,%, nTlBITiii]1iiT'''T^'''*"-''"''''""-~''^'^"''==^^ '■ "'■'^ HppWWMBHaMMtwpaiMii* Hiriiii 'iiYinrt;i ir r TrTriT i r'T TiiTrTmTiT"'T' T"" -'-^■-■'-'•■-■■"-'■'-■■-'----''f ---- 7''^™""--''^»»— ■"■"-■"^•-^■^--■-•-■-■t- - '■■ ■" 'y? KjnKa.'i. iMMMi HWpapi WWW* I J !' THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD ACTOR RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD ACTOR BY FRED BELTON LONDON TINSLEY BROTHERS. 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND 1880 [_A// rights of Translation and Reproduction are reserved] TN Ji5S8 ;B39A2. CONTENTS. P\OK Chapter I. 1815 to 1822 1 „ II. 1815 to 1823 15 „ III. 1823 to 1833 27 „ IV. 1833 to 1835 46 „ V. 1830 to 1835 69 „ VL 1833 to 1838 84 „ VII. 1835 to 1840 108 „ VIII. 1821 126 „ IX. 1850 to 1857 153 X. 1857 to 18G0 174 „ XI. 1856 to 1859 193 „ XII. 1859 to 1865 213 „ XIII. 1859 to 1871 230 ?) 84S8B.5 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD ACTOR. I 'V V CHAPTER I. 1815 TO 1822. T is my purpose to write of days gone by, and to call up from the past recollections of things, beings, and events long vanished from our gaze, and buried in the mists of the past. Dandy-horses have given way to bicycles, stage coaches, to trains, and couriers to telegrams ; still those early days were merry days, and ladies of the past, leaving the ball- room, theatre, or tea party — " drum" or " conver- sazione" — though tossed and tumbled in their sedan chairs by drunken " bearers," and pestered in foggy weather by importunate linkmen with " Light, 3'er honour," had as much to tell on reaching home as your modern belle — in her carriage or brougham. To be B RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF sure, you can travel or sleep now in more security than in the days when footpads and highwaymen plied their trade in broad daylight. It certainly is a comfort to know that a stalwart policeman, with military step, treads round your premises and the adjacent streets, instead of an infirm potterer, who rarely left his box, except to bawl, in tremulous accents, " Past one o'clock, and a cloudy morning." What changes I have seen in my day in all things ! With gas came a wonderful transmutation. Where Regent Street now stands, we passed through wretchedly-constructed shops, covered with tarpaulin, and barely habitable ; while off the pavement, and nearly to the middle of the street, hawkers carried on a brisk trade. In fact, small markets existed where stalls, laden with meat, vegetables, fried fish, pastry, and other edibles, rendered the roadway, on foot or in vehicle, almost impassable. The steady march of im- provement swept away these rat-holes, and few that pass in these days Holborn Bars — the Strand, near Northumberland House then ; now non-existent — have any idea of what its appearance was in those times. Thence could, at the time I speak of, be obtained no view of the Thames, which is now slowly, but surely. AN OLD ACTOR. recovering from its once black pool of muddy impu- rity, as I then remember it. Your loungers, too, in Eegent Street, little think that those spots were, within my memory, the haunts of the lawless and lowest of the low, St. Giles, where now stands New Oxford Street, was second only to Westminster in sheltering depravity. By the way, that same West- minster is now the patrician quarter; there the noblest in the land reside and give entertainments, out-topping all that Lucullus ever dreamed of. Your dainty lady would faint if told that, where she now eats, sleeps, rides, and recreates, the vilest crimes have been con- cocted and committed. The dens of Westminster stood ever prominent in criminality; for though St. Giles might abound in filth, the deeper stains of crime found its hottest and most congenial bed where now the conservatory plants of our aristocracy bud and bloom in refinement. And then, again, the city proper of London. Why, bless me, we hardly know it. Vast improvements have taken place since the time when Holborn Hill and Fleet Ditch were covered with abominable thievish dens. There marriages by candle- light were boldly performed for a guinea, and as un- blushingly " touted" for as stolen handkerchiefs ; B 2 4 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF there, heavy lumbering chariots, swinging high in the air, once plied, driven by some drunken and discharged coachman who paraded his lumbering and faded finery for hire in the streets. These vehicles, however, gave place in course of time to the cabriolet, a French in- vention, in which the filthy cabman sat side by side with his fare, in a little box over the wheel ; so that if Jehu had been indulging in liquor, onions, tobacco, &c., you had the full benefit of these luxuries, en- hanced perchance by the fogs that somehow in those days were thicker than they are now. Closed hackney cabs, hansoms, and omnibuses, drove these vehicles off the roads. Talking of cabs puts me in mind of coaches, waggons, &c. When first railways were started, great was the outcry and condemnation. We were to be hurried through the air so hastily that, at the termination of our journey, we should all be found suffocated ; indeed, by the comic journals of the period, starving horses were depicted dying on the roadside, or peering out of stable doors, skeletons of misery. And the belief universally entertained was, that horses would be at a complete discount ; instead of which never have they been so valued, or so much AN OLD ACTOR. money given for them of all breeds. In the old coaching days, as they were called — I speak particu- larly with reference to the Great North Eoad — the traffic was considerable. Post-chaises, travelling carriages, and coaches, had a merry time of it. The famous " Tally-ho," " Eclipse," and " Comet," dashed, with their teams, through towns and villages. My grandfather horsed the coaches from Newark, in Nottinghamshire, from thence to Edinburgh, and you may imagine the business transacted when I tell you that I have heard my mother often say it was a common thiuo: to have from 150 to 200 horses ill in their stock stud. The Chaplin's, the Thompson's, the Hunt's, the Roberts's, and Pickford's, did a great road business. The Golden Cross, Charing Cross ; the Bull-and-Mouth, Aldersgate Street ; the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill ; its namesake in Newark, with Clark of Barnly Moor, were hostelries world famous. Waggons, too, were a very important branch in that trade, and a great source of profit and revenue to innkeepers and owners, being large and commo- dious, holding many passengers who were too poor to afford to pay for a more rapid transit. These waggons carried also an immense amount of freight, &c., and RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF were usually drawn by six fine horses, sometimes eight, though slow in pace and cumbersome. But railways soon drove waggons and coaches off the road ; the splendid inns were deserted, yet the horses rose in value, and the towns awoke to prosperity and advancement. Printing also has made rapid strides. I well re- member the first pictorial effort I ever saw in a news- paper. A dreadful murder had been committed — but not half so dreadful as I have read of since. But no event in my time — saving the Brownrigg atrocities — ever created such excitement as the Ware, Hunt, Pro- bert and Thurtell trial, of shameless notoriety. A young fellow, of good family, but a confirmed gambler, was shot by his friends while riding with them in a gig, and then thrown into a pond. 1 presume the respectable position of the murderers and their victim assisted to create the great furore that seized all classes. Rude woodcuts, the first I ever saw in a newspaper, were hastily carved with scenes of the event ; couriers dashed through the towns blowing their horns, and announcing the procedure of the trial, impressing my youthful mind with horror and wonder. The papers, too, were sent, by means of an additional horse, in post-chaises. These papers were eagerly AN OLD ACTOR. purchased by the crowd, and sometimes snatched by force. I have often seen manias seize the people, but none to exceed that trial. What strides have I seen since then in the pictorial department. The Illustrated London Nexus to wit; the more recent Graphic, and various papers of esteeiied note, published in territories at that time scarcely heard of, is far superior to anything then conceived of in England. The Times I remember a paper small in size^, very different in appearance at the breakfast table then from what it now is. In all ages, at all periods — save during the Com- monwealth — the stage held a prominent position ; consequently the arrival of a dramatic troupe in Newark, where I lived with my parents, was a great event. A family called Robertson held what was then called the Lincoln Circuit, which embraced Notting- ham, Newark, &c. &c. Crowds gathered round when the troupe arrived, and I was on all possible occasions one of the number. Great was the excitement when the waggon was unpacked ; rolls of scener}' were anxiously peered at by the eager crowd. A wooden gate, made of laths, but looking a real wooden gate, appeared. This gate was indispensable, being used in RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF a then popular piece called " The Turnpike Grate." But wonders reached their climax when we gazed upon a " real horse," which turned out to be a small pony used by Mrs. Eobertson in a piece called "Queen Elizabeth." Young as I was, I pitied the poor beast when I saw it at night on the stage, laden with Mrs, Robertson's portly figure, in long train, feathers, and furbelows. The prettiest sight was the first appear- ance of Mr. Robertson's son as the youthful page who held " the untamed fiery steed," which was, by the way, as tame as a kitten. This same Mrs. Eobertson was the grandmother of our popular London favourite, Madge Eobertson (Mrs. Kendal), of the St. James's Theatre, and the pretty page was her father — also the father of the celebrated author of " Caste," " School," " M.P.," " Society," and other well-known comedies of modern days. This last-named promising dramatic author died young, to the regret of all. His great- grandfather, the manager of the circuit, wore a spencer, and looked like a bishop. His wife, the Queen Elizabeth I have spoken of, was a fine actress of the Siddonian school and mode ; for, when asked why she preferred the provinces, her lofty reply was, " I would rather reign in Hell than serve in Heaven." AN OLD ACTOR. My uncle was the Mayor of Newark, consequently, to my mind, the most important man in the town, save and except the beadle and the leading man of that travelling theatrical company, whom I secretly reverenced and worshipped. The beadle looked posi- tively majestic to me as he paced with solemn strides before my uncle and the aldermen, carrying an enor- mous brass mace, which seemed to me gold of the purest refinement. His cocked hat and blue coat, adorned with six sham red capes, with bright brass buttons, shed a glow of light and lustre before which my uncle's dignity paled into insignificance. The leading man, so said report, had often been invited to appear in London, but scorned the efibrts made to draw him from his beloved circuit and devout wor- shippers. Grandly he looked to me in his black frogged coat — which did duty for the " Stranger" and other parts, his black tights, and hessian boots. I never saw him vary his dress, which was a source of astonishment to me in such a great man. But then (jreat men always indulge in eccentricities, and why shouldn't he? I saw him in " Hamlet" — rather a fat prince too. But then, what a voice. Why didn't he harangue, like the member of Parliament, on the lo RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF hustings in the Market-place, who couldn't be heard, though they pelted him with cabbages, and chaired him afterwards, a very unpleasant method of honouring a member of Parliament in those days, for it was no joke to be crammed forcibly into a ricketty arm-chair, and carried round the Market-place on the shoulders of drunken men ? I thought, as I witnessed the sight, how grandly the leading man would have rolled his E's and have turned up his eyes ; and I wondered why fortune had made him an actor^ when his proper sphere should have been a throne, or at least a mem- ber's chair, or, more happily, borne on shields, as they did in Rome of old — " in armour clad " and Toga's classic fold. Liston, of comic memory, came to Newark on one occasion to star with Miss Love, a favourite singer, who made " Rise, Gentle Moon," so popular. They sang a duet together, called " Pretty, Pretty Polly Hopkins," and another called " Buy a Broom." Liston I thought coarse and vulgar, a disreputable contrast to the charming impersonation of Miss Love's, who shook her broom coquettishly at a certain young gentle- man in the stage box, who became from that moment the envy of all the men of larger growth in the town. AN OLD ACTOR. ii This lady's career was not too fortunate. If I remember rightly she became Marchioness of Yar- borough, and lived but shortly and unhappily. By the way, I saw Liston some years after at the Olympic, in a piece called " The Old and Young Stager," written to introduce the celebrated Charles Matthews to the public, who made, I believe, his first appearance in that piece, and, true to my first im- pressions, I could not but feel Liston was a vulgar grimacer, and a great contrast to the refinement of Charles Matthews, of whom more anon. Mr. Liston's wife, when I saw her, was fat and pretty, with a brightness of manner which must have been very fascinating in her young days. Her daughter essayed the stage as a singer, and married Eodwell, the com- poser ; they lived unhappily, and separated — a sad grief to the aged Listons, who had amassed consider- able property, and looked naturally with hope to the future of their pretty daughter, whose career com- menced so auspiciously, only to see it dimmed and saddened by its termination. But to return to the leadin": man of the Lincoln circuit. In those days a free night was given to the public, and called a " house-warming." Boy-like, I 12 RAND OjW re COLLE CTIONS OF took advantage of this treat ; the piece was " Hamlet." 1 and my brother desired to retire early, he much fatigued and I with a headache. No sooner were we ensconced in bed, and the parental kiss and blessing bestowed, than out we slipped, dressed, opened the window softly, and slid down the waterspout, then out at the back gate, and off to the theatre. The object of my admiration, the leading man, played Hamlet. In the Court scene with Polonius he appeared un- gartered with black silk stocking down to ankle, but, to save propriety, a white one under. The low comedian, too, in the churchyard scene, threw off the then traditional three-and-twenty waistcoats before he commenced to dig Ophelia's grave, which caused im- moderate laughter, as each phase of waistcoating ])attern was more grotesquely developed than its pre- decessors. Modern actors have taken Hamlet's advice, and reformed these things altogether. Those loere days. We laugh when we see Hogarth's picture of the strolling players, but many things not fifty years ago have been enacted as ludicrous. In AVigan, a little town (whose manager was a Mr. Beverley, a connection of the celebrated scenic artist, Beverley, of Drury Lane), occurred a laughable cir- AN OLD ACTOR. 13 cumstance. The juvenile leading lady, a good actress and very pretty woman by tlie way, and a young mother, was cast to play Juliet, in " Romeo and Juliet." Her baby had been placed in her dressing- room for security, and to be near the mother. But just before the balcony scene the young tyrant became unruly and impossible to control. What was to be done ? A mother's tact hit upon the true soothing syrup. She nestled the infant to her breast, and from that moment the young villain became silent as a mouse. Being called, she hastily mounted the rostrum that supported the supposed balcony, throwing a lace scarf over her shoulders, which concealed the little suckling ; and leaning over the balcon}^ with her other arm pensively placed upon her cheek, she looked the picture of innocence and beauty. The scene opened and went glowingly. But, alas ! Juliet has to appear and disappear three times, and in her effort to do so gracefully, and yet conceal the child, she stumbled against the iron brace that held up the frail structure. Down fell the balcony, and, lo ! the love-lorn maiden was discovered with a baby at her breast — seated on a tub, that served for a stool, and at her foot, accidentally placed there by the 14 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS. thirsty carpenter, was a quart pot. The said car- penter was discovered on all fours, steadying with his back the ricketty structure above. Shrieks of laughter from all parts of the house greeted the tableau, and of the play no more was heard that night. Poor Beverley was a very conscientious man. His son, a gentle, promising lad, met with a melancholy end. He was attacked with scarlet fever ; the troupe were announced at another town, and Beverley (who was a widower), to his intense grief, had to leave his son to strangers, and the care of an unfeeling land- lady. In the boy's delirium, and in the woman's absence, he stole down stairs, it is supposed suffering from a raging thirst, and applied his lips to the mouth of the then boiling kettle ; drank, and from the draught received such severe internal injuries that death speedily ensued. Poor Beverley ! :^^ CHAPTER 11. 1815 TO 1823. TTTHEN war was over on the Continent, and long after the Battle of Waterloo — for Ensrland's regiments remained in France until all treaties, &c., were concluded, and our troops returning from abroad were then slow in their transit to the mother-country — the usual rendezvous of troops on their march was the Market-places, until billets were issued. Many heartrending scenes were witnessed. Some soldiers' wives had followed their husbands abroad, and those who had not would tramp from all quarters to welcome their return. My mother, a truly charitable and Christian woman, had at that period her hands full, her purse often empt}^, and brain overworked, to alleviate as far as in her lay the numerous distressing cases that came before her notice. Often would she have soldiers' widows, or wives, with their offspring, quartered in the out-houses, nay, even within the very 1 6 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF house, out of pure charity. This alarmed my uncle, the Mayor, who used to come early and anxiously to see if we were alive, for his impression was that we should not only be robbed but murdered ; but we met with none but grateful returns. My tutor, the Eev. William Taylor Wild, was then the curate of Newark, and imagined he detected in me great powers of impressionable prayer; and at some of their prayer meetings a Mrs. Thompson, who had formerly been of the Quaker persuasion, was enthusiastic in the belief of my latent power, and would insist upon my praying with the various good people who met in private for that purpose. It so happened that a young officer who had returned from the Continent — and, from what cause I never could discover, became impressed with a heavy load of guilt — in his anguish sought advice and counsel from my tutor. He was prayed for by the devout, among whom Mrs. Thompson, my Quaker friend, was prominent. All efforts failed to comfort him. I was at last suggested as the proper medium. Behold poor trembling me introduced to the serai-maniac. Sunday was the day proposed for the introduction. I shall never forget it. I did all that my poor brain could AN OLD ACTOR. 17 do in the way of prayer, and doubtless that was a feeble outpouring, but my petitions were from my heart, and he was impressed, and would not hear of my leaving him. I was then little more than eight years old. We dined together ; nothing on the table but mutton chops and potatoes \ no tart or pudding — a positively repulsive and Spartan feast to a hungry lad. However, I attacked what was there ferociously. But, before I had tasted a second mouthful, over came the poor afflicted one, seized me by the wrists, and, with tears running down his cheeks, cried, '^ Pray for me, pray !" His valet, who was a soldier, tried in vain to soothe him ; so without tasting another mouthful and with my eye upon the chops fast getting cold, I had to do my best in a rambling and disordered way to soothe his afflicted mind. After a period, which to me seemed hours, he grew calm, and shortly after I made my escape, a dinnerless and discontented grumbler. I have often reproached myself since with allowing the lusts of the flesh to intrude when I sliould have thought of nothing but the sacred duty which had fallen upon me. But, as I have said, 1 was but a child of eight years old, and hunger is powerful with children. I never knew what became c 1 8 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF of the lieutenant, but thought of him often after that with pity and regret. Talking of wars puts me in mind of a period in England's history fraught with dreadful episodes and fearful events. England^s glory trembled in the balance ; all countries seemed bent on upsetting the tight little island. India unsettled. America past all rule, Jamaica and all dependencies worked out. Russia too much to do in organising its uncultivated horde. Australia almost terra incognita. Chinaand Japan the same. France and her dependencies [then vast] sworn to support Napoleon. Prussia — the Germanic Powers — with Belgium alone, stood forward to uphold our tottering glory. Ireland would have been doubt- ful if it had dared from Catholic influence. Scotland and Wales true to a man. Then appeared a wonder of wonders. A catvi Irishman arose, the guiding spirit of the time. Wellington, born for the period, coldly checked the impetuosity of Napoleon, and brought a triple peace to our beloved land. Bread, flour, &c. &c., were at that period at fabulous prices. I remember we had to feed upon a mixed quantity of flour and potatoes. Pastry and such luxuries were forbidden by law. Candles, too, were so dear that on AJV OLD ACTOR. ig an exorbitant rise of that article a good woman asked the cause, and was told " the wars." " Lord save us," she exclaimed, " do the soldiers fight by candle-light!" Yet out of the debris, England, like a giant refreshed, or like a second Samson shorn, stood out a terror and example to be feared and respected. With vast troops on the Continent, and home in a measure unprotected, serious fears were entertained of a raid upon our shores. Then started forth the in- domitable power of our secret resources. Troops must be raised, but how ? Our yeomanry had been fairly but insufficiently drilled. Then the latent spirit of English gentlemen roused, anxious to be up and doing. Suggestions came from all quarters, until at last the Government promised a captaincy (and pension to his widow and children) to any man who could bring a hundred men into the field, clothed and drilled. My father was not slow to accept such terms. His little army was equipped, drilled, and clothed, and accepted at head-quarters. The title of captain was bestowed upon my father, who subsequently held garrison in Exeter, Dublin, and eventually was captain of the guard at Windsor when the Prince of Wales (after- wards George IV.) was proclaimed Prince Eegent. c2 20 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF By courtesy and custom a knighthood, I believe, was his by right ; but wise friends, who feared his well- known extravagance, persuaded him to prefer that his regiment should be presented with a pair of colours instead. This was done, and the said colours of the 14th Regiment of Foot now float in Westminster Abbey. On proclamation of peace, festivities were held in every town. Down the public streets large tents were erected ; beef, beer, and plum-pudding were dispensed to all comers with ungrudging hospitality. I believe this was the last street feast that occurred. Traffic has become too great. Maypoles, Oak-apple Day, Easter, and Palm Sunday, with Jack-in-the- Green, and such remnants of an older period, have disappeared. I believe, also, that I was present at the last in England, as 1 was by accident at the last Smith field and Greenwich fairs. The last feast I allude to was held at Winthorpe, near Newark, and lasted for three days, and a simple and plentiful feast it was too. I was invited to a large farm, and, strange to relate, a favourite servant of ours was that well-to-do farmer's daughter. Strange changes since that: farmers' daughters now-a-days indulge in AN OLD ACTOR. 21 pianos and riding-habits, would scorn to be servants, and know as much about churning as about darning — much less knitting — stockings. But to my tale. A large barn was decorated with green boughs and flowers, and a large copper was kept boiling night and day, filled with what, in olden parlance, was called "frummety" — "firmity," I believe, is the correct term. This consisted of boiled wheat, mixed with milk, nutmeg, and sugar. This mixture used to be sold as freely as milk, from door to door, in my early days — but more often the simple boiled wheat. But, to return : a table was kept constantly supplied with rounds of beef, ham, bacon, pork-pies, and such solid food ; table beer ad lib. The more refined visitors were offered home-made wine and mead. That drink has also departed. Also strong beer and tea were provided. This was no joke, as the best tea at that time was sixteen shillings per lb. But then it was tea. Salt, too, was an expensive and distinguishing feature, costing from half-a-crown to eighteenpence per lb. It used to be sold in little latli baskets, like the demi- strawberry ones you see in London. Rude rock salt was used for the kitchen, a lump being placed upon the table, and potatoes, meat, &'c., were rubbed upon 2 2 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF it to taste — a rude remnant of barbarity, then just banished from the farmer's own table. Improvement then travelled slowly, and master and men generally worked and ate together. But on to the feast. Beds and all manner of contrivances for rest were laid down ; those who had danced all day, or otherwise amused themselves with quoits, skittles, wrestling, and running, retired for the night. Then a fresh batch, who had been sleeping, rose to keep up the game ; and so it went on for three days. But, in fact, it was nearly a week before all things were toned down and heads clear again. The fiddlers had a hard time of it, and had to be well fed, watched, and paid, or the game never would have lasted. I was an observant boy, and remember no scene during that festive time to shock the ear or eye. This was the last real old-fashion feast, that I know of, held in once Merrie England, When the history of George IV. shall be properly written — when old influences, family ties, and Court alliances shall have died out — then, those in possession of back-stair secrets, intrigues, private and political, will be heard, and a history will be developed overtopping the infamy of any pre- AN OLD ACTOR. 23 ceding reign in English history. Bad — altogether bad. The strict nature of " snuffy old Charlotte's" rule domestic, and the easy pious nature of simple-minded but obstinate Greorge III., paved the way for duplicity on the part of those surrounding them. At last there burst forth an unbroken development of the long-hidden follies, ripening into crime, which, re- coiling on the simple George, caused the pent-up remnants of his mind to be shattered, and a merciful Providence folded in darkness his anguish-tortured heart and brain. She was not altogether a bad sort, wasn't snuffy old Charlotte, then so called, from a habit she had of taking snuff with a little golden spoon, the finger and thumb being thought a dirty process for a lad3\ This little woman hadn't a bad heart, though she was somewhat over-jDroud of her Court and its dignity. She was exacting, too, in forms and etiquette — but if a declension in trade from change, fashion, or other cause occurred, she would step to the rescue. Should the Spitalfields weavers be in distress, dresses alone of that manufacture were to be worn ; should Coventry suffer, ribbons, and no other trimming, would be 24 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF tolerated. In fact, in her sphere she did much to assist her people. A liberal and personal supporter of all public entertainments, and, though somewhat niggardly herself, she would not tolerate it in others. She said once to a celebrated Duchess, on a Court day, who appeared for the second time in a costly dress — " I thinh I have seen that dress before." The sarcastic tone of the little lady amused all present, and left a warning for those to come that she would have no duplicate presentations. I think William IV., both as an old and young man, was as spotless as any of that branch — one only serious blot amidst his foibles was his treatment of Mrs. Jordan, the celebrated actress. In that he dis- played as much narrowness as she evinced broken- hearted dignity. In youth she was impetuous, but showed as much sense and grace in her after elevation, as quiet resignation in her fall. When a mere novice in the York circuit, the airs and assumption she indulged in made her dreaded as a cormorant, who was resolved, if possible, to get more than her due share of applause. But at the same time she was well-beloved — (for actors are ever AN OLD ACTOR. 25 prond of talent in others) — for her gay heart, lovely person, and joyous manner. She rose rapidly in her profession, and was the observed of all observers. This drew her to London, where her fame and fortune became settled. When in the zenith of her popularity she received an offer from the manager of the York circuit to " star," as it is called. In those days it was a rare occurrence to part with a useful member unless drawn to London, for at that time letters were eight, ten, and sometimes eigliteenpence; therefore applications for situations, and the necessary correspondence, entailed money, and that in no small measure. The nurseries for London were York and Bath. When the news reached the company of the coming "star" about to visit them, all was consternation. " Oh," said they, " nobody will be able to get a line worth speaking, or even a laugh, while she is here — the cormorant." But to their surprise, though she appeared more elegantly dressed, her manner was gentle, sweet, and simple. After greeting them all affectionately, almost the first words she uttered when rehearsal began were these, " You know what a little grasper I was, but London has taught me better things. Whether 3/0^ get a laugh, or /get a laugh, so long as 26 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS. it is legitimately got, and with propriety, the better for the piece — you, me, and the public." She had learnt the great secret, that "unity is strength;" " that 0/'?e swallow does not make a summer;" and that the " star" dimning the efforts of itr, satellites, shines inordinately and loses grace in the world's eye. CHAPTER III. 1823 TO 1833. A T the time I speak of, bair-powder had gone out of use, with breeches, thoug-li, in some cases, pigtails held their sway. Hessian and tights came now into fashion, and I remember a great beau would never sit down when he called. He was in the habit of wearing nankeen tights, and used to say the}'- bulcjed at the knee if he sat. Fashion had its victims then — even more than now. An uncle of mine, who was in the yeomanry, used to explain the trouble a thorough head- dressing for drill caused him. The process lasted three hours. It commenced with a good washing, to get rid of the old dressing, then a basin of lard and flour was brought. Every hair was thickened with this preparation ; a kind of rough foundation, with false pigtail, was then attached to the hair. Then his own hair raised over it, forming a kind of toupc. It was then left slowly 28 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF to dry, the dresser by degrees puffing with a little instrument formed for that purpose like a small bellows, from which issued a certain amount of violet powder, until the mass became firm, hard, and fault- lessly white. Then black ribbon was tied firmly round the pigtail, in various folds ; the head, face, and neck were thoroughly cleansed, and the process was completed. This kept good for a week or more with occasional powder applied, with a new ribbon to give it a fresh- ness of appearance. This torture, endured by men for fashion's sake, was insignificant to what the ladies suffered. In their case the process was so prolonged that often, on Court occasions, high-class barbers fixed hours three days beforehand to accommodate their customers, allowing one hour on tlie Court day for fresli powdering, patching up, and fixing the various ornaments for those vast structures, as flowers, feathers, jewels, &c. The poor things had to lie for nights in one position for fear of disturbing the proper form of their towering head-dresses. This was a disgusting fashion in all senses. My father was very fond of company and late dinners. It was his boast — and a very foolish one, I AN OLD ACTOR. 29 regret to say — that his " grandfather breakfasted by candle-light, but his son dined by it." Amidst his numerous guests was one Romeo Coutts, as he was called. The crest on this eccentric individual's carriage — a showy, useless vehicle — was a cock crow- ing, with the motto of " While I live I'll crow." His vanity was excessive ; he made himself famous by playing Eomeo, and exhibited his folly in most provincial towns, Bath not excepted. His fame reaching London, he was invited to give a per- formance at Drury Lane. His well-known eccen- tricity attracted a crowded house ; many of his speeches elicited laughter and ironical applause, but the climax of absurdity was reached in the death scene, on his final fall — the applause was ironically tremendous. He mistook it for genuine admiration, and, spreading out a handkerchief to protect his finery, he actually gave his death over again, and the curtain descended amidst cat-calls and convulsive laughter. The marriage of poor Caroline with \X\q first gentle- man in Europe — Heaven save the mark ! — was a great event, and the country paid pretty smartly for its gilded toy. His debts must be paid — and pretty so RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF debts tliey were — -before he could be forced to swallow the pill matrimonial and become a good boy, which, by the way, he never became. However, they were paid in a fashion, and the marriage took place. On that fatal night the warm-hearted creature was drugged by heartless demireps, and the bridegroom got dead drunk. Ah ! when the history of that marriage, its previous intrigue and after experiences, with cat-and-dog life, is written, innocent hearts will shudder, and prefer the simple path of pure unity to the gilded severance of all holy ties. It was thought that the birth of their daughter, the Princess Charlotte, would solve all differences ; but the polite humbug sank deeper into crime until its culminating point was reached, when he, like Henry VIII., panted for poor Caroline's blood. Fortunately for the honour of England, and owing mainly to Brougham's in- domitable pluck, this business ended in divorce. The rash interruption during the coronation — the attempt by the despairing, wretched wife to enter Westminster Abbey during the ceremony, speaks a volume of un- controlled mismanagement and ill-advice such as has been rarely met with. Even her surroundings were of the blatant class ; and though thousands mourned AN OLD ACTOR. 31 for her, no true heart took the rightly directed course. I am Dot here to speak of any but cursory matters, or " I could a tale unfold whose lightest word would har- row up your souls ;" bat I am off on my hobby again. They say Churchmen are dead on the charity-box, and love a plurality of livings and fees — this fact was exemplified strongly in my young nature. The vicar of a neighbouring parish asked my tutor to do duty for him in his absence abroad for health, and promised me all the burial fees. The parish was a healthy one, and we used to drive over in a gig. Every Sunday mv mind was calculatinsr the amount of fees in prospect ; thus my naturally sympathetic mind was, by the love of lucre, transformed, and I felt positively disgusted that no one did me the favour to die in order that I might pocket the burial fees. That a great change has taken place in the climate of England since my earlier days is positive. Plenty of snow and skating before Christmas was usual ; now it is a rarity. It was a common thing to have letters delayed, as the mails had often to be dug out of immense masses of snow. I remember being blown into a vast pile, gatliered by the storm against the wall, and nearly suffocated. 