THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THIRTY YEARS PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA: INTERSPERSED WITH ANECDOTES AND REMINISCENCES OF A VARIETY OF PERSONS, DIRECTLY OR INDIRECTLY CONNECTED WITH THE DRAMA DURING THE THEATRICAL LIFE OF JOE COWELL, COMEDIAN. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. IN TWO PARTS. PART I.-EN GLAND. " No author who understands the boundaries of decorum and good breeding, would presume to think all : the truest respect which you can pay to the reader's understanding is to halve this matter amicably, and leave him something to imagine in his turn, as well as yourself." — Sterne. NEW-YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-STREET. 1844. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by Harper & Brothers, In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New- York. £538 C?9A2 ADVERTISEMENT TO THE WICKED READER. In addressing for the first time a per- son — or body corporate or incorporate — some embarrassment often arises as to " the eftest way" of commencing your re- quest or apology ; but as I intend making neither the one nor the other, I feel no hesitation in adopting the above, as being most likely to suit the character of the class of persons into whose hands this work may fall. I have " turned over many books," and have found " Gentle Reader," and " Kind Reader," and all sorts of ami- able " Readers" by dozens, but the " Wick- ed Reader" I think I have got all to my- self. And if we only take notice of all that occurs to us every day in the week, and believe half what is said to us every Sunday, this book will certainly be perused by a very large majority who fully de- serve the title I have selected for them. Depending solely on memory for mate- rial, the incidents in the following pages are told without any strict regard to chron- ological order, but as they naturally con- nected themselves by "relative sugges- tion," as far as possible, with the im- pressions they made at the time. In fact, encumbering a book of this kind with dates, and heights, and distances, is like throwing a man overboard, to swim for his life, buttoned up in buckskin breeches and boots, when, by "going it with a perfect looseness," he might have a small chance to escape. The way I came to undertake this task at all was simply this. In the winter of 1841, my esteemed friend F. W. Thomas, Esq., the successful novelist, requested me to give him some anecdotical sketches of my life, to be prepared by his practical pen, as matter for a periodical he was then providing with suchlike insufficient food ; and I wrote for that purpose the beginning of this very book. Faults are beauties to the eye of friendship; he de- clined accepting it, deeming it of higher value ; and so strongly urged me to pro- ceed with my recollections, that, having the luxury of leisure during the following summer, I wrote at random the first vol- ume. But since then till now, having had to get my living by putting the non- sense of others into my head, I have had no time to spare to put my own upon pa- per. This long wait between the acts will, therefore, account for my speaking of my old friend Barnes and others as if they were still alive, when they have been foolish enough to die in the interim. In the second volume, as I wrote care- lessly along, I found I was recollecting too much, and was therefore compelled to take shelter in an abruptness which I had not at first contemplated. A smile of ap- probation from my old associates is the chief reward I look for from this truth-tell- ing gossip ; but if I told the tvhole truth, it might cause a laugh on the wrong side of the mouth. And even you, wicked reader, wouldn't wish me, though in joke, to wound the feelings of a class of persons the cant- ing world has for ages made most sensi- tive to wrong, because it has never done them right. And now, to borrow the extemporaneous language of the members of my profession, when " respectfully" informing an audience that some villanous tyro will be substitu- ted instead of the sterling performer they have walked a mile and paid their dollar to see, Most Wicked Reader, " / rely on your usual indulgence." Joe Cowell. Baltimore, August 1, 1843. 787214 THIRTY YEARS PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. CHAPTER I. " But what's his name, and where's his hame, I dinna choose to tell." — Coming through the Rye. " But whence his name And lineage long, it suits me not to say." Childe Harold. On the seventh day of August, Anno Domini one thousand seven hundred and ninety-two, I came " into this breathing world." CHAPTER H. " I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emula- tion ; nor the musician's, which is fantastical ; nor the cour- tier's, which is proud ; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious ; nor the lawyer's, which is politic ; nor the lady's, which is nice ; nor the lover's, which is all these ; but it is a melan- choly of my own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects : and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me, is a most humorous sadness." — Shakspeare. The only spot on earth to which my memory turns with that peculiar feeling which they alone can appreciate who can remember the cot where they were born, is the little village of Tor-Q.uay, in Devonshire. But it was not where I was born : all I can recollect of the place of my na- tivity is, a very large, dark-looking room, and a very large, black-looking chimneypiece. Chil- dren always imagine every object much larger than it really is, and generally much brighter: it appears I was an exception to the latter sup- position. I remember no little window .Nor " Where the sun came peeping in at morn ;" " Fir-trees close against the sky," as Hood says so prettily ; nothing but the large, dark room, and large, black chimneypiece: per- haps a sad prognostic of my future fortunes. The local inhabitants of this insignificant lit- tle village — it was so then, and I suppose is so now — were fishermen, pilots, and boatbuilders; a simple, industrious, kind-hearted people. How often have the little shoeless urchins slyly thrust me a slice of their dark-brown bread through the trellis-work of the flower-garden, in front of the house ; and many a weather-beaten handful of forbidden fruit has been dropped into the ready pin-a'-fore of " Master Joe," and devoured with ecstasy in the most private place on the premises. The county of Devon is called, and justly so, the garden of England. Climate gives charac- ter to all animals, and in that calm, yet genial spot, where, in the open air, the simple jessamine ; twines its perfumed tendrils amid the dazzling beauties of the passion-flower, the blood so smoothly flows to work its task of life, that man's nature partakes of the serenitude of the atmosphere, and all is health, and peace, and calm content. At the period to which I allude (I shall pur- posely avoid all useless dates) Tar-Bay was the chosen rendezvous of the Channel fleet. The satirical couplet of " Lord Howe he went out, And, lord ! how he came in," would have been equally applicable to the fleet then under the command of Earl St. Vincent, but that the Saint precluded the pun. Adverse winds, in that most adverse channel, and the nothing-to-do-duty this then terror of the ocean had to perform, made even mooring and un- mooring a precautionary employment, for thou- sands of men to be kept in subordination literal- ly by one: all old man-o'-ivars men know it is safe policy never to let Jack have time to think of anything but his duty. Frequently the fleet would be in harbour two and three weeks at a time, diverting the people with cleaning, paint- ing, polishing, and punishing; then to sea for a like period, and into port again. The beauty of the climate, the facilities for sea-bathing, and the joy which every sailor feels at being surrounded by " wife, children, and friends," induced many of the superior officers to hire the better sort of houses which could be procured, or build slight compact ones for the accommodation of their families. In a large fleet, caipenters, masons, mechanics of all sorts, and labourers by hundreds, are readily obtained ; houses were built, furnished, and occupied as if by magic, and the country, for miles around, be- ing thickly studded with the rural residences of the nobility and gentry, Tor-Quay, at that time, became suddenly the most exclusively fashion- able watering-place in the kingdom. In a small, neat house, fitted up in elegant simplicity, situated on a gentle ascent from the beach, and overlooking the whole harbour, lived my protectress — my more than mother. Here, loving and beloved, I passed three innocently happy years. The arrival of the fleet was the signal for joy and festivity; sailing-matches, boat-clubs, pony races, banquets, balls, and concerts occupied a portion of each day and evening. In compli- ment to Earl St. Vincent, on his birthday a more than usually splendid festival was given at Carey Sands, a country seat a few miles dis- tant from our house, and " the children," indul- ged in everything (which health and morals would permit), were allowed to see the com- s THIRTY YEARS mencenient of a masked ball, walk through the rooms, and return early home. Here I first saw Lord Nelson, a mean-looking little man, but very kind and agreeable to children; he prophe- sied a very different fate for me from what it has been, and some trifling anecdotes of himself, which he probably invented to please a boy, made so strong an impression on my mind as greatly to influence my conduct while in the navy. A spacious hall, fitted up as a theatre, attract- ed our particlar notice. As I afterward learned, a company of players, from the adjacent town of Totness, were engaged to give two or three exhibitions, the festival lasting a week. The fireworks, ox-roastings, balls, and concerts were all described and explained to us, and all per- fectly understood, excepting the play, and that Avas incomprehensible. To satisfy our tortured curiosity, this angel woman (her name is too sacred to be put on record with the adventures of a poor player) actually engaged a portion of the company to give an entertainment at our house to please the children. Shrink not, ye props and ornaments of the profession, when I tell you you have often, perhaps without thinking it, been placed in the same position. How frequently have I heard a fond parent say, " If you are good children, I'll take you to see Kean, or For- rest, or Macready." For my own part, many a time has some fat-headed patron of the drama said, " Cowell, my boy, I'm going to take my little girls to see your Crack to night, so do your best." The day, big with fate, at length arrived, and " the best actors in the world" — I think four in number. One didn't speak, but merely rung a little bell, and snuffed the candles, and when he put one out we all laughed, and he made a very formal bow ; he was a comical-looking creature, dressed in large, white Turkish trousers and a footman's jacket. Preparations immediately commenced; the dining parlour was speedily unfurnished, and the adjoining room " thrown into one," that is, as far as wide-opening a com- mon-sized door could make two rooms into one. Chairs, sofas, and ottomans were placed in rows, and elevated, in the back apartment, where the servants and humble neighbours were to be accommodated, to peep through the open door over our heads. All the flat candlesticks in the house were put in aline, in front of the seats intend- ed for the family, and separated from them by a long board nailed on edge. How well do I re- member with what wonder and admiration I looked on at the adroit manner in which, signal Jacks, ensigns, and blue-peters, window and bed curtains, were furled, puckered, tacked, and tied, by a slim, long-nosed young gentleman, in shirt- sleeves, knee-breeches, and blue worsted stock- ings, to form the wings and drops of this mimic stage! At length all was completed — the per- formance was to commence " at early candle- light :" never do I recollect so long an afternoon as that was but once since, and that was, five hours passed in a sponging-house waiting for bail. At length the day drew in, " and night, the lover's friend," advanced; the bell was rung, and the seats in the rear immediately occupied, according to the age and grade of the party. We were placed in front, the governess at our backs, ready to explain any doubtful point, and direct our deportment: our general instructions were, to clap our hands when she did, and not to laugh; this latter command I made up my mind to disobey ; and I did. To her supposed superior judgment in juvenile matters had been left the control of the entertainment, and she had selected " Hamlet" (only a portion of the trage- dy, I suppose), but whether to suit her own taste, or her pupils, I can only imagine. She was a romantic little body. She hated me with, all her heart, but was too prudent to say so ; and I hated her with all my soul, and said so to everybody. She had a very pretty, ill-natured looking face, and small neat figure, in despite of one very crooked leg ; this fact I discovered in consequence of her tumbling, head foremost, over a stile one slippery day ; and for laughing most heartily — who could help it 1 — I was locked up in a cupboard, at the door of which I kicked so lustily for half an hour, they were obliged to let me out, " / made such a noise J"* I forget if there was any overture, or an apol- ogy for one in any way ; but music, from my infancy, being as familiar as a household god, it was not likely to live in my memory, I sup- pose they began the play where Horatio informs Hamlet of his "last night of all" adventure, for I recollect nothing preceding that dialogue, which I was astonished to find I had often read in that excellent book for children, " Enfield's Speaker." I love that book still ; it gave me the first relish for more substantial food, and if I can sell this, I'll buy a copy for my grandson. Presently the Ghost glided in from behind a French flag — there was one on each side of the room, with the Eng- lish ensign over it — enveloped in a white sheet, something white on his head, his face white- washed, and a white truncheon in his hand. All was breathless attention ; but, before he had time to reply to Hamlet's earnest inquiries, I. shouted out, with all my might, " That's the man, who nailed up the flags!" For, in defiance of his white-all-over-ness, I recognised in the Ghost my friend in the knee-breeches, for whom I had held the hammer, and helped so nicely (as he said) in the morning. The governess gave me one of her withering looks, but all the rest of the audience laughed most heartily ; so did Hamlet, so did the Ghost, till his white sheet shook again. Hamlet — " methinks I see him now" — was a slim, round-faced, good-looking young man, and, I imagine, rather effeminate in his manner; for all agreed he was very like our very pretty house- maid Sally. He was dressed in a suit of mod- ern black, a frill about his neck, with a silver cord and tassel, his head powdered (the fashion of the time); a spangled red cloak ; the order of the garter around his leg; a broad-brimmed, black velvet hat, turned up in front, and a large diamond shoe-buckle, supposed to enclasp one tall, white feather. But Horatio had five (we all counted them); his waistcoat, too, was near- ly covered with gold, and his clcak was spangled all over ; he wore light blue pantaloons, and red shoes — I forget the colour of his hat. He was decidedly my favourite, and I believe the favour- ite of all; at any rate, the children and servants thought as I did, that lie was worth all the rest of them put together; besides, "in the course of the evening," he sung a fine loud song, about ships and the navy, and danced a sailor's hornpipe; but whether they were introduced in the tragedy or after it, I know not. He appeared to have twice as much to say as Hamlet had, and what he did say he said three times as loud ; all the * I cannot but regret these delightful visions of my child- hood, which, like the fine colours we see when our eyes are shut, are vanished forever. — Alexander Pope. PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 9 auditors in the next room could hear every word he uttered ; and, as more than halt' could not see him through the open door, it was quite enough to make him a great favourite in their estima- tion. The coachman said he heard one speech while he was feeding the horses; and the stable was at least one hundred yards from the house; no doubt the same speech which frightened two of the youngest children. They cried, and, at their own request, were sent to bed. Hamlet made several long soliloquies, and as he looked me straight in the face, I thought he addressed me in particular ; so when he inquired, "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slinks and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles — " I replied, "If I were you I'd go to sea." This called forth a most joyous shout from the next room, for even then I was the low-comedian of the household ; but my female Mentor said I was a very bad boy (I was used to her saying that), and if I spoke again I should be sent to bed. So when I thought Hamlet was going to make me another long speech, I shut my eyes, and made up my mind to go to sleep till it was over. But my friend Horatio soon roused me. In fact, he was one of the many actors who are determined to be heard, at any rate; and "tired Nature" must be very tired indeed if she could take her "second course" while he was declaim- ing. I have met with man)' Horalios since, and they, like my first impression, are always great favourites with children and the uninformed. There was a star Horatio engaged in the last company I played with, and nine tenths of the audience thought and said he was a very fine actor. Well, let them think so ; I'll not contra- dict them ; I was sorry myself when I was un- deceived. Hamlet spoke Collins's beautiful " Ode an the Passions;" he didn't deliver it as the governess read it; I thought then he was right and she was wrong: I have changed my opinion since. The Ghost sang a comic song, and the whole party " Ye mariners of England," the cnndle-snuffer giving his "powerful aid" in the chorus. Exhausted with wonder and delight, I went to bed. I prayed every night that I might be made a good boy and go to heaven. I fell asleep, and dreamed that I had got there, and was surround- ed by dozens of Hamlets, and Horatios, and Ghosts in red wigs and striped stockings, dan- cing, and singing "all manner of songs," and the angels applauding them in the most boisterous manner; but when I waked, I didn't "cry to dream again," for, to my astonishment, I heard Horatio singing away with all his might in the housekeeper's room, amid clapping of hands and shouts of laughter. Before I closed my eyes again that night, I made up my mind that I would rather be that Horatio, and do "all that," than be Horatio Nel- son, though he had lost an eye, and banged the French. " Where then did the Raven go ? He went high and low ; Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go. Many autumns, many springs, TraveU'd he with wandering wings ; Many summers, many winters — I sAa'n'i tell half his adventures." Coleridge. CHAPTER III. " Truly, in my youth I suffered much extremity for love." — Shakspeare. I was just " turned sixteen," as the children, say, but in manner and appearance much older. Three years in the navy, the usual hardships of a sailor's life, a complexion stained with salt water and the sun of many climes, are materials to make boys into men at very short notice. I had three weeks' leave of absence, prior to a twelve months' cruise on the West India sta- tion. My mother lived next door to Grosvenor Chapel : and on Sunday morning, determining to see all that could be seen (as my days were numbered), I "dropped in" to witness the service. In using Paul Pry's flippant expression, I must not now, nor then, be understood to have any but the most profound respect for all religious cere- monies; but, having been educated a rigid Ro- man Catholic, at that period my entering an Episcopal house of God was induced by pure curiosity. In the adjoining pew sat an elderly, tradesmanlike-looking man, with a pug nose, and a round, unmeaning face, resembling alto- gether a very good-natured bulldog; with him a plump old lady, and an elegantly-dressed, young creature — their daughter, of course ; but where could she get such an abominable, ple- beian-looking father and mother] I felt angry that nature had made herself so ridiculous. She was most beautiful, refined in her deportment, and a perfectly aristocratic face. Her fine eye, I thought, sometimes wandered towards me; a naval uniform, in those days, was quite as at- tractive as a soldier's is in these ; she sat close to me, nothing but the abominable bulkhead of the pew between us, " Where she kneel'd, and, saint-like, Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly." An angel's whisper ! there is no preaching I ever heard can produce on my mind such a pure devotional feeling as listening to little children and pretty women saying their prayers ; I al- ways want to go to heaven along with them di- rectly. I thought I heard her sigh. Our eyes met as she said Amen ; my heart palpitated, and " Amen stuck in my throat." I had been in love two or three times before, and have been in love ever since, and perfectly understood all the symp- toms; but, as Ollapod says, there were "matri- monial symptoms in this case." In my own mind, I had got the consent of my mother (who could refuse to permit a union with such a di- vinity 1 ?), and had retired, on a British midship- man's half pay, to a " cottage near a wood," with a cow, cabbage-garden, chickens, and children. The only impediment that appeared to cross my path to pre-eminent felicity was her pudding- faced, pug-nosed parents; my mother would de- cidedly object to them, whatever she might think of their daughter. In my confusion of thought, I stood up in the pew, and popped on my hat with the cockade behind ; the old gentleman pointed out my error; I thought I saw a child- like giggle play over the beautiful face of my adored; I would have given two years' pay to be shot on the spot, or tossed overboard in a gala of wind, or mast-headed, out of sight of land or petticoats, for the rest of my life. The service ended, I gained the door as they did, and tender- ed an awkward acknowledgment of thanks to the old man for correcting my ridiculous position. " Sir," said he, with a plethoric kind of chuckle, " you gentlemen of the navy, sir, don't often go 10 THIRTY YEARS to church, I suppose, sir ; but, sir, I love a sail- or, sir; I'm a loyal subject, sir; God bless the king, sir, and God Almighty bless the queen, sir. She, sir, is, sir, the mother, sir — that is, the queen-mother, sir— and I'm blessed, sir, if she oughtened to be blessed, sir, for blessing the country, sir, with such a blessed lot of royal highnesses, sir. Sir, I'm a true-born English- man, and a loyal subject, sir, and have the hon- our to be leather-breeches-maker, sir, to His Roy- al Highness the Duke of Sussex, sir," pointing, at the same time, to a sign over a bow-window, by the side of which he stopped, and rung a bell at the private entrance. The door was opened by a boy in undress livery; we bowed and part- ed. I looked up. Sure enough, there was " the precious evidence," " William (I think) Creek, Tailor and Breec/ies-maker in ordinary to His Royal Highness tlie Duke of Sussex" in green and gold letters, and the King's Arms in a semicircle over it, exactly lour doors from my mother's house. I had followed my charmer (who was on the outside) at an angular distance of about three feet, sometimes on the curbstone, some- times in the gutter, or, as a sailor might say, about two points to leeward. Now this was not mauvaise honte on my part, but prudence; for, upon coming alongside in the first instance, I found, to my astonishment, she was at least three inches taller than myself. In everyday language, she was what is called a magnificent creature, " With beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear ;" a very effeminate, Miss Clifton style of woman. Over her sculptured form she had thrown a splendid scarlet mantle, trimmed with white er- mine ; a white hat, with a drooping red leather, adorned her classic head. I am still, and for years have been, allowed to possess great taste for ladies' dress, but at the time I speak of, per- haps, it was a little Goldfinch-ish : " Sky-blue habit, scarlet sash, white hat, yellow ribands, gold band and tassel — that's your sort !" I was in love — most horribly in love — " 'Twas through my eyes the shaft had pierced my heart ; Chance gave the wound that time could never cure." But she was (oh horrible thought!) the daughter of a leather-breeches builder, and my mother, like Rob Roy, had " an utter contempt for weav- ers, and spinners, and all such mechanical per- sons." But then he made breeches for His Roy- al Highness the Duke of Sussex ! how might that soften down the bowels of aristocratic au- thority ? There was hope in that thought, and I determined to be measured for a pair the next day : though I had but little time to wear them ; for, on the station to which I was ordered, even if the service would permit the costume, the cli- mate would not. On the following morning I called on Mr. Creek. " Sir, he's at breakfast, sir," said the knock- kneed boy in the gray livery I had noticed the day before; "but, sir, if 'tis anything partic'lar, sir, I'll call him, sir." "Do so, sir; I wish, sir, to see him, sir, di- rectly, sir," said I, following the sir-ish fashion. The bow-window apartment I had entered was covered with a handsome carpet ; in the centre a billiard-like table, on which were wri- ting materials, and the papers of the day ; and the walls decorated with numerous mirrors. My prospect of consent began to brighten. If he was ji breeches-maker, he didn't breakfast till ten o'clock, and kept a sort of livery-servant. I had barely time to think so much, and peep through a glass case, the width of the shop, covered with a demi-transparent green curtain, behind which at least thirty men were employed on a platform, stitching away at his royal highness's small- clothes, I suppose — when Mr. Creek appeared. His fat face was buttered from ear to ear, which he proceeded to wipe with his folded handker- chief, while in his peculiar style he paid me the compliments of the day. When he came to a pause, I begged him, in my most urbane man- ner, to measure me for a suit of clothes. " Sir, with pleasure, sir. A uniform suit, of course, sir? I pride myself on my uniform fits, sir. This coat is a little too much — " I interrupted, no doubt, a learned lecture on what a uniform coat should be, by quietly say- ing, " I wish a plain suit, Mr. Creek." "A plain suit, sir 1 Bless me, sir! have you left your ship for any length of time, sir?" " I may shortly leave the navy altogether," said I, with a sigh. I thought of the cottage and the cow ; and as my mother cheerfully paid my bills at that time, and might not after I had retired from the service and married the tailor's daughter, prudence prompted me to order a green coat, red waistcoat, and leather breeches — a very fitting dress for rural felicity. The red vest I ordered in compliment to the colour of my wife's cloak — that was to be ; and I hinted, that if it could be made off the same piece of cloth that his daughter's mantle was composed of, I should prize it more highly. I imagined it was cabbage on an extensive scale. " Oh, sir," said the old man, his little blue eyes twinkling on either side of his bit of putty-like nose, " she's not my daughter. I — " "God be praised!" exclaimed I, not waiting for his " wish she was" conclusion of his sentence, I suppose. " Sir !" said he, his face suddenly assuming an expression of gravity which its fat-encumber- ed muscles seemed impossible for it to achieve, " sir — I beg pardon, sir — but I should like to know, sir, why you should appear so thankful, sir, that Anna is not my daughter, sir?" Anna! I heard her name for the first time* a pastoral, poetical, and pretty name — a real sail- or's name : " I call her Anna, Anne, Nan, Nance, or Nancy." 1 blundered out, that I had thanked God that, in addition to her natural protector, she had a friend of his age and respectability to guide her moral deportment, of which I judged from the sacred place to which he had conducted her when we first met. A shade of doubt passed over his countenance; but he recollected I was his customer, and his natural good- humour and common sense prevailed. In his own way, he went on to explain that Anna had no faiher ; he had died when she was an infant, and had left her mother "well to do in the world," with three children, all girls, two much older than Anna, and one long since married to a cousin of his wife. She was a native of , in Berkshire; at her father's death, her mother had taken a milliner's shop, where Anna had learned the ru- diments of the business, but had been sent to London under his care, and was now articled for three years (two and a half of which were yet to stretch their slow length along) to the Misses Twicross, the celebrated dressmakers PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 11 in Bond-street, with a premium of fifty guineas, to be finished, as he called it. Upon giving my name and address, the old man exclaimed, "Why, bless me, sir! I have, sir, the honour, sir, to be in great favour with your mamma, sir; my neighbour, sir; and, you know, sir, it's very few people as is, sir — " with a kind of confidential chuckle. "You see, sir, her kitchen-chimney was on fire, sir, and the maid-servants set up a terrible screeching, sir; and there was so much smoke, sir, that you could not see where the fire was, sir; and the parish engine, sir, being in the basement story of the chapel, sir, next house to hers, sir, as one may say, sir; I, sir, and my boy, sir, and the poor apple-woman, sir, that she kindly gives leave, sir, to sit at the corner of the court, sir, pulled it out, sir, and I dragged the hose into the passage, sir; but the fire went out, sir, before we could get any water, sir; but your good mamma, sir, coming down stairs, sir, and seeing me with the brass nozzle in my hand, sir, thought I had extinguished it, sir; and so, sir, whenever she speaks of me, sir, she always says, ' The good man that saved my property by putting out the fire — Mr. — lohat's his name ? something that puts my teeth on edge ?' ' Mr. Creek, ma'am,' savs Mary. 