Puslapio vaizdai

ment to make a stand. Once, I remem- pricked my vanity into an ulcer; he ber, he announced he had found a man took it like a favor. She held him at to replace the pane of the stained win- the staff's end ; forgot and then rememdow; which, as it was he that managed bered and unbent to him, as we do to all the business, was a thing clearly children; burthened him with cold kindwithin his attributions. But to the Mas- ness; reproved him with a change of ter's fanciers, that pane was like a relic; color and a bitten lip, like one shamed and on the first word of any change, by his disgrace: ordered him with a the blood flew to Mrs. Henry's face. look of the eye, when she was off her

“I wonder at you !” she cried. guard ; when she was on the watch,

“I wonder at myself,” says Mr. Henry, pleaded with him for the most natural with more of bitterness than I had ever attentions as though they were unheard heard him to express.

of favors. And to all this, he replied Thereupon my old lord stepped in with the most unwearied service ; loving, with his smooth talk, so that before the as folk say, the very ground she trod meal was at an end all seemed forgot- on, and carrying that love in his eyes as ten ; only that, after dinner, when the bright as a lamp. When Miss Katharine pair had withdrawn as usual to the was to be born, nothing would serve chimneyside, we could see her weeping but he must stay in the room behind with her head upon his knee. Mr. the head of the bed. There he sat, as Henry kept up the talk with me upon white (they tell me) as a sheet and the some topic of the estates—he could sweat dropping from his brow; and the speak of little else but business, and handkerchief he had in his hand was was never the best of company ; but he crushed into a little ball no bigger than kept it up that day with more continuity, a musket bullet. Nor could he bear his eye straying ever and again to the the sight of Miss Katharine for many a chimney and his voice changing to day ; indeed I doubt if he was another key, but without check of de- what he should have been to my young livery. The pane, however, was not re- lady; for the which want of natural feelplaced ; and I believe he counted it a ing, he was loudly blamed. great defeat.

Such was the state of this family Whether he was stout enough or no, down to the 7th April, 1749, when there God knows he was kind enough. Mrs. befell the first of that series of events Henry had a manner of condescension which were to break so many hearts and with him, such as (in a wife) would have lose so many lives.

(To be continued.)



By Zoe Dana Underbill.

WESTWARD the black clouds part and lighten:
The sun breaks forth, the storm is o’er ;
Yet the vexed billows writhe and whiten,
The breakers thunder on the shore.

And thou, Oh foolish heart! art throbbing
To the old griefs of long ago ;
Like waves, still wrestling, raving, sobbing,
Though the spent winds have ceased to blow.


By Lester Wallack.




70W singularly prej- should have entered in a suit of decent

udiced the old man- black, with silk stockings on, and with
agers were against a white handkerchief in your hand.”
anything like an in- “What! after defeat and flight from
novation ! It was battle ? ” interrupted my father. "That
thought an extraor- had nothing at all to do with it," was
dinary thing when the reply. “The proprieties ! sir, the
Garrick first put on proprieties !"

a pair of Elizabethan This simply goes to show how difficult
trunks for Richard III. He played Mac- it was to introduce anything new in the
beth in a square-cut scarlet coat, the cos- matter of acting or costume. Some of
tume of an English general, and a regu- the papers spoke very highly of the in-
lation wig with a pigtail of his own period, novation, and the audience was satisfied,
while Mrs. Pritchard, who played Lady if the management was not.
Macbeth, wore an enormous hoop. Gar Elliston was another early manager of
rick desired very much to wear a Scotch my father's. He was a man whose pom-
tartan and kilt, and a plaid, with bare posity and majesty in private life were
legs, the traditional Highland costume ; absolutely amazing, but he was a great
but this was in the days of the Pre- actor for all that, and an intelligent
tender, when no one was allowed to manager. For example: George IV.
show a plaid in the streets of London. was a most theatrical man in all he did,
After Garrick had brought in a great and when his coronation took place
deal of wise reform in the way of dress he dressed all his courtiers, and every-
there was a lull again, and no one dared body about him in peculiarly dramatic
to do anything new. Many generations costumes - dresses of Queen Elizabeth's
later my father was cast for the part time. It was all slashed trunks and
of Tressel, in Cibber's version of “Rich- side cloaks, etc. Of course the dukes,
ard III.” Tressel is the youthful mes- earls, and barons were particularly dis-
senger who conveys to King Henry VI. gusted at the way they had to exhibit
the news of the murder of his son after themselves, and as soon as the corona-
the battle of Tewksbury. My father, a tion ceremonies were over these things
young, ambitious actor, came on with were thrown aside and sold, and Ellis-
the feather hanging from his cap, all ton bought an enormous number of
wet, his hair dishevelled, one boot torn them. He was then the lessee of the
nearly off, one spur broken, the other Surrey Theatre, where he got up a great
gone entirely, his gauntlet stained with pageant and presented “The Corona-
blood, and his sword snapped in twain; tion of George IV.” He had a platform
at which old Wewitzer, who was the made in the middle of the pit, and in
manager, and had been a manager be- one scene he strutted down among the
fore my father was born, was perfectly audience in the royal robes ; at which,
shocked. It was too late to do anything with some good-natured chaff, there was
then, but the next morning Wewitzer a tremendous round of applause. For
sent for him to come to his office, and the moment Elliston became so excited
addressed him thus: “Young man, how that he imagined he was really the King
do you ever hope to get on in your himself

