THE GENTLEMEN OF THE KING'S COMPANY.
Of the King's Company, under Killigrew--Hart, Burt, and Clun have
already been noticed as players who commenced their career by acting
female parts. Of the other early members of this troop, the first
names of importance are those of Lacy, and little Major Mohun,
the low comedian, and the high tragedian. Of those who precede
them alphabetically, but little remains on record. We only know of
Theophilus Bird, that he broke his leg when dancing in Suckling's
"Aglaura," probably when the poet changed his tragedy, in which the
characters killed each other, into a sort of comedy, in which they
all survived. Cartwright, on the other hand, has left a lasting
memorial. If you would see how the kind old fellow looked, go down
to Dulwich College--that grand institution, for which actors have
done so much and which has done so little for actors--and gaze on his
portrait there. It is the picture of a man who bequeathed his books,
pictures, and furniture to the College which Alleyn, another actor,
had founded. In early life, Cartwright had been a bookseller, at the
corner of Turnstile, Holborn; and in his second vocation his great
character was Falstaff.
Lacy was a great Falstaff, too; and his portrait, a triple one,
painted by Wright and etched by Hopkins, one of the Princess
Elizabeth's pages, is familiarly known to Hampton Court visitors.
Lacy had been first a dancing-master, then a lieutenant in the army,
before he tried the stage. In his day he had no equal; and his
admirers denied that the day to come would ever see his equal. Lacy
was handsome, both in shape and feature, and is to be remembered
as the original performer of Teague, in the "Committee;" a play
of Howard's, subsequently cut down to the farce of "The Honest
Thieves." And eight years later (1671), taught by Buckingham, and
mimicking Dryden, he startled the town with that immortal Bayes, in
the "Rehearsal;" a part so full of happy opportunities that it was
coveted or essayed for many years, not only by every great actor,
whatever his line, but by many an actress, too; and last of all by
William Farren, in 1819.
There was nothing within the bounds of comedy that Lacy could not act
well. Evelyn styles him "Roscius." Frenchman, or Scot, or Irishman,
fine gentleman or fool, rogue or honest simpleton, Tartuffe or
Drench, old man or loquacious woman,--in all, Lacy was the delight
of the town for about a score of years. The King ejected the best
players from parts, considered almost as their property, and assigned
them to Lacy. His wardrobe was a spectacle of itself, and gentlemen
of leisure and curiosity went to see it. He took a positive enjoyment
in parts which enabled him to rail at the rascalities of courtiers.
Sometimes this Aristophanic licence went too far. In Howard's "Silent
Woman," the sarcasms reached the King, and moved his majesty to
wrath, and to locking up Lacy himself in the Porter's Lodge. After
a few days' detention, he was released; whereupon Howard, meeting
him behind the scenes, congratulated him. Lacy, still ill in temper,
abused the poet for the nonsense he had put into the part of Captain
Otter, which was the cause of all the mischief. Lacy further told
Howard he was "more a fool than a poet." Thereat the honourable
Edward, raising his glove, smote Lacy smartly with it over the face.
Jack Lacy retaliated by lifting his cane and letting it descend quite
as smartly on the pate of a man who was cousin to an earl. Ordinary
men marvelled that the honourable Edward did not run Jack through the
body. On the contrary, without laying hand to hilt, Howard hastened
to the King, lodged his complaint, and the house was thereupon
ordered to be closed. Thus, many starved for the indiscretion of one;
but the gentry rejoiced at the silencing of the company, as those
clever fellows and their fair mates were growing, as that gentry
thought, "too insolent."
Lacy, soon after, was said to be dying, and altogether so
ill-disposed, as to have refused ghostly advice at the hands of "a
bishop, an old acquaintance of his," says Pepys, "who went to see
him." Who could this bishop have been who was the old acquaintance
of the ex-dancing-master and lieutenant? Herbert Croft, or Seth
Ward?--or, Isaac Barrow, of Sodor-and-Man, whose father, the mercer,
had lived near the father of Betterton? But, whoever he may have
been, the King's favour restored the actor to health; and he remained
Charles's favourite comedian till his death, in 1681.
When Lacy's posthumous comedy, "Sir Hercules Buffoon," was produced
in 1684, the man with the longest and crookedest nose, and the most
wayward wit in England--Tom Durfey--furnished the prologue. In that
piece he designated Lacy as the standard of true comedy. If the play
does not take, said lively Tom--
"all that we can say on't
Is, we've his fiddle, but not his hands to play on't!"
