This Opinion, at any rate, I have the Honour of sharing with all the younger generation of Play-goers who flock to the Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, even while the King's House in Vere Street is receiving but scanty Patronage. Of course my Judgment may not be altogether impartial, seeing that in addition to Mr. Betterton, who is the finest Actor our English Stage has ever known, the Duke's House also boasts of the loveliest Actress that ever walked before the Curtain.
You, dear Mistress, were already then, as You are now, at the zenith of your Beauty and Fame, and your damask Cheeks would blush, I know, if you were to read for yourself some of the Eulogies which the aforementioned Mr. Samuel Pepys in his Letters to Mr. Betterton bestows upon the exquisite Mistress Saunderson—"Ianthe," as he has been wont to call you ever since he saw You play that part in Sir William Davenant's "The Siege of Rhodes."
Of course I know that of late no other sentimental tie hath existed outwardly between Mr. Betterton and Yourself save that of Comradeship and friendly Intercourse; but often when sitting in the Pit of the Theatre I watched You and Him standing together before the curtain, and receiving the Plaudits of an enthusiastic Audience, I prayed to God in my Heart to dissipate the Cloud of Misunderstanding which had arisen between You; aye! and I cursed fervently the Lady Barbara and her noble Lover, who helped to make that Cloud more sombre and impenetrable.
2
I naturally heard a great deal more of Society Gossip these days than I was wont to do during the time that I was a mere Clerk in the Employ of Mr. Theophilus Baggs. My kind Employer treated me more as a Friend than a Servant. I had fine Clothes to wear, accompanied him on several Occasions when he appeared in Public, and was constantly in his tiring-room at the Theatre, where he received and entertained a never-ending Stream of Friends.
Thus, towards the end of the Month, I gathered from the Conversation of Gentlemen around me that the Marquess of Sidbury had come up to Town in the Company of his beautiful Daughter. He had, they said, taken advantage of the fine Weather to make the Journey to London, as he desired to consult the Court Physician on the Matter of his Health.
I shall never forget the strange Look that came into Mr. Betterton's face when first the Subject was mentioned. He and some Friends—Ladies as well as Gentlemen—were assembled in the small Reception Room which hath lately been fitted up behind the Stage. Upholstered and curtained with a pleasing Shade of Green, the Room is much frequented by Artists and their Friends, and it is always crowded during the Performance of those Plays wherein one of the leading Actors or Actresses has a part.
We have taken to calling the place the Green Room, and here on the occasion of a performance of Mr. Webster's "Duchess of Malfy," in which You, dear Mistress, had no part, a very brilliant Company was assembled. Sir William Davenant was there, as a matter of course, so was Sir George Etherege, and that brilliant young dramatist Mr. Wycherley. In addition to that, there were one or two very great Gentlemen there, members of the Court Circle and enthusiastic Playgoers, who were also intimate Friends of Mr. Betterton. I am referring particularly to the Duke of Buckingham, to my Lord Rochester, Lord Orrery and others. A brilliant Assembly forsooth, which testified to the high Esteem in which the great Artist is held by all those who have the privilege of knowing him.
I told You that when first the Name of the Lady Barbara was mentioned in the Green Room, a strange Glance, which I was unable to interpret, shot out of Mr. Betterton's eyes, and as I gazed upon that subtle, impalpable Change which suddenly transformed his serene Expression of Countenance into one that was almost Evil, I felt a curious sinking of the Heart—a dread Premonition of what was to come. You know how his lips are ever ready to smile: now they appeared thin and set, while the sensitive Nostrils quivered almost like those of the wild Beasts which we have all of us frequently watched in the Zoological Gardens, when the Attendants bring along the food for the day and they, eager and hungry, know that the Hour of Satisfaction is nigh.
"The fair Lady Babs," one of the young Gallants was saying with studied Flippancy, "is more beautiful than ever, methinks; even though she goes about garbed in the Robes of Sorrow."