, and spreading out his arms profession by deliberately breaking all he said, amid dead silence : "Bless you, precedent? What will become of the my people !” profession if mere boys are allowed to In his later years the habit of drinktake these liberties? Why, sir, you ing became so confirmed that when he

was advertised to appear, the public, as immediately left them, and they roared in the case of the elder Kean, was never with laughter. sure whether it was to see him or not. Poor Elliston at last was so overIn one season,


my father was stage- come with the gout that he could not manager of Drury Lane, Elliston was act at all. He was then lessee of Drury announced to play Falstaff in “Henry Lane, and my father was his stage-manIV.,” Macready being cast for Hotspur ager, appearing in Elliston's old parts, and my father for the Prince of Wales. Captain Absolute, Charles Surface, and The anxiety to see the performance was the like. At that time there was no great, not only among habitual theatre- zoological garden in London, but there goers, but in the profession itself, and was a place, called Exeter Change, in Macready, at his own request, had a which were kept a lot of monkeys and chair on the stage to watch Elliston's parrots, a few wild animals, some lions rehearsals. He was highly delighted (particularly the lion Wallace who fought with what he saw; and he believed, the six bull dogs), and, if not the first, with others, that Elliston was the most very nearly the first elephant that was perfect Falstaff that ever lived. Even ever exhibited alive in England. They in his feeble and intemperate old age he did not know as much about taking played it magnificently. On this par- care of animals then as they do now, ticular occasion, in the scene of the com- and this elephant went mad, and became bat between Hotspur and the Prince of so dangerous that it was feared he Wales, while Falstaff is encouraging the would break out of his cage and do Prince, Douglas enters, fights with Fal- bodily damage to his keepers and the staff, and leaves him as if dead upon the public, and it was determined he should field. When he is gone Falstaff, look- be killed. A dozen men were sent ing around to see that he is perfectly from the barracks of the Foot Guards, safe, and that no one is by, gets up, sees who fired five or six volleys into the Percy slain, and cries : "I am afraid of poor beast before they finished him. this gunpowder Piercy, though he be At that time “The Belle's Stratagem dead,” and stabs the body again in the was being played, with my father as thigh. The speech ends with the Doricourt, one of Elliston's great parts. words: Meantime, with this new Elliston was in the habit of going to the wound in your thigh, do thou come theatre every night, particularly if one along with me. Then there is a great of his own celebrated characters was deal of “comic business," in which he performed, and being wheeled down tries to get Percy on his back to carry to the prompter's place in an invalid's him in to the King, pretending to have chair, he would sit and watch all that killed him himself. When the Falstaff was going on.

