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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON
 
 iXG 6 ORG i>iTl b b PL
 
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 Printed by BALI.ANTYNE, HANSON <&* Co. 
 At the Ballantyne Press
 
 College 
 Library 
 
 TO 
 
 T. TAYLOR, ESQ. 
 
 MY FRIEND AND COADJUTOR IN THE COMEDY OF 
 
 "MASKS AND FACES" 
 
 TO -WHOM THE READER OWES MUCH OF THE BEST MATTER 
 
 IN THIS TALE 
 AND TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 MARGARET WOFFINGTON 
 
 FALSELY "SUMMED UP" UNTIL TO-DAY 
 
 THIS "DRAMATIC STORY" 
 
 IS INSCRIBED BY 
 
 CHARLES READE 
 
 LONDON, December 15, 1852 
 
 2038436
 
 readers of Walton's elo- 
 quent life of Donne will 
 remember in what strange 
 wise the great Dean of St. 
 Paul's caused his last like- 
 ness to be drawn. Wrapped 
 in a winding-sheet " tyed 
 with knots at his head and 
 feet, and his hands so placed, as dead bodies are 
 usually fitted to be shrowded and put into the 
 
 grave, . . . with his eyes shut, and with so much 
 
 ix
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 of the sheet turned aside as might show his 
 lean, pale, and death-like face" he was de- 
 picted by " a choice Painter " ; and was thus 
 afterwards carved in stone on the monument 
 which stands in the south-east aisle of St. 
 Paul's. The history of Art has seldom to re- 
 cord such unshrinking departures from the 
 orthodox half and three-quarter lengths, looking 
 to left or right, which people our galleries. But 
 in the national collection at St. Martin's Place 
 is a portrait which, in some measure, deviates as 
 frankly from the conventional ; and yet belongs 
 to an epoch far less imaginative than that of 
 Donne. It represents a figure in a bed, the 
 curtain of which is turned back. The head only 
 is visible, and wears a small lace cap drawn 
 closely round the face, which is that of a hand- 
 some middle-aged woman, apparently in failing 
 health. The hair, which shows underneath the 
 cap, is dark; so are the eyes. There is a faint 
 smile at the corner of the lips ; and a curious in- 
 definable impression is conveyed to the spectator 
 that the head alone is alive, or, in other words, 
 that the body to which it belongs has lost the 
 power of motion. This impression is correct. 
 The painting, which is by Roubillac's friend,
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Arthur Pond, depicts the once-famous actress, 
 Margaret, or " Peg " Woffington, the incompar- 
 able Millamant and Modish, the unrivalled Wild- 
 air, of the Georgian stage ; the accomplished 
 and majestic Monimia, Calista, Roxana, Palmira, 
 of a crowd of stately and sonorous old-world 
 tragedies. It was executed about 1758, soon after 
 its subject had been suddenly struck down by 
 paralysis, and had definitively retired from Covent 
 Garden Theatre. From a biographical point of 
 view, Mrs. Womngton's fate has been curious. 
 She has been made (as one of her critics has said) 
 the heroine of a romance which is more than 
 half a memoir : she has been made the heroine 
 of a memoir which is more than half a romance. 
 To the volume which is avowedly fiction, and 
 which is by CHARLES READE, the following pages 
 are intended as an introduction, whose modest 
 function in addition to supplementing certain 
 portions of Margaret Woffington's career only 
 partially treated by the novelist is to recapitu- 
 late the leading incidents of that career as they 
 have been ascertained by her more recent bio- 
 graphers. Among these, in particular, must 
 be mentioned the late Augustin Daly, whose
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 sumptuous privately printed volume 1 collects 
 and embodies, with the patience of a specialist 
 and the loyalty of an enthusiast, all the known 
 circumstances of the actress's life. 
 
 II 
 
 At some time between 1718 and 1728 for it 
 does not seem practicable to fix the date exactly 
 a certain Madame Violante was in the habit of 
 providing entertainment to those of the Dublin 
 playgoers for whom the two established theatres 
 in Aungier Street and Smock Alley had ceased to 
 afford any adequate attraction. A Frenchwoman 
 with an Italian name, Madame Violante was by 
 profession a tumbler and tight-rope dancer, who 
 had built a booth at the back of a house fronting 
 upon Fownes's Court, and close to College Green. 
 Here, among other daring feats by herself and 
 company, she was accustomed, as a crowning 
 exploit, to traverse the high rope with two baskets, 
 each containing a child, suspended to her feet. 
 That this surprising exhibition perhaps far less 
 
 1 Wqffington: A Tribute, New York, 1888. 
 xii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 dangerous than it seemed was attended by acci- 
 dent, is not recorded. But history, discreet as 
 to the identity of one of the small occupants of 
 the baskets, has revealed that of the other. Her 
 name was Margaret Woffington ; and she was the 
 elder daughter of a journeyman bricklayer, then 
 dead, and of a living mother, who took in wash- 
 ing. When, by familiarity, Madame Violante's 
 periculous performance had lost its interest, she 
 left Dublin for other towns ; and the dark-eyed 
 child who had been wont to swing beneath her, 
 returned home once more to cry "halfpenny 
 salads " about the streets, or to fetch water from 
 the Liffey for her mother, now keeping a small 
 huckster's shop in the poorest part of Ormond 
 Quay. The young gentlemen from College 
 Green patronised the tiny water-cress mer- 
 chant with the bright eyes and apt answers ; 
 and by the time the whirligig of Madame 
 Violante's wanderings had brought her round 
 once more to the Irish capital, little Woffington 
 was growing into a graceful girl. This, from 
 what follows, must have been in 1728 or 1729. 
 For it was just at the period when London had 
 gone " horn mad " over the exceptional success 
 
 of John Gay's audacious Beggar s Opera. One of 
 
 xiii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the collateral developments of that success was 
 the representation of the piece by children ; 
 and Madame Violante, quick to shoot the flying 
 folly, promptly organised a Lilliputian troupe 
 for the Irish market. Little Peg Woffington 
 was cast for Polly ; and soon distanced all her 
 juvenile one might almost say infantile rivals, 
 not only by her native precocity, but by the 
 positive charm of her acting. Her supremacy 
 in this way was the more remarkable, because 
 the energetic Frenchwoman seems to have been 
 unusually fortunate in securing clever children 
 for her performers. Several of her pupils sub- 
 sequently became distinguished either on the 
 Irish or the English boards. Her Peachum 
 was a boy who grew into the more than 
 respectable comedian, Isaac Sparks ; John Bar- 
 rington was her Filch ; and Betty Barnes (after- 
 wards Mrs. Martin), her miniature Macheath. 
 To these Mr. Daly adds, as Locket, the solemn 
 and highly-dignified Bensley; but here there 
 must be some misconception, for Bensley was 
 not born. The success which these small players 
 obtained had curious results. The Smock Alley 
 company of grown-ups, jealous of their youthful 
 competitors, procured from the Mayor an order 
 
 xiv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 to close Madame Violante's establishment, upon 
 the pretence that it was injurious to their own 
 less popular efforts. Thereupon the Dublin 
 people, with the opportune aid of the Earl of 
 Meath, incontinently subscribed for the erection 
 of a special theatre in Rainsford Street, beyond 
 the pale of his Worship's jurisdiction ; and here, 
 in 1729, the Lilliputians entered upon a fresh 
 career of prosperity. 1 
 
 For the Polly of the Violante"/n?z//te, these things 
 were not without their profit. She was far too 
 young to marry a Duke like her London rival, 
 Lavinia Fenton ; but by-and-by the managers of 
 the Aungier Street house, certain clever brothers 
 of the name of Elrington, began to take notice 
 of the good-looking girl, to give her the entree 
 of the theatre, and to aid her generally in quali- 
 fying for what, to all appearance, was to be her 
 special vocation in life. Madame Violante, too, 
 continued to instruct her young friend, who was 
 soon playing hoyden and other parts. From 
 Madame Violante it must also have been that 
 
 1 History (especially stage history) repeats itself; and this conflict 
 between Smock Alley and Rainsford Street recalls that earlier 
 struggle, referred to in Hamlet, between Shakespeare's company at 
 the Globe and the Children of the Chapel the "little eyases, that 
 cry out on the top of question " at the Blackfriars Theatre. 
 
 XV
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Peg Woffington acquired her excellent knowledge 
 of French ; and no doubt the regime of the French 
 acrobat helped to improve and develop a figure 
 that even in its unkempt infancy had been re- 
 markable for its grace and symmetry. We next 
 hear of her in connection with a play, a scene 
 of which, perpetuated by Frank Hayman's brush, 
 long decorated one of the old supper-boxes at 
 Vauxhall. This was The Devil to Pay ; or, the 
 Wives Metamorphosed of Charles Coffey, a de- 
 formed Dublin schoolmaster, who had already 
 produced a ballad-opera in imitation of Gay. 
 He had followed this up in 1731 by the above- 
 mentioned piece, in which another excellent 
 actress and later rival of Miss Woffington, 
 Catherine Clive (then Miss Raftor) had made 
 her first real hit at Drury Lane. The Dublin 
 exponent of Nell, the cobbler's wife, was Peg 
 Woffington ; and her rendering of the part was 
 entirely satisfactory both to the public and the 
 author, who is said to have declared that she 
 had done as much to make the character as he 
 had. What was more,* he persuaded the elder 
 Elrington to take her into the Aungier Street 
 company. The manager was nothing loth, and 
 on the 1 2th February 1734, Peg Woffington made 
 
 XVI
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 her first appearance at the Dublin Theatre Royal 
 in the part of Ophelia. 
 
 At this time, if the date of her birth be correctly 
 given as i8th October 1718, she was fifteen, and 
 probably wore a costume in which she looked as 
 absurd, to our eyes, as Iphigenia in the hoop 
 of Madame de Genlis. She is affirmed to have 
 been well-grown and tall; and from her earliest 
 picture, should already have been singularly 
 handsome. Bricklayer's daughter though she 
 was, she had an inborn distinction of her own 
 which the Dublin ladies thought original enough 
 to copy. Her arms said Mrs. Delany in later 
 life were bad ; but she seems to have really 
 possessed the long tapering fingers, which, when 
 hands were carefully painted in from models, 
 recur so persistently in eighteenth-century por- 
 traits. She had splendid dark eyes, under well- 
 marked brows, and an arch expression which 
 was heightened by her powderless hair, and the 
 lace cap or flat garden hat, with which, from 
 her numerous portraits, she knew how to set off 
 the grata protervitas of her beauty. That her 
 voice was somewhat hard and unpleasing, seems 
 to be admitted ; but, as she succeeded in ballad- 
 opera, she must have contrived, in some way, 
 
 xvii b
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 to disguise its defects. In her busy progress 
 from the Violante booth to the Aungier Street 
 boards, she could scarcely, one would think, have 
 found much time for cultivation ; but she had 
 somewhere acquired- a taste in dress, which, 
 combined with an uninherited fine-lady air and 
 an instinctive dexterity in the use of a fan, suf- 
 ficed to make her a fashion with the women. 
 The men, too, discovered that the young actress 
 from the little shop at Ormond Quay was more 
 than their match at repartee ; and further, that 
 although she was habitually good-humoured, she 
 was also thoroughly capable of making herself 
 respected. Lastly, she was genuinely devoted 
 to her profession, scrupulously loyal to her 
 business engagements, and an irreproachable 
 daughter to her homely mother, to whom she 
 dutifully transferred her theatrical earnings. 
 
 The change to the Aungier Street house, how- 
 ever, did riot materially increase these, which 
 Madame Violante had already raised to the then 
 magnificent sum of thirty shillings a week (which 
 Rich thought enough for Lavinia Fenton). But 
 the young comedian gained largely in experience ; 
 and the perfect unconsciousness of her own 
 good looks, to which Murphy bears testimony, 
 
 XVlll
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 made improvement easier, for it did not pre- 
 vent her from undertaking parts such as Mrs. 
 Peachum and Mother Midnight assumptions 
 which must have involved considerable personal 
 disfigurement. From the Theatre Royal, after 
 some temporary disagreement with Elrington, she 
 went back to Rainsford Street, then occupied 
 by a new company. But about 1738, she was 
 again in the Theatre Royal. The little part of 
 Sylvia in the Recruiting Officer had revealed to 
 her the seductions of a masculine disguise ; and 
 in April of the year above mentioned, she per- 
 formed for the first time the role with which, in 
 the minds of many, she is mainly associated 
 that of Sir Harry Wildair in the Constant Couple 
 of Farquhar. The Constant Couple, although wit- 
 nessed by the blushing heroines of Miss Burney, 
 is not a performance calculated to commend 
 itself, in these days, to any but those who have 
 accepted and assimilated Lamb's ingenious plea 
 for the artificial comedy of the last century ; and 
 even during Mrs. Woffington's lifetime, there were 
 not wanting those among her fervent admirers 
 who regretted that so attractive an actress should 
 have made choice of a " breeches part " for her 
 most popular impersonation. Yet of her success
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 as the Fantasio of the Augustan Age there can 
 be no manner of doubt. Not only did she rival 
 the first admirable creator of the character, Robert 
 Wilks, but she fairly drove Garrick himself from 
 the field. Borrowing something from the author 
 which was his, and adding something to that 
 which was essentially her own, she produced an 
 " altogether " of verve, piquancy, and vivacity, 
 which, acquiring its finishing touch from the 
 fact that she was a woman, rendered her abso- 
 lutely irresistible to her audience. That, as 
 Boaden affirms, she actually succeeded in making 
 Farquhar's lively rake "not only gay but inno- 
 cent," is incredible ; but she never had a serious 
 competitor during her lifetime, and managers 
 invariably found " Mrs. Woffington as Sir Harry 
 Wildair" a charm to conjure with. It was as 
 Sir Harry that Hogarth painted one of his many 
 portraits of her. This belonged to Mr. Daly, and 
 renders full justice to a pair of magnificent eyes 
 which, when animated, must have been as eloquent 
 as Garrick's. At the Club which bears Garrick's 
 name, is another likeness of her by Hogarth 
 a full length representing her upon a sofa in 
 ordinary costume. This is the one which Lamb 
 
 is said to have described as " dallying and 
 
 xx
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 dangerous." Besides this, the Garrick Club 
 has portraits of Mrs. Woffington by Eckhardt, 
 Mercier, and Benjamin Wilson, none of which, 
 excepting the Eckhardt, seems to have been re- 
 produced. 
 
 Ill 
 
 After her successful appearance as Sir Harry 
 Wildair, history, without much trustworthy detail, 
 but with a liberal allowance of decorative legend, 
 transports Mrs. Woffington to England. What- 
 ever were her reasons for leaving Dublin and, 
 in all probability, they may be simply epitomised 
 in the statement that she sought to better her- 
 self it is clear that in 1740 she was seeking em- 
 ployment in London. With considerable difficulty 
 she obtained access to the all-powerful John Rich, 
 then manager of Covent Garden, who, from his 
 later account to Reynolds, would appear to have 
 been completely conquered by the "amalgamated 
 Calypso, Circe, and Armida" who invaded his 
 sanctuary. " She was as majestic as Juno," he 
 declared, " as lovely as Venus, and as fresh and 
 charming as Hebe." Eventually, Rich gave his 
 
 visitor an engagement, and on the 6th November 
 
 xxi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 1740, Miss (speedily altered in the bills to Mrs.) 
 Woffington made her appearance at Covent 
 Garden as Farquhar's Sylvia, with Theophilus 
 Gibber as Captain Brazen. After Sylvia, she 
 played Lady Sadlife in the Double Gallant, and 
 Aura in Johnson's Country Lasses (another part 
 involving male costume). Lastly, " by particular 
 desire," she took the Town by storm as Sir Harry 
 Wildair, which had never before been acted in 
 London by a woman ; and it was at once admitted 
 that, since the death of Wilks, it had never been 
 acted so well. " No more," wrote an enthusiastic 
 votary of Thespis and Prior 
 
 " No more the Theatre I seek 
 
 But when I'm promised there to find you ; 
 All HORTON's merits now grow weak, 
 And CLIVE remains far, far behind you." 
 
 "'Tis thus the polished Pebble plays 
 
 And gains awhile some vulgar praises, 
 But soon withdraws its feeble rays 
 When the superior Diamond blazes." 
 
 The second stanza shows the writer to be an 
 imitator rather than a rival of the author of the 
 inimitable verses "To a Child of Quality." But 
 there can be no doubt that the young actress 
 from Aungier Street not only eclipsed the
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 beautiful Christiana Horton, but obscured the 
 new-risen star of Catherine Clive. Before the 
 close of the season Mrs. Woffington had ap- 
 peared in six or seven parts, including those of 
 Phillis in Steele's Conscious Lovers (with its de- 
 lightful window-cleaning scene), and of the all- 
 popular Cherry in the Beaux 1 Stratagem. Finally, 
 for the benefit of Chetwood the prompter, 
 then languishing in the King's Bench prison, 
 she played Laetitia in the Old Batchelor to the 
 Fondlewife of her life-long admirer, the veteran 
 Colley Gibber, whose famous Apology was un- 
 happily some months old, or he might have 
 included in its pages a pen-sketch of his new 
 colleague, fully equal to the admirable vignette 
 which he draws of Mrs. Verbruggen as that 
 "finish'd Impertinent," Melantha, in Dryden's 
 Marriage a-la-Mode. By this date, Mrs. Womng- 
 ton's position was secured ; but, although she 
 was too conscientious an artist to be a failure 
 in anything, it was the novelty of the roles of 
 Sylvia (in the red coat and hat bien trousse of 
 Captain Pinch), and of Sir Harry Wildair, that 
 most attracted her audience. In this, her first 
 season, she performed the latter part no fewer 
 
 than twenty times a considerable test of its 
 xxiii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 popularity and always to crowded houses. 
 It is true that Walpole styles her "a bad 
 actress/' and his friend Conway "an impudent 
 Irish-faced girl." But this was probably for the 
 pleasure of being in a superfine minority, since 
 both testify to her extraordinary popularity. 
 Walpole says she is " much in vogue " ; Con- 
 way that "all the town is in love with her." 
 
 On the i gth of May the season came to an end, 
 and with it ended Mrs. Woffington's engagement 
 to Rich. Why that usually acute personage per- 
 mitted her to leave him is unexplained, but in 
 the ensuing September she was acting Sylvia at 
 Drury Lane. This she followed up by Lady 
 Brute in the Provoked Wife, and she also 
 appeared in more than one of Shakespeare's 
 comedies, notably as Rosalind in As You Like //, 
 when the Celia was Mrs. Clive, and the Touch- 
 stone, Macklin. She showed her kindness of 
 heart by tenderly nursing one of her sick col- 
 leagues, William Millward, and when he died, 
 she played for his widow and children. But the 
 event of this time was the growth of her acquaint- 
 ance with Garrick, who, after his successful entry 
 into the profession in October 1741, had been 
 invited by Fleetwood to Drury Lane. There 
 
 xxiv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 can be no question that from the first he was 
 impressed by the charm and vivacity of the 
 beautiful young Irishwoman, and it is also 
 certain that she fully appreciated the supreme 
 genius of the equally youthful actor (he was 
 then but twenty-six, and only two years older 
 than herself) who, at a bound, had risen to 
 the kingship of the English stage. On Garrick's 
 side, admiration prompted some of those metri- 
 cal tributes which he produced with such facility 
 on all occasions, and his verses to "Sylvia" 
 and " Lovely Peggy," are still to be read in the 
 London, and other contemporary magazines. 
 
 " Were she arrayed in rustic weed, 
 With her the bleating flocks I'd feed, 
 And pipe upon mine oaten reed 
 
 To please my lovely Peggy. 
 With her a cottage would delight, 
 All's happy when she's in my sight, 
 But when she's gone 'tis endless night 
 
 All's dark without my Peggy." 
 
 He acted Lear to his Peggy's Cordelia at Drury 
 Lane on the 28th May 1742 ; and in the follow- 
 ing June they were both at Dublin, playing in 
 the new theatre which had taken the place of 
 the Smock Alley building, and to which they had 
 
 been hastily summoned by the manager, Duval, 
 
 xxv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 in order to counteract the rival attractions of 
 Quin and Mrs. Gibber at the Theatre Royal. As 
 might be expected, they carried all before them. 
 Mrs. Woffington as Sylvia, Mr. Garrick as Cap- 
 tain Plume ; Mrs. Woffington as Lady Anne, 
 Mr. Garrick as " crook'd back'd Richard," were 
 attractions to which Mrs. Gibber as Indiana, and 
 Quin as Young Bevil (in the Conscious Lovers), 
 could make no effectual reply. So crowded in- 
 deed were the houses, and so sultry the season, 
 as actually to bring about a kind of epidemic 
 which Dublin playgoers christened the " Garrick 
 fever." 
 
 At Dublin Mrs. Woffington definitely added to 
 her repertory what was later to be one of her 
 most successful parts, that of Lady Betty Modish 
 in the Careless Husband. While Garrick hurried 
 back to London with Mrs. Gibber, she remained 
 in Ireland to arrange for the education abroad 
 of her younger sister, Mary, and also to select 
 a suitable retreat for her mother, whom O'Keeffe 
 remembered years afterwards as a respectable 
 old lady in a velvet cloak, with a diamond ring 
 and an agate snuff-box, going the round of the 
 Roman Catholic chapels, and chatting with her 
 neighbours, no doubt upon the favourite topic 
 
 xxvi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 of her famous daughter. Not long after Mrs. 
 Woffington returned to London, she set up that 
 curious joint establishment with Macklin and 
 Garrick, and then with Garrick alone, which has 
 exercised so many pens. The triple alliance 
 was at Macklin's, No. 6 Bow Street, Covent 
 Garden (which, by the way, had been built by 
 the original Wildair, Wilks) ; the dual association, 
 in Southampton Street, Strand. Garrick was to 
 play the part of paymaster ; the lady was to 
 act as hostess. But Garrick's conception of his 
 role is alleged to have been mean, not to say 
 miserly ; Mrs. Woffington, on the contrary, was 
 over profuse. " She made the tea too strong," 
 said Johnson to Mr. Scott, recalling those days ; 
 and Roscius grumbled at her wastefulness. Re- 
 lating the story to Reynolds, the Doctor added 
 a further detail to Garrick's grievance. " It [the 
 tea] was as red as blood," he protested. Never- 
 theless, the combined establishment lasted for 
 a considerable period ; and, at one time (says 
 report), even bade fair to ripen into a more 
 permanent bond. But which, in this connec- 
 tion, was "fun gut baise," and which " tautre qui 
 tend la joue," is, at this date, difficult to affirm ; 
 and an impartial critic may perhaps be pardoned 
 
 xxvn
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 for wondering whether, on the gentleman's side, 
 at all events, disinterested affection formed as 
 important an element as identity of aim and 
 ambition. If as Murphy and others maintain 
 the wedding-day was actually fixed, nothing 
 would be more likely than that, as the inevit- 
 able hour approached, his native prudence should 
 become more urgent in reminding Garrick that 
 a lady whose hospitality was lavish, and whose 
 admirers were Legion, was not precisely the person 
 to promise or promote a cloudless domesticity. 
 His passion must have cooled appreciably as he 
 thought of these things, and his doubts grew 
 darker in proportion. At last he spoke out. He 
 was wearing the shirt of Deianira he ruefully 
 confessed. Whereupon Mrs. Woffington (who 
 had a fine spirit of her own) at once begged 
 him to put off that classical but uncomfortable 
 garment, and never to see her more, " except in 
 the course of professional business, or in the 
 presence of a third person." The gifts which had 
 been exchanged between them were sent back; 
 but Gossip, already maliciously interested in the 
 great actor's little weaknesses, asserts that he 
 could not bring himself to part with a pair of 
 
 diamond shoe-buckles which had been one of the 
 xxviii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 lady's gages d'amour. A year or two later he 
 married Mile. Eva Maria Violette. Lady Bur- 
 lington's protegee had no claim to be compared 
 in charm or talent with her husband's first or, 
 more probably, his earlier love ; but she wor- 
 shipped her " Davy," alive and dead, with a 
 persistent devotion which Garrick could scarcely 
 have hoped for from the brilliant, but varying 
 and mutable Mrs. Woffington. 
 
 During her alliance with Garrick, Peg Woffing- 
 ton continued to act at Drury Lane. The records 
 speak of her successes as Lady Townly (in the 
 Provoked Husband] ; as Portia ; as Mrs. Ford (there 
 is a charming picture of her by Haytley in this 
 character); as Millamant in the Way of the World ; 
 as Mrs. Frail in Love for Love. Nor did she con- 
 fine herself to impersonations which were morally 
 or physically attractive. She played Lady Pliant 
 in the Double Dealer ; she played Mrs. Day in 
 Howard's Committee, not scrupling in this latter 
 part, says Tom Davies of Russell Street, " to dis- 
 guise her beautiful countenance, by drawing on 
 it the lines of deformity, and the wrinkles of old 
 age ; and to put on the tawdry habiliments and 
 vulgar manners of an old hypocritical city vixen." 
 One of her rivals at the theatre even at this time 
 
 xxix
 
 was Mrs. Clive, and little love appears to have 
 been lost between these queens of the green- 
 room. " No two women of high rank ever hated 
 one another more unreservedly," says the honest 
 chronicler above quoted. "... Woffington was 
 well-bred, seemingly very calm, and at all times 
 mistress of herself. Clive was frank, open, and 
 impetuous ; what came uppermost in her mind, 
 she spoke without reserve : the other blunted 
 the sharp speeches of Clive by her appar- 
 ently civil, but keen and sarcastic replies ; thus 
 she often threw Clive off her guard by an arch 
 severity which the warmth of the other could not 
 parry." That she was "at all times mistress of 
 herself " is however to say too much, since once, 
 when Henry the Fourth was being played, these 
 animosities culminated in an actual combat, in 
 which admirers on either side freely engaged, to 
 the huge joy of the caricaturists, who com- 
 memorated the fray in a plate called "The Green 
 Room Scuffle." After the rupture with Garrick, 
 strained relations with that now powerful per- 
 sonage were added to Mrs. Woffington's other 
 tribulations, although fortunately he was not 
 always acting at Drury Lane. But when, in 1747, 
 he became co-patentee of that theatre with Lacy, 
 
 XXX
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and reinforced the ranks of its leading ladies by 
 importing Mrs. Gibber and Mrs. Pritchard from 
 Covent Garden, the situation became too difficult 
 to maintain with dignity. Consequently, on the 
 1 5th April 1748, Mrs. Woffington took her leave 
 of Drury Lane as Phillis in Steele's Conscious 
 Lovers, and started for Paris to investigate the 
 methods of the Theatre Fra^ais, and more parti- 
 cularly the tragic method of that most accom- 
 plished tragic actress, Mile. Marie - Francoise 
 Dumesnil, then or but recently promoted from 
 soubrette parts to the more important role of mere. 
 To Mile. Dumesnil, Garrick later gave the praise, 
 so often applied to himself, of being, and not 
 acting, the character assumed. But Gibbon, 
 who had seen her frequently, was less enthusi- 
 astic. He preferred the " consummate art " of 
 her rival, Mile. Clairon. 
 
 When, after a prolonged vacation, Mrs. Woffing- 
 ton returned from the French capital, she betook 
 herself to Covent Garden and her old manager 
 Rich, playing, in addition to her comedy parts, a 
 good many fresh tragic characters, in which she 
 showed the not entirely salutary influence of her 
 studies in the French School. One of these was 
 
 Anne Oldfield's famous role of Andromache in the 
 xxxi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Distressed Mother. Another was Veturia in the 
 Coriolanus of Thomson. But although she had 
 escaped the Olive, Pritchard, and Gibber coalition 
 at the other house, she found at Covent Garden 
 a fresh antagonist in the person of Dodsley's 
 Cleone, the beautiful and blue-eyed George Ann 
 Bellamy, a rival as aggravating as, and far more 
 mischievous than, any member of the elder trio. 
 The record of the sumptuary feud that presently 
 arose between Mrs. Bellamy and Mrs. Womngton 
 recalls, in some of its details, Steele's pleasant 
 story of Brunetta and Phillis, with the difference 
 that the injured Brunetta (Mrs. Womngton) seems 
 to have gone to the length of personally chastis- 
 ing her malicious competitor. Fortunately, Mrs. 
 Bellamy was speedily abducted by one of her 
 numerous admirers, and for a time Mrs. Womng- 
 ton reigned at Covent Garden without dispute. 
 Then, to her ill-luck, Mrs. Gibber returned from 
 Drury Lane, and discord began once more under 
 a manager who, unlike Garrick, was entirely with- 
 out the art of controlling those extremely "kittle 
 cattle," tragedy queens. 
 
 "He umpire sat, 
 And by decision more embroil'd the fray," 
 
 quotes Tom Davies from the neglected pages of 
 xxxii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Paradise Lost. But we may turn from these 
 dissensions to one of the few authentic anec- 
 dotes which help to eke out a picture of Mrs. 
 Woffington. Once, when Rich had angered her 
 by his tactlessness, she refused point-blank to 
 act as a substitute for the always-ailing Mrs. 
 Gibber, and, as ill-luck would have it, the dis- 
 pleasure of the audience fell entirely upon her 
 own devoted head. When she appeared as 
 Lady Jane Grey they showed it. " Whoever," 
 says Tate Wilkinson, "is living, and saw her 
 that night, will own that they never beheld any 
 figure half so beautiful since. Her anger gave 
 a glow to her complexion, and even added 
 lustre to her charming eyes. They treated her 
 very rudely, bade her ask pardon, and threw 
 orange peels. She behaved with great resolu- 
 tion, and treated their rudeness with glorious 
 contempt. She left the stage, was called for, and 
 with infinite persuasion was prevailed on to re- 
 turn. However, she did, walked forward, and 
 told them she was there ready and willing to per- 
 form her character if they chose to permit her ; 
 that the decision was theirs on or off, just as 
 they pleased, a matter of indifference to her." 
 
 The " ons " had it, continues the narrator, "and 
 xxxiii c
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 all went smoothly afterwards." But the last 
 words are exact only as far as that particular 
 evening was concerned, for in short space Mrs. 
 Woffington quitted Covent Garden, and went 
 back to her native island. 
 
 Henceforth her career may be more rapidly 
 summarised. When she arrived at Dublin she 
 was without an engagement. But at this time 
 the Smock Alley Theatre was in the hands of 
 Sheridan's father, whose leading lady was the 
 Mrs. Bland to whom Lamb refers in "Old China." 
 Sheridan was easily persuaded to enlist the 
 services of Mrs. Woffington, and to inaugurate 
 a success for himself. This was apparently the 
 most popular period of Mrs. Woffington's life, 
 for her performance of no more than four parts, 
 Lady Townly, Maria, Hermione, and Sir Harry 
 Wildair, brought the Smock Alley House four 
 thousand pounds, a larger sum than any theatre 
 had previously gained with stock pieces. Other 
 parts which she played were Cleopatra, Lady 
 Betty Modish, Rosalind, Hypolita, Jane Shore, 
 and Phillis, certainly a very varied list. She was 
 excellent in all ; but in the comedy and fine- 
 lady parts she was supreme. Never was such 
 
 a Modish, such a Townly ! With her Irish 
 xxxiv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 compatriots her popularity was unbounded, and 
 in an evil hour it was crowned by her election to 
 the Presidentship of Sheridan's Beef Steak Club, 
 an association which he had modelled on the 
 London association with a similar title, then some 
 fifteen years old. Nothing could persuade the 
 public, however, but that Sheridan's project had a 
 concealed political significance. This belief they 
 transferred to the Smock Alley performances, and 
 investing certain lines in Voltaire's Mahomet with 
 a veiled reference to the Court party, proceeded 
 to raise a riot and wreck the house. Mrs. Wof- 
 fington's persuasive powers were invoked, but 
 without effect. Sheridan's enterprise came to 
 an untimely end, and Mrs. Woffington returned 
 to London, where she had still admirers more 
 steadfast and more phlegmatic than her excitable 
 fellow-countrymen. On the 22nd October 1754, 
 she was again playing at Covent Garden in one 
 of her old parts, that of Maria in The Nonjuror. 
 
 IV 
 
 As must have been gathered from the opening 
 pages of this paper, Margaret Woffington had 
 begun her theatrical career betimes. When she 
 
 XXXV
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 made her cttbut in Madame Violante's basket (an 
 incident upon which the conscientious biographer 
 will not perhaps insist too strongly), she can have 
 been little more than a baby. When she played 
 Polly Peachum she was ten or eleven ; she was 
 fifteen when she appeared as Ophelia at the 
 Aungier Street Theatre. Untiring in her de- 
 votion to her profession, she had also lived the 
 full life of an energetic and emotional nature, 
 and by the time she had reached her thirty- 
 eighth year, it was manifest that, although her 
 enthusiasm remained unabated, her exuberant 
 vitality was becoming exhausted. She acted 
 Celia in the Humorous Lieutenant ; she acted 
 the Queen in Richard III.; she essayed, not 
 successfully, Garrick's famous part of Lothario 
 in the Fair Penitent ; she acted Lady Ran- 
 dolph in a brand-new tragedy which an obscure 
 Dr. Goldsmith reviewed in the Monthly Review 
 the deep - mouthed Douglas of that Rev. 
 John Home, in whom dwellers north of the 
 Tweed sought to recognise a Scottish Shake- 
 speare. Readers of The Virginians will recall a 
 pleasant chapter in Thackeray's book where the 
 Lambert family with George and Harry Warring- 
 ton go to Covent Garden to see the Presbyterian 
 xxxvi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 gentleman's masterpiece. But although Miss 
 Theodosia's soft heart is touched by Mrs. Wof- 
 fington's " beauty and acting," the author of the 
 novel is true to tradition in abstaining from put- 
 ting her praises into the mouth of any critical 
 member of the little party. She created the char- 
 acter of Lady Randolph, it is true, but it was 
 not one of her successes. 
 
 It had been upon her own benefit, March 24, 
 1757, that she had played Lothario. A few 
 weeks later, she had made her last appearance. 
 Tate Wilkinson, an eye-witness upon this occa- 
 sion, has described in his Memoirs what took 
 place, in words which it is needless to para- 
 phrase. On May 3rd As You Like It was being 
 given for the benefit of some of the inferior 
 actors. "I was standing near the wing" says 
 Wilkinson " as Mrs. Woffington in Rosalind, 
 and Mrs. Vincent in Celia, were going on the 
 stage in the first act. . . . She [Mrs. Wof- 
 fington] went through Rosalind for four acts 
 without my perceiving she was in the least dis- 
 ordered, but in the fifth act she complained of 
 great indisposition. I offered her my arm, the 
 which she graciously accepted. I thought she 
 
 looked softened in her behaviour, and had less 
 xxxvii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 of the hauteur [Wilkinson had been unlucky 
 enough to incur her displeasure]. When she 
 came off at the quick change of dress, she again 
 complained of being ill ; but got accoutred, and 
 returned to finish the part, and pronounced in 
 the epilogue speech, 'If it be true that good 
 wine needs no bush it is as true that a good 
 play needs no epilogue,' &c. &c. But when 
 arrived at 'If I were among you I would kiss as 
 many of you as had beards that pleased me/ 
 her voice broke, she faltered, endeavoured to go 
 on, but could not proceed then in a voice of 
 tremor screamed, O God ! O God ! [and] tottered 
 to the stage door speechless, where she was 
 caught. The audience of course applauded till 
 she was out of sight, and then sunk into awful 
 looks of. astonishment, both young and old, be- 
 fore and behind the curtain, to see one of the 
 most handsome women of the age, a favourite 
 principal actress, and who had for several 
 seasons given high entertainment, struck so sud- 
 denly by the hand of death, in such a situation 
 of time and place . . ." 
 
 She lingered for nearly three years from that 
 fatal night ; but never again appeared behind the 
 footlights. The theatrical calling was exposed to 
 
 xxxvin
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 great temptations, she told a young Teddington 
 friend who consulted her as to that profession ; 
 and it would be idle to contend that her own life 
 a life of many liaisons had been either wor- 
 shipful or blameless. But her days henceforth 
 were passed quietly and decorously in her house 
 by the Thames (Udney Hall), where she had for 
 companion a Mrs. Barrington, widow of the John 
 Barrington who, as a boy, had acted with her, in 
 the Beggars Opera, at Dublin. During this period 
 she is said to have come under the influence 
 of Wesley ; but, as Mr. Daly has pointed out, she 
 had a clerical relative in the Hon. Mr. Chol- 
 mondeley, her sister Mary's husband, who had 
 quitted the army to enter the Church, and is just 
 as likely to have turned her thoughts in serious 
 directions, if her own calamity had not been 
 sufficient to do so. In any case, even when she 
 partially recovered, she neither sought to renew 
 her old triumphs nor to revisit the scene of them. 
 On the contrary, she is said to have occupied 
 herself in charitable offices, and in knitting stock- 
 ings which she distributed periodically to the 
 Teddington poor. She died at last, on the 28th 
 March 1760, at a house in Queen Square, West- 
 minster (no doubt that of her sister), where she
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 was staying ; and she was buried in the graveyard 
 of the little patchwork parish church of St. Mary 
 at Teddington, whose then incumbent was the 
 "plain Parson Hales" of Pope, a rigorist who still 
 compelled his erring parishioners to do public 
 penance for their misdeeds. The actual site of her 
 tomb is now unknown ; but a tablet on the north 
 wall of the chancel, at the back of the reading- 
 desk, records the interment " near this Monument " 
 of " Margaret Woffington, Spinster." Probably 
 this memorial was erected by Mrs. Cholmondeley, 
 since it includes an inscription to one of her own 
 children, who had died some time before. Mrs. 
 Womngton's property, when due provision had 
 been made for an annuity of ^40 to her mother, 
 went to Mrs. Cholmondeley, and amounted to 
 four thousand pounds. John O'Keeffe, the drama- 
 tist, who was living at Teddington in 1794, affirms 
 that she there built and endowed a number of 
 almshouses. But Lysons, writing a few years later, 
 says nothing of these ; nor is there any mention 
 of them in the Parliamentary Report of 1824 on 
 the Charities of Middlesex. Meanwhile for the 
 better comfort of picturesque tradition at the 
 
 east end of the High Street, next the post-office 
 
 xl
 
 and near the church, there exists to this day a low 
 range of old-fashioned, wistaria-clad dwellings, 
 with dormer windows and tiny front gardens, 
 which continue to be known to the neighbour- 
 hood and the local directory as " Margaret 
 Woffington's Cottages." 
 
 V 
 
 The green numbers of Bleak House were gradu- 
 ally being put forth, and Villette and My Novel 
 were on the eve of appearing, when Charles 
 Reade published Peg Woffington, the dedication 
 of which is dated December 15, 1852. It was 
 his first printed effort in fiction. In the previous 
 November had been produced at the Haymarket 
 Theatre a comedy called Masks and Faces, which 
 he had written conjointly with Tom Taylor, and 
 which treated of the same theme. The play must 
 have been composed late in 1851 or early in 1852; 
 and shortly afterwards Charles Reade went to 
 work upon the novel, to the progress of which 
 there are a few references in the extracts from 
 his diary published by his brother and nephew. 
 "July 20 [1852]. I have written three copy-books 
 
 of ' Peg Woffington/ a novel. I hope to make 
 
 xli
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 a decent three-volume novel of it ; but whether 
 any one will publish it is another question. If 
 not now, perhaps in three years' time. Literature 
 no doubt is a close borough." " I am in love 
 with Peg Woffington," he writes again. " She 
 is dead, and can't sting me. I love her, and hope 
 to make many love her." A fortnight later the 
 book is completed. "Aug. 3. ... I have finished 
 my novel, ' Peg Woffington ' ; I don't know 
 whether it is good or not. I wish to Heaven / 
 had a housekeeper like Moliere. No man can 
 judge his own work." When it (the book) was 
 published at the end of 1852 a question arose 
 as to the precise connection between the story 
 and the play, which elicited from the author of 
 the former the following statement. After giving 
 his dramatic collaborator full credit for his part 
 of the work, Charles Reade goes on : " This 
 comedy [i.e. Masks and Faces] was written and pro- 
 duced before the story. Peg Woffington was written 
 for three reasons : First, I was unwilling to lose 
 altogether some matter which we had condemned 
 as unfit for our dramatic purpose ; secondly, the 
 exigencies of the stage had, in my opinion, some- 
 what disturbed the natural current of our story ; 
 
 thirdly, it is my fate to love this dead heroine, 
 
 xlii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and I wished to make her known in literature, 
 and to persons who do not frequent the theatres." 
 These words, which appeared in the Athenceum 
 for January 15, 1853, are in agreement with the 
 dedication prefixed to the book, which is to "T. 
 Taylor, Esq.," the writer's "friend, and coadjutor 
 in the comedy of Masks and Faces" and to " the 
 memory of Margaret Womngton, falsely summed 
 up until to-day." As the idea of making Peg 
 Womngton the heroine of a play had been ex- 
 clusively Charles Reade's, he was perfectly free 
 to produce a novel on the same theme ; and the 
 Athenceum letter further shows clearly that Mr. 
 Tom Taylor made no objection to the writing 
 of the story. 
 
 Many years later, in the " personal narrative " 
 which he prefixed in 1875 to the Wandering Heir, 
 another story dealing with the Eighteenth Century 
 and having a real character for its central figure, 
 he describes the way in which he built up those 
 minglings of learning and invention which he 
 styled his "matter-of-fact romances." In the in- 
 terval he had produced, not only // is Never too 
 Late to Mend, which soon followed Peg Wof- 
 fington, but Hard Cash and the incomparable 
 
 Cloister and the Hearth that is to say, in his 
 xliii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 own words, his " most approved works." With 
 lapse of time, his method had no doubt de- 
 veloped, but as he asserts that he had "studied 
 the great art of Fiction closely for fifteen years 
 before he presumed to write a line of it," it is 
 not likely that there was any material difference 
 in his mode of procedure. In Trade Malice, 
 as the "personal narrative" was called (it is 
 needless to revive the paltry quarrel which 
 gave it that title), he shows what an infinitude 
 of preliminary study, of ransacking of records, 
 pamphlets, and newspapers, went to make up 
 those printed facts which, in the historical tale 
 especially, usually formed the basis of his work, 
 and the material for that inweaving of the 
 feigned, which he regarded as his secret a feat, 
 he says in his energetic fashion, only to be 
 accomplished by "a rare union of different 
 qualities, of imagination, judgment, observation, 
 research, excited brain, self-control, imitation, 
 invention, love of the production, and yet the 
 stern self-denial to prune it, ay lop it, though 
 it is the author's child." 
 
 With all the other qualities he brought to the 
 making of Peg Woffington, he certainly brought 
 
 "love of the production." But whether his 
 
 xliv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 contention that hitherto she had been "falsely 
 summed up " be granted or not, he has obviously 
 deviated from fact in some of the details, and has 
 besides accentuated and expanded features of her 
 character only faintly indicated by tradition. For 
 purposes of fiction he was fully justified in doing 
 this ; and at least he has given his heroine flesh 
 and blood, which is something better than if he 
 had accurately recorded that her voice was harsh, 
 and her physical charms not absolutely faultless. 
 The pictures of the old actors whom he sets about 
 her, Clive, Quin, and Gibber, especially Gibber, 
 are extremely lifelike ; and, being little worked 
 upon by his imagination, may be accepted as 
 fairly accurate copies of the originals. Excellent, 
 again, are the memories of Mrs. Oldfield and Mrs. 
 Bracegirdle, although, with some of the author's 
 first reviewers, the modern reader will probably 
 find it difficult to believe that Mrs. Woffington, 
 who had never seen " Bracy " act, could succeed 
 in deceiving an old colleague, however purblind, 
 who knew her intimately, and had played with 
 her scores of times. Of the invented personages, 
 James Triplet, scene-painter, actor, and drama- 
 tist-of-all-work, is a plausible individuality ; 
 
 so, too, is Mabel Vane. Vane himself is less 
 
 xlv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 convincing ; and if (as the author tells us) he had 
 actually, even in the comedy which preceded 
 the novel, "put alcohol" into his coadjutor's 
 "cold stage creation, Pomander," that volatile 
 spirit must have unaccountably evaporated. But 
 Charles Reade's men are seldom as attractive 
 as his women ; and of his women none ever 
 excelled his vivid but idealised portrait of the 
 witty, wayward, and warm-hearted Margaret 
 Woffington. 
 
 AUSTIN DOBSON 
 
 BALING, August 1899. 
 
 xlvi
 
 DEDICATION ......... vii 
 
 INTRODUCTION ........ ix 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xlix 
 
 CHAPTER I I 
 
 II- - 31 
 
 "I 62 
 
 iv. . 8 4 
 
 v 9 6 
 
 vi I02 
 
 vii I24 
 
 VIII I3 8 
 
 i x 165 
 
 x 1 68 
 
 xi ,87 
 
 xii. . . . . . . . . .215 
 
 xni 2,8 
 
 xlvii
 
 " The wind that shakes the barley " . 
 
 Heading to Introduction . 
 
 Heading to Contents .... 
 
 Heading to List of Illustrations 
 
 Heading to Chapter I 
 
 Wormed himself into a coat 
 
 Introduced to Colley Gibber 
 
 A sort of grin upon every face . 
 
 A pretty actress studying her business 
 
 An imitation of his carriage and deportment 
 
 " The great actress will be here in a minute : 
 
 Tailpiece to Chapter I 
 
 Heading to Chapter II. . 
 
 "No! you little unnatural monster " 
 
 The gymnastics of courtesy 
 
 A bit of " solemn dancing "... 
 
