THE PALMY DAYS OF NANCE OLDFIELD THE PALMY DAYS OF NANCE OLDFIELD BY EDWARD ROBINS WITH PORTRAITS LONDON WILLIAM HEINEMANN 1898 * !"* -: ;: ; -j* ,7. m ** * ' * 4* *<** This Edition enjoys copyright in all countries signatory to the Berne treaty, and is not to be imported into the United States of America. CONTENTS CHAP - PAGE I. FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE .... i II. AN ENTRE-ACTE 25 III. A BELLE OF METTLE 48 IV. MANAGERIAL WICKEDNESS . .72 V. A DEAD HERO . . ... .95 VI. IN TRAGIC PATHS Ir 8 VII. NANCE AT HOME ! 39 VIII. THE MIMIC WORLD !6o IX. "GRIEF A LA MODE" !g 3 X. THE BARTON BOOTHS 204 XI. THE FADING OF A STAR . . . .225 APPENDIX 8S2849 PORTRAITS Mrs. Anne Oldfield Frontispiece Mrs. Oldfield in the Character of Fair Rosamond Title-page Colley Gibber in the Character of Sir Novelty Fashion . 20 Robert Wilks ... . . . . .50 William Congreve . . . . * . .78 Mrs. Anne Bracegirdle . . . , . . . .84 Mrs. Bracegirdle as the " Sultaness " . . . .86 Joseph Addison * . . 98 Mrs. Anne Oldfield . . . . . . . 140 Mr. Mills, Mrs. Porter, Mr. Gibber . . . . .160 Sir John Vanbrugh . . . . . . .180 Sir Richard Steele 188 Barton Booth . . . ... . . . 204 THE PALMY DAYS OF NANCE OLDFIELD CHAPTER I FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE " OUT of question, you were born in a merry hour," says Don Pedro to the blithesome heroine of " Much Ado About Nothing." "No, sure, my lord," answers Beatrice. " My mother cried ; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born." Surely a star, possibly Venus, must have danced gaily on a certain night in the year of grace 1683, when the wife of Captain Oldfield, gentleman by birth and Royal Guardsman by profession, brought into the busy, unfeeling world of London a pretty mite of a girl. 'Twas a year of grace indeed, for the little stranger happened to be none other than Anne Oldfield, whose elegance of manner, charm of voice and action and loveliness of face would in time make her the most delightful comedienne of her day. Perhaps she found no instant welcome, this diminutive maiden who came smiling into existence laden with a message from the sunshine ; her father A * .** - - ' 4* * '2 : * ***' NANCE OLDFIELD was richer in ancestry than guineas, and the arrival of another daughter may have seemed an honour hardly worth the bestowal.^ But Thalia laughed, as well she might, and even the stern features of Melpomene relaxed a little in witnessing the birth of one who would prove almost as wondrous in tragedy, when she so minded, as she was fas- cinating in the gentler phases of her art. Yet the laughter of Thalia and the unbending of her sister Muse were hardly likely to make much impression in the Oldfield household, where money had more admirers than mythology, and so we are not surprised to learn that, with the death of the gallant captain, this " incomparable sweet girl," who would ere long reconcile even a supercilious French- man to the English stage, had to seek her living as a seamstress. How she sewed a bodice or hemmed a petticoat we know not, nor do we care ; it is far more interesting to be told that, though only in her early teens, the toiler with the needle found her greatest recreation in reading Beaumont and Fletcher's plays. The modern young woman, be her station high or low, would take no pleasure in such a literary occupation, but in the days of Nance Oldfield to con the pages of Beaumont and Fletcher was considered a privilege rather than a duty. Then, again, the little seamstress had a soul above threads and thimbles ; her heart was with the players, and we can imagine her running off some idle afternoon to peep slyly into Drury Lane * According to Edmund Bellchambers, Anne Oldfield '* would have possessed a tolerable fortune, had not her father, a captain in the army, expended it at a very early period." FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE 3 Theatre, or perhaps walk over into Lincoln's Inn Fields, where the noble Betterton and his com- panions had formed a rival company. The per- formance over, she hurries to the Mitre Tavern, in St. James's Market, and here she is sure of a warm welcome, as is but natural, since the Mrs. Voss who rules the destinies of the hostelry is Anne's elder sister.* Here the girl loves to spend those rare moments of leisure, reading aloud the comedies oi long ago and dreaming of the future ; and here, too, it is that dashing Captain Farquhar listens in amaze- ment as she recites the " Scornful Lady." George Farquhar how his name conjures up a vision of all that is brilliant, rakish, and bibulous in the expiring days of the seventeenth century ! It is easy to picture him, as he stands near the congenial bar of the tavern, entranced by the liquid tones and marvellous expression of Nance's youthful voice. He has a whimsical, good-humoured face, perhaps showing the rubicund effects of steady drinking (as whose features did not in those halcyon times of merry nights and tired mornings ?), and a general air of loving the world and its pleasures, despite a secret suspicion that a hard-hearted bailiff may be lying in wait around the corner. His flowing wig may seem a trifle old, the embroidery on his once resplendent vest look sadly tarnished, and the cloth of his skirted coat exhibit the unmistakable symp- toms of age, but, for all that, Captain Farquhar stands forth an honourable, high-spirited gentleman. * According to one authority, Mrs. Voss was Anne's aunt. We adhere, however, to Dr. Doran's account of the relationship. 4 NANCE OLDFIELD And gentleman George Farquhar is both by birth and bearing. Was he not the son of genteel parents living in the North of Ireland, and did he not receive a polite education at the University in Dublin ? So polite, indeed, has his training been that he is already the author of that wonderful " Love and a Bottle," a comedy wherein he amusingly holds the mirror up to English vices, including his own. And, speaking of vices, he can now look back to those salad days when he wrote verses of unimpeach- able morality, setting forth, among other sentiments, that " The pliant Soul of erring Youth Is, like soft Wax, or moisten'd Clay, Apt to receive all heav'nly Truth, Or yield to Tyrant 111 the Sway. Shun Evil in your early Years, And Manhood may to Virtue rise ; But he who, in his Youth, appears A Fool, in Age will ne'er be wise." Poor fellow ! He never will be wise in the material sense ; he will trip gracefully through life with more brains and bonhomie than worldly dis- cretion, yet eclipsing many steadier companions by writing the "Recruiting Officer" and other sparkling plays, not forgetting " The Inconstant," which will last even unto the end of the nineteenth century. At present and 'tis the present rather than the past or future that most concerns the captain he holds a commission in the army, which he is foolish enough to relinquish later on, and he has come to the very sensible conclusion that he is far more at home in the writing of comedies than the FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE 5 acting therein. For he has been on the stage, and pre- cipitately retired therefrom after accidently wounding a fellow performer.* In the course of two or three years Farquhar will make a desperate attempt to be mercenary by marrying a girl whom he supposes to be wealthy ; he will find out his mistake, and then, like the thoroughbred that he is, will go on cherish- ing her as though she had brought him a ton of rent-rolls. When he is dead and gone, Chetwood, the veteran prompter of Drury Lane, will tell us, quaintly enough, how "it was affirm'd, by some of his near Acquaintance, his unfortunate Marriage shortened his Days ; for his Wife (by whom he had two Daughters), through the Reputation of a great Fortune, trick'd him into Matrimony. This was chiefly the Fault of her Love, which was so violent that she was resolved to use all Arts to gain him. Tho' some Husbands, in such a Case, would have proved mere Husbands, yet he was so much charm'd with her Love and Understanding, that he liv'd very happy with her. Therefore when I say an unfor- tunate Marriage, with other Circumstances, conducted to the shortening of his Days ; I only mean that his Fortune, being too slender to support a Family, led him into a great many Cares and Inconveniences/' No one would have appreciated the unconscious humour of Chetwood's assertion about " some hus- bands " more than Farquhar himself. One trembles * Farquhar was playing in " The Indian Emperor," being cast for Guyomar, a character whose pleasant duty it is to kill Vasquez, the Spanish general. This particular Guyomar forgot to change his sword for a theatre foil, and in the subsequent encounter gave Vasquez too realistic a punishment. 