'Tea, Mr~: Squeak — that's it.'" The 'jolly old man chatted himself into a most familiar good- humour. I recounted some of my ship-shape adventures, and, well pleased with each other, we parted, with my promising (oh, how gladly !) to take a cup of tea with himself and wife, and Anna, "just in the family-way," that evening. lam not going to tantalize my readers with a rodomontade of love-making ; suffice it to say, Anna had received an education far above her station : affable, nay, even free in her manner, "than those who have more cunning to be strange," but with a mind as simply pure and unpolluted as the stream that wanders through and adorns her native village. I readily obtained permission, to save Mr. Creek the trouble, of conducting her to Bond-street in the morning. The jovial old tailor had made us stand back to back, to decide our height; and he declared, <( Anna, sir, is only an inch taller, sir, than you are, sir — good measure, sir." When, at an early hour the next day, we met, I had heels to my boots that placed me on a level with her at any Tate ; and, before we had crossed Grosvenor Square, I had good reason to believe that our hopes and wishes were more on an equality than our persons. Doubt not I was most punctual in my attendance to and from South Audley- street to Bond-street. Three times that week, and four the next, accompanied by the old peo- ple, we attended the theatre. The first legiti- mate play I ever beheld Anna sat beside me — 'twas Romeo and Juliet. "They must have played it on purpose," said the innocent Anna, in a whisper, and her cheek wet with tears; and I, in my heart, damned the author for not letting them live and be happy. Charles Kemble was the Romeo — the great Lewis, Mercutio — Miss Norton, Juliet — la, la (but I never saw a Juliet such as Shakspeare intended) — the glorious Mrs. Davenport, the Nurse — and Murray, the silver-toned, serene, and beautifully-natural Charles Murray, was the lovers' friend, the botanical Friar Lawrence. 1 passed two whole, dear, delicious Sundays in her society. Oh how sweet " To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray !" I spoke not of my difference of creed, for, for her sake, I would have turned Turk. The old man was our confidant and council- lor. "Sir, you must join your ship, sir, at the proper time, sir; and Anna, sir, must finish her time with the Misses Twicross's, sir, and get the worth of her fifty guineas, sir ; and you must fight the enemies of Old England ! Oh ! I'm a loyal subject, sir; and when you're a lieutenant, sir, and the old lady won't consent, sir, if you both, sir, think, sir, as you do now, sir, and there should come a peace, sir, you'll get your half pay, sir; you can teach transportation, nav- igation 1 mean, sir, and drawing, and painting, sir" (I had been well instructed, and had taken his and his wife's portraits, and Anna's "picture in little") ; " and she will be mistress of her art, sir; I am well to do in the world, sir; have nei- ther chick nor child; Anna's father was a good friend of mine, sir — lent me money when I first went into business, sir; but never fret, sir; take things cool, as I do, sir," wiping the perspira- tion from his fat forehead ; " all will be right, sir; take my advice, sir." I tvish to God I had. The fatal second Sunday at length arrived — I thought, in the middle of the week. I had to set forth post, at 7 P.M., to ensure my being on board by gunfire on Monday morning; but it was past nine before I could finish all my oaths of constancy, and exchange those tokens sailors think so sacred. With hope decking the future in the rainbow colours of love at seventeen, I rushed into the chaise, on a bright autumnal evening, and, faster than the sun, I seemed to travel on the same road to Portsmouth, to overtake him in a few weeks in the West Indies. The tedium of many a weary middle-watch in that sunburned sea has been relieved of its monotony in (castle-) building, the cottage, and the cow, the chickens and the children ; and then, " Look'd on the moon, And thought of Nancy." CHAPTER IV. " Hope, thou hast told me lies from day to day For nearly twenty years." Yoiwo. With my last shilling in my pocket, and my heart pretty nearly in the same place, I was seated about the middle of the high flight of stone steps leading to one of the entrances of the dock- yards, watching the gambols of some boys ba- thing on the shore beneath. "To myself I said," if I could only take courage, and keep my head under water as long as that lad does, " in a merry sport," I might speedily end all my troubles, and the anxiety of those who still care for and love me. The red sun was dodging now and again be- hind some fantastical long gray clouds, and ap- parently descending with more than usual rapid- ity, as if in derisive imitation of the friendship of man. " Good-by — I'm sorry for your misfor- tunes, but — I'm in a hurry — good-by." I had arrived at Plymouth Dock about three weeks previous to this period, with " time cut from out eternity's wide round" before me, and fifty pounds in my pocket — an inexhaustible sum to my nineteen years' old experience — probably five guineas was the largest amount I had ever had in my possession before, at one time, in my 12 THIRTY YEARS life; all my necessities had been amply supplied, and every member of a cockpit knows that, as to money, " man wants but little there below." Young minds are more easily depressed than those which have had long experience of "for- tune's buffets and rewards;" my landlady at the White Horse, who was the gray mare of that establishment, had that day given me notice of " no liquor and no credit," and two days more had elapsed than necessary to bring me an an- swer to my letter, praying for positively the last assistance 1 would ever ask for. I had " wasted myself out of my means" in boarding every out- ward-bound merchantman, and treating the cap- tains to "five-pound suppers and after-drink- ings," to bribe my way as a mate in some craft bound to any land, " so not again to mine." But in those days my finished theoretical knowledge was an impediment to a command under these prejudiced, ignorant, " petty traffickers." The British navy, with two wars at her back, seized upon all who could be serviceable, and many a three and four hundred ton merchant vessel would go to sea with a skipper, two mates, and five or six landsmen or boys, to follow in the wake of a convoy, content with a dead reckoning, if any at all, kept on a black board with a piece of chalk. In the frame of mind I then was, I might, when the sun and little boys got out of my way, have wet myself at any rate, but that just as they were all preparing to depart, the arrival of a man-o'- war's boat immediately at the foot of the stairs where I was sitting formed a new impediment to my cold-water experiment. "A gross, fat man," in a warrant officer's uniform, landed, fol- lowed by a seaman bearing a large-sized chest : as he reached the step on which I sat, I rose to let him pass ; he, in a rough, authoritative man- ner, exclaimed, in a broad Scotch dialect, " Od, but it's queer what can mak shore people sae fond o' sitting on sic a gangway as this — it's fu' small way — and no' intended for ony but his majesty's officers and sic like." Before the conclusion of his rude address, I had recognised him for an old shipmate ; our eyes met — he stood for an instant the picture of penitent astonishment, and in the next I was half crushed to death in his ponderous embrace. He had been before the mast of a sloop of war I belonged to for a short time, and in boarding a French lugger privateer, was wounded twice, and his bravery was instantly rewarded by ma- king him a quartermaster, the first step for pro- motion to a warrant. Our corvette was con- demned as no longer seaworthy on her arrival at the very port where we now again met, and by accident he was sent on board the same ship 1 was then ordered to join. He had always been a great favourite with me, for, apart from his being a brave man and a good sailor, his childlike blessing in the hour of peril on his old father and mother and his native home, proved the kindness of his nature; and though he had not seen either since tie was a boy, his tongue still retained as strong a love for its language as his heart did for its soil. Trinculo says, " Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows:" it certainly levels all dis- tinctions. Pride and poverty had so struggled away the strength oi my boyish mind, that even the rough kindness of this weather-beaten Scotchman so subdued my care-devil nature, that " tears, the heart's best balm," flowed in torrents, and I sobbed long and loud in his arms; had he been my father, 1 am sure I should have felt as I did then, but " I never a father's protection knew — Never had a father to protect." " Dinna fret man, dinna fret ; there's na use i' fretting — I ha' heard o' your scrape. Deil scoup wi' the feller as caused it — he's an awsome body that, and naebody su'd care till anger him — but ye was a'ways a rattling cheel. But ye ha' a gude friend i' the admiral, and he'll pass it a' ower easy." " He has passed it over easy" said I : "he has obtained my discharge by sick-list, to save me from a court-martial, who, in its mercy, might have condemned me to be shot. Damn the ser- vice ! and all that belongs to it." " Nay, nay," said he, soothingly, " ye wold na' damn me?" I could not speak — my heart felt as if it had overflowed up to my neck — I grasped his honest hand. "I didna' ken the case was sae bad," said he: " let's say na mair about it ; you must awa home wi' me. Oh, you need na stare, I ha' got a home and a wile too — " ' In every port we find a home, In every home a wife, sir." " Oh, she's a real wife — I was na' but bleating out an auld snatch of a song just to cheer ye up like. Heave a head wi' the trunk, Sieeney — " to the seaman, a long, red-whiskered fellow; a countryman, no doubt. " I ha' gotten a wee drib- ble o' Port wine in a keg in it, whilk I'm taken right through the yard" — with an amateur smug- gler's look — " so they mayna' suspect ony thing ; the puir body at home is fond of a wee sup, hot wi' sugar, aibre turning in." His explanation of the contents of the box was supeifluous, for I heard the well-known squish, squash, as the man again lifted it on his shoul- der. Alter passing unmolested through the dock- yard, a few short turns brought us to a shoe- maker's shop; behind the counter was a little man with wax-ends and upper leather written in his face (what a strange thing it is that shoe- makers always look like shoemakers): he was employed in lighting a second candle, for it was then dark. "Awa' above wi' the prize, Steeney, and tell Missus Mackay," with a strong emphasis on the Missus, and a twinkle of his good-natured eye at me, " tell Missus Mackay to put a' to rights, as she ca's it — I ha' gotten a gentleman wi' me. Mr. Hobblin," to the shoemaker ('twas his real name). " this is the gentleman I tell'd ye of, as got me made" (here he gave me another disa- bling shake of the hand). " I'll tell ye a' about it — and that'll gi' the auld woman time till get a' ready — she's a wee bit fussy; but, gude sir r gude — take a chair — I can sit anywhere," poun- cing his ponderous person on a pile of sole leather in the corner, which his weight brought immediately to within a foot of the floor; "ye need na' mind, Master Hobblin; no harm done; it's got till be hammered, ony how. Weel, ye see, I was on liberty, taking a cruise on the Holy Ground, as they ca' it ; if ye was ever at Cove o' Cork, ye maun ken, there's na sic a place for fun in a' England, or Scotland till boot — weel, I was having a crack wi' an auld shipmate as be- langed till the Yulus— he was braggin' o' his ship,. but na braggin' o' his captain ; ye ken when fel- lers are afore the mast," here he polished one of the anchor buttons on his sleeve, "they will ■■' PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 13 scramble sometimes wi'out cause — but in his case. 1 dare say, he was na' far out in his reck- oning. Weel, ye see, as I could na' brag my ship against his, 1 bragged on our captain — he comes frae puir auld Scotland — and naebody had inuckle chance till say onything against him; he wad but just walk up the 'commodation lad- der every day at twal o'clock, and if there was Da' ony punishment, he'd mak his bow and gang down again ; and it there sud be a needcessity to punish some puirdewil, he'd na' seem to takony pleasure in it — just read the articles o' war, and ask the teller if he wad prefer till be tried by a court-martial, and raair than likely get hanged, or take twa or three dozen at aince. In course they a' did, whiles I belanged till the ship, but ane puir, daft toad o' an Irishman, and he wad insist till be tried by the laws o' his country, as he ca'd it; and he dangled at the ear-ring o' the ibreto'- s.il yard — there's na gude in being ower obsti- nate — weel, ye maun ken, if it was for naething mair than owerstaying liberty, or the like o' that; when they'd gotten a dozen or sae, he'd whisper till the doctor, and the doctor wad whis- per till the captain, and he'd say, ' Master-at- arms, take him down ;' then they'd pipe the sides- men, and he wad make his bow and shove off. Weel, ye see, as I had got till windward o' him as till our commander (that is, our captain — the admiral was the commander, o' course, though 1 ne'er seed him but aince, and then he was a horseback; 1 bow'd till him as in duty bound, and he bow'd till me becase he liked it), I thought I wad brag o' the ship a wee bit ; ye ken frae Mother Oakley's door ye can see her, moored otf Haul-bowlin Island; weel, ye see, just as 1 was pointing out the beauty o' her model — crack ! crack ! goes the muskets o' the twa centries o' the Tender, and in a minute a'ter- wards three out o' lour marines blazed awa frae the Trent, but they did na' ken at what; the Ten- der lying in-shore, they could na' see, as I did, that four men had cut the painter o' the yawl frae the guess-warp o' the Tender, and were ma- king for shore. I gave chase till overhaul 'em, as they made up hill, and just came up as young master, here, had brought them to; ye see, the sight o' a uniform till a round jacket, is like till a constable's stave till you landsmen ; they were fresh press'd men, and wad a' gaed quietly aboard, but, in a minute or sae, full a hundred women and bairns a' thegether, set up a yelloch that made a' ring again, and came rampanging like so many devils, wi' sticks, and staves, and a' kinds o' kitchen furniture; the women fought like furies, and the bairns a bletherin a' the time in full chorus, we suld ha' been murdered but that his boat was a' ready at the landing, and sae we managed till get the men o' board. I gat this gash on my cheek, and young master wi' a big bump on his head instead o' his hat. We had baith been in a real fuss thegither, a short time afore, and was baith on the list for promo- tion; there's naething like until! a friend at court, Mr. Hobblin ; he had gotten the ear o' the ad- miral, and sae he put baith this and that thegith- er, and I was made a gunner, and sent on board the Dryad. But let's awa aloft and see the auld woman." Eve, they tell us, was made out of one of her husband's ribs; Mrs. Mackay (as far as bulk was concerned) could have been made very ea- sily out of one of her husband's legs ; he was a remarkably large man, and she a remarka- b.y small woman, but the best brewer of punch I ever met with before or since. We had a jo- vial evening — in vino Veritas — I tola all ; and Mrs. Mackay insisted that she should make me up "a nice bed on the sofa," and remain and take "pot luck" with them till pay-day came, when my old shipmate would settle up arrears, and I should quit the mess at the White Horse. His vessel was undergoing repairs, and he was on shore-duty at the navy yard, having flint- locks shipped on the carronades. " A maist abominable invention," as he said, "just as much as till say that every captain o' a gun at the Nile, St. Vincent, or Trafalgar was o' no gude till the service." To gratify my friend and amuse myself, I had taken an " inveterate likeness" of my old ship- mate, and another of his little wife ; these were shown to Mr. Hobbling, their landlord. His brother was the deputy-mayor of the little Rotten Borough of Saltash in Cornwall, at that time called so with justice, for it could boast of send- ing two members to Parliament to represent a population six or eight houses were sufficient to contain ; while Birmingham, and Manchester, and other large and densely-inhabited places, had no "sweet voices" in the councils of their country. The chief magistrate, as I have ob- served, was " despatched by deputy," and this dignitary requested I would take two such like- nesses of himself and wife, lor which he was willing to pay any price. I undertook the task for thirty guineas, and gave such satisfaction that I received twenty more for making copies. During the time occupied in this operation on the mayor and his wife, I called, with my friend Mackay, at an extensive manufactory of glazed leather hats: a regulation had just been intro- duced in the navy, to have an initial of the ship's name, or some fanciful device, on the hat of each, of the crew, as a good mark to know what ves- sel he belonged to, in the event of desertion or ill conduct on shore. All the mystery of the pro- cess I learned by looking on, the design and ex- ecution "came by nature;" and I actually dec- orated with a JD, in genuine gingerbread style, the hats of the crew of a ship on board of which, a short year ago, I was an officer. An old messmate, a lieutenant of marines, who had borrowed a guinea of me " for an hour" three weeks before, called one day (perhaps to borrow another) and caught me at my degrading employment, as he chose to consider it, and the next morning he crossed a muddy street to avoid speaking to me. But for my own part, conscious pride and confidence in my own resources made me for the first time in my life feel independent, and that feeling has never forsaken me midst many turns of " Giddy fortune's furious, fickle wheel, — That goddess blind." But for meeting with the character to whom I devote the next chapter, I might have been paint- ing hats or faces " at this present writing." CHAPTER V. " Jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids ; sigh a note, and sing a note ; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin belly- doublet, like a rabbit on a spit ; or your hands in your pock- ets, like a man after the old painting ; and keep not too long in one tune, but snip and away. These are accom- plishments, these are humours ; these betray nice wenches, H THIRTY YEARS that would be betrayed without these : and make them men of nuiL- that most are affected to these." — Love's Labour Lost. I was seated in the reading-room of the hotel, thinking away the half hour before dinner, when my attention was attracted by a singularly-look- ing man. He was dressed in a green coat, brass-buttoned close up to the neck, light gray, approaching to blue, elastic pantaloons, white cotton stockings, dress shoes, with more riband employed to fasten them than was either useful or ornamental ; a hat, smaller than those usually worn, placed rather on one side of a head of dark curly hair; fine black eyes, and what altogether would have been pronounced a handsome face, but for an overpowering expression of impudence and vulgarity; a sort of footman-out-of-place- looking creature; his hands were thrust into the pockets of his coat behind, and in consequence exposing a portion of his person, as ridiculously, and perhaps as unconsciously, as a turkey-cock does when he intends to make himself very agree- able. He was walking rather fancifully up and down the room, partly singing, partly whistling " The Bay of Biscay O," and at the long-lived, but most nonsensical chorus, he shook the fag- ends of his divided coat tail, as if in derision of that fatal " short sea," so well known and de- spised in that salt-water burial-place. I was pretending to read a paper, but, in fact, puzzling my brain in endeavouring to recollect on what side of this many-manned world I had met this human being before, when a carrier entered, and placed a play-bill before me on the table. I had taken it up and began perusing it, when he strutted up, and leaning over my shoulder, said, " I beg pardon, sir; just a moment." I put it towards him. " No matter, sir, no matter ; I've seen all I want to see — the same old two-and-sixpence — Hamlet, Mr. Sandford, in large letters; and La- ertes, Mr. Vandenhoff— oh !" And with an epithet not in any way alluding to the " sweet South," he stepped off to the Bis- cay tune, allegro. I was amused; and perhaps the expression of my face encouraged him to re- turn instantly, and with the familiarity of an old acquaintance — and that he was, 1 was convinced, in some way or other — said, " My dear sir, that's the way the profession is going to the devil : here, sir, is the ' manager' 1 " — with a sneer — " one of the damnedest humbugs that ever trod the stage, must have his name in large letters, of course; and the and Laertes, Mr. Vandenhoff— he's a favourite of the Grand Mo- gul, as we call old Sandford, and so he gets all the fat; and d'ye know why he's shoved down the people's throats 1 Because he's so damned bad the old man shows to advantage alongside of him. Did you ever see him V I shook my head. "Why, sir, he's a tall, stooping, lantern-jaw- ed, asthmatic-voiced, spindle-shanked fellow." Here he put his foot on the rail of my chair, and slightly scratched the calf of his leg. " Hair the colour of a cock-canary," thrusting his fin- ders through his own coal-black ringlets; "with light blue eyes, sir, trimmed with pink gymp. He hasn't been long caught ; just from some nun- nery in Liverpool, or somewhere, where he was brought up as a Catholic priest; and here he comes, with his Latin and Lancashire dialect, to lick the manager's great toe, and be hanged to him, and gets all the business ; while men of talent, and nerve, and personal appearance," shifting his hands from his coat pockets to those of his tights, " who have drudged in the profes- sion for years, are kept in the back-ground ; 'tis enough to make a fellow sweat!" Very adroitly blowing his nose with his fin- gers, and cleaning them on a dirty, once-white pocket-handkercnief. " You, then, sir, are an actor 1" said I, calmly. " An actor ! yes, sir, I am an actor, and have been ever since I was an infant in arms ; played the child that cries in the third act of the comedy of 'The Chances,' when it was got up with, splendour by Old Gerald, at Sheerness,when I was only nine weeks old ; and I recollect, that is, my mother told me, that I cried louder, and more naturally, than any child they'd ever had. Thai's vie," said he, pointing to the play-bill — Horatio, Mr. Howard. " A thought, more like a dream than an assu- rance," flitted past my mind, and I was about to ask a question, but he proceeded. " I used to make a great part of Horatio once; and I can now send any Hamlet to h — in that character, when I give it energy and pathos ; but this nine-tailed bashaw of a manager insists upon my keeping my ' madness in the back- ground,' as he calls it, and so I just walk through it, speak the words, and make it a poor, spoony, preaching son of a how-came-ye-so, and do no more for it than the author has. But, sir, I'll pledge you my honour that whan I be- longed to Old Lee's company, at Totness, a lady, who resided at Tor-Quay, had heard so much of me in this very part, that she engaged me, at an enormous expense, to represent the character at her own house." I was right in my suspicions : it was, indeed, an old acquaintance, the beau ideal of my child- hood, the identical Horatio. " And after," he continued, " I had enchanted them with my performance, I was had into the drawing-room, had a damned good supper, gave them the ' Bay of Biscay,' one of my best songs — ' There she lay, all the dav- ' You know the thing, I suppose ; the old lady plied me with bottled porter, hot, with nut- meg and sugar" (I thought of good-natured C , the housekeeper), "plenty of preserves, cold chicken, and pickles ; and in the morning, after a thundering breakfast, she clapped a knuckle of ham and a piece of pound-cake into a clean sheet of paper, as she said, to pass away the time in the coach." " That was a high compliment, Mr. Howard," said I, without knowing what I said : I was again at home, with all my hopes unblasted. " A high compliment, sir! it was the most high compliment that ever was paid to any tragedian of eminence, except the compliment that was paid to John Kemble, when he was engaged, at two-and-sixpence an hour, to read to the Duke of Norfolk, when he was laid up with the gout." I cannot vouch for the authenticity of this anecdote, as I never heard of the circumstance before, nor since. Dinner was announced ; with- out expecting or intending him to accept my cold invitation, I artificially said, " Will you join me, sir 1" " My dear sir," he replied, " nothing could give me greater pleasure than to cut your mut- ton and tap your tankard, as we say ; but I have a very particular engagement at three o'clock, to promenade two charming girls, the Misses Buckingham — splendid creatures, I assure you PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 15 — I'll introduce you. I want to beau them up and down George-street once or twice, just to make a widow of my acquaintance miserable, who lives in that neighbourhood. You under- stand me; ha, ha, ha ! Have you the time 1" " I have not," said I, with a suppressed sigh. I thought of my watch, pawned past hope of redemption. " But as I ordered my dinner at three, I presume that is the hour." And was slightly bowing my way between him and the door, when, suddenly hooking his arm within mine, he exclaimed, "But what have we to do with the time of the day 1 unless minutes were capons, and hours were cups of sack, as jolly Jack FalstafT says. I have taken a great fancy to you, and shall be happy to befriend you in any way in my power. I'll get you an order for the play to-night, and if you'll go, dam'me if I don't let out a little. The girls will play the devil with me for disappoint- ing them, but I'll gammon 'em ; say I had a part to study ; it does me good to tease 'em some- times, they like you the better for it; and, as you're so very pressing, I'll accept your kind invitation." I had seen enough of the world to perfectly understand all this ; but I was amused, so led to the dining-room and ordered another chop. "Two." said he, "two; and harkye, sweet- heart," picking up a pickle with his fingers and popping it into his mouth, "let's have a pot of porter directly." I always adored character, and though I didn't believe him to be a very estimable one. to me, then, he was an original. He ate fast and slovenly, frequently using and praising the good old adage of " fingers were made before tongs " he called, in a tragic tone, for " another chop and some cheese !" and " a pint of porter at my expense!" The last part of the order I instantly contra- dicted. " Well, well, just as you say," said he. " Then bring Mr. Cowell another pot of porter, and make haste, d'ye hear!" Not being aware that I had mentioned my name during our conversation, if it might so be called, where he had had nearly all the talk to himself, I inquired how he had learned it. "Why, my dear sir, I happened to be in the bar-room this morning, and the landlord came in, and says he to his wife, ' What do you think, my dear — Mr. Cowell has paid his bill.' 'He has !' says she ; ' well, now, I declare, I always thought he was a very nice young man ; and, no doubt, as he has got the reminiscence as he ex- pected — ' Remittance, of course, she meant. 1 know well enough what remittances are ; I often have occasion for them myself. For, with the paltry sum of five pounds a week — my salary in the theatre — I find it very difficult sometimes" — relying his shoestring in a large bow — "to make both ends meet. You happened to pass by at the time she was speaking. ' There goes Mr. Cowell,' says she ; ' the most perfectest gentle- man as ever stopped at a house.' I was pleased myself with your appearance, and resolved to form a friendship with you. But I must be off. I'll call and take a cup of tea, and make it up with the girls. I've got to break the neck, too, of a blasted part for to-morrow night. Nay, keep your seat. 'My love as yours to mine.' Adieu !" True to his word, he sent the order. I visited the theatre — and was disgusted. It was one of the plays I had seen in my halcyon days with Anna. I only remembered Kemble in the cast ; who but a professor could or would remember any one else'? "A combination and a form, in- 1 deed, where every god did seem to set his seal, i to give the world assurance of a man." I was well acquainted with the text; having, when quite a boy, been presented with an ele- gant edition of Shakspeare by a scholar and a gentleman, the chaplain of a ship I belonged to; and, next to the Bible, he recommended it to my particular perusal. The manager — the large-lettered humbug — was decidedly deserving the distinction "himself had made," but the rest were villanous, and Horatio the worst of all. I was shocked and angry at my boyish judgment. How is it that children — I mean children with a fair proportion of brains — are so contradictory in taste 1 I have heard a little girl bestow such, pretty praise on a primrose or a butterfly, that I have blushed for my own incompetence so rich- ly to express my feeling ; and, in the next half hour, have seen the same child in ecstasies of admiration and delight at the antics of some vul- gar clown in the arena of a circus. My visit to the theatre that evening glanced a ray of sunshine on my clouded path, and I ar- gued thus: "If such a man as this Howard can get five pounds a week for what he does, I can do the same, or more. By , I'll turn actor!" I went to my room and wrote the letter which, will be found in the next chapter. CHAPTER VI. " 'Tis easy then for a new name, And a new lite, fashioned on old desires." Shelley. "to george sandford, esq.. " Plymouth Dock, January 11, 1812. "Sir — I wish to become an actor. I will be content to receive a small amount of pay, until I get acquainted with the duties I have to per- form. I have learned logo, in Shakspeare's play of Othello, and could easily get perfect in Bel- cour, in Cumberland's comedy of The West In- dian. I have seen Elliston in that character in London, and have vanity enough to believe I could play either of them. Your early reply through the postoffice will oblige " Yours respectfully, "Leathley Irving." Three anxious days passed, and " nothing for Leathley Irving I" was all 1 could get from the postoffice. On the fourth, " one penny!" was demanded, and a very gentlemanly-looking note was pushed through the hole to the following effect : "George Sandford presents his compliments to Mr. Leathley Irving, and will be happy to have a conversation with him at his house on Thursday next. " To Leathley Irving, Esq. Tuesday evening." His address, I found, was at a handsome fan- cy-shop in George-street. Of a tall, sedate, el- derly lady, seated behind the counter, I inquired for Mr. Sandford, and handed my card. An an- swer returned in a minute, "that Mr. Sandford had an appointment with a gentleman at that hour, but I might name my business, or please to call again." I was turning towards the door, with an indignant " no matter," when the thought occurred to me that I had sent in my real name ; 16 THIRTY YEARS and, in some embarrassment, I stated that I had made a mistake in the card — that it was Mr. Lcathlcy Irving, with whom he had an engage- ment, who desired to see him. 1 was immedi- ately conducted through the parlour at the back of the shop, then through the kitchen, by a pret- ty little servant-maid, who, alter knocking at a door on one side, and waiting for a pompously- sounding "Come in!" on the other, lilted the latch, dropped ine a courtesy, and I found my- self in the presence of a rather (had been) hand- some man, of middle stature, about forty years of age, with a profusion of hair (the remains of last night's powder still discernible), rubbed up in all directions and striking individual atti- tudes, resembling the angular, dislocated curls shreds of leather would make if suddenly pop- ped into a broiling-hot frying-pan. He was en- veloped in a larger-patterned calico morning- gown (will anybody tell me why managers of theatres have such a predilection for morning- gowns'? I have found but one exception to the fashion in eight-and-twenty years, from George Sandford down to Ludlow and Smith). He was pacing, with " Tarquin's ravishing ftrides," an apartment as large as " parlour, kitchen, and hall;" a book in one hand, and ray card in the other. " Sir," said he, as he turned and met me, " whom have I the honour of addressing — Mr. Co well or Mr. Leathley Irving'?" " Sir," I replied, in the same authoritative tone in which he had asked the question, " the card bears the name I'm known by ; but, if I turn player, I choose to be called Irving." " What for, sir I" said the manager, handing me a chair, and drawing another close to me: "what the devil for, sir 1 ? 