Lane, in the dress of cupids, bent their bows, as in defence of this great beauty; and two chimney-sweeps, in the character of Abyssinian slaves, fanned her broad, heaving bosom with the wings of a goose, an operation not unnecessary in this hot season where valleys of fat become irriguous with streams of sweat.

Upon a high bank, not far down the river, appeared in the character of Antony that friend of virtue, the itinerant bookseller, Mr. William Lynch. His broad, unthinking face was not unexpressive of the jovial temper of the triumvir, nor the dull seriousness of his heavy eyes unworthy of the Roman. Six Irish chairmen, with their poles erect, represented the Pretorian cohort that guarded Antony; and an old two-armed chair, preserved in the family of the Lucys (who, upon this occasion, have forgot their animosity to the memory of the poetical deer-stealer) supplied the place of a throne.

After every thing was ready, it was unluckily found that the Royal Sovereign drew too much water for the scanty stream of the Avon: it was in the afternoon, and she had taken in a great deal of beer and provisions. In launching her out, with unguarded violence, two of her Stern-Chace guns went off in the very face of the Mayor and Steward. It happened fortunately there was no shot, but the smell of the powder was so offensive, that poor Roscius swooned away; but the Mayor, accustomed to reports of a similar nature from a heavy vessel of his own, stood it out like a worthy and spirited magistrate.

I am sorry that time will not permit me at present to give you, Mr. Printer, more of the transactions at Stratford. The carpenter is just come in to inspect a wound I received in the leg in an affair of honour with a Scotch captain, who called Mr. Wilkes and the supporters an aggrogate of knives and fools. I shall however resume the subject in a few days, being convinced that no wounds are mortal where the carpenter is the only surgeon necessary.

I am, Sir, your humble servant,

DESQUEEZE-OH!

London Chronicle Aug. 24–26, 1769.

A letter from Stratford upon Avon says, “It is incredible what a number of people flock here to view the preparations for the jubilee. Two wagon loads of fireworks, &c. made under the inspection of Mr. Angelo, are arrived here from London. A quantity of very beautiful lamps of various colours, for the illuminations, are also come. The

great room, which is an octagon, of about 66 feet diameter, is nearly finished. The Oratorios are, however, to be performed in the church, which is a very large building.”

Public Advertiser Aug. 28, 1769.

JUBILEE RACE, at Stratford upon Avon.

A Jubilee Cup, value 50l. with other proper decorations, will be run for on Shottery Meadow, near Stratford upon Avon, on Friday the 5th day of September next, by four-year old horses, &c. and those which never won 50l. to carry 8 stone, those that have won 50l. to carry eight stone 4lb. those that have two 50l. to carry eight stone 8lb. and those which have won three 50l. to carry eight stone 12lb. and all of superior qualifications to carry 2lb more, the best of three heats, each heat to be three miles.

To enter for this cup on Monday the 4th of September at the house of Mr. Judd, in Stratford, between the hours of two and six, and to be subject to the article which will be produced.

Every horse, &. that enters for this cup, to pay one guinea entrance, and five shillings to the clerk of the course, and to subscribe 2l. 2s. towards future diversions; and every horse, &c. to start at twelve o’clock.

The horses, &c. to stand at the house of Mr. Judd only, from the day of entrance to the time of running.

No less than three reputed running horses to start for this cup; if but one horse, &c. enters, to have 10l. 10s. allowed him, and his entrance money; if but two horses, &c. to enter, to have 5l. 5s. allowed them, and their entrance money.

No horse, &c. to start for this cup that is not plated by a smith that has subscribed 10s. 6d. towards it. All difference in entering and running to be determined by the majority of subscribers present.

The course upon this most delightful meadow (allowed to be one of the finest in the kingdom) has been altered and made greatly more convenient and agreeable both for horses and spectators; indeed there was very little occasion for art, where nature has done so much; the stream of the surrounding Avon, the verdant lawns, and the rising hills and woods, form a most agreeable scene.

St. James Chronicle or the British Evening Post Aug. 26–29, 1769.

STRATFORD JUBILEE

Two capital engravings, by Miller: A fine head of Shakespeare, from a drawing in Mr. Garrick’s possession; and a head of Garrick, from a painting in Mr. Coleman’s possession: also a curious print of a new-invented machine, to go on the road without horses, will be given in this month’s London Magazine, which will contain, besides other articles, genuine memoirs of Shakespeare and Garrick, with some interesting anecdotes of these great men, and an accurate account of the several entertainments at the Stratford Jubilee on the 6th and 7th of September, which will be found a necessary companion to every lady and gentleman that intends visiting that place.

Whitehall Evening Post or London Intelligencer Aug 26–29, 1769.

To the Printer of the Whitehall Evening Post,

Sir,

The approaching festival at Stratford being the principal object of public attention, any information relating to so magnificent a solemnity, I apprehend, will prove acceptable to your readers. To the Literati, I am sure, the intelligence will be pleasing, that the pageantry, of which so pompous an account has been given in the papers, is solely calculated for the million, who are capable of receiving pleasure thro’ the medium of the senses only; but a dish of Cavexre is prepared for such intellectual spirits, who are susceptible of more abstract and refined indulgence. For the entertainment of these, our great Roscius proposes, on the first day, to pronounce an eulogium, in the manner of Mons. Fontenelle, on the wonderful dramatic genius, in whose honour the company are assembled. In this composition he will take occasion to enter, with great precision, into the specific excellencies of our incomparable Bard. He will develope, by a curious investigation, those delicate touches of nature, which have set the name of Shakespeare at the head of all dramatic writers: he will make a curious discrimination of his tragic from his comic powers, and probably ascertain the long-contested problem, “Whether Melpomene or Thalia derives most honour from the labours of the Avon Bard?”—He will demonstrate where his idol has succeeded by a deviation from the rules of dramatic writing, and point out, in a clear and convincing disquisition, those pieces which would have received additional beauty by an adherence to those laws. This, it is said, will conclude the literary entertainment of the first day.

On the second day, the Great Viceregent of Shakespeare will undertake a minute examination of the Poet’s versification, which will lead him into a discussion of the harmony of his numbers, the knowledge of the rythmus, which he possessed and exercised in so eminent a degree, and the wonderful attention which he gave to the variation of his pauses. These observations the great Artist will exemplify by reading several passages, in which occasion will offer of pointing out, but with great good-nature, the errors of some modern performers, in respect to accents, emphasis, and rest. Much delightful instruction, it is expected, will be derived from this part of the intellectual feast. Afterwards he will exhibit a specimen of a projected edition of the Stratford swan, which a retreat from the stage may, perhaps, some time or other (Oh, may that time be far distant!) enable him to accomplish. Hence will be introduced an elucidation of several passages hitherto totally misunderstood, which will convince envy herself of the profound erudition and extensive classical attainments of Mr. Garrick. It will at the same time manifest, what few probably are apprised of, “that being the first actor in the world is far from constituting the most shining and estimable part of his character.”

The whole will conclude with the Apotheosis of Shakespeare. I am, Sir, without offence to modesty, I hope,

A MAN OF LETTERS. Smyrna Coffee-House, Aug. 19.

Middlesex Journal or Chronicle of Liberty Aug. 29–31, 1769.

There are so many wagons, carts, &c. now employed to carry baggage, provisions, hampers of wine, and all sorts of liquors to Stratford upon Avon, against the approaching jubilee, that people find it difficult to get enough of these vehicles to carry on their ordinary business.

St. James’s Chronicle or the British Evening Post Aug. 29–31, 1769.

Whereas it has been reported, very injuriously, to the discredit of the inhabitants of Stratford-upon-Avon, that they have very much imposed upon the company, who intend to be at the Jubilee, this is to give notice, that the beds, called masters beds, are left for one guinea a night, and that there may be no imposition, Mr. Peyton and Mr. Latimer have provided more, which may be had at the same price, by applying to either of them at the White Lion in Stratford.

The large villages of Shottery, Alveston, Teddington, and Clifford, are situate very near Stratford, where lodgings, and abundance of room for servants, horses, and carriages, may be had at reasonable rates, and Warwick, Henley, Aclester, and Shipston, are in good turnpike roads, within an hour’s drive of Stratford.

Lloyd’s Evening Post Aug. 30–Sept. 1, 1769.

To the EDITOR of LLOYD’S Evening Post.

SIR,

As the Jubilee at Stratford upon Avon, in honour of Shakespeare, engrosses no inconsiderable share of conversation, I apprehend the following concise account of that immortal Bard, written by the late Nicholas Row, Esq; will at this time prove very acceptable to your readers.

I am, Sir, your constant reader,

MUSIDORUS.

William Shakespear was the son of Mr. John Shakespear, and was born at Stratford upon Avon, in Warwickshire, in April 1564. His family, as appears by the register and public writings relating to that town, were of good figure and fashion there, and are mentioned as gentlemen. His father, who was a considerable dealer in wool, had so large a family, ten children in all, that though he was his eldest son, he could give him no better education than his own employment. He had bred him, it is true, for some time, at a free-school, where, it is probable, he acquired what Latin he was master of: but the narrowness of his circumstances, and the want of his assistance at home, forced his father to withdraw him from thence, and unhappily prevented his further proficiency in that language. It is without controversy, that in his works we scarce find any traces of any thing that looks like an imitation of the ancients. The delicacy of his taste, and the natural bent of his own great genius, (equal, if not superior to some of the best of theirs) would certainly have led him to read and study them with so much pleasure, that some of their fine images would naturally have insinuated themselves into, and been mixed with, his own writings: so that his not copying at least something from them, may be an argument of his never having read them. Whether his ignorance of the ancients were a disadvantage to him or no, may admit of a dispute: for though the knowledge of them might have made him more correct, yet it is not improbable but that the regularity and deference for them, which would have attended that correctness, might have restrained some of that fire, impetuosity, and even beautiful extravagance which we admire in Shakespear: and I believe we are better pleased with those thoughts, altogether new and uncommon, which his own imagination supplied him so abundantly with, than if he had given us the most beautiful passages out of the Greek and Latin poets, and that in the most agreeable manner that it was possible for a master of the English language to deliver them.

Upon his leaving school, he seems to have given entirely into that way of living which his father proposed to him; and in order to settle in the world after a family manner, he thought fit to marry while he was yet very young. His wife was the daughter of one Hathaway, said to have been a substantial yeoman in the neighbourhood of Stratford. In this kind of settlement he continued for some time, until an extravagance that he was guilty of forced him both out of his country and that way of living which he had taken up: and though it seemed at first to be a blemish upon his good manners, and a misfortune to him, yet it afterwards happily proved the occasion of exerting one of the greatest genius’s that ever was known in dramatick poetry. He had, by a misfortune common enough to young fellows, fallen into ill company; and amongst them, some that made a frequent practice of deer-stealing, engaged him with them more than once in robbing a park that belonged to Sir Thomas Lucy, of Cherlecot, near Stratford. For this he was prosecuted by that gentleman, as he thought, somewhat too severely; and in order to revenge that ill usage, he made a ballad upon him. And though this, probably the first essay of his poetry, be lost; yet it is said to have been so very bitter, that it redoubled the prosecution against him to that degree, that he was obliged to leave his business and family in Warwickshire, for some time, and shelter himself in London.

It is at this time, and upon this accident, that he is said to have made his first acquaintance in the playhouse. He was received into the company then in being, at first in a very mean rank; but his admirable wit, and the natural turn of it to the stage, soon distinguished him, if not as an extraordinary actor, yet as an excellent writer. His name is printed, as the custom was in those times, amongst those of the other players before some old plays, but without any particular account of what sort of parts he used to play; and though I have enquired, I could never meet with any further account of him this way, than that the top of his performance was the ghost of his own Hamlet. I should have been much more pleased, to have learned from some certain authority, which was the first play he wrote; it would be without doubt a pleasure to any man, curious in things of this kind, to see and know what was the [high] essay of a fancy like Shakespear’s. Perhaps we are not to look for his beginnings, like those of other authors, among their least perfect writings; art had so little, and nature so large a share in what he did, that, for ought I know, the performances of his youth, as they were the most vigorous, and had the most fire and strength of imagination in them, were the best. I would not be thought by this to mean, that his fancy was so [loose] and extravagant, as to be independent on the rule and government of judgment; but that what he thought was commonly so great, so justly and rightly conceived in itself, that it wanted little or no correction, and was immediately approved by an impartial judgment at the first sight. But though the order of time, in which the several pieces were written, be generally uncertain, yet there are passages in some few of them which seem to fix their dates. So the horns at the end of the fourth act of Henry V, by a compliment very handsomely [turned] to the Earl of Essex, shews the play to have been written when that Lord was General for the Queen in Ireland: and his elegy upon Queen Elizabeth, and her successor King James, in the latter end of his Henry VIII is a proof of that play’s being written after the accession [of] the […] of those two princes to the Crown of England. Whatever the particular times of his writing were, the people of his age, who began to grow wonderfully fond of diversions of this kind, could not but be highly pleased to see a genius arise amongst them, [and] so pleasurable, so rich a vein, and so plentifully capable of furnishing [new? many?] favourite entertainments. Besides the advantages of his wit, he was in himself a good natured man, of great sweetness in his [manners?] and a most agreeable companion; so that it is no wonder, if with so many good qualities he made himself acquainted with the best conversations of those times. Queen Elizabeth had several of his plays acted before her, and, without doubt, gave him many gracious marks of her favour: it is that maiden princess plainly, whom he intends by

“—A fair Vestal, Throned by the West.”

Midsummer-Night’s Dream.

And that whole passage is a compliment very properly brought in, and very handsomely applied to her. She was so well pleased with that admirable character of Falstaff, in the two parts of Henry the Fourth, that she commanded him to continue it for one play more, and to shew him in love. This is said to be the occasion of his writing The Merry Wives of Windsor. How well she was obeyed, the play itself is admirable proof. Upon this occasion it may not be improper to observe, that this part of Falstaff is said to have been written originally under the name of *Oldcastle. Some of that family being then remaining, the Queen was pleased to command him to alter it; upon which he made use of Falstaff. The present offence was, indeed, avoided; but I do not know whether the author may not have been somewhat to blame in his second choice, since it is certain that Sir John Falstaff, who was a Knight of the Garter, and a lieutenant-general, was a name of distinguished merit in the wars in France, in Henry the Fifth and Sixth’s times. What grace soever the Queen conferred upon him, it was not to her only he owed the fortune which the reputation of his wit made. He had the honour to meet with many good and uncommon marks of favour and friendship from the Earl of Southampton, famous in the histories of that time for his friendship to the unfortunate Earl of Essex. It was to that noble Lord that he dedicated his Poem of Venus and Adonis. There is one instance so singular [of] the magnificence of this patron of Shakespeare’s that if I had not been assured that the story was handed down by Sir William D’Avenant, who was probably very well acquainted with the affairs, I should not have ventured to have inferred that my Lord Southampton at one time gave him a thousand pounds, to enable him to go through with a purchase, which he heard he had a mind to. A bounty very great and very rare at the time, and at most equal to his profuse generosity the present age has [given] to French dancers and Italian singers.

*[Song] and Epilogue to Henry the Fourth.

What particular [?] or friendships he contracted with [?] men, I have not been able to learn, more than that every one, who had a true taste of merit, and could distinguish men, had gener[…] and esteem for him. His exciting candor and good nature must certainly have inclined all the gentler part of the world to love him as the power of his wit obliged th[…] of the most delicate knowledge and poli[te learn]ing to admire him.