6 NANCE OLDFIELD to think, by the way, what a " mere husband" must have been in the reigns of William or Anne. In the meantime we are almost forgetting young Mistress Oldfield, who is still reading the " Scornful Lady," and putting new life and grace into lines which nowadays seem a bit academic and musty. The captain has not forgotten her, however ; on the contrary, he is so charmed with what he hears that he makes some flimsy excuse to get into that room behind the bar whence the silvery voice proceeds. There he first meets Nance, surrounded by what audience we know not, and is struck dumb at the lovely figure standing out in bashful relief, as it were, against a background of wine bottles and ale tankards. There is an awkward pause, no doubt, and if the girl of fifteen comes to a sudden stop in her recital, Farquhar is no less embarrassed on his part. The handsome, rosy face of a strapping tavern wench would not have startled him, but he was not gazing upon a bouncing serving maid or the hoy- denish daughter of a prosperous innkeeper. He beheld a creature in all the gentle bloom of high- bred beauty tall, well-formed, and radiating a sort of natural elegance, with a fine-shaped, expressive face, to which great speaking eyes and a mouth half pensive, half smiling, lent an air of rare distinction. These were the eyes which in after years Anne would half close in a roguish way, as when, for instance, she meditated a brilliant stroke as Lady Betty Modish, and then, opening them defiantly, would make them glisten with the spirit of twinkling comedy. These were the eyes, too, which would shine forth such FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE 7 unutterable love when she played Cleopatra that one might well pardon the peccadilloes of poor Antony. But as yet there was no thought of drooping eyelids or amorous glances ; all was natural, and nothing more so than the coyness of Nance upon seeing the author of " Love and a Bottle." Captain Farquhar had never before beheld this seamstress from King Street, Westminster, but she must have been familiar with the handsome figure of one who had drunk many a brimming glass at the Mitre Tavern. Thus, when he made bold to praise her elocution, she was not offended, and, although she ignored his request to continue the " Scornful Lady," Anne proved sufficiently mistress of the interruption to astonish the intruder by "her dis- course and sprightly wit." That innate breeding, of which no amount of poverty could deprive her, came to the surface, to show that a woman of quality is none the worse for a surprise. Farquhar, bowing low with a grace that made his faded clothes seem the pink of fashion, poured forth a torrent of flowery compliments, which became all the stronger when he heard that the girl knew Beaumont and Fletcher nearly by heart. She must have blushed, looking prettier than ever, as the visitor went on ; and how that young heart did leap as he predicted for her a glorious future on the stage ! The stage ! the Ultima Thule of all her hopes ! The very idea of acting filled her head with a thousand bewildering fancies, and, as she told Chetwood in after years, " I longed to be at it, and only wanted a little decent intreaties." The decent intreaties were forthcoming. Nance's 8 NANCE OLDFIELD mother, who evidently rejoiced in a prophetic spirit not given to all parents, strongly agreed with Farquhar's opinion that the young lady should try a theatrical career, and the upshot of the whole episode was that Captain Vanbrugh took an interest in the newly-found jewel. This was a high honour. Vanbrugh had not yet made for himself a reputation as an architect by building Blenheim Castle for the Marlboroughs, nor had he changed his title of Captain for Sir John ; but he was a great man, nevertheless, a successful dramatist and a boon companion of Christopher Rich, manager of Drury Lane. When the enthusiastic Farquhar sounded the praises of Anne Oldfield the future Sir John quickly repaired to the sign of the Mitre, with which, no doubt, he was already familiar, and met the young enchantress of that historic little room behind the bar. The arrival of this second and more distinguished captain was evidently the signal for a family council. We can see them all Nance, glowing with excitement, her Brahmin-like, aristo- cratic beauty heightened by a dash of natural colour, quite different from the rouge she might use later ; Mrs. Voss, sleepy, comfortable, and well pleased ; and Mrs. Oldfield, full of importance and maternal solicitude. Vanbrugh, with his good-humoured smile and military bearing, talks in a fatherly way to the daughter, is deeply impressed with her many attractions, and is not sorry to learn that her ambition is all for comedy. He promises to use his good offices with Mr. Rich to have her enrolled as a member of the Drury Lane company, keeps his FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE 9 word, too something for a gentleman to do in the year 1699 and soon has the satisfaction of seeing his new protegee hobnobbing with Mrs. Verbruggen, Wilks, Gibber, and other players of the house, while drawing fifteen shillings a week for the privilege. To hobnob, receive a few shillings, and do next to nothing on the stage does not seem a glorious be- ginning for our heroine, but think of the inestimable luxury of brushing up against Colley Gibber. This remarkable man, who would be in turn actor, man- ager, playwright, and a pretty bad Poet Laureate before death would put an extinguisher on his prolific muses, had at first no exalted opinion of the new- comer's powers. '' In the year 1699," ne writes in that immortal biography of his,* " Mrs. Oldfield was first taken into the house, where she remain'd about a twelve- month, almost a mute and unheeded, 'till Sir John Vanbrugh, who first recommended her, gave her the part of Alinda in the " Pilgrim " revis'd. This gentle character happily became that want of con- fidence which is inseparable from young beginners, who, without it, seldom arrive to any excellence. Notwithstanding, I own I was then so far deceiv'd in my opinion of her, that I thought she had little more in her person that appeared necessary to the forming a good actress ; for she set out with so extraordinary a diffidence, that it kept her too des- pondingly down to a formal, plain, (not to say) flat manner of speaking." * " An Apology for the Life of Mr. Colley Gibber." 10 NANCE OLD FIELD How strange it seems, as we peer back behind the scenes of history, to think of a theatrical debutante rejoicing in an extraordinary diffidence. " Rather a cynical remark, isn't it ?" the reader may ask. Well, perhaps it is, but these are piping times of advertising, when even genius has been known to employ a press agent. Nance Oldfield may have been almost mute for a twelvemonth, yet more than a few feminine novices, Anno Domino 1898, would never be content to remain silent ; not only must they make a noise behind the footlights, but they feel it incumbent to be heard in the newspapers as well. Any dramatic editor could tell a weary tale of the importunities of a progressive young lady who wants to enlighten an aching public at least six times a week as to the number of her dresses, the colour of her hair, and the attention of her admirers. There is a blessed con- solation in all this : the female with the trousseau, the champagned locks and the notoriety lasts no longer than the butterfly, and her place is soon taken by the girl who never bothers about the paragraphs, because she is sure to get them. To return to the more congenial subject of Oldfield, it is strange that so shrewd a Thespian as Gibber (who seems to have been clever in all things but poetry) was so long in coming to a real apprecia- tion of her genius. He is manly enough to confess that not even the silvery tone of that honeyed voice could, " 'till after some time incline my ear to any hope in her favour." " But public approbation," he tells us, " is the warm weather of a theatrical plant, FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE n which will soon bring it forward to whatever perfection nature has design'd it. However, Mrs. Oldfield (perhaps for want of fresh parts) seem'd to come but slowly forward 'till the year 1703." So slowly had she come forward indeed, that in 1702, Gildon, a now forgotten critic and dramatist, included her among the " meer Rubbish that ought to be swept off the stage with the Filth and Dust."* 1 Time has avenged the actress for this slight ; who, excepting the student of theatrical history, remembers Gildon ? What is more to the purpose, Nance was able to avenge herself in the flesh, only a few months after these contemptuous lines had been penned. It happened at Bath, in the summer of 1703, and the story of her triumph, brief as it is, sounds quaint and pretty, as it comes down to us laden with a thousand suggestions of fashionable life in the reign of Queen Anne a life made up of gossip and cards, drinking, gaming, patches and powder, fine clothes, full perriwigs and empty heads. What a picturesque lot of people there must have been at the great English spa that season, all anxious to get a glimpse of her plump majesty, who was staying there, and all willing enough to do anything except to test the waters or the baths from which the place first acquired fame. They were all there, the pretty maids and wrinkled matrons, the young rakes of twenty, ready for a frolic, and the old rakes of thirty too weary to do much more than go to the theatre and cry out, " Damme, this is a damn'd play." Then the children, * From the " Comparison Between the Two Stages." 