[38] Very doubtful. The cause of his retirement was no doubt the quarrel afterwards mentioned. If he was off the stage for eleven years, as Dr. Doran says, he must have retired in 1684, long before William was king. [Illustration: RIVER VIEW OF DUKE'S THEATRE.] CHAPTER VII. ELIZABETH BARRY. The "great Mrs. Barry," the _Handbook of London_ tells us, lies buried in Westminster Cloisters. I did not there look for her tomb. To come at the grave of the great actress, I passed through Acton Vale and into the ugliest of village churches, and, after service, asked to be shown the tablet which recorded the death and burial of Elizabeth Barry. The pew-opener directed me to a mural monument which, I found, bore the name of one of the family of Smith! I remonstrated. The good woman could not account for it. She had always taken that for Elizabeth Barry's monument. It was in the church somewhere. "There is no stone to any such person in this church," said the clerk, "and I know 'em all!" We walked down the aisle discussing the matter, and paused at the staircase at the west end; and as I looked at the wall, while still conversing, I saw in the shade the tablet which Curll says is outside, in God's Acre, and thereon I read aloud these words:--"Near this place lies the body of Elizabeth Barry, of the parish of St. Mary-le-Savoy, who departed this life the 7th of November, 1713, aged 55 years." "That is she!" said I. The two officials looked puzzled and inquiring. At length the pew-opener ventured to ask: "And who was she, sir?" "The original Monimia, Belvidera, Isabella, Calista"---- "Lor!" said the good woman, "only a player!" "_Only a player!_" This of the daughter of an old Cavalier! The seventeenth century gave many ladies to the stage, and Elizabeth Barry was certainly the most famous of them. She was the daughter of a barrister, who raised a regiment for the King, and thereby was himself raised to the rank of colonel. The effort did not help his Majesty, and it ruined the Colonel, whose daughter was born in the year 1658. Davenant[39] took the fatherless girl into his house, and trained her for the stage, while the flash of her light eyes beneath her dark hair and brows was as yet mere girlish spirit; it was not intelligence. _That_ was given her by Rochester. Davenant was in despair at her dulness; but he acknowledged the dignity of her manners. At three separate periods managers rejected her. "She will never be an actress!" they exclaimed. Rochester protested that he would make her one in six months.