Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
HIS MAJESTY'S WELL-BELOVED
AN EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF MR.
THOMAS BETTERTON AS TOLD BY
HIS FRIEND JOHN HONEYWOOD
BY
BARONESS ORCZY
AUTHOR OF "THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET
PIMPERNEL," "FLOWER O' THE LILY,"
"LORD TONY'S WIFE," ETC.
NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
_Copyright, 1919,_
_By George H. Doran Company_
_Printed in the United States of America_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. How it all Began
II. The Rift Within the Lute
III. A Criminal Folly
IV. More than a Passing Fancy
V. The Outrage
VI. The Gathering Storm
VII. An Assembly of Traitors
VIII. The Lion's Wrath
IX. A Last Chance
X. The Hour
XI. Rumours and Conjectures
XII. Poisoned Arrows
XIII. The Lady Pleads
XIV. The Ruling Passion
XV. More Deaf than Adders
XVI. The Game of Love
HIS MAJESTY'S WELL-BELOVED
CHAPTER I
How it all Began
1
_From Mr. John Honeywood, clerk to Mr. Theophilus Baggs,
attorney-at-law, to Mistress Mary Saunderson, of the Duke's Theatre in
Lincoln's Inn Fields._
1662. October the 10th at 85, Chancery Lane in the City of London.
Honoured Mistress,--
May it please you that I, an humble Clerk and Scrivener, do venture to
address so talented a Lady; but there is that upon my Conscience which
compels me to write these lines. The Goodness and Charity of Mistress
Saunderson are well known, and 'tis not as a Suppliant that I crave
pardon for my Presumption, but rather as one whose fidelity and loyalty
have oft been tried and never been found wanting. 'Tis said, most
gracious Mistress, that your fancy hath been touched by the tenderness
and devotion of a Man who is as dear to me as if he were mine own
Brother, but that You hesitate to bestow upon him that for which he
craves more than for anything in the world, your Hand and Heart. And
this because of many Rumours which have sullied his fair Name. Mr.
Betterton, Madam, hath many enemies. How could this be otherwise seeing
that so vast a measure of Success hath attended his career, and that the
King's most gracious Majesty doth honour him with Friendship and Regard
to the exclusion of others who are envious of so great a fame? Those
Enemies now, Madam, seeing that your Heart hath been touched with the
man's grace and bearing, rather than with his undying Renown, have set
themselves the task of blackening Mr. Betterton's character before your
eyes, thus causing you mayhap grievous Sorrow and Disappointment. But
this I do swear by all that I hold most sacred, that Mr. Betterton hath
never committed a mean Act in his life nor done aught to forfeit your
Regard. Caustic of wit he is, but neither a Braggart nor a Bully; he
hath been credited with many good Fortunes, but so hath every Gentleman
in the Kingdom, and there is no discredit attached to a man for
subjugating the Hearts of those that are both frail and fair. My Lady
Castlemaine hath bestowed many favours on Mr. Betterton, so hath the
Countess of Shrewsbury, and there are others, at least the Gossips do
aver it. But on my Soul and Honour, he hath never ceased to love You,
until the day when a certain great Lady came across his path for his
misfortune and his undying Regret. And even so, Madam, though
appearances are against him, I own, let me assure You that the swerving
of his Allegiance to You was not only transitory but it was never one of
the Heart--it was a mere aberration of the senses. He may never forget
the Lady--he certainly will never forget her Cruelty--but he no longer
loves Her, never did love Her as he loves You, with his Heart and Mind,
with Tenderness and Devotion. The other was only a Dream--a fitful
fancy: his Love for You is as immortal as his Fame. Therefore, gracious
Mistress, I, the humble Friend of so great a Man, have ventured to set
forth for your perusal that which he himself would be too proud to put
before you--namely, his Justification. As for the rest, what I am about
to relate is the true Historie of Mr. Betterton's Romance, the only one
which might give you cause for sorrow, yet none for uneasiness, because
that Romance is now a thing of the past, like unto a Flower that is
faded and without fragrance, even though it still lies pressed between
the pages of a great man's Book of Life. Everything else is mere
Episode. But this which I have here set down will show you how much
nobility of heart and grandeur of Character lies hidden beneath the
flippant and at times grim exterior of the Man whom you have honoured
with your regard.
The writing of the Historie hath caused me much anxiety and deep
thought. I desired to present the Truth before you, and not the
highly-coloured effusions of a Partisan. I have slurred over nothing,
concealed nothing. An you, gracious Mistress, have the patience to read
unto the End, I am confident that any Hesitation as to your Future which
may still linger in your Heart will vanish with the more intimate
Knowledge of the true Facts of the case, as well as of the Man whose
faults are of his own Time and of his Entourage, but whose Merits are
for the whole World to know and to cherish, for as many Cycles of years
as there will be Englishmen to speak the Words of English Poets.
2
Dare I take you back, honoured Mistress, to those humble days, five
years ago, when first I entered the Household of your worthy Uncle, Mr.
Theophilus Baggs, and of his still more worthy Spouse, Mistress
Euphrosine, where for a small--very small--stipend, and free board and
lodging, I copied legal documents, Leases, Wills and Indentures for my
Employer?
You, fair Lady, were then the only ray of Sunshine which illumined the
darkness of my dreary Life. Yours was a Gaiety which nothing could
damp, a Courage and Vitality which not even the nagging disposition of
Mistress Euphrosine succeeded in crushing. And when, smarting under her
many Chidings, my stomach craving for a small Measure of satisfaction,
my Bones aching from the hardness of my bed, I saw your slim Figure
flitting, elf-like, from kitchen to living-room, your full young Throat
bursting with song like that of a Bird at the first scent of Spring, I
would find my lot less hard, the bread less sour, even Mistress
Euphrosine's tongue less acrimonious. My poor, atrophied Heart felt the
warmth of your Smile.
Then sometimes, when my Work was done and my Employers occupied with
their own affairs, You used to allow me to be of service to you, to help
you wash the dishes which your dainty Hands should never have been
allowed to touch.
Oh! how I writhed when I heard Mistress Euphrosine ordering You about as
if You were a kitchen-wench, rather than her husband's Niece, who was
honouring his House with your presence! You, so exquisite, so perfect,
so cultured, to be the Handmaid of a pair of sour, ill-conditioned
Reprobates who were not worthy to tie the lacets of your dainty shoes.
With what Joy I performed the menial tasks which never should have been
allotted to You, I never until now have dared to tell. I did not think
that any Man could find dish-washing and floor-scrubbing quite so
enchanting. But then no other Man hath ever to my knowledge performed
such tasks under such happy circumstances; with You standing before me,
smiling and laughing at my clumsiness, your shapely arms akimbo, your
Voice now rippling into Song, now chaffing me with Words full of
kindness and good-humour.
I have known many happy Hours since that Day, Mistress, and many Hours
full of Sorrow, but none so full of pulsating Life as those which
outwardly had seemed so miserable.
And then that wonderful afternoon when Mr. Theophilus Baggs and his
Spouse being safely out of the way, we stole out together and spent a
few hours at the Play! Do you remember the day on which we ventured on
the Escapade? Mr. Baggs and Mistress Euphrosine had gone to Hampton
Court: he to see a noble Client and she to accompany him. The day being
fine and the Client being a Lady possessed of well-known charms,
Mistress Euphrosine would not have trusted her Lord alone in the company
of such a forward Minx--at least, those were her Words, which she
uttered in my hearing two Days before the memorable Expedition.
Memorable, indeed, it was to me!
Mr. Baggs left a sheaf of Documents for me to copy, which would--he
thought--keep me occupied during the whole course of a long Day. You
too, fair Mistress, were to be kept busy during the worthy couple's
absence, by scrubbing and polishing and sewing--Mistress Euphrosine
holding all idleness in abhorrence.
I marvel if you remember it all!
I do, as if it had occurred yesterday! We sat up half the Night
previous to our Taskmasters' departure; you polishing and sewing, and I
copying away for very life. You remember? Our joint Savings for the
past six Months we had counted up together. They amounted to three
shillings. One shilling we spent in oil for our lamps, so that we might
complete our Tasks during the Night. This left us free for the great
and glorious Purpose which we had in our Minds and which we had planned
and brooded over for Days and Weeks.
We meant to go to the Play!
