Nelly was highly favoured by Dryden. For many years he gave her the most showy and fantastic parts in his comedies.
It looks as if he played her at the monarch for a considerable time, since, not to mention the epilogue last spoken of, he wrote on purpose for her an equally whimsical and spirited prologue, prefixed to Orengzebe. At the other house (viz., the Duke's, under Killigrew's patent) Nokes had appeared in a hat larger than Pistol's, which gave the town wonderful delight, and supported a bad play by its pure effect (perhaps Mamamouchi, or The Citizen Turned Gentleman, a comedy by Ravenscroft). Dryden, piqued at this, caused a hat to be made the circumference of a hinder coach wheel, and as Nelly was low of stature, and what the French call "mignon and piquante," he made her speak under the umbrella of that hat, the brims thereof being spread out horizontally to their full extension. The whole theatre was in convulsions of applause; nay, the very actors giggled, a circumstance none had observed before. Judge, therefore, what a condition the merriest prince alive was in at such a conjuncture. He wanted little of being suffocated with laughter.
In a word, Madam Ellen (as the drama often styles her after she was declared the King's mistress) had no great turn for tragedy, nor do we note her in any part of moment but that of Valeria, in Tyrannical Love, to which Dryden raised her partly through partiality, and partly as it was necessary for her to die in that play in order to rise and speak the epilogue.
In comedy she was more excellent; nevertheless she must not be ranked as an actress with the Quins, Davenports, Marshalls, Bowtels, Bettertons, and Lees, du siecle d'or de Charles II. But of what the French call enjou'e she was a perfect mistress — airy, fantastic, coquet, sprightly, singing, dancing — made for slight, showy parts, and filling them up, as far as they went most effectually — witness Florimel in the Maiden Queen, to which she spoke the epilogue, Jacinta in the Mock Astrologer, amp;c.
It is highly probable that Madam Ellen might have made a more decent figure in life had her birth been fortunate, and her education good. A seminary like the streets and cellars of London is infinitely worse than crawling in woods, and conversing with savages. We make this remark because she possessed many good qualities, which no human disadvantages could quite destroy. She had no avarice — when her power increased she served all her theatrical friends. She showed particular gratitude to Dry den; and valued eminent writers, as Lee, Otway, amp;c. She was almost the only mistress of the King who was guilty pi no infidelity towards him, nor did she relapse after his decease. Endued with natural sagacity and wit, she made no ill use of them at Court, paid no attention to ministers, nor ever acted as their creature. Her charities were remarkable; and, what was singular, she piqued herself on a regard for the Church of England, contrary to the genius of the then Court.
Once as she was driving up Ludgate Hill in a superb coach, some bailiffs were hurrying a clergyman to prison; she stopped, sent for the persons whom the clergyman mentioned as attestors to his character, and, finding the account a just subject for pity, paid his debt instantly, and procured him a preferment.
She was the most popular of all the King's mistresses, and most acceptable to the nation.
An eminent goldsmith having on view an expensive service of plate manufactured for the Duchess of P- as a present from the King, the crowd of persons, who went to inspect it out of mere curiosity, threw out a thousand ill wishes against the Duchess, and wished the silver was melted and poured down her throat; but said it was ten thousand pities His Majesty had not bestowed this bounty on Madam Ellen.
Her picture, painted by Lely and others, pronounce her to be very handsome, though low in stature and red-haired.
There used to be a bust of her to be seen at Bagnigge Wells, but it was coarsely executed.
At Bagnigge Wells was one of her country houses, and where the King and the Duke of York frequently visited, and where she frequently entertained them and others with concerts, breakfasts, Sec.
THE KNIGHT OF THE SHOULDER-KNOT AND THE DAME OF GENTLENESS
A Serving-man who wore gloves in his cap.
In this "o'er true tale" we shall exhibit a character which, though not by any means so unnatural, will appear to the curious reader equally singular and extraordinary.
Priscilla Meadows was the daughter and sole heiress of Anthony Meadows, a rich baronet of Somersetshire, whose elegant mansion lay in that delightful interval which divides the cities of Bath and Bristol. Priscilla was what might be called an epitome of feminine perfection. She was about four feet four inches in height, slender, and finely proportioned; her eyes were jetty black, with the deep diamond's water; her teeth, in the Oriental phrase, were like a flock of sheep newly washed, and close feeding in the flowery pastures of Jehoshaphat; the roses of Sharon bloomed upon each cheek, the coral of Euphrates composed her lips, and the lilies of Lebanon were diffused over the remainder of her beauteous body. Her disposition was mild to excess of gentleness, and her delicacy so refined, that she appeared alarmed and sensitive at the approach of man.
With all those singularly exquisite endowments, it may naturally be supposed that our charming little heroine soon became an object of admiration with the opposite sex; but such was her effeminate timidity, that it was for a long time she never would be prevailed upon to encounter the dangers of matrimony. At length, however, she was persuaded, and Mr. Henry Ayrtoun, who, though many years older than herself, and of a broken constitution, was so far a proficient in love, as to secure her fair hand, and as he, and all the world hoped, the chaste resident of her soft bosom also.
Having enjoyed a lengthened honeymoon in the country, the young votaries of Hymen repaired to the capital, were introduced at St. James's, and commenced a life of that gaiety and fashion which their fortune and birth entitled them to — their mansion was the frequent rendezvous of high life, and, as might be naturally expected in an age of so much gallantry, the lovely mistress thereof an object of admiration and love- many sighed in secret, and some few ventured to disclose their passion, but in vain; our connubial heroine remained inflexible, and the marriage-vow seemed to bind, not only her fidelity, but her passions.
In the midst of this metropolitan career an accident occurred, which not only put an end to all its enjoyments, but commanded an immediate return to Somersetshire. The venerable father of our heroine being suddenly taken ill, had closed his accounts with mortality, and the presence of both the daughter and her husband became indispensable. Many of the town servants were discharged, but among those retained, and taken into the country, was a favourite footman, whose particular avocation it was to attend upon our heroine.
He was one of those tall, handsome, well-made, strong, and well dressed domestics whom married men commonly (but with what propriety we do not pretend to say) permit to attend upon their wives' persons, and who thereby not uncommonly become great favourites in the families to which they are appendages.
So it was exactly with our hero, William, whom we have distinguished by the title, Knight of the Shoulder-knot. Mrs.
Ayrtoun being now, as young married women frequently are, often indisposed, as often accustomed herself to breakfast in her own apartment, and now and then, when particularly indisposed, in bed. Strange and inconsistent as it may appear, William, the young, the athletic, the masculine William, constantly attended upon those occasions, and the Dame of Gentleness, whose modesty was proverbial among men of her own rank, and whose nature seemed to recede from the approaches of equality, received from his Herculean hands the toast and other necessaries of the first meal. Deborah, my lady's woman, was, it is true, now and then of the party, but, being a person of great natural as well as experimental sagacity, she found that by attending to other avocations she gave as much if not more satisfaction, and therefore generally left the ceremony of the breakfast to William.