The Palmy Days of Nance Oldfield Part 12

If tradition is to be believed (and what siren is more comfortable to hearken unto than tradition?) these self-same patriots took their name of "Kit-Cats" from prosaic mutton pies. 'Twould be horrible to think on this gastronomic derivation of the t.i.tle were we not to remember, quite fortunately, that geese saved cla.s.sic Rome. Why, therefore, should not the preservers of perfidious Albion suggest the aroma of a lamb pasty?

It seems that the Club had its first headquarters in Shire Lane, near Temple Bar, at the establishment of Christopher Cat, a pastrycook who helped to enliven the inner man by delicious meat pies dubbed "Kit-Cats." Hence the name of that notable coterie of Whigs which included Addison and d.i.c.k Steele, Congreve and His Grace of Devonshire.[A]

[Footnote A: Our modern celebrated clubs are founded upon eating and drinking, which are points wherein most men agree, and in which the learned and illiterate, the dull and the airy, the philosopher and the buffoon, can all of them bear a part. The Kit-Cat itself is said to have taken its original from a mutton pie. The Beef-Steak and October clubs are neither of them averse to eating and drinking, if we may form a judgment of them from their respective t.i.tles.--ADDISON in the _Spectator_.]

Maynwaring came of good English stock, and in early life showed the results of his relationship to the aristocratic house of Cholmondeley by supporting the lost cause of James II. So fervent an admirer was he of that apology for royalty that he took up the pen, if not the sword, in his behalf, and steeped the mightier weapon with satirical ink when he wrote a pamphlet ent.i.tled "The King of Hearts." Rumour paid to the young author an unintentional compliment by insisting that the brochure came from the great Mr. Dryden, but that genius denied the soft impeachment while gracefully praising the unknown writer.

This pursuit of Jacobitism was varied by the study of law--a study "sometimes relieved with a temporary application to music and poetry"--and when the disconsolate Arthur had lost his father, and thereby gained 800 pounds a year, he drowned his sorrows by an almost exclusive devotion to "society and pleasantry." We are told[A] that on the ratification of the Peace of Ryswick he went to Paris, where he was exceedingly well received in consequence of the numerous introductory letters which had been furnished him from various quarters. He there contracted an intimacy with Boileau,--

"Whose rash envy would allow No strain that shamed his country's creaking lyre, That whetstone of the teeth, monotony in wire."

[Footnote A: "Memoirs of the Celebrated Persons comprising the Kit-Cat Club."]

"The French poet invited Maynwaring to his country seat, where he behaved to him in a very hospitable manner, and frequently conversed with him respecting the merits of our English poets, of whom, however, he affected to know but little, and for whom he pretended to care still less. Monsieur de la Fontaine was also at times one of their company, and always spoke in very respectful terms of the poetry of the sister nation. Boileau's pretending to be ignorant of Dryden 'argued himself unknown'; but, perhaps, another reason may be a.s.signed why the French writers found it convenient to know as little as possible of their English contemporary, who in many of his admirable prefaces and dedications has taken some trouble to explain the frivolity of the French poets, their tiresome _pet.i.t maitre-ship_, and all the finessing and trick with which they endeavour to make amends to their readers for positive deficiency of genius."

After playing the _dilettante_ in France, Maynwaring returned home, and in time became a staunch Whig, a Government official, and, later on, a Member of Parliament. The cause of the Pretender knew him no more, and in future this brilliant gentleman would be one of the greatest friends of that stupid Hanoverian family which waited drowsily, across the sea, for the death of Anne.

But what counted all the glamour of public life compared to the possession of Nance Oldfield and an honoured seat at the festive board of the Kit-Cat Club? Love and conviviality, youth and wit, carried the day, and through the influence of these seductive companions handsome Arthur failed to achieve greatness as a statesman. But when it came to waging political warfare against sour Swift, or to a.s.sisting d.i.c.k Steele with the "Tatler," or--better still--toasting some fair one at the Club,[A] this _bon viveur_ was in his finest mood.

[Footnote A: The (Kit-Cat) club originated in the hospitality of Jacob Tonson, the bookseller, who, once a week, was host at the house in Shire Lane to a gathering of writers. In an occasional poem on the Kit-Cat club, attributed to Sir Richard Blackmore, Jacob is read backwards into Bocaj, and we are told:

"One Night in Seven at this convenient seat Indulgent Bocaj did the Muses treat; Their Drink was gen'rous Wine and Kit-Cat's Pyes their Meat.

