JOHN GAY.

THIS gentleman, descended from an ancient family iu Devonshire, was born at Exeter, and received his education at the free-school of Barnstaple, in that county, under the care of Mr. William Rayner. He was bred a mercer a the Strand; but having a small fortune independent of business, and considering the attendance on a shop as a degradation of those talents which he found himself possessed of, he quitted that occupation, and applied himself to other views, and to the indulgence of his inclination for the Muses. Mr. Gay was born in the year 1688. In 1713 wt and him secretary, or rather domestic steward, to the Dutchess of Monmonth; in which station he continued till the deginning of the year 1714, at which time he accompanied the Earl of Clarendon to Hanover, whither that nobleman Was dispatched by Queen Anne, In the latter end of the same year, in consequence of the Queen's death, he returned ta England, where he lived in the highest estimation and intimacy of friendship with many persons of the Erst distinction both in rank and abilities. He was even particularly taken notice of by Queen Caroline, then Princess of Wing, to whom he had the honour of reading in manuscript his tragedy of The Captives; and in 1726 dedicated his Felin, by permission, to the Duke of Cumberland. From this countenance shown to him, and numberless promises made iam ol preferment, it was reasonable to suppose. that he would have been genteelly provided for in some office waitable to his inclination and abilities. Instead of which, in 1727, he was offered the place of gentleman-usher to see of the youngest princesses; an office which, as he looked on it as rather an indignity to a man whose talents might have been so much better employed, he thought proper to refuse; and some pretty warm remonstrances were made on the occasion by his sincere friends and jealous patrons the Duke and Dutchess of Queensberry, which terminsted in these two noble presonages withdrawing from court in disgust. Mr. Gay's dependence on the promises of the great, and the disappointments he met with, he has figuratively described in his fable of The Hare with many Friends.

the very extraordinary success he met with from public encouragement made an ample amends, both with respect to satisfaction and omolument, for those private disappointments: for, in the season of 1727-28, appeared his Beggar's Opera, the success of which was not only unprecedented, but almost incredible, It had an uninterrupted run in London of sixty-three nights in the first season, and was renewed in the ensuing one with equal approbation. It spread into all the great towns of England; was played in many places to the thirtieth and fortieth time, and at Bath and Bristol fifty; made its progress into Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, in which last place it was acted for twenty-four successive nights, and last of all it was performed at Minorea. Nor was the fame of it confined to the reading and representation alone, for the card-table and the drawing-room shared with the theatre and the closet in this respect; the ladies carried about the favourite songs of it engraven on their fan-mounts, and screens and other pieces of furniture were decorated with the same. Miss Fenton, who acted Polly, though till then perfectly obscure, became all at once the idol of the town; her pictures were engraven, and sold in great numbers; her life written; books of letters and verses to her published; and pamphlets made of even her very sayings and jests; nay, she herself was received to a station, in consequence of which she, before her death, attained the highest rank a female subject can acquire, being married to the Duke of Bolton. In short, the satire of this piece was so striking, so apparent, and so perfectly adapted to the taste of s11 degrees of people, that it even for that season overthrew the Italian opera, that Dagon of the nobility and gentry, which had so long seduced them to idolatry, and which Dennis, by the labours and outeries of a whole life, and many other writers, hy the force of reason and reflection had in vain endeavoured to drive from the throne of public taste. Yet the Herculean exploit did this little piece at once bring to its completion, and for some time recalled the devotion of the town from an adoration of mere sound and show, to the admiration of, and relish for, true satire and sound understanding. The profits of this piece were so very great, both to the author and Mr. Rich the manager, that it gave rise to a quibble, which became frequent in the mouths of many, viz. That it had made Rich gay, and Gay rich; and we have heard it asserted, that the author's own advantages from it were not less than two thousand pounds. In consequence of this success, Mr. Gay was induced to write a second part to it, which he entitled Pully. But, owing to the disgust subsisting between him and the court, together with the misrepresentations made of him, as having been the author of some disaffeeted libels and seditious pamphlets, a charge which, however, he warmly disavows in his preface to this opera, a prohibition of it was sent from the Lord Chamberlain, at the very time when every thing was in readiness for the rehearsal of it. This disappointment, however, was far from being a loss to the author; for, as it was afterwards confessed, even by his very best friends, to be in every respect infinitely inferior to the first part, it is more than probable, that it might have failed of that great success in the representation which Mr. Gay might promise himself from it; whereas the profits arising from the publication of it afterwards in quarto, in consequence of a very large subscription, which this appearance of persecution, added to the author's great personal interest procured for him, were at least adequate to what could have accrued to him from a moderate run, had it been represented. He afterwards new wrote The Wife of Bath, which was the last dramatic piece by him that made its appearance during his life; his opera of Achilles, the comedy of the Distrest Wife, and his farce of The Rehearsal at Goatham, being brought on the stage or published after his death. Besides these, Mr. Gay wrote many very valuable pieces in verse; among which his Trivia; or, The Art of walking in the Streets of London; though one of his first poetical attempts, is far from being the least considerable; but, as among his dramatic works, his Beggar's Opera did at first, and perhaps ever will, stand as an unrivalled masterpiece, so, among his poetical works, his Fables hold the same rank of estimation: the latter having been almost as universally read as the former was represented, and both equally admired. It would therefore be superfluous here to add any thing further to these self-reared monuments of his fame as a poet. As a man, he appears to have been morally amiable. His disposition was sweet and allable, his temper generous, and his conversation agreeable aud entertaining. He had indeed one foible, too frequently incident to men of great literary abilities, and which subjected him at times to inconveniences, which otherwise he needed not to have experienced, viz. an excess of indolence, which prevented him from exerting the full force of his lalents. He was, however, not inattentive to the means of procuring an independence, in which he would probably have succeeded, had not his spirits been kept down by disappointments. He had, however, saved several thousand pounds at the time of his death, which happened at the house of the Duke and Dutchess of Queensberry in Burlington Gardens, in December He was interred in Westminster Abbey, and a monument erected to his memory, at the expense of his afore mentioned noble benefactors, with an inscription expressive of their regards and his own deserts, and an epitaph in verse by Mr. Pope; but, as both of them are still in existence, and free of access to every one, it would be impertinent to repeat either of them in this place.

1732.

BEGGAR'S OPERA,

By John Gay, Acted at Lincoln's Inn fields. The great success of this piece has rendered its merits sufficiently known. It was written in ridicule of the musical Italian drama, was first offered to Cibber and his brethren at Drury Lane, and by them rejected. Of the origin and progress of this new species of composition, Mr. Spencer has given a relation in the words of Pope: "Dr. Swift had been observing once to Mr. Gay, what an odd pretty sort of thing a Newgate pastoral might make. Gay was inclined to try at such a thing for some time; but afterwards thought it would be better to write a comedy on the same plan. This was what gave rise to The Beggar's Opera. He began on it; and when first he mentioned it to Swift, the doctor did not much like the project. As he carried it on, he showed it to both of us, and we now and then gave a correction, or a word or two of advice; but it was wholly of his own writing. When it was done, neither of us thought it would succeed. We showed it to Congreve, who, after reading it over, said, it would either take greatly, or be damned confoundedly. We were all at the first night of it, in very great uncertainty of the event, till we were very much encouraged, by overhearing the Duke of Argyle, who sat in the next box to us, say, 'It will do; it must do; I see it in the eyes of them.' This was a good while before the first

act was over, and so gave us ease soon for that Duke (besides his own good taste) has a particular knack, as any one living, in discovering the taste of the public. He was quite right in this, as usual; the good-nature of the audience appeared stronger and stronger every act, and ended in a clamour of applause." Many persons, however, have decried this piece; written, and even preached in the pulpit, against it, from mistaking the design of it; which was, not to recommend the characters of highwaymen, pickpockets, and strumpets, as examples to be followed, but to show that the principles and behaviour of many persons in what is called high life were no better than those of highwaymen, thieves, sharpers, and strumpets. Nor can these characters be seductive to persons in low life, when they see that they must all expect to be hanged. 'Tis what we must all coms to, says one of them; and it is a kind of miracle, if they continue six months in their evil courses. This fellow, says Peachum, if he were to live these six months, would never come to the gallows with any grace. The women of the town are far from being made desirable objects; since they are all shown to be pickpockets and shoplifters, as well as ladies of pleasure; and so treacherous, that even those who seem fondest of Macheath, at the very time they are caressing him, are beckoning behind his back to the thief-taker and constables to lay hold of him. Sir Robert Walpole was frequently the subject of Mr. Gay's satire. The minister however, was not deterred from attending the performance of the poet's Beggar's Opera. Being in the stage boxes at Its first representation, a most universal encore attended the following air of Lockit, and all eyes were directed on the minister at the instant of its being repeated:

When you censure the age,

Be cautious and sage,

Lest the courtiers offended should be

If you mention vice or bribe

'Tis so pat to all the tribe,
That each cries, That was levell'd at me!

Sir Robert, observing the pointed manner in which the audience applied the last line to him, parried the thrust by acoring it with his single voice; and thus not only blunted the poetical shaft, but gained a general huzza from the

audience.

[ACT L

MRS. SLAMMEKIN

MRS. COAXER.

