THEATRE AND ART
On December 8, 1660, a great change was effected at the theatre. For
the first time, to the exasperation of the Puritans, a woman’s part
was taken by a woman. The place was the theatre of Vere Street. The
part first performed was that of Desdemona. The prologue written “to
introduce the first woman that came to act on the stage” was as follows
(Leigh Hunt, _The Town_):—
“I came unknown to any of the rest
To tell the news; I saw the lady drest:
The woman plays to-day; mistake me not,
No man in gown, or page in petticoat:
A woman to my knowledge, yet I can’t,
If I should die, make affidavit on’t.
Do you not twitter, gentlemen? I know
You will be censuring: do it fairly, though;
’Tis possible a virtuous woman may
Abhor all sorts of looseness, and yet play:
Play on the stage—where all eyes are upon her:
Shall we count that a crime France counts as an honour?
In other kingdoms husbands safely trust ’em;
The difference lies only in the custom.
And let it be our custom, I advise:
I’m sure this custom’s better than th’ excise,
And may procure us custom: hearts of flint
Will melt in passion, when a woman’s in’t.
But, gentlemen, you that as judges sit
In the Star chamber of the house—the pit,
Have modest thoughts of her: pray, do not run
To give her visits when the play is done,
With ‘damn me, your most humble servant, lady:’
She knows these things as well as you, it may be:
Not a bit there, dear gallants, she doth know
Her own deserts,—and your temptations too.
But to the point—in this reforming age
We have intents to civilize the stage.
Our Women are defective, and so sized,
You’d think they were some of the guard disguised:
For, to speak truth, men act that are between
Forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen,
With bone so large and nerve so incompliant,
When you call Desdemona, enter giant.
We shall purge everything that is unclean,
Lascivious, scurrilous, impious, or obscene:
And when we’ve put all things in this fair way
Barebones himself may come to see a play.”
And the epilogue, much shorter, was as follows:—
“And how do you like her? Come, what is’t ye drive at?
She’s the same thing in public as in private,
As far from being what you call a whore
As Desdemona injured by the Moor:
Then he that censures her in such a case
Hath a soul blacker than Othello’s face.
But, ladies, what think you? for it you tax
Her freedom with dishonour to your sex,
She means to act no more, and this shall be
No other play, but her own tragedy.
She will submit to none but your commands,
And take commission only from your hands.”
This change altered the whole character of the theatre. At the
beginning it lowered the tone of the stage, which was already bad
enough. When the spectators became accustomed to the appearance of
women on the stage, it began perhaps to have a refining influence, but
certainly not at first.
In Wycherley’s _Country Wife_, Pinchwife takes his wife to the
“eighteen-penny place” so that she shall not be seen. This place was
the tier called the upper boxes. Ladies sometimes went into the Pit,
but not alone. In the same play Alithea says to her lover, “I will
not go if you intend to leave me alone in the Pit as you used to do.”
Ladies, however, for the most part, went into the first tier or dress
circle, where they received visits from their friends. Lord Foppington
says, “After dinner I go to the play, where I amuse myself till nine
o’clock with looking upon the company, and usually dispose of an hour
more in leading them out.”
The tickets were, to the boxes, 4s.; to the Pit, half-a-crown; to the
upper boxes, 1s. 6d.; and to the gallery, 1s. There were only two
theatres, the King’s and the Duke of York’s; the seats were simple
benches without backs.
Pepys, a great lover of the stage, commends the improvement of the
theatre since the Restoration:—
“The stage is now by his pains a thousand times better and more
glorious than ever heretofore. Now, wax-candles, and many of
them; then, not above 3 lbs. of tallow: now, all things civil, no
rudeness anywhere; then, as in a bear-garden: then, two or three
fiddlers; now, nine or ten of the best: then, nothing but rushes
upon the ground, and everything else mean; and now, all otherwise:
then, the Queen seldom, and King never would come; now, not the
King only for state, but all civil people do think they may come
as well as any. He tells me that he hath gone several times, eight
or ten times, he tells me, hence to Rome, to hear good musique;
so much he loves it, though he never did sing or play a note.
That he hath ever endeavoured in the late King’s time, and in
this, to introduce good musique, but he never could do it, there
never having been any musique here better than ballads. Nay, says,
‘Hermitt poore’ and ‘Chevy Chese’ was all the musique we had; and
yet no ordinary fiddlers get so much money as ours do here, which
speaks our rudenesse still” (Pepys, vol. vi. pp. 171, 172).