32 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF On that very night, too, I remember another cir- cumstance, partly ludicrous and partly mournful. Sitting in my mother's house, we all heard a timid rap at the door on that bitter night, and were roused by a fearful scream. Suddenly the parlour-maid rushed into the room, screaming, " The devil ! the devil ! Save me, wretched sinner that I am !" My mother, more calm than the rest, stepped into the passage. We breathlessly listened to a low murmur and ex- pressions of surprise and pity. " Step into that room, and I will prepare the children." The matter was explained, and in due course, after preparation, and assisted by the now delighted parlour-maid, one of the tallest figures and most eleo;ant women I have ever seen entered the room. Her history was a sad one. The daughter of a wealthy nurseryman of Newark, she lived in happiness and independence during her mother's life. The mother died, and the father married again. Her new step- mother was a harsh, vindictive, and jealous woman. The poor girl, owing to her height, could rarely leave home, and was debarred the natural enjoyment of societ}^, and that home was made a hell to her. She AN OLD ACTOR. 33 also, unfortunately, " loved, not wisely, but too well," and fled from tliat home with a drunken, dissipated fellow. The father, urged by his merciless wife, swore a bitter oath that he would never forgive or receive her. In desperation she was obliged to exhibit herself publicly, and became the occupant of a travelling show. Brought to a standstill on her way to Nottingham fair, her husband dying, and her little one sick, she bethought her of the charitably disposed, and my angel mother, amidst others, rose to her recollection. In her despair she dressed herself in her spangled finery, and, covered by a cloak, with a shawl over her head, and head-dress under her arm, she made her way as best she could by bj'c-ways and unfrequented streets to our house. We laughed as she described the terror she inspired by her great height, and wept at the recital of her griefs. When first she appeared before us the impres- sion was startling. Upon her head she wore a kind of turban adorned with feathers. Her hair was singularly beautiful, and fell in massy ringlets upon her well-shaped bust ; her features were purely Grecian, and her manners and movements most lady- D 34 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF like, altliougli in height slie exceeded any woman I have ever seen. After staying a short time she departed, overwhelmed with gratitude at our liberality, to seek other doors, leaving behind her an impression yet fresh in my memory. Little less in height than the celebrated Irish giant, O'Brien, she never had his good fortune. This celebrity travelled as a gentleman, put up at the principal hotels, his prices of admission being five shillings, and nothing less ; while the poor woman who had just left us had to exhibit at from sixpence to one penny. O'Brien, in his way, was a wonder, too. Being well up to efl'ect and business, he used to stand behind the door of entrance, his figure being thus concealed ; and, leaning over, he would shake hands with those entering. When the doors were very high he would stand upon a stool, and thus increase the first impression. The one retired in comfort; the other, I fear, ended her days in misery. The fatlier took to heart his fatal curse and cruelty, became a reckless drunkard, and ended by dissipating a good business and property, thus cutting off the chance of a tardy reparation. One of the first steamers ever built used to ply on AN OLD ACTOR. 35 the Trent. I remember it — a rude, ungainly, bulky, ugly thing ; it gave no promise to me of what, and to what extent of importance, I should see steamers attain in the maritime world. I remember a short tramway for the transport of coal. Tramways became popular in the coal districts, and from that I opine came the first hint of rapid progression ; and with that and the advancement of steam power arose, doubtless, railways. Talkino; of that reminds me of a comical event. A little tramway led down to the river near the old Newark Castle. On the wharf was a cottage and weighing-machine. A pet parrot used to be perched outside the cottage, and naturally picked up the usual expressions to be heard in that quarter. On this identical tramway was a load of coal, and attached to a cart was a horse unattended, the driver being pro- bably off to a public-house. The horse suddenl}^ heard a rough command to " back," then a steady " wo-ooh." The horse heard the mandate, first backed a space, and then stood still. Polly, who enjoyed the fun, chuckled a hearty laugh, and asrain irave the word to "back." The horse did " back" with a vengeance, for coals, cart, D 2 36 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF and horse were precipitated into the river and lost. A Httle while ago I spoke of murders ; I will now speak of one far more cruel than the Ware, Hunt, and Thurtell affair. A crippled wretch travelled the country in a small cart drawn by two dogs. He used to propel himself with two claw-like irons. Near Mansfield he met on the road, and in a lonely part, a beautiful young lady. What artifice he used to attract her attention Heaven knows ; suffice it he, according to his own confession, clutched her with those iron claws, abused her, and, to conceal his guilt, cut her in pieces. But Heaven ordained that the villain should not escape ; and yet this brutal murder was passed over in comparative silence by the Press. Talking of Mansfield puts me in mind of a comical event. During the vacation I was about to spend some time with a relative near Thoresby Park, the seat of the Earl Manvers. A gentleman in that neigh- bourhood expected a son from school, and sent his man-servant with a gig to meet him. I had also received intelligence that a gig would be at the hotel to take me to Thoresby. On my arrival I heard an uncouth country lad bawling out, as the coach AN OLD ACTOR. 37 arrived, " Oony cliap here for Tliarshy /" Not quite certain what he said, I cried out, " I am going to Thoresby." " Au reet," he replied, " I'se bring a gig round." After seeing my traps right I jumped in, and, boy- like, began to ask all sorts of questions. Much of his conversation I really could not understand, he spoke so broadly ; but I learned, to my astonishment, that my relative saw the Earl every day, and in all probability I should be invited to the grand house, as " the Countess was very fond of little chaps." My bosom glowed with delight, having an ambitious turn of mind. The more questions I asked the more puzzled I got. He, too, began to " smell a rat." At last he said : " What's thy name ?" I told him. He scratched his head, and said, " Be'est thee in thy reet raoind ?" " Yes," I replied; ** are you in yours?" " I doan't knaw," the yokel said. "Where art'ee going to, then ?" "To Mr. Pashaud's," I said; who, by the way, was of Swiss extraction and the husband of my aunt. 38 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF He whistled loud and long, then coolly said, " Thee mun get out." Now we had driven a long way, and the road was narrow and lonely, for " the Dukeries,'^ as the}' are called, are not very populous. I was plucky, too, and would not stir. We had a wordy war, but he coolly settled it by pitching my baggage into the road, and was going to do ditto to your humble servant. I clung with tenacity to the gig, and a scufSe ensued. Kicks, shouts, screams, and yells were suddenly put an end to by the arrival of another gig and its occupant, who in his turn yelled, thinking some murder was being committed. It turned out to be my uncle's servant hurrying to meet me at the hotel. The matter was soon explained, but the event caused much laughter in the neigh- bourhood, and on Sunday, when attending church, I received from the Earl, his Countess, and family, a laughing recognition, repeated, too, on several occa- sions, having been praised for my pluck. But — death to my ambitious hopes — / never received an invitation to dinner. Fate took me from Newark and the companionship of my dearly beloved tutor. My mother's broken AN OLD ACTOR. 39 health, brought; on by excessive attendance on my father in his last illness, rendered a change to more bracing air imperative. My father had lived to get through a tolerable estate ; and losses came thickly in his later days. He lost heavily in Chamberlain's china manufactory, Worcester, so that the captaincy purchased, as I have said, b}^ the equipment of a hundred men, proved for us a fortunate event, as from this my mother derived a pension, which, added to a small annuity, enabled us to live, if not in splendour, at least respectably. My prospect of entering the Church became, how- ever, shadowy and distant. I entered what is called a preparatory school — and here let me warn parents to make a strict inquiry as to the character and means of those to whom they entrust their offspring. The ouhoard appearance of the academy was imposing and respectable ; but I soon found a woeful change. Our bed-rooms were crowded ; our play-ground narrow. (Why are not schools inspected as other institutions ?) " Do-the-Boys Hall" over again ! Dickens must have had some such experience — for if we were not brim- stoned and treacled we were saltzed and sennoed. Tutors came and went; the wife, who ought to have 40 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF been our comforter, became flighty and fantastical ; took to her bed without cause, until it became patent, even to us, young as we were, that the lady drank! Her husband was occasionally absent, and somehow the doctor was at those periods imperatively required. Intrigue was suspected, and the husband turned her out of the house. One morning came the astounding' fact that we were minus provisions. Always old- boyish in my disposition, I could not understand short commons, so I boldly went to a shop in the Totten- ham-court Eoad, and ordered butter, eggs, and bacon liberally, which were duly sent, and were swallowed with much gusto, and to the universal delight of my fellow-scholars. We had scarcely finished when piteous w^ails were heard in the next garden. It was the truant wife. We planted a ladder and mounted it ; then, handing the same over the wall, she mounted and descended amidst cheers ; and, by the assistance of the whole school, reinstalled herself, right or wrong. A terrific row ensued, and thus, sickened of scholastic experiences of that kind, I made my way to a relative and never returned. I was removed to a school in Essex, well conducted and well managed; large dormitories, and good food AN OLD ACTOR. 41 without stint ; also tuition irreproacliable. It was situated in a village spelt Kelvedon, but called "Keldon." Being elected monitor, my duty was to light the rushlight (now disused) with a tinder-box ignited by flint and steel, and many a rap on the knuckles I have had before the light would come. Oh ! ye lucifer matches, we hail your startling and bene- ficial change ! So much for the dear old times. But while I am on the subject of old days I will show how the laws were administered then in some instances. I well remember a little lad, scarcely seven years old, who was, without reflection, given in charge for stealing a silk pocket-handkerchief from my brother-in-law while walking with two friends in Cheapside. The three, without thinking, gave the boy in charge. On my brother-in-law's return home he mentioned what had happened, and my sister was horrified at the relation, having children of her own. At her instance her husband tried to get the boy released; his appeal was useless, the law must take its course. The day of trial came on ; I went with my sister to the Old Baile}', being the first and, up till now, the last time I was ever in a criminal court. We, with the rest of 42 .RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF the public, were perclied in a kind of gallery. In the dock was a pale, white-headed old man, near seventy, I should say. Grreen herbs were strewn around him, to keep off the infection from prison fever — then common. Ah, the good old times ! Past, thank Heaven, never to return, I hope. This poor old man had stolen a lamb, to keep life in his fast decaying frame. He had " never done so before," he said, in tremulous accents ; " but I and my missus were starving." To my intense horror and disgust, he was sentenced to death. Hanging then was common ; it scarcely elicited a remark. Next the helpless child was brought up for sentence, and soon disposed of; his term for stealing a pocket-handkerchief (probably much worn) was seven years' transportation. My poor sister fainted, and on her partial recovery we left the court, sickened and appalled. This reminds me of an event indelible in its im- pression. I had a brother-in-law living in Salisbury Square, Fleet Street, London, I was then on a visit to a brother of mine who lived in Smithfield. Light- heartedly 1 arose, bent on breakfasting with my brother-in-law in Salisbury Square. It was a little AN OLD ACTOR. 43 after eight in the morning. As I neared the Okl Bailey I saw a crowd, and straight before me I saw five figures dangling on a beam. I shall never forget it ; the centre figure especially attracted my gaze, and seemed photographed there. It was the figure of a woman, in a white, short bed-gown, and a black petticoat tied to her ankles, with a black cap over her face. It turned me deadly sick, and even now I shudder as I write of it — for hours after, nothinfr- that I took remained upon my stomach. What crimes the four men who dangled from that fatal beam had committed I do not remember, as the woman's case was all- engrossing to me. She had been condemned to death for the murder of her child. The cruel creature had strangled it, as she thought, and flung it into the Fleet Ditch — a veritable ditch of filth indeed — now vanished. The child struggled hard for life, and the bubbling attracted some passers-by. The little thing was rescued and carried to the neis^hbourinjz work- house. After being washed, the child was placed to some woman's breast ; it suckled eagerly, but could not swallow. This led to an examination. A piece of thread had been tightly tied round the neck by the unfeelhig mother ; upon severing this the child grew 44 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF lively and well. But now comes the remarkable portion of the case. Laws then were so strict, and hanging so common, that the mother was hanged for the attempt. It was a sight indeed, before railways were fully developed, to see the mail coaches assembled for the dispatch of letters to all quarters. A member of Parliament had little peace ; postage being then so dear, and he having the privilege to frank letters free of cost, you may imagine the mean shifts to get a letter free. Eowland Hill studied the matter deeply, and the subterfuge of a Welsh girl to learn news from home and avoid payment of postage led to the introduction of the penny rate. Rewards were freely offered to the public for a stamp fulfilling all require- ments, but in vain. One morning there was sub- mitted a pierced sheet of paper with a Queen's head and a glazed back. Its practicability and positive value were at once apparent, and, without trouble, the large reward was handed to the inventor. Talking of postage brings us back to coaches, four- in-hands, &c. We were always famous for our " turn- outs" in England. I remember being in Paris during Louis Philippe's time, and whenever an English turn- AN OLD ACTOR. 45 out appeared in the Champs Elysees or Bois de Bou- logne, every eye was turned in admiration : " Les Anglais!" was the cry; "Yoila!" " Magnifique !" " Superbe !" &c. Now their turn-outs equal ours, and their racers compete with and gain prizes against our best blood. What a change has Paris under- gone ! I remember there, in the narrow back streets, ropes holding a lantern were swung across the streets ; "a la lantern !" was a common cry in revolutionary times. Then it was common to see a man hanging instead, of a lantern. These over-convenient air arrangements were prudently removed by Louis Philippe ; and Napoleon III., improving upon the " Citizen King," cast down the narrow streets, and gave light, space, and symmetry, where filth and crime had flourished. The French often go before us, but always improve upon us. Truly ma}^ it be said that England invented the shirt and France the ruffle. CHAP TEH IV. 1833 TO 1835. T PASS over my mother's death, a bitter loss to me ; my departure from Kelvedon, much suffering, many struggles to forget the happy past. My father had been dead some years, and now my mother gone. I felt next to friendless. My grief at this desolate period of my life at last brought on an attack of brain fever. On recovery I was sent to my uncle's to learn farming, with no taste for such occupation. There I stayed two years, but my distaste for such a Hfe strengthened, and I returned to Loudon. My brother Philip had married a clergyman's daughter, and I be- came acquainted v/ith her brothers, who were gay young fellows, much in love with amateur perform- ances, and here commenced my first glimmering of my future fate. They frequented Pym's Private Theatre, and played parts from five shillings to a guinea a head. They persuaded me to join them. RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS. 47 They selected Earl Percy in " The Castle Spectre" for my first essay. The stage was very small, and I had to climb a ladder from my dressing-room and get through a window on to the stage for rehearsal. I got on pretty well till I came to putting on the armour, and standing on a pedestal, which, by the way, was a soap box, when suddenly I heard my brother Phil's voice — " Where's the vagabond ? I'll ' Castle Spectre' him !" A box on the ear sent me sprawling, and a vigorous kick sent me ignominiously flying from the stage. This was my first appearance ; would it had been my last ! This puts me in mind of some mountebanks I once saw performing in a field. Usher, a well-known clown at that time, announced a great entertainment in a field, when a pig, a gown, and a guinea were to be raffled for, with ground and lofty tumbling, comic songs were to be sung, tight-rope dancing by Miss Usher (afterwards the celebrated Mrs. Alfred Wigan), and to conclude with a duet be- tween Mr. Usher, the clown, and a goat! which turned out to be most laughable. And the way it was efiected was thus: — A rude kind of piano was brought for- ward, then the goat was introduced on his hind legs bv Usher, when, after some ludicrous tricks, he 48 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OE was led close to the piano. After some advice as to due regard to the notes, the band struck up the duet of " No," and Mr. Usher began, as if playing, " When you was a young one and wanted some wittles, oh, what did you say to me?" the Goat replied, "Baahf" and so the duet went on, until mounting to crescendo, it actually reached a scream. And it was managed thus : — A wire had been passed round his tail, and was pulled by Usher hard and harder, until the goat absolutely screamed with agony. This caused peals of laughter, and the whole entertainment Was a success. I had now arrived at an age when it became appa- rent that I must begin to do something in the future. My sailor-brother's arrival hastened this step. My family wished to place me with a bookseller near the Eschange. Had I taken that step, probably a villa and retirement in middle age would have been my lot. My pride revolted at the idea. " My father never stood behind a counter !" I mentally exclaimed, " and why shoul 1 1 ?" While the matter was yet unsettled, I hap- pened to see in a shop window a little book, " The Eoadto the Stage," Is. That little book decided my career; I purchased it eagerly, and hurried home with it. AN OLD ACTOR. 49 I there read that a young man with a fair degree of education and good looks, with memory and tact — these I flattered myself I possessed— would have little difficulty in winning his way to fortune. Then glow- ing visions arose. My inborn love of things theatrical had nearly died out, until awakened by witnessing a performance at the Strand Theatre, called " The Loves of the Angels," the two principal lady performers being Mrs. Waylett and Mrs. Honey. Mrs. Waylett was one of the most delicious ballad singers that ever graced the stage ; her voice was liquid melody, and Lee, the composer, seemed born to add graces to it. " Kate Kearney," " The Gondoletta," and a variety of other charming songs were composed for her by Lee, and her rendition has never been surpassed by any later singer ; for Lee hit her natural, yet florid style, exactly. Her grace notes, strange to say, never marred the melody. She was a beautifully-formed woman, too, though not remarkably pretty. Her compeer (the rival of Vestris), Mrs. Honey, though not gifted with Mrs. Waylett's vocal powers, possessed one of the loveliest faces ever seen, with all the charms of a fine figure and youth, to add lustre to her person. I strolled into the theatre one night, and became en- E 50 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF amoured of the pair. My means were slender and my hours limited, yet I attended regularly, and had to force myself early from the theatre after the duet of " Gently, ah, Gently" had been sung. The third " angel" in this piece was the sister of Miss Ellen Tree, who married Charles Kean, of whom more anon. This little " angel" attracted Mr. Chapman, of news- paper celebrity. She suffered by comparison with the lovelier pair, but was universally admired for her rec- titude of conduct and steady attention to the duties of her profession. Thus my latent passion for the stage had been stimulated by my admiration of the Strand beauties, and culminated in a furore on perusing the little volume called " The Eoad to the Stage," In it I learned there were three acknowledged agents, whose dut}^ it was, for a fee, to procure situations. The principal agent was Kenneth, whose daughters were once celebrated Drury Lane actresses. Turnour stood next, whose daughter, as a soubrette, was little inferior, if at all, to Mrs. Humby. The other held his resort at the Harp Tavern. Kenneth was too grand for me then, so I sneaked round to the Harp. Feeling disgusted with the drunk and shabby cus- AN OLD ACTOR. 51 tomers, as a dernier ressorf I passed Tumour's abode; it was a tobacconist's, in Bow Street, with private entrance for actors' business on the first floor. I entered the shop, asked for a cigar, and beheld a pale, pretty, and interesting young girl, in ringlets (which were then in fashion, I wish they were now). Young people sympathetically get chatty, and without guile I told her my purpose. "You turn actor! oh, pray don't," she said. I replied, " I was resolute in making the attempt." " Well, then, don't go up to my father now, but come this evening, after eight o'clock. His office closes at five ; I shall have plenty of time to talk to him, and I'll see what I can do for you." I went, and was received cordially by the father, who gave me a letter to a Mr. Cobham, an enormous East-end favourite in his time, and once — as Booth was — a rival of the elder Kean, having much the same style and figure. He had taken the Little Standard Theatre, Bishopsgate Street, for a three months' season. By- the-way, this theatre is now one of the largest, if not the largest in London — so much for progression. I entered, and for the first time trod theatrical boards ; the place was by no means imposing, and the people who surrounded me were so far from wliat I antici- 52 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF pated, that I really think I should have gone as I had come, but for the determination of fate. I had heard much of Cobham, and anticipated see- ing a god-like man — at least six foot two. To my surprise I saw a little, wizened, old man, with a dirty horrid muffler round his tliroat, and who spoke in a snuffy shambling style. He was the antipodes in my figuration of a people's idol. I explained my business, and offered him Tumour's letter of recom- mendation. He looked at me from head to toe, whis- pered some time with two shabby companions, then turned, and in a grandiloquent style, the oj^posite to his former manner, said, " You are cast for Eode- rigo." " I am wliat ?'" I said, not dreaming of his meaning. " I k-ji-e-w it'^ he said, folding his arms and grinning at me in a sardonic way, " of c-o-u-r-s-e, nothing less than Othello, o-r I-a-g-o, would suit you. Come now" (grinning and hissing his words slowly, with great emphasis, and elongation of arm and leg), " I knew it. I suppose (looking at me from head to foot contemptuously) you would have the a-u-d-a-c-i-t-y to consider you could play Othello better than me," carrying the tone up to a shriek, then in the deepest AN OLD ACTOR. 53 bass, " ye g-o-cl-s ! but you don't do it here, young man. No ! No ! ! you don't do it here." I slowly recovered my astonishment, and began to see the drift, " I beg your pardon," I replied, " I would not attempt to play Othello against you, or any other man, nor do I see why j'-ou should cast me (mistaking the meaning of the word) with Mr. What's- his-name, as I feel he is a stranger to me, by breed or connection." Here, to my astonishment, he elongated his leg as well as his speech (a great habit with him, I believe), and lifting his foot higher than I supposed he could do in reason, suddenl}^ clapped it upon the table, dug his elbow into it with his hand resting on his chin, shrieked out, " Oh, a novice. Have I caught yoit there! ! ! Ho, Rustighello, bring me a goblet of the nectarian fluid, and as we quaff we will discuss tliis matter." The nectarian fluid consisted of a threepenny quart of porter in a battered quart pot. After discussing this, he said suddenly, " We have decided — Roderigo be it." Seeing me puzzled, he explained, to my relief, in a natural manner, that Roderigo was a capital part in Shakspeare's play of " Othello," and admirably adapted to my face and 54 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF figure. I rather winced at this side compliment — I felt he must be in jest, as he did not seem the prototype, in my mind, of Othello. I simply said, " If you will oblige me with a book I will read it over ;" he did so with much grace and flourish. I retired to a coffee-house to read the part ; I found it far too great an attempt at first. I returned, and said so. He looked at me for some minutes, then slowly placing his two hands on my shoulders, he said solemnly, and with a look that brought tears into my eyes, " Young man, you'll make an actor !" Why has that look and tone come back to me so often — and ever with the same effect ? Was it the far-off sigh of a revealed prophecy — a glimpse into the future of what has been and what will be ? Somehow the tone was not cheering. "Ye gods!" said he, " behold a wonder — an unambitious would-be actor ! Anon, anon, sir ! Thou shalt be well repaid anon ! Ludovico be it." Then turning to me, with over- whelming dramatic effect, " Young man, my life, my fortune are in your hands !" Horrified, I declined the responsibility. He then dropped his theatric manner, and concisely explained that, if imperfect — as what I had to do was principally with him, in the last AN OLD ACTOR. 55 scene, consequently it depended upon being perfect to make the success and impression certain — I promised my best, and left almost wondering. If all I had seen was actual — had I been in a den of maniacs or was I mad myself? What I endured to hide my resolve to be an actor no tongue can tell ; my efforts foolishly being to hide that fact from my friends. I lived at the extremity of Marylebone, and the theatre was at the other end of London. I walked miles to rehearsal and back, often when rehearsals were long, going without food until one in the morning, and then, if I got a meal, it was reserved by a kind servant of my brother's. But I kept my secret well. I mounted from Ludovico, in '' Othello/' and the Lieutenant of the Town in " Kichard TIL," to Malcolm in " Macbeth," to Count Montalban in the " Honeymoon," to " George Barn- well," and that in London before I was six weeks on the stage. On that night a note in a lady's hand was presented me, in which I learned that my little friend, Tumour's daughter, was with her father in the front, sitting in judgment on me, and much pleased. The next morning I received an offer, through my little friend, from Mr. Saville Faucit 56 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF (tather of Helen Faucit), to appear at the Margate Theatre for the summer season, at the magnificent salary of I85. per week; and as I received nothing for my services at the Little Standard, a superb vista was offered to my view. I then announced my intention to my startled friends, who remonstrated in vain. Finding that useless, they fitted me out fairly as to wardrobe, and I took a lingering farewell of Turnour and his pretty daughter, whom, by-the-way, I never saw more. She died, I was told, of con- sumption, and though I had seen her but little, her anxious kindness made an impression on me never to be effaced. M}^ departure for Margate was a real event in my life to be marked as the positive starting-point in my profession. It was a lovely day when I embarked ; there were not many passengers. But amongst them were three destined to engross the major portion of my thoughts and actions for the next three months, apart from my professional duties. These were an elderly lady and two younger ones. But, strange to say, the younger of the two was in- different to all my attention. The elderly lady proved chatty and agreeable. In due time dinner AN OLD ACTOR. 57 was announced, and as I bad been tolerably well supplied with cash, I resolved to make one of the number. During dinner I felt a burning desire to announce the fact that I occupied what to my then thinking seemed the most enviable position in the world — that of an actor. The cloth removed, the three ladies, who seemed to be acquaintances of the captain's, remained ; and wine was ordered. The wished-for moment came. The captain asked me if my stay in Margate would be long. " In all probability three months," I replied. " Business or pleasure." " Neither " — they stared. " My pleasures must be limited as my dreams are. Business I object to — always did." " Well,, I declare, you are a strange young man," said the elderly lady, laughing. ''" Then what in the name of goodness takes 3'Ou to Margate ?" " I am a professional man," I said grandly. " Good gracious, who would have thought it — why you are sadly too young for that." " Never too young to be an actor," I replied loftily. " What ! a jy/<2y actor." I winced at this. "Yes, and I make my first appearance next Monday, at the Theatre Royal," — I laid a stress upon the Roi/al. The captain pushed a glass of wine to me with an 58 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF approving nod, and the elderly lady drew nearer, much interested; but to my mortification the younger, and by far the most attractive, looked superciliously and left with her companion for the deck. Alone with the captain and the old lady : " Dear, dear," she said, " what does your poor mother think of such a step?" "I have no mother." "Well, surely, your father objects." " He died long since," I sighed, " Fatherless and motherless ! Dear heart ! what a world we live in." " So much the greater need to put his shoulder to the wheel," said the captain. I saw sympathy and friendliness in their eyes, and with the ingenuousness of youth I told them all. " What, eighteen shillings per week, for a gentle- manly lad like you; isn't it shameful, captain?" " He'll want a world of wit to live on a sum like that," replied the captain. " You couldn't put your head under a roof for less than that sum in Margate. I fear these are all a pack of extortioners. But, luckily, I have been in Margate before, so keep up your heart, and leave me to manage," said the old lady. She retired, leaving me to the captain. I went on deck shortly after, and saw by a seeming coldness AN OLD ACTOR. 59 that I had been the subject of a wordy war. I felt crest-fallen, fearing I had lost a friend. But as the vessel neared Margate my elderly friend bustled up to me, and frankly said, " I have engaged apartments while we stay, and if you will favour me by calling a chaise when we land, and look after the luggage for us, as a gallant gentleman should do, I shall be proud of your company home ; so put your luggage with ours, it will save going to an hotel, and before you have had a cup of tea I warrant I'll see you settled." I felt her kind intentions, and cheerfully did the duties of a beau chevalier. I jumped into the chaise, to the surprise of her younger daughter, who ill con- cealed her coldness — the other was more agreeable, the old lady lull of kindness, so I rested content. The lodging she had selected was situated outside Margate. She was soon in deep conversation with the landlady, who popped on her bonnet and disappeared, but soon returned smilingly. More confab in a corner, and at last she said, " Now, what do you think of my raanage- juent — I've got you a love of a bed, and a small sitting-room, and all for three shillings and sixpence ; what do you think of that ?" " Impossible !" I replied. " Oh, don't think it a palace, young Mr. Highflyer ; 6o RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF tlie old lady is a lone widow who lias lost a son ; you'll be company to her. But lest she should bore you, I have bargained that you should have the rooms to yourself." Thus was I installed in a pretty home, and within my means — a great item. The night of my appearance came at last, the part learned (Montalban, in the " Honeymoon "), one of tlie parts I had played in London, consequently 1 was at ease. T also wore a handsome dress which fitted me to a marvel. My vanity was piqued at the younger lady's coolness, and I feared she would not be present. But there she was, sure enough, and elegantly dressed. I had been invited to supper by Mrs. Britten, the elderly lady in question. I went, after the play — but what a change ! " Eliza the Cold," as I called her, hurried up to me, and complimented me until I felt quite confused ; coldness had Hed, warmth followed, which increased in intensity to the last moment of her life. These are facts — not the suggestions of vanity. SuflRce it, we became lovers. Every morning as the sun arose we wandered by the sea, I to study, she content to sit beside me — a bright dream destined, alas ! to fade. As Eliza's partiality increased, her mother's cooled, and with reason ; for AN OLD ACTOR. 6i eigliteen sliiilings per week was a poor look-out, and her mother looked higher for her child. One fatal night Eliza asked me to ride out on the morrow. That was out of the question, for I could not afford it, so I pleaded long parts in both pieces, and the girls had to go alone. The horse Eliza rode started off at a galloping pace, from some unexplained cause ; the turnpike man seeing this, slaramed-to the gate, thinking to stop the horse, which reared. She fell off, and was carried senseless into the toll-house. On rallying, she merely complained of a dull pain in her head. For three or four days she lay upon the sofa, never moving, for to do so caused her agony. It wanted but two days to the termination of the season ; she was anxious to remain, for we were now engaged ; but her mother insisted she should see a physician in London. I promised to see her on Sunday. Fatal promise ! On my arrival home my sister insisted I should not go out. I complied, fearing to pain her and not liking to explain. On the following morning, going to my agent's, intending to visit Eliza after, I saw her sister sobbing at the door. Seeing me, she said, " Oh, why didn't you come last night ? My sister is dead !" Had a pistol shot been fired I could not 62 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF have been more horrified. Heart-stricken, but doubt- ful, I reached her home — it was too true! The flower withered ; the face and form, rarel}^ equalled, cold, cold, and dead to me for ever. It appears that, against all entreaties, she would dress to receive me on that fatal Sunday. Slie had a beautiful head of hair ; the maid had raised the mass, about to apply the comb, when a loud knock startled her ; she rushed forward, exclaiming, " There's Fred !" and fell dead. Tlie mystery was soon explained, for, upon post- mortem examination, it turned out that the skull had been completely fractured, save a slight link, which her sudden start had severed. It was a merciful close to her bright young life, for, had she lived, it was the doctor's opinion dullness would have merged into oblivion of sense, and her life become a blank. Poor Eliza Britten sleeps in Kensal Green Cemetery. Having received an offer to join the Newcastle- upon-Tyne com])any, our first essay was fixed for Doncaster. Queen Victoria had then ascended the throne, and her coronation was a different thing indeed to the tinsel finery of George's. At that time Elliston, a celebrated actor in his daj'-, was the AN OLD ACTOR. 