Memoirs of Mr. John Tobin ... With a selection from his unpublished writings

Preface

)EVERAL years have elapsed since the comedy of The Honey Moon was announced for representation. Unsupported by fashionable patronage or literary connexion, it had to struggle with the inauspicious recollections of an unfortunate opera, which, under the same title, had been lately condemned on the same stage. Of the reputed author, little was known, but that he had long been an unsuccessful suitor at both the winter theatres : an equivocal circumstance, which, as candour or prejudice prevailed, might be quoted as an evidence of superior talent.

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or of incorrigible presumption. The introduction of a new play is generally an event of sufficient interest to fill our capacious theatres ; and on the 31st of January, 1805, the curtain rose to a numerous audience.

In the ordinary pains and pleasures of literary life, there is little to excite popular sympathy ; but the situation of a dramatic author in presenting his first essay to the public, is such as awakens some degree of interest and curiosity in the most phlegmatic spectator. The enquiries respecting the author of The Honey-moon were, however, soon suspended, for the prologue announced the mournful truth, that he no longer existed, to deprecate censure, or exult in praise.

He, though your loftiest plaudits you should raise. He cannot thank you for the meed of praise. Rapture he cannot feel, nor fear, nor shame; Connected with his love of earthly fame,

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He is no more. — Yet may his memory live In all the bloom that early worth can give : Should you applaud, 'twould check the flowing tear Of those to whom his name and hopes are dear. But should you an unfinish'd structure find, As in its first and rudest forms design'd, As yet not perfect from the glowing mind, Then with a gentle voice your censure spread^ And spare the living — spare the sacred dead.*

In listening to these beautiful lines, an universal emotion of sympathy and regret was perceived in the audience ; but how had their feelings of commiseration been heightened, could they have learned at the same moment, that the author, whose fate they deplored, had been condemned to a long and painful probation ! and that The Honey-moon was but the last of fourteen dramatic productions, twelve of which he had himself offered — to be rejected.

* This elegant and appropriate little poem was written by Sir Humphrey Davy, who had lived in habits of intimacy with the author of The Honey -moon. A 4 vm

In the memoirs of literary men, little of variety or novelty is to be expected j but the singular fact already stated is without a parallel in the records of dramatic biography ; and supposes in the dramatist a degree of fortitude, of patience, and perseverance, such as is commonly conceived to be incompatible with the poetical character. It will appear from the following pages, that the identical pieces, on which is founded his posthumous reputation, were in his lifetime dismissed with contempt '; it will be seen with surprise, that no portion of that favour so liberally showered on his literary remains, was permitted to invigorate his hopes, or to inspirit his exertions ; the praise that should have refreshed his fainting spirit, •■ — the success that might have called forth its latent energies, — has but embalmed his memory, or cast a romantic halo around his untimely grave.

The perusal of the poet's memoirs will sufficiently explain the motives to which

*5

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the present volume owes its existence. Of the four dramas selected for publication, it is merely necessary to state, that two of them have been acted but not printed, and that the other two were not conceived to be eligible for representation. There still remain some minor pieces, which it may be hoped will, hereafter, take their trial on the stage.

The biographical part of this work is unquestionably that which most requires candour and indulgence. Whatever is mentioned respecting the poet's tastes, habits, and opinions, has been derived from those with whom he lived in the most unreserved intimacy and confidence, — from the associates of his childhood and the friends of his youth, — above all, from the conversation of his brother, the late Mr. James Tobin *, and the inspection of the private papers and manuscripts in the possession of

* The writer of these pages became acquainted with Mr. James Tobin the year after the poet's death.

his widow, on whom have now devolved the duties attached to the poet's representative.

Allowing for the obvious and unavoidable deficiencies of the narrative, it is, perhaps, not presumptuous to indulge the hope, that, to the lovers and well-wishers of the drama, the Life of John Tobin, however barren of events, may not be wholly without interest. As none of those disappointments he was doomed to experience could be traced to the operation of prejudice or malignity, it is reasonable to conclude, that the same causes which retarded his progress, may have for ever arrested the efforts of men not inferior in talent, but not equally endowed with fortitude and perseverance. This reflection more particularly demands attention at the present moment, when the degeneracy of dramatic talent is so often adduced as the sole cause of indifference or apathy for

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our national theatre ; but may it not be suspected that real genius has been sometimes compelled^ by discouragement or neglect, to linger an unwilling exile from the first object of its literary enthusiasm and devotion, or even to renounce for ever that mimic world, to which, under happier circumstances, it might have added dominion, honour, and prosperity ? It is too common to censure individuals for the faults of a whole community. Whatever may have been the mistakes of those to whom the interests of the stage have been committed, it is evident that they must have received their impulse from the public, which sanctions the dereliction of taste, by withholding support from real talent, and by an avowed preference of ephemeral to imperishable productions. *

* Although the tragedy of De Montfort should never be restored to the stage, its introduction, so much to the honour of theatrical taste, ought not to be forgotten. In like manner we have lately seen Richard the Second, and Timon of Athens revived, only to attract transient

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The theatre is the only Capitol in which our bards must look for the laurel crown, or receive the splendid triumph. The aspect of an assembled multitude, of whom the lowest, equally with the highest., asserts the privileges of sovereignty, is far more imposing than the magnificent pageantry by which the Tassos or Petrarch s of former ages were dazzled with the personifications of glory and immortality. No mitred chiefs ■— no sceptred potentates — ever bestowed honours so dear, so sacred, as the spontaneous suffrage of a liberal and enlightened audience. It should also be remembered, that w T ith us the drama is of native growth — a self-sown species of poetry, which fixed its broad roots in the habits— the sympathies — the affections of the people. To suppose that this fairest product of the age of Elizabeth is already withering in hopeless though pre-

homage, although both these characters were sustained by the genius of that great actor, who is confessedly a living illustration of Shakespeare.

Xlll mature decay, is to suppose not merely an alteration but a perversion of English character, than which nothing can be more dissonant to true English feeling !

It is earnestly to be wished that the simple but authentic statement of Tobin's difficulties and disappointments, may excite in some intelligent and powerful mind, an interest in the general character of our dramatic exhibitions, commensurate with the real dignity and importance of the subject. May it be the business of some able pen, not merely to trace to their latent source the causes of that alienation in the public from their once favourite pursuit, but to suggest feasible and efficient remedies for the growing evil. To the countrymen of Shakespeare it can never be an object of indifference, to preserve in a national theatre the patrimony of genius, for the protection of their cotemporaries, and the honour of posterity.