Bankside had long since ceased to be the chosen seat of the drama. The
Globe, after being burned down and rebuilt, was finally pulled down in
1644; the Rose, the Swan, and the Bear Garden had met the same fate;
the Fortune Theatre was destroyed by soldiers in 1549; the Curtain
had become, before it was pulled down, a place for prize fights;
Blackfriars Theatre, after standing empty for some years, in accordance
with the law, was pulled down in 1655.
[Illustration: INSIDE OF THE DUKE’S THEATRE, LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS
As it appeared in the reign of King Charles the Second. From a
contemporary print.]
In 1642 the Parliament commanded the cessation of plays on the ground
“that public sports do not well agree with public calamities, nor
public stage plays with the seasons of humiliation.” So the houses were
closed. Then, as always happened, the law was timidly and tentatively
broken; the theatres began again. In 1647, however, a second
ordinance appeared calling upon the magistrates to enter houses where
performances were going on and to arrest the performers. This ordinance
proving of more effect, a third and more stringent law was passed
denouncing stage plays, interludes, and common plays as the occasion
of many and sundry great vices and disorders, tending to the high
provocation of God’s wrath and displeasure, ordered the destruction
of all galleries, seats, and stages of the theatre. This settled the
question for the time. Most of the actors went off to fight for the
King; a few remained and gave private performances at the residences
of noblemen. In 1658 Davenant opened the old Cockpit Theatre in Drury
Lane for performances of declamation and music without being molested.
Probably he ascertained beforehand what the Protector would do. On the
Restoration a bookseller of dramatic propensities took possession of
the Cockpit, where he played with his two apprentices, Betterton and
Kynaston. Killigrew and Davenant obtained patents for opening theatres,
Killigrew’s company to be called the King’s servants, Davenant’s to be
called the Duke of York’s servants. Davenant associated with himself
the dramatic booksellers, and after a season at the Phœnix went to
the new theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and from there to the larger
theatre in Dorset Garden, Fleet Street, a place more commodious because
it was on the river, the great highway of London. Killigrew began at
the Red Bull in St. John’s Street, going from that place, which seems
to have been out of the way, to Gibbon’s Tennis Court in Clare Market.
He then proceeded to build a new theatre in Drury Lane, not far from
the Phœnix. The new theatre opened with Beaumont and Fletcher’s comedy
of the _Humourous Lieutenant_ on April 8, 1663. Ten of the company
were in the Royal household, and had allowances of scarlet cloth and
lace for liveries; did they wear the livery on the stage? It was here
that Charles fell in love with Nell Gwynne; she was playing Valeria in
Dryden’s _Tyrannic Love_. She died on the stage and then jumped up and
spoke the epilogue:—
“O poet, damned dull poet! Who could prove
So senseless to make Nelly die for love?
Nay, what! yet worse, to kill me in the prime
Of Easter time, in tart and cheese-cake time!”
Here Pepys saw her, was presented to her, and kissed her, “and a mighty
pretty soul she is.” And again he mentions how he saw her in a part
called Florimell, “a comical part done by Nell that I never can hope to
see the like done again by man or woman.”
It is sometimes stated that the theatres of the time were still without
a roof. This appears to be incorrect. Pepys mentions the inconvenience
of rain. “To the King’s house and saw the _Silent Woman_. Before the
play was done it fell such a storm of hail that we in the pit were fain
to rise and all the house in disorder.” A few years later, however, he
notes (May 1, 1668) another visit to the same theatre, where he saw
the _Surprizall_, and mentions “a disorder in the pit by its raining
in from the cupola at top, it being a very foul day.” There was,
therefore, some kind of dome or cupola open at the side.
[Illustration: From a contemporary print.]
{Transcription:
Inside of the RED BULL Playhouse.
_The Red Bull Playhouse stood on a plot of ground lately
called “Red Bull Yard” near the upper end of S^t. John’s Street
Clerkenwell; and is traditionally said to have been the Theatre at
which Shakespeare first held a gentleman’s horses. In the civil
wars it became highly celebrated for the representations of Drolls,
to a collection of which pieces published by Frauncis Kirkman in
1672, this view of it forms a frontispiece. The figures brought
together on the stage are intended as portraits of the leading
actors in each Droll. The one playing Simpleton is Robert Cox,
then a great favourite, of whom the publisher thus speaks in his
preface. “I have seen the Red Bull Playhouse which was a large one,
so full that as many went back for want of room as had entred.