Hence did th' a.s.sembly's t.i.tle first arise, And Kit-Cat Wits spring first from Kit-Cat's Pyes."

About the year 1700 this gathering of wits produced a club in which the great Whig chiefs were a.s.sociated with foremost Whig writers, Tonson being secretary. It was as much literary as political, and its "toasting gla.s.ses," each inscribed with lines to a reigning beauty, caused Arbuthnot to derive its value from "its pell mell pack of toasts."

Of old Cats and young Kits.

Tonson built a room for the Club at Barn Elms to which each member gave his portrait by Sir G.o.dfrey Kneller, who was himself a member.

The pictures were on a new-sized canvas adopted to the height of the walls, whence the name "Kit-Cat" came to be applied generally to three-quarter length portraits.--HENRY MORLEY'S Notes on the _Spectator_.]

It is to be supposed that at some time or other the health of Mistress Oldfield was drunk by the Kit-Cats, whose custom of honouring womankind in this bibulous way may have given rise to Pope's plaintive query:

"Say why are beauties prais'd and honoured most, The wise man's pa.s.sion, and the vain man's toast?

Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford, Why Angels call'd, and angel-like adored?"

And if the actress was thus deified or spiritualised, who drained his gla.s.s more fervently than did Arthur Maynwaring? For whatever may have been the faults of this dashing Whig, he had the courage of his sins, and took up his abode with Anne in the full light of day, as though a marriage ceremony were a bagatelle not worth the recollecting. The world was forgiving, to be sure, nor is it probable that either one of this easily-mated pair suffered any loss of public esteem by the union. Dukes--nay, even d.u.c.h.esses--were glad to meet Nance, and Royalty allowed her to bask in the sunshine of its gracious approval.

"She was to be seen on the terrace at Windsor, walking with the consorts of dukes, and with countesses, and wives of English barons, and the whole gay group might be heard calling one another by their Christian names."

No wonder that the women of fashion, none of them saints, loved Oldfield and winked at the elasticity of her moral ethics. The dear creature was so bright in conversation, so full of _espieglerie_, and, still more important, she looked so charming in her succession of handsome toilettes, that she could be ever sure of a cordial welcome.

"Flavia," as Steele calls her, "is ever well-dressed, and always the genteelest woman you meet, but the make of her mind very much contributes to the ornament of her body. She has the greatest simplicity of manners of any of her s.e.x. This makes everything look native about her, and her clothes are so exactly fitted, that they appear, as it were, part of her person. Every one that sees her knows her to be of quality; but her distinction is owing to her manner, and not to her habit. Her beauty is full of attraction, but not of allurement. There is such a composure in her looks, and propriety in her dress, that you would think it impossible she should change the garb you one day see her in, for anything so becoming until you next day see her in another. There is no mystery in this, but that however she is apparelled, she is herself the same: for there is so immediate a relation between our thoughts and gestures that a woman must think well to look well."

Here, verily, was an actress who could set the town wild by the beauty and exquisite taste of her costumes, and who was conscientious enough, nevertheless, to keep the millinery phase of her art modestly in the background. You, ladies, who depend for theatrical success upon the elegance of your gowns, and fondly believe that fairness of face and litheness of figure will atone for a thousand dramatic sins, take pattern by the industry of Oldfield. It will be a much better pattern than those over which you are accustomed to worry your pretty heads.

The enterprising dressmakers who go to the play to get inspiration for new clothes may cease to worship you, but think of the other sort of inspiration which you will give to lovers of the drama! Then shall there be no more announcements to the effect that, "Miss Lighthead will act Lady Macbeth in ten Parisian gowns made by Worth," or that when she treats us to the death of Marguerite Gautier (the aforesaid Mdlle. Gautier dying, as everybody knows, in actual poverty) "Miss Lighthead will wear diamonds representing one hundred thousand dollars."

There is not much to say about the domesticity of Nance and Arthur Maynwaring. How could there be? The lady kept house for her lord and master with grace and modesty (if it seems not paradoxical to mention modesty in this alliance), and it is safe to believe that more than one member of the Kit-Cat Club often tasted a bit of beef and pudding, and sipped a gla.s.s of port, at the table of the happy pair. Congreve, the particular friend and _protege_ of the host, must have dined more than once with brilliant Nance, regaling his plump being with the joy of food and drink, and wondering, perhaps, how any one could prefer the hostess to his particular _chere-amie_, Anne Bracegirdle. And Oldfield, of what did she think as she gazed into the rounded face of Mr. Congreve, or listened to the merry wit of her devoted liege? Did the ghost of poor, dead Farquhar ever arise before her, the reminder of a day when love was younger and pa.s.sion stronger? Let us ask no impertinent questions.

