Now! Then! Actor-manager Tate Wilkinson opens Puritan Leeds’ first proper theatre with comic impressions of leading Methodists

Excerpt

I cannot forbear remarking, before I break up my camp at Leeds and march for winter quarters, that we were much preached and writ against, by able performers in their way; which to me, on retrospection, was a matter of surprise, for I should have expected the contrary effect. In my opinion it is truly ridiculous in either party, players or Methodists, to retort or quarrel: for a player’s holding up his supposed enemy to ridicule, will only make his venom the stronger; and the player’s antagonist, for all his meekness and humility, will, cur-like, bite the player if he can; and every whelpish disposition can do some mischief, though not so much as they may be inclined to: Blessed be God it proves so for the good of all sects and opinions. Therefore a preacher attempting to frighten his hearers with pitch-forks and a good roasting, &c. answers no kind of purpose; as the true methodist has no sort of occasion for such a remonstrance – he sees and feels all the hell of a playhouse from sensation, without its being pointed out, or ever entering on such dangerous ground, where surely his purity would save him; but he, with great composure, without asking his Maker’s leave, or indeed without any leave at all, commits the actors, audience, and all into the bottomless pit.

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To facilitate reading, the spelling and punctuation of elderly excerpts have generally been modernised, and distracting excision scars concealed. My selections, translations, and editions are copyright.
Abbreviations:

ER: East Riding
GM: Greater Manchester
NR: North Riding
NY: North Yorkshire
SY: South Yorkshire
WR: West Riding
WY: West Yorkshire

Comment

Horace Walpole saw Wesley perform at Bath in 1766:

My health advances faster than my amusement. However, I have been at one opera, Mr. Wesley’s. They have boys and girls with charming voices, that sing hymns, in parts, to Scotch ballad tunes; but indeed so long, that one would think they were already in eternity, and knew how much time they had before them. The chapel is very neat, with true Gothic windows (yet I am not converted); but I was glad to see that luxury is creeping in upon them before persecution: they have very neat mahogany stands for branches, and brackets of the same in taste. At the upper end is a broad hautpas of four steps, advancing in the middle; at each end of the broadest part are two of my eagles [i.e. like those at his mansion at Strawberry Hill, London], with red cushions for the parson and clerk. Behind them rise three more steps, in the midst of which is a third eagle for pulpit. Scarlet armed chairs to all three. On either hand, a balcony for elect ladies. The rest of the congregation sit on forms. Behind the pit, in a dark niche, is a plain table within rails; so you see the throne is for the apostle. Wesley is a lean elderly man, fresh-coloured, his hair smoothly combed, but with a soupçon of curl at the ends. Wondrous clean, but as evidently an actor as Garrick. He spoke his sermon, but so fast, and with so little accent, that I am sure he has often uttered it, for it was like a lesson. There were parts and eloquence in it; but towards the end he exalted his voice, and acted very ugly enthusiasm; decried learning, and told stories, like Latimer, of the fool of his college, who said, “I thanks God for every thing.” Except a few from curiosity, and some honourable women, the congregation was very mean (Walpole 1798).

Wilkinson (p. 100) gives Wednesday, 24 July. Other sources incorrectly cite May.

Here are some anti-Methodist theatricals from Tate Wilkinson’s York puppeteer colleague, Harry Rowe:

MARROWBONE: Well might our master talk against conscience; he is one of the most unconscionable rogues that ever broke bread. Suppose you and I, Caxon, were to preserve the small stock of conscience we have left, and turn Methodists. You have an excellent voice for a groan, and I think I can do something as a preacher. Methodism is one of the best religions upon earth, for good eating. You remember Strap, a thin meagre fellow of a barber, that lived, or rather existed, at the next door; he is now grown so sleek and fat, by constantly preaching against the good things of this world, that I protest I mistook him the other day for Mr. Swill, the mild-ale brewer in the Minories. Besides, it is whispered abroad, that the leading men of the Tabernacle intend to petition Parliament, “That every man may have two wives;” a winter wife, and a summer wife.
CAXON: But if Parliament, Mr. Marrowbone, should not grant their petition: What then?
MARROWBONE: In that case, Caxon, they will UNANIMOUSLY RESOLVE “To have no wives at all.”
(Rowe 1806)

Priestley’s Good Companions are amongst Wilkinson’s heirs.