1 have been an actor more than twenty years, and have known many serious in- conveniences occur to men in after life from the folly of changing their names when boys. It's damned nonsense, sir ! There can be but one ex- cuse for a young man's assuming a false name upon entering my profession, and that is, that his previous course in life has made him dam- nably ashamed of his own." I felt the blood mount to my forehead, and I instinctively rose from my chair. " Oh, sir," said my new friend, with a peculiarly bland and placid smile, " keep your seat; don't imagine I suspect you of hav- ing cause to be ashamed of your name; 'tis the reverse case with you : you assume another name because you are ashamed of a pursuit either your taste or your necessities induce you to adopt. Now, sir, with such a feeling you can never be an actor. No man can ever be emi- nent in a profession he considers it a disgrace to follow. The Drama, I confess, 'bears but an ill name in the forest,' but the blame lies with the professors, and not with the profession. " There are myriads of men who are a dis- grace to the pulpit, the bar, or the stage ; but the Jtrightful responsibility of daring to unfold the cloak pretended piety assumes, and the legal cunning of the advocate, often lets the parson and the lawyer pass unscathed, while the poor player walks, with his hundred errors, stark na- ked through the world, for every daw to peck at." There was much good sense peeping through his enthusiastic style of thought; and I, in very honesty of heart, told him, in few words, my painful history. " My good young friend," said he, in a tone of voice well trained to assist his meaning, " keep the name you say you have a claim to, and now are known by — you have good requisites, and, by industry and perseverance, may become an ornament to the stage. But 'tis a briery path to preferment in this profession ; it requires time and laborious study to make even a passable performer; } r our figure, face, and voice must be apprenticed, day and night, to nature. A letined and well-educated mind may be formed by art and industry; but it must naturally possess the wonderful instinctive capacity to seize upon and feel the thoughts and language of others, and use them with the same ease and freedom as if they were your own. To be a great actor 'is to be one man picked out of ten llwusand.' Have you a good study V I replied in the negative. " I'm sorry to hear that ; without a good study your labours will be so severe you'll be disgust- ed with the undertaking before you reach the threshold of success." " Oh. sir," said I, " that I can easily remedy." "How, sir 1 how? Practice will improve it, I'm aware, but how can you so easily remedy a bad study V "By changing my apartment," I replied; " my chamber is next the dining hall, and unless they give me one more privately situated, I'll move to another house." " You reprove me well," said he, with a smile : "we actors use the term study for the attributes of memory; the place and time for its exercise are varied by circumstances and the habits of its owner." He appeared pleased to hear me say I had great facility in acquiring anything I wished to learn. " Come, to the proof, then," said he. jovially; " let's have a speech straight. You say you are perfect in ' Iago;' let's have one of his solilo- quies, with good emphasis and good discretion." He saw my embarrassment, and, in pure good taste, waived the subject; not like some puppies I have since seen sit, in satirical pomposity, en- joying the tortures of some trembling tyro, though that very sensibility is the best indicative of tal- ent, and the sure attendant upon genius. " Sir, I propose you shall make your appear- ance in Belcour this day week; but — " he contin- ued, " be most dreadfully perfect, not only in what you have to say yourself, but in whatever any one else has to say to you ; get so awfully perfect that, if you are suddenly awoke in the night, you will be able to repeat the whole character with- out hesitation. In the mean time, it will smooth your path to get acquainted (in the way of bu- siness) with the company — and I am proud to say I have some gentlemen in my employ; Mr. Moore, an excellent low comedian, and a prop- er man, and Vandenhoft", though with very lit- tle talent, possesses a superior mind, and an ex- cellent education. Inquire for me at the stage- door this evening, and take a t6te-a-t6te dinner with me at three to-morrow, and any advice or as- sistance you may require, and I can give, you may command." This was the man " Horatio" had described as an insolent, tyrannical blackguard. Poor George Sandford. He died a few years since, regretted and respected by all whose good opinion he would have condescended to care for while living. He was a native of the city of New- York; and 'tis somewhat strange that my best theatrical friend and manager first saw the light in the same city where my last born open- ed her eyes, and in a country I by choice have been a citizen of for more than half my thinking PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 17 life. I shall like to meet that man in the other world, and tell him all about his native country. He was an excellent general actor. I have rea- son to believe his education was intuitive (the better, alter all). His King Lear and Doctor Pangloss were the most finished representations of the characters I ever saw. I visited the green-room, where I was favour- ably received, particularly by the ladies, among whom was a sister of Alec. Drake, for many years the favourite comedian of the "West." She had a pretty voice, pretty face, but waddled like a duck. She was my Louisa Dudley. 1 tried very hard to be really in love with her, for the sake of increasing the effect, but I believe she succeeded better than 1 did in the experi- ment. I had three carefully-conducted rehear- sals, each one serving to convince me more strongly that I was incapable of the task my selt-esteem had induced me to believe so easy. The night arrived — January the twenty-third, .1812. " T7ie part of Belcour by a gentleman, his first appearance on any stage"' attracted a full and very fashionable house. Admiral Calder, the commander of the port, and a large party, occu- Eied the stage-box. 1 had many shipmates in arbour at the time, and some relatives: all, of course, attended, induced by pity ; how I hate the word — scorn or curiosity. I had been used to danger in many shapes, and fear is not an attribute of my nature, but I was most damnably frightened on that occasion. I . spoke the words mechanically, but I could nei- ther see nor hear; my mouth was parched ; what to do with my hands I knew not ; 1 deposited them in all sorts of places ; if both ;.rms had been amputated, I felt assured I should have been re- lieved of an abominable encumbrance. Embar- rassed by my embarrassment. Stockwcll bungled in one of his speeches : I repeated it, and then spoke mine in reply; the audience, confound them, laughed and applauded. I felt I had done wrong: my brain whirled in confusion, and I rushed off the stage before the conclusion of the scene, amid deafening shouts, yells, and huzzas, such as are generally humanely bestowed upon the retreat from a butcher's-stall of some poor devil of a dog with a tin kettle tied to his tail ; and at that moment, L have no doubt, I experienced precisely the same sensations. " For God's sake give me a glass of grog!" I stammered out ; "and, my dear sir," grasping the hand of the manager, kindly extended to me at the entrance, "finish the part for me: I feel my incapacity, and only regret my conceit caused me to make such a jackass of myself." " Pho, pho ! you must conclude what you have begun," said he, in his positive but gentlemanly manner; "the first plunge is over, you'll feel your power in the next scene; your great fault is, you try to do too much ; stand still, don't act, and speak louder; think you are talking to some one in the gallery, and then, if you only whisper, you'll be heard all over the house: take another sup of brandy and water — there — that's your cue." I felt encouraged by grog and good advice, and the next scene is a very effective one: I im- itated^Elliston as well as I could, and was ad- mirably supported and encouraged by the manner of the excellent actress who performed Mrs. Ful- mer, and I retired amid the unbounded applause of a brilliant and overflowing audience. " There," said my mentor, triumphantly, " didn't I tell you how it would be ! 'tis decided- C ly the best first appearance I have seen for years." I gained courage as the comedy proceeded ; and at its conclusion, the manager, amid thunders of applause, announced it for repetition on the Sat- urday following: " The part of Bdcour by the young gentleman who had been so favourably re- ceived that evening." The barbarous lashion was not then invented of demanding the presence of the object of sup- posed admiration or ridicule, to add to his mis- eries, by expecting him to speak, or bow, or make a fool of himself in some way or other, which, nowadays, these victims of vanity on both sides usually do. CHAPTER VII. " What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food ? Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce A thievish living on the common road ? This I must do, or know not what to do : Yet this 1 will not do, do how I can ; I rather would subject me to the malice Of a diverted blood." Shakspeare. Everybody said my performance was most excellent for a first appearance, but I felt no self- satisfaction. To the inexperienced, the more pure and true to nature acting is, the easier it appears; but to rant, and shout, and "out-herod Herod," distort the face and form in a way that no human being ever did off the stage, in his senses or out of them, seems a most arduous un- dertaking. This caused the delusion under which I laboured. In the seven plays I saw with Anna (we ne'er shall look upon their like again), all difficulty was so concealed by the refinement of art, that I foolishly, yet firmly, believed I could sustain any of the characters quite as well, with- out dreaming I should ever be put to the test. I have no data of any kind, lam sorry to say, but the impression they made on my memory is as fresh at this distant period as it was the morning after I saw the performance, and I will name part of the "casts" of some of them. The West Indian. Belcour ----- Elliston. James H. Caldwell is the only actor on this side the water I have seen approach him in gen- teel comedy. O'Flaherty - - - - Johnstone. Worth a hundred Powers, if even Power had been really what he had the tact to make the public believe he was. Charles Dudley - - De Camp. Then a most elegant young man, and an ex- cellent actor, in spite of his conceited, paw ! paw ! voice. Varland Dowton. Then in his prime; a shadow of his former self came to this country about three years ago. "All that's bright must fade. 7 ' Stockwell - - - - Powell. Charlotte - - - - Miss Duncan. A delightful actress in such characters. Louisa I forget her name, but she was a most beauti- ful creature (almost all that is necessary for the part). I remember I praised her so highly, that poor Anna declared she thought " she was a per- fect fright." 18 THIRTY YEARS Hamlet. I recollect nothing but Kcmble, and that his brother Charles was Laertes; but "the King, the Glueen, and all the Court," are all buzz. Isabella. The principal characters by Brunton, Charles Kemble, Keinble, and Mrs. Siddons. On the Saturday I was more collected; my hearing and sight were restored; though I was often interrupted by some sea-phrase applicable to the sentence I was uttering, or a well-meant expression of encouragement, every now and then, from, probably, some old shipmate, to the great amusement of the rest of the audience ; and, at the conclusion of the performance, "Three cheers for the blue jacket!" was announced, and performed in full chorus. This latter compli- ment I was in the habit of receiving upon the slightest occasion, during the season ; for, though I had been dismissed the navy with a " flea in my ear," my offence was "a feather in my cap" in the estimation of my comrades of my own grade, or those beneath me. " By the Eternal ! I had the popular vote," as my friend General Jackson would say. The pit, gallery, and upper-boxes of the Dock Theatre, at that time, were crowded with sailors and marines, with their loivesforaweck, and dock- yard ma-tes, as they were called, between whom and the round-jackets existed a continual " well- fought war." These jolly " gods" had a nick- name for nearly every member of the company. I found they greeted my friend Horatio with, "Hurra for Sky-blue!" This appellation he had gained in consequence of his great attach- ment for the very " tights" he wore the first morning I met with him. He played Major O'Flaherty ; there they were, with a gold band down each side. He rendered them, as actors say, "a very useful property." They could be worn, " for a change," with black Hessian-boots, or russet, or shoes of any colour with stockings ; but sandals they set at defiance; for shabby- genteel characters, a red or white patch or two made them " very characteristic ;" and as to stripes, they would bear any but blue. About this period there was a certain "odd kind of a new method of swearing" ran through the fleet, and " By Cheeks the marine" was a fa- vourite oath. A very old actor, of the name of Chambers, whose weakness it was to boast con- tinually that he had " had his ancestors too," on that evening was struck by an apple, thrown from the gallery ; taking it up, he stepped for- ward, and very pompously said, " I'll give twenty pounds to know who threw this apple !" " Cheeks the marine !" cried a voice from above. When the shout the response created was over, draw- ing himself up, and glancing at the commander of the port in the stage-box, he said, with a sigh to bygone greatness, " In my schoolboy days I knew an admiral of that name." " Huzza, boys ! huzza! three cheers for Admiral Cheeks !" He had christened himself most effectually forever in that company, to his own annoyance, and the destruction of any serious scene in which he was concerned. For the last five-and-twenty years I would have gloried in them as a low medy audience; but at that time they often played the devil with my juvenile tragedy. Mackay and his wile were loud in their en- comiums. "Ye looked sae slick-like," said my honest friend, " wi' ye'r white silk wash-boards till ye'r coat; ye looked mair like a sailor than a' the rest thegither, wi' ye'r bonny leg a leetle bow'd, and baith ye'r taes turned in, as if ye'r war stonding firm on ye'r shanks in a chappin sea.; an' the hitch ye gave ye'r small claithes when ye said onything clever was the best o' a'. I ne'er seed but ane actor as guid, and he was na sae much better nether — 'twas a leetle Scots pony, at Portsdown Fair. He was a saucy wee bit toad that, that when his master wad say till him, ' Billy, what's tlue hour, my chiel T he'd paw, and paw — ane, twa, or as mony as it was, as natural as a quartermaster makin' eight bells." Now this I considered the highest compliment paid to me by any of my friends ; and how oftea since would I have preferred being said to be "almost as good as a learned pig, or pony" thaa " to be 'nearly equal" to some two-legged baboon, with a red tail, black eyebrows, and a mouth from ear to ear ! The following day (Sunday) I dined with the manager. After the cloth was drawn, his good lady had retired, and he had twice thrust the de- canter towards me, he said, " I requested this interview, Mr. Cowell, that we might talk over and consider in what way I could serve you.; but a letter I received this morning, most fortu- nately, points out a path for you at once. I can- didly tell you, I have no doubt on my mind as to your ultimate success in the drama. Mr. Fisher, a friend of mine, who has a small com- pany travelling in Cornwall, writes me here to recommend (if in my power) a young man to supply a vacancy in juvenile tragedy and light comedy; there you will gain confidence by con- stant practice, and next season I will be happy to receive you. I will, therefore, if you say so,, write to him to-day, and name you." I thanked him, but respectfully declined his offer : to engage to play juvenile tragedy and light comedy, without knowing a single charac- ter, with a stranger for my manager, and per- haps a stranger company, was an undertaking too appalling for me to accept. " But, my dear sir," I continued, " if you will permit me to re- main with you, and play at intervals any parts you may think me capable of sustaining, I will paint portraits and teach drawing in my interims of leisure for a living, and not require any pay." " Sir," said he, with emphasis, " an amateur I have a horror of; we have actors enough al- ready, 'e'en as many as can well live one by an~ other ;' the line of business you are fitted for at present is already filled, and it is the etiquette of the profession never to dispossess an actor of a character he has once played, if he is at all ca- pable of sustaining it." i I felt and looked, I imagine, mortified and dis- appointed. " Then," said I, "since there is no hope of an engagement this season, I will teach drawing and navigation (if I can get any pupils), and wait till next year." After a pause of a minute, with his expressive eye looking through me, he said slowly, " I know what it is to have our youthful ar- dour blighted. I adore my profession," he con- tinued, with enthusiasm, "and am always proud to enlist a gentleman in its ranks: my only reason for hesitation in the matter is, that though I have the whole control here, I am connected with Mr. Hughes, the proprietor of Saddler's Wells, and he is unwilling to add to our ex- penses; but," he continued, carelessly, "I'll manage it. Let me see ; we must try you in PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 19 Shakspeare. Can you get perfect in Ross and Lennox, in Macbeth, by Thursday'? We make the two parts into one, for want of numbers. Wednesday we wish to do it, if you can get ready — the lines are difficult." " Easily, sir," I replied. ,: I believe I'm per- fect in the whole play." "Well," said he, "that's more than the last gentleman was, even in the parts I speak of, and he has been on the stage these twelve years. As to the teaching, get Mrs. Sandford to place one or two of your beautiful drawings in her shop, and I'll engage she'll obtain you more pu- pils than you can attend to, as you cannot possi- bly spare more than two or three hours a day from your studies. Now as to the shillings and pence part of the business. The highest salary we give is a guinea and a half per week, and I will put your name on the books for one-pound- one." I thought of Horatio's boasted five founds a week, and I felt, and appeared, astonished, I sup- pose. The manager, with disappointment and anger joined in the expression, gave me a severely scrutinizing look ; this increased my embarrass- ment, and, with the blood mantling in my face at the horror of his suspecting (after all his kindness) that the small sum he offered me was the cause of the feeling I displayed, I exclaimed, with en- ergy, " You wrong me, sir, indeed you do. I have not the power to give utterance to the high sense I have of your kindness to me ; the sum you name is much more, I am confident, than I can at present earn, and you have wrongly con- strued my thoughts if you imagine, for a mo- ment, it was that which caused my surprise ; it was my astonishment that Mr. Howard should have gratuitously told me that he received five pounds." " My dear young friend," said he, stretching across the table to shake me heartily by the hand, " you have much to learn of my profes- sion yet. I make it a rule never to name the amount of an actor's salary to anybody, but in this case it is necessary. Mr. Howard receives twenty-five shillings a week, and if his intellect was valued, instead of his utility, he wouldn't obtain five." I expressed my indignation that he should, un- asked, have told me such a falsehood. " Oh ! he meant no harm," said he, laughing; " 'tis the fashion or habit of nine actors out of ten to declare their income is at least three times as large as it really is, and their benefits are al- ways said by them to be fashionable and over- flowing houses; they boast on these points so continually, that they at last actually believe it themselves, and run in debt, generally, in the same proportion." Both apparently well pleased with the termi- nation of our negotiation, we parted, with a glass of wine to my success as an actor. What strange animals we poor human beings are ! I had, foctwo hours or more, felt as if my very existence depended on my obtaining this employment, and I had scarcely let the door close behind me when I felt as if I ought to go back and decline the engagement. A thousand contradictory feelings filled my mind at once. I hurried on, as if to outwalk my own thoughts. I stopped, out of breath, at the corner of a street — looked up at the new moon with the inquiring gaze of an old acquaintance, but before I had time even to ask advice from that quarter, a cloud, " black like an ousel," hid her from my view. " My conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, said very wisely to r nic," " If you take this step you must resign all hope of your ever regaining your past position." Pride — revenge — yes, revenge ! — I know no other word nearer to my meaning — and a sort of " danvme-if-I-care- for-anything-or-anybody" sensation, carried the point. I went home and read Ross and Len- nox from the acting copy, and have been an actor ever since. CHAPTER VIII. " Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on ; Or sweetest Shakspeare, fancy's child, Warhle his native wood-notes wild." Milton On the Monday morning I was formally in- troduced as a member of the company, and most kindly welcomed by all; but particularly by the gentleman with whose interests I was most like- ly to interfere. This display of indifference by those who are suffering in dread and dismay lest you push them from their stools, is very common in the profession, and generally overdone : they are usually what may be called too d — d affec- tionate. In England, they conclude a sort of negative complimentary chat with " Suppose you take your dinner with me V supposing they have got one to offer; and on "this side of the water" they always say, " Let's go and take a drinkl" The arrangement of my dress for the twin Scotchmen the manager had promised to attend to ; but the loan of "properties, or anything I have, is perfectly at your service," was itera- ted by all. Howard said, " My boy, by — , I'll lend you my blue tights — oh, you're perfectly welcome, I don't wear them till the farce : Ban- quo's one of my flesh parts — nothing like the na- ked truth — I'm h — 1 for nature. By-the-by, you'll often have to wear black smalls and stockings; I'll put you up to something: save your buying silks, darning, stitch-dropping, louse-ladders, and all that : grease your legs and burned-cork 'em — it looks d— d well ' from the front.' " All my worldly experience had been gathered in a cockpit, the members of which are hetero- geneous enough in all conscience, but they have all exactly the same duty to perform, the same pay, same living, same law to abide by, and, generally speaking, are of about the same grade in the scale of society, even before the service has levelled all distinctions. Judge, then, how incapable I was of understanding or apprecia- ting the eccentric and contradictory habits and manners of my new allies. The "quantity of materials thought necessary by the three witch- es in Macbeth to " make the gruel thick and slab," are not more opposite and various in their compound than the origin and character of the " Ladies and Gentlemen" attached to the theatri- cal profession. " There lies the villany :" if there could be instituted a college — a school — an ordeal of any kind to be passed before man or woman were admitted to be an actor or actress, the Drama, blazing in its own brightness, would be honoured and respected. 'Tis true, many have risen from the lowest dregs of society to the topmost pinnacle of theatrical ambition — Mrs. Abington and Kean may be named as ex- traordinary instances — but how many remain floundering in their original mire, sullying the fair fame of those deserving moral estimation : 20 THIRTY YEARS The world never thinks of drawing a distinc- tion ; and. indeed, by what rale could it make one 1 We don't .stop a man in the street with a muddy coat to ascertain ii'he had soiled it by help- ing some blackguard out of a gutter, but con- lent ourselves with thinking he's a dirty fellow. The kindness of the manager, and the preju- diced indulgence of the audience, made me a fa- vourite with both. Sandford's prediction was verified as to the teaching, and 1 was in the re- ceipt of a handsome income immediately. I charged a high price, and undertook to instruct The law might have been argued, according to the statute in that case made and provided, till Munden had made the fellow laugh himseli out of his pay altogether, had not Sandford sent the man off with a shilling, and requested the great actor to go on with the rehearsal. " We have waited two hours for you already ; your letter stated you would be here last night," said the manager. " And so 1 should ; but I couldn't come without wheels," replied the comedian ; " the stage broke down just as we got to Ivy Bridge, those only who had already gained some pron- on purpose, no doubt, that the robbers might pil- ciency in the art, with one exception. I did teach one "young idea" — a lovely girl of about fifteen, a step-daughter of Major Watwyns— a Jewess-like divinity. Is there a style of beauty on earth that can compare with the Ori- ental, poetic loveliness of those chosen females when they are young 1 But then, they will get married, and make it a rule to "increase and multiply," which undoubtedly makes them more interesting as wives and mothers, but it spoils the poetry. There are, to be sure, exceptions, and the lady I allude to is one of them. " How long hath Chronon wooed in vain To spoil that cheek !" A few years since I had the pleasure of being again introduced to my charming pupil, at Cin- cinnati. She is the wife of a merchant there, has a large family, and is as handsome as ever. Inclalon, " the inspired idiot," was the first star I ever played with. He has helped, most inno- cently, to make so many books, that in his case -"the wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees is left (for me) to brag of;" so let him rest with the " sainted Jane and Mary." Munden, who had been underlined for a week, arrived at last; the company were engaged in the rehear.«ul of the " Road to Ruin," he having written from Exeter to desire that he might be ad- vertised for Old Dornton and Crack for that night; and his nonappearance at the time he sta- ted had caused some uneasiness; he was fol- lowed by a porter with a large trunk. After cor- dially greeting the manager and the members of the company, with whom he vas before ac- quainted, he said, " Sandford, my dear boy, lend me sixpence." And (in a voice, oh, how rich — rich is a mean phrase to convey an idea of its round, articulate, expressive power) he contin- ued: " I have had my wardrobe brought to the the- atre; it saves trouble, and the expense of little boys bothering you for a penny a piece to carry a bundle. You left the other trunk at my lodg- ings, my good man 1" " Yes, sir," said the porter, shaking into the crown of his hat a tattered handkerchief, with which he had just removed the sweat of his brow. " Here's a shilling, Mr. Munden," said Sand- ford ; " I haven't a sixpence." "Have you the change, my man?" inquired the great comedian. "Have I change for what, sir 1 ?" said the por- ter. " For the shilling, my dear boy," replied Munden. "And is it less than a shilling that a gentle- man like yon would be offering a poor devil like myself for wheeling two big boxes nearly a 111116? Sure the law allows sixpence a parcel, if it's onlv as big as your fist." lage me at the hotel there; the bloodsuckers took every shilling I had for bed and board, and bit me to' death with fleas into the bargain. I had but threepence left when I made my escape from them this morning; I offered them to the guard, after he had collected my baggage, and he told me to keep it, sir! the impudent scoundrel told me to keep it, and so I did," he continued, with a laugh worth the whole stage fare from London to Plymouth, "and treated myself to a pint of porter, and the odd ha' penny I gave to Roadie's children to buy lollipops— to buy lolli- pops, sir, and bull's eyes; I stopped there on my way, to let them know I had arrived, and see if my room was ready." This said Roache was an old friend of Mun- den's, and it is highly probable he had the room without charge. He kept a circulating-library, of dirty, worn-out books, quack-medicines, job- printing, and children's toy kind of shop. The same man had exactly the same sort of estab- lishment, a few years since, at the corner of Frederic and Market-streets, Baltimore, where he died; the members of hi-s large family, who shared Munden's lollipop, are now all engaged in increasing the population of different parts of the Union. "Sandford, it will only be necessary to go through my scenes — who's the Harry Dornton V 1 was introduced. Surveying me from head to fooi with a serio-comic look from such an eye ! setting at defiance description, and the shade of enormous shaggy eyebrows, one of which would be amply sufficient to make two pair, even for Billy Wood.