 " Oh ! I suffer, gentlemen " 
 
 xlix 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ix 
 
 . xlvii 
 
 . xlix 
 
 I 
 
 5 
 
 . 14 
 . 18 
 
 21 
 . 23 
 
 29 
 . 30 
 
 31 
 
 33 
 
 43 
 
 47 
 
 49
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 She curtsied to the gentlemen . 58 
 
 Tailpiece to Chapter II 61 
 
 Heading to Chapter III 62 
 
 He was surprised as well as thrilled ...... 66 
 
 Whilst he purred to her 73 
 
 Sometimes whipped Pompey 81 
 
 Tailpiece to Chapter III 83 
 
 Heading to Chapter IV 84 
 
 " If I could but conquer you " 87 
 
 A popular song from Mr. Nokes 90 
 
 Whilst tying his cravat, lectured his family .... 93 
 
 Heading to Chapter V 96 
 
 Sir Charles offered his services ....... 97 
 
 Heading to Chapter VI 102 
 
 "Enchanted to wish you good morning " .... 105 
 
 He shook them 107 
 
 Whilst Triplet sat collapsed 109 
 
 Seized both Triplet's hands 113 
 
 They put their heads together . . . . . . .121 
 
 Heading to Chapter VII 124 
 
 " Had I not better tell you everything?" ..... 127 
 
 Pompey the Renegade 131 
 
 A lady paying the coachman . . . . . . 133 
 
 They crept up the stairs 136 
 
 Heading to Chapter VIII 138 
 
 " I am not tho vewy hungry " . . . . . . . 142 
 
 Laying the cloth ......... 149 
 
 He began to choke . . . . . . . . -151 
 
 " The wind that shakes the barley " . . . . . 153 
 
 And tore her, shrieking, off the sofa 156 
 
 Like the veriest chawbacon 159 
 
 A horseman riding uncertainly about 163 
 
 Heading to Chapter IX 165 
 
 Tailpiece to Chapter IX 167 
 
 1
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Heading to Chapter X 168 
 
 The musicians in the arbour 179 
 
 She glided up to him 185 
 
 Heading to Chapter XI .187 
 
 " The Lady Betty Modish ; at your service " .... 193 
 
 He inspected her finger 195 
 
 Here the white hand filled his glass 201 
 
 "Occasional verses, odes, epithalamia, elegies, dedications, 
 squibs, impromptus, and hymns, executed with spirit, 
 
 punctuality, and secrecy" ....... 207 
 
 The unhappy listener 213 
 
 Heading to Chapter XII 215 
 
 When he saw her 216 
 
 Heading to Chapter XIII 218 
 
 Quin leading the band . . . . . . . .227 
 
 They all took up a position ....... 229 
 
 And found they saw much better ...... 232 
 
 Away went the two old boys 236 
 
 Triplet looked out of the window ...... 247 
 
 In a despairing attitude 255 
 
 Kneeling on both knees close to her 264 
 
 Sir Charles smiled again ........ 266 
 
 Half-a-dozen passes were rapidly exchanged .... 273 
 
 The Author 279 
 
 Opened it before his eyes ........ 285 
 
 The End . , 298
 
 BOUT the middle of the last 
 century, at eight o'clock in the 
 evening, in a large but poor apart- 
 ment, a man was slumbering on 
 a rough couch. His rusty and 
 worn suit of black was of a piece 
 with his uncarpeted room, the deal table of home 
 manufacture, and its slim unsnuffed candle. 
 
 The man was Triplet, scene painter, actor, and 
 writer of sanguinary plays, in which what ought to 
 be, viz. : truth, plot, situation, and dialogue, were 
 not ; and what ought not to be, were : scilicet, 
 small talk, big talk, fops, ruffians, and ghosts.
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 His three mediocrities fell so short of one talent, 
 that he was sometimes impransus. 
 
 He slumbered, but uneasily ; the dramatic 
 author was uppermost, and his " Demon of the 
 Hayloft" hung upon the thread of popular favour. 
 
 On his uneasy slumber entered from the theatre, 
 Mrs. Triplet. 
 
 She was a lady who in one respect fell behind 
 her husband, she lacked his variety in ill-doing, 
 but she recovered herself by doing her one thing 
 a shade worse than he did any of his three. She 
 was what is called in grim sport, an actress ; she 
 had just cast her mite of discredit on royalty by 
 playing the Queen, and had trundled home the 
 moment the breath was out of her royal body. 
 She came in rotatory with fatigue, and fell, gristle, 
 into a chair ; she wrenched from her brow a 
 diadem and eyed it with contempt, took from her 
 pocket a sausage, and contemplated it with re- 
 spect and affection, placed it in a frying-pan on 
 the fire, and entered her bedroom, meaning to 
 don a loose wrapper, and dethrone herself into 
 comfort. 
 
 But the poor woman was shot walking by Mor- 
 pheus, and subsided altogether ; for dramatic per- 
 formances, amusing and exciting to youth seated 
 in the pit, convey a certain weariness to those 
 bright beings who sparkle on the stage for bread 
 and cheese. 
 
 Royalty disposed of, still left its trail of events. 
 The sausage began to " spit." The sound was
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 hardly out of its body, when poor Triplet writhed 
 like a worm on a hook. " Spitter, spittest," went 
 the sausage. Triplet groaned, and at last his in- 
 articulate murmurs became words : " That's right, 
 pit, now that is so reasonable to condemn a poor 
 fellow's play before you have heard it out." Then, 
 with a change of tone, " Tom," muttered he, " they 
 are losing their respect for spectres ; if they do, 
 hunger will make a ghost of me." Next, he 
 fancied the clown or somebody had got into his 
 ghost's costume. 
 
 " Dear," said the poor dreamer, " the clown 
 makes a very pretty spectre, with his ghastly 
 white face, and his blood boltered cheeks and 
 nose. I never saw the fun of a clown before, 
 no ! no ! no ! it is not the clown, it is worse, 
 much worse ; oh dear, ugh ! " and Triplet rolled 
 off the couch like Richard the Third. He sat 
 a moment on the floor, with a finger in each 
 eye ; and then finding he was neither daubing, 
 ranting, nor deluging earth with "acts," he ac- 
 cused himself of indolence, and sat down to write 
 a small tale of blood and bombast. He took his 
 seat at the deal table with some alacrity, for he 
 had recently made a discovery. 
 
 How to write well, rien que cela. 
 
 " First, think in as homely a way as you can ; 
 next, shove your pen under the thought, and lift 
 it by polysyllables to the true level of fiction ; " 
 (when done, find a publisher if you can). "This," 
 said Triplet, " insures common sense to your ideas, 
 
 3
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 which does pretty well for a basis," said Triplet 
 apologetically, " and elegance to the dress they 
 wear." Triplet then casting his eyes round, in 
 search of such actual circumstances as could be 
 incorporated on this plan with fiction, began to 
 work thus : 
 
 TRIPLET'S FACTS. TRIPLET'S FICTION. 
 
 A farthing dip is on the table. A solitary candle cast its pale 
 
 gleams around. 
 It wants snuffing. Its elongated wick betrayed an 
 
 owner steeped in oblivion. 
 
 He jumped up, and snuffed He rose languidly, and trimmed 
 it with his fingers. Burned his it with an instrument that he had 
 fingers, and swore a little. by his side for that purpose, and 
 
 muttered a silent ejaculation. 
 
 Before, however, the mole Triplet could under- 
 mine literature and level it with the dust, various 
 interruptions and divisions broke in upon his 
 design, and, sic nos servavit Apollo. As he wrote 
 the last sentence, a loud rap came to his door. A 
 servant in livery brought him a note from Mr. 
 Vane, dated Covent Garden. Triplet's eyes sparkled, 
 he bustled, w r ormed himself into a less rusty coat, 
 and started off to the Theatre Royal, Covent 
 Garden. 
 
 In those days, the artists of the pen and the 
 brush ferreted patrons, instead of aiming to be 
 indispensable to the public, the only patron worth 
 a single gesture of the quill. 
 
 Mr. Vane had conversed with Triplet, that is, 
 let Triplet talk to him in a coffee-house, and 
 
 4
 
 d lumwff I'nfe a 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Triplet, the most sanguine of unfortunate men, 
 had already built a series of expectations upon 
 that interview, when this note arrived. Leaving 
 him on his road from Lambeth to Covent Garden, 
 we must introduce more important personages. 
 
 Mr. Vane was a wealthy gentleman from Shrop- 
 shire, whom business had called to London four 
 months ago, and now pleasure detained. Business 
 still occupied the letters he sent now and then to 
 his native county ; but it had ceased to occupy 
 the writer. He was a man of learning and taste, 
 as times went ; and his love of the Arts had taken 
 him some time before our tale to the theatres, 
 then the resort of all who pretended to taste ; and 
 it was thus he had become fascinated by Mrs. 
 Woffington, a lady of great beauty, and a comedian 
 high in favour with the town. 
 
 The first night he saw her was an epoch in the 
 history of this gentleman's mind. He had learn- 
 ing and refinement, and he had not great practical 
 experience, and such men are most open to im- 
 pression from the stage. He saw a being, all 
 grace and bright nature, move like a goddess 
 among the stiff puppets of the scene ; her glee 
 and her pathos were equally catching, she held a 
 golden key at which all the doors of the heart flew 
 open. Her face, too, was as full of goodness as 
 intelligence it was like no other face ; the heart 
 bounded to meet it. 
 
 He rented a box at her theatre. He was there 
 every night before the curtain drew up ; and I am 
 
 6
 
 PEG WOFF1NGTON 
 
 sorry to say, he at last took half a dislike to Sunday 
 Sunday, " which knits up the ravelled sleeve of 
 care," Sunday, " tired nature's sweet restorer," 
 because, on Sunday, there was no Peg Womngton. 
 At first, he regarded her as a being of another 
 sphere, an incarnation of poetry and art ; but by 
 degrees his secret aspirations became bolder. She 
 was a woman ; there were men who knew her ; 
 some of them inferior to him in position, and, he 
 flattered himself, in mind. He had even heard a 
 tale against her character. To him her face was 
 its confutation, and he knew how loose-tongued is 
 calumny ; but still ! 
 
 At last, one day he sent her a letter, unsigned. 
 This letter expressed his admiration of her talent 
 in warm but respectful terms ; the writer told her 
 it had become necessary to his heart to return her 
 in some way his thanks for the land of enchant- 
 ment to which she had introduced him. Soon 
 after this, choice flowers found their way to her 
 dressing-room every night, and now and then 
 verses and precious stones mingled with her roses 
 and eglantine. And, oh ! how he watched the 
 great actress's eye all the night ; how he tried to 
 discover whether she looked oftener towards his 
 box than the corresponding box on the other side 
 of the house. 
 
 Did she notice him, or did she not ? What a 
 point gained, if she was conscious of his nightly 
 attendance : she would feel he was a friend, not 
 a mere auditor. He was jealous of the pit, on 
 
 7
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 whom Mrs. Woffington lavished her smiles with- 
 out measure. 
 
 At last, one day he sent her a wreath of flowers, 
 and implored her, if any word he had said to her 
 had pleased or interested her, to wear this wreath 
 that night. After he had done this he trembled : 
 he had courted a decision, when, perhaps, his 
 safety lay in patience and time. She made her 
 entree, he turned cold as she glided into sight from 
 the prompter's side, he raised his eyes slowly and 
 fearfully from her feet to her head ; her head was 
 bare, wreathed only by its own rich glossy 
 honours. " Fool ! " thought he, " to think she 
 would hang frivolities upon that glorious head for 
 me." Yet, his disappointment told him he had 
 really hoped it ; he would not have sat out the 
 play, but for a leaden incapacity of motion that 
 seized him. 
 
 The curtain drew up for the fifth act, and 
 could he believe his eyes ? Mrs. Woffington 
 stood upon the stage with his wreath upon her 
 graceful head. She took away his breath. She 
 spoke the epilogue, and as the curtain fell, she 
 lifted her eyes, he thought, to his box, and made 
 him a distinct, queen-like curtsey ; his heart 
 fluttered to his mouth, and he walked home on 
 wings and tiptoe. In short 
 
 Mrs. Woffington, as an actress, justified a 
 portion of this enthusiasm ; she was one of the 
 truest artists of her day ; a fine lady in her hands 
 was a lady, with the genteel affectation of a
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 gentlewoman, not a harlot's affectation, which is 
 simply and without exaggeration what the stage 
 commonly gives us for a fine lady ; an old woman 
 in her hands was a thorough woman, thoroughly 
 old, not a cackling young person of epicene 
 gender. She played Sir Harry Wildair like a 
 man, which is how he ought to be played (or, 
 which is better still, not at all), so that Garrick 
 acknowledged her as a male rival, and abandoned 
 the part he no longer monopolised. 
 
 Now it very, very rarely happens that a woman 
 of her age is high enough in art and knowledge to 
 do these things. In players, vanity cripples art 
 at every step. The young actress who is not a 
 Woffington aims to display herself by means of 
 her part, which is vanity ; not to raise her part by 
 sinking herself in it, which is art. It has been my 
 
 misfortune to see , and , and , and 
 
 , et ceteras, play the man ; nature forgive 
 
 them, if you can, for art never will ; they never 
 reached any idea more manly than a steady re- 
 solve to exhibit the points of a woman with greater 
 ferocity than they could in a gown. But consider, 
 ladies, a man is not the meanest of the brute 
 creation, so how can he be an unwomanly female ? 
 This sort of actress aims not to give her author's 
 creation to the public, but to trot out the person 
 instead of the creation, and shows sots what a calf 
 it has and is. 
 
 Vanity, vanity ! all is vanity ! Mesdames les 
 Charlatanes. 
 
 9
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Margaret Woffington was of another mould ; 
 she played the ladies of high comedy with grace, 
 distinction, and delicacy. But in Sir Harry Wil- 
 dair she parted with a woman's mincing foot and 
 tongue, and played the man in a style large, 
 spirited, and ttanct. As Mrs. Day (committee), 
 she painted wrinkles on her lovely face so honestly 
 that she was taken for threescore, and she carried 
 out the design with voice and person, and did a 
 vulgar old woman to the life. She disfigured her 
 own beauties to show the beauty of her art : in a 
 word, she was an artist ! It does not follow she 
 was the greatest artist that ever breathed ; far 
 from it. Mr. Vane was carried to this notion by 
 passion and ignorance. 
 
 On the evening of our tale he was at his post 
 patiently sitting out one of those sanguinary 
 discourses our rude forefathers thought were 
 tragic plays. Sedet aternumque Sedebit Infelix 
 Theseus, because Mrs. Womngton is to speak the 
 epilogue. 
 
 These epilogues were curiosities of the human 
 mind ; they whom, just to ourselves and them, we 
 call our forbears, had an idea their blood and 
 bombast were not ridiculous enough in them- 
 selves, so when the curtain had fallen on the 
 debris of the dramatis persona, and of common 
 sense, they sent on an actress to turn all the 
 sentiment so laboriously acquired into a jest. 
 
 To insist that nothing good or beautiful shall 
 be carried safe from a play out into the street was
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 the bigotry of English horse-play. Was a Lucretia 
 the heroine of the tragedy, she was careful in the 
 epilogue to speak like Messalina. Did a king's 
 mistress come to hunger and repentance, she dis- 
 infected all the pctites mattresses in the house of 
 the moral, by assuring them that sin is a joke, 
 repentance a greater, and that she individually 
 was ready for either if they would but cry, laugh, 
 and pay. Then the audience used to laugh, and 
 if they did not, lo ! the manager, actor, and author 
 of heroic tragedy were exceeding sorrowful. 
 
 Whilst sitting attendance on the epilogue, Mr. 
 Vane had nothing to distract him from the con- 
 gregation but a sanguinary sermon in five heads, 
 so his eyes roved over the pews, and presently he 
 became aware of a familiar face watching him 
 closely. The gentleman to whom it belonged 
 finding himself recognised left his seat, and a 
 minute later Sir Charles Pomander entered Mr. 
 Vane's box. 
 
 This Sir Charles Pomander was a gentleman 
 of vice : pleasure he called it. Mr. Vane had 
 made his acquaintance two years ago in Shrop- 
 shire. Sir Charles, who husbanded everything 
 except his soul, had turned himself out to grass 
 for a month. His object was, by roast mutton, 
 bread with some little flour in it, air, water, 
 temperance, chastity, and peace, to be enabled 
 to take a deeper plunge into impurities of food 
 and morals. 
 
 A few nights ago, unseen by Mr. Vane, he had
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 observed him in the theatre ; an ordinary man 
 would have gone at once and shaken hands with 
 him, but this was not an ordinary man, this was 
 a diplomatist. First of all, he said to himself, 
 " What is this man doing here ? " Then he soon 
 discovered this man must be in love with some 
 actress ; then it became his business to know who 
 she was ; this too soon betrayed itself. Then it 
 became more than ever Sir Charles's business 
 to know whether Mrs. Woffington returned the 
 sentiment, and here his penetration was at fault 
 for the moment ; he determined, however, to 
 discover. 
 
 Mr. Vane then received his friend, all unsus- 
 picious how that friend had been skinning him 
 with his eyes for some time past. After the usual 
 compliments had passed between two gentlemen 
 who had been hand and glove for a month and 
 forgotten each other's existence for two years, Sir 
 Charles, still keeping in view his design, said 
 
 " Let us go upon the stage." The fourth act 
 had just concluded. 
 
 " Go upon the stage ! " said Mr. Vane ; " what, 
 where she I mean among the actors ? " 
 
 " Yes ; come into the green-room. There are 
 one or two people of reputation there, I will intro- 
 duce you to them, if you please." 
 
 " Go upon the stage ! " why, if it had been pro- 
 posed to him to go to heaven he would not have 
 been more astonished. He was too astonished at 
 first to realise the full beauty of the arrangement, 
 
 12
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 by means of which he might be within a yard of 
 Mrs. Woffington, might feel her dress rustle past 
 him, might speak to her, might drink her voice 
 fresh from her lips almost before it mingled with 
 meaner air. Silence gives consent, and Mr. Vane, 
 though he thought a great deal, said nothing ; so 
 Pomander rose, and they left the boxes together. 
 He led the way to the stage door, which was 
 opened obsequiously to him, they then passed 
 through a dismal passage, and suddenly emerged 
 upon that scene of enchantment, the stage ; a dirty 
 platform encumbered on all sides with piles of 
 scenery in flats. They threaded their way through 
 rusty velvet actors and fustian carpenters, and 
 entered the green-room. At the door of this 
 magic chamber Vane trembled and half wished 
 he could retire. They entered ; his apprehen- 
 sion gave way to disappointment ; she was not 
 there. Collecting himself, he was presently intro- 
 duced to a smart, jaunty, and to do him justice, 
 distingue old beau. This was Colley Gibber, 
 Esq., poet laureate, and retired actor and dra- 
 matist, a gentleman who is entitled to a word 
 or two. 
 
 This Gibber was the only actor since Shake- 
 speare's time who had both acted and written well. 
 Pope's personal resentment misleads the reader of 
 English poetry as to Gibber's real place among 
 the wits of the day. 
 
 The man's talent was dramatic, not didactic, or 
 epic, or pastoral. Pope was not so deep in the
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 drama as in other matters, and Gibber was one of 
 its luminaries ; he wrote some of the best comedies 
 
 \Cofyrifht 1899 *y 
 
 of his day. He also succeeded where Dryden, for 
 lack of true dramatic taste, failed. He tampered 
 
 14
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 successfully with Shakespeare. Colley Gibber's 
 version of "Richard the Third" is impudent and 
 slightly larcenic, but it is marvellously effective. 
 It has stood a century, and probably will stand for 
 ever ; and the most admired passages, in what 
 literary humbugs who pretend they know Shake- 
 speare by the closet, not the stage, accept as 
 Shakespeare's " Richard," are Gibber's. 
 
 Mr. Gibber was now in private life, a mild 
 edition of his own Lord Foppington ; he had none 
 of the snob-fop as represented on our conventional 
 stage ; nobody ever had, and lived. He was in 
 tolerably good taste ; but he went ever gold-laced, 
 highly-powdered, scented, and diamonded, dis- 
 pensing graceful bows, praises of whoever had the 
 good luck to be dead, and satire of all who were 
 here to enjoy it. 
 
 Mr. Vane, to whom the drama had now become 
 the golden branch of letters, looked with some 
 awe on this veteran, for he had seen many Woffing- 
 tons. He fell soon upon the subject nearest his 
 heart. He asked Mr. Gibber what he thought of 
 Mrs. Woffington. The old gentleman thought well 
 of the young lady's talent, especially her comedy ; 
 in tragedy, said he, she imitates Mademoiselle 
 Dumesnil, of the Theatre Francais, and con- 
 founds the stage rhetorician with the actress. The 
 next question was not so fortunate. " Did you 
 ever see so great and true an actress upon the 
 whole ? " 
 
 Mr. Gibber opened his eyes, a slight flush 
 '5
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 came into his wash-leather face, and he replied : 
 " I have not only seen many equal, many superior 
 to her, but I have seen some half-dozen who would 
 have eaten her up and spit her out again, and not 
 known they had done anything out of the way." 
 
 Here Pomander soothed the veteran's dudgeon 
 by explaining in dulcet tones that his friend was 
 not long from Shropshire, and The critic inter- 
 rupted him, and bade him not dilute the excuse. 
 
 Now, Mr. Vane had as much to say as either of 
 them, but he had not the habit, which dramatic 
 folks have, of carrying his whole bank in his 
 cheek-pocket, so they quenched him for two 
 minutes. But lovers are not silenced he soon 
 returned to the attack ; he dwelt on the grace, the 
 ease, the freshness, the intelligence, the universal 
 beauty of Mrs. Woffington. Pomander sneered, to 
 draw him out. Gibber smiled, with good-natured 
 superiority. This nettled the young gentleman, 
 he fired up, his handsome countenance glowed, 
 he turned Demosthenes for her he loved. One 
 advantage he had over both Gibber and Pomander, 
 a fair stock of classical learning ; on this he now 
 drew. 
 
 "Other actors and actresses," said he, "are 
 monotonous in voice, monotonous in action, but 
 Mrs. Woffington's delivery has the compass and 
 variety of nature, and her movements are free 
 from the stale uniformity that distinguishes artifice 
 from art. The others seem to me to have but two 
 dreams of grace, a sort of crawling on stilts is 
 
 16
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 their motion, and an angular stiffness their re- 
 pose." He then cited the most famous statues of 
 antiquity, and quoted situations in plays where, 
 by her fine dramatic instinct, Mrs. Woffington, he 
 said, threw her person into postures similar to 
 these, and of equal beauty ; " not that she strikes 
 attitudes like the rest, but she melts from one 
 beautiful statue into another ; and if sculptors 
 could gather from her immortal graces, painters 
 too might take from her face the beauties that 
 belong of right to passion and thought, and 
 orators might revive their withered art, and learn 
 from those golden lips the music of old Athens, 
 that quelled tempestuous mobs, and princes drunk 
 with victory." 
 
 Much as this was, he was going to say more, 
 ever so much more, but he became conscious of 
 a singular sort of grin upon every face ; this grin 
 made him turn rapidly round to look for its cause. 
 It explained itself at once ; at his very elbow was 
 a lady, whom his heart recognised, though her 
 back was turned to him. She was dressed in a 
 rich silk gown, pearl white, with flowers and sprigs 
 embroidered ; her beautiful white neck and arms 
 were bare. She was sweeping up the room with 
 the epilogue in her hand, learning it off by heart ; 
 at the other end of the room she turned, and now 
 she shone full upon him. 
 
 It certainly was a dazzling creature : she had 
 a head of beautiful form, perched like a bird upon 
 
 a throat massive, yet shapely and smooth as a 
 
 17 B
 
 c5? J-orf of y-ri-n u/W every /ve 
 [Copyright 1899 by Ctorye stllen.]
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 column of alabaster, a symmetrical brow, black 
 eyes full of fire and tenderness, a delicious mouth, 
 with a hundred varying expressions, and that 
 marvellous faculty of giving beauty alike to love 
 or scorn, a sneer or a smile. But she had one 
 feature more remarkable than all, her eyebrows 
 the actor's feature they were jet black, strongly 
 marked, and in repose were arched like a rain- 
 bow ; but it was their extraordinary flexibility 
 which made other faces upon the stage look 
 sleepy beside Margaret Woffington's. In person 
 she was considerably above the middle height, 
 and so finely formed that one could not deter- 
 mine the exact character of her figure. At one 
 time it seemed all stateliness, at another time 
 elegance personified, and flowing voluptuousness 
 at another. She was Juno, Psyche, Hebe, by 
 turns, and for aught we know at will. 
 
 It must be confessed that a sort of halo of 
 personal grandeur surrounds a great actress. A 
 scene is set ; half-a-dozen nobodies are there lost 
 in it, because they are and seem lumps of nothing. 
 The great artist steps upon that scene, and how 
 she fills it in a moment ! Mind and majesty wait 
 upon her in the air ; her person is lost in the 
 greatness of her personal presence ; she dilates 
 with thought, and a stupid giantess looks a dwarf 
 beside her. 
 
 No wonder then that Mr. Vane felt overpowered 
 by this torch in a closet. To vary the metaphor, 
 it seemed to him, as she swept up and down, as if
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 the green-room was a shell, and this glorious 
 creature must burst it and be free. Meantime, the 
 others saw a pretty actress studying her business ; 
 and Gibber saw a dramatic schoolgirl learning 
 what he presumed to be a very silly set of words. 
 Sir C. Pomander's eye had been on her the 
 moment she entered, and he watched keenly the 
 effect of Vane's eloquent eulogy ; but apparently 
 the actress was too deep in her epilogue for 
 anything else. She came in, saying " Mum, 
 mum, mum," over her task, and she went on 
 doing so. The experienced Mr. Gibber, who 
 had divined Vane in an instant, drew him into 
 a corner, and complimented him on his well- 
 timed eulogy. 
 
 "You acted that mighty well, sir," said he. 
 " Stop my vitals ! if I did not think you were in 
 earnest, till I saw the jade had slipped in among 
 us. It told, sir it told." 
 
 Up fired Vane. " What do you mean, sir ? " 
 said he. " Do you suppose my admiration of that 
 lady is feigned ?" 
 
 " No need to speak so loud, sir," replied the old 
 gentleman ; " she hears you. These hussies have 
 ears like hawks." 
 
 He then dispensed a private wink and a public 
 bow ; with which he strolled away from Mr. 
 Vane, and walked feebly and jauntily up the 
 room, whistling " Fair Hebe " ; fixing his eye 
 upon the past, and somewhat ostentatiously over- 
 looking the existence of the present company.
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 There is no great harm in an old gentleman 
 whistling, but there are two ways of doing it ; and 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.} 
 
 as this old beau did it, it seemed not unlike a 
 small cock-a-doodle-doo of general defiance ; and 
 
 21
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 the denizens of the green-room, swelled now to a 
 considerable number by the addition of all the 
 ladies and gentlemen who had been killed in the 
 fourth act, or whom the buttery-fingered author 
 could not keep in hand until the fall of the 
 curtain, felt it as such ; and so they were not 
 sorry when Mrs. Woffington, looking up from her 
 epilogue, cast a glance upon the old beau, waited 
 for him, and walked parallel with him on the other 
 side the room, giving an absurdly exact imitation 
 of his carriage and deportment. To make this 
 more striking, she pulled out of her pocket, after 
 a mock search, a huge paste ring, gazed on it with 
 a ludicrous affectation of simple wonder, stuck it, 
 like Gibber's diamond, on her little finger, and 
 pursing up her mouth, proceeded to whistle a 
 quick movement 
 
 "Which by some devilish cantrip sleight," 
 
 played round the old beau's slow movement, with- 
 out being at variance with it. As for the character 
 of this ladylike performance, it was clear, brilliant, 
 and loud as blacksmith. 
 
 The folk laughed ; Vane was shocked : " She 
 profanes herself by whistling," thought he. Mr. 
 Gibber was confounded. He appeared to have 
 no idea whence came this sparkling adagio. 
 He looked round, placed his hands to his 
 ears, and left off whistling. So did his musical 
 accomplice. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Gibber, with pathetic gravity,
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " the wind howls most dismally this evening ! 
 I took it for a drunken shoemaker ! " 
 
 "<3^n umtetio* cf fa carriage ctW cfe/tt'ti l ' v 
 {Copyright 1899 by George All,n.\ 
 
 At this there was a roar of laughter, except 
 from Mr. Vane. Peg Woffington laughed as 
 
 23
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 merrily as the others, and showed a set of teeth 
 that were really dazzling ; but all in one moment, 
 without the preliminaries an ordinary coun- 
 tenance requires, this laughing Venus pulled a 
 face gloomy beyond conception. Down came 
 her black brows straight as a line, and she cast 
 a look of bitter reproach on all present ; resum- 
 ing her study, as who should say, "Are ye not 
 ashamed to divert a poor girl from her epilogue ? " 
 And then she went on, "Mum! mum! mum!" 
 casting off ever and anon resentful glances ; and 
 this made the fools laugh again. 
 
 The Laureate was now respectfully addressed 
 by one of his admirers, James Quin, the Falstaff 
 of the day, and the rival at this time of Garrick 
 in tragic characters, though the general opinion 
 was, that he could not long maintain a stand against 
 the younger genius and his rising school of art. 
 
 Off the stage, James Quin was a character. His 
 eccentricities were three a humourist, a glutton, 
 and an honest man ; traits that often caused 
 astonishment and ridicule, especially the last. 
 
 " May we not hope for something from Mr. 
 Gibber's pen after so long a silence ?" 
 
 "No," was the considerate reply. "Who have 
 ye got to play it ?" 
 
 "Plenty," said Quin; "there's your humble 
 servant, there's 
 
 " Humility at the head of the list," cried she of 
 the epilogue. " Mum ! mum ! mum !" 
 
 Vane thought this so sharp. 
 24
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "Garrick, Barry, Macklin, Kitty Clive here at 
 my side, Mrs. Gibber, the best tragic actress I 
 ever saw, and Woffington, who is as good a 
 comedian as you ever saw, sir," and Quin turned 
 as red as fire. 
 
 " Keep your temper, Jemmy," said Mrs. Wof- 
 fington, with a severe accent. " Mum ! mum ! 
 mum !" 
 
 " You misunderstand my question," replied 
 Gibber calmly ; " I know your dramatis personce, 
 but where the devil are your actors ? " 
 
 Here was a blow. 
 
 "The public," said Quin in some agitation, 
 "would snore if we acted as they did in your 
 time." 
 
 "How do you know that, sir ?" was the super- 
 cilious rejoinder ; "you never tried !" 
 
 Mr. Quin was silenced. Peg Woffington looked 
 off her epilogue. 
 
 " Bad as we are," said she coolly, " we might be 
 worse." 
 
 Mr. Gibber turned round, slightly raised his 
 eyebrows : 
 
 " Indeed ! " said he. " Madam ! " added he, with 
 a courteous smile, " will you be kind enough to 
 explain to me how you could be worse ?" 
 
 " If, like a crab, we could go backwards ! " 
 
 At this the auditors tittered ; and Mr. Gibber 
 had recourse to his spy-glass. 
 
 This gentleman was satirical or insolent, as the 
 case might demand, in three degrees, of which 
 
 2 5
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 the snuff-box was the comparative, and the spy- 
 glass the superlative. He had learned this on the 
 stage. In annihilating Quin he had just used the 
 snuff weapon, and now he drew his spy-glass 
 upon poor Peggy. 
 
 "Whom have we here?" said he; then he 
 looked with his spy-glass to see ; " oh, the little 
 Irish orange-girl !" 
 
 "Whose basket outweighed Colley Gibber's 
 salary for the first twenty years of his dramatic 
 career," was the delicate reply to the above deli- 
 cate remark. It staggered him for a moment ; 
 however, he affected a most puzzled air, then 
 gradually allowed a light to steal into his features. 
 
 " Eh ? ah ! oh ! how stupid I am ! I understand ; 
 you sold something besides oranges ? " 
 
 "Oh !" said Mr. Vane, and coloured up to the 
 temples, and cast a look on Gibber, as much as to 
 say, " If you were not seventy-three ! " 
 
 His ejaculation was something so different from 
 any tone any other person there present could 
 have uttered, that the actress's eye dwelt on him 
 for a single moment, and in that moment he felt 
 himself looked through and through. 
 
 " I sold the young fops a bargain, you mean," 
 was her calm reply ; " and now I am come down 
 to the old ones. A truce, Mr. Gibber ; what do 
 you understand by an actor ? Tell me ; for I am 
 foolish enough to respect your opinion on these 
 matters ! " 
 
 " An actor, young lady," said he gravely, " is an 
 26
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 artist who has gone deep enough in his art to 
 make dunces, critics, and greenhorns take it for 
 nature ; moreover, he really personates, which 
 your mere man of the stage never does. He has 
 learned the true art of self-multiplication. He 
 drops Betterton, Booth, Wilkes, or, a-hem " 
 
 " Gibber," inserted Sir Charles Pomander. 
 Gibber bowed. 
 
 " In his dressing-room, and comes out young 
 or old, a fop, a valet, a lover, or a hero, with 
 voice, mien, and every gesture to match. A grain 
 less than this may be good speaking, fine preach- 
 ing, deep grunting, high ranting, eloquent recit- 
 ing, but I'll be hanged if it is acting ! " 
 
 "Then, Colley Gibber never acted," whispered 
 Quin to Mrs. Glive. 
 
 " Then, Margaret Womngton is an actress," 
 said M. W. " The fine ladies take my Lady Betty 
 for their sister. In Mrs. Day I pass for a woman 
 of seventy, and in Sir Harry Wildair I have been 
 taken for a man. I would have told you that 
 before, but I didn't know it was to my credit," 
 said she slily, "till Mr. Gibber laid down the 
 law." 
 
 " Proof ! " said Gibber. 
 
 " A warm letter from one lady, diamond buckles 
 from another, and an offer of her hand and fortune 
 from a third ; rien que cela." 
 
 Mr. Gibber conveyed behind her back a look of 
 absolute incredulity ; she divined it. 
 
 " I will not show you the letters," continued 
 2 7
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 she ; " because Sir Harry, though a rake, was a 
 gentleman ; but here are the buckles," and she 
 fished them out of her pocket, capacious of such 
 things. The buckles were gravely inspected ; 
 they made more than one eye water, they were 
 undeniable. 
 
 " Well, let us see what we can do for her," said 
 the Laureate. He tapped his box, and without a 
 moment's hesitation produced the most execrable 
 distich in the language 
 
 " Now who is like Peggy, with talent at will, 
 A maid loved her Harry, for want of a Bill?" 
 
 "Well, child," continued he, after the applause 
 which follows extemporary verses had subsided, 
 "take me in. Play something to make me lose 
 sight of saucy Peg Woffington, and I'll give the 
 world five acts more before the curtain falls on 
 Colley Gibber." 
 
 " If you could be deceived," put in Mr. 
 Vane, somewhat timidly ; " I think there is no 
 disguise through which grace and beauty such 
 as Mrs. Woffington's would not shine, to my 
 eyes." 
 
 " That is to praise my person at the expense of 
 my wit, sir, is it not ? " was her reply. 
 
 This was the first word she had ever addressed 
 to him ; the tones appeared so sweet to him, that 
 he could not find anything to reply for listening 
 to them ; and Gibber resumed 
 
 " Meantime, I will show you a real actress ; she 
 28
 
 "ffie great" orctyejT u>i(T Ke Hen ina minute' 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 is coming here to-night to meet me. Did ever 
 you children hear of Ann Bracegirdle ?" 
 
 " Bracegirdle ! " said Mrs. Clive ; " why, she has 
 been dead this thirty years ; at least I thought so." 
 
 " Dead to the stage. There is more heat in her 
 ashes than in your h're, Kate Clive ! Ah ! here 
 comes her messenger," continued he, as an ancient 
 man appeared with a letter in his hand. This 
 letter Mrs. Woffington snatched and read, and at 
 the same instant in bounced the call-boy. " Epi- 
 logue called," said this urchin, in the tone of 
 command which these small fry of Parnassus 
 adopt ; and obedient to his high behest, Mrs. 
 Woffington moved to the door with the Brace- 
 girdle missive in her hand, but not before she 
 had delivered its general contents. "The great 
 actress will be here in a few minutes," said she, 
 and she glided swiftly out of the room.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 EOPLE whose mind or manners 
 possess any feature, and are not 
 as devoid of all eccentricity as 
 half-pounds of butter bought of 
 metropolitan grocers, are recom- 
 mended not to leave a roomful 
 of their acquaintances until the 
 last but one. Yes, they should 
 always be penultimate. Perhaps Mrs. Womngton 
 knew this ; but epilogues are stubborn things, 
 and call-boys undeniable. 
 
 " Did you ever hear a woman whistle before ? " 
 " Never ; but I saw one sit astride on an ass 
 in Germany ! " 
 
 "The saddle was not on her husband, I hope, 
 madam ? " 
 
 31
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " No, sir ; the husband walked by his kinsfolk's 
 side, and made the best of a bad bargain, as 
 Peggy's husband will have to." 
 
 " Wait till some one ventures on the gay Lothario 
 //// ces triplex ; that means he must have triple 
 brass, Kitty." 
 
 " I deny that, sir ; since his wife will always 
 have enough for both." 
 
 " I have not observed the lady's brass," said 
 Vane, trembling with passion ; " but I observed 
 her talent, and I noticed that whoever attacks her 
 to her face, comes badly off." 
 
 " Well said, sir," answered Quin ; " and I wish 
 Kitty here would tell us why she hates Mrs. 
 Woffington, the best - natured woman in the 
 theatre ? " 
 
 " I don't hate her, I don't trouble my head 
 about her." 
 
 " Yes, you hate her ; for you never miss a cut 
 at her, never ! " 
 
 "Do you hate a haunch of venison, Quin?" 
 said the lady. 
 
 " No ! you little unnatural monster," replied 
 Quin. 
 
 " For all that you never miss a cut at one, so 
 hold your tongue ! " 
 
 " Le beau raisonnement ! " said Mr. Gibber. 
 "James Quin, don't interfere with nature's laws; 
 let our ladies hate one another, it eases their 
 minds ; try to make them Christians and you will 
 not convert their tempers, but spoil your own. 
 
 3 2
 
 J\G! 
 
 [Copyright 1899 Ay C
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Peggy there hates George Anne Bellamy, because 
 she has gaudy silk dresses from Paris, by paying 
 for them ; as she could, if not too stingy. Kitty 
 here hates Peggy because Rich has breeched 
 her, whereas Kitty, who now sets up for a 
 prude, wanted to put delicacy off and small 
 clothes on in Peg's stead ; that is where the Kate 
 and Peg shoe pinches, near the femoral artery, 
 James." 
 
 " Shrimps have the souls of shrimps," resumed 
 this censor castigatorque minorum. " Listen to me, 
 and learn that really great actors are great in soul, 
 and do not blubber like a great school-girl because 
 Anne Bellamy has two yellow silk dresses from 
 Paris, as I saw Woffington blubber in this room, 
 and would not be comforted ; nor fume like Kitty 
 Clive, because Woffington has a pair of breeches 
 and a little boy's rapier to go a-playing at acting 
 with. When I was young, two giantesses fought 
 for empire upon this very stage, where now dwarfs 
 crack and bounce like parched peas. They played 
 Roxana and Statira in the Rival Queens. Rival 
 queens of art themselves, they put out all their 
 strength. In the middle of the last act the town 
 gave judgment in favour of Statira. What did 
 Roxana ? Did she spill grease on Statira's robe, 
 as Peg Woffington would ? or stab her, as I believe 
 Kitty here capable of doing ? No ! Statira was 
 never so tenderly killed as that night ; she owned 
 this to me. Roxana bade the theatre farewell that 
 night, and wrote to Statira thus I give you word 
 
 34
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 for word : ' Madam, the best judge we have has 
 decided in your favour. I shall never play second 
 on a stage where I have been first so long, but I 
 shall often be a spectator, and methinks none will 
 appreciate your talent more than I, who have felt 
 its weight. My wardrobe, one of the best in 
 Europe, is of no use to me ; if you will honour 
 me by selecting a few of my dresses you will 
 gratify me, and I shall fancy I see myself upon 
 the stage to greater advantage than before.' " 
 
 " And what did Statira answer, sir ? " said Mr. 
 Vane eagerly. 
 
 " She answered thus : ' Madam, the town has 
 often been wrong, and may have been so last 
 night, in supposing that I vied successfully with 
 your merit ; but thus much is certain and here, 
 madam, I am the best judge that off the stage 
 you have just conquered me. I shall wear with 
 pride any dress you have honoured, and shall feel 
 inspired to great exertions by your presence among 
 our spectators, unless, indeed, the sense of your 
 magnanimity and the recollection of your talent 
 should damp me by the dread of losing any por- 
 tion of your good opinion.' " 
 
 " What a couple of stiff old things ! " said Mrs. 
 Clive. 
 
 "Nay, madam, say not so," cried Vane warmly; 
 "surely, this was the lofty courtesy of two great 
 minds not to be overbalanced by strife, defeat, or 
 victory." 
 
 " What were their names, sir ? " 
 35
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Statira was the great Mrs. Oldfield. Roxana 
 you will see here to-night." 
 
 This caused a sensation. 
 
 Colley's reminiscences were interrupted by loud 
 applause from the theatre ; the present seldom 
 gives the past a long hearing. 
 
 The old war-horse cocked his ears. 
 
 " It is Woffington speaking the epilogue," said 
 Quin. 
 
 " Oh ! she has got the length of their foot, some- 
 how," said a small actress. 
 
 "And the breadth of their hands, too," said 
 Pomander, waking from a nap. 
 
 " It is the depth of their hearts she has sounded," 
 said Vane. 
 
 In those days, if a metaphor started up, the 
 poor thing was coursed up hill and down dale, 
 and torn limb from jacket ; even in Parliament, 
 a trope was sometimes hunted from one session 
 into another. 
 
 " You were asking me about Mrs. Oldfield, sir," 
 resumed Gibber, rather peevishly. " I will own to 
 you, I lack words to convey a just idea of her 
 double and complete supremacy. But the come- 
 dians of this day are weak-strained farceurs com- 
 pared with her, and her tragic tone was thunder 
 set to music. 
 
 " I saw a brigadier-general cry like a child at 
 her Indiana ; I have seen her crying with pain 
 herself at the wing (for she was always a great 
 sufferer), I have seen her then spring upon the 
 
 36
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 stage as Lady Townley, and in a moment sorrow 
 brightened into joy ; the air seemed to fill with 
 singing-birds, that chirped the pleasures of fashion, 
 love, and youth, in notes sparkling like diamonds, 
 and stars, and prisms. She was above criticism, 
 out of its scope, as is the blue sky ; men went not 
 to judge her, they drank her, and gazed at her, 
 and were warmed at her, and refreshed by her. 
 The fops were awed into silence, and with their 
 humbler betters thanked Heaven for her, if they 
 thanked it for anything. 
 
 " In all the crowded theatre, care, and pain, and 
 poverty were banished from the memory, whilst 
 Oldfield's face spoke, and her tongue flashed melo- 
 dies ; the lawyer forgot his quillets ; the polemic, 
 the mote in his brother's eye ; the old maid, her 
 grudge against the two sexes ; the old man, his 
 grey hairs and his lost hours. And can it be, that 
 all this, which should have been immortal, is quite 
 quite lost, is as though it had never been ? " he 
 sighed. " Can it be, that its fame is now sustained 
 by me ; who twang with my poor lute, cracked 
 and old, these feeble praises of a broken lyre 
 
 ' Whose wires were golden : and its heavenly air 
 More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear, 
 When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear?'" 
 
 He paused, and his eye looked back over many 
 years; then, with a very different tone, he added 
 
 "And that Jack Falstaff there must have seen 
 her, now I think on't." 
 
 37
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Only once, sir," said Quin, " and I was but 
 ten years old." 
 
 " He saw her once, and he was ten years old ; 
 yet he calls Woffington a great comedian, and my 
 son The's wife, with her hatchet face, the greatest 
 tragedian he ever saw ! Jemmy, what an ass you 
 must be ! " 
 
 " Mrs. Gibber always makes me cry, and t'other 
 always makes me laugh," said Quin stoutly, " that's 
 why." 
 
 Ce beau raisonnement met no answer but a look 
 of sovereign contempt. 
 
 A very trifling incident saved the ladies of the 
 British stage from further criticism. There were 
 two candles in this room, one on each side ; the 
 call-boy had entered, and poking about for some- 
 thing, knocked down and broke one of these. 
 
 " Awkward imp ! " cried a velvet page. 
 
 " I'll go to the Treasury for another, ma'am," 
 said the boy pertly, and vanished with the frac- 
 tured wax. 
 
 I take advantage of the interruption to open 
 Mr. Vane's mind to the reader. First he had 
 been astonished at the freedom of sarcasm these 
 people indulged in without quarrelling ; next at 
 the non-respect of sex. 
 
 " So sex is not recognised in this community," 
 thought he. Then the glibness and merit of some 
 of their answers surprised and amused him. He, 
 like me, had seldom met an imaginative repartee, 
 except in a play or a book. " Society's " repartees
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 were then, as they are now, the good old tree in 
 various dresses and veils : Tu quoque, tu mcntiris, 
 vos damnemini ; but he was sick and dispirited on 
 the whole ; such very bright illusions had been 
 dimmed in these few minutes. 
 
 She was brilliant ; but her manners, if not 
 masculine, were very daring ; and yet, when she 
 spoke to him, a stranger, how sweet and gentle 
 her voice was ! Then it was clear nothing but 
 his ignorance could have placed her at the summit 
 of her art. 
 
 Still he clung to his enthusiasm for her. He 
 drew Pomander aside. "What a simplicity there 
 is in Mrs. Woffington ! " said he ; " the rest, male 
 and female, are all so affected ; she is so fresh 
 and natural. They are all hot-house plants ; she 
 is a cowslip with the May dew on it." 
 
 "What you take for simplicity, is her refined 
 art," replied Sir Charles. 
 
 " No ! " said Vane, " 1 never saw a more inno- 
 cent creature ! " 
 
 Pomander laughed in his face ; this laugh dis- 
 concerted him more than words ; he spoke no 
 more he sat pensive. He was sorry he had 
 come to this place, where everybody knew his 
 goddess ; yet nobody admired, nobody loved, and 
 alas ! nobody respected her. 
 
 He was roused from his reverie by a noise ; the 
 noise was caused by Gibber falling on Garrick, 
 whom Pomander had maliciously quoted against 
 all the tragedians of Colley Gibber's day. 
 
 39
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " I tell you," cried the veteran, "that this Garrick 
 has banished dignity from the stage, and given us 
 in exchange what you and he take for fire ; but it 
 is smoke and vapour. His manner is little, like 
 his person ; it is all fuss and bustle. This is his 
 idea of a tragic scene : A little fellow comes bust- 
 ling in, goes bustling about, and runs bustling 
 out." Here Mr. Gibber left the room, to give 
 greater effect to his description, but presently 
 returned in a mighty pother, saying : " ' Give me 
 another horse ! ' Well, where's the horse ? don't 
 you see I'm waiting for him ? ' Bind up my 
 wounds ! ' Look sharp now with these wounds. 
 ' Have mercy, Heaven ! ' but be quick about it, 
 for the pit can't wait for Heaven. Bustle ! bustle ! 
 bustle ! " 
 
 The old dog was so irresistibly funny, that the 
 whole company were obliged to laugh, but in the 
 midst of their merriment Mrs. Woffington's voice 
 was heard at the door. 
 