His acquaintance with Ben Johnson began with a remarkable piece of humanity and good-nature; Mr. Johnson, who was at that time altogether unknown to the world, had offered one of his plays [to] the players, in order to have it [acted]; and the persons, into whose hands it was put, after having turned it carelessly and superciliously over, were just upon returning it to him with an ill-natured answer, that it would be of no service to their company; when Shakespeare luckily cast his eye upon it, and found something so well in it, as to engage him first to read it through, and afterwards to recommend Mr. Johnson and his writings to the public. Johnson was certainly a very good scholar, and in that had the advantage of Shakespeare, though at the same time, I believe, it must be allowed, that what Nature gave the latter, was more than a balance for what books had given the former; and the judgment of a great man upon this occasion was, I think, very just and proper. In a conversation between Sir John Suckling, Sir William D’Avenant, Endymion Porter, Mr. Hales of Eron, and Ben Johnson; Sir John Suckling, who was a professed admirer of Shakespeare, had undertaken his defence against Ben Johnson with some warmth;

Mr. Hales, who had sat still for some time, told them, “That if Mr. Shakespeare had not read the ancients, he had likewise not stolen any thing from them; and that if he would produce any one topic finely treated by any of them, he would undertake to shew something upon the same subject, at least as well written by Shakespeare.”

The latter part of his life was spent, as all men of good sense will wish theirs may be, in ease, retirement, and the conversation of his friends. He had the good fortune to gather an estate equal to his occasion, and, in that, to his wish; and is said to have spent some years before his death at this native Stratford. His pleasurable wit, and good nature, engaged him in the acquaintance, and entitled him to the friendship of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood. Amongst them, it is a story almost still remembered in that country, that he had a particular intimacy with Mr. Combe, an old gentleman noted thereabouts, for his wealth and usury: it happened that in a pleasant conversation amongst their common friends, Mr. Combe told Shakespeare, in a laughing manner, that he fancied he intended to write his epitaph, if he happened to out-live him; and since he could not know what might be said of him when he was dead, he desired it might be done immediately: upon which Shakespeare gave him these four verses.

“Ten in the hundred lies here ingrav’d,
’Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not sav’d:
If any man ask, Who lies in this tomb?
Oh! oh! quoth the devil, ’tis my John-a-Combe.”

But the sharpness of the satire is said to have stung the man so severely, that he never forgave it.

He died in the 53rd year of his age, and was buried on the north side of the chancel, in the great church at Stratford, where a monument is placed in the wall. On his grave-stone underneath is,

“Good friend, for Jesus’ sake forbear
To dig the dust inclosed here.
Blest be the man that spares these stones,
And curst be he that moves my bones.”

He had three daughters, of which two lived to be married; Judith, the elder, to one Mr. Thomas Quiney, by whom she had three sons, who all died without children; and Susannah, who was his favourite, to Dr. John Hall, a physician of good reputation in that country. She left one child only, a daughter, who was married first to Thomas Nash, Esq; and afterwards to Sir John Bernard, of Abbington, but died likewise without issue.

…

Yesterday David Garrick, Esq., set out for Stratford upon Avon, to continue there during the Jubilee, from which place he will return to London in about a fortnight.

In order to render the appearance of the dresses as compleat as possible, and to set every character in Shakespeare’s procession to the best advantage, we hear the greatest part of the wardrobe from Drury-Lane Theatre, has been sent down to Stratford for that purpose.

At the principal inn at Stratford, the rooms, which at those places are in common wrote on with the names of the Crown, the Lion, the Star, &c. &c. &c. are, on this occasion, labelled with the following of Shakespeare’s characters; Hamlet, King Lear, Richard, Macbeth, Othello, Measure for Measure,&c. &c. &c. and the humorous device on the larder is, As You Like It.

Middlesex Journal or Chronicle of Liberty Aug. 31–Sept. 2, 1769.

Extract of a Letter from Stratford upon Avon, August 31.

“The Stewards of the Jubilee are indefatigable in their labours to have every thing completely elegant against the Jubilee, which, it is positively said, will be entirely superior to a Roman carnival.—Among other entertainments, will be performed a little poem, set to music, called Shakespeare’s Jubilee, written by Mr. George Saville Carey.

Mr. Garrick, Shakespeare’s other self, is hourly expected to arrive in this town.”

Lloyd’s Evening Post Sept. 1–4, 1769.

We hear, there are fifteen hundred beds sent down to Stratford upon Avon, in different wagons, for the accommodation of the nobility, gentry, and their domestics, at the ensuing grand Jubilee. And that the great number of beds sent down from London, by different upholsterers, has reduced the price of lodgings from five guineas a night to half a guinea.

The temporary Octagon, building for the masquerade at the Stratford Jubilee, contains somewhat more than five hundred square yards, and will hold conveniently above one thousand persons.

…

Postscript. For Lloyd’s Evening Post.

An Oration, in honour of Shakespeare, intended to be spoken by Mr. Garrick at Stratford upon Avon during the Jubilee.

“The only science of mankind is man.”—This is the aphorism of an author who has been equally admired as a philosopher and poet; and, if it is allowed that man is the fittest object of our study, the drama, which exhibits the passions and pursuits of man, stands in the first class of literary composition.

Shakespeare is, above all others, allowed to be the Poet of Nature, and therefore, as an author, he stands highest in the highest class. The beings exhibited by the Poet of Nature are men. They are not creatures of the imagination, acting from principles by which human actions were never produced, and suffering distress which human beings never suffered; but partakers of the same nature with ourselves, to whose hearts our own sensations are a clue; beings of like passions, impelled by the same hopes and fears, and sacrificing virtue to interest, or interest to virtue, as circumstances concur with disposition, and opinion connects present and immediate good and evil with future, either by necessary consequence, or judicial determination.

But the contemplation of man, as exhibited by the Poet upon the stage, is of more advantage than as passing before us in the scenes of life. In the world we see only the actions of mankind, and before we can infer any useful knowledge from them, we must investigate their motives, and often suspend our judgment of the consequences till they appear in a distant event. But in the scenes where men are exhibited by the Poet, we see at once their action, and its secret springs, which being thus connected, as effect and cause, we are afterwards able to refer conduct into passions and principles; we see also upon the stage the final events in which the whole concentration of motive and action terminates; which enable us to look through life with a kind of prescient sagacity, and discover the effects of human action in their cause.

But Shakespeare does only teach us what it is most our interest to know; by the very manner in which he conveys the most important knowledge, he gives us the most rational, refined, and exquisite delight. He has not delineated a chart, but painted a picture: he does not personify human passions, and exhibit them, either separate or combined, as they would appear abstracted from the modes of life. He catches the manners living as they rise; he paints character, not merely as resulting from different turns of disposition, and degrees of understanding, but from situation and habit. Their passions and principles are indeed general, but they act and speak with the peculiarities of a class, though not of an individual. Shallow and Falstaff differ as much as in consequence of circumstances, that made one a justice and one a soldier, as of any radical and native turn of mind, and the originals in nature, from which these portraits were drawn, are as well known now as they were then: the difference which custom has produced the language and modes of life, is but like different dresses, in which the same air and features will always be distinguished. Justice Shallow is still to be found, though he has changed his coat; he still boasts of wenching, though prostitutes are no longer called Bona Robas; of midnight frolicks, tho’ it is not now the custom of rakes to sleep in the windmill in St. George’s-fields; and of familiarity with the great, though there is no object of puny ambition called John of Gaunt.

We get knowledge from Shakespeare not with painful labour as we dig gold from the mine, but at leisure and with delight, as we gain health and vigour from the sports of the field.

A picture frequently pleases which represents an object that in itself is disgustful. Teniers representing a number of Dutch boars drunk and quarreling in a wretched hovel, and we admire the piece for a kind of relative beauty, as a just imitation of life and nature: with this beauty we are struck in Shakespeare; we know his originals, and contemplate the truth of his copy with delight.

It was happy for Shakespeare and for us, that in his time there was no example by the imitation of which he might hope to be approved. He painted from Nature as it appeared to his own eye, and not from a transcript of what was seen in nature by another. The genius looks not upon Nature, but through it; not at the outline only, but the differences, nice and innumerable within it; at all that the variation of tints, and the endless combinations of light and shade can express. As the power of perception is more, more is still perceived in the inexhaustible varieties of life; but to copy only what another has seen, is to render superior perspicacity vain, and neither the painter nor the poet can hope to excell, who is content to reflect a reflection, and to seek for nothing in nature which others have not found.

But there are beauties in Shakespeare not relative; powers that do not imitate but create. He was as another Nature: he represents not only actions that were not performed, but beings that do not exist; yet to these beings he assigns not only faculties but character; he gives them not only peculiar dispositions, but characteristic modes of expressing them: they have character not merely from the passions and understandings, but from situation and habit: Caliban and Ariel, like Shallow and Falstaff, are not more strongly distinguished, in consequence of different natures, than of different circumstances and employments.

As there was no poet to seduce Shakespeare into imitation, there was no critic to restrain his extravagance; yet we find the force of his own judgment sufficient to rein his imagination, and reduce to system the new world which he made.

Does any one now enquire whether Shakespeare was learned? Do they mean whether he knew how to call the same thing by several names? For learning, with respect to language, teaches no more. Learning, in its best sense, is only Nature at the rebound; it is only the discovery of what is, and he who looks upon Nature with a penetrating eye, derives learning from the source. Rules of poetry have been deduced from examples, and not examples from rules; as a poet, therefore, Shakespeare did not need books, and in no instance in which he needed them as a philosopher, or historian, does he appear ignorant of what they teach.

His language, like his conceptions, is strongly marked with the characteristic of Nature; it is bold, figurative and significant; his terms rather than his sentences are metaphorical; he calls an endless multitude a sea, by an happy allusion to the perpetual succession of wave to wave; and he immediately expresses opposition by taking up arms, which being fit in itself, he was not solicitous to accommodate to his first image: this is the language in which a figurative and rapid conception will always be expressed: this is the language both of the prophet and the poet, of native eloquence and divine inspiration.

It has been objected to Shakespeare, that he wrote without any moral purpose, but I boldly reply, that he has effected a thousand: he has not, indeed, always contrived a series of events, from the whole of which some moral precept may be inferred, but he as conveyed some rule of conduct, some principle of knowledge, not only in almost every speech of his dialogue, but in every incident, character, and event.

Thus great was Shakespeare as he appears in his works; but in himself he was greater still. The genius, in every art, has an idea of perfection which he cannot attain: this idea, beyond what others can conceive, and a perpetual effort to reach it, produce that excellence which appears to have despised his performances when he compared them not only with his ideas, but his powers; for how else can we account for his taking no care to collect them: when he saw part of them corruptly published by others, he neither amended the faults, nor secured the rest from the same injury. It appears, therefore, “that he judged those works unworthy to be preserved, by restoring and explaining which, the critics of succeeding ages were to contend for fame.”

Thus, without the incentive of future reputation, without any other exertion of his powers than would satisfy an audience wholly unacquainted with the drama, he has excited universal admiration, as the sun becomes glorious by the spontaneous effusion of his rays.

Is there any here whose attention has been fixed, whose imagination filled, and whose passions moved by other scenes, as they have been fixed, filled, and moved by the scenes of Shakespeare—if there be any, speak, for him I have offended.—

To feel the powers of Shakespeare is at once pleasure and praise; when we express this sensibility, therefore, by an act of homage to his memory, we erect a monument of honour to ourselves.—To ourselves, indeed, and to posterity, who may be stimulated to excellence by the hope of fame, all that we nominally offer to the manes of Shakespeare must eventually relate. In these fields where we are pleased with the notion of doing him honour, he is mouldering into dust.

Deaf the prais’d ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.

How awful is the thought—let me pause—if I speak it must be in my own character—and in yours.—We are men, and we know that the hour approaches, with silent but irresistible rapidity, when we also shall be dust.—We are now in health and at ease, but the hour approaches when we shall be sensible only to sickness and to pain; when we shall perceive the world gradually to fade from our sight, and close our eyes in perpetual darkness.

These truths we know to be indubitable and important, yet they are sometimes forgotten; and, stranger, still, are sometimes remembered with indifference. Let me, by whom the Poet of Avon has so often touched the heart with imaginary woe, be now forgiven, if, unassisted by his language or his thought, I have tried the force of reality and truth. If at this moment we not only know but feel, that where Shakespeare is, we shortly shall be, let us preserve the sacred sensibility, which will never imbitter the enjoyments of life, if it effectually reminds us of its use.

We are extremely obliged to the gentleman who favoured us with the above, for putting it in our power to present the public with the first copy of so valuable a performance.

Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser Sept. 4, 1769

INTELLIGENCE for the GAZETTEER. STRATFORD upon AVON.

It is positively asserted, in the public advertisements, that the Jubilee on the sixth, seventh, and eighth instant, will not finish till the eighth, but will continue three days.—The devil’s in it else!

Whereas it has been reported very injuriously, to the discredit of the inhabitants, that they intend to impose upon the company: this is to give notice, that they have provided plenty of beds; and, that there may be no imposition, they have determined to let the same and the low rate of one guinea a night.

N.B. Abundance of room for servants, horses, and carriages.

N.B. Also, the beds are called, masters beds; and good entertainment for ladies.

A capital bookseller just escaped from the Thames, has taken a trip to the Jubilee, by way of accommodating the company with a fixpenny touch of two capital engravings and genuine memoirs of Shakespeare and Garrick. In this necessary companion to the Jubilee, the several artists, we are told, have succeeded beyond what might have been reasonably expected; the genuine memoirs are most accurate copies from a book entitled and called, The Companion to the Playhouse; the capital head of Shakespeare affords a fine idea of the caput of the engraver; and that of Mr. Garrick a striking instance of Broughton the bruiser. N.B. Mr. Miller hopes the public will suspend their desires to see the whole length portrait of Mr. Powell.

London Chronicle Sept. 2–5, 1769.

JUDITH, a SACRED DRAMA

As it will be performed to-morrow in the Church of Stratford upon Avon, on occasion of the Jubilee held there in honour of the memory of Shakespeare. The words by Mr. Bickerstaff. The music by Dr. Arne.

The following passages will enable the reader to form a judgment of the writing of this piece; the story on which it is founded is too universally known to render any account of that necessary.

JUDITH, in the Pavillion in Holoferne’s Camp, with her ATTENDANT.

jud. Thus far the Lord hath led us by the hand,
’Till in the midst of these idolators
We are set down; but know, like sparks of fire
Lodg’d in a heap of stubble, we shall soon
Blaze and consume them. Only thou, my sister,
Beware of their deceptions; nor with flatt’ry
Let them intoxicate our reason.

attend. Fear not.
The praises of the abandon’d to the ear
Of virtue, sounds but like the serpent’s hiss,
A timely warning to avoid its sting.
Too well by thy example am I taught
To scorn the glittering gewgaws they esteam

AIR

Vain is beauty’s gawdy flow’r,
Pageant of a day, an hour,
Born just to bloom and fade;
Nor les weak, less vain than it,
Is the pride of human wit,
The shadow of a shade.

JUDITH, ATTENDANT, ASSYRIANS.

jud. Soft, break we off: what wanton troop comes yonder?
This way they bend their steps! Now speak your errand.
If from the great, the gracious Holofernes,
Ought in command ye bear, behold a vassal,
Submissive to the pleasure of her lord.

a man. Thus then our general greets the peerless Judith.
To night he holds a banquet, and her presence
Only is wanting to compleat its splendor.
Further he charg’d me—but I need not speak it.
Charms have the Hebrews, and th’ Assyrians hearts.

a wo. Come, beauteous stranger! give a loose to joy—
Our General, amidst the noise of war,
Has a soul tun’d to all the softer passions—
Enough, she smiles consent; return we back
With the glad answer to our embassy.

