Part 37 (1/2)
CHAPTER XXII
”MOLL'S SINGIN' BROUGHT HER LUCK AND MAY BE YOURS WILL TOO”
The months went over. Huddy's ”travelling” theatrical troupe had been paying a round of visits to various towns in the home counties, performing in innyards, barns, any place suitable for the purpose and where no objections were raised by the justices. Actors and actresses were ”rogues and vagabonds” when it suited prim puritans to call them so, and more than once Huddy and his company had to take a hurried departure from some town where play-acting was looked upon as unG.o.dly and a device of Satan to ensnare the unsuspecting.
All this was in the day's work. Lavinia thought nothing of it. She had been in her youthful days harried from pillar to post and knew what it meant. The important thing to her was that she was getting a vast amount of stage experience, and as she was a quick ”study” she had no difficulty in taking on a new role at a day's notice.
Lavinia remained with Huddy's until she had all the devices of the stage at her finger's ends. In a way theatrical training was easier then than now. Acting was largely a question of tradition. What Betterton, Wilks, Barton Booth, Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mrs. Barry, Mrs. Oldfield did others had to do. Audiences expected certain characters to be represented in a certain way and were slow to accept ”new readings.” Comedy, however, had more lat.i.tude than tragedy, and as comedy was Lavinia's line her winsome face and pleasing smile and her melodious voice were always welcome, and when she had a ”singing” part she brought down the house.
Of course the life was hard--especially when the share of the receipts which fell to the minor members was small--but it was full of variety and sometimes of excitement. If the work did not entirely drive away the remembrance of Lancelot Vane it enabled her to look upon the romance of her early maidenhood with equanimity. Her love affair had become a regret tinged with a pleasureable sadness.
She was beginning to be known in the profession. Now and again she wrote to her old friend Gay and he replied with encouraging letters. His opera was finished, he told her, Colley Cibber had refused to have anything to do with it and it was now in the hands of John Rich.
”I can see thee, my dear, in Polly Peachum. I've had you in mind in the songs. You're doing well, I hear, but I'd have you do better. The d.u.c.h.ess has forgiven you. She is on your side against Rich, who does not care a farthing for the music. He would alter his mind could he but hear you. Huddy must let you go. The Duke's Theatre is waiting for you.”
In all Gay's letters there was not a word about Lancelot Vane. Lavinia would like to have known the fate of his play and the next instant was angry with herself for still feeling an interest in her faithless swain.
”Let him waste himself on Sally Salisbury if he likes,” she cried scornfully. ”He's nothing to me.”
Gay's a.s.sertion that Rich's theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields waited for her was soon verified. One of Rich's staff waited upon her when Huddy's company was playing at Woolwich, and she went off with him in high spirits and amid much growling from Huddy. Rich was pleased to express his approval of her appearance.
”I'll put on a play for you and that'll tell me if you knows your business,” grunted the ungrammatical Rich.
The play was a poor thing--”The Wits,” one of D'Avenant's comedies. The best part about it to Lavinia's fancy was the advertis.e.m.e.nt in the _Daily Post_ where she read ”Ginnet by Miss Fenton.” Ginnet was but a stage waiting maid and Lavinia had little to do and less to say. ”The Wits” ran but one night, quite as long as it was worth.
”You'll do pretty well,” said Rich, ”but I can't say more'n that. My theatre shuts for the next three months. When the season starts I'll find you summat else.”
”Three months!” exclaimed Lavinia ruefully. ”And what am I to do all that time, Mr. Rich?”
”That's your business, miss. If I was you I'd try one of the summer theatres. There's the Little Theatre in the Haymarket. May be you might get a part. But mind this, you're to come back here in October. I'll put you into something as'll soot you.”
What could Lavinia say to this? It was at once sweet and bitter. She had made good her footing at Rich's theatre and could she only tide over the summer months she would be on the stepping stones of success. But meanwhile? She took Rich's advice and went to the Little Theatre. She found she had not the ghost of a chance of an engagement. Drury Lane and the Duke's Theatres were closed (Covent Garden Theatre was not then built), and actors and actresses of established reputation were clamorous for something to do. Lavinia retired discomfited.
She had to go back to Huddy's, to the mumming booth and the innyard.
There was no help for it. The summer pa.s.sed, Rich opened the Lincoln's Inn Fields playhouse and sent for Lavinia. He gave her quite an important part and Lavinia was elated, albeit the play was one of Wycherley's most repulsive productions, ”The Country Wife.” But all through the winter season this part was her only opportunity for distinction. John Rich, like most actor managers, had but an eye for himself as the central figure and in his own special province--dancing and posturing. His ”Harlequin” entertainment ”The Rape of Proserpine”
proved to be one of his biggest successes and ran uninterruptedly for three months.
Lavinia's line in the piece was simply to ”walk on” among the ”la.s.ses”
but she had the gratification of seeing her name announced in the advertis.e.m.e.nts--a sufficient proof that she was rising in Rich's estimation. She had at last a chance of showing what she could do. Her old acquaintance, Mrs. Egleton, took her benefit along with Hippisley, one of the best low comedians of the day, and selected Farquhar's ”The Beaux' Stratagem”--partly so she said, for Lavinia's sake.
”You were made for Cherry, my dear,” said she. ”The part'll fit you as easily as an old glove.”
And so it did, but the next night Rich went back to ”The Rape of Proserpine” and the piece continued to run until the summer, and then the theatre closed as usual for three months.
”Whatever am I to do Mrs. Egleton?” she cried despairingly. ”I suppose I could join Huddy's company again. Huddy I know would be glad enough to have me but----”
”Pray don't be silly,” put in the experienced Mrs. Egleton. ”It would be lowering yourself. Rich would think you're not worth more than he's been paying you and that's little enough--fifteen s.h.i.+llings a week. Good Lord, how does he imagine a woman of our profession can live on that?”
”It's because of our profession that he parts with so little. He has a notion that we can make it up,” rejoined Lavinia sarcastically.
”You never said a truer word than that, my dear. Thank G.o.d I've my husband, but _you_--well you'd better take a husband too or as nearly as you can get to one.”