Born, in Ireland, 1699 (?). Name originally McLaughlin, but form “Macklin” eventually adopted. At school near Dublin. Ran away from home. Perhaps served in a public house in London, and at Trinity Coll., Dublin, as servant. Joined strolling company of actors in Bristol. Acted in London, 1725–48. Married (i) Grace Purvor (or, Mrs. Ann Grace?), 1735 (?). Play, “King Henry VII,” produced at Drury Lane, 18 Jan. 1746; “A Will and no Will,” 23 April 1746; “The Suspicious Husband Criticised,” Drury Lane, 24 March 1747; “The Fortune Hunters,” 1748. Acted in Dublin, 1748–50; in London, 1750–53. Play, “Covent Garden Theatre,” produced at Covent Garden, 8 April 1752. Retired from stage, 1753. Kept a tavern in Covent Garden, March 1754 to Jan. 1758. Wife died, 1758 (?). Reappeared on stage, at Drury Lane 12 Dec. 1759, in his “Love à la Mode.” Acted in London, 1759–63. Married (ii) Elizabeth Jones, 10 Sept. 1759. “The Married Libertine” produced, Covent Garden, 28 Jan. 1761. In Dublin, 1761–63. “The True-Born Irishman” produced at Smock Alley Theatre, Dublin, 1763 (at Covent Garden, as “The Irish Fine Lady,” 28 Nov. 1767); “The True-Born Scotchman,” Crow Street Theatre, Dublin, 7 Feb. 1766 (at Covent Garden, as “The Man of the World,” 10 May 1781). Acted in London, 1772–89. Died in London, 11 July 1797. Buried in St. Paul’s, Covent Garden. Works: “Mr. Macklin’s Reply to Mr. Garrick’s Answer,” 1743; “The Genuine Arguments of the Council,” etc. (anon.; attrib. to Macklin), 1774; “Love à la Mode,” 1784; “The Man of the World” (under initials C. M.), 1786. Life by E. A. Parry, 1891.

Personal

  Macklin, whose writing was as harsh and as hard as his conduct was rude and dogmatic, who, though he did not produce many pieces, contrived to make one answer the purpose of many, whose strange peculiarities made him a torment to himself and to everybody else, was, however, a useful, and sometimes a great actor, and very far from an inferior author.

  Macklin, whose personation of Shylock to its true reading had elicited the impromptu of Pope, “This is the Jew that Shakespeare drew,” was my father’s theatrical oracle. His portrait hung over the fireplace of our little dining-room, with the inscription, “Charles Macklin, aged 98.” In some of his visits to Dublin he had instructed my father in the part of Egerton in his comedy of the “Man of the World;” and on the occasion of his last benefit there he sent for his pupil from Waterford (where my father was playing) to act “Egerton.”… His manner was generally harsh, as indeed was his countenance. So much so that on some one speaking to Quin of the “strong lines” of Macklin’s face, he cut short his remarks with, “The lines of his face, sir? You mean the cordage.” My father has described to me his mode of speaking to the players at rehearsal. There was good advice, though conveyed in his gruff voice and imperious tone. “Look at me, sir, look at me! Keep your eye fixed on me when I am speaking to you! Attention is always fixed; if you take your eye from me you rob the audience of my effects, and you rob me of their applause!”—a precept I never forgot, and to which I have been much indebted.

  He had no respect for the modesty of youth or sex, but would say the most discouraging, as well as grossest things, and felt pleasure in proportion to the pain he gave. It was common of him to ask his pupils, why they did not rather think of becoming bricklayers than players. He was impatient of contradiction to an extreme; and when he found fault, if the person attempted to answer, he stopped him without hearing, by saying, “Ha, you have always a reason for being in the wrong!” This impatience carried him still farther; it often rendered him exceedingly abusive. He could pronounce the word, scoundrel, fool, blockhead, familiarly, without the least annoyance to his nervous system. He, indeed, pretended to the strictest impartiality, and while his passions were unconcerned, often preserved it; but these were so extremely irritable, that the least opposition was construed into an unpardonable insult, and the want of immediate apprehension in his pupils subjected them to the most galling contempt, which excited despair instead of emulation. His authority was too severe a climate for the tender plant of genius ever to thrive in. His judgment was, however, in general sound, and his instructions those of a master.