12 NANCE OLDFIELD who were always in the way, and the aged fathers of families who liked to swear at the dandified airs and newly imported French manners of their sons. And such sons as some of them were too smart fellows, of whom the beau described in "The Careless Husband," may betaken as an example : one "that's just come to a small estate, and a great perriwig he that sings himself among the women he won't speak to a gentleman when a lord's in company. You always see him with a cane dangling at his button, his breast open, no gloves, one eye tuck'd under his hat, and a toothpick." What of the belles of the Bath ? They seem to have been much after the fashion of their modern sisters, with their harmless little vanities, their love of expensive finery, and their pretty eyes ever watching for the main chance, or a chance man. Odsbodkins ! but the world has changed very little, for even then we hear of dashing specimens of the New Woman, in the persons of ladies who affected men's hats, feathers, coats, and perriwigs, to such an extent that our dear friend Addison will gently rebuke them during the reign of the Spectator. He doubts if this masculinity will " smite more effectually their male beholders," for how would the sweet creatures themselves be affected " should they meet a man on horseback, in his breeches and jack-boots, and at the same time dressed up in a commode^ and a night raile ? " How charming it would have been to watch the whole gay crew, just as Addison and Steele must * A cumbersome head-dress made of lace or muslin. FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE 13 have done, and to feel, like these two delightful philosophers, that you were a little above the sur- roundings. Poor Dick Steele may not always have been above those surroundings ; we can fancy him taking things comfortably in some tippling-house, red-faced, happy, and winey, but even the most puri- tanical of us will forgive him. Read, by the way, what he says of the Spa's morals*: "I found a sober, modest man was always looked upon by both sexes as a precise, unfashioned fellow of no life or spirit. It was ordinary for a man who had been drunk in good company, or .... to speak of it next day before women for whom he had the greatest respect. He was reproved, perhaps, with a blow of the fan, or an ' Oh, fy ! ' but the angry lady still preserved an apparent approbation in her countenance. He was called a strange, wicked fellow, a sad wretch ; he shrugs his shoulders, swears, receives another blow, swears again he did not know he swore, and all was well. You might often see men game in the presence of women, and throw at once for more than they were worth, to recommend themselves as men of spirit. I found by long experience that the loosest principles and most abandoned behaviour carried all before them in pretentions to women of fortune." Into this merry throng came Anne Oldfield during that never-to-be-forgotten summer not, however, as an equal, but as an humble player of the troupe from Drury Lane. They had moved down from London, these happy-go-lucky Bohemians, as they * Spectator, No. 154. Steele is writing as Simon Honeycomb. 14 NANCE OLDFIELD were wont to do each season, among them being the ubiquitous Gibber, the gentlemanly Wilks, and that very talented vagabond, George Powell. Powell it was who liked his brandy not wisely but too well, and who made such passionate love on the stage that Sir John Vanbrugh used to wax nervous for the fate of the actresses. One great artiste was missing, however. Mrs. Verbruggen was ill in London, and that shining exponent of light comedy, who Gibber said was mistress of more variety of humour than he ever knew in any one actress, would never more tread those boards which were dearer to her than life.* Before she disappears for ever from these " Palmy Days " let us read a page or two about her from the graphic pictures in that famous " Apology for the Life of Mr. Colley Gibber " :- " As she was naturally a pleasant mimick, she had the skill to make that talent useful on the stage, a talent which may be surprising in a conversation, and yet be lost when brought to the theatre But where the elocution is round, distinct, voluble, and various, as Mrs. Montfort's was, the mimick there is a great assistant to the actor." Which reminds one that more than a baker's dozen of modern comedians, so called, are nothing less than mimics. However, this is digressing, and so we continue : " Nothing, tho' ever so barren, if within the * A brief memoir of Mrs. Verbruggen and her first husband, handsome Will Mountford, will be found in " Echoes of the Play- house." FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE 15 bounds of nature, could be flat in her hands. She gave many heightening touches to characters but coldly written, and often made an author vain of his work that in itself had but little merit. She was so fond of humour, in what low part soever to be found, that she would make no scruple of defacing her fair form to come heartily into it;* for when she was eminent in several desirable characters of wit and humour in higher life, she would be in as much fancy when descending into the antiquated Abigail of Fletcher (' Scornful Lady ') as when triumphing in all the airs and vain graces of a fine lady, a merit that few actresses care for. In a play of D'Urfey's, now forgotten, called the 'Western Lass,' which part she acted, she transform'd her whole being, body, shape, voice, language, look, and features, into almost another animal, with a strong Devonshire dialect, a broad, laughing voice, a poking head, round shoulders, an unconceiving eye, and the most bediz'ning, dowdy dress that ever cover'd the un- train'd limbs of a Joan Trot. To have seen her here you would have thought it impossible the same creature could ever have been recover'd to what was as easy to her, the gay, the lively, and the desirable. Nor was her humour limited to her sex ; for, while her shape permitted, she was a more adroit pretty fellow than is usually seen upon the stage. Her easy air, action, mien, and gesture quite * Davies, in his " Life of Garrick," says of Peg Woffington that " in Mrs. Day, in the ' Committee,' she made no scruple to disguise her beautiful countenance by drawing on it the lines of deformity and the wrinkles of old age, and to put on the tawdry habilaments and vulgar manners of an old hypocritical city vixen." 1 6 NANCE OLDFIELD chang'd, from the quoif to the cock'd hat and cavalier in fashion. People were so fond of seeing her a man, that when the part of Bays in the * Rehearsal ' had for some time lain dormant, she was desired to take it up, which I have seen her act with all the true coxcombly spirit and humour that the sufficiency of the character required." Let us cry peace to her manes and then wander back to Mistress Oldfield, whom we have a very ungallant way of leaving from time to time. Well, Verbruggen having been taken out of the dramatic lists "most of her parts," as Colley chroni- cles, " were, of course, to be dispos'd of, yet so earnest was the female scramble for them, that only one of them fell to the share of Mrs. Oldfield, that of Leonora in "Sir Courtly Nice" ; a character of good plain sense, but not over elegantly written." A "female scramble" it must have been with a vengeance, as any one who knows aught of theatrical ambition will easily understand. The only really distinguished actress of the Drury Lane coterie hors de combat, and a bevy of feminine vultures of no particular pretension, anxiously waiting to dispose of her histrionic remains ! Think of it, ye managers who have to subdue the passions and limit the extravagant hopes of your players, and pity poor, unfortunate Mr. Rich. Do you wonder that Nance only contrived to get the plain-spoken Leonora ? The wonder of it is that she obtained any rdle whatsoever. Let Gibber continue the story, while he frankly FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE 17 confesses that even he could form a false estimate of a colleague : " It was in this part Mrs. Oldfield surpris'd me into an opinion of her having all the innate powers of a good actress, though they were yet but in the bloom of what they promis'd. Before she had acted this part I had so cold an expectation from her abilities, that she could scarce prevail with me to re- hearse with her the scenes she was chiefly concern'd in with Sir Courtly, which I then acted. However, we ran them over with a mutual inadvertency of one another. I seem'd careless, as concluding that any assistance I could give her would be to little or no purpose ; and she mutter'd out her words in a sort of mifty manner at my low opinion of