Robert Cox, a principal actor and contriver of these pieces, how
have I heard him cryed up for his John Swabber, and Simpleton, the
Smith. In which latter, he being to appear with a large piece of
Bread & Butter, on the stage I have frequently known some of the
female spectators to long for it”. The above print may be regarded
not only as highly curious for the place it represents, but as a
unique specimen of the interior economy of our antient English
Theatres._}
The time of commencing the performance was three, so that the theatre,
at all events for the first part of Charles’s reign, was an afternoon
amusement. The doors were thrown open soon after noon. Pepys, on one
occasion, went to the theatre a little after noon; the doors were not
then open, but they were thrown open shortly afterwards. On entering
the Pit he found many people there already, having got in by private
ways. As he had had no dinner he found a boy to keep his seat, and
went outside to get some dinner at the Rose Tavern (Wills’s, Russell
Street).
The play was constantly changed, and the popularity of the rival houses
continually varied. On one occasion, on arriving at Drury Lane at
three, the hour for beginning, Pepys found not one single person in
the Pit. However, some came late, and there was a performance after
all. The new fashion of having women instead of boys for the female
parts was so popular, that plays acted by women alone were actually
presented. One of the plays then performed, Killigrew’s _Parsons
Wedding_, is described as “obscene and loose,” for which reason it was
thought fittest for women to play.
The wearing of masks at the theatre, which was common among ladies,
was due to the disgraceful licence of the dramatist. One would think,
however, that if ladies disliked the grossness, they might stay away;
perhaps it was rather due partly to the desire of not attracting
public attention, partly to the charm of the mysterious. As for women
disliking the coarseness of the play, we may simply remember that
though women are in every age better than men in that respect, they are
not always very much better. Like the clergy, the best we can expect of
them is that they should be a little better than the men.
The seventeenth century witnessed the splendour and the death of the
masque. For fifty years, if one sought for fine stage scenery, splendid
dresses, curious stage effects, it was not at the theatre that it was
to be found, but at the masque.
It was a very costly form of entertainment. Private persons could not
attempt it. No manager of a theatre could attempt it, because the
fullest house could not pay for producing it. Only great noblemen, rich
bodies, and the Court could present a masque. There was orchestral
music of the finest; there were songs, madrigals, choruses; there were
long speeches; there was dancing, both singly and in groups; there
were most costly dresses, and there were transformation scenes managed
with a dexterity worthy of a modern theatre. It is remarkable that the
theatre never tried to vie with the masque in scenery or dresses or
music. Ben Jonson was the principal writer of the libretti; Henry Lawn
was the musician; Gills the inventor of the dances; Inigo Jones the
machinist and scene painter.
James the First and his Queen delighted in the masque. So did Charles
and Henrietta; the Civil War put a stop to this beautiful and courtly
entertainment; after the Restoration, when an attempt was made to
revive it, the taste for it had gone; it had played its part and was
dead.
Let me present, greatly abbreviated, one of Ben Jonson’s masques:—
The masque of _Neptune’s Triumph for the Return of Albion_ is a
favourable specimen of the scenic effects of the masque. It was played
on Twelfth Night, 1624.
The scene at first showed nothing but two pillars with inscriptions;
on the one NEP. RED., and on the other SEC. JOV. The masque opens with
a long and tedious dialogue between a cook and a poet; in the course
of it the latter explains the purpose of the masque, which is to
celebrate the safe return of the Prince from Spain:—
“The mighty Neptune, mighty in his styles,
And large command of waters, and of isles;
Not as the ‘lord and sovereign of the seas,’
But ‘chief in the art of riding’ late did please,
To send his Albion forth, the most his own,
Upon discovery, to themselves best known,
Through Celtiberia; and, to assist his course,
Gave him his powerful Manager of Horse,
With divine Proteus, father of disguise,
To wait upon them with his counsels wise,
In all extremes. His great commands being done,
And he desirous to review his son,
He doth dispatch a floating isle, from hence,
Unto the Hesperian shores, to waft him thence.
Where, what the arts were used to make him stay
And how the Syrens woo’d him by the way,
What monsters he encountered on the coast,
How near our general joy was to be lost,
Is not our subject now; though all these make
The present gladness greater, for their sake.
But what the triumphs are, the feast, the sport,
And proud solemnities of Neptune’s court,
Now he is safe, and Fame’s not heard in vain,
But we behold our happy pledge again.”
The ground thus cleared, the cook brings in persons representing the
various ingredients of an Olla Podrida. This was intended for the comic
part. Then a comic anti-masque is danced by these mummers. After this
the scene opens, and discloses the Island of Delos. The masquers are
sitting in their “sieges.” Then the heavens open and disclose Apollo,
Mercury, the Muses, and the Goddess Harmony. Below, Proteus is sitting.