* " Are you perfect, sir, in the words 1" said Munden. "Gluite, sir," I confidently replied. " You will find Mr. Cowell," said the mana- ger, "though a young actor, very attentive to any business you may instruct him in, when ex- plained to him in the manner you are so well aware a gentleman expects." Probably the hint was superfluous, for I ever received from that great actor the most marked attention. The day was so far advanced that * William B. Wood, Esq., formerly manager, and still a member, of the Chestnut-street Theatre, Philadelphia, has remarkably long eyebrows, amounting to a deformity; but of which nature has very kindly made him excessively proud; tins amiable 'weakness, as well as his passion for Bpeaking " an infinite deal of nothing," is notorious among his friends ; and 'tis said "once upon a time," finding him- self a stranger on a Steamboat, and m vam ndeavouring to get into a " fine vralhrr" conversation with a gentleman whose acquaintance be was anxious to make, after failing in several efforts to get a " talk," at length abruptly ac- costed him with, "I beg your pardon, sir, but by—, sir, this is a perfect natural curiosity— a genuine N. K. I pli you my honour, sir, I just pulled this extraordinary hair out of my eyebrow," holding his hands up to the light, about five inches apart. He carried bis point, and had a most delicious hairy discussion on the merits of that orna- ment, or inconvenience totbe human form divine, Irom the crown of the head to the first joint of the great toe. PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 21 we couldn't repeat our rehearsal, and lie invited me to take a chop with him at his lodgings, and after dinner go over the scenes we were together in; which, tor the sake of such instruction, I readily agreed to — it was literally a chop; we had one a piece, and a single sole between us (a very delicate flat fish about the size of the sole of your boot, both cheap and plentiful at Ply- mouth), and a pint of porter, of which f declined partaking, apparently to his great satisfaction. The whole dinner, which he praised both as to quantity and quality, he explained to me with great glee, "Had only cost a shilling: sixpence for the chops, three ha'pence for the fish, and the remainder for the bread, potatoes, and porter." The extreme parsimony of this most delicious actor induced every one to believe he was enor- mously rich, but at his death his fortune was proved much below the general calculation. Even his meanness was smothered in fun. He once told me in the Drury Lane Green-room, very seriously, that he had that morning adver- tised his grounds for rent, and discharged his gar- dener, because he had met a girl crying radishes " at three bunches a penny !" On asking a lady for the loan of an umbrella one wet day, she re- torted, " Why, Mr. Munden, why don't you buy one 1 you are rich enough." "My dear, I've got a bran new one at home, I've had these two years." " Then why don't you use it, sir!" " My dear child, if I brought it out it would be sure to rain, and I should get it wet and spoil the beauty of it." Till the hour of going to the theatre we went over the scenes again and again; my willing- ness to receive instruction appeared to give him great satisfaction, and he prophesied a glorious reward for my perseverance, and in- stanced himself as a proof of the consequence : "who could doubt he practised what he preached, when, in defiance of the labour before him for the night, and the fatigue of a journey, he, with all the enthusiasm of youth, for hours directed the support he required in his great character, which he had then played probably two hundred times 1 He was, in my opinion, the best comedian I ever saw. He identified himself with a charac- ter, and never lost sight of it — his pathos went to the heart at once, and his humour was irre- sistible. In his latter years he was accused of sacrificing too much for the sake of gaining applause-, but I believe he endeavoured to alter his pure and natural style to suit the declining taste of his auditors, and compete with the car- icaturists by whom he was surrounded. In playing Ralph to his Old Brumagem, at Drury Lane. I objected to some business he pointed out, as being unnatural. " Unnatural !" said he, with a sneer : " that has been my mistake for years. Nature be d — ; make the people laugh." But he's gone ! and if there is any fun in the next world, he's in the midst of it. " Sic transit gloria ATunden." By great industry I rapidly improved, and be- fore the close of the season I had become a very useful performer at any rate. My connexion as an artist was of great service to me at my bene- fits, and I had two really " overflowing houses;" the last, " By desire of the officers of his majes- ty's ship York," nearly the whole of the crew, with the band at their head and the marines bringing up the rear, marched to the theatre, crowding the pit and upper portion of the house. The play was the Iron Chest, which I had se- lected for the sake of acting "Wilford," to per- form which character I had been sighing all [he season ; but Moore, the comedian who was to play Sampson, thought proper to be taken ill at four o'clock in "the posteriors of the day," as Shakspeare hath it, and Sandford urged me to undertake the part, as the best apology to offer to my friends instead of this general favourite. Laughter and applause, no doubt, much more than I deserved, rewarded my first effort in low comedy; and all declared it was the line of busi- ness in which I was destined to excel ; and I thought so too ; but for the next six months I had engaged for the amiable and interesting, at fifteen shillings per week, at the Theatre Royal, Plymouth, so that my comical propensities had to do penance for that period, at any rate. During the performance that evening, a re- quest was made by an officer that one of the crew, who had written a comic song, might be permitted to sing it, which was readily granted ; and between the acts a fine black-whiskered, six- feet-high lellow made "ds appearance, amid the cheers of his shipmates, and sung at least fifteen verses, each ending with a Toll-loU-dc-i_ CHAPTER XII. "The same persons who would overturn a state to estab- lish an opinion often very absurd, anathematize the inno- cent amusements necessary to a great city, and the arts which contribute to the splendour of a nation.'' — Voltaire. After an unprofitable campaign at Rich- mond, the company moved to Craydon, a very small, anti-theatrical town at any time, but then made more so by a long and severe controversy between two popular preachers, who, having ex- hausted their identical rhetoric, and the patience of their congregations, agreed, as a last resource of notoriety, to unite their whole remaining stock of damnation, and hurl it wholesale at the drama and its humble professors. The effect of this fire and brimstone eloquence, if it may be so called, was to half ruin poor Beverley, and half starve some ten or twelve poor players. " The first and wisest of them all professed To know this only — that lie nothing knew. ******* Alas ' what can they teach, and not mislead, I oorant of themselves, of God much more ; Ai.il how the world began, and how man fell, Degraded by himself, on grace depending? Much of the soul they tali but all awry. And in themselves seek virtue, and to themselves All glory arrogate, to God give none." Thus sung the pious Milton, but our perse- cutors used language better suited to convince their feeble-minded flock that Paradise could only be Regained by prostrating the playhouse. After six weeks of patient endurance, we made our retreat to Woolwich. Beverley had no scene- painter employed, and to aid my worthy mana- ger, I engaged gratuitously to "get up" as the phrase is, some showy pieces. At that period of my life I was an enthusiast in anything 1 un- dertook. Through the kindness of Mr. Murray, of Covent Garden, I obtained an introduction to Phillips, the then celebrated scenic artist, and gained from him some general instructions as to the colours, &c.,and the privilege of visiting the painting-room. He was of the old school, and though his productions were beautiful specimens of art, the elaborate finish he bestowed on them rather decreased than added to their effect; and while in the same room, the elder Grieve (who first pointed out the path Stanfield has since trod to fame) was every day splashing into existence a cottage or a cavern, with a pound brush in. each hand; Phillips would sit lor hours with a rest-stick and a camel's hair pencil shading the head of a nail. My success in this department of the arts, in the opinion of the kind-hearted. Beverley, was superlative. He said, and I am sure innocently believed. I was " the best scene painter in the kingdom !" and as he was too poor to pay me the price at which he valued my talent, he, like an honest, liberal-minded man, recom- mended me to Trotter, who had become the lessee of the Brighton Theatre, and with him I engaged as actor and painter, at the highest salary I ever got in England, out of London. Harley was the principal comedian, and as I would not play a secondary part, I appeared less frequently than, he did, but shared equally with him the favour of the audience. He was only a few years old- er than myself, but the most parsimonious young man I ever knew. The next season he appear- ed with great success at the English Opera House, and has continued a favourite in the metropolis ever since. A weak-minded, loantcd- lo-be-lliought- great actor (he was foolish enough to drown himself a few years since), of the name of Faulkner, was a member of the company. He, with a Mr. Anderson, who had got rich in the employ of Stephen Kemble, as his treasurer, had leased the northern circuit from that good, easy man, and Faulkner, the acting partner, was recruiting for the establishment. To me he made an offer to lead the low comedy business, but with a salary of less than one half of what I was then receiving, which his persuasion, my own vanity, I calied it ambition then, and the flattering prophecy of Mrs. Jordan, induced me to accept; and after due notice, Trotter and I parted, with sincere regret, I believe, on both sides. Faulkner and Anderson's circuit consisted of North and South Shields, in Northumberland; Sunderland, and the city of Durham, in the county of that name; Stockton-upon-Tees, and Scarborough, in Yorkshire. Upon my arrival at the first-named place, I found, to my astonish- ment, lour low comedians besides myself, en- gaged on precisely the same terms as to busi- ness. Four to one were great odds, but I dis- tanced them all. First, "Lewis;" he got too drunk to play the first night, and was dischar- ged, and for spite, kept the " same old drunk," as the sailor said, for the six weeks we remained in the town, and may not be sober yet, for any- PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 29 tiling I know to the contrary, for I have never seen him since. Next, Brown, a brother to John Mills Brown, for many years in this country, but unlike him in talent; he did more good than harm. Then Smith, nicknamed Obi, from his ex- cellent pantomime acting in Three-fingered Jack ; but he was a most melancholy low comedian, and couldn't sing. And last, Porteus; he was an elderly, baldheaded gentleman of forty-five, who had made his first appearance on any stage a few months before, as a last resource, having failed in a saddler's shop at Liverpool. I had everything my own way, and was, of course, a great favourite, but the treasurer-manager had so cunningly contrived the terms of the benefits, that if an actor didn't lose by taking one, which, by his engagement, he was compelled to do, he thought himself well off. The journies were long and expensive; I was the father of two splendid children, and only a guinea and a half a week, and my good spirits to feed and clothe them ; I never suffered the inconvenience of poverty, while on the stage in England, but du- ring the year I was in this company. At Durham I had the happiness to gain the firm and lasting friendship of the great and good Stephen Kemble; he there resided in a beautiful little cottage, a short distance from the city, on the bank of the river. In early life he had mar- ried a Miss Satchell, the daughter of a then celebrated pianoforte maker. She had retired from the profession before my time, but had left a high reputation behind her, and in parts re- quiring simple pathos, was said never to have been excelled ; her sister was still on the stage, and married for some years to a distant relation of Mrs. Jordan's, by the name of James Bland; as actors, they were without talent, but had two fine children, from ten to twelve years old. When Stephen Kemble leased his theatre to Faulkner and Anderson, he made a proviso that they should receive each five-and-twenly shil- lings per week for the services (such as they were) of themselves and children. The boy made the calls, the pretty little girl "went on" for one of the Stranger's offspring, or a Child in the Wood; the mother played slwrt old ladies; and the father delivered the messages. Thus the claims of Plutus bound them to a daily in- tercourse, though those of Hymen had been broken for years; the man's dissipation, I ima- gine, was the cause of their separation — / be- lieve that women are never in the wrong — but they met and spoke to each other as indifferent per- sons would, and 'twas droll to hear the old gen- tleman say, "I must put on my other shirt to- day, for I'm invited to take a friendly cup of tea with the old lady," meaning his wife. His carelessness of character was naturally increas- ed by the certainty he had of receiving his sal- ary. The theatres, as is usual in all countries, were surrounded by some half dozen taverns, and at one or other Jemmy would wait to be called ; for 'twas his boast that he had never been known to be in a theatre a minute before or alter he was wanting. He was a great shot, and always dressed in a hunting-coat, with large leather gaiters, and small-clothes; and no mat- ter what the costume of the play was, he never changed any part of his apparel but his coat. He was well informed, a ready wit, and of great amiability and simplicity of manners; his company was, therefore, unfortunately, much sought for as a brother sportsman, or a pot com- panion, Vv^hen his services were required on the stage, his son, from long practice, would have him at the wing just in time to slip on a tunic or a jacket, pop a little red on his face, and push him on. He knew every message in every old play that ever was delivered, but the new ones he either would not or could not learn. In the opera of the Devil's Bridge he had to say a couple of lines to the effect that " The Count Belino's escaped from his confinement," instead of which he rushed on and said, " My lord, the Count Belino's taken pris- oner." "No, no!" said his son, who was always his prompter. "No, no," echoed Jemmy, "and so they've cut off his head." " Escaped ! escaped !" said the boy. " And so he has made his escape," saia Jem- my, amid a roar of laughter. The part of Cates- by, in "Richard III.," he boasted he was "let- ter perfect in ;" and so he was ; but Richard had so impressed on his mind the high impor- tance of his being very quick in saying, " The Duke of Buckingham is taken," that he an- nounced the joyful tidings two minutes too soon. Again, at the first pause, he popped on his head and stammered out, "My lord, the Duke of Buckingham is taken," and again was pulled back by the tail of his tunic; when the right time actually arrived, he was a little too late, and Richard, foaming with rage, shouted out, "Now, sir?" " The Duke of Buckingham," said Jemmy, very calmly, " is taken now, by God." He was intrusted with the part of the Priest in Hamlet, who really has one very difficult speech, beginning with " Her obsequies have been as far enlarged As we have warranty ;" instead of which, Jemmy substituted, " Her obsequies are as large as we can make 'em ;" and the audience heard no more of the excuse for the omission of the usual forms at the fune- ral of the "fair Ophelia." As he " opened an account" at every grog- shop in the town, his benefits were always fully, though not very fashionably, attended; he used to call them " a meeting of creditors." His son was a good-tempered, intelligent boy, but show- ed little respect or deference for the opinion of his father. Children soon learn to neglect that duty when they see a parent neglecting to respect himself. On a Saturday they usually held a con- sultation as to how the five-and-twenty shillings should be disposed of to the best advantange. "Now, John, my boy," the old man would say, "let me see: I owe eight shillings at the sign of the Saddle; well, that's that," putting the amount on one side ; " well, then I promised to pay part of my score at the Blue Pig — well, say five shillings ; there, I'll stop Mother Pep- per's mouth with that. How much does that make, JohnT' " Why, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen shillings," says the boy, touching his five fingers. "But I mean, you goose, how much have I got left V " How should I know ?" says John ; " why don't you count it 1 you've got the money." " But you ought to know, you young rascal," says the father, with true parental authority ; " you ought to know : take thirteen from twenty- five, how many remain 1 why. twelve, to be 30 THIRTY YEARS sure," counting the balance slyly in his hand ; " that's the way you're neglecting your educa- tion, is it ] I shall have to talk to your school- master." "Yes, you had better talk to him," replies John, " for he told me, yesterday, that unless you let him have a little money, 1 needn't come to school no more." "Ay, true, my dear, that's true; you mustn't lose your education, at any rate," says the kind old man ; " take him round five shillings after dinner, my dear. I had a pot with him last night, and he agreed if I would let him have that much now, he'd take the rest out in tickets at the Ben, and treat the boys." " I want a pair of shoes, father," says John, taking advantage of the old man's softened mood. " How much will they cost, my boy V " Why, father," says John. " I can get a capi- tal pair for three and sixpence." "You must get them for three shillings, John; we owe the butcher four, and he must be paid, or we get no beef; there, that ends it," says the poor old fellow, with a self-satisfied air; but his vision of independence was in an instant de- stroyed by John's simply saying, "You've forgot the landlady, father." " Yes, that's true, so I have ; yes, d — her, she must have her rent, or out we go. John, my dear, I'll tell you how I'll contrive it. I'll put the Saddle off with four shillings, and open a branch account with the Yew-tree." "Yes, that's all very well," says John, very quietly, " but we owed her sixpence on last week, and she paid for the washing." " Well, how much does the washing come to, John 7" " Two and tup'ence," says the boy. " Well, then," argues the old man, " Mother Pepper must be content to take three shillings instead of five." " But then, father, that won't do ; and we want tea." " Who wants tea 1 I don't care a d — for tea." "But I do," replies the boy, with provoking calmness. " You want tea ! you'll want bread, you young scoundrel !" shouts Bland, in a rage. "Bread! that's true," exclaims John; "you forgot the baker." The old man's schemes to pacify his creditors with the distribution of five-and-twenty shillings were all knocked on the head by the recollection of the baker, and sweeping the money off the table into his breeches pocket in a passion, he roared out, " They may all go to hell together ; I'm damned if I pay any of them." The frequenters of the theatre, both at Shields and Sunderland, were of the sort Shakspeare so excellently describes: "Youths that thunder at a playhouse, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience but the tribulation of Tower Hill, or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure." At Durham they were fastidiously refined, and at Scarborough exclusively fashionable; but I was fortunate enough to suit their varied tastes, and was a great favourite everywhere. We had a month to remain at the latter town, when, through the influence of my good friends, Major Topham, of sporting and dramatic celeb- rity, and Stephen Kemble, I received an offer fro'in Fitzgerald, of the York circuit, to lead the comedy, with the highest salary in the company. I, of course, was delighted ; instantly accepted the proposal, and informed my managers of my anxiety to leave at the end of that season; but no prayers could move them; they insisted on their bond of six weeks' notice, which obliged me to go to Shields for two weeks, and take a very long journey out of my way to get to Hull, where I was to join the York company. I was very poor, too, and '■ more proud than poor." "And the worst of it was, the little ones were sickly, And if they'd live or die, the doctor didn't know." Both my children were ill with the measles, which parental anxiety magnified into the small- pox: " The dragon now, Which Jenner combats on a cow." The last night arrived. With scarcely enough, to pay my stage-fare alone to Shields, broken in spirit, I was bustling through Blaisot, in one of the " Maid and Magpie" translations, for the first and only time — Heave* be praised — when I was informed a gentleman at the stage-door wished to see me. I had two or three creditors in town, very gentlemanly men, but they had kindly promised to wait — for their money, I mean, though not at the stage-door — but at the end of the act a very elegant man handed me a card, on which was- engraved Mr. Alston, which he ex- plained, understanding I was engaged, he was about leaving with the porter. On the back of it was written, in pencil, "Lord Normanby, and a few friends, will be happy to see Mr. Cowell at supper this evening." I was not in the hu- mour to make myself agreeable to Lord any- body, but politely declined the honour, and sta- ted, as a reason, the indisposition of my children, and the necessity of leaving town in a couple of hours, in the mail-stage, for Shields. Before the conclusion of the performance I received a pack- et, which I found contained fifty one-guinea notes, with the following epistle : " Messrs. W. T. Denison, Mr. Alston, and Lord Normanby, great admirers of Mr. Cowell's comic powers, beg he will accept the enclosed as their contribution to his benefit, which they were unable to attend ; any influence they may- possess he may freely command. They wish him every success in a profession of which he is already so great an ornament." I paid off my four or five pounds' worth of debts in the morning ; wrapped my dear children iu blankets ; hired a postchaise ; played out my two weeks at Shields ; and, in high spirits, start- ed for York, as the theatrical phrase then was, the stcjrping-slonc to Londo?i. CHAPTER XIII. " I do remember him at Clement's Inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring ; when he was naked he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife: he was so forlorn, that his dimensions, to any thick sight, were invisible : he was the very genius of famine ; and now is this vice's dag- ger become a sijuire."— Henry IV., part ii. The York circuit, under the long and able management of the eccentric Tate Wilkinson, had for years held the first rank, next to London, in theatrical estimation. In this school the tal- ent of a Siddons, Jordan, Kemble, Emery, Knight, Matthews, and a host of other celebra- ted actors, had been matured ; but, at the time I speak of, it had fallen from its high estate, though PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 31 it still maintained a feeble superiority among its compeers from the recollection of what it had been. Learning, at the theatre, that Fitzgerald (the manager) was confined to his room with the asthma, I called at his lodging over a seed- shop, on a short, wide, flat street, called Corn- hill. I had taken up my abode at a watch- maker's opposite. I found my new ruler seated on four chairs (all there were in the apartment), before a large lire, wrapped in a white flannel gown, a pair of green slippers peeping from un- derneath, and a crimson velvet cap, confining a head of hair which might with justice have been called rcd-iwt red, but that the contrast with the cap cooled it down to a yellowish tinge. His " reception was the north side of friendly, that I must say," to use Nicol Jarvies' expression, but that might be attributed to bodily suffering — peo- ple are not often sick and civil at the same time — but a poodle dog made ample amends for the lack of hospitality of his master (he had been trained by some other gentleman), for he insist- ed on taking my hat, licked my hand, and, no doubt, would have wagged his tail if he had had one; but as the negro said of a similar animal, "dat tail must ha' been cut berry short off, or else him drave in." Poor Dragon deserves this much notice as connected with the drama ; he was the real original dog in the Forest of Bondy, and shared the applause with the great Liston. The old saw says, " Judge of a man by the company he keeps ;" but the companionship and apparent kindness of Fitzgerald to this animal must not be placed to his credit as the outward sign of goodness of heart. He liked the dog be- cause he drew him money ; on the same princi- ple that Elliot was civil to his amiable wife Ce- leste, until Fanny Elssler interfered with her attraction. After standing a reasonable time, I took a seat on the table ; he took the hint, and kicked to- wards me the chair on which his feet were par- tially resting; and, in the unnecessary energetic action he used, he displayed a leg, in point of size, very much resembling half a pair of large kitchen tongs. He was a tall, good-looking man when made up, but had a bad countenance; "his crow, like a pent-house, hung over" his small, gray eyes, a fine Roman nose, and a mouth struggling to be handsome in defiance of a con- tinual sensual expression. He professed to be a very gallant man ; and his poor little wife — who could not bring herself to rejoice with him at his triumphs in that department of the arts — through excessive love, or folly, attempted to poison herself a short time before I made his ac- quaintance. Her life was saved by miracle, to drag out a wretched existence, with prostrated nerve and a broken spirit. Some plausible, but peremptory objection, was raised to every char- acter I named for an opening; and, after some heat on both sides, he wheezed out his consent that I should play Crack the next night, without previous announcement, or any of the usual for- malities thought favourable to all parties in ma- king a first appearance. But I made a great hit notwithstanding. The fact I found to be, that his offer of an engagement to me he had been obliged to make at the suggestion of my power- ful friends ; but that Mr. Bailey, an objection- able actor to the audience in general comedy (poor fellow ! he died long since in a poor-house), had a wife, "all of her that was out of door most rich," and on her the lion had put his paw; and the advancement of the husband on the road to theatrical preferment was the M'Adamizinj means most in his power to smooth the path to the wile's dishonour. They had, of course, an excellent situation, and a large family ; and the good woman, I believe honestly, lor tiie sake of her husband, did " beguile the thing she was, by seeming otherwise." But the audience claimed the exclusive privilege of protecting and reward- ing a favourite actor, "all in the olden time," and, with the exception of some petty annoyan- ces, I passed a pleasant and profitable year in the York circuit. The manager feared and ha- ted me ; I have explained how innocently I had caused the latter feeling, but the first must also be accounted for. His extreme rudeness indiir ced me, after my first visit, to make my neces- sary communications in writing, and, in reply to one, he, in plain English, called me a liar. I have the will yet, but I had most powerfully the way then, to fulfil, " on good occasion," old Sco- tia's motto. I entered his apartment, and firmly, yet civilly, desired him to unwritc the expression ; he refused, and I cured his asthma for that bout. I had not then heard the anecdote of the roughs- mannered and celebrated Dr. Moseley, setting-to with a patient suffering under the same disease, and, after pommelling him all round the room, and ultimately flooring him with a " hit in the wind," standing over him, and saying, very calmly, " If you ever draw your breath again", you'll be entirely cured." And I have no doubt in the efficacy of the remedy myself; but people are so averse to take " what will do them good," if it's at all unpleasant, that many sufferers from this long-lived disease, I have little hesitation in supposing, would rather wheeze, and cough, and smoke stramonium, sitting upright lor a month in bed, than take the thrashing I gave Fitzgetv aid. The dog Dragon, not having the cause of quarrel explained, was too prudent to show a preference ; but his canine feelings becoming excited, he had a little fight of his own, taking the odds, and a small bite out of the calf of my leg, and half a mouthful of skin off the bone of his master's. Fitzgerald promised to be more civil for the future, and I promised never to name the matter to the company — " the lion preys not upon carcasses" — but he and the dog had called murder so loudly, when the voice of the one was cleared and the other exasperated, that the landlady "came in at the death," and, not- withstanding her assertion " that she never med- dled with anybody's business but her own," it leaked out, and I encountered several anonymous shakes of the hand, behind the scenes, a day or two afterward. He was actually the unnatural son of old Ger- ald, the manager of a little strolling company through some small towns on the coast of Kent; the same man with whom Howard made his first appearance in his successful crying capacity. Ashamed of his father and his name, when he joined the Norwich circuit, some years before, he clapped the Fitz to it — wished it to be under- stood he was an Irishman — and gained some sympathy as a supposed descendant of the pa- triot of that name. He was a tyrant, in the full- est sense of the word, to his inferiors; but, as is always the case with such animals, he was fawning and sycophantic in the extreme to those above him. Johnny Winter (by the excellent imitation of whom, and the anecdotes related so exquisitely by my lamented friend Charles Matthews, he could alone have supported a large family) had 32 THIRTY YEARS been for years the tailor and wardrobe-keeper of the theatre, but, when Wilkinson died, he had gone into business as a breeehes-maker; for the cut of which article, "according to the fashion of the time," he was inexpressibly talented. And to use his own words, in reply to " How are you getting on, Winter 1" " Eh, beautiful, beautiful ! 