her. But when the play came to be acted, she had just occasion to triumph over the error of my judgment, by the (almost) amazement that her unexpected performance awak'd me to ; so forward and sudden a step into nature I had never seen ; and what made her perfor- mance more valuable was that I knew it all proceeded from her own understanding, untaught and unassisted by any one more experienc'd actor." In the original text, Gibber, in pursuance of that old-fashioned method of capitalising every third or fourth word without any particular rhyme or reason, has spelled occasion with a big O. Well he might, for it was, perhaps, the most important occasion in all the eventful life of Oldfield. She would win many a more popular triumph in days to come, but what were all of them compared to the honour of B 1 8 NANCE OLD FIELD having compelled the writer to admit that he had blundered. " Though this part of Leonora in itself was of so little value, that when she got more into esteem it was one of the several she gave away to inferior actresses ; yet it was the first (as I have observ'd) that corrected my judgment of her, and confirmed me in a strong belief that she could not fail in very little time of being what she was afterwards allowed to be, the foremost ornament of our Theatre." It takes but slight exercise of fancy to see inside the stuffy little theatre of Bath, on that memorable summer afternoon, when "Sir Courtly Nice"* is pro- duced, with Gibber in the foppish title-r61e and the fair unknown as Leonora, " Belguard's sister, in love with Farewell." Her fat, peaceful, and phlegmatic Majesty, Anne Stuart, is in the royal box, perhaps (although she is far from being a playgoer), and with her retinue may be seen her dearest of friends, Sarah * " Sir Courtly Nice ; or, It Cannot be," was from the pen of John Crown. In dedicating it to the Duke of Ormond, as can be seen in the original publication of the piece (" London, Printed by H. H. Jun. for R. Bently, in Russell street, Covent Garden, and Jos. Hind- marsh, at the Golden- Ball over against the Royal Exchange in Cornhill, MDCLXXXV"). The author says: "This comedy was Written by the Sacred Command of our late Most Excellent King, of ever blessed and beloved Memory (Charles II.). I had the great good fortune to please Him often at his Court in my Masque, on the Stage in Tragedies and Comedies, and so to advance myself in His good opinion ; an Honour may render a wiser Man than I vain ; for I believe he had more equals in extent of Dominion than of Under- standing. The greatest pleasure he had from the Stage was in Comedy, and he often Commanded me to Write it, and lately gave me a Spanish Play called " No' Puedeser Or, It Cannot Be " out of which I took part o' the Name and design o' this." FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE 19 Churchill, now Duchess of Marlborough, and the most brilliant political Amazon of her time. How appropriate, by-the-way, that they should be together at the comedy. The whole intimacy of the two, gentle Sovereign and fiery subject, is nothing more or less than a curious play, wherein Anne takes the role of Queen (unwillingly enough, poor thing, for she was born to be bourgeoise) and the Duchess assumes the leading part. Unfortunate "Mrs. Morley"!* You have a weary time of it, trying to act up to royalty when you would be so much happier as a middle-class housewife, and, perhaps, you have never been more bored than you are to-day in view- ing " Sir Courtly Nice." Nor can the performance be as delightful as it might otherwise prove to her of Marlborough ; 'tis but a few months since her son, the Marquis of Blandford, had ended in small-pox a career which promised to carry on the greatness of his house. The comedy is about to begin as a common- looking person makes his appearance in the box. He is a dull, heavy fellow, who suggests nothing more strongly than a fondness for brown October ale and a good dinner into the bargain. Anne turns towards him with as affectionate a glance as she thinks it seeming to bestow in public. Is he not her husband, George of Denmark, and the father of all those children whom she never has succeeded in * It is hardly necessary to remind the reader that in the private correspondence between Anne and the Duchess of Marlborough, the former signed herself "Mrs. Morley," while her friend masqueraded as " Mrs. Freeman." 20 NANCE OLDFIELD rearing to man's, or woman's, estate ? He is a faithful consort, too, which is saying not a little in the days when Royal constancy, on the male side, is the rarest of jewels. George has vices, to be sure, but they belong to the stomach rather than the heart that obese heart which, such as it is, the good Queen can call her own. " Hath your Royal Highness ever seen this Gibber act ? " asked the Duchess, by way of making conversation. She never stands on ceremony with soft-pated George, and does not wait to speak until she is spoken to. " Gibber Gibber who be Gibber ? " queries the Prince, a beery look in his eye, a foreign accent on his tongue. " He's the son of the sculptor, Caius Gabriel Gibber, your Highness." " I do not know I do not know," mutters George drowsily. Then he falls asleep in the box, and snores so deeply that Manager Rich, who has been in the front of the house, pokes his inquisitive face into the poorly-lighted auditorium, and quickly pokes it back again. But hush ! Wake up, Prince, and look at the stage. The play has begun, and some member of the company, we know not who, has recited the archaic prologue, which asks : " What are the Charmes, by which these happy Isles Hence gain'd Heaven's brightest and eternal smiles ? What Nation upon Earth besides our own But by a loss like ours had been undone ? Ten Ages scarce such Royal worths display As England lost, and found in one strange Day. COLLEY GIBBER In the character of "Sir Novelty Fashion, newly created Lord Foppington," in Vanbrugh's play of "The Relapse, or, Virtue in Dangei " From the Painting by J. GRISONI, the property of the Garrick Club FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE 21 One hour in sorrow and confusion hurld, And yet the next the envy of the World." The King is dead ! Long live the Queen ! The prologue was written in honour of his most Catholic Majesty James II. and his consort, Marie Beatrice of Modena, but the opening lines are admirably adapted to flatter Anne, and so they are retained, even though what follows happens to be new.* But what care we for the prologue when the first scene is on and Violante and Leonora are con- fessing their respective love affairs, as women always do on the stage. Leonora has a dragon of a brother who would compel her to marry that pink of empty propriety, Sir Courtly, but she rebels against the admirer selected for her, as all well-bred young women should in plays, and sets her heart upon another. In consequence there is trouble of the dear old romantic kind. " I never stir out, but as they say the Devil does, with chains and torments," Leonora tells Violante. " She that is my Hell at home is so abroad." "Vio. A New Woman? " LEO. No, an old Woman, or rather an old Devil ; nay, worse than an old Devil, an old Maid. "Vio. Oh, there's no Fiend so Envious. " LEO. Right ; she will no more let young People sin, than the Devil will let 'em be sav'd, out of envy to their happiness. "Vio. Who is she ? * The remainder of the original prologue, had it been recited, would have raised a storm. 22 - NANCE OLD FIELD " LEO. One of my own blood, an Aunt. "Vio. I know her. She of thy blood ? She has not a drop of it these twenty years ; the Devil of envy sucked it all out, and let verjuice in the roome." These lines are decidedly unfeminine and coarse, as viewed from a nineteenth century standard, and there is nothing in them to recommend the two girls to the particular favour of the audience. Yet, in the case of Leonora, they are given with such rare spirit, and the speaker, with her almost sensuous charm and the melody of that marvellous voice, is so fascinating, that the house is suddenly caught in some entrancing spell. Oldfield has burst upon it in all the sudden glory of a newly unfolded flower, and murmurs of admiration and surprise are heard on every side. More than this, Queen Anne, whose thoughts may have been far away with the dead Duke of Gloucester, betrays a sudden interest in the performance, and thus sets the fashion for all those around her, excepting his most sleepy Royal Highness, the Prince of Denmark. He dozes on ; twenty angels from heaven would not disturb him. As the play proceeds, the curiosity centres around the new Leonora, so that even the scene where Sir Courtly is found making the most elaborate of toilets, with the assistance of a bevy of vocalists, does not exert the attraction to be found in the presence of Oldfield. The episode is all very funny, of course, and there is an appreciative titter when the fop defines the characteristics of a gentleman : FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE 23 " Complaisance, fine hands, a mouth well fur- nished " SERVANT. With fine language ? "SiR COURTLY. Fine teeth, you sot; fine language belongs to pedants and poor fellows that live by their wits. Men of quality are above wit. 