AIR

Haste to the gardens of delight,
Blest scene! where plenteous pleasures grow;
Where fruits luxuriant charm the sight,
And court the hand from ev’ry bough.
No churls are bid to Nature’s treat:
The goods the Gods provide, employ;
To thank the givers, pluck and eat,
And satisfy the soul with joy.

SCENE IV.

JUDITH, ATTENDANT.

jud. The lyon’s in the toils, we have him fast,
And never shall he stalk abroad again
To make the forest tremble: hie we hence
To this same banquet; yet imagine not,
That my chase body I will render up
To fulsome purposes; no, God shall save me;
To whose almighty guidance I resign
Myself this night. Fall prostrate on the earth,
Join me in fervent prayer, from heart and voice,
Let out warm vows in unison aspire.

DUET

O thou on whom the weak depend,
Creator! father! champion! friend!
Source divine of every blessing,
Merciful beyond expressing,
To thy vot’rist’s suit, attend.
Inspiration pure impart,
Nerve her arms and steel her heart;
Kind influence shed on this important hour,
And as thou giv’st her courage, grant her pow’r.

Here the scene changes to the tent of Holofernes, who appears standing at a banquet with a golden goblet in his hand, surrounded by Assyrian lords. Holofernes sings, and the Assyrians join in chorus; after which the following scenes are exhibited.

SCENE VI.

HOLOFERNES, JUDITH, ATTENDANT, ASSYRIANS.

hol. Silence each ruder sound, let nothing breathe
But softest harmony.—Fair Judith comes,
Another Venus by the Graces led,
So when the sea-born goddess from the foam
Prolific sprung, as on the boiling deep
Her form appear’d, the low winds fell to whispers.
And the hush’d waves crept murm’ring to the shore.

jud. Behold at they command, O Holofernes!
Thy handmaid stands before thee. “Is there ought
Which she can further do, that yet may make her
Appear more gracious in thy sight?”

hol. Thy charms
O’erpow’r me with their lustre! in a blaze
Of beauty I am lost!—O let me lean
My head upon thy bosom.

jud. Shall I question,
What to my Lord seems good? Recline thy head
Here on my breast, while with my songs I lull thee,
And sooth thy eager spirits to repose.

AIR

Sleep, gentle cherub, Sleep descend!
Thy healing wings protective spread,
And o’er his sacred temples bend,
O bend their salutary shade.

a man. Bacchus to Venus has resign’d the hero.
With wine oppress’d, see, in extatic slumbers
His senses are dissolved; remove him gently
To th’inmost chamber of the tend; beneauth
The purple canopy, beside his couch,
The fair shall watch, and guard him while he sleeps.

CHORUS OF ASSYRIANS.

Prepare the genial bow’r, prepare!
And thou, the ruler of the sphere,
Night! halt thy sable wain;
Halt, and shed double darkness round;
Be still each motion, hush’d each sound,
Let love and silence reign.

ACT III, SCENE I.

OZIAS, CHARMIS, JUDITH, ATTENDANT.

ozias. Great are thy works, O God! and wonderful
The mercy which thou shew’st the sons of men.
Daughter proceed, how ’leap’st thou undefil’d?
jud. When we were left together in the tent,
There Holofernes lay upon his bed
Stupid with wine: I rais’d my eyes to […(blot)];
Then came the Spirit of the Lord […],
And drawing from its sheath […]
I smote him twice, and struck away his head.
This damsel wa[…] to the outward chamber,
And having from my hand receiv’d the prize,
Trusting in God, together we came forth,
And pass’d unquestion’d till we reach’d Bithulia.

ozias. Blessed art thou, O Judith, among women.
What thou hast wrought to-day for Israel
Shall be remembered to the praise for ever.

AIR

’Mongst heroes and sages recorded,
Thou fairest and foremost shalt shine,
For fame is the meed that’s awarded,
To recompense virtue like thine.
Whilst men in a just admiration
Of wisdom and valour agree?
So long ev’ry age, ev’ry nation,
Shall hallow a laurel to thee.

Whitehall Evening Post or London Intelligencer Sept. 2–5, 1769.

At four o’clock on Sunday morning the gentlemen of the band of music, who are to perform at Stratford upon Avon, set out in grand cavalcade from Mr. Pritchard’s in Oxford-road; there were ten coaches and four, six post-chaises, and a great number of saddle horses.—And yesterday the major part of the nobility and gentry who intend to be present at the jubilee, set out for the same place.

Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser Sept. 6, 1769

Commemoration ODE to SHAKESPEARE.

SPOKEN.

The star poetic of Eliza’s age,
That constellation of the stage,
Th’ Avonian bard, whose muse of fire,
Like that Prometheus stole from high,
The rudest bosoms must inspire,
By turns, with terror, pity, love and joy:
Shakespeare, whose light like lamps in eastern vaults,
Or shames by Vestals fed, in Roman days,
Through ages shines with brilliancy of thoughts,
Now claims what Britain gladly yields,—
Unbounded praise.

A GRAND FLOURISH OF MUSIC.

Hark!—music’s elevating voice,
In which angelic choirs rejoice,
Above the golden patten’d sky,
With sweet æthereal harmony,
Echoing to the trump of fame,
Sounds in exulting notes his honour’d name.

DUET and CHORUS.

Sweet and powerful as his verse,
Let our strains his praise rehearse.

SPOKEN.

Unclogg’d with critic rules, on eagle wing,
His genius sported in eternal spring;
Graceful as tow’ring cedars show,
On Lebanon’s aspiring brow.
Beyond a frigid chastity of thought,
A beauteous wild luxuriancy she taught.
Earth, sea, air, she made her own.
She sat supreme on nature’s throne.
Behold Macbeth and Richard stand,
Beacons of horror to succeeding times:
Observe them painful vigils keep!
A guilty conscience murthers sleep.—
To wretches cloath’d with human gore,
Heav’n’s awful voice cries, Sleep no more;
Each bears, by guilt confin’d,
A ghost or dagger in his mind:
While conscious innocence the heart sublimes,
And sheds on good men’s slumbers golden stores.

SONG.

To the race of human kind,
Sure no treasure
Gives such pleasure,
As a spotless peaceful mind.

SPOKEN.

Bound on a rack of jealous rage,
See Othello shake the stage!
Behold his honest love perverted,
Lo, Hymen’s torch expires inverted;
And mourning Cupids, each with drooping head,
Dissolve in tears round Desdemona’s bed.

SONG

Baleful jealousy depart,
Fell tyrant of the heart!
Hide thy snaky locks in night,
For to every soft delight!
Now bleed for Lear, each feeling mind,
(Could daughters be like his unkind)
Mark the poor aged monarch roam,
’Midst churlish storms, without a home,
While thunders roll,
From pole to pole,
And vivid lightnings singe his hoary head!
Void of all defence,
Save conscious innocence,
Such moral truth adorn his lines;
Each frenzied start
Affects the heart,
That greater in distress he shies
Than those, who rob’d in royal state,
And basely with him number’d with the dead.

SONG

Can they who proudly reason boast,
A parent’s love forget;
That love which they experienc’d most;
And nature makes her debt?
Can aught more painful be and rude,
Than is the fiend Ingratitude?

SPOKEN.

By great Avonius’ pencil drawn,
The monster Shylock—lo—appears,
Impregnable to sighs and tears;
In whose dark bosom mercy ne’er could dawn:
Peculiar language marks the slave,
A selfish, cruel, subtle knave:
So truly colour’d and so justly planned,
That ev’ry line bespeaks a master’s hand.
Contrasted Denmark’s Prince we show,
Rob’d in the sad sincerity of woe,
With whom the heart from horror turns,
And in a gentle feeling mourns;
We hear a murder’d father crave,
Call’d for that purpose from the grave,
From whose dread bourne,
Can no corporeal traveller return;
Redress of wrongs—in strains to melt the good,
To scare the wicked, and to freeze the blood:
He moves the duteous royal youth,
Whose courage, piety and truth
Pursues the task, which with success is crown’d,
For, though he meets a treacherous fate, he falls renown’d.

TRIO.

Honour gildeth fame alone,
What avail a crown and throne?
The soldier’s wreath, the poet’s bays,
Are only sprigs of short-liv’d praise,
If a tainted heart beneath,
Darkens more the veil of death.

CHORUS.

To honour and justice our voices we raise,
The monarch’s, the soldier’s, the poet’s best praise.

Middlesex Journal or Chronicle of Liberty Sept. 5–7, 1769.

This morning, we are informed, their Royal Highnesses the Dukes of Gloucester and Cumberland, and his Serene Highness the Prince of Mecklinburgh Strelitz, will set out for Stratford-upon-Avon, in order to honour the Jubilee with their presence.

…

A letter from a gentleman at Stratford-upon-Avon to his friend at Birmingham, dated Sept. 2, contains the following particulars: “The London upholders have furnished every house here and in the environs with new beds (in some sixteen or twenty) and other neat furniture, and agree with every person who hath rooms and not bedding, &c. to fit them up and share the profits, which has made the lodgings plenty. The booth is now completed, and a most delightful place it is; the gilding of the capitals and the bases of the columns, the paintings of the ceiling and cornice, the curious pilasters at the angles, and the side ornaments, altogether appear with such symetry and elegance, that it would make a lover of art sigh to think how soon it will be demolished. The pictures and decorations for the town-hall are amazingly superb indeed! The number of cooks in town is incredible, who have been working in all the kitchens for this week past, besides a large kitchen built in the Bancroft. Hairdressers!—a world; though when one sees what number of bushel heads there are in town every day, it is not to be wondered at where they find employment. At Payton’s yesterday, 30 separate dinners were cooked; at one time of the day there were upwards of 40 carriages there, and at night they were obliged to turn several great families away. There are upwards of 150 large boxes full of dresses and scenery, which we imagine are for the procession that will follow Shakespeare’s effigy, and Mr. G—k, when drawn through the town in triumphal cars. I was in company with a Londoner, who came to town this morning, who assures us, that all the inns and roads from London are filled, as if an army was upon its march. Wenches! never was any paradise so plentiful or beautifully inhabited as at this time, &c. Here are people of all trades and professions, with goods to dispose of from all parts of the kingdom.”

Whitehall Evening Post or London Intelligencer Sept. 5–7, 1769.

Mr. Payton, master of the White Lion at Stratford upon Avon, sent an order to London a short time before the present Jubilee for 300 dozen of pewter plates, 300 dozen of knives and forks, 100 dozen of pewter spoons, 10 pipes of wine, 50 dozen of stew-pans and kettles, and 300 waiters.

…

By a letter from Birmingham, about 20 miles from Stratford upon Avon, we are informed, that the prodigious concourse of people of all ranks assembled there, to be present and the Jubilee, was incredible. The company were so numerous in that town on Monday night, that beds could not be had at any price, even five shillings were paid for laying in a hayloft. The villages adjacent are so crowded that the like was never heard of; vast numbers of persons having arrived from Scotland, Ireland, and all parts of England, to see those grateful devoirs paid to the memory of the immortal Shakespeare, by that inimitable genius Mr. Garrick. It is said this ceremony will be revived every seven years.

Letters from Birmingham mention, that last week three men were killed at the wake, held there by horses trampling over them, at what they foolishly call a race.

The St. James’s Chronicle Sept. 5–7, 1769.

                                                  

To the Printer of the St. J. CHRONICLE. Stratford upon Avon, Aug. 29.

SIR,

My curiosity having led me to this place last night, a propensity to communicate my observations and intelligence to the world, induces me to give you the earliest information I can of the preparations making here for the grand Jubilee next week. The celebrated self-moving machine, which has been so suspiciously looked upon as a political humbug, I am instructed to inform you is no other than a theatrical piece of machinery improved from an imperfect design, which made its first appearances above a twelvemonth ago under the immediate direction of Asmodeus un the Haymarket. But, alas! As the Devil would have it, it would not then be completed. Roscius took the hint, and has employed a very celebrated mechanick in the city to bring it to the perfection he aimed at, which was a triumphal car for little Bayes. The artist having somewhat exceeded the bounds and directions given by Roscius, the latter, in no wise displeased at the improvement, has determined to take the advantage thereof, and has brought it down here for the purpose of adding dignity to a procession, of which so great a part he’ll play. Well aware that a little man cannot be too eminently distinguished, especially upon any particular occasion, I am informed he means to be exalted therein, and proceed with the same solemnity, amidst a full chorus of Jews trumps, bagpipes, and hurdy-gurdies, as a Roman emperor would have done to the dedication of a temple, amidst the shouts and acclamations of his victorious veterans. The exact mode of the procession I have not at present learnt; but will acquaint you therewith in my next. I have heard of one circumstance which I admire as a master-piece of ingenuity, that is, the managers have cut poor Shakespeare’s head from a statue they intent to crown, and having filled the skull with clockwork, great now is the expectation of all people that it will answer the end proposed, that is, to shew a grateful acknowledgement for the honours paid him, by a modest and reverential inclination of the head, when the wreath is placed o’er his brows. And that the exact period of the bow may immediately follow the exact period of the coronation, they, as well as the other whole movements of the procession, are to be ascertained by a new time-piece upon an infallible construction.

Having just been favoured with an account of this amazing machine’s performances, I take the liberty to transmit it to you. That it started on Monday morning last about seven o’clock for this place from the Hercules Pillars, with Roscius and Asmodeus in it, accompanied by several persons of distinction of both sexes, in different carriages, to see the success of the enterprize. It set out very currently, but before it had proceeded 200 yards was unfortunately impeded in its progress, by the too critical caution of the toll-gate keeper, who not meeting with that information he expected from the act of parliament, very prudently sent up for instruction to one of the rotation justices what was a proper toll to be taken for this new machine. This difficulty being settled, they proceeded on very well at about the rate of eight miles an hour, till they came upon Hounsflow Heath, when the machine on a sudden running testy, overturned its contents against the foot of one of the gibbets, and was very near putting a final stop to the intended Jubilee. Though at first somewhat alarmed at the too hasty descent of a skeleton, which the violent concussion of the gibbet had precipitated, the two heroes got again into their carriages, and by the time they had arrived at Maidenhead Thicket, had almost resumed their spirits, though now and then wishing the bones had been at the Devil.

On their arrival at Oxford, which was in little more than seven hours, they were met upon Magladen Bridge by the heads of the university, and conducted to the musæum where the vehicle was to be deposited till the next day, under the custody of the professor of natural philosophy. Sacred as the trust ought to have been, however it happened that some of the seniors and academic officers got admittance, and improvidently eager to satisfy their curiosity and learn the extent of the laws of motion, an unwieldy bursar of — College ascended the carriage, and turning the pin, was carried directly up the stair case at nearly the same rate with which it came down from London. His cries instantly alarmed the keeper of the musæum above stairs, who at that time was buried in a calculation what might be the true proportion of mushrooms with respect to other vegetables the year succeeding Noah’s flood. Greatly alarmed on account of a thousand surroundings relicks and curiosities, which the approach of the machine threatened inevitable destruction to, he endeavoured to divert its course by a volley of rotten mummies, rusty firelocks, dried bones, and a stuffed zebra. But how great was his surprize, when in a moment he saw the vehicle suspended in the air bottom upwards, and his friend in jeopardy. It was not easy to account for so great a phenomenon. However, upon a close inspection, it was found that the axel rod being made of iron, was suddenly and irresistably attracted by the force of a large load stone that was deposited in a corner of the room. Roscius and Asmodeus were immediately waited upon with a message from the caput, desiring the favour of their speedy departure, and that if they chose to have the degree of doctor of laws conferred upon the vehicle, they would send it after them to Stratford, being greatly apprehensive of danger from its longer abode among them. In consequence of this message they immediately went and disengaged their carriage, and arrived here safe that evening, where they very fortunately put it in a large barn for that night; for the stop peg being somewhat out of order, it has been running round the barn ever since, and had it not been for a great quantity of straw, which was scattered in the barn, must have inevitably been dashed into a thousand pieces: however, we expect the maker here to night to rectify and put it in order again. The post is now going out, and fearing to be too late, I must defer an account of some particular academical mysteries which Asmodeus has let me into, ’till my next, which I intend shall be speedy, if you think my correspondence worthy your attention. In the mean time,

I am, Sir, your’s, &c.