  His conversation among young people was perfectly moral, and always tended to make us better: he was, in my opinion as to intellect, a very shining character, and in all instances I knew him to be a worthy man; but a great sitter-up at nights for sake of conversation: many a morning sun has peeped into our convivial parties; he was then between seventy and eighty. From the loss of his teeth his nose and chin were prominent: he took no snuff, and hated swearing, or broad vulgar jests in conversation, though smitten much with repartee.

  Everybody, I presume, must have had some information respecting Macklin’s person and manners; that he was a broad-breasted, ball-headed, shaggy-browed, hooked-nosed individual, as rough and husky as a cocoa-nut, with a barking or grunting delivery more peculiar than pleasing, which to musical ears made him something like a “bore.”… If good manners are to be gleaned from a collision with society, Macklin’s were bad, because throughout life he had been chiefly his own company. His manners grew out of his mind, which became powerful and profound, cared not for oil or ornament, so long as it could express itself with vigor and conciseness…. The terrific effect of his features, when under excitation, have been recorded in his performance of Shylock. The most amusing proof I have heard upon the point was as follows:—When he had established his fame in that character, George the Second went to see him; and the impression he received was so powerful that it deprived him of rest throughout the night. In the morning the premier (Sir Robert Walpole) waited on the king, to express his fears that the Commons would oppose a certain measure then in contemplation. “I wish, your Majesty,” said Sir Robert, “it was possible to find a recipe for frightening a House of Commons?” “What do you think,” replied the King, “of sending them to the Theatre to see that Irishman play Shylock!”

  As an actor, he was without trick; his enunciation was clear, in every syllable. Taken as a whole, he probably excelled every actor who had ever played Shylock, say his biographers; but I remember Edmund Kean, and make that exception. He was not a great tragedian, nor a good light comedian, but in comedy and farce, where rough energy is required, and in parts resembling Shylock, in their earnest malignity, he was paramount. He was also an excellent teacher, very impatient with mediocrity, but very careful with the intelligent. Easily moved to anger, his pupils and, indeed, many others stood in awe of him; but he was honorable, generous, and humane; convivial, frank, and not more free in his style than his contemporaries; but naturally irascible, and naturally forgiving. Eccentricity was second nature to him, and seems to have been so with other men of his blood.

General

  As a comic writer, Mr. Macklin unquestionably stands high. “The Man of the World,” for boldness of satire, and originality of character, may challenge any production, which has been represented on the stage for the last fifty years; and his “Love-a-la-Mode,” which is pregnant with much genuine humour, and knowledge of men and manners, demands also an high share of praise. In most of his dramatic pieces, there is to be found real character, discrimination of humour, modish affectation, and fashionable folly. He never offends (from his thorough knowledge of stage œconomy), in the conduct of his plot, and the right management of his scenes. To these dramatic excellencies, he added a strict attention to decency and morality. Mr. Macklin’s merit, as an actor and a man, introduced him to persons of high rank.

  But, alas! where shall we look for the foundation of Macklin’s authorship? We have already sketched his education, which, taken at its supposable extremity, could amount to no more than a capacity for reading some of the commonest English school-books, with scarcely any knowledge of the habits of civilized life…. His next attempt at Authorship was not till the year 1760, when he produced his Farce of “Love a la Mode;” a dramatic morceau, which, though it had many enemies to combat with, from personal prejudices, has long since surmounted them, and given to the author the merited rank of an able comic writer. Having now produced a piece which would stand the test of time, he was ambitious of producing a Comedy which would carry the same seeds of longevity; and for this purpose, without consulting books, which are very often but the multiplied copies of fanciful originals, he sought his principal characters from his own long experience of life, and of the Stage; and with these aids produced a Comedy, which, considered for regularity of plot, strength of character, and knowledge of the world, will remain a favourite on the stock list, whilst there are performers found capable of supporting so arduous and discriminating a part as that of Sir Pertinax Mac Sycophant.

  Macklin, though not a voluminous contributor to scenic representations, has condensed multum in parvo, by showing a complete knowledge of the practices of the stage, and an acute perception of human life: his characters are drawn with the hand of a master, who felt no diffidence in the accomplishment of the task which he had proposed to himself to execute.

  Energy and honesty were the dominant traits of his character. Entirely self-educated, he yet used his alert intelligence so well as to become, after Garrick, the most cultured actor of his time; though when he attempted to lecture on the theatre of the Greeks and the origins of the Shaksperean drama he was doubtless beyond his depth. He wrote with vigor and propriety, though in controversy he carried to extremes the italicized emphasis then in vogue.