'Tis true, for our diversion, sometimes we write, but we ne'er regard wit. I write, but I never write any wit. " SERVANT. How then, sir ? " SIR COURTLY. I write like a gentleman, soft and easy." It is only a titter, however, that Gibber can pro- duce this afternoon, or evening,* nor does the audience take the usual relish in that touch-and-go rubbish of a duet sung by a supposed Indian and his love, a duet in which the former declares : " My other Females all Yellow, fair or Black, To thy Charmes shall prostrate fall, As every kind of elephant does To the white Elephant Buitenacke. And thou alone shall have from me Jimminy, Gomminy, whee, whee, whee, The Gomminy, Jimminy, whee." To which the lovely maiden answers : " The great Jaw-waw that rules our Land, And pearly Indian sea Has not so absolute Command As thou hast over me, With a Jimminy, Gomminy, Gomminy, Jimminy, Jimminy, Gomminy, whee." When the play is over Nance can take a new * Theatrical performances in this reign generally began at 5 p.m. 24 NANCE OLDFIELD part, that of a feminine conqueror. She has over- shadowed Colley Gibber, who is more dazed than chagrined at the denouement, and she has proved more potent for the public amusement than all the beauties of " Jimminy, Gomminy," with its elephants, its jaw-waw, and its pearly Indian Sea. As she sits in the green-room, smiling in girlish triumph while she looks around at the beaux and players who crowd about her, anxious to worship the rising star, her eloquent glance falls on George Farquhar. There is a tear in his eye, but a radiant expression about the face. What does the Old- field's success mean to the Captain ? Perhaps Anne knows, as she throws him a tender recognition ; perhaps she thinks of that song in " Sir Courtly Nice " which runs : " Oh, be kind, my dear, be kind, Whilst our Loves and we are Young ; We shall find, we shall find, Time will change the face or mind, Youth will not continue long. Oh, be kind, my dear, be kind." CHAPTER II AN ENTRE-ACTE WHILE Anne Oldfield is resting from her first triumph and preparing for another, let us glance for a moment at the theatrical conditions which surround her. Curious, perplexing conditions they are, marking as they do a transition between the brilliant but generally filthy period of the Restoration a period in which some of the worst and some of the best of plays saw the light and the time when the punctilio and artificial decency of the age will cast over the stage the cold light of formality and restraint. The nation is but slowly recovering from the licentiousness which characterised the merry reign of Charles II., that witty, sceptical sovereign, who never believed in the honesty of man nor the virtue of frail woman. The playwrights are re- covering too, yet, if anything, more tardily than the people ; for when a nasty cynicism, like that per- vading the old comedies, is once boldly cultivated, many a long day must elapse ere it can be replaced by a cleaner, healthier spirit. Charles has surely had much to answer for at the bar of public opinion (a bar for which he evidently 26 NANCE OLDFIELD felt a profound contempt), and the evil influence which he and his Court exerted on the drama supplies one of the greatest blots on his moral 'scutcheon. Augustus William Schlegel, that foreigner who studied the literature of the English stage as few Britons have ever done, well pointed out that while the Puritans had brought Republican principles and religious zeal into public odium, this light-hearted monarch seemed expressly born to dispel all respect for the kingly dignity. " England was inundated with the foreign follies and vices in his train. The Court set the fashion of the most undisguised im- morality, and this example was the more extensively contagious, as people imagined that they showed their zeal for the new order of things by an extra- vagant way of thinking and living. The fanaticism of the Republicans had been accompanied with true strictness of manners, and hence nothing appeared more convenient than to obtain the character of Royalists by the extravagant inclination for all lawful and unlawful pleasures. " The age of Louis XIV. was nowhere imitated with greater depravity. The prevailing gallantry at the Court of France was not without reserve and tenderness of feeling ; they sinned, if I may so speak, with some degree of dignity, and no man ventured to attack what was honourable, though his own actions might not exactly coincide with it. The English played a part which was altogether unnatural to them ; they gave themselves heavily up to levity ; they everywhere confounded the coarsest licentiousness with free mental vivacity, AN ENTRE-ACTE 27 and did not perceive that the sort of grace which is still compatible with depravity, disappears with the last veil which it throws off." As Schlegel goes on to say, we can easily imagine into what direction the tastes of the English people drifted under such auspices. " They possessed no real knowledge of the: fine arts, and these were merely, favoured like other foreign fashions and inventions of luxury, They neither felt a true want of poetry, nor had any relish for it ; they merely wished to be entertained in a brilliant and light manner. The theatre, which in its former simplicity had attracted the spectators solely by the excellence of the dramatic works and the actors, was now furnished out with all the appendages with which we are at this day familiar ; but what is gained in external decoration is lost in internal worth." In other words, the theatrical life and literature of the Restoration was morally rotten to the core. How that rottenness has been giving way, during the childhood of Nance Oldfield, to what may be styled a comparative decency, need not be described here. Suffice it to explain that such a change is taking place, and let us accordingly sing, rejoice and give thanks for small mercies. Thalia has ceased to be a wanton ; she is fast becoming quite a respectable young woman, and as to Melpomene well, that severe Muse is actually waxing religious. Religious ? Yes, verily, for will not all good Londoners read in the course of a year or two that there will be a performance of " Hamlet" at Drury Lane " towards the defraying the charge of repairing 28 NANCE OLDFIELD and fitting up the chapel in Russell Court," said performance to be given "with singing by Mr. Hughes, and entertainment of dancing by Monsieur Cherier, Miss Lambro his scholar, and Mr. Evans. Boxes, 53. ; pit, 35. ; gallery, 2s. ; upper gallery, is." Here was an ideal union of church and stage with a vengeance, the one being served by the other, and the whole thing done to the secular accompaniment of singing and dancing. For an instant the town was scandalised, but Defoe, that perturbed spirit for whom there was no such word as rest, saw the humour of the situation. ' * Hard times, gentlemen, hard times these are indeed with the Church," he informs the promoters of this ecclesiastical benefit, "to send her to the playhouse to gather pew-money. For shame, gentle- men ! go to the Church and pay your money there, and never let the playhouse have such a claim to its establishment as to say the Church is beholden to her Can our Church be in danger ? How is it possible ? The whole nation is solicitous and at work for her safety and prosperity. The Parliament address, the Queen consults, the Ministry execute, the Armies fight, and all for the Church ; but at home we have other heroes that act for the Church. Peggy Hughes sings, Monsieur Ramandon plays, Miss Sant- low dances, Monsieur Cherier teaches, and all for the Church. Here's heavenly doings ! here's harmony ! " "In short," concludes the author of "Robinson Crusoe," " the observations on this most prepos- terous piece of Church work are so many, they AN ENTRE-ACTE 29 cannot come into the compass of this paper ; but if the money raised here be employed to re-edify this chapel, I would have it, as is very frequent, in like cases, written over the door in capital letters : ' This church was re-edified anno 1706, at the expense and by the charitable contribution of the enemies of the reformation of our morals, and to the eternal scandal and most just reproach of the Church of England and the Protestant religion. Witness our hands, LUCIFER, Prince of Darkness, ^ and [ Churchwardens.' " * HAMLET, Prince of Denmark,] The " enemies of the reformation of our morals ! " Defoe used the expression satirically, but how well it suited the minds of many pious persons, ranging all the way from bishops to humble laymen, who could see nothing in the theatre excepting the prospective flames of the infernal regions. Clergymen preached against the playhouse then, just as some of them have done since, and will continue so to do until the arrival of the Millennium. Oftentimes the criticisms of these well-meaning gentlemen had more than a grain of truth to make them half justifiable. The stage was still far from pure, in spite of the improve- ment which was going on steadily enough, and there is no denying the fact that several of the worst plays of the Restoration could still claim admirers. Even "Sir Courtly Nice," wherein occurs one of the most indecent passages ever penned, and one of the most suggestive of songs, was received without a murmur. Congreve was pardoned for his breaches of decorum, * Review, June 20, 1706. 