1 ha' gottin a large shop and no custom — Ize doin' fine!" I was introduced to this curiosity by Cum- mings, the contemporary of John Kemble, who had been in the York company for more than forty years! and died upon the stage, while per- forming Dumont, in the tragedy of Jane Shore, the season after I left the company. Winter must then have been at least seventy years of age, but retained, in figure and manner of ad- dress, all the flippancy of youth in an extraordi- nary degree. He was a great admirer of the turf (all classes of Yorkshiremen usually are), and always dressed like a jockey, or trainer, in a frock-coat, small-clothes, topped boots, striped waistcoat, fancy neckerchief, with a horse or dog brooch, and a whip or ash-sapling in his hand. His opinion in theatrical affairs — which he always (often without being asked) gave without respect to the feelings of the party — was, from its whimsicality and blunt honesty, both sought for and dreaded. Matthews he couldn't "abide;" his great and admired particularity in his dress was very objectionable to Johnny, and he used to say, " Dang the feller, he's niver sooted ; there's John Em'ry 'ull put on ony ko'it as cums to hand, an' gang on, an' mak the peepl' laagh twice as much as what he can." It was part of his duty to provide clean tow- els for the gentlemen ; and the nervous, anxious Matthews would soil a napkin from one end to the other in cleaning, and painting, and marking his face, again and again, to obtain some par- ticular expression ; this was a great offence to Winter; and when he had left the room he'd hold it up and exclaim, " Did ye iver see sic a nasty beast as that Mathoos? all'ays a washin' himsen; noo Mis- tre Cummins is the cleanest man amang ye, an' he ne'er washes himsen at all." Poor Cummings, being afflicted with a dis- ease of the heart, generally dressed at home, or nearly so. The sensitive, fidgety Matthews was actually annoyed that he couldn't obtain any approbation from Winter; and when the farce of the Re- view was first produced, he prevailed upon John- ny to go in the front, and give him his opinion of his personation of Caleb duotem, in which he intended to make (and did) a great hit. At the conclusion of the performance, while un- dressing, Matthews inquired, " Well, Johnny, how did you like it V " Beautiful, sir! beautiful! I ne'er seed nau't like it." " Ay, indeed !" said Matthews, delighted ; "I'm glad you were pleased, Johnnv." " Wha could help but be pleased?" said Win- ter: " i'twar the varri best actin' 1 iver seed i' my life." " Yes, I think it was a decided hit," said Matthews, gratified at having at length made a convert of Winter. " And how did you like my song! it went capitally, didn't it 1" " " Ye'r song?" said Johnny, with a vacant stare. "Oh, e'es, I remembers; i'twar a poor jibber-jabber thing; I thou't nau't on't— but I ha' seed mony sic creturs as thim, an - " i'twar na'thral as life; i'twar beautiful, sir! beauti- ful!" Rejoiced at obtaining such unequivocal ap- probation from Winter, who had never praised him before, Matthews continued, " Yes, Winter, I never was in a better hu- mour for acting; I think it's decidedly my very best part; don't you, Johnny ?" "Me, sir!" said the implacable Winter: "I niver thou't nau't aboot ye — not I !" " Why^" said Matthews, astonished, " haven't you just been paying my acting all sorts of com- pliments?" "You?" said Johnny : " I niver once thou't o' ye; I wur praisin' Mistre Hope i' Dubbs; he wur th' varri best i' th' hul piece." Fitzgerald, though a vile actor, to give the dev- il his due, had a very superior, and even clas- sical knowledge of costume; and he had em- ployed Winter to make him a suite of dresses for Macbeth. When he was a lad, and bearing his real name, he had been engaged by Wilkinson, but discharged after a week or two, in conse- quence of his impertinence and incapacity. This Winter recollected, and, while fitting on a robe, some departure he had made from his instruc- tions caused Fitzgerald to fly into a violent pas- sion, and use some coarse and insolent language to the old man, who very calmly said, when the gust was over, "Now, ye see, ye mun get some ane else to finish t' job, or do'tyersen; ye see, I recollect ye when ye wur a poor ragged lad, an' wur kick'd out o' theatre, Mistre Gerald; ye hadn't FUz then !" and very coolly walked away. Charles Wood was another heir-loom in this establishment; no manager dared discharge him ; he had been a member of the company even longer than Cummings, and was a much older man ; he was stone deaf, but the most cheerful, good-tempered creature in existence ; he had been a singer in his youth, and was the original Eugene in the Agreeable Surprise, at the Hay- market; he was always humming or whistling a tune about the theatre, as "gay as a lark;" his wife was in her dotage, and he had a large family of children, most of whom had turned out badly ; id est, the boys were all very wicked, and some of the girls very good-natured ; but he drew comfort even from them, and would say, "Ay, ay, plenty of — and rogues in my family, but no cowards," in reference to the care-for- nothing behaviour of one of his boys on receiv- ing sentence for some petty crime. In endeavouring to pull on a tight boot one night in a hurry, I boasted that I had "the pa- tience of Job" — which people are very apt to do when they have lost all their own — in the hear- ing of Winter, who, from long habit, was a fre- quent visiter of the dressing-room. "Talk o' 'the patience o' Job!'" said John- ny. " Look at Charley Wood, wi' twenty-ane scamps o' childer, a queer wife, an' a guinea a week ! ' Patience o' Job,' indeed ! Job be d — ! look at Charley Wood a whislin' !" During my sojourn in this company I formed some friendships both lasting and valuable. Among them I made one in rather a singular manner. Paul Bedford, an actor and singer, had introduced me to his brother, a professed gambler, and a partner in a fashionable hell in Pall Mall. During the York races he attended an E. O. table in the gentleman's stand, to which I had the entree. There were three horses to run PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 33 for the cup — Catton, Fulford, and, I think, Ever- lasting. Catton was the favourite, at great odds, but the knowing ones had some notion of Ful- ford; and Bedford instructed me that if, at a cer- tain point of the race, Fulford was ahead, to " bet all I /iad." He was ahead at the right time and place, and / did bet a guinea with an ele- gant little old man, with powdered hair and a cue ; and when the sport was over, he inquired loudly for the gentleman to whom he had lost a guinea. I presented myself. " Why, my dear sir," said he, with great glee, "how is it possible you came to bet on my horse 1 Why, 1 had not the most remote idea he could beat Catton ; my dear sir, it was my own horse I was betting against ; I merely en- tered him for the sake of the sport, and to please some friends who were anxious to see what he could do. Why, you must be a most excellent judge; haven't I the pleasure of knowing you 1" " Cowell, sir, is my name," said I. "What, of the theatre"? why, certainly, cer- tainly ! 1 thought I knew your face ; 1 saw you in Goldfinch last night; an excellent perform- ance — excellent. Allow me to give you my card — Neville King ; you must dine with us to- day; I'll introduce you to my friends." And the bustling, agreeable little old man, named me to some dozen noblemen and gentle- men as his friend, " Mr. Cowell, of the theatre, a great judge of horses, and a winner on the race." His invitation to dine with the club was earnest- ly repeated by several, and as I only had to per- form Tiptoe, in the farce of " Ways and Means," I consented. We had a jovial time ; 1 sung them some songs suitable to the occasion, was indu- ced to remain longer than was prudent, and when I got to the theatre I was conscious that I was very drunk. I had, fortunately, little change to make in my dress, merely a footman's jacket in- stead of my coat, and a silver band round my hat, for, of course, I always wore topped boots and breeches in the race week. Johnny Winter dosed me with tea and pickles, for, to his taste, 1 had suffered in a good cause, and my brother actors managed the first scene among them- selves; the last chiefly consists in a very long speech, in which Tiptoe is supposed to have been taking a drop too much, and in depicting which I had gained some reputation ; but it had " pleas- ed the devil drunkenness to give place" to qualm- ish stupidity. 1 cunningly avoided any effort at acting, and as a large portion of the audience were suffering, probably with exactly my sensa- tions, the whole affair passed off insipidly enough. I had just gained my dressing-room, and began to sip some brandy-toddy, which Winter had declared " the sovereign'st thing on earth," when Fitzgerald strutted into the room. " Why, Cowell !" said he, " I never was so dis- appointed in my life ! Some of your admirers," with a sneer, " told me you were very fine in a drunken character, and I was induced to see the last act. Why, my good sir, you have mistaken the style of Tiptoe's intoxication altogether; he has but a very short time to get drunk in, and, of course, is highly excyt^d from the immediate ef- fects of wine, swallowed in large quantities; but you lost sight entirely of the exhilarating char- acter of drunkenness, which the author intends, and looked like a man who had been very tipsy, and wanted to go to bed and sleep off its narcotic remains. It was very bad, I assure you — you were entirely mistaken." When he had closed the door, Winter said, " That poor ignorant thing knows more aboot na'thral actin' than I iver thou't he did." During Colonel Neville King's stay at York, he showed great attention to myself and family. I painted a portrait of Fulford, with which he was highly delighted, and had it splendidly framed and sent to Lincoln, where he resided. Probably in the history of the turf, no two hu- man beings were ever so perfectly pleased at Losing a guinea and winning a guinea. CHAPTER XIV. " "Tis thou, thrice sweet and gracious goddess ! (address- ing myself to Liberty), whom all in public and private worship ; whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so, till Nature herself shall change. No tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy sceptre into iron : with thee to smile upon him as he eats his crust, the swaia is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art ex- iled." — Sterne. Of all the members of the York company at that time, none ever arrived at any eminence in the profession excepting Mrs. Humby. She had been educated a singer, was excessively pretty, and in simple, innocent characters, a charming actress. She was the best Cowslip I ever played with ; her husband was a very esti- mable, and in money matters, an extremely pru- dent young man, and went by the name of " Young Calculation." Playing Solomon, in the Quaker, one night, I made use of the usual distich, " Who sees a pin and lets it lay, may want a pin another day. I'll pick it up and stick it here ; a pin a day's a groat a year." When Humby met me in the morning, he said, " Cowell, you must alter that rhyme of yours : it isn't correct; I've made a calculation. and a pin a day is tenpence ha'penny a year, if you purchase by retail." The circuit consisted of York, Hull, Leeds, Doncaster, and Wakefield, and at the latter town I left the company — I am glad to say, to the great annoyance and inconvenience of Fitzger- ald, for I was an enormous favourite, and at that time there were few professors of my line of business out of London. Kilner succeeded me, an excellent actor in hearty old men, which then I didn't play ; he came soon after to this country, and was long a great favourite at Boston, but of late, like the genius of old, he has kept himself corked up in a bottle. I was tempted to join the Lincoln circuit, by the offer of one half more salary than I received at York, to play only four times a week; to have the book sent to me to choose the character I preferred performing in every piece ; to visit seven towns in a year, near- ly close together, and have half the clear receipts of one night in each for a benefit. This com- pany had been for many years under the direc- tion of Thomas Robertson, but through the ridic- ulous speculations he had entered into at the in- stigation of a particular friend, he had been thrown into prison for debt, and I was engaged by a committee of gentlemen who had under- taken to regulate his affairs, and had secured to me the strict fulfilment of their contract. It was sundown on Sunday when I arrived at Lincoln. I had, with my wife and two children, posted all day from Wakefield, where I had finished my engagement the night before, and performed Domine Samson and Baron Willinghurst ; and after putting my person in repair, I accompanied my friend Armstrong, the leading actor (whom I had known in the York company), to the lodg- 34 THIRTY YEARS ing of the lady manager. I am not considered a faithful historian where women are concerned. In consequence of my adoration of the sex, I have been accused of being too partial in my descriptions ; but if any of my readers are ac- quainted with John Mills Brown, the comedian, and will imagine him dressed in a very low- necked, short-sleeved, black velvet gown, large black necklace and ear-rings, dark sorrel hair turned up behind, with ringlets in front, and a very beautiful hand, and arm bare to the shoul- der, they'll have a very correct likeness of Mrs. Fanny Robertson, whose half-sister she was on the mother's side. Her maiden name was Ross, and her father the manager of the Edinburgh Theatre, " long time ago," and celebrated in Irish characters : and her mother was said to be equal to Mrs. Jordan. I was never introduced to a queen, but the et- iquette observed and exacted by Mrs. Robertson, I imagine, is all that will be required, if I ever do go to court. Her boudoir was small, but ele- gant ; an easel with drawing materials on a stand in one corner, a superb harp in another, a pianoforte and a profusion of books, music, drawings, and other " knick-knacks." Her re- ception of me was most favourable, and had she really been a queen, I should have felt certain of a seat in the cabinet. The next night the theatre opened with the comedy of Speed the Plough, and a Chip of the Old Block ; I playing Sir Abel Handy and Chip. The house was crowded, and I made a prodigious hit. The following morning I paid my respects to the manager at the Castle, and was introduced to the deputy-governor, alias the jailer, a very pleasant, intelligent man, as everybody descri- bed him, by the name of Merriweather. Though his appellative didn't agree with his gloomy oc- cupation, he had the reputation of being highly qualified for his office ; he was formerly a tailor, but having " a soul above buttons," he preferred the name of his trade should begin with a J in- stead of a T, had chosen to turn keys instead of coats, and to lock up rather than to cut out. He was a great amateur in horticulture, mineralogy, conchology, zoology, and perhaps all the " olo- gies" excepting, probably, ontology; his power of expression in matters of science was a per- fect oglio, and in attempting to convey his " use- ful knowledge" to the uninformed, he more un- intelligibly mixed it up for his own exclusive gratification. The walls of his dining-room (he gave excellent dinners) were decorated with stuffed ducks, distorted cockle-shells, and "other skins of ill-shaped fishes." His admiration of the arts and sciences had caused him to enclose nearly the whole of the Castle yard for a private garden ; though it was originally intended for the use of prisoners for debt (then often for life) and traitors, and other delinquents to stretch their legs in, before the law decided upon stretch- ing their necks; but as the dessert-tables of the bishop, the sheriff, and the judges were seasona- bly supplied with the delicacies it produced, his taste, and that of his pineapples, were greatly admired. It was cultivated with both care and skill, under his direction, by some petty rascals who were indulged in digging to the clanking music made by their own fetters encountering the blade of a spade ; all wicked gardeners were sentenced to six months' prison discipline at least, if he had any influence in their case. " Mr. Robertson is a particular friend of mine, Mr. Cowell," said this St. Peter: " I am devoted- ly fond of the drama, and have given him liberty to walk in my heaven on earth, as I call my ru- ral sanctum." Unlocking a huge iron bar, which secured a small, though high gate, overarched with two prodigious jaw-bones of a whale, the merits of which, after explaining, I have do doubt, in very scientific, ossified language, we thridded the "narrow pathway" till we overtook my new manager, the privileged Jonas. He was a small, handsome-featured man, with amiability and humility quietly claiming pos- session of the only expressions his countenance was capable of. He was dressed in a dark-col- oured morning-gown, soiled with powder on the collar, though he had none in his hair; his beard was long, shoes untied, and his whole appear- ance forlorn and slovenly. Every debtor I ever saw in prison in my life always looked as if he owed money and could not pay it — though I'm told sometimes their looks belie them. His welcome was painfully polite, and our short conversation ended with his expressing a hope that he might shortly meet me in some other than " (his lorctchcd place.'' Looking round upon the most beautiful garden I ever beheld, I thought of Sterne's Starling, and imagined I saw " I can't get out" glistening in his moistened eye. On my return to my lodging, if Falstaff had. met my landlady in the passage as I did, he would very probably have said, " Heigh, heigh t the devil rides upon a fiddlestick," for as she described her sensations, she was all in a " flus- terJication." Following me up stairs, she flounced herself into a chair, and with scarcely breath to utler, exclaimed, " Oh, sir, what do you think "? the high-sheriff has been here and inquired for you, asked me when he could be sure to find you at home, and has left his card. Heaven help me, that I should have ever let my lodgings to a player ; but as what's done can't be undone, get out the back way as fast as you can, and make your escape." As a visit from this important functionary in England is never paid, in his official capacity, but to gentlemen who are either suspected, or guilty of high treason; and as my poor landlady couldn't imagine he would call upon me in any other way, she had pictured to herself my incarceration in the keep of the Castle, thence drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution, my head popped upon a pole like a robin redbreast, and the balance of my body dangled from a gib- bet. The direction of her astonishment was chan- ged, though rather increased than diminished, when, on reading the card, 1 calmly said, " Colo- nel Neville King— oh, my dear madam, he's a particular friend of mine." "A friend o' yourn, sir!" said the woman, al- most in a scream. " My goodness gracious ! a friend o' yourn'? Why, he's one of the greatest gentlemen in the county; he's the high-sheriff, sir: only to think of his being a particular friend o' yourn. "Why, sir, I assure you he never darkened my doors afore, though I've always had the most genteelest of lodgers. Sally! put some more fire on in Mr. Coward's parlour! That's your name, I believe, sir!" " No, madam— Cowell," I replied. "Yes, Mr. Cowen. I'll recollect," said she; "only being so put out makes a body forget. That gal has never dusted these chairs, I de- clare. My last lodger was a lawyer's clerk and PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 35 his lad)', and Colonel King never once thought o' calling upon him. I can't help thinking of the colonel's being your particular friend. I must get another gal ; she's too lazy for any- thing, I do declare ; there's not a drop of water. Sally! bring a nice fresh pitcher of water for Mr. Cowitch ! There, I believe I have called you wrong again." " Cow-ell, madam," said I, with emphasis. " Yes, sir, Gno-Ml ; yes, Ml, /tell 1 I shall be sure to recollect it now. As I said before, Mr. Cow-/ull, I always let to none but genteel peo- ple ; never took in a player before, and wouldn't you, only you was so highly recommended. I must make that gal put this room nice to rights every day ; perhaps Colonel King may call again. What sweet children you've got, Mr. Cow—" "Ell," said I. " Yes, Mr. Cowhell. Send 'em down to get a cake when they're hungry. I'll have your win- dows cleaned to-morrow, and put you another little strip of carpet in the bedroom, and try to make you nice and comfortable. If Colonel King calls, I'll tell him to walk up V I nodded, and away she bustled to tell the wonderful event to her husband and her custom- ers, for she kept a pastry shop. It was still long before a decent dinner-hour, and, minutely di- rected by my landlady, I set off to return the colonel's call. On the almost inaccessible hill, called the Strait, which divides the lower from the upper town, I met the " fine old English gen- tleman" on his way down to request me to dine with him and his brother, a clergyman, with Avhom he was desirous I should be acquainted, which I readily accepted, and we continued our walk through the city ; he introducing me, as we went, to those who were worth knowing, and stopping several times to relate the guinea ancc r dote and extol my judgment in horseflesh. His brother I found more of the man of the world than the colonel, but extremely kind and agree- able ; my picture of the horse was criticised with judgment, softened by politeness and parti- ality ; he was very conversant with Shakspeare, and regretted that the theatre, being under the " shade of the Cathedral," he couldn't with pro- priety witness my performance; but, out of the Fulford cup, drank to his speedily having that pleasure in London. I believe the prayers of priests are attended to sometimes. A conversa- tion between the player and the parson, on the inutility of the drama in a moral point of view, he armed with kind feeling and George Barn- well, I with experience and the Beggar's Opera, was suddenly interrupted by the colonel's say- ing abruptly, " Brother, I have an excellent idea. Mr. Rob- ertson has for years been urging me to lend my name to patronise a house — you know what I mean — to put at the top of the play-bill, ' By de- sire of Colonel King,' and all that sort of thing ; but, though I wish him well, yet I have always refused, for I should feel mortified by having anything to do with the matter unless I had a good house, that is, an overflowing house ; but I was thinking Mr. Cowell and myself could make a great thing of it between us at his ben- efit, eh 1 High-sheriff of the county, and all that — Lady Monson's in town, and she'll get the Earl of Warwick to go ; and then there's Heron — I never asked any favours of these people be- fore, and I'll ask everybody ; and, eh— what do you think, brother V The parson thought it excellent; I thought i: capital, and the next day, Wednesday, he wa^ to go electioneering for "our benefit," as he called it, and I was to open a box-sheet in the morning. I did, of course, as he desired, and on the following day every seat was taken ; the re- ceipts were larger than any ever before in Lin- colu. Singular to relate, the manager, who was respected by everybody, was released from prison on that very evening, and I led the good old man on the stage amid the deafening cheers of the audience. After a pleasant and profitable season, the company moved to Newark-upon-Trent, the distance performed in about two hours. I had introductions to everybody from everybody. The pride of the theatrical population caused an ef- fort to be made to exceed the Lincoln receipti, on my benefit night there, without the aid of in- dividual patronage; and, though the house was smaller, some well-applied guinea tickets gave them a powerful pound-and-shilling victory over their more aristocratic neighbours. The same success attended me at Grantham, Spalding, Boston, Peterborough, and Huntingdon; and my return through the circuit made " assurance doubly sure." The only unalloyed period of per- fect content and comfort I ever experienced (in a theatrical point of view) were the nearly two years I passed in this company. We never played more than four nights in a week, with the exception of the race week at Huntingdon, and then we received one third more salary. To the off-play days the manager laid no claim, for rehearsals or any other purpose ; the actor's time was his own; it was considered not paid for, and, therefore, not taxed ; excepting prob- ably twice in a year, the production of some showy piece would make a night rehearsal ne- cessary; and then, the voluntary assistance of the company was requested in a respectful and affectionately- worded note addressed to each in- dividual, from the highest to the lowest, and the business of the evening closed with an econom- ical repast. Stars were never engaged to " strut their hour upon the stage," for twenty pounds, to the disadvantage, by comparison, of the poor stock-actor, working haidfor twenty shillings & week. The performers were selected with a rigid regard to moral worth and deportment, and with as much talent as is (I am sorry to say so sel- dom) met with, hand in hand. The conse- quence was, the actors and actresses were treat- ed like human beings by the citizens, and, ac- cording to their grade and acquirements, had social intercourse with their fellow-men : they remained, generally, in the company for years. Among themselves they were like brothers and sisters, but paying the respect due to age and superior talents always observed in well-regula- ted families. Show me a manager on this wide continent of America who has ever had (or has) the in- stinctive moral propriety of feeling to pursue such a course. No : they say, " Any way to make money or get a living." But, as Colman ob- serves in one of his plays, " the ways be so foul and the bread be so dirty, that it would turn a nice stomach to eat on't." On each play day we rehearsed the perform- ance of the night, with scenery, properties, and the most scrupulous exactness; this over-and- over-again drilling was a nuisance to those who understood their business, and I was one who thought so, but it secured the pieces being letter 36 THIRTY YEARS perfect, and you were sure to have a subordinate stand where you wished, say what he should, and when he ought. No Richard in that com- pany would say, " Hark ! the shrill trumpet," and then hear a Too-ti-to-too ! two minutes af- terward ; but there the sound was " echo to the sense." The same plays and farces which were performed in one town were repeated in the next, in the same rotation; and each performer retained the same entertainment he had at first selected for the whole year ; as, for instance, I took Charles Dibdin's very agreeable operatic play of the Farmer's Wife, and Midas, for my first benefit, and they were only played on that occasion everywhere through the circuit, and the next year considered stock property. In every town one or two plays or farces were " got up," of which the performers were provided with books or parts at least a month before ; and these collectively formed a fresh list to start with at Lincoln. The manager, with very good taste, proved his superior confidence in the probity of the softer sex, by employing a female money- taker or trcasuress, a fine, fat, handsome woman, by the name of Stanard, and mother of the ami- able " Sister Rachael," now in this country. Mrs. Robertson was a highly-accomplished, strong-minded woman, and, notwithstanding her uninteresting appearance, a very superior ac- tress; but often loose and careless, from the ab- sence of that wholesome stimulus to ambition — competition. Her husband was humility per- sonified; he employed a stage-manager, and when he visited the theatre of a morning, you might from his manner, imagine it belonged to any person but himself; as he passed round the scenery on tiptoe, to take a seat at the corner of the prompter's table, he'd bow to each actor he met in the most respectful manner. The inner lapel of his coat would be literally lined with scraps of paper about two inches big pinned to it, on which were written his memoranda for the day; watching a leisure moment, he'd beckon you towards him, and unpinning one of his little manuscripts, read as follows : " Mr. Cowell will be good enough to name what song he will sing on Thursday evening, the 17th day of June next" — it would then be probably the latter end of May — " the performance being by desire of the Lincoln Sharp Shooters." '•' Oh, any you please, sir," I would reply. " I would rather you would be kind enough to name one," he'd sav, timidly. " Well, sir, the Nightingale Club." " Wait an instant, if you please ;" then turn- ing the paper, he'd write on the bjck, "Mr. Cowell is good enough to say he will sing the song of the Nightingale Club on Thursday even- ing, the 17th day of June next, the performance being by desire of the Lincoln Sharp Shooters," and repin it in the vacant place. Now this was all very ridiculous, but it was very inoffensive, and infinitely preferable to the arrogant, insolent manners of some living managers, whom I shall as faithfully describe in the next volume. CHAPTER XV. " Why, everything adheres together ; that no dram of a scruple, no scruple "1 a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance — What can be said ? Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked."— Twelfth Night. At about this period, Stephen Kemble had been appointed manager of Drury Lane by the committee for the trustees, and immediately proved his friendship, and the high opinion he entertained of my talent, by offering me an en- gagement of six pounds per week, to be increas- ed to seven and eight, in the event of my success, for the following seasons; explaining, that the salaries were greatly reduced, but that this sum gave me all the privileges of the theatre usually granted to the principal performers; that neither Harley nor Munden were expected to return, and the opening, therefore, was an excellent one; and assuring me he had the greatest confidence in my being received most favourably by a Lon- don audience. Highly elated, I instantly submitted the affair to Mrs. Robertson, for her advice and opinion. " It cannot be disguised nor denied, Mr. Cow- ell," said this clever woman, "that the loss of your services will be severely felt by Mr. Rob- ertson ; it may be long (if ever) before he may be able to obtain a gentleman so highly esteem- ed by the friends of the theatre to supply your place ; but I most solemnly pledge myself that no selfish consideration influences my advice one atom, but, in the spirit of sincere and disin- terested friendship, I urge you to refuse this offer. Your income here, you are aware, with your benefits for the last year, was eight pounds per week, within a few shillings, and this year it will exceed that sum ; this, you must recollect, is for every week in the year; there you have a vaca- tion ; and without a name long and conspicu- ously known in London, you can employ your talent to little profit during that period in the country. Lent, Passion-week, and other holy- days, with the respect demanded to be paid at the death of every member of an aged and ex- tensive royal family, will reduce your yearly in- come nearly one half, and your expenses in. London will more than double what is required to live as you do here. There is not the most remote probability of a diminution in your pop- ularity, and the fact that you have refused a London engagement for the sake of remaining in this company, would so flatter the vanity of these kind-hearted people, that they would feel bound by gratitude to support you, with their ut- most means, forever. Mr. Robertson is getting old" — here she gave a little shake of her head, and curled down her mouth as people usually do after taking a glass of sea-water, or a seidlitz powder without sugar — "and he has more than once spoken of your succeeding him in the management; nature never intended you to be in a subordinate situation in life ; here you have everything your own way ; but in London, no matter what success you may meet with, envy, jealousy, and various petty annoyances (the most tormenting of any), will inevitably sur- round you; the management encumbered by a committee of noblemen and gentlemen totally ig- norant or unmindful of the feelings and rights of actors, and quarrelling among themselves who shall most embarrass the interests of the theatre to advance — in defiance of public taste — some favourite mistress, and, through her influ- ence, probably those who may impede or inter- fere with your advancement; and — you may fail — and then, to return here, with diminished lustre, would be vexatious to yourself; and these good people, relying on a London judgment, might suspect they had been mistaken in your talent, and adopt their opinion. There, I have made you a long speech, and given you my most hon- PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 37 est opinion ; and now do as you please ; I shall never say a word farther on ihe subject." Half convinced of the truth and policy of her advice, I might probably have adopted it, but that she unfortunately said, " You may fail;" this wounded my pride, and, to remove all doubt of such a possibility, I "screwed my courage to the sticking place" and accepted the engage- ment. Every day, prior to my departure, I be- came more fully satisfied with the decision I had made. From the first hour I became an actor, every energy of mind and body had been stretch- ed to its utmost to achieve this grand desidera- tum, and now the hoped-for stake for which 1 played came to my hand without my seeking it, with advantages unprecedented — Stephen Kem- ble, my proved friend, the manager, and a va- cancy in my line of business in the theatre that might not occur again for years. My suc- cess with the public my vanity and experience would not permit me to doubt for a moment, for, after passing, with the highest approbation, " the rough brake" of a York audience — the most dif- ficult to please in England — I had little to fear from the acknowledged liberality of a London one. On my last night the company and the manager gave me a handsome supper, and. with the good wishes of a host of friends, I set off for London, and the first play-bill I saw, on entering the metropolis, announced Mr. Mun- deii's re-engagement at Drury Lane. I found the theatre in a deplorable condition; an indifferent company, and badly selected, play- ing to literally empty benches, excepting when Kean performed, and his attraction had, from the constant repetition of his plays, been worn to a shadow of what it had been. To appear on any night when he didn't act, was assuredly to have an empty house ; therefore, by the advice of Stephen Kemble, I opened in Samson Raw- bold, in " Tkc Iron Chest" and Nicholas, in the " Midnight Hour." My success was equal to my warmest wishes. Several members of the committee, particularly Colonel Douglass, paid me some high compliments, and Kean, Kemble, and the enthusiastic "little" Knight were warm in their congratulations. The song, which is not an effective one, was loudly encored, which Mr. Smart, the leader, assured me, in the green- room, he did not remember to have been so hon- oured since the part was originally played by Suett. The newspapers were all very appro- ving; numbers of my Lincolnshire friends had visited London for the simple-hearted purpose of giving me their support, and, by using their influence with their friends in town, the house was better than usual, though it was the same night that Farren made his bolstcrcd-up hit at Covent Garden. Everything in the power of Stephen Kemble to aid my advancement was attended to with great care ; I was never called upon to play any- thing but a principal character, and his personal kindness gave me an enviable position in the company ; my chiefest annoyance was my not having enough to do. The Lyceum closed, after a few weeks, to make room for Matthews with a new entertainment, called " A Trip to Paris," and Harley rejoined Drury Lane; he was an established favourite with the audience, and a very general actor. He had founded his style originally on Fawcett and Bannister, but he didn't hesitate to draw largely on Munden, Lis- ton, Knight, Matthews, De Camp, and others, according to the nature of the character he had to represent, or all of them at once, if the part re- quired their varied powers ; but out of the patch- work he made a very agreeable performance, and only a nice observer would discover the stitch- ing together. He was most indefatigable in his profession, and in private life an inoffensive man, though worldly-minded, and extremely pe- nurious. We had been old friends at Brighton, and when I first went to London he took me to his lodgings to see his collection of prints. He had a handsome apartment over a book-shop in Bedford-street, Covent Garden, the wall of which was decorated with a large number of portraits of actors, all guarantied to have been given to him in the handwriting of each on the margin. Being so early in the day that a refusal was cer- tain, he ventured to point to the sideboard and invite me to take a little brandy, and made me promise, very faithfully, that some day I would take a chop with him, which promise, while in England, he more than a dozen times made me repeat ; but the day never arrived, nor did I ever hear of any human being ever taking a meal at his table. He was a good son and brother. His mother and two sisters resided with him. They kept no servant, and when he played they would be seen seated above, at the corner next the stage, in the second tier of boxes, for the double purpose of starting the applause and saving fire and candle at home ; and frequently, when it happened to be a dull, poor house, they would have all the applause to themselves, and, being very persevering in their approbation, they were often noticed by the audience, to the great amusement of the actors and the constant vis- iters of the theatre. But they continued most faithfully to discharge this duty for years, and to their timely hints Harley was indebted for many an encore and round of applause. Mr. Barnard, who was the walking gentleman of the establishment, had solicited the services of Russell, Gattie, Oxberry, myself, and Harley, to play for his wife's benefit, who belonged to the Greenwich company. We hired a glass- coach, alias a better sort of hack, for the day, and at about ten o'clock in the morning we called and took up Harley, the last of the party. After the rehearsal of Wild Oats, with " the fol- lowing powerful cast" Rover — Russell (who would cheerfully travel a hundred miles, get up in the middle of the night, and give five pounds into the bargain to play that character at any time); Ephraim — Oxberry; Sir George — Gat- tie ; Sim — Cowell ; and John Dory — Harley, it was agreed that each should write down an order for a cutlet, or chop, or anything they pleased for dinner, without the knowledge of the others, and then make it a general repast; when it came to Harley's turn he declined, stating, as an excuse, that he had dined before he set out. "What, before ten o'clock 1" says Russell: " why, Jack, you dine as early as poor Tokely used to do. but I hope it's not from the same cause." Tokely was a very intemperate, but extremely clever man. Fawcett was stage-man- ager of the Haymarket Theatre, where Tokely was an immense favourite; he frequently came quite inebriated to rehearsal, and Fawcett under- took to advise him to refrain from drinking liquor in the morning. " I am fond of my glass of wine after dinner," said Fawcett, " and a glass of grog after supper, but to taste liquor before dinner is a vile, ungen- tlemanly habit ; and for Heaven's sake, Tokely, oblige me and yourself by refraining for the fu- 38 THIRTY YEARS ture; promise me you'll never drink anything till after dinner." Tokely pledged himself that he would not; but a few days afterward he was absent after the time called for the last rehearsal of a new piece; when he arrived Fawcett was about to rebuke him for his neglect, but caught a whirl' of his breath. " Faugh !" said Fawcett, " Mr. Tokely, I'm ashamed of you ; you've been drinking again ; remember what you promised !" "But, sir, I've dined," said Tokely, very de- murely. " Dined V said Fawcett : " what, before eleven •o'clock in the morning 1" " Yes," said the comedian, " I dined early, and that caused my being rather late at rehear- sal." Poor Tokely continued to dine early, and ■died very soon afterward. When the varied dinner was served, Harley seated himself at the window with a newspaper, but the savoury odour of the viands was too much for his hungry resolution. "That smells deliciously," said Harley: "al- low me to take a little bit on a morsel of bread." And though we all invited him to have a plate and chair, and partake, he still continued to re- fuse, and " pick a little bit" of everything, and cheerfully took a glass or two of wine with us all. Russell, who was a great wag, borrowed a pound note of him; and when we made the set- tlement, before starting home at night, he char- ged Harley for his equal share of the dinner, supper, and wine, and handed him two and six- pence as the change of his note. He looked daggers, but he never uttered a word the whole way to London. The eldest Miss Tree, a most amiable wom- an, was the principal dancer of the theatre. She had been married to, and separated from an advertising dancing-master by the name of Ctuin. Harley paid Tier great attention, and everybody imagined it would be a match. Some one was praising her very highly for her performance of Columbine, in the Christmas pantomime: " Yes," said Tom Cooke, " she's very clever as Columbine, and I'm told shortly she's going to be Harley Quin." But she never was, for she was in this coun- try with her sister Ellen, and still Miss Tree. In society Harley was agreeable and gentle- manly, could sing a comic song extremely well, and tell a studied, droll story with effect, but I don't believe he was ever known to say a witty thing naturally, or perpetrate a joke of his own in his life. During ihis season I played as an apology for Munden, Knight, Harley, and Oxberry, in con- sequence of the indisposition of one or the other, at very short notice, and frequently with their names in the bill, and was always most favour- ably received by the audience; as I made it a rule all my life to be at the theatre every morn- ing at ten o'clock, whether wanted or not, and generally in the green-room at night, if any one was sick whose place I could supply, I was the first to be called upon ; as it placed me frequent- ly in a favourable point of view before the audi- ence, in characters in which I was prepared — and even if I had never seen the piece, bavins; an extraordinary quick study, great presence of mind, and fart to get through anything — these sudden calls upon ray services (particularly as they obliged my good friend the manager) were rather pleasing to me than otherwise ; and they occurred so frequently, that it became a joke for the actors, and when I entered the theatre, at morning or night, they'd salute me with, " Here he is! Munden's sick!" or, "Cowell, my dear fellow, you can go home ; everybody's quite well," as the case might be. Even Kem- ble would join in the joke, and say, in his fine, fat, good-humoured manner, " Doctor Cowell, I'm very sorry to inform you that all your patients are in fine health this morning." I had just finished playing Cosey, in "Town and Country," one night, when a message came to me in my room that Harley, while pre- paring for the afterpiece, had been seized with an epileptic fit, and inquiring if I would under- take the part of Goodman, in the Barmicide; a splendid spectacle, which had been long in preparation, and produced for the first time the night preceding. It was a very long character — some melo-dramatic business, interspersed with two concerted pieces of music and a song. 1 undertook to get through if, with the part in my hand; the only advantage I had was, that I had seen it the night before, for there was no time to read it — nothing puts an audience so out of hu- mour as delay. An apology, slating the dilemma the management was placed in, was made, and I was received with the hearty encouragement a London public know so well how to bestow. During the intervals of the scenes, I got so far possession of the part that I referred to it but seldom, and in the last act did without it entirely. To show the aptness with which an audience there seizes upon and applies any portion of the dialogue which serves to express their feeling, I'll state the following as a proof. The lovely Mrs. Orger had to say, in reference to some aid I had atlbrded to the virtuous part of the plot, " I'm sure we are all greatly indebted to Good- man ; I don't know what we should have done without his assistance." The house applauded to the echo that applauds again; and at nearly the end of the piece, my last speech was to the effect, " Giaffar has done his duty, somebody else has done his, and I trust, with submission, I have done mine." And the curtain fell amid deafening peals of applause. The management and the critics gave me infinitely more credit for the undertaking than it deserved, and I, of course, retained the character during the run of the piece. Harley's illness was continuous, and I pledge myself / iicver once prayed for my frioid's recovery. Actors are the most selfish people in the world, and feel for one another on the same principle as the midshipman's favour- ite toast, "A long and bloody war!" explains their sentiments. His death, or absence from the theatre, would have greatly aided my ad- vancement; but, unfortunately for me, and for- tunately for the theatre, about this time Howard Payne's tragedy of Brutus made a prodigious hit, and was played nearly the whole of the sea- son. The theatre was so entirely prostrate at this epoch, that the salaries failed in being paid, and as a last resource, Payne's play, which had long lain neglected, was, by Stephen Kemble's good taste, put in rehearsal, and Kean -was prevailed upon to study the part. After a number of vexa- tious delays, which Payne bore with exemplary patience, walking with the permission of a "day rule" to the theatre (for he was a prisoner for PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 39 debt at the time in the Fleet or Bench) to meet Kean by appointment, and then find him not to be found, or not fit to be seen, it was at length produced to an indillerent house. It was shock- ingly cast ; Harry Keinble, whom the audience would hardly tolerate, was the Tarquin ; D. Fish- er, who had good sense enough since to turn dancing-master, was the Titus ; and the balance of the characters «?tsupported by a parcel oi' peo- ple that it would be annoying even to mention their names ; the fat, vulgar, housekeeper-look- ing Mrs. Glover, who now plays a line of busi- ness she was only ever fit to sustain, was the Tullia; Water-gruel Mrs. W. West was the other woman, and the pretty Utile dawdle, Mrs. .Robinson, the Lucretia. On the first night, a scene between her and Harry Kemble nearly ended the fate of the play; but the next, Tar- quin smothered her, or did something or another to her immediately, without saying a word about it, much to the satisfaction of the audience. The public were greatly prejudiced against the establishment, and assisted, no doubt, by the emissaries of the rival theatre, the play, on its first representation, made three or four narrow escapes ; greatly to my annoyance, for, independ- ent of my interested motives, I had a warm feeling in favour of the author, both for his tal- ent and amiable deportment. But Kean was the Atlas of the night, and took the whole play on his shoulders; his assumed folly elicited the first general approbation from the house, and his speech to Titus ending with " Tuck up thy tunic, train those curled locks To the short warrior-cut, vault on thy steed: Then scouring through the city, call to arms ! And shout for liberty !" caused John Bull to shout too with all his might: in fact, he always does shout when liber- ty's mentioned, whether because he thinks he's the possessor of the blessing, or " wants to," as the Yankees say, I know not. The oration over the body of Lucretia was the most heart-thrill- ing, pathetic appeal to the passions I ever heard : equal in solemn beauty to his manner of bid- ding farewell to the attributes of war in Othello, which never was spoken by any actor but him- self as Shakspeare conceived it. At this time Le Thiere's large painting of the Judgment of Brutus was exhibiting at the Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly, and being the work of a Frenchman, everybody, of course, went to see it. The last scene was grouped exactly after its manner; Le vivant tableau had a most happy effect, and the play, to my great delight, after all its struggles, was announced for repetition amid universal approbation. In defiance of its almost unprecedented suc- cess with the public, nearly the whole newspa- per press seized their dissecting-knives to cut up it and its author; columns were filled with extracts from obsolete dramas, which Payne had used for his purpose with all the freedom of an old acquaintance; though scarcely one actor or playgoer in fifty had ever heard of, or read them, with the exception of himself, and those cross- examining critics; one long and able article, 1 remember, was wittily headed : " The labour we delight in physics Payne? 1 At all events, he deserved higher praise thnn the compiler of Shakspeare 1 s play of Richard ike Third, as it is called, for out of far inferior ma- terials, he placed in the front rank of public opin- ion an excellent tragedy, on a subject four or five authors of celebrity had failed to make dramatic ; revived the drooping laurel on the brow of Kean, and with his overwhelming assistance saved Drury Lane Theatre at that time from total ruin. CHAPTER XVI. " Love's very pain is sweet ; But its reward is in the world divine, "Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave." Shelley. If you were to listen to and believe half the gruntings and grumblings of the peevish atoms who inhabit this " wretched world," as they call it, you might be led to imagine they were most anxious to "shuffle off this mortal coil." This goodly frame, the earth, is described by them as a " steril promontory," " a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours ;" that man delights not them — "no, nor woman neither!" as Hamlet says ; and they try to persuade you and them- selves that any change must be for the better. And yet I never saw one of these "discontented papers" who didn't use " the little left of strength remaining," in struggling with the grim tyrant when it came to the awful pause. Now I be- lieve that there are quite sufficient delicious lit- tle inventions for our gratification to amply keep pace with all " the natural shocks that flesh is heir to," and among them, can any one be more delightful than the unexpected renewal in manhood of a sincere boyish friendship 1 This I experienced in an unushered visit from George Maryon. He had been a midshipman in the navy, and at the close of the war, had been left with a bul- let in his body to remind him of his youthful folly, and a very superior education for his fu- ture support ; his brother was an artist with con- siderable talent, and together they had establish- ed an academy for young gentlemen at East Lane, Walworth. My dear boy Joe, who al- ways loved everything and everybody his father admired, took a great fancy to my sworn friend, and he was intrusted to his care as a pet and "parlour boarder." Each succeeding Sunday they paid us a visit; but my uncertain engage- ments at the theatre deprived me, for some weeks, of the power of absenting myself so far from its purlieu. But the death of dueen Charlotte, causing the establishment to be closed till she was enclosed in the vault at Windsor, among her poor relations, gave me an unenviable holy- day — "no play, no pay" — and on a fine day af- ter dinner, I set off to walk to Walworth, which I understood to be only two or three miles dis- tant. All my life I have suffered great incon- venience from the absence of the faculty of re- membering names. Once, in playing Lazarillo, in " Two Strings to your Bow," I insisted that my name was Pedrillo, to the great amusement of the actors. Calling at the stage door to look for letters, I inquired of West, the messenger of the house, my shortest route to Wandsworth instead of Walworth. " Why, sir," said this experienced directory, "it's a pretty good walk to Wandsworth — but it's a straight line. Your best way will be to go over Westminster Bridge ; and you'll find dozens of coaches will set you down there for a shilling or eighteen-pence." I did as he advised, and, soon after passing the Marsh Gate, I was overtaken by a long four- horsed stage, with ''Wandsworth" named on its end, as its place of destination. I hailed the driver, and took a seat by his side. As he was 40 THIRTY YEARS not able to give me the desired information, when we reached the village I alighted at the first tav- ern, and requested to be directed to East Lane, and Mr. Maryon's academy. " I knows of no Heast Lane" said the land- lady — I suppose, for she was very fat — " but some calls this Hcast Bend, I'm sure I don't know for what ; and there's Mr. M , he's a harchitect, and keeps a sort of a 'cademy. He teaches oome young men to draw churches, and build 'ouses, and such like, I believe." " That's the very man, madam," said I. I thought of his brother, the artist, and the name (which I purposely suppress, for fear, even at this distant date, of creating a difficulty between an elderly lady and gentleman, if they are still alive) was as much like Mar-yon, as' Mar-von is, as she pronounced it. According to her di- rection, I entered a small garden, and rang the bell at the door of a handsome house, standing back from the road. After waiting a reasonable period, I repeated the summons more energeti- cally, and in a few seconds I heard a female voice say, pettishly, " That boy is never in the "way;" and the door was instantly opened by — Anna! I caught her in my arms — I was afraid of her falling, and, if she had, she would have hit her head against the foot of the stairs, for the passage was not more than eight feet long, and she was standing on the inner edge of the mat — a little, fat man, and a maid-servant, made their appearance — but how they got there, Heaven only knows ! — and, with their assistance, I pla- ced her, senseless, on the sofa in the parlour. After the lapse of a few minutes — passed by me in a delirium, and by the man and his maids in applying, in hurry and confusion, the usual rem- edies, all which I remembered as a dream after- ward, but then I had not the power to assist — she opened her heavenly eyes, gazed, with a va- cant stare, around the apartment, concealed her face with her hands, and burst into an agony of grief. "Anne, my dear, Anne !"— if he had called her Anna I believe I should have knocked him down — "why, Anne, my dear," said the little fat man, looking up at her as she was leaning back on the sofa, with " the heart's blood turned to tears" oozing through her taper fingers over her wedding-ring, and chasing each other, like dew- drops tinted with rose-leaves, down her snowy arm, "what is all this, and who is this gentle- man 1" " Wait a minute — don't speak to me !" sobbed poor Anna; "you shall know all — indeed you shall — I — I'll tell you what a wretch I am — in — in a minute." The little fat man looked at me for informa- tion, but I was so stultified with horror and re- gret at this promised confession, which would, in all probability, involve the happiness of her I had so purely and innocently loved, that my be- wildered thoughts deprived me of the power of words to arrest the "evil communication;" and I stood firmly, with the same apathetic, indiffer- ent expression of face and manner, so often seen in some poor wretch, listening to be told quietly, that he is to be hanged by the neck until he is dead, and his body given to the surgeons for dis- section — and which natural display of intense suffering is always placed to the account of un- doubted courage and magnanimity of soul, in Newgate Calendar criticism. After a lengthen- ed pause, she suddenly rose up, and, with hys- terical playfulness, said hurriedly, "The surprise — the — no, not the joy — the as^ tonishment, overcame me — it's — my cousin you've heard me speak of," and again sunk upon the sofa. " Thank Heaven ! I'm her cousin, for the sake of all parties," thought I. "Oh yes; why, bless me, no wonder!" said the little fat man. " Oh dear, yes, I remember. I'm glad to see you, sir. I caught Anne one day crying over your picture ; she told me that it was her cousin — why, really, no wonder you were surprised, my dear — she said, I think, you were shot, or drowned, or something. I'm glad to see you. She's got your picture yet. There, that's it, tied to the black riband. Show it your cousin, Anne — well, never mind, by-and-by — I declare it's an excellent likeness ! a little too fresh-coloured, perhaps — but, then, the uniform makes a difference. But you must take a glass of wine — Anne will get over it presently — and I'll send for the children." And away the nasty little fellow went. The only balm I could lay to my tortured feelings at that moment was, that he was very fat — and I knew Anna could not bear fat — and that he was a head and shoulders shorter than myself. But "the children" made me sick at my stomach; I felt faint ; and, without my saying a word, Anna answered my look, "Don't despise me. What could I do"? You never answered my letters. Everybody said you were dead, or had married some one else. God help me ! he was rich, and all my friends per- suaded — " Me she would have said, and perhaps a great deal more I'm glad I did not hear, but that the door opened, and in came the father, without doubt, of a little pot-bellied brat, the image of himself, whom he was leading by the hand, and followed by another "like the first," crying, and sliding into the room, with a dirty nose. " Take the baby up, Betsey," said the father. " He won't let me, sir," said the maid. "Ah, he's a spoiled child; but here's a fine fellow," said the foolish-fond parent; "only three years and a half old ; shake hands with the gen- tleman, Joseph ; come, that's a good boy — it's ma's cousin, my dear, that you were named after." But, thank Heaven ! my namesake wouldn't do anything of the sort. " We only breeched him yesterday," said the father, his eyes half out of his head with delight. And a pretty business they had made of breech- ing the little beast. A nankin jacket and trou- sers all in one piece, bedizened with mother of pearl buttons all over the top, and daubed with gingerbread over the bottom; and a slit in the back, wide open, to let the little ball of fat in or out, I suppose. " Well, I'm heartily glad to see you — take a glass of wine," said the good-natured man, though I hated the sight of him. " Sir, here's to ye. Oh do, my dear, take a little ; it will do you good — now indeed it will ; well, if you won't, you won't, I suppose. Anne has fretted a good deal about you, I assure you." I took my hat. " Oh, you mustn't think of leaving us so soon. Anne will be quite lively presently, now you've got back. I've often heard her declare she couldn't die happy unless she either saw or heard something certain about you." I moved towards the door. "You mustn't think of going to town to-night;,- PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 41 we have plenty of spare beds, and you must tell us how you escaped getting drowned, or shot, or whatever it was." I felt that victory could only be gained by an im- mediate retreat; pleaded that business of the last consequence demanded my presence in London that night, but promised to return early on the morrow, and pass the day with them ; took the privilege of an affectionate cousin to embrace his wife — whispered an eternal good-by — stumbled over the mat, down two steps at the street door, and departed. " She gazed as I slowly withdrew : My path I could scarcely discern. So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return." But I didn't, and have Never seen Anna since. CHAPTER XVII. " Say what abridgment have you for this evening 1 What mask 1 What music 1 How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight V Shakspeare. Stephen Kemble, and his sister, Mrs. Sid- dons, to my poor thinking, shared between them all the genius of that wonderful family. Extra- ordinary natural advantages, highly-cultivated minds, and long and intense study of the me- chanical attributes so important to an actor, rendered both John and Charles Kemble (but particularly John) for years " the observed of all observers ;" though I, in defiance of general opinion, always considered Charles the superior artist. "An two men ride on a horse, one must ride behind;" and when John Kemble was at the very zenith of his glory, with no shadow within reach of his shade, his brother, with a better voice, and finer face, was playing walking gen- tlemen in the same theatre — Alonzo to his Rolla, Lewson to his Beverly, Laertes to his Hamlet, Cassio to his Othello, Prince of Wales to his Hotspur, and so on. How would it have been had their positions been changed] And even in those comparatively subordinate characters, Charles gained a most exalted reputation, and the recollection of his excellence in that descrip- tion of business painfully derogates from the merit of any performer in that walk of the drama since. After the retirement of the " great Kem- ble," his most prejudiced worshippers were obliged to admit that Charles was his equal in most characters, and even honest enough to al- low his superiority in some, and in a certain grade of high comedy he stood alone — Mercutio and Don Felix, for instance ; and it was witting- ly said of his brother John, when he attempted the latter part, : 'that he possessed too much of the Don, and not enough of the Felix." Stephen Kemble's extraordinary bulk depri- ved him of the power of entering the arena with his gladiatorial brother ; but his Macbeth and Hamlet, by the adorers of mind, not body, will never be forgotten; and his readings of Milton and the Bible were superhuman. In his latter days, from necessity, not choice, he only per- formed Falstaff ; but even in that resource, for his transcendent talent, he stood without a rival. Fawcett delivered the wholesale wit of Fal- staff in small parcels, with the pungent quaint- ness of Touchstone. Bartley would make you believe the knight had got fat behind the coun- ter, while keeping a retail shop in the city.