complexion, and even added lustre to her charming eyes. They treated her very rudely, bade her ask pardon, and threw orange-peel. She behaved with great resolution, and treated their rudeness with glorious contempt. She left the stage, was called for, and with infinite persuasion was prevailed upon to return. However, she did, walked forward, and told them she was then ready and willing to perform her character if they chose to permit her; that the decision was theirs, on or off, just as they pleased, it was a matter of indifference to her. The ons had it, and all went smoothly afterwards.”
The two patent theatres in London being closed against her by her quarrels with Garrick and Rich, Mrs. Woffington went over to her old friends in Ireland, who warmly welcomed her. Sheridan, the manager, had been at first unwilling to engage her, deeming Cibber’s praises of her the extravagances of a lover of seventy. Finally, however, he agreed with her for one season at 400l.; a fortunate arrangement for him, as by four of her characters, Lady Townley, Maria, in the “Non-Juror,” Sir Harry Wildair, and Hermione, in the “Distressed Mother,” each performed ten times, his treasury was benefited to the extent of 4000l. Victor, the author of the “History of the Theatres,” wrote to the Countess of Orrery in 1751:—“Mrs. Woffington is the only theme either in or out of the theatre, her performances are in general admirable. She appeared in Lady Townley, and since Mrs. Oldfield, I have not seen a complete Lady Townley till that night. In Andromache, her grief was dignified, and her deportment elegant. In Jane Shore, nothing appeared remarkable but her superior figure, but in Hermione, she discovered such talents as have not been displayed since Mrs. Foster.” Next season her salary was doubled.
“Mrs. Woffington is much improved,” writes Mrs. Delany, “and did the part of Lady Townley last Saturday better than I have seen it done since Mrs. Oldfield’s time;” and then she adds a thoroughly feminine criticism: “She is a fine figure, but she spoils her appearance by the immoderate size of her hoops.”
In 1753, Sheridan instituted the Beef Steak Club. It was maintained at his sole expense, and the chief persons invited were members of Parliament. Mrs. Woffington, the only woman admitted to its meetings, was placed in a great chair at the head of the table, and elected president. She had frankly avowed that she preferred the company of men to that of women, the latter, she said, talked of nothing but silks and scandal. “She was delighted with the novelty of her situation, and had wit and spirit to support it.” But it was a time of great political excitement. Dublin was swayed to and fro by party feeling. As it was not the custom to drain a glass without first naming a toast or proposing a sentiment, it became unavoidable that political discussion should be introduced into the club. Mrs. Woffington’s friends were chiefly of the court party; the conversation and toasts of the club became the common talk of the town, and a factious interpretation was at last put upon proceedings which were instituted solely for theatrical and social purposes. Sheridan was loudly censured: party spirit manifested itself on all sides. Victor writes, “The theatre and all public diversions have greatly suffered by these commotions. Even Mrs. Woffington has lost her influence, and has the misfortune to exhibit to empty boxes.” At length popular indignation broke out into open riot. A poor tragedy, “Mahomet,” a translation from the French of Voltaire, was produced. The audience chose to think certain passages in it peculiarly apposite to the political affairs of the day; were loud in their applause and in the demand for an encore of the particular speech in which the lines occurred. Sheridan laid aside for a month the representation of the tragedy; but on its next performance the audience became as excited as on the first occasion. Sheridan declined to permit the repetition of a speech accepted as offensive to the court party in Dublin, and further, he refused to obey the call which soon became universal from all parts of the house for “the Manager! Sheridan! the Manager!” Possessed with the idea that a personal assault upon him was in contemplation, he got into a chair and went home, leaving the theatre in an extraordinary uproar. Mrs. Woffington was induced to appear, “to try what influence a fine woman could have upon an enraged multitude;” but this had little effect, if it did not indeed increase the tumult, for the lady’s political sentiments and connections were well known. Then the rioters proceeded to demolish the theatre; the audience portion was rapidly defaced and broken up; a party leaped upon the stage, and with their swords cut and slashed the handsomely painted curtain, and all the scenery and properties they could reach, and finally they piled the doors torn from the boxes on a heap of burning coals in hopes that the theatre might be fired and destroyed. Sheridan relinquished his management with a determination never again to set foot in the theatre, and he took leave of the public in a well-written address published shortly afterwards. The theatre was temporarily repaired and opened about a fortnight after the riot, by the command of the Duke of Dorset, the Lord Lieutenant, for the benefit of Mrs. Woffington, when “All for Love” was played to a crowded house : after which Mrs. Woffington quitted Dublin for London. She reappeared at Covent Garden on the 22nd September, 1754, after an absence of three years. She played Maria in the “Non-Juror;” she “drew a great house—was welcomed with great applause, and played the part as well as it could be played.” Shortly afterwards she performed Lady Macbeth to Sheridan’s Macbeth, and was extremely well received.
Tate Wilkinson, in his memoirs, makes frequent mention of Mrs. Woffington. He relates particularly how on one occasion he had unwittingly given her great offence. He was quite a lad at the time, hanging about the stage-door of the theatre, begging for an engagement in any inferior capacity, and he had acquired some small fame for his skill in mimicry after the manner of Foote. Mrs. Woffington had been made very indignant by the information that the boy was in the habit of taking her off—could imitate her voice to the life, and so on. Probably she was quite aware that her voice was liable to criticism: but she was