30 NANCE OLDFIELD and Dryden was looked upon as quite proper enough for all purposes. The morale of the players could hardly be called unimpeachable, at least in some instances, but the violations of social rules were not so open as they had been in the old days. Here and there a frail actress might depart from the stony path of virtue, or an actor give himself up to wine and the dodging of bailiffs, yet the attending scandals were not flaunted in the face of the public. In other words, there were Thespians of doubtful reputation then, just as there are now, and these black sheep helped materially to keep up against their white brethren that remarkable prejudice which has endured even unto the present decade. As a class, the players had no social position of any kind, although the great ones of the earth, the men of rank, never hesitated to hobnob with them when, like Mrs. Gamp, they felt " so dispoged." Even in the enlightened reign of Queen Anne, there existed among many intelligent persons the vague idea that one who trod the boards was nothing more or less than a vagabond, and we are not surprised to learn, therefore, that in a royal proclamation of the period, " players and mountebanks " are mentioned in the same sentence, as though there was little difference between them. Perhaps, the " artists " to whom the title of vaga- bond might be applied with a certain degree of justice were the strolling players, who seem to have been much after the fashion of others of their ilk, before and since. Good-natured, poverty-stricken AN ENTRE-ACTE 31 barnstormers they doubtless were, living from-hand- to-mouth, and quite willing to go through the whole gamut of tragedy, from Shakespeare to Dryden, for the sake of a good supper. Here is a graphic picture of such a band of dramatic ne'er-do-wells, drawn by Dick Steele in the forty-eighth issue of the Spectator : "We have now at this place [this is a letter of an imaginary correspondent to ' Mr. Spectator '] a company of strollers, who are very far from offending in the impertinent splendor of the drama. They are so far from falling into these false gallantries, that the stage is here in his original situation of a cart. Alexander the Great was acted by a fellow in a paper cravat. The next day, the Earl of Essex seemd to have no distress but his poverty ; and my Lord Foppington the same morning wanted any better means to show himself a fop than by wearing stock- ings of different colours.* In a word, though they have had a full barn for many days together, our itinerants are still so wretchedly poor, that without * It must be remembered that theatrical costumes, as we see them to-day, did not exist. The art of dressing correctly, according to the nature of the character and the period in which the play was supposed to occur, was practically unknown. Even in after years we hear of Spranger Barry playing Othello in a gold-laced scarlet suit, small cocked hat, and knee-breeches, with silk stockings. Think of it, ye sticklers for realism ! Dr. Doran narrates how Garrick dressed Hamlet in a court suit of black coat, " waistcoat and knee-breeches, short wig with queue and bag, buckles in the shoes, ruffles at the wrists, and flowing ends of an ample cravat hanging over his chest." Barton Booth's costume for Cato was ev.en more of an anachronism. " The Cato of Queen Anne's day wore a flowered gown and an ample wig." 32 NANCE OLDFIELD you can prevail to send us the furniture you forbid at the playhouse, the heroes appear only like sturdy beggars, and the heroines gypsies. We have had but one part which was performed and dressed with propriety, and that was Justice Clodpate. This was so well done, that it offended Mr. Justice Overdo, who, in the midst of our whole audience, was (like Quixote in the puppet show) so highly provoked, that he told them, if they would move compassion, it should be in their own persons and not in the characters of distressed princes and potentates. He told them, if they were so good at finding the way to people's hearts, they should do it at the end of bridges or church porches, in their proper vocation as beggars. This, the justice says, they must expect, since they could not be contented to act heathen warriors, and such fellows as Alexander, but must presume to make a mockery of one of the Quorum." Poor strollers. There was a bit of stern philosophy in the advice of the justice, for they would probably have led a merrier and more luxurious life had they deserted the barns forthe bridges and church-porches. Perhaps the same change would suit the wandering players who are to be found in these last years of the nineteenth century, travelling from one third-class hotel to another, and wondering whether they will ever make enough money to return home and sun themselves on the New York Rialto. Humble as they were in the time of Queen Anne, her Government saw fit to subject the strollers to what might be called police regulation, and the Master of AN ENTRE-ACTE 33 the Revels, who was a censor of plays and a super- visor-in-general of theatrical matters, had to issue an imposing order setting forth that whereas " several Companies of Strolling Actors pretend to have Licenses from Noblemen,* and presume under that pretence to avoid the Master of the Revels, his Correcting their Plays, Drolls, Farces, and Interludes: which being against Her Majesty's Intentions and Directions to the said Master : These are to signifie. That such Licenses are not of any Force or authority. There are likewise several Mountebanks Acting upon Stages, and Mountbanks on Horseback, Persons that keep Poppets ,and others that make Shew of Monsters, and strange Sights of Living Creatures, who presume to Travel without the said Master of the Revels' Licence," &c. &c. The whole pronuncia- mento went to show that the despised strollers were not beneath the notice of a lynx-eyed Govern- ment. It is curious that the functionary to whom was assigned the important critical duty of revising plays should also be obliged to concern himself with the doings of puppets and country "side shows." Yet before the law there was very little if any difference between a performance of " Hamlet " by the great Betterton, and an exhibition of the marital infelicities of Punch and Judy. Are matters so much better now that we can afford to laugh at the incongruity ? Do not theatres devoted to the " legitimate " and * A survival of the days when noblemen often had their own companies of actors, and were empowered to regulate the perform- ances of these dramatic servants. C 34 NANCE OLDFIELD dime museums, the homes of triple-pated men, human corkscrews and other intellectual freaks, come under the same police supervision, and rank one and all within the same classification as " places of amuse- ment ? " Nay, to go further and fare worse, do not some of these very freaks regard themselves as fellow-workers in the dramatic vineyard made so fertile through the toil of a Booth, a Mansfield or a Terry ? The writer has himself heard the mani- pulator of a marionette troupe (whose wife, by-the- way, posed in a curio hall as a " Babylonian Prin- cess ") speak of Sir Henry Irving as "a brother professional." This complacent individual had his prototype during the very period which we are considering. He was an artistic gentleman named Crawley, the happy manager of a puppet show which used to bring joy into the hearts of the merry people thronging the famous Bartholomew Fair. One fine day, as the manager was standing outside of his booth, he was put into a flutter of excitement by the approach of the mighty Betterton, in company with a country friend. The actor offered several shillings for himself and rustic as they were about to enter the show, but this was too much for Crawley. He saw the chance of his life, and took advantage of it. " No, no, sir," he said to " Old Thomas," with quite the patronising air of an equal, " we never take money of one another ! " Betterton did not see the matter in the same light, and, indignantly throwing down the silver, stalked into the booth without so much as thanking the proprietor of the puppets. AN ENTRE-ACTE 35 What a Bedlam of a place Bartholomew must have been, with its noise, its gew-gaws, bad beer, cheap shows, and riotous visitors. Ned Ward, to whose descriptions modern readers are indebted, partly through the aid of John Ashton,* for many a glimpse of old-time London life, has left us a vivid picture of the fair as it appeared to