63 manager of Drury Lane. This impulsive individual Lad concocted a fac-simile of George the Fourth's coronation procession, which, by-the-way, was a walk- ing one under cover from St. James's to Westminster Abbey, that excluded the general public in a measure from seeing it. The idea took, and Elliston cast himself the part of the King. The applause was immense during the processions, but culminated when Elliston appeared in full robes, a capital representation of Greorge IV. Night after night its popularity in- creased, and at length, in a moment of enthusiasm, heightened perhaps by a little champagne, he stretched out his hands and gasped out with emotional dignity, " God bless you, mj^ people !" It told, and was repeated nightly. Speaking of him brings to mind an anecdote or two of that enthusiastic celebrity. At one time he went on a starring tour to Cheltenham, then in full renown as a watering town. The invalids were numerous ; but, strange to say, there was no good chemist. He espied a fortune, and actually started a grand emporium for the dispensation of drugs, think- ing a knowledge of pharmacy was a secondary con- sideration, and he never abandoned this pet scheme 64 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF until he learned by sad experience that if he had not poisoned one-half of the inhabitants, and deliberately slaughtered the rest, it was by the interposition of a merciful Providence. He had, at one time, the Theatre Royal at Bir- mingham ; the business was not good, and Elliston set his wits to work to bring grist to the mill ; he announced, in big posters, the first appearance of Signor Salvarini in England, "the world-renowned wonder, and the strongest man, since Samson, ever seen." Discovering the man was a muff and im- postor, he ignored the engagement, but stuck to the idea. " What ?" he " dishonour a bill ? Never, sir-r-r, never!" Glaring puffs preliminary appeared; at length an announcement was put forth that "the eio^hth wonder of the world" had landed at Dover. The public were led up to the highest pitch of excite- ment, and, to increase it, a waggon drawn by eight horses, decorated with boughs and ribbons, paraded the streets. On a raised platform was an immense boulder, or stone, and two men in leather aprons and bare arms struck upon it with sledge-hammers to the notes of a band that followed. This immense stone AN OLD ACTOR. 65 the mighty Samson was to throw into the air as he would a ball; catching and balancing it upon his head, legs, arms, and even on his nose. Night came, there was a crushing house — fabulous prices were offered for seats. The piece preceding the exhibition of the Signor and the stone passed impatiently away, and now for the grand event of the evening. A flourish of trumpets announced the ascension of the curtain. Who should step to the front bat Elliston, in deepest black, white handkerchief in hand, parted hair, and a voluminous frill and necktie. " Ladies and gentlemen," said he ; raising his white handkerchief, with a broad black border, to his eyes to hide his gushing tears, he blurted out, " What I have suffered for the last fort- night imagination cannot picture or tongue can tell ; that great and gifted man — I allude to Signor Salvarini — arrived, as you know, at Dover [nobody doubted it] ; relays of horses, at immense cost, were stationed at different points ; due notice of his progress reached me, at flibulous cost. I learned at last, to my dismay, that he was suffering from the effects of the journey. I despatched physicians, at enormous cost, and ' hope rose high on eagle's wings to banish fear.' I had done m}'- duty (tears from Elliston, and thunders F 66 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF of applause from the audience) ; but alas, the fate of greatness ! this mammoth of a past age — I may say, this mastodon — sickened like a girl, and died !" (A shudder of horror went shivering round.) " But," he exclaimed, with a voice of thunder, " I have one noble satisfaction left, if I cannot show you the man — behold the stone P" The audience awoke to the sell, and shrieks of laughter, mingled with hisses, closed the scene. M3' engagement for Doncaster and Newcastle was ibr " inferior walking gentleman," at a salary of 1/., under the management of Mr. Ternan, a good actor and estimable man. He on one occasion played Jaffier, in an exploded, but then popular, play, and also a character in the pantomime. Walking down the village street next morning, he was accosted by a tradesmen, "Oh, Mr. Ternan, you delighted me last night. ^' " I am glad to hear that," Ternan anxiously replied. " The most natural piece of acting I ever witnessed." Now, Jaffier happened to be the actor's pet part. " And which portion did you especially prefer ?" he anxiously asked. " Why, the way in which you swallowed that bucket of water, and the way you writhed when they pumped it up AN OLD ACTOR. 67 again couldn't be equalled." Death to his am- bitious hopes — it was an occurrence in the pan- tomime he admired, not the cherished efforts of his genius. So much for acting, and judges of the same. There were two ladies, as opposite as possible, in that compan}', the one brilliant, the other quiet as a quakeress. I had a rival in the "first walking gentle- man," who thought no small things of himself He bustled up to me, and said, " Your nose is put out, IVe secured the star of the company, so you had better try it on with the quakeress." " Not I," I coolly said, and walked away. The night arrived ; I was dressed in the costume, and perfect — he in ollapodrida costume of all ages but the correct, and anything but perfect in the words ; but the lady star of the day shone with faint glimmer at night ; her figure and action were awkward and ungainly, her dress in the worst possible taste : it looked as if it had been crushed by packing, and hastily unrolled. What a transformation in the quakerish-looking girl, dressed in pure white, and devoid of make-up. With her dark hair falling in masses, she looked perfection, and ere the performance was finished the quakeress r 2 68 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS. was universally acknowledged the star of the night. Suffice it, that night my salary was raised five shillings, my position fixed for " first walking gentle- man," while my rival had to accept " second low comedy," or go. Thus Fortune's wheel goes round. CHAPTER V. 1830 TO 1835. "O RIDGrES are significant of a city's prosperity. I have seen London Bridge twice restored. I remember old Blackfriars Bridge with an arch that to modern eyes would appear preposterous. Both in de- scent and ascent Waterloo Bridge, when first built, was little used ; now it is as busy as it well can be for safety. Hungerford swept away, and a railway bridge erected in its place. No more tottering wooden bridges, but in their place elegant erections. The Thames Tunnel, the precursor oi wonders to come, nearly passed from memory. Railways netting the land over- head, underground, and in all directions. The dreaded Chat Moss a myth. Now steam an utilised fact, and almost ready to make way for some new propelling power. I have seen and heard tramways derided, scouted, and hooted, but edabl'mlLed. The introduction of potatoes into Ireland nearly caused a rebellion, their 70 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF removal or interdiction now would positively do so. Be not slow, then, to believe anything progressive. Nay, I believe that so little as eighty years ago if those then livins" had been told we could hear news in one hour from land then almost fabulous, the miserable asserter would have been confined in a mad-house. Fifty years ago every village had a cage or stable where some wretched maniac was confined like a wild beast, taunted by children or ill-used by brutes. But, thank God, no more chaining or whipping. Now the clouded brain sometimes gets glimpses of sanity. Fancy the change from odium, filth, rags, and torture to light, music, well-clothed, fed, and cheerfully sur- rounded ! Why, bless me, the establishment of the telegraph was as speedy as the fluid that impels it. Photography, too, will be more profitable when uti- lised for trade purposes, &c., for " it is money that makes the mare to go." After the melancholy ter- mination of George III.'s reign came the splendid but coarse and theatrical rule of the Fourth George, with its dissolute, drunken men, its debauched, beastly women, the more conspicuous by their position ; its pensions and places publicly given, sold, or bartered ; its fopperies and frivolities, with its serious vices and AN OLD ACTOR. 71 obscene ruler, who became at last, like Henry VIII., unfit to be seen in public, and if not carried oif as he was providentially, would have been as famous for cruelty and oppression as Louis XI. of France was. The muddy stream became less impure thanks to William IV. 's good temper and Adelaide's example. But to compare Elizabeth's reign to Victoria's is downright blasphemy — the one coarse and energetic, the other the refiner of refinement. Meanwhile the world had not been slow to advance : drainage and irrigation had become thoroughly under- stood ; in fact, agriculture in all its branches progres- sive ; thence arose neighbourly meetings and com- petings of companies with respect to breeds ; from thence cattle shows, &c. Music had made marvellous strides ; Bellini's light melodious style had swept to the winds the heavy operas such as " Semiramide," and gave way to Balfe, Wallace, and others, and the people awoke to find that the unmeaning recitative and ponderous airs decorated with roulades and trills palled on the ear ; that flowing melody simply sung gained the ascend- ancy — in short, Braham gave place to Sims Beeves' popular songs, while the growing taste brought down 7 2 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF the price of pianos, and rendered music familiar in the homes of the middle classes. The great philharmonic meetings did immense good. Great archseologists, wandering through ail parts of the kingdom, did much to imbue the lower classes with a veneration for by- gone ages ; hence grew the respect for public statues, walks, seats, &c. The stately Minuet de la Cour fled before the lively polka, but, in opposition strange, the quadrille, from a dance, assumed a languid dawdle. The waltz glided into a German spin, and Sir Roger de Coverley gave place to a galop. Male dancers, with their eternal pirouettes, were banished and thrust out. Costume on the stage became a study. Picture galleries were thrown open to the public. Iron had worked a revolution in all branches of trade, but more especially in buildings, shipping, and bridges, never beiore used in such structures ; gutta percha became of universal utility ; the police an organised body — these sent to the right-about constables, runners, and old fogies. Toll-bars began gradually to disappear. Cock-and-hen clubs and free-and-easys gave place to concert-rooms. Patent theatres were abolished, mono- poly banished, free trade established, the Whig merged into the Radical politics, the Tory jostled into a AN OLD ACTOR. 73 Conservative. Prize fighting lost its lordly patronage — the Ring succumbed to the Turf. Gin palaces arose on the other hand; crime in every sense became gorgeous ; our magnificent silks were supplemented by base imitations ; broadcloth gave way to shoddy ; bankruptcy became fashionable, and millionaires were trebled in number. The law began to be simplified (when will it be simple ?) ; honest oak and the richer woods were supplanted by veneers ; honest bread and milk became a base imitation. The window tax once abolished opened the road to ventihition ; even our very climate underwent a change. The ribstone pippin gave place to French and American produc- tions, the small red strawberry gave place to its gigantic but paler rival, the wallflower gave place to the camellia, the sunflower to the dahlia, the holyhock and box to the lauristinus, and that prolific family fled in dismay before their attractive rivals. In short, the good old days were fading fast before us, and lightning - speed improvements wrought magical changes in the land and people. Our company was a notably clever one ; nearly all obtained celebrity. Sims Eeeves, the great tenor, playing "little business," and occasionally "singing 74 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF walking gentleman/' at a salary of 35-5. per week. Addison, our " first old man," obtained eminence ; Harcourt Bland, whose grandfather was Beattie, the poet, became a celebrated teacher of elocution, and a clever writer upon theological subjects ; Power and his wife, Miss Jarman,Mr.Ternan's wife, a celebrated lead- ing lady ; Miss Newton (Mrs. Bellairs, who afterwards was popular in Australia) ; and Ternan, in himself a host. He had a clever daughter, Fanny, five years old, famed for impromptu poetry. One day, riding out with a party, they came upon some gipsies. " Now, Fanny," her father remarked, "here's a pretty subject for a poetess." She thought for a moment, and then said — " ' At home, at home for ever !' say the Buns." then stopped, as if puzzled. "At a standstill?" said her father. She smiled, and suddenly said — " ' But out for ever !' say the wandering gipsy ones." Its aptitude of opposite comparison struck every one. Years after I met her, then a confirmed "blue- stock- ing," possessing but little of that beauty which was remarkable in her childhood, wearing green spec- tacles, and bearing a solemnity of style. She lived in a world of her own ; she sang at Exeter Hall, but her selection of songs were the highest of high art, con- AN OLD ACTOR. 75 sequently caviare to the general public. Master Betty, a great star in bis time — I bave seen : anotber proof tbat precocity in youtb becomes, as age advances, stunted. Wben I knew bim be was a kindly fat man, witb an excessively lumpish son, and in spite of bis father's wealth and influence never made way as an actor. Here I first met " Macready." I was cast for Francoise, in " Richelieu," in consequence of my youthful appearance. Macready was by nature pompous, mysterious, and very impulsive. He said, on my commencement, " keep your eye on me, sir." My speeches be interlarded with " great heaven," " ba, ha," "well, well," and a host of other interjections not indicated in my part. In the effort to retain the words during this interruption — he glaring and gesti- culating all the time — my memory wandered. " Keep your eye on me, sir." The more I worked it up to " crescendo," the more he yelled — " Keep your eye on me, sir." At last, driven to desperation, and losing all patience, I blurted out, " Mr. Macready, it is quite enough to mind my words, not your eyes." I had not done with him, for during the fourth act Sims Reeves had a few lines to speak as Cleremont ; these 76 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF he bungled through in his then careless way. This upset Macready, and as he was retiring, Macready screamed out, " Call that man back." I fired up, wanting the opportunity, and to the surprise of every one said, " That man is a gentleman, and our first singer." " I beg pardon," he said, in an altered tone. Afterwards he was most kind to me, and never re- sented my petulance. Strange to say Sims Reeves was not then over popular, and would sing " My Pretty Jane," " The Pilgrim of Love," " Death of Nelson," &c., with scarcely an encore — simply because he had a sulking way with him. Years after, they took the horses out of the carriage he rode in, and the populace dragged him to the hotel ; his earnings for six nights amounted to 500/. or 600/. I wonder if he then thought of their former coldness, and his meagre pittance of 35.s. a week. By the way, talking of Macready puts me in mind of a ludicrous accident which happened to him, and has not, to my knowledge, ever been in print. Playing Macbeth in the dagger scene, it was his custom to have a table behind the scenes, and on it a cup of rose pink to imitate blood, a powder puff to make him AN OLD ACTOR. 77 look pale, and other things appertaining to his make- up — as we technically term it. It was also the custom for his valet to stand behind a larc^e lookins:- glass with a candle in each hand, that Macready might have plenty of light. One night the valet discovered to his horror that he had forsfotten the powder puff. Seizing one of the carpenters, and placing the candles in his hands, he said, " Tve for- gotten something ; stoop down behind the glass, hold the candles out on each side, and he won't see you ; I'll be back in a minute." Away goes the valet, and off comes Macready with his daggers to murder the king. Not seeing the puff, he bawled out, " Paff, sir, puff." The carpenter blew out one candle. ''Are you deaf?" screamed Macready : " puff, sir, pulf," and the man blew out the other. Left in the dark, you may imagine Macready's horror. Bloodless and powderless he rushed on to the stage, and both valet and carpenter made themselves scarce that night, well knowing his temper. He retired in the zenitli of his fame and fortune, and lived to a good old age, un- fortunately embittered by severe family bereavements. Some years after I met him in Cheltenham, his tall figure bent ; his face bore an anguished, world-wearing 78 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF look ; leaning on his arm was liis sister ; his melan- choly task was to take her to the cemetery to mourn over the tomb of her husband. He took much interest in scholastic matters, read often in public for their benefit, and was, I believe, in heart and intellect, a pious Christian, and a brilliant ornament to his profession. I had made much progress with the pretty quakeress, as I called her, and at the close of the season was en- trusted with her heavy luggage to take by boat from Hull to Newcastle, she going by coach to Newcastle. It has frequently been my lot in life not to be thoroughly understood, I think, from a sensitive and somewhat reticent manner, which is, on an emergency, thrown off and discarded, to my own surprise and that of others. Like the oak, I have been slow in develop- ment. I mean no praise to myself in the comparison, but simply that I have ever, and universally, been taken for being much younger and more delicate than 1 really am. Great was the cliafF of two members of the company, all thinking I should suffer by a sea voyage. I asked my landlady to prepare me some- thing to eat on the journey; she kindly provided me with a veal and ham pie, for which she would not take a single farthing. Our passage to Hull was by canal ; AN OLD ACTOR. 79 these, by-the-way, are fast receding in importance in England, though I heartily wish they were popular in Australia. I and my quakeress parted without fuss, but the frank pressure of her hand, and the kindly look in her eye, kept me in good heart. From Hull we proceeded by sea. We had our wardrobe- keeper on board, with his wife and child ; they were shiftless bodies. I have observed that fair people suffer the most at sea ; he had the reddest of red hair, and was the thinnest and most bilious-looking fellow 1 ever saw. I had ensconced myself in a quiet nook, after much chaffing at my supposed unfitness for such a voyage. I noticed the wardrobe-keeper and his wife, after five minutes on board, nearly helpless ; so out of compassion I took the child on my knees. They crawled to my side and laid their heads upon each knee ; my chaffing compeers crept with two stools they had found, and ensconced their aching- heads on each shoulder. All four had joined in the chaff against me, but I had them now at my mercy, and laughing heartily, made a jolly meal, and then retired to rest. We had a fearful night, and our escape from wreck was a miracle. However, I rose hearty and well ; and what a sight met 1113^ eye ! My 8o RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF two sneeriDg lotliarios were one mass of black spots (vvliite coats and capes were the fashion then), and those of my bold heroes were covered with black spots. It appears they had crept into the cook-house for shelter ; they had placed white handkerchiefs on their heads ; this, with their white coats and faces, presented a forlorn and ludicrous appearance — comical in the extreme. 1 laughed until I nearly rolled on the deck ; they ground their teeth, but I observed ever after they were very cautious of chaffing me. The storm had been a terrific one, and that I braved it tolerably I gathered from the fact that, excepting a Cornish man, I was the only one who escaped sea- sickness. We were obliged to put into Hartlepool, and the captain was discharged for doing so, but ob- tained damages and restoration of certificate, proving victoriously that to have crossed the Tynemouth bar in such a storm would undoubtedly have lost vessel, cargo, passengers, and crew. The season was a prosperous one. I had pro- gressed steadily, true to my quaker-like inamorata, both were re-engaged for the following year. We parted — she to take council of her mother — I to my family and friends. During the vacation my old AN OLD ACTOR. 8i employer gave me a commission to place his pictures in a proper light in the Exhibition, given then in the Louvre. I started for Paris, and we had a stormy passage. One incident during the voyage struck me as comical. I observed a young swell, evidently of the cockney order, elaborately got up to astonish the French nation. He wore a new white hat, and not feeling well, he took off his hat and placed it beside him. On the opposite seat a person sitting there suddenly turned deadly pale, and seized the magni- ticent " tile" of my cockney friend, and gasping, pardonnez moi, to the horror of the fop, emptied the contents of his stomach into the same. I have olten thousrht how much Dickens would have made oF this incident. We supped at Abbeville. I saw a large dish of something which I at once took for frogs ; turning with disgust from them, I satisfied the cravings of hunger with a cup of cofPee and some brccid and butter, but learned to my intense regret afterwards that the aforesaid frogs, as I thought, were tempting young split ducklings. After seeing all the siffhts, dining on two franc dinners in the Pahice Koyale, drinking cafe uoir and I'eau de vie, roaming through the Boulevards and Passages, I G RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF thought I had reached heaven at last. I was for- tunately witness to a sight not always seen, of the celerity with which matters of art or amusement are managed in France. One day I saw all the older masters and other treasures of art exhibited in the Louvre, and on the next day all the modern pictures of that period. To clear the one away and give place to the other was colossal labour, and yet all was calm and thoroughly finished when the period arrived for admitting the public. Business taking me much to the Louvre, I had great opportunities of seeing numerous celebrated artists ; one in particular en- grossed my attention — the picture she was painting was a Spanish Harvest Home with yoked oxen and addenda, I was struck with its effective, j^et natural tone ; she was in herself as striking as her picture, and at that period wore a black silk handkerchief tied under her chin — it became her, though I suspect it was to protect her from the draught. She was an earnest worker, and always had one or two subjects which she would occasionall}^ touch up, as if to relieve her intensity. " Who is that young girl ?" I asked, "who is the first to come and last to go." " Eosa Bonheur." " Then she will live to be famous as sure AN OLD ACTOR. 83 as that picture will live in my memory," said I — and she did. By-the-way, there is a custom, common in Catholic churches, of leaving them open to the public at all hours in the day, and it would be well if all creeds and denominations did the same. It struck me as beneficial in all senses. I have seen bowed-down widows, sorrowful husbands and children, enter quietly and pray. There would I see the neat grisette blanchisseuse, or market-woman, sit, resting quietly, if not praying, and I myself have, in awe and reverence, felt as heartily consoled by the scene as I could by any possibility do in a temple of any creed. (i 2 CHAPTER YI. 1833 TO 1838. T SAW in Paris, and spoke a brief space with Louis, afterwards Napoleon III., who hap- pened to be inspecting the infernal machine. I looked at him with interest, never guessing his future greatness and lamentable fall ; he conversed frankly, with little trace of the foreigner in his accent. When he was in Englandthe nation was much disturbed ; petitions from all parts of the country poured into London ; one from Manchester was most conspicuous, drawn openly, and with immense sensation, in a waggon to the Houses of Parliament. Every police court in London was thronged with tradesmen willing to be sworn in as special constables to protect life and property. Amongst these Prince Louis Napoleon presented himself. My cousin, a Mr. Berks-Thompson, a coach-builder in Oxford Street (now Holland and Hollands), was sitting on the RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS. 85 Bench at the Marjlebone office ; being a good French schohir, he addressed the Prince, asking him why he, a foreigner, desired to enrolL " To protect a great right," he said. " I have seen massacred women's ear-rings torn from their ears, and children butchered heartlessly ; and it is my belief that as long as the tradesmen band with the nobility the country is safe ; let them once turn to the mobocracy and the country is lost." This, to my think- ing, is a grand axiom. Most people, I dare say, have heard that he was sworn in as a constable, but his actual conversation on that occasion has never been in print, and I vouch for its truth. How grandly his nobility was shown in after years by never noticing or evincing the slightest dis- pleasure against the attacks of the Press. The Tmc's and Punch were particularly hard ; yet their repre- sentatives were ever received with the greatest courtesy and attention, not stained with cringing meanness ; and the defiling suspicion of bis falsity generally entertained by all classes, was grandly refuted by his steady adherence to England, and his sound policy shown in his long and peaceful rule, broken only by the one false step — compliance with 86 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF the national war cry, " On to Berlin !" To preserve, as he thought, the crown for his son, to please the people, and extend his rule, he rushed without due caution — to baptise his son in fire ; and thus by treacherous Ministers, unstable financiers, and incom- petent war councillors, shattered the hopes of a life. But a day will come when his reign shall be acknowledged as a brilliant and beneficial one for France. When in Paris I naturally visited the theatres. "The Renaissance" was then popular, and beautifully decorated, and the star of the moment, and for some years after, was Anna Thillon, also Dejazet, with a host of others. At a minor theatre in the Boulevard du Temple, I saw a fat man act — I forget his name — so fat you could scarcely see his ears — to me the most active and the funniest man I ever saw; you understood him intuitively. Madame Georges was then in her declining days at the Porte St. Martin. This grand actress and beautiful woman held the great Napoleon in her spells ; then came her declension and retirement from the Theatre Prancaise to a minor theatre — a fall indeed, but in her fall grand to the last. She was the only foreign actress, save Eachel and Eistori, AN OLD ACTOR. 87 whom I could understand tUoroucjJdij. These three possessed to perfection the charms of person, passion, and intellect that never in the highest storm of con- flicting feelings for one moment lost sight of Nature or its tenderest phases, ever became puerile, or elaborate — a charm that others very high in supposed art lack often. In later days this Madame Georges, I regret to say, became a collector of umbrellas, coats, cloaks, &c., in the lobby of a theatre, a declension pitiable to think of. Rachel, at the period I speak of, was just rising, I saw her ia one of her first parts (Phsedre) at the Theatre Fran^aise ; she did not at first impress me favourably. Thin to a fault — her arms and neck almost repulsive — the bones of her elbows were painfully prominent, with enormous salt- cellar hollows in her neck. But when she began to act, an inward fire seemed to consume her ; her head and face were magnificently classic, and her greatness palpable. She, too, has departed, and that, too, at a comparatively early age, in proportion to her fame. With the forethought of her Jewish intellect, she looked carefullv to Number One, thouirh her losses in America and elsewhere touched her pocket somewhat, liut her unselfish afl'ection for her I'amily was intense, 88 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF almost poetical ; for, however exacting to others, she was devotion itself to them. I visited Versailles, and saw its celebrated fountains, but considered it shamefully neglected. This told a sad tale of the narrow policy of Louis Philippe, that mean ruler ; and the ingratitude of that fickle nation, ready to destroy what they worship, or rebuild what they destroy without reason ; witness for and against them every street monument, veritable place, or palace. Yet they are a great nation, whose want of stability you forget in their taste and grace, marred only by its profuseness. Their soldiers struck me as being little and poorly dressed. I saw, too, the "Mardi Gras," or Boeuf Gras, an absurd institution, its principal feature being a fat bull ; everybody seemed to be going mad about nothing. The Washerwomen's Ball seemed to have some sense in it ; at all events you found comeliness and enjoyable propriety, a contrast to " Musards," a dancing saloon then popular. Here I saw the " Can- can '' danced by five hundred couples — a disgrace to any sane or sensible nation. I must do them the justice to say that if they were not ashamed of them- AN OLD ACTOR. 89 selves they were of the police, who had by stratagem been induced to leave the room. To the shame of England, a version modified to be sure, some years after, was introduced at the most fashionable theatres in London, and unblushingly witnessed by the highest aristocracy, male and female. Of a verity John Bull is a slow animal, but when roused he has as much passion, bad and good, as other nations, so we need not brag. I never had a taste for gambling in any form, but in Newcastle-on-Tj'ne I made the acquaintance of Mr. Orde, the owner of the celebrated Beeswing, the winner of races too numerous to mention ; also of Queen Bee. Beeswing was as successful as Eclipse, whose skeleton I have seen, and who was asserted to liave run a mile in a minute — pretty well for the old slow times. I was on the race-course the last time that Beeswing ever ran a race. I never shall forget it ; a poor worn-out, jaded-looking animal with down- cast head, and led by a groom. As the horse ad- vanced, voice after voice murmured, " Here she comes !" and when peal after peal of ringing applause met her ear, she became erect, her body swelled, her pace grand, every nerve seem called into play by 90 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF excitement. She won triumphantly. This reminds me of a scene some years after witnessed by me, which is in strong contrast. Before Madame Vestris " shuffled off this mortal coil " she became enfeebled, but never permitted the public to see this. A burlesque was then enacting at the Lyceum in which she played the principal j)art. A statue like Hermione in the " Winter's Tale " was introduced ; I was by accident at the wing, and Charles Mathews, seeing me intent, leaned on my shoulder to look too. I saw an old woman, concealed by curtains from the public, on the platform, on which was placed a pedestal; she appeared verj^ feeble, and a mass of clothes were huddled about her in a grotesque fashion ; in fact, she looked like some ancient washerwoman. She put her hand to her ear, as if listening for her cue, she slowly adjusted the folds of her dress, shook her hair into form, and gradually all traces of wrinkles disappeared ; the bust began to swell, the eyes to brighten and distend. 1 watched her closely; Charles Mathews was equally intent, and when she had placed herself in full atti- tude, and the curtain rose, she realised the ideal of perfect beauty. " She has called up her charms in- deed," said I. " By Jove !" exclaimed Charles AN OLD ACTOR. 91 Mathews, "that's true." Beeswing came to my recollection, and, though the simile is of a hrute to a lovely woman, the aptitude, though ^distant, was striking. I have hefore said that Sims Reeves was a member of our company. He was playing the Squire, in the pantomime of " Old Mother Groose," and at the very moment when he was walking off the stage singing, " My wife's dead, there let her lie, She's at rest, and so am I," a man tapped him hurriedly on the shoulder, and whispered, " You must come home directly, Mrs. Keeves is dead." You may imagine the shock. As soon as it was possible he hurried home, and found it too true. He had not then risen to fame, nor was his first wife in the profession, consequently few know that he has been twice married. His first was much older than himself. His parents were in humble circumstances, his father being parish clerk of Foots- cray. The boy John evinced a taste for music, and became the organist of that church at an early age, and there married. The thoughtless and sudden in- formation of his wife's death affected him deeply ; he wai so nervous that, at his especial request, the 92 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF manager asked me to go and live with him. 1 thought it my duty, under the circumstances, to comply ; and hence sprang up an intimacy and friendship of long standing. I found hira nervous, petulant, and irri- table, and he could not bear to be left alone. I have all my life had the character of being good-humoured and patient, qualities tliat were severely taxed by him, but somehow we got on pretty well together. He was a capital musician, and both sang at sight and played Avith great facility. As a proof of those faculties, I may mention that he sang professionally at the Catholic chapel in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. The head priest there had a brother who was chapel-master at the Vatican ; he had sent over a choice morceau which was much approved of by the Pope, and the priest much wished that Eeeves should sing it on the follow- ing Sunday. He glanced it over and said, " I'll sing it this morning if you like." " Oh, impossible to do it full justice !" " Try me ; if Watson will play the accompaniment, after looking it well over." It was agreed upon, and I don't think he looked at it again until a portion of the service admitted it to be sung. He did sing it, and with that holy calmness of effect which I'endered him so great in sacred singing. AN OLD ACTOR. 93 I am now about to relate that which may be ques- tioned ; but for its truth I have the authority of his own words. " Fred," he said to me, one day, " people say I have a fine tenor voice ; it's all humbug, mine is a baritone ; but the secret is, that I defy any one to tell iDlien I mount into my falsetto, because there is no perceptible break." Tins may be asserted to be rank blasphemy and falsehood, but it is true nevertheless, if I am to credit his own words. In practising he has often gone up to C in alt, to test if I could dis- cover a break ; nor did I. Many years after, in Exeter, I detected a positive break on two occasions ; but his voice had begun to suffer from time, and wear and tear. Speaking of his register — when young he always played Hecate, in " Macbeth," usually, nay always excepting in his case, assigned to the bass singrer. A Miss Atkinson was then starrincp with Templeton, in " La Sonnambula ;" he was assigned the part of Count Rodolph, and Miss Atkinson entered into a discussion with me as to his extended register. I was enthusiastic about him, and ridiculed Templeton as " not worthy to hold a candle to him. "Why, he can sing Hecate from its lowest note, and yet mount up to C in alt in the tenor clef." "Impossible," 94 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF she said, " no human voice can do it." This range was then comparatively unknown — another hint at progression, as many pupils of Verdi can testify. I asked Bland to invite her to tea ; his apartments were over ours, and we were all intimate. After a little conversation I slipped out of the room, and running down, I said, " Now, Jack (I always called him Jack), practice a little, and then pull out your upper notes." He was in a sulky mood, pacing like a caged tiger. "Is that y<?//o?^ up there?" (meaning Templeton). " Yes," I said, and ran Upstnirs. Shortly after I heard a few roulades, and heard his fingers running up several scales ; and then, as if the floor had been pierced suddenly, the clear, full, and perfect C in alt seemed to soar past us and upward. She listened, spell-bound ; and, drawing her breath, exclaimed, " Well, if I had not heard it myself I never could have believed it." Shortly after Templeton vanished. Talking of voices, it reminds me of a poor fellow — I forget his name — belonging to the same company, very ambitious to be a great singer; he was ever lamenting the want of a note or two in his lower register, convinced if he only had them it would con- stitute him the greatest singer of the age, and he was AN OLD ACTOR. 