 "This way, madam." 
 
 A clear and somewhat shrill voice replied : " I 
 know the way better than you, child," and a stately 
 old lady appeared on the threshold. 
 
 " Bracegirdle," said Mr. Gibber. 
 
 It may well be supposed that every eye was 
 turned on this new comer that Roxana for 
 whom Mr. Gibber's story had prepared a peculiar 
 interest. She was dressed in a rich green velvet 
 gown with gold fringe. Gibber remembered it ; 
 
 she had played the " Eastern Queen " in it. 
 
 40
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Heaven forgive all concerned ! It was fearfully 
 pinched in at the waist and ribs, so as to give 
 the idea of wood inside, not woman. 
 
 Her hair and eyebrows were iron-grey, and she 
 had lost a front tooth, or she would still have 
 been eminently handsome. She was tall and 
 straight as a dart, and her noble port betrayed 
 none of the weakness of age ; only it was to be 
 seen that her hands were a little weak, and the 
 gold-headed crutch struck the ground rather 
 sharply, as if it did a little limbs'-duty. 
 
 Such was the lady who marched into the middle 
 of the room, with a " How do, Colley ?" and look- 
 ing over the company's heads as if she did not see 
 them, regarded the four walls with some interest. 
 Like a cat, she seemed to think more of places 
 than of folk. The page obsequiously offered her 
 a chair. 
 
 " Not so clean as it used to be," said Mrs. Brace- 
 girdle. 
 
 Unfortunately, in making this remark, the old 
 lady graciously patted the page's head for offering 
 her the chair ; and this action gave, with some 
 of the ill-constituted minds that are ever on the 
 titter, a ridiculous direction to a remark intended, 
 I believe, for the paint and wainscots, &c. 
 
 "Nothing is as it used to be," remarked Mr. 
 Gibber. 
 
 "All the better for everything," said Mrs. Clive. 
 
 " We were laughing at this mighty little David, 
 first actor of this mighty little age." 
 
 4 1
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Now, if Mr. Gibber thought to find in the new 
 comer an ally of the past in its indiscriminate 
 attack upon the present, he was much mis- 
 taken ; for the old actress made onslaught on this 
 nonsense at once. 
 
 "Ay, ay," said she, "and not the first time by 
 many hundreds. 'Tis a disease you have. Cure 
 yourself, Colley. Davy Garrick pleases the public ; 
 and in trifles like acting, that take nobody to 
 heaven, to please all the world is to be great. 
 Some pretend to higher aims, but none have 
 'em. You may hide this from young fools, 
 mayhap, but not from an old 'oman like me. 
 He ! he he ! No, no, no not from an old 
 'oman like me." 
 
 She then turned round in her chair, and with 
 that sudden, unaccountable snappishness of tone, 
 to which the brisk old are subject, she snarled : 
 " Gie me a pinch of snuff, some of ye, do ! " 
 
 Tobacco dust was instantly at her disposal. 
 She took it with the points of her fingers, deli- 
 cately, and divested the crime of half its unclean- 
 ness and vulgarity more an angel couldn't. 
 
 " Monstrous sensible woman, though ! " whis- 
 pered Quin to Clive. 
 
 " Hey, sir ! what do you say, sir ? for I'm a 
 little deaf." (Not very to praise, it seems.) 
 
 "That your judgment, madam, is equal to the 
 reputation of your talent." 
 
 The words were hardly spoken, before the old 
 
 lady rose upright as a tower. She then made an 
 
 42
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 oblique preliminary sweep, and came down with 
 such a curtsey as the young had never seen. 
 
 e gymnajficj- of ft 
 
 {Copyright 1899 by George Allen.} 
 
 James Quin, not to disgrace his generation, 
 attempted a corresponding bow, for which his 
 
 43
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 figure and apoplectic tendency rendered him 
 unfit : and whilst he was transacting it, the grace- 
 ful Gibber stepped gravely up, and looked down 
 and up the process with his glass, like a naturalist 
 inspecting some strange capriccio of an ourang- 
 outang. The gymnastics of courtesy ended without 
 back-falls Gibber lowered his tone 
 
 " You are right, Bracy. It is nonsense denying 
 the young fellow's talent ; but his Othello, now, 
 Bracy ! be just his Othello !" 
 
 " Oh dear ! oh dear ! " cried she ; " I thought it 
 was Desdemona's little black boy come in without 
 the tea-kettle." 
 
 Quin laughed uproariously. 
 
 " It made me laugh a deal more than Mr. Quin's 
 Falstaff. Oh dear ! oh dear ! " 
 
 " Falstaff, indeed ! Snuff ! " in the tone of a 
 trumpet. 
 
 Quin secretly revoked his good opinion of this 
 woman's sense. 
 
 " Madam," said the page timidly, " if you 
 would but favour us with a specimen of the old 
 style ! " 
 
 " Well, child, why not ? Only, what makes 
 you mumble like that ? but they all do it now, I 
 see. Bless my soul ! our words used to come out 
 like brandy cherries ; but now a sentence is like 
 raspberry jam, on the stage and off." 
 
 Gibber chuckled. 
 
 " And why don't you men carry yourself like 
 Gibber here ? " 
 
 44
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Don't press that question," said Colley drily. 
 
 "A monstrous poor actor, though," said the 
 merciless old woman, in a mock aside to the 
 others ; " only twenty shillings a week for half 
 his life ; " and her shoulders went up to her ears 
 then she fell into a half reverie. " Yes, we 
 were distinct," said she ; " but I must own, chil- 
 dren, we were slow. Once in the midst of a 
 beautiful tirade, my lover went to sleep, and fell 
 against me. A mighty pretty epigram, twenty 
 lines, was writ on't by one of my gallants. Have 
 ye as many of them as we used ? " 
 
 "In that respect," said the page, "we are not 
 behind our great-grandmothers." 
 
 " I call that pert," said Mrs. Bracegirdle, with 
 the air of one drawing scientific distinctions. 
 " Now, is that a boy or a lady that spoke to me 
 last ? " 
 
 " By its dress, I should say a boy," said 
 Gibber with his glass ; " by its assurance, a 
 lady ! " 
 
 "There's one clever woman amongst ye; Peg 
 something, plays Lothario, Lady Betty Modish, 
 and what not ? " 
 
 " What ! admire Woffington ? " screamed Mrs. 
 Clive ; " why, she is the greatest gabbler on the 
 stage." 
 
 " I don't care," was the reply, " there's nature 
 about the jade. Don't contradict me," added she, 
 with sudden fury ; " a parcel of children ! " 
 
 " No, madam," said Clive humbly. " Mr. 
 45
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Gibber, will you try and prevail on Mrs. Brace- 
 girdle to favour us with a recitation ? " 
 
 Gibber handed his cane with pomp to a small 
 actor. Bracegirdle did the same ; and striking 
 the attitudes that had passed for heroic in their 
 day, they declaimed out of the Rival Queens two 
 or three tirades, which I graciously spare the 
 reader of this tale. Their elocution was neat and 
 silvery ; but not one bit like the way people speak 
 in streets, palaces, fields, roads, and rooms. They 
 had not made the grand discovery, which Mr. A. 
 Wigan on the stage, and every man of sense off 
 it, has made in our day and nation ; namely, that 
 the stage is a representation not of stage, but of 
 life ; and that an actor ought to speak and act 
 in imitation of human beings, not of speaking 
 machines that have run and creaked in a stage 
 groove, with their eyes shut upon the world at 
 large, upon nature, upon truth, upon man, upon 
 woman, and upon child. 
 
 "This is slow," cried Gibber; "let us show 
 these young people how ladies and gentlemen 
 moved fifty years ago, dansons." 
 
 A fiddler was caught, a beautiful slow minuet 
 played, and a bit of " solemn dancing " done. 
 Gertainly, it was not gay, but it must be owned 
 it was beautiful ; it was the dance of kings, the 
 poetry of the courtly saloon. 
 
 The retired actress, however, had frisker notions 
 left in her : " This is slow," cried she, and bade 
 the fiddler play "The wind that shakes the 
 
 46
 
 {Copyright 1899 by Geor s -e Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 barley," an ancient jig tune ; this she danced to 
 in a style that utterly astounded the spectators. 
 
 She showed them what fun was ; her feet and 
 her stick were all echoes to the mad strain ; out 
 went her heel behind, and returning, drove her 
 four yards forward. She made unaccountable 
 slants, and cut them all over in turn if they 
 did not jump for it. Roars of inextinguishable 
 laughter arose ; it would have made an oyster 
 merry. Suddenly she stopped, and put her hands 
 to her sides, and soon after she gave a vehement 
 cry of pain. 
 
 The laughter ceased. 
 
 She gave another cry of such agony, that they 
 were all round her in a moment. 
 
 " Oh ! help me, ladies ! " screamed the poor 
 woman, in tones as feminine as they were heart- 
 rending and piteous. " Oh, my back ! my loins ! 
 I suffer, gentlemen," said the poor thing faintly. 
 
 What was to be done ? Mr. Vane offered his 
 penknife to cut her laces. 
 
 "You shall cut my head off sooner," cried she 
 with sudden energy. " Don't pity me," said she 
 sadly, " I don't deserve it ; " then lifting her eyes, 
 she exclaimed, with a sad air of self-reproach : 
 " Oh, vanity ! do you never leave a woman ? " 
 
 "" Nay, madam ! " whimpered the page, who 
 was a good-hearted girl ; " 'twas your great com- 
 plaisance for us, not vanity. Oh ! oh ! oh ! " and 
 she began to blubber to make matters better. 
 
 " No, my children," said the old lady, " 'twas 
 48
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 vanity. I wanted to show you what an old 'oman 
 could do ; and I have humiliated myself, trying 
 
 i I 3 S"/jfon y 'enlif men. 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.] 
 
 to outshine younger folk. I am justly humiliated, 
 as you see," and she began to cry a little. 
 
 49 D
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " This is very painful," said Gibber. 
 
 Mrs. Bracegirdle now raised her eyes (they had 
 set her in a chair), and looking sweetly, tenderly, 
 and earnestly on her old companion, she said to 
 him, slowly, gently, but impressively 
 
 " Colley, at threescore years and ten, this was 
 ill-done of us ! You and I are here now for 
 what ? to cheer the young up the hill we mounted 
 years ago. And, old friend, if we detract from 
 them we discourage them. A great sin in the 
 old ! " 
 
 " Every dog his day." 
 
 "We have had ours." Here she smiled, then 
 laying her hand tenderly in the old man's, she 
 added with calm solemnity : " And now we must 
 go quietly towards our rest, and strut and fret no 
 more the few last minutes of life's fleeting hour." 
 
 How tame my cacotype of these words com- 
 pared with what they were ! I am ashamed of 
 them and myself, and the human craft of writ- 
 ing, which, though commoner far, is so miser- 
 ably behind the godlike art of speech : Si ipsatn 
 audivisses ! 
 
 These ink scratches, which in the imperfection 
 of language we have called words, till the un- 
 thinking actually dream they are words, but 
 which are the shadows of the corpses of words 
 these word-shadows then were living powers on 
 her lips, and subdued, as eloquence always does, 
 every heart within reach of the imperial tongue. 
 
 The young loved her, and the old man, softened 
 5
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 and vanquished, and mindful of his failing life, 
 was silent, and pressed his handkerchief to his 
 eyes a moment ; then he said 
 
 "No, Bracy no. Be composed, I pray you. 
 She is right. Young people, forgive me that I 
 love the dead too well, and the days when I was 
 what you are now. Drat the woman," continued 
 he, half-ashamed of his emotion ; " she makes us 
 laugh, and makes us cry, just as she used." 
 
 "What does he say, young woman ?" said the 
 old lady dryly to Mrs. Clive. 
 
 " He says you make us laugh, and make us cry, 
 madam ; and so you do me, I'm sure." 
 
 "And that's Peg Womngton's notion of an 
 actress ! Better it, Gibber and Bracegirdle, if you 
 can," said the other, rising up like lightning. 
 
 She then threw Colley Gibber a note, and walked 
 coolly and rapidly out of the room, without look- 
 ing once behind her. 
 
 The rest stood transfixed, looking at one another, 
 and at the empty chair. Then Gibber opened and 
 read the note aloud. It was from Mrs. Brace- 
 girdle : " Playing at tric-trac ; so can't play the 
 fool in your green-room to-night. B." 
 
 On this, a musical ringing laugh was heard 
 from outside the door, where the pseudo Brace- 
 girdle was washing the grey from her hair, and 
 the wrinkles from her face ah ! I wish I could 
 do it as easily ! and the little bit of sticking- 
 plaster from her front tooth. 
 
 "Why, it is the Irish jade !" roared Gibber. 
 5 1
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Divil a less ! " rang back a rich brogue ; " and 
 it's not the furst time \ve put the comether upon 
 ye, England, my jewal ! " 
 
 One more mutual glance, and then the mortal 
 cleverness of all this began to dawn on their 
 minds ; and they broke forth into clapping of 
 hands, and gave this accomplished mime three 
 rounds of applause ; Mr. Vane and Sir Charles 
 Pomander leading with " Brava, Woffington ! " 
 
 Its effect on Mr. Vane may be imagined. Who 
 but she could have done this ? This was as if a 
 painter should so paint a man as to deceive his 
 species. This was acting, but not like the acting 
 of the stage. He was in transports, and self- 
 satisfaction at his own judgment mingled pleasantly 
 with his admiration. 
 
 In this cheerful exhibition, one joined not Mr. 
 Gibber. His theories had received a shock (and 
 we all love our theories). He himself had received 
 a rap, and we don't hate ourselves. 
 
 Great is the syllogism ! But there is a class of 
 arguments less vulnerable. 
 
 If A says to B, "You can't hit me, as I prove 
 by this syllogism " (here followeth the syllogism), 
 and B, pour toute reponse, knocks A down such a 
 whack that he rebounds into a sitting posture ; 
 and to him the man, the tree, the lamp-post, and 
 the fire-escape, become not clearly distinguish- 
 able ; this barbarous logic prevails against the 
 logic in Barbara, and the syllogism is in the 
 predicament of Humpty Dumpty. 
 
 5 2
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 In this predicament was the Poet Laureate. 
 "The miscreant Proteus (could not) escape these 
 chains ! " So the miscreant Proteus no bad 
 name for an old actor took his little cocked-hat 
 and marched ; a smaller, if not a wiser man. 
 Some disjointed words fell from him : " Mimicry 
 is not acting," &c. ; and with one bitter, mowing 
 glance at the applauders, circumferens acriter oculos, 
 he vanished in the largest pinch of snuff on re- 
 cord. The rest dispersed more slowly. 
 
 Mr. Vane waited eagerly, and watched the door 
 for Mrs. Woffington ; but she did not come. He 
 then made acquaintance with good-natured Mr. 
 Quin, who took him upon the stage, and showed 
 him by what vulgar appliances that majestic rise 
 of the curtain he so admired was effected. Re- 
 turning to the green-room for his friend, he 
 found him in animated conversation with Mrs. 
 Woffington. This made Vane uneasy. 
 
 Sir Charles, up to the present moment of the 
 evening, had been unwontedly silent, and now 
 he was talking nineteen to the dozen, and Mrs. 
 Woffington was listening with an appearance of 
 interest that sent a pang to poor Vane's heart ; 
 he begged Mr. Quin to introduce him. 
 
 Mr. Quin introduced him. 
 
 The lady received his advances with polite 
 composure. Mr. Vane stammered his admira- 
 tion of her Bracegirdle ; but all he could find 
 words to say, was mere general praise, and 
 somewhat coldly received. Sir Charles, on the 
 
 53
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 contrary, spoke more like a critic. " Had you 
 given us the stage cackle, or any of those tradi- 
 tionary symptoms of old age, we should have 
 instantly detected you," said he ; " but this was 
 art copying nature, and it may be years before 
 such a triumph of illusion is again effected under 
 so many adverse circumstances." 
 
 " You are very good, Sir Charles," was the 
 reply. " You flatter me. It was one of those 
 things which look greater than they are ; nobody 
 here knew Bracegirdle but Mr. Gibber ; Mr. 
 Gibber cannot see well without his glasses, and I 
 got rid of one of the candles ; I sent one of the 
 imps of the theatre to knock it down. I know 
 Mrs. Bracegirdle by heart. I drink tea with her 
 every Sunday. I had her dress on, and I gave 
 the old boy her words and her way of thinking ; 
 it was mere mimicry : it was nothing compared 
 with what I once did ; but ahem ! " 
 
 " Pray tell us ! " 
 
 " I am afraid I shall shock your friend. I see 
 he is not a wicked man like you, and perhaps 
 does not know what good-for-nothing creatures 
 actresses are." 
 
 " He is not so ignorant as he looks," replied Sir 
 Charles. 
 
 "That is not quite the answer I expected, Sir 
 Charles," replied this lively lady ; " but it serves 
 me right, for fishing on dry land. Well then, you 
 must know a young gentleman courted me. I 
 forget whether I liked him or not ; but you will 
 
 54
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 fancy I hated him, for I promised to marry him. 
 You must understand, gentlemen, that I was sent 
 into the world, not to act, which I abominate, but 
 to chronicle small beer and teach an army of little 
 brats their letters ; so this word ' wife,' and that 
 word 'chimney-corner/ took possession of my 
 mind, and a vision of darning stockings for a large 
 party, all my own, filled my heart, and really I felt 
 quite grateful to the little brute that was to give 
 me all this, and he would have had such a wife as 
 men never do have, still less deserve. But one 
 fine day that the theatre left me time to examine 
 his manner towards me, I instantly discovered he 
 was deceiving me. So I had him watched, and 
 the little brute was going to marry another 
 woman, and break it to me by degrees after- 
 wards, &c. You know, Sir Charles ? Ah ! I see 
 you do. 
 
 " I found her out ; got an introduction to her 
 father ; went down to his house three days before 
 the marriage, with a little coal-black moustache, 
 regimentals, and what not, made up, in short, 
 with the art of my sex, gentlemen and the im- 
 pudence of yours. 
 
 "The first day I flirted and danced with the 
 bride. The second I made love to her, and at 
 night I let her know that her intended was a 
 villain. I showed her letters of his ; protestations, 
 oaths of eternal fidelity to one Peg Woffington, 
 'who will die/ drawled I, 'if he betrays her.' 
 
 "And here, gentlemen, mark the justice of 
 55
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Heaven. I received a back-handed slap : ' Peg 
 Woffington ! an actress ! Oh, the villain ! ' cried 
 she; Met him marry the little vagabond. How 
 dare he insult me with his hand, that had been 
 offered in such a quarter ? ' 
 
 " So, in a fit of virtuous indignation, the little 
 hypocrite dismissed the little brute ; in other 
 words, she had fallen in love with me. 
 
 " I have had not many happy hours, but I re- 
 member it was delicious to look out of my 
 window, and at the same moment smell the 
 honeysuckles and see my perfide dismissed under 
 a heap of scorn and a pile of luggage he had 
 brought down for his wedding tour. 
 
 " I scampered up to London, laughing all the 
 way ; and when I got home, if I remember right, 
 I cried for two hours. How do you account for 
 that ? " 
 
 " I hope, madam," said Vane gravely, "it was 
 remorse for having trifled with that poor young 
 lady's heart ; she had never injured you." 
 
 " But, sir, the husband I robbed her of was a 
 brute and a villain in his little way, and wicked, 
 and good-for-nothing, &c. He would have de- 
 ceived that poor little hypocrite, as he had this 
 one," pointing to herself. 
 
 "That is not what I mean : you inspired her 
 with an attachment, never to be forgotten. Poor 
 lady, how many sleepless nights has she passed 
 since then, how many times has she strained her 
 eyes to see her angel lover returning to her ! She 
 
 56
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 will not forget in two years the love it cost you 
 but two days to inspire. The powerful should be 
 merciful. Ah ! I fear you have no heart." 
 
 These words had no sooner burst from Mr. 
 Vane, than he was conscious of the strange liberty 
 he had taken, and, indeed, the bad taste he had 
 been guilty of ; and this feeling was not lessened 
 when he saw Mrs. Woffington colour up to the 
 temples. Her eyes, too, glittered like basilisks ; 
 but she said nothing, which was remarkable in 
 her, whose tongue was the sword of a maitre 
 darmes. 
 
 Sir Charles eyed his friend in a sly, satirical 
 manner ; he then said, laughingly : "In two 
 months she married a third! don't waste your 
 sympathy," and turned the talk into another 
 channel ; and soon after, Mrs. Woffington's maid 
 appearing at the door, she curtsied to both 
 gentlemen and left the theatre. Sir Charles 
 Pomander accompanied Mr. Vane a little way. 
 
 "What becomes of her innocence?" was his 
 first word. 
 
 " One loses sight of it in her immense talent," 
 said the lover. 
 
 " She certainly is clever in all that bears upon 
 her business," was the reply ; " but I noticed 
 you were a little shocked with her indelicacy in 
 telling us that story, and still more in having it 
 to tell." 
 
 "Indelicacy? No!" said Vane; "the little 
 brute deserved it. Good Heavens ! to think that 
 
 57
 
 (Copyright 1899 > Cf?3.v Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 'a little brute' might have married that angel, and 
 actually broke faith to lose her ! it is incredible, 
 the crime is diluted by the absurdity." 
 
 " Have you heard him tell the story ? No ? 
 Then take my word for it you have not heard the 
 facts of the case." 
 
 "Ah ! you are prejudiced against her ! " 
 
 "On the contrary I like her. But I know that 
 with all women, the present lover is an angel and 
 the past a demon, and so on in turn. And I 
 know that if Satan were to enter the women of 
 the stage, with the wild idea of impairing their 
 veracity, he would come out of their minds a 
 greater liar than he went in, and the innocent 
 darlings would never know their spiritual father 
 had been at them." 
 
 Doubtful whether this sentiment and period 
 could be improved, Sir Charles parted with his 
 friend, leaving his sting in him like a friend. The 
 other's reflections as he sauntered home were not 
 strictly those of a wise, well-balanced mind ; they 
 ran in this style 
 
 "When she said: Ms not that to praise my 
 person at the expense of my wit ? ' I ought to 
 have said : ' Nay, madam ; could your wit dis- 
 guise your person, it would betray itself, so you 
 would still shine confessed,' and instead of that I 
 said nothing !" 
 
 He then ran over in his mind all the op- 
 portunities he had had for putting in some- 
 thing smart, and bitterly regretted those lost 
 
 59
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 opportunities ; and made the smart things, and 
 beat the air with them. Then his cheeks tingled 
 when he remembered that he had almost scolded 
 her ; and he concocted a very different speech, 
 and straightway repeated it in imagination. 
 
 This is lovers' pastime ; I own it funny ; but 
 it is open to one objection this single practice 
 of sitting upon eggs no longer chickenable, 
 carried to a habit, is capable of turning a solid 
 intellect into a liquid one, and ruining a mind's 
 career. 
 
 We leave Mr. Vane, therefore, with a hope that 
 he will not do it every night ; and we follow his 
 friend to the close of our chapter. 
 
 Hey for a definition ! 
 
 What is diplomacy ? Is it folly in a coat that 
 looks like sagacity ? Had Sir Charles Pomander, 
 instead of watching Mr. Vane and Mrs. Woffing- 
 ton, asked the former whether he admired the 
 latter, and whether the latter responded, straight- 
 forward Vane would have told him the whole 
 truth in a minute. Diplomacy therefore was, as 
 it often is, a waste of time. 
 
 But diplomacy did more in this case, it sapienter 
 descendebat in fossam ; it fell on its nose with 
 gymnastic dexterity, as it generally does, upon 
 my word. 
 
 To watch Mrs. Woffington's face vis-a-vis Mr. 
 Vane, Pomander introduced Vane to the green- 
 room of the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden. 
 By this Pomander learned nothing, because 
 
 60
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Mrs. Woffington had, with a wonderful appearance 
 of openness, the closest face in Europe when 
 she chose. 
 
 On the other hand, by introducing this country 
 gentleman to this green-room, he gave a mighty 
 impulse and opportunity to Vane's love ; an 
 opportunity which he forgot the timid, inex- 
 perienced Damon might otherwise never have 
 found. 
 
 Here diplomacy was not policy, for, as my 
 sagacious reader has perhaps divined, Sir Charles 
 Pomander was after her himself.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 >ES : Sir Charles was after 
 Miss Woffington. I use 
 that phrase because it is 
 a fine generic one, suitable 
 to different kinds of love- 
 making. 
 
 Mr. Vane's sentiments 
 were an inexplicable com- 
 pound ; but respect, en- 
 thusiasm, anddeep admira- 
 tion were the uppermost. 
 The good Sir Charles was no enigma : he had 
 a vacancy in his establishment a very high situa- 
 tion, too, for those who like that sort of thing 
 the head of his table, his left hand when he drove 
 in the Park, &c. To this he proposed to promote 
 Miss Womngton. She was handsome and witty, 
 
 and he liked her. But that was not what caused 
 
 62
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 him to pursue her ; slow, sagacious, inevitable, as 
 a beagle. 
 
 She was celebrated, and would confer great 
 eclat on him. The scandal of possessing her was 
 a burning temptation. Women admire celebrity 
 in a man ; but men adore it in a woman. 
 
 " The world," says Philip, " is a famous man ; 
 What will not woman love so taught?" 
 
 I will try to answer this question. 
 
 The women will more readily forgive disgusting 
 physical deformity for Fame's sake, than we. 
 They would embrace with more rapture a famous 
 ourang-outang, than we an illustrious chimpanzee; 
 but when it comes to moral deformity the tables 
 are turned. 
 
 Had the Queen pardoned Mr. Greenacre and 
 Mrs. Manning, would the great rush have been 
 on the hero, or the heroine ? Why, on Mrs. 
 Macbeth ! To her would the blackguards have 
 brought honourable proposals, and the gentry 
 liberal ones. 
 
 Greenacre would have found more female 
 admirers than I ever shall ; but the grand stream 
 of sexual admiration would have set Mariawards. 
 This fact is as dark as night ; but it is as sure as 
 the sun. 
 
 The next day "the friends" (most laughable of 
 human substantives !) met in the theatre, and 
 again visited the green-room ; and this time Vane 
 determined to do himself more justice. He was 
 
 63
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 again disappointed ; the actress's manner was 
 ceremoniously polite. She was almost constantly 
 on the stage, and in a hurry when off it ; and 
 when there was a word to be got with her, the 
 ready, glib Sir Charles was sure to get it. Vane 
 could not help thinking it hard that a man who 
 professed no respect for her should thus keep the 
 light from him ; and he could hardly conceal his 
 satisfaction, when Pomander, at night, bade him 
 farewell for a fortnight. Pressing business took 
 Sir Charles into the country. 
 
 The good Sir Charles, however, could not go 
 without leaving his sting behind as a companion 
 to his friend. He called on Mr. Vane, and after 
 a short preface, containing the words, " our friend- 
 ship," " old kindness," " my greater experience," he 
 gravely warned him against Mrs. Woffington. 
 
 " Not that I would say this if you could take 
 her for what she is, and amuse yourself with her 
 as she will with you, if she thinks it worth her 
 while. But I see you have a heart, and she will 
 make a football of it, and torment you beyond all 
 you have ever conceived of human anguish." 
 
 Mr. Vane coloured high, and was about to 
 interrupt the speaker ; but he continued 
 
 "There, I am in a hurry. But ask Quin, or 
 anybody who knows her history, you will find she 
 has had scores of lovers, and no one remains her 
 friend after they part." 
 
 " Men are such villains ! " 
 
 " Very likely," was the reply ; " but twenty men 
 64
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 don't ill-use one good woman : those are not the 
 proportions. Adieu ! " 
 
 This last hit frightened Mr. Vane, he began to 
 look into himself ; he could not but feel that he 
 was a mere child in this woman's hands ; and 
 more than that, his conscience told him that if his 
 heart should be made a football of, it would only 
 be a just and probable punishment. For there 
 were particular reasons why he, of all men, had 
 no business to look twice at any woman whose 
 name was Woffington. 
 
 That night he avoided the green-room, though 
 he could not forego the play ; but the next night 
 he determined to stay at home altogether. Ac- 
 cordingly, at five o'clock, the astounded box- 
 keeper wore a visage of dismay there was no 
 shilling for him ! and Mr. Vane's nightly shilling 
 had assumed the sanctity of salary in his mind. 
 
 Mr. Vane strolled disconsolate ; he strolled by 
 the Thames, he strolled up and down the Strand ; 
 and, finally, having often admired the wisdom of 
 moths in their gradual approach to what is not 
 good for them, he strolled into the green-room, 
 Covent Garden, and sat down. When there he 
 did not feel happy. Besides, she had always been 
 cold to him, and had given no sign of desiring his 
 acquaintance, still less of recognition. 
 
 Mr. Vane had often seen a weathercock at work, 
 and he had heard a woman compared to it ; but 
 he had never realised the simplicity, beauty, and 
 justice of the simile. He was therefore surprised, 
 
 65 E
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 as well as thrilled, when Mrs. Woffington, so 
 cool, ceremonious, and distant hitherto, walked 
 
 [Copyright 1899 *_y Cr^ Allen.] 
 
 up to him in the green-room with a face quite 
 wreathed in smiles, and, without preliminary, 
 
 66
 
 thanked him for all the beautiful flowers he had 
 sent her. 
 
 "What, Mrs. Woffington what, you recognise 
 me?" 
 
 "Of course, and have been foolish enough to 
 feel quite supported by the thought I had at least 
 one friend in the house. But," said she, looking 
 down, " now you must not be angry ; here are 
 some stones that have fallen somehow among 
 the flowers ; I am going to give you them back, 
 because I value flowers, so I cannot have them 
 mixed with anything else ; but don't ask me for a 
 flower back," added she, seeing the colour mount 
 on his face ; " for I would not give one of them 
 to you, or anybody." 
 
 Imagine the effect of this on a romantic dis- 
 position like Mr. Vane's. 
 
 He told her how glad he was that she could 
 distinguish his features amidst the crowd of her 
 admirers ; he confessed he had been mortified 
 when he found himself, as he thought, entirely a 
 stranger to her. 
 
 She interrupted him. 
 
 " Do you know your friend Sir Charles 
 Pomander ? No ! I am almost sure you do ; 
 well, he is a man I do not like. He is deceitful ; 
 besides, he is a wicked man. There to be plain 
 with you he was watching me all that night, the 
 first time you came here ; and because I saw he 
 was watching me, I would not know who you 
 were, nor anything about you." 
 
 67
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " But you looked as if you had never seen me 
 before." 
 
 " Of course I did, when I had made up my mind 
 to," said the actress nai'vely. 
 
 " Sir Charles has left London for a fortnight ; 
 so if he is the only obstacle, I hope you will know 
 me every night." 
 
 "Why, you sent me no flowers yesterday, or 
 to-day!" 
 
 " But I will to-morrow." 
 
 "Then I am sure I shall know your face again : 
 good-bye. Won't you see me in the last act, and 
 tell me how ill I do it ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! " and he hurried to his box, and so 
 the actress secured one pair of hands for her last 
 act. 
 
 He returned to the green-room, but she did not 
 revisit that verdant bower. The next night, after 
 the usual compliments, she said to him, looking 
 down with a sweet engaging air 
 
 " I sent a messenger into the country to know 
 about that lady." 
 
 " What lady ? " said Vane, scarcely believing his 
 senses. 
 
 "That you were so unkind to me about." 
 
 " I, unkind to you ? what a brute I must be ! " 
 
 " My meaning is, you justly rebuked me ; only 
 you should not tell an actress she has no heart 
 that is always understood. Well, Sir Charles 
 Pomander said she married a third in two 
 
 months ! " 
 
 68
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "And did she?" 
 
 " No, it was in six weeks ; that man never tells 
 the truth, and since then she has married a 
 fourth." 
 
 " I am glad of it ! " 
 
 "So am I, since you awakened my conscience." 
 
 Delicious flattery ! and of all flattery the sweetest 
 when a sweet creature does flattery, not merely 
 utters it. 
 
 After this Vane made no more struggles ; he 
 surrendered himself to the charming seduction ; 
 and as his advances were respectful, but ardent 
 and incessant, he found himself at the end of a 
 fortnight Mrs. Womngton's professed lover. 
 
 They wrote letters to each other every day. 
 On Sunday they went to church together in the 
 morning, and spent the afternoon in the suburbs 
 wherever grass was and dust was not. 
 
 In the next fortnight, poor Vane thought he 
 had pretty well fathomed this extraordinary 
 woman's character. Plumb the Atlantic with an 
 eighty-fathom line, sir ! 
 
 " She is religious," said he, " she loves a church 
 much better than a play-house, and she never 
 laughs nor goes to sleep in church as I do. And 
 she is breaking me of swearing by degrees. She 
 says that no fashion can justify what is profane, 
 and that it must be vulgar as well as wicked. And 
 she is frankness and simplicity itself." 
 
 Another thing that charmed him was her dis- 
 interestedness. She ordered him to buy her a 
 
 69
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 present every day, but it was never to cost above 
 a shilling. If an article could be found that cost 
 exactly ten pence (a favourite sum of hers), she 
 was particularly pleased, and these shilling pre- 
 sents were received with a flush of pleasure and 
 brightening eyes : but when one day he appeared 
 with a diamond necklace, it was taken very coldly ; 
 he was not even thanked for it, and he was made 
 to feel, once for all, that the tenpenny ones were 
 the best investments towards her favour. 
 
 Then he found out that she was very prudent 
 and rather stingy; of Spartan simplicity in her 
 diet, and a scorner of dress off the stage. To 
 redeem this she was charitable, and her charity 
 and her economy sometimes had a sore fight, 
 during which she was peevish, poor little soul. 
 
 One day she made him a request. 
 
 " I can't bear you should think me worse than 
 I am, and I don't want you to think me better 
 than I am." 
 
 Vane trembled. 
 
 " But don't speak to others about me ; promise, 
 and I will promise to tell you my whole story, 
 whenever you are entitled to such a confidence." 
 
 " When shall I be entitled to it ? " 
 
 " When I am sure you love me." 
 
 " Do you doubt that now ? " 
 
 " Yes ! I think you love me, but I am not sure." 
 
 " Margaret, remember I have known you much 
 longer than you have known me." 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 70
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Yes ! Two months before we ever spoke I 
 lived upon your face and voice." 
 
 "That is to say, you looked from your box at 
 me upon the stage ; and did not I look from the 
 stage at you ? " 
 
 " Never ! you always looked at the pit, and my 
 heart used to sink." 
 
 "On the iyth of May you first came into that 
 box. I noticed you a little, the next day I noticed 
 you a little more ; I saw you fancied you liked 
 me ; after a while I could not have played without 
 you." 
 
 Here was delicious flattery again, and poor Vane 
 believed every word of it. 
 
 As for her request and her promise, she showed 
 her wisdom in both these. As Sir Charles ob- 
 served, it is a wonderful point gained if you allow 
 a woman to tell her story her own way. 
 
 How the few facts that are allowed to remain 
 get moulded and twisted out of ugly forms into 
 pretty shapes by those supple, dexterous fingers ! 
 
 This present story cannot give the life of Mrs. 
 Woffington, but only one great passage therein, as 
 do the epic and dramatic writers ; but since there 
 was often great point in any sentences spoken on 
 important occasions by this lady, I will just quote 
 her defence of herself. The reader may be sure 
 she did not play her weakest card ; let us give her 
 the benefit. 
 
 One day she and Kitty Clive were at it ding- 
 dong ; the green-room was full of actors, male
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 and female, but there were no strangers, and the 
 ladies were saying things which the men of this 
 generation only think ; at last Mrs. Woffington 
 finding herself roughly, and, as she thought, un- 
 justly handled, turned upon the assembly and 
 said : " What man did ever I ruin in all my life ? 
 Speak who can ! " 
 
 And there was a dead silence. 
 
 "What woman is there here at as much as 
 three pounds per week even, that hasn't ruined 
 two at the very least ? " 
 
 Report says there was a dead silence again, 
 until Mrs. Clive perked up, and said she had 
 only ruined one, and that was his own fault ! 
 
 Mrs. Woffington declined to attach weight to 
 this example. " Kitty Clive is the hook without 
 the bait," said she ; and the laugh turned, as it 
 always did, against Peggy's antagonist. 
 
 Thus much was speedily shown to Mr. Vane, 
 that whatever were Mrs. Woffington's intentions 
 towards him, interest had at present nothing to 
 do with them ; indeed it was made clear that 
 even were she to surrender her liberty to him, 
 it would only be as a princess, forging golden 
 chains for herself with her own royal hand. 
 
 Another fortnight passed to the mutual satis- 
 faction of the lovers. To Vane it was a dream 
 of rapture to be near this great creature, whom 
 thousands admired at such a distance ; to watch 
 over her, to take her to the theatre in a warm 
 
 shawl, to stand at the wing and receive her as 
 
 72
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 she came radiant from her dressing-room, to 
 watch her from her rear as she stood like some 
 
 {Copyright 1899 by George Allen.] 
 
 power about to descend on the stage, to see her 
 falcon-like stoop upon the said stage, and hear 
 
 73
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 the burst of applause that followed, as the 
 report does the flash ; to compare this with the 
 spiritless crawl with which common artists 
 went on, tame from their first note to their 
 last ; to take her hand when she came off, feel 
 how her nerves were strung like a greyhound's 
 after a race, and her whole frame in a high 
 even glow, with the great Pythoness excitement 
 of art. 
 
 And to have the same great creature leaning 
 her head on his shoulder, and listening with a 
 charming complacency, whilst he purred to her 
 of love and calm delights, alternate with still 
 greater triumphs ; for he was to turn dramatic 
 writer, for her sake was to write plays, a woman 
 the hero, and love was to inspire him, and passion 
 supply the want of pencraft. (You make me 
 laugh, Mr. Vane !) 
 
 All this was heavenly. 
 
 And then with all her dash, and fire, and 
 bravado, she was a thorough woman. 
 
 " Margaret ! " 
 
 " Ernest ! " 
 
 " I want to ask you a question. Did you really 
 cry because that Miss Bellamy had dresses from 
 Paris ? " 
 
 " It does not seem very likely." 
 
 " No, but tell me ; did you ? " 
 
 "Who said I did?" 
 
 " Mr. Gibber." 
 
 " Old fool ! " 
 
 74
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Yes, but did you ? " 
 
 "Did I what?" 
 
 "Cry!" 
 
 " Ernest, the minx's dresses were beautiful." 
 
 " No doubt. But did you cry ? " 
 
 " And mine were dirty ; I don't care about gilt 
 rags, but dirty dresses ugh ! " 
 
 "Tell me, then." 
 
 " Tell you what ? " 
 
 " Did you cry or not ? " 
 
 "Ah ! he wants to find out whether I am a fool, 
 and despise me." 
 
 " No, I think I should love you better : for 
 hitherto I have seen no weakness in you, and it 
 makes me uncomfortable." 
 
 " Be comforted ! Is it not a weakness to like 
 you ? " 
 
 "You are free from that weakness, or you 
 would gratify my curiosity." 
 
 " Be pleased to state, in plain intelligible 
 English, what you require of me." 
 
 " I want to know, in one word, did you cry or 
 not?" 
 
 " Promise to tease me no more then, and I'll 
 tell you." 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 " You won't despise me ? " 
 
 " Despise you ! of course not." 
 
 "Well then I don't remember !" 
 
 On another occasion they were seated in the 
 dusk, by the side of the canal in the Park, when a 
 
 75
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 little animal began to potter about on an adjacent 
 bank. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington contemplated it with curiosity 
 and delight. 
 
 " Oh, you pretty creature ! " said she. " Now 
 you are a rabbit : at least, I think so." 
 
 " No," said Vane innocently ; " that is a rat." 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! ah ! " screamed Mrs. Woffington, 
 and pinched his arm. This frightened the rat, 
 who disappeared. She burst out laughing : 
 " There's a fool ! The thing did not frighten 
 me, and the name did. Depend upon it, it's true 
 what they say that off the stage, I am the 
 greatest fool there is. I'll never be so absurd 
 again. Ah ! ah ! ah ! here it is again " (scream 
 and pinch, as before). " Do take me from this 
 horrid place, where monsters come from the 
 great deep." 
 
 And she flounced away, looking daggers askant 
 at the place the rat had vacated in equal terror. 
 
 All this was silly, but it pleases us men, and 
 contrast is so charming ! This same fool was 
 brimful of talent and cunning, too, for that 
 matter. 
 
 She played late that night, and Mr. Vane saw 
 the same creature, who dared not stay where 
 she was liable to a distant rat, spring upon the 
 stage as a gay rake, and flash out her rapier, 
 and act valour's king to the life, and seem 
 ready to eat up everybody, King Fear included ; 
 
 and then, after her brilliant sally upon the public, 
 
 76
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Sir Harry Wildair came and stood beside Mr. 
 Vane. 
 
 Her bright skin, contrasted with her powdered 
 periwig, became dazzling. She used little rouge, 
 but that little made her eyes two balls of black 
 lightning. From her high instep to her polished 
 forehead, all was symmetry. Her leg would have 
 been a sculptor's glory ; and the curve, from her 
 waist to her knee, was Hogarth's line itself. 
 
 She stood like Mercury new lighted on a 
 heaven-kissing hill. She placed her foot upon 
 the ground, as she might put a hand upon her 
 lover's shoulder. We indent it with our eleven 
 undisguised stone. 
 
 Such was Sir Harry Wildair, who stood by Mr. 
 Vane, glittering with diamond buckles, gorgeous 
 with rich satin breeches, velvet coat, ruffles, pictai 
 cestis et auri ; and as she bent her long eye-fringes 
 down on him (she was seated), all her fiery 
 charms gradually softened and quivered down to 
 womanhood. 
 
 " The first time I was here," said Vane, " my 
 admiration of you broke out to Mr. Gibber ; and 
 what do you think he said ? " 
 
 "That you praised me, for me to hear you. 
 J )id you ? " 
 
 " Acquit me of such meanness." 
 
 "Forgive me. It is just what I should have 
 done, had I been courting an actress." 
 
 " I think you have not met many ingenuous 
 spirits, dear friend ? " 
 
 77
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Not one, my child." 
 
 This was a phrase she often applied to him 
 now. 
 
 " The old fellow pretended to hear what I said, 
 too ; and I am sure you did not did you ? " 
 
 " Guess." 
 
 " I guess not." 
 
 " I am afraid I must plead guilty. An actress's 
 ears are so quick to hear praise, to tell you the 
 truth, I did catch a word or two, and, ' It told, sir, 
 -it told.' " 
 
 " You alarm me ! At this rate, I shall never 
 know what you see, hear, or think, by your 
 face." 
 
 "When you want to know anything, ask me 
 and I will tell you : but nobody else shall learn 
 anything, nor even you, any other way." 
 
 " Did you hear the feeble tribute of praise I 
 was paying you, when you came in ? " inquired 
 Vane. 
 
 " No. You did not say that my voice had the 
 compass and variety of nature, and my move- 
 ments were free and beautiful, whilst the others 
 when in motion were stilts, and coffee-pots when 
 in repose, did you ? " 
 
 "Something of the sort, I believe," cried Vanj, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I melted from one fine statue into another, I 
 restored the Antinous to his true sex. Goose ! 
 Painters might learn their art from me (in my 
 dressing-room, no doubt), and orators revive at 
 
 78
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 my lips the music of Athens, that quelled mad 
 mobs and princes drunk with victory. Silly 
 fellow ! Praise was never so sweet to me/' 
 murmured she, inclining like a goddess of love 
 towards him ; and he fastened on two velvet lips, 
 that did not shun the sweet attack, but gently 
 parted with a heavenly sigh ; while her heaving 
 bosom, and yielding frame, and swimming eyes, 
 confessed her conqueror. 
 
 That morning Mr. Vane had been dispirited, 
 and apparently self-discontented ; but at night, he 
 went home in a state of mental intoxication. His 
 poetic enthusiasm, his love, his vanity, were all 
 gratified at once. And all these, singly, have 
 conquered Prudence and Virtue a million times. 
 
 She had confessed to him that she was disposed 
 to risk her happiness on him ; she had begged 
 him to submit to a short probation ; and she 
 had promised, if her confidence and esteem re- 
 mained unimpaired at the close of that period 
 which was not to be an unhappy one to take 
 advantage of the summer holidays, and cross the 
 water with him, and forget everything in the 
 world with him, but love. 
 
 How was it that the very next morning, clouds 
 chased one another across his face ? Was it that 
 men are happy, but while the chase is doubtful ? 
 Was it the letter from Pomander announcing his 
 return, and sneeringly inquiring whether he was 
 still the dupe of Peg Woffington ? or was it that 
 same mysterious disquiet which attacked him 
 
 79
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 periodically, and then gave way for a while to 
 pleasure and her golden dreams ? 
 
 The next day was to be a day of delight. He 
 was to entertain her at his own house ; and to do 
 her honour, he had asked Mr. Gibber, Mr. Quin, 
 and other actors, critics, &c. 
 
 Our friend Sir Charles Pomander had been 
 guilty of two ingenuities : first, he had written 
 three or four letters, full of respectful admiration, 
 to Mrs. Woffington, of whom he spoke slightingly 
 to Vane ; second, he had made a disingenuous 
 purchase. 
 
 This purchase was Pompey, Mrs. Woffing- 
 ton's little black slave. It is a horrid fact, but 
 Pompey did not love his mistress : he was a 
 little enamoured of her, as small boys are apt to 
 be, but on the whole, a sentiment of hatred 
 slightly predominated in his little black bosom. 
 
 It was not without excuse. 
 
 This lady was subject to two unpleasant com- 
 panions, sorrow and bitterness. About twice a 
 week she would cry for two hours ; and after 
 this class of fit she generally went abroad, and 
 made a round of certain poor or sick proteges she 
 had, and returned smiling and cheerful. 
 
 But other twice a week she might be seen to 
 sit upon her chair, contracted into half her size, 
 and looking daggers at the universe in general, 
 the world in particular ; and on these occasions, 
 it must be owned, she stayed at home, and some- 
 times whipped Pompey. 
 
 80
 
 1899 by George Alien.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Pompey had not the sense to reflect that he 
 ought to have been whipped every day, or the 
 esprit de corps to be consoled by observing that 
 this sort of thing did his mistress good. What he 
 felt was, that his mistress, who did everything 
 well, whipped him with energy and skill ; it did 
 not take ten seconds, but still, in that brief period, 
 Pompey found himself dusted and polished off. 
 
