If tragedy lost its queen, Acton gained a wealthy lady. Her professional salary had not been large, but her "benefits" were very productive; they who admired the actress or who loved the woman, alike pouring out gold and jewels in her lap. It was especially for her that performers' benefits were first devised. Authors alone had hitherto profited by such occasions, but, in recognition of her merit, King James commanded one to be given on her behalf, and what was commenced as a compliment soon passed into a custom.
In a little more than three years from the date when the curtain fell before her for the last time, Elizabeth Barry died. Brief resting season after such years of toil; but, perhaps, sufficient for better ends after a career, too, of unbridled pleasure! "This great actress," says Cibber, "dy'd of a fever, towards the latter years of Queen Anne; the year I have forgot, but perhaps you will recollect it, by an expression that fell from her in blank verse, in her last hours, when she was delirious, viz.—
"Ha! ha! and so they make us lords, by dozens!"
This, however, does not settle the year so easily as Colley thought. In December 1711, Queen Anne, by an unprecedented act, created twelve new peers, to enable the measures of her Tory ministers to be carried in the Upper House. Mrs. Barry died two years later, on the 7th of November 1713, and the utterance of the words quoted above only indicates that her wandering memory was then dealing with incidents full two years old.
They who would see how Mrs. Barry looked living, have only to consult Kneller's grand picture, in which she is represented with her fine hair drawn back from her forehead, the face full, fair, and rippling with intellect. The eyes are inexpressibly beautiful. Of all her living beauty, living frailty, and living intelligence, there remains but this presentment.
It was customary to compare Mrs. Barry with French actresses; but it seems to me that the only French actress with whom Mrs. Barry may be safely compared is Mademoiselle, or, as she was called with glorious distinction, "the Champmeslé." This French lady was the original Hermione, Berenice, Monimia, and Phædra. These were written expressly for her by Racine, who trained her exactly as Rochester did Elizabeth Barry,—to some glory on the stage, and to some infamy off it. La Champmeslé, however, was more tenderly treated by society at large than the less fortunate daughter of an old royalist colonel. The latter actress was satirised; the former was eulogised by the wits, and she was not even anathematised by French mothers. When La Champmeslé was ruining the young Marquis de Sevigné, his mother wrote proudly of the actress as her "daughter-in-law!" as if to have a son hurried to perdition by so resplendent and destructive a genius, was a matter of exultation!
Having sketched the outline of Mrs. Barry's career, I proceed to notice some of her able, though less illustrious, colleagues.