95 literally persuaded that it' he applied blisters to the soles of his feet it would draw his voice down to the required range, and the maniac was fool enough to try it. This again reminds me of a good bass singer in his time, one Hambleton. The old fellow lived to a great age, and latterly played old men in provincial theatres. When travelling in a stage-coach he was once over- turned, and rolled down an inclined bank into a ditch below. The company all thought him killed ; they descended hastily, in great terror, but found him on his back running the gamut ; coming to the lowest note, he exclaimed, "Thank Grod, my G is all right !" Fear gave way to laughter, and he was lifted out of the mud by light hearts. I became more and more enamoured with my pretty quakeress ; we nsed to quarrel sometimes, but Eeeves was always the mediator. He would say, after putting his feet upon the old-fashioned hob of those days, " Now you are all right I'll give you a song ;" he would troll out " The Thorn," " Tom Bowling," " Ye Heavenly Powers," or, what he liked best of all, "The Rose of Kildare." This song he never sang in public, but when he did in private, he did sbifj U. Still, his 96 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF " Pretty Jane," though so celebrated, was not a patch upon poor Robinson, who used to sing at Evans's Supper Rooms, Co vent Garden ; his trills and runs in " My Pretty Jane," and " Sally in our Ally," were never approached. And here allow me to remark that, with but trifling exceptions, all matters I speak of are from truthful and 'personal knowledge — not hearsay. While upon matters musical, let me say that Braham came down to star in a now exploded opera, called " The Devil's Bridge/' He, like Rubini, was the last of the florid school. During the opera he sang his celebrated picture song, " 'Tis but Fancy's Sketch ; " at its conclusion, being rapturously applauded, he advanced to the foot-lights, and said, with a modesty that did that great man honour, " Ladies and gentlemen, — At your request I have much pleasure in repeating the song, for, candidly, to my thinking, I have not sung it so well for the last seven years, and I am proud to find my poor efforts to please you are still appreciated." This, from a man who had entranced the public for the best part of a century, was as modest as I believe honest. I heard Mario about this time, in the " Elixir of Love ;" it AN OLD ACTOR. 97 was his first season in London, if not his first ap- pearance. He was a remarkably handsome young man. Grisi played the opposite part — I do not think it was her first season. These, too, have departed ; I, too, like the poor turtle, must sliortly wend my way. Tamburini, another of the florid school, I heard ; and remember Lablaclie, the great Lablaclie in every sense ; beautiful in feature, ponderous in figure, possessing a veritable organ voice — no one in my time has ever approached him — his unction, if I may use the word, passed all approach. Eubini was just leaving: the stag^e — still wonderful. Mario took Ms position in the musical world as Sims Eeeves followed Braham. I lived to see the farewell of Grisi and Mario — little did I dream of doing this — also Pasta's, a wonderfully luscious voice of the florid school too. Always an admirer of Sontag, this little wonder startled me five-and-twenty years after by returning to the scenes of her former triumphs. It is a pity to think, for the sake of lucre, she should have been hurried over continents and seas at her advanced age. She died, I believe, far from her native land — in the Andes, if my memory serves me rightly. From the lyric we naturally, by declension, come H 98 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF to the terpsicliorean art. Madame Montesseau Brignole, " the iron-toed," as she was called, Taglioni, Cerito, the sisters Elsler, Lucille Grahu — adieu, sweet memories of the past, never to be eclipsed. Tired of a bachelor's life, I resolved to become benedict — the married man. Hear this, ye fast young men and women of a fast age. 1 had 1/. 5*. per week, my intended had 306\ ; both well educated, sensitively alive to the value of delicate living and clothing, and yet upon this bare stij)end we honestly contrived to pay our way and live respectably in every sense. With this fragile capital we joined partnership, and the result proved the soundness of our calculations, for during the twenty-five years of our married life she became the mistress of five well- furnished houses, enjoyed every luxury, and taking her from the stage when I could afi'ord it, I earned more money in one twelvemonth than I ever thought to possess in twelve years. So, young ones, do as we did, and with that pure motive which actuated us, do not fear the result. One of the most important events in my life at last occurred, my wedding morning, and one to be remembered. I had ordered a new pair of trousers for the occasion, impressing AN OLD ACTOR. 99 upon the tailor that they must be of the latest fashion. I was up at six, the wedding was to be at eight. To my horror, I found my trousers were Jlesh-tiglit , and the tugs I had to force them on were horrible ; luckily, they were of the best West of England cloth and endured the strain bravely. Harcourt (ray " best man ") and I started ; we arrived at the private little gate I had bribed the sexton to open, in the church of St. Andrew, Newcastle-on-Tyne ; but, horror! no bride or bridesmaid; I hunted everywhere, and at last found them quietly admiring the interior. As I entered excitedly, I heard a murmur, and, looking up, saw the gallery half- full of people. Imagine our dis- may, to find our cunningly-devised plan had oozed out. In due time we stood at the altar. I was told that my ''I wUV rang resolutely through the build- ing, and a clear whisper reached my ear, " Doesn't he mean it !" We w^ere married on Saturday — another hint at progression — there being then no performance on that night ; now it is the best attended in the week — see time's changes. We received many kindly presents from all classes ; the carpenters of the theatre presented us with a large travelling chest of their own making ; even the aged door-keeper brushed H 2 loo RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF his wits and presented us with verses of his own, wishing us joy ; even the little girl of the house bought a large parcel of almonds and raisins out of her savings, and was so overjoyed that before dessert tirae came on she had eaten every one. These far-off recollections bring tears to my eyes. And now let me advise all about to marry never to take a bridesmaid into your matrimonial confidence. Deeply impressed with its sacred importance, I had many things to say and a thousand schemes to propose for the future. But Nemesis, in the shape of my bridesmaid, was ever at our elbow. She had made up her mind for a day, and a day she would have — the lady was Mrs. Bellair, of Australian celebrity, then Miss Newton. The following morning, about eight, I was aroused by a tap at the door, and a voice said, rather mys- teriously, " If you please, sir, two young women want to see you ; one has a child in her arms." I jumped gaily up, dressed quickly, my wife being ap- parently asleep. 1 descended — when (how she managed it has always been a m.ystery to me), no sooner had I closed the sitting-room door where stood the two young women, than the door was as suddenly opened, as quickly shut, and my wife, ap- AN OLD ACTOR. lor parently dressed, stood with her back to the door, and firmly, but with a suppressed quiver, said, " Pray, what do you want with my husband?'' It was tlie first time I had been so addressed, and it sounded deiiciously ennobling. " If you please, ma'am," said the young woman with the child in her arms, " I heard you were married to this gentleman yesterday morning." " I was ; nobody can deny that I suppose," was tlie tart reply. '' No, ma'am, for I see'd it myself." " You did, did you ? Well, I'm sure !" "Yes, ma'am, and I'm in hopes the master will buy a gallon of the best smuggled brandy ever tasted — and here it is," placing the bladder on the table. I don't know what induced my wife to do so, but slie seized the baby in her arms and covered it witli kisses ; but to my delight, though somewhat to my surprise at her reckless extravagance, she purchased the brandy. As soon as they had left she threw herself into my arms and burst into a torrent of tears. I was in a complete mist, but soothed her as well as I could. " Oh, my darling," she at last said, " I thought the child was yours !" The cat was out of the bag, and I roared. By-the-way, a laughable incident occurred on my I02 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF wedding night. We had retired for the night, when suddenly I heard Sims Eeeves singing, " Look forth, look forth, ray Fairest !" and tipsily joined in by the male portion of the company. I quietly raised the window, and seizing the water-jug, emptied the con- tents over them, exclaiming, " Here, take this casket, it is worth thy pains !" We had played the " Mer- chant of Venice " the night before ; they understood it, and departed quicker than they came, their merry laugh echoing through the silence of the night. At the termination of the season Reeves went to Drury Lane as second singer. He wrote to say he had achieved a signal triumph. It seems that " Acis and Galatea" was to be produced, and Allan (first tenor) possessed a sweet voice, but with little power. He failed in giving due effect in " Sound an Alarm." The manasrer ordered it to be cut out. This the leader protested against, when Eeeves stepped forward, and said he was up in the music and would sing it if they would allow him. They did, and he per- fectly electrified them ; he sang it nightly, and from that moment his star was in the ascendant. At the end of the season, after playing Lubin, in " The Quaker," &c., he was strongly advised to go to Italy. AN OLD ACTOR. 103 A lady at Foots Cray lent or gave him the mone}'' (he being without funds) ; he informed me of this by letter, and terminated the same by adding— " What is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep ; A shade that follows wealth and fame, But leaves the wretch to weep !" Adding, " This will never be the case with us, for our friendship is eternal." He was a true prophet afjainst himself ; for fame called him to brighter fields, and I doubt if he ever bestowed a thought upon the writer, who had to toil up the ladder of preferment, never reaching the topmost round, tliough years after I believe we honestly rejoiced to meet each other. We removed to Birmingham on an increase of salary, and for three years we remained there, each year increasing in salary. Creswick was the leading man, then growing up in years ; he afterwards became a partner with Sheppard, of the Surrey Theatre, I wished to settle in life ; in fact, I wanted to be a householder — pardon my ambitious views. One Sunday — " the better the day the better the deed " — sickened with lodgings, I took a stroll, and, to my surprise, 1 saw the following placard, " This house to be let, four shillings and sevenpence per week." I04 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF The houses were small, to be sure, but neat and genteel, with the imposing cognomen of "Victoria Terrace." I could not believe my own eyes ; I asked a neighbour if the announcement was true. " Yes," replied the feminine, " and nice houses they are too." This Aladdin palace consisted of a pretty garden in front, a parlour, kitchen, and two bed-rooms, a yard, back kitchen, and outhouse, with cellar. After an arrangement with the landlord, for the first time ia our lives we became master and mistress of an esta- bUshneni. Nobly did we pinch, and nobly did we add, for in six months we had a prettily-furnished residence; so one day I invited Charles Webb and his wife (both clever) to dinner. Charley said, " What a duck of a place ! But where do you stow away the landlady ?" " There she stands," I said, pointing to my wife. " Ah, you dog," said he, " you have been left a legacy." "No, every penny saved from my salary, and all bought and paid for." " And I have been six years here," said he, " and have not one pound in my pocket. What a lesson !" It was a lesson ; for he started a house upon no capital, feasted and revelled, and at the end of six months was sold up. They were kindly people, though without thought. AN OLD ACTOR. 105 About this time auother horrible occurrence shook Eugland almost to its centre ; I allude to the fearful atrocities called Burking. They were so called because committed by two murderers named Burke and Hare ; these wretches used to get a horrible living by robbing the graves of their dead and disposing of them to doctors for dissection, and when the demand became more than the supply they scrupled not to murder living victims by Burking some and drugging others, and afterwards immersing them head foremost in cold water to draw forth the poison, then sell them to the doctors. At last, to the relief of the nation, they were discovered ; thus a sudden stop was put to such degrading atrocities. Burke was hanged. Hare escaping by turning Queen's evidence. I have spoken much of the progression I have witnessed in my brief day, but some appear to take a retrograde movement. Fashion and manners, I note, take freaks and antics, and that which appears be- comino: and attractive in one asce in another seems disgusting and repellant. Hair, in my young days, was luxuriant and flowing, and the cause is obvious ou reflection. For years and years powder and false wigs literally stopped the growth of the natural hair, io6 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF and thus were mothers taught to give freedom to their offsprings natural ornament, and it became as fashionable to display the proper formation of the head as before it had been studiously avoided. It M^as scarcely possible to add false hair in the later period of George the Third's reign, and this was carried throughout George the Fourth's, William's, and the earlier period of Victoria's rule. Hair became luxuriant and flowing, and that which would be a wonder now, excited no astonishment then. Towers of false hair rise upon the fountain head of vitality — the brain, and by its heavy pressure on the respiratory organs of the head, put an end to all fertility ; and many an ardent lover, in these days, would start with horror to find bald patches where verdure should naturally appear. When, again, will chignons make way for Nature ? Lord Glengall, the author of the " Irish Tutor," and other popular farces — one or two were written for me and were popular — told me that not only music, dancing, and riding, were taught in his day, but also how to enter a room or carriage, flirt a fan, or lioio to present and take snuff. The manner for the due ceremony of taking snuff, thus — the box was grasped by the centre of the left hand, fingers, and AN OLD ACTOR. 107 thumb, the right arm was advanced archways, the right foot pointed in the second position inviting a pinch and salute; after acceptance, simultaneously, both parties applied the snufF to nose, right hand and arm extended straight from the shoulder ; the handkerchief was then drawn out and passed gracefully over the nose whilst performing the salute. Thus swearing, vulgar coarseness, and the obscenity that was the ton in Smollet's time, was banished, while stiff and stilted ceremony became the rage ; this, in its turn, gave way to the purified rule of natural grace which is so distinctive under Victoria's rule. Thus changes are accepted as wonderful in their effect as lucifer matches, iron-clads, or Nasmyth hammers. It was a sight indeed, before railways were fully developed, to see the mail coaches assembled for the despatch of letters, the only remnant of that stamp is to be seen in perfec- tion when the Four-in-Hand Club turns out in full force. Inventive powers are certainly more encouraged and more eagerly accepted than formerly. Wlmt years of patient perseverance under a great pressure and difficulty, before tlie Peel's, Ackroyd's, and other celebrated manufacturers could use, nay, even patent, their inventions. CHAPTER VIT. 1835 TO 1840. "VTOW came a strange turn in life. Who has not experienced it ! Macreadj came down to star. We had long and wearied rehearsals, and, being in the vacation, receiving no salary, myself and wife happened to sit for our portraits ; and, as few of the company had attended, we, always being punctual, thought we might miss one day. Ah ! fatal day for us ! Simpson, the manager, a testy man (I speak of the elder), dismissed us. I deliberately went to the back of the stage, placed my foot upon a particular jDlank, and solemnly pledged my oath I would never tread those boards again unless T returned a " star." Little did I think that pledge would be fulfilled. One night we played a piece called " The Sea, the Sea ; or the Ocean Child." I had to make my appearance as coming from the mast-head by a rope. They asked me to try it. " No," said I; " but RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS. 109 if anybody else can do it, I'll do it." One of the car- penters volunteered ; I watched him closely, and coolly said, " All right." We played some piece in which a large car had been used, which prevented me coming down from the first gallery above the proscenium, so I had to ascend another flight, which greatly increased tlie difficulty. Imagine my terror, seated on a narrow bridge and looking down into the abyss below, above fifty feet. Luckily, the carpenter was with me ; he twisted the rope carefully round my leg. " Now, sir," said he, " for God's sake don't untwist it, and go hand over hand ; for if you try to slip down you will be dashed to pieces." At last I heard my cue, and, with a silent prayer, I commenced my perilous journey. I went on and on until I thought I must have passed the stage and was descending below the stage ; but the light in- creased, the audience, when they saw my feet, gave a cheer. I quickened my pace, the ap^^lause in- creasing, and with a rollicking sailor leap bounded down to the captain. My peril was rewarded by three cheers, and I felt I could have come down from St. Paul's. I have never tried it since, and I do not want to do so. no RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF Wright, the celebrated comic actor, of the Adelphi Theatre, London, came down with Paul Bedford to " star \' they were both very clever, but inveterate " gaggers." It so happened that they did not draw ; and as Simpson, the manager, always looked sharply after the pounds, shillings, and pence, he, to their horror, put up " Itob lioy." Wright was cast for Bailie Nicol Jarvie, and Paul Bedford for Captain Galbraith. We could see from the rehearsal that very little of the text would he said by them. Miss H. Coveny, since then a London favourite, was the maid ; she spoke Scotch perfectly, but Wright was thoroughly abroad. Giving him a handkerchief, she says, " Pet this roun' yer thrapple." " And what's a 'thrapple?' " said Wright. The idea of a Scotchman not knowino; that it meant throat auoured well for " the Bailie's hraid Scofch." In the clachan scene I heard shout upon shout, and rushed to see what was going on upon the stage. Wright had a red-hot poker in his hand, and Paul Bedford was fully alive to the business — no pantomimist in the world, not even Grimaldi, could have revelled as they did. I heard a whining voice behind me groaning out, " Seeing what I have seen, seeing what I see ! Oh, AN OLD ACTOR. m Lord forgive them, for they know uot what they do!" It was Dickey Hughes, from Drury Lane, christened "Miserable Dickey," for his general discon- tentedness. He dined with us once upon goose, and went to sleep immediately after ; on awaking, " Mr. Hughes," said I, "how did you like the goose?" "Middling," said he; "I'm partial to turkey." He was an earnest hater of managers. " I hate the whole set," said he, " the first 5/. note I ever saved I nailed to the bottom of my box, and said with gusto, ' Now, I am independent of the boiling lot.' " It would have been wiser if he had put it in the Savings Bank. Speaking of Miss Coveny brings the family to mind. Thev were all clever, but cold. Jane would play Juliet one night, or Nan, in " Good for Nothing;" nothing came amiss ; Lady Macbeth, or an opera part ; nay, I believe if asked to go on for clown, pantaloon, or harlequin, she would have done it. Never failing to be useful, she never achieved greatness. I met poor Coveny soon after his wife's death, and asking him how he was, he to\ichingly replied, " I am walking about the world with one half of me cut off!" And yet they led a cat and dog life. So much for habit. Harriet, the younger, is clever. 112 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF Few know how severely the brain is taxed. Mr. Harrison, Miss Eainforth, and Alfred Mellon, after- wards a celebrated leader and composer (who, unfortunately, died young) — well, they produced the " Elixir of Love." Simpson one morning tapped me on the shoulder, and said, " I want you to play Sergeant Belcore on Friday (this was on Wednesday) ; don't say you can't do it, because I know you can." " Sir," I said, " Mr. Manly is a singer, I am not ; and, besides, he has had the music for one fortnight ; how can I do it in two days ?" They surrounded me, palavered me, pushed the score into ray hands, and there I stood dumb with astonishment. In my despair I thought of Jane Coveny — " she reads well, I will hear what it's about." Jane was at dinner, but hearing the circumstance, replied, " What a shame ! Don't despair, there's a piano in the green room ; send us some tea, mother, and I'll pull him through." We devoted every moment to it that night — on Thursday, by the aid of the score before me, got through it respectably ; on Friday I rehearsed with- out it, and at night I so acquitted myself, that Webb, who was in front, said, " You were as much at home as any of them." But, to my deep mortification, AN OLD ACTOR. 113 Miss Eainforth said, laughingly, " Ah, you have phiyed it before !" Now comes the sequel. That night I was writhing on my bed in agonies. " Oh, my poor fellow," said the doctor, who had been sent for, " who has been so cruelly torturing 3'ou ?" T explained the circumstance. " Ah, no wonder," said he, " but no relief for three or four hours, I regret to say ;" so I had to suffer. This feat of playing and singing the part of Belcore in two days may be nothing to a singer and musician, but seeing I was neither, it may be recorded without vanity. Our next destination was Bristol, under the banner of the celebrated Mrs. Macready, stepmother to the renowned " Mac " himself Our salary was small, and our savings 2/. 12-^. (with no salary for the first fortnight), with ourselves and a hungry, healthy son to provide for, yet our da3^s were passed in the fields, laughing merrily and romping gaily. Ah, ye who think llie actor's life is passed in idleness and dissipa- tion, hear this truthful confession, and blush that 3'ou should ever malign a profession that in the heavy criminal calender is unknown. No actor yet was ever hanged! What other profession, trade, or even creed can say this ? Mrs. Macready was in the habit of I 114 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF calling lier actors meii, commonl}' saying, "You manr to them. I found her a most exemplary woman, eccentric, but kind. At the end of the season the company removed to Wales, reducing each salary to \l. \s. per week. By this time I had become known, and had little difficulty in finding an engagement, so I would not go, I went to say good-by to her ; I found her in the green-room, with lier bare arms, washinfT a chandelier, then much used in theatres. Telling her I was leaving, she said, " No, no, no !" "Yes, yes!" said I. "You shan't." "I shalL" " You won't." " I will." Eubbing her side vigorously, and the last words I heard echoing through the theatre were, " Come back, you man !" The Bristol w^omen, as a rule (so people say), are not handsome. Queen Elizabeth vented her spleen upon them, for some offence given, by saying she would not condemn her bitterest enemy to marry a Bristol w^oman, they were so cold ; but I can record one instance of affection unparalleled. The master of the house where we stayed died ; he v^ras eighty-five years old, his wife nearly the same age ; she, too, was confined to her bed in another part of the house. The news of his death had been carefully kept from her; AN OLD ACTOR. 115 but just before placing him iu his coffin they thought it right to tell her. Her ^^outh seemed suddenly restored ; with lightning swiftness she ran to him, clasped the corpse in her arms, pressed his lips fondly, called him all the endearing names affection could suggest, nursed him as she would a baby to her breast — in sliort, it required all our united strength to tear her from him ; and, with a last despairing look and agonising cry, I shall never forget, we bore her to her bed, from which she never rose again. Fear not, Bristol men, to wed women of that metal. Our next move was to Manchester. What a world of thought seems to rise at the mention of that word — the whirring wheel, the bus}' shuttle, their progress — not in measured track, but in gigantic march, bringing into notoriety and wealth the nobodies of yesterday. Veril}^, the Manchester people are the back- bone of England, of which they are proud, but ra/Z^cr too proud. It reminds me of an anecdote which fits their feeling to a T. A celebrated merchant there put up as a member of Parliament. His speech on the hustings was brief, pithy, and to tlie purpose. '* My lads," said he, '" I'm not much of a talker, but I stinks I 2 1 1 6 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF o' brass, and that's enougli for theeP' The Brass carried the day against brains. Mr. Egerton, the manager of the Queen's Theatre, made me an offer, and, to my astonishment, on my arrival I found my name in large letters. Such honours were then scarcer than they are now. A tragical circumstance occurred which shocked me much. One evening "Lillian, the Show Girl" was announced, and during the piece a pistol had to be fired. One of the company who played old man was descending from his dressing-room ; the contents of the pistol lodged in his heart, and he rolled dead into the green-room. It afterwards transpired that the property man (whose duty it was to charge the pistol), not having any paper handy, crammed a piece of calico as wadding into the barrel, hence the terrible accident. I found I was especially engaged to support Mrs. Honey, the star of my admiration, whom I first met at the Strand Theatre in the " Loves of tlie Angels." I found her frank, good-natured, and without a spark of pride. Mrs. Honey opened in " The Will," pla}^- ing Amanda Manderville. When dressed as a mid- shipman she found the stairs too steep to ascend or AN OLD ACTOR. 117 descend easily, and one night she looked imploringly at me — "You are a married man, and I may trust you," she said ; " will you carry me down stairs ? for I am afraid of these ' tliingamies,' " pointing to her trousers. I laughingly carried her down — a dangerous proceeding if I had not truly loved ray wife. As a lad I should have thought much of it. To be a celebrity was, I found, rather a dangerous matter, for I received another tempting offer to play " Mungo Park, the African Explorer;" but judge of my horror when I arrived in Sheffield — it was to play with Carter, '' the Lion King." In vain I implored to be relieved from my engagement ; it had been duly signed, and with a sad heart I assented. The theatre for the nonce had been turned into a bear-garden, and on visiting it I heard a succession of growls, shrieks, and yells. The animals had quarrelled, and the scene was one of the most terrific imaginable. I saw sud- denly a commanding man appear amongst them, armed with a whip, which he vigorously applied right and left to their noses, his jirincipal aim. Soon all was peace, and the rehearsal commenced, when I found I must become veritably acquainted with these ferocious animals. A leopard had to descend from a cave in the T 1 8 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF ravine, which was in fact his cage concealed, lick the face of Carter, a la Androcles, while I was to frater- nise in the most approved form of intimacy by taking his paw in mine. To my delight I found his claws had been removed, so my fear vanished, for the drugged beast was as tame as a kitten. A lady had to stand upon the lion's back while I and Carter, one on each side, were to prevent a hungry grab at the lady. " In for a penny, in for a pound," said I, " 111 go in for the chances." To do the animal justice, he did not take a fancy to either. One night, Carter having to drive the lion across the stage, harnessed to an ancient chariot, a piece of meat was given him to keep him quiet, but, unluckily, it had a bone in it ; this bone he clung to, and would not go on. Carter unwisely struck the brute, who turned, seized him by the thigh, and, by a miracle, was pre- vented making his teeth meet, or all would have been over. He led him forward, and I, unconscious of danger, patted the animal ; but no sooner had the curtain descended than Carter fainted, was carried off, and for more than a fortnight his life was despaired of He was a remarkably handsome man, full six feet two inches high. I asked him if he ever felt fear. AN OLD ACTOR. 119 " Never," said lie, " while performing ; but in the depths of night and in silence I feel as if his fangs one day will drag me to a horrible death." This, luckily, never occurred, for he retired from such a life, married a wealth}'' pawnbroker's daughter, and died, I regret to say, young, from rapid consumption, a disease you never could imagine would linger in a frame apparently so strong. I met in Sheffield one of the celebrities of the day, and a remarkable man in many respects — -his name was Daly. He had married a famous singer, called Madame Castaglioni ; she had talent, but fell a victim to his rapacity for gain. She was hurried through the country ; posters flew in all directions ; and it was usual with him to announce three concerts a day, one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and the other at night ; thus the poor creature, after giving one concert, was hurried into a post-chaise dressed in her finery, to be in time for the next — travelling fifteen miles or more. Imagine the time left for repose or food ! Being engaged to play Ariel at the Surrey Theatre, in " The Tempest," she caught cold from a damp stage, forced her voice beyond its power, lost it, and thus closed a wretchedl}' brilliant career. Once 120 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF on a trial a man was called to vouch for the respectability of a criminal : " Upon what grounds do you do so?" said the judge. "Why, my \q>y{^, because lie owns a gig^ For some such reason, this man, Dal}^ was most anxious to impress me with Ms respectability. He was an Irishman. " What's the raison ye shun me?" said he. "By jabers, you're mighty cool; perhaps yer don't think I'm respectable ; wait till a while ago, and I'll soon prove that." Presently he returns, and, running his fingers through a bag of gold and silver, screamed, " There's over 400/. in that bag; doesn't that prove I'm respectable ?" " God made the country and man made the town !" I said, looking from the hills above Sheffield ; for a lovelier valley could scarcely be imagined before it was defaced by the hand of man. Now, instead of verdure and charming undulations, belching chimneys and muddy streams and general dirtiness render 3^ou sick, and j^ou heartily wish that all could be swept away that defaces such beauty, so that Nature might again assert her sway and bloom in perennial glory. Here, too, the cholera raged with unsuppressed fury. Scarcely a house was untouched by the destroying angel, or a heart uurent in that thriving cit3\ AN OLD ACTOR. 121 Happy days of innocent mirth and pleasurable toiling were passed there. From Sheffield we went to Wolverhampton, an uninteresting town with un- interesting surroundings. The managers were Wid- dicombe and Dillon. Widdicombe, one of tlie most genuine comedians I have ever met with ; his facial expression was something wonderful, and his chuckle irresistible. The said chuckle, which set the table in a roar, he inherited from his mother, a celebrated black equestrienne. His father was the ring-master at Astley's, and the vainest man I ever saw — or ever shall see. He positively wore stays, and had pro- minently painted cheeks, lips, and eyebrows ; this, with a curled wig and outre dressing, rendered him an objec;t of ridicule to all. His son, fortunately, had no trace of it, being frank and free. Astley's ! What a flood of r(3Collections pour forth at the bare mention of its name ! The deliirht of my boyish days, the acme of all perfected enjoyment, to my youthful thinking — " Mazeppa," " Waterloo,'^ the " Kyber Pass," who can forget, having once witnessed them ? "Shaw, the Jjife Guardsman," and "Molly Malone" — oh, ye powers of memory! But somehow it struck me, even then, that there was a 122 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF leelle too much firing, and I firmly believe it was the cause of the decadence, for women and children don't like to be bumped ofi" their seats by constant platoon firing. Ducrow was the most graceful horseman I have ever seen ; there was a poetry of expression in his action never excelled. He was also an unapproach- able stage-manager, having a great eye to the pic- turesque distribution of masses. It was his custom to purchase a new hat the last day of rehearsing a new piece. He would craftily call attention to its gloss, shape, fit, &c., enlarging at the same time upon its cost. When he came to his grand effects and anything went wrong, he would deliberately give his hat a crushing blow, and cry, " There goes Is. Qd. !" " Try again. ^' They generally did it better the second time. Failing in another effect, he takes off' his hat, and rubbing it furiously, growls, " There goes 15*., darn it; try again." But when the climax came, and all went wrong, he would dash the remnants down, and vigorously jumping on them, yell, "There goes 1/. \s. ; try again, and do it, or darn ye I'll smash the lot !" — and they did try, and did it well. Old Astley was a famous man in his day. He had a celebrated trick horse called Punch, who, after a AN OLD ACTOR. 123 variety of gambols witli the clown, would thrust his head and neck through a napkin, made for the purpose, then sit down to a well-spread table, knock his hoof on the table as a hint to look sharp, and a warnino- to the clown, who was his attendant ; he would furiously seize with his mouth a bell-pull (beli- pulls were then common in every house) ; he would eat whatever was put before him., mock turtle — i.e., bran mash — a bread fo'vl, beans, turnips, carrots, and oats, &c., dignified by choice terms French dishes ; then, taking a kettle in his mouth by the handle, would "pour out some water in a punch bowl, seize a trick bottle made for the purpose and marked "brandy," pour it into the punch bowl, and de- liberately lap, nodding — good health to the clown — then waltz gaily, and finally fall down as a drunken man would. This scene used to elicit rounds of ap- plause — in fact, Punch was one of the stars of the company. Old Astley concocted a scheme to send some of his big people into the provinces, and amongst them Punch, They exhibited with varied success until they reached Belfast, where, from bad manage- ment, they collapsed. Telegraphs were not invented then ; bad weather and other causes prevented Astley 124 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF hearing the sad news ; ruthless creditors seized the effects and stud, and amongst them poor Punch was hauled off and sold at a horse fair. All traces of him were lost, but though lost to sight he was to memory dear, for on Astley hearing Punch was not to be traced, he advertised as largely as he could in those days of limited inquiry. But Punch had vanished. About eight years aftei", going into a low quarter of the town, he saw in a costermonger's cart^ — a poor, cast-down, abject creature, the bones protruding throuo-h the skin — a wretched semblance of his lost a but beloved Punch. Astley paused in doubt, then tremulously muttered, " Punch." The animal pricked up his ears, stood up on his hind legs, upsetting the costermonger and the contents of his cart, then waltzed up to his old master. The meeting was a strange one, but positively affecting. Astley 's " down, sir," was instantly obeyed ; Punch's neck was as in- stantly grasped, the caresses of the horse and the manager blended, and the recognition was complete. " Well, I'm dashed," said the costermonger, " he is the devil, and no greens ; everybody swears it, and so will I." "Will you part with the animal?" said Astley. " Will I ? won't I ? and glad to get rid of AN OLD ACTOR. 