 The sacred principle of justice was as strong 
 in Mrs. Woffington as in the rest of her sex ; she 
 had not one grain of it. When she was not in 
 her tantrums, the mischievous imp was as sacred 
 from check or remonstrance as a monkey, or a 
 lap-dog ; and several female servants left the 
 house on his account. 
 
 But Nemesis overtook him in the way we have 
 hinted, and it put his little black pipe out. 
 
 The lady had taken him out of great humanity ; 
 he was fed like a game-cock, and dressed like a 
 Barbaric prince ; and once, when he was ill, his 
 mistress watched him, and nursed him, and tended 
 him with the same white hand that plied the 
 obnoxious whip ; and when he died, she alone 
 withheld her consent from his burial, and this 
 gave him a chance black boys never get, and he 
 came-to again ; but still these tarnation lickings 
 "stuck in him gizzard." So when Sir Charles's 
 agent proposed to him certain silver coins, cheap 
 at a little treachery, the ebony ape grinned till he 
 turned half-ivory, and became a spy in the house 
 of his mistress. 
 
 82
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 The reader will have gathered, that the good 
 Sir Charles had been quietly in London some 
 hours before he announced himself as paulo post 
 futurum. 
 
 Diamond cut diamond ; a diplomatic stole this 
 march upon an actress, and took her black pawn. 
 One for Pomander ! (Gun.)
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 RIPLET, the Cerberus of art, 
 who had the first bark in this 
 legend, and has since been 
 out of hearing, ran from 
 Lambeth to Covent Garden, 
 v on receipt of Mr. Vane's note. 
 "Tl But ran he never so quick, he 
 had built a full-sized castle 
 in the air before he reached Bow Street. 
 
 The letter hinted at an order upon his muse for 
 amatory verse : delightful task, cheering prospect ! 
 Bid a man whose usual lot it is to break stones 
 for the parish at tenpence the cubic yard bid 
 such an one play at marbles with stone taws for 
 half-an-hour per day, and pocket one pound one. 
 Bid a poor horse who has drawn those stones 
 about, and browsed short grass by the wayside, 
 bid him canter a few times round a grassy ring, 
 
 84
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 and then go to his corn. In short, bid Rosi- 
 nante change with Pegasus, and you do no more 
 than Mr. Vane's letter held out to Triplet. 
 
 The amatory verse of that day was not uphill 
 work. There was a beaten track on a dead level, 
 and you followed it. You told the tender creature, 
 with a world of circumlocution, that, "without 
 joking now," she was a leper, ditto a tigress, item 
 marble. You next feigned a lucid interval, and 
 to be on the point of detesting your monster, but 
 in twenty more verses love became, as usual, 
 stronger than reason, and you wound up your 
 rotten yarn thus 
 
 You hugged a golden chain. You drew deeper 
 into your wound a barbed shaft, like (any wild 
 animal will do, no one of them is such an ass, 
 so you had an equal title to all) ; and on looking 
 back you saw with horrible complacency that 
 you had inflicted one hundred locusts, five feet 
 long, upon oppressed humanity. 
 
 Wont to travel over acres of canvas for a few 
 shillings, and roods of paper on bare speculation, 
 Triplet knew he could make a thousand a year at 
 the above work without thinking. 
 
 He came therefore to the box-keeper with his 
 eyes glittering. 
 
 "Mr. Vane ?" 
 
 " Just gone out with a gentleman." 
 
 " I'll wait, then." 
 
 Now Mr. Vane, we know, was in the green- 
 room, and went home by the stage-door. The 
 
 85
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 last thing he thought of was poor Triplet ; the 
 rich do not dream how they disappoint the poor. 
 Triplet's castle fell as many a predecessor had. 
 When the lights were put out, he left the theatre 
 with a bitter sigh. 
 
 " If this gentleman knew how many sweet chil- 
 dren I have, and what a good, patient, suffering 
 wife, sure he would not have chosen me to make 
 a fool of ! " said the poor fellow to himself. 
 
 In Bow Street he turned, and looked back upon 
 the theatre. How gloomy and grand it loomed ! 
 
 "Ah!" thought he, "if I could but conquer you 
 and why not ? All history shows that nothing 
 is unconquerable except perseverance. Hannibal 
 conquered the Alps, and I'll conquer you," cried 
 Triplet firmly. "Yes, this visit is not lost; here 
 I register a vow : I will force my way into that 
 mountain of masonry, or perish in the attempt." 
 
 Triplet's most unpremeditated thoughts and 
 actions often savoured ridiculously of the sub- 
 lime. Then and there, gazing with folded arms 
 on this fortress of Thespis, the polytechnic man 
 organised his first assault. The next evening he 
 made it. 
 
 Five months previously he had sent the 
 manager three great, large tragedies. He knew 
 the aversion a theatrical manager has to read a 
 manuscript play, not recommended by influential 
 folk ; an aversion which always has been carried 
 to superstition. So he hit on the following 
 
 scheme : 
 
 86
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 He wrote Mr. Rich a letter ; in this, he told Mr. 
 Rich that he (Triplet) was aware what a quantity 
 
 ^jf Jcaudf l)Lit~ ccncMer you,' 
 
 \Copyright 1899 by George Allen.] 
 
 of trash is offered every week to a manager, how 
 disheartening it must be to read it all, and how 
 
 8?
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 natural, after a while, to read none. Therefore, 
 he (Triplet) had provided that Mr. Rich might 
 economise his time, and yet not remain in igno- 
 rance of the dramatic treasure that lay ready to 
 his hand. 
 
 "The soul of a play," continued Triplet, "is 
 the plot or fable. A gentleman of your experi- 
 ence can decide at once whether a plot or story 
 is one to take the public ! " 
 
 So then he drew out, in full, the three plots. 
 He wrote these plots in verse ! Heaven forgive 
 us all, he really did. There were also two margins 
 left ; on one, which was narrow, he jotted down 
 the locale per page of the most brilliant passages ; 
 on the other margin, which was as wide as the 
 column of the plot, he made careful drawings of 
 the personages in the principal dramatic situa- 
 tions ; scrolls issued from their mouths, on which 
 were written the words of fire that were flowing 
 from each in these eruptions of the dramatic 
 action. All was referred to pages in the manu- 
 scripts. 
 
 " By this means, sir," resumed the latter, " you 
 will gut my fish in a jiffey : permit me to recall 
 that expression, with apologies for my freedom. 
 I would say, you will, in a few minutes of your 
 valuable existence, skim the cream of Triplet." 
 
 This author's respect for the manager's time 
 carried him into farther and unusual details. 
 
 " Breakfast," said he, " is a quiet meal. Let 
 me respectfully suggest, that by placing one of
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 my plots on the table, with, say the sugar-basin 
 upon it (this, again, is a mere suggestion), and 
 the play it appertains to on your other si'de ; you 
 can readily judge my work without disturbing 
 the avocations of the day, and master a play in 
 the twinkling of a tea-cup ; forgive my facetious- 
 ness. This day month, at ten of the clock, I shall 
 expect," said Triplet, with sudden severity, "sir, 
 your decision ! " 
 
 Then gliding back to the courtier, he formally 
 disowned all special title to the consideration 
 he expected from Mr. Rich's well-known cour- 
 tesy ; still, he begged permission to remind that 
 gentleman, that he had six years ago painted 
 for him a large scene, illuminated by two great 
 poetical incidents : a red sun, of dimensions never 
 seen out of doors in this or any country ; and 
 an ocean of sand, yellower than up to that time 
 had been attained in art or nature ; and that 
 once, when the audience, late in the evening, 
 had suddenly demanded a popular song from 
 Mr. Nokes, he (Triplet) seeing the orchestra 
 thinned by desertion, and nugatory by intoxi- 
 cation, had started from the pit, resuscitated with 
 the whole contents of his snuff-box the bass 
 fiddle, snatched the leader's violin, and carried 
 Mr. Nokes triumphantly through ; that thunders 
 of applause had followed, and Mr. Nokes had 
 kindly returned thanks for botJi ; but that he 
 (Triplet) had hastily retired to evade the mana- 
 ger's acknowledgments, preferring to wait an 
 
 89
 
 [Copyright 1859 *> Gtorgc Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 opportunity like the present, when both interests 
 could be conciliated, &c. 
 
 This letter he posted at its destination, to' save 
 time, and returned triumphant home. He had 
 now forgiven and almost forgotten Vane ; and 
 had reflected that, after all, the drama was his 
 proper walk. 
 
 "My dear," said he to Mrs. Triplet, "this 
 family is on the eve of a great triumph ! " Then, 
 inverting that order of the grandiloquent and 
 the homely which he invented in our first 
 chapter, he proceeded to say : " I have reared 
 in a single day a new avenue, by which histrionic 
 greatness, hitherto obstructed, may become ac- 
 cessible. Wife, I think I have done the trick 
 at last. Lysimachus ! " added he, " let a libation 
 be poured out on so smiling an occasion, and 
 a burnt-offering rise to propitiate the celestial 
 powers. Run to the ' Sun,' you dog. Three 
 pennyworth of ale, and a hap'orth o' tobacco." 
 
 Ere the month was out, I am sorry to say, 
 the Triplets were reduced to a state of beggary. 
 Mrs. Triplet's health had long been failing ; and 
 although her duties at her little theatre were light 
 and occasional, the manager was obliged to dis- 
 charge her, since she could not be depended 
 upon. 
 
 The family had not enough to eat ! Think of 
 that ! They were not warm at night, and they 
 felt gnawing and faintness often by clay. Think 
 of that ! 
 
 9 1
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Fortune was unjust here. The man was laugh- 
 able and a goose ; and had no genius either 
 for writing, painting, or acting ; but in that he 
 resembled most writers, painters, and actors of 
 his own day and ours. He was not beneath the 
 average of what men call art, and it is art's anti- 
 podes treadmill artifice. 
 
 Other fluent ninnies shared gain, and even fame, 
 and were called "pen-men," in Triplet's day. 
 Other ranters were quietly getting rich by noise. 
 Other liars and humbugs were painting out o' 
 doors in-doors, and eating mutton instead of 
 thistles for drenched stinging-nettles, yclept trees ; 
 for block-tin clouds ; for butlers' pantry seas, and 
 garret-conceived lakes ; for molten sugar-candy 
 rivers ; for airless atmosphere and sunless air ; for 
 carpet nature, and cold, dead fragments of an 
 earth all soul and living glory to every cultivated 
 eye but a routine painter's. Yet the man of many 
 such mediocrities could not keep the pot boiling. 
 We suspect that to those who would rise in life, 
 even strong versatility is a very doubtful good, and 
 weak versatility ruination. 
 
 At last, the bitter, weary month was gone, and 
 Triplet's eye brightened gloriously. He donned 
 his best suit ; and whilst tying his cravat, lec- 
 tured his family. First, he complimented them 
 upon their deportment in adversity ; hinted that 
 moralists, not experience, had informed him pros- 
 perity was far more trying to the character. Put 
 
 them all solemnly on their guard down to Lucy, 
 
 92
 
 n9 /iis cmmi 
 \Copyriglit 1899 *y Cwr^ Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 cctat five, that they were morituri and &, and must 
 be pleased to abstain from " insolent gladness " 
 upon his return. 
 
 " Sweet are the uses of adversity ! " continued 
 this cheerful monitor. " If we had not been hard- 
 tip this while, we should not come with a full 
 relish to meat three times a week, which, unless 
 I am an ass (and I don't see myself in that light)," 
 said Triplet dryly, " will, I apprehend, be, after 
 this day, the primary condition of our future 
 existence." 
 
 "James, take the picture with you," said Mrs. 
 Triplet, in one of those calm, little, desponding 
 voices that fall upon the soul so agreeably when 
 one is a cock-a-hoop, and desires, with permission, 
 so to remain. 
 
 " What on earth am I to take Mrs. Woffington's 
 portrait for ? " 
 
 "We have nothing in the house," said the wife, 
 blushing. 
 
 Triplet's eye glittered like a rattlesnake's. 
 
 "The intimation is eccentric," said he. "Are 
 you mad, Jane ? Pray," continued he, veiling his 
 wrath in scornful words, "is it requisite, heroic, 
 or judicious on the eve, or more correctly the 
 morn, of affluence, to deposit an unfinished work 
 of art with a mercenary relation ? Hang it, Jane ! 
 would you really have me pawn Mrs. Woffington 
 to-day ?" 
 
 "James," said Jane steadily, "the manager may 
 disappoint you, w r e have often been disappointed ; 
 
 94
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 so take the picture with you. They will give you 
 ten shillings on it." 
 
 Triplet was of those who see things roseate, 
 Mrs. Triplet lurid. 
 
 " Madam," said the poet, " for the first time in 
 our conjugal career, your commands deviate so 
 entirely from reason, that I respectfully withdraw 
 that implicit obedience which has hitherto con- 
 stituted my principal reputation. I'm hanged if I 
 do it, Jane ! " 
 
 " Dear James to oblige me ! " 
 
 " That alters the case ; you confess it is un- 
 reasonable ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! It is only to oblige me." 
 
 " Enough ! " said Triplet, whose tongue was 
 often a flail that fell on friend, foe, and self indis- 
 criminately. "Allow it to be unreasonable, and 
 I do it as a matter of course to please you, 
 Jane." 
 
 Accordingly the good soul wrapped it in green 
 baize ; but to relieve his mind he was" obliged to 
 get behind his wife, and shrug his shoulders to 
 Lysimachus and the eldest girl, as who should say 
 voila bien une femme votre mere a vans ! 
 
 At last he was off, in high spirits. He reached 
 Covent Garden at half-past ten, and there the 
 poor fellow was sucked into our narrative whirl- 
 pool. 
 
 We must, however, leave him for a few 
 minutes. 
 
 95
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 IR CHARLES POMAN- 
 DER was detained in the 
 country much longer than 
 he expected. 
 
 He was rewarded by a 
 little adventure. As he 
 cantered up to London 
 with two servants and a 
 post-boy, all riding on 
 
 horses ordered in relays beforehand, he came 
 up with an antediluvian coach, stuck fast by 
 the roadside. Looking into the window, with 
 the humane design of quizzing the elders who 
 should be there, he saw a young lady of sur- 
 passing beauty. This altered the case ; Sir 
 Charles instantly drew bridle and offered his 
 
 services. 
 
 96
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 The lady thanked him ; and being an innocent 
 country lady, she opened those sluices, her eyes, 
 and two tears gently trickled down, while she 
 told him how eager she was to reach London, 
 and how mortified at this delay. 
 
 The good Sir Charles was touched. He leaped 
 his horse over a hedge, galloped to a farm-house 
 in sight, and returned with ropes and rustics. 
 These and Sir Charles's horses soon drew the 
 coach out of some stiffish clay. 
 
 The lady thanked him, and thanked him, and 
 thanked him, with heightening colour and beam- 
 ing eyes, and he rode away like a hero. 
 
 Before he had gone five miles he became 
 thoughtful and self - dissatisfied ; finally, his re- 
 morse came to a head ; he called to him the 
 keenest of his servants, Hunsdon, and ordered 
 him to ride back past the carriage, then follow 
 and put up at the same inn, to learn who the 
 lady was, and whither going ; and this knowledge 
 gained, to ride into town full speed, and tell his 
 master all about it. Sir Charles then resumed 
 his complacency, and cantered into London that 
 same evening. 
 
 Arrived there, he set himself in earnest to cut 
 out his friend with Mrs. Woffington. He had 
 already caused his correspondence with that 
 lady to grow warm and more tender by 
 degrees. Keeping a copy of his last, he always 
 knew where he was. Cupid's barometer rose by 
 
 rule ; and so he arrived by just gradations at an 
 
 98
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 artful climax, and made her, in terms of chival- 
 rous affection, an offer of a house, &c., three 
 hundred a year, &c., not forgetting his heart, &c. 
 He knew that the ladies of the stage have an 
 ear for flattery, and an eye to the main chance. 
 
 The good Sir Charles felt sure that however 
 she might flirt with Vane or others, she would 
 not forego a position for any disinterested pen- 
 chant. Still, as he was a close player, he deter- 
 mined to throw a little cold water on that flame. 
 His plan, like everything truly scientific, was 
 simple. 
 
 " I'll run her down to him, and ridicule him 
 to her," resolved this faithful friend and lover 
 dear. 
 
 He began with Vane. He found him just 
 leaving his own house. After the usual com- 
 pliments, some such dialogue as this took place 
 between Telemachus and pseudo Mentor : 
 
 " I trust you are not really in the power of this 
 actress ? " 
 
 "You are the slave of a word," replied Vane. 
 "Would you confound black and white because 
 both are colours ? She is like that sisterhood 
 in nothing but a name. Even on the stage they 
 have nothing in common. They are puppets- 
 all attitude and trick : she is all ease, grace, and 
 nature." 
 
 "Nature!" cried Pomander. " Laissez - moi 
 tranquille. They have artifice nature's libel. 
 She has art nature's counterfeit." 
 
 99
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Her voice is truth told by music," cried the 
 poetical lover; "theirs are jingling instruments 
 of falsehood." 
 
 "They are all instruments," said the satirist ; 
 " she is rather the best tuned and played." 
 
 " Her face speaks in every lineament ; theirs 
 are rouged and wrinkled masks." 
 
 " Her mask is the best made, mounted, and 
 moved ; that is all." 
 
 " She is a fountain of true feeling." 
 
 " No, a pipe that conveys it without spilling or 
 holding a drop." 
 
 " She is an angel of talent, sir." 
 
 " She's a devil of deception." 
 
 " She is a divinity to worship." 
 
 " She's a woman to fight shy of. There is not a 
 woman in London better known," continued Sir 
 Charles. " She is a fair actress on the boards, and 
 a great actress off them ; but I can tell you how 
 to add a new charm to her." 
 
 " Heaven can only do that," said Vane hastily. 
 
 "Yes, you can. Make her blush. Ask her for 
 the list of your predecessors." 
 
 Vane winced visibly. He quickened his step, 
 as if to get rid of this gadfly. 
 
 " I spoke to Mr. Quin," said he at last ; " and 
 he, who has no prejudice, paid her character the 
 highest compliment." 
 
 "You have paid it the highest it admits," was 
 the reply. " You have let it deceive you." Sir 
 Charles continued in a more solemn tone : 
 
 100
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Pray be warned. Why is it every man of 
 intellect loves an actress once in his life, and 
 no man of sense ever did it twice ? " 
 
 This last hit, coming after the carte and tierce 
 we have described, brought an expression of 
 pain to Mr. Vane's face. He said abruptly : 
 " Excuse me, I desire to be alone for half-an- 
 hour." 
 
 Machiavel bowed ; and instead of taking 
 offence, said in a tone full of feeling: "Ah! 
 I give you pain ! But you are right ; think it 
 calmly over awhile, and you will see I advise 
 you well." 
 
 He then made for the theatre, and the weak- 
 ish personage he had been playing upon walked 
 down to the river almost ran, in fact. He 
 wanted to be out of sight. 
 
 He got behind some houses, and then his face 
 seemed literally to break loose from confinement ; 
 so anxious, sad, fearful, and bitter were the 
 expressions that coursed each other over that 
 handsome countenance. 
 
 What is the meaning of these hot and cold 
 fits ? It is not Sir Charles who has the power 
 to shake Mr. Vane so without some help from 
 within. There is something' wrong about this 
 man ! 
 
 101
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ACHIAVEL entered the 
 green-room, intending to 
 wait for Mrs. Woffing- 
 ton, and carry out the 
 second part of his plan. 
 He knew that weak 
 minds cannot make head 
 against ridicule, and 
 with this pick-axe he proposed to clear the way, 
 before he came to grave, sensible, business love 
 with a lady. Machiavel was a man of talent. If 
 he has been a silent personage hitherto, it is 
 merely because it was not his cue to talk, but 
 listen : otherwise, he was rather a master of the
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 art of speech. He could be insinuating, eloquent, 
 sensible, or satirical, at will. This personage sat 
 in the green-room. In one hand was his dia- 
 mond snuff-box, in the other a richly laced hand- 
 kerchief ; his clouded cane reposed by his side. 
 
 There was an air of success about this person- 
 age. The gentle reader, however conceited a 
 dog, could not see how he was to defeat Sir 
 Charles : who was tall, stout, handsome, rich, 
 witty, self-sufficient, cool, majestic, courageous, 
 and in whom were united the advantages of a 
 hard head, a tough stomach, and no heart at all. 
 
 This great creature sat expecting Mrs. Wof- 
 fington, like Olympian Jove awaiting Juno. But 
 he was mortal after all ; for suddenly the 
 serenity of that adamantine countenance was 
 disturbed ; his eye dilated ; his grace and dig- 
 nity were shaken. He huddled his handker- 
 chief into one pocket, his snuff-box into another, 
 and forgot his cane. He ran to the door in 
 unaffected terror. 
 
 Where are all his fine airs before a real 
 danger ? Love, intrigue, diplomacy, were all 
 driven from his mind ; for he beheld that ap- 
 proaching, which is the greatest peril and dis- 
 aster known to social man. He saw a bore 
 coming into the room ! 
 
 In a wild thirst for novelty, Pomander had 
 once penetrated to Goodman's Fields Theatre ; 
 there he had unguardedly put a question to a 
 carpenter behind the scene ; a seedy-black poet 
 
 103
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 instantly pushed the carpenter away (down a 
 trap, it is thought), and answered it in seven 
 pages, and in continuation was so vaguely 
 communicative, that he drove Sir Charles back 
 into the far west. 
 
 Sir Charles knew him again in a moment, and 
 at sight of him bolted. They met at the door. 
 " Ah ! Mr. Triplet ! " said the fugitive, " enchanted 
 to wish you good-morning ! " and he plunged 
 into the hiding-places of the theatre. 
 
 " That is a very polite gentleman ! " thought 
 Triplet. He was followed by the call-boy, to 
 whom he was explaining that his avocations, 
 though numerous, would not prevent his paying 
 Mr. Rich the compliment of waiting all day in 
 his green-room, sooner than go without an 
 answer to three important propositions, in which 
 the town and the arts were concerned. 
 
 " What is your name ? " said the boy of business 
 to the man of words. 
 
 " Mr. Triplet," said Triplet. 
 
 "Triplet? There is something for you in the 
 hall," said the urchin, and went off to fetch it. 
 
 " I knew it," said Triplet to himself ; " they are 
 accepted. There's a note in the hall to fix the 
 reading." He then derided his own absurdity in 
 having ever for a moment desponded. " Master 
 of three arts, by each of which men grow fat, how 
 was it possible he should starve all his days ? " 
 
 He enjoyed a natural vanity for a few moments, 
 
 and then came more generous feelings. What 
 
 104
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 sparkling eyes there would be in Lambeth to- 
 day ! The butcher, at sight of Mr. Rich's hand- 
 
 Cwnanted. &Ku/$fi yo<->. goo^ morning 
 
 [Copyright 1899 *y CAXV Allen.'} 
 
 writing, would give him credit. Jane should 
 have a new gown. 
 
 I0 5
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 But when his tragedies were played, and he 
 paid ! El Dorado ! His children should be the 
 neatest in the street. Lysimachus and Roxalana 
 should learn the English language, cost what it 
 might ; sausages should be diurnal ; and he him- 
 self would not be puffed up, fat, lazy. No ! he 
 would work all the harder, be affable as ever, and 
 above all, never swamp the father, husband, and 
 honest man, in the poet and the blackguard of 
 sentiment. 
 
 Next his reflections took a business turn. 
 
 " These tragedies the scenery ? Oh ! I shall 
 have to paint it myself. The heroes ? Well, they 
 have nobody who will play them as I should." 
 (This was true !) " It will be hard work, all this ; 
 but then I shall be paid for it. I cannot go on 
 this way : I must and will be paid separately 
 for my branches." 
 
 Just as he came to this resolution, the boy 
 returned with a brown-paper parcel, addressed 
 to Mr. James Triplet. 
 
 Triplet weighed it in his hand ; it was heavy. 
 " How is this ? " cried he. " Oh ! I see," said 
 he, " these are the tragedies. He sends them 
 to me for some trifling alterations : managers 
 always do." Triplet then determined to adopt 
 these alterations, if judicious ; for, argued he 
 sensibly enough, " Managers are practical men : 
 and we, in the heat of composition, sometimes 
 (sic?) say more than is necessary, and become 
 
 tedious." 
 
 106
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 With that he opened the parcel, and looked 
 for Mr. Rich's communication ; it was not in sight. 
 
 [Cofyright 1899 by Gcorgt Allen.] 
 
 He had to look between the leaves of the manu- 
 scripts for it ; it was not there. He shook them ; 
 
 107
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 it did not fall out. He shook them as a dog 
 shakes a rabbit nothing ! 
 
 The tragedies were returned without a word. 
 It took him some time to realise the full weight 
 of the blow ; but at last he saw that the manager 
 of the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, declined 
 to take a tragedy by Triplet into consideration 
 or bare examination. 
 
 He turned dizzy for a moment. Something 
 between a sigh and a cry escaped him, and he 
 sank upon a covered bench that ran along the 
 wall. His poor tragedies fell here and there upon 
 the ground, and his head went down upon his 
 hands, which rested on Mrs. Woffington's picture. 
 His anguish was so sharp, it choked his breath ; 
 when he recovered it, his eye bent down upon 
 the picture. "Ah, Jane," he groaned, "you know 
 this villainous world better than I ! " He placed 
 the picture gently on the seat (that picture must 
 now be turned into bread), and slowly stooped for 
 his tragedies ; they had fallen hither and thither ; 
 he had to crawl about for them ; he was an 
 emblem of all the humiliations letters endure. 
 
 As he went after them on all-fours, more 
 than one tear pattered on the dusty floor. Poor 
 fellow ! he was Triplet, and could not have died 
 without tinging the death-rattle with some absur- 
 dity ; but after all, he was a father driven to 
 despair ; a castle-builder, with his work rudely 
 scattered ; an artist, brutally crushed and insulted 
 by a greater dunce than himself. 
 
 108
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Faint, sick, and dark, he sat a moment on the 
 seat before he could find strength to go home 
 
 t^fef- fat collapsed ' 
 
 \Cofyrisht 1899 by George Allen.} 
 
 and destroy all the hopes he had raised. 
 
 ' Whilst Triplet sat collapsed on the bench, fate 
 109
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 sent into the room, all in one moment, as if to 
 insult his sorrow, a creature that seemed the 
 goddess of gaiety, impervious to a care. She 
 swept in with a bold free step, for she was re- 
 hearsing a man's part, and thundered without 
 rant, but with a spirit and fire, and pace, beyond 
 the conception of our poor tame actresses of 
 
 1852, these lines 
 
 " Now, by the joys 
 
 Which my soul still has uncontrolled pursued, 
 I would not turn aside from my least pleasure, 
 Though all thy force were armed to bar my way ; 
 But, like the birds, great Nature's happy commoners, 
 Rifle the sweets 
 
 " I beg your par don, sir ! " Holding the 
 book on a level with her eye, she had nearly 
 run over "Two poets instead of one." 
 
 " Nay, madam," said Triplet, admiring, though 
 sad wretched, but polite, "pray continue. Happy 
 the hearer, and still happier the author of verses 
 so spoken. Ah ! " 
 
 "Yes," replied the lady, "if you could per- 
 suade authors what we do for them, when we 
 coax good music to grow on barren words. 
 Are you an author, sir ? " added she slily. 
 
 "In a small way, madam. I have here three 
 trifles tragedies." 
 
 Mrs. Womngton looked askant at them like a 
 shy mare. 
 
 " Ah, madam ! " said Triplet, in one of his 
 insane fits, "if I might but submit them to such 
 
 a judgment as yours " 
 
 no
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 He laid his hand on them. It was as when 
 a strange dog sees us go to take up a stone. 
 
 The actress recoiled. 
 
 " I am no judge of such things," cried she 
 hastily. 
 
 Triplet bit his lip. He could have killed her. 
 It was provoking ; people would rather be hung 
 than read a manuscript. Yet what hopeless trash 
 they will read in crowds, which was manuscript 
 a day ago ! Les imbeciles ! 
 
 " No more is the manager of this theatre a 
 judge of such things/' cried the outraged quill- 
 driver bitterly. 
 
 " What ! has he accepted them ? " said needle- 
 tongue. 
 
 " No, madam, he has had them six months, and 
 see, madam, he has returned them me without 
 a word." 
 
 Triplet's lip trembled. 
 
 " Patience, my good sir," was the merry reply. 
 " Tragic authors should possess that, for they 
 teach it to their audiences. Managers, sir, are 
 like Eastern monarchs, inaccessible but to slaves 
 and sultanas. Do you know 1 called upon Mr. 
 Rich fifteen times before I could see him ? " 
 
 " You, madam ? Impossible ! " 
 
 "Oh, it was years ago, and he has paid a 
 hundred pounds for each of those little visits. 
 
 Well, now, let me see Fifteen times you 
 
 must write twelve more tragedies, and then he will 
 read one ; and when he has read it, he will favour 
 
 in
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 you with his judgment upon it ; and when you 
 have got that, you will have what all the world 
 knows is not worth a farthing. He ! he ! he ! 
 
 '"And like the birds, gay Nature's happy commoners, 
 Rifle the sweets ' mum mum mum." 
 
 Her high spirits made Triplet sadder. To think 
 that one word from this laughing lady would 
 secure his work a hearing, and that he dared not 
 ask her ! She was up in the world ; he was down. 
 She was great ; he was nobody. He felt a sort 
 of chill at this woman all brains and no heart. 
 He took his picture and his plays under his 
 arm and crept sorrowfully away. 
 
 The actress's eye fell on him as he went off 
 like a fifth act. His Don Quixote face struck 
 her. She had seen it before. 
 
 Sir " said she. 
 
 " Madam ? " said Triplet at the door. 
 
 " We have met before. There, don't speak ; 
 I'll tell you who you are. Yours is a face that 
 has been good to me, and I never forget them." 
 
 " Me, madam ! " said Triplet, taken aback. " I 
 trust I know what is due to you better than 
 to be good to you, madam," said he in his 
 confused way. 
 
 " To be sure ! " cried she, " it is Mr. Triplet, 
 good Mr. Triplet ! " And this vivacious dame, 
 putting her book down, seized both Triplet's 
 hands and shook them. 
 
 He shook hers warmly in return out of excess 
 112
 
 Jc/^ecT Boift 3nfefi 
 
 {Copyright 1899 by George Allen.} 
 
 II
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 of timidity, and dropped tragedies, and kicked 
 at them convulsively when they were down, for 
 fear they should be in her way, and his mouth 
 opened, and his eyes glared. 
 
 "Mr. Triplet," said the lady, "do you remember 
 an Irish orange-girl you used to give sixpence 
 to at Goodman's Fields, and pat her on the head 
 and give her good advice, like a good old soul 
 as you were ? She took the sixpence." 
 
 " Madam," said Trip, recovering a grain of 
 pomp, "singular as it may appear, I remember 
 the young person ; she was very engaging. I 
 trust no harm hath befallen her, for methought 
 I discovered, in spite of her brogue, a beautiful 
 nature in her." 
 
 " Go along wid your blarney," answered a 
 rich brogue ; " an is it the comanther ye'd be 
 putting on poor little Peggy ? " 
 
 " Oh ! oh gracious ! " gasped Triplet. 
 
 " Yes," was the reply ; but into that " yes " 
 she threw a whole sentence of meaning. " Fine 
 cha-ney oranges ! " chanted she, to put the matter 
 beyond dispute. 
 
 " Am I really so honoured as to have patted you 
 on that queen-like head ?" and he glared at it. 
 
 " On the same head which now I wear," replied 
 she pompously. " I kept it for the convaynience 
 hintirely, only there's more in it. Well, Mr. 
 Triplet, you see what time has done for me ; 
 now tell me whether he has been as kind to you : 
 are you going to speak to me, Mr. Triplet ? " 
 
 114
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 As a decayed hunter stands lean and discon- 
 solate, head poked forward like a goose's, but 
 if hounds sweep by his paddock in full cry, fol- 
 lowed by horses who are what he was not, he 
 does by reason of the good blood that is and 
 will be in his heart, dum spiritus hoss regit artus, 
 cock his ears, erect his tail, and trot fiery to his 
 extremest hedge, and look over it, nostril dis- 
 tended, mane flowing, and neigh the hunt onward 
 like a trumpet ; so Triplet, who had manhood at 
 bottom, instead of whining out his troubles in 
 the ear of encouraging beauty, as a sneaking 
 spirit would, perked up, and resolved to put 
 the best face upon it all before so charming 
 a creature of the other sex. 
 
 " Yes, madam," cried he, with the air of one 
 who could have smacked his lips, " Providence 
 has blessed me with an excellent wife and four 
 charming children. My wife was Miss Chatter- 
 ton : you remember her ? " 
 
 " Yes ! Where is she playing now ? " 
 
 " Why, madam, her health is too weak for it." 
 
 " Oh ! You were scene-painter. Do you still 
 paint scenes ? " 
 
 " With the pen, madam, not the brush : as 
 the wags said, I transferred the distemper from 
 my canvas to my imagination." And Triplet 
 laughed uproariously. 
 
 When he had done, Mrs. WorBngton, who had 
 joined the laugh, inquired quietly whether his 
 pieces had met with success. 
 
 "5
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Eminent in the closet ; the stage is to 
 come!" and he smiled absurdly again. 
 
 The lady smiled back. 
 
 "In short," said Triplet, recapitulating, "being 
 blessed with health, and more tastes in the arts 
 than most, and a cheerful spirit, I should be 
 wrong, madam, to repine ; and this day, in par- 
 ticular, is a happy one," added the rose colourist, 
 " since the great Mrs. Woffington has deigned 
 to remember me, and call me friend." 
 
 Such was Triplet's summary. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington drew out her memorandum- 
 book, and took down her summary of the crafty 
 Triplet's facts. So easy is it for us Triplets to 
 draw the wool over the eyes of women and 
 Woffingtons ! 
 
 "Triplet, discharged from scene-painting ; wife, 
 no engagement ; four children supported by his 
 pen that is to say, starving ; lose no time ! "' 
 
 She closed her book ; and smiled, and said 
 
 " I wish these things were comedies instead 
 of trash-edies, as the French call them ; we 
 would cut one in half, and slice away the finest 
 passages, and then I would act in it : and you 
 would see how the stage-door would fly open at 
 sight of the author." 
 
 "O Heaven!" said poor Trip, excited by this 
 picture. " I'll go home, and write a comedy this 
 moment." 
 
 " Stay ! " said she ; " you had better leave the 
 tragedies with me." 
 
 116
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " My dear madam ! You will read them ? " 
 
 " Ahem ! I will make poor Rich read them." 
 
 " But, madam, he has rejected them." 
 
 "That is the first step. Reading them comes 
 after, when it comes at all. What have you got 
 in that green baize ?" 
 
 " In this green baize ? " 
 
 " Well, in this green baize, then ? " 
 
 " O madam ! nothing nothing ! To tell the 
 truth, it is an adventurous attempt from memory. 
 I saw you play Silvia, madam ; I was so charmed 
 that I came every night. I took your face home 
 with me forgive my presumption, madam and 
 I produced this faint adumbration, which I ex- 
 pose with diffidence." 
 
 So then he took the green baize off. 
 
 The colour rushed into her face ; she was 
 evidently gratified. Poor silly Mrs. Triplet was 
 doomed to be right about this portrait. 
 
 " I will give you a sitting," said she. " You 
 will find painting dull faces a better trade than 
 writing dull tragedies. Work for other people's 
 vanity, not your own ; that is the art of art. And 
 now I want Mr. Triplet's address." 
 
 " On the fly-leaf of each work, madam," re- 
 plied that florid author, "and also at the foot 
 of every page which contains a particularly 
 brilliant passage, I have been careful to insert 
 the address of James Triplet, painter, actor, and 
 dramatist, and Mrs. Woffington's humble, de- 
 voted servant." He bowed ridiculously low, and 
 
 117
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 moved towards the door ; but something gushed 
 across his heart, and he returned with long 
 strides to her. " Madam ! " cried he, with a 
 jaunty manner, " you have inspired a son of 
 Thespis with dreams of eloquence, you have 
 tuned in a higher key a poet's lyre, you have 
 tinged a painter's existence with brighter colours, 
 and and His mouth worked still, but no 
 more artificial words would come. He sobbed 
 out, "And God in Heaven bless you, Mrs. Wof- 
 fington ! " and ran out of the room. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington looked after him with interest, 
 for this confirmed her suspicions ; but suddenly 
 her expression changed, she wore a look we have 
 not yet seen upon her it was a half-cunning, 
 half-spiteful look ; it was suppressed in a moment, 
 she gave herself to her book, and presently Sir 
 Charles Pomander sauntered into the room. 
 
 "Ah ! what, Mrs. Woffington here ?" said the 
 diplomate. 
 
 " Sir Charles Pomander, I declare ! " said the 
 actress. 
 
 " I have just parted with an admirer of yours." 
 
 " I wish I could part with them all," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "A pastoral youth, who means to win La 
 Woffington by agricultural courtship As shep- 
 herds woo in sylvan shades." 
 
 " With oaten pipe the rustic maids," 
 
 quoth the Woffington, improvising. 
 
 118
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 The diplomate laughed, the actress laughed, 
 and said laughingly : " Tell me what he says, 
 word for word?" 
 
 " It will only make you laugh." 
 
 " Well, and am I never to laugh, who provide 
 so many laughs for you all ? " 
 
 " C'est juste. You shall share the general mer- 
 riment. Imagine a romantic soul, who adores 
 you for your simplicity ! " 
 
 " My simplicity ! Am I so very simple ? " 
 
 " No," said Sir Charles, monstrous dryly. " He 
 says you are out of place on the stage, and 
 wants to take the star from its firmament, and 
 put it in a cottage." 
 
 " I am not a star," replied the Woffington, 
 " I am only a meteor. And what does the man 
 think I am to do without this" (here she imi- 
 tated applause) " from my dear public's thousand 
 hands ? " 
 
 "You are to have this" (he mimicked a kiss), 
 " from a single mouth, instead." 
 
 " He is mad ! Tell me what more he says. 
 Oh! don't stop to invent; I should detect you; 
 and you would only spoil this man." 
 
 He laughed conceitedly. " I should spoil him ! 
 Well then, he proposes to be your friend rather 
 than your lover, and keep you from being talked 
 of, he ! he ! instead of adding to your eclat'' 
 
 "And if he is your friend, why don't you tell 
 him my real character, and send him into the 
 country ? " 
 
 119
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 She said this rapidly and with an appearance 
 of earnest. The diplomatist fell into the trap. 
 
 " I do," said he ; " but he snaps his fingers at 
 me and common-sense and the world. I really 
 think there is only one way to get rid of him, 
 and with him of every annoyance." 
 
 " Ah 1 that would be nice." 
 
 " Delicious ! I had the honour, madam, of 
 laying certain proposals at your feet." 
 
 " Oh ! yes your letter, Sir Charles. I have 
 only just had time to run my eye down it. 
 Let us examine it together." 
 
 She took out the letter with a wonderful ap- 
 pearance of interest, and the diplomate allowed 
 himself to fall into the absurd position to which 
 she invited him. They put their two heads to- 
 gether over the letter. 
 
 " ' A coach, a country-house, pin-money ' and 
 I'm so tired of houses and coaches and pins. Oh 
 yes, here's something ; what is this you offer 
 me, up in this corner ? " 
 
 Sir Charles inspected the place carefully, and 
 announced that it was " his heart." 
 
 " And he can't even write it ! " said she. " That 
 word is ' earth.' Ah ! well, you know best. There 
 is your letter, Sir Charles." 
 
 She curtsied, returned him the letter, and re- 
 sumed her study of Lothario. 
 
 " Favour me with your answer, madam," said 
 her suitor. 
 
 " You have it," was the reply. 
 
 120
 
 {Copyright 1899 by George Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Madam, I don't understand your answer," 
 said Sir Charles stiffly. 
 
 " I can't find you answers and understandings 
 too," was the ladylike reply. "You must beat 
 my answer into your understanding whilst I beat 
 this man's verse into mine. 
 
 "' And' like the birds, &c.'" 
 
 Pomander recovered himself a little ; he laughed 
 with quiet insolence. "Tell me," said he, "do 
 you really refuse ? " 
 
 "My good soul," said Mrs. Woffington, "why 
 this surprise ? Are you so ignorant of the stage 
 and the world, as not to know that I refuse such 
 offers as yours every week of my life ? " 
 
 " I know better," was the cool reply. She left 
 it unnoticed. 
 
 " I have so many of these," continued she, 
 " that I have begun to forget they are insults." 
 
 At this word the button broke off Sir Charles's 
 foil. 
 
 " Insults, madam ? They are the highest com- 
 pliments you have left it in our power to pay 
 you ! " 
 
 The other took the button off her foil. 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried she, with well-feigned surprise. 
 " Oh ! I understand. To be your mistress could 
 be but a temporary disgrace ; to be your \vife 
 would be a lasting discredit," she continued. 
 "And now, sir, having played your rival's game, 
 
 and showed me your whole hand " (a light 
 
 122
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 broke in upon our diplomate), " do something 
 to recover the reputation of a man of the world. 
 A gentleman is somewhere about in whom you 
 have interested me by your lame satire ; pray 
 tell him I am in the green-room, with no better 
 companion than this bad poet." 
 
 Sir Charles clenched his teeth. 
 
 " I accept the delicate commission," replied 
 he, "that you may see how easily the man of 
 the world drops what the rustic is eager to 
 pick up." 
 
 "That is better," said the actress, with a 
 provoking appearance of good humour. " You 
 have a woman's tongue, if not her wit ; but, 
 my good soul," added she, with cool hauteur, 
 "remember you have something to do of more 
 importance than anything you can say." 
 
 " I accept your courteous dismissal, madam," 
 said Pomander, grinding his teeth. " I will send 
 a carpenter for your swain ; and I leave you." 
 
 He bowed to the ground. 
 
 "Thanks for the double favour, good Sir 
 Charles." 
 
 She curtsied to the floor. 
 
 Feminine vengeance ! He had come between 
 her and her love. All very clever, Mrs. Actress ; 
 but was it wise ? 
 
 " I am revenged," thought Mrs. Womngton, 
 with a little feminine smirk. 
 
 " I will be revenged," vowed Pomander, clench- 
 ing his teeth. 
 
 123
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 'OMPARE a November day 
 with a May day. They are not 
 more unlike than a beautiful 
 woman in company with a 
 man she is indifferent to or 
 averse, and the same woman 
 with the man of her heart by 
 her side. 
 
 At sight of Mr. Vane, all her coldness and 
 nonchalance gave way to a gentle complacency ; 
 and when she spoke to him, her voice, so clear 
 and cutting in the late assant tfarmes, sank of its 
 own accord into the most tender, delicious tone 
 
 imaginable. 
 
 124
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Mr. Vane and she made love. He pleased 
 her, and she desired to please him. My reader 
 knows her wit, her finesse, her fluency ; but he 
 cannot conceive how god-like was her way of 
 making love. I can put a few of the corpses 
 of her words upon paper, but where are the 
 heavenly tones now calm and convincing, now 
 soft and melancholy, now thrilling with tender- 
 ness, now glowing with the fiery eloquence of 
 passion ? She told him that she knew the map 
 of his face ; that, for some days past, he had 
 been subject to an influence adverse to her. 
 She begged him, calmly, for his own sake, to 
 distrust false friends, and judge her by his 
 own heart, eyes, and judgment. He promised 
 her he would. 
 
 "And I do trust you, in spite of them all," 
 said he ; " for your face is the shrine of sin- 
 cerity and candour. I alone know you." 
 
 Then she prayed him to observe the heart- 
 lessness of his sex, and to say whether she had 
 done ill to hide the riches of her heart from 
 the cold and shallow, and to keep them all for 
 one honest man, "who will be my friend, I 
 hope," said she, "as well as my lover." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Vane, " that is my ambition." 
 
 " We actresses," said she, " make good the old 
 proverb, ' Many lovers, but few friends.' And, 
 oh ! 'tis we who need a friend. Will you be 
 mine ? " 
 
 Whilst he lived, he would.
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 In turn, he begged her to be generous, and tell 
 him the way for him, Ernest Vane, inferior in wit 
 and address to many of her admirers, to win her 
 heart from them all. 
 
 This singular woman's answer is, I think, 
 worth attention. 
 
 " Never act in my presence ; never try to be 
 eloquent or clever ; never force a sentiment, or 
 turn a phrase. Remember, I am the goddess of 
 tricks. Do not descend to competition with me 
 and the Pomanders of the world. At all little- 
 nesses, you will ever be awkward in my eyes. 
 And I am a woman. I must have a superior to 
 love lie open to my eye. Light itself is not 
 more beautiful than the upright man, whose 
 bosom is open to the day. Oh yes ! fear not 
 you will be my superior, dear ; for in me 
 honesty has to struggle against the habits of 
 my art and life. Be simple and sincere, and I 
 shall love you, and bless the hour you shone 
 upon my cold, artificial life. Ah, Ernest ! " said 
 she, fixing on his eyes her own, the fire of which 
 melted into tenderness as she spoke, "be my 
 friend. Come between me and the temptations 
 of an unprotected life the recklessness of a 
 vacant heart." 
 
 He threw himself at her feet. He called her 
 an angel. He told her he was unworthy of her, 
 but that he would try and deserve her. Then 
 he hesitated, and trembling, he said 
 
 " I will be frank and loyal. Had I not better 
 126
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 tell you everything ? You will not hate me for 
 a confession I make myself ? " 
 
 "I shall like you better oh! so much 
 better ! " 
 
 "Then I will own to you 
 
 " Oh ! do not tell me you have ever loved 
 before me ! I could not bear to hear it ! " 
 cried this inconsistent personage. 
 
 The other weak creature needed no more. 
 
 " I see plainly I never loved but you," said he. 
 
 " Let me hear that only ! " cried she ; " I am 
 jealous even of the past. Say you never loved 
 but me : never mind whether it is true. My 
 child, you do not even yet know love. Ernest, 
 shall I make you love as none of your sex ever 
 loved with heart, and brain, and breath, and 
 life, and soul ? " 
 
 With these rapturous words, she poured the 
 soul of love into his eyes ; he forgot everything 
 in the world but her ; he dissolved in present 
 happiness, and vowed himself hers for ever ; 
 and she, for her part, bade him but retain her 
 esteem, and no woman ever went farther in love 
 than she would. She was a true epicure ; she 
 had learned that passion, vulgar in itself, is god- 
 like when based upon esteem. 
 