Genest, a critic not very hard to please, says that Lacy's friends
should have "buried his fiddle with him."
Michael Mohun is the pleasantest and, perhaps, the greatest name on
the roll of the King's Company. When the players offended the King,
Mohun was the peacemaker.
One cannot look on Mohun's portrait, at Knowle, without a certain
mingling of pleasure and respect. That long-haired young fellow wears
so frank an aspect, and the hand rests on the sword so delicately yet
so firmly! He is the very man who might "rage like Cethegus, or like
Cassius die." Lee could never willingly write a play without a part
for Mohun, who, with Hart, was accounted among the good actors that
procured profitable "third days" for authors. No Maximin could defy
the gods as he did; and there has been no franker Clytus since the
day he originally represented the character in "Alexander the Great."
In some parts he contested the palm with Betterton, whose versatility
he rivalled, creating one year Abdelmelich, in another Dapperwit,
in a third Pinchwife, and then a succession of classical heroes and
modern rakes or simpletons. Such an actor had many imitators, but,
in his peculiar line, few could rival a man who was said to speak as
Shakspeare wrote, and whom nature had formed for a nation's delight.
The author of the Epilogue to "Love in the Dark" (that bustling piece
of Sir Francis Fane's, from the Scrutinio,[27] in which, played by
Lacy, Mrs. Centlivre derived her Marplot), illustrates the success of
Mohun's imitators by an allusion to the gout from which he suffered:
"Those Blades indeed, but cripples in their art,--
Mimic his foot, but not his speaking part."
Of his modesty, I know no better trait than what passed when
Nat. Lee had read to him a part which Mohun was to fill in one of
Lee's tragedies. The Major put aside the manuscript, in a sort of
despair--"Unless I could play the character as beautifully as you
read it," said he, "it were vain to try it at all!"
[Illustration: (Michael Mohun.)]
Such is the brief record of a great actor, one who before our civil
jars was a young player, during the civil wars was a good soldier,
and in the last years of Charles II. was an old and a great actor
still. Of the other original members of the Theatre Royal, there is
not much to be said. Wintershell, who died in 1679, merits, however,
a word. He was distinguished, whether wearing the sock or the buskin,
majestic in loftily-toned kings, and absurd in sillily-amorous
knights. Downes has praised him as superior to Nokes, in at least one
part, and his Slender has won eulogy from so stern a critic as Dennis.
Among the men who subsequently joined the Theatre Royal, there were
some good actors, and a few great rogues. Of these, the best actor
and the greatest rogue was Cardell Goodman, or _Scum_ Goodman, as he
was designated by his enemies. His career on the stage lasted from
1677, as Polyperchon, in Lee's "Rival Queens," to 1688. His most
popular parts were Julius Cæsar and Alexander. He came to the theatre
hot from a fray at Cambridge University, whence he had been expelled
for cutting and slashing the portrait of that exemplary Chancellor,
the Duke of Monmouth.
This rogue's salary must have been small, for he and Griffin shared
the same bed in their modest lodging, and having but one shirt
between them, wore it each in his turn. The only dissension which
ever occurred between them was caused by Goodman, who, having to
pay a visit to a lady, clapped on the shirt when it was clean, and
Griffin's day for wearing it!
For restricted means, however, every gentleman of spirit, in those
days, had a resource, if he chose to avail himself of it. The
resource was the road, and Cardell Goodman took to it with alacrity.
But he came to grief, and found himself with gyves on in Newgate;
yet he escaped the cart, the rope, and Tyburn. King James gave "his
Majesty's servant" his life, and Cardell returned to the stage--a
hero.
A middle-aged duchess, fond of heroes, adopted him as a lover,
and Cardell Goodman had fine quarters, rich feeding, and a dainty
wardrobe, all at the cost of his mistress, the ex-favourite of a
king, Barbara, the Duchess of Cleveland. Scum Goodman was proud of
his splendid degradation, and paid such homage to "_my_ duchess," as
the impudent fellow called her, that when he expected her presence
in the theatre, he would not go on the stage, though king and queen
were kept waiting, till he heard that "his duchess" was in the house.
For her he played the mad scene in Alexander with double vigour, and
cared for no other applause so long as her Grace's fan signalled
approbation.