125 him. Ob, lord, sir, don't have anything to do with him ; he's a born devil. The tales I've ^erd about that there Uanm^^X is enough to take yer 'air houi hy the roots; why, if ever he sees a kettle on the fire he'll rush in, he'll seize it, and commence all sorts o' games ; every bell-pull he sees, up goes his 'oof on to the table, and there he tugs and bangs till table or bell comes to smash. If the band plays in the street, he waltzes like a natarel Christian, and then pretends to fall dead as a herring." He was re- purchased by his old master for a live-pound note, well fed and tended, and in less than a month Punch was at his old post, ringing bells and drinking brandy- and-water daily. CHAPTEE VITI. 1821. ^HOSE who for the first time come upon the starthng fact that Mrs. Wigan was the daughter of Mr. Usher, the mountebank, will exclaim, that's not true ! He was a man of an intense love of money, and it was his habit to go with his assistants about fifteen miles from the town he was starrina- at to exhibit his feats in the daylight to the country people, thereby making a lot of money. The pantaloon, who, by the vvay, was a character, told me that he had chalked the rope she was in the habit of dancing upon hundreds of times, and many admirers of that talented lady will be as startled as I was, when I learnt that her first introduction to a London audience was as the ape in "La Perouse." Her subsequent rise in her profession, which made her famous and respected, was as justly due to her RAND OM RE COLLECTIONS. 1 2 7 talent, and equally justified Mr. Alfred Wigan's choice. Those who think I wish to lower them are egregiously mistaken ; for the very difficulties they had in their struggles to light gives a peculiar interest and charm to their elevation, which interest becomes the more intense by its peculiarity. Suffice it they became world-famous, and they deserved it, for, subsequently, the highest in the land patronised them, and many noble friends visited them in {)rivate. Alfred Wigan was rather reticent, with excellent taste and tact ; he was much petted by the nobilit}^, and this he owed principally to his father, who was a popular courier and famous for his enlivening manner, which gave him great influence with his titled employers. Naturally, he would talk of his boy, then rising into notice as an actor of growing fame. This led to an interest in him, afterwards an introduction, wliicli ripened into intimacy. He used to give petite suppers, but never offended his titled friends by dispUiy ; they were of Spartan simplicity, impromptu, and ap- parently without preparation ; the cloth was laid, delicious bread and butter in profusion, and bottled stout, lobster salads, and a tub of oysters ; a man fault- 128 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF lessly dressed in white linen, would open the juicy bivalves, and all was merriment and content. Miss Pincott, so-called to hide the Usheronian descent, was a great favourite of Madame Yestris from her unspotted conduct and ability. Her only fault — her longing for high society — which was fully gratified when she attained eminence ; this was at times carried to a ludicrous extent. I was with them when at the Olympic under Watt's management. One morning she said to me, " I am really at a loss what lio-ht refreshment to g"et Alfred for lunch durinj]: rehearsal." " Wh}^," said I, " let him pop into Short's and get a glass of sherry and a bun." " And where is Short's ?" she asked, with wonder. " Oh, just opposite Somerset House, and very resjDectable." " What !" she almost screamed, " my Alfred enter a public house — never ! Drink tavern wine ! Oh, dear no ! He never drinks any other than Duff Gordon's sherry ; we do that out of compliment to him. You are aware he is godfather to my boy." At another time we were discussing a point as to whether Shakspeare meant the Forest of Arden in England, or Ardennes in France. " Oh, / can settle that point," she said, with confidence, " for my darling AN OLD ACTOR. 129 friend, Sarah, you know, the Duchess of , gave me some Brussels lace made in that very forest." Her love of fine friends was her only fault, for she would drag them before you head and heels, by hook or by crook ; but you forgot all in admiration of her talent. About this time died one of the most rapid and vivacious dancers I have ever seen. Her sword dance, hornpipe, &c., were of lightning rapidity. The nearest approach to it was Lydia Thompson, but far distant. With her the old style may have been said to die. She retired early, having attracted the Duke of Brunswick's attention. She died young, to the regret of her many admirers. Her father played old man in Manchester, and, though a ratlier temperate man, earned for himself, from his social habit, the unen- viable title of the "King of the Drunkards." Being somewhat ambitious, I resolved to become a manager, so fixed upon a little theatre at a place called Stourbridge. I collected a very clever company. We had the theatre thoroughly cleansed — for I am a great believer in soap and soda ; our decorations were inexpensive, consisting principally in whitewash and rose pink, with a few flowers, and a good deal of Dutch metal. This bold attcmi)t to look respectable K I30 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF obtained the good-will of the Stourbridgeans, which will I retain to this day. Jenny Lind was the popular vocalist of the day, and a piece had been written called " Jenny Lind at Last." We announced for our opening pieces, " Don Csesar de Bazan," and " Jenny Lind at Last." I had in my company a pretty young girl, with a mass of golden hair — now a popular favourite in London — she was to be the Jenny Lind. I was sitting in a disconsolate mood, fearing the failure of my scheme, when a rapid knock startled me, and some one said, " For goodness sake tell the master to come and open the doors, or they'll pull the theatre down ; there's such a crowd." I rushed through the crowd, who cheered me ; no time for checks, so I took the money in my pockets as best T could, until all quieted down. Both pieces went off to perfection. And wonder upon wonders, everybody believed it was the veritable Swedish Nightijigale. I was cautious neither to admit or deny it, and to this very day many believe they heard Jenny Lind. The lady in question is the mother of MissIrvin,thepopular actress. Dillon came down to star — a very clever man, but then fearfully careless ; his opening piece was " Othello." Being my first start as a manager, you AN OLD ACTOR. 131 may believe that my stock of dresses was not elabo- rate. Dillon came in late, and whistling. " Where's my dress ?" said he, with great nonchalance. " Yonr dress !" said I, aghast ; " Stars always find their own dresses." " Haven't one," he replied, coolly stroking his moustache ; there was nothing to be done but make the Duke's dress do duty for Othello, the Duke shifting as he could ; and after splitting the dress, and bursting a pair of crimson velvet shoes, which I valued, worked with gold and costly, the piece went oif with general satisfaction. After it was over I expostulated with him about bis remiss- ness. "Oh, my boy," said he, "that's nothing; I once played Don Caesar de Bazan in tights and a blanket. The manager had no spare room, so, out of courtesy, he divided one with a blanket ; he had no dress to spare, so, being without, I twisted the blanket round me toga fashion, and I never knew a piece go better." So much for high art culture and careless- ness. This I had from Dillon's own lips. I had many in that company since celebrated — ^Irs. Davenport (then Miss Fanny Vining) at a salary of 30.'?. ; George Vining (her cousin, and the celebrated manager of the Princess's, London), at 25s. ; Miss Charlotte K 2 132 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF Saunders (since then a universal favourite) at 1/. \^.\ Robertson (the celebrated author of " Caste," " School," &c., for " second heavies "), at 1/, per week ; and many more who would now turn up their noses at twenty times that sum. Thus the whirligig of time brings in its revenges. Poor Robertson died young, and on the threshold of fame ; his death was a sad loss to literature, for had he lived doubtless a great future was before him. An engagement for Glasgowintroduced me to a great celebrity, Alexander, or " Alic," as he was familiarly called. I opened as Edgar in " Lear;" and Jeremiah Bumps. The low comedian has to come on singing, " Here the conquering Hero Comes." To my conster- nation I heard two voices, and I saw a tall gentleman arm-in-arm with the General. As Newton approached the wing the strange gentleman retired, bowing, and, with pompous dignity, he said, "Welcome to my pro- perty!" This was the first taste I had of that cele- brated man's eccentricity. This brought to my mind the renowned Simpson, of Vauxhall, who, with toe pointed and hand extended, used to walk round the different refreshment boxes, and exclaim, " Welcome to the royal property !" It was so ludicrously like AN OLD ACTOR. 133 him that I roared witli laug^liter. Soon after comlncr off the stage he slapped me on the back ; I dug him under the ribs with my thumb. " You'll do," said he ; and from that moment we became fast friends. His wife was a treasure and a blessing to him, and both were bent on saving money. Gras was a heavy item, and prayed upon his mind ; if he could slyly put a burner down he was delisrhted. Once, seeing^ a liirht flaring in an out-of-the-wa}^ passage, he tried to reach it, but to no purpose ; in vain he jumped in despair ; seeing his wife approaching, he pointed to the light, exclaiming, "Make a back, ma'am;" she obediently did so, he as quickly jumped up, lowered the light, and was satisfied. Once, before he rose to fortune, he had a rival in the same building, he on the lower floor, Seymour (his rival) above. The " Stranger " was a favourite character with him. They had quarrelled ; so for spite Seymour put up " Der Frieschutz,'' and when Alexander most desired silence for the develop- ment of the pathos tlie row commenced above, crash- ing of bullets, screams, chains, drums, trumpets, and goodness knows what culminating in hullabaloo. Alic could stand it no longer ; coming down to the foot- lights, and in the broadest Scotch, he said, " Scotch- 134 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF men, if you love your country uphold my dignity, and expel \X\dX foreigner!''' Now Seymour was an Irish- man. Do you see the joke? At one time there was a strange mania for dog "stars." Coney and Blanchard, pantomimists, had a celebrated dog called " Nero," whose talent they in- troduced in a piece called " The Dog of Montargis." They were announced in Glasgow at the Eoyal, and great was the excitement ; but from some accident tliey did not arrive from Liverpool. A great house had assembled, and Alicknew well that three parts of the house would demand their money back. But he was up to the emergency — rushing into the street he seized hold of a lank and miserable sheep dog, tied a rope tightly round him, and passed the rope across the stage to the cottage the dog was supposed to run to, barking, to attract attention to a murder just com- mitted. The dog should ilienpidl the hell-rope, out comes an old woman, the dog seizes her by the ajDron, snatches the lantern from her hand, and forces her to follow him. In the previous scene the audience had been worked up to an immense pitch of excitement, and all were eagerly waiting to see the wonderful dog that had been so much talked about. Suddenly they AN OLD ACTOR. 135 heard A lie's voice, which they well knew. " Bark, sir, bark. Denna ye hear your cue ; ye fool, bark, sir." Not a note would he utter. " Ye blather- skins, but I'll make ye." Suddenly they heard a kick, vigorously applied, and a howl that shook the build- ing ; this sounded well and elicited a tremendous round of applause, which subsided — and laughter took its place. On hearing Alic in great excitement scream, " Pull, Mary Dallas, ye dromedary ; pull ye deevils, where's Jock ? Pull for your lives." They heard a suffocating whine, and saw a lanky, miserable dog, slowly dragged across the stage, and barking with all his might — then literally hung up to the door. The bell was violently rung behind the scenes — out comes the old woman — but by this time the audience saw the sell — screams, laughter, hisses, catcalls, &c. " Ah, Alic," the gallery boys exclaimed, " up to yer tricks again ;" he briskly steps forward, gave them a laugh- able speech — a bit of the Tullochgorum, with Alic's celebrated step, and all was well — and, what was better, not a shilling demanded back. Mrs. Ternan, nee Miss Jarm.an, could not get dressed quick enough. She sent to say so. " Nae waits for me," said Alic, and, seizing a carpenter, screamed out, 136 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF " Mary Dallas, bring me a sailor's jacket ; quick, ye dromedary." He as quickly sent a boy to tell the leader to play up a hornpipe. The carpenter became tremblingly alive to the situation. " Pit on the jacket, Jock," said he. " Ech, sir, I canna dae it." " Houd your tongue, ye limmer, and pit it on," and forced the jacket on him. " Eing up," said Alic. Up went the curtain, and giving the carpenter a push that sent him reeling on, from sheer fright, and the threats of Alic, he improvised a wild hornpipe ; the curtain descended with roars of laughter. His purpose accomplished, Alic was happy. He could never bear incompetence or want of life in male or female ; if so, he would use his arm as if turning a mangle, saying, " Wind 'em up." In play- ing Young Eapid to his Old One, nothing pleased him so well as when I was driving him round the stage, jumping over the table when talking, or over his head when making my exit ; he would cry all the time, "Wind 'em up, you'll do, you'll do." One evening on coming off he turned to me seriously, and said, " Whenever you make your appearance in London I'll be there," and he kept his word ; and what was more strange, being fond of money, he paid AN OLD ACTOR. 137 for a private box, though one was at his disposal gratis. He amassed over 60,000/., besides the pro- perty and theatre, which brought something like another 100,000/., bought for a railway station, being central. Thus from nothing he rose to independence. Born to be a worker, rest killed him ; for soon after his retirement good Alic departed for a better land ! Peace to his manes. In Manchester I opened in Mercutio, the sisters Cushman being the Romeo and Juliet. There were many clever people in that company, amongst them Hoskins, who has achieved honour and profitable repute in Australia. Knowles, the manager of the Theatre Royal, Manchester, had a nickname of " It mun be done." I was cast in a farce I did not like, and appealed to the stage manager ; he said, " It mun be done, and so you'll find." There is nothing like the fountain-head, thought I — Knowles crossed the stage — 1 explained. "Doesn't 'e like the part?" " No," said I, emphatically. " Then thee shan't do it." His " mun be done " from that moment was a m3'th to me. " The Tailor of Tamworth " was the farce, and that reminds me of Alexander once more. He and Charles Kean differed upon some point. Alic 1 3 8 RANDOM RE COLLE CTIONS OF terminated the dispute with a sarcastic smile, and with a withering look, said, " There's nae doot ye can play Hamlet, sir, better than me ;" then elevating himself", he grandly added, " but ye canna touch me in ' The Tailor of Tamworth.' " Kean rushed to Mrs. Kean, exclairaiog, " Ellen, Ellen, who's ' The Tailor of Tamworth ?' I must study him ; I cannot be beaten by a fellow like that." He learned, to his dismay, it was a farce. This also reminds me that I once announced — not knowing the piece — " The Spectre Bridegroom " as a highly-exciting and heart- rending melodrama — whereas the piece is full of laughter and as old as the hills. My work in that theatre was terrific, studying in one week Ferment in the " School of Reform," Frederick in the " Poor Grentleman," and four other long comedy parts, besides farces. My work was so intense that I used to put wet towels on my head, my wife saying it would kill me. " It tiliall kill me," I replied, " or I will kill it ;" and I did, for I got through marvel- lously. Whoever says an actor's life is an idle one knows nothing of the matter. The season being over, I engaged for the York circuit, managed by the once celebrated Pritchard ; he AN OLD ACTOR. 139 was eccentric and illiterate, but very honest. He had a fine appearance, spoiled, unfortunatel}^ by a cast in the eye. He obtained an engagement to play Ttob Eoy at Drury Lane. All the old actors of that cele- brated temple of the drama were at the wings to listen to the new attraction. Great masses of " supers," actors, singers, and chorus were on the stage, when, to the horror of all, the Star, grandly waving his hand, said, " Gentlemen and ladies, stand a little backer." " Shades of Drury Lane !" exclaimed Harley, stealing off with the elder listeners. Fate took us to Cambridge ; the manager was another notability called Davenport, the original of Charles Dickens's " Crummies," and his daughter the original " Phenomenon." Mrs. Davenport was a grand old lady, very kind-hearted, with a palsied twitch of the head and neck ; she was of the old, old school. " Jane Shore " was selected for the opening night, the daughter playing Jane, the mother, Alicia. The piece proceeded dolefully until the mad scene, when, with a terrific yell, she screamed, " Something cracks above !" A boy cried, " Hold on, old 'un, or you'll crack your voice !" She defiantly repeated the line ; her tormentor replied, " Or you'll crack the 140 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF roof." The next night the play was repeated, and in the bills, to our astonishment, " By General Eequest." We waited for the memorable cracks ; but, grown wiser, she exclaimed, sofio voce, " Something cracks above !" when a grulf voice grumbled, " Let out a reef and speak up, old croaker !" This settled the business ; she vowed from that time she would never play again — and, to my belief, she never did. Davenport was in manner blandly grand — a second Micawber — always on the look-out for something to turn up. Sickened with the ''Phenomenon," who would play everything, we resolved to leave ; but before doing so, I was walking in the principal street in Norwich — it was market-day, and therefore a good opportunity for display, as the streets were crowded — I met Davenport, who started, paused, drew out an enormous pocket-handkerchief, and, with a loud outburst of grief, rushed over, seized my hand, and blubbering, said, " God bless ije," he departed, one hand waving adieu : he applied the other to stanch the coj^iously- tlowing tears, artfully hid from view. I never saw him more. Oh, days of youth, ye are fleeting ! I had entered life's trials ; I was shaking off' its last clinging AN OLD ACTOR. 141 cerements ; tlie mem was about to be born, to start from chrysalis existence into active life. I well remem- ber waking one morning, so sad, and saying to m}^ wife, " I liave a presentiment that my youth has flown." Who has not felt this ? Another guardian had entered on his duties, mysterious, yet to me veritable ; a third stage would come, when I might be more severely tried, perhaps to arouse my energies, stimulate my action, and purify with iron hand the shortcomings of my youth. Our beloved Queen, surrounded by Palmerston, Derby, and Wellington, assumed the reins of Govern- ment, gently but firmly ; still the nation yearned to see her properly mated, and, fortunately for England's future. Prince Albert was the lucky chosen husband. Never, perhaps, were so many graces and virtues mingled, and never, perhaps, w'as a human being so adapted to the trjdng position he was forced by cir- cumstances to hold — a king, but a subject; a husband, yet a friend ; a father, but a guardian^ — ^iu all phases of life an utter abnegation of self, and a total resignment of position distinguished him ; and yet amongst these conflicting duties he bore himself so gently and firmly that he reigned more absolutely 142 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF than any monarch of his time, for the people loved him for his gentleness, revered him for his piety, and respected him for his business habits, his sound judgment, and the clock-like regularity of his move- ments. Their marriage was simple, though the sur- roundings were all that a great nation could desire in solidity and becoming state ; and I think most minds will agree with me, that never, save during the Commonwealth, was England on so sure a basis, or more sincerely respected, than under the guiding hand of Palmerston, the Iron Duke, and Albert the Good. But, as I am not writing a political treatise I will proceed with ray narrative. Myself and wife, as we progressed in our profession, advanced socially, often being invited to the best tables. I merely mention this to prove that if actors will only respect their position, the good and the great are ready enough to patronise them. Being about to leave Bury St. Edmunds, I wished to show my wife a charming view in Sir Thomas Cullum's park. While we were admiring it, I saw some one hurrjang up the hill, and exclaiming, almost out of breath, " I allow no one on this portion of my grounds, as it disturbs my tame plieasants, who AN OLD ACTOR. 143 are broocliDg." I iiisiantly apologised, and he as instant!}^ said, " You played Gratiano in the ' Mer- chant of Venice ' last night, did you not ? Come in, and ril introduce you to my wife, who is much pleased with yours." With the true spirit of a gen- tleman, he would not allow us to open or shut a gate, but did so himself, with his hat off. Adieu to such courteous days, for they, too, are de- parting ! We lunched with himself and his wife, and shortly after, seeing him take out his watch, I made some apology as to intruding. " Not so,'' he said ; " I hold a living, which is rather valuable, by preach- ing once a year, and I shall devote to you the last possible minute." We saw them often on our return tlie following season, and they were ever the same. From constant travelling, worry, and study, ray system was shattered — in fact, my constitution broke down under it, and I resolved to settle, more especially as my brother, who had been for some years in the service of the Imaum of Muscat, wished to reside with us, having lost his wife. The manner of her death was peculiarly sad. Her little one la}' upon her lap, as she sat under the verandah. The floor was marble. My brother returned unexpectedly from 144 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF the Red Sea. Starting up, the baby fell upon the marble floor, and was killed. The mother, who had Indian blood in her veins, never cried, or even moaned, but gradually settled into a melancholy which nothing could remove, and shortly died. Mine and my brother's first greeting was anything but friendly. " What an infernal ass you have made of yourself — a play actor, indeed! If your poor mother knew it, it would break her heart; it's a nsercy she's dead." So much for the world's idea of our profession, which has done more for the advancement of progression, and has more steadily held its way at all times and in all ages, than creeds, rules, or fashion itself. The minds who write, and we who illustrate^ surely must do much to elevate ours! What sage, politician, or preacher of note has not written in our cause, or what nation has not followed our motion, expression, and pronunciation ! Bachel was once complimented : " Ah, madame, you have saved the French language !" " Have I ? It was by accident. But no wonder, for I am an actress, and was bred among actors and actresses," was the reply. We fixed upon a house in Gloucester Crescent, Regent's Park. Youth is elastic, and my health im- AN OLD ACTOR. MS proved. I received an offer again for Glasgow. Our beloved Queen was invited to visit the city. I had a long part to study, so I went ten miles into the country to avoid temptation, and be perfect in the words. So much for an actor's idle life. The Queen must have been highly gratified with Glasgow, for everything was substantially grand ; the triumphal arches were most beautiful; one, an imitation of granite, was like to a degree of nicety. Eeturning to London, I was engaged by Mrs. Warner, a fine actress and a beautiful woman. On her last illness the Queen used to send a carriage for her to take an airing — a delicacy of attention as honourable to her Majesty as it was deserved by the actress. I was successful ; so far so, that Oxenford, the well- known critic of the Times, wrote a piece for me whicli ran for a length of time. From thence T went to the Olympic, rebuilt for a Mr. Watts, who was a partner in the Globe Insurance Office. We had a fine com- pany, Gustavus Brooke, Davenport, Vining, Wigan, Mrs. Mowatt, &c., &c. ; nevertheless the venture was a failure from private extravagance and large salaries. At last Watts forged largely in tlie firm's name, but being a partner they could not convict him. Happen- L 146 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF ing, however, to write a cheque upon a piece of paper not the }3J'operty of the firm, hut of a clerk belonging to the house, value one penny, he was sentenced to transportation. Not having moral courage to bear the degradation, he hanged himself in Newgate — a sad termination to a reckless course of living. Luckily for the profession he was not an actor. About this time death claimed as its victim the Iron Duke, an irreparable loss to our beloved Queen and to England generally. The nation seemed to have received a sudden shock — all was calm, awfully calm. But a leader in the Times, magnificently written, aroused the people to their duty, and amply did they make amends for the indignities heaped upon him from political excitement. The Iron Duke lay in state at Chelsea Hospital ; I went the first day, and, to my surprise, I had no difficulty in gaining easy access ; I therefore was emboldened by its quietude to take my wife the second day. I never shall for- get it. I imagine the dread of a fearful crush kept the people away the first day, so my wife ventured on the second ; but we soon found ourselves in a crowd. Barriers had been erected, and as soon as the first barrier was withdrawn another mob were ad- AN OLD ACTOR. 147 inittecl ; then the shrieks, cries, and yells were terrific. When our turn came to rush to the next barrier, 1 felt that to stumble or fall would be death. Tliis I explained to the mob, and good humouredly cried, "Back, back !" to keep the pressure off, and "Heave a-lioy back !" became a popular phrase for the nonce. I really believe it saved us from fearful consequences. When we entered the hall my entire suit was one wringing mass, as if saturated thoroughly with water, and my wife's dress in ribbons and entirely spoilt. This was the first mob-squeeze I ever experienced, and I trust it will be the last. On the day of the Duke's funeral we secured seats in a grocer's window opposite Nelson's pillar in Trafalgar Square. The sight was one of the most beautiful and picturesque I ever saw ; every available space was occupied, even to the roofs and chimney-pots. One poor fellow, clinging to a chimney-pot, fell from a terrific height, near where Northumberland House then stood, and was dashed to pieces. As the different regiments marched past (for all available were represented), attended by their bands playing the " Dead March in Saul,'' the proces- sion appeared endless. This, with the heaving mass of spectators in solemn silence, was most impressive. L 'Z 148 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF Presently whispered murmurs of " Here comes the Duke !" met our ear, and every eye was strained to gaze for the last time upon the ponderous catafalque beneath which all that was mortal of him rested. Slowly it approached — passed, and no emotion was shown ; but when his favourite horse, led by his favourite groom, appeared, with the heads both of horse and man bent as if in deep grief, and the saddle, to which were appended his boots, then mentally the eye filled out the picture, and the form in spirit-like essence seemed to rest there. Then sobs, sighs, silent tears, and grief-laden expressions told solemnly and truthfully upon all hearts ; then all realised the immensity of the loss, and not till then came the reflection how great an influence and how large a place he filled in the hearts of the British nation. What but greatness could have attracted the millions assembled to do honour to his memory ? Inwardly I said, " This is indeed to live for fame !" Such sights are well for a rising generation. After the close of the Olympic, I went with Grustavus Brooke for one fortnight to my old quarters, the Marylebone. I found myself in large letters ; it was summer — dreaded summer — for to our profession AN OLD ACTOR. 149 it is a dreaded period. I had applied everywhere, and could get no engagement ; my only hope was in the fact that Charles Kean had taken the Princess's, Oxford Street, and had also entered into partnership with the Iveeleys. The well-known fortune of the two men, strengthened by their talented wives, threw such a halo over the prospect that to be connected with such a scheme was in itself a repute. One night " The Wife " (by Sheridan Knowles) was put up, and, to the company's terror, we were informed that Mr. and Mrs. Kean were in the boxes. The performance ended, and I went home with a sad heart. My brother, having again married, had taken an establishment for him- self, and we found the house in Grloucester Terrace was too large for us. I reflected, as I journeyed home through the park, what hope had I of an engagement ; for I had that night played Charles Kean's original part in the play — namely, Leonardo Gonzaga — Sheridan Knowles having played St. Pierre, and! felt that Mr. Kean could never be satisfied with my rendi- tion or conception. The next morning, as I entered the theatre, Mrs. Seymour, now, alas ! departed, one oi' the best-hearted and impulsive women I have ever I50 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF met with, rushed up to me, and, shaking my hand heartily, said, " You are all right for the Princess's ; my husband sat behind Mr. and Mrs. Kean last night, and you were unmistakably the subject of their remarks, and all were favourable ; don't write to them, they will be sure to write to you, and you can get better terms." However, my wife advised me to write, and by return of post nn interview was appointed, and an engagement followed. Charles Kean's voice immediately re- minded me of his father's — the grand Edmund. I had seen the elder Kean twice in my life, the first time at Dowton's benefit at the old Coburg, on the Surrey side, now called the Victoria. On that occasion Mr. Kean, the elder, played Richard the Third. There was an overwhelming house, as may be imagined, and I, then a lad, could see nothing, owing to the crowded state of the theatre. A good-natured man, hearing my sobs — for it was in the gallery, my slender purse not allowing a higher price — lifted me upon his shoulder until the termination of the second act; then he exclaimed, setting me down, " Now, my lad, thee's seen enough for thy money, cut whoam ;" and I went. The second occasion was two or AN OLD ACTOR. i^i three nights before he finally retired from the stage. I well remember him in his short, spangled, white tunic and crimson velvet Greek jacket. But, oh dear, that horrid voice ! it was harsh and untame- able ; the son had it in a less degree. The elder Kean's success sprang from his intensity and volu- bility, his facial expression, and that wonderful eye. The Kembles (John and Charles), Young, Van- denhoff, and actors of that age were all ponderous, measured, and " tea-potish ;" even the exaggeration is evident in Mrs. Siddons's attitude in that splendid picture, the Trial of Queen Catharine, in " Henry the Eighth ;" the pressure of the bosom by the one hand, and the unnatural elevation of the other, points evidently to it. Cooper, a very admirable actor, the last of that line, was tainted with the same style — profuse and measured pantomime being the rage. For instance, in " Midsummer Night's Dream," when describing a pack of hounds, he used to count them, as in imagination, with his forefinger, as low as possible, and then run up his voice to its highest elevation ; he would point to his heart if in love, or run his hand over Jiis face if speaking of a lady's beauty. Edmund Kean swept all this away as if by 152 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS. magic ; Ills free, natural, and hurried impetuosity came flashing, and was welcomed unanimously. The greatest tragedian after Kean was Macready, who became justly famous, following the same style. M CHAPTER IX. 1850 TO 1857. ESSRS. KEAN and Keeley opened the Princess's with the beautiful play of "Twelfth Night;" the chastity of its production was something wonder- ful, and the cast embraced the choice names of the day; Mrs. C. Kean played Viola, with that wonder- ful tenderness for which she was world-famous ; Mr. Kean did not play in the piece. A little personal vanity may be excused when I recall the past. As I entered the green-room, Wigan exclaimed, " Doesn't he look as if he had stepped out of a picture painted by Vandyke ?" I had mounted the ladder after years of toil, study, and privation, trials of agony but too well remembered, and I at last found myself in a recognised position, and surrounded by the highest talent at that time procurable. After eulogising the piece and its production, every paper spoke well of me, and a few nights after I had the honour of hearing 154 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF that I had been spoken of graciously by her Majesty, which was proved by a command, after a lapse of some months, to play the same part at Windsor Castle, and that, too, in her own hand, as I had then seceded from the Princess's and was at Drury Lane. My success induced Mr, Kean to cast me a fine part in a piece by Slaus, called " The Templars," in which I was called before the curtain every evening for fifty-two nights, almost the first long run of a piece known there. Prince Albert applauded me heartily and publicly, leaning from his box to do so, which drew tears of joy from my wife, who was a spectator. One night during its run Mr. Kean told me the ball was at my foot, and added, " but take care how you kick it" — which advice I regret I did not take. 1851! What wondrous recollections spring to life at the mention of that date. The First Great Exhibi- tion — never to be surpassed at any time. I have always been an admirer of elevation in public building. 1 remember hearing that Alfred the Great, when the first Westminster Hall was built, said, "You think this a lofty room, do you ? If I had my will it should be a mere lobby to my bedroom." I must confess when I first saw the Glass and Ircn Palace I exclaimed, AN OLD ACTOR. 155 " Is this a building erected for the Exhibition, to hold the art treasures of all nations ? it is more fitted for a sheep-pen. Pat it down ; fence it in ; make it nice and comfortable — that's England all over." But I am bound in honour and truth to say that, once inside the building, the eflect was grand beyond description, whatever the exterior might have seemed. The gorgeous tropical plants, the well-arranged series of flags, the judiciously-appointed sections of the various nations and their contents, every conceivable invention in all branches of trade, commerce, and art, were nobly represented. Luxuries were as rife as utility, and ploughs were as plentiful as fans and diamonds ; the poor man's cottage as fully represented as the rich man's palace. Amongst the countless host of wonders, the stuffed animals in the Grerman division were most laughable ; the lion in his rage ; the tigress in her love ; the watchful hen sheltering her brood, looking defiantly at tlie hovering hawk ; the frog daintily stepping through the rain sheltered by an umbrella ; the fox sitting in judgment upon the captive hare, who is led to the bar by her gaoler, while she, with paw in mouth and downcast eye, pleads unavailingly, her captor, with tongue out, eyes 156 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF lier as greedily as does the judge, lier fixte is decided beyond question even before the trial begins. But the rabbit warren — what a world of fun even for grown-up children ! See the rabbit who, finding a gun pointed at him, falls back in fear, with legs upraised and a glance of horror in his eye ; the fat old father, scampering with ears down and eyes cast back ; the mother peering out of her burrow with her little brood around her, and the entire group in every conceivable attitude of terror and perplexity, is really worth a memory. In every direction music was floating ; in fact, a week of untiring energy would not serve to examine its contents. Other Exhibitions, and in nobler buildings, have since arisen, but none like the great and original Exhibition of 1851, started and perfected, I believe, by Albert the Good — in itself a monument of glory to his beloved memory. It was Prince Albert, I believe, who suggested, and, aided by able hands, originated those charming Windsor Castle dramatic performances. By the aid of Charles Kean's consummate knowledge of stage business, refined as it was by educational research, assisted by Grieves's skill as a painter, and Planche's brilliant sketches of costume, a completeness unrivalled AN OLD ACTOR. 