Chapter VII (1)

DRURY LANE, AND THE TWO THEATRES IN DRURY LANE AND COVENT GARDEN.

Craven House -- Donne and his vision -- Lord Craven and the
Queen of Bohemia -- Nell Gwynn -- Drury Lane Theatre -- Its
antiquity, different eras, and rebuildings -- The principal
theatre of Dryden, Wycherley, Farquhar, Steele, Garrick, and
Sheridan -- Old Drury in the time of Charles II. -- A visit to
it -- Pepys and his theatrical gossip, with notes -- Hart and
Mohun -- Goodman -- Nell Gwynn -- Dramatic taste of that age --
Booth -- Artificial tragedy -- Wilks and Cibber -- Bullock and
Penkethman -- A Colonel enamoured of Cibber's wig -- Mrs.
Oldfield -- Her singular position in society -- Not the Flavia
of the Tatler -- Pope's account of her last words probably not
true -- Declamatory acting -- Lively account of Garrick and
Quin by Mr. Cumberland -- Improvement of stage costume -- King
-- Mrs. Pritchard -- Mrs. Clive -- Mrs. Woffington -- Covent
Garden -- Barry -- Contradictory characters of him by Davies
and Churchill -- Macklin -- Woodward -- Pantomime -- English
taste in music -- Cooke -- Rise of actors and actresses in
social rank -- Improvement of the audience -- Dr. Johnston at
the theatre -- Churchill a great pit critic -- His Rosciad --
His picture of Mossop -- Mrs. Jordan and Mr. Suett -- Early
recollections of a play-goer.

Drury Lane takes its name from "the habitation of the great family of the Druries," built, "I believe," says Pennant, "by Sir William Drury, knight of the garter, a most able commander in the Irish wars, who unfortunately fell in a duel with Sir John Burroughs, in a foolish quarrel about precedency. Sir Robert, his son, was a great patron of Dr. Donne, and assigned to him apartments in his house. I cannot, learn into whose hands it passed afterwards. During the time of the fatal discontents of the favourite, Essex, it was the place where his imprudent advisers resolved on such counsels as terminated in the destruction of him and his adherents."[247]

Drury House stood at the corner of Drury Lane and Wych Street, upon the ground now included in Craven Buildings in the one thoroughfare, and the Olympic Pavilion in the other.

Pennant proceeds to say, that it was occupied in the next century by "the heroic William Lord Craven, afterwards Earl Craven," who rebuilt it in the form standing in his time. He describes it as "a large brick pile,"--a public-house with the sign of the Queen of Bohemia,--a head which still mystifies people in some parts of the country. The remains were taken down in 1809, and the Olympic Pavilion built on part of the site. But the public-house was only a portion of it.

Who would suppose, in going by the place now, that it was once the habitation of wit and elegance, of a lord and a queen, and of more than one "romance of real life?" Yet the passenger acquainted with the facts can never fail to be impressed by them, especially by the romantic history of Donne. This master of profound fancies (whom Dryden pronounced "the greatest wit, though not the best poet," of our nation) had in his youth led a gay imprudent life, which left him poor. He became secretary to Lord Chancellor Ellesmere, and fell in love with his lordship's niece, then residing in the house, daughter to a Sir George Moor or More, who, though Donne was of an ancient family, was very angry, and took the young lady away into the country. The step, however, was too late; for, the passion being mutual, a private marriage had taken place. The upshot was, that Sir George would have nothing to say to the young couple, and that they fell into great distress. After a time, Sir Robert Drury, a man of large fortune, who possessed the mansion above described, invited Donne and his wife to live with him, and this too in a spirit that enabled all parties to be the better for it. But for this, and the curious story connected with it, we shall have recourse to the pages of our angling friend Walton, who was a good fellow enough when he was not "handling a worm as if he loved him."

"Sir Robert Drury," says Walton, "a gentleman of a very noble
estate, and a more liberal mind, assigned him and his wife an
useful apartment in his own large house in Drury Lane, and not
only rent free, but was also a cherisher of his studies, and
such a friend as sympathised with him and his, in all their joy
and sorrows.

