In happy climes, the seat of innocence, There shall be sung another golden age, Not such as Europe breeds in her decay- Westward the course of empire takes its way, A fifth shall close the drama with the day- ISAAC BICKERSTAFF. (1735?-1800?) THE accounts of the life of Isaac Bickerstaff, the well-known playwright, are somewhat vague. He was born in Dublin in 1735 (some say 1732), and the date of his death is as uncertain (some say 1800 and others 1812). In 1746 he became page to Lord Chesterfield when that nobleman was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and later on in life he was an officer of the marines. From this post he was dismissed for some dishonorable action; he left his country and died abroad. · He was the author of some twenty-two comedies, farces, operas, etc., many of them highly successful. His three old-fashioned English comic operas, 'Love in a Village,' 'The Maid of the Mill,' and 'Lionel and Clarissa,' are declared by a clever yet sober critic to be "of the first class, which will continue to be popular as long as the language in which they are written lasts." Love in a Village,' which appeared in 1762, and was played frequently during its first season, still enjoys a high reputation and is a stock piece on the English stage, although it is said to be at best only a clever compilation of scenes and incidents from a number of other plays. Three of Bickerstaff's farces, The Padlock,' 'The Sultan,' and 'The Spoiled Child,' held the stage for a long time. Bickerstaff once attempted oratorio; his 'Judith' was set to music by Dr. Arne, and performed first at the Lock Hospital Chapel in February, 1764, and afterward at the church of Stratford-on-Avon on the occasion of Garrick's "Jubilee in honor of the memory of Shakspere, " in 1769. In 1765 The Maid of the Mill' was produced at Covent Garden, and ran the unusual period of thirty-five nights. It is chiefly founded on Richardson's novel 'Pamela.' 'The Plain Dealer' and 'The Hypocrite,' both alterations of other plays, the latter of Colley Cibber's 'Nonjuror,' are well known and still keep the stage. One of Bickerstaff's best comedies, 'Tis Well it's no Worse,' is founded on a Spanish original. Indeed, of all his works, only 'Lionel and Clarissa' can be said to be thoroughly and completely original. This real name should not be confounded with the pseudonym used by Swift in his 'Predictions' ridiculing Partridge, the almanac maker; nor with the assumed name under which Steele later edited the Tatler '-the same in both cases. MR. MAWWORM. From The Hypocrite.' OLD LADY LAMBERT and DR. CANTWELL in conference. Enter MAWWORM. Old Lady Lambert. How do you do, Mr. Mawworm? Mawworm. Thank your ladyship's axing, I'm but deadly poorish, indeed; the world and I can't agree-I have got the books, doctor, and Mrs. Grunt bid me give her sarvice to you, and thanks you for the eighteenpence. Dr. Cantwell. Hush! friend Mawworm! not a word more; you know I hate to have my little charities blazed about: a poor widow, madam, to whom I sent my mite. Old Lady Lambert. Give her this. (Offers a purse to Mawworm.) Dr Cantwell. I'll take care it shall be given to her. (Takes the purse.) Old Lady Lambert. But what is the matter with you, Mr. Mawworm? Mawworm. I don't know what's the matter with me; I'm breaking my heart; I think it's a sin to keep a shop. Old Lady Lambert. Why, if you think it's a sin, indeed; pray, what's your business? Mawworm. We deals in grocery, tea, small-beer, charcoal, butter, brick-dust, and the like. Old Lady Lambert. Well; you must consult with your friendly director here. Mawworm. I wants to go a-preaching. Old Lady Lambert. Do you? Mawworm. I'm almost sure I have had a call. Old Lady Lambert. Ay! Mawworm. I have made several sermons already. I does them extrumpery, because I can't write; and now the devils in our alley says as how my head 's turned. Old Lady Lambert. Ay, devils indeed; but don't you mind them. Mawworm. No, I don't; I rebukes them, and preaches to them, whether they will or not. We lets our house in lodgings to single men, and sometimes I gets them together, with one or two of the neighbors, and makes them all cry. Old Lady Lambert. Did you ever preach in public? Mawworm. I got up on Kennington Common the last review day; but the boys threw brick bracks at me, and pinned crackers to my tail; and I have been afraid to mount, your ladyship, ever since. Old Lady Lambert. Do you hear this, Doctor? throw brickbats at him, and pin crackers to his tail! Can these things be stood by ? Mawworm. I told them so; says I, I does nothing clandecently; I stands here contagious to his majesty's guards, and I charges you upon your apparels not to mislist me. Old Lady Lambert. And it had no effect? Mawworm. No more than if I spoke to so many postesses; but if he advises me to go a-preaching, and quit my shop, I'll make an excressance farther into the country. Old Lady Lambert. An excursion you would say. Mawworm. I am but a sheep, but my bleating shall be heard afar off, and that sheep shall become a shepherd; nay, if it be only, as it were, a shepherd's dog, to bark the stray lambs into the fold. Old Lady Lambert. He wants method, Doctor. Dr. Cantwell. Yes, madam, but there is matter; and I despise not the ignorant. Mawworm. He's a saint. Dr. Cantwell. Oh! Old Lady Lambert. Oh! Mawworm. If ever there was a saint, he's one. Till I went after him I was little better than the devil; my conscience was tanned with sin like a piece of neat's leather, and had no more feeling than the sole of my shoe; always a-roving after fantastical delights; I used to go every Sunday evening to the Three Hats at Islington; it's a public-house; mayhap your ladyship may know it. I was a great lover of skittles too, but now I can't bear them. Old Lady Lambert. What a blessed reformation! Mawworm. I believe, Doctor, you never know'd as how I was instigated one of the stewards of the Reforming Society. I convicted a man of five oaths, as last Thursday was a se'nnight, at the Pewter Platter in the Borough; and another of three, while he was playing trapball in St. George's Fields; I bought this waistcoat out of my share of the money. Old Lady Lambert. But how do you mind your business? Mawworm. We have lost almost all our customers; because I keeps extorting them whenever they come into the shop. Old Lady Lambert. And how do you live? Mawworm. Better than ever we did: while we were worldly minded, my wife and I (for I am married to as likely a woman as you shall see in a thousand) could hardly make things do at all; but since this good man has brought us into the road of the righteous, we have always plenty of everything; and my wife goes as well dressed as a gentlewoman. We have had a child too. Old Lady Lambert. Merciful! Mawworm. And yet, if you would hear how the neighbors reviles my wife; saying as how she sets no store by me, because we have words now and then: but, as I says, if such was the case, would she ever have cut me down that there time as I was melancholy, and she found me hanging behind the door? I don't believe there's a wife in the parish would have done so by her husband. Dr. Cantwell. I believe 't is near dinner-time; and Sir John will require my attendance. Mawworm. Oh! I am troublesome; nay, I only come to you, Doctor, with a message from Mrs. Grunt. I wish your ladyship heartily and heartily farewell: Doctor, a good day to you. Old Lady Lambert. Mr. Mawworm, call on me some time this afternoon; I want to have a little private discourse with you; and pray, my service to your spouse. Mawworm. I will, madam; you are a malefactor to all goodness; I'll wait upon your ladyship; I will indeed. (Going, returns.) Oh! Doctor, that's true; Susy desired me to give her kind love and respects to you. (Exit.) SONG. From 'Love in a Village.' There was a jolly miller once, He worked and sang, from morn to night; No lark so blithe as he. And this the burden of his song, Forever used to be, "I care for nobody, not I, If no one cares for me." |