Apollo sings:—
“Look forth, the shepherd of the seas,
And of the ports that keep’st the keys,
And to your Neptune tell,
His Albion, prince of all his isles,
For whom the sea and land so smiles,
Is home returned well.”
The island moves forward and joins the mainland. There is a grand
chorus of Proteus and the others while the masquers land. While they
prepare for their entry the chorus sings another verse:—
“Spring all the Graces of the age,
And all the Loves of time;
Bring all the pleasures of the stage,
And relishes of rhyme;
And all the softnesses of courts,
The looks, the laughters, and the sports;
And mingle all their sweets and salts,
That none may say, the Triumph halts.”
Then the masquers “danced their entry.” The dance was performed by the
courtiers and the Queen’s ladies. It was a dance invented for the
occasion, with stately figures, arranged groups, and active “capers.”
Then the scene was changed and disclosed a maritime palace, the home of
Oceanus, “with loud music.” “And the other above is no more seen.”
“Then follows the main dance, after which the second prospect of the
sea is shown, to the former music.”
Then Proteus and the others advance to the ladies with another song:—
“Come noble nymphs, and do not hide
The joys for which you so provide,
If not to mingle with the men,
What do you hear? go home agen.
Your dressings do confess,
By what we see so curious parts
Of Pallas and Arachne’s arts,
That you could mean no less.
Why do you wear the silk-worm’s toils,
Or glory in the shell-fish spoils,
Or strive to shew the grains of ore,
That you have gathered on the shore,
Whereof to make a stock
To graft the greener emerald on,
Or any better-water’s stone?
Or ruby of the rock?
Why do you smell of amber-grise,
Of which was formed Neptune’s niece,
The Queen of Love; unless you can,
Like Sea-born Venus, love a man?
Try, put yourselves unto’t,
Your looks, your smiles, and thoughts that meet,
Ambrosian hands, and silver feet.
Do promise you will do’t.”
The revels follow, which ended, the fleet is discovered, while the
three cornets play.
After a little more foolish talk between the cook and the poet, the
sailors of the fleet come in and dance, and the whole is concluded with
a song by ten voices accompanied by the “Whole music, five lutes, three
cornets”:—
“Although we wish the triumph still might last
For such a prince, and his discovery past:
Yet now, great lord of waters, and of isles,
Give Proteus leave to turn unto his wiles.
And whilst young Albion doth thy labours ease,
Dispatch Portunus to thy ports.
And Saron to thy seas;
To meet old Nereus with his fifty girls,
From aged Indus laden home with pearls,
And Orient gums, to burn unto thy name.
And may thy subjects’ hearts be all on flame,
Whilst thou dost keep the earth in firm estate,
And ’mongst the winds, dost suffer no debate,
But both at sea, and land, our powers increase,
With health and all the golden gifts of peace.”
It is sometimes stated that music was killed by the Puritans. If Pepys
is to be considered as an average London citizen in this respect, their
music was very far from being killed by the Puritans. We find him, his
household and his friends, all singing, playing, taking a part; we find
parties on the river singing part songs as they glided down the stream;
we hear of the singing in church; at Court the evenings were always
provided with singing boys; at the theatre songs were plentifully
scattered about the plays. The Elizabethan custom of music at dinner
had apparently vanished, yet the power of playing some instrument was
far more general than it was later. As soon as possible after the
Restoration the choral service was re-established in the cathedrals and
the Royal chapels. Cooke, Lawn, Rogers, Wilson, and other composers
were engaged in forming and teaching the choirs; new anthems were
composed by Pelham Humphrey or Humfrey, Michael Wise, John Blow, and
Henry Purcell. The last of these, one of the greatest of English
composers, was born in 1658 and died in 1695.
It was common for people of rank to attend the service of the Chapel
Royal at Whitehall or that of St. Paul’s Cathedral. At Oxford an
association was formed, consisting of the leading scholars and
professors of the University, for the purpose of promoting the study
and practice of music, vocal and instrumental. It is true that in the
eighteenth century music seems to have deserted the English household;
perhaps in the seventeenth it lingered only among the better sort, and
had already been killed in the circles affected by the sour Puritanism
of the time.