MACDUFF.

…

POSTSCRIPT. LONDON.

Extract of a Letter from Stratford-upon-Avon, September 5.

“I write this, pursuant to my promise, of acquainting you how matters go on here. Every inn, house, and hovel, now swarms with company; and the very stables are no longer confined to the reception of horses, or even grooms and postilions, the haylofts over them being cleared for the reception of families of the first credit, who, for want of better accommodations, are obliged to take up their lodgings there. The multitude of persons brought down by the manager, in his great disposition to oblige the public, by omitting nothing that could contribute to their entertainments, has not a little helped to fill the place.

Besides the Great Roscius and his brother, Dr. Arne, Richards, Vernon, Dibdin, Champness, Angelo; Mrs. Baddely, Mrs. Bartholomeon, Mrs. Yates, Mrs. Barry, Miss Weller, Master Brown, &c. &c. are now arrived, with an incredible number of flutes, hautboys, trumpets, clarinets, French-horns, fiddles, guitars, candle snuffers, scene shifters, and a numerous tribe of attendance from both the theatres, who are to join in the homage to be paid on this occasion to the justly revered memory of their immortal master. Among the gentlemen of genius and learning arrived here, are Mr. Colman, Mr. Foot, Mr. Bickerstaff, and most others who have ever distinguished themselves by their talents, or taste for theatrical writing.

To-morrow morning early the Jubilee will begin by the firing of cannon, and a procession of the performers about the town, who are to salute the principle ladies by serenading them [under their windows] with songs to be sung by [Messrs] Vernon, Dibdin, &c. accompanied with musical instruments of all sorts. This ceremony over the company are then to repair to the grand booth, where an elegant breakfast is to be provided for them by the Steward attended also with music. About noon they are to go in regular order to church, where the Oratorio of Judith, the words by Mr. Bickerstaff, set by Dr. Arne, is to be performed, and from the known [merit?] of the two gentlemen, it is not doubted, will give great satisfaction. After the performance at church, the company are to return to the great booth to dinner, where a grant entertainment is preparing for them under the direction of the Steward. This entertainment is likewise to be attended with glees, catches, and a variety of songs set by the best masters, and purposedly written on the occasion. Tea and coffee are then to succeed, after which the company are to retire to their respective apartments, to dress for the Ball, which it is expected will be amazingly brilliant. Seignor Angelo is to conclude with his Boss de Feu, vertical wheels, tourbillions, air balloons, live rockets, and the whole machinery of pyrotechny.

Thursday is to be opened in like manner, with the firing of cannon, serenading, and a public breakfasting. At eleven the Ode is to be delivered in the great booth from the mouth of the inimitable Roscius; and that over, the performers are to go in cavalvade to Shakespeare’s statue, which is to be crowned with a wreath of laurel, the music all the while playing, and songs chaunted to his memory. From hence the company are to return to dinner, which is to be accompanied with songs, catches, &c. as before, and in the evening Mr. Angelo is again to show his dexterity in illuminations.

The grand booth makes a most elegant appearance, being ornamented with gilt columns, cornices, &c., and the decorations in the town hall are likewise very superb. Of cooks, hair dressers, and waiters we have some hundred dozens; and besides the kitchens in the inn, a very large one is also erected in the Bancroft for preparing the provisions for the grand booth. In short, all is joy and festivity here, and what with the rattling of coaches, the blazing and cracking of fireworks, the number of people going and coming from the Mask warehouses, wither they repair to provide themselves with dresses, my head is almost turned, and I think I may venture to say I shall never see such another scene in all my life. You may depend upon hearing from me again by the next post.”

Lloyd’s Evening Post Sept. 6–8, 1769.

We hear that Mr. Foote intends to write a parody upon the Ode at Stratford upon Avon, which is to be set to very whimsical music, and performed at the Theatre Royal in the Haymarket, before the house closes for the summer season.

We are assured, that the truth of the following circumstance may be depended on: a cobler on Snow-hill, whose apprentice has been missing ever since Sunday morning, received a letter last night from the lad, in which he acquaints his master, that his curiosity was raised to such a pitch, on hearing of the Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon, that he could not rest till he had seen it, and that as soon as it was over he would return to his business and make up his lost time.

A person of quality, remarkable for his literary productions, observed in conversation, at the cocoa-tree, a few mornings ago, that the people of England were always falling out of one fit of madness into another; that the passion for Mr. Wilkes had given place to the Shakespearomania; and that there was the greatest reason to suppose, as the celebrated Corsican is shortly expected in London that distemper would submit to the Paolimania.

Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser Sept. 8, 1769.

To the PRINTER.

At a period when the Muses are, as they have been near sixty years past, almost Germanized into stone, for a Briton born may retain the barren taste of that unenlightened original at a time when the poor neglected ladies might as soon hope to be hospitably treated with plumb pudding in the —’s kitchen, as to be relieved by a guinea from his pocket; it is some comfort to perceive, that many hundreds, who know no difference between a good tragedy and a halfpenny ballad, yet fly on the wings of emulation to honour Shakespeare at Stratford.—Even some of his greatest enemies, putting on a fair appearance, will be there to chaunt forth and masquerade his immortal praise.—By his enemies I mean, Italians or Italianized musicians, and cobbling compilers of balladistical dramas, who vitiate public taste so much, that Mungo is become a much greater object of polite admiration, than Hamlet. However, to ballauce this treacherous attack upon the honest inimitable bard, you are to know, that the dramatic procession planned for his jubilee, will, in point of dignity, very near equal that of a royal coronation. You may imagine that the sons and daughters of Thespis are to walk, but I assure you of the contrary. By a peculiar point of interest and laborious application, I have procured the following exact list of characters and those who represent them in the

DRAMATIC PROCESSION at STRATFORD.

Henry the Eighth, D— of G—n.
Anna Bullen, D—ss of G—n.
Cardinal Wolsey, (a gold thistle on his breast, labelled with the words, Ego at Rex meus,) E—l of B—e.
Cardinal Beaufort, B—p of G—r.
Brutus, E—l P—e.
Cassius, P—n H—e.
Oliher the Wrestler, R—d R—y, Esq.
Romeo, with a young mask, E—l of M—h.
Juliet, L—y H—t S—e.
Shylock, P— C— W—b.
Portia, Mrs. M—y.
Mackbeth, L—d M—d.
Othello, S—r F—s B—k D—l.
Iago, E—l of S—h.
Capt. Parollers, L—d G— S—e.
Sir John Falstaff, S—r C—s B—y.
Richard the Third, S—r F—r N—n.
Marc Anthony, L—d W—m G—n.
Cleopatra, L—y S—h B—y.
Justice Shallow, E. K—t—n, Esq.
Justice Silence, — C—l, Esq.
Pistol, Rev. Mr. G—n.
Mercutio, G—e C—n, Esq.

As it has been thought, that taking in characters from other authors, would afford a more striking and pleasing latitude, especially for female representatives, the following are admitted.

Sir Epicure Mammon, D—e of B—d.
Volpone, L—d H—d.
Starv’d Cook in the Miser, L—d T—t.
False Friend, G—e O—w, Esq.
Lady Easy, C—ss of B—e.
Edging, Mrs. C—lt—n.
Doll Common, L—y H—.
Wanton Wife, D—ss of B—d.
Lady Brute, D—ss of K—n.
The Alchemist, D—d G—k, Esq.
Face, G—e G—k, Esq.
Maiden, Honourable C—ss Y—e.
Squib, C—l L—l.
Lord Plausible, E—l C—m.
Cassio in the drunken scene, L—d T—d.
Sir Archy Mac Sarcasm, Sir L— D—ss.
Squire Groom, L—d B—g—e.
Maskwell, Lord H—x.
Metraphrastus, Dr. I—n.
Pamphlet, H—h K—y, Esq.
Brass, A—r M—y, Esq.
Lætitia, C—ss of P—y.
Mrs. Frail, Several noble competitors for this part.
Bayes, Mr. B—k—ss.
The Dupe, Nine tenths of the company.

A little reflection will shew, that no drama was ever cast with more impartial propriety than the above procession, and some of the first actors of the British Theatre, thus condescending to walk, shews very respectful gratitude to the first post; besides, if, as I am informed, they should touch at the church, it will be the means of carrying several there, who have not been at such a place since the coronation. It is remarkable, that a jubilee in Smithfield, vulgarly called Bartholomew fair, and one at Rome, as well as that at Stratford, take place this week.—Wishing that they may have fine weather, and that the comet, which according to Mr. Dunn, is to give Venus a brush with his long trail, may shed no unkind influence on the banks of the Avon.

A Peep behind the Curtain. Little Russet Street, Sept. 3, 1769.

London Chronicle Sept. 7–9, 1769.

Postscript. London.

INTELLIGENCE FROM STRATFORD.

On Wednesday last, Sept. 6, about five in the morning, a number of the performers from Drury-Lane Theatre serenaded the ladies through the streets, beginning with the song “Let beauty with the sun arise,” &c. … Then the Warwickshire Ballad. … The town being roused by these performances, several guns were fired, and the magistrates assembled about eight in one of the principal streets. A public breakfast was to be in the town hall at nine. Mr. Garrick, the Steward, came to the breakfast-room at a little after eight, to be in readiness to receive the mayor, at the head of the corporation, in their formalities, waited upon Mr. Garrick, and in a polite speech, delivered by the town clerk, presented him with a medallion of Shakespeare, carved on a piece of the famous Mulberry-tree, planted by the immortal poet’s own hand, and richly set in gold. Mr. Garrick, to this mark of attention, made a suitable reply, and fastened the present about his neck. Soon after this the room filled. Favours were universally worn in honour of the first dramatic writer, by the ladies as well as the gentlemen. At breakfast, among other persons of distinction, there were present the Duke of Dorset, Lord Beauchamp, Lord Grosvenor, Lord Archer, Sir. Watkin Williams Wynne; the Hon. Mr. Conway—Lord Denbigh, Lord Spencer, Lord Craven, &c. &c. A party of drums and fifes performed several pieces opposite the town-hall.

From the town-hall the company retired to the church, where the Oratorio of Judith was performed, conducted by Dr. Arne. This piece opened at eleven. The singers were Mr. Vernon, Mr. Champness, Master Brown, Mrs. Barthelemon, a young lady pupil to Dr. Arne, and Mrs. Baddeley; the chorusses were very full; the band was excellent. When the Oratorio finished, Mr. Garrick and the performers walked in procession to the Amphitheatre, Mr. Vernon and the rest singing the following chorus to an accompanyment of proper instruments.

This is the day, a Holiday! a Holiday! …

At three a public ordinary for ladies and gentlemen was kept in the Amphitheatre; where they were occasionally entertained with songs and catches till they retired to dress for the assembly.

The assembly-room is built in imitation of the Ranelagh Rotunda, and at least half as large, crouded with company, many persons of the first distinction, viz. the Duke of Manchester, Lord Northampton, Lord Hertford, Lord Carlisle, Lord Shrewsbury, Lord Pigot, &c. The minuets continued till twelve o’clock, then the country-dances commenced, and about three every body retired.

On Thursday morning, Sept. 7, breakfast was given in the same manner as the preceeding day; after which the company went to the Amphitheatre, where the Dedication Ode … was performed, under the direction of Dr. Arne. The Recitative parts were spoken by Mr. Garrick, and perhaps, in all the characters he ever played, he never shewed more powers, more judgment, or ever made a stronger impression on the minds of his auditors.

On the conclusion of the Ode, Mr. King got up in the character of a macaroni, wholly unexpected by the company, publickly attacked Shakespeare, whom he censured as a very ill-bred fellow, for making people laugh and cry as he thought proper. This produced much mirth, and with Mr. King’s admirable acting, was a considerable addition to the entertainment.

It was intended to make a procession to the Amphitheatre of the principal characters in Shakespeare’s pieces, but the day proving very wet it was postponed till Friday. The wetness of the weather has much injured an elegant fire-work, conducted by Mr. Angelo. Mr. Garrick has requested to recite his Ode on Friday, and compiled with great politeness. Upon the whole, since the commencement of the Jubilee, every thing has been highly to the general satisfaction, and instead of being fatigued at the continuance of it for three days, all the company lament that it is not to be continued three days longer.

The river Avon, the favourite stream of the immortal Shakespeare, and the polite scholar, Mr. Shenstone, rises in the village of Naseby, in Northamptonshire, which place will ever be memorable in history, not only for giving rise to two rivers, the Avon and Welland, which fall into the western and eastern sea, but also, for the fatal battle to King Charles the First in 1645; and Oliver Cromwell, according to the most authentic traditions, at his own particular request, was privately hosted in Naseby field.

St. James Chronicle or the British Evening Post Sept. 7–9, 1769.

POSTSCRIPT. LONDON.

Extract of a Letter from Stratford, Sept. 6.

“This morning, the Jubilee in honour and to the memory of Shakespeare, was opened by firing of canon, ringing of bells, and serenading the town; after which there was a public breakfast in the new town-hall; and from thence the company proceeded to the church, where Dr. Arne’s Oratorio of Judith was performed to a crowded audience. From church they proceeded to the grand booth, and such the following chorus, accompanied by drums, fifes, trumpets, &c., through the streets:

This is the day, a Holiday! a Holiday! …

After dinner, which was served up in the great booth to near a thousand persons, the band were called in, and sung a variety of ballads, catches, and roundelays, which were closed by the grand chorus of God Save the King. In the evening was a ball, and the entertainments of the day were closed in great good-humour.”

Extract of another Letter from Stratford, Sept. 7.

“Between twelve and one this morning I finished the most glorious day I ever remember in the annals of my life. It began at nine o’clock with a public breakfast in the town-hall, at which were present Lord and Lady Hertford, Lord Beauchamp, Duke of Dorset, Lord Despenser, and the Earl of Shewsbury, with many others of nobility and distinction. At eleven o’clock they proceeded to the church, where the Oratorio of Judith was performed with universal applause, under the management of Dr. Arne. The principal performers were Mrs. Baddely, Mrs. Bartholemon, Miss Weller, Mr. Champness, &c. After which the whole band, headed by the Grand Roscius, walked in order, playing and singing, to the Amphitheatre, which was built on purpose upon the plan of Ranelagh, where an elegant dinner was provided, and served in the utmost order to more than one thousand persons. When dinner was over, the company were entertained, after a full bumper to the Steward’s health for his great care and attention to the pleasure of all who honoured the immortal memory of Shakespeare, with catches, glees, [songs?] by the band; and nothing but joy and jollity appeared for more than two hours. The evening concluded with a ball, and the same mirth appeared in every countenance. So much were the higher persons pleased, that they could not help expressing it all around, so that no distinction seemed to appear, but all were universally entertained.”

Another Correspondent writes,

Stratford, Sept. 7.