him. The entrance to it, he says, was like unto a " Belfegor's concert," with its " rumbling of drums, mixed with the intolerable squalling of catcalls and penny trumpets." Nor could the sense of smell have been much better catered to than that of hearing, owing to the " singeing of pigs and burnt crackling of over-roasted pork." Once within the enclosure he saw all sorts of remarkable things, including the actors, "strutting round their balconies in their tinsey robes and golden leather buskins ; " the rope- dancers, and the. dirty eating-places, where " cooks stood dripping at their doors, like their roasted swine's flesh." Ward also looked on at several comedies, or " droles," being enacted in the grounds, and, after coming to the conclusion that they were like " State fire works," and "never do anybody good but those that are concerned in the show," he repaired to a dancing booth. Here he had the privilege of watching a woman " dance with glasses full of liquor upon the backs of her hands, to which she gave variety of motions, without spilling." All this may have a curious interest, but it looks a trifle inconsistent, does it not, to lament the un- justness of connecting puppet entertainments and * See Ashton's " Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne." 36 NANCE OLDFIELD the like with the stage, and then deliberately devote space to the mysteries of Bartholomew Fair ? It is more to the purpose to speak of the two theatres which claimed the attention of London playgoers in the year 1703 the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and the house in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Of the two, Drury Lane was the more important in an historical sense, having been the house of the famous " King's Company," as the players of Charles II. were styled, and then of the combined forces formed in 1682 by the union of this organisa- tion and the " Duke of York's Company." This was the house into which Nance Oldfield came as a modest debutante. It had been built from the designs of Wren, to replace the old theatre destroyed by fire in 1672. Cibber has sketched for us the second Drury Lane's interior, as it appeared in its original form, before the making of changes intended to enlarge the seating capacity. " It must be observed then, that the area or platform of the old stage projected about four feet forwarder (sic), in a semi-oval figure, parallel to the benches of the pit ; and that the former lower doors of entrance for the actors were brought down between the two foremost (and then only) pilasters ; in the place of which doors now the two stage boxes are fixt. That where the doors of entrance now are, there formerly stood two additional side-wings, in front to a full set of scenes, which had then almost a double effect in their loftiness and magnificence. " By this original form, the usual station of the AN ENTRE-ACTE 37 actors, in almost every scene, was advanc'd at least ten foot nearer to the audience than they now can be ; because, not only from the stage's being shorten'd in front, but likewise from the additional interposi- tion of those stage boxes, the actors (in respect to the spectators that fill them) are kept so much more backward from the main audience than they us'd to be. But when the actors were in possession of that forwarder space to advance upon, the voice was then more in the centre of the house, so that the most distant ear had scarce the least doubt or difficulty in hearing what fell from the weakest utterance. All objects were thus drawn nearer to the sense ; every painted scene was stronger ; every grand scene and dance more extended ; every rich or fine-coloured habit had a more lively lustre. Nor was the minutest motion of a feature (properly changing from the passion or humour it suited) ever lost, as they frequently must be in the obscurity of too great a distance. And how valuable an advantage the facility of hearing distinctly is to every well-acted scene, every common spectator is a judge. A voice scarce raised above the tone of a whisper, either in tenderness, resignation, innocent distress, or jealousy suppress'd, often have as much concern with the heart as the most clamorous passions ; and when on any of these occasions such affecting speeches are plainly heard, or lost, how wide is the difference from the great or little satisfaction received from them ? To all this the master of a company may say, I now receive ten pounds more than could have been taken formerly in every full house. Not 38 NANCE OLDFIELD unlikely. But might not his house be oftener full if the auditors were oftener pleas'd ? Might not every bad house, too, by a possibility of being made every day better, add as much to one side of his account as it could take from the other." The latter portion of Colley's remarks will be echoed by our own audiences, which are so often doomed to see the most delicate of plays acted in barns of theatres where all the sensitive effects of dialogue and action are swallowed up in the im- mensity of stage and auditorium. There is nothing more dispiriting, indeed, both to performers and spectators, than the presentation of some comedy like the "School for Scandal" in a house far better suited to the picturesque demands of the " Black Crook " or the " County Circus." The theatre in Drury Lane, as Oldfield knew it, had a not over-cheerful interior, the most noticeable features of which included the pit, provided with ( backless benches, and surrounded by what would now be called the Promenade. The latter, as Misson informs us,^ was taken up for the most part by ladies of quality. In addition to these quarters and the boxes, there were two galleries reserved for the common herd, but into which, no doubt, im- pecunious beaux, down in the heels and at the mouth, would frequently stray. The performances generally began at 5 o'clock, but that there were occasional lapses into unpunctuality, * Henre Misson's " Memoirs and Observations in his Travels over England." AN ENTRE-ACTE 39 may be inferred from the following advertisement in the Daily Courant of October 5, 1703 : "Her Majesty's Servants of the Theatre Royal being return'd from the Bath, do intend, tomorrow, being Wednesday, the sixth of this instant October to act a Comedy call'd ' Love Makes a Man, or the Fop's Fortune.'^ With singing and dancing. And whereas the audiences have been incommoded by the Plays usually beginning too late, the Company of the said Theatre do therefore give notice that they will constantly begin at Five a Clock without fail, and continue the same Hour all the Winter."! To theyfoz de siecle playgoer the idea of beginning a performance at so strange an hour seems nothing short of startling, until it be remembered that people of quality were then wont to dine between three and four o'clock of the afternoon. How they spent the earlier portion of the day is not hard to relate. The men of fashion rose tardily, feeling none the better, as a rule, for a night at club or tavern, and then lounged about as best they could, visiting, sauntering in the Mall,J or otherwise trying to pass the time until dinner. This solid meal over they were ready * One of Gibber's earlier plays. t Quoted in " Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne." J " It seem'd to me as if the World was turn'd top-side turvy ; for the ladies look'd like undaunted heroes, fit for government or battle, and the gentlemen like a parcel of fawning, flattering fops, that could bear cuckoldom with patience, make a jest of an affront, and swear themselves very faithful and humble servants to the petticoat ; creeping and cringing in dishonor to themselves, to what was decreed by Heaven their inferiours ; as if their education had been amongst monkeys, who (as it is said) in all cases give the pre- eminence to their females."" The Mall as described by Ned Ward." 40 NANCE OLDFIELD for the theatre, where they occasionally arrived in a state of unpleasant exhilaration, damning the play, ogling the women and making themselves as obnoxious as possible to the unfortunates who cared more for the stage than the commonplace audience. And the women : what of them ? They played cards, often for highly respectable (?) stakes, or went to the theatre when there was nothing better to do, and frittered away the greater number of the twenty- four hours in a mode that the fashionable woman of 1898 would consider positively scandalous. Some- times the dear creatures went for a stroll in the Mall, there to meet the English coxcombs with French manners, or else they paid a few visits. " Thus they take a sip of tea, then for a draught or two of scandal to digest it, next let it be ratafia, or any other favourite liquor, scandal must be the after draught to make it sit easy on their stomach, till the half hour's past, and they have disburthen'd them- selves of their secrets, and take coach for some other place to collect new matter for defamation."