The Covent Garden Ladies by Hallie Rubenhold Read Free Book Online Page B

Sam was entirely seduced. The excitement that he found in such an environment could not have been matched by anything comparable in Dublin. With its lively characters, spirited discussion and easy morals, Covent Garden was his ideal spiritual home, and the longer he remained there, the less likely his return to Dublin became.
    It has been suggested that Sam’s ultimate decision to abandon his trade was taken when he was offered a role in a play. While succeeding as a poet had always been his primary objective, the possibility of treading the boards was an interest that had grown from his fascination with the theatre. Since many playwrights gained experience as actors before creating their dramatic works, this opportunity would have been accepted with gusto. It did, however, present a number of obstacles.
    Until this period in his life, his aunt believed him to be devoted to the linen trade. While she may have tolerated his interest in poetry, provided it did not detract from his abilities to earn an honest living, she would have never countenanced Sam’s desire to act. In spite revelling in theatrical entertainment and even following the lives and loves of the players when off-stage, in the eyes of reputable society the playhouse was a seat of moral degradation. No self-respecting gentleman or ladywould be seen exhibiting themselves so brazenly in public. Actors and actresses compromised their virtue; the very fact that they were willing to assume the roles of vulgar characters, reciting lewd lines and spewing curses, was unconscionable. Theirs was a profession where every concept of decency was flaunted, particularly by actresses who displayed a complete disregard for modesty, willing to appear in men’s clothing on the stage, and partially clothed off it. In addition to being noted for their violent tempers, actors were renowned for their marital infidelity and their sexual rapacity. One moralist wrote in 1757 that:
Play-actors are the most profligate wretches, and the vilest vermine, that hell ever vomited out; … they are the filth and garbage of the earth, the scum and stain of human nature, the excrements and refuse of all mankind, the pests and plagues of human society, the debauchees of men’s minds and morals.
    Under such a hail of condemnation, an appearance on stage would have marked one’s official exit from an acceptable life.
    Far removed from the gossipy circles that dominated Dublin’s drawing rooms, Derrick must have believed that news of his decision to accept the part of the Duke of Gloucester, in a performance of Nicholas Rowe’s Jane Shore , would never reach Ireland. As long as Mrs Creagh knew nothing of his activities in London, the inheritance upon which he staked his future happiness would be safe. This might have been a difficult charade to maintain if through a stroke of good fortune Derrick’s debut had been triumphant but, mercifully, this wasn’t to be the case. Sam’s days of performing were to be short-lived, although his reputation as an actor would endure. Years later, when Sam wore the hat of the Master of the Ceremonies at Bath, he was approached by a gentleman who had experienced the misfortune of sitting in the audience when Derrick had graced the stage. ‘As a player’, Sam was told, ‘he might justly be called an original, for any other man might labour all of his life, and, at last not get into so bad a method of playing’. Although his experiment with the theatre had proven disastrous, the playhouse continued to possess a certain magnetism that drew him back. Failure never deterred him from making further attempts as an actor, or even as a playwright, a critic or a dramatic coach.
    For some time Sam maintained a double life, balanced precariously between two cities. When he could escape to London, he was the author and actor he had always hoped to become. He knew Dr Johnson, Davy Garrick and others of consequence in the literary and dramatic world. When in Dublin, he was