Dear Sir,

“Al Fresco’s are totally eclipsed, and Bal Parre’s will be remembered no more. Yesterday, about six o’clock, the Grand Jubilee opened here by a tripple discharge of seventeen pieces of cannon, and twelve small mortars, planted on the banks of the Avon. At eight o’clock Mr. Garrick’s apartments, and Lord Spencer’s, were serenaded by several of the performers from Drury-Lane Theatre, who were disguised in mean apparel, with their faces besmeared with dirt, singing a morning address; they afterwards chaunted several ballads through the streets, accompanied with guittars and German flutes. Mr. Garrick, the Steward, went to the new town-hall, the place appointed for the public breakfasting, a little after eight, to see that every thing was properly prepared for so brilliant a company. As soon as the Mayor and Corporation heard of Mr. Garrick’s being at the town-hall, they immediately waited on him, and in a polite speech, delivered by the Town-Clerk, presented him with a medallion of Shakespeare, carved on a piece of the famous Mulberry Tree, planted by the immortal Poet’s own hand, and richly set in gold. Mr. Garrick made a suitable reply to this elegant mark of attention, and placed the present about his neck. Soon after this circumstance the breakfasting began, during which the drums and fifes of the Warwickshire militia, in their new uniforms, entertained the company with martial musick. About eleven the company went to church, where Dr. Arne’s Oratorio of Judith was performed; after which they went to the Grand Booth to dinner, and the evening concluded with a ball at the Amphitheatre, which was elegantly illuminated, as was the town in general.”

Letter from Stratford, September 8.

“Yesterday morning another public breakfast was given in the same manner as on Wednesday; after which the company repaired to the Amphitheatre from the town hall, where the Dedication Ode was performed under the direction of Dr. Arne. The Recitative parts were spoken by Mr. Garrick, and perhaps in all the characters he ever played he never shewed more powers, more judgement, or ever made a stronger impression of the minds of his auditors. On the conclusion of the Ode, Mr. King got up in the character of a macaroni, wholely unexpected by the company, and publickly attacked Shakespeare, whom he censured as a very ill-bred fellow, for making people laugh and cry as he thought proper. This produced such mirth, and with Mr. King’s admirable acting was a considerable addition to the entertainment. It was intended to make a procession to the Amphitheatre of all the characters in Shakespeare’s pieces, but the day proving wet it is postponed till to-morrow, as is also a grand firework, prepared by Mr. Angelo.”

Lloyd’s Evening Post Sept. 8-11, 1769.

VERSES in the Character of a CORSICAN, at SHAKESPEARE’S JUBILEE, at Stratford upon Avon, Sept. 6, 1769,

By James Boswell, Esq.

From the rude banks of Golo’s rapid flood,
Alas! too deeply ting’d with patriot blood;
O’er which dejected, injur’d Freedom bends,
And sighs indignant o’er all Europe sends;
Behold a Corsican!—in better days
Eager I sought my country’s fame to raise;
When o’er our camp PAOLI’s banners wav’d,
And all the threats of hostile France we brav’d,
’Till unassisted, a small nation sail’d,
And our invaders ten-fold force prevail’d.

Now when I’m exil’d from my native land,
I come to join this classic festal band,
To sooth my soul on Avon’s sacred stream,
And from our joy to catch a chearing gleam:
To celebrate great Shakespeare’s wond’rous fame,
And add new trophies to the honour’d name
Of Nature’s Bard, whom tho’ your country bore,
His influence spreads to ev’ry distant shore.
Wherever genuine feeling souls are found,
His “wood-notes wild” with extacy resound.

Had Shakespeare liv’d our story to relate,
And hold his torch o’er our unhappy fate,
Liv’d with majestic energy to tell
How long we fought, what heroes nobly fell!
Had Garrick, whom Dame Nature’s pencil stole
Just where old Shakespeare dropt it, when his soul
Broke from its earthy cage aloft to fly
To the eternal world of harmony;
Had Garrick shewn us on the tragic scene,
With fame embalm’d our deeds of death had been,
If from his eyes had slash’d the Corsic fire,
Men less had gaz’d to pity—than admire.

O happy Britons! on whose favour’d isle
Propitious Freedom ever deigns to smile;
Whose fame is wasted on triumphant gales,
Where thunders war, or commerce spreads her sails.
I come not hither sadly to complain,
Or damp your mirth with melancholy strain,
In man’s firm breast-conceal’d the grief should lie,
Which melts with grace in woman’s gentle eye;
But let me bleed for Liberty distress’d,
And warm for her each sympathetic breast:
Amid the splendid honours which you bear,
To save a sister island be your care,
With generous ardour make us also Free,
And give to Corsica a noble Jubilee.

Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser Sept. 11, 1769.

To the PRINTER. Sept. 6, 1769.

As I naturally suppose the Stratford Jubilee will engross not a little of the public attention, I send you an account of the first day’s entertainment, from a conviction that your’s is a paper in which the town will principally expect to find the particulars.

I arrived here yesterday, Sir, and must confess the great difficulty I had to procure a sleepable bed, together with the then appearance of the company, made me heartily sick of my journey: however, this morning, just as I was ruminating very sagely on the expediency of returning to London, the whole aspect of affairs wore a face so much to my satisfaction, that I instantly relinquished every thought of that nature, and candidly condemned my petulance in finding fault with exhibitions which as yet were utterly unexhibited. I recollect that at all public meetings of a pleasurable turn, accommodations were scarce, and, consequently, expensive—that I had no title to a preference over the meanest individual in the crowd; and that if I suffered any inconvenience, the blame was entirely to be thrown on my own curiosity.

These reflections, Sir, occurred to me about five o’clock this morning, just as a number of young fellows belonging to the theatres, fantastically dressed, came serenading the ladies through the street in which I lodge, and addressing them in the following song:

Let Beauty with the sun arise, …

Besides the foregoing, they also entertained the company with the Warwickshire Ballad, said to be written by Mr. Garrick …

The whole town of Stratford being roused by these performances, several guns were fired, and the magistrates assembled about eight, in one of the principal effects. A public breakfast was to be in the town-hall at nine; to which every purchaser of a guinea ticket for the various entertainments, (the masquerade only accepted, which being of a peculiar nature, is rated separately at half a guinea) was admitted upon the payment of a shilling, and regaled with tea, coffee, and chocolate. Mr. Garrick, the Steward, came to the breakfast room a little after eight, to see that every thing was properly prepared for the reception of the company, as well as to be himself in readiness to receive them: previous to the coming of the company, however, the Mayor, at the head of the corporation, in their formalities, waited upon Mr. Garrick, and, in a polite speech, delivered by the Town Clerk, presented him with a medallion of Shakespeare, carved on a piece of the famous mulberry tree, planted by the immortal poet’s own hand, and richly set in gold. Mr. Garrick, to this elegant mark of attention, made a suitable reply, and fastened the present about his neck. Soon after this circumstance the room filled exceedingly, and it was a pleasing compliment to genius, to observe favours universally worn in honour of our first dramatic writer, by the ladies as well as the gentlemen, from the most elevated rank to the meanest situation. At breakfast, among other persons of distinction, there were present, the Duke of Dorset, Lord Beauchamp, Lord Grosvenor, Lord Archer, Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, the Hon. Mr. Conway, Lord Denbigh, Lord Spencer, Lord Craven, and several other noblemen who are in town, I do not mention, as I did not see them at the breakfast room. Lady Spencer I saw before breakfast, with Mrs. Garrick, at the time the corporation made him the compliment of the medallion. During the interval of breakfast, a party of drums and fifes performed several pieces opposite the town-hall, and gave universal satisfaction.

From the town hall the company were to retire at half after ten to the church, where the Oratorio of Judith was to be given, conducted by Dr. Arne. This piece opened at eleven. The singers were Mr. Vernon, Mr. Champness, Master Brown, Mrs. Barthelemon, a young lady pupil to Dr. Arne, and Mrs. Baddely; the chorusses were

very full; the band was excellent, being composed of the whole Drury-Lane orchestra; and at the end of the first act we were obliged with a solo on the violin by Mr. Barthelemon. When the Oratorio was [finished], Mr. Garrick, at the head of the performers, walked in procession to the Amphitheatre erected on the occasion, Mr. Vernon and the rest, singing the following chorus to an accompanyment of proper instruments.

This is the day, a holiday! a holiday  ! ...

At three a public ordinary for ladies and gentlemen was kept in the Amphitheatre, where they were likewise entertained with songs and catches adapted to the purpose of the Jubilee, till the necessary hour of retiring to dress for the assembly. To the assembly I am going this minute: the whole town is illuminated, the drums are now beating under my window, and all is a tumult of perfect satisfaction. But I must now break off, to bargain with a London chairman, for we have several of the ambling gentry down with their vehicles; he asks me the very moderate sum of half a guinea to carry me a hundred yards; “I’ll give you a crown, you unconscionable rogue.”—“Long life to your honour, you know it is Jubilee time.”—“I’ll give you six shillings.”—“The sweet Jesus bless your honour, don’t be so hard with your own countryman.”—“I won’t give you a farthing more than three half-crowns.”—“What time shall I call for your honour?”—Such is the dialogue I have just had with a gentleman, who tells me his name is Larry Obrien, and that he is lineally descended from the antient Kings of Munster. Good-bye, Mr. Printer, you shall hear from me by the return of the post; in the mean time, believe me your cordial friend,

---

September 7, 1769.

Pursuant to my promise, I send you a little sketch of the entertainments, subsequent to my last account, at the Stratford Jubilee.—I told you in my letter of Wednesday, that I was just setting off for the Assembly.—When I came there, I found a room built in imitation of the Ranelagh rotunda, and at least half as large, crowded with company, many persons of the first distinction, not mentioned in my former scrawl; such as the Duke of Manchester, Lord Northampton, Lord Hertford, Lord Carlisle, Lord Shrewsbury, Lord Pigot, &c. The minuets continued till twelve o’clock, at which time country dances commenced, and about three every body retired. This morning a public breakfast was given in the same manner, and on the same conditions as yesterday; after which the company repaired to the Amphitheatre from the town hall—where the following Ode was performed, under the direction of Dr. Arne. …

The recitative parts were spoken by Mr. Garrick, and perhaps, in all the characters he ever played, he never shewed more powers, more judgment, or ever made a stronger impression of the minds of his auditors—in fact, Sir, though he was frequently disturbed by the turbulence of our applause, it was generally allowed, that the Ode, in point of poetical merit, no less than the speaker in point of elocution, was justly entitled to universal admiration.

On the conclusion of the Ode, Mr. King got up in the character of a macaroni, wholly unexpected by the company, and publicly attacked Shakespeare, whom he censured as a very ill-bred fellow, for making people laugh and cry as he thought proper. This produced much mirth, and, with Mr. King’s admirable acting, was a considerable addition to the entertainment. It was intended to make a procession to the Amphitheatre of all the characters in Shakespeare’s pieces, but the day proving very wet, it is post-poned till tomorrow. The wetness of the weather has much injured an elegant firework, conducted by Mr. Angelo; but the Masquerade, for which I am now dressing, will, I hope, make amends for all, and give me an opportunity of presenting a more entertaining letter to your readers. Mr. Garrick is requested to recite his Ode to-morrow, and complies with great politeness. Upon the whole, since the commencement of the Jubilee, every thing has been highly to the general satisfaction, and instead of being fatigued at the continuance of it for three days we all lamented that it is not to be continued three days longer. Mr. Ross, from Edinburgh; Mr. Lee, from Bath; Mr. Macklin, Mr. and Mrs. Yates, with a number of other eminent performers, are here, testifying their reverence for the great father of the English drama. The post is now going out, and I have only this to add, that I am, Sir,

Your humble servant,

MUSIDORUS.

Middlesex Journal or Chronicle of Liberty Sept. 9–12, 1769.

As the farce is over at Stratford-upon-Avon, the ministry are at a loss how to divert the nobility and gentry at another place to prevent meetings for redress of grievances.

St. James Chronicle or the British Evening Post Sept. 9–12, 1769.

POSTSCRIPT. LONDON.

…

“The Masquerade at Stratford last Thursday evening was crouded to an extravagance. Dresses of the meanest sort were hired at four guineas each, and the person who carried them down from London made above four hundred on the occasion; those, however, who could not be accommodated to their minds, or did not choose to pay such a sum, were admitted with masques only, and there were many present even without masks.—Among the most distinguished characters in the masquerade, Lady Pembroke, Mrs. Bouverie, and Mrs. Crewe, habited as witches, excited the general admiration. Lord Grosvenor was magnificently dressed in an eastern habit, but the principal part of the nobility were in dominos—the literary gentlemen were also in dominos—the unusual wetness of the evening, and want of proper convenience, rendering it impossible, or disagreeable, to take any pains in the assumption of fictitious character. Mr. Yates, as a waggoner, gave much satisfaction; as did a gentleman from Oxford in Lord Ogleby. Mr. Boswell, the celebrated friend of Paoli, appeared in a Corsican habit, with pistols in his belt, and a musket at his back, in gold letters in the front of his cap the words PAOLI AND LIBERTY were printed.

The Jubilee Race on Friday afforded much diversion to the lovers of the turf, though the horses were almost knee deep in water. The cup was won by Mr. Pratt, the rider, and we are told he is determined never to part with it; though he modestly confesses he has no extraordinary taste for dramatic performances.”

Whitehall Evening Post or London Intelligencer Sept. 9–12, 1769.

To the Printer …

Sir,

Being now detained for horses at Stratford, where hundreds besides myself labour under the same predicament, I sit down to send you an account of such particulars as I omitted in my former letters, and trust that in my willingness to oblige your readers, they will kindly overlook the want of regularity. It is observed by the Spectator, that few people peruse an author with satisfaction till they are first informed whether he is a young man or an old one, or whether he is fair or black in complexion. There is much good sense in the remark. The pomp of any great action, or any solemn ceremony, excites our admiration, whereas the lesser circumstances come home to our hearts: hence, though we are ravished with the victories of Alexander, we are always best pleased to see him in the hour of unbending conviviality; and are not half so much charmed with Cincinnatus, when a Roman dictator, as when we find him regaling on an humble dish of vegetables at his own little farm in the country.

To deduce an application from the foregoing similitude, I must observe, that many have wished to know how, and in what manner the celebrated Jubilee Ode was delivered at Stratford; whether Mr. Garrick appeared in an ancient English habit, or a modern one; from what place he delivered the Ode; how Mr. King was dressed when he attacked Shakespeare, with a cum multis aliis of minutæ, at which a critical reader will, perhaps, be tempted, in the language of Colley Cibber, to turn up the nostrils of his gravity.—Be it therefore known, to such as are willing to be pleased, that an orchestra was erected in the Amphitheatre, close to the banks of Avon, capable of containing more than 100 performers; in the front of this orchestra, with his Steward’s rod in his hand, and his medallion about his neck, Mr. Garrick sat dressed in a suit of brown, with a rich gold lace; he opened the performance with a very respectful bow to the company, which was returned with a clap of unanimous applause, and at the end of every Recitative part, as I have already told you, here repeated, he sat down, and gave the singer an opportunity of displaying his or her abilities.—When the Ode was finished, Mr. Garrick stood up, and delivered a prose encomium on Shakespeare, in which his enemies were called upon to urge whatever they could advance in opposition to his character.—Mr. King, on this, who appeared in a great coat, desired to be heard;—those who knew him, expected something extremely whimsical, while many, who did not, testified the greatest amazement, at so unexpected an attack upon the first dramatic poet of their country.

Mr. King, who stood in a direct line to the orchestra, having expressed his intention of attacking the reputation of Shakespeare, went round, and speedily (taking off his great coat) came out of the orchestra, in a suit of fashionable blue, ornamented with silver frogs, to support the justice of his allegations. Several, who thought he was really serious, seemed exceedingly dissatisfied with him, while numbers who saw into the intention, were highly diverted, and testified a satisfaction proportioned to the astonishment expressed by the less informed part of the auditory. Mr. King having executed his share of the task, Mr. Garrick addressed the ladies in a poetical speech, complimenting them on the regard they had always shewn to Shakespeare, and exhorting them to support the reputation of a poet, who was so remarkable for supporting the dignity of the female character. During this performance, the benches in various parts of the Amphitheatre from the prodigious pressure of the company gave way; and had it not been for a peculiar interposition of providence, Lord Carlisle, who was much hurt by the fall of a door, must have inevitably been destroyed.