"At this time of Mr. Donne's and his wife's living in Sir
Robert's house, the Lord Hay was, by King James, sent upon a
glorious embassy to the then French King, Henry IV., and Sir
Robert put on a sudden resolution to accompany him to the
French Court, and to be present at his audience there. And Sir
Robert put on a sudden resolution to solicit Mr. Donne to be
his companion in that journey. And this desire was suddenly
made known to his wife, who was then with child, and otherwise
under so dangerous a habit of body as to her health, that she
professed an unwillingness to allow him any absence from her;
saying, 'her divining soul boded her some ill in his absence,'
and, therefore, desired him not to leave her. This made Mr.
Donne lay aside all thoughts of his journey, and really to
resolve against it. But Sir Robert became restless in his
persuasions for it, and Mr. Donne was so generous as to think
he had sold his liberty when he received so many charitable
kindnesses from him, and told his wife so; who did, therefore,
with an unwilling-willingness, give a faint consent to the
journey, which was proposed to be but for two months; for about
that time they determined their return. Within a few days after
this resolve, the ambassador, Sir Robert, and Mr. Donne, left
London; and were the twelfth day got all safe to Paris. Two
days after their arrival there, Mr. Donne was left alone in
that room, in which Sir Robert, and he, and some other friends
had dined together. To this place Sir Robert returned within
half an hour; and as he left, so he found Mr. Donne alone; but
in such an ecstacy and so altered in his looks, as amazed Sir
Robert to behold him; insomuch that he earnestly desired Mr.
Donne to declare what had befallen him in the short time of his
absence. To which Mr. Donne was not able to make a present
answer; but, after a long and perplexed pause, did at last say,
'I have seen a dreadful vision since I saw you: I have seen my
dear wife pass twice by me in this room, with her hair hanging
about her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms: this I have
seen since I saw you.' To which Sir Robert replied, 'Sure, sir,
you have slept since I saw you; and this is the result of some
melancholy dream, which I desire you to forget, for you are now
awake.' To which Mr. Donne's reply was, 'I cannot be surer that
I now live, than that I have not slept since I saw you; and am
as sure, that at her second appearing she stopped and looked me
in the face, and vanished.' Rest and sleep had not altered Mr.
Donne's opinion the next day; for he then affirmed this vision
with a more deliberate, and so confirmed a confidence, that he
inclined Sir Robert to a faint belief that the vision was true.
It is truly said, that desire and doubt have no rest; and it
proved so with Sir Robert; for he immediately sent a servant to
Drewry House, with a charge to hasten back, and bring him
word, whether Mrs. Donne were alive; and, if alive, in what
condition she was in as to her health. The twelfth day the
messenger returned with this account:--That he found and left
Mrs. Donne very sad, and sick in her bed; and that, after a
long and dangerous labour, she had been delivered of a dead
child. And, upon examination, the abortion proved to be the
same day, and about the very hour, that Mr. Donne affirmed he
saw her pass by him in his chamber.

"This is a relation," continues Walton, "that will beget some
wonder, and it well may; for most of our world are at present
possessed with an opinion, that visions and miracles are
ceased. And, though it is most certain, that two lutes being
both strung and tuned to an equal pitch, and then one played
upon, the other that is not touched, being laid upon a table at
a fit distance will--like an echo to a trumpet--warble a faint
audible harmony in answer to the same tune; yet many will not
believe that there is any such thing as the sympathy of souls;
and I am well pleased that every reader do enjoy his own
opinion. But if the unbelieving will not allow the believing
reader of this story a liberty to believe that it may be true,
then I wish him to consider, that many wise men have believed
that the ghost of Julius Cæsar did appear to Brutus, and that
both St. Austin, and Monica his mother, had visions in order to
his conversion. And though these, and many others--too many to
name--have but the authority of human story, yet the
_incredible_ reader may find in the sacred story, that Samuel,
&c."[248]

We may here break off with the observation of Mr. Chalmers, that "the whole may be safely left to the judgment of the reader."[249] Walton says he had not this story from Donne himself, but from a "Person of Honour," who "knew more of the secrets of his heart than any person then living," and who related it "with such circumstance and asseveration," that not to say anything of his hearer's belief, Walton did "verily believe," that the gentleman "himself believed it."

The biographer then presents us with some verses which "were given by Mr. Donne to his wife at the time he then parted from her," and which he "begs leave to tell us" that he has heard some critics, learned both in languages and poetry, say, that "none of the Greek or Latin poets did ever equal."

These lines are full of the wit that Dryden speaks of, horribly misused to obscure the most beautiful feelings. Some of them are among the passages quoted in Dr. Johnson to illustrate the faults of the metaphysical school. Mr. Chalmers and others have thought it probable, that it was upon this occasion Donne wrote a set of verses, which he addressed to his wife, on her proposing to accompany him abroad as a page; but as the writer speaks of going to Italy, which appears to have been out of the question in this two months' visit to Paris, they most probably belong to some other journey or intended journey, the period of which is unknown. The numbers of these verses are sometimes rugged, but they are full of as much nature and real feeling, as sincerity ever put into a true passion. There is an awfulness in the commencing adjuration:--

"By our first strange and fatal interview,
By all desires which thereof did ensue;
By our long striving hopes; by that remorse
Which my words' masculine persuasive force
Begot in thee, and by the memory
Of hurts which spies and rivals threaten me,
I calmly beg: but by thy father's wrath,
By all pains which want and divorcement hath,
I conjure thee, and all the oaths which I
And thou have sworn to seal joint constancy,
I here unswear, and overswear them thus:
Thou shalt not love by means so dangerous.
Temper, O fair Love! love's impetuous rage;
Be my true mistress, not my feigned page.
I'll go; and by thy kind leave, leave behind
Thee, only worthy to nurse in my mind
Thirst to come back. O! if thou die before,
My soul from other lands to thee shall soar:
Thy (else almighty) beauty cannot move
Rage from the seas, nor thy love teach them love,
Nor tame wild Boreas' harshness: thou hast read
How roughly he in pieces shiverèd
Fair Orithea, whom he swore he loved.
Fall ill or good, 'tis madness to have proved
Dangers unurged: feed on this flattery,
That absent lovers one in the other be;
Dissemble nothing, not a boy, nor change
Thy body's habit, nor mind; be not strange
To thyself only: all will spy in thy face
A blushing womanly discovering grace.

* * * * *

When I am gone dream me some happiness,
Nor let thy looks our long-hid love confess;
Nor praise nor dispraise me, nor bless nor curse
Openly love's force; nor in bed fright thy nurse
With midnight's startings, crying out, Oh! oh!
Nurse! oh, my love is slain! I saw him go
O'er the white Alps alone; I saw him, I,
Assailed, taken, fight, stabbed, bleed, fall, and die.
Augur me better chance; except dread Jove
Think it enough for me to have had thy love."