Scum might have had a rare, if a rascally, life, had he been
discreet; but he was fool as well as knave. A couple of the Duchess's
children in the Duchess's house annoyed him, and Scum suborned a
villainous Italian quack to dispose of them by poison. A discovery,
before the attempt was actually made, brought Scum to trial for a
misdemeanour. He had the luck of his own father, the devil, that
he was not tried for murder. As it was, a heavy fine crippled him
for life. He seems, however, to have hung about the stage after he
withdrew from it as an actor. He looked in at rehearsals, and seeing
a likely lad, named Cibber, going through the little part of the
Chaplain, in the "Orphan," one spring morning of 1690, Scum loudly
wished he might be--what he very much deserved to be, if the young
fellow did not turn out a good actor. Colley was so delighted with
the earnest criticism, that the tears flowed to his eyes. At least,
he says so.
King James having saved Cardell's neck, Goodman, out of pure
gratitude, perhaps, became a Tory, and something more, when William
sat in the seat of his father-in-law. After Queen Mary's death, Scum
was in the Fenwick and Charnock plot to kill the King. When the
plot was discovered, Scum was ready to peach. As Fenwick's life was
thought by his friends to be safe if Goodman could be bought off
and got out of the way, the rogue was looked for, at the _Fleece_,
in Covent Garden, famous for homicides, and at the robbers' and the
revellers' den, the _Dog_, in Drury Lane. Fenwick's agent, O'Bryan,
erst soldier and highwayman, now a Jacobite agent, found Scum at
the _Dog_, and would then and there have cut his throat, had not
Scum consented to the pleasant alternative of accepting £500 a year,
and a residence abroad. This to a man who was the first forger of
bank-notes! Scum suddenly disappeared, and Lord Manchester, our
Ambassador in Paris, inquired after him in vain. It is impossible to
say whether the rogue died by an avenging hand, or starvation.
We are better acquainted with the fate of the last of Scum's fair
favourites, the pretty Mrs. Price of Drury Lane. This Ariadne was not
disconsolate for her Theseus. She married "Charles, Lord Banbury,"
who was _not_ Lord Banbury, for the House of Peers denied his claim
to the title; and he was not Mrs. Price's husband, as he was already
married to a living lady, Mrs. Lester. Of this confusion in social
arrangements the world made small account, although the law did
pronounce in favour of Mrs. Lester, without troubling itself to
punish "my lord." The Judges pronounced for the latter lady, solely
on the ground that she had had children, and the actress none.
Joseph Haines! "Joe" with his familiars, "Count Haines" with those
who affected great respect, was a rogue in his way,--a merry
rogue, a ready wit, and an admirable low comedian, from 1672 to
1701. We first hear of him as a quickwitted lad at a school in St.
Martin's-in-the-Fields, whence he was sent, through the liberality
of some gentlemen who had remarked his talents, to Queen's College,
Oxford. There Haines met with Williamson, the Sir Joseph of after
days, distinguished alike for his scholarship, his abilities as a
statesman, the important offices he held, and the liberality with
which he dispensed the fortune which he honourably acquired.
Williamson chose Haines for a friend, and made him his Latin
secretary when Williamson was appointed Secretary of State. If
Haines could have kept official and state secrets, his own fortune
would now have been founded; but Joe gossiped in joyous companies,
and in taverns revealed the mysteries of diplomacy. Williamson
parted with his indiscreet "servant," but sent him to recommence
fortune-making at Cambridge. Here, again, his waywardness ruined him
for a professor. A strolling company at Stourbridge Fair seduced him
from the groves of Academus,[28] and in a short time this foolish
and clever fellow, light of head, of heart, and of principle, was
the delight of the Drury Lane audiences, and the favoured guest in
the noblest society where mirth, humour, and dashing impudence were
welcome.
In 1673, his Sparkish, in the "Country Wife"--his original
character--was accepted as the type of the airy gentleman of the
day. His acting on, and his jokes off, the stage were the themes in
all coteries and coffee-houses. He was a great practical jester,
and once engaged a simple-minded clergyman as "Chaplain to the
Theatre Royal," and sent him behind the scenes, ringing a bell,
and calling the players to prayers! When Romanism was looking up,
under James II., Haines had the impudence to announce to the convert
Sunderland,--unworthy son of Waller's Sacharissa,--his adoption of
the King's religion, being moved thereto by the Virgin, who had
appeared to him in a dream, saying, "Joe, arise!" This was too much
even for Sunderland, who drily observed that "she would have said
'Joseph,' if only out of respect for her husband!"