SUKEY TAWDRY.

DOLLY TRULL.

MOLLY BRAZEN.

Through all the employments of life,
Each neighbour abuses his brother:
Whore and rogue, they call husband and wife:
All professions be-rogue one another.
The priest calls the lawyer a cheat;
The lawyer be-knaves the divine;
And the statesman, because he's so great,
Thinks his trade is as honest as mine.

I

holden to women, than all the professions be sides.

AIR.-FILCH.

Tis woman that seduces all mankind;
By her we first were taught the wheedling arts;
Her
very eyes can cheat; when most she's kind,
She tricks us of our money, with our hearts.
And practise every fraud to bribe her charms;
For her, like wolves by night, we roam for prey,
For, suits of love, like law, are won by pay,
And beauty must be fee'd into our arms.

Peach. But make haste to Newgate, boy, and let my friends know what I intend; for love to make them easy, one way or another. A lawyer is an honest employment, so is mine. Like me too, he acts in a double ca- suspense, penitence may break his spirit ever Filch. When a gentleman is long kept in pacity, both against rogues, and for them; after. Besides, certainty gives a man a good for 'tis but fitting, that we should protect air upon his trial, and makes him risk another, and encourage cheats, since we live by them. without fear or scruple. But I'll away, 'tis a pleasure to be a messenger of comfort to friends in affliction.

Enter FILCH.

soften the evidence.

tomer.

for

[Exit.

Filch. Sir, Black Moll has sent word, her trial comes on in the afternoon, and she hopes about me, for a decent execution against next Peach. But it is now high time to look you will order matters so as to bring her off. sessions. I hate a lazy rogue, by whom one Peach. Why, as the wench is very active and industrious, you may satisfy her that I'll of the gang. [Reading] Crook-finger'd Jack can get nothing till he is hanged. A register Filch. Tom Gagg, sir, is found guilty.. -a year and a half in the service-let Peach. A lazy dog! When I took him, dustry;-One, two, three, four, five gold me see, how much the stock owes to his inthe time before, I told him what he would watches, and seven silver ones. A mighty come to, if he did not mend his hand. This clean-handed fellow sixteen snuff-boxes, five is death, without reprieve. I may venture to of them of true gold, six dozen of handkerbook him; [Writes] for Tom Gagg, forty chiefs, four silver-hilted swords, half-a-dozen pounds 1). Let Betty Sly know, that I'll save of shirts, three tie-perriwigs, and a piece of her from transportation, for I can get more broadcloth. Considering these are only the by her staying in England. Filch. Betty hath brought more goods to prettier fellow; for no man alive hath a more fruits of his leisure hours, I don't know a our lock this year, than any five of the gang; engaging presence of mind upon the road.and, in truth, 'tis pity to lose so good a cus- Wat Dreary, alias Brown Will-an irregular Peach. If none of the gang takes her off2), his goods 1); I'll try him only for a sessions dog; who hath an underhand way of disposing of she may, in the common course of business, or two longer, upon his good behaviour.live a twelvemonth longer. I love to let wo- Harry Paddington men 'scape. A good sportsman always lets rascal, without the least genius! that fellow, -a poor petty-larceny the hen-partridges fly, because the breed of though he were to live these six months, will the game depends upon them. Besides, here the law allows us no reward: there is nothing Slippery Sam-he goes off the next sessions; never come to the gallows with any credit.to be got by the death of women-except our for the villain hath the impudence to have Filch. Without dispute, she is a fine wo- he calls an honest employment,-Mat-o'theviews of following his trade as a tailor, which man! 'Twas to her I was obliged for my Mint-listed not above a month ago; a proeducation. To say a bold word, she has mising, sturdy fellow, and diligent in his way; trained up more young fellows to the busi- somewhat too bold and hasty, and ness, than the gaming-table. Peach. Truly, Filch, thy observation is not cut himself short by murder 2),-Tom good contributions on the public, if he does right. We and the surgeons) are more he- Tipple-a guzzling, soaking sot, who is al1) Blood money, as it is called, or the sum paid to any ways too drunk to stand himself, one for the conviction of a person who has committed a robbery. Peachum's character has, unfortunately, bit too many traits of what is done every day in London. 2) Marries her.

wives.

5) The bodies of those hanged for raurder, are given over to the surgeons for dissection.

for him.-Robin of Bagshot, alias Gorgon, What business hath he to keep company alias Bluff Bob, alias Carbuncle, alias with lords and gentlemen? he should leave Bob Bootythem to prey upon one another.

Enter MRS. PEACHUM.

Peach. Upon Polly's account! what a plague doth the woman mean?-Upon Polly's

Mrs. P. Captain Macheath is very fond of
Peach. And what then?