What with acting, and supping, and an easy conscience, Mistress Oldfield gaily trod the primrose path of dalliance, and Cupid hovered near, albeit there was no law to chain him to the scene. But one day he took to his wings and flew away, after witnessing the untimely death (November 1712) of Mr. Maynwaring. The latter made his exit with the a.s.sistance of three physicians, and Nance was near to smooth the departure.[A] Then came the funeral, and after that Mrs. Mayn--Mrs.

Oldfield dried her lovely eyes (did she not have enough weeping to do when she played in tragedy?), and began once more to think upon the joys of existence.

[Footnote A: He died at St. Albans, November 13, 1712, of a consumption, and was attended in his last illness by Doctors Garth, Radcliffe and Blackmore. In his will he appointed Mrs. Oldfield, the celebrated actress, his executrix, with whom he had lived for several years, and by whom he had a son, named Arthur Maynwaring. His estate was equally divided between this child, its mother and his sister.--"Memoirs of the Celebrated Persons Comprising the Kit-Kat Club."]

When General Churchill, a nephew of the great Duke of Marlborough, suggested to the disconsolate widow-by-brevet that she should share his home, the proposal was accepted, and the actress entered for a second time into a free-and-easy compact, and for a second time remained faithful thereto until her new admirer went the way of Mr.

Maynwaring. It was even rumoured--scandalous gossip!--that the two were married; and one day the Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, asked the "incomparable sweet girl," who was attending a royal levee, whether such were indeed the case. "So it is said, may it please your Royal Highness," diplomatically replied Nance, "but we have not owned it yet."

To Churchill our unsteady heroine presented one son, and it was through the marriage of the latter that the swift-running blood of Oldfield now courses through the veins of the first Earl of Cadogan's descendants.[A] This son and the one who bore the name of Maynwaring were the only two children credited, or discredited, to the actress, but there appears to have been a mysterious daughter, a Miss Dye Bertie, who became, as Mrs. Delany tells us, "the pink of fashion in the _beau monde_, and married a n.o.bleman." It would not be wise, however, to peer too closely into the dim vista of the past. The picture might prove unpleasant.

[Footnote A: Her son, Colonel Churchill, once, unconsciously, saved Sir Robert Walpole from a.s.sa.s.sination, through the latter riding home from the House in the Colonel's chariot instead of alone in his own.

Unstable Churchill married a natural daughter of Sir Robert, and their daughter Mary married, in 1777, Charles Sloane, first Earl of Cadogan.... When Churchill and his wife were travelling in France, a Frenchman, knowing he was connected with poets or players, asked him if he was Churchill the famous poet. "I am not," said Mrs. Oldfield's son. "Ma foi!" rejoined the polite Frenchman, "so much the worse for you."--DR. DORAN.]

Surely we may have charity for Oldfield, when she dispensed the same virtue to those around her. Towards none did she show it more sweetly than to that disreputable fraud and alleged man of genius, Richard Savage. In his own feverish day d.i.c.k Savage cut a literary swath more wide than enviable, but when he is viewed from the unsympathetic light of the present he seems merely a clever vagabond. Yet Dr. Johnson, who could be so stern towards some of his contemporaries, condescended to love the aforesaid vagabond, in a ponderous, elephantine way, and deified him by writing the life of the ingrate, or an apology therefor. Savage had, once upon a time, led the youthful Johnson more than a few feet away from the path of rect.i.tude, but the philosopher forgave, without forgetting, the wiles of the tempter, and treated him with a generosity by no means deserved. In the years of his prosperity--and the remembrance did him credit--Johnson could never forget that Savage and himself had been poor together, and had often wandered through London with hardly a penny to show between them.

"It is melancholy to reflect," says Boswell, "that Johnson and Savage were sometimes in such extreme indigence that they could not pay for a lodging; so that they have wandered together whole nights in the streets. Yet in these almost incredible scenes of distress, we may suppose that Savage mentioned many of the anecdotes with which Johnson afterwards enriched the life of this unhappy companion, and those of other poets.

"He told Sir Joshua Reynolds, that one night in particular, when Savage and he walked round St. James's Square for want of a lodging, they were not at all depressed by their situation; but in high spirits and brimful of patriotism, traversed the square for several hours, inveighed against the Minister, and resolved they would _stand by their country_."

The claim of Savage that he was the illegitimate son of the Countess of Macclesfield--a claim which he was always a.s.serting to the point of coa.r.s.eness--seems to have been the stock-in-trade of this vagabond's life. There never was proof that the relationship which he thus flaunted really existed; for, although the conduct of the Countess[A]

was unpardonable, the poet could never show that he had been the mysterious infant which had this lady for its mother and Lord Rivers for an unnatural father. The child disappeared, and nothing more was ever known of its existence.

[Footnote A: Anne Mason, wife of Charles Gerrard, first Earl of Macclesfield, was divorced from that n.o.bleman by an Act of Parliament.

Another earl, Richard Savage, Lord Rivers, was the co-respondent.

This was the same Countess of Macclesfield who subsequently married Cibber's friend, Colonel Brett.]

But Savage discovered, or affected to discover, that he was the missing one, and from that moment made the Countess miserable by his importunities for recognition and money, more particularly for the latter. "It was to no purpose," records Dr. Johnson, "that he frequently solicited her to admit him to see her; she avoided him with the most vigilant precaution, and ordered him to be excluded from her house, by whomsoever he might be introduced, and what reason soever he might give for entering it." And the Doctor, who had an abiding and very misplaced confidence in the fellow, adds plaintively: "Savage was at the same time so touched with the discovery of his real mother that it was his frequent practice to walk in the dark evenings for several hours before her door in hopes of seeing her as she might come by accident to the window, or cross her apartment with a candle in her hand."

"Touched with the discovery," forsooth! 'Twas a species of blackmail cloaked in the guise of filial sentiment.

This talented blackguard was wont to pray for alms from Mistress Oldfield; and that dear charitable creature (are not most actresses dear, charitable creatures?) would often waste her practical sympathy upon him. She despised the man, but, with that generosity so characteristic of her craft, was ever ready to relieve his necessities.[A] Well, well, how the glitter from a few guineas can envelop the fragile doner in a golden light, and throw over her faults the soft glow of forgiveness.

[Footnote A: In this (Johnson's) "Life of Savage" 'tis related that Mrs. Oldfield was very fond of Mr. Savage's conversation, and allowed him an annuity during her life of 50. These facts are equally ill-grounded; there was no foundation for them. That Savage's misfortunes pleaded for pity, and had the desired effect on Mrs.

Oldfield's compa.s.sion, is certain; but she so much disliked the man, and disapproved his conduct, that she never admitted him to her conversation, nor suffered him to enter her house. She indeed often relieved him with such donations as spoke her generous disposition.

But this was on the solicitation of friends, who frequently set his calamities before her in the most piteous light; and, from a principle of humanity, she became not a little instrumental in saving his life.--CIBBER'S "Lives of the Poets."]

Savage himself once turned player, and no one must have been more amused thereat than the Oldfield. It happened during the summer of 1723, when the poet, who was in his customary state of (theatrical) dest.i.tution, determined to replenish his shabby purse by bringing out a tragedy. While this play, "The Tragedy of Sir Thomas Overbury,"[A]

was in rehearsal at Drury Lane, Colley Cibber kept the author in clothes, and the Laureate's son Theophilus, then a very young man, studied the part of Somerset. The princ.i.p.al actors were not in London just then, it being the off season, when the younger players strutted across the cla.s.sic boards of the house, and Savage determined himself to enact Sir Thomas. He did so with melancholy results; even Johnson admits the failure of so presumptuous a leap before the footlights, "for neither his voice, look, nor gesture were such as were expected on the stage; and he was so much ashamed of having been reduced to appear as a player, that he always blotted out his name from the list when a copy of his tragedy was to be shown to his friends."[B]

[Footnote A: Savage, with his usual bad taste, published this tragedy as the work of "Richard Savage, _son of the late Earl Rivers_."]

[Footnote B: In the publication of his performance he was more successful, for the rays of genius that glimmered in it, that glimmered through all the mists which poverty and Cibber had been able to spread over it, procured him the notice and esteem of many persons eminent for their rank, their virtue, and their wit. Of this play, acted, printed, and dedicated, the acc.u.mulated profits arose to an hundred pounds, which he thought at that time a very large sum, having been never master of so much before. In the "Dedication," for which he received ten guineas, there is nothing remarkable. The preface contains a very liberal enconium on the blooming excellence of Mr.

Theophilus Cibber, which Mr. Savage could not in the latter part of his life see his friends about to read without s.n.a.t.c.hing the play out of their hands.--DR. JOHNSON.]

What a sublime hypocrite our Richard was, to be sure. That he felt so keenly the disgrace (?) of "having been reduced to appear as a player"