The rogue showed the value of a "profession," which gave rise to as
many pamphlets as Dryden's, by subsequently recanting,--not in the
church, but on the stage; he the while covered with a sheet, holding
a taper, and delivering some stupid rhymes,--to the very dullest of
which he had the art of giving wonderful expression by his accent,
emphasis, modulation, and felicity of application. The audience that
could bear this recantation-prologue could easily pardon the speaker,
who would have caused even greater errors to have been pardoned,
were it only for his wonderful impersonation of Captain Bluff (1693)
in Congreve's "Old Bachelor." The self-complaisant way in which he
used to utter "Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in his day," was
universally imitated, and has made the phrase itself proverbial. His
Roger, in "Æsop," was another of his successes, the bright roll of
which was crowned by his lively, impudent, irresistible Tom Errand,
in Farquhar's "Constant Couple,"--that most triumphant comedy of a
whole century.
The great fault of Haines lay in the liberties which he took with
the business of the stage. He cared less to identify himself with
the characters he represented than, through them, to keep up a
communication with the spectators. When Hart, then manager, cast
Joe for the simple part of a Senator, in "Catiline," in which Hart
played the hero, Joe, in disgust at his _rôle_, spoiled Hart's best
point, by sitting behind him, absurdly attired, with pot and pipe in
hand, and making grimaces at the grave actor of Catiline; which kept
the house in a roar of laughter. Hart could not be provoked to forget
his position, and depart from his character; but as soon as he made
his _exit_, he sent Joe his dismissal.
Joe Haines then alternated between the stage and the houses of his
patrons. "Vivitur ingenio"--the stage-motto, was also his own, and
he seems to have added to his means by acting the jester's part
in noble circles. He was, however, no mere "fool." Scholars might
respect a "classic," like Haines, and travelling lords gladly hire as
a companion, a witty fellow, who knew two or three living languages
as familiarly as he did his own. With an English peer he once visited
Paris, where Joe is said to have got imprisoned for debt, incurred in
the character, assumed by him, of an English lord. After his release,
he returned to England, self-invested with the dignity of "Count," a
title not respected by a couple of bailiffs, who arrested Joseph, on
Holborn Hill, for a little matter of £20.
"Here comes the carriage of my cousin, the Bishop of Ely," said the
unblushing knave; "let me speak to him; I am sure he will satisfy you
in this matter."
Consent was given, and Haines, putting his head in at the
carriage-door, hastily informed the good Simon Patrick that "here
were two Romanists inclined to become Protestants, but with yet some
scruples of conscience."
"My friends," said the eager prelate to them, "if you will presently
come to my house, I will satisfy you in this matter!" The scrupulous
gentlemen were well content; but when an explanation ensued, the
vexed bishop paid the money out of very shame, and Joe and the
bailiffs spread the story. They who remembered how Haines played Lord
Plausible, in the "Plain Dealer," were not at all surprised at his
deceiving a bishop and a brace of bailiffs.
Sometimes his wit was of a nicer quality. When Jeremy Collier's book
against the stage was occupying the public mind, a critic expressed
his surprise, seeing that the stage was a mender of morals. "True,"
answered Joe, "but Collier is a mender of morals, too; and two of a
trade, you know, never agree!"
Haines was the best comic actor, in his peculiar line of comedy,
during nearly thirty years that he was one of "their majesties'
servants." He died at his house in Hart Street, Covent Garden, then
a fashionable locality, on the 4th of April 1701, and was buried in
the gloomy churchyard of the parish, which has nothing to render it
bright but the memory of the poets, artists, and actors whose bodies
are there buried in peace.
Let us now consider the men in Davenant's, or the Duke's Company, who
acted occasionally in Dorset Gardens, but mostly in Portugal Row,
Lincoln's Inn Fields. Of these, the greatest actor was good Thomas
Betterton,--and his merits claim a chapter to himself.
FOOTNOTES:
[27] Should be Intrigo, which Lacy really played.
[28] Other accounts say that he commenced his theatrical life early,
at the "Nursery."
[Illustration: THEATRE ROYAL, PORTUGAL STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS]