It was an unfortunate moment for the introduction of actresses, and their presence gave rise to many scandals, but abuses had long been rife on the stage, and dramatic performances had been occasionally suspended even in the reign of Elizabeth. The blame cannot be attributed to the pernicious example of France as far as the plays themselves are concerned, for it is agreed that French comedy in the reign of Charles II. was not in the least coarse. This was the period of Molière’s fame. Two or three years after the accession of Anne, who did not countenance playhouses by her presence, the Puritan party of that day earnestly hoped that the Queen might be induced to interdict stage performances, or at least to prohibit certain pieces. There is not the slightest doubt that the complaints made of obscene language and manners were well founded. The plays remain as witnesses, and the record of the scenes enacted in the green-room and the general licence indulged in by the players furnish condemnatory evidence. But the purists were not content with trying to uphold morality and public decency. At that time natural phenomena were still regarded by many people with superstitious terror. Sickness, storms, and other calamities were looked upon as the visitations of wrathful Providence.
Now it happened that a disastrous tempest had been raging, a tempest fiercer than any known for many years. A day of fasting and humiliation had been appointed, and in the face of that public acknowledgment of national sin the irreverent players chose to produce Macbeth and The Tempest, with as faithful a representation of real storms as they could contrive.
“Surely,” writes one shocked contemporary, “the Players have little reason to expect that they shall still go on in their abominable Outrages; who, ’tis to be observed with Indignation, did, as we are assured, within a few days after we felt the late dreadful storm, entertain their audience with the ridiculous Representation of what had filled us with so great Horror in their Plays called Macbeth and The Tempest, as if they designed to Mock the Almighty Power of God, who alone commands the Winds and the Seas, and they obey him.”[57]
Queen Anne did not suspend the plays, but she issued an edict for the better regulation of the theatres. With a view to abolishing abuses and indecencies, it was commanded—
“that no person of what quality soever presume to go behind the scenes or come upon the stage either before or during the acting of any play; that no woman be allowed or presume to wear a vizard mask in either of the theatres,”[58]
together with several other regulations.
It was customary in the days of Charles II. for ladies to go to the theatre masked, the presumption being that the language of the plays was so coarse that no woman could sit and hear them in mixed company with her face uncovered. But it was a practice that was liable to lead to all sorts of disorders. Under the disguise of the mask women of all degrees accosted strangers, and there were always men ready enough to avail themselves of the general licence as to behaviour. Ladies then sat in the pit, which, after the boxes, was the most aristocratic portion of the house, for which the prices ranged from 2s. 6d. to 4s. in the money of that period.
The custom of having women to act was introduced from the Continent, where it had long prevailed. At the time when Corneille’s plays were constantly being acted, about 1633, there were a good many actresses on the French stage. There was much dramatic activity in Paris at that time. The French were very eager playgoers, and when a tragedy having, for its subject the story of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn was produced, there was such a rush to see the piece that four doorkeepers were crushed to death on the first night, greatly to the pride and delight of the author, Jean Puget de la Serre, who exclaimed with triumph: “Voilà ce qu’on appelle de bonnes pièces.” In his exultation he declared he would not yield the palm to Corneille, until his great contemporary had caused five doorkeepers to be killed in one day.
In the prevailing state of easy morals in the England of the Restoration the appearance of actresses was an incentive to licence, and every advantage was taken of the innovation by the court gallants. The actresses were probably no worse than many of the ladies in the audience, but their mere existence gave occasion for evil. Evelyn, whose code of morals and taste were too high for that period, says, in 1666, that he hardly ever goes to the theatres—
“for many reasons now, as they were abused to an atheistical liberty. Fowle and indecent women now, and never till now, were permitted to appear and act.”