The orange-girls had a superior known as “Orange Moll,” who occupied a position somewhat analogous to that of the modern brothel-keeper. She attended the girls to the theatre, and superintended and directed their operations there. During the entreactes lewd conversations were carried on between the orange-girls and the gallants, which were interspersed with obscene jokes, and highly relished by the audience. The custom of interpellating the gay women who frequented the theatre was continued to a period comparatively recent. Every one has heard the story of Peg Plunket and the Duke of Rutland, in the days when the gods of the Dublin theatre were esteemed the most discriminating, though boisterous and rollicking audience of the three kingdoms.
Charles selected several of his mistresses from the stage, for which he had a passionate fondness. Miss Davis literally sang and danced her way into his affections. Her conquest of the king was consummated by the manner in which she sang the popular ballad “My lodging is on the cold ground.” Charles thought she was deserving of warmer quarters, and raised her to his own bed. He established her in a splendid residence, and lavished on her the most extravagant gifts.
The queen at first resented the open and undisguised infidelities of the king, and publicly manifested her sense of them on one occasion by quitting the theatre when Miss Davis made her appearance on the stage; but, finding it impossible to reclaim him from his vicious propensities, she abandoned all hopes of restricting his libertinism, or even of keeping him within the bounds of conventional decency.
The Countess of Castlemaine (afterward created Duchess of Cleveland) was of a more jealous temperament than the queen, and took a more characteristic revenge on Charles for his frailties. She took another lover, and went to reside at his house, very much to the comfort of her royal patron, who had a kingly dislike of trouble.
After quarreling with Lord Buckhurst, Nell Gwynne returned to the stage, but had not long resumed her profession when it was rumored that she had made a conquest of the king. These reports were apparently contradicted by her continued appearance at the theatre, and the progress she made in her art, which could only be the result of careful study. A tragedy by Dryden was advertised, the principal character to be performed by Nell; but, before the night of its first representation arrived, it was found necessary to postpone the performance, owing to Nell’s not being in a condition to appear. From this time her connection with Charles no longer remained a secret.
Nell, like her predecessors, was not long suffered to maintain uncontested her supremacy over the king’s affections. When the Duchesse d’Orleans, the sister of Charles, paid a visit to the English court in 1670, she had in her train a handsome maid, who was admired for her simple and childish style of beauty. Whether instigated by the courtiers who accompanied her mistress, whose visit was a political one, or prompted by her own sagacity, she made her acquiescence in the king’s desires conditional upon his executing the shameful treaty which gave France such important advantages, and rendered Charles a mere tributary to the French king. This girl, Louise de Querouaille, became the rival of Nell Gwynne, and had a child by Charles, who was created Duke of Richmond.
So scandalously public had the relations of Charles with the loose women who surrounded him become, and so flagrant and unblushing was the conduct of the latter, that the queen could no longer reside in the palace of Whitehall, and accordingly removed to Somerset House in the Strand. This feeling of indignation on the part of her majesty soon extended to the virtuously disposed part of the public. Efforts were made to apply a remedy to the disorder which threatened to corrupt the whole framework of English society. In Parliament it was proposed to levy a tax on the play-houses, which had become undisguised nests of prostitution. The debate which ensued elicited a witticism which led to serious consequences to the gentleman who uttered it. On Sir John Birkenhead’s remarking that “the players were the king’s servants and part of his pleasures,” Sir John Coventry was imprudent enough to inquire “whether the king’s pleasures lay among the men that acted or the women.” For this offense to Charles he was waylaid by some of the courtiers, who slit his nose, and otherwise maltreated him.
It is impossible, however, to deny that this very license of manners rendered the king popular with a certain class of his subjects. The only exception taken by them to his conduct was the selection of a foreigner as one of his mistresses, and even this would have passed without comment but for the political consequences of the connection. It was generally understood among the people that Mademoiselle de Querouaille, or Mrs. Carwell, as she was commonly called, was an agent used for the purpose of securing the ascendency of French interests. This brought upon her the hostility of the populace, who availed themselves of every opportunity of manifesting their dislike to her.
Nell Gwynne was an English woman, a Protestant, and the idol of the town. She was known by the title of the Protestant mistress, while Mrs. Carwell went by that of the king’s Popish concubine. Nell was one day insulted in her carriage at Oxford, and came very near being mobbed by the populace in mistake for Mrs. Carwell. With her usual wit and presence of mind, she put her head out of the window, and quieted the rioters by telling them that she was “the Protestant w——e.”
As the literature of the times reflected the general licentiousness of manners, it was not to be expected that the arts would escape their demoralizing influence. Most of the paintings then executed were characterized by the same freedom of expression which was used on the stage. There is an old print extant of the Duchess of Portsmouth, reclining on a bank of violets, wearing no other covering than a lace robe; and in another Nell Gwynne is represented in the same semi-nude condition. It is said that this dress had belonged to the duchess, and had been much admired by the king, but that, with her usual love of mischief, Nell had purloined it, greatly to the amusement of her royal lover, and very much to the chagrin and mortification of the duchess.