Joseph Haines! "Joe" with his familiars, "Count Haines" with those who affected great respect, was a rogue in his way,—a merry rogue, a ready wit, and an admirable low comedian, from 1672 to 1701. We first hear of him as a quickwitted lad at a school in St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, whence he was sent, through the liberality of some gentlemen who had remarked his talents, to Queen's College, Oxford. There Haines met with Williamson, the Sir Joseph of after days, distinguished alike for his scholarship, his abilities as a statesman, the important offices he held, and the liberality with which he dispensed the fortune which he honourably acquired.
Williamson chose Haines for a friend, and made him his Latin secretary when Williamson was appointed Secretary of State. If Haines could have kept official and state secrets, his own fortune would now have been founded; but Joe gossiped in joyous companies, and in taverns revealed the mysteries of diplomacy. Williamson parted with his indiscreet "servant," but sent him to recommence fortune-making at Cambridge. Here, again, his waywardness ruined him for a professor. A strolling company at Stourbridge Fair seduced him from the groves of Academus,[28] and in a short time this foolish and clever fellow, light of head, of heart, and of principle, was the delight of the Drury Lane audiences, and the favoured guest in the noblest society where mirth, humour, and dashing impudence were welcome.
In 1673, his Sparkish, in the "Country Wife"—his original character—was accepted as the type of the airy gentleman of the day. His acting on, and his jokes off, the stage were the themes in all coteries and coffee-houses. He was a great practical jester, and once engaged a simple-minded clergyman as "Chaplain to the Theatre Royal," and sent him behind the scenes, ringing a bell, and calling the players to prayers! When Romanism was looking up, under James II., Haines had the impudence to announce to the convert Sunderland,—unworthy son of Waller's Sacharissa,—his adoption of the King's religion, being moved thereto by the Virgin, who had appeared to him in a dream, saying, "Joe, arise!" This was too much even for Sunderland, who drily observed that "she would have said 'Joseph,' if only out of respect for her husband!"
The rogue showed the value of a "profession," which gave rise to as many pamphlets as Dryden's, by subsequently recanting,—not in the church, but on the stage; he the while covered with a sheet, holding a taper, and delivering some stupid rhymes,—to the very dullest of which he had the art of giving wonderful expression by his accent, emphasis, modulation, and felicity of application. The audience that could bear this recantation-prologue could easily pardon the speaker, who would have caused even greater errors to have been pardoned, were it only for his wonderful impersonation of Captain Bluff (1693) in Congreve's "Old Bachelor." The self-complaisant way in which he used to utter "Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in his day," was universally imitated, and has made the phrase itself proverbial. His Roger, in "Æsop," was another of his successes, the bright roll of which was crowned by his lively, impudent, irresistible Tom Errand, in Farquhar's "Constant Couple,"—that most triumphant comedy of a whole century.
The great fault of Haines lay in the liberties which he took with the business of the stage. He cared less to identify himself with the characters he represented than, through them, to keep up a communication with the spectators. When Hart, then manager, cast Joe for the simple part of a Senator, in "Catiline," in which Hart played the hero, Joe, in disgust at his rôle, spoiled Hart's best point, by sitting behind him, absurdly attired, with pot and pipe in hand, and making grimaces at the grave actor of Catiline; which kept the house in a roar of laughter. Hart could not be provoked to forget his position, and depart from his character; but as soon as he made his exit, he sent Joe his dismissal.
Joe Haines then alternated between the stage and the houses of his patrons. "Vivitur ingenio"—the stage-motto, was also his own, and he seems to have added to his means by acting the jester's part in noble circles. He was, however, no mere "fool." Scholars might respect a "classic," like Haines, and travelling lords gladly hire as a companion, a witty fellow, who knew two or three living languages as familiarly as he did his own. With an English peer he once visited Paris, where Joe is said to have got imprisoned for debt, incurred in the character, assumed by him, of an English lord. After his release, he returned to England, self-invested with the dignity of "Count," a title not respected by a couple of bailiffs, who arrested Joseph, on Holborn Hill, for a little matter of £20.
"Here comes the carriage of my cousin, the Bishop of Ely," said the unblushing knave; "let me speak to him; I am sure he will satisfy you in this matter."
Consent was given, and Haines, putting his head in at the carriage-door, hastily informed the good Simon Patrick that "here were two Romanists inclined to become Protestants, but with yet some scruples of conscience."
"My friends," said the eager prelate to them, "if you will presently come to my house, I will satisfy you in this matter!" The scrupulous gentlemen were well content; but when an explanation ensued, the vexed bishop paid the money out of very shame, and Joe and the bailiffs spread the story. They who remembered how Haines played Lord Plausible, in the "Plain Dealer," were not at all surprised at his deceiving a bishop and a brace of bailiffs.