JOHN GAY TO DEAN SWIFT.
Whitehall, February 15th, 1728.
"I have deferred writing to you from time to time, till I could give you an account of 'The Beggar's Opera.' It is acted at the playhouse in Lincoln's Inn Fields with such success that the playhouse has been crowded every night. To-night is the fifteenth time of acting, and it is thought it will run a fortnight longer. I have ordered Motte to send the play to you the first opportunity. I have made no interest, neither for approbation or money: nor has anybody been pressed to take tickets for my benefit: notwithstanding which, I think I shall make an addition to my fortune of between six and seven hundred pounds. I know this account will give you pleasure, as I have pushed through this precarious affair without servility or flattery."
"As to any favours from great men, I am in the same state you left me, but I am a great deal happier, as I have no expectations. The Duchess of Queensberry has signalised her friendship to me upon this occasion in such a conspicuous manner, that I hope (for her sake) you will take care to put your fork to all its proper uses, and suffer nobody for the future to put their knives in their mouths. Lord Cobham says, I should have printed it in Italian over against the English, that the ladies might have understood what they read. The outlandish (as they now call it) Opera has been so thin of late, that some have called it the Beggar's Opera, and if the run continues, I fear I shall have remonstrances drawn up against me by the Royal Academy of Music."
(Life and Letters of John Gay, Page 87)
One measure for the ultimate success of a parody, it may be said,is the preferment of that parody over the art form that it refers to. This, then, is the honor accorded by many to The Beggar's Opera in its own time. This, it certainly did, eclipsing the extremely popular and lucrative Italian opera for a season, and marking the beginning of the end for its period of greatest popularity. Its appeal was broad throughout the social classes and across intellectual circles; even Robert Walpole, the target of much of the play's satire, applauded and laughed at the first performance. There were those who attacked the work (usually on a moral basis INSERT The Preface to Seven Sermons on Public Occasions Once Scanned INSERT), but, in the whole, London welcomed the play with open arms and open wallets.
The Beggar's Opera was a sensation, as much as it was a play. In addition to the play itself (which was produced more often than any other play of the century), there was a flood of merchandise connected with the play. It was following the play that the portrait mezzotintos of John Gay and Lavinia Fenton (Polly Peachum in the first performance) were completed.
A great wave of fashion swept up The Beggar's Opera; people dressed as Macheath and Polly, ladies had fans with their favorite airs printed on the backs of them, Hogarth did an oil painting (which he also rendered as an engraving, and which was copied several times) of the prison scene in Act III, as well as an engraved representation of the play being burlesqued. In fact, the Duke of Bolton was so taken with Lavinia Fenton's performance of Polly, that he maintained her as his mistress after the play's initial run was over, and eventually married her upon the death of his spouse.
The members of Gay's literary circle were familiar with the play as well, and endorsed it both before and after it was completed. The first germ of the play is widely accepted to have come from John Swift's mention of the possibility of a "Newgate Pastoral." There is no indication that Swift had any other major influence on the work in itself, but it is unquestionable that Swift and Pope had significant influence on Gay's life, and it is the Scriblerian sentiment and voice that runs throughout the piece. Likewise, it is Swift who comes to the defense of Gay's opus in the third issue of The Intelligencer INSERT Intelligencer once scanned INSERT
At the heart of all the period's debate of The Beggar's Opera is a single question of morality; whether or not the play causes criminal behavior by representing it, and criminals, as somehow glamorous or heroic. John Fielding, for one, came down on the positive side here; he is recorded as requesting that the play be stopped from performance, because he believed it to engender vice. A significant majority, however, came down on the side of its beneficience, or at the least, harmlessness.
The Beggar's Opera has, since 1728, never suffered a lapse in printing, nor has it suffered a long lapse in performance. Its popularity has dimmed somewhat, due largely to the oversight given to English drama of the 18th century in general; but there have been several 20th century revivals. At least two filmed versions exist; a 1983 made-for-TV version starring Roger Daltrey (the source of the clips in this edition) and an earlier edition featuring Sir Laurence Olivier, filmed in 1953. As recently as 1998, a film called The Beggar's Opera Cafe was released, although I was unable to locate further information about it.
The play has been overshadowed, however, by one of its own children; Berthold Brecht's Die Dreigroschenoper (The Threepenny Opera), produced in 1928, is familiar worldwide. Its opening song "The Moritat of Mackie the Knife," better known in its translation as "Mack the Knife," is a staple of several blues musicians, and has appeared in at least one major American movie. Viewing The Threepenny Opera as an interpretation of The Beggar's Opera is a difficult prospect, however. Brecht has done more than change plot and dialogue around the central themes; he has refracted the play through a very heavily political lense. Brecht's marxism has not only been laid over the text; it replaces entirely Gay's pastoral ideal. Most notable is the role of Macheath in the newer play. In The Beggar's Opera, Macheath, despite being a highwayman, is a figure with a certain type of heroism and grace. His relationships with Polly and Lucy are ambivalently portrayed, but there is a kind of honor and solidarity connecting him with his men. In Scene II-2, his dialogue with them is filled, not only with criminal-speak and innuendoes, but with discussions of fondness and honor. It is his chief distinction from Peachum that he has no banker's book for hanging his gang; and they, in turn, have no hand in his downfall. Upon learning of his falling-out with Peachum, they are solid with him; he, in turn, cares for their well-being.
Business cannot go on without him. He is a Man who knows the World, and is a necessary Agent to us. We have had a slight Difference, and 'till it is accomodated I shall be obliged to keep out of his way. Any private dispute of mine shall be of no ill consequence to my Friends. You must continue to act under his Direction, for the moment we break loose from him, our Gang is ruin'd.
(Act II, Scene II)
Brecht's Macheath (Or Mackie the Knife) is recast as an upper-class tyrant; he routinely threatens and abuses his men, and is complicit in Peachum's scheme to hang them for the reward money. Additionally, he insists that any criminal act they perform be made to appear as if he had done it, to swell his reputation. He thereby takes not only the tangible benefits of their accomplishments as his own, but the very accomplishments themselves, in the perfect bourgeoise exploitation.
Elements of The Beggar's Opera remain, however. In Gay's work, the corruption comes from the financial trickery of the city, and the Whig establishment that controlled and established the system; in Brecht's, it was the usurpation of the proletariat's goods and power by the bourgeoise. In each play, however, a core of anger exists, at financial and social inequity, and the evils that results. And that is a concern that is still vital and valid today, and unfortunately may continue to be throughout the span of human existance.