At night the Masquerade commenced, though not till twelve o’clock; several of the characters were well dressed, and sustained their parts with great propriety. As you have already given an account of the Masquerade, Mr. Printer, I shall be less particular on this subject, unless in observing that a person dressed as a devil was inexpressibly offensive; the three witches, however, of whom you have given an account, charmed the whole company into good humour, and the Shepherdess, with Mrs. Quickly, who were composed of the Miss Ladbrokes, confirmed them in these agreeable sensations. About five everybody retired; and the next morning (for in fashionable life the morning never begins till we get up), as the weather continued remarkably wet, and that wetness prevented the Pageant, or representation of all Shakespeare’s characters, the principal part of the company, who had carriages of their own, went out of town: nevertheless, we had a tolerable assembly at Shakespeare’s hall in the evening; at this assembly, were Ld. Carlisle, Sir R. Ladbroke, Miss Ladbroke, and Miss Nancy, Mr. Crewe, the Member for Chester, and his Lady, Mr. Payne, the Member for Shaftsbury, and his Lady, Mr. and Mrs. Kelly, Miss West, the Hon. Mr. Conway, the Hon. Mr. Fox, Mr. Selwyn, &c. &c.—Mrs. Garrick danced a minuet beyond description gracefully, and joined in the country dances, which ended at four, and put an end to the Jubilee.

The next day, that is about noon, the want of carriages occasioned a more general confusion, than any antecedent circumstance; every body wanted to quit Stratford, but few, unless those who were down with their own carriages, could attempt it; five guineas were offered for a hackney post-chaise; but five, nay fifty guineas, were unable to obtain it. Peyton, at the White Lion, says it will be three weeks before the company can possibly set off, and in the mean time their stay here will be attended with a comfortable expence; but now I talk of expence, my next letter will give you a picture of our expences at this place, and prove that, notwithstanding the people of England are so terribly distressed to raise money for essentials, no people in the universe have so much to throw away upon unnecessaries. The same post which brings you this, will bring my reflections, on our national folly in this respect; and possibly communicate some things relative to Stratford moderation, which may prove not unentertaining to your readers. For the present I am, &c.

MUSIDORUS.

Lloyd’s Evening Post Sept. 11–13, 1769.

On Monday David Garrick, Esq. arrived at Hampton, from Stratford upon Avon.

A gentleman who was at the Jubilee, and had paid extravagantly dear for every thing he had, on coming away, asked his landlord, in a kind of per, “If he should meet with any Collectors in his way to London, what was the watch word? To which Bonniface very archly replied, “Tell ’em you have been at the Jubilee, and then they won’t suspect you have any money left.”

There is now a deed in the possession of Mr. Wallace, attorney, in Norfolk-Street in the Strand, of the immortal Shakespeare’s; it is signed with his own hand in full length; and is a conveyance of some lands in the neighbourhood of Stratford-upon-Avon.

London Chronicle Sept. 12–14, 1769.

A letter from a gentleman at Stratford upon Avon says; “It is common in London, when a man has done what he thinks a very cunning act, whereby he has gained an advantage over another, to say he has flung the countryman; and I really think the townsfolk here may safely boast, that at the late Jubilee they flung the Londoners; for never, I believe, were such unconscious dealings ever practiced any where.”

The Devil upon two Sticks, is a Devil of honour, and has kept his word. The following is the account, not less just than severe, which he last night gave to a crowded audience, of the Stratford Jubilee; it was received with repeated and universal shouts of applause, and even strongly encored:

“Among other modes of making money recommended, a Jubilee is mentioned, to which the young man replies, a Jubilee!—What’s that? Don’t you know, says the Devil?—Then I’ll tell you—A Jubilee as it has lately appeared, is a public invitation urged by puffing, to go post without horses, to an obscure borough without representatives, governed by a mayor and aldermen who are no magistrates, to celebrate a great poet whose own works have made him immortal, by an ode without poetry, music without melody, dinners without victuals, and lodgings without beds, a masquerade where half the people appeared bare-faced, a horse-race up to the knees in water, fireworks extinguished as soon as they were lighted, and a gingerbread amphitheatre, which, like a house of cards, tumbled to pieces as soon as it was finished.”

Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser Sept. 14, 1769.

To the PRINTER. Stratford, Saturday Sept. 9.

Though many accounts have been published relative to the nature of the expences at Stratford, nothing like truth has yet been presented to the town. Moderation has been much talked of on the banks of the Thames, but on the borders of the Avon it is a word wholly unknown to the inhabitants. Half a guinea a night has been paid for the standing of a single horse, without either hay or oats; and Mr. Foote, who, by the bye, paid nine guineas for six hours sleep, was charged two shillings for being told what it was o’clock, “Can you tell me the time of day, honest friend?” (said our modern Aristophanes to a fellow in the street) “Will you make it worth my while?” answered the other.—“How much must you have (interrogated Mr. Foote) “Two shillings,” returned the Stratfordian; “Well, (replies the wag) I’ll give the money, if it is nothing more than having to say that I have paid two shillings for such a commodity.” He therefore gave the two shillings but the conscientious countryman of Shakespeare would not tell him to the exact minute, because Mr. Foote, as he termed it, would not throw in the other tester.

This, however, was nothing to what another writer was asked for—the use of a great coat, by a countryman of his own, indeed—the demand was only half a guinea; though when he was required to sell it totally, in hopes, says he, you shall have it out and out, for seven and six-pence. Besides this, a gentleman who brought a dog down with him, was charged a shilling a day for the animal’s picking up an occasional bone, and had nine-pence inserted in his bill for washing a pocket handkerchief.

At the Ordinary in the Amphitheatre, which was furnished, and most miserably furnished into the bargain, from the White Lion, we paid eighteen shillings for our dinner and wine. We, indeed, had something which was called turtle, and something which went under the denomination of claret; but if it had not been for the dignity of the appellations, we might as well have regaled upon neck of beef and Southhampton port. Impositions of this nature, we should easily have overlooked, had our beds been any way tolerable; Mr. Peyton was kind enough in his public advertisement, to promise us good beds, for a guinea a night; Mr. Peyton, however, who was a mighty great man on this occasion, like most great men, forgot his promise. So far from getting decent accommodation, by his means, we could not get a civil answer at his house; the most wretched shed in the town, that had a few rags patched into a bed, was estimated at a guinea a night; and many, who would not part with a single crown to relieve a distressed family, advanced five pounds with the utmost chearfulness, for an apartment at a green shop. In the single article of favours, it is supposed that the ribbands amounted to a thousand pounds, and the silver medals which were struck at Birmingham for the purpose, and which were purchased almost by every body, it is conjectured treble that sum, even upon a moderate computation. Yet we are distressed all this time; our trade is utterly gone, and we are taxed up to the very verge of destruction.

But while I am talking of extravagance, I must by no means omit that an eminent actor was charged a shilling every time he repaired to the Temple of the Graces, at a particular inn, and that those were rated at eighteen pence for the use of the same convenience who did not lodge in the house. The inhabitants of the town were determined to make us pay for our Jubilee, and the only instance of conscience which I met with during my stay, was in the cook of the house where I lodged, who constantly sent us in the intestines of her poultry, and told us that as her mistress charged enough for every thing, it was but reasonable we should have our property entire. From the same principle likewise, we could never have a chicken above half picked, and I am, at this moment almost choaked with the stubble of my provender, for butchers-meat was scarcely comeatable on any consideration.

Notwithstanding the prodigious benefit evidently accruing to the inhabitants of Stratford, from the Jubilee, it is inconceivable to think how many well-meaning people of the place, were in a constant alarm for the safety of the town, which they actually imagined would undergo some signal mark of the divine displeasure, for being the scene of so very prophane a festival. In this opinion they were doubly confirmed on the Friday evening, when the town-hall was illuminated for the Assembly, and some transparancies hung out at the window, for the amusement of the populace. The transparencies consisted of a whole length of Shakespeare in the middle, with Falstaff and Pistol on his left-hand, and on his right, Lear in the execration passage, and Caliban drinking from Trincalo’s keg. These devices struck a deep impression on the minds of the ignorantly religious; they looked upon them as peculiarly entitled to the vengeance of Providence, and wished the Londoners heartily at home, though they found our money so highly worth their acceptance.

Upon the whole, it is concluded, in these times of distress, what with travelling expences, and the money circulated immediately in the town of Stratford, the Jubilee has cost fifty thousand pounds—The Amphitheatre, which is now above a foot deep in water, from the heavy rains, and its low situation is the border of the Avon, will be useless, as thereon no expectation of ever seeing another Jubilee at the place; but the fine statue of Shakespeare, which was cast solely for the occasion, is to be fixed in the town-hall, and will remain among the other monuments to his memory.

The great rains, which several people consider as a judgment on our poetical idolatry, were a material prejudice to our entertainment; they prevented the theatrical procession I have repeatedly mentioned, and prevented Mr. Garrick from reciting his Ode a second time. Besides this, they spoiled our Firework, our Masquerade, and our Race—yet, after all the expence, fatigue, and disappointment, I candidly acknowledge that we were overpaid by the single recitation of the Ode. This part of the Jubilee was so thoroughly admirable, and gave so perfect a satisfaction, that I should not hesitate at another Stratford expedition, merely to hear it; and I am satisfied the majority of the company, are entirely of my sentiments. In the performance of this Ode, Mr. Garrick distinguished himself equally as a poet, an actor, and a gentleman; he lamented, in a prose address to us, that none of the eminent poets of our universities had undertaken the subject, who were so infinitely more capable than himself to execute the arduous task; he expressed an apprehension, that his zeal for the honour of Shakespeare had led him to expose the weakness of his own abilities, but hoped his motive would apologize for his defects; he declared that he did not at first foresee the difficulties he had to struggle with, but that having once embarked, he found himself in the situation of Macbeth, and saw it no less dangerous to retreat than go on; he however, had one consolation, he politely added, turning to Doctor Arne, that the first musical genius of this country did not think his muse unworthy the exercise of his talents, and that he was certain the composer’s excellence would amply attone for the imperfections of the author.

Thus, Mr. Printer, I have fulfilled my promise to you and to the public. If any thing farther occurs during my stay here, for I have no prospect of being away before the beginning of next week, I shall trouble you with another letter. For the present I take my leave, and I am, Sir,

Yours, &c.       

MUSIDORUS.

Lloyd’s Evening Post Sept. 13–15, 1769.

EPIGRAM

On the modern Poets of Stratford upon Avon.

In honour of the native notes
Of Avon’s ever-dying swan,
A flight of wild-fowl stretch’d their throats,
To praise their favourite, dead and gone!

The Bird, beneath the rushes hid,
Cry’d, “Peace, ye screech owls, prithee peace!
Are these my kindred? Heav’n forbid!
These, like all David’s Swans,are Geese.

…

Mr. Garrick looking out of a window while it was raining violently at Stratford, pointing to the sewer, asked Mr. Foote what he thought of that—I think, answered he, ’tis God’s revenge against Vanity.

We are informed, as a certain fact, that the number of fiddlers who went down with Mr. Garrick to Stratford upon Avon, were exactly forty-five; and it is remarkable, that this number forms a complete band.

…

VERSES on the Town of Stratford upon Avon.

Great Homer’s birth sev’n rival cities claim,
Too mighty such monopoly of fame;
Yet not to birth alone did Homer owe
His wondrous worth; what Egypt could bestow,
With all the schools of Greece and Asia join’d,
Enlarg’d th’immense expansion of his mind.
Nor yet unrival’d the Mæconian strain,
The British Eagle, and the Mantuan Swain
Tow’r equal heights. But happier Stratford thou
With uncontested laurels deck thy brow:
Thy Bard was thine unschool’d, and from thee brought
More than all Egypt, Greece, or Asia taught!
Not Homer’s felt such matchless honours won:
The Greek has rivals, but thy Shakespeare none.

Public Advertiser Sept. 16, 1769.

To the Printer of the Public Advertiser.

Mr. Woodfall,

Allow me amongst many others to describe Shakespeare’s Jubilee at Stratford upon Avon. Upon such Occasions it is exceedingly difficult for those who are present to carry to people at a distance a just account of what is going on …

For my own part I am now returned to London, and I flatter myself that, after being agitated as much as any body, I have recovered my tranquility, and am in condition to give you a few remarks on this celebrated Jubilee, which I am persuaded will engage the attention not only of all ranks in this island, but of the learned and ingenious in every part of Europe. For what was the Stratford Jubilee, not a piece of farce and rhodomantade, as many of the envious foes of our Roscious attempted to make us believe, but an elegant and truly classical celebration of the memory of Shakespeare, that illustrious poet whom all ages will admire as the world has hitherto done. It was truly an antique idea, a Grecian thought, to institute a splendid festival in honour of a bard. My bosom glowed with joy when I beheld a numerous and brilliant company of nobility and gentry, the rich, the brave, the witty, and the fair assembled to pay their tribute of praise to Shakespeare; nor could I help thinking that they at the same time paid a very just compliment to Mr. Garrick, the Steward of the Jubilee, who has done so much to make our nation acquainted with the inestimable riches of their own stage in possessing so illustrious a dramatic author with such amazing variety and wonderful excellence as Shakespeare. Garrick may be called the colourist of Shakespeare’s soul.—He

“—Dame Nature’s pencil stole
Just where old Shakespeare dropt it”

Let conceited and disappointed authors and players vent their spleen against him, he may assure himself that his fame will last for ever.

The morning of the first day was ushered in with a pleasing serenade by the best musicians from London in disguise. The Jubilee began with an Oratorio in the great church at Stratford; the subject the story of Judith; the words by Mr. Bickerstaff; the music by Dr. Arne. It was a grand and admirable performance. But I could have wished that prayers had been read, and a short sermon preached. It would have consecrated our Jubilee to begin it with devotion, with gratefully adoring the Supreme Father of all Spirits, from whom cometh every good and perfect gift. The Procession with music from the church to the Amphitheatre, led on by Mr. Garrick, had a very good effect. The Amphitheatre was a wooden building, erected just on the brink of the Avon, in the form of an octagon, with eight pillars supporting the roof. It was elegantly painted and gilded. Between the pillars were crimson curtains very well imitated as hanging over each recess. In this Amphitheatre was a large orchestra, pieced as it used to be formerly in Ranelagh. Here the company dined exceedingly well between three and four. Between five and six the musical performers appeared, and entertained us with several of the songs in Shakespeare’s Garland composed for the occasion. Sweet Willy Oh, tender and pathetic. The Mulberry Tree, of which the chorus is very fine. Warwickshire, a ballad of great merit in its kind, lively, spirited, fully of witty terms, and even delicate fancies. Mr. Garrick’s words, and Mr. Dibdin’s music, went charmingly together, and we all joined in the chorus.

I shall not follow a regular method of narrating the proceedings exactly, but just mention what made impression upon myself; that is the best rule for every man to follow if he wishes to entertain.

The performance of the Dedication Ode was noble and affecting: it was like an exhibition in Athens or Rome. The whole audience were fixed in the most earnest attention, and I do believe that if any one had attempted to disturb the performance, he would have been in danger of his life. Garrick in the front of the orchestra, filled with the first musicians of the nation, with Dr. Arne at their head, and inspired with an aweful elevation of soul, while he looked from time to time at the venerable statue of Shakespeare, appeared more than himself. While he repeated the Ode, and saw the various passions and feelings which it contains fully transfused into all around him, he seemed in extacy, and gave us the idea of a mortal transformed into a demi-god as we read in the pagan mythology.