Drury House, when rebuilt by Lord Craven, took the name of Craven House. To this abode, at the restoration of Charles II., his lordship brought his royal mistress, the Queen of Bohemia, to whose interest he had devoted his fortunes, and to whom he is supposed to have been secretly wedded. She was daughter to James I., and, with the reluctant consent of her parents (particularly of her mother, who used to twit her with the title of Goody Palsgrave), was married to Frederick, the Elector Palatine, for whom the Protestant interest in Germany erected Bohemia into a kingdom, in the vain hope, with the assistance of his father-in-law, of competing with the Catholic Emperor. Frederic lost everything, and his widow became a dependent on the bounty of this Lord Craven, a nobleman of wealthy commercial stock, who had fought in her husband's cause, and helped to bring up her children. It is through her that the family of Brunswick succeeded to the throne of this kingdom, as the next Protestant heirs of James I. James's daughter, being a woman of lively manners, a queen, and a Protestant leader, excited great interest in her time, and received more than the usual portion of flattery from the romantic. Donne wrote an epithalamium on her marriage, in which are those preposterous lines beginning--

"Here lies a she sun, and a he moon there."

Sir Henry Wotton had permission to call her his "royal mistress," which he was as proud of as if he had been a knight of old. And when she lost her Bohemian kingdom, it was said that she retained a better one, for that she was still the "Queen of Hearts." Sir Henry wrote upon her his elegant verses beginning--

"You meaner beauties of the night,"

in which he gives a new turn to the commonplaces of stars and roses, and calls her

"Th'eclipse and glory of her kind."

It is doubtful, nevertheless, whether she was ever handsome. None of the Stuarts appear to have been so, with the exception of Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans, who resembled, perhaps, her mother. Pepys, who saw the Queen of Bohemia at the Restoration, "thought her a very debonaire, but plain lady." This, it is true, was near her death; but Pepys was given to admire, and royalty did not diminish the inclination. Had her charms ever been as great as reported, he would have discovered the remains of them. It has been beautifully said by Drayton, that

"Even in the aged'st face, where beauty once did dwell,
And nature, in the least, but seemèd to excel,
Time cannot make such waste, but something will appear
To show some little tract of delicacy there."

Pepys saw the queen afterwards two or three times at the play, and does not record any alteration of his opinion. Her Majesty did not survive the Restoration many months. She quitted Craven House for Leicester House (afterwards Norfolk House, in the Strand,) seemingly for no other purpose than to die there; which she did in February 1661-2. Whether Lord Craven attended her at this period does not appear; but she left him her books, pictures, and papers. Sometimes he accompanied her to the play. She and her husband, King Frederick, appear to have been lively, good-humoured persons, a little vain of the royalty which proved such a misfortune to them. The queen had the better sense, though it seems to have been almost as much over-rated as her beauty. But all the Stuarts were more or less clever, with the exception of James II.

The author of a _History and Antiquities of the Deanery of Craven in Yorkshire_, gives it as a tradition, that Lord Craven's father, a lord-mayor, was born of such poor parents that they sent him when a boy by a common carrier to London, where he became a mercer or draper. His son was a distinguished officer under Gustavus Adolphus, was ennobled, attached himself to the King and Queen of Bohemia, and is supposed, as we have seen, to have married the king's widow. He was her junior by twelve years. He long resided in Craven House, became Colonel of the Coldstream Regiment of Foot Guards, and was famed for his bustling activity. He so constantly made his appearance at a fire, that his horse is said to have "smelt one as soon as it happened." Pepys, during a riot against houses of ill-fame (probably the houses in Whetstone Park, as well as in Moorfields, for he talks of going to Lincoln's Inn Fields to see the 'prentices,) describes his lordship as riding up and down the fields, "like a madman," giving orders to the soldiery. It was probably in allusion to this military vivacity that Lord Dorset says, in his ballad on a mistress,--

"The people's hearts leap, wherever she comes,
And beat day and night, like my Lord Craven's drums."

When there was a talk in his old age of giving his regiment to somebody else, Craven said, that "if they took away his regiment they had as good take away his life, since he had nothing else to divert himself with." The next king, however, William III., gave it to General Talmash; yet the old lord is said to have gone on, busy to the last. He died in 1697, aged nearly 89 years. He was intimate with Evelyn, Ray, and other naturalists, and delighted in gardening. The garden of Craven House ran in the direction of the present Drury Lane; so that where there is now a bustle of a very different sort, we may fancy the old soldier busying himself with his flower-beds, and Mr. Evelyn discoursing upon the blessings of peace and privacy.[250]

The only other personage of celebrity whom we know of as living in Drury Lane, is one of another sort; to wit, Nell Gwynn. The ubiquitous Pepys speaks of his seeing her there on a May-morning.

"May 1st, 1667. To Westminster, in the way meeting many
milk-maids with garlands upon their pails, dancing with a
fiddler before them; and saw pretty Nelly standing at her
lodging's door in Drury Lane in her smock sleeves and boddice,
looking upon one. She seemed a mighty pretty creature."

Lodgings in this quarter, though Nell lived there, must have been of more decent reputation than they became afterwards. It is curious that the old English word Drury, or Druerie, should be applicable to the fame we allude to. It has more or less deserved it for a long period, though we believe the purlieus rather warrant it now, than the lane itself. Pope and Gay speak of it. Pope describes the lane also as a place of residence for poor authors:--

"'Keep your piece nine years.'
'Nine years!' cries he, who high in Drury Lane,
Lull'd by soft zephyrs through the broken pane,
Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before term ends,
Obliged by hunger and request of friends."

The existence of a theatre in Drury Lane is as old as the time of Shakspeare. It was then called the Phoenix; was "a private," or more select house, like that of Blackfriars; and had been a cock-pit, by which name it was also designated. Phoenix generally implies that a place has been destroyed by fire, a common fate with theatres; but the first occasion on which we hear of the present one is the destruction of it by a Puritan mob. This took place in the year 1617, in the time of James; and was doubtless caused by the same motives that led to the demolition of certain other houses, which it was thought to resemble in fame. In Howe's Continuation of Stowe, it was called a "new play-house;" so that it had lately been either built or rebuilt. This theatre stood opposite the Castle tavern. There is still in existence a passage, called Cockpit Alley, into Great Wild Street; and there is a Phoenix Alley, leading from Long Acre into Hart Street.

The Phoenix was soon rebuilt: and the performances continued till 1648, when they were again stopped by the Puritans who then swayed England, and who put an end to playhouses for some time. In the interval, some of the most admired of our old dramas were produced there, such as Marlowe's _Jew of Malta_; Heywood's _Woman killed with Kindness_; _The Witch of Edmonton_, by Rowley, Decker, and Ford; Webster's _White Devil_, or _Vittoria Colombona_, Massinger's _New Way to Pay Old Debts_, and indeed many others.[251] It does not appear that Shakspeare or his immediate friends had any pieces performed there. He was a performer in other theatres; and the pressure of court, as well as city, lay almost exclusively in their direction, till the growth of the western part of the metropolis divided it. The Phoenix known in his time was probably nearly as select a house as the Blackfriars. The company had the title of Queen's Servants (James's Queen), and the servants of the Lady Elizabeth (Queen of Bohemia).

A few years before the Restoration, Davenant, supported by some of the less scrupulous authorities, ventured to smuggle back something like the old entertainments, under the pretence of accompanying them with music; a trick understood in our times where a license is to be encroached upon. In 1656, he removed with them from Aldersgate Street to this house; and, after the fluctuation of different companies hither and thither, the Cockpit finally resumed its rank as a royal theatre, under the direction of the famous Killigrew, whose set of players were called the King's company, as those under Sir William Davenant had the title of the Duke's. Killigrew, dissatisfied with the old theatre at the Cockpit, built a new one nearly on the site of the present, and opened it in 1663. This may be called the parent of Drury Lane theatre as it now stands. It was burnt in 1671-2, rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren, and opened in 1674, with a prologue, from the pen of Dryden, from which time it stood till the year 1741. There had been some alterations in the structure of this theatre, which are said to have hurt the effect contemplated by Sir Christopher Wren, and perhaps assisted its destruction; for seventy years is no great age for a public building. Yet old Drury, as it was called, was said to have died of a "gradual decline." It was rebuilt, and became Old Drury the second; underwent the usual fate of theatres in the year 1809; and was succeeded by the one now standing.

It is customary to divide the eras of theatres according to their management; but, as managers become of little consequence to posterity, we shall confine ourselves in this as in other respects to names, with which posterity is familiar. In Shakspeare's time, Drury Lane appears to have been celebrated for the best productions of the second-rate order of dramatists, a set of men who would have been first in any other age. We have little to say of the particulars of Drury Lane at this period, no memorandums having come down to us as they did afterwards. All we can imagine is, that, the Phoenix being much out of the way, with fields and country roads in the interval between court and city, and the performances taking place in the day time, the company probably consisted of the richer orders, the poorer being occupied in their labours. The court and the rich citizens went on horseback; the Duke of Buckingham in his newly-invented sedan. In the time of the Puritans we may fancy the visitors stealing in, as they would into a gambling-house.

The era of the Restoration, or second era of the Stuarts, is that of the popularity of Ben Jonson's and Beaumont and Fletcher's plays, compared with Shakspeare's, though Davenant tried hard to revive him; of the plays of Dryden, Lee, and Otway; and finally of the rise of comedy, strictly so called, in those of Wycherly, Congreve, Farquhar, and Vanbrugh. All these writers had to do with Drury Lane Theatre, some of them almost exclusively. Nineteen out of Dryden's twenty-seven plays were produced there; seven out of Lee's eleven; all the good ones of Wycherly (that is to say, all except the 'Gentleman Dancing-Master'); two of Congreve's (the 'Old Bachelor' and 'Double Dealer'), and all Farquhar's, except the 'Beaux' Stratagem.' Otway's best pieces came out at the Duke's Theatre; and Vanbrugh's in the Haymarket.[252] This may be called the second era of Drury Lane, or rather the second and third; the former, which is Dryden's and Lee's, having for its principal performers Hart, Mohun, Lacy, Goodman, Nell Gwynn, and others; the latter, which was that of Congreve and Farquhar, presenting us with Cibber, Wilks, Booth, Mrs. Barry, and Mrs. Bracegirdle. The two, taken together, began with the Restoration and ended with George II.

Sir Richard Steele and the sentimental comedy came in at the close of the third era, and may be said to constitute the fourth; which, in his person, did not last long. Steele, admirable as an essayist, and occasionally as humorous as any dramatist in a scene or two, was hampered in his plays by the new moral ambition now coming up, which induced him to show, not so much what people are, as his notions of what they ought to be. This has never been held a legitimate business of the stage, which, in fact, is nothing else than what its favourite metaphor declares it, a glass of men and manners, in which they are to see themselves as they actually exist. It is the essence of the wit and dialogue of society brought into a focus. Steele was manager of Drury Lane Theatre, and made as bad a one as improvidence and animal spirits could produce.

The sentimental comedy continued into the next or fifth Drury Lane era, which was that of Garrick, famous for his great reputation as an actor, and for his triumphant revival of Shakspeare's plays, which have increased in popularity ever since. Not that he revived them in the strictest sense of the word; for the attempt was making when he came to town; but he hastened and exalted the success of it.

The last era before the present one was that of Sheridan, who, though he began with Covent Garden, produced four out of his seven pieces at this theatre; where he showed himself a far better dramatist, and a still worse manager than Steele.

We shall now endeavour to possess our readers with such a sense of these different periods, as may enable them to "live o'er each scene," not indeed of the plays, but of the general epochs of Old Drury; to go into the green-room with Hart and Nell Gwyn; to see Mrs. Oldfield swim on the stage as Lady Betty Modish; to revive the electrical shock of Garrick's leap upon it, as the lively Lothario;--in short, to be his grandfather and great-grandfather before him, and make one of the successive generations of play-goers, now in his peruke _à la Charles II._, and now in his Ramillie wig, or the bobs of Hogarth. Did we introduce him to all this ourselves, we should speak with less confidence; but we have a succession of play-goers for his acquaintance, who shall make him doubt whether he really is or is not his own ancestor, so surely shall they place him beside them in the pit.

And first, for the immortal and most play-going Pepys. To the society of this jolliest of government officers, we shall consign our reader and ourselves during the reign of Charles II.; and if we are not all three equally intimate with old Drury at that time, there is no faith in good company. By old Drury, we understand both the theatres; the Cockpit or Phoenix and the new one built by Killigrew, which took the title of "King's Theatre." There was a cockpit at Whitehall, or court theatre, to which Pepys occasionally alludes; but after trying in vain to draw a line between such of his memorandums as might be retained and omitted, we here give up the task as undesirable, the whole harmonizing in one mass of theatrical gossip, and making us acquainted collaterally, even with what he is not speaking of. We have not, indeed, retained everything, but we have almost.

We now, therefore, pass Drury House, proceed up the lane by my Lord Craven's garden, and turn into Russell Street amongst a throng of cavaliers in flowing locks, and ladies with curls _à la Valliere_. Some of them are in masks, but others have not put theirs on. We shall see them masquing as the house grows full. It is early in the afternoon. There press a crowd of gallants, who have already got enough wine. Here, as fast as the lumbering coaches of that period can do it, dashes up to the door my lord Duke of Buckingham, bringing with him Buckhurst and Sedley. There comes a greater, though at that time a humbler man, to wit, John Dryden, in a coat of plain drugget, which by and by his fame converted into black velvet. He is somewhat short and stout, with a roundish dimpled face and a sparkling eye; and, if scandal says true, by his side is "Madam" Reeves, a beautiful actress; for the ladies of the stage were so entitled at that time. Horses and coaches throng the place, with here and there a sedan; and, by the pulling off of hats, we find that the king and his brother James have arrived. The former nods to his people as if he anticipated their mutual enjoyment of the play; the latter affects a graciousness to match, but does not do it very well. As soon as the king passes in, there is a squeeze and a scuffle; and some blood is drawn, and more oaths uttered, from which we hasten to escape. Another scuffle is silenced on the king's entrance, which also makes the gods quiet; otherwise, at no period were they so loud. The house is not very large, nor very well appointed. Most of the ladies masque themselves in the pit and boxes, and all parties prepare for a play that shall render it proper for the remainder to do so. The king applauds a new French tune played by the musicians. Gallants, not very sober, are bowing on all sides of us to ladies not very nice; or talking to the orange girls, who are ranged in front of the pit with their backs to the stage. We hear criticisms on the last new piece, on the latest panegyric, libel, or new mode. Our friend Pepys listens and looks everywhere, tells all who is who, or asks it; and his neighbours think him a most agreeable fat little gentleman. The curtain rises: enter Mistress Marshall, a pretty woman, and speaks a prologue which makes all the ladies hurry on their masks, and convulses the house with laughter. Mr. Pepys "do own" that he cannot help laughing too, and calls the actress "a merry jade;" "but, lord!" he says, "to see the difference of the times, and but two years gone." And then he utters something between a sigh and a chuckle, at the recollection of his Presbyterian breeding, compared with the jollity of his expectations.

But let us hear our friend's memorandums:--

"29th (September 1662). To the King's Theatre, where we saw
'Midsummer's Night's Dream,' which I had never seen before, nor
shall ever again, for it is the most insipid, ridiculous play
that ever I saw in my life. [The gods certainly had not made
Pepys poetical, except on the substantial side of things.]

"5th (January 1662-3). To the Cockpit, where we saw
'Claracilla,' a poor play, done by the King's house; but
neither the king nor queen were there, but only the duke and
duchess.