- Dowton made him a very large-sized Sir An- thony Absolute. Matthews played it as he did Grunthrum, in "The Fortunes of War," or the very whimsical character in one of his enter- tainments, who inquires of everybody, " Am I thinner, think ye V Warren had a great repu- tation in the part in this country, and a sign for a porter-house was painted in compliment to his performance, in Philadelphia; but he, though a very sensible actor, portrayed Sir John as if his favourite beverage was beer, not sack. Hackett and John CLuincy Adams have paid one another some high compliments lately through the news- papers on their true conception of the character, which I think is highly probable to be the case ; but when I saw Hackett in the part, some years ago, I thought it was a very excellent imita- tion of Matthews. Stephen Kemble's face and figure were a guar- antee for the character he gave himself: "Sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack FalstafT; valiant Jack Falstaff, and, therefore, more valiant, being, as he is, old Jack FalstafT;" and alive to all the minute beauties of the au- thor, he pointed them naturally, without force or effort; and if the cavillers to excellence deny that the performance was perfection, they must admit that it put all competition in the back- ground. In private life he was a good man, a ripe scholar, a warm friend, and a delightful companion. During this season the principal green-room was conducted with all the etiquette observed in an apartment designed for the same purpose in private life, and very properly too. A well-ap- pointed room, especially when ladies are part of its occupants, has great influence on the conduct of its visiters in all classes of society, from the magnificent drawing-room down to the splendid "gin palace." There was an obsolete forfeit of one guinea for any one entering it in undress, unless, of course, in character. This being per- fectly understood, was never likely to be incur- red. But Alderman Cox, one of the committee, in defiance of this well-known rule, dropped in one evening in a riding-dress, with very muddy boots and spurs. Tullia's train getting entan- gled in one of them, Oxberry good-humouredly reminded the alderman of the forfeit, which he appeared to take (and I think did) in high dud- geon ; but the next day a note was addressed to the gentlemen of the green-room, begging them, to accept a dozen of very fine Madeira in lieu of the guinea forfeit; pleasantly stating that, " as he was a very bad actor, he must be a mem- ber of the second green-room, if of any, and, therefore, did not consider himself amenable to the laws of the first." To meet the matter in the same spirit, with this wine, and other, we agreed to give the alderman a dinner at the Freemasons' Tavern, and a non-playing day in Lent was selected. Sir Richard Birnie (the Bow-street magistrate), Mr. Vaughen, M.P. (an esteemed friend of Kemble's), and Fauntleroy (the unfortunate), were invited to meet him ; and the party completed by Stephen Kemble, his son Harry, Carr, Hughes, Rae, Gatlie, Ox- berry, Harley, Kean, Munden, Henry Johnston, Irish Johnstone, Russell, and myself. Who would not like to be one of such a parly once a week! But they are nearly all gone now to — " not where they eat, but where tliey are eaten: a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at them." "Oh, the mad days that I have spent! 42 THIRTY YEARS and to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead." Kean was observed to refrain from wine, and when urged by his jovial companions to "drink and fill," Alderman Cox said, " In my official capacity" (he sal opposite to Stephen Kemble), " I have excused Mr. Kean. The fact is, I have made a promise for him that he shall spend the evening with my wife, and if he takes too much wine, I don't know what may be the consequences." The alderman laughed like an accommoda- ting — alderman, and we smiled at his very con- siderate philosophy. Kean withdrew early in the evening, and the good-natured husband re- mained with Kemble and four or five others, myself among the number, till three in the morn- ing. This is the same Alderman Cox who was awarded heavy damages in a court of justice against Kean, for destroying his domestic feli- city; and this is the very Mrs. Oox whose in- jured innocence " bellowed forth revenge" across the wide Atlantic, and induced the good people of Boston and New- York, in very purity of pur- pose, to use her name as a watchword to drive from the stage, as a punishment for some offence given to the audience, " Shakspeare's proud rep- resentative." Though not a member of the institution, I received the compliment of being appointed one of the stewards at the annual Theatrical Fund Dinner, at which the Duke of York presided, with Kean facing him as master and treasurer; and the talent of that great actor was even dis- played in the simple matter of reading over the list of subscribers. The amount given, or the name of a popular donor, elicited, generally, some demonstration of approval, according to the sum or character of the party, and his pecu- liar mode of announcing, " the veteran Michael Kelly, ten pounds," obtained three rounds of ap- plause. In the anteroom, appropriated to re- ceive our distinguished guests, I met, for the first time in London, my friend W.J. Dennison, Esq., M. P., who had so unexpectedly assisted to help me out of my scrape at Scarborough. Shaking me heartily by the hand, and pointing to the bit of blue riband at my buttonhole, he, laughing, said, "You see, Cowell, I told you how it would be." Grimaldi, the celebrated clown, whom I had never before seen without a red half-moon on each cheek, was one of the stewards, and I don't know why, but I felt astonished at finding him a very agreeable, gentlemanly-looking man : we formed an acquaintance which lasted while I remained in England. Tom Dibdin, the author and celebrated pun- ster, also one of the stewards, arrived very late, on a very miserable-looking nag, and his ap- pearance altogether called forth some remarks and merriment from those at the windows. " Gentlemen," said he, on entering the room, "you mustn't judge of anything by its looks; that's the pony that plays the marble horse in Giovanni in London, and can get as much applause as any of you; it's the celebrated Graphy." "Graphy ! that's a strange name for a horse, Dibdin," said some one. " Most appropriate, though," said the punster. "When I made up my mind to buy a horse, I said, I'll bi-o-graphy ; when I mounted him I was a tojHhgraphy ; when I want him to canter, I say, ge-o-graphy ; and when I wish him to stand still, and he won't, I say, but you au-tu- graphy ; and, therefore, I think Graphy is a very proper name." On the last night of the season, for the benefit of Old Rodwell, the box-book and housekeeper, a gentleman was to make his first appearance as Sylvester Daggerwood, and give imitations of celebrated performers. I had played Frisk, in My Spouse and I. on the same evening, and could, therefore, only go in the orchestra to see an excellent performance. He possessed all the ease and familiarity of an old favourite, and his mimicry was admirable. This was no other than the irresistibly comic actor, and emperor of topers, John Reeve, who a few years since paid a visit to this country. The theatre closed in a state of bankruptcy, and was advertised for rent soon afterward; but I had been prudent enough to provide an expe- dient for the vacation, at any rate. Matthews had been most successful in his entertainment called " A Trip to Paris," and had rendered that description of performance popular; and by se- cretly robbing him of all his jokes and songs, and localizing ihem to suit my hemisphere, I compiled an excellent three hours' olio, called " Cowell Alone," or a " Trip to London." The use of all the theatres in the Lincoln circuit I obtained gratuitously, and my success was enor- mous. I played two, but never exceeded three times, in each town to crowded houses; wisely leaving off to the regret of my friends, with the intention of returning. I merely visited the the- atres belonging to my old circuit, with the ex- ception of Louth, in Lincolnshire, thirty miles from Boston; and at ihe urgent solicitation of my friend Jackson, the printer (whose name was nearly always found at the foot of the last page of schoolbooks for boys of my age), I consented to become his guest lor a week, and " show my show" in the town-hall, the use of which was tendered me, through his influence, by the author- ities. It is the only picturesque spot in the country, and the inhabitants the most hospitable, jovial set of fellows (if they have not degener- ated) that can be found anywhere ; here 1 gave three entertainments, and had some difficulty in getting away at the end of a fortnight. There was a sort of moving festival among Jackson's- friends while I was there. Smoking was great- ly used as an abracadabra, in that fever and ague country; and a certain set had a room, or "snuggery," as they called it, detached from their houses, for the purpose of freely enjoying that fu- migating propensity. A t about three o'clock one morning I was assisting Jackson home, in broad daylight, from one of these noctes ambrosias, but being full of wine, he couldn't find his way there ; and I, being a stranger, couldn't conduct him in a town so laid out that every house is, in fact, in the country ; and, after a number of efforts to gain the right path, he stopped and inquired of a country boy, " My lad, can you tell me where John Jack- son lives'?" " Eh," says the boy, " why you be John Jack- son." " Hold your tongue, you fool !" said my un- steady friend : " I know I'm John Jackson, but where do I live 1" Elliston, that "diverting vagabond" and scourge to actors, had become the lessee of Dru- ry Lane, and made me an offer of four pounds a week (it was said he made Munden an offer of eight) to return, with great inducements as to bu- siness — which, of course, I declined. PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 43 I had got as far as the beautiful little city of Peterborough, and had still two towns untouched, when I received a letter from Mr. Lee, stating that the two young Rodwells, in conjunction with Willis Jones, had purchased the Sans Pa- nel from old Scott, and intended opening it with as strong a company as they could get, and a su- perior style of perlbrmance; and offering me an engagement for the light and low comedy, and that if I accepted, to come immediately to town ; ■which I did. I performed that night, and the next I was in London. Scott's fame for manufacturing ink, pink sau- cers, and liquid-blue dye, was coeval, and equal- ly notorious, with Day and Martin's blacking. At the time when all the little boys and girls in London wanted to be Master Bettys and Miss Mudies, Miss Scott developed strong symp- toms of this dramatic disease ; and though her extraordinary talent was undoubted by her fa- ther and her friends, it was delicately hinted that the greedy public not only expected intrinsic merit (which she possessed) for their money, but also that it must be hallowed o'er with beauty to secure the first impression. No paragraph, how- ever laudatory in its imbodying, would ever ex- cite curiosity, the grand point to be obtained, un- less it commenced or ended with, " This tran- scendent little loveliness, this sylphlike master- piece of Nature in her most bounteous mood, whose cerulean beauty conjures the wandering stars, and makes the little cherubim close their wings with envy, to think they are not so fair, last night astonished and delighted an over- flowing house ; among the distinguished persons present, we observed Lord CasTfereagh in the stage-box, and Mrs. Siddons (as she thought, out of sight) in the corner of the orchestra, with tears in torrents bedewing their experienced faces." Or, to bring the position more home to the feelings of old Scott, argued his worldly adviser, " How could you expect to sell your true blue, iinot to be equalled, and to imitate this is forgen/, were not flourished all over the label in pink arid green 1" Now Miss Scott, in addition to some natural defects, had had the smallpox and rickets unfa- vourably ; but as genius comes in all disguises, she really had talent both as an actress and a writer; and as a resource for the world's preju- dices, old Scott gutted the back of his warehouse and fitted up a theatre, where his daughter might safely indulge her predilection for the stage. Here for two or three years, assisted by some young people, her pupils, she dramatized and acted away "to a subscription party of her own friends. In all cities there are certain sides of the way in certain streets which the population, from some cause or other, prefer to crowd, and leave the opposite comparatively empty: just so it is with the location I speak of; the best in London for a theatre, hundreds of people enter there attracted by the red baize doors and a gal- axy of gas, who, when they set out on their ram- ble, never dreamed of visiting an establishment of the kind at all. And old Scott very wisely obtained a license for a minor performance, chiefly provided by his clever daughter ; and thinking of her alone, called it the "Sans Pa- nel," opened the doors to the chance customers, and made a fortune ; and this was the very place Rodwells and Jones had purchased. I had never seen the interior in Scott's time, but its origin was still strongly developed. A wide passage under the first floor of a house, leaving room for a small shop, on the right, in the same building, led you to the entrances of the boxes and pit, the latter being placed in the back cellar. Though comparatively small, it was most excellently planned, both for seeing and hearing. The name was changed to the Adelphi ; a good direction, being nearly opposite to the street leading to that well-known terrace on the Thames, where the immortal Garrick once resided, and appropriate in reference to the brotherly managers. The whole of Scott's engagements had been purchased, with the property; but of the merits of the performers there was no means of judg- ing, for they were put far in the back-ground by the new company, with the exceptions of Jones, the singer — the " Braham of America," as he was foolishly called till Braham himself came, in his old age, to dispute the title — and Gomer- sal, who had been Miss Scott's " amiable foot- pad" for years, and he grumbled through the heavy business. Our party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Chatterly, who had both been great favour- ites at the English Opera-house — he in old men, and she in high comedy ladies ; Mrs. Alsop, a daughter of Mrs. Jordan's, but no relation, by blood, to William the Fourth. She had been at Drury Lane, and was highly admired in romps and chambermaids ; Mrs. Waylet, who has been a great favourite in London ever since, played boys, and lively singing characters; Mrs. Ten- ant, long favourably known at the nobility's concerts, the principal singer ; Mr. Watkins, who was in this country some years, with Bur- roughs added to it, the principal serious young man; Wilkinson, the celebrated Geoffrey Muf- fincap — and if he had never played anything else but that and Dogberry, he would have been con- sidered a great actor — was the low comedian; John Reeve — a changeable part, and two other characters, suited to his style then — and myself, eccentric light comedy. Beautiful walking la- dies, well-dressed young gentlemen, and dancers by dozens. The pieces were all original, and written ex- pressly to fit the peculiar talent of the principal performers ; and Wilkinson and myself, both overpowering favourites, had the privilege of producing any piece that we thought we could make successful. The elegant little Planche was my chosen author; but apiece was acted at the Olympic, called " Where shall I Dine?" in which Wrench had a part called Sponge, to which I took a great fancy, and, by introducing an appropriate song, which I was always re- quired to repeat twice, I had the advantage of him — supported, also, by our superior company — and I played it every night, with the excep- tion of three weeks, during the remainder of the season, and for six in succession, twice on each evening. Wrench was taken sick, and, to save the run of the piece being stopped at the Olym- pic, and show the magnanimity of the rival es- tablishment, after performing the part first at the Adelphi, while our ballet was proceeding 1 drove to the other house, played it there, and returned in time to dress, and act my character in 'the farce. As this book professes to be exclusively a his- tory of my theatrical life, my domestic joys and . sorrows should remain "untouched, or slightly handled ;" but, in common justice, and to show the difference in the hearts of men I am bound to describe, I must in this instance deviate from my allotted path. Mothers and fathers who read u THIRTY YEARS this page will readily believe I considered my attendance on the deathbed of my youngest child — a daughter, nearly five years old— paramount to any other duty upon earth, and I absented myself from the theatre. But every pay-day the sum supposed to be due to me was enclosed, with the earnest good wishes and anxious in- quiries of Jones and Rod wells — though my sal- ary was a large one, the run of two favourite pieces suspended, and my absence from the the- atre highly injurious to its interests, and pain- fully inconvenient. At the end of three weeks, Maria died; and setting at defiance "all forms, modes, shows of grief," I instantly sent my de- sire to be announced, and played the same even- ing. Even at this distant period this recital is painful to me, and, for some years after its oc- currence, I dared not trust myself to refer to it; but Time, who smooths the wrinkled brow of care, has long since taught me to thank God, in the same spirit that inspired the pretty lines of Coleridge, that " Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade, Death came with, friendly care, The opening bud to heaven convey'd, And bade it blossom there." CHAPTER XVIII. " If thou wert honourable. Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not For such an end thou seek'st ; as base, as strange. Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far From thy report as thou from honour." Cymbeline. While I was in treaty with Jones and Rod- wells for an increase of salary for the next sea- son, I very unexpectedly received a note from Elliston, requesting to see me. I found him seated in his room, enveloped in a morning- gown ; his hair thrust up from his forehead, and standing in all directions, after the manner of a mad poet; a pen behind his ear, and another in his mouth, and before him, on the table, a quire or two of scribbled paper, and a folio edition of Shakspeare, open at King Lear, which he in- formed me he was revising, and intended to place upon the stage " in a garb 'twas never dressed before." In his bland and most insinu- ating manner, " he regretted, with all his heart and soul, that such enormous talent should be wasted at a petty minor theatre — the Sans Pariel." " It's called the Adelphi now," said I, inter- rupting him. " I know it, my dear sir," he con- tinued : " these young men have called it the Adelphi ; but old True-blue's connexions, and the apprentice boys, who constitute the audi- ence, will see them d — d before they call it any- thing but the Sands Parill, and look upon an actor, no matter what talent he may possess, as a Sands Parill player." After pointing out the degradation attending belonging to a minor thea- tre, though he had conducted one for years, that " best of cut-throats," who had "a tongue could wheedle with the devil," induced me to sign an engagement for three years, at the same salary I was receiving at the Adelphi, to commence the Monday after Passion-week. The description of business I was only to be called upon to sus- tain was named in the following form: "All such parts as are usually played by Messrs. Munden, Dowton, Knight, Oxberry. and Harley, or other performers holding the same grade in the profession." This unexpected arrangement greatly annoyed my friends Jones and Rodwell, who produced the articles drawn as I wished, and only wanting signatures, and all parties re- gretted the hasty proceeding. But they prophe- sied, from Elliston 's dishonourable reputation, that he would be sure to break the engagement, and if he did, I promised to return to them. Among many verbal inducements held out to me by Elliston (whose powers of persuasion amounted to fascination), he suggested that I might always command a few days, or a week, to take a trip with my entertainment, and so in- crease my salary, and relieve the treasury. "As," to use his own words, " I shall not bring you out till Harley goes to the Lyceum, which doesn't open till June, and then I'll place you so carefully before the public, that that prince of impostors will never want to come back again." It so happened that Crisp, the manager of the Worcester circuit, made me an offer to go to Chester for three nights, in the race week, com- mencing on Easter Monday, for which he of- fered me twenty pounds, and to pay all my ex- penses there and back. Fully relying on my services not being required at Drury Lane, I ac- cepted the proposal, and, as a mere matter of form, mentioned the arrangement I had entered into to Elliston. " You can't go, sir," said the barefaced cajoler. "Why, sir," 1 replied, "you yourself pointed out the advantage to the treasury my occupy- ing as much of my time elsewhere as possible would be between this and June." " Why, so I did," said he : " that's all true enough ; but if you refer to your articles, you will find that permission for your absence must be first had and obtained in writing, and I don't think proper to write; for," continued he, in a very important tone, " I find the interests of the theatre demand that I should immediately bring you before the public, and I intend to produce ' Blue Devils' on Thursday next, with a. powerful cast, and you must make your first essay this season in the part of James!" The man's style was so bombastically comic, that to be angry, or even refrain from laughing, was impossible; but I never asked for leave of absence afterward. Though I generally played excellent business — for, for the sake of annoy- ing Munden, Harley, and others, he'd frequent- ly cast me into parts they had a better claim to — I still had my share of disagreeables, though al- ways carefully kept within the letter of the law ; for, secure in my engagement at the Adelphi, which was purposely kept open, I was rather desirous than otherwise that he should " tear the bond." At length he cast me for Aruns, in Payne's play of Brutus, and I remonstrated. " Sir, this part of Aruns must surely have been sent to me by mistake," said I; "it was originally played by Mr. Yarnold, or some sec- ondary young man, without any pretensions to comedy." " That, my dear sir," said he, in his soft, sooth- ing manner, "was a great oversight in the man- agement: its being given to the serious young man you speak of was a great injury to the play, which is a very dull, tedious affair, at any rate, and this little bit of delicious comedy will be a great relief to its monotony." " Comedy, sir !" said I : " my dear sir, read the part; there is not a comic line in it." " I know it," said he, calmly, " I know it ; the author has left the character entirely to the actor, as he has every part of the play ; who could tell what Brutus was meant to be, if Kean didn't. PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 45 act it! This part is intended as a comic relief, such as Shakspeare desired Oswald to be in King Lear; only this is infinitely more capable of effect, and in your hands 'twill be irresist- ible." Thus assured as to its comic capabilities, for the sake of the mischief, I learned the few lines. On the night, I dressed myself, with the assist- ance of the wardrobe-keeper, who entered into the joke in the most outre manner possible, and kept out of sight till the very moment I was ■wanted. Kean not being at rehearsal, was un- prepared to meet a comedian in the character, and when I ran down the stage, after the man- ner of Crack or Darby, in the burlesque dress, he burst into an uncontrollable laugh, in which the audience heartily joined, and after gabbling over the few lines, to which Kean couldn't reply, I made a comic exit at the opposite prompt side, amid yells, shouts, hisses, and applause, and the first person I met was Elliston. " You can take off your warrior's dress, sir," said he, with a half laugh, for he was as fond of mischief as I was ; " we'll not trouble you any farther; Mr. Russell will finish the part." " You know you told me to make it as funny as I could," said I. "Yes, that's very true," he replied, "but I didn't expect you to make it so d — funny.'" And Russell retained the part for the remain- der of the season. A burletta, called Giovanni in London, founded on the pantomime of Don Juan, had been drama- tized in rhyme by Moncrief, and produced by Elliston some time belbre, when he had the Olympic, with great success ; and to the great astonishment of the old school, this illegitimate manager had it rendered into prose, and some additions made to it, for Drury Lane ; engaging the fascinating, and much- wronged Madame Ves- tris, to represent the gay seducer. And the number of hard male hearts she caused to ache, during her charming performance of the charac- ter, I am satisfied, would far exceed all the fe- male tender ones Byron boasts that Juan caused to break during the whole of his career. Har- ley was cast Leporello, and I was desired to un- derstudy it, and left out of the piece ; but at the first rehearsal, Oxberry and Knight both refused the parts allotted them, and Oxberry's was given to me — "Mr. Porus, a coachmaker," without one redeeming line, and on the stage, with little to do all through the piece. I remonstrated, but was answered that it was according to the spirit of my engagement; that it was Mr. Oxberry's part, or such as he ought to play, and that, for his refusal, he had been forfeited; and that, if I declined the character, my n ight's salary should be stopped during the run of the piece, though the fulfilment of my articles would still be claimed. For an ambitious actor to have to play an objec- tionable part for one night is bad enough, but he can grumble through it, and forget the annoy- ance in the morning ; but every night in the week, for months, to be so afflicted, is putting patience to a severe penance. Every scheme I could invent to distress the performers, so that I might be taken out of the piece, failed ; in fact, rather rooted me more firmly in my disagreeable position. Madame Vestris had to sing a very long song, to the tune of " Scots wha' ha' wi' Wallace bled !" which was always encored, and to which I had to stand quietly, by right, and listen; but I made up my mind I would get clear from that nuisance, by "cutting mugs" at the musicians, and making the people in the front of the pit giggle all through the song; but, to my horror and disappointment, when we came off, the dear kind sou), instead of being angry, as I wished and expected, said she thought " it was extremely comical, and begged I'd do it every night." Harley was the only one I succeeded in annoying; I could give an excellent imitation of him, and by speaking outside, and going down the stage after his manner, I got the recep- tion intended for Leporello, and when he came on, the audience, for tear of being again taken in, took no notice of him at all. The first night I even deceived his mother and sister, and got the first and last approbation I ever received from them, I'm quite certain. After about five weeks of this never-likely-to-end vexation, I consulted my friend Rodwell, and we agreed to have two guineas worth of Chitty's opinion, the celebrated Chamber counsel, and he gave it decidedly as his conviction that the article was rendered void; and relying on this authority, Rodwell bound himself to keep me harmless, and I signed and sealed for the Adelphi, on my proposed terms, for three years. Rodwell retained Adol- phus as counsel in the event of an action, and Elliston was apprized of my leaving the theatre according to law ; and after some preliminary forms, meaning nothing, I suppose, the affair was dropped. Elliston was a magnificent actor and delight- ful companion, but a most unprincipled man: his " Liar" could only be equalled by his " poeti- cal prose" off the stage. When manager