Mrs. P. What of Bob Booty, husband? I account! hope nothing bad hath betided him. - You know, my dear, he's a favourite customer of the girl. mine-'twas he made me a present of this ring.

Peach. I have set his name down in the

Mrs. P. If I have any skill in the ways of women, I am sure Polly thinks him a very black list, that's all, my dear; he spends his pretty man. life among women, and, as soon as his mo- Peach. And what then? you would not be ney is gone, one or other of the ladies will so mad as to have the wench marry him! hang him for the reward, and there's forty Gamesters and highwaymen are, generally, pounds lost to us for ever! very good to their mistresses, but they are very devils to their wives.

Mrs. P. You know, my dear, I never meddle in matters of death; I always leave those af- Mrs. P. But if Polly should be in love, how fairs to you. Women, indeed, are bitter bad should we help her, or how can she help herjudges in these cases; for they are so partial self?—Poor girl, I'm in the utmost concern to the brave, that they think every man hand-about her! some, who is going to the camp or the gallows.

If

AIR. MRS. PEACHUM.

any wench Venus' girdle wear,
Though she be never so ugly,
Lilies and roses will quickly appear,
And her face look wondrous snugly.
Beneath the left ear, so fit for a cord,
A rope so charming a zone is,

The youth in the cart hath the air of a lord,
And we cry, There dies an Adonis!

AIR.-MRS. PEACHUM.

If love the virgin's heart invade,
How like a moth, the simple maid
Still plays about the flame;

If soon she be not made a wife,
Her honour's sing'd, and then for life
She's what I dare not name,

in our way of business, is as profitable as at Peach. Lookye, wife, a handsome wench, the bar of a Temple coffee-house, who looks But really, husband, you should not be too upon it as her livelihood, to grant every li hard-hearted, for you never had a finer, bra-berty but one. My daughter to me should ver set of men than at present. We have be like a court lady to a minister of state, a not had a murder among them all these seven key to the whole gang. Married! if the afmonths; and truly, my dear, that is a great fair is not already done, I'll terrify her from blessing. it, by the example of our neighbours. Peach. What a dickens is the woman Mrs. P. Mayhap, my dear, you may injure always, whimpering about murder for? No the poor girl: she loves to imitate the fine gentleman is ever looked upon the worse for ladies, and she may only allow the captain killing a man in his own defence; and if bu-liberties, in the view of interest.

[Exit.

siness cannot be carried on without it, what Peach. But 'tis your duty, my dear, to would you have a gentleman do? so, my dear, warn the girl against her ruin, and to instruct have done upon this subject. Was captain her how to make the most of her beauty. I'll Macheath here, this morning, for the bank- go to her this moment, and sift her. In the notes he left with you last week? mean time, wife, rip out the coronets and Mrs. P. Yes, my dear; and though the marks of these dozen of cambric handkerbank hath stopped payment, he was so cheer- chiefs, for I can dispose of them this afterful, and so agreeable! Sure, there is not a noon to a chap in the city. finer gentleman upon the road) than the Mrs. P. Never was a man more out of the captain; if he comes from Bagshot, at any way in an argument than my husband. Why reasonable hour, he hath promised to make must our Polly, forsooth, differ from her sex, one this evening, with Polly, me, and Bob and love only her husband? and why must Booty, at a party at quadrille. Pray, my dear, Polly's marriage, contrary to all observation, is the captain rich? make her the less followed by other men? Peach. The captain keeps too good com- All men are thieves in love, and like a wopany ever to grow rich. Marybone and the man the better for being another's property. chocolate-houses are his undoing. The man that proposes to get money by play, should have the education of a fine gentleman, and be trained up to it from his youth.

Mrs. P. Really, I am sorry, upon Polly's account, the captain hath not more discretion.

that is very difficult to obey their summons; and ladies, as well as the weaker part of the male sex, are much more inclined to fall, especially when they order) you to give your "money" or your "life." 4) Formerly, those cast for death, were conveyed in a cart, all through the streets of London, from Newgate prison to Tyburn; where they were hanged; but now they are "launched into eternity" before the debtors'

door, Newgate.

1) A Highway-man

AIR. MRS. PEACHUM.

A maid is like the golden ore
Which hath guineas intrinsical in't,
Whose worth is never known before
It is tried and imprest in the mint.
A wife's like a guinea in gold,
Stamp'd with the name of her spouse;
Now here, now there, is bought or is sold,
And is current in every house.

Enter FILCH.

of this child, as though my mind misgave me Mrs. P. Come hither, Filch.-I am as fond The were my own. He hath as fine a hand