"23d (February, 1662-3). We took coach and to court, and there
we saw 'The Wilde Gallant,' performed by the King's house, but
it was ill acted. The king did not seem pleased at all, the
whole play, nor anybody else. My Lady Castlemaine was all worth
seeing to-night, and little Stewart. [This is Miss, or as the
designation then was, Mrs. Stewart, afterwards Duchess of
Richmond. 'The Wild Gallant' was Dryden's first play, and was
patronised by Lady Castlemaine, afterwards not less notorious
as Duchess of Cleveland. Miss Stewart and she were rival
beauties.]

"1st (February, 1663-4). To the King's Theatre, and there saw
the 'Indian Queen' (by Sir Robert Howard and Dryden); which
indeed is a most pleasant show, and beyond my expectation the
play good, but spoiled with the rhyme, which breaks the sense.
But above my expectation most, the eldest Marshall did do her
part most excellently well as I have heard a woman in my life;
but her voice is not so sweet as Ianthe's: but, however, we
come home mightily contented.

"1st (January, 1664). To the King's house, and saw 'The Silent
Woman' (Ben Jonson's); but methought not so well done or so
good a play as I formerly thought it to be. Before the play was
done, it fell such a storm of hayle, that we in the middle of
the pit were fain to rise, and all the house in a disorder.

"2nd (August, 1664). To the King's playhouse, and there saw
'Bartholomew Fayre' (Ben Jonson's), which do still please me;
and is, as it is acted, the best comedy in the world, I
believe. I chanced to sit by Tom Killigrew, who tells me that
he is setting up a nursery; that is, is going to build a house
in Moorfields, wherein we will have common plays acted. But
four operas it shall have in the year, to act six weeks at a
time: where we shall have the best scenes and machines, the
best musique, and everything as magnificent as in Christendome,
and to that end hath sent for voices and painters, and other
persons from Italy.

"4th (August, 1664). To play at the King's house, 'The Rivall
Ladies' (Dryden's), a very innocent and most pretty witty play.
I was much pleased with it, and it being given me, I look upon
it as no breach of my oath. [Pepys means that he had made a vow
not to spend money on theatres, but that he was now treated to
a play.] Here we hear that Clun, one of their best actors, was,
the last night, going out of town after he had acted the
Alchymist (wherein was one of his best parts that he acts), to
his country house, set upon and murdered; one of the rogues
taken, an Irish fellow. It seems most cruelly butchered and
bound. The house will have a great miss of him. [Clun's body
was found at Kentish Town in a ditch. Pepys went to see the
place.]

"11th (October, 1664). Luellin tells me what an obscene loose
play this 'Parson's Wedding' is (by Tom Killigrew), that is
acted by nothing but women at the King's house.

"14th (January, 1664-5). To the King's house, there to see
'Vulpone,' a most excellent play (Ben Jonson's); the best, I
think, I ever saw, and well acted.

"19th (March, 1666). After dinner we walked to the King's
playhouse, all in dirt, they being altering of the stage to
make it wider. But God knows when they will begin to act again;
but my business here was to see the inside of the stage, and
all the tiring-rooms and machines; and, indeed, it was a sight
worthy seeing. But to see their clothes, and the various sorts,
and what a mixture of things there was; here a wooden leg,
there a ruff, here a hobby-horse, there a crown, would make a
man split himself to see with laughing; and particularly Lacy's
wardrobe and Shotrell's. But then again to think how fine they
show on the stage by candlelight, and how poor things they are
to look at too near hand, is not pleasant at all. The machines
are fine, and the paintings very pretty.

"7th (December, 1666). To the King's playhouse, where two acts
were almost done when I came in; and there I sat with my cloak
about my face, and saw the remainder of 'The Mayd's Tragedy;' a
good play, and well acted, especially by the younger Marshall,
who is become a pretty good actor; and is the first play I have
seen in either of the houses, since before the great plague,
they having acted now about fourteen days publickly. But I was
in mighty pain, lest I should be seen by anybody to be at the
play. [The plague seems to have made it an indecorum to resume
visits to the theatre very speedily. Pepys had been educated
among the Commonwealth-men, for whom he never seems to have got
rid of a respect. The contrast aggravated his festivity.]

"8th (December, 1666). To the King's playhouse, and there did
see a good part of 'The English Monsieur' (by James Howard),
which is a mighty pretty play, very witty and pleasant. And the
women do very well; but above all, little Nelly. [Nell Gwynn,
not long entered upon the stage.]

"27th (December, 1666). By coach to the King's playhouse, and
there saw 'The Scornful Lady' (Beaumont and Fletcher's), well
acted; Doll Common doing Abigail most excellently, and Knipp
the widow very well (and will be an excellent actor, I think).
In other parts the play not so well done as need be by the old
actors.

"3rd (January, 1666-7). Alone to the King's house, and there
saw 'The Custome of the Country' (Beaumont and Fletcher's), the
second time of its being acted, wherein Knipp does the widow
well; but of all the plays that ever I did see, the worst,
having neither plot, language nor anything on the earth that is
acceptable; only Knipp sings a song admirably. [Mistress Knipp
was a particular acquaintance of our friend's.]

"23rd (January, 1666-7). To the King's house, and there saw the
'Humourous Lieutenant' (Beaumont and Fletcher's), a silly play,
I think; only the spirit in it that grows very tall, and then
sinks again to nothing, having two heads breeding upon one, and
then Knipp's singing did please us. Here in a box above we
spied Mrs. Pierse; and going out they called us; and so we
staid for them; and Knipp took us all in and brought us to
Nelly (Nell Gwynn), a most pretty woman, who acted the great
part of Coelia to-day very fine, and did it pretty well: I
kissed her, and so did my wife; and a mighty pretty soul she
is. We also saw Mrs. Ball, which is my little Roman-nose black
girl, that is mighty pretty; she is usually called Betty. Knipp
made us stay in the box, and see the dancing preparatory to
to-morrow for the 'Goblins,' a play of Suckling's, not acted
these twenty years; which was pretty.

"5th (February, 1666-7). To the King's house to see 'The
Chances' (Beaumont and Fletcher's). A good play I find it, and
the actors most good in it. And pretty to hear Knipp sing in
the play very properly, 'All night I weepe;' and sung it
admirably. The whole play pleases me well: and most of all, the
sight of many fine ladies; among others, my lady Castlemaine
and Mrs. Middleton: the latter of the two hath also a very
excellent face and body, I think. And so home in the dark over
the ruins with a link. [The ruins are those of the city,
occasioned by the fire. Mr. Pepys lived in Creed Lane, where
the Navy Office then was, in which he had an appointment.]

"18th (February, 1666-7). To the King's house, to 'The Mayd's
Tragedy' (Beaumont and Fletcher's); but vexed all the while
with two talking ladies and Sir Charles Sedley; yet pleased to
hear the discourse, he being a stranger. And one of the ladies
would and did sit with her mask on all the play, and being
exceedingly witty as ever I heard a woman, did talk most
pleasantly with him; but was, I believe, a virtuous woman and
of quality. He would fain know who she was, but she would not
tell; yet did give him many pleasant hints of her knowledge of
him, by that means setting his brains at work to find out who
she was, and did give him leave to use all means to find out
who she was, but pulling off her mask. He was mighty witty, and
she also making sport with him mighty inoffensively, that more
pleasant rencontre I never heard. But by that means lost the
pleasure of the play wholly, to which now and then Sir Charles
Sedley's exceptions against both words and pronouncing were
very pretty. [This is the famous wit and man of pleasure. We
have him before us, as if we were present, together with a
curious specimen of the manners of these times. The pit, though
subject to violent scuffles, greatly occasioned by the wearing
of swords, seems to have contained as good company as the opera
pit does now.]

"2nd (March, 1666-7). After dinner with my wife to the King's
house, to see 'The Mayden Queen,' a new play of Dryden's,
mighty commended for the regularity of it, and the strain and
wit: and the truth is, there is a comical part, played by Nell,
which is Florimell, that I never can hope to see the like done
again by man or woman. The King and Duke of York were at the
play. But so great performance of a comical part was never, I
believe, in the world before as Nell do this, both as a mad
girl, then most and best of all when she comes in like a young
gallante; and hath the motions and carriage of a spark the most
that ever I saw any man have. It makes me, I confess, admire
her.

"25th (March, 1666-7). To the King's playhouse, and by and by
comes Mr. Lowther and his wife and mine, and into a box,
forsooth, neither of them being dressed, which I was almost
ashamed of. Sir W. Pen and I in the pit, and here saw the
'Mayden Queen' again; which, indeed, the more I see the more I
like, and is an excellent play, and so done by Nell her merry
part, as cannot be better done in nature.

"9th (April, 1667). To the King's house, and there saw the
'Taming of the Shrew,' which hath some very good pieces in it,
but generally is but a mean play; and the best part 'Sawny,'
done by Lacy; and hath not half its life, by reason of the
words, I suppose, not being understood, at least by me. [This
was one of the _rifacimentos_ of Shakspeare, by which he was to
be rendered palatable.]

"15th (April, 1667). To the King's house, by chance, where a
new play: so full as I never saw it; I forced to stand all the
while close to the very door till I took cold, and many people
went away for want of room. The King and Queene and Duke of
York and Duchesse there, and all the court, and Sir W.
Coventry. The play called 'The Change of Crownes;' a play of
Ned Howard's, the best that I ever saw at that house, being a
great play and serious; only Lacy did act the country gentleman
come up to court with all the imaginable wit and plainness
about the selling of places, and doing everything for money.
The play took very much.

"16th (April, 1667). Knipp tells me the King was so angry at
the liberty taken by Lacy's part to abuse him to his face, that
he commanded they should act no more, till Moone (Mohun) went
and got leave for them to act again, but not in this play. The
King mighty angry; and it was bitter indeed, but very fine and
witty. I never was more taken with a play than I am with this
'Silent Woman' (Ben Johnson's) as old as it is, and as often as
I have seen it. [Ned Howard, the author of 'The Change of
Crownes,' was one of the sons of the Earl of Berkshire, and
though of a family who helped to bring in the King, was
probably connected with the Presbyterians, and disgusted, like
many of the royalists on that side, by the disappointments they
had experienced in church and state. Dryden, who married one of
his sisters, was of a Presbyterian stock. Ned, however, who
afterwards became the butt of the wits, was not very nice, and
might have 'committed himself,' as the modern phrase is, in his
mode of conducting his satire].