^ Drury Lane must have presented an animated but none the less disorderly scene any evening during the season when a popular play was to be given. Women in the boxes talking away for dear life, beaux walking about the house, chattering, / ogling and laughing, or even sitting on the stage while the performance was in progress/I" and the * Thomas Brown. t Owing in great part to the efforts of Queen Anne, this wretched custom of allowing a few spectators to sit on the stage was practi- cally abolished before the close of the reign. AN ENTRE-ACTE 41 orange girls running around to sell their wares and, not infrequently, their own souls as well. ** Now turn, and see where loaden with her freight, A damsel stands, and orange-wench is hight ; See 1 how her charge hangs dangling by the rim, See ! how the balls blush o'er the basket-brim ; But little those she minds, the cunning belle Has other fish to fry, and other fruit to sell ; See 1 how she whispers yonder youthful peer, See I how he smiles and lends a greedy ear. At length 'tis done, the note o'er orange wrapt Has reach'd the box, and lays in lady's lap." These lines by Nicholas Rowe form a graphic but unsavoury picture of the demoralisation to be found in an early eighteenth century audience. Affairs were much better than they used to be in the laissez- faire Restoration period, but, as may be imagined, there was still room for improvement. The rake, the cynic and the looseiy-moraled women were still abroad in the land (have we quite done with them even yet ?), and many a hard struggle would take place before the artificial restraint and decorum of the Georgian era would triumph over the mocking spirit of Charles Stuart and his professional idlers. In the meantime, as Shad well relates, the rakes " live as much by their wits as ever ; and to avoid the clinking dun of a boxkeeper, at the end of one act they sneak to the opposite side 'till the end of another ; then call the boxkeeper saucy rascal, ridicule the poet, laugh at the actors, march to the opera, and spunge away the rest of the evening." And he goes on to say that " the women of the town take their places in the pit with their wonted assur- 42 NANCE OLDFIELD ance. The middle gallery is fill'd with the middle part of the city, and your high exalted galleries are grac'd with handsome footmen, that wear their master's linen. "* And now for a few pages about Drury Lane's rival, the theatre within the walls of the old tennis court in Lincoln's Inn Fields. It was the home of the company headed by the noble Betterton, the "English Roscius," who had, in 1695, headed the revolt against the management of the other house. At that time the tide of popular success at Drury Lane had reached a rather low ebb, a painful circum- stance due, no doubt, to the fickleness of a public that was beginning to tire of the favourite players and to betray a fondness for operatic and spectacular productions rather than the" legitimate." Christopher Rich, the manager of the theatre, was, like many of his kind, more given to considering the weight of his purse than the scant supply of sentiment with which nature might originally have endowed him, and so he tried to do two characteristic things. The salaries of his faithful employes should be reduced and the older members of the company retired into the background as much as possible. Younger faces must occupy the centre of the stage ; even Betterton, the greatest actor of his time, should be supplanted in some of his parts by the dissolute George Powell, * The footmen were sometimes sent, early in the afternoon, to keep places in the theatre until their masters or mistresses should arrive. They created so much disturbance, however, that a stop had to be put to the practice, and the servants were relegated to the upper gallery. To this they were given free admission. AN ENTRE-ACTE 43 and the genius of Mrs. Barry,* whom Dryden thought the greatest actress he had ever seen, was to give way to the less matured charms of the lovely Anne Bracegirdle. Gibber relates the story in a sympathetic vein. " Though the success of the ' Prophetess ' and ' King Arthur ' (two dramatic operas in which the patentees t had embark'd all their hopes) was in appearance very great, yet their whole receipts did not so far balance their expense as to keep them out of a large debt, which it was publicly known was about this time contracted Every branch of the theatrical trade had been sacrific'd to the necessary fitting out those tall ships of burthen that were to bring home the Indies. Plays of course were neglected, actors held cheap, and slightly dress'd, while singers and dancers were better paid, and embroider'd. These measures, of course, created murmurings on one side, and ill-humour and contempt on the other. " When it became necessary therefore to lessen the charge, a resolution was taken to begin with the salaries of the actors ; and what seem'd to make this resolution more necessary at this time was the loss of Nokes, Montfort and Leigh, who all dy'd about the same year. No wonder then, if when these great pillars were at once remov'd the building grew * Mrs. Barry is said to have been a very elegant dresser ; but, like most of her contemporaries, she was not a very correct one. Thus, in the " Unhappy Favourite," she played Queen Elizabeth, and in the scene of the crowning she wore the coronation robes of James II.'s Queen ; and Ewell says she gave the audience a strong idea of the first-named Queen. DORAN'S " Annals of the Stage." t Alexander Davenant, Charles Killigrew, and Rich. 44 NANCE OLDFIELD weaker and the audiences very much abated. Now in this distress, what more natural remedy could be found than to incite and encourage (tho' with some hazard) the industry of the surviving actors ? But the patentees, it seems, thought the surer way was to bring down their pay in proportion to the fall of their audiences. To make this project more feasible they propos'd to begin at the head of 'em, rightly judging that if the principals acquiesc'd, their inferiors would murmur in vain. " To bring this about with a better grace, they, under pretence of bringing younger actors forward, order'd several of Betterton's and Mrs. Barry's chief parts to be given to young Powel and Mrs. Brace- girdle. In this they committed two palpable errors ; for while the best actors are in health, and still on the stage, the public is always apt to be out of humour when those of a lower class pretend to stand in their places." And with a bit more of this timely philosophy to which, let it be hoped, he ever lived up to himself Colley goes on to say that, " tho' the giddy head of Powel accepted the parts of Betterton, Mrs. Brace- girdle had a different way of thinking, and desir'd to be excus'd from those of Mrs. Barry; her good sense was not to be misled by the insidious favour of the patentees ; she knew the stage was wide enough for her success, without entering into any such rash and invidious competition with Mrs. Barry, and, therefore, wholly refus'd acting any part that properly belong'd to her." AN ENTRE-ACTE 45 Then came the revolt, which the astute Betterton ("a cunning old fox" Gildon once dubbed him) seems to have managed with all the diplomacy of a Machiavelli. " Betterton upon this drew into his party most of the valuable actors, who, to secure their unity, enter'd with him into a sort of association to stand or fall together." In the meantime he pushed the war into Africa, or, to change the simile, determined to lead his people out of the land of bondage, as exemplified by Drury Lane, and settle down in a new theatre. Nay, the " cunning old fox " even went so far as to secure an interview with his most august sovereign, William of Orange. What an audience it must have been, with William, stiff, un- comfortable, and unintentionally repellant, confronted by the greatest of living " Hamlets " and a group of other players made brilliant by the presence of the imperial but not too moral Mistress Barry, the lovely Bracegirdle, breathing the perfume of virtue, real or assumed, and the fascinating Verbruggen.* Per- haps the King found them an interesting lot, perhaps he merely regarded them with the same good-natured curiosity he might have exhibited for a pack of mountebanks, but in either case he was determined, with that sombre seriousness so typical of him, to do his duty in the premises. So he listened patiently to their complaints, and the result of it all was that by the advice of the Earl of Dorset, the Lord Chamberlain, a royal licence, allowing the revolters to act in a separate theatre, was duly issued. A * Mrs. Verbruggen and Joseph Williams seceded from the new company almost at once. 46 NANCE OLDFIELD subscription for the erection of the new house was immediately opened, people of quality paid in any- where from twenty to forty guineas a piece, and the whole affair assumed permanent shape. Poor, tired, pre-occupied William had done what was expected of him, lifting his eyes for the nonce from the real world, as represented by the map of Europe, to gaze upon his subjects of the mimic boards.