It seems strange now, in view of your Renown, fair Mistress, and of mine
own intimacy with Mr. Betterton, that You and I had both reached an age
of Man and Womanhood without ever having been to the Play. Yet You
belonged from childhood to the household of Mistress Euphrosine Baggs,
who is own sister to Mr. Betterton. But that worthy Woman abhorred the
Stage and all that pertained to it, and she blushed--aye, blushed!--at
thought of the marvellous Fame attained by her illustrious Brother.
Do you remember confiding to me, less than a month after I first entered
the household of Mr. Baggs, that You were pining to go to the Play? You
had seen Mr. Betterton once or twice when he came to visit his
Sister--which he did not do very often--but you had never actually been
made acquainted with him, nor had you ever seen him act. And You told me
how handsome he was, and how distinguished; and your dark Eyes would
flash with enthusiasm at thought of the Actor's Art and of the Actor's
Power.
I had never seen him at all in those Days, but I loved to hear about
him. Strange what a fascination the Stage exercised over so
insignificant and so mean a creature as I!
3
Will you ever forget the dawn of that glorious Day, fair Mistress?
Mr. Baggs and his Spouse went off quite early, to catch the chaise at La
Belle Sauvage which would take them to Hampton Court. But however early
they went, we thought them mighty slow in making a start. An hundred
Recommendations, Orderings, Scoldings, had to be gone through ere the
respectable Couple, carrying provisions for the day in a Bandana
Handkerchief, finally got on the way.
It was a perfect Morning early in March, with the first scent and feel
of Spring in the air. Not a Cloud in the Sky. By Midday our tasks were
entirely accomplished and we were free! Free as the Birds in the air,
free as two 'prentices out for a holiday! But little did we eat, I
remember. We were too excited for hunger; nor had Mistress Euphrosine
left much in the larder for us. What did we care? Our Enthusiasm, our
Eagerness, were Cook and Scullion for us, that day!
We were going to the Play!
Oh! how we tripped to Cockpit Lane, asking our way from passers-by, for
we knew so little of London--fashionable London, that is; the London of
Gaiety and Laughter, of careless Thoughts and wayward Moods. Holding
hands, we hurried through the Streets. You wore a dark Cape with a Hood
to hide your pretty Face and your soft brown Hair, lest some
Acquaintance of your Uncle's should chance to see You and betray our
guilty secret.
Do you remember how we met Mr. Rhodes, the bookseller, and friend of Mr.
Baggs?--he to whom young Mr. Betterton was even then apprenticed. At the
corner of Princes Street we came nose to nose with him, and but for
great presence of mind on my part when, without an instant's hesitation,
I ran straight at him and butted him in the Stomach so that he lost his
Balance for the moment and only recovered complete Consciousness after
we had disappeared round the corner of the Street, he no doubt would
have recognised us and betrayed our naughty Secret.
Oh, what a fright we had! I can see You now, leaning, breathless and
panting, against the street corner, your Hand pressed to your Bosom,
your Eyes shining like Stars!
As for the rest, it is all confusion in my mind. The Crowd, the Bustle,
the Noise, this great Assembly, the like of which I had never seen
before. I do not know how we came to our seats. All I know is that we
were there, looking down upon the moving throng. I remember that some
Worthy of obvious note was sitting next to me, and was perpetually
treading upon my toes. But this I did not mind, for he was good enough
to point out to me the various Notabilities amongst the Audience or upon
the Stage; and I was greatly marvelled and awed by the wonderful
familiarity with which he spoke of all these distinguished People.
"There sits General Monk. Brave old George! By gad! 'twere interesting
to know what goes on inside that square Head of his! King or Protector,
which is it to be? Or Protector _and_ King! George knows; and you mark
my words, young Sir, George will be the one to decide. Old Noll is
sick; he can't last long. And Master Richard hath not much affection
for his Father's Friends--calls them Reprobates and ungodly. Well! can
you see George being rebuked by Master Richard for going to the Play?"
And I, not being on such intimate terms with the Lord Protector's Son or
with General Monk, could offer no opinion on the subject. And after a
while my Neighbour went on glibly:
"Ah! here comes my Lady Viner, flaunting silks and satins. Aye, the
fair Alice--his third Wife, mark you!--knows how to spend the money
which her Lord hath been at such pains to scrape together. By gad! who'd
have thought to see red-haired Polly Ann so soon after the demise of His
Grace! See, not an inch of widows' Weeds doth she wear in honour of the
old Dotard who did her the infinite favour of dying just in the nick of
time...."