157 was attained. The scene for these perfected repre- sentations was the Vandyke Room at Windsor Castle. A stage was erected, and so constructed that it could be put up or taken down in a brief space of time. It was customary to select an entertainment from one of the principal theatres, in which all the members belonging to that theatre assisted. The arrangements were complete ; a first-class ticket was placed in your hand for Windsor by train, and, on arrival^ private carriages were in waiting to take you to the palace. On entering the castle you presented your ticket, and were passed on to where servants in livery were ready to offer you all kinds of refreshments, intoxicating liquors alone excepted ; you then proceeded to your dressing-room, duly arranged for your reception. Punctually the curtain rose, the play proceeded, and duly terminated. After dressing you were ushered into the supper-room, where every luxury awaited you ; wine flowed plentifully, and mirth, wisely chastened, abounded. On one occasion, after playing Tom Hayday in the " Prisoner of War," I had dressed quickly, and wanted to look about. I ascended the stage from my dressing-room, and found no one about. A sudden impulse seized me. The dais on which her 158 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF Majesty, Prince Albert, and the Ducliess of Kent (the Queen's mother) sat was before me ; in a moment I jumped over the orchestra, ran lightly up the steps of the dais, seating myself in her Majesty's chair, and throwing my legs out thoroughly at my ease, ex- claimed in a loud voice, " Now I am King of England!" Suddenly a side door opened, and the then Colonel Phipps, with horror depicted in his countenance, ex- claimed, " Do 3^ou know, sir, where you are ?" " Very well," I said; "in her Majesty's seat." "Come down, sir, come down ; you ought to be ashamed of yourself." " What for ?'^ I said. " No one, sir, is ever permitted to sit on any chair her Majesty has once sat upon." I descended, somewhat crestfallen at the enormity of my sin, reflecting what a vast quantity of useless chairs there must be in the palace if her Majesty was not particular where she sat. This brings to mind the ceremony then used. Three chairs were placed on the dais, her Majesty's a little in advance. All stood until the Queen was seated, who, after sitting, turned to her mother and husband and motioned them to advance their chairs to a level with hers. The beautiful Duchess of Sutherland and other ladies-in-waiting stood during AN OLD ACTOR. 159 the performance. The invited guests ranged on each side, but below the dais ; the Royal children were arranged on the steps and seated. On one occa- sion the play was " Henry the Fourth," and in the scene where Falstaff boasts of his bravery with his shield and buckler, a laughable incident occurred. The Royal heir to the throne of England became so engrossed with the comicality of the scene (admirably played by Bartley) that he was carried away com- pletely. He wore a tartan dress, and as tears of laughter rolled down his cheeks in his ecstasy, he rolled up his tartan and at the same time rubbed his knees with great gusto. His sister, the Princess Eoyal, saw with horror the innocent impropriety, and never shall I forget her terrified glance round the room. However, finding that all were intent upon the scene, she gave one vigorous tug at the tartan, which restored propriety and brought the happ3^ boy to a sense of the situation. At another time I remember a pretty incident. Prince Patrick (if my memory serves me rightly) had been permitted to view a portion of the performance, being then too young to remain the entire 'evening. At a given period between the acts a servant stepped i6o RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF forward ; the young Prince, understanding the signal, rose without any apparent regret, though, doubtless, he suffered from the privation. He turned gracefully to his Royal mother, who extended her hand, which he kissed reverently, then turned to his father, who stooped as if to whisper some direction, but I saw a loving kiss imprinted upon the boy's cheek. The young Prince, bowing to the guests, went his way, without looking back, out of the door, and disappeared most charmingly. These are bright memories to me, and I trust to be pardoned for recalling them. We produced " Henry the Fourth " afterwards at the Princess's ; I was the Prince Hal. I was sup- posed to fence tolerably ; but, as Mr. Charles Kean was renowned for his skill in the art, he, with a generosity that did him honour, arranged with the Angelos (then celebrated teachers of fencing in St. James's Street) to give me lessons. I had the great favour conferred upon me of taking lessons from the three— grandfather, father, and son. The result was, I believe, so successful that the fight between Hotspur and Hal was considered something to be looked at. The innate repose and grace of Mr. Charles Kean was consummate. AN OLD ACTOR. i6i I also received an invitation to visit Mr. Bartley, and in his residence I received many valuable hints, the more treasured because they were spontaneous marks of kindness to an almost unknown actor. He possessed a valuable and life-size portrait of his wife, a beautiful and stately woman, as Lady Macbeth. The old man told me, with the fond garrulity of age, the great loss he sustained by the death of a beloved daughter and son, and of his presentation of two stained-glass windows in memoriam at Cambridge or Oxford, I forget which. His later days were ended in comfort and dignified retirement. I mention this to illustrate that the better portion of our profession are strongly imbued with strict principles of piety and honour. Those were the last of the palmy days, when to be engaged at Drury Lane or Covent Garden was a residence and position for life. Adieu to a host of loved and respected ones long since passed away — the Bartleys, the Harleys, the Buckstones, the Keeleys, the Coopers, the Vinings — ah me ! sad, yet rejoiceful memories, of the really respected artists. How things are changed now ! A piece is written, and actors specially engaged for it ; indeed, they often run with the piece and end with it. Nay, it would M i62 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF not surprise me if actors did a turn by the hour, as concert hall singers do in London, and play at two or three theatres per night. Indeed, I have known a tall man, a short man, a fat man, and a thin man, a black-bearded or a white-bearded one engaged, with little reference to ability, but simply because he looked the author's ideal of the part. When will this folly have an end ? In " Babil and Bijou" a fine woman was engaged, at a large sum per week, to march and look grandly, whose very husband said that five shillings was more than she was worth. A gentleman in that piece was paid 8/. per week to go on and say nothing, but whose attraction was, that he looked like a popular favourite. Now, legs kick brains to the mischief, and boldness elbows modesty out of the road. When will Government take these matters in hand, and provide a well-appointed school and trainers, give adequate remuneration for the fall provision of mental, moral, and refreshing feasts for the public, and sternly banish exhibitions that de- moralise the youth of either sex ? I feel sure that out of impurity we shall yet pluck the better fruit, which again grafted will grow vigorous and return to the true flavour of the parent stem. Minds like AN OLD ACTOR. 163 Shakspeare only rise to the occasion, and that at long intervals, and surely some David in mind will slay this barbaric Goliath. My readers may smile, but my prophecy will be verified. Speaking of Mrs, Bartley brings to recollection Mrs. Bunn, wife of the celebrated manager of Drury Lane, and tauntingly called " the poet Bunn," he having written the libretto of several operas, " When other lips," &c. His end was a sad one. He was courted by the highest in_ the land for his conversational powers, and was so familiar with them that he would keep two or three lords waiting while he would converse with some mediocre person about indifferent things. His wife deserted him to live with the celebrated Colonel Berkley, who, in his turn, ill-treated her. She passed her days in cheerless pomp and continued quarrels with a rival. Bunn's pride sank under the blow, and he who had been the gayest of the gay, the admired of every one, ended his days as a monk of La Trappe, I believe, the strictest monastic order. Punch had been very severe upon him and his poems. Now Bunn happened to know the lives and career of all the contributors to that journal so intimate!}' that M 2 i64 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF after lashing them ironically, he ended by saying, " A second edition to follow, if needed/^ This silenced satire and revenged Bunn. The first year at the Princess's drew near its ter- mination, having made pronounced success. For some reason I was not cast so strongly as it seemed reasonable, Mr. Kean, doubtless, having other interests to look after, which to me appeared neglect ; so that when Mr. Ellis, the stage manager, came to offer me an increase of a guinea a week, I haughtily answered, " If Mr. Kean would offer me ten guineas per week increase it would not induce me to stay." This was a great and lamentable error on my part. If we could see into the future, and judge dispassionately of surroundings and their bearings, we should avoid much error. Mr. Copeland, the celebrated Liverpool manager, wished to introduce his wife to a London audience, so he took the little Strand Theatre, and christened it " Punch's Playhouse." Douglas Jerrold, being the brother of Mrs. Copeland, was induced to write a piece for the occasion, but his sarcastic nature seized the opportunity of lashing the members of the Press of that day, and they, to revenge themselves, resolved not to notice the theatre. Mr. Copeland, AN OLD ACTOR. 165 hearing I had seceded from the Princess's, offered me good terms, which I accepted. I opened in a broken French part, in a piece called " The Artist's Wife," which the Times kindly noticed. The next morning Bayle Bernard called upon me at the theatre, and said that, as the Times had taken oif the ban by noticing me, the general Press would follow suit. I may be pardoned, I trust, for speaking of this, as it is some- thing to be proud of, especially to one who never aspired to more than fair repute, and ever held firmly to the maxim, " Wait until bidden to go higher." Every one thought I was mad for leaving Mr. Kean ; but fortune still favoured me. Morton, the great farce writer, author of " Box and Cox," and numberless successful pieces, was at that time acting manager at Drury Lane, Bunn's last season, and he offered me an engagement ; so that at a jump I doubled my Princess's salary. Still, for all that, it would have been wiser had 1 never left the Princess's. I was engaged at Drury Lane for Wallack's business — a celebrated actor in his time. The pieces were of the past, though the Press did me the honour to say I kept manj- of them before the public which would never have been seen before the footlights a second time but for my exer- i66 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF tions. Then there were " Eomeo and Juliet," " Macbeth," &c., hastily got up, for the purpose of introducing Miss Helen Faucit to Drury Lane, with- out the addition of splendid scenery, accessories, &c., which made Mr. Kean s productions world-famous, this under the old system failed to attract, even with Mr. Macready in addition. One day I received a note from George Ellis, inti- matino; that Mr. Kean wished to see me. I went haughty and inflexible. Mr. Kean met me very kindly, and told me that her Majesty had ordered " Twelfth Nidit," at Windsor Castle, and added, " You may, indeed, be proud, for her Majesty has intimated that, hearing you are now at Drury Lane, it is her wish you should play the part of the Duke Orsino, as she has seen you with pleasure twice in that character, and wishes you to complete the original cast at the Castle." You may imagine my delight. I went to Bunn to gain permission. " You do nothing of the kind," said he ; " if the Queen wishes to see you let her come to Drury Lane, but by you don't go there." It appeared that on one occasion the Queen had gone in state to Drury Lane, and had been annoyed by a favourite lady of Bunn's staring per- AN OLD ACTOR. 167 sistently with an opera-glass at the Queen. Her Majesty asked who the rude lady was, and Colonel Phipps informed her. The Queen said decidedly, " I will never again visit Drury Lane," and 1 believe she never has — certainly not in my experience. For I remember some time after great exertions were made to induce her to patronise a performance for the benefit of the Widows and Orphans of those killed in the Crimean war ; she also withdrew her nsual hundred guineas for a box each season formerly given. If I had gone in defiance of Bunn, and in obedience to her Majesty's wishes, my loyalty would have been my excuse, and if discharged, the affair would have raised my name and fortune. Oh ! youth, youth. I had a large elocutionary class, and took some rooms once occupied by Dion Boucicault, near Soho Square. In addition to my house, the situation being more central, I was very fortunate, and introduced many talented people to the stage, also numbers to the pulpit and the bar. News of the disasters in the Crimea roused England's philanthropy — my beloved wife was not slow in adding her quota — we fitted out a large box of necessaries, and to them I afterwards added valuable assistants, such as cholera belts, i68 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF numerous diamond editions of Goldsmith's works, Bloomfield, Cowper, &c., and other homely and faithful writers, snuff, tobacco, Child's night lights, lint, plaster, chamoise leather gloves, &c., too numerous to mention, and all that ingenuity could remember in the way of usefulness. We knew no one to send them to, but at last we selected the Inniskillen Dragoons, simply because the son of an organist in Birmingham hap- pened to belong to that regiment. But how to send it that it might go direct to its destination, after such blundering in high quarters ? Luckily I remembered a clergyman who had been my pupil, and had published his thanks in the clerical papers ; his name was Bruce, and his father was connected with the Government department at Deptford; he used his influence to get the box forwarded to them by the Baltic, a Government vessel — and it arrived safely at its destination. When tlie war was over my wife received a reticule worked in gold with some Turkish coins, and I, a handsomely bound edition of Long- fellow's works; they imagined me a poet, as I had sent a lot of blatant trumpet words set to popular airs, as "The English and French are United," to the "Red, White, and Blue;" it amused them, and the AN OLD ACTOR. 169 song was sung by many, I was told. These simple incidents are nothing compared to the million and one services done by private individuals, and far out- topping our poor efforts of sympathy. The sergeant who brought us the regiment's token of good-will told us many an anecdote. One I will here relate, because it is to the honour of that pluck and coolness, ever the attendant of true breeding. The Inniskilleners received orders to retire from the battle, and give place to fresh troops ; they retired, and gladly, especially as bullets were buzzing around, and he graphically described the impatient snort of the horses, whose fidgetty ears were indicative of their desire to escape from the strife ; by degrees the walk changed to a slow trot, then quickened, not a fast one, to what would have been a canter or even a gallop, but for the intrepidity of a young officer, who, probably, saw danger from a panic, in a clear ringing command said, InnisJdllens, walk. He described the regiment's shame at being rebuked by a mere boy for their weakness in such a moment. A young Russian officer, whom the sergeant described as being exceedingly handsome and graceful, rode out from the lines and gave a challenge of attack to the I70 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF English — it being a practice, he said, during lulls. An English officer rode out accepting it. The Eussian was gaining the advantage, the Englishman being in imminent danger ; at this crisis his body- servant rushed out and cut the brave young officer down, the yell of execration from all sides was fearful, and the cowardly hound had to seek refuge in flight. Bunn's last management of Drury Lane ceased, and E. T. Smith was to succeed him. I had been told by officious and unjust advisers that the old glory had departed and fi'om thence meagreness would be the rule. Had I remained, I should have been placed upon the funds^ when youth no longer gave a charm, or age, even though polished by experience, gave the warning hint of declining power. But I was young still — full of vigour — and youth listens not to the prompting of age — and in its fiery ascen- sion sees not the darkening clouds that ever hover round success. Being somewhat in repute I was imme- diately offered a position, and made an appointment with Benjamin Webster for the Monday. But on Sunday (fatal Sunday — let me advise all, never to transact business on Sunday, there's no good in it), suffice it to say, Mr. Butler, a theatrical agent, called, and, after AN OLD ACTOR. 171 much pressing, I promised I would see Mr. Charles Mathews at 10, previous to meeting Mr. Webster at 11, on Monday morning. Charles Mathews hailed me from a cab evidently on the look out for me. Charlie was a wheedler, and as accomplished in that art as he was unapproachable in his own. The wily comedian offered me such terms that I thought I must be safe — ten guineas per week, and the refusal of parts ; thus did I throw myself into the power of a man whose sole object was to weaken his neighbour at the Adelphi. I opened in the " Chain of Events" — it proved so to me, and was successful. Still the part was a serious one, and the play was in eight acts too. He afterwards tried a piece with eleven acts, and never after went over five. I saw his object too late. I stayed with him under varied success, and the upshot was that little was paid to any one ; and I, being easy, found out my mistake, my unpaid salary being £150. I never knew the secret of their failure in money matters ; and as his bankruptcy so often is patent to the world, I do not in any sense wish to be anything but a faithful chronicler in things theatrical. One thing is certain, that Madame Vestris was 172 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF somewhat extravagant, and this he might have checked. On one occasion while I was there, Madame Vestris had rooms built for her aecommodation, for which, I was told, they paid the proprietor £500 per annum extra, and every day a sumptuous repast was sent in from a neighbouring hotel, and a waiter was in full dress to attend, and this at a time when salaries were not paid ; perhaps her failing age rendered moving to and from the theatre, save at night, impossible. By a stratagem I got £70, and left. I did not put my further claim into his schedule, not wishing there should be unpleasant comments — but attended when he received a fourth class certificate ; it was all they could do owing to his previous failing. The Judge complimented him, hoping that, as his path was once more clear, a competency for the future would be secured, which I heartily hope was realised. His talent was of the highest possible class of perfec- tion ; his early association did much to impart tone to his movement and diction — his intimacy with Count D'Orsay and Lady Blessington's surroundings gave a taste for luxury, while their tone — not the purest — was at least refined. Once on examination he, with his usual volubility, replied, " Well, I can't help it. I AN OLD ACTOR. 173 always lived up to a hundred a week, and always shall." At another time, when the Judge complained of one item of £8 per week for cabs, his reply was " Well, I never walked a mile at a time in my life, and I'm not going to try it now." He elicited shouts of laughter on each occasion. Oh, see the struggling talent that trudges miles four times a day, and perhaps goes to bed supperless ere the week is out, not from extravagance, but inadequate salary, or long vacations. CHAPTER X. 1857 TO 18C0. Q TOKENED of the L3^ceum I returned to Drury Lane, where I remained two more seasons. News of a great theatre just built in Boston, Massa- chusetts, reached the profession ; it had been built by a company of merchants, and was said to be the largest and best appointed in Europe or America. I had an oflfer to join made me by Mr. Thomas Barry, for the first season. I declined ; but on his arrival in England, on the eve of his second season, he inciuced me to close with him, on handsome terms, for a two years' engagement as Stock Star ; being at the head of the bill with Mrs. Barrow (formerly Miss Julia Bennet, of the Haymarket), Mrs. John Wood (for- merly of Theatre Boyal, Manchester), and dear old John Gilbert, famous as " First Old Man " of America. The passage for myself and wife in the best saloon cabin was also paid. On leaving, Mr. RAND OM RE COLLE CTl ONS. 1 7 5 Barry promised he should be the first to greet me on my arrival in New York, and he kept his word. In the Broadway no less than three people hailed me within the space of five minutes, so you may imagine I felt myself at home. After luncheon we departed for Boston — without inspecting the capital of America — this being Mr. Thomas Barry's wish. The first thing that struck me was the luggage system of leaden labels, which relieves your mind of all re- sponsibility — having an actual voucher for correct quantity. Oh, England ! with all our boasted superiority we are a slow people. Telegraph wires over the houses were common matters in America — though unknown then in England ; the system, too, of dividing into wards the various quarters of a city is valuable. If a fire happens, the fire bells toll the number of the ward it is in, so that people with property in any part of the city can be warned to look after their own, or quieted with the knowledge they were safe. Fashions, too, from Paris are adopted there before they are dreamed of in England. I like their system of education, save and except their utterly ignoring our vowels, without which the Saxon tongue cannot be spoken intelligibly. Printing, 176 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF agriculture, and general machinery are much in advance of ours. Their steamboats and hotels are beyond all comparison with ours. We rattled out of New York merrily — too merrily, I thought, for safety — and arrived in Boston about 1 2 o'clock at night. Never shall I forget it. All theatrical people are proverbial for their excess of luggage, and we were not an exception, ours being frightful ; for in addition to our personal and profes- sional requirements, my good wife had carefully treasured our household gods in the shape of bisque, china, linen, plate, and glass, all stored in the large box presented to us by the carpenters of Newcastle- upon-Tyne. A large old-fashioned coach had been sent from the hotel ; this was packed carefully in every available part, in spite of the remonstrances of the porters, who wanted to get to bed (for the Americans are early birds) ; and at the back of the coach — sup- ported, luckily, by irons — this terrible chest was stowed away. All settled, my wife deposited herself in content — and then commenced my terror. The night was furiously hot ; all was strange, wild, and unaccountable. At last we came to the foot of a hill, and as the cumbrous vehicle commenced to ascend my AN OLD ACTOR. itj dread increased. Three of us, with our shoulders to the terrible chest, pushed with all our might to keep it in its place, the perspiration pouring from us like water. At last we gained level ground, and in the distance I heard a bell, and slowly advancing with lanterns I heard a measured tread of cumbrous vehicles, reminding me of De Foe's phigue cry, " Bring out your dead !" Taking the procession for something of the sort, "Good gracious!" I exclaimed, " send us safely out of this abominable country ! I am sure we shall catch it ; the plague must be raging frightfully in Boston." " The what ?" screamed my wife. " Put your head in and shut the window," I yelled in reply. " Here come the dead carts." " The what ?" shouted the driver. " Don't you hear tlie death-bell ?" " Lord save us !" cried my wife, shutting the window with a slam. " Bunkum," said the driver ; " it's the Fire Brigade." I could have gone down on my knees in thankfulness. We arrived at last at the hotel. " Take our luggage to our rooms," said my wife, authoritatively. Remonstrance was in vain ; all went up but the terrible chest — they one and all refused to take that. " Let us have some supper," said I. " You can't," N 178 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF said tlie sulky porters; "all's locked up." "Then you must unlock," said T, resolutely. " I don't intend to go without my supper." "What? go without supper !" said my wife. " Who' ever heard of such a thino"?" He retired, and we heard him mutter, " The darned consarned Britishers ! Another mad bull, too, and she's the maddest." " My love," said my wife, " we are in a land of savages and horrors ; let us go back at once." "Not," said I, "till I've had my supper." It was supplied plentifully, and we de- parted to our rooms. The hotel was a large one, at the corner of Boston Common, called Winthross House. We reached our rooms, a really beautiful suite. " Well, this is comfort and elegance," I said to my wife, flopping down, " I never could have be- lieved it ; but mark my words, we shall have to pay smartly for this," at the same time throwing up the windows. The lights were brilliant and everything was gay. " Bless me, what a lot of moths ! I shall have to buy plenty of camphor." Yawning sleepily she then retired to her bedroom, the windows of which she also threw up ; I remained smoking a cigar. "Good gracious!" screamed my wife, "the bed is full of buCTs or stino^ino^-nettles — we shall be eaten ^•O^ ^'- ""''""0""C5 AN OLD ACTOR. 179 alive." After a bit, she screamed, " I can't stop here, give me a sheet and a pillow, and I'll lie on the trunks." But soon she tossed about, scratching and groaning : " I can't stand it," she said, and rang the bell. Up came the porter, grumbling, " What's the matter?" " What's the matter !" said my wife, who had hurried on a dressing-gown, *' the place is swarm- ing with fleas." " Have you got the windows up ?" "Everyone of them," said my wife, sharply. "Then ^ shut 'era down, it's only mosquitos," And we heard his retiring step. "Only mosquitos," said my wife, slamming down the windows, " vampires you mean." Again we retired — to rest ? Ah, no ; for suddenly we heard bells furiously, but measuredly, tolling, then stop, then go on again. " The Indians are attacking the city," said my wife, " we are nearly half-eaten by the mosquitos, and we are going to be finished by the savages." Suddenly we heard a sharp ringing sound upon the pavement, and the terrible word, " Fire ! Fire !" under our window. " Merciful heaven, we shall be burnt in our beds !" screamed my wife, ringing furiously and screaming lustil}'. It was some relief to hear the porter flying up the stairs. I looked out in the corridor anxiously for his arrival. I N 2 1 8o RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF heard doors slam, and saw heads popped out in all directions. "What's the matter?" demanded the porter. " Oh, who's murdered ?" " Nobody yet," said I, " but we soon shall be. Don't you hear that thoughtful man telling us the house is on fire ?" " Bosh ! go to your beds, there's no danger," and he coolly turned down stairs. Sleep at last visited our weary eye-lids. How long we had slept I know not when we were again startled by the clash of bells, and the renewed clatter on the pavement of some iron-like stick, and the terrible word, " Fire ! Fire !" " Oh, my beautiful dresses and my Honiton lace !" said my wife ; it's all your fault coming to this abominable country, and insisting upon having my luggage brought up-stairs ; it was only mij forethought in leaving the china and plate down stairs." " My fault !" said I, meekly ; "it was / who wanted to have them all left heloio, and now you want to lay it all on me, my love." " Me, my love T said my wife, furiously. " Ring the bell, if you are a man, and go for the fire-escape. I'll be bound the house has been burning for the last hour; but no matter, I'll write a full account of your conduct to my mother, and the Times shall hear of it too, or AN OLD ACTOR. i8i I'm no woman. What do they care if we're burnt in our beds? for we've heard that these lazy Americans never care about a lire — no, not even move until they feel the walls getting hot." Up came the porter, gnashing his teeth and cursing audibly. " In the name of thunder what's the matter?" " Matter, indeed ! I'll report you in the morning to the President, if I'm alive ; I'll see if people are to be burned in their beds and not com- plain." "Tarnation snakes! the fire is not in our ward." He then explained the modus operandi, and peace once more reigned in the house. This is a veritable detail of our first night's experience in America; doubt it if you will, but it is truthful and uncoloured. The next morning my wife's face presented a pitable appearance. In my ignorance and fidget I sent for a first-rate doctor; one of the highest in the city hap- pened to live in the house, and up he came. On seeing the case, he said, " You have insulted me — sent for me to cure a paltry mosquito bite, indeed." "Paltry, indeed; look at ray face," said she. "Savages," I replied, soothingly. " Savages, born savages," she said, sinking on the sofa in a flood of tears. i82 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF I made mj first appearance in America as Benedict, in " Much Ado About Nothing." On my entrance T was cordially greeted; after that nothing could rouse them, and my wife was horrified, expecting a fiiilure. But at the termination of the second act, when I exclaimed, "I will go get her picture," I never shall forget the excitement; ringing cheers met me on all sides, the ladies in the boxes rose, waving their handkerchiefs — they had been sitting in judg- ment on me, and were satisfied ; my thankfulness was sincere. I grew in favour, playing such parts as Young Eapid and Charles Surface, " Marble Heart," " Eetribution," and other popular plays. I had been told tliat the American climate was latal to teeth or hair. My teeth stood the test, but my hair, which was never very strong, begaii to fail ; so for safety's sake I had a magnificent wig made, and, proud of my borrowed plumes, wore it for Claude Melnotte. The play went merrily as a marriage bell until close upon the termination of the 4th act, and just as Pauhne exclaims, "Claude, take me, I am thine 1" she advanced with open arms, and, to my horror, swept off my wig. Quick as lightning I dis- appeared behind her flowing skirts. Where was AN OLD ACTOR. 183 Claude ? But when they saw my arm slowly ex- tended, then clutching the wig, and as suddenly disappear, such a roar of laughter ensued that it seemed as if the very rafters shook. I appeared cunningly and sheepishl}^, for I knew that was the only way to hit them ; another thundering round of laughter supplemented by applause greeted me, and T knew all was rig-ht. The season terminated success- fully, and I resolved on spending the vacation in seeing the wonder of America, Niagara Falls. IN^ew York, then Albany, was the route we took to leach the Falls. The Albany River is most beautiful, like a succession of lakes. The captain pointed to^a spacious mansion, and told me that was the residence of their greatest tragedian Forest ; of course I became interested at once. I had met him in England; he was undoubtedly a fine actor. " The Gladiator" was not, to my thinking, a first-class pla}^ nor " Metamora" — these, with " Damon," constituted his chief attractions on which to found his name. The Enfrlish thouiiht him a little too loud and prononcc ; but, strange to say, though stout, I thought him unapproachable in Hamlet. When I saw him he was dressed in a long shirt, to hide his figure ; but 1 84 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF his conception of the character stamped him in my mind a great man : it was gentleness personified, tender without mawkishness, manly without bluster, melo- dious, divested of rant, with tone and bearing most princely. He was deservedly popular, but unfortunate in marriage. He married a Miss Sinclair, daughter of the once celebrated vocalist of that name, they differed — parted, and through j^ars of vexatious law proceedings they pursued each other with virulence. It ended in excessive damages to the lady, which no doubt embittered his latter days, though T believe he died very rich. At length we reached the railway bridge which spans the Niagara river and divides the United States from Canada. We all naturally turned to view the world's wonder, and my first words -were, "Bitter disappointment !" " A great swindle !" But I soon reversed my judgment. The great elevation of the bridge takes off, at first sight, the grandeur of the fall of that vast body of waters. The bridge combines in itself a via for foot passengers, vehicles,, and railway, and is in itself a wonder, doing honour to the wealth and importance of both nations. We stopped at Clifton House, on the Canadian side, and I speedily AN OLD ACTOR. 185 took my wa}^ to the neighbouring Falls. As I descended to the bank of the river opposite the United States Fall its grandeur gradually developed itself to my senses ; but when I came to the Horseshoe Fall, on our side, wonder gave way to awe, and thence ascended with reverence to the Creator and his works. I stayed at the hotel three days, and my infatuation increased. I would have stopped here six weeks at least, but for the hotel expenses, the charges being beyond ray reasonable means. I inquired, and tried to obtain apartments, having more than myself and wife to provide for, without success. However, not far from Mr. Zimmerman's (a celebrity at the Falls), I saw a pretty verandah cottage, " Ah," said I, " if I could but live there I fancy I could stay for ever." At last I took my way to the post-office. " Does anybody let lodgings here," said I, shouting to a female inside. " How ?" was the reply. Simple reply as it was, it staggered me. " How," I afterwards learnt, was a common expression with Americans ; it has an expansion of meaning equal to its pronuncia- tion. They sing the word " H-o-u-g-h " ii'om the throat, near the ear, and carry it through the nose to the back of the head, with a long final screech. It 1 86 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF means, " What did you say ?" or " Speak louder, you fool ;" or " You tarnation Britishers, why don't you pronounce your vowels ?^' or, in short, anything you like but its proper meaning or sound. I repeated my question in ahirm, and was civilly answered by a cleanly pleasant woman. After thinking for some time, she explained that an elderly couple resided at the much -coveted verandah cottage, near Zimmer- man's, who had a son just married, and had left for England. "They were lonely," she said, "and probably such people as yourselves," looking kindly at my wife, " would be welcome." We departed in high glee, were received coldl}^, then kindly, then a complete thaw, and after some conversation admitted as members of their family, with a proviso that we should take our meals with them. Suffice it, I think none of us re- gretted the arrangement. To show how use may deaden the sense of sound, for some time, to our thinking, the house used to shake, and I have often thought a torrent of water, of vast body, ran under the house ; yet after I got used to it, many a time have I, in the stillness of night, aroused my wife with a nudge, exclaiming, " My dear, the Falls have stopped." By -and- bye the rumble has gradually come back to AN OLD ACTOR. 