1829. fr 235 J 
" THE THEATRES. 
Ir is unquestionably no more than fair to Fawcett’s management of 
Covent Garden, to say, that he has conducted the season hitherto with a 
very unusual degree of activity. This is in the style of his former 
master, Harris, who certainly had all the merit of never suffering the 
theatre to go to sleep; his expedients might be open to criticism, but he 
was never wanting in expedients. If a comedy failed, there was a 
melo-drame ready to fill up the breach, with invincible knights, and 
princesses in despair. If Young was sick, or Macready sorrowful, 
Madame Saqui wes summoned to walk, like the queen of the monkies, 
up arope at an angle of forty-five degrees, or Monsieur Tournetéte to 
cling to the roof like a colossal spider. Frederic Reynolds too, was a 
tower of strength. If his pleasant farces were not forthcoming—and they 
seldom were a day behind their time—Reynolds had a dog to astonish all 
the sportsmen, by his pointing at partridges in a field of stage stubble ; 
or a horse to overwhelm the é/éves of the five hundred boarding schools 
round London, by walking the minwet de la cour better than any of them ; 
or a learned pig that beat Hoyle at whist, and made Philidor, in two 
games out of three at his own chess board, tremble for his laurels. 
And, let the wise men of the world, who know every thing by instinct, 
say what they will, this is the true way to carry on a theatre. Harris 
had too much to contend with in the enormous debt which the enormous 
ostentation of building an enormous theatre laid on his shoulders ; but, 
he did wonders, for he contrived to keep his theatre in perpetual 
popularity: his company was the best that the whole force of dramatic 
ability could supply. He had playing at one time, and frequently in 
one performance, Young, Charles Kemble, Macready, and Miss O’Neil, 
with a crowd of the best remplagants and subordinates, and his own 
indefatigable exertion, personal punctuality, and unwearied good humour, 
complete as large around of managerial qualifications as could be found 
on the stage. 
In looking over the memoirs that have been within these few years 
published by actors and dramatic authors, we see perpetual pangyrics 
on the generosity, and honour, the personal good sense, and the public 
“activity of the elder Harris. We allude to him now, merely as the model 
which every modern manager ought to have before his eyes. With this 
intelligent man, the author was the first object. It was a fixed principle, 
to cultivate the intimacy of clever men and turn their powers to the 
stage. When once they had exhibited decided ability for the drama, 
they might look upon themselves as secure of the manager’s services for 
life. It was Harris’s rule, to have at least four comedies in preparation 
at the commencement of every season, and to bring them out in succes- 
sion, but not till the actors were most thoroughly prepared, and the most 
favourable junctures had occurred. For those labours he allowed the 
most liberal remuneration. He drove none of those harsh bargains that 
so often make it a humiliation for a gentleman to have any thing to do 
with the stage. If the performance merited the public approbation, 
there was no vulgar limit to its reward. Colman has for one play 
received 1,000/., and probably more in other instances. Cherry received 
for “ The Will,” 1,300/. Holcroft received 1,100/. and 1,300/. Morton, 
eceived 1,000/. for “ Town and Country,” even before it was played. In 
e instance, O’ Keefe had produced an opera in extreme haste at Harris’s 
‘suggestion, who was in want of an immediate performance. The sum 
be paid was six hundred guineas. The opera failed totally, and at 
ce. O'Keefe, a neryous man, overwhelmed with its ruin, which 
