The Historical Register for the Year 1736 is a series of unrelated episodes, given a connecting link by a rehearsal framework: An author, Medley, presents his play to the “critic”, Sourwit and Lord Dapper, two characteristic figures of London high society. Medley, who can be regarded as Fielding’s spokesman, explains: “... my design is to ridicule the vicious and foolish customs of the age, and that in a fair manner, without fear, favour or ill nature, and without scurrility, ill manners, or commonplace. I hope to expose the reigning follies in such a manner that men shall laugh themselves out of them before they feel that they are touched.”
The original title page
CONTENTS
PREFACE TO THE DEDICATION
DEDICATION TO THE PUBLIC
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
ACT I.
ACT II.
ACT III.
PREFACE TO THE DEDICATION
As no man hath a more stem and inflexible hatred to flattery than myself, it hath been usual with me to send most of my performances into the world without the ornament of those epistolary prefaces commonly called Dedications; a custom, however, highly censured by my bookseller, who affirms it a most unchristian practice: a patron is, says he, a kind of godfather to a book, and a good author ought as carefully to provide a patron to his works as a good parent should a godfather to his children: he carries this very far, and draws several resemblances between those two offices (for having, in the course of his trade with dramatic writers, purchased, at a moderate computation, the fee-simple of one hundred thousand similes, he is perhaps the most expert in their application, and most capable of showing likenesses, in things utterly unlike, of any man living).
What, says he, does more service to a book, or raises curiosity in the reader, equal with — Dedicated to his Grace the Duke of — , or the Eight Honourable the Earl of — , in an advertisement? I think the patron here may properly be said to give a name to the book — and if he gives a present also, what doth he less than a godfather? which present, if the author applies to his own use, what doth he other than the parent? He proceeds to show how a bookseller is a kind of dry-nurse to our works, with other instances which I shall omit, having already said enough to prove the exact analogy between children and books, and of the method of providing for each; which, I think, affords a sufficient precedent for throwing the following piece on the public, it having been usual for several very prudent parents to act by their children in the same manner.
DEDICATION TO THE PUBLIC
I HOPE you will pardon the presumption of this Dedication, since I really did not know in what manner to apply for your leave; and since I expect no present in return; (the reason, I conceive, which first introduced the ceremony of asking leave among Dedicators:) for surely it is somewhat absurd to ask a man leave to flatter him; and he must be a very impudent or simple fellow, or both, who will give it.
Asking leave to dedicate, therefore, is asking whether you will pay for your Dedication, and in that sense I believe it understood by both authors and patrons.
But farther, the very candid reception which you have given these pieces, pleads my excuse. The least civility to an author or his works hath been held, time immemorial, a just title to a Dedication, which is perhaps no more than an honest return of flattery, and in this light I am certain no one ever had so great (I may call it) an obligation as myself, seeing that you have honoured this my performance with your presence every night of its exhibition, where you have never failed showing the greatest delight and approbation; nor am I less obliged to you for those eulogiums which you have been heard in all places to — but hold, I am afraid this is an ingenious way which authors have discovered to convey inward flattery to themselves, while outwardly they address it to their patron: wherefore I shall be silent on this head, having more reasons to give why I chose you to patronise these pieces: and First, The design with which they are writ; for though all dramatic entertainments are properly calculated for the public, yet these, I may affirm, more particularly belong to you: as your diversion is not merely intended by them, their design being to convey some hints, which may, if you please, be of infinite service in the present state of that theatrical world whereof they treat, and which is, I think, at present so far from flourishing as one could wish, that I have with concern observed some steps lately taken, and others too justly apprehended, that may much endanger the constitution of the British theatre: for though Mr. — be a very worthy man and my very good friend, I cannot help thinking his manner of proceeding somewhat too arbitrary, and his method of buying actors at exorbitant prices to be of very ill consequence: for the town must reimburse him these expenses, on which account those advanced prices so much complained of must be always continued; which, though the people in their present flourishing state of trade and riches may very well pay, yet in worse times (if such can be supposed) I am afraid they may fall too heavy, the consequence of which I need not mention. Moreover, should any great genius produce a piece of most exquisite contrivance, and which would be highly relished by the public, though perhaps not agreeable to his own taste or private interest; if he should buy off the chief actors, such play, however excellent, must be unavoidably sunk, and the public lose all the benefit thereof.
Not to trouble the reader with more inconveniences arising from this Argumentum Argentarium, many of which are obvious enough — I shall only observe, that corruption has the same influence on all societies, all bodies, which it hath on corporeal bodies, where we see it always produce an entire destruction and total change; for which reason, whoever attempteth to introduce corruption into any community doth much the same thing, and ought to be treated in much the same manner with him who poisoneth a fountain, in order to disperse a contagion, which he is sure every one will drink of.