 This tender scene was interrupted by the call- 
 boy, who brought Mrs. Woffington a note from 
 the manager, informing her there would be no 
 rehearsal. This left her at liberty, and she pro- 
 ceeded to take a somewhat abrupt leave of Mr. 
 
 128
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Vane. He was endeavouring to persuade her 
 to let him be her companion until dinner-time 
 (she was to be his guest), when Pomander 
 entered the room. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington, however, was not to be per- 
 suaded ; she excused herself on the score of 
 a duty which she said she had to perform, 
 and whispering as she passed Pomander, " Keep 
 your own counsel," she went out rather pre- 
 cipitately. 
 
 Vane looked slightly disappointed. 
 
 Sir Charles, who had returned to see whether 
 (as he fully expected) she had told Vane every- 
 thing and who at that moment, perhaps, would 
 not have been sorry had Mrs. Woffington's 
 lover called him to serious account finding 
 it was not her intention to make mischief, and 
 not choosing to publish his own defeat, dropped 
 quietly into his old line, and determined to keep 
 the lovers in sight, and play for revenge. He 
 smiled and said : " My good sir, nobody can 
 hope to monopolise Mrs. Woffington ; she has 
 others to do justice to besides you." 
 
 To his surprise, Mr. Vane turned instantly 
 round upon him, and looking him haughtily in 
 the face, said : " Sir Charles Pomander, the settled 
 malignity with which you pursue that lady is un- 
 manly, and offensive to me, who love her. Let 
 our acquaintance cease here, if you please, or 
 let her be sacred from your venomous tongue." 
 
 Sir Charles bowed stiffly, and replied, that it 
 129 i
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 was only due to himself to withdraw a protection 
 so little appreciated. 
 
 The two friends were in the very act of 
 separating for ever, when who should run in 
 but Pompey, the renegade. He darted up to 
 Sir Charles, and said : " Massa Pomannah, she in 
 a coach, going to 10 Hercules Buildings. I'm 
 in a hurry, Massa Pomannah." 
 
 " Where ? " cried Pomander. " Say that again." 
 
 " 10 Hercules Buildings, Lambeth. Me in a 
 hurry, Massa Pomannah." 
 
 " F'aithful child, there's a guinea for thee. 
 Fly!" 
 
 The slave flew, and taking a short cut, caught 
 and fastened on to the slow vehicle in the 
 Strand. 
 
 " It is a house of rendezvous," said Sir Charles, 
 half to himself, half to Mr. Vane. He repeated, 
 in triumph : " It is a house of rendezvous." He 
 then, recovering his sang-froid, and treating it 
 all as a matter of course, explained that at 10 
 Hercules Buildings was a fashionable shop, with 
 entrances from two streets, that the best Indian 
 scarfs and shawls were sold there, and that ladies 
 kept their carriages waiting an immense time in 
 the principal street, whilst they were supposed 
 to be in the shop, or the show-room. He then 
 went on to say that he had only this morning 
 heard, that the intimacy between Mrs. Womng- 
 ton and a Colonel Murthwaite, although publicly 
 broken off for prudential reasons, was still 
 
 no
 
 j(omfie-q "ing 
 
 [Copyright 1899 Ay George
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 clandestinely carried on. She had, doubtless, 
 slipped away to meet the Colonel. 
 
 Mr. Vane turned pale. 
 
 " No ! I will not suspect. I will not dog her 
 like a bloodhound," cried he. 
 
 " I will ! " said Pomander. 
 
 " You ! By what right ? " 
 
 "The right of curiosity. I will know whether 
 it is you who are imposed on ; or whether you 
 are right, and all the world is deceived in this 
 woman." 
 
 He ran out ; but for all his speed, when he 
 got into the street, there was the jealous lover 
 at his elbow. They darted with all speed into 
 the Strand ; got a coach. Sir Charles, on the 
 box, gave Jehu a guinea, and took the reins 
 and by a Niagara of whip-cord they attained 
 Lambeth ; and, at length, to his delight, Pom- 
 ander saw another coach before him with a 
 gold-laced black slave behind it. The coach 
 stopped ; and the slave came to the door. The 
 shop in question was a few hundred yards dis- 
 tant. The adroit Sir Charles not only stopped, 
 but turned his coach, and let the horses crawl 
 back towards London ; he also flogged the side 
 panels to draw the attention of Mr. Vane. That 
 gentleman looked through the little circular win- 
 dow at the back of the vehicle, and saw a lady 
 paying the coachman. There was no mistaking 
 her figure. This lady, then, followed at a dis- 
 tance by her slave, walked on towards Hercules 
 
 132
 
 {Copyright 1899 by George Alien.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Buildings ; and it was his miserable fate to see 
 her look uneasily round, and at last glide in at 
 a side door, close to the silk-mercer's shop. 
 
 The carriage stopped. Sir Charles came 
 himself to the door. 
 
 " Now, Vane," said he, " before I consent to 
 go any further in this business, you must pro- 
 mise me to be cool and reasonable. I abhor 
 absurdity ; and there must be no swords drawn 
 for this little hypocrite." 
 
 " I submit to no dictation," said Vane, white 
 as a sheet. 
 
 "You have benefited so far by my knowledge," 
 said the other politely ; " let me, who am self- 
 possessed, claim some influence with you." 
 
 " Forgive me ! " said poor Vane. " My ang 
 my sorrow that such an angel should be a mon- 
 ster of deceit - He could say no more. 
 
 They walked to the shop. 
 
 " How she peeped, this way and that," said 
 Pomander ; " sly little Woffy ! " 
 
 " No ! on second thoughts," said he, " it is 
 the other street we must reconnoitre ; and if we 
 don't see her there, we will enter the shop, and 
 by dint of this purse, we shall soon untie the 
 knot of the Womngton riddle." 
 
 Vane leaned heavily on his tormentor. 
 
 " I am faint," said he. 
 
 " Lean on me, my dear friend," said Sir 
 Charles. "Your weakness will leave you in 
 the next street."
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 In the next street they discovered nothing. 
 In the shop, they found no Mrs. Woffington. 
 They returned to the principal street. Vane 
 began to hope there was no positive evidence. 
 Suddenly, three stories up a riddle was heard. 
 Pomander took no notice, but Vane turned red ; 
 this put Sir Charles upon the scent. 
 
 " Stay ! " said he. " Is not that an Irish tune ? " 
 
 Vane groaned. He covered his face with his 
 hands, and hissed out 
 
 " It is her favourite tune." 
 
 "Aha ! " said Pomander. " Follow me ! " 
 
 They crept up the stairs, Pomander in ad- 
 vance ; they heard the signs of an Irish orgie 
 a rattling jig played, and danced with the in- 
 spiriting interjections of that frolicsome nation. 
 These sounds ceased after awhile, and Pomander 
 laid his hand on his friend's shoulder 
 
 "I prepare you," said he, "for what you are 
 sure to see. This woman was an Irish brick- 
 layer's daughter, and 'what is bred in the bone 
 never comes out of the flesh ' ; you will find her 
 sitting on some Irishman's knee, whose limbs 
 are ever so much stouter than yours. You are 
 the man of her head, and this is the man of 
 her heart. These things would be monstrous, if 
 they were not common ; incredible, if we did not 
 see them every day. But this poor fellow, whom 
 probably she deceives as well as you, is not to 
 be sacrificed like a dog to your unjust wrath ; he 
 is as superior to her as you are to him."
 
 [Cofyright 1899 by George Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFF1NGTON 
 
 " I will commit no violence," said Vane. " I 
 still hope she is innocent." 
 
 Pomander smiled, and said he hoped so too. 
 
 "And if she is what you think, I will but show 
 her she is known, and blaming myself as much 
 as her oh yes! more than her! I will go 
 down this night to Shropshire, and never speak 
 word to her again in this world or the next." 
 
 "Good," said Sir Charles. 
 
 " ' Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte est pour le sot, 
 L'honnete homme trompe s'eloigne et ne dit mot.' 
 
 Are you ready ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Then follow me." 
 
 Turning the handle gently, he opened the 
 door like lightning, and was in the room. Vane's 
 head peered over his shoulder. She was actually 
 there ! 
 
 For once in her life, the cautious artful woman 
 was taken by surprise. She gave a little scream, 
 and turned as red as fire. But Sir Charles sur- 
 prised somebody else even more than he did 
 poor Mrs. Woffington. 
 
 It would be impertinent to tantalise my reader, 
 but I flatter myself this history is not written 
 with power enough to do that, and I may ven- 
 ture to leave him to guess whom Sir Charles 
 Pomander surprised more than he did the actress, 
 while I go back for the lagging sheep. 
 
 137
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AMES TRIPLET, water in 
 his eye, but fire in his 
 heart, went home on wings. 
 Arrived there, he anticipated 
 curiosity by informing all 
 hands he should answer 
 no questions. Only in the 
 intervals of a work, which 
 was to take the family out 
 of all its troubles, he should gradually unfold 
 a tale, verging on the marvellous a tale whose 
 only fault was, that fiction, by which alone the 
 family could hope to be great, paled beside it. 
 He then seized some sheets of paper, fished out 
 some old dramatic sketches, and a list of dramatis 
 persona, prepared years ago, and plunged into a 
 comedy. As he wrote, true to his promise, he 
 painted, Triplet-wise, that story which we have 
 coldly related, and made it appear to all but 
 Mrs. Triplet that he was under the tutela, or 
 138
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 express protection, of Mrs. Woffington, who 
 would push his fortunes until the only difficulty 
 would be to keep arrogance out of the family 
 heart. 
 
 Mrs. Triplet groaned aloud. " You have brought 
 the picture home, I see," said she. 
 
 "Of course I have. She is going to give me 
 a sitting." 
 
 "At what hour, of what day?" said Mrs. 
 Triplet, with a world of meaning. 
 
 " She did not say," replied Triplet, avoiding his 
 wife's eye. 
 
 " I know she did not," was the answer. " I 
 would rather you had brought me the ten shillings 
 than this fine story," said she. 
 
 " Wife ! " said Triplet, " don't put me into a 
 frame of mind in which successful comedies are 
 not written." He scribbled away ; but his wife's 
 despondency told upon the man of disappoint- 
 ments. Then he stuck fast ; then he became 
 fidgetty. 
 
 " Do keep those children quiet ! " said the 
 father. 
 
 "Hush, my dears," said the mother; "let 
 your father write. Comedy seems to give you 
 more trouble than tragedy, James," added she 
 soothingly. 
 
 " Yes," was his answer. " Sorrow comes some- 
 how more natural to me ; but for all that I have 
 got a bright thought, Mrs. Triplet. Listen, all of 
 you. You see, Jane, they are all at a sumptuous
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 banquet all the dramatis persona, except the 
 poet." 
 
 Triplet went on writing, and reading his work 
 out : " Music, sparkling wine, massive plate, rose- 
 water in the hand-glasses, soup, fish shall I have 
 three sorts of fish ? I will ; they are cheap in 
 this market. Ah ! Fortune, you wretch, here at 
 least I am your master, and I'll make you know 
 it venison," wrote Triplet with a malicious 
 grin, "game, pickles, and provocatives in the 
 centre of the table. Then up jumps one of the 
 guests, and says he " 
 
 " Oh dear, I am so hungry." 
 
 This was not from the comedy, but from one 
 of the boys. 
 
 " And so am I," cried a girl. 
 
 "That is an absurd remark, Lysimachus," 
 said Triplet, with a suspicious calmness. " How 
 can a boy be hungry three hours after break- 
 fast." 
 
 " But, father, there was no breakfast for 
 breakfast." 
 
 " Now I ask you, Mrs. Triplet," appealed the 
 author, "how am I to write comic scenes if 
 you let Lysimachus and Roxalana, here, put the 
 heavy business in every five minutes ?" 
 
 " Forgive them the poor things are hungry." 
 
 "Then let them be hungry in another room," 
 said the irritated scribe. "They shan't cling 
 round my pen, and paralyse it just when it is 
 
 going to make all our fortunes ; but you women," 
 
 140
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 snapped Triplet the Just, " have no considera- 
 tion for people's feelings. Send them all to 
 bed every man jack of them ! " 
 
 Finding the conversation taking this turn, the 
 brats raised an unanimous howl. 
 
 Triplet darted a fierce glance at them. 
 " Hungry, hungry," cried he ; " is that a proper 
 expression to use before a father who is sitting 
 down here all gaiety " (scratching wildly with 
 his pen) "and hilarity," (scratch) "to write a 
 com com " he choked a moment ; then in a 
 very different voice, all sadness and tenderness, 
 he said: "Where's the youngest where's Lucy? 
 As if I didn't know you are hungry." 
 
 Lucy came to him directly. He took her on 
 his knee, pressed her gently to his side, and 
 wrote silently. The others were still. 
 
 " Father," said Lucy, aged five, the germ of a 
 woman, " I am not tho very hungry." 
 
 "And I am not hungry at all," said bluff 
 Lysimachus, taking his sister's cue ; then going 
 upon his own tack he added, " I had a great 
 piece of bread and butter yesterday ! " 
 
 "Wife, they will drive me mad!" and he 
 dashed at the paper. 
 
 The second boy explained to his mother, sotto 
 voce : " Mother, he made us hungry out of his 
 book." 
 
 " It is a beautiful book," said Lucy. " Is it a 
 cookery book ?" 
 
 Triplet roared. " Do you hear that ? " inquired 
 141
 
 Jamnoi-tfio veory 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen 1
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 he, all trace of ill-humour gone. " Wife," he 
 resumed, after a gallant scribble, " I took that 
 sermon I wrote." 
 
 "And beautiful it was, James. I'm sure it 
 quite cheered me up with thinking that we shall 
 all be dead before so very long." 
 
 "Well, the reverend gentleman would not have 
 it. He said it was too hard upon sin. ' You run 
 at the devil like a mad bull,' said he. ' Sell it 
 in Lambeth, sir ; here calmness and decency are 
 before everything,' says he. ' My congregation 
 expect to go to Heaven down hill. Perhaps the 
 chaplain of Newgate might give you a crown 
 for it,' said he," and Triplet dashed viciously at 
 the paper. " Ah ! " sighed he, " if my friend 
 Mrs. Woffington would but drop these stupid 
 comedies and take to tragedy, this house would 
 soon be all smiles." 
 
 " O James ! " replied Mrs. Triplet, almost 
 peevishly, " how can you expect anything but fine 
 words from that woman ? You won't believe 
 what all the world says. You will trust to your 
 own good heart." 
 
 " I haven't a good heart," said the poor, 
 honest fellow. " I spoke like a brute to you 
 just now." 
 
 "Never mind, James," said the woman; "I 
 wonder how you put up with me at all a sick, 
 useless creature. I often wish to die, for your 
 sake. I know you would do better. I am such 
 a weight round your neck."
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 The man made no answer, but he put Lucy 
 gently down, and went to the woman, and took 
 her forehead to his bosom, and held it there ; and, 
 after a while, returned with silent energy to his 
 comedy. 
 
 " Play us a tune on the fiddle, father." 
 
 " Ay, do, husband. That helps you often in 
 your writing." 
 
 Lysimachus brought him the fiddle, and Triplet 
 essayed a merry tune ; but it came out so doleful, 
 that he shook his head, and laid the instrument 
 down. Music must be in the heart, or it will 
 come out of the fingers notes, not music. 
 
 " No," said he ; " let us be serious and finish 
 this comedy slap off. Perhaps it hitches because 
 I forgot to invoke the comic muse. She must be 
 a black-hearted jade, if she doesn't come with 
 merry notions to a poor devil, starving in the 
 midst of his hungry little ones." 
 
 "We are past help from heathen goddesses," 
 said the woman. "We must pray to Heaven to 
 look down upon us and our children." 
 
 The man looked up with a very bad expression 
 on his countenance. 
 
 " You forget," said he sullenly, " our street is 
 very narrow, and the opposite houses are very 
 high." 
 
 "James!" 
 
 " How can Heaven be expected to see what 
 honest folk endure in so dark a hole as this ? " 
 
 cried the man fiercely. 
 
 144
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "James," said the woman, with fear and sorrow, 
 "what words are these ? " 
 
 The man rose, and flung his pen upon the floor. 
 
 " Have we given honesty a fair trial yes 
 or no ? " 
 
 " No ! " said the woman, without a moment's 
 hesitation ; " not till we die, as we have lived. 
 Heaven is higher than the sky ; children," said 
 she, lest perchance her husband's words should 
 have harmed their young souls " the sky is 
 above the earth, and Heaven is higher than the 
 sky ; and Heaven is just." 
 
 " I suppose it is so," said the man, a little cowed 
 by her. " Everybody says so. I think so, at 
 bottom, myself ; but I can't see it. I want to see 
 it, but I can't ! " cried he fiercely. " Have my 
 children offended Heaven ? They will starve 
 they will die ! If I was Heaven, I'd be just, and 
 send an angel to take these children's part. They 
 cried to me for bread I had no bread ; so I gave 
 them hard words. The moment I had done that, 
 I knew it was all over. God knows, it took a 
 long while to break my heart ; but it is broken 
 at last ; quite, quite broken ! broken ! broken ! " 
 
 And the poor thing laid his head upon the 
 table, and sobbed, beyond all power of restraint. 
 The children cried round him, scarce knowing 
 why ; and Mrs. Triplet could only say, " My 
 poor husband ! " and prayed and wept upon 
 the couch where she lay. 
 
 It was at this juncture that a lady, who had 
 MS K
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 knocked gently and unheard, opened the door, 
 and with a light step, entered the apartment ; 
 but no sooner had. she caught sight of Triplet's 
 anguish, than saying hastily, " Stay, I forgot 
 something," she made as hasty an exit. 
 
 This gave Triplet a moment to recover him- 
 self ; and Mrs. Woffington, whose lynx eye had 
 comprehended all at a glance, and who had de- 
 termined at once what line to take, came flying in 
 again, saying " Wasn't somebody inquiring for 
 an angel? Here I am. See, Mr. Triplet," and 
 she showed him a note, which said, " Madam, 
 you are an angel." " From a perfect stranger," 
 explained she ; " so it must be true." 
 
 " Mrs. Woffington," said Mr. Triplet to his wife. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington planted herself in the middle 
 of the floor, and with a comical glance, setting 
 her arms akimbo, uttered a shrill whistle. 
 
 " Now you will see another angel there are 
 two sorts of them." 
 
 Pompey came in with a basket : she took it 
 from him. 
 
 " Lucifer, avaunt ! " cried she, in a terrible tone, 
 that drove him to the wall ; " and wait outside 
 the door," added she conversationally. 
 
 " I heard you were ill, ma'am, and I have 
 brought you some physic black draughts from 
 Burgundy ; " and she smiled. And recovered 
 from their first surprise, young and old began to 
 thaw beneath that witching, irresistible smile. 
 " Mrs. Triplet, I have come to give your husband 
 
 146
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 a sitting ; will you allow me to eat my little 
 luncheon with you ? I am so hungry." Then 
 she clapped her hands, and in ran Pompey. She 
 sent him for a pie she professed to have fallen in 
 love with at the corner of the street. 
 
 " Mother," said Alcibiades, " will the lady give 
 me a bit of her pie ? " 
 
 " Hush ! you rude boy ! " cried the mother. 
 
 " She is not much of a lady if she does not," 
 cried Mrs. Womngton. " Now, children, first let 
 us look at ahem a comedy. Nineteen dramatis 
 persona. What do you say, children ? shall we 
 cut out seven, or nine ? that is the question. You 
 can't bring your armies into our drawing-rooms, 
 Mr. Dagger-and-bowl. Are you the Marlborough 
 of comedy ? Can you marshal battalions on a 
 Turkey carpet, and make gentlefolks witty in 
 platoons ? What is this in the first act ? A duel, 
 and both wounded ! You butcher ! " 
 
 " They are not to die, ma'am ! " cried Triplet 
 deprecatingly ; " upon my honour," said he 
 solemnly, spreading his hands on his bosom. 
 
 " Do you think I'll trust their lives with you ? 
 No ! Give me a pen : this is the way we run 
 people through the body." Then she wrote 
 ("business." Araminta looks out of the garret 
 window. Combatants drop their swords, put 
 their hands to their hearts, and stagger off O. P. 
 and P. S.) " Now, children, who helps me to 
 lay the cloth ? " 
 
 "I!" 
 
 M7
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "And I ! " (The children run to the cupboard.) 
 
 MRS. TRIPLET (half rising). "Madam, I can't 
 think of allowing you." 
 
 Mrs. Woffington replied : " Sit down, madam, 
 or I must use brute force. If you are ill, be ill 
 till I make you well. Twelve plates, quick ! 
 Twenty-four knives, quicker ! Forty-eight forks, 
 quickest ! " She met the children with the cloth 
 and laid it ; then she met them again and laid 
 knives and forks, all at full gallop, which mightily 
 excited the bairns. Pompey came in with the pie ; 
 Mrs. Woffington took it and set it before Triplet. 
 
 MRS. WOFFINGTON. " Your coat, Mr. Triplet, 
 if you please." 
 
 MR. TRIPLET. " My coat, madam ?" 
 
 MRS. WOFFINGTON. " Yes, off with it there's 
 a hole in it and carve." Then she whipped to 
 the other end of the table and stitched like wild- 
 fire. " Be pleased to cast your eyes on that, Mrs. 
 Triplet. Pass it to the lady, young gentleman. 
 Fire away, Mr. Triplet ; never mind us women. 
 Woffington's housewife, ma'am, fearful to the eye, 
 only it holds everything in the \vorld, and there is 
 a small space for everything else to be returned 
 by the bearer. Thank you, sir." (Stitches away 
 like lightning at the coat.) " Eat away, children ! 
 now is your time. When once I begin the pie 
 will soon end ; I do everything so quick." 
 
 ROXALANA. " The lady sews quicker than you, 
 mother." 
 
 WOFFINGTON. " Bless the child, don't come so 
 148
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 near my sword-arm ; the needle will go into your 
 eye, and out at the back of your head." 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George 
 
 This nonsense made the children giggle. 
 "The needle will be lost the child no more- 
 149
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 enter undertaker house turned topsy-turvy 
 father shows Woffington to the door off she 
 goes with a face as long and dismal as some 
 people's comedies no names crying fine cha- 
 ney oran-ges." 
 
 The children, all but Lucy, screeched with 
 laughter. 
 
 Lucy said gravely 
 
 " Mother, the lady is very funny." 
 
 " You will be as funny, when you are as well 
 paid for it." 
 
 This just hit poor Trip's notion of humour, 
 and he began to choke, with his mouth full 
 of pie. 
 
 "James, take care," said Mrs. Triplet, sad and 
 solemn. 
 
 James looked up. 
 
 " My wife is a good woman, madam," said he ; 
 " but deficient in an important particular." 
 
 "O James!" 
 
 " Yes, my dear. I regret to say you have no 
 sense of humour ; nummore than a cat, Jane." 
 
 " What ! because the poor thing can't laugh at 
 your comedy ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am ; but she laughs at nothing." 
 
 " Try her with one of your tragedies, my lad ! " 
 
 " I am sure, James," said the poor, good, lacka- 
 daisical woman, " if I don't laugh, it is not for 
 want of the will. I used to be a very hearty 
 laugher," whined she ; " but I haven't laughed 
 this two years." 
 
 150
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" said the Woffington. "Then 
 the next two years you shall do nothing else." 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by Georgr Allen.} 
 
 " Ah, madam ! " said Triplet. " That passes the 
 art, even of the great comedian."
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Does it ? " said the actress coolly. 
 
 LUCY. "She is not a comedy lady. You don't 
 ever cry, pretty lady ? " 
 
 WOFFINGTON (ironically). " Oh ! of course not." 
 
 LUCY (confidentially). " Comedy is crying. 
 Father cried all the time he was writing his 
 one." 
 
 Triplet turned red as fire. 
 
 " Hold your tongue," said he ; "I was bursting 
 with merriment. Wife, our children talk too 
 much ; they put their noses into everything, and 
 criticise their own father." 
 
 " Unnatural offspring ! " laughed the visitor. 
 
 "And when they take up a notion, Socrates 
 couldn't convince them to the contrary. For 
 instance, madam, all this morning they thought 
 fit to assume that they were starving." 
 
 "So we were," said Lysimachus, "until the 
 angel came ; and the devil went for the pie." 
 
 "There there there! Now, you mark my 
 words ; we shall never get that idea out of their 
 heads " 
 
 " Until," said Mrs. Woffington, lumping a huge 
 cut of pie into Roxalana's plate, " we put a very 
 different idea into their stomachs." This and the 
 look she cast on Mrs. Triplet fairly caught that 
 good, though sombre personage. She giggled ; 
 put her hand to her face, and said : " I'm sure I 
 ask your pardon, ma'am ! " 
 
 It was no use ; the comedian had determined 
 they should all laugh, and they were made to
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 laugh. Then she rose, and showed them how 
 to drink healths a la Franqaise ; and keen were 
 her little admirers to touch her glass with theirs. 
 And the pure wine she had brought did Mrs. 
 Triplet much good, too ; though not so much 
 as the music and sunshine of her face and voice. 
 Then, when their stomachs were full of good 
 food, and the soul of the grape tingled in their 
 veins, and their souls glowed under her great 
 magnetic power, she suddenly seized the fiddle, 
 and showed them another of her enchantments. 
 She put it on her knee, and played a tune that 
 would have made gout, cholic, and phthisic dance 
 upon their last legs. She played to the eye as 
 well as to the ear, with such a smart gesture of 
 the bow, and such a radiance of face as she looked 
 at them, that whether the music came out of her 
 wooden shell, or her horsehair wand, or her bright 
 self, seemed doubtful. They pranced on their 
 chairs ; they could not keep still. She jumped 
 up, so did they. She gave a wild Irish horroo. 
 She put the fiddle in Triplet's hand. 
 
 " The wind that shakes the barley, ye divil ! " 
 cried she. 
 
 Triplet went hors de lui , he played like Paga- 
 nini, or an intoxicated demon. Woffington 
 covered the buckle in gallant style ; she danced, 
 the children danced. Triplet fiddled and danced, 
 and flung his limbs in wild dislocation ; the wine- 
 glasses danced ; and last, Mrs. Triplet was ob- 
 served to be bobbing about on her sofa, in a 
 
 '54
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 monstrous absurd way, droning out the tune, 
 and playing her hands with mild enjoyment, all 
 to herself. Woffington pointed out this panto- 
 mimic soliloquy to the two boys, with a glance 
 full of fiery meaning. This was enough : with 
 a fiendish yell, they fell upon her, and tore her, 
 shrieking, off the sofa. And lo ! when she was 
 once launched, she danced up to her husband, 
 and set to him with a meek deliberation, that 
 was as funny as any part of the scene. So then 
 the mover of all this slipped on one side, and 
 let the stone of merriment roll and roll it did ; 
 there was no swimming, sprawling, or irrelevant 
 frisking ; their feet struck the ground for every 
 note of the fiddle, pat as its echo, their faces 
 shone, their hearts leaped, and their poor frozen 
 natures came out, and warmed themselves at the 
 glowing melody ; a great sunbeam had come 
 into their abode, and these human motes danced 
 in it. The elder ones recovered their gravity 
 first, they sat down breathless, and put their 
 hands to their hearts ; they looked at one an- 
 other, and then at the goddess who had revived 
 them. Their first feeling was wonder ; were 
 they the same, who, ten minutes ago, were 
 weeping together ? Yes ! ten minutes ago they 
 were rayless, joyless, hopeless. Now, the sun 
 was in their hearts, and sorrow and sighing were 
 fled, as fogs disperse before the god of day. It 
 was magical ; could a mortal play upon the soul 
 of man, woman, and child like this ? Happy 
 
 '55
 
 tore fier sftrtefci-na^ off ffie <Sb/a." 
 
 rifkt 1899 by George Allin.]
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Woffington ! and suppose this was more than 
 half acting, but such acting as Triplet never 
 dreamed of ; and to tell the honest simple truth, 
 I myself should not have suspected it ; but chil- 
 dren are sharper than one would think, and 
 Alcibiades Triplet told, in after years, that when 
 they were all dancing except the lady, he caught 
 sight of her face and it was quite, quite grave, 
 and even sad : but as often as she saw him 
 look at her, she smiled at him so gaily he 
 couldn't believe it was the same face. 
 
 If it was art, glory be to such art so worthily 
 applied ! and honour to such creatures as this, 
 that come like sunshine into poor men's houses, 
 and tune drooping hearts to daylight and hope ! 
 
 The wonder of these worthy people soon 
 changed to gratitude. Mrs. Woffington stopped 
 their mouths at once. 
 
 " No, no ! " cried she ; " if you really love me, 
 no scenes : I hate them. Tell these brats to kiss 
 me, and let me go. I must sit for my picture 
 after dinner ; it is a long way to Bloomsbury 
 Square." 
 
 The children needed no bidding ; they clustered 
 round her, and poured out their innocent hearts 
 as children only do. 
 
 " I shall pray for you after father and mother," 
 said one. 
 
 " I shall pray for you after daily bread," said 
 Lucy, "because we were tho hungry till you 
 came ! " 
 
 157
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " My poor children ! " cried Woffington ; and 
 hard to grown-up actors, as she called us, but 
 sensitive to children, she fairly melted as she 
 embraced them. It was at this precise juncture 
 that the door was unceremoniously opened, and 
 the two gentlemen burst upon the scene ! 
 
 My reader now guesses whom Sir Charles 
 Pomander surprised more than he did Mrs. 
 Woffington. He could not for the life of him 
 comprehend what she was doing, and what was 
 her ulterior object. The nil admirari of the fine 
 gentleman deserted him, and he gazed open- 
 mouthed, like the veriest chawbacon. 
 
 The actress, unable to extricate herself in a 
 moment from the children, stood there like 
 Charity, in New College Chapel, whilst the mother 
 kissed her hand, and the father quietly dropped 
 tears, like some leaden water-god in the middle 
 of a fountain. 
 
 Vane turned hot and cold by turns, with joy 
 and shame. Pomander's genius came to the aid 
 of their embarrassment. 
 
 " Follow my lead," whispered he. " What ! 
 Mrs. Woffington here ? " cried he ; then he 
 advanced business-like to Triplet. " We are 
 aware, sir, of your various talents, and are come 
 to make a demand on them. I, sir, am the 
 unfortunate possessor of frescoes ; time has im- 
 paired their indelicacy, no man can restore it as 
 you can." 
 
 " Augh ! sir ! sir ! " said the gratified goose. 
 158
 
 {Copyright 1899 *y
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " My Cupid's bows are walking-sticks, and 
 my Venus's noses are snubbed. You must 
 set all that straight, on your own terms, Mr. 
 Triplet." 
 
 " In a single morning all shall bloom again, 
 sir ! Whom would you wish them to resemble in 
 feature ? I have lately been praised for my skill 
 in portraiture." (Glancing at Mrs. Woffington.) 
 
 " Oh ! " said Pomander carelessly, " you need 
 not go far for Venuses and Cupids, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I see, sir : my wife and children. Thank you, 
 sir ; thank you." 
 
 Pomander stared ; Mrs. Woffington laughed. 
 
 Now it was Vane's turn. 
 
 " Let me have a copy of verses from your pen. 
 I shall have five pounds at your disposal for 
 them." 
 
 " The world has found me out ! " thought 
 Triplet, blinded by his vanity. "The subject, 
 sir ? " 
 
 " No matter," said Vane ; " no matter." 
 
 " Oh ! of course, it does not matter to me," said 
 Triplet, with some hauteur, and assuming poetic 
 omnipotence. "Only, when one knows the sub- 
 ject, one can sometimes make the verses apply 
 better." 
 
 "Write then, since you are so confident, upon 
 Mrs. Woffington." 
 
 "Ah! that is a subject! They shall be ready 
 in an hour ! " cried Trip, in whose imagination 
 
 Parnassus was a raised counter. He had in a 
 
 1 60
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 tea-cup some lines in Venus and Mars, which he 
 could not but feel would fit Thalia and Croesus, 
 or Genius and Envy, equally well. " In one hour, 
 sir," said Triplet, "the article shall be executed, 
 and delivered at your house." 
 
 Mrs. Woffington called Vane to her, with an 
 engaging smile. A month ago, he would have 
 hoped she would not have penetrated him and 
 Sir Charles ; but he knew her better now. He 
 came trembling. 
 
 " Look me in the face, Mr. Vane," said she, 
 gently but firmly. 
 
 "I cannot!" said he. " How can I ever look 
 you in the face again ? " 
 
 " Ah ! you disarm me ! But I must strike 
 you, or this will never end. Did I not promise 
 that when you had earned my esteem, I would 
 tell you what no mortal knows, Ernest my 
 whole story ? I delay the confession : it will 
 cost me so many blushes so many tears ! And 
 yet I hope, if you knew all, you would pity 
 and forgive me. Meantime, did I ever tell you 
 a falsehood ?" 
 
 " Oh no ! " 
 
 "Why doubt me then, when I tell you that 
 I hold all your sex cheap but you ? Why sus- 
 pect me of Heaven knows what, at the dictation 
 of a heartless, brainless fop on the word of a 
 known liar, like the world ? " 
 
 Black lightning flashed from her glorious eyes, 
 
 as she administered this royal rebuke. Vane felt 
 
 161 L
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 what a poor creature he was, and his face showed 
 such burning shame and contrition, that he ob- 
 tained his pardon without speaking. 
 
 " There," said she kindly, " do not let us torment 
 one another. I forgive you. Let me make you 
 happy, Ernest. Is that a great favour to ask ? 
 I can make you happier than your brightest 
 dream of happiness, if you will let yourself be 
 happy." 
 
 They rejoined the others ; but Vane turned 
 his back on Pomander, and would not look at 
 him. 
 
 " Sir Charles," said Mrs. Woffington gaily, for 
 she scorned to admit the fine gentleman to the 
 rank of a permanent enemy, "you will be of 
 our party, I trust, at dinner ? " 
 
 " Why, no, madam ; I fear I cannot give 
 myself that pleasure to-day." Sir Charles did 
 not choose to swell the triumph. " Mr. Vane, 
 good day ! " said he rather drily. " Mr. Triplet 
 madam your most obedient!" and, self- 
 possessed at top, but at bottom crestfallen, he 
 bowed himself away. 
 
 Sir Charles, however, on descending the stair 
 and gaining the street, caught sight of a horse- 
 man, riding uncertainly about, and making his 
 horse curvet to attract attention. 
 
 He soon recognised one of his own horses, 
 and upon it the servant he had left behind to dog 
 that poor innocent country lady. The servant 
 
 sprang off his horse and touched his hat. He 
 
 162
 
 n/tu 
 
 <">T.Cer'toti/n(v Q PC 
 
 CM fiorsema-n. r<. 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.\
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 informed his master that he had kept with the 
 carriage until ten o'clock this morning, when he 
 had ridden away from it at Barnet, having duly 
 pumped the servants as opportunity offered. 
 
 "Who is she ?" cried Sir Charles. 
 
 " Wife of a Cheshire squire, Sir Charles/' was 
 the reply. 
 
 " His name ? Whither goes she in town ?" 
 
 " Her name is Mrs. Vane, Sir Charles. She is 
 going to her husband." 
 
 " Curious ! " cried Sir Charles. " I wish she 
 had no husband. No ! I wish she came from 
 Shropshire," and he chuckled at the notion. 
 
 " If you please, Sir Charles," said the man, " is 
 not Willoughby in Cheshire ? " 
 
 " No," cried his master ; " it is in Shropshire. 
 What ! eh ? Five guineas for you if that lady 
 comes from Willoughby in Shropshire." 
 
 "That is where she comes from then, Sir 
 Charles, and she is going to Bloomsbury Square." 
 
 " How long have they been married ? " 
 
 " Not more than twelve months, Sir Charles." 
 
 Pomander gave the man ten guineas instead of 
 five on the spot. 
 
 Reader, it was too true ! Mr. Vane the good, 
 the decent, the church-goer Mr. Vane, whom 
 Mrs. Woffington had selected to improve her 
 morals Mr. Vane was a married man ! 
 
 164
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 r S soon as Pomander had 
 drawn his breath and re- 
 alised this discovery he 
 darted upstairs, and with 
 all the demure calmness 
 he could assume, told Mr. 
 Vane, whom he met de- 
 scending, that he was happy 
 to find his engagements 
 permitted him to join the party in Bloomsbury 
 Square. He then flung himself upon his ser- 
 vant's horse. 
 
 165
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Like lago, he saw the indistinct outline of a 
 glorious and a most malicious plot ; it lay crude 
 in his head and heart at present ; thus much he 
 s:iw clearly, that if he could time Mrs. Vane's 
 arrival so that she should pounce upon the 
 Woffington at her husband's table, he might be 
 present at and enjoy the public discomfiture of 
 a man and woman who had wounded his vanity. 
 Bidding his servant make the best of his way 
 to Bloomsbury Square, Sir Charles galloped in 
 that direction himself, intending first to inquire 
 whether Mrs. Vane was arrived, and if not, to 
 ride towards Islington and meet her. His plan 
 was frustrated by an accident ; galloping round a 
 corner, his horse did not change his leg cleverly, 
 and the pavement being also loose, slipped and 
 fell on his side, throwing his rider upon the 
 trottoir. The horse got up and trembled violently, 
 but was unhurt. The rider lay motionless, except 
 that his legs quivered on the pavement. They 
 took him up and conveyed him into a druggist's 
 shop, the master of which practised chirurgery. 
 He had to be sent for ; and before he could be 
 found, Sir Charles recovered his reason so much 
 so, that when the chirurgeon approached with 
 his fleam to bleed him, according to the practice 
 of the day, the patient drew his sword, and 
 assured the other he would let out every drop of 
 blood in his body if he touched him. 
 
 He of the shorter but more lethal weapon 
 hastily retreated. Sir Charles flung a guinea on 
 
 1 66
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 the counter, and, mounting his horse, rode him 
 off rather faster than before this accident. 
 
 There was a dead silence ! 
 
 " I believe that gentleman to be the devil ! " 
 said a thoughtful bystander. The crowd (it was 
 a century ago) assented mm. con. 
 
 Sir Charles, arrived in Bloomsbury Square, 
 found that the whole party was assembled. He 
 therefore ordered his servant to parade before 
 the door, and if he saw Mrs. Vane's carriage enter 
 the square, to let him know, if possible, before 
 she should reach the house. On entering he 
 learned that Mr. Vane and his guests were in the 
 garden (a very fine one), and joined them there. 
 
 Mrs. Vane demands another chapter, in which 
 I will tell the reader who she was, and what 
 excuse her husband had for his liaison with 
 Margaret Woffington.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 /ISABEL CHESTER was the 
 beauty and toast of South 
 Shropshire. She had re- 
 fused the hand of half the 
 country squires in a circle 
 of some dozen miles, till at 
 last Mr. Vane became her 
 suitor. Besides a hand- 
 some face and person, Mr. 
 Vane had accomplishments his rivals did not pos- 
 sess. He read poetry to her on mossy banks, an 
 hour before sunset, and awakened sensibilities, 
 which her other suitors shocked, and they them. 
 
 168
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 The lovely Mabel had a taste for beautiful 
 things, without any excess of that severe quality 
 called judgment. 
 
 I will explain. If you or I, reader, had read 
 to her in the afternoon, amidst the smell of 
 roses and eglantine, the chirp of the mavis, the 
 hum of bees, the twinkling of butterflies, and 
 the tinkle of distant sheep, something that com- 
 bined all these sights, and sounds, and smells 
 say Milton's musical picture of Eden, P. L., lib. 
 3, and after that "Triplet on Kew," she would 
 have instantly pronounced in favour of " Eden " ; 
 but if we had read her " Milton," and Mr. Vane 
 had read her "Triplet," she would have as un- 
 hesitatingly preferred "Kew" to "Paradise." 
 
 She was a true daughter of Eve ; the lady 
 who, when an angel was telling her and her 
 husband the truths of heaven in heaven's own 
 music, slipped away into the kitchen, because 
 she preferred hearing the story at second-hand, 
 encumbered with digressions, and in mortal but 
 marital accents. 
 
 When her mother, who guarded Mabel like a 
 dragon, told her Mr. Vane was not rich enough, 
 and she really must not give him so many 
 opportunities, Mabel cried and embraced the 
 dragon, and said, "O mother!" The dragon, 
 finding her ferocity dissolving, tried to shake 
 her off, but the goose would cry and embrace 
 the dragon till it melted. 
 
 By-and-by Mr. Vane's uncle died suddenly 
 169
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 and left him the great Stoken Church estate, 
 and a trunk full of Jacobuses and Queen Anne's 
 guineas his own hoard and his father's then 
 the dragon spake comfortably and said 
 
 " My child, he is now the richest man in 
 Shropshire. He will not think of you now ; 
 so steel your heart." 
 
 Then Mabel, contrary to all expectations, did 
 not cry ; but with flushing cheek, pledged her 
 life upon Ernest's love and honour. And Ernest, 
 as soon as the funeral, &c., left him free, 
 galloped to Mabel, to talk of " our good fortune." 
 The dragon had done him injustice ; that was 
 not his weak point. So they were married ! and 
 they were very, very happy. But one month 
 after, the dragon died, and that was their first 
 grief ; but they bore it together. 
 
 And Vane was not like the other Shropshire 
 squires. His idea of pleasure was something his 
 wife could share. He still rode, walked, and sat 
 with her, and read to her, and composed songs 
 for her, and about her, which she played and 
 sang prettily enough, in her quiet ladylike way, 
 and in a voice of honey dropping from the 
 comb. Then she kept a keen eye upon him ; 
 and when she discovered what dishes he liked, 
 she superintended those herself ; and observing 
 that he never failed to eat of a certain lemon 
 pudding the dragon had originated, she always 
 made this pudding herself, and she never told 
 
 her husband she made it. 
 
 170
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 The first seven months of their marriage was 
 more like blue sky than brown earth ; and if 
 any one had told Mabel that her husband was 
 a mortal, and not an angel, sent to her that 
 her days and nights might be unmixed, uninter- 
 rupted heaven, she could hardly have realised 
 the information. 
 
 When a vexatious litigant began to contest the 
 will by which Mr. Vane was Lord of Stoken 
 Church, and Mr. Vane went up to London to 
 concert the proper means of defeating this attack, 
 Mrs. Vane would gladly have compounded by 
 giving the man two or three thousand acres, or 
 the whole estate, if he wouldn't take less, not 
 to rob her of her husband for a month. But 
 she was docile, as she was amorous ; so she 
 cried (out of sight) a week ; and let her darling 
 go, with every misgiving a loving heart could 
 have, but one ! and that one, her own heart 
 told her, was impossible. 
 
 The month rolled away no symptom of a 
 return. For this, Mr. Vane was not, in fact, to 
 blame ; but, towards the end of the next month, 
 business became a convenient excuse. When 
 three months had passed, Mrs. Vane became 
 unhappy. She thought he too must feel the 
 separation. She offered to come to him. He 
 answered uncandidly. He urged the length, the 
 fatigue of the journey. She was silenced ; but 
 some time later, she began to take a new view 
 of his objections. " He is so self-denying," said 
 
 171
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 she. " Dear Ernest ! he longs for me ; but he 
 thinks it selfish to let me travel so far alone to 
 see him." 
 
 Full of this idea, she yielded to her love. 
 She made her preparations, and wrote to him 
 that if he did not forbid her peremptorily, he 
 must expect to see her at his breakfast-table in 
 a very few days. 
 
 Mr. Vane concluded this was a jest, and did 
 not answer this letter at all. 
 
 Mrs. Vane started. She travelled with all 
 
 speed ; but coming to a halt at , she wrote 
 
 to her husband that she counted on being with 
 him at four of the clock on Thursday. 
 
 This letter preceded her arrival by a few hours. 
 It was put into his hand at the same time with a 
 note from Mrs. Woffington, telling him she should 
 be at a rehearsal at Covent Garden. Thinking his 
 wife's letter would keep, he threw it on one side 
 into a sort of a tray ; and after a hurried breakfast, 
 went out of his house to the theatre. He returned, 
 as we are aware, with Mrs. Womngton ; and also, 
 at her request, with Mr. Gibber, for whom they 
 called on their way. He had forgotten his wife's 
 letter, and was entirely occupied with his guests. 
 
 Sir Charles Pomander joined them, and found 
 Mr. Colander, the head domestic of the London 
 establishment, cutting with a pair of scissors 
 every flower Mrs. Womngton fancied, that lady 
 having a passion for flowers. 
 
 Colander, during his temporary absence from 
 172
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 the interior, had appointed James Burdock to 
 keep the house, and receive the two remaining 
 guests, should they arrive. 
 
 This James Burdock was a faithful old country 
 servant, who had come up with Mr. Vane, but 
 left his heart at Willoughby. James Burdock 
 had for some time been ruminating, and his 
 conclusion was, that his mistress, Miss Mabel 
 (as by force of habit he called her), was not 
 treated as she deserved. 
 
 Burdock had been imported into Mr. Vane's 
 family by Mabel ; he had carried her in his 
 arms when she was a child ; he had held her 
 upon a donkey when she was a little girl ; and 
 when she became a woman, it was he who 
 taught her to stand close to her horse, and 
 give him her foot, and spring, while he lifted 
 her steadily but strongly into her saddle ; and 
 when there, it was he who had instructed her 
 that a horse was not a machine, that galloping 
 tires it in time, and that galloping it on the 
 hard road hammers it to pieces. " I taught the 
 girl," thought James within himself. 
 
 This honest silver-haired old fellow seemed 
 so ridiculous to Colander, the smooth, super- 
 cilious Londoner, that he deigned sometimes 
 to converse with James, in order to quiz him. 
 This very morning they had had a conversation. 
 
 " Poor Miss Mabel ! dear heart ! A twelve- 
 month married, and nigh six months of it a 
 widow, or next door."
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "We write to her, James, and entertain her 
 replies, which are at considerable length." 
 
 "Ay, but we don't read 'em!" said James, 
 with an uneasy glance at the tray. 
 
 "Invariably, at our leisure; meantime we make 
 ourselves happy amongst the wits and the syrens." 
 
 "And she do make others happy among the 
 poor and the ailing." 
 
 "Which shows," said Colander superciliously, 
 " the difference of tastes." 
 
 Burdock, whose eye had never been off his 
 mistress's handwriting, at last took it up and 
 said : " Master Colander, do, if ye please, sir, 
 take this into master's dressing-room, do now ! " 
 
 Colander looked down on the missive with 
 dilating eye. " Not a bill, James Burdock ? " said 
 he reproachfully. 
 