I can witness from my own hearing what did great honour to Lord Grosvenor as well Mr. Garrick. After the Ode his Lordship came up to the orchestra, and told Mr. Garrick that he had affected his whole frame, shewing him his veins and nerves still quivering with agitation. What truly delighted me was to obtain the warm sincerity of Mr. Garrick’s enthusiasm for his immortal bard throughout the whole suite of entertainments. While the songs were singing he was all life and spirit, joining in the chorus, and humouring every part with his expressive looks and gestures. When he sung

“Warwickshire Thief,
He’s the Thief,
The Thief of all Thieves, &c.”

his eyes sparkled with joy; and the triumph of his countenance at some parts of the Ode, its tenderness at others, and inimitably sly humour at others, cannot be described. I would not for a great sum give up the recollection which my mind possesses of that wonderful recitation. I know not whether it may be a compliment to Mr. Garrick, but I must say that his Ode greatly exceeded my expectations. I knew his talents for little sportive sallies, but I feared that a Dedication Ode for Shakespeare was above his powers. What the critics may say of this performance I know not, but I shall never be induced to waver in my opinion of it. I do say it is a work of superior merit, well suited to the occasion by the variety of its subjects, and containing both poetical force and elegance. It would be unpardonable should I omit acknowledging the pleasure which I received from Dr. Arne’s music, which was truly fine; nor must I neglect thanking the whole orchestra for their execution.

As you have such a number of letters concerning this famous Jubilee, I would wish to avoid repetition; I would wish not to go over the same ground with others, though perhaps it may be with description as it is with farming, where different persons going over the same ground will make a very different appearance, just from their different methods of dressing it. When the Ode was finished, Mr. Garrick made a very genteel address to us in prose, modestly expressing how much he thought himself unequal to the task he had undertaken, and assuring us, that he found it quite another thing to speak in public, supported by the great genius of Shakespeare, from what he found it to speak in public, supported only by his own feeble genius; but he hoped he would shew him the same kind indulgence as is usually shewn to those unfortunate gentlemen who appear for the first time in a character. His epilogue to the ladies was very lively, and very well expressed. I hope he will favour us with it in print. When Mr. Garrick had done, he invited any of the company to speak if they were so disposed. Upon which Mr. King, the Comedian, got up to the orchestra, and gave us a smart ironical attack upon Shakespeare in the character of a modern refined man of taste. This might have done very well on some other occasion; but in my opinion, it had better have been omitted, at this noble festival: it detracted from its divinity; nor was there any occasion for it. We were all enthusiastic admirers of Shakespeare. We had not time to think of his cavilling critics. We were wrapped into wonder and admiration of our immortal bard; and the levity of the fine gentleman disturbed the tone of our minds. I must be forgiven too for observing that this exhibition looked so like a trap laid on purpose, that it displeased me; and I was angry to find any notice taken of the venomous insects who have shot their stings in the newspapers against the Jubilee, and particularly against Mr. Garrick. It had the appearance of a soreness unworthy of our Lord High Steward. If the gnats at any time pierce his skin, let him drop a little of the oil of good-humoured pleasantry upon the place, and give himself no farther trouble. This is my receipt founded on experience, Probatum est. I must however do justice to Tom King, and allow that he played his part exceedingly well. I got acquainted at the Jubilee with this ingenious comedian, and found him a genteel, agreeable companion, and for all the thinking of his Brass* upon the stage, a very modest man in private society. I am surprized that your correspondents who have so justly praised Mr. Angelo’s Fireworks, have not mentioned the pictures on the bank of the Avon, fronting the Amphitheatre. There we beheld Time leading Shakespeare to Immortality, Tragedy on one side and Comedy on the other, copied from the fine ideas of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Behind these pictures were placed a number of lamps, which gave them a most beautiful transparency. In the same style were five pictures in the windows of the town hall: in the middle Shakespeare, in the attitude of exclaiming,

“Oh! For a Muse of Fire!”

On the windows on one side of him, Lear and Caliban: on the windows on the other side, Sir John Falstaff and Ancient Pistol. In the same style too was a piece of painting hung before the windows of the room where Shakespeare was born, representing the sun breaking thro’ the clouds. Whether Inspiration poetical hath impregnated his mind, Time must determine. I had a serene and solemn satisfaction in contemplating the church in which Shakespeare lies. It is a large old building and has been a kind of cathedral, or a church, belonging to some religious society, for it has a regular choir in which the Bard reposes. His grave stone is a good deal sunk below the level of the floor; but nobody will ever put a hand to it, for his epitaph is,

“Good Friends, for Jesus Sake, forbear
To dig the Dust enclosed here.
Blest be he that spares these Stones,
But curst be he that moves my Bones.”

At one end of his grave some pious hands had placed a garland of flowers, bays, laurels, and other ever-greens; and there were also festoons of ever-greens put on the monument which is erected on the wall next his grave. The monument is not very excellent. The warlike music of Warwickshire militia, and the discharge of artillery, added considerably to the grandeur of our Jubilee. We all wore, hung in a blue ribband at our breasts, a medal of Shakespeare, very well cast by Mr. Westwood of Birmingham. On one side was the head of Shakespeare, and round it this inscription,

WE SHALL NOT LOOK UPON HIS LIKE AGAIN.

And on the reverse,

JUBILEE AT STRATFORD, IN HONOUR AND TO THE MEMORY OF SHAKESPEARE, SEPTEMBER 1769. D.G. STEWARD.

We also wore favours called Shakespeare’s favours. Ladies, gentlemen, even servants and peasants wore them. Every human being had, or seemed to have, an idea of the classical festival. Taste beamed a ray on the lively and the stupid on those who felt it, and on those who felt it not. The very shop bills upon this occasion were pieces of genius. Mr. Jackson, from Tavistock-Street, London, gave about the following one,

SHAKESPEARE’S JUBILEE.

A ribband has been made on purpose at Coventry, called the Shakespeare’s Ribband: it is in imitation of the rainbow, which uniting the colours of all parties, is likewise an emblem of the great variety of this genius.

“Each change of many coloured life he drew”

JOHNSON.

I dare say Mr. Samuel Johnson never imagined that this fine verse of his would appear on a bill to promote the sale of ribbands. Since I have mentioned this illustrious author, I cannot but regret that he did not honour Shakespeare’s Jubilee with his presence, which would have added much dignity to our meeting. The Masquerade Ball was one of the best that has been in Britain. There were many very rich, elegant, and curious dresses, many beautiful women, and many characters well supported. All the papers have already been pretty full on this subject, so I need say little; only I must observe, that a Masquerade is an entertainment which does not seem much suited to the genius of the British nation. In warmer countries, where the people have a great slew of spirits, and a readiness at repartee, a masquerade is exceedingly agreeable: but the reserve and taciturnity which is observable amongst us, makes us appear aukward, and embarrassed in feigned characters. Many of our Stratford masks seemed angry when one accosted them.—The race at the Jubilee was neither better nor worse than other races; nor indeed could it be expected to be any way extraordinary, except, as an ingenious lady observed, we could have procured a race of l’egasuses in honour of our poet. It was much to be regretted that bad weather prevented us from having the pageant, upon which Mr. Garrick had bestowed so much time in contriving, and so much expence in furnishing. It was to have been a procession of allegorical beings, with the most distinguished characters of Shakespeare’s plays, with their proper dresses, triumphal cars, and all other kinds of machinery: but the heavy rains made it impossible to have this exhibited without destroying the valuable dresses, and endangering the still more valuable health of the fair performers, who might have been rendered incapable of appearing in public for a whole season, perhaps for life. Nature seemed to frown on a Jubilee in honour of the Thief who had “robbed her of all she was worth.” But as no cost has been spared on this pageant, I hope Mr. Garrick will entertain us with it in the comfortable region of Drury-Lane.

Much noise has been made about the high prices of every thing at Stratford. I own I cannot agree that such censures are just: it was reasonable that Shakespeare’s townsmen should partake of the Jubilee as well as we strangers did; they as a Jubilee of profit, we of pleasure. As it lasted but for a few nights, a guinea a night for a bed was not impossible. Nobody was understood to come there who had not plenty of money. Towards the end of the Jubilee many of us were not in very good humour, as many inconveniences occurred, particularly there not being carriages enough to take us away but in detschments, so that those who had to wait long tired exceedingly. I laughed away spleen by a droll simile: taking the whole of this Jubilee, said I, is like eating an artichoke entire. We have some fine mouthfuls, but we must also swallow the leaves and the hair, which are confoundedly difficult of digestion. After all, however, I am highly satisfied with my artichoke.

To conclude as I began,—I will always be of opinion that Shakespeare’s Jubilee at Stratford upon Avon is an institution which does honour not only to our immortal Bard, but to all who have contributed towards it; and I hope that every seven years it shall be celebrated with equal ardour of enthusiasm as it has been in 1769.

I always am, SIR,

Your very humble servant,

J.B.

* “’Mongst Drury’s sons he comes, and shires in Brass.”

…

For the Public Advertiser.

To DAVID G—K, Esq;

SIR,

It is a melancholy because a just reflection, that the honours which mankind derive from the shining abilities of men of genius are more than counterballanced by the imperfections of the children of Dullness. Nature being the original power, which has bestowed talents, and imposed inability on the human mind, is the common parent of Genius and Stupidity. Those whom she ordains to inherit the one, or possess the other, are equally her offspring, and as she must be an impartial mother, she has put them in one respect on a level by subjecting them mutually to a triumph over each other. The favourite of Science, and the mimic of Nature herself, have no happier feeling of their own superiority, than the dunce and illiberal critic have of joy in traducing Merit; and, upon the whole, it may be difficult to determine whether the envy and censure incurred by the display of superior talents do not in a great measure extinguish the pleasure arising from their possession.

I have been led into these reflections by the severe and most irritating trial which you have lately withstood, and to which you have been tied down by the dull enemies of your transcendent fame. They found it impossible to deprive you of that merit, which, as if bestowed by a law of nature and man, is become your unalienable property. The buskin, the mask, and the theatrical sceptre, were the inseparable companions of your person, and the exquisite power of imitative feeling and expression were the indelible virtues of your soul: annihilation could only produce their separation. But man is not uniformly perfect in genius. If Roscius had the momentary power of dissolving and almost extinguishing, or of swelling into godlike passion the soul, he might in vain have assumed the pencil or the lyre; and, beyond his province of the stage he was perhaps no more than an ordinary man. It was thus that our critics reasoned, and pronounced you as excellent in only one sphere. Some went so far as to deny you even any species of excellence, and attributed to a casual ability of imitation the applause which you had acquired. The turn of the eye, the accidental pliability of a muscle, the formation of the windpipe, and the stamp of the foot, were, they asserted, the grounds upon which you claimed immortality; and that those trifling, tho’ fortunate circumstances were rendered totally unmeritorious by your fear of a rival, and avaritious discouragement of rising theatrical powers.

It has always been a pleasure to me, Sir, to see Nature in her perfection; and I have been ever more zealous to cover than to probe the scars which might expose her blemishes. It is therefore with peculiar pleasure that I am now empowered to shew the world that Mr. G—k is not only the Sovereign of Comedians, but the Prince of Poets.

As I would not be supposed to pay you this compliment rashly, or from an implicit admiration of your genius, I will take the liberty of laying before the public the grounds upon which I proceed, and the materials with which I would

“Erect the Statue, and devote the Pile.”

Your immortal Ode upon dedicating a house to Shakespeare, will afford me an ample field and abundant matter; and the justest tribute that can be paid to your poetic merit, is to lay its beauties in a selected order before the eyes of the public.

In the first place, I cannot sufficiently admire the modest, elegant, and expressive turn of your preface, and above all, the service which you did your hero by opposing the testimonies of the learned to the attacks of Cacus Desqueez-oh, and the other filthy and malevolent enemies of the Swan of Avon. Those who must be displeased, may indeed assert, that it was to swell the belly of the pamphlet to the figure of eighteen-pence; that these vulgar certificates of Shakespeare’s genius were adduced: but I, who have so high a respect for your contempt of peace, will for ever despise such allegations.

“Do not your sympathetic Hearts accord
To own the Bosom’s Lord?
’Tis he! ’Tis he!”

Inimitable!—How harmonious is the second line! How divine the irruption of the third! In vain would Zoilus assert that you ought to have said “Bosom’s Lord,” in allusion to the office which you have once possessed on the stage.

“Prepare! Prepare! Prepare!
And Fame expanding all her Wings,
With all her Trumpet Tongues proclaims
Shakespeare, Shakespeare, Shakespeare!”

This passage, like the firing of cannon in Handel’s divine Oratorio, stuns with its magnificence. What a beautiful figure is the tongue of Fame turned into a brazen trumpet! And what a happy harmonious effect has the placing of the accent on the last syllable of the name Shakespeare!

“Thro’ the Air
Let it bear
The precious Freight the envious Nations round!”

Mark how the sound here is an echo to the sense. The last line is inconceivably expressive of the weight of the lighter that was carrying the precious freight of the Poet’s fame to the Dutch, and the other commercial “Nations round.”

“Tho’ Philip’s fam’d unconquered Son,”

Never was a finer character of Alexander! What an energy in the word unconquer’d!—But the comparison between Alexander’s sword and the pen of Shakespeare, is marvelously superb. The one consumed this little globe; but the other, after sweeping over Earth, and leaving nothing new in it unsearched, made new worlds to sweep over again. Well might he be called the “Bosom’s Lord.”

“What Nature had disjoin’d
The Poet’s Power combin’d,
Madness and Age, Ingratitude and Child.”

Wonderful! Wonderful indeed! That Shakespeare should unite Nature’s disjunctions. But the ill-humoured critic will ask, how absurd is this? Answer, can it be absurd that the poet should be so unnatural as to put Nature right? But was there ever so pathetic a stroke of the lyre, as the personification of child for childhood? This is absolutely brushing poetry with “the Whirlwind’s Wing,” without attending to the English language.

“The Thunder growls, the Heavens low’r.”

Comparing thunder to a mastiff is a happy simile in this country. Zoilus will say the trope will not translate, and a Frenchman would not like it, La Tonere fait comme un chien.

“The little Loves like Bees
Clustering and climbing up his Knees.”

Observe how picturesque the march of these little animals appear! But this letter will admit only a small part of what I have to say on this divine effort of genius. I must put off my further remarks to another occasion, when I hope to prove incontestably that the Shakespearean Ode of Mr. G—k is the most harmonious, the most judicious, and the most fortunate effusion of a poetic soul that has ever done honour to the Muses of Britain. I am so enthusiastic an admirer of its charms, that, like the enraptured lover, I will, I must at one bound leap to the ultimatum of happiness.

“For Ages free still be it unconfin’d,
As broad and general as thy boundless Mind!”

O! is there a feeling in the soul, or a conception in the understanding, superior to themselves? If so, here let them feel, here conceive poetic joy ineffable. What a pathos! what a soar of genius! to intreat that “a large common Field near Stratford” should not be surrounded with a brick wall, a thorn hedge, or polluted with the dung of agriculture, but left “as broad and general as the Mind Shakespeare.” Faces have, sometimes, been compared to the full moon for ruddy breath; but was there ever before our inspired Ode-maker, a Pindar, who formed to himself the noble idea of measuring the openness, the extent, the generality, and the wild uncultivation of a poet’s mind, by a pretty large healthy common field, where the sheep, asses, and men of Stratford feed in society and without distinction; where the desolation of the places encourages highwaymen and exalts gibbets, and where rabbits propagate as fast as ideas: vice versa, was there ever a better picture of the breadth and generality of a common than to be like a mind which may stretch itself from Peru to China? Mr. G—k, jusque au revoir.