The last excuse I shall make for this presumption is the necessity I have of so potent a patron to defend me from the iniquitous surmises of a certain anonymous dialogous author, who, in the Gazetteer of the 17th instant, has represented the Historical Eegister as aiming, in conjunction with the Miller of Mansfield, the overthrow of the m — If this suggestion had been inserted in the Craftsman or Common-sense, or any of those papers which nobody reads, it might have passed unanswered; but as it appears in a paper of so general a reception as the Gazetteer, which lies in the window of almost every post-house in England, it behoves me, I think, in the most serious manner, to vindicate myself from aspersions of so evil a tendency to my future prospects. And here I must observe, that had not mankind been either very blind or very dishonest, I need not have publicly informed them that the Register is a ministerial pamphlet, calculated to infuse into the minds of the people a great opinion of their ministry, and thereby procure an employment for the Author, who has been often promised one, whenever he would write on that side. And first,
Can any thing be plainer than the first stanza of the ode?
This is a day, in days of yore,
Our fathers never saw before;
This is a day ‘Tis one to ten,
Our sons will never see again.
Plainly intimating that such times as these never were seen before, nor will ever be seen again; for which the present age are certainly obliged to their ministry.
What can be meant by the scene of politicians, but to ridicule the absurd and inadequate notions persons among us, who have not the honour to know ‘em, have of the ministry and their measures, nay, I have put some sentiments into the mouths of these characters which I was a little apprehensive were too low even for a conversation at an ale-house — I hope the Gazetteer will not find any resemblance here, as I hope he will not make such a compliment to any m — , as to suppose that such persons have been ever capable of the assurance of aiming at being at the head of a great people, or to any nation, as to suspect ‘em contentedly living under such an administration. The eagerness which these gentlemen express at applying all manner of evil characters to their patrons brings to my mind a story I have somewhere read: As two g
entlemen were walking the street together, the one said to the other upon spying the figure of an ass hung out — Bob, Bob, look yonder, some impudent rascal has hung out your picture on a sign-post: the grave companion, who had the misfortune to be extremely short-sighted, fell into a violent rage, and calling for the master of the house, threatened to prosecute him for exposing his features in that public manner: the poor landlord, as you may well conceive, was extremely astonished, and denied the fact; upon which the witty spark, who had just mentioned the resemblance, appeals to the mob now assembled together, who soon smoked the jest, and agreed with him that the sign was the exact picture of the gentleman: at last a good-natured man, taking compassion of the poor figure, whom he saw the jest of the multitude, whispered in his ear; Sir, I see your eyes are bad, and that your friend is a rascal, and imposes on you; the sign hung out is the sign of an ass, nor will your picture be here unless you draw it yourself.
But I ask pardon for troubling the reader with an impertinent story, which can be applied only in the above-mentioned instance to my present subject. I proceed in my defence to the scene of the patriots; a scene which I thought would have made my fortune, seeing that the favourite scheme of turning patriotism into a jest is so industriously pursued, and I will challenge all the ministerial advocates to show me, in the whole bundle of their writings, one passage where false patriotism (for I suppose they have not the impudence to mean any other) is set in a more contemptible and odious light than in the aforesaid scene. I hope too it will be remarked, that the politicians are represented as a set of blundering blockheads rather deserving pity than abhorrence, whereas the others are represented as a set of cunning, self-interested fellows, who for a little paltry bribe would give up the liberties and properties of their country. Here is the danger, here is the rock on which our constitution must, if ever it does, split.
The liberties of a people have been subdued by the conquest of valour and force, and have been betrayed by the subtle and dexterous arts of refined policy, but these are rare instances; for geniuses of this kind are not the growth of every age, whereas, if a general corruption be once introduced, and those who should be the guardians and bulwarks of our liberty, once find, or think they find, an interest in giving it up, no great capacity will De required to destroy it: on the contrary, the meanest, lowest, dirtiest fellow, if such a one should ever have the assurance in future ages to mimic power, and brow-beat his betters, will be as able, as Machiavel himself could have been, to root out the liberties of the bravest people.
But I am aware I shall be asked, Who is this Quidam, that turns the patriots into ridicule, and bribes them out of their honesty? Who but the devil could act such a part? Is not this the light wherein he is every where described in Scripture, and the writings of our best divines! Gold hath been always his favourite bait wherewith he fisheth for sinners; and his laughing at the poor wretches he seduceth is as diabolical an attribute as any. Indeed it is so plain who is meant by this Quidam, that he who maketh any wrong application thereof, might as well mistake the name of Thomas for John, or old Nick for old Bob.
I think I have said enough to assure every impartial person of my innocence, against all malicious insinuations; and farther to convince them that I am a ministerial writer, (an honour I am highly ambitious of attaining) I shall proceed now to obviate an opinion entertained by too many, that a certain person is sometimes the author, often the corrector of the press, and always the patron, of the GAZETTEER. To show the folly of this supposition, I shall only insist, that all persons, though they should not afford him any extraordinary genius, nor any (the least) taste in polite literature, will grant me this datum, that the said certain person is a man of an ordinary capacity and a moderate share of common-sense: which if allowed, I think it will follow that it is impossible he should either write or countenance a paper written, not only without the least glimmering of genius, the least pretension to taste, but in direct opposition to all common-sense whatever.