187 my ear, and its solemn roar become perceptible. So millers lose the sound of their mill-clack — the Man- chester girls can converse together quietly when visitors are stunned and deafened by the clatter of the machinery. I never saw the Falls alike at any time — they were ever different ; sometimes a dead mass of water, again like rippling rows of crystal ; at others, moved by the wind's influence;, as if struggling up- wards. The Sunday evening before our departure I was with a party of English and Americans ; one said, " You have a powerful voice — sing the Evening Hymn, and try if we can hear you." Just as I concluded, an exclamation attracted my attention, and looking over at the American Fall I saw, for the first time, a lunar rainbow — the arch transversed and beautified as it played on the descending body of water ; the sight was transcendingly grand, the impression beyond description. That verj' Sunday I had been invited to visit an American village, some eight or ten miles from Niagara. We went in a hired vehicle \ the day was beautiful, and in due time we arrived. A number of enclosed paiiings evinced the propinquity of the savage race, but ah, how different to what I expected. i88 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF On a knoll, a rude and simple chapel had been erected ; the tolling of the bell gave us to understand the worshippers were assembling ; a few rude carts, from which descended men and women in neat Sunday attire, and but for their straight hair and colour 1 should never have suspected they were natives. At last the chief arrived in a neat spring-cart ; he was dressed in a black frock coat — in fact, en suite as a well- to-do man might. He shook hands with the mis- sionary — a short, plain, unpretending man, and the contrast was singularly to tlie advantage of the chief. The missionary was accompanied by his wife and a little girl ; the men ranged on one side of the chapel, the women on the other. The only indication of difference to any other congregation was a rich farmer's daughter, whose blue cloth dress was orna- mented with a fringe of ten cent, pieces, to show, I presume, to her young suitors, that she would not be dovverless. A hymn, sung in parts, and accom- panied by a fiddle, violoncello, flute, and harmonium, was harmony itself; their voices were peculiarly soft and rich, and the impression was strictly of a de- votional character. The missionary would speak a few sentences in English, and the chief would in- AN OLD ACTOR. 189 terpret. The chief's manner and voice was in itself a wonder — both picturesque and sonorous. The service being over, I complimented the chief, and told him I was more impressed with his interpretation than the missionary, Avhen he, with a modesty that did him honour, remarked, in very good English, and strangely enough without the slightest twang, " You see, sir, our language is a very poor one : we have comparatively few words ; so that slow action is necessary to impress the meaning ; but ah, sir," he added, " if our missionary is a plain and simple- speaking man, he is a very good one." Oh, savage, thought I, you are on the road to salvation, and a lesson even to those much more civilized than I. My friend and I retired slowlj^, and in deep thought and thankfulness. And the impression left on our minds in that lonely temple of God will never be effaced while memory lasts. We left Niagara at length, to return to our duties, and I sigh even now, and wish to hear once more the roar of its waters. Our friends in America, now growing numerous, welcomed us back gladly, and our second season sailed on prosperously, until taken ill; then tlie kindly feeling of the American heart showed itself in a sub- 1 90 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS OF stantial form : baskets of fruit of every description, and flowers of every hue ; fowl and game poured in with warm-hearted and sincere abundance ; and the more singular for my general outspokenness, which had become proverbial — at times, I fear, almost to the extent of rudeness ; but their good sense was the nobler, inasmuch that they never resented it. If, as usual, I was attacked with the question, " Well, what dae yeu think of our institutions?" I would reply, " Wall, not much ;" and that with rather an offensive twang. But Jonathan would nobly return to the charge. " Waal, but our educational system is far before yours, yeu must admit." " I will admit it, when you learn to pronounce your vowels ;" and Jonathan would good-naturedly collapse. A friend of mine in the hotel had a severe illness ; he was a really good fellow, and a general favourite. I ran up one evening to see him in his room, and found half-a- dozen friends with him. The weather was beautiful, and in the glowing sunset the distant surroundings of Boston looked beautiful. As I leant out of the window one young fellow laid his hand on my shoulder, and pointing, " Do you see Bunker's Hill? that's where we licked you Englishmen." AN OLD ACTOR. . 191 There was a general laugh, followed by a long and awkward pause. I don't know what possessed me, but I went to the door, turned the kej^ in the lock, and setting my back against it, I said, " I entered this room in the best possible spirit to see an afflicted countryman of 3^ours, and one I greatly respect. Without cause, that I know of, I have been de- liberately insulted. Now there are half-a-dozen capable men present : you may all murder me, if you can ; but if that man does not apologise to me and my country for this uncalled-for insult, I'll do my best to thrash the lot." What might have resulted I know not, but a few sensible words from my sick friend settled the business. For they, one and all, held out their hands freely, and a firm friendship was cemented, and we passed the evening in a happ}^ spirit. I mention this to prove (and I could do so in numberless ways), that there is a rough nobiUty about them which other nations would do well to copy. My wife's health had gradually suffered from the climate, and at the teruiination of the second season I resolved to travel, after concluding a successful fortnight's engagement at the Metropolitan, then under the management of Burton, their celebrated low 192 RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS. comedian. Some notion of his popularity may be gathered when I tell you that every Friday the standing dish was " The Serious Family " and " Toodles." He was of the broad type, but very clever. America possesses many actors and actresses of great ability, and save and excepting the scenic department, then sadly neglected, they were neck- and-neck with us. I have little doubt they have re- formed that. Now to a case or two without parallel, which is but simple justice to that noble nation to mention. CHAPTER XL 1856 TO 1859. A FTER my first farewell benefit in Boston, full of pleasurable recollections and kindly demon- strations, I strolled down town to make inquiries as to my course of travel. I wished to see Canada, having received an offer to appear at Toronto, Montreal, &c. I mentioned my views to a jolly fellow connected permanently with the entire route, and to my utter surprise he presented me with a free pass for myself and wife by rail and boat with return to Boston. " The trip will cost you nothing sav^e a memory of your northern friends." It was strictly carried out to the letter, not omitting bed and board, accompanied by every courtesy and attention. The many agreeable incidents during that tour are too numerous to men- tion ; so I may be pardoned for introducing them heterogoneously. I shall not easily forget the White Mountains, the Lake of a Thousand Islands, and the o 194 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF Eapids — never. We were aroused at sunrise to witness that beautiful sight, the Thousand Islands. It was ffiiryland itself; the tropical plants, trees, birds, &c. — for birds were then getting plentiful — with the calm, glassy water, over which we glided in misty, dreamlike motion, through a world of beauty. The Eapids, too, are unsurpassable in sensational wonder. Approaching the Great Rapids, as if conscious of its grand descent, all was death-like calmness ; the cattle on the banks of the surrounding waters, mills, trees, &c., were re- flected as in a sheet of glass. The pilot, an Indian, came on board, and the descent I shall never forget. Instantaneously, and as if by magic, the vessel, with swallow-like swiftness, curved round a world of troubled waters, your feet clinging with tenacity to the deck, but your mind soaring into space. When over, my wife, who stood by my side, each clutching the other as if preparing for flight, brought me back to sub- lunary things by remarking in breathless wonder, " What have I done to be thought w^orthy to see such sights ?" Twenty years have passed, and my simple description makes me blush for my w\ant of expres- sion. Before going, I had intimated to my patron, Thomas AN OLD ACTOR. 195 Barry, Esq., who bad merged from master into friend, my intention of becoming lessee of Montreal Theatre, if possible. " My dear friend," be replied, " you bave made monev in Boston, and bave been received v^ritb mucli kindness from all classes. Do, tben, in return, scatter your notes in Boston Ba}'-, rather than away from it ; then some here may benefit by it." Luckily I thought I would venture, and made up my mind to be a manager once more. This same kindly- disposed Thomas Barry, who was over sixty years of age, but a remarkably fine silver-haired old fellow, married a young lady of the name of Biddies, a daughter of Mr. Biddies, who once kept the Bower Saloon, London. The latter had two beautiful and good daughters, such as not every father is blessed with ; the other married Mr. Calvert, many years stage-manager of the Princess's, Manchester, one of the cleverest actors, and the most erudite conversation- alist it has ever been my good fortune to meet. In creed he was a Unitarian, in universality of thought immense, and his wife is worth}^ of him. But to my tale. The younger married that good old man, and a more happy union could scarcely be conceived : casting her youth as it were aside, her dress, manner deport o 2 196 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF ment, and general beauty toned in with his, and for years, when decUning age and strength left him help- less, she bravely and cheerfully toiled for him. The last time I saw Thomas Barry he was nursing his first-born and healthy cherub, his young wife leaning lovingly on his shoulder, a perfect picture of happi- ness and content. Peace to his ashes ! I concluded to take the Montreal Theatre for ten weeks, and proceeded to fulfil a starring engagement at Toronto, ^fy luggage was very expensive and valu- able. It was placed for safety in an upper room at the hotel when I arrived, and I departed for a week to visit a relative some miles distant. One morning I read that the hotel where I had deposited my luffo-ao-e in Toronto had been burnt to the ground, with eidit other houses. I started for Toronto, and found, to my horror, the account was too true. Nickenson, the manager of the Toronto Theatre, met nie and actuallv burst into tears, for he had remarked the extent and value of my property. He at once insisted upon my stopping at his house during my stay. " What is to be done ?" said he. " Why, go back to Boston and work for more." " What," he shrieked, " do you think the people of Toronto would AN OLD ACTOR. 197 let you ? " "I have no wardrobe." " Then play as you are." I laughed at the absurdity, for m}^ range of business was extensive, and required great changes of dress, and I knew that good generous Nickenson's wardrobe would never fit me ; and now for another unparalleled wonder of that wonderful land. News flies fast in America, and what they do they do promptly and well. In due course I received an un- expected telegram of condolence from Barry, with an addenda, " Wardrobe by first train ;" and truly he kept his word. In a letter accompanying the clothes, he said, " Knowing your favourite characters, I have par- ticularly dressed them ; nothing has been forgotten, not even white wigs, silk stockings, buckles, swords." But, wonder, past wonder ! shortly after another tele- gram. '' We have had a meeting on 'Change ; draw on us for 500 dollars for present use. Come home to your Boston friends." These are facts worthy of recording to their honour, for I, who never had the ability to render myself a great man of mark, found in the hour of distress, princely munificence, and a proof of that indomitable pluck which, even in that land, helps the struggler on : " go ahead " is the motto lor that nation truly. 1 98 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF The people of Toronto liaving sympathy with me, as my case was somewhat singular — my wardrobe might have been saved, but the landlady being ill, and supposed to be delirious, no attention was paid to her wanderings. " Oh, that Englishman and his luggage, he will be ruined !" was her repeated cry, until carried out of the house. The fire had not then reached the hotel, so that my wardrobe might have been saved had those around paid attention ; but all was confusion, and the stranger was forgotten. The theatre was crowded nightly, and, with a benefit each Friday night to add to the receipts, the sum total was more than flattering. On my last benefit, being, as usual, called before the curtain, I thanked my friends briefly but heartily. I was on the eve of retiring, when Nickenson stepped from the opposite wing, and, holding out a handsome silver cigar-case, as I thought, begged my acceptance in the name of a few sincere well-wishers, trusting that I should approve of its contents. I grasped it lightly, but its weight made me nearly drop it. Instead of cigars, it was a large portemonnaie crammed with twenty-dollar gold pieces, and a cheque for 350 dollars besides. The delicacy of the gift was enhanced when AN OLD ACTOR. 199 I learned that tlie twenty-dollar gold pieces were given by separate individuals, who wished me to possess some specimens of that coin. They are, in fact, the handsomest coin issued from any mint, and I have never, before or since, seen so many at one time. Forrest was celebrated for short speeches. On one occasion, when called out to speechify, he said — for I heard him — " Ladies and gentlemen, I am worn and tired, tired and worn, good night !" Mr. Forrest had a wide-spread reputation in America ; and, when you reflect on the immense number of populous cities, it may be easily imagined what an extent of income may be reaped by the idol of such aland. Young Booth, in Forrest's latter days, was a successful competitor ; but until Forrest departed from the scene of his triumphs. Booth must have felt that he was not emperor. Flushed with his immense popularit}', Forrest wished to grasp two hemispheres, and visited Europe for the purpose. But tastes differ in countries where a less distance than the broad Atlantic divides them ; and Macready being the reigning iavourite in England, the public looked somewhat coldly on the brawny American, whose gladiatorial form and stentorian 200 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF voice — thou"'h it fitted him for the arena of the Colosseum — gave them no idea of Metamora or Hamlet. Hence his want of that immediate success which had grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength in his native land, and where memory of the It ad been stood him in good stead. Macready brought to the field immense thinking powers, a lithe figure, though an unpleasant face, unless when lighted by genius, then Lytton Bulwer imparted refinement, and Sheridan Knowles toned down his natural impetuosity ; such aids tended to give him a superiority of style in his interpretations. Indeed, I have never for general completeness met his equal in William Tell, Virginius, Eichelieu — nay, even in Evelyn (in "Money"), or Claude Melnotte, His Werner unquestionably died with him, as did a host of pieces written especially for him by Westland Marston and other great writers. Now, unfor- tunately, Forrest took it into his head — and utterly without cause — that Macready had determined to crush him ; hence his bitter hatred and after-revenge. Macready, unconscious of any evil brewing, accepted an engagement for America, and Forrest's friends resolved to dim the lustre that had eclipsed their AN OLD ACTOR. 201 star. The tocsin of war, in the shape of fire-bells, was sounded on his entering a city ; this culminated from open insult to brute force, and a riot ensued in which I believe seventeen men were killed, and Macread}'- was obliged to fly for his life. The good people of Toronto having behaved so liberally to me, I thought it right to spend money where T had earned it. A new wardrobe wa> im- perative, and, to my surprise, wherever I went they would take nothing but cost price. I purchased velvets in all shades, satins and silks (by my wife's advice), cloth, &c., for professional use ; and, with a well-filled purse, packed-up merrily and prepared to return to Boston. On the journey a gentleman said to me : "I am afraid you have not done a wise thing, for I hear that you have purchased largely in Toronto." "I have," said I. "Don't you know that, at the frontier, they will seize all, or charge heavily for duty ?" I was startled, but set my wits to work. The moment we were entering the terminus I popped my head out, and bawled out — " Searcher !" " Here, sir," was the reply. I threw my keys to a good-natured officer, and jumping out, said, "I have had no breakfast — I am an actor — don't expose me 202 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF and my theatrical rags to the people, but do it quietly, out of sight." " Oh, I've seen enough of spangles, and have had too much bother with you professionals before to-day; keep your keys— I'll pass 'em." I hurried over the bridge joyfully, and swallowed my breakfast with great gusto. My Boston friends did not forget me on my benefit. A large wreath, to which twelve presents, with twelve names, were attached ; and a bouquet, of great cost, were sent, by order, from New York, by General Taylors's family. He distinguished himself greatly during the unhappy war which sundered for a time brothers that should never be parted. Re- })lenislied in purse and wardrobe, I returned to Montreal, to commence my career as manager once again. It was the travelling season ; the houses were crowded nightly. I had a small but good company. Kate Reynolds, my leading lady, was a gem ; nothing came amiss to her, from Lady Macbeth to a chambermaid. I was my own stage- manager, acting-manager, and treasurer. And so hard did I work, that often before going on for " Hamlet," " Richard III.," and such heavy pieces, I have been obliged to improvise a shower-bath, by the simple AN OLD ACTOR. 203 process of a colander and a pail of water, to enable me to find strength for the work before me. Who says now that an actor's life is an idle one ? Literally I was glad when the season was over, though it was immensely successful. But I paid dearly for it. Though my wife did not act (as for some time she had given up the profession), still the climate had so shattered her constitution that ice had frequently to be applied to her head, and the doctor told me nothing could save her but a return to England. Before quitting America and Canada, it is but justice to remark that the drama was in a healthy condition there ; many of the actors were exceedingly clever, and the tone of its general management high class. Wallack's could then, and I have no doubt can now, vie with any theatre in any kingdom. The elder Wallack was world- renowned for ability, especially in melodrama — his Shakspearian renditions never mounting to the higher regions of excellence. The younger was an exceedingly clever light comedian, and also celebrated not only for talent, but his general bearing, dash, and style — together with personal requisites and form. The younger Booth was then a star; now, I believe, he is a bright luminary. 2 04 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF Perhaps the most extraordinary actress who ever rose to fame in her profession was Charlotte Cushman. Actresses have become famous in this and every other age; but as a general rule they owe their rise to beauty of person, resplendent elocution, feminine bearing, or a sweet low voice — " an admirable quality in woman," as Shakspeare says — or some essential gift dear to man and to his memory. But Charlotte Cushman had no such aid from Nature — possessing a face almost repulsive in quiescence, a voice harsh and broken, a bad figure, in bearing most masculine — in short, lacking the general attractions that appear necessary to complete a wonder in the art she fol- lowed. But in spite of these serious drawbacks, she became more remarkable, and more generally followed, than the long list of her confreres, whose attractions, one would have thought, should overtop and com- pletely put in the shade the manly, forbidding Charlotte; but her towering mind swept these im- pediments to the winds, and left her dominant and peerless in a profession which, though not sensual, is essentially sensuous. I well remember one morn- ing, in Birmingham, after having the pleasure of an in- troduction to her. She wore a common brown stuff AN OLD ACTOR. 205 dress, a black velvet bonnet, and a Paisley sbawl wrapped, or rather huddled, on her. She came for- ward witli a snake -like glide, then, swoopin^^ like an eagle, pounced upon me, giving me some liurried explanation of business connected with the different scenes. I naturally supposed, at first, that it was the mother of the coming star — and mother professionals, as a rule, are objectionable when doing duty for their daughters. I was cast for Sir Thomas Clifford, in the " Hunchback," the lover of Julia in the same play, and soon found I had no common metal to deal with. I felt at home, but puzzled and startled. I mentally reflected behind the scenes, " She never will dare — the vain old creature — to go on as Julia ! Still, she has a devilish deal of stuff about her !" thought I. " Well, well ; twelve o'clock at niglit must come — that's one comfort, and by that time we shall see what we shall see." This is an actor's general soothing syrup when doubting or puzzled. At night, when dressed for my part, and ready to go on v.'ith her as is usual in the garden scene, I saw a graceful girlish figure, with a profusion of delicately flowing locks, in a broad-brimmed garden hat, white muslin dress and broad pink sash, glide to my side. 2o6 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF I gazed witli startled admiration ; mind had mastered face, form, figure, and voice. Through the entire play I was so carried away that the following result occurred in the fourth act : — In those hurried instruc- tions given me at rehearsal in the morning, Miss Cushman had asked me if T had a tolerably good ear, sufficiently so to reach an octave above her when she asked me the following question : " Can these nuptials be shunned with honour ?" My reply is, "They can." When I reached this climax at night, I replied in an octave above ; she then ascended an octave above that, with the repl}'-, " Then take me !" The applause was loud, long, and rapturously re- peated ; in m}'^ excitement through this, I held her in ray arms " like grim death," and was only recalled to my recollection by a gruff whisper in my ear more like a coalheaver than a love-lorn damsel, " If you squeeze me so tight I shan't get breath for my next speech." This was a settler, and " Richard was him- self again." The great parts that made her name were Nancy Sykes in " Oliver Twist," William in " Black Eyed Susan," and, of course, " Meg Merrilies." And it is as wondrous as it is true that from such material she should found the basis of that statue AN OLD ACTOR. 207 which rose to such an ehwation as her Queen Cathe- rine, Lady Macbeth, &c., will testify. Meg Merrilies can never be forgotten by those who witnessed it, and stands side by side with Charles Kean's Louis the Eleventh for excellence beyond compare. In this character she fully developed the gliding serpent and the swooping eagle ; her death was terrific, but her appearance before the curtain after it was startling; the withered hag had disappeared, and she came before them with delicately tinted features ; in short, the gipsy had vanished, and Charlotte Cushman stood before them triumphant. Shortly after my first appearance in Boston, Mass., I was seated in the parquette, much wishing to see tJie dehid of a friend, when I was accosted by a tall and, even then, apparently old man. Addressing me by narae, he asked me if I knew Charlotte Cushman. "Very well," I replied; "we are old friends." "I knew that, from her having mentioned you fre- quently," he said. Now, as I was then a stranger in Boston, I felt I ought to be wary, and I curtly replied that I was interested in the play. lie rose, evidently annoyed at my rudeness, and left the theatre. Shortly after, a gentleman tapped me on the shoulder and 2o8 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF asked me if I knew who the tall stranger was. " No, indeed," said I. " That is the celebrated poet, Long- fellow.'" I hurried out, pained to the extreme at having missed such a golden opportunity. I searched for him everywhere without success. Many a time have I stood upon that quaint wooden bridge he has rendered so famous, repenting my rudeness. Often, too, have I paced round his house at Harvard, for the chance of apologising ; fate was against me, and he only remains in reverential memory. I was taking a stroll one morning when in Boston, Massachusetts, with a naval officer. We stepped upon a landing-stage of one of the wharfs, when my friend remarked, " Now you will see a sight that rarely, if ever, happens. Do you observe that small steamer to the right?" "What," I replied, "that bulky, clumsy, dirty river steamer ?" " Yes," said he, " but from that dirty river steamer sprang a new era in art, science, and advanced civilization — where is the loftiest vessel in the wide world that can boast so much? That was the first steamer that ever crossed the Atlantic ! Now, in contrast, look to your left — that was the last Cunarder turned out." " The brave little pioneer is hero no longer, and looks to me," I said, AN OLD ACTOR. 209 "like a coal-barge, with clumsy paddle-wheels attached ; indeed, it is literally a coal-barge now." I turned to the last Cunarder, and there towered a monster steamer. Here was, indeed, matter for reflection ; the first adventurer was old, ill-fashioned, inconveniently small, and filthy to a degree ; the last, was all that science and refined art in that department could effect. Its showy sides, its beautiful form adorned with masts and rigging, were the pattern of neatness and utility; its interior decorated with mirrors, carpets, and every social comfort, as if all nations had combined to render it a travelling palace of ease and luxury. A contrast, indeed, to the dirty tub before me, and yet, on reflection, the vast impetus it has given, not only to America but all lands, made me look with reverence and respect on that worn-out utilitarian, and I sighed to think of the ingratitude of nations, and wondered why the veteran was not laid up in port, or stored for inspection as one of the marvels of a " past age." When in Boston, one day, we received a note from a lady, whose very name was the synonym for hos- pitality and refinement. Social herself, she had the happy knack of placing her guests so immediately at P 2IO RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF home, that they became for the nonce, hke spiritualists, en rapport. Amongst the guests we were to meet Mr. William Warren, for many years a celebrity at tlie Museum, Boston, and well-known through the States as a popular low comedian ; also Miss Emma Stanley and her mother. Having seen Miss Stanley some years before at the Princess's, Oxford Street, London, and being astoundingly impressed with her ability, I anticipated that which I fully realised, an agreeable evening, I also heard she gave an enter- tainment entirely by herself, called the " Seven Ages of Woman," and being at liberty the evening before the party came off, I and my wife resolved to witness the performance. The fir.st of her series of sketches was an old nurse, with a supposed child in her arms, an admirable and wonderful imitation of her mother, who was a popular actress in that line at the Ha}^- market, and an exceedingly clever woman. This pic- ture was so life-like, that nothing could persuade me it was not so, but for her own assertion to the contrary. Amidst a variety of charming impersona- tions, the two which pleased me most was a laughing tenor, and the variety of laughs and chuckles she in- troduced while singing " When other lips and other AN OLD ACTOR. 211 hearts," convulsed the audience, and nearly sent me into fits. The next was a coquette, flirting with her lover, supposed to be singing a song to him, and brilliantly accompanied by herself; she had a chain- work of coins encircling her hair, and falling com- pletely round her face to her bosom, and the novelty of this adornment was piquante and striking. She also possessed most expressive eyes, with regular and beautiful teeth ; with a figure and arm any woman would be pardoned for envying, and any man must admire, her acting in the scene was unparalleled. Myself and wife were glowing with praise as to her incomparable beauty and talent. The following evening we were introduced, and if ever I had to call up any portion of my art (that is, if I possess any), and succeeded, it was requisite to do so tlien. Being a . cold evening, both were wrapped up on entering, but the face, the horrible face that met my astounded gaze, was beyond all anticipation ; seamed, unmerci- fully seamed, with the small-pox, which left no spot untouched by its ravages, she left the room with her mother to remove the wraps, and the look of horror expressed in my wife's face, and reflected in mine, was instantly understood by our genuine p 2 2 1 2 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS. hostess. " It is frightful, isn't it, my dears," as if answering our thoughts, " but then her intellect, my loves — her intellect — we musn't forget that.'' I con- soled myself loiih tJiat, and before the evening was over, we were as thoroughly her admirers as before, and considerably increased into the bargain. See what soul and intellect can do; she soon after entered simply and charmingly attired. Nature had spared her bust and figure, and left untouched her luxuriant hair and beautiful teeth. Full of vivacity, manner, and variety of thought, she rattled so merrily from one phase of topic to another, now tears and smiles, and again uncontrollable laughter, that I never re- member a more agreeable evening than the one we passed with Emma Stanley. CHAP TEE XII. 1859 TO 1865. TN America I met the once celebrated Clara Fisher, the c/iild -dGiress, a homely, Idndly, common-place, reputable woman, with not a scintillation of that ability which had startled tlie world in her youth. Digressing, I remember, several years previously, Mrs. Nisbet, then Lady Boothby, came down to star in Newcastle-on-Tyne — a charming creature, full of vivacity and heart. One night she came into the green-room and laughingly said, " I have had such a delicious fowl for dinner, so I sent the liver away, by post, to my darling Flo" — this was her pet lapdoy. I afterwards learnt, with regret, that grief ibr the death of her brother caused her own. Leaving Quebec we passed the Montmorency Falls, much higher than Niagara, but a silver thread compared to it. Near the mouth of the river we fell in with a wreck, and the captain hospitably received 2 14 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF the crew and passengers. A subscription was got up for the poor. I was deputed to go round with the captain, because I had the ''gift of the gab," he said. I avoided a lady plainly dressed, because I thought her poor, but we should never judge by appearances. " May I ask you, madam, to contribute a mite for these unfortunates ?" " Cheerfully,"" she said, while a sweet smile irradiated the worn features. " Put me down ' a friend,' " and she handed me a couple of sovereigns. On the voyage I read for them, by request. And on Sunday I did duty, by the captain's wish. On landing in England, Mr. Copeland presented me with a couple of private boxes for some passenger-friends, and on the following morning I started for London, some of the passengers accompanying me. I had been the life and soul of the vessel they said, but what a change there was when we neared home. They knew not the cause. The sight of England, with its fresh green verdure, absorbed all my atten- tion. And " Oh ! my beloved land," was all I could say. I arrived in London just in time. An American actor of the name of Roberts had arrived, and I was to support him. He opened in " King Lear." I played Edgar, as I had done often before in Drury AN OLD ACTOR. 215 Lane, singing the music, wliicli few actors do. Mr. E. T. Smith did me the honour to place m)^ name in star letters, and I found the Times and other papers hfd not forgotten me. London appeared wonderfully improved. I witnessed that heart-stirring evidence of England's glory — the distribution of the Crimean medals ; and never did our beloved Queen, during her busy life, work harder. I remember well seeing her throw off her shawl in a business-like manner, and go to work in reality for more than two hours, handing medals and accompanying the gift with kindly words of praise and encouragement. One soldier, rendered nervous by the scene, or the excessive heat of the weather, dropped the medal on the ground ; an officer picked it up and handed it to him. But the sturdy and loyal soldier said " that if his Sovereign did not hand it to him, he would rather go without the medal than lose the honour." The Queen laughingly and cheer- fully gave it to him amid ringing cheers. To see a Sovereign thus, in homely fashion, doing her duty, endears her to her people, and the various touching incidents on that day will never be erased from the memory of that assembled host. 2i6 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF Not getting as good terms as I desired, 1 resolved to settle down, so took the Halifax Theatre. There I saw the first instance of what is call combinatior, which has grown so fearfully since, I was invited to go over different establishments in Halifax, and amongst them Colonel's Ackroyd's, as he was familiar!}' called. He showed me the advance of the machinery, remarking, " This takes three men, with other assis- tants, to do the work usually done some years since by a thousand men ; but so strong," he said, " was my dread of combination, the effects of which the Peels and other families have felt, that it took me more than one year to draft off that thousand men — some to emigrate, others to better positions in life; and no one knows the anxiety and cost I endured before I dared place it in working order, though its value to the community is now acknowledged by the men them- selves. But so strong is prejudice against new-fangled notions, that my life and property were in jeopardy." In my time I have seen evidences of the truth of Colonel A.ckroyd's remarks. Look at Middlesbrough, in Yorkshire. Little better than fifty years ago, where that town stands was a barren waste. It rose rapidly, and collapsed as soon. A speculative and AN OLD ACTOR. 217 clever Grerman stumbled upon unmistakable evidences of rich ore beneath the surface. This Grerman had some capital and more brains. Works were erected and labour employed ; cottages arose, great orders arrived, and this German founder, after seeing churches, public buildings, railways, theatres, and concert-rooms arise, and principally through his foresight, took it into his head one morning to present the people with a park that cost him one hundred thousand pounds — from that moment the generosity that prompted this gift to the people poisoned the stream of gratitude. " aye," says one, " if he can gie us a P-a-a-r-k costin' such a soiglit o' money ; he must be bet t her off than eoi otif/ht to be." " Aye, aye," says another, " It a' comes out 0' we's pocket. What .sitd we sweat for / sud loike to know f we're betther nor he." " Aye," say hundreds and thousands, " Doivu wi unr It resulted in a strike. The master yielded. Better terms were asked and given, and then another great Grovernment order, then another strike, until six, seven, and even eight pounds per week were demanded and acceded to. Then they held out., for all went merrily, and money was so Hush that after a drunken debauch nothing 2t8 random recollections of less than champagne would do to recruit exhausted nature. These are facts. They held out until the smile of contentment had left the face, and from the hearth of the once happy workman, beds, bedding, tables, chairs, ticketed for sale filled the streets— for they became their own brokers. This I myself saw. A good woman will hold on to her wedding-ring with tenacity, but there were so many of them offered that the pawnbrokers refused to take more in, there was such a glut. This was told to me by the mayor of Middlesbrough, who added that he was the first apprentice that signed articles in that town ; his name was Watson. I remained in Halifax two years, with little of interest to relate. Stay, I do remember a personal anecdote concerning a village near Halifax, which surpasses all to be imagined in civilized England. They have, it seems, a language of their own, and habits to match. Their intermarriages are so great that names are confounded there, and nick-names be- come a necessity. They are said, also, not to be over particular in their household arrangements, and, for convenience, have a hole in the wall, so that if any householder happens to be short of any domestic AN OLD ACTOR. 