Love in the Suds: a Town Eclogue.: Being the Lamentation of Roscius for the Loss of His Nyky

In Short

William Kenrick's Love in the Suds is an 18th-century verse satire framed as a pastoral eclogue. Written as an attack on theatrical titan David Garrick (dubbed Roscius), the poem mock-laments Garrick's loss of his playwright favorite, Isaac Bickerstaff ("Nyky"), who fled England under a cloud of scandal. Driven by professional grudges over rejected plays and media manipulation, Kenrick uses mock-classical verse and extensive prose footnotes to accuse Garrick of artistic hypocrisy, corruption, and favoritism. The piece survives as a vivid artifact of Georgian literary warfare, public scandal, and behind-the-scenes theatrical rivalry.

The Story

The work opens with a scathing prose letter addressed directly to David Garrick by William Kenrick. Kenrick attacks Garrick's monopolistic control over the London press and the theatrical stage, accusing the manager of suppressing advertisements for the poem and preferring flimsy translations by favored cronies over original works by independent playwrights. Kenrick asserts that the public has a legitimate stake in how a patentee manages a theater royal, and he promises that a full exposure of Garrick’s devices will eventually show his reputation to be built on the ruins of English drama.

Following the letter, the text transitions into the main satire, "Love in the Suds: A Town Eclogue." Written in rhyming couplets that parody Virgil's pastoral poetry, the poem depicts Roscius (Garrick) weeping over the sudden departure of his beloved "Nyky" (Isaac Bickerstaff). Roscius recounts his youthful song-writing days for Peggy Woffington, but now, aged and failing, he calls out into the London night for his lost companion. He warns Nyky to travel safely in exile—whether to Italy or Ireland—and to watch his back, while simultaneously worrying that furious female mobs might tear Roscius himself apart for his unrequited distress.

Roscius defends Nyky’s missteps, arguing that love is blind and suggesting that in an enlightened age, classic ancient customs ought to supersede rigid social conventions. He imagines a courtroom scenario where top legal minds, like Mansfield and Dunning, successfully defend Nyky before a sympathetic jury, ensuring that a fellow gentleman and wit is acquitted. Holding a prized mulberry-wood knife saved from the Stratford Jubilee, Roscius swears by his devotion, cursing rival critics, competing news printers, hostile actors like Samuel Foote, and especially Kenrick himself, whose caustic pen threatens his peace. Despite the physical ailments of age and the agony of critical sneers, Roscius admits that pride and avarice keep him tied to the stage, pleading until the end for the return of his theatrical partner.

The volume concludes with an appendix documenting the immediate real-world fallout. It re-prints anonymous queries published in the Morning Chronicle under the pseudonym "Candour," asking if Kenrick wrote the libelous piece and if he refused a duel. Kenrick inserts his blunt direct replies, denying anonymous libel while doubling down on his contempt for Garrick. When Garrick moves the Court of King's Bench to file a legal information for libel, Kenrick publishes a final letter mocking Garrick's retreat into legal quibbles, ending with the advertisement of yet another impending pamphlet against the manager.

How It Unfolds

The opening challenge Kenrick confronts Garrick in a public letter, condemning him for using his financial power and newspaper influence to suppress rival authors and block advertisements for the poem.

The pastoral lament The satire opens with Roscius crying out into the London suburbs for his missing Nyky, contrasting his current sorrow with his past youthful romance with the actress Peggy Woffington.

Exile and legal dreams Roscius envisions Nyky fleeing overseas and imagines a hypothetical trial where high-priced London barristers convince a lenient jury to pardon his friend's indiscretions.

Swearing by the mulberry tree Roscius takes a dramatic oath on a custom knife made from Shakespeare's mulberry tree, cursing his literary competitors, harsh newspaper editors, and the relentless satire of Kenrick.

The legal retaliation The appendix shifts to newspaper exchanges where Kenrick defends his satire, followed by news that Garrick has initiated legal proceedings for libel in the Court of King's Bench.

The People

• David Garrick ("Roscius"): The premier actor-manager of Drury Lane Theatre. He wants to maintain his undisputed authority over the English stage, protect his public reputation, and suppress hostile press, but he is constantly targeted by bitter playwrights accusing him of greed, vanity, and favoritism.
• William Kenrick: A combative author and playwright with a mathematical background. He wants to expose Garrick's alleged hypocrisy, avenge the rejection of his own theatrical works (such as Falstaff's Wedding), and defend his right to publish satirical critiques free from press censorship.
• Isaac Bickerstaff ("Nyky"): An Irish-born playwright and former marine officer. A close theatrical collaborator of Garrick, he is forced into sudden exile abroad following a public scandal, leaving Roscius to mourn his absence.

In Its Own Voice

"You have, besides your ingenuous countenance and conscious innocence; Nil conscire sibi, nulla pallescere culpa; Besides this brazen bulwark, I say, you have a ready pen and a long purse."

Kenrick sarcastically mock-praises Garrick's financial and legal power in his introductory letter.

"While London town, and all its suburbs round / In echoes, NYKY, NYKY, back resound."

The poem captures Roscius's dramatic parody of a classical pastoral lament as he calls for his exiled friend.

"While I, so tremblingly alive all o'er, / Still bleed and agonize at every pore; / At ev'ry hiss am harrow'd up with fear, / And burst with choler at a critic's sneer."

Roscius reveals the fragile vanity and paranoia lurking behind his successful theatrical career.

What It's Really About

Love in the Suds is an exercise in 18th-century character assassination that uses classical parody to probe the boundaries of media power, celebrity reputation, and artistic monopoly. Beneath its scandalous accusations lies a genuine structural grievance: the absolute power held by theater patentees over playwrights' livelihoods and the ease with which wealthy public figures could buy favorable press or suppress negative reviews. Kenrick weaponizes Virgil's pastoral forms to mock the polite decorum of the London theater world, arguing that the public stage has become a playground for private favoritism, financial greed, and legal intimidation rather than genuine artistic merit.

Why Read It Today

This text offers a raw, unfiltered look into the mudslinging subculture of Georgian London's theatrical scene. Readers interested in stage history, media control, or the evolution of political satire will find it a fascinating historical artifact. Rather than a modern narrative, the book reads like a chaotic mix of poetic parody, aggressive journalism, and court-case drama.

The reading experience requires navigating dense 18th-century allusions, Latin epigraphs, and complex period gossip preserved in extensive footnoting. It is heavy with period-specific prejudices, homophobia, and targeted vitriol that highlight the harshness of historical libel wars. Yet for those who enjoy uncovering forgotten literary feuds, Kenrick’s biting prose demonstrates how little the mechanics of celebrity scandal, press manipulation, and public feuding have changed over two centuries.