If any one should ask me, How then is it carried on? I shall only answer with my politicians, I cannot tell, unless by the assistance of the old gentleman, just before mentioned, who would, I think, alone protect or patronise, as I think, indeed, he is the only person who could invent some of the schemes avowed in that paper; which, if it does not immediately disappear, I do intend shortly to attempt conjuring it down, intending to publish a paper in defence of the m — y against the wicked, malicious, and sly insinuations conveyed in the said paper.
You will excuse a digression so necessary to take off surmises which may prove so prejudicial to my fortune; which, however, if I should not be able to accomplish, I hope you will make me some amends for what I suffer by endeavouring your entertainment. The very great indulgence you have shown my performances at the little theatre, these two last years, has encouraged me to the proposal of a subscription for carrying on that theatre, for beautifying and enlarging it, and procuring a better company of actors. If you think proper to subscribe to these proposals, I assure you no labour shall be spared on my side, to entertain you in a cheaper and better manner than seems to be the intention of any other. If nature hath given me any talents at ridiculing vice and imposture, I shall not be indolent, nor afraid of exerting them, while the liberty of the press and stage subsists, that is to say, while we have any liberty left among us. I am, to the public,
A most sincere Friend,
And devoted Servant.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
MEN
MEDLEY — Mr. Roberts.
SOUR WIT — Mr. Lacey.
LORD DAPPER — Mr. Ward.
GROUND-IVY — Mr. Jones.
HEN, the Auctioneer — Mrs. Charke.
APOLLO’S BASTARD SON — Mr. Blakes.
PISTOL — Mr. Davis.
QUIDAM — Mr. Smith.’ Mr. Jones.
MR. TOPPING.
POLITICIANS
PATRIOTS
BANTER — Mr. Smith.
DANGLE — Mr. Lowther.
WOMEN
MRS. SCREEN — Mrs. Haywood.
MRS. BARTER — Miss Kawer. Mrs. Charke., Mrs. Haywood.
Ladies — Mrs. Laccy. Miss Jones.
Prompter, Actors, &c.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
The Play-house.
Enter several PLAYERS.
1 PLAYER. Mr. Emphasis, good-morrow; you are early at the rehearsal this morning.
EMPHASIS. Why, faith, Jack, our beer and beef sat but ill on my stomach, so I got up to try if I could not walk it off.
1 PLAYER. I wish I had any thing in my stomach to walk off; if matters do not get better with us shortly, my teeth will forget their office.
2 PLAYER. These are poor times, indeed, not like the days of Pasquin.
1 PLAYER. Oh! name ‘em not! those were glorious days indeed, the days of beef and punch; my friends, when come there such again?
2 PLAYER. Who knows what this new author may produce? Faith, I like my part very well.
1 PLAYER. Nay, if variety will please the town, I am sure there is enough of it; but I could wish, methinks, the satire had been a little stronger, a little plainer.
2 PLAYER. Now I think it is plain enough.
1 PLAYER. Hum! Ay, it is intelligible; but I would have it downright; ‘gad, I fancy I could write a thing to succeed myself.
2 PLAYER. Ay; pry’thee, what subject wouldst thou write on?
1 PLAYER. Why no subject at all, sir; but I would have a humming deal of satire, and I would repeat in every page, that courtiers are cheats and don’t pay their debts, that lawyers are rogues, physicians blockheads, soldiers cowards, and ministers —
2 PLAYER. What, what, sir?
1 PLAYER. Nay, I’ll only name ‘em, that’s enough to set the audience a hooting.
2 PLAYER. Zounds, sir, here is wit enough for a whole play in one speech.
1 PLAYER. For one play! why, sir, it’s all I have extracted out of above a dozen.
2 PLAYER. Who have we here?<
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1 PLAYER. Some gentlemen, I suppose, come to hear the rehearsal.
Enter SOURWIT and LORD DAPPER.
LORD DAPPER. Pray, gentlemen, don’t you rehearse the Historical Register this morning?
1 PLAYER. Sir, we expect the author every minute.
SOURWIT . What is this Historical Register? is it a tragedy, or a comedy?
1 PLAYER. Upon my word, sir, I can’t tell.
SOURWIT . Then I suppose you have no part in it?
1 PLAYER. Yes, sir, I have several; but — O, here is the author himself, I suppose he can tell, sir.
SOURWIT . Faith, sir, that’s more than I suppose.
Enter MEDLEY.
MEDLEY. My lord, your most obedient servant; this is a very great and unexpected favour indeed, my lord. Mr. Sourwit, I kiss your hands; I am very glad to see you here.
SOURWIT . That’s more than you may be by and by, perhaps.
LORD DAPPER. We are come to attend your rehearsal, sir; pray, when will it begin?
MEDLEY. This very instant, my lord: gentlemen, I beg you would be all ready, and let the Prompter bring me some copies for these gentlemen.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 341