And so on, the Man would babble in a continuous stream of talk. You,
Mistress, listened to him open-mouthed, your great brown Eyes aglow with
curiosity and with excitement. You and I knew but little of those great
Folk, and seeing them all around us, prepared for the same enjoyment
which we had paid to obtain, made us quite intoxicated with eagerness.
Our Neighbour, who of a truth seemed to know everything, expressed great
surprise at the fact that Old Noll--as he so unceremoniously named the
Lord Protector--had tolerated the opening of the Cockpit. "But," he
added sententiously, "Bill Davenant could wheedle a block of ice out of
the devil, if he chose."
4
Of the Play I remember but little. I was in truth much too excited to
take it all in. And sitting so near You, Mistress--for the Place was
overcrowded--my Knee touching yours, your dear little hand darting out
from time to time to grip mine convulsively during the more palpitating
moments of the Entertainment, was quite as much as an humble Clerk's
brain could hold.
There was a great deal of Music--that I do remember. Also that the
entertainment was termed an opera and that the name of the piece was
"The Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru." My omniscient Neighbour told me
presently that no doubt the Performance was an artful piece of Flattery
on the part of Bill (meaning, I suppose, Sir William Davenant) who, by
blackening the Spaniards, made Old Noll's tyranny appear like bountiful
Mercies.
But I did not like to hear our Lord Protector spoken of with such
levity. Moreover, my Neighbour's incessant Chatter distracted me from
the Stage.
What I do remember more vividly than anything else on that memorable Day
was your cry of delight when Mr. Betterton appeared upon the Stage. I
do not know if you had actually spoken with him before; I certainly had
never even seen him. Mr. Betterton was then apprenticed to Mr. Rhodes,
the Bookseller, and it was entirely against the Judgment and Wishes of
Mistress Euphrosine Baggs, his Sister, that he adopted the Stage as an
additional calling. I know that there were many high Words on that
subject between Mr. Betterton and Mistress Euphrosine, Mr. Rhodes
greatly supporting the young Man in his Desire, he having already
formulated schemes of his own for the management of a Theatre, and
extolling the virtues of the Actor's Art and the vastly lucrative State
thereof.
But Mistress Euphrosine would have none of it. Actors were Rogues and
Vagabonds, she said, ungodly Reprobates who were unfit, when dead, to be
buried in consecrated ground. She would never consent to seeing a
Brother of hers follow so disreputable a Calling. From high words it
came to an open Quarrel, and though I had been over a year in the House
of Mr. Theophilus Baggs, I had never until this day set eyes on young
Mr. Betterton.
He was not taking a very important part in the Opera, but there was no
denying the fact that as soon as he appeared upon the Stage his very
Presence did throw every other Actor into the shade. The Ladies in the
Boxes gave a deep sigh of content, gazing on him with admiring eyes and
bestowing loud Applause upon his every Word. And when Mr. Betterton
threw out his Arms with a gesture expressive of a noble Passion and
spoke the ringing lines: "And tell me then, ye Sons of England..."--his
beautiful Voice rising and falling with the perfect cadence of an
exquisite Harmony--the uproar of Enthusiasm became wellnigh deafening.
The Ladies clapped their Hands and waved their Handkerchiefs, the
Gentlemen stamped their feet upon the floor; and some, lifting their
Hats, threw them with a flourish upon the Stage, so that anon Mr.
Betterton stood with a score or more Hats all round his feet, and was
greatly perturbed as to how he should sort them out and restore them to
their rightful Owners.
Ah, it was a glorious Day! Nothing could mar the perfection of its
Course. No! not even the Rain which presently began to patter over the
Spectators, and anon fell in torrents, so that those who were in the Pit
had to beat a precipitate retreat, scrambling helter-skelter over the
Benches in a wild endeavour to get under cover.
This incident somewhat marred the Harmony of the Ending, because to see
Ladies and Gentlemen struggling and scrambling to climb from bench to
bench under a Deluge of Rain, was in truth a very droll Spectacle; and
the attention of those in the Boxes was divided between the Happenings
on the Stage and the antics of the rest of the Audience.