"20th (April, 1667). Met Mr. Rolt, who tells me the reason of
no play to-day at the King's house--that Lacy had been
committed to the porter's lodge, for his acting his part in the
late new play; and being thence released to come to the King's
house, he there met with Ned Howard, the poet of the play, who
congratulated his release; upon which Lacy cursed him, as that
it was the fault of his nonsensical play that was the cause of
his ill-usage. Mr. Howard did give him some reply, to which
Lacy answered him that he was more a fool than a poet; upon
which Howard did give him a blow on the face with his glove;
on which Lacy, having a cane in his hand, did give him a blow
over the pate. Here Rolt and others, that discoursed of it in
the pit, did wonder that Howard did not run him through, he
being too mean a fellow to fight with. But Howard did not do
anything but complain to the King; so the whole house is
silenced: and the gentry seem to rejoice much at it, the house
being become too insolent.

"1st (May, 1667). Thence away to the King's playhouse, and saw
'Love in a Maze:' but a sorry play; only Lacy's clown's part,
which he did most admirably indeed; and I am glad to find the
rogue at liberty again. Here was but little, and that ordinary
company. We sat at the upper bench, next the boxes; and I find
it do pretty well, and have the advantage of seeing and hearing
the great people, which may be pleasant when there is good
store.

"15th (August, 1667). And so we went to the King's house, and
there saw 'The Merry Wives of Windsor;' which did not please me
at all, in no part of it.

"17th (August, 1667). To the King's playhouse, where the house
extraordinary full; and there the King and Duke of York to see
the new play, 'Queene Elizabeth's Troubles, and the History of
Eighty-eight.' I confess I have sucked in so much of the sad
story of Queene Elizabeth from my cradle, that I was ready to
weep for her sometimes; but the play is the most ridiculous
that sure ever came upon stage, and, indeed, is merely a show,
only shows the true garb of the Queene in those days, just as
we see Queene Mary and Queene Elizabeth painted; but the play
is merely a puppet play, acted by living puppets. Neither the
design nor language better; and one stands by and tells us the
meaning of things: only I was pleased to see Knipp dance among
the milkmaids, and to hear her sing a song to Queene Elizabeth,
and to see her come out in her nighte-gown with no lockes on,
but her bare face, and hair only tied up in a knot behind;
which is the comeliest dress that ever I saw her in to her
advantage.

"22nd (August, 1667). With my lord Brouncker and his mistress
to the King's playhouse, and there saw 'The Indian Emperour;'
where I find Nell come again, which I am glad of; but was most
infinitely displeased with her being put to act the Emperour's
daughter, which is a great and serious part, which she does
most basely.

"14th (September, 1667). To the King's playhouse, to see 'The
Northerne Castle, (quære _Lasse_, by Richard Brome?) which I
think I never did see before. Knipp acted in it, and did her
part very extraordinary well; but the play is but a mean sorry
play.

"----, my wife, and Mercer, and I, away to the King's
playhouse, to see 'The Scornful Lady' (Beaumont and
Fletcher's), but it being now three o'clock, there was not one
soul in the pit; whereupon, for shame, we could not go in; but
against our wills, went all to see 'Tu Quoque' again (by John
Cooke), where there was pretty store of company. Here we saw
Madame Morland, who is grown mighty fat, but is very comely.
Thence to the King's house, upon a wager of mine with my wife,
that there would be no acting there to-day, there being no
company: so I went in and found a pretty good company there,
and saw their dance at the end of the play. [There is a
confusion in the memorandum under this date.]

"20th (September, 1667). By coach to the King's playhouse, and
there saw 'The Mad Couple' (by Richard Brome), my wife having
been at the same play with Jane in the 18_d._ seat.

"25th (September, 1667). I to the King's playhouse, my eyes
being so bad since last night's straining of them, that I am
hardly able to see, besides the pain that I have in them. The
play was a new play; and infinitely full; the King and all the
court almost there. It is 'The Storme,' a play of Fletcher's;
which is but so-so, methinks; only there is a most admirable
dance at the end, of the ladies, in a military manner, which
indeed did please me mightily.

"5th (October 1667.) To the King's house; and there going in
met with Knipp, and she took us up into the tireing-rooms; and
to the women's shift, where Nell was dressing herself, and was
all unready, and is very pretty, prettier than I thought. And
into the scene-room, and there sat down, and she gave us fruit;
and here I read the questions to Knipp, while she answered me,
through all her part of 'Flora's Figarys,' which was acted
to-day. But, lord! to see how they were both painted, would
make a man mad, and did make me loath them, and what base
company of men comes among them, and how lewdly they talk. And
how poor the men are in clothes, and yet what a show they make
on the stage by candle-light, is very observable. But to see
how Nell cursed, for having so few people in the pit, was
strange; the other house carrying away all the people at the
new play, and is said now-a-days to have generally most
company, as having better players. By and by into the pit, and
there saw the play, which is pretty good.

"19th (October 1667). Full of my desire of seeing my Lord
Orrery's new play this afternoon at the King's house, 'The
Black Prince,' the first time it is acted; where, though we
came by two o'clock, yet there was no room in the pit, but were
forced to go into one of the upper boxes at 4s. a piece, which
is the first time I ever sat in a box in my life. And in the
same box came by and by, behind me, my Lord Barkely and his
lady; but I did not turn my face to them to be known, so that I
was excused from giving them my seat. And this pleasure I had,
that from this place the scenes do appear very fine indeed, and
much better than in the pit. The house infinite full, and the
King and Duke of York there. The whole house was mightily
pleased all along till the reading of a letter, which was so
long and so unnecessary, that they frequently began to laugh,
and to hiss twenty times, that had it not been for the King's
being there, they had certainly hissed it off the stage.