219 article or utensil, the article short in one house is supplied by the other, when wanted. A friend of mine had occasion to go to this same village, some property being concerned. He inquired for one William Horsefall. In vain did he search ; but as it was a matter of monetary importance, much stir was made, and all the women assembled, the men being at work. At last, after a general cry of " Nay, nay, there's na' sic name here," one woman, wiser than the rest, cried out, " It moigltt be Bill o' Tom's!" And it was proved to be " Bill o' Tom's," meaning Bill the son of Tom. Moreover, my friend learnt that there were many Horsefalls in that village who did not know their own names. I had with me a clever " first old woman,^' who had been a celebrated " leading lady ;" she was going to take a benefit, and wished to have the " School for Scandal." 1 also had with me a " leading Lidy," 3'oung, clever, and pretty, and saw my difficulty. "I ivas thinking of playing Lady Teazle myself,"" she said, with a simpde and girlish air, " but it is so long since I have played the party " Then why not let Miss Heraud play it, and then we can make a great feature of Mrs. Candour ; though, to be sure, no one 220 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF can play Lady Teazle like you !" Her amour propre was satisfied, and a row avoided. This reminds me of Mdlle. Mars, a celebrated actress who retained her youth and beauty to an extraordinary age. In the days of passports she was asked what age should be inserted, she replied " Forty-one ;" her son, who stood by her, was asked his ; he replied, " Just one year older than my mother." On some one remarking they should have liked to have seen her play Juliet when young — -" Then I could look but not play the part," she said ; "now I can both play and look it." There is no particular merit in being respected, or making the trade or profession you follow respected as well ; still it is every man's duty to strive to do so, and when striven for, the respect is generally attained ; for when a man strives to jump ten feet he generally jumps better than those who never try. Having heard of Wakefield and Dewsbury, and as I wanted towns to go to, I resolved to try them. I was warned against going to Wakefield, for every- body said that all companies had begged their way out of it for the last twenty-six years. My reply was, " T am not much of the begging sort, nor shall my company have such a stigma while I have a shilling AN OLD ACTOR. 221 in my pocket." We opened with the " Lady of Lyons," well cast^ well dressed, with good appoint- ments. Nobody would take the box plan, and at night there was not a soul in the jjit or boxes, and only thirty-five shillings in the gallery. During the second act I observed a gentleman make a dart for the private box, but never showed himself to the audience ; he saw the end of the piece, and darted out as he came in. This puzzled me. The next day I was in a music-seller's trying in vain to get him to take a box plan. The gentleman I had seen the night before came, and at once spoke in the highest terms of the performance, and so spoke that the pro- prietor of the shop consented to take the box plan. " There is one obstacle," he said, " I fear you will never remove ; the gallery are in the habit of calling out to those in the boxes, and alwaj^s pelt those in the pit." On that night, and for some nights after, I addressed the audience cheerfully and kindly, pointing out the injury such proceedings would inflict ; and the result was, the next week I obtained a bespeak from one of the principal families — order was restored, and the pit became well attended. At the end of the season, on m}^ benefit, an old lady came in, but drew 22 2 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF back, sajdng, " They are all in full dress !" " Cer- tainly/'' a friend replied, " that's the style now." " Then I will go back and dress too," and she did. This goes far to prove that cleanliness, taste, order, and management render any profession or trade respected. Our next town was Dewsbury. This promised better things, though in a monetarj^ sense not more profitable than my second season was in Wakefield. This town has since become wondrously thriving, owing to " shoddy ;" the fortunes that have been made by this manufiicture are almost fabulous. It seems that all the old rags that can be bought up — all the old blankets, rugs, curtains, and bell-puUs-- are torn to pieces by a machine called a " devil," then washed, dashed, and smashed into a kind of pulp ; this, by the addition of better material worked in by machinery, and dj^ed, turns out the magnificent- looking articles of attire so beautifully ticketed and advertised. I found the people — even the wealthiest — jolly. One night, after playing something that evidently pleased a stout old gentleman, he said, " Wilt 'e come and ha' a bit o' lunch wi' me to- morrow ?" He named his factory, and the next AN OLD ACTOR. 223 morning I went by appointment. To my surprise, he was in the yard of the factory, a very large one, with an apron on and sleeves tucked up, sweeping it. " Welcome, lad, come int'e house." It was a neat but homely room, where a substantial lunch was ready laid, and, to my surprise, plenty of silver, with napkins, &c., in excellent taste. " Wliat'l 'e tak to drenk ?" I replied, modestly, "A glass of ale.'" "My lad, the'ste na yeale here ; that's wisliy washy stuff. Bring in, lass, sherrj', claret, and champagne ;" and, to my surprise, they were brought in. After a hearty lunch, he said, " Art 'e fond o' picters ?" I said I was. He opened a door, and, to my astonishment, there was a veritable picture gallery in the best taste, with many valuable pictures, some a little gaudy, but the general tone was correct. I noticed two I had seen exhibited in Manchester ; one called " Remorse,''^ if I remember, the other " Lady Jane Grey reading, and her tutor rebuking her for being solitary while all around were gay." I had been struck with them, and though small, I knew their worth. " These were in the Exhibition?" "Aye, lad." "You must have paid heavily for them." " Well, I give eight hundred for t' one, and a little moor for t' other." This is a 2 24 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OE simple evidence of the money made by "shoddy." The manufacturers live in very homely style, until a larger house is built and their family educated ; and when valuables and choice articles of vertii are collected they remove, and begin life in style and earnestly. I have been told as a truth that none of that class will look at a piano under 100/., though, until their sons and daughters learn, they have hardly heard the sound of one. These revelations are strictly true, and can be vouched for by any one familiar with manu- facturing people of that class — good, honest, kindly people, well remembered at the best hotels in London and Paris. Hearing that the Exeter Theatre was to let (which embraced a list of theatres called the Western circuit, as Barnstaple, Torquay, Weymouth, Tiverton, Taunton, &c.), by my wife's advice we journeyed tliither, and liking the appearance of the " faithful city," I took the tlieatre and cir(!uit for three years, which I never regretted. This was extended to eleven years' residence, and all recollections of that city, saving the death of my beloved wife, are pleasurable ones. Politics ran rife there, even to the verge of madness on certain occasions ; for " Eeds " and AN OLD ACTOR. 225 " Blues," as tliey are called, look upon each other with jealousy and almost hatred. It so happened that a Poor Law Guardian had to be elected. A reverend gentleman, who was a Conservative, put up as Gruardian, and a Radical opposed him ; he was a most respectable and competent man, but hard and worldly. The reverend gentleman I selected for my vote, knowing him to be of a benevolent nature. Approaching the hustings, and being then known by all, some of the poorer classes in the mob cried out, " Don't vote for the ' Blues,' Squire " (a name I was universally called) ; "vote for us !" "I am going to vote for your best interests," I said. Just then a vulgar fellow passed rudely by and trod fearfully on my corns, saying, " I knew he would vote for Mr. " meaning the tradesman. Smarting with pain, on being asked which side I voted for, 1 screamed, "Why, for the Beverend Mr. "(the before-mentioned tradesman^I had confounded their names). The vote was recorded amid shouts of laughter, and, to m}^ surprise, I found I had voted for the Badical. This was a standing joke for many a day on both sides, but none bore me ill-will for it. A celebrated man of the city during election time 2 26 RANDOM REC0LLEC2I0NS OF sent to London for three prize-fighters (he was himself a great biillj). When the election, which had been smartly contested, was over, ending to the advantage of the Conservative party, this incensed the other side, and the Half-moon Hotel was attacked. " I have been waiting for this,^' said my bullying friend ; " now for my reserve forces !" bring forth the prize- fighters. " Now, my lads, go in and win ; pitch into 'em right and left ;" and, unfastening the little wicket of the large gate, which had been carefully barricaded, the three sallied out. They did pitch in, but alas ! they were pitched into, for a little fellow tackled the principal man right and left, and so belaboured him that he left him in the gutter, to crawl out as best he could ; the others were bitterly ill-treated by the mob, and ultimately sneaked off", guarded by the police. But settlement was at hand; they naturally demanded of my bullying friend pay and passage, together with compensation for blows. This he did handsomely ; but to his horror he found he had met with a second Frankenstein^s creations, for the mon'iiQY^ pitched into him, and not until he had been well hunted, bumped, and thumped, did he satisfy their rapacity. AN OLD ACTOR. 227 These were merry days. It was no uncommon thing after returning thanks for a bespeak given by some great family, to find the head of it would rise and answer. Such an honour was accorded to me by Sir Stafford Northcote, Mr. Nation, and other wealthy and influential families ; indeed from the Earl of Devon, Lord and Lady Poltimore, Sir Lawrence Palk, the member, Mayor, &c., yearly proofs of their bounty poured in. I need scarcely say the best talent of every description periodically visited me, as Mr. and Mrs. Kean, Madame Celeste, Brooke, Sothern, &c. Madame Celeste ! what a host of recollections flood at the mention of her name ! Her chequered career must be a memory indeed. When first I remember her she was playing at a minor theatre in Liverpool, living in one room, and content to wash her spangled dresses. She did not live happily with her husband, who was a wild American, and much addicted to extravagance in all things, more especially in speech. " Wall, strain (J cry he would say, " did you ever hear tell of my father?" "No." " Wall, that's strange; he was the richest man in our State I Once we went to visit him, but it happened thar was a herd of buffaloes coming out of the park gates just as we drove up in a n "-^ 2 28 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF carriage and pair. And, would ^e^^ believe it — we had teu sit in that blessed carriage three whul days before the lot cleared out." But soon Madame's fortunes brightened, and when next I saw her she was at Covent Garden, in the full bloom of her expressive beauty and the zenith of her fame. She was announced as the only danseuse in the world that ever turned 120 pirouettes without stopping; at all events, she somehow turned the heads of half London. The next time I saw her was in Brighton, and large letters greeted me, " Madame Celeste has arrived, and will appear in her world-famous piece of ' Prediction,' being the first time she has ever attempted to speak English !" She played admirably in a sensational concoction, where she gets into all kinds of scrapes, and at last shoots her own child, and is then carried away in apotheosis form. I waited for the English, but it did not come until the end of every scrape and every act, and then it was a breather — " Oh,pra-dick- say-oimi " — a novel but agreeable way of getting over " prediction !" It was announced that between the pieces she would address the audience ; she came for- ward, and in her curt but sweet way said, " Ladis and gentle maans, wis your pare-mess-e-on zis piece will be AN OLD ACTOR. 229 repjjetit.'^ She was a grand woman, full of impulse and talent, and has hardly ever been approached by any living actress in her line of business. I have seen her in the parts of Miami in the " Green Bushes," Wept, of the " Wept-ton-Wish," and a host of more refined and varied parts. For years she was the great feature in the Adelphi pieces, and for many years to come her name will be associated with it in play- goers' memory. CHAPTER XIII. 1839 TO 1871. 11 /TY intimacy with Mr. Charles Kean grew until it ■ ripened into friendship. I went with him to give readings — for he was an immense man of business, and never missed a day or an opportunity of making money. We were travelling from Barnstaple, when a member of Parliament asked permission to enter the carriage occupied by Mr. Kean, Dr. Joy (his friend, physician, and man of business into the bargain), and myself We were chatting merrily, when our political friend (who, by the way, had a very red nose), re- marked that he always had a glass of milk before breakfast. Dr. Joy observed, " You have forgotten one thing, you have left out the rum." I knew by the look and laugh that he was right. The disease Kean suffered from, and wdiich eventually carried him off, diabetes, rendered him excessively nervous. On one occasion we were at Taunton, and it was RAND OM RE COLLE CTIONS. 2 -^ i o' announced that Mr. Kean requested the audience would be seated before his commencing^. It so hap- pened that a party (one of tlie most distinguished people in the county) were delayed. Mr. Kean had commenced, and both I and Dr. Joy, in the politest manner, requested they would have the goodness to wait a few minutes, as the reading was not a long one. " Indeed I shall do no such thing," said an imperious lady. Finding remonstrance vain, we opened the doors, and to our horror, and the per- plexity of Mr. Kean, the before-mentioned lady, in the loudest possible tone, marched down to the front seats, exclaiming, " Weil, I'm sure, to be kept out in the cold, indeed ! Oh, how do you do, I haven't seen you for an age ? (to some friends). Would you believe — such an insult! Dear me! Are you at home? Come and see us soon. Dear, dear, who ever heard !" &c. &c., until she finally subsided, and again Mr. Kean commenced. It was my custom, and his wish, that at the end of each reading I should visit him, to hear the opinion of the audience, &c. He, like his father, had an eye, and he could use it. " So, my gentleman " (he always honoured me by using that expression). "Who on earth is that low woman that 232 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF disturbed the audience aud upset me ?" " She belongs to one of the best families in Somersetshire," I said. " But why did you admit her ?" " Because I could not keep her out." " Why didn't you send for the police?" "What to Lady ?" "Yes, I would have had a posse of them, and carried her off liolus bolus!' The idea was so rich that I retired laughing heartily. Fate destined me for mistakes that night. I was very anxious to hear one piece that he recited grandly. The doors in the entrance were central and opened witli a slide, so I softly opened them a little way, then popped my head in and closed them as tightly as I conveniently could. At its termination L went gaily to his room. " So, ray gentleman, I always said you were born to vex me ; you have not forgotten the Princess's yet, and I feel sure you'll be the death of me some day." "What have I done?" I asked. "What have you done? You knew I wished to concentrate my mind and energies on that particular effort, and you were resolved to murder it." " Good gracious, what's the offence ?" " What's the offence !" he replied. " Didn't you stick your head— wooden-head, I should say— in at the door, and grin like a fiend at me ? In vain I looked right and left, AN OLD ACTOR. 233 in vain I strove to concentrate my thoughts ; nothing could I see but that infernal nicl-nad-noddle of yours." A more gentle, kindly heart never beat in man's breast, unless goaded by the malady that was destroy- ing him. Liberal to the poor, lavish to a degree when travelling — as railwa^^ porters, cabmen, waiters, and hotel-keepers can testify — in society (when he chose to unbend) charming to a degree, and brilliant. His amiable and revered partner idolised him, as did all who were intimately acquainted with him. He left his widow, daughter, and niece amply provided for, nor did he forget me, for, to my surprise, he left me his immense and valuable wardrobe, chains, crowns, jewels, robes, dresses, and swords, with the request that, if none of them were good enough for my ac- ceptance, he wished me to destroy them — thus in- creasing their value by a compliment as delicate and refined as he was great and polished. After a second marriage I entered into a great speculation — the Prince of AVales Theatre, Glasgow, destroyed by fire, but rebuilt for me. I took a twenty- one years' lease of it, and a sad day it was for me. I opened brilliantly, and " all went merry as a marriage bell." Previously I had been a walking cheque-book, 234 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OE but I found, to ray cost, the tlieatre was gloomy from the absence of ornament, and the walls, not being dry, would admit of none. In short, it was a wilder- ness of a place; it was capable of holding from 3000 to 4500 people ; there was a stage you might drive a coach and six upon, with twenty-four private boxes, and everything extensive and expensive. There were twenty in the orchestra, a fine company, and no end of supernumeraries, ballet, &c. I struggled on with a heavy weight upon" my shoulders, and my best people, foreseeing a fiasco, left for more congenial climes. Blow followed upon blow. My master-carpenter and chief scenic artist quitted me, and I stood with 500/. in my pocket to carry me through my pantomime, and onlij one month to Christmas ! Those only who can realize my position can guess my pain. I had engaged eight superior principals for my pantomime from London. Never was I so depressed, and never so resolute. Pacing rapidly up and down, I heard one of the scene-shifters say, " There's Bob down on his back again with delerious trimmings!^ " Bel. trem., call it," said the other scene-shifter, " as the more vulgar, having more sense, call it." I listened, with my heart almost in convulsions, for I had heard oi the AN OLD ACTOR. 235 talent of that reckless but clever man. I shouted out, " Do you mean to tell me that Bob is in Glasgow?" " Yes, sir, I've seen him this morning, and he's very bad — been a goin it awful, sir." " Do you know where he lives ?" " Yes, guv'nor." " Take me to him." In ten minutes I was by his bed-side. In less than a quarter of an hour after, one of the cleverest doctors in Glasgow was with rae. A hurried explanation of my fearful position ensued ; he quietly grasped my hand, and I knew, masonically — oh, holy and pure tie of man to man ! — if anything could be done it would. An excellent nurse was provided and every requisite, and in three days he was sufficiently recovered to direct the necessary pre- parations. Misfortunes, they say, never come singly, but on this occasion I had the ^ood fortune to reverse the adage, for, within three hours after finding Bob, I received a telegram from Liverpool, and from the man of all men I would have selected, applying for an engagement as master-carpenter. I immediately posted money at the office, with offer of a liberal salary and orders to start at once. " Money makes the mare to go" — I had plent}' of scenery, new can- vased — he came, and my two chefo set to work bravely. 236 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF The work progressed, and in due time my artists began to arrive. One morning I received a note intimating that the Sisters Guiness (my danseuses) had arrived — well known and clever they were. They came, but, horror of horrors, a tub rolled instead of my expected enchantress ; she had grown awfully stout, and, being winter, she was heavily laden with wraps. I gulped down my disappointment and cheerfully bade them welcome, hurried out of the room, and fairly broke down. The day after I was requested to go down to the theatre, as my principal singer had arrived, upon whom I chiefly depended. Miss Marion Taylor — who (theatrically) has not heard of her? — a good star singer of repute. I hurried down delighted. In the door-keeper's room, crouched over the fire, I saw a miserable bundle of humanity, with a visible declen- sion on one side and a veritable hunch on the other. She turned her head, and I gazed upon her face, which was not very prepossessing, from her long journey and her unkempt liair. She growled in my ear, " Gruv'nor, I've come, but you mustn't expect me for your pantomime ; I haven't sung a note for this last fortnight." " Merciful powers !" I exclaimed, "why am 1 thus afflicted ? My two principals useless, and, AN OLD ACTOR. 237 to m}' eyes, unpresentable at all." I gave them two days for rest and study, telegraphing everywhere to supply their places, but without success. My other artists arrived, and were all I could wish. On the morning of the first rehearsal there was a decided improvement in both. My dameme was vigorously at work in a short muslin dress and pink silk jacket. Miss Marion Taylor, too, presented herself in the height of fashion, and looking wonder- fully improved — the growl was changed to a whisper, the " hump" was marvellously lessened. She said, " I shan't attempt to sing, but let me hear the accompaniment, and let the prompter read for me." " Yes, and I fear," I thought, " he will have to do so if /produce the pantomime." I found, to my delight, that I had three admirable voices in the additional talent engaged. But my golden canary, on whom the entire weight of my pantomime rested, was absolutely mute. Mv danseuse at the back of the sta^e was whirling with lightning flexibility and thundering power. She was evidently " going in for a sweater" — all worked with a will. I was earlier at rehearsal the next morning than usual, when 1 heard a firm and brilliant touch on the piano I had hired for 238 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF practice ; liquid notes followed in succession, and a flood of roulades sent me flying to discover the silvery source. To my surprise it was Marion Taylor, now in full song and work. She had been wise in not using ber voice until its capability returned. The night came, and she looked charmiugly captivating as Tom Tucker ; the " hump " had disappeared, her shape was perfect, and in various scenes where I lavished all the refinement and sparkling wit I could gather, she sang and danced with such vivacity that she never sang to less than three encores. My danseuse had grown, from great exer- tion, marvellously thin by comparison, and before the week was herself entirely. And here let me mention one merit in this lady I have never seen approached. In her slow movements, before com- mencing her ra^iid ones, she used to show an attitude of prayer poetical in the extreme — elevated on one toe, with one arm extended and eyes elevated, the other hand placed pensivel}'' on her bosom, with finger pointed up, she looked the very picture of embodied devotion. My pantomime was pronounced, on all sides, to be infinitely superior to the production which had heQnJive months in preparation at the rival AN OLD ACTOR. 239 theatre. My painter was so overjoyed at its success that he got gloriously drunk. I gave him three weeks' holiday, with salary, and my parting words had such an effect that he returned himself, in his right mind, with added health and strength. I found it utterly useless to support my white elephant, so prepared to give up my lease, having endured torture and loss. My system broke down with the added weight of one of the severest colds man, I think, ever had — caught while playing " Ingomar " with bare arms, and in a thin merino dress. It first attacked my body, so that I was nearly losing the use of my limbs ; then it lied to ray throat. Five times in one night did I battle for life. The horror of strangling I shall never forget, it was exactly as if an iron hand clutched me. Then it flew to my ears, and from that to my eyes. Blind, desolate, and forsaken by fortune, my llftle one was horn to comfort me. I was told by the doctor that he had given me mercury enough to kill six strong men, without the least effect ; and his only resource was an oculist, and he informed me that my sight had just arrived to within a needle's point of closing, perhaps for ever. Confined to a darkened room, my fate 240 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF seemed gloomj^, but God was good, and in my affliction raised up hosts of friends, and tokens of regard, wliicli were as bountiful as spontaneous. At last sight was restored, but for six months my eye- balls continued to glare like crimson fire. I re- ceived a letter from Calvert to play Benedict, for a fortnight, in Manchester; he would take no denial, and as the terms were good I could not afford to lose them. At the expiration of that, he offered me a ten weeks' engagement, on liberal terms, to play Eichmond and Clarence in the revived edition of " Eichard III." This was the finest production of a piece I have ever seen — to the last money was turned away, every night, so great was tlie crush ; and as it neared the termination of its run, we had equally crowded day performances. Toole and Sothern's engagements prevented a longer run. The dresses, piece, and scenery, were purchased on the spot by Niblo, of New York, for 1000/., but, strange to say, the play did not take in New York. Calvert was not there, and that I suspect was the reason of its failure. The managers of the Eoyal Glasgow offered me good terms for six weeks, and my Glasgow friends did not forget me in my misfortunes. " Thus out of AN OLD ACTOR. 241 ill comes good." Calvert, as I have said, was a Unitarian. I had an inclination of ^o^^i^/, which hap- pily was removed in a marvellous manner. A favourite servant of ours had left us, and was living with Mrs. Wild, a rich clergyman's widow. The girl had forgotten to inform her mother of the change, and she wrote complaining of her silence. One morning we drove over to inquire the cause, and were asked in, the message being — that Mrs. Wild wished earnestly to speak to me. To my surprise, having heard me read "Wilks' Leper," and other serious works, she informed me she would provide for me if I would enter the Church. This naturally startled me, and her importunities were so great, that at last I promised to see the Rural Dean. I then dis- closed to him my doubts. " Your entering the Church is a matter of impossibility under such circumstances. But come," said he, " let us see if they can be re- moved. I will not attempt to argue the matter with you, but leave all in His hands. Promise to come and spend one hour with me every Thursday at ten, and I will test the value of my faith." I did, and the clearness of the link was evident. But a still more ruling Providence fated I should not be so B 242 RANDOM liECOLLECTIONS OF honoured as to be made a messenger. In the interim of ray instruction this sister of mercy, Mrs. Wild, died from cancer, and I was told she had in reality trans- ferred stock to a considerable amount in my name, but withdrew it on hearing my doubts. Now comes possibly the most startling of these startling facts. One day, when utterly penniless, I found a bill for £25 was due. I had a fine piano, which it struck me I could sell. I sent for the party who had sold it to me. But he was overstocked and refused. I paced my room in deep perplexity, and seeing a picture of " Our Saviour walking on the waters," I was impious enough to address it : " Oh, Thou, whom I have searched for so earnestly, help me in my distress." From over excitement I saw in imagination a frown upon the face. At that moment my housekeeper came in — " I fear, sir," she said, " you are in some perplexity for money, and wish to sell your piano ; let me go to Mr. Godolphin, he most likely might buy it.'' " If you can get me five-and-twenty pounds, he shall have it for that sum," said I. In a quarter of an hour she returned and laid down thirty pounds upon the table, saying, " Mr. Godolphin' s compliments that he doesn't want to buy, and rather than see you AN OLD ACTOR. 343 sell it, he begs to offer you thirty pounds, and pay it when you can," He was a Jew. One day I visited the Houses of Parliament. I had often passed it by water, and it always struck me as being low in situation, and not elevated enough ; the contrast between it and Somerset House is not favour- able ; had it been placed upon a terrace doubtless the effect would have been vastly different, but to my recollections, as we neared the building, it grew in favour, and when I stood under the Victoria Tower, then I realized England's greatness. This tower, I thought, looked as if it had planted itself firmly, and meant to stand. We strolled through the various rooms until we came to the House of Lords, which struck me as being too small for the purpose. Some trial was going on — some disputed rights of wharfage to an immense extent, in which great rights were invested; the chairman, or rather the judge, was surrounded by a few barristers, everything was very quiet and dignified, tlie claimant was the beau- ideal of an Englishman. Looking at the judge I mentally exclaimed, " Dear, dear, has this wizened old man the power to decide upon such immense stakes; why he appears a dying rushlight, ready to be snuffed out." 244 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF " Will you listen to a compensation ?" said a barrister. " No ! by ," said the claimant — " sink or swim ! I stand upon my rig-ht." Down went his stick with a thundering bump, and the hall re-echoed again. Suddenly that tottering, senile form glowed with immensity of mind, and his eye glittered like an eagle's, while his irwph convinced me he was not ?/et too old in the teeth. " He has won the day," said I. British pluck //ad won the day — and the Judge was Lord Brougham. Previous to my departure from Exeter, the citizens did me an honour which few managers can boast of after eleven years' acquaintance, they resolved to give me a presentation — no hole and corner business, but an outspoken affair. Three public meetings were held in the Guildhall, duly announced in the papers, and when the subscription list was filled it bore the best names, from the highest to the lowest. "What shall our manager play when the presentation comes off?" " Charles Surface," said a voice, answered by over three hundred voices of ringing cheers, I was told. Mr. Head, thrice mayor of Exeter, handed me the presen- tation, and on that memorable night I was surrounded by the mayor and many members of the corporation, AN OLD ACTOR. 245 all as if picked — grey-headed and grey-bearded men — of character and position. Oh ! recollections that atone for the sufferings, privations, and mental agony I have endured through my chequered life. The illness of our beloved Prince struck the nation with awe, and then did the great British heart beat with as one pulse. There was scarcely a man who did not feel for him — as father or brother. The broad bond of masonry was not enough to cement the tie, but its holiest teachings, like a strong band, spanned the nation. At last came a grand relief, and a day of thanksOTvin": was announced. When Enc^land does anything great, it is done in keeping with her wealth and dignity. For more than a fortnight preparations of a colossal standing were proceeding in all quarters ; not a liouse, shop, or vacant space en route, which was not taken advantage of; no nook or peep-hole missed. The price of seats rose to fabulous charges. I heard everywhere of everybody having seats ; my wife's sisters had loves of doves of places secured, and I and my wife were left out in the cold. I walked home, and ran upstairs ; on the table was a large official envelope, with a great seal. " Some law business — I suppose, more trouble," said I, growling. I opened it ; 246 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF could I believe my eyes — two tickets for St. Paul's from the Lord Chamberlain — and from that day to this I have never solved the mystery ; the only solution I could ever arrive at is, that I had become the lessee of Sadler's Wells, and had some interviews with him concerning the license, improvements, &c. ; but there was the fact — and there the tickets. I embraced my wife, who triumphantly said, " Now, what will my sisters say ? I can laugh at them noio.'' On the following day we dressed in grand style, not forgetting medals, sold plentifully everywhere. As we neared the crowd, for the city was fenced with soldiers, the crush being immense, I saw that thoughtful people placed their cards in the windows of the carriage. This saved trouble, for on sight of them the barriers were withdrawn noiselessly, and without inquiry, for no one was allowed to pass without tickets to the cathedral after six o'clock in the morning. As we rode through the city, the sight was beautiful, the streets unobstructed, but the crowd was immense — all silence, order, and good taste. We entered by the Queen's entrance, but at the side, as our seats were appropriated in that direction — a j)lan of the j)osition being on the card. And never shall I forget the sight AN OLD ACTOR. 247 that greeted me ; all the mayors of England, dressed in their official robes, lined the aisle where the Queen and the highest dignitaries of the land were appointed — the Speaker in his regalia, and members of Parlia- ment, also the Lord Mayor, &c. The Queen simply attired as for church, with the Prince on her right hand, the Princess and children on her left. The Prince had grown bald and stout. But his handsome, open-hearted face cheered all present, and many an earnest, silent prayer went up to the Throne of Grace for him and his. The service and choral accompani- ments were grand ; the two immense organs were played by electricity to save irregularity, and I believe the organist on that occasion was knighted. The whole scene was so grand and impressive, that, filled to repletion with sights and sounds, we resolved to see no more, fearing the effect might be marred, so dined in quiet thankfulness, and did not see the illuminations and other public treats provided in the evening, which I heard were brilliant past description. Finding Sadler's Wells too dilapidated, old, and cold, I disposed of the remaining portion of my seven years' lease to the Crystal Palace Company. I re- turned for the summer season to one of my old towns, 248 RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS. Weymouth. There an Australian manager, who saw me play the " Stranger," eng-a^ed myself and wife for twelve months. And here I will drop the curtain upon my recollections, to be drawn up, perchance, on some future occasion. I have led you step by step through the scenes of my varied life — told as they happened, without colour or exaggeration. If you have derived any pleasure from their perusal, we may meet again. I have spoken of events embracing a lengthened term ; should I be so blessed as to relate the doings of young Australia in the same space, you will hear more marvels in his young life than ever occurred in mine. I have spoken of the dead and past — and I hope gently — many I would mention, but for good and honest reasons I will reserve myself. Suffice it, those I have not spoken of live in my memory, tinged by no taste of bitterness or shade of malice. I may yet live to chronicle the doings of Australian ' stars and satellites, &c. ; and surely- the shades of departed pioneers, martyrs, saints, and sinners, that have helped its onward path, will give me the strength of their glowing energy to record their recollections, THE END. / J\J^^ r r^i) University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 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