The condition and advancement of painting in the century may be briefly
considered. The soil was prepared for the development of the fine arts
by the learning, scholarship, and travel of the English nobles and
scholars. About the year 1615 the Earl of Arundel began to collect
pictures, statues, vases, and gems. Prince Henry began a collection
which at his death passed to his brother Charles. On his accession
Charles began to increase the Royal collections begun by Henry the
Eighth, and continued slowly by his successors. Charles bought the
whole of the cabinet of the Duke of Milan for £18,000. The cartoons of
Raffaelle were acquired in Flanders by the agency of Rubens. Whitehall
Palace contained four hundred and sixty pictures, of which twenty-eight
were by Titian, eleven by Correggio, sixteen by Julio Romano, nine
by Raffaelle, four by Guido, and seven by Parmigiano. Vandyke, the
greatest among the pupils of Rubens, came over to this country and
remained here for life. In 1630 Rubens himself came over, not as a
painter but as an ambassador. However, he consented to paint the
ceiling of the Banqueting Hall at Whitehall. Charles planned an Academy
of Arts, but, like everything else, it had to be set aside.
Among lesser painters of the century were William Dobson, John Hoskins,
Samuel Cooper, John Peiletot, and Geuteleschi, all of whom lived and
painted in London.
[Illustration: MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS OF THE PERIOD
From _Musical instruments, Historic, Rare, and Unique_ (A. & C. Black,
1888).]
{Transcription:
VIOLA DA GAMBA
“For important regale of the Company the concerts were usually
all viols to the organ or harpsichord. The violin came in late
and imperfectly. When the hands were well supplied the whole
chest went to work, that is, six viols, music being formed for it
which would seem a strange sort of music now, being an interwoven
hum-drum.”—From _Autobiography of Roger North_, born 1653.
CLAVICHORD
“The Clavichord hath a tunely kynde
As the wyre is wrested high and lowe.”
JOHN SKELTON, 1459–1529, Poet Laureate.
(The wrestler was the tuner, who wrested or strained the wire to
the required tension.)
SPINET
This spinet was made in London about the end of the seventeenth
century by Stephen Keene.
A contemporary advertisement runs thus:—“Mr. Stephen Keene, Maker
of Harpsycons and virginals dwelleth now in Threadneedle St., at
the sign of the virginal who maketh them excellently well both for
sound and substance.”
THE FLAGEOLET
Pepys, in his _Diary_ (March 1, 1666), writes:—
Being returned home I find Greeting, the flageolet-master, come and
teaching my wife.” And (20th Jan. 1667)
“To Drumbleby’s the pipe maker, there to advise about the making
of a flageolet to go low and soft, and he do show me a way which
he do, and also a fashion of having two pipes of the same note
fastened together, so I can play on one and then echo it upon the
other, which is mighty pretty.”
A FINE OLD ITALIAN LUTE
A fine old Italian lute with label “1600, in Padova Venue.” A
special interest attaches to it from its having been the favourite
instrument of the late Carl Engel. In Evelyn’s (the Diarist) time
lutes by famous Bologna makers were fetching extraordinary prices.
A VIRGINAL
Pepys, in his _Diary_, Sept. 2, 1666, at the time of the great fire
writes:—
“Rivers full of lighters and boats taking in goods, and I observed
that hardly one lighter or boat in three, that had the goods of a
house in but there was a pair of virginals in it.”
Lely of course belongs to the first Restoration period. So also do
Hayls, Michael Wright, Henry Anderton, the two Vandeveldes, and many
others. Grinling Gibbons belongs to the latter years of the seventeenth
and the first quarter of the eighteenth century.
The greatest invention of the century was, without doubt, the
newspaper. As far as this country is concerned, setting aside the
apocryphal history of the _English Mercury_, its first newspaper was
started in London by Nathaniel Butter, with whom were associated
Nicholas Bonner, Thomas Archer, Nathaniel Newberry, William Sheppard,
Bartholomew Dounes, and Edward Allor. The sheet was called the _Weekly
News_, and it is believed to have begun on May 23, 1622. In the same
year the _London Weekly Courant_ also began. Twenty years later the
_Mercurius Clericus_ (1641) was started in the interests of the clergy;
the _Mercurius Britannicus_ (1642), the _Mercurius Civicus_ (1643),
the _Mercurius Politicus_, a Parliamentary paper, and _Mercurius
Pragmaticus_, a Royalist paper.
About the year 1663 the _Kingdom’s Intelligence_ was started, and this
was incorporated with the _London Gazette_ when that was founded in
1665.
Of course it was not long before the power of the Press was discovered.
The Government began to subsidise the papers; private persons began to
pay for notices in them; and trade advertisements began to appear. All
these papers were weekly. In 1695, however, the _Post Boy_ appeared—the
first daily paper.