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Original

I will now adjourn from the assizes at York, 1771, to the opening of Leeds Theatre, Wednesday July 24, of the same year. The play was [Hugh Kelly’s] A word to the wise, with Mr. Murphy’s farce of What we must all come to. The Theatre was built very neat – aye, and very splendid, comparatively speaking to the very mean places, such as the barns, warehouses, &c. to which they had been accustomed. However, with the help of good scenery, wardrobe, and in truth, a very excellent company, with a various and strong catalogue of plays, the houses were well attended, and gave hopes that the seeds of promise were sown and would produce a plentiful harvest and a lasting produce. Four weeks only as manager was my first experiment. I was not aided then or since by much assistance as to personal connections there, but am from long intercourse well known by every body as to general acquaintance; and if I wanted credit in any tradesman’s books, have not the least doubt but I might pay myself the compliment to declare, that not any shop would refuse, but be glad of the custom of Tate Wilkinson, manager of the Leeds Theatre. But at that period it was not so; for the inhabitants not being accustomed to any players of tolerable credit, and the lower order having suffered greatly by the depredations of dishonesty, and perhaps real distress and penury in the extreme, made every one shy of giving credit or countenance; which was rather strange, considering the vicinity of the opulent town of Leeds to the city of York. As to patrons I had none, and was an entire stranger, except to Alderman Kenyon and his lady, who were at that time particularly kind, not only as to constant friendly invitations, but were also strenuous props to the Theatre at that necessary juncture, never failing in their due attendance for mine and the company’s welfare. Past kindnesses should never be forgot, as indeed at that time neither the wind, the rain, nor the weather ever kept Mr. or Mrs. Kenyon from the Theatre; and whenever I despaired of success, I well remember Mr. Kenyon remarked and prophesied, that in time, with perseverance and tolerable attention to the entertainment of the public, the town of Leeds would be held more lucrative and respectable in the opinion of players than I then seemed to apprehend.

The generous and friendly Mr. Barstow (then Town-Clerk of Leeds) of truly respectable memory, had a hand as open as day, as likewise Mrs. Barstow, his first wife, who I can really aver was sincere and friendly to Mrs. Wilkinson, me, and mine: Indeed Mr. Barstow’s house ever had the hinges ready to fly and open the friendly doors to let me in, even at any hour; and my hours (unless to a Londoner) were then as now, very strange: and notwithstanding it is an evil habit, yet to me it is luxurious, even though assured without a lecturer, that the practice hurts my health, which is not as a lusty winter. My wine is often rebellious; by the bye the reader must understand I am not by any means a drunken man, but from accident (almost now and then unavoidable) I live more freely than my stomach and health would permit, were strict prudence the guide. Indeed I by no means dislike the chimney-corner of life, particularly where that corner affords me every necessary. There was a gentleman, at that time, whom I likewise esteemed as a great support to the Leeds Theatre; I now return him thanks for his former kindnesses.

[After four weeks they repair to York races.] We struck our tents after our successful York campaign, and marched full of vigour and valour once more to Leeds, where, flushed with conquest from a tolerably promising campaign at the beginning, we prepared for further conquest; for the success at York had neither satiated me nor my troops; they came to Leeds not only on command and duty, but to pillage and lay the good inhabitants under contribution for their benefits. But in that point we were egregiously mistaken, for there did not appear any open arms to receive us, nor did the numerous host of that good town relish our return; and what was worse they would not comply with our levying of taxes that autumn, so as to purchase provender for our winter support, but left us to the mercies of a rainy season, as the following facts will shew.

I judged it prudent when we attacked for benefits at Leeds, to begin with an old veteran, Mr. Robertson, for the onset, as well known in Yorkshire then, as a Munden or a Fawcett is in London now; not doubting but such a well-founded favourite would lead the van with triumph, Indeed neither he nor any of the troop entertained the least doubt as to his success; but fatal to tell, the high hung banner and recorded gold, with all our loud applause, did quick to ruin fall and blast our hopes. For lo! fifteen pounds was the receipt of Robertson’s play. That direful omen shook not only the prowess of my army, whose benefits were all depending, but made me quake and feel humble.

Not that the bad success of a theatre ever much affected my philosophy, for I never knew a bad house disconcert my spirits, nor a good one raise them. The remark is not mine, but the observation of the whole company of comedians under my kind fostering guardianship; and the reason is, when I perceive a bad house or houses, I hope for a change, the same as when tired with rain, heat, or any other severe or disagreeable weather; as it is ridiculous for an individual to plague himself, even though a farmer, as the round of the year’s produce is to prove the famine, the devastation, or the smiling plentiful harvest. But to the actor who has but one night in a theatric season, and his family (perhaps his finances) trembling, it is of more serious consequence than many of the public are aware. As to myself, if the sum total of the year produces a tolerable granary for the supply of homely board, I have all the sing-song of a Frenchman; and though lame, can amuse myself with an opera-dance, and by the help of wit, wine, music, poetry, and each perfection, all combined by my heated imagination, make myself the Lord Ogleby [the old lecher in The clandestine marriage] at half-past twelve o’clock in a cloudy morning. So of writers, one is good, another is bad, another is execrable, but it is universally remarked, that every writer, good, bad, or indifferent, has a peculiar style. Now on that excellence I value myself: For my dear reader, whether of cross or ill-natured disposition, do for once forgive, look in your mind’s eye and laugh at me, and candidly own you do allow me an original; and surely thať small boon every one will grant without my petitioning, and also that the style is entirely my own, and will not be pilfered from me by any writer whatever. But in this rhapsody I think it proper to declare, that I write it merely as an amusement, and not with the least expectation of amassing treasure, even in French Assignats: consequently I pay and keep myself warm with self-compliments, else I should freeze. Indeed I fear now and then I repeat in several places the same observations, but it is the hurry of a wild incoherent imagination.

[Anecdote about Lord Percy and a vanity ring]

I here perceive that I have made a long stride with my lame leg, or if you please a hop, step, and jump, and left all my actors, my ladies and gentlemen at Leeds in the greatest distress, relative to their several dependencies as to their benefits. Indeed the theme was not the most agreeable, and therefore I took a few minutes to be agreeable with myself; but now I am got back again, and am really sorry to relate, that Mr. Robertson’s 15l. house which we all attributed to the fault of the poor battered play of Romeo and Juliet, living in hopes that warmer days would come;-yet all our golden dreams were frustrated; for 10l. 11l. 12l. and 14l. benefits, three or four excepted, lasted to the end of that Leeds chapter, 1771. I gave up all hopes, and will leave the ill or good success of that theatre, as we always leave the hero of the play in the third or fourth act; where, without the assistance of a drawn dagger or a poisoned bowl, it will be found difficult to extricate him. For there I think, as Dryden in some one of his prefaces expresses it, lies the difficulty, as death is ever at hand on or off the stage. But to save is more difficult than to destroy; so says the creed of all thinking mankind.

I cannot forbear remarking, before I break up my camp at Leeds and march for winter quarters, that we were much preached and writ against, by able performers in their way; which to me, on retrospection, was a matter of surprise, for I should have expected the contrary effect. In my opinion it is truly ridiculous in either party, players or Methodists, to retort or quarrel: for a player’s holding up his supposed enemy to ridicule, will only make his venom the stronger; and the player’s antagonist, for all his meekness and humility, will, cur-like, bite the player if he can; and every whelpish disposition can do some mischief, though not so much as they may be inclined to: Blessed be God it proves so for the good of all sects and opinions. Therefore a preacher attempting to frighten his hearers with pitch-forks and a good roasting, &c. answers no kind of purpose; as the true methodist has no sort of occasion for such a remonstrance – he sees and feels all the hell of a playhouse from sensation, without its being pointed out, or ever entering on such dangerous ground, where surely his purity would save him; but he, with great composure, without asking his Maker’s leave, or indeed without any leave at all, commits the actors, audience, and all into the bottomless pit.

To those who like a play, (sanctioned by a good King, Lords, and Commons) the rigor and vehemence of invective only gives twice the inclination to go. So, as Lady Townly [the gambling and wasteful wife in Cibber’s The provoked husband] says, “All this mending and mending, is only just like darning an old ruffle to make it worse than it was before.” For instance, a Mr. Nicholas Manners of Hull, did me the honour to write and publish what he judged a severe letter to me, on my Memoirs, thinking, I suppose, to mortify. But in that kind intention he was most egregiously mistaken; for addressing a letter to me, as an author, was a compliment I never expected: So, instead of wounding, it was a circumstance of triumph to my pride, and made me think for that time, I was really an author, a somebody, by such an unexpected rap at my door. Indeed I liked the pamphlet so well, that I had it immediately bound up with my book, as a mark of self-honour when I am departed hence.

I really think my Whitfield and Wesley bore several marks of character, and was as strong an impression of good characteristic imitation, take it all together, as has been given in print of those two gentlemen. Not that I ever held Mr. Whitfield or Mr. Wesley in disesteem, quite the contrary: Nor do I hold Methodists in any disrespect because they do not like to see plays: It is true that I think they are rather uncharitable, yet I believe there are worthy people amongst them, and should be glad if many who go to a play were as praise-worthy. Quakers seldom go to plays, but I can safely vow and declare I rarely see a Quaker of either sex, but the appearance creates in me true respect; their neatness and apparent goodness seems to command it, and I wish to doff my hat I know not why:–A compliment and a foolish ceremony that a Quaker would smile at, and willingly excuse such trifling. I have met with some great compliments in Voltaire to the Quakers, I believe in his Huguenot. He, with all his great genius, wit, and understanding was not very moral, but a little of the reprobate; yet he could not resist a compliment as due to the religion, the purity, and the manners of Quakers. There is a gentleman of the church, I should have had reason to make complaint against, but that his foaming at the mouth, and being over earnest, has created me friends, and himself the contrary; which will ever be the case with over-burning zeal. I could have been warranted had I even complained to the Archbishop of York for redress: Perhaps accident may occasion this book being honoured with a perusal at the Archbishop’s palace, and this page may be then read; if so, what must his Grace think of a Mr. Garwood, (I believe that is the GENTLEMAN’s name) of the Low-Church at Hull, in January 1792, daring to pronounce, that “No player or any of his children ought to be entitled to a Christian burial, or even to lie in a church-yard!” that “Not one could be saved!” and that “Every one who entered a playhouse was, with the players, equally certain of eternal damnation!” and that “No PLAYER COULD BE AN HONEST MAN.” I should truly be angry with myself if when I saw Dr. Hey of Leeds, I did not admire his good works as a Christian; esteem him for his ingenuous and praise-worthy actions, and for the many undoubted proofs he has given and daily gives as a man of learning and science in his profession as a physician. This cannot be flattery, for I have not any acquaintance with him, or am I likely in our different walks, ever to have such an honour; but I take this opportunity to pay myself a compliment, and a great one, in publicly declaring, I bow to the worth and talents of Dr. Hey, and am sensible of his merits; and though that gentleman can employ his time in doing universal good, yet he does not go to plays.

Doth not evil enter the doors of a tabernacle, church, or palace, as well as a playhouse? Verily yea! Be quiet, I know it, I have often been there. As the Archbishop of York is as remarkable for his goodness and benevolence as he is a judge also of justice and good will for the benefit of mankind, I rest assured that his Grace will not think virulence and spleen a credit to such a pastor of his flock, as it makes him a disgrace to the pulpit and the gown.