 "A bill ! bless ye, no. A letter from missus." 
 
 No, the dog would not take it in to his master ; 
 and poor James, with a sigh, replaced it in the 
 tray. 
 
 This James Burdock, then, was left in charge 
 of the hall by Colander, and it so happened that 
 the change was hardly effected, before a hurried 
 knocking came to the street-door. 
 
 " Ay, ay ! " grumbled Burdock, " I thought it 
 would not be long. London for knocking and 
 ringing all day, and ringing and knocking all 
 night." He opened the door reluctantly and 
 suspiciously, and in darted a lady, whose features 
 were concealed by a hood. She glided across
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 the hall, as if she was making for some point, 
 and old James shuffled after her, crying : " Stop, 
 stop ! young woman. What is your name, young 
 woman ? " 
 
 " Why, James Burdock," cried the lady, removing 
 her hood, " have you forgotten your mistress ? " 
 
 " Mistress ! Why, Miss Mabel, I ask your 
 pardon, madam here, John, Margery ! " 
 
 " Hush !" cried Mrs. Vane. 
 
 " But where are your trunks, miss ? And 
 where's the coach, and Darby and Joan ? To 
 think of their drawing you all the way here ! I'll 
 have 'em into your room directly, ma'am. Miss, 
 you've come just in time." 
 
 "What a dear, good, stupid old thing you are, 
 James ! Where is Ernest Mr. Vane ? James, is 
 he well and happy ? I want to surprise him." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," said James, looking down. 
 
 " I left the stupid old coach at Islington, James. 
 The something pin was loose, or I don't know 
 what. Could I wait two hours there ? So I 
 came on by myself. You wicked old man, you 
 let me talk, and don't tell me how he is." 
 
 " Master is main well, ma'am, and thank you," 
 said old Burdock, confused and uneasy. 
 
 " But is he happy ? Of course he is. Are we 
 not to meet to-day after six months ? Ah ! but 
 never mind, they are gone by." 
 
 " Lord bless her ! " thought the faithful old 
 fellow. " If sitting down and crying could help 
 her, I wouldn't be long."
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 By this time they were in the banqueting- 
 room, and at the preparations there Mabel gave 
 a start ; she then coloured. " Oh ! he has in- 
 vited his friends to make acquaintance. I had 
 rather we had been alone all this day and to- 
 morrow. But he must not know that. No ; 
 /its friends are my friends, and shall be too," 
 thought the country wife. She then glanced 
 with some misgiving at her travelling attire, and 
 wished she had brought one trunk with her. 
 
 " James," said she, " where is my room ? And 
 mind, I forbid you to tell a soul I am come." 
 
 "Your room, Miss Mabel ?" 
 
 "Well, any room where there is looking-glass 
 and water." 
 
 She then went to a door which opened in fact 
 on a short passage leading to a room occupied 
 by Mr. Vane himself. 
 
 "No, no!" cried James. "That is master's 
 room." 
 
 "Well, is not master's room mistress's room, 
 old man ? But stay ; is he there ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am ; he is in the garden, with a power 
 of fine folks." 
 
 " They shall not see me till I have made myself 
 a little more decent," said the young beauty, who 
 knew at bottom how little, comparatively, the 
 colour of her dress could affect her appearance, 
 and she opened Mr. Vane's door and glided in. 
 
 Burdock's first determination was, in spite of 
 her injunction, to tell Colander ; but on reflection 
 
 176
 
 he argued : " And then what will they do ? 
 They will put their heads together, and deceive 
 us some other way. No!" thought James, with 
 a touch of spite, " we shall see how they will all 
 look." He argued also that, at sight of his beau- 
 tiful wife, his master must come to his senses, 
 and the Colander faction be defeated ; and, 
 perhaps, by the mercy of Providence, Colander 
 himself turned off. 
 
 Whilst thus ruminating, a thundering knock 
 at the door almost knocked him off his legs. 
 "There ye go again," said he, and went angrily 
 to the door. This time it was Hunsdon, who 
 was in a desperate hurry to see his master. 
 
 "Where is Sir Charles Pomander, my honest 
 fellow ? " said he. 
 
 " In the garden, my Jack-a-dandy ! " said Bur- 
 dock furiously. 
 
 (" Honest fellow," among servants, implies some 
 moral inferiority.) 
 
 In the garden went Hunsdon. His master 
 all of whose senses were playing sentinel saw 
 him, and left the company to meet him. 
 
 " She is in the house, sir." 
 
 " Good ! Go vanish ! " 
 
 Sir Charles looked into the banquet-room ; 
 the haunch was being placed on the table. He 
 returned with the information. He burned to 
 bring husband and wife together : he counted 
 each second lost that postponed this (to him) 
 thrilling joy. Oh, how happy he was ! happier 
 
 177 M
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 than the serpent, when he saw Eve's white teeth 
 really strike into the apple ! 
 
 "Shall we pay respect to this haunch, Mr. 
 Quin ? " said Vane gaily. 
 
 " If you please, sir," said Quin gravely. 
 
 Colander ran down a by-path with an immense 
 bouquet, which he arranged for Mrs. Woffington 
 in a vase at Mr. Vane's left hand. He then threw 
 open the windows, which were on the French 
 plan, and shut within a foot of the lawn. 
 
 The musicians in the arbour struck up, and the 
 company, led by Mr. Vane and Mrs. Woffington, 
 entered the room. And a charming room it 
 was ! light, lofty, and large adorned in the 
 French way with white and gold. The table was 
 an exact oval, and at it everybody could hear 
 what any one said ; an excellent arrangement 
 where ideaed guests only are admitted which 
 is another excellent arrangement, though I see 
 people don't think so. 
 
 The repast was luxurious and elegant. There 
 was no profusion of unmeaning dishes ; each 
 was a bonne-bouche an undeniable delicacy. 
 The glass was beautiful, the plates silver ; the 
 flowers rose like walls from the table ; the plate 
 massive and glorious ; rose-water in the hand- 
 glasses ; music crept in from the garden, de- 
 liciously subdued into what seemed a natural 
 sound. A broad stream of southern sun gushed 
 in fiery gold through the open window, and like 
 a red-hot rainbow danced through the stained 
 
 178
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 glass above it. Existence was a thing to bask in 
 in such a place, and so happy an hour ! 
 
 \Cepyright 1899 by George jtHen.} 
 
 The guests were Quin, Mrs. Clive, Mr. Gibber, 
 Sir Charles Pomander, Mrs. Woffington, and
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Messrs. Soaper and Snarl, critics of the day. 
 This pair, with wonderful sagacity, had arrived 
 from the street as the haunch came from the 
 kitchen. Good humour reigned ; some cuts 
 passed, but as the parties professed wit, they 
 gave and took. 
 
 Quin carved the haunch, and was happy; 
 Soaper and Snarl eating the same, and drink- 
 ing Toquay, were mellowed and mitigated into 
 human flesh. Mr. Vane and Mrs. Woffington 
 were happy ; he, because his conscience was 
 asleep ; and she, because she felt nothing now 
 could shake her hold of him. Sir Charles was 
 in a sort of mental chuckle. His head burned, 
 his bones ached ; but he was in a sort of nervous 
 delight. 
 
 "Where is she?" thought he. "What will 
 she do ? Will she send her maid with a note ? 
 How blue he will look ! Or will she come her- 
 self ? She is a country wife ; there must be a 
 scene. Oh ! why doesn't she come into this 
 room ? She must know we are here ! Is she 
 watching somewhere ? " His brain became 
 puzzled, and his senses were sharpened to a 
 point ; he was all eye, ear, and expectation ; 
 and this was why he was the only one to hear 
 a very slight sound behind the door we have 
 mentioned, and next to perceive a lady's glove 
 lying close to that door. Mabel had dropped 
 it in her retreat. Putting this and that together, 
 he was led to hope and believe she was there, 
 
 1 80
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 making her toilette perhaps, and her arrival at 
 present unknown. 
 
 "Do you expect no one else?" said he, with 
 feigned carelessness, to Mr. Vane. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Vane with real carelessness. 
 
 " It must be so ! What fortune ! " thought 
 Pomander. 
 
 SOAPER. " Mr. Gibber looks no older than he 
 did five years ago." 
 
 SNARL. "There was no room on his face for 
 a fresh wrinkle." 
 
 SOAPER. "He! he! Nay, Mr. Snarl; Mr. 
 Gibber is like old port : the more ancient he 
 grows, the more delicious his perfume." 
 
 SNARL. "And the crustier he gets." 
 
 CLIVE. " Mr. Vane, you should always separate 
 those two. Snarl, by himself, is just support- 
 able; but when Soaper paves the way with his 
 hypocritical praise, the pair are too much ; 
 they are a two-edged sword." 
 
 WOFFINGTON. "Wanting nothing but polish 
 and point." 
 
 VANE. "Gentlemen, we abandon your neigh- 
 bour, Mr. Quin, to you." 
 
 QuiN. "They know better. If they don't keep 
 a civil tongue in their heads, no fat goes from 
 here to them." 
 
 GIBBER. "Ah, Mr. Vane, this room is delightful ; 
 but it makes me sad. I knew this house in Lord 
 Longueville's time ; an unrivalled gallant, Peggy. 
 
 You may just remember him, Sir Charles ?" 
 
 181
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 POMANDER (with his eye on a certain door). 
 " Yes, yes ; a gouty old fellow." 
 
 Gibber fired up. " I wish you may ever be 
 like him. Oh the beauty, the wit, the petits- 
 soupers that used to be here ! Longueville was 
 a great creature, Mr. Vane. I have known him 
 entertain a fine lady in this room, while her 
 rival was fretting and fuming on the other side 
 of that door." 
 
 "Ah, indeed!" said Sir Charles. 
 
 " More shame for him," said Mr. Vane. 
 
 Here was luck! Pomander seized this oppor- 
 tunity of turning the conversation to his object. 
 With a malicious twinkle in his eye, he inquired 
 of Mr. Gibber what made him fancy the house 
 had lost its virtue in Mr. Vane's hands. 
 
 " Because," said Gibber peevishly, " you all 
 want the true savoir faire nowadays ; because 
 there is no juste milieu, young gentlemen. The 
 young dogs of the day are all either unprin- 
 cipled heathen, like yourself, or Amadises, like 
 our worthy host." The old gentleman's face and 
 manners were like those of a patriarch, regretting 
 the general decay of virtue, not the imaginary 
 diminution of a single vice. He concluded with 
 a sigh, that "The true preux des dames went 
 out with the full periwig ; stap my vitals ! " 
 
 "A bit of fat, Mr. Gibber?" said Quin, whose 
 jokes were not polished. 
 
 " Jemmy, thou art a brute," was the reply. 
 
 " You refuse, sir ? " said Quin sternly. 
 182
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "No, sir!" said Gibber, with dignity; "I 
 accept." 
 
 Pomander's eye was ever on the door. 
 
 "The old are so unjust to the young," said he. 
 "You pretend that the Deluge washed away 
 iniquity, and that a rake is a fossil. What," said 
 he, leaning as it were on every word, "if I bet 
 you a cool hundred, that Vane has a petticoat 
 in that room, and that Mrs. Woffington shall 
 unearth her ?" 
 
 The malicious dog thought this was the surest 
 way to effect a dramatic exposure ; because, if 
 Peggy found Mabel to all appearances concealed, 
 Peggy would scold her, and betray herself. 
 
 " Pomander ! " cried Vane, in great heat ; then 
 checking himself, he said coolly : " But you all 
 know Pomander." 
 
 " None of you," replied that gentleman. 
 " Bring a chair, sir," said he, authoritatively, to 
 a servant ; who of course obeyed. 
 
 Mrs. Clive looked at him, and thought : " There 
 is something in this ! " 
 
 " It is for the lady," said he coolly. Then lean- 
 ing over the table, he said to Mrs. Woffington, 
 with an impudent affectation of friendly under-' 
 standing : " I ran her to earth in this house not 
 ten minutes ago. Of course, I don't know who 
 she is ! But," smacking his lips, " a rustic 
 Amaryllis, breathing all May-buds and Meadow- 
 sweet." 
 
 " Have her out, Peggy ! " shouted Gibber. " I 
 183
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 know the run there's the covert ! Hark for- 
 ward ! Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 Mr. Vane rose, and with a sternness that 
 brought the old beau up with a run, he said : 
 " Mr. Gibber, age and infirmity are privileged ; 
 but for you, Sir Charles " 
 
 " Don't be angry," interposed Mrs. Woffington, 
 whose terror was lest he should quarrel with so 
 practised a swordsman. " Don't you see it is a 
 jest ? and, as might be expected from poor Sir 
 Charles, a very sorry one." 
 
 "A jest !" said Vane, white with rage. " Let it 
 go no farther, or it will be earnest ! " 
 
 Mrs. Woffington placed her hand on his 
 shoulder, and at that touch he instantly yielded, 
 and sat down. 
 
 It was at this moment, when Sir Charles found 
 himself for the present baffled for he could no 
 longer press his point, and search that room ; 
 when the attention of all was drawn to a dispute, 
 which, for a moment, had looked like a quarrel ; 
 whilst Mrs. Woffington's hand still lingered, as 
 only a woman's hand can linger in leaving the 
 shoulder of the man she loves it was at this 
 moment the door opened of its own accord, and 
 a most beautiful woman stood, with a light step, 
 upon the threshold ! 
 
 Nobody's back was to her, except Mr. Vane's. 
 Every eye, but his, was spell-bound upon her. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington withdrew her hand, as if a 
 scorpion had touched her. 
 
 184
 
 qftcfecf u-f> ~fo film* 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George slllen.]
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 A stupor of astonishment fell on them all. 
 
 Mr. Vane, seeing the direction of all their eyes, 
 slewed himself round in his chair into a most 
 awkward position, and when he saw the lady, he 
 was utterly dumbfounded ! But she, as soon as 
 he turned his face her way, glided up to him with 
 a little half sigh, half cry of joy, and taking him 
 round the neck, kissed him deliciously, while 
 every eye at the table met every other eye in 
 turn. One or two of the men rose ; for the 
 lady's beauty was as worthy of homage as her 
 appearing was marvellous. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington, too astonished for emotion 
 to take any definite shape, said, in what seemed 
 an ordinary tone: "Who is this lady?" 
 
 " I am his wife, madam," said Mabel, in the 
 voice of a skylark, and smiling friendly on the 
 questioner. 
 
 "It is my wife!" said Vane, like a speaking 
 machine ; he was scarcely in a conscious state. 
 " It is my wife !" he repeated mechanically. 
 
 The words were no sooner out of Mabel's 
 mouth than two servants, who had never heard 
 of Mrs. Vane before, hastened to place on Mr. 
 Vane's right hand the chair Pomander had pro- 
 vided ; a plate and napkin were there in a twink- 
 ling ; and the wife modestly, but as a matter 
 of course, curtsied low, with an air of welcome 
 to all her guests, and then glided into the seat 
 her servants obsequiously placed for her. 
 
 The \vhole thing did not take half a minute ! 
 1 86
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 R. VANE, besides being 
 a rich, was a mag- 
 nificent man ; when 
 his features were in 
 repose their beauty 
 had a wise and 
 stately character. 
 Soaper and Snarl 
 had admired and 
 bitterly envied him. At the present moment no 
 one of his guests envied him they began to 
 realise his position. And he ! A huge wheel of 
 
 187
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 shame and remorse began to turn and whirr 
 before his eyes. He sat between two European 
 beauties ; and, pale and red by turns, shunned 
 the eyes of both, and looked down at his plate 
 in a cold sweat of humiliation, mortification, 
 and shame. 
 
 The iron passed through Mrs. Woffington's 
 soul. So ! this was a villain too, the greatest 
 villain of all a hypocrite! She turned very 
 faint, but she was under an enemy's eye, and 
 under a rival's ; the thought drove the blood 
 back from her heart, and with a mighty effort 
 she was Woffington again. Hitherto her liaison 
 with Mr. Vane had called up the better part of 
 her nature, and perhaps our reader has been 
 taking her for a good woman ; but now all her 
 dregs were stirred to the surface. The mortified 
 actress gulled by a novice, the wronged and in- 
 sulted woman, had but two thoughts ; to defeat 
 her rival to be revenged on her false lover. 
 More than one sharp spasm passed over her 
 features before she could master them, and then 
 she became smiles above, wormwood and red- 
 hot steel below all in less than half a minute. 
 
 As for the others, looks of keen intelligence 
 passed between them, and they watched \vith 
 burning interest for the denouement. That interest 
 was stronger than their sense of the comicality of 
 all this (for the humorous view of what passes 
 before our eyes comes upon cool reflection, not 
 often at the time). 
 
 1 88
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Sir Charles, indeed, who had foreseen some of 
 this, wore a demure look, belied by his glittering 
 eye. He offered Gibber snuff, and the two 
 satirical animals grinned over the snuff-box, like 
 a malicious old ape and a mischievous young 
 monkey. 
 
 The new-comer was charming ; she was above 
 the middle height, of a full, though graceful figure, 
 her abundant, glossy, bright brown hair glittered 
 here and there like gold in the light : she had a 
 snowy brow, eyes of the profoundest blue, a 
 cheek like a peach, and a face beaming candour 
 and goodness; the character of her counten- 
 ance resembled "the Queen of the May," in Mr. 
 Leslie's famous picture, more than any face of 
 our day I can call to mind. 
 
 "You are not angry with me for this silly 
 trick ?" said she, with some misgiving. "After all, 
 I am only two hours before my time ; you know, 
 dearest, I said four in my letter did I not ? " 
 
 Vane stammered. What could he say ? 
 
 " And you have had three days to prepare you, 
 for I wrote, like a good wife, to ask leave 
 before starting. But he never so much as 
 answered my letter, madam." (This she addressed 
 to Mrs. Woffington, who smiled by main force.) 
 
 " Why," stammered Vane, " could you doubt ? 
 I I 
 
 " No ! Silence was consent, was it not ? But 
 I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen ; I hope 
 
 you will forgive me. It is six months since I 
 
 189
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 saw him so you understand. I warrant me 
 you did not look for me so soon, ladies ? " 
 
 " Some of us did not look for you at all, 
 madam," said Mrs. Woffington. 
 
 "What ! Ernest did not tell you he expected 
 me ? " 
 
 " No ! He told us this banquet was in honour 
 of a lady's first visit to his house, but none of us 
 imagined that lady to be his wife." 
 
 Vane began to writhe under that terrible tongue, 
 whose point hitherto had ever been turned away 
 from him. 
 
 " He intended to steal a march on us," said 
 Pomander drily ; " and with your help, we steal 
 one on him ; " and he smiled maliciously on 
 Mrs. Woffington. 
 
 " But, madam," said Mr. Quin, " the moment 
 you did arrive I kept sacred for you a bit of the 
 fat, for which, I am sure, you must be ready. 
 Pass her plate ! " 
 
 " Not at present, Mr. Quin," said Mr. Vane 
 hastily. " She is about to retire and change her 
 travelling dress." 
 
 " Yes, dear ; but, you forget, I am a stranger 
 to your friends. Will you not introduce me to 
 them first?" 
 
 " No, no ! " cried Vane, in trepidation. " It is 
 not usual to introduce in the beau monde." 
 
 "We always introduce ourselves," rejoined Mrs. 
 Woffington ; and she rose slowly, with her eye 
 on Vane. He cast a look of abject entreaty 
 
 190
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 on her ; but there was no pity in that curling lip 
 and awful eye. He closed his own eyes, and 
 waited for the blow. Sir Charles threw himself 
 back in his chair, and chuckling, prepared for 
 the explosion. Mrs. Woffington saw 7 him, and 
 cast on him a look of ineffable scorn ; and 
 then she held the whole company fluttering a 
 long while. At length : " The Honourable Mrs. 
 Quickly, madam," said she, indicating Mrs. Clive. 
 
 This turn took them all by surprise. Pom- 
 ander bit his lip. 
 
 "Sir John Brute " 
 
 " Falstaff ! " cried Quin. " Hang it ! " 
 
 " Sir John Brute Falstaff," resumed Mrs. 
 Woffington. " We call him, for brevity, Brute." 
 
 Vane drew a long breath. 
 
 "Your neighbour is Lord Foppington ; a but- 
 terfly of some standing, and a little gouty." 
 
 " Sir Charles Pomander." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Mrs. Vane. "It is the good 
 gentleman who helped us out of the slough, 
 near Huntingdon. Ernest, if it had not been 
 for this gentleman, I should not have had the 
 pleasure of being here now." And she beamed 
 on the good Pomander. 
 
 Mr. Vane did not rise and embrace Sir Charles. 
 
 "All the company thanks the good Sir 
 Charles," said Cibber, bowing. 
 
 " I see it in all their faces," said the good 
 Sir Charles drily. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington continued : '' Mr. Soaper, 
 191
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Mr. Snarl : gentlemen who would butter and 
 slice up their own fathers ! " 
 
 " Bless me ! " cried Mrs. Vane faintly. 
 
 "Critics!" And she dropped, as it were, the 
 word drily, with a sweet smile, into Mabel's 
 plate. 
 
 Mrs. Vane was relieved ; she had appre- 
 hended cannibals. London, they had told her, 
 was full of curiosities. 
 
 " But yourself, madam ? " 
 
 " I am the Lady Betty Modish at your 
 service." 
 
 A four-inch grin went round the table. The 
 dramatical old rascal, Gibber, began now to 
 look at it as a bit of genteel comedy ; and 
 slipped out his note - book under the table. 
 Pomander cursed her ready wit, which had 
 disappointed him of his catastrophe. Vane 
 wrote on a slip of paper : " Pity and respect 
 the innocent ! " and passed it to Mrs. Woffing- 
 ton. He could not have done a more super- 
 fluous or injudicious thing. 
 
 "And now, Ernest," cried Mabel, "for the 
 news from Willoughby." 
 
 Vane stopped her in dismay. He felt how 
 many satirical eyes and ears were upon him 
 and his wife. " Pray go and change your 
 dress first, Mabel," cried he, fully determined 
 that on her return she should not find the 
 present party there. 
 
 Mrs. Vane cast an imploring look on Mrs. 
 192
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Woffington. "My things are not come," said 
 she. "And, Lady Betty, I had so much to tell 
 
 {Copyright 1899 by George Allen.} 
 
 him and to be sent away ! " and the deep blue 
 
 eyes began to fill. 
 
 193 N
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Now, Mrs. Woffington was determined that 
 this lady, who she saw was simple, should 
 disgust her husband by talking twaddle before 
 a band of satirists. So she said warmly : " It 
 is not fair on us. Pray, madam, your budget 
 of country news. Clouted cream so seldom 
 comes to London quite fresh." 
 
 "There, you see, Ernest," said the unsuspicious 
 soul. " First, you must know that Grey Gillian 
 is turned out for a brood mare, so old George 
 won't let me ride her ; old servants are such 
 tyrants, my lady. And my Barbary hen has laid 
 two eggs ; Heaven knows the trouble we had to 
 bring her to it. And Dame Best, that is my 
 husband's old nurse, Mrs. Quickly, has had 
 soup and pudding from the Hall every day : 
 and once she went so far as to say it wasn't 
 altogether a bad pudding. She is not a very 
 grateful woman, in a general way, poor thing ! 
 1 made it with these hands." 
 
 Vane writhed. 
 
 " Happy pudding ! " observed Mr. Gibber. 
 
 "Is this mockery, sir?" cried Vane, with a 
 sudden burst of irritation. 
 
 "No, sir; it is gallantry," replied Gibber, with 
 perfect coolness. 
 
 "Will you hear a little music in the garden ?" 
 said Vane to Mrs. Woffington, pooh-poohing his 
 wife's news. 
 
 " Not till I hear the end of Dame Bess." 
 
 " Best, my lady." 
 
 194
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Dame Best interests me, Mr. Vane." 
 " Ay ! and Ernest is very fond of her, too, when 
 he is at home. She is in her nice new cottage, 
 dear ; but she misses the draughts that were in 
 her old one they were like old friends. 'The 
 only ones I have, I'm thinking/ said the dear 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.\ 
 
 cross old thing : and there stood I, on her floor, 
 with a flannel petticoat in both hands, that I had 
 made for her, and ruined my finger. Look else, 
 my Lord Foppington ! " She extended a hand 
 the colour of cream. 
 
 "Permit me, madam?" taking out his glasses, 
 with which he inspected her finger ; and gravely 
 announced to the company: "The laceration 
 
 195
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 is, in fact, discernible. May I be permitted, 
 madam," added he, "to kiss this fair hand, which 
 I should never have suspected of having ever 
 made itself half so useful ? " 
 
 "Ay, my Lord!" said she, colouring slightly, 
 " you shall, because you are so old ; but I don't 
 say for a young gentleman, unless it was the 
 one that belongs to me ; and he does not 
 ask me." 
 
 " My dear Mabel, pray remember we are not 
 at Willoughby." 
 
 " I see we are not, Ernest." And the dove-like 
 eyes filled brimful ; and all her innocent prattle 
 was put an end to. 
 
 " What brutes men are," thought Mrs. Womng- 
 ton. "They are not worthy even of a fool like 
 this." 
 
 Mr. Vane once more pressed her to hear a 
 little music in the garden ; and this time she con- 
 sented. Mr. Vane was far from being unmoved 
 by his wife's arrival, and her true affection. 
 But she worried him ; he was anxious, above 
 all things, to escape from his present position, 
 and separate the rival queens ; and this was the 
 only way he could see to do it. He whis- 
 pered Mabel, and bade her somewhat peremp- 
 torily rest herself for an hour after her journey, 
 and he entered the garden with Mrs. Woffington. 
 
 Now, the other gentlemen admired Mrs. Vane 
 the most. She was new. She was as lovely, in 
 
 her way, as Peggy ; and it was the young May- 
 
 196
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 morn beauty of the country. They forgave her 
 simplicity, and even her goodness, on account 
 of her beauty; men are not severe judges of 
 beautiful women. They all solicited her to come 
 with them, and be the queen of the garden. But 
 the good wife was obedient. Her lord had told 
 her she was fatigued ; so she said she was tired. 
 
 " Mr. Vane's garden will lack its sweetest 
 and fairest flower, madam," cried Gibber, " if 
 we leave you here." 
 
 " Nay, my Lord, there are fairer than I." 
 
 " Poor Quin ! " cried Kitty Clive ; " to have to 
 leave the alderman's walk for the garden-walk." 
 
 "All I regret," said the honest glutton stoutly, 
 "is that I go without carving for Mrs. Vane." 
 
 "You are very good, Sir John ; I will be more 
 troublesome to you at supper-time." 
 
 When they were all gone, she couldn't help 
 sighing. It almost seemed as if everybody was 
 kinder to her than he whose kindness alone 
 she valued. " And he must take Lady Betty's 
 hand instead of mine," thought she. " But that 
 is good breeding, I suppose. I wish there was 
 no such thing : we are very happy without it 
 in Shropshire." Then this poor little soul was 
 ashamed of herself, and took herself to task. 
 " Poor Ernest," said she, pitying the wrong- 
 doer, like a woman, " he was not pleased to be 
 so taken by surprise. No wonder ; they are so 
 ceremonious in London. How good of him not 
 
 to be angry ! " Then she sighed ; her heart had 
 
 197
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 received a damp. His voice seemed changed, 
 and he did not meet her eyes with the look he 
 wore at Willoughby. She looked timidly into the 
 garden. She saw the gay colours of beaux, as well 
 as of belles for in these days broadcloth had not 
 displaced silk and velvet glancing and shining 
 among the trees ; and she sighed, but presently 
 brightening up a little, she said : " I will go and 
 see that the coffee is hot and clear, and the 
 chocolate well mixed for them." The poor child 
 wanted to do something to please her husband. 
 Before she could carry out this act of domestic 
 virtue, her attention was drawn to a strife of 
 tongues in the hall. She opened the folding 
 doors, and there was a fine gentleman obstruct- 
 ing the entrance of a sombre rusty figure, with 
 a portfolio and a manuscript under each arm. 
 
 The fine gentleman was Colander. The seedy 
 personage was the eternal Triplet, come to make 
 hay with his five-foot rule while the sun shone. 
 Colander had opened the door to him, and he 
 had shot into the hall. The major-domo ob- 
 structed the farther entrance of such a coat. 
 
 " I tell you my master is not at home," 
 remonstrated the major-domo. 
 
 " How can you say so," cried Mrs. Vane in 
 surprise, " when you know he is in the garden ? " 
 
 " Simpleton ! " thought Colander. 
 
 " Show the gentleman in." 
 
 "Gentleman !" muttered Colander. 
 
 Triplet thanked her for her condescension ; he 
 198
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 would wait for Mr. Vane in the hall. " I came 
 by appointment, madam ; this is the only excuse 
 for the importunity you have just witnessed." 
 
 Hearing this, Mrs. Vane dismissed Colander to 
 inform his master. Colander bowed loftily, and 
 walked into the servants' hall without deigning to 
 take the last proposition into consideration. 
 
 " Come in here, sir," said Mabel ; " Mr. Vane 
 will come as soon as he can leave his company." 
 Triplet entered in a series of obsequious jerks. 
 " Sit down and rest you, sir." And Mrs. Vane 
 seated herself at the table, and motioned with 
 her white hand to Triplet to sit beside her. 
 
 Triplet bowed, and sat on the edge of a chair, 
 and smirked and dropped his portfolio, and in- 
 stantly begged Mrs. Vane's pardon ; in taking it 
 up, he let fall his manuscript, and was again 
 confused ; but in the middle of some superfluous 
 and absurd excuse his eye fell on the haunch ; 
 it straightway dilated to an enormous size, 
 and he became suddenly silent and absorbed 
 in contemplation. 
 
 "You look sadly tired, sir." 
 
 " Why, yes, madam. It is a long way from 
 Lambeth Walk, and it is passing hot, madam." 
 He took his handkerchief out, and was about 
 to wipe his brow, but returned it hastily to his 
 pocket. " I beg your pardon, madam," said 
 Triplet, whose ideas of breeding, though specu- 
 lative, were severe ; " I forgot myself." 
 
 Mabel looked at him, and coloured, and slightly 
 199
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 hesitated. At last she said : " I'll be bound you 
 came in such a hurry you forgot you mustn't be 
 angry with me to have your dinner first ?" 
 
 For Triplet looked like an absurd wolf all 
 benevolence and starvation ! 
 
 " What divine intelligence ! " thought Trip. 
 " How strange, madam," cried he, " you have 
 hit it ! This accounts, at once, for a craving I 
 feel. Now you remind me, I recollect carving 
 for others ; I did forget to remember myself. 
 Not that I need have forgot it to-day, madam ; 
 but being used to forget it, I did not remember 
 not to forget it to-day, madam that was all." 
 And the author of this intelligent account smiled, 
 very, very, very absurdly. 
 
 She poured him out a glass of wine. He rose 
 and bowed ; but peremptorily refused it, with 
 his tongue his eye drank it. 
 
 " But you must," persisted this hospitable lady. 
 
 " But, madam, consider I am not entitled to 
 Nectar, as I am a man ! " 
 
 The white hand was filling his plate with 
 partridge pie. 
 
 " But, madam, you don't consider how you 
 overwhelm me with your Ambrosia, as I am 
 a poet ! " 
 
 " I am sorry Mr. Vane should keep you 
 waiting." 
 
 " By no means, madam ; it is very fortunate 
 I mean it procures me the pleasure of " (here 
 articulation became obstructed) "your society,
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 madam. Besides, the servants of the Muse 
 are used to waiting. What we are not used 
 
 to is" (here the white hand filled his glass) 
 " being waited upon by Hebe and the Twelve 
 
 201
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Graces, whose health I have the honour 
 (Deglutition.) 
 
 "A poet!" cried Mabel; "oh! I am so glad! 
 Little did I think ever to see a living poet ! Dear 
 heart ! I should not have known, if you had not 
 told me. Sir, I love poetry ! " 
 
 " It is in your face, madam." Triplet instantly 
 whipped out his manuscript, put a plate on one 
 corner of it, and a decanter on the other, and 
 begged her opinion of this trifle, composed, said 
 he, "in honour of a lady Mr. Vane entertains 
 to-day." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mrs. Vane, and coloured with plea- 
 sure. How ungrateful she had been ! Here was 
 an attention ! For, of course, she never doubted 
 that the verses were in honour of her arrival. 
 
 " 'Bright being '" 
 
 sang out Triplet. 
 
 " Nay, sir," said Mabel ; " I think I know the 
 lady, and it would be hardly proper of me 
 
 " Oh ! madam ! " said Triplet solemnly, " strictly 
 correct, madam ! " And he spread his hand out 
 over his bosom. " Strictly ! ' Blunderbuss ' (my 
 poetical name, madam) never stooped to the taste 
 of the town. 
 
 "' Bright being, thou '" 
 
 " But you must have another glass of wine 
 first, and a slice of the haunch." 
 
 "With alacrity, madam." He laid in a fresh 
 
 stock of provisions. 
 
 202
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Strange it was, to see them side by side ! he, 
 a Don Quixote, with cordage instead of lines in 
 his mahogany face, and clothes hanging upon 
 him : she, smooth, duck-like, delicious, and bright 
 as an opening rose fresh with dew ! 
 
 She watched him kindly, archly, and demurely ; 
 and still plied him, country-wise, with every mortal 
 thing on the table. 
 
 But the poet was not a boa-constrictor, and even 
 a boa-constrictor has an end. Hunger satisfied, his 
 next strongest feeling, simple vanity, remained to be 
 contented. As the last morsel went in, out came 
 
 " ' Bright being, thou whose ra ' " 
 
 " No ! no ! " said she, who fancied herself (and 
 not without reason) the bright being. " Mr. Vane 
 intended them for a surprise." 
 
 " As you please, madam ; " and the disappointed 
 bore sighed. " But you would have liked them, 
 for the theme inspired me. The kindest, the 
 most generous of women ! Don't you agree 
 with me, madam ? " 
 
 Mabel Vane opened her eyes. " Hardly, sir," 
 laughed she. 
 
 " If you knew her as I do ! " 
 
 " I ought to know her better, sir." 
 
 " Ay, indeed ! Well, madam, now her kindness 
 to me, for instance a poor devil like me. The 
 expression, I trust, is not disagreeable to you, 
 madam ? If so, forgive me, and consider it 
 
 withdrawn." 
 
 203
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " La, sir ! civility is so cheap, if you go to that." 
 
 "Civility, ma'am? Why, she has saved me 
 from despair from starvation, perhaps." 
 
 " Poor thing ! Well indeed, sir, you looked 
 you looked what a shame ! and you a poet." 
 
 " From an epitaph to an epic, madam." 
 
 At this moment a figure looked in upon them 
 from the garden, but retreated unobserved. It 
 was Sir Charles Pomander, who had slipped away, 
 with the heartless and malicious intention of ex- 
 posing the husband to the wife, and profiting 
 by her indignation and despair. Seeing Triplet 
 he made an extemporaneous calculation that so 
 infernal a chatterbox could not be ten minutes 
 in her company without telling her everything, 
 and this would serve his turn very well. He 
 therefore postponed his purpose, and strolled 
 away to a short distance. 
 
 Triplet justified the Baronet's opinion. With- 
 out any sort of sequency, he now informed 
 Mrs. Vane that the benevolent lady was to sit to 
 him for her portrait. 
 
 Here was a new attention of Ernest's. How 
 good he was, and how wicked and ungrateful she ! 
 
 " What ! are you a painter too ? " she inquired. 
 
 " From a house front to an historical com- 
 position, madam." 
 
 " Oh, what a clever man ! And so Ernest 
 commissioned you to paint a portrait ? " 
 
 " No, madam ; for that I am indebted to the 
 lady herself." 
 
 204
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "The lady herself ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam ; and I expected to find her here. 
 Will you add to your kindness by informing me 
 whether she has arrived ? Or she is gone " 
 
 " Who, sir ? (Oh dear ! not my portrait ! O 
 Ernest !) " 
 
 "Who, madam?" cried Triplet; "why, Mrs. 
 Woffington ! " 
 
 " She is not here," said Mrs. Vane, who re- 
 membered all the names perfectly well. "There 
 is one charming lady among our guests, her face 
 took me in a moment ; but she is a titled lady : 
 there is no Mrs. Woffington amongst them." 
 
 " Strange ! " replied Triplet ; " she was to be 
 here ; and in fact that is why I expedited these 
 lines in her honour." 
 
 " In her honour, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes, madam. Allow me 
 
 " ' Bright being, thou whose radiant brow ' " 
 
 " No ! no ! I don't care to hear them now, 
 for I don't know the lady." 
 
 "Well, madam but at least you have seen 
 her act ? " 
 
 " Act ! you don't mean all this is for an actress ?" 
 
 "An actress? The actress! And you have 
 never seen her act ? What a pleasure you have 
 to come ! To see her act is a privilege ; but to 
 act with her, as / once did ! But she does not 
 remember that, nor shall I remind her, madam," 
 
 said Triplet sternly. " On that occasion I was 
 
 205
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 hissed, owing to circumstances which, for the 
 credit of our common nature, I suppress." 
 
 "What! are you an actor, too? You are 
 everything." 
 
 " And it was in a farce of my own, madam, 
 which, by the strangest combination of accidents, 
 was damned ! " 
 
 " A play-writer ? Oh, what clever men there 
 are in the world in London, at least ! He is a 
 play-writer, too. I wonder my husband comes 
 not. Does Mr. Vane does Mr. Vane admire 
 this actress ? " said she suddenly. 
 
 " Mr. Vane, madam, is a gentleman of taste," 
 said he pompously. 
 
 "Well, sir," said the lady languidly, "she is not 
 here." Triplet took the hint and rose. " Good- 
 bye," said she sweetly ; " and thank you kindly 
 for your company, Mr. Mr. " 
 
 "Triplet, madam James Triplet, of 10 Her- 
 cules Buildings, Lambeth. Occasional verses, 
 odes, epithalamia, elegies, dedications, squibs, 
 impromptus, and hymns, executed with spirit, 
 punctuality, and secrecy. Portraits painted, and 
 instruction in declamation, sacred, profane, and 
 dramatic. The card, madam " (and he drew it 
 as doth a theatrical fop his rapier), "of him who, 
 to all these qualifications, adds a prouder still 
 that of being, madam, your humble, devoted, 
 and grateful servant, JAMES TRIPLET." 
 
 He bowed in a line from his right shoulder to 
 
 his left toe, and moved off. But Triplet could 
 
 206
 
 OccaJ(onaf 
 t^egi^, cf<?</t'caf<br)$, 
 and hymns, executed 
 
 Spirit, p 
 
 [Copyright 1899 *> Gy< Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 not go all at one time out of such company ; 
 he was given to return in real life, he had 
 played this trick so often on the stage. He 
 came back, exuberant with gratitude. 
 
 "The fact is, madam," said he, "strange as 
 it may appear to you, a kind hand has not so 
 often been held out to me, that I should 
 forget it, especially when that hand is so fair 
 and gracious. May I be permitted, madam you 
 will impute it to gratitude, rather, than audacity 
 -I I ' (whimper), "madam" (with sudden 
 severity), " I am gone ! " 
 
 These last words he pronounced with the right 
 arm at an angle of forty-five degrees, and the 
 fingers pointing horizontally. The stage had 
 taught him this grace also. In his day, an 
 actor who had three words to say, such as " My 
 Lord's carriage is waiting," came on the stage 
 with the right arm thus elevated, delivered his 
 message in the tone of a falling dynasty, 
 wheeled like a soldier, and retired with the left 
 arm pointing to the sky, and the right extended 
 behind him like a setter's tail. 
 
 Left to herself, Mabel was uneasy. " Ernest 
 is so warm-hearted." This was the way she put 
 it even to herself. He admired her acting, and 
 wished to pay her a compliment. "What if 
 I carried him the verses ? " She thought she 
 should surely please him, by showing she was 
 not the least jealous or doubtful of him. The 
 poor child wanted so to win a kind look from 
 
 208
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 her husband ; but ere she could reach the window, 
 Sir Charles Pomander had entered it. 
 
 Now, Sir Charles was naturally welcome to 
 Mrs. Vane ; for all she knew of him was, that 
 he had helped her on the road to her husband. 
 
 POMANDER. " What, madam ! all alone here 
 as in Shropshire?" 
 
 MABEL. " For the moment, sir." 
 
 POMANDER. " Force of habit. A husband 
 with a wife in Shropshire is so like a bachelor." 
 
 MABEL." Sir ! " 
 
 POMANDER. "And our excellent Ernest is 
 such a favourite." 
 
 MABEL. "No wonder, sir." 
 
 POMANDER. " Few can so pass from the 
 larva state of country squire to the butterfly 
 nature of beau." 
 
 MABEL. "Yes" (sadly), " I find him changed." 
 
 POMANDER. "Changed? Transformed! He 
 is now the prop of the 'Cocoa Tree,' the star 
 of Ranelagh, the Lauzur of the green-room." 
 
 MABEL. "The green-room! Where is that? 
 You mean kindly, sir ; but you make me un- 
 happy." 
 
 POMANDER. "The green-room, my dear madam, 
 is the bower where houris put off their wings, 
 and goddesses become dowdies ; where Lady 
 Macbeth weeps over her lap-dog, dead from 
 repletion ; and Belvidera soothes her broken 
 heart with a dozen of oysters : in a word, it 
 is the place where actors and actresses become 
 
 209 o
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 men and women, and act their own parts with 
 skill, instead of a poet's clumsily." 
 
 MABEL. "Actors! actresses! Does Mr. Vane 
 frequent such 
 
 POMANDER. " He has earned in six months a 
 reputation many a fine gentleman would give 
 his ears for. Not a scandalous journal his 
 initials have not figured in ; not an actress of 
 reputation gossip has not given him for a con- 
 quest." 
 
 "How dare you say this to me?" cried Mrs. 
 Vane, with a sudden flash of indignation, and 
 then the tears streamed over her lovely cheeks ; 
 and even a Pomander might have forborne to 
 torture her so. But Sir Charles had no mercy. 
 
 " You would be sure to learn it," said he ; 
 " and with malicious additions. It is better to 
 hear the truth from a friend." 
 
 "A friend? He is no friend to a house who 
 calumniates the husband to the wife. Is it the 
 part of a friend to distort dear Ernest's kindli- 
 ness and gaiety into ill morals ; to pervert his 
 love of poetry and plays into an unworthy attach- 
 ment to actors and oh ! " and the tears would 
 come. But she dried them,, for now she hated 
 this man ; with all the little power of hatred she 
 had, she detested him. " Do you suppose I did 
 not know Mrs. Woffington was to come to us to- 
 day ? " cried she, struggling passionately against 
 her own fears and Sir Charles's innuendoes. 
 
 " What ! " cried he ; " you recognised her ? 
 
 2IO
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 You detected the actress of all work under the 
 airs of Lady Betty Modish ? " 
 
 " Lady Betty Modish ? " cried Mabel : " that 
 good, beautiful face ! " 
 
 "Ah!" cried Sir Charles, "I see you did not. 
 Well, Lady Betty was Mrs. Woffington ! " 
 
 "Whom my husband, I know, had invited 
 here to present her with these verses, which I 
 shall take him for her ; " and her poor little lip 
 trembled. " Had the visit been in any other 
 character, as you are so base, so cruel as to in- 
 sinuate (what have I done to you, that you kill 
 me so, you wicked gentleman ?) would he have 
 chosen the day of my arrival ? " 
 
 "Not if he knew you were coming," was the 
 cool reply. 
 
 " And he did know I wrote to him." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Pomander, fairly puzzled. 
 
 Mrs. Vane caught sight of her handwriting on 
 the tray and darted to it, and seized her letter, 
 and said triumphantly 
 
 " My last letter, written upon the road see ! " 
 
 Sir Charles took it with surprise, but turning 
 it in his hand a cool satirical smile came to his 
 face. He handed it back, and said coldly 
 
 " Read me the passage, madam, on which you 
 argue." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Vane turned the letter in her hand, 
 and her eye became instantly glazed ; the seal 
 was unbroken ! She gave a sharp cry of agony, 
 like a wounded deer. She saw Pomander no
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 longer ; she was alone with her great anguish. " I 
 had but my husband and my God in the world," 
 cried she. " My mother is gone. My God, have 
 pity on me ! my husband does not love me." 
 
 The cold villain was startled at the mighty 
 storm his mean hand had raised. This creature 
 had not only more feeling, but more passion 
 than a hundred libertines. He muttered some 
 villain's commonplaces ; while this unhappy young 
 lady raised her hands to Heaven, and sobbed 
 in a way very terrible to any manly heart. 
 
 " He is unworthy you," muttered Pomander. 
 " He has forfeited your love ; he has left you 
 nothing but revenge. Be comforted. Let me, 
 who have learned already to adore you " 
 
 " So," cried she, turning on him in a moment 
 (for on some points, woman's instinct is the light- 
 ning of wisdom) ; " this, sir, was your object ! I 
 may no longer hold a place in my husband's 
 heart ; but I am mistress of his house. Leave it, 
 sir ! and never return to it whilst I live." 
 
 Sir Charles, again discomfited, bowed rever- 
 entially. "Your wish shall ever be respected by 
 me, madam ! But here they come. Use the 
 right of a wife. Conceal yourself in that high 
 chair. See, I turn it ; so that they cannot see 
 you. At least, you will find I have but told you 
 the truth." 
 
 " No ! " cried Mabel violently. " I will not 
 spy upon my husband at the dictation of his 
 treacherous friend." 
 
 2 12
 
 1899 A_y
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Sir Charles vanished. He was no sooner 
 gone than Mrs. Vane crouched, trembling, and 
 writhing with jealousy, in the large high-backed 
 chair. She heard her husband and the soi-disant 
 Lady Betty Modish enter. During their ab- 
 sence Mrs. Woffington had doubtless been play- 
 ing her cards with art ; for it appeared that a 
 reconciliation was now taking place. The lady, 
 however, was still cool and distant. It was poor 
 Mabel's fate to hear these words : " You must 
 permit me to go alone, Mr. Vane. I insist upon 
 leaving this house alone." 
 
 On this he whispered to her. 
 
 She answered : " You are not justified." 
 
 " I can explain all," was his reply. " I am 
 ready to renounce credit, character, all the 
 world for you.'J 
 
 They passed out of the room before the un- 
 happy listener could recover the numbing in- 
 fluence of these deadly words. 
 
