An Apology for the Life of Mr. Colley Cibber, Volume 1 (of 2): Written by Himself. A New Edition with Notes and Supplement

In Short

This memoir serves as a vivid, firsthand chronicle of the British theater at the turn of the eighteenth century. Navigating the transition from the Restoration era to the Georgian stage, the author recounts his own rise from a struggling young actor to a prominent theatrical manager and dramatist. Through anecdotes about legendary figures like Betterton and Nokes, alongside sharp observations on the politics of management, the text captures the volatility of the entertainment world. It remains a foundational work for its rare, intimate look at the mechanisms and personalities that defined the professional playhouse.

The Story

The narrative begins with a playful, disarming admission: the author intends to write his own life, fully aware that his critics will consider it an act of supreme vanity. He characterizes his past as a series of pleasant follies, framing his journey not as a quest for moral perfection, but as a genuine pursuit of happiness. Born into a period of social transition, he describes his early years with an eye for the absurdities of life and education, eventually finding his true calling in the theater.

His professional life begins in a state of humble obscurity. He depicts the theater as a world of fierce competition and precarious finance, where actors are often at the mercy of "patentee" managers—men who view the stage strictly as a business, often to the detriment of art. He recounts the early, grueling days of his apprenticeship, where he worked for months without pay, sustained only by a deep love for the craft. As he gains experience, he provides a detailed account of the "revolutions" that shaped the industry, including the internal strife that led to the formation of rival companies and the eventual, necessary union of performers under shifting royal licenses.

The arc of the book is defined by the author’s dual identity as both an actor and a playwright. He describes the pressure of producing successful comedies—often under tight deadlines—to keep his company afloat. He does not shy away from the failures of his own work, nor does he hesitate to critique the practices of his contemporaries. His life becomes inextricably linked to the survival of the theater itself, as he maneuvers through legal battles, public controversies, and the constant need to satisfy a fickle, demanding public.

As the narrative progresses, the tone shifts from the lighthearted exploration of youth to a more seasoned, analytical perspective on the nature of performance. He reflects on the "attentive silence" of an audience as the highest form of praise, contrasting it with the hollow noise of false applause. Toward the end of this volume, the story enters a period of maturity, where he finds himself no longer just an ambitious youth, but a key player in a complex, often cutthroat managerial triumvirate. He observes the aging of his mentors, the decline of the great actors he once idolized, and the inevitable decay of the traditions he helped sustain. He concludes this first volume with a defense of the theater’s moral influence, arguing that the stage is a necessary mirror for society, even when that mirror reflects things the public would prefer to ignore.

How It Unfolds

The genesis of a memoir The author introduces his project with a self-deprecating wit, acknowledging that his decision to record his own life will likely provoke his enemies and amuse his friends. He frames his history as an exploration of a life spent in the pursuit of modest happiness rather than great, heavy virtues.

The apprenticeship of an actor He recounts the harsh realities of the early theater, where young performers endured long periods of unpaid service. He describes the joy of the craft and his personal discovery of the stage, even while struggling to be taken seriously as a performer rather than just a writer.

The mechanics of the stage He delves into the internal politics of the London theaters, exposing the cold, calculated greed of managers who treated actors as assets to be squeezed. He illustrates this with stories of legal battles, broken contracts, and the constant, underlying tension between the creative staff and the owners.

The portrait of the masters The narrative pauses to analyze the genius of the great actors of the past, particularly the legendary Betterton and the singular, naturalistic comedian Nokes. These sections serve as both a history of acting styles and a tribute to those who defined the author’s early professional life.

The necessity of the stage The author concludes by mounting a spirited defense of the theater’s place in society, arguing against his critics who seek to restrict its influence. He positions the stage as a vital, if dangerous, force that requires careful discipline, emphasizing its unique power to affect the minds of an audience.

The People

The author, Colley Cibber, stands at the center as both narrator and protagonist. He is a man of self-admitted vanity, yet he possesses a keen awareness of his own limitations, often using his own failures as a point of reflection. He wants to be recognized for his contribution to the theater, even as he knows his status is constantly contested by critics.

Christopher Rich, the patentee of Drury Lane, serves as the primary antagonist of the author’s professional life. He is a "close, subtle man" who treats his actors with calculated indifference, preferring to keep them in poverty to ensure their dependence. His management style represents the collision between commerce and art.

Betterton, the celebrated actor, is presented as the gold standard of the profession. Unlike the younger, more volatile actors, Betterton possesses a quiet, commanding presence that the author views with near-reverence. His dedication to truth over flash serves as a moral compass for the author throughout the book.

Nokes, the gifted comedian, is described as an untutored genius of simplicity. He represents the "natural" actor who cannot be imitated, standing in stark contrast to the performers who rely on artificial, learned techniques. His presence in the book serves to highlight the author's belief that some talents are born, not made.

In Its Own Voice

"I have pass'd my Time very pleasantly with them, and I don't recollect that they have ever been hurtful to any other Man living."

The author defends his reputation by characterizing his lifelong "follies" as harmless diversions rather than moral failings.

"I have often told you that one time or other I should give the Publick some Memoirs of my own Life; at which you have never fail'd to laugh, like a Friend, without saying a word to dissuade me from it."

Opening the memoir, he acknowledges the skepticism of his peers while asserting his resolve to be his own biographer.

"When I read those mortifying Lines of our most eminent Author, in his Character of Atticus... though I am charm'd with the Poetry, my Imagination is hurt at the Severity of it."

Reflecting on the nature of satire, he expresses a distaste for the personal cruelty he perceives in the works of his contemporaries.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an inquiry into the ethics of observation and the public performance of the self. It asks whether a life lived on the stage—a life of artifice and "follies"—can be as meaningful as one of conventional gravity. The author interrogates the relationship between the creator and the critic, arguing that the public display of personal character is a legitimate, if misunderstood, pursuit. Furthermore, the book explores the tension between the artistic soul and the commercial structure of the theater. It posits that the stage acts as a vital, complex mirror for society, and that the "mimical insolence" of actors is, in fact, a necessary form of social discourse that deserves protection rather than censorship.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the candid, often eccentric voices of eighteenth-century memoirs will find this an essential experience. It is not a polished, modern biography, but a deeply personal, occasionally rambling, and always opinionated account of a man who lived at the heart of London’s cultural life. The prose is elegant and formal, yet it carries an intimacy that makes the author feel like a companion in conversation.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the book's period-specific attitudes. The author’s language can be dense, and his obsession with the minor, long-forgotten squabbles of the theatrical world requires patience. His views on social hierarchy and the "propriety" of the stage are firmly rooted in the 1700s, which may strike contemporary readers as dated or narrow. Yet, for those interested in the history of the performing arts, it offers a window into a world of "attentive silence" and stagecraft that feels remarkably relevant. What lingers is not just the history, but the author’s unwavering belief that to act—to put on a mask and stand before an audience—is a noble and deeply human undertaking, even if one is only ever "the best-acted Part" of oneself.