In the mad scene in of the evening came to this he made one “The Belle's Stratagem "Doricourt, who or two ineffectual efforts to get up; and is feigning insanity, has a little exthe consequence was that the scene of travagant - business, and, at a certain his attempt to lift Percy and carry him exit, he utters some wildly absurd nonoff went for nothing. There they were, sense such as “Bring me a pigeon pie Percy dead and Elliston dead-drunk. of snakes !” On the night in question, My father, appreciating all this from be- when the town talked of nothing but hind the scenes, went on, and impro- the great brute who had been killed by vised some Shakespearian lines, adding the soldiers the day before, my father to the familiar “Farewell, I could have on his exit after the mad scene shouted : better spared a better man ”-“ Mean- “Bring me a pickled elephant !” to the time do thou, Jack, come along with delight of the easily pleased house, but me;” and hoisting Elliston on his back to the disgust of the sensitive Elliston, he carried him off the stage amidst the who, shaking his gouty fist at him, wildest applause. It appeared a tre- cried : “Damn it, you lucky rascal, mendous feat of strength, the audience they never killed an elephant for me forgetting for the moment that Falstaff when I played Doricourt!was not so heavy as he looked. All the My father was still stage-manager of ill-temper caused by his drunkenness Drury Lane in 1827, when Edmund

Kean withdrew his allegiance from was made. She said : “This young that house to Covent Garden, to the man shall go to the top of the tree,” great indignation of Stephen Price, and he did. Her influence in Brighton the lessee. Kean had placed his son was all-powerful. Her tradespeople Charles at Eton, and was bringing him with their families filled the pit, and up for the Army, or the Church, or some their working people filled the galleries. swell profession, and Price was deter- She made parties for him, and even sent mined, knowing the boy had a tremen- the Duke himself to call for him at the dous predilection for the theatre, that Ship Hotel, where he was staying. The he would stick a thorn in Edmund Duchess was the queen of fashion, and Kean’s side. Consequently he sent my of course Kean at once became popular. father down to Eton to see the lad; This led to his reappearance in London. and the result was that he was brought I remember being in Kean's dressup from school and persuaded to go ing-room in Brighton when Bunn came upon the stage by Price, who had suc- in to conclude this London engage ceeded in arousing his ambition ; and ment. Bunn said : “Don't be alarmed, as at that time the elder Kean was your success is certain. Your Is't the treating his wife very badly, Charles of King ?' in 'Hamlet' is what will bring course was less inclined to obey his them.” When Bunn went out, Kean, who father. When the advertisements came was the most suspicious fellow I ever out that Kean's son was going to ap- saw, said : “Is that man serious, is that pear at Drury Lane Theatre, the sensa- man sincere?” I don't think that in tion with the public was something those days he had faith in anybody exenormous, the simple announcement cept Cole, his biographer. affecting Kean's houses at Covent Gar- He subsequently became very intimate den. The lad came out as Young Nor- with the St. Albans family, which inval in Home's tragedy of "Douglas,” cluded the niece, Miss Burdett-Coutts; and my father played Glenalvon. He and when the Duchess died, the story dressed Kean and absolutely “shoved” went around that Kean would have no him upon the stage, for he was very ner- difficulty in winning the hand of the vous ; but he played that night to a great heiress. Miss Ellen Tree, who tremendous house and to a great recep- was acting with him, according to rution. Of course it was a very crude mor had been in love with him for years. performance, and the endeavor to imi- He came into the theatre one night and tate his father in all the passionate said, abruptly : “Ellen, if you wish to scenes was palpable throughout. For marry me, to-morrow or never !” He a few nights the curiosity of the town was in a white heat of passion, and the crowded the house, but the excitement story was that he had just received a did not continue, and he went to the flat rejection from Miss Burdett-Coutts. provinces with varying success.

Kean and Miss Tree were married the Charles was always devoted to his very next day, and on that night, by a mother. She travelled about with him curious coincidence, they acted in "The in his early days, after his father's death, Honeymoon” together. This story was and when he was between twenty-five current at the time; I give it as I heard and thirty years of age ; and he worked it, but cannot vouch for its absolute hard to make a mere living for the two. truth. During his visits to Brighton he was a Douglas Jerrold was a great enemy of frequent guest at my father's house, Charles Kean ; there was some feud where he was sincerely liked. On one between them, what, I do not know, but occasion it chanced that the Duchess he never could endure Charles and inof St. Albans was at Brighton while variably spoke of him as “the son of he was playing an engagement there. his father.” Macready, who admired Moved by an affectionate feeling for the the genius of the elder Kean, would not father, with whom, when Miss Mellon, have the younger at any price, and used she had often acted, she went to the to refer to him before his London aptheatre to see the son ; and from the pearance as


young man who goes moment she saw Charles his fortune about the country.

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