 But the next moment she started wildly up, 
 and cried as one drowning cries vaguely for 
 help : " Ernest ! oh, no no ! you cannot use me 
 so ! Ernest husband ! O mother ! mother ! " 
 
 She rose, and would have made for the door, 
 but nature had been too cruelly tried. At the 
 first step she could no longer see anything ; and 
 the next moment swooning dead away, she fell 
 back insensible, with her head and shoulders 
 resting on the chair. 
 
 214
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 R. VANE was put- 
 ting Mrs. Woffington 
 into her chair, when 
 he thought he 
 heard his name 
 cried. He bade 
 that lady a 
 mournful fare- 
 well, and 
 
 stepped back into his own hall. He had no 
 sooner done so, than he heard a voice, the accent 
 
 2 '5
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 of which alarmed him, though he distinguished 
 no word. He hastily crossed the hall, and flew 
 into the banquet - room. Coming rapidly in at 
 the folding - doors he almost fell over his wife, 
 lying insensible, half upon the floor and half 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.~\ 
 
 upon the chair. When he saw her, pale and 
 motionless, a terrible misgiving seized him ; he 
 fell on his knees. 
 
 " Mabel, Mabel ! " cried he, " my love ! my 
 216
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 innocent wife ! O God ! what have I done ? 
 Perhaps it is the fatigue perhaps she has 
 fainted." 
 
 " No, it is not the fatigue ! " screamed a voice 
 near him. It was old James Burdock, who, with 
 his white hair streaming, and his eye gleaming 
 with fire, shook his fist in his master's face. 
 " No, it is not the fatigue, you villain ! It is 
 you who have killed her, with your Jezebels 
 and harlots, you scoundrel ! " 
 
 " Send the women here, James, for God's 
 sake ! " cried Mr. Vane, not even noticing the 
 insult he had received from a servant. He 
 stamped furiously, and cried for help. The 
 whole household was round her in a moment. 
 They carried her to bed. 
 
 The remorse -stricken man, his own knees 
 trembling under him, flew, in an agony of fear 
 and self-reproach, for a doctor ! 
 
 A doctor? 
 
 217
 
 "Jhe /eft- as if ffjf wtJJ ended 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 URING the garden scene, 
 Mr. Vane had begged 
 Mrs. Woffington to let 
 him accompany her. 
 She peremptorily re- 
 fused, and said in the 
 same breath she was 
 going to Triplet, in 
 Hercules Buildings, 
 to have her portrait finished. Had Mr. Vane 
 218
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 understood the sex, he would not have inter- 
 preted her refusal to the letter ; when there 
 was a postscript, the meaning of which was 
 so little enigmatical. 
 
 Some three hours after the scene we have 
 described, Mrs. Womngton sat in Triplet's apart- 
 ment ; and Triplet, palette in hand, painted 
 away upon her portrait. 
 
 Mrs. Womngton was in that languid state 
 which comes to women after their hearts have 
 received a blow. She felt as if life was ended, 
 and but the dregs of existence remained ; but 
 at times a flood of bitterness rolled over her, 
 and she resigned all hope of perfect happiness 
 in this world all hope of loving and respecting 
 the same creature ; and at these moments she 
 had but one idea to use her own power, and 
 bind her lover to her by chains never to be 
 broken ; and to close her eyes, and glide down 
 the precipice of the future. 
 
 " I think you are master of this art," said 
 she, very languidly, to Triplet, " you paint so 
 rapidly." 
 
 " Yes, madam," said Triplet gloomily ; and 
 painted on. "Confound this shadow!" added 
 he ; and painted on. 
 
 His soul, too, was clouded. Mrs. Womng- 
 ton, yawning in his face, had told him she had 
 invited all Mr. Vane's company to come and 
 praise his work ; and ever since that he had 
 
 been morne et silencieux. 
 
 219
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "You are fortunate," continued Mrs. Wof- 
 fington, not caring what she said ; " it is so 
 difficult to make execution keep pace with con- 
 ception." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am ;" and he painted on. 
 
 "You are satisfied with it ? " 
 
 "Anything but, ma'am ; " and he painted on. 
 
 " Cheerful soul ! then I presume it is like ? " 
 
 " Not a bit, ma'am ; " and he painted on. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington stretched. 
 
 " You can't yawn, ma'am you can't yawn." 
 
 "Oh yes, I can. You are such good com- 
 pany ; " and she stretched again. 
 
 " I was just about to catch the turn of the 
 lip," remonstrated Triplet. 
 
 " Well, catch it it won't run away." 
 
 " I'll try, ma'am. A pleasant half-hour it will 
 be for me, when they all come here like cits at 
 a shilling ordinary each for his cut." 
 
 " At a sensitive goose ! " 
 
 " That is as may be, madam. Those critics flay 
 us alive ! " 
 
 " You should not hold so many doors open to 
 censure." 
 
 "No, ma'am. Head a little more that way. I 
 suppose you can't sit quiet, ma'am ? then never 
 mind ! " (This resignation was intended as a 
 stinging reproach.) " Mr. Cibber, with his sneer- 
 ing snuff-box ! Mr. Quin, with his humorous 
 bludgeon ! Mrs. Clive, with her tongue ! Mr. 
 Snarl, with his abuse ! And Mr. Soaper, with
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 his praise ! arsenic in treacle, I call it ! But 
 there, I deserve it all ! For look on this picture, 
 and on this ! " 
 
 "Meaning, I am painted as well as my pic- 
 ture!" 
 
 " Oh no, no, no ! But to turn from your face, 
 madam on which the lightning of expression 
 plays continually to this stony, detestable, dead 
 daub ! I could And I will, too ! Imposture ! 
 dead caricature of life and beauty, take that ! " 
 and he dashed his palette-knife through the 
 canvas. " Libellous lie against nature and Mrs. 
 Womngton, take that ! " and he stabbed the 
 canvas again ; then, with sudden humility, " I 
 beg your pardon, ma'am," said he, "for this 
 apparent outrage, which I trust you will set 
 down to the excitement attendant upon failure. 
 The fact is, I am an incapable ass, and no 
 painter ! Others have often hinted as much ; 
 but I never observed it myself till now ! " 
 
 "Right through my pet dimple ! " said Mrs. Wof- 
 fington, with perfect nonchalance, "Well, now I 
 suppose I may yawn, or do what I like ? " 
 
 " You may, madam," said Triplet gravely. " I 
 have forfeited what little control I had over 
 you, madam." 
 
 So they sat opposite each other, in mournful 
 silence. At length the actress suddenly rose. 
 She struggled fiercely against her depression, 
 and vowed that melancholy should not benumb 
 her spirits and her power. 
 
 221
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " He ought to have been here by this time," 
 said she to herself. " Well, I will not mope 
 for him : I must do something. Triplet," said 
 she. 
 
 " Madam ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " No, madam." 
 
 She sat gently down again, and leaned her 
 head on her hand, and thought. She was beauti- 
 ful as she thought ! her body seemed bristling 
 with mind ! At last, her thoughtful gravity was 
 illumined by a smile : she had thought out 
 something excogitaverat. 
 
 "Triplet, the picture is quite ruined !" 
 
 "Yes, madam. And a coach-load of criticism 
 coming." 
 
 "Triplet, we actors and actresses have often 
 bright ideas." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " When we take other people's ! " 
 
 " He, he ! " went Triplet. "Those are our best, 
 madam ! " 
 
 " Well, sir, I have got a bright idea." 
 
 " You don't say so, ma'am ! " 
 
 " Don't be a brute, dear ! " said the lady gravely. 
 
 Triplet stared. 
 
 " When I was in France, taking lessons of 
 Dumesnil, one of the actors of the Theatre 
 Frangais had his portrait painted by a rising 
 artist. The others were to come and see it. They 
 determined, beforehand, to mortify the painter
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 and the sitter, by abusing the work in good set 
 terms. But somehow this got wind, and the 
 patients resolved to be the physicians. They 
 put their heads together, and contrived that the 
 living face should be in the canvas, surrounded 
 by the accessories : these, of course, were painted. 
 Enter the actors, who played their little pre- 
 arranged farce ; and when they had each given 
 the picture a slap, the picture rose and laughed 
 in their faces, and discomfited them ! By-the- 
 bye, the painter did not stop there : he was not 
 content with a short laugh he laughed at them 
 five hundred years ! " 
 
 " Good gracious, Mrs. Woffington ! " 
 
 " He painted a picture of the whole thing ; 
 and as his work is immortal, ours an April 
 snow-flake, he has got tremendously the better 
 of those rash little satirists. Well, Trip, what is 
 sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose ; so 
 give me the sharpest knife in the house." 
 
 Triplet gave her a knife, and looked confused, 
 while she cut away the face of the picture, and 
 by dint of scraping, cutting, and measuring, 
 got her face two parts through the canvas. 
 She then made him take his brush and paint 
 all round her face, so that the transition might 
 not be too abrupt. Several yards of green baize 
 were also produced. This was to be disposed 
 behind the easel, so as to conceal her. 
 
 Triplet painted here, and touched and re- 
 touched there. Whilst thus occupied, he said, 
 
 223
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 in his calm, resigned way, " It won't do, madam. 
 I suppose you know that ? " 
 
 " I know nothing," was the reply. " Life is a 
 guess. I don't think we could deceive Roxalana 
 and Lucy this way, because their eyes are 
 without coloured spectacles ; but when people 
 have once begun to see by prejudices and 
 judge by jargon, what can't be done with 
 them ? Who knows ? do you ? I don't ; so let 
 us try." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, madam ; my brush 
 touched your face." 
 
 " No offence, sir ; I am used to that. And I 
 beg, if you can't tone the rest of the picture 
 up to me, that you will instantly tone me down 
 to the rest. Let us be in tune, whatever it 
 costs, sir." 
 
 " I will avail myself of the privilege, madam, 
 but sparingly. Failure, which is certain, madam, 
 will cover us with disgrace." 
 
 " Nothing is certain in this life, sir, except 
 that you are a goose. It succeeded in France ; 
 and England can match all Europe for fools. 
 Besides, it will be well done. They say Davy 
 Garrick can turn his eyes into bottled goose- 
 berries. Well, Peg Woffington will turn hers into 
 black currants. Haven't you done ? I wonder 
 they have not come. Make haste ! " 
 
 " They will know by its beauty I never did it." 
 
 "That is a sensible remark, Trip. But I think 
 
 they will rather argue backwards ; that as you 
 
 224
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 did it, it cannot be beautiful, and so cannot be 
 me. Your reputation will be our shield." 
 
 " Well, madam, now you mention it, they 
 are like enough to take that ground. They de- 
 spise all I do ; if they did not " 
 
 "You would despise them." 
 
 At this moment the pair were startled by 
 the sound of a coach. Triplet turned as pale 
 as ashes. Mrs. Woffington had her misgivings ; 
 but not choosing to increase the difficulty, she 
 would not let Triplet, whose self-possession she 
 doubted, see any sign of emotion in her. 
 
 "Lock the door," said she firmly, "and don't 
 be silly. Now hold up my green baize petti- 
 coat, and let me be in a half-light. Now put 
 that table and those chairs before me, so that 
 they can't come right up to me ; and, Triplet, 
 don't let them come within six yards, if you 
 can help it. Say it is unfinished, and so must 
 be seen from a focus." 
 
 "A focus ! I don't know what you mean." 
 
 " No more do I ; no more will they, perhaps ; 
 and if they don't, they will swallow it directly. 
 Unlock the door ; are they coming ? " 
 
 "They are only at the first stair." 
 
 " Mr. Triplet, your face is a book, where one 
 may read strange matters. For Heaven's sake, 
 compose yourself : let all the risk lie in one 
 countenance. Look at me, sir. Make your face 
 like the Book of Daniel in a Jew's back parlour. 
 
 Volto Sciolto is your cue." 
 
 225 p
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Madam, madam, how your tongue goes ! I 
 hear them on the stairs : pray don't speak ! " 
 
 " Do you know what we are going to do ? " 
 continued the tormenting Peggy. ''We are 
 going to weigh goose's feathers ; to criticise 
 criticism, Trip " 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! " 
 
 A grampus was heard outside the door, and 
 Triplet opened it. There was Quin leading the 
 band. 
 
 " Have a care, sir," cried Triplet ; " there is a 
 hiatus the third step from the door." 
 
 " A gmdus ad Parnassum a wanting," said Mr. 
 Gibber. 
 
 Triplet's heart sank. The hole had been there 
 six months, and he had found nothing witty 
 to say about it, and at first sight Mr. Gibber 
 had done its business. And on such men he 
 and his portrait were to attempt a preposterous 
 delusion ! Then there was Snarl, who wrote 
 critiques on painting, and guided the national 
 taste. The unlucky exhibitor was in a cold 
 sweat. He led the way like a thief going to 
 the gallows. 
 
 " The picture being unfinished, gentlemen," said 
 he, "must, if you would do me justice, be seen 
 from a a focus : must be judged from here, I 
 mean." 
 
 "Where, sir ?" said Mr. Gibber. 
 
 "About here, sir, if you please," said poor 
 
 Triplet faintly. 
 
 226
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " It looks like a finished picture from here," 
 said Mrs. Clive. 
 
 " Yes, madam," groaned Triplet. 
 
 They all took up a position, and Triplet timidly 
 raised his eyes along with the rest : he was a little 
 surprised. The actress had flattened her face ! 
 She had done all that could be done, and more 
 than he had conceived possible, in the way of 
 extracting life and the atmosphere of expression 
 from her countenance. She was " dead still ! " 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 Triplet fluttered. At last some of them spoke 
 as follows 
 
 SOAPER. " Ah ! " 
 
 Q UIN ._Ho!" 
 
 CLIVE." Eh ! " 
 
 GIBBER. " Humph ! " 
 
 These interjections are small on paper, but 
 as the good creatures uttered them they were 
 eloquent ; there was a cheerful variety of dis- 
 praise skilfully thrown into each of them. 
 
 " Well ? " continued Soaper, with his ever- 
 lasting smile. 
 
 Then the fun began. 
 
 " May I be permitted to ask whose portrait 
 this is?" said Mr. Gibber slyly. 
 
 "I distinctly told you, it was to be Peg 
 Woffington's," said Mrs. Clive. "I think you 
 might take my word." 
 
 "Do you act as truly as you paint? "said 
 
 Quin. 
 
 228
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Your fame runs no risk from me, sir ! 
 replied Triplet. 
 
 "It is not like Peggy's beauty! Eh?" re- 
 joined Quin. 
 
 229
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " I can't agree with you," cried Kitty Clive. 
 " I think it a very pretty face ; and not at all 
 like Peg Woffington's." 
 
 "Compare paint with paint," said Quin. "Are 
 you sure you ever saw down to Peggy's real 
 face ? " 
 
 Triplet had seen with alarm that Mr. Snarl 
 spoke not ; many satirical expressions crossed 
 his face, but he said nothing. Triplet gathered 
 from this that he had at once detected the trick. 
 " Ah ! " thought Triplet, " he means to quiz 
 them, as well as expose me. He is hanging 
 back ; and, in point of fact, a mighty satirist 
 like Snarl would naturally choose to quiz six 
 people rather than two." 
 
 " Now I call it beautiful ! " said the traitor 
 Soaper. " So calm and reposeful ; no particular 
 expression." 
 
 " None whatever," said Snarl. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Triplet, "does it never occur 
 to you that the fine arts are tender violets, and 
 cannot blow when the north winds " 
 
 " Blow ! " inserted Quin. 
 
 " Are so cursed cutting ? " continued Triplet. 
 
 " My good sir, I am never cutting ! " smirked 
 Soaper. "My dear Snarl," whined he, "give 
 us the benefit of your practised judgment. Do 
 justice to this ad-mirable work of art," drawled 
 the traitor. 
 
 " I will ! " said Mr. Snarl ; and placed himself 
 
 before the picture. 
 
 230
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "What on earth will he say ? " thought Triplet. 
 " I can see by his face he has found us out." 
 
 Mr. Snarl delivered a short critique. Mr. 
 Snarl's intelligence was not confined to his 
 phrases ; all critics use intelligent phrases and 
 philosophical truths. But this gentleman's 
 manner was very intelligent ; it was pleasant, 
 quiet, assured, and very convincing. Had the 
 reader or I been there, he would have carried 
 us with him, as he did his hearers, and as his 
 successors carry the public with them now. 
 
 " Your brush is by no means destitute of talent, 
 Mr. Triplet," said Mr. Snarl. " But you are 
 somewhat deficient, at present, in the great 
 principles of your art ; the first of which is a 
 loyal adherence to truth. Beauty itself is but 
 one of the forms of truth, and nature is our 
 finite exponent of infinite truth." 
 
 His auditors gave him a marked attention. 
 They could not but acknowledge that men 
 who go to the bottom of things like this should 
 be the best instructors. 
 
 " Now, in nature, a woman's face at this dis- 
 tance ay, even at this short distance melts 
 into the air. There is none of that sharpness ; 
 but, on the contrary, a softness of outline." He 
 made a lorgnette of his two hands ; the others 
 did so too, and found they saw much better 
 oh, ever so much better ! " Whereas yours," re- 
 sumed Snarl, " is hard ; and, forgive me, rather 
 tea-board like. Then your chiaro scuro, my good 
 
 231
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 sir, is very defective ; for instance, in nature 
 the nose intercepting the light on one side the 
 
 ~"<J?yicf founcC tney jcuo macfi ocpfter . 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George stllt>t.\ 
 
 face throws, of necessity, a shadow under the 
 eye. Caravaggio, Venetians generally, and the 
 
 232
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Bolognese masters, do particular justice to this. 
 No such shade appears in this portrait." 
 
 " Tis so, stop my vitals ! " observed Colley 
 Gibber. And they all looked, and, having looked, 
 wagged their heads in assent as the fat, white 
 lords at Christie's waggle fifty pounds more 
 out for a copy of Rembrandt, a brown levitical 
 Dutchman, visible in the pitch dark by some 
 sleight of sun Newton had not wit to discover. 
 
 Soaper dissented from the mass. 
 
 " But, my dear Snarl, if there are no shades, 
 there are lights, loads of lights." 
 
 "There are," replied Snarl; "only they are 
 impossible, that is all. You have, however," 
 concluded he, with a manner slightly super- 
 cilious, " succeeded in the mechanical parts : 
 the hair and the dress are well, Mr. Triplet ; 
 but your Womngton is not a woman, nor 
 nature." 
 
 They all nodded and waggled assent ; but this 
 sagacious motion was arrested as by an earth- 
 quake. 
 
 The picture rang out, in the voice of a 
 clarion, an answer that outlived the speaker : 
 " She's a woman ! for she has taken four men 
 in ! She's nature ! for a fluent dunce doesn't 
 know her when he sees her ! " 
 
 Imagine the tableau ! It was charming ! Such 
 opening of eyes and mouths ! Gibber fell by 
 second nature into an attitude of the old 
 comedy. And all were rooted where they stood, 
 
 233
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 with surprise and incipient mortification, ex- 
 cept Quin, who slapped his knee, and took the 
 trick at its value. 
 
 Peg Woffington slipped out of the green baize, 
 and coming round from the back of the late 
 picture, stood in person before them ; while they 
 looked alternately at her and at the hole in 
 the canvas. She then came at each of them 
 in turn, more dramatico. 
 
 "A pretty face, and not like Woffington. I 
 owe you two, Kate Clive." 
 
 "Who ever saw Peggy's real face ? Look 
 at it now if you can without blushing, Mr. 
 Quin." 
 
 Quin, a good-humoured fellow, took the 
 wisest view of his predicament, and burst into 
 a hearty laugh. 
 
 " For all this," said Mr. Snarl peevishly, " I 
 maintain, upon the unalterable principles of 
 art " 
 
 At this they all burst into a roar, not sorry 
 to shift the ridicule. 
 
 " Goths ! " cried Snarl fiercely. " Good morn- 
 ing, ladies and gentlemen," cried Mr. Snarl, avec 
 intention, " I have a criticism to write of last 
 night's performance." The laugh died away to 
 a quaver. " I shall sit on your pictures one 
 day, Mr. Brush." 
 
 " Don't sit on them with your head down- 
 wards, or you'll addle them," said Mr. Brush 
 fiercely. This was the first time Triplet had 
 
 234
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 ever answered a foe. Mrs. Woffington gave 
 him an eloquent glance of encouragement. 
 He nodded his head in infantine exultation 
 at what he had done. 
 
 "Come, Soaper," said Mr. Snarl. 
 
 Mr. Soaper lingered one moment to say : 
 "You shall always have my good word, Mr. 
 Triplet." 
 
 " I will try and not deserve it, Mr. Soaper," 
 was the prompt reply. 
 
 " Serve 'em right," said Mr. Gibber, as soon 
 as the door had closed upon them, "for a 
 couple of serpents, or rather one boa-constrictor. 
 Soaper slavers for Snarl to crush. But we 
 were all a little too hard on Triplet here ; and 
 if he will accept my apology " 
 
 "Why, sir," said Triplet, half trembling, but 
 driven on by looks from Mrs. Woffington, 
 " ' Gibber's Apology ' is found to be a trifle 
 wearisome." 
 
 " Confound his impertinence ! " cried the 
 astounded Laureate. " Come along, Jemmy." 
 
 " Oh, sir ! " said Quin good-humouredly, " we 
 must give a joke and take a joke. And when 
 he paints my portrait which he shall do 
 
 "The bear from Hockley Hole shall sit for 
 the head ! " 
 
 "Curse his impudence!" roared Quin. "I'm 
 at your service, Mr. Gibber," added he in huge 
 dudgeon. 
 
 Away went the two old boys. 
 235
 
 Q/\s 
 
 ^e 'fare o/ 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Mighty well ! " said waspish Mrs. Clive. " I 
 did intend you should have painted Mrs. Clive. 
 But after this impertinence " 
 
 "You will continue to do it yourself, ma'am !" 
 
 This was Triplet's hour of triumph. His exul- 
 tation was undignified, and such as is said to 
 precede a fall. He inquired gravely of Mrs. 
 Woffington whether he had or had not shown 
 a spirit ? Whether he had or had not fired 
 into each a parting shot, as they sheered off ? 
 To repair which, it might be advisable for them 
 to put into friendly ports. 
 
 "Tremendous!" was the reply. "And when 
 Snarl and Soaper sit on your next play, they 
 won't forget the lesson you have given them." 
 
 " I'll be sworn they won't ! " chuckled Triplet. 
 But considering her words, he looked blank, 
 and muttered : " Then, perhaps, it would have 
 been more prudent to let them alone ! " 
 
 " Incalculably more prudent ! " was the reply. 
 
 "Then why did you set me on, madam?" 
 said Triplet reproachfully. 
 
 " Because I wanted amusement, and my head 
 ached," was the cool answer, somewhat lan- 
 guidly given. 
 
 " I defy the coxcombs ! " cried Triplet, with 
 reviving spirit. " But real criticism I respect, 
 honour, and bow to. Such as yours, madam ; 
 or such as that sweet lady's at Mr. Vane's 
 would have been ; or, in fact, anybody's who 
 appreciates me. O madam ! I wanted to ask 
 
 2 37
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 you, was it not strange your not being at Mr. 
 Vane's, after all, to-day?" 
 
 " I was at Mr. Vane's, Triplet." 
 
 " You were ? Why, I came with my verses, 
 and she said you were not there ! I will go 
 and fetch the verses." 
 
 " No, no ! Who said I was not there ? " 
 
 " Did I not tell you ? The charming young 
 lady who helped me with her own hand to 
 everything on the table. What wine that 
 gentleman possesses ! " 
 
 "Was it a young lady, Triplet ?" 
 
 " Not more than two-aiid-twenty, I should say." 
 
 " In a travelling dress ? " 
 
 " I could not see her dress, madam, for her 
 beauty brown hair, blue eyes, charming in 
 conversation 
 
 " Ah ! what did she tell you ? " 
 
 " She told me, madam Ahem ! " 
 
 " Well, what did you tell her ? And what did 
 she answer ? " 
 
 " I told her that I came with verses for you, 
 ordered by Mr. Vane. That he admired you. 
 I descanted, madam, on your virtues, which had 
 made him your slave." 
 
 " Go on," said Mrs. Woffington, encouraging 
 him with a deceitful smile. "Tell me all you 
 told her." 
 
 "That you were sitting to me for your por- 
 trait, the destination of which was not doubt- 
 ful. That I lived at 10 Hercules Buildings." 
 
 238
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " You told that lady all this ? " 
 
 " I give you my honour. She was so kind, 
 I opened my heart to her. But tell me now, 
 madam," said Triplet, joyously dancing round 
 the Womngton volcano, "do you know this 
 charming lady ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I congratulate you, madam. An acquaintance 
 worthy even of you ; and there are not many 
 such. Who is she, madam?" continued Triplet, 
 lively with curiosity. 
 
 " Mrs. Vane," was the quiet, grim answer. 
 
 " Mrs. Vane ? His mother ? No ; am I mad ? 
 His sister ! Oh ! I see, his " 
 
 " His wife ! " 
 
 " His wife ! Why, then Mr. Vane's married ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Oh, look there! oh, look here now! Well, 
 but, good Heavens ! she wasn't to know you 
 were there, perhaps ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "But then, I let the cat out of the bag ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But, good gracious ! there will be some 
 serious mischief ! " 
 
 "No doubt of it." 
 
 "And it is all my fault ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I've played the deuce with their married 
 happiness ?" 
 
 " Probably." 
 
 239
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "And, ten to one, if you are not incensed 
 against me too ? " 
 
 Mrs. Woffington replied by looking him in 
 the face, and turning her back upon him. She 
 walked hastily to the window, threw it open, 
 and looked out of it, leaving poor Triplet to 
 very unpleasant reflections. She was so angry 
 with him, she dared not trust herself to speak. 
 
 "Just my luck," thought he. "I had a patron 
 and a benefactress I have betrayed them both." 
 Suddenly an idea struck him : " Madam," said 
 he timorously, "see what these fine gentlemen 
 are ! What business had he, with a wife at 
 home, to come and fall in love with you ? I 
 do it for ever in my plays I am obliged they 
 would be so dull else ; but in real life to do it 
 is abominable ! " 
 
 "You forget, sir," replied Mrs. Woffington, 
 without moving, "that I am an actress a play- 
 thing for the impertinence of puppies, and the 
 treachery of hypocrites. Fool ! to think there 
 was an honest man in the world, and that he 
 had shone on me ! " 
 
 With these words she turned, and Triplet was 
 shocked to see the change in her face. She was 
 pale, and her black, lowering brows were gloomy 
 and terrible. She walked like a tigress to and 
 fro, and Triplet dared not speak to her : indeed, 
 she seemed but half-conscious of his presence. 
 He went for nobody with her. How little w 7 e 
 know the people we eat, and go to church, and 
 
 240
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 flirt with ! Triplet had imagined this creature 
 an incarnation of gaiety, a sportive being, the 
 daughter of smiles, the bride of mirth ; needed 
 but a look at her now to see that her heart 
 was a volcano, her bosom a boiling gulf of 
 fiery lava. She walked like some wild crea- 
 ture ; she flung her hands up to Heaven with 
 a passionate despair, before which the feeble 
 spirit of her companion shrank and cowered ; 
 and with quivering lips and blazing eyes, she 
 burst into a torrent of passionate bitterness 
 
 " But who is Margaret Wofrington," she cried, 
 "that she should pretend to honest love, or feel 
 insulted by the proffer of a stolen regard ? And 
 what have we to do with homes, or hearts, 
 or firesides ? Have we not the play-house, its 
 paste diamonds, its paste feelings, and the loud 
 applause of fops and sots hearts? beneath 
 loads of tinsel and paint ? Nonsense ! The 
 love that can go with souls to Heaven such 
 love for us ? Nonsense ! These men applaud 
 us, cajole us, swear to us, flatter us ; and 
 yet, forsooth, we would have them respect 
 us too." 
 
 "My dear benefactress," said Triplet, "they 
 are not worthy of you." 
 
 " I thought this man was not all dross ; from 
 the first I never felt his passion an insult. 
 O Triplet ! I could have loved this man 
 really loved him ! and I longed so to be good. 
 O God ! O God ! " 
 
 241 Q
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Thank Heaven you don't love him ! " cried 
 Triplet hastily. "Thank Heaven for that!" 
 
 " Love him ? Love a man who comes to 
 me with a silly second - hand affection from 
 his insipid baby-face, and offers me half, or 
 two-thirds, or a third of his worthless heart ? 
 I hate him ! and her ! and all the world !" 
 
 "That is what I call a very proper feeling," 
 said poor Triplet, with a weak attempt to 
 soothe her. "Then break with him at once, 
 and all will be well." 
 
 " Break with him ? Are you mad ? No ! 
 Since he plays with the tools of my trade I 
 shall fool him worse than he has me. I will 
 feed his passion full, tempt him, torture him, 
 play with him, as the angler plays a fish upon 
 his hook. And when his very life depends on 
 me, then by degrees he shall see me cool, and 
 cool, and freeze into bitter aversion. Then he 
 shall rue the hour he fought with the devil 
 against my soul, and played false with a brain 
 and heart like mine ! " 
 
 " But his poor wife ? You will have pity 
 on her ?" 
 
 " His wife ! Are wives' hearts the only hearts 
 that throb, and burn, and break ? His wife 
 must defend herself. It is not from me that 
 mercy can come to her, nor from her to me. 
 I loathe her, and I shall not forget that you 
 took her part. Only if you are her friend, 
 take my advice ; don't you assist her. I shall 
 
 242
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 defeat her without that. Let her fight her 
 battle, and / mine." 
 
 " Ah, madam ! she cannot fight, she is a 
 dove." 
 
 " You are a fool ! What do you know about 
 women ? You were with her five minutes, and 
 she turned you inside out. My life on it, whilst 
 I have been fooling my time here, she is in 
 the field, with all the arts of our sex, simplicity 
 at the head of them." 
 
 Triplet was making a futile endeavour to 
 convert her to his view of her rival, when a 
 knock suddenly came to his door. A slovenly 
 girl, one of his own neighbours, brought 
 him a bit of paper, with a line written in 
 pencil. 
 
 " Tis from a lady, who waits below," said 
 the girl. 
 
 Mrs. WorHngton went again to the window, 
 and there she saw getting out of a coach, and 
 attended by James Burdock, Mabel Vane, who 
 had sent up her name on the back of an old 
 letter. 
 
 "What shall I do?" said Triplet, as soon as 
 he recovered the first stunning effects of this 
 contretemps. To his astonishment, Mrs. Wof- 
 fington bade the girl show the lady upstairs. 
 The girl went down on this errand. 
 
 " But you are here," remonstrated Triplet. 
 " Oh ! to be sure, you can go into the other 
 room. There is plenty of time to avoid her," 
 243
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 said Triplet, in a very natural tremor. "This 
 way, madam ! " 
 
 Mrs. Woffington stood in the middle of the 
 room like a statue. 
 
 " What does she come here for ? " said she 
 sternly. "You have not told me all." 
 
 " I don't know," cried poor Triplet in dismay ; 
 "and I think the devil brings her here to con- 
 found me. For Heaven's sake, retire ! What 
 will become of us all ? There will be murder, 
 I know there will ! " 
 
 To his horror, Mrs. Woffington would not 
 move. " You are on her side," said she slowly, 
 with a concentration of spite and suspicion. 
 She looked frightful at this moment. "All the 
 better for me," added she, with a world of 
 female malignity. 
 
 Triplet could not make head against this 
 blow ; he gasped, and pointed piteously to the 
 inner door. 
 
 " No ; I will know two things : the course 
 she means to take, and the terms you two 
 are upon." 
 
 By this time Mrs. Vane's light foot was heard 
 on the stair, and Triplet sank into a chair. 
 "They will tear one another to pieces," said he. 
 
 A tap came to the door. 
 
 He looked fearfully round for the woman 
 whom jealousy had so speedily turned from an 
 angel to a fiend ; and saw with dismay that she 
 had actually had the hardihood to slip round 
 
 244
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 and enter the picture again. She had not quite 
 arranged herself when her rival knocked. 
 
 Triplet dragged himself to the door. Before 
 he opened it, he looked fearfully over his shoul- 
 der, and received a glance of cool, bitter, deadly 
 hostility, that boded ill both for him and his 
 visitor. Triplet's apprehensions were not un- 
 reasonable. His benefactress and this sweet 
 lady were rivals ! 
 
 Jealousy is a dreadful passion ; it makes us 
 tigers. The jealous always thirst for blood. 
 At any moment, when reason is a little weaker 
 than usual, they are ready to kill the thing they 
 hate or the thing they love. 
 
 Any open collision between these ladies would 
 scatter ill consequences all round. Under such 
 circumstances, we are pretty sure to say or do 
 something wicked, silly, or unreasonable. But 
 what tortured Triplet more than anything was 
 his own particular notion, that fate doomed 
 him to witness a formal encounter between 
 these two women ; and of course an encounter 
 of such a nature, as we in our day illustrate 
 by " Kilkenny cats." 
 
 To be sure Mrs. Vane had appeared a dove, 
 but doves can peck on certain occasions, and no 
 doubt she had a spirit at bottom. Her coming 
 to him proved it. And had not the other been 
 a dove all the morning and afternoon ? Yet 
 jealousy had turned her to a fiend before his 
 eyes. Then if (which was not probable) no 
 
 245
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 collision took place, what a situation was his ! 
 Mrs. Woffington (his buckler from starvation) 
 suspected him, and would distort every word 
 that came from Mrs. Vane's lips. 
 
 Triplet's situation was, in fact, that of ./Eneas 
 in the storm. 
 
 " Olim et hac meminisse juvabit 
 
 " But while present, such things don't please any one 
 a bit." 
 
 It was the sort of situation we can laugh at 
 and see the fun of it six months after, if not 
 shipwrecked on it at the time. 
 
 With a ghastly smile the poor quaking hypo- 
 crite welcomed Mrs. Vane, and professed a 
 world of innocent delight, that she had so 
 honoured his humble roof. 
 
 She interrupted his compliments, and begged 
 him to see whether she was followed by a 
 gentleman in a cloak. 
 
 Triplet looked out of the window. 
 
 " Sir Charles Pomander ! " gasped he. 
 
 Sir Charles was at the very door. If, how- 
 ever, he had intended to mount the stairs, he 
 changed his mind, for he suddenly went off 
 round the corner with a business-like air, real 
 or fictitious. 
 
 " He is gone, madam," said Triplet. 
 
 Mrs. Vane, the better to escape detection or 
 
 observation, wore a thick mantle and a hood, 
 
 246
 
 ccftecf cut" 
 
 {Copyright 1899 *y
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 that concealed her features. Of these Triplet 
 debarrassed her. 
 
 " Sit down, madam," and he hastily drew a 
 chair, so that her back was to the picture. 
 
 She was pale, and trembled a little. She hid 
 her face in her hands a moment ; then recover- 
 ing her courage, she begged Mr. Triplet to 
 pardon her for coming to him. " He had in- 
 spired her with confidence," she said ; " he had 
 offered her his services, and so she had come 
 to him, for she had no other friend to aid her 
 in her sore distress." She might have added, 
 that with the tact of her sex she had read 
 Triplet to the bottom, and came to him, as she 
 would to a benevolent muscular old woman. 
 
 Triplet's natural impulse was to repeat most 
 warmly his offers of service. He did so ; and 
 then, conscious of the picture, had a misgiving. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Triplet," began Mrs. Vane, " you 
 know this person, Mrs. Woffington ? " 
 
 "Yes, madam," replied Triplet, lowering his 
 eyes, " I am honoured by her acquaintance." 
 
 "You will take me to the theatre where she 
 acts ? " 
 
 " Yes, madam : to the boxes, I presume ? " 
 
 "No! oh no! How could I bear that? To 
 the place where the actors and actresses are." 
 
 Triplet demurred. This would be courting 
 that very collision, the dread of which even 
 now oppressed him. 
 
 At the first faint sign of resistance she began 
 248
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 to supplicate him, as if he was some great stern 
 tyrant. 
 
 "Oh, you must not, you cannot refuse me. 
 You do not know what I risk to obtain this. 
 I have risen from my bed to come to you. I 
 have a fire here ! " She pressed her hand to 
 her brow. "Oh, take me to her!" 
 
 " Madam, I will do anything for you. But 
 be advised ; trust to my knowledge of human 
 nature. What you require is madness. Gracious 
 Heavens ! you two are rivals, and when rivals 
 meet there is murder or deadly mischief." 
 
 " Ah ! if you knew my sorrow, you would 
 not thwart me. Oh, Mr. Triplet! little did I 
 think you were as cruel as the rest." 
 
 So then this cruel monster whimpered out, 
 that he should do any folly she insisted upon. 
 
 " Good, kind Mr. Triplet ! " said Mrs. Vane. 
 " Let me look in your face ! Yes, I see you are 
 honest and true. I will tell you all." Then she 
 poured in his ear her simple tale, unadorned and 
 touching as Judah's speech to Joseph. She told 
 him how she loved her husband; how he had 
 loved her ; how happy they were for the first six 
 months ; how her heart sank when he left her ; 
 how he had promised she should join him, and 
 on that hope she lived. " But for two months 
 he had ceased to speak of this, and I grew heart- 
 sick waiting for the summons that never came. 
 At last I felt I should die if I did not see him ; 
 so I plucked up courage and wrote that I must 
 
 249
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 come to him. He did not forbid me, so I 
 left our country home. Oh, sir ! I cannot make 
 you know how my heart burned to be by his 
 side. I counted the hours of the journey ; I 
 counted the miles. At last I reached his house ; 
 I found a gay company there. I was a little 
 sorry, but I said : 'His friends shall be wel- 
 come, right welcome. He has asked them to 
 welcome his wife.' " 
 
 " Poor thing ! " muttered Triplet. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Triplet ! they were there to do honour 
 
 to , and the wife was neither expected nor 
 
 desired. There lay my letters, with their seals 
 unbroken. I know all his letters by heart, Mr. 
 Triplet The seals unbroken unbroken ! Mr. 
 Triplet." 
 
 " It is abominable ! " cried Triplet fiercely. 
 
 "And she who sat in my seat in his house, 
 and in his heart was this lady, the actress 
 you so praised to me." 
 
 "That lady, ma'am," said Triplet, "has been 
 deceived as well as you." 
 
 " I am convinced of it," said Mabel. 
 
 "And it is my painful duty to tell you, 
 madam, that with all her talents and sweetness, 
 she has a fiery temper ; yes, a very fiery 
 temper," continued Triplet stoutly, though with 
 an uneasy glance in a certain direction; "and I 
 have reason to believe she is angry, and thinks 
 more of her own ill-usage than yours. Don't 
 you go near her. Trust to my knowledge of 
 
 250
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 the sex, madam ; I am a dramatic writer. Did 
 you ever read the ' Rival Queens ' ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I thought not. Well, madam, one stabs the 
 other, and the one that is stabbed says things 
 to the other that are more biting than steel. 
 The prudent course for you is to keep apart, 
 and be always cheerful, and welcome him with 
 a smile and have you read 'The Way to Keep 
 Him'?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Triplet," said Mabel firmly, "I 
 cannot feign. Were I to attempt talent and 
 deceit, I should be weaker than I am now. 
 Honesty and right are all my strength. I will 
 cry to her for justice and mercy. And if I cry 
 in vain, I shall die, Mr. Triplet ; that is all." 
 
 " Don't cry, dear lady," said Triplet, in a 
 broken voice. 
 
 " It is impossible ! " cried she suddenly, " I 
 am not learned, but I can read faces. I always 
 could, and so could my Aunt Deborah before 
 me. I read you right, Mr. Triplet, and I have 
 read her too. Did not my heart warm to her 
 amongst them all ? There is a heart at the 
 bottom of all her acting, and that heart is good 
 and noble." 
 
 " She is, madam ! she is ! and charitable too. 
 I know a family she saved from starvation and 
 despair. Oh yes ! she has a heart to feel for 
 the poor, at all events." 
 
 "And am I not the poorest of the poor?"
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 cried Mrs. Vane. " I have no father nor mother, 
 Mr. Triplet ; my husband is all I have in the 
 world all I had, I mean." 
 
 Triplet, deeply affected himself, stole a look 
 at Mrs. Woffington. She was pale ; but her face 
 was composed into a sort of dogged obstinacy. 
 He was disgusted with her. " Madam," said he 
 sternly, "there is a wild beast more cruel and 
 savage than wolves and bears ; it is called ' a 
 rival,' and don't you get in its way." 
 
 At this moment, in spite of Triplet's precau- 
 tion, Mrs. Vane, casting her eye accidentally 
 round, caught sight of the picture, and instantly 
 started up, crying : " She is there ! " Triplet was 
 thunderstruck. " What a likeness ! " cried she, 
 and moved towards the supposed picture. 
 
 "Don't go to it!" cried Triplet, aghast; "the 
 colour is wet." 
 
 She stopped ; but her eye, and her very 
 soul, dwelt upon the supposed picture ; and 
 Triplet stood quaking. " How like ! It seems 
 to breathe. You are a great painter, sir. A 
 glass is not truer." 
 
 Triplet, hardly knowing what he said, mut- 
 tered something about " critics, and lights and 
 shades." 
 
 "Then they are blind ! " cried Mabel, never for 
 a moment removing her eye from the object. 
 "Tell me not of lights and shades. The pictures 
 I see have a look of paint ; but yours looks like 
 
 life. Oh ! that she were here, as this wonderful 
 
 252
 
 image of hers is. I would speak to her. I am 
 not wise Or learned ; but orators never pleaded 
 as I would plead to her for my Ernest's heart." 
 Still her eye glanced upon the picture ; and, I 
 suppose, her heart realised an actual presence, 
 though her judgment did not ; for by some 
 irresistible impulse she sank slowly down and 
 stretched her clasped hands towards it, while 
 sobs and words seemed to break direct from 
 her bursting heart. " Oh yes ! you are beautiful, 
 you are gifted, and the eyes of thousands wait 
 upon your every word and look. What wonder 
 that he, ardent, refined, and genial, should lay 
 his heart at your feet ? And I have nothing but 
 my love to make him love me. I cannot take 
 him from you. Oh, be generous to the weak ! 
 Oh, give him back to me ! What is one heart 
 more to you ? You are so rich, and I am so 
 poor, that without his love I have nothing, and 
 can do nothing but sit me down and cry till my 
 heart breaks. Give him back to me, beautiful, 
 terrible woman ! for, with all your gifts, you 
 cannot love him as his poor Mabel does ; and I 
 will love you longer perhaps than men can love. 
 I will kiss your feet, and Heaven above will 
 bless you ; and I will bless you and pray for you 
 to my dying day. Ah ! it is alive ! I am fright- 
 ened ! I am frightened ! " She ran to Triplet 
 and seized his arm. " No ! " cried she, quiver- 
 ing close to him ; " I'm not frightened, for it 
 
 was for me she Oh, Mrs. Womngton ! " and 
 
 2 53
 
 PEG WOFF1NGTON 
 
 hiding her face on Mr. Triplet's shoulder, she 
 blushed, and wept, and trembled. 
 
 What was it had betrayed Mrs. Woffington ? 
 A tear! 
 
 During the whole of this interview (which had 
 taken a turn so unlocked for by the listener) she 
 might have said with Beatrice, "What fire is in 
 mine ears?" and what self-reproach and chill 
 misgiving in her heart too. She had passed 
 through a hundred emotions, as the young inno- 
 cent wife told her sad and simple story. But 
 anxious now above all things to escape without 
 being recognised for she had long repented 
 having listened at all, or placed herself in her 
 present position she fiercely mastered her coun- 
 tenance ; but though she ruled her features, she 
 could not rule her heart. And when the young 
 wife, instead of inveighing against her, came to 
 her as a supplicant, with faith in her goodness, 
 and sobbed to her for pity, a big tear rolled 
 down her cheek, and proved her something 
 more than a picture or an actress. 
 
 Mrs. Vane, as we have related, screamed and 
 ran to Triplet. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington came instantly from her frame, 
 and stood before them in a despairing attitude, 
 with one hand upon her brow. For a single 
 moment her impulse was to fly from the apart- 
 ment, so ashamed was she of having listened, 
 and of meeting her rival in this way ; but she 
 conquered this feeling, and as soon as she saw 
 
 2 54
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Mrs. Vane too had recovered some composure, 
 she said to Triplet, in a low but firm voice 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.] 
 
 " Leave us, sir. No living creature must hear 
 what I say to this lady ! " 
 
 2 55
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Triplet remonstrated, but Mrs. Vane said 
 faintly 
 
 "Oh yes, good Mr. Triplet, I would rather 
 you left me." 
 
 Triplet, full of misgivings, was obliged to 
 retire. 
 
 " Be composed, ladies," said he piteously. 
 " Neither of you could help it ; " and so he 
 entered his inner room, where he sat and 
 listened nervously, for he could not shake oft" 
 all apprehension of a personal encounter. 
 
 In the room he had left there was a long 
 uneasy silence. Both ladies were greatly embar- 
 rassed. It was the actress who spoke first. All 
 trace of emotion, except a certain pallor, was 
 driven from her face. She spoke with very 
 marked courtesy, but in tones that seemed to 
 freeze as they dropped one by one from her 
 mouth. 
 
 " I trust, madam, you will do me the justice 
 to believe I did not know Mr. Vane was 
 married ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it ! " said Mabel warmly. " I 
 feel you are as good as you are gifted." 
 
 " Mrs. Vane, I am not ! " said the other, al- 
 most sternly. "You are deceived!" 
 
 "Then Heaven have mercy on me ! No ! 
 I am not deceived, you pitied me. You speak 
 coldly now ; but I know your face and your 
 heart you pity me ! " 
 
 " I do respect, admire, and pity you," said 
 256
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Mrs. Woffington sadly ; " and I could consent 
 never more to communicate with your with 
 Mr. Vane." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Mabel ; " Heaven will bless you ! 
 But will you give me back his heart ? " 
 
 " How can I do that ? " said Mrs. Wof- 
 fington uneasily ; she had not bargained for 
 this. 
 
 "The magnet can repel as well as attract. 
 Can you not break your own spell ? What 
 will his presence be to me, if his heart remain 
 behind?" 
 
 "You ask much of me." 
 
 "Alas! I do." 
 
 " But I could do even this." She paused for 
 breath. "And perhaps if you, who have not 
 only touched my heart, but won my respect, 
 were to say to me, ' Do so/ I should do 
 it." Again she paused, and spoke with diffi- 
 culty ; for the bitter struggle took away her 
 breath. " Mr. Vane thinks better of me than 
 I deserve. I have only to make him believe 
 me worthless worse than I am and he will 
 drop me like an adder and love you better, 
 far better for having known admired and 
 despised Margaret Woffington." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Mabel, " I shall bless you every 
 hour of my life." Her countenance bright- 
 ened into rapture at the picture, and Mrs. 
 Woffington's darkened with bitterness as she 
 
 watched her. 
 