“Pious Orgies,” “Angels bright as fair,” and “Father of Heaven,” &c. are equal to all the hymns of a sequestered tabernacle, and truly elevate the soul. Mr. Whitfield said, when Love in a Village, and the Maid of the Mill were the rage of that time – “Why should the devil’s house have all the good tunes?” Since which it has been customary for their songs and full choruses to be as lifted from the light easy tunes selected from our favourite stage operas. A Methodist, if a printer[Be it remarked that Mr. Wilkinson, in 1771, had a printer who was a rigid Methodist; but as he made no return, Mr. Wilkinson did not continue him in that business.], would not, I dare say, have the least objection to print play-bills for the devil’s house! I have now before me a very blasphemous bill, called “The Assize-week,” but think it too wicked for my book.

Fools to one party only should confide,
For if one fails they’re feed on the other side.

Immediate notice of Mr. Garwood would have been too great a compliment. Indeed I think my being patentee of a theatre, established by the Lords and Commons, and an entertainment in London, attended by the best of men and Kings, and in fact authorised by our reverend Bishops in Parliament, might have curbed such licentious behaviour, under the specious cover of a servant to his God. I say again, had I felt mortified and taken proper notice of Mr. Garwood, he would have cut but an awkward figure, if accused as a calumniator, and an injurer of me, my family, and the comedians in our lawful established profession. That the stage has its errors, cannot be denied–Pray, what is exempt?

I should not have mentioned the above circumstance so long before its time and place, as indeed I have no business with religious opinions on any account – truly it becomes me not: I beg leave therefore to assure all good Methodists, that I hold them in great respect; and if they will pray for me in earnest, I will accept and thank them for their prayers; but not meaning to enter again on a subject which I acknowledge improper, I could not resist this opportunity of bringing Mr. Garwood into good company where he is not, that I night pay him my thankful compliments and have done with him. I have here had my turn. I forgive him freely-of that he may rest assured; and if he is a good man, I think he must feel compunction, and favour me with absolution,–but that I much doubt, as he was the intended injurer–here, Sir,

—–learn the difference ‘twixt my faith and thine:
Thine bids thee lift the dagger to my throat;
Mine can forgive the wrong, and bid thee live!

And that remark, Mr. Garwood, you may find in a play – So farewell to the little good you bear me – Farewell, thou little, good, great preacher —- But to good preachers of every denomination permit me to observe, that whenever a furious, self-created fanatic suffers his zeal to run so far out of course, as to permit religion to lose its purity, the preacher, by such procedure, to a certainty lessens to our view, and he wantonly and vainly lowers the dignity and noble firm of the truly devout: My petition is, that others would deal as honestly and honourably by me, as I would do unto them. Would man in every degree of life, how great or how little, act truly up to that standard, there could not be found persons of bad principles either in Europe, Africa, America, or indeed throughout the world, and it would prove a better and more effectual regulation for the entire abolition of the Slave-Trade, than any one that has hitherto been proposed by Lords or Commons. – A woeful day for preachers!

I here suddenly perceive that by my musings I have wandered most egregiously out of my road – perhaps the ill fortune at Leeds put me out of temper. — But let me fee, – O aye! I was relating the bad success of my new Leeds Theatre, which continued not only that season, but for a course of years; now it is in a more respectable and flourishing state: However it underwent many fluctuations and changes of fortune ere it reached the age of maturity; so I will not give any more of its history ever at the present, but from the first year of its entrance into the world will bring it gradually on with the revolving sun and the revolving moon[TW: See Mr. Sheridan’s Critic.] till I hand it to posterity with all its good and bad fortune on its back, and hope to catch the wonder of my reader when I relate all its fluctuations.

3452 words.

Now! Then! 2024! - Yorkshire On This Day

24 July 1771: Actor-manager Tate Wilkinson opens Puritan Leeds’ first proper theatre with comic impressions of leading Methodists

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