Your’s,

NTI-GNATHO.

…

To the Printer of the Pubic Advertiser.

SIR,

Though you have given a very good account of the Jubilee at Stratford, yet your correspondents have omitted a very essential circumstance; I mean that of the house of which Shakespeare was born. It is scarce credible the number of persons of all ranks that came to see it, and the enthusiasm of some was very remarkable. The joy and satisfaction which they felt at being in the very room in which that great man was born, exceeds all description. It was not confined to the English only, for the Scotch and Irish were as eager in paying their devotions. On Friday night a very elegant transparency of the sun rising from the clouds, was affixed to the front of the house with the following inscription:

Here dying Clouds contend with growing light.

SHAKESPEARE.

It made a most beautiful appearance, and drew crouds to see it; near 100 lamps were placed behind it, which had a fine effect.

On Wednesday after the songs, catches, and glees were sung, the cup or goblet made of the mulberry tree, and lined with gold, was seized by the company, and nothing would satisfy them till it was filled with the best of wines, that they might have the pleasure to drink to the memory of the immortal Bard.—The cup went round very freely, indeed, and the enthusiastic joy upon the occasion was very remarkable. Give me leave to mention another odd circumstance, which happened immediately after. The person in whose custody the cup was, left the Amphitheatre, and was going to his lodgings, to place it in safety, but before he got home, was met by several friends, who earnestly requested they might have the pleasure of drinking some Warwickshire, or what they call Shakespeare’s ale, out of the cup. As it was a time of mirth and jollity, there was no refusing them, and every one did honour to it. The company soon encreased, and every lad and lass, as well as every Darby and Joan, were permitted to partake of the jollity. One among us, remarkable for his talent of singing, with his usual good-nature, gave us the Warwickshire Lad, and the Mulberry Tree; it made the young and old caper about the room, and I could compare it to nothing but the last scene in the Peep behind the Curtain, and could not help crying out—Zounds! what’s the matter with my toes! I have been at many a merry-making, but must own I never saw the like before. We restored the cup, with three cheers to the divine Bard, and three more to his truest representative Mr. Garrick, and then departed with that satisfaction such a heart felt scene could inspire.

As you have already given us the particulars of the Jubilee, it would be needless to repeat them; and, indeed, I am very glad the task does not fall to me, for I should but poorly describe what I felt on the delivery of the Ode. The deportment of Mr. Garrick struck an awe on every one present—the stillness and attention of the company was never so remarkable, and when he opened the Ode, his enchanting powers caught hold of your very soul: the passions, perhaps, were never so truly painted—Le Brun himself not excepted. The powers he shew’d in the tenderest feelings of human nature, drew from the audience in general the best testimony of their feelings, for I will take upon me to say, scarce a dry eye was seen—and before the audience could well dry up their sympathetic tears, his comic powers rushed upon the character of Falstaff, that incessant bursts of laughter filled the amphitheatre. You will, Mr. Printer, excuse the overflowings of a grateful heart on this occasion; and believe me, it falls very short of what is due to the excellence of so great a master of the human passions.

Stratford upon Avon, Sept. 12.          

Your humble servant,

A Friend to real Merit.

…

For the Public Advertiser.

To DAVID GARRICK, Esq; On SHAKESPEARE’S BIRTH-DAY

—Kings for such a Name wou’d wish to die.

MILTON         

Daughters of Harmony, a Lay
Deign to your Darling’s natal Day,
Bred on the Soil of Warwick;
Who Nature at his Service had—
To his vast Merit who can add?
To Shakespeare’s, who but Garrick?

United we, his Worth to praise,
All strive a Pyramid to raise,
Which singly he had done;
As well we might on tip-toe try
To touch the lofty vaulted Sky,
Or light the Mid-day Sun.

Alone in native Majesty
He stands confest, like that fam’d Tree
Of knowledge, Eden, pluming
With florid Branches waving high,
His Leaves present apparently
Unfading Blossoms blooming.

The Glances of his mental Eye
Were fleet (as vivid Flashes fly)
Dame Nature round surveying;
He saw her naked, and he drest
Her grand, tho’ in the simplest Vest,
His taste supreme displaying.

Thus clad, she gratefully declar’d
To prompt in after Times some Bard,
A Fav’rite next to thee,
Whom Tell-tale Time should Garrick name,
The Author he (reserv’d by Fame)
Of Shakespeare’s Jubilee.

*Untouch’d and sacred be thy Shrine,
Avonian Willy, Bard divine!
In studious Posture leaning;
From every Field of Fancy thou
Hast reap’d the Harvest—only now
Remains to us the Gleaning.

Th’alchymic Touch, Enquiry vain,
Fond Search of many a curious Brain
Was never found but when—
When first our Master’s Hand each Thought
In highly finish’d Models wrought
With his auriferous Pen.

His golden Lines at once cou’d gain
Their sterling Price; but since, ’tis plain,
The Art is with him gone:
†A Truth, which each succeeding Scribe
Can, for himself and all his Tribe,
Swear,—as I may for one.

T.S.

*Alluding to his monumental request.

†The exceptions are obvious.

…

We have endeavoured to give our readers an impartial account of the Stratford Jubilee, and we must now beg leave to dismiss the subject, which, if we were to admit every thing sent to us concerning it, would not afford us room for any thing else. The great number of interesting favours now in hand shall be inserted as fast as possible.

Lloyd’s Evening Post Sept. 15-18, 1769.

Extract of a letter from the Banks of the Avon, Sept. 9, 1769.

“When Mr. Garrick first proposed to institute a Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon, in honour of the immortal Shakespeare, the public immediately formed to themselves very high expectations of the entertainment they were to receive from a man so well qualified to give pleasure, and one who breathes the very soul of that Bard whose statue he meant to raise. The design was certainly noble in itself, whatever might be the motives; and, in spight of all the ridicule and opposition which envy or malice exerted, it has been carried into execution, and the performance received with general approbation. I mean to speak only of what was exhibited relative to Shakespeare; for as to the other species of amusements, the Oratorio, Balls, Fireworks, and Masquerade, they were such, as common occasions might produce, well enough calculated for vacant minds; to gratify ostentatious pride, juvenile vanity, and luxurious opulence; and, in short, such as policy directed, in compliance with the vitiated taste of these times, to engage and retain the company. I pretend not to give an exact detail of what passed in particular each day; as the reader may obtain sufficient information in those points from most news-papers; nor will I take notice of those inconveniences and disappointments which individuals must necessarily undergo from bad accommodations, expensive lodgings, unfavourable weather, and other incidental causes, which no precaution could guard against; nor of the want of method and precision, in respect to the arrangement made by the Steward, which was unavoidably subjected to the same uncertainties: let us come to the most interesting scene, namely, the performance on Thursday, in the Amphitheatre, opening with the Dedication Ode. And here I must express my very great satisfaction at the agreeable manner in which Mr. Garrick spoke the Ode; thereby exalting his performance above criticism. When I saw the statue of Shakespeare, the great dramatic Poet, and the living person of Garrick, the greatest Actor that England ever produced; when I considered the occasion, the scene, and the company which was drawn together by the power of one man, I was struck with a kind of veneration and enthusiasm; and the same sensations, I make no doubt, operating in the breasts of others, contributed greatly to that applause which the performance met with. The accompanyment of music and singing, though not remarkably excellent, yet was highly pleasing. That air, Thou soft flowering Avon, by thy silver stream, &c. gave, in particular, great delight; and I dare say will become the favourite song of the public. I forgot to mention, that I thought I observed Mr. Garrick a little confused or intimidated before he began; and, indeed, it is not to be wondered at; for surely never did any one man undertake a more arduous talk; and it is with pleasure I add, that never did any one man acquit himself with greater ability; notwithstanding some critics were pleased to say, that the powers and tone of voice in Mr. Garrick were considerably abated, and much inferior to what they were in his meridian perfection; insomuch that they apply to him the seasonable advice of Horace:

Solve senescentem mature sanus equum.—

If you require me to specify what parts of the Ode had the most striking effect, I should be under the necessity of quoting the greatest part of it, which time will not permit me to do. I flattered myself with the expectation of seeing the whole conclude with the ceremony of crowning the statue, and the appearance of some principal characters in Shakespeare, properly dressed, to assist on such an occasion; but as the bad weather prevented the intended procession, this part of the entertainment was unfortunately lost. But, I would beg leave to ask the Steward, might not some of the principal characters have been ready in the theatre, to perform that ceremony, without the least detriment to their dresses? I wish this had been done (as indeed it might have been) in a manner equal to those grand designs, which Mr. Garrick is undoubtedly capable of; and then the whole would have been nobly compleated.

As to that species of dramatic wit which was exhibited by Mr. King, I confess I did not admire it; probably for want of taste. Mr. King is undoubtedly an excellent comedian upon the stage; but as an orator in a public assembly, he appears deficient. To act well a part or character ready drawn, and to speak well, extempore, upon an occasion rather new and uncommon, require very different talents. There was something smart now and then in his speech, but upon the whole, it sunk into the insipid, and I could wish that part of the entertainment had been let alone. Mr. Garrick, after defending the character of Shakespeare, concluded with an excellent epilogue, which he spoke with great spirit and propriety (notwithstanding a cold which rather injured his voice, and sufficiently invalidates the censure of those critics, who suspected that his powers were diminished.) This epilogue I wish to see printed. After this we were dismissed, rather abruptly, that the room might be prepared for dinner; and in the afternoon we were agreeably entertained with catches and glees, well adapted to the occasion, and which inspired the utmost mirth and festivity.

After having observed to you that the Ode was rendered superior to criticism, by the enchanting powers of the speaker, I know not whether it will be right to comment upon it in the closet; especially as Mr. Garrick has made, in his preface, a very sensible apology for its imperfections. Impartiality, however, obliges me to say, that the Ode in itself will not bear reading to advantage.

I shall now conclude with a few cursory remarks:—when the Speaker exclaimed,

“’Tis he! ’Tis he!
The God of our Idolatry!”

Some pious ears were offended at the boldness of the expression; and others took occasion to compare the whole to the canonization of a Romish Saint.—But we must expect and excuse a little ridicule amongst wags on these occasions.—The extensive Licentia Poetica may be pleaded as an excuse for the author. The line

Shakespeare! Shakespeare! Shakespeare!

to be sure does not read well, or convey any poetical idea; but the stanza beginning, Tho’ Philip’s fam’d unconquer’d son, and the following one, have great beauty, and were inimitably spoken. Again, the stanzas beginning with When our Magician, more inspir’d, and the subsequent air, had a most happy effect; as likewise that part relative to Falstaff, with the air belonging to it, deserved the thunder of applause which was bestowed upon it, and to me was the most entertaining of the whole. He was Falstaff himself!—The stanzas from Sweet Swan of Avon! ever may thy stream, to the conclusion of the favourite air which follows, need no encomium.—We were in raptures when the Speaker (after a very pretty air well sung) began Look down blest Spirit from above, &c. and the concluding chorus, wanted only the action of crowning the statue to render the whole complete.

In short, it must be allowed by all who had the happiness to be present at the recital of this Ode, that there never was exhibited in England a performance more pleasing, more grand, or more worthy the memory of Shakespeare, and the genius and talents of Garrick.

I must beg leave to remark, that amongst the testimonies in favour of Shakespeare, Mr. Pope’s lines do not deserve a place; and a quotation from Lord Lyttelton’s Dialogues of the Dead, might have been introduced more strong and full than his inscription in Stow Gardens.

…

The deed executed by Shakespeare, and now in the possession of Mr. Wallace, of Norfolk-street, is not relating to any lands in Warwickshire, and mentioned in the papers, but is an assignment of a lease of an house which Shakespeare held and inhabited in Black Friars; and the site of the house is so accurately described therein, that some gentlemen have been to Black Friars, and not only discovered the exact spot, but (we hear) that part of the identical house is still standing.

Whitehall Evening Post Sept. 19–21, 1769

Yesterday morning died, James Henry Castle, Esq; at his lodgings at Clapton: his death is attributed to his having laid in damp sheets at Stratford upon Avon, where he went to amuse himself at the so much talked of Jubilee.

St. James Chronicle or British Evening Post Oct. 21–24, 1769

To the celebrated Devil of the Hay-Market.

My dear Asmodeus,

Your description of our late Stratford Jubilee, (where it seems you appeared both in Person, and *personated) convinces me of how merry a disposition you are, and that nothing is likely to alter it, till you visit the infernal regions again.

Your Account (give the Devil his due) is in many instances sufficiently laughable; but who, except yourself, could have made such mistakes and blunders as you have done, not without some reproach, my dear friend, to your funny reputation?

If our visiters, “came post to us (as you say) without horses,” they certainly made use of Moore’s machines, or flew upon broomsticks through the air, in the manner you yourself did; and therefore you, of all conjurers, should by no means have blamed them for it: perhaps Shakespeare himself would have deemed it an impropriety, if they had used any other way of conveyance.

That we had “Dinner without vituals,” is rather—a downright—mistake: but that some of the food was such as Asmodeus himself would scarce eat, is true enough; however, for this, Mr. Devil, you may thank yourself, knowing that, whoever sent us the meat; you and your tribe send us the cooks!

You have found grievous fault with the Ode, and with the musick, though both were allowed to be excellent; but this, indeed, we all expected from you, knowing the Devil to be an utter enemy to all true harmony. You discovered also something of the same malignancy, if not impotence, in that you, who naturally must delight in fire works, would not, or could not, when they were extinguished, stretch out one glowing claw to kindle them, again: that shews how willing your Devil […] is. Things should appear in a bad light, or rather no light […] and we are still in the dark, as to accounting for your […] omission. Our horse race too, thought we had the novelty of exhibiting it by water, could not escape your censure; when, methinks, if you were a true Devil, and delighted in mischief, you might, on the occasion have found ample matter for your amusement. I am sorry you ridiculed our amphitheatre; which, as it is constructed of very combustible materials, was intended, when we had done with it, to have been presented to your devil-ship for fuel: or, if it could have been made proof against the flames, to have been given to your whole tribe for a Pandæmonium. But now, it seems, you have rendered you and yours unworthy of it; and a sensible magistrate of our town (for we have such with us, though you deny it) has purchased it for a round-house; wherein are to be imprisoned all such trampers and strollers as ramble about, and deceive people by false representations.

Mr. S— of Stratford, fabricator of the Shakespearian-wood toys, desires his compliments to you; and to shew on how friendly a footing he wishes to be with you, assures you, that if your wooden supporters are almost worn out, he has two fine pieces of the genuine Mulberry-tree left, which his wife advised him to make into rolling-pins: but out of respect to Asmodeus, he intends, by an ingenious methods of his own, to form them into crutches, render them fire-proof, and generously present them to him; being willing to help out any poor lame devil that he sees at a fault.

If Asmodeus has any acquaintance with Mr. F—, he will do well to tell him, that his late joke of throwing away two shillings at the Jubilee, to know the time of day, is founded on a misrepresentation, and therefore has lost its poignancy; the person who received the money of him, being no inhabitant of Stratford, being one of the numerous indigent hair-cutters; who rushed in swarms out of London, for a little Jubilean employment, and are now returned to the metropolis, to feast again on their usual diet of tripe, cow-heels, and sheep’s trotters.

For the instant he is reading this, and no longer, I am, Asmodeus’s humble servant, A STRATFORDIAN.

Stratford on Avon, Sept. 30.

*A devil appeared at the masquerade.