 257 R
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 But Mabel reflected. " Rob you of your good 
 name ? " said this pure creature. " Ah, Mabel 
 Vane ! you think but of yourself." 
 
 " I thank you, madam," said Mrs. Woffing- 
 ton, a little touched by this unexpected trait ; 
 "but some one must suffer here, and 
 
 Mabel Vane interrupted her. "This would 
 be cruel and base," said she firmly. " No 
 woman's forehead shall be soiled by me. O 
 madam ! beauty is admired, talent is adored ; 
 but virtue is a woman's crown. With it the 
 poor are rich ; without it the rich are poor. 
 It walks through life upright, and never hides 
 its head for high or low." 
 
 Her face was as the face of an angel now ; 
 and the actress, conquered by her beauty and 
 her goodness, actually bowed her head and 
 gently kissed the hand of the country wife 
 whom she had quizzed a few hours ago. 
 
 Frailty paid this homage to virtue ! 
 
 Mabel Vane hardly noticed it ; her eye was 
 lifted to Heaven, and her heart was gone there 
 for help in a sore struggle. 
 
 " This would be to assassinate you ; no less. 
 And so, madam," she sighed, " with God's help, 
 I do refuse your offer ; choosing rather, if 
 needs be, to live desolate, but innocent many 
 a better than I hath lived so ay ! if God 
 wills it, to die with my hopes and my heart 
 crushed, but my hands unstained ; for so my 
 humble life has passed." 
 
 258
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 How beautiful great and pure goodness is ! 
 It paints Heaven on the face that has it ; it 
 wakens the sleeping souls that meet it. 
 
 At the bottom of Margaret Woffington's 
 heart lay a soul, unknown to the world, scarce 
 known to herself a heavenly harp, on which 
 ill airs of passion had been played but still 
 it was there, in tune with all that is true, 
 pure, really great and good. And now the flush 
 that a great heart sends to the brow, to herald 
 great actions, came to her cheek and brow. 
 
 " Humble ! " she cried. " Such as you are 
 the diamonds of our race. You angel of truth 
 and goodness, you have conquered ! " 
 
 " Oh yes ! yes ! Thank God, yes ! " 
 
 "What a fiend I must be could I injure 
 you ! The poor heart we have both overrated 
 shall be yours again, and yours for ever. In 
 my hands it is painted glass ; in the lustre of a 
 love like yours it may become a priceless jewel." 
 She turned her head away and pondered a 
 moment, then suddenly offered to Mrs. Vane 
 her hand with nobleness and majesty: "Can 
 you trust me ? " The actress too was divinely 
 beautiful now, for her good angel shone through 
 her. 
 
 " I could trust you with my life ! " was the 
 reply. 
 
 " Ah ! if I might call you friend, dear lady, 
 what would I not do suffer resign to be 
 worthy that title ! " 
 
 259
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "No, not friend!" cried the warm, innocent 
 Mabel ; " sister ! I will call you sister. I have 
 no sister." 
 
 "Sister!" said Mrs. Woffington. "Oh, do 
 not mock me ! Alas ! you do not know what 
 you say. That sacred name to me, from lips 
 so pure as yours Mrs. Vane," said she 
 timidly, "would you think me presumptuous if 
 I begged you to to let me kiss you ? " 
 
 The words were scarce spoken before Mrs. 
 Vane's arms were wreathed round her neck, 
 and that innocent cheek laid sweetly to hers. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington strained her to her bosom, 
 and two great hearts, whose grandeur the 
 world, worshipper of charlatans, never dis- 
 covered, had found each other out and beat 
 against each other. A great heart is as quick 
 to find another out as the world is slow. 
 
 Mrs. Woffington burst into a passion of tears 
 and clasped Mabel tighter and tighter, in a 
 half-despairing way. Mabel mistook the cause, 
 but she kissed her tears away. 
 
 " Dear sister," said she, " be comforted. I 
 love you. My heart warmed to you the first 
 moment I saw you. A woman's love and 
 gratitude are something. Arfl you will never 
 find me change. This is for life, look 
 you." 
 
 "God grant it !" cried the other poor woman. 
 " Oh, it is not that, it is not that ; it is because 
 
 I am so little worthy of this. It is a sin to 
 
 260
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 deceive you. I am not good like you. You 
 do not know me ! " 
 
 " You do not know yourself if you say 
 so ! " cried Mabel ; and to her hearer the 
 words seemed to come from Heaven. " I read 
 faces," said Mabel. " I read yours at sight, 
 and you are what I set you down ; and nobody 
 must breathe a word against you, not even 
 yourself. Do you think I am blind ? You are 
 beautiful, you are good, you are my sister, and 
 I love you ! " 
 
 " Heaven forgive me ! " thought the other. 
 " How can I resign this angel's good opinion ? 
 Surely Heaven sends this blessed dew to my 
 parched heart ! " And now she burned to 
 make good her promise, and earn this virtuous 
 wife's love. She folded her once more in her 
 arms ; and then, taking 'her by the hand, led 
 her tenderly into Triplet's inner room. She 
 made her lie down on the bed, and placed 
 pillows high for her like a mother, and leaned 
 over her as she lay, and pressed her lips gently 
 to her forehead. Her fertile brain had already 
 digested a plan, but she had resolved that this 
 pure and candid soul should take no lessons 
 of deceit. "Lie there," said she, "till I open 
 the door, and then join us. Do you know 
 what I am going to do ? I am not going 
 to restore you your husband's heart, but to 
 show you it never really left you. You read 
 faces ; well, I read circumstances. Matters 
 
 261
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 are not as you thought," said she, with all a 
 woman's tact. " I cannot explain, but you will 
 see." She then gave Mrs. Triplet peremptory 
 orders not to let her charge rise from the bed 
 until the preconcerted signal. 
 
 Mrs. Vane was, in fact, so exhausted by all 
 she had gone through, that she was in no 
 condition to resist. She cast a look of child- 
 like confidence upon her rival, and then closed 
 her eyes, and tried not to tremble all over 
 and listen like a frightened hare. 
 
 It is one great characteristic of genius to do 
 great things with little -things. Paxton could see 
 that so small a matter as a green-house could 
 be dilated into a crystal palace, and with two 
 common materials glass and iron he raised 
 the palace of the genii ; the brightest idea and 
 the noblest ornament added to Europe in this 
 century the Koh-i-noor of the west. Livy's 
 definition of Archimedes goes on the same 
 ground. 
 
 262
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Peg Woffington was a genius in her way. On 
 entering Triplet's studio her eye fell upon three 
 trifles Mrs. Vane's hood and mantle, the back 
 of an old letter, and Mr. Triplet. (It will be 
 seen how she worked these slight materials.) On 
 the letter was written, in pencil, simply these 
 two words, " Mabel Vane." Mrs. Womngton 
 wrote above these words two more, " Alone 
 and unprotected." She put this into Mr. Triplet's 
 hand, and bade him take it downstairs and 
 give it to Sir Charles Pomander, whose retreat, 
 she knew, must have been fictitious. "You 
 will find him round the corner," said she, "or 
 in some shop that looks this way." Whilst 
 uttering these words she had put on Mrs. 
 Vane's hood and mantle. 
 
 No answer was returned, and no Triplet went 
 out of the door. 
 
 She turned, and there he was, kneeling on 
 both knees close under her. 
 
 " Bid me jump out of that window, madam ; 
 bid me kill those two gentlemen, and I will 
 not rebel. You are a great lady, a talented 
 lady ; you have been insulted, and no doubt 
 blood will flow. It ought it is your due ; but 
 that innocent lady, do not compromise her ! " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Triplet ! you need not kneel to me. 
 I do not wish to force you to render me a 
 service. I have no right to dictate to you." 
 
 " Oh dear ! " cried Triplet, " don't talk in that 
 way. I owe you my life, but I think of your 
 
 263
 
 C J< : nee(inq on t&lfi X>weS close to tier 
 
 \_Cofyright 1899 *y George Allen.}
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 own peace of mind, for you are not one to 
 be happy if you injure the innocent ! " He 
 rose suddenly and cried : " Madam, promise me 
 not to stir till I come back ! " 
 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 " To bring the husband to his wife's feet, 
 and so save one angel from despair, and 
 another angel from a great crime." 
 
 " Well, I suppose you are wiser than I," 
 said she. " But if you are in earnest, you had 
 better be quick, for somehow I am rather 
 changeable about these people." 
 
 "You can't help that, madam, it is your 
 sex ; you are an angel. May I be permitted 
 to kiss your hand ? you are all goodness and 
 gentleness at bottom. I fly to Mr. Vane, and 
 we will be back before you have time to 
 repent, and give the devil the upper hand 
 again, my dear, good, sweet lady ! " 
 
 Away flew Triplet, all unconscious that he was 
 not Mrs. Womngton's opponent, but puppet. 
 He ran, he tore, animated by a good action, 
 and spurred by the notion that he was in 
 direct competition with the fiend for the pos- 
 session of his benefactress. 
 
 He had no sooner turned the corner, than 
 Mrs. Woffington, looking out of the window, 
 observed Sir Charles Pomander on the watch, 
 as she had expected. She remained at the 
 window with Mrs. Vane's hood on, until Sir 
 
 Charles's eye in its wanderings lighted on her, 
 
 265
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 and then dropping Mrs. Vane's letter from the 
 window she hastily withdrew. 
 
 iarfes Fmifecf gam. 
 
 L/ 
 
 {Copyright 1899 by George Allen.] 
 
 Sir Charles eagerly picked it up. His eye 
 brightened when he read the short contents. 
 
 266
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 With a self-satisfied smile he mounted the 
 stair. He found in Triplet's house a lady, who 
 seemed startled at her late hardihood. She sat 
 with her back to the door, her hood drawn 
 tightly down, and wore an air of trembling con- 
 sciousness. Sir Charles smiled again. He knew 
 the sex ; at least he said so. (It is an assertion 
 often ventured upon.) Accordingly Sir Charles 
 determined to come down from his height 
 and court nature and innocence in their own 
 tones. This he rightly judged must be the 
 proper course to take with Mrs. Vane. He fell 
 down with mock ardour upon one knee. 
 
 The supposed Mrs. Vane gave a little squeak. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Vane," cried he, " be not alarmed ; 
 loveliness neglected, and simplicity deceived, 
 ensure respect as well as adoration. Ah ! " (a 
 sigh.) 
 
 " Oh, get up, sir ; do, please. Ah ! " (a 
 sigh.) 
 
 " You sigh, sweetest of human creatures. Ah ! 
 why -did not a nature like yours fall into hands 
 that would have cherished it as it deserves ? 
 Had Heaven bestowed on me this hand which 
 I take 
 
 "Oh, please, sir 
 
 " With the profoundest respect, would I have 
 abandoned such a treasure for an actress ? a 
 Woffington ! as artificial and hollow a jade as 
 ever winked at a side box ! " 
 
 "Is she, sir?" 
 
 267
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 " Notorious, madam ! Your husband is the 
 only man in London who does not see through 
 her. How different are you ! Even I, who 
 have no taste for actresses, found myself re- 
 vived, refreshed, ameliorated by that engaging 
 picture of innocence and virtue you drew this 
 morning ; yourself the bright and central figure. 
 Ah, dear angel ! I remember all your favourites, 
 and envy them their place in your recollec- 
 tions. Your Barbary mare " 
 
 "Hen, sir!" 
 
 " Of course I meant hen ; and Grey Gillian, 
 his old nurse " 
 
 "No, no, no! she is the mare, sir. He! 
 he! he!" 
 
 "So she is. And Dame Dame " 
 
 " Best ! " 
 
 " Ah ! I knew it. You see how I remember 
 them all. And all carry me back to those inno- 
 cent days which fleet too soon days when an 
 angel like you might have weaned me from the 
 wicked pleasures of the town to the placid 
 delights of a rural existence ! " 
 
 "Alas, sir !" 
 
 "You sigh. It is not yet too late. I am a 
 convert to you ; I swear it on this white hand. 
 Ah! how can I relinquish it, pretty fluttering 
 prisoner ? " 
 
 " Oh, sir, please 
 
 " Stay awhile." 
 
 " No ! please, sir 
 
 268
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 "While I fetter thee with a worthy manacle." 
 Sir Charles slipped a diamond ring of great 
 value upon his pretty prisoner. 
 
 " La, sir, how pretty ! " cried innocence. 
 
 Sir Charles then undertook to prove that the 
 lustre of the ring was faint compared with that 
 of the present wearer's eyes. This did not suit 
 innocence ; she hung her head and fluttered, 
 and showed a bashful repugnance to look her 
 admirer in the face. Sir Charles playfully in- 
 sisted, and Mrs. Womngton was beginning to be 
 a little at a loss, when suddenly voices were 
 heard upon the stairs. 
 
 "My husband!" cried the false Mrs. Vane, 
 and in a moment she rose, and darted into 
 Triplet's inner apartment. 
 
 Mr. Vane and Mr. Triplet were talking earnestly 
 as they came up the stair. It seems the wise 
 Triplet had prepared a little dramatic scene for 
 his own refreshment, as well as for the ultimate 
 benefit of all parties. He had persuaded Mr. 
 Vane to accompany him by warm, mysterious 
 promises of a happy denouement ; and now, 
 having conducted that gentleman as far as his 
 door, he was heard to say 
 
 "And now, sir, you shall see one who waits 
 to forget grief, suspicion all, in your arms. 
 Behold ! " and here he flung the door open. 
 
 "The devil !" 
 
 " You flatter me ! " said Pomander, who had 
 
 had time to recover his aplomb, somewhat 
 
 269
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 shaken, at first, by Mr. Vane's inopportune 
 arrival. 
 
 Now it is to be observed, that Mr. Vane had 
 not long ago seen his wife lying on her bed, 
 to all appearance incapable of motion. 
 
 Mr. Vane, before Triplet could recover his 
 surprise, inquired of Pomander why he had sent 
 for him, "And what," added he, "is the grief 
 suspicion I am, according to Mr. Triplet, to 
 forget in your arms ? " 
 
 Mr. Vane added this last sentence in rather a 
 testy manner. 
 
 "Why, the fact is " began Sir Charles, with- 
 out the remotest idea of what the fact was 
 going to be. 
 
 "That Sir Charles Pomander " interrupted 
 Triplet. 
 
 " But Mr. Triplet is going to explain," said 
 Sir Charles keenly. 
 
 " Nay, sir ; be yours the pleasing duty. But 
 now I think of it," resumed Triplet, "why not 
 tell the simple truth ? it is not a play ! She I 
 brought you here to see was not Sir Charles 
 Pomander ; but 
 
 " I forbid you to complete the name ! " cried 
 Pomander. 
 
 " I command you to complete the name ! " 
 cried Vane. 
 
 " Gentlemen, gentlemen ! how can I do both ? " 
 remonstrated Triplet. 
 
 " Enough, sir ! " cried Pomander. " It is a 
 270
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 lady's secret. I am the guardian of that lady's 
 honour." 
 
 " She has chosen a strange guardian of her 
 honour ! " said Vane bitterly. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! " cried poor Triplet, who did 
 not at all like the turn things were taking, " I 
 give you my word, she does not even know of 
 Sir Charles's presence here ! " 
 
 " Who ? " cried Vane furiously. " Man alive ! 
 who are you speaking of ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Vane ! " 
 
 " My wife ! " cried Vane, trembling with 
 anger and jealousy. " She here ! and with 
 this man ?" 
 
 " No ! " cried Triplet. " With me, with me ! 
 Not with him, of course." 
 
 " Boaster ! " cried Vane contemptuously. " But 
 that is a part of your profession ! " 
 
 Pomander, irritated, scornfully drew from his 
 pocket the ladies' joint production, which had 
 fallen at his feet from Mrs. Woffington's hand. 
 He presented this to Mr. Vane, who took it 
 very uneasily ; a mist swam before his eyes as 
 he read the words : "Alone and unprotected 
 Mabel Vane." He had no sooner read these 
 words, than he found he loved his wife : when 
 he tampered with his treasure, he did not cal- 
 culate on another seeking it. 
 
 This was Pomander's hour of triumph ! He 
 proceeded coolly to explain to Mr. Vane, that 
 Mrs. Womngton having deserted him for Mr. 
 
 271
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Vane, and Mr. Vane his wife for Mrs. Woffing- 
 ton, the bereaved parties had, according to 
 custom, agreed to console each other. 
 
 This soothing little speech was interrupted by 
 Mr. Vane's sword flashing suddenly out of its 
 sheath ; while that gentleman, white with rage 
 and jealousy, bade him instantly take to his 
 guard, or be run through the body like some 
 noxious animal. 
 
 Sir Charles drew his sword ; and in spite 
 of Triplet's weak interference, half - a - dozen 
 passes were rapidly exchanged, when suddenly 
 the door of the inner room opened, and a lady 
 in a hood pronounced, in a voice which was 
 an excellent imitation of Mrs. Vane's, the word, 
 " False ! " 
 
 The combatants lowered their points. 
 
 " You hear, sir ! " cried Triplet. 
 
 "You see, sir!" said Pomander. 
 
 " Mabel ! wife ! " cried Mr. Vane, in agony. 
 " Oh ! say this is not true ! oh ! say that letter 
 is a forgery ! Say, at least, it was by some 
 treachery you were lured to this den of ini- 
 quity ! Oh ! speak ! " 
 
 The lady silently beckoned to some person 
 inside. 
 
 " You know I loved you ! you know how 
 bitterly I repent the infatuation that brought 
 me to the feet of another ! " 
 
 The lady replied not, though Vane's soul 
 appeared to hang upon her answer. But she 
 
 272
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 threw, the door open, and there appeared 
 another lady, the real Mrs. Vane. Mrs. Wof- 
 fington then threw off her hood, and to Sir 
 Charles Pomander's consternation, revealed the 
 
 [Copyright 1899 ty George Allen.} 
 
 features of that ingenious person who seemed 
 born to outwit him. 
 
 " You heard that fervent declaration, madam ? " 
 said she to Mrs. Vane. " I present to you, 
 
 273 s
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 madam, a gentleman, who regrets that he mis- 
 took the real direction of his feelings. And to 
 you, sir," continued she, with great dignity, " I 
 present a lady who will never mistake either her 
 feelings or her duty." 
 
 " Ernest ! dear Ernest ! " cried Mrs. Vane, 
 blushing, as if she was the culprit. And she 
 came forward, all love and tenderness. 
 
 Her truant husband kneeled at her feet of 
 course ? 
 
 " No ! " he said, rather sternly, " how came 
 you here, Mabel ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Vane," said the actress, " fancied you 
 had mislaid that weather-cock, your heart, in 
 Covent Garden, and that an actress had seen 
 in it a fit companion for her own, and had 
 feloniously appropriated it. She came to me 
 to inquire after it." 
 
 " But this letter, signed by you ? " said Vane, 
 still addressing Mabel. 
 
 "Was written by me on a paper which 
 accidentally contained Mrs. Vane's name. The 
 fact is, Mr. Vane I can hardly look you in 
 the face I had a little wager with Sir Charles 
 here ; his diamond ring which you may see 
 has become my diamond ring" a horrible 
 wry face from Sir Charles " against my left 
 glove, that I could bewitch a country gentle- 
 man's imagination, and make him think me 
 an angel. Unfortunately the owner of his heart 
 appeared, and, like poor Mr. Vane, took our 
 
 274
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 play for earnest. It became necessary to 
 disabuse her and to open your eyes. Have I 
 done so ?" 
 
 "You have, madam," said Vane, wincing at 
 each word she said. But at last, by a mighty 
 effort, he mastered himself, and, coming to Mrs. 
 Woffington with a quivering lip, he held out 
 his hand suddenly in a very manly way. " I 
 have been the dupe of my own vanity," said 
 he, "and I thank you for this lesson." Poor 
 Mrs. Woffington's fortitude had well-nigh left 
 her at this. 
 
 " Mabel," he cried, " is this humiliation any 
 punishment for my folly ? any guarantee for my 
 repentance ? Can you forgive me ? " 
 
 " It is all forgiven, Ernest. But, oh ! you 
 are mistaken." She glided to Mrs. Woffington. 
 " What do we not owe you, sister ? " whispered 
 she. 
 
 " Nothing ! that word pays all," was the reply. 
 She then slipped her address into Mrs. Vane's 
 hand, and, curtseying to all the company, she 
 hastily left the room. 
 
 Sir Charles Pomander followed, but he was 
 not quick enough ; she got a start, and pur- 
 posely avoided him, and for three days neither 
 the public nor private friends saw this poor 
 woman's face. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Vane prepared to go also ; 
 but Mrs. Vane would thank good Mr. Triplet 
 and Mrs. Triplet for their kindness to her. 
 
 275
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Triplet the benevolent blushed, was confused 
 and delighted ; but suddenly turning some- 
 what sorrowful, he said : " Mr. Vane, madam, 
 made use of an expression which caused a 
 momentary pang. He called this a den of 
 iniquity. Now this is my studio ! But never 
 mind." 
 
 Mr. Vane asked his pardon for so absurd 
 an error, and the pair left Triplet in all the 
 enjoyment which does come now and then to 
 an honest man, whether this dirty little world 
 will or not. 
 
 A coach was called, and they went home to 
 Bloomsbury. Few words were said ; but the 
 repentant husband often silently pressed this 
 angel to his bosom, and the tears which found 
 their way to her beautiful eyelashes were tears 
 of joy. 
 
 This weakish, and consequently villainous, 
 though not ill-disposed person, would have gone 
 down to Willoughby that night ; but his wife 
 had great good sense. She would not take her 
 husband off, like a school-boy caught out of 
 bounds. She begged him to stay while she 
 made certain purchases ; but for all that, her 
 heart burned to be at home. So in less than 
 a week after the events we have related they 
 left London. 
 
 Meantime, every day Mrs. Vane paid a quiet 
 visit to Mrs. Woffington (for some days the 
 actress admitted no other visitor), and was 
 
 276
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 with her but two hours before she left 
 London. On that occasion she found her very 
 sad. 
 
 " I shall never see you again in this world," 
 said she ; " but I beg of you to write to 
 me, that my mind may be in contact with 
 yours." 
 
 She then asked Mabel, in her half-sorrowful, 
 half-bitter way, how many months it would be 
 ere she was forgotten ? 
 
 Mabel answered by quietly crying. So then 
 they embraced ; and Mabel assured her friend 
 she was not one of those who change their 
 minds. " It is for life, dear sister ; it is for 
 life," cried she. 
 
 " Swear this to me," said the other, almost 
 sternly. " But no. I have more confidence 
 in that candid face and pure nature than in 
 a human being's oath. If you are happy, 
 remember you owe me something. If you are 
 unhappy, come to me, and I will love you as 
 men cannot love." 
 
 Then vows passed between them, for a 
 singular tie bound these two women ; and 
 then the actress showed a part at least of her 
 sore heart to her new sister ; and that sister 
 was surprised and grieved, and pitied her 
 truly and deeply, and they wept on each 
 other's neck ; and at last they were fain to 
 part. They parted ; and true it was, they 
 never met again in this world. They parted 
 
 277
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 in sorrow ; but when they meet again it shall 
 be with joy. 
 
 Women are generally such faithless, unscru- 
 pulous, and pitiless humbugs in their dealings 
 with their own sex which, whatever they may 
 say, they despise at heart that I am happy to 
 be able to say, Mrs. Vane proved true as 
 steel. She was a noble-minded, simple-minded 
 creature ; she was also a constant creature. 
 Constancy is a rare, a beautiful, a God-like 
 virtue. 
 
 Four times every year she wrote a long letter 
 to Mrs. Womngton ; and twice a year, in the 
 cold weather, she sent her a hamper of country 
 delicacies, that would have victualled a small 
 garrison. And when her sister left this earthly 
 scene a humble, pious, long-repentant Chris- 
 tian Mrs. Vane wore mourning for her, and 
 sorrowed over her ; but not as those who 
 cannot hope to meet again. 
 
 278
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 [Copyright 1899 by George Allen.} 
 
 My story as a work of art good, bad, or 
 indifferent ends with that last sentence. If 
 a reader accompanies me farther, I shall feel 
 flattered, and he does so at his own risk. 
 
 My reader knows that all this befell long 
 ago. That Woffington is gay, and Triplet sad 
 
 279
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 no more. That Mabel's and all the bright 
 eyes of that day have long been dim, and 
 all its cunning voices hushed. Judge then 
 whether I am one of those happy story-tellers 
 who can end with a wedding. No ! this story 
 must wind up, as yours and mine must to- 
 morrow or to-morrow or to-morrow ! when 
 our little sand is run. 
 
 Sir Charles Pomander lived a man of pleasure 
 until sixty. He then became a man of pain ; 
 he dragged the chain about eight years, and 
 died miserably. 
 
 Mr. Gibber not so much died as "slipped 
 his wind" a nautical expression, that conveys 
 the idea of an easy exit. He went off quiet 
 and genteel. He was past eighty, and had 
 lived fast. His servant called him at seven in 
 the morning. " I will shave at eight," said 
 Mr. Gibber. John brought the hot water at 
 eight ; but his master had taken advantage of 
 this interval in his toilette to die ! to avoid 
 shaving ? 
 
 Snarl and Soaper conducted the criticism of 
 their day with credit and respectability until a 
 good old age, and died placidly a natural death 
 like twaddle, sweet or sour. 
 
 The Triplets, while their patroness lived, did 
 pretty well. She got a tragedy of his accepted 
 at her theatre. She made him send her a 
 copy, and with her scissors cut out about half ; 
 
 sometimes thinning, sometimes cutting bodily 
 
 280
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 away. But, lo ! the inherent vanity of Mr. 
 Triplet came out strong. Submissively, but ob- 
 stinately, he fought for the discarded beauties. 
 Unluckily, he did this one day that his patroness 
 was in one of her bitter humours. So she 
 instantly gave him back his manuscript, with a 
 sweet smile owned herself inferior in judgment 
 to him, and left him unmolested. 
 
 Triplet breathed freely ; a weight was taken 
 off him. The savage steel (he applied this 
 title to the actress's scissors) had spared his 
 purpurei panni. He was played, pure and 
 intact, a calamity the rest of us grumbling 
 escape. 
 
 But it did so happen that the audience were 
 of the actress's mind, and found the words too 
 exuberant, and the business of the play too 
 scanty in proportion. At last their patience was 
 so sorely tried that they supplied one striking 
 incident to a piece deficient in facts. They 
 gave the manager the usual broad hint, and 
 in the middle of Triplet's third act a huge veil 
 of green baize descended upon "The Jealous 
 Spaniard." 
 
 Failing here, Mrs. Woffington contrived often 
 to befriend him in his other arts, and moreover 
 she often sent Mr. Triplet what she called a 
 snug investment, a loan of ten pounds, to be 
 repaid at Doomsday, with interest and com- 
 pound interest, according to the Scriptures ; and 
 although she laughed, she secretly believed she 
 
 281
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 was to get her ten pounds back, double and 
 treble. And I believe so too. 
 
 Some years later Mrs. Triplet became event- 
 ful. She fell ill, and lay a-dying ; but one fine 
 morning, after all hope had been given up, 
 she suddenly rose and dressed herself. She was 
 quite well in body now, but insane. 
 
 She continued in this state a month, and then 
 by God's mercy she recovered her reason ; 
 but now the disease fell another step, and 
 lighted upon her temper a more athletic vixen 
 was not to be found. She had spoiled Triplet 
 for this by being too tame, so when the dis- 
 pensation came they sparred daily. They were 
 now thoroughly unhappy. They were poor 
 as ever, and their benefactress was dead, 
 and they had learned to snap. A speculative 
 tour had taken this pair to Bristol, then the 
 second city in England. They sojourned in the 
 suburbs. 
 
 One morning the postman brought a letter 
 for Triplet, who was showing his landlord's 
 boy how to plant onions. (N.B. Triplet had 
 never planted an onion, but he was one of 
 your a priori gentlemen, and could show any- 
 body how to do anything.) Triplet held out 
 his hand for the letter, but the postman held 
 out his hand for half-a-crown first. Trip's 
 profession had transpired, and his clothes in- 
 spired diffidence. Triplet appealed to his good 
 
 feeling. 
 
 282
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 He replied with exultation, "That he had 
 none left." (A middle-aged postman, no 
 doubt.) 
 
 Triplet then suddenly started from entreaty 
 to King Cambyses' vein. In vain ! 
 
 Mrs. Triplet came down, and essayed the 
 blandishments of the softer sex. In vain ! 
 And as there were no assets, the postman 
 marched off down the road. 
 
 Mrs. Triplet glided after him like an assassin, 
 beckoning on Triplet, who followed, doubtful 
 of her designs. Suddenly (truth compels me 
 to relate this) she seized the obdurate official 
 from behind, pinned both his arms to his side, 
 and with her nose furiously telegraphed her 
 husband. 
 
 He, animated by her example, plunged upon 
 the man and tore the letter from his hand, and 
 opened it before his eyes. 
 
 It happened to be a very windy morning, 
 and when he opened the letter an enclosure, 
 printed on much finer paper, was caught into 
 the air, and went down the wind. Triplet fol- 
 lowed in kangaroo leaps, like a dancer making 
 a flying exit. 
 
 The postman cried on all good citizens for 
 help. Some collected and laughed at him ; 
 Mrs. Triplet explaining that they were poor, 
 and could not pay half-a-crown for the freight 
 of half an ounce of paper. She held him con- 
 vulsively until Triplet reappeared. 
 
 283
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 That gentleman on his return was osten- 
 tatiously calm and dignified. "You are, or 
 were, in perturbation about half - a - crown," 
 said he. "There, sir, is a twenty -pound 
 note ; oblige me with nineteen pounds, seven- 
 teen shillings, and sixpence. Should your re- 
 sources be unequal to such a demand, meet 
 me at the 'Green Cat and Brown Frogs,' 
 after dinner, when you shall receive your 
 half-crown, and drink another upon the occa- 
 sion of my sudden accession to unbounded 
 affluence." 
 
 The postman was staggered by the sentence, 
 and overawed by the note, and chose the "Cat 
 and Frogs," and liquid half-crown. 
 
 Triplet took his wife down the road and 
 showed her the letter and enclosure. The 
 letter ran thus : 
 
 "SiR, We beg respectfully to inform you 
 that our late friend and client, James Triplet, 
 Merchant, of the Minories, died last August, 
 without a will, and that you are his heir. 
 
 " His property amounts to about twenty thou- 
 sand pounds, besides some reversions. Having 
 possessed the confidence of your late uncle, 
 we should feel honoured and gratified if you 
 should think us worthy to act professionally for 
 yourself. 
 
 "We enclose twenty pounds, and beg you 
 will draw upon us as far as five thousand 
 
 284
 
 O/enecf it 6efore fa eyes'
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 pounds, should you have immediate occasion. 
 We are, sir, your humble servants, 
 
 " JAMES AND JOHN ALLMITT." 
 
 It was some time before these children of 
 misfortune could realise this enormous stroke of 
 compensation ; but at last it worked its way 
 into their spirits, and they began to sing, to 
 triumph, and dance upon the king's highway. 
 
 Mrs. Triplet was the first to pause, and take 
 better views. "O James!" she cried, "we have 
 suffered much ! we have been poor, but honest, 
 and the Almighty has looked upon us at last ! " 
 
 Then they began to reproach themselves. 
 
 " O James ! I have been a peevish woman 
 an ill wife to you, this many years ! " 
 
 " No, no ! " cried Triplet, with tears in his 
 eyes. " It is I who have been rough and brutal. 
 Poverty tried us too hard ; but we were not 
 like the rest of them we were always faithful 
 to the altar. And the Almighty has seen us, 
 though we often doubted it." 
 
 " I never doubted that, James." 
 
 So then the poor things fell on their knees 
 upon the public road, and thanked God. If any 
 man had seen them, he would have said they 
 were mad. Yet madder things are done every 
 day, by gentlemen with faces as grave as the 
 parish bull's. And then they rose, and formed 
 their little plans. 
 
 Triplet was for devoting four-fifths to charity, 
 286
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 and living like a prince on the remainder. But 
 Mrs. Triplet thought the poor were entitled to 
 no more than two-thirds, and they themselves 
 ought to bask in a third, to make up for what 
 they had gone through ; and then suddenly she 
 sighed, and burst into tears. " Lucy ! Lucy ! " 
 sobbed she. 
 
 Yes, reader, God had taken little Lucy ! And 
 her mother cried to think all this wealth and 
 comfort had come too late for her darling child. 
 
 " Do not cry. Lucy is richer, a thousand 
 times, than you are, with your twenty thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 Their good resolutions were carried out, for 
 a wonder. Triplet lived for years, the benefactor 
 of all the loose fish that swim in and round 
 theatres ; and indeed the unfortunate seldom 
 appealed to him in vain. He now predomi- 
 nated over the arts, instead of climbing them. 
 In his latter day he became an oracle, as far 
 as the science of acting was concerned ; and, 
 what is far more rare, he really got to know 
 something about it. This was owing to two 
 circumstances : first, he ceased to run blind- 
 fold in a groove behind the scenes ; second, 
 he became a frequenter of the first row of 
 the pit, and that is where the whole critic 
 and two-thirds of the true actor is made. 
 
 On one point, to his dying day, his feelings 
 guided his judgment. He never could see an 
 actress equal to his Woffington. " Mrs. Abington 
 
 287
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 was grace personified, but so was Woffington," 
 said the old man. "And Abington's voice is 
 thin, Woffington's was sweet and mellow." When 
 Jordan rose, with her voice of honey, her dewy 
 freshness, and her heavenly laugh, that melted 
 in along with her words, like the gold in the 
 quartz, Triplet was obliged to own her the god- 
 dess of beautiful gaiety ; but still he had the 
 last word: "Woffington was all she is, except 
 her figure. Woffington was a Hebe your Nell 
 Jordan is little better than a dowdy." 
 
 Triplet almost reached the present century. He 
 passed through great events, but they did not 
 excite him ; his eye was upon the arts. When 
 Napoleon drew his conquering sword on Eng- 
 land, Triplet's remark was : " Now we shall be 
 driven upon native talent, thank Heaven ! " The 
 storms of Europe shook not Triplet. The fact 
 is, nothing that happened on the great stage of 
 the world seemed real to him. He believed 
 in nothing, where there was no curtain visible. 
 But even the grotesque are not good in vain. 
 Many an eye was wet round his dying bed, and 
 many a tear fell upon his grave. He made his 
 final exit in the year of grace 1799. And I, who 
 laugh at him, would leave this world to-day, to 
 be with him ; for I am tossing at sea he is in 
 port. 
 
 288
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 A straightforward character like Mabel's be- 
 comes a firm character with years. Long ere she 
 was forty, her hand gently but steadily ruled 
 Willoughby House and all in it. She and Mr. 
 Vane lived very happily ; he gave her no fresh 
 cause for uneasiness. Six months after their re- 
 turn, she told him what burned in that honest 
 heart of hers, the truth about Mrs. Womngton. 
 The water rushed to his eyes, but his heart 
 was now wholly his wife's ; and gratitude to 
 Mrs. Woffington for her noble conduct was 
 the only sentiment awakened. 
 
 " You must repay her, dearest," said he. " I 
 know you love her, and until to-day it gave 
 me pain ; now it gives me pleasure. We owe 
 her much." 
 
 The happy innocent life of Mabel Vane is 
 soon summed up. Frank as the day, constant 
 as the sun, pure as the dew, she passed the 
 golden years preparing herself and others for 
 a still brighter eternity. At home, it was she 
 who warmed and cheered the house and the 
 hearth, more than all the Christmas fires. 
 Abroad, she shone upon the poor like the sun. 
 She led her beloved husband by the hand to 
 heaven. She led her children the same road ; 
 and she was leading her grandchildren when 
 the angel of death came for her ; and she slept 
 in peace. 
 
 Many remember her. For she alone, of all 
 
 our tale, lived in this present century ; but 
 
 289 T
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 they speak of her as "old Madam Vane," her 
 whom we knew so young and fresh. 
 
 She lies in Willoughby Church her mortal 
 part ; her spirit is with the spirits of our mothers 
 and sisters, reader, that are gone before us ; 
 with the tender mothers, the chaste wives, the 
 loyal friends, and the just women of all ages. 
 
 RESURGET. 
 
 I come to her last, who went first ; but I 
 could not have stayed by the others, when once 
 I had laid my darling asleep. It seemed for 
 awhile as if the events of our tale did her harm : 
 but it was not so in the end. 
 
 Not many years afterwards she was engaged 
 by Mr. Sheridan, at a very heavy salary, and 
 went to Dublin. Here the little girl, who had 
 often carried a pitcher on her head down to 
 the Liffey, and had played Polly Peachum in 
 a booth, became a lion ; dramatic, political, and 
 literary, and the centre of the wit of that 
 wittiest of cities. 
 
 But the Dublin ladies and she did not coa- 
 lesce. They said she was a naughty woman, 
 and not fit for them morally. She said they 
 had but two topics, "silks and scandal," and 
 were unfit for her intellectually. 
 
 This was the saddest part of her history. 
 290
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 But it is darkest just before sunrise. She re- 
 turned to London. Not long after, it so hap- 
 pened that she went to a small church in the 
 city one Sunday afternoon. The preacher was 
 such as we have often heard ; but not so this 
 poor woman, in her day of sapless theology, ere 
 John Wesley waked the snoring Church. In- 
 stead of sending a dry clatter of morality about 
 their ears, or evaporating the Bible in the thin 
 generalities of the pulpit, this man drove God's 
 truths home to the hearts of men and women. 
 In his hands the divine virtues were thunder- 
 bolts, not swans' clown. With good sense, 
 plain speaking, and a heart yearning for the 
 souls of his brethren and his sisters, he stormed 
 the bosoms of many ; and this afternoon, as 
 he reasoned like Paul of righteousness, temper- 
 ance, and judgment to come, sinners trembled 
 and Margaret Womngton was of those who 
 trembled. 
 
 After this day she came ever to the narrow 
 street where shone this house of God ; and 
 still new light burst upon her heart and con- 
 science. Here she learned why she was un- 
 happy ; here she learned how alone she could 
 be happy ; here she learned to know herself ; 
 and the moment she knew herself, she ab- 
 horred herself, and repented in dust and 
 ashes. 
 
 This strong and straightforward character 
 made no attempt to reconcile two things 
 
 291
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 that an average Christian would have con- 
 tinued to reconcile. Her interest fell in a 
 moment before her new sense of right. She 
 flung her profession from her like a poisonous 
 weed. 
 
 Long before this Mrs. Vane had begged her 
 to leave the stage. She had replied, that it was 
 to her what wine is to weak stomachs. " But/' 
 added she, " do not fear that I ever will crawl 
 downhill, and unravel my own reputation ; nor 
 will I ever do as I have seen others stand 
 groaning at the wing, to go on giggling, and 
 come off gasping. No ! the first night the 
 boards do not spring beneath my feet, and the 
 pulse of the public beat under my hand, I 
 am gone ! Next day, at rehearsal, instead of 
 Womngton, a note will come, to tell the 
 manager that henceforth Womngton is herself 
 at Twickenham, or Richmond, or Harrow- 
 on-the Hill far from his dust, his din, and his 
 glare quiet, till God takes her, amidst grass, 
 and flowers, and charitable deeds." 
 
 This day had not come ; it was in the zenith 
 of her charms and her fame, that she went 
 home one night, after a play, and never entered 
 a theatre, by front door or back door again. 
 She declined all leave-taking and ceremony. 
 
 "When a publican shuts up shop and ceases 
 to diffuse liquid poison, he does not invite the 
 world to put up the shutters ; neither will I. 
 
 Actors overrate themselves ridiculously," added 
 
 292
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 she ; " I am not of that importance to the 
 world, nor the world to me. I fling away a 
 dirty old glove instead of soiling my fingers 
 filling it with more guineas, and the world 
 loses in me, what ? another old glove, full 
 of words ; half of them idle, the rest wicked, 
 untrue, silly, or impure. Rougissons, taisons-nous, 
 et partons." 
 
 She now changed her residence, and with- 
 drew politely from her old associates, courting 
 two classes only,, the good and the poor. 
 She had always supported her mother and 
 sister ; but now charity became her system. 
 The following is characteristic : A gentleman 
 who had greatly admired this dashing actress 
 met one day, in the suburbs, a lady in an 
 old black silk gown and a grey shawl, with a 
 large basket on her arm. She showed him 
 its contents worsted stockings of prodigious 
 thickness which she was carrying to some of 
 her proteges. 
 
 " But surely that is a waste of your valuable 
 time," remonstrated her admirer. " Much better 
 buy them." 
 
 " But, my good soul," replied the represen- 
 tative of Sir Harry Wildair, "you can't buy 
 them. Nobody in this wretched town can knit 
 worsted hose except Woffington." 
 
 Conversions like this are open to just suspicion, 
 and some did not fail to confound her with 
 certain great sinners, who have turned austeer 
 293
 
 PEG WOFF1NGTON 
 
 self-deceivers when sin smiled no more. But 
 this was mere conjecture. The facts were clear, 
 and speaking to the contrary. This woman left 
 folly at its brightest, and did not become austere ; 
 on the contrary, though she laughed less, she 
 was observed to smile far oftener than before. 
 She was a humble and penitent, but cheerful, 
 hopeful Christian. 
 
 Another class of detractors took a somewhat 
 opposite ground : they accused her of bigotry, 
 for advising a young female friend against the 
 stage as a business. But let us hear herself. 
 This is what she said to the girl 
 
 "At the bottom of my heart, I always loved 
 and honoured virtue. Yet the tendencies of 
 the stage so completely overcame my good 
 sentiments that I was for years a worthless 
 woman. It is a situation of uncommon and 
 incessant temptation. Ask yourself, my child, 
 whether there is nothing else you can do, but 
 this. It is, I think, our duty and our wisdom 
 to fly temptation whenever we can, as it is to 
 resist it when we cannot escape it." 
 
 Was this the tone of bigotry ? 
 
 Easy in fortune, penitent, but cheerful, Mrs. 
 Womngton had now but one care ; to efface 
 the memory of her former self, and to give 
 as many years to purity and piety as had 
 gone to folly and frailty. This was not to 
 be ! The Almighty did not permit, or perhaps 
 
 I should say, did not require this. 
 294
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 Some unpleasant symptoms had long attracted 
 her notice, but in the bustle of her profes- 
 sion had received little attention. She was 
 now persuaded by her own medical attendant 
 to consult Dr. Bowdler, who had a great re- 
 putation, and had been years ago an ac- 
 quaintance and an admirer. He visited her, 
 he examined her by means little used in that 
 day, and he saw at once that her days were 
 numbered. 
 
 Dr. Bowdler's profession and experience had 
 not steeled his heart as they generally do and 
 must do. He could not tell her this sad 
 news, so he asked her for pen and paper, 
 and said, " I will write a prescription to 
 Mr. ." He then wrote, not a prescrip- 
 tion, but a few lines, begging Mr. to 
 convey the cruel intelligence by degrees, and 
 with care and tenderness. "It is all we can 
 do for her," said he. 
 
 He looked so grave while writing the sup- 
 posed prescription, that it unluckily occurred 
 to Mrs. Woffington to look over him. She 
 stole archly behind him, and with a smile on 
 her face read her death-warrant. 
 
 It was a cruel stroke ! A gasping sigh broke 
 from her. At this Dr. Bowdler looked up, 
 and to his horror saw the sweet face he had 
 doomed to the tomb looking earnestly and 
 anxiously at him, and very pale and grave. 
 He was shocked ; and, strange to say, she, 
 295
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 whose death-warrant he had signed, ran and 
 brought him a glass of wine, for he was quite 
 overcome. Then she gave him her hand in 
 her own sweet way, and bade him not grieve 
 for her, for she was not afraid to die, and 
 had long learned that " life is a walking 
 shadow, a poor, poor player, who frets and 
 struts his hour upon the stage, and then is 
 heard no more." 
 
 But no sooner was the doctor gone, than 
 she wept bitterly. Poor soul ! she had set 
 her heart upon living as many years to God 
 as she had to the world, and she had hoped 
 to wipe out her former self. 
 
 " Alas ! " she said to her sister, " I have 
 done more harm than I can ever hope to 
 do good now ; and my long life of folly 
 and wickedness will be remembered will be 
 what they call famous ; my short life of re- 
 pentance who will know, or heed, or take to 
 profit ? " 
 
 But she soon ceased to repine. She bowed 
 to the will of Heaven, and set her house in 
 order, and awaited her summons. The tran- 
 quillity of her life and her courageous spirit 
 were unfavourable to the progress of disease, 
 and I am glad to say she was permitted to 
 live nearly three years after this, and these 
 three years were the happiest period of her 
 whole life. Works of piety and love made 
 the days eventful. She was at home now 
 
 296
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 she had never been at home in folly and 
 loose living. All her bitterness was gone now, 
 with its cause. 
 
 Reader, it was with her as it is with many 
 an autumn day : clouds darken the sun, rain 
 and wind sweep over all till day declines. 
 But then comes one heavenly hour, when all 
 ill things seem spent. There is no more wind, 
 no more rain. The great sun comes forth 
 not fiery bright indeed, but full of tranquil 
 glory, and warms the sky with ruby waves, 
 and the hearts of men with hope, as parting 
 with us for a little space, he glides slowly and 
 peacefully to rest. 
 
 So fared it with this humble, penitent, and 
 now happy Christian. 
 
 A part of her desire was given her. She 
 lived long enough to read a firm recantation 
 of her former self, to show the world a great 
 repentance, and to leave upon indelible record 
 one more proof, what alone is true wisdom, 
 and where alone true joys are to be found. 
 
 She endured some physical pain, as all must 
 who die in their prime. But this never wrung 
 a sigh from her great heart ; and within she 
 had the peace of God, which passes all under- 
 standing. 
 
 I am not strong enough to follow her to her 
 last hour ; nor is it needed. Enough that her 
 own words came true. When the great summons 
 came, it found her full of hope, and peace, and 
 
 297 u
 
 PEG WOFFINGTON 
 
 joy ; sojourning, not dwelling, upon earth ; far 
 from dust, and din, and vice ; the Bible in her 
 hand, the Cross in her heart ; quiet ; amidst 
 grass, and flowers, and charitable deeds. 
 
 "NON OMNEM MORITURAM."
 
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