You and I, fair Mistress, up aloft in our humble place, were far better
sheltered than the more grand Folk in the Pit. I put your Cloak around
your Shoulders to protect You against the Cold, and thus sitting close
together, my knee still resting against yours, we watched the
Performance until the end.
5
How we went home that afternoon I do not remember. I know that it was
raining heavily and that we got very wet. But this caused me no
Inconvenience, because it gave me the privilege of placing my Arm round
your Shoulders so as to keep your Cloak from falling. Also my Mind was
too full of what I had seen to heed the paltry discomfort of a Wetting.
My thoughts were of the Play, the Music, the brilliant Assembly; yours,
Mistress, were of Mr. Betterton. Of him you prattled all the way home,
to the exclusion of every other Topic. And if your enthusiastic Eulogy
of that talented Person did at times send a pang of Sorrow through my
Heart, You at least were unaware of my Trouble. Not that I took no
share in your Enthusiasm. I did it whole-heartedly. Never had I
admired a Man before as I did Mr. Betterton on that Day. His Presence
was commanding, his Face striking, his Voice at times masterful and full
of Power, at others infinitely sweet. My officious and talkative
Neighbour, just before the Rain came down and rendered him dumb, had
remarked to me with a great air of Knowledge and of Finality: "Mark my
word, young Sir, England will hear something presently of Tommy
Betterton."
It was not until we reached the corner of Chancery Lane that we were
forced to descend to the Realities of Life. We had had a glorious Day,
and for many Hours had wholly forgotten the many Annoyances and
Discomforts with which our lives were beset. Now we were a little tired
and exceedingly wet. Mistress Euphrosine's Scoldings, our oft empty
stomachs, hard Beds and cheerless Lives loomed once more largely upon
the Horizon of our mental vision.
Our Pace began to slacken; your glib Tongue was stilled. Holding Hands
now, we hurried home in silence, our Minds stirred by a still vague
Sense of Fear.
Nor was that Fear unjustified, alas! as subsequent Events proved. No
sooner had We entered the House than We knew that We were discovered.
Mr. Baggs' cloak, hung up in the Hall, revealed the terrifying Fact that
he and his indomitable Spouse had unaccountably returned at this hour.
No doubt that the Weather was the primary cause of this untoward Event:
its immediate result was a Volley of abuse poured upon our Heads by
Mistress Euphrosine's eloquent Tongue. We were Reprobates, Spawns and
Children of the Devil! We were Liars and Cheats and Thieves! We had
deserved God's wrath and eternal punishment! Heavens above! how she did
talk! And we, alas! could not escape that vituperative Torrent.
We had fled into the Kitchen as soon as We had realised that we were
fairly caught; but Mistress Euphrosine had followed us thither and had
closed the door behind her. And now, standing facing Us, her large,
gaunt Body barring every egress, she talked and talked until You, fair
Mistress, gave way to a passionate Flood of tears.
All our Pleasure, our Joy, had vanished; driven hence by the vixenish
Tongue of a soured Harridan. I was beside myself with Rage. But for
your restraining influence, I could have struck that shrieking Virago,
and for ever after have destroyed what was the very Essence of my Life.
For she would have turned me out of Doors then and there, and I should
have been driven forth from your Presence, perhaps never to return.
The sight of your Patience and of your Goodness helped to deaden my
Wrath. I hung my Head and bit my Tongue lest it should betray me into
saying things which I should have regretted to the end of my Days.
And thus that memorable Day came to a close. Somehow, it stands before
my mind as would the first legible Page in the Book of my Life. Before
it, everything was blurred; but that Page is clear. I can read it now,
even after four years. For the first time, destiny had writ on it two
Names in bold, indelible Characters--yours, Mistress, and that of Mr.
Betterton. Henceforth, not a Day in my Life would pass without one of
You looming largely in its Scheme.
Mary Saunderson! Tom Betterton! My very pulses seem to beat to the
tune of those two Names! I knew then, by one of those subtle intuitions
which no Man has ever succeeded in comprehending, that Heaven itself had
intended You for one another. How then could I stand by and see the
Wickedness of Man striving to interfere with the decrees of God?