of the Olympic, an actor by the name of Carles, who was an overpowering favourite with the audi- ence, had been discharged, in consequence of intemperance, and, of course, he stated to his friends that he had been shamefully ill used. The frequenters of the Olympic, in Elliston's time, were a very different class of persons to the elegant audience Madame Vestris, in after years, attracted there; and they, with fellow feel- ing, sympathized with his supposed injuries ; for though he told the truth, all his offence was " only taking a drop too much ;" and a most pow- erful party was arrayed, one evening, to demand his reinstatement, and Carles took a seat in the pit to await the joyful result. When Elliston appeared, he was greeted with one universal shout of "Carles! Carles ! engage Carles ! let's have Carles ! Carles ! Carles ! Carles, or no play ! Carles! Carles!" When, with his hand on the spot the uninformed in anatomy imagine the dwelling-place of the heart, and a face express- ing veneration and submission, which he pos- sessed such unequalled power to portray, he, in action, entreated silence, and with all the un- hesitating bluntness of truth, he burst forth with pathetic energy, " My best, my warm friends ! this ebullition of feeling in behalf of one you suppose to have been wronged shows the nobleness of your na- ture, and I adore you for it :" intense silence. " The man who would hesitate to stretch forth his utmost might to rescue from the bitter fangs of oppression the object of tyranny and persecu- tion, is unworthy to enjoy the blessings of that liberty for which our forefathers fought and bled!" loud applause, and one little "huzza" from an apprent ice-boy, nearly out of his time, in the pit. "Iloved that man," pointing to Carles: " oh ! how I loved him ; I idolized his tran- scendent talent, and took him to my heart like a brother:" here he produced a white handker- 46 THIRTY YEARS chief, and several gentlemen were heard to blow their noses in the gallery. " To my poor think- ing, he appeared the moving picture of all that could adorn humanity ; he would, to be sure, get a little tipsy sometimes:" here there was a slight murmur among the audience; "but I al- ways looked upon it as an amiable weakness — we all get tipsy sometimes — I do :" here there was an acknowledgment of the fact in the shape of a Utile laugh. " But for the last week" — here he looked directly at Carles — "he has been in a continual state of intoxication, and has never been near the theatre." Carles rose from his seat. " Down in front '! hat's off! down in front .'" was declared in a voice as double as the duke's, and Carles sat down, and Elliston continued, with a thick voice and hurried manner: "And on going to his lodging this morning, to coax him to return, which I have often done before, judge of my horror and astonishment when I found his wife and children starving for the want of the common necessaries of life :" here some one in the gallery was imprudent enough to shout out, " Carles hasn't got no wife !" but a uni- versal cry of " Pitch him over!" prevented any farther remarks from that gentleman, and Ellis- ton proceeded : " His lawfully wedded wife, the most lovely, thin young creature I ever be- held, whom this villain" — pointing at Carles in the pit — "had torn from her fond, gray-haired father's arms, to bring to misery, and leave her to perish for want: the infant at her breast screaming for the nourishment the starving mother couldn't give; the little ones, four lovely boys, clasping my knees and shrieking for bread ; and in the corner of the room lay his in- fant daughter, the most lovely, angel form I ever beheld, a frightful, distorted corpse, too horrible to look upon, who, the day before, had died for want of food." Here there was a general mur- mur round the house, but Elliston interrupted its explosion by continuing, "I instantly sent for food for the little ones, and with the sum this villain," looking at Carles, and blubbering, "could easily have earned, I provided a coffin for the little cherub, and only half an hour ago I returned from the funeral. Now, I appeal to you as men, as husbands, and as fathers, should I engage this inhuman monster 1" pointing at Carles. " If you say so, he shall instantly be re- instated." "No, no!" Carles got up to speak. "Knock him over! out with him! pitch him out !" and a hundred such expressions, issued forth in one enormous torrent, and poor Carles, who never had a. wife in his life, nor a child, to tlie best of hit knowledge, escaped, by miracle, from the infuria- ted multitude, into the street, and Elliston got peal on peal of applause, and the performance proceeded. CHAPTER XIX. " Oh, jracious God ! how far have we Profaned thy heavenly Rift of poesy ? Made prostitute ami profligate the muse, Debased to cacli obscene and impious use : Whose harmony was first ordained above. For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love ? Oh, wretched me ! why were we hurried down Tiiis lubrique and adult'rate (Nay, added fat pollution of our own), T' increase the streaming ordures of the stage !" Dryden. When Stephen Kemble took the government of Drury Lane Theatre, his ambition led him to believe that he could replace the drama on that proud and purely classic pedestal from which the rude hand of ignorance had hurled it head- long; and his refined taste gave him the intel- lectual power for the Augean labour, but the kindness of his nature deprived him of the strength of heart necessary to begin the task : dozens of actors and actresses he had remem- bered when a boy, grown gray in the theatre, and passed the day of pleasing, he humanely retain- ed to choke the outlet of a limited treasury, and thereby fettering the means which should have been applied to furnish material for a market al- ways requiring a quick return. His very name, too, contradictory as it may appear at the first glance, was an impediment to popularity. The exalted station his brother John and Mrs. Sid- dons had achieved, rendered them unapproacha- ble to the multitude; this was a heinous fault. The mob must ever have their idol, whether in religion, politics, or the drama, upon familiar terms ; the privilege of calling them, behind their backs, " Old Sail Siddons," and " Black Jack," was not sufficient ; they must ineet them at the Harp, or Finche's, or the Coal-hole, ay they could "Charley Incledon," or "Neddy Kean," or they were not content ; they therefore looked up to their splendid talent with awe for its sublim- ity, with wonder at its attainment, and with envy at the feeling distance at which, by comparison, it placed themselves; and, in consequence, the vul- gar public worshipped and hated them. Though past the reach of prostration from their " high estate," every trifle was seized upon with avid- ity for the purpose of annoyance. Kemble, in Prospero, alive to Shakspeare's meaning, that the smooth current of the language should flow with no grammatic bar to ruffle its enchanted calmness, changed the harsh plural of the "ear- piercing" ache, and filled the measure of the line with pure poetic propriety. The scribblers by rule seized upon this piece of pedantry, as they called it, to cavil at, and, ridiculous to relate, every night a portion of the audience, too igno- rant to know the patois of St. Giles's was not their mother tongue, whooped, yelled, and shouted at the justly " lengthened line." With such a prejudice existing against these two ornaments of the profession, no wonder the scions of the race were doomed without mercy to "expire be- fore the flower in their caps ;" and, instigated by this feeling, poor Henry Siddons, with every ad- vantage of mind and education, was written off the London stage lor no offence but his name ; and, sad to tell, his disappointed ambition helped to dig his early grave. His amiable wife, too, an overwhelming favourite as Miss Murray, suffered from the same cause, and the metropo- lis of England lost the adornment of talent infi- nitely superior to the overrated Miss O'Neil's. Stephen Kemble, playing only one part, al- ways appeared as a stranger to the audience, who valued him merely as the "gross fat man" who could play nothing but Falstaff, and his sou Harry was, unfortunately, too nearly fair game to easily escape. The committee, too, had five opinions in every proposed amendment, and, of course, made bad worse, though I must do them the credit to say that, thanks to them, there were more pretty women in the first and second green- rooms than any one manager was ever able to collect together again in my time ; among them, the beautiful Mrs. Mardyn, who a short time before, in the Plymouth theatre, was considered incapable of delivering a message j but at Drury PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 47 Lane she played four or five principal charac- ters during the season, to empty benches, and 'twas said (and I believe, for I know the cost of such material) received thirty pounds per week ! No wonder the theatre went to ruin, and my esteem- ed friend, Stephen Kemble, retired in disgust to his pretty cottage at Durham. Elliston took the reins under very different auspices. He was the lessee, and literally un- controlled, and a long and distinguished favour- ite with the public ; his nature, too, admirably fitting him not to allow old friendships, human- ity, or kindness of heart to interfere with his in- terests. His theatre, to use his own expression, was not "intended as an hospital for invalids ;" all the old servants of the public were, therefore, discharged, or those only retained on salaries graded to the extreme of what their abject neces- sities obliged them to accept. For years the manager of the Surrey and Olympic, he brought •with him the experience purchased in that school to add to his admitted knowledge of the legitimate drama, and followed by crowds of the utile, who, for the honour of belonging to Drury Lane,, would act for little salary, or none at all; always ready, and possessed, in an une- qualled degree, of the fascinating power of per- suading the public to anything he wished, he took the direction of the theatre with the best possible chance of success — for a time, at any rate. His right-hand man was Winston, long associated as the drudging partner with Cole- man and Morris, at the Haymarket. He had been disappointed in his hopes of becoming an actor himself, and, with the same acrimony of feeling an elderly virgin hates a blooming bride, he detested the professors of an art he hadn't warmth of soul enough to advance in. It was his province to measure out the canvass and colours for the painters, count the nails for the carpenters, pick up the tin-tacks and bits of can- dle, calculate on the least possible quantity of soap required for each dressing-room, and in- vent and report delinquencies that could in any way be construed into the liability of a forfeit ; of course, his prey was " such small deer" that the gentlemen of the theatre wouldn't even con- descend to spit upon him; but Smart, the lead- er, who, in the legitimate sense of the word, de- served that title, literally did void his rheum upon his face, one night, before the company, which the dastard wiped off, and, "with 'bated breath and whispering humbleness," sued for pardon for some dirty act. In the course of my experience I have noted many such " valuable creatures," as they are always called till they are found out, pinned to the fortunes of a manager; and gen- erally they get rich, and their employer gets poor, and, in his tattered authority, exclaims, " How strange it is that I should have been so deceived in that man !" King Lear, as threatened, was produced after loud proclaim of preparation, and the tragedy published as revised by the manager, and the poor " nice-fruil-and-a-book-of-the-play" women ■were obliged, on pain of dismissal, to add to their ancient melody, " as adapted to the stage by R. W. Elliston, fCsi/nire!" Full measure was taken of the taste of the Surrey and Olympic audience, in rendering the beautiful play as much like a melodrame as the nature of its action would permit. I wish I had a bill to refer to ; but 1 remember great credit ?/•■ 'dsed as due to the management in correcting the hitherto inaccurate costume. and Kean was clad in a crimson velvet gown, be- dizened with gold buttons and loops down to his feet! and Russell, as Oswald, in white silk stock- ing!, and the same dress he wore for Itoderigo! But the chief dependance of success was placed on a bran-new hurricane on shore, " designed and invented" by somebody, "after the celebra- ted picture, by Loutherburg, of a Storm on Land;" but, to give this additional effect, the sea was introduced in the back-ground, the bil- lows, painted alter nature, "curling, their mon- strous heads and hanging them with deafening clamours" — trees were made to see-saw back and forth, accompanied with the natural creak * creak ! attending the operation ; Winston had hunted up, without any expense to tlie management, every infernal machine that was ever able to- spit fire, spout rain, or make thunder, and to- gether were brought into full play behind the en- trances. Over head were revolving prismatic coloured transparencies, to emit a continual- changing supernatural tint, and add to the un- earthly character of the scene. King Lear would one instant appear a beautiful pea-green, and the next sky-blue, and, in the event of a mo- mentary cessation of the rotary motion of the magic lantern, his head would be purple and his legs Dutch-pink. The common fault of all man- kind is vaulting ambition, and, in the true spirit of that feeling, every carpenter who was intrust- ed to shake a sheet of thunder, or turn a rain- box, was determined that his element should be the most conspicuous of the party, and, together, they raised a hurly-burly sufficient to " strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world," and not a word was heard through the whole of the scene. Kean requested that it might " be let off easy" the next night. " I don't care how many flashes of lightning you give me," said he, " but, for Heaven's sake, Winston, expel your wind and cut out your thunder." To keep his own name and that of his thea- tre constantly before the public, he knew, from, every quack's experience, was most important, and every means to achieve this object was re- sorted to by Elliston. A portico to the front en- trance was built on one nig/it by torchlight, and the police reports were continually decorated with a long account of an aggravated case of as- sault and battery, committed by R. W. Elliston, Esq., on the person of a check-taker or an apple- woman. The poor, persecuted Queen Caroline, about this time had arrived in England to de- mand redress for the unmanly accusations brought against her by her husband, and Ellis- ton, taking good measure of the weak point in the character of his "friend, George the Fourth," as he always called him, showed his one-sided loyalty and ignorance at the same time, by omitting " et regina" at the bottom of the play- bills, and leaving " vivant rex." And so the sin- gular plural remained for weeks till noticed by the newspapers, which, perhaps, was what he desired. But this paltry attempt to wound the feelings of a suffering female, for the dirty de- sire of pandering to the malignity of her de- praved husband, was held in contempt and de- rision by every thinking mind, and, 1 hope, by even his King among the number. By a succession of degradations, heaped un- sparingly on the drama and its professors, be laid the groundwork of that ruin to which his followers brought Poor Drury Lane. 48 THIRTY YEARS CHAPTER XX. " Sir, I desire you do me right and justice : I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, Born out of your dominions ; having here No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance Of equal friendship and proceeding." King Henry VIII. After leaving Drury Lane there were six weeks to elapse prior to the opening of the Adel- phi, but, fortunately for me, when it was first ru- moured that I was about retiring from that es- tablishment, Moncrieff applied to me to under- take the character of Leperello, which he offered to prepare expressly for me, in a new piece called " Giovanni in the Country," which he was then dramatizing for the Cobourg. I consented, on condition that my salary should commence im- mediately, and that I should have the privilege of resigning before the Adelphi opened, which was readily acceded to ; and on a Saturday night I bade farewell to " Old Drury," and on Mon- day commenced an engagement " over the wa- ter," in my favourite character of Sponge. Glossop was the manager ; a very vulgar, ig- norant man. 1 had little to do with him but in the way of business, and he was always ex- tremely civil and correct in his dealings where I was concerned. His father was a soap-boiler and candle-maker, and through some specula- tions he had made, which appeared most ridicu- lous to everybody, had unexpectedly, perhaps even to himself, realized an immense fortune. His son married Miss Fearon, whom I knew at Plymouth as the " English Calalani !" She was the pupil of a violin-player called Cobham, had a delicious voice, and, from having been taught from that instrument, her execution ever retain- ed the brilliant, articulate character peculiar to the "soul-awakening viol." She was, soon after her marriage, separated from Glossop, and, as Madame Fcron, visited this country as a prima donna some years since. His connexion with that lady probably induced him to dabble farther with theatricals, for which he was totally unfit- ted, " and the way he made the old man's soap and candles melt was curiovs" as poor Moreland would say. The decorations of the theatre were the most gorgeous and costly of any in London ; good taste was thrust out of the way to make room for gold, and silver, and brass, and glass, and gas, in all directions, till " the sense ached" at the dazzling profusion. No expenditure was spared in the production of the pieces; and the house was crowded every night. I was a great favourite, and I passed a pleasant and profitable time till the day arrived to walk over Waterloo Bridge, and be once more welcomed at my pet theatre, the Adelphi. The trial of Q,ueen Caroline, at about this time, created the most intense and universal excitement among all classes of persons ever witnessed in London during my recollection. There were two parties, equally violent in their opinions— the king's, cruel and vindictive in their accusations; and the queen's, boisterous and vehement in their declarations of her inno- cence. It absorbed every other topic of conver- sation ; and the rancour with which either posi- tion was maintained severed the bonds of old friendships, and ruffled the social compact round the domestic hearth. Politics, of course, made "confusion more confounded;" the Radi- cals took side with the queen, and had a most overwhelming majority. The particulars of the case " non mi recordo," and if I did, they have no claim to a place in these pages; suffice it to say, I was one of her most enthusiastic supporters; for, admitting all they brought against her were true, she was a icoman, and I always make it a rule, in taste, to be on their side, whether they are right or wrong. In our theatre, both the Rodwells and all the actors were of my opinion, excepting good-natured, foolish old Lee, the stage-man- ager, Willis Jones, his father, who was the treasurer, and Mrs. Waylett; she declared she thought the queen had acted very imprudently ! ! On the night of her acquittal the excitement was terrific ; the military were ordered out, to intimi- date the multitude by their presence, and in- stantly suppress any treasonable outbreak by the joy-intoxicated myriads who were parading the streets, and rending the air with shouts of tri- umph. Our theatre was crowded, and it so happened that in the first piece some fifty su- pernumeraries were employed. Highly elated by the success of my party, I met these fellows, ready dressed for the stage, awaiting the com- mencement of the performance ; and, without thought, in the fulness of my feeling, I proposed " Three cheers for the queen!" which was instant- ly given, with due dramatic precision, and re- sponded to nine times by the audience, in a voice of thunder! All the actors rushed upon the stage, dressed and undressed, and old Lee, the stage-manager, in his morning-gown ; but no remark was made, and, delighted at so excellent an opportunity of expressing my joy, I proceed- ed to dress for the performance. At the conclu- sion of the first act, there was a universal cry for "God save the Q.ueen!" The number and temper of the audience were tools too dangerous to trifle with, and old Lee, who was foolish enough to adore the king, and, in consequence, hate the queen, had to address them in his " of- ficial capacity ;" after, in his usual style, stating that he was instructed " by Messrs. Jones and Rodwell to inquire their pleasure 1" and being answered by a thousand voices, " trumpet- tongued," that they wanted " God save the CLueen !" he went on to say that "we agnize no anthem called 'God save the Q,ueen,' but if it be the wish of the audience, at the end of the first piece, the company will sing ' God save the King.' " As he had stated, the whole of the la- dies and gentlemen (as is usual on such occa- sions) appeared at the appointed time, and Mrs. Tennant commenced the first verse, amid some interruption by the audience, " God save great George, our king ; Long live our noble king ; God save the — " " Glueen !" I shouted with all my might. The effect on the actors and audience was electrical, and peal on peal of applause drowned the hear- ing of the termination of the verse ; the second was intrusted to Jones, now of the Park, who, in a very gentlemanly manner, paused for my " Queen !" some followers of my own and the audience joined in the chorus according to my reading, and after an encore, either I or the "anthem," as Lee called it, got nine rounds of applause. Not a word was said by the manage- ment; Rodwells appeared delighted ; and Lee's opinion no one considered worth looking at; but, before the pay-day came, I heard it rumour- ed that I was to be forfeited a week's salary, and my participators in the treason, whom I had seduced from their allegiance, were to be pun- ished in proportion ; I was, therefore, prepared for a defence, and proposed we should all go in a body to the treasury, and that I should enter PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 49 alone, and endeavour to obtain a mitigation of the sentence. When I presented myself, Mr. Jones, an amiable and most gentlemanly man, addressed me in the following manner: " Mr. Covvell, I assure you it is with feelings of the deepest regret that the management con- sider it a dutv they owe themselves to mark, by the highest penalty in their power, the most un- paralleled breach of decorum ever committed within the walls of a well-regulated theatre. Of the correctness of this charge against you you must admit the justice ; and of the offence itself, I have no doubt your calm good sense has long since made you both sorry and ashamed." Here was a loophole for me to sneak out of, "but, heartily despising such means of escape, I replied, "You are greatly mistaken, sir, if you imagine that my conduct was influenced by any- thing but a cool, deliberate feeling of a right I had, as an honest man, to unite my poor voice with thousands to rejoioe at the escape of a wretched lady from her malignant oppressor." " Sir !" said he, with some warmth, "you and I hold very opposite opinions on that subject, and, however romantic yours may be, the thea- tre was no place to express it in." "Sir!" said I, with equal temper, "my ro- mantic feeling in the cause of an injured woman will ever cause me to set at defiance any arbi- trary law oppression can ever invent ; and there is no admitted one, in any theatre, under which my supposed offence can be comprehended." " Why, I admit," said he, hesitatingly, "that there is no specified rule, but you are aware the management has the power — " " Yes," interrupting him, " they have the pow- er over those — " " But, my dear Mr. Cowell," said the kind old man, not allowing me to end my angry sentence, " if your feelings were so violent in the cause, why didn't you control them till after the per- formance, and then give vent to them in the street 1" " So I did !" I replied : " I assisted some hack- ney-coachmen to break old Lee's windows, and made him light up, in spite of the love he bears to George the Fourth. But, sir, instead of con- demning this ebullition o( mine, it ought to be applauded as an act of policy ; for, if the singing of ' God save the king" had been persisted in, the exasperated public would have possibly destroy- ed the theatre." " Well, sir," said he, firmly, " I would rather the property had been razed to the ground than that an expression of partisanship so different from my opinion should be bruited abroad. I think very differently, though quite as enthusi- astically on the subject as you do ; the friend- ship of many I hold dear would be jeopardized by my allowing such a wanton abuse of deco- rum to pass unnoticed ; I therefore must, in self-defence, retain your week's salary ; but no doubt your general anxiety to forward the in- terests of the establishment will soon give the management an opportunity of justly restoring the sum." " Sir, I shall decline receiving it in any shape but as a right !" I replied. " Understanding that this stretch of power was to be assumed, I pre- pared for the Times newspaper this little para- graph, which, to prove how anxious I am to ex- onerate you from any participation or approval of my conduct, I'll read to you." And I produ- ced the following: " UnprecedentedCruelty and Oppression. — On the night our beloved queen was acquitted of the rile and infamous charges thai were fabricated to achieve her ruin, a poor actor, in the fulness of his heart, substituted ' queen 1 for ' king' in a fid- some song the overstrained loyalty of the managers of tlie Adelphi Tlieatrc endeavoured to thrust upon the patience of the audience, and for this heinous of- fence, in their opinion, these lawmakers have taken from him his week's ivages, and his only means of support for a wife and large family of children." " Why, surely, Mr. Cowell," said the old gen- tleman, placing his spectacles on his forehead, and leaning back in his chair, " you never in- tended to publish such a mischievous article'?" " Most decidedly I do, sir," I replied. " In yesterday's New Times, that queen's scourge, as it's properly called, there's a very mischievous article at my expense, which / know emanated from the theatre, for the expression, that I am as illegitimate in my politics as lam in my acting, is the very words Lee appeared so tickled to have hit upon, when I confessed to breaking his win- dows." " Well, Mr. Cowell," said the good old man, " I see 'tis vain to convince you of your error — there's your salary — destroy that foolish paper, and let us forget the circumstance." " But there are others implicated," said I. " Oh, never fear," said he, " I shall not men- tion the subject." We conspirators met on the stage after re- hearsal, and gave three loud cheers, but "named no parties." My engagement at the Adelphi being for three years, with a probability of a lease, renewable forever if I pleased, I was desirous of establish- ing myself in some other theatre for the summer months. Glossop offered me an increase of salary, provided I would remain the whole sea- son ; this, of course, I couldn't consent to. Mor- ris made me an offer for the Haymarket, which he intended to open that season by himself, which I accepted ; but in arranging the points of business, he stated the opening play was to be the " Belle's Stratagem :" Dorecourt, Charles Kemble; Flutter, Richard Jones; and I refused, very foolishly, to open in Courtall, and ended that affair. I had made up my mind to another trip to Lincoln with my entertainment, when, at the seventh hour, I received an offer from Will- iam Barrymore, the author and stage-manager for Astley, to undertake the principal character in a magnificent equestrian drama, called "Gil Bias," he was preparing. To obtain admitted talent in those days, a high price had to be given at a minor establishment; and Astley, following the example of the Adelphi, and the fashion of the time, had already engaged Henry Johnston, and Mrs. Garrick, a delightful singer, from the Haymarket. Astley's always opened on the Easter Monday, and we closed in Passion-week, and their season ended about the time the Adel- phi commenced. The time suited me exactly; the salary was unexceptionable; I should probably have to play but the one part all the season, and, in consequence, no rehearsals. I therefore made the engagement, and with the assistance of a jackass, caparisoned like a mule, with false ears and a tail, for he had been " curtailed of his fair proportion" of either to make him some- times look like a ponv, I was carried up hill and down dale as the renowned Gil Bias, with great success. 50 THIRTY YEARS CHATER XXI. " Poins. Come, your reason, Jack— your reason. " Fahtaff. What, upon compulsion ? No : were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion ! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man areasonupon compulsion, I."— First part of King Henry IV. Sterne says, in one of his sermons, "There are secret workings in human affairs, which overrule all human contrivance, and counter- plot the wisest of our councils, in so strange and unexpected a manner, as to cast a damp upon our best schemes and warmest endeavours." Some sueh a " secret working" induced me about this period to be most anxious to bid " my native land good-night." Oxberry was publishing an edition of plays, with portraits of the principal performers ; his engraver lived immediately opposite to my lodg- ing, and when he had business with him he gen- erally paid me a visit. He was in some trouble one day in consequence of his not being able to procure a likeness of Charles Kemble, in Romeo, for which the publication of the tragedy was de- tained, and though I had never spoken to Charles Kemble in my life, his face was so " screwed to my memory," I undertook to make a drawing. He stayed to dinner with me, and during our conversation while employed upon the sketch (which was published with my name as the artist), he happened to mention that Stephen Price, the American manager, was a constant visiter of the Drury Lane Green-room, intro- duced by Wallack, who had been to the United States, and went on to say that he had made him an offer to cross the Atlantic. " Upon this hint I spake." " By Heaven, Oxberry, that would be the very thing lor me." " Why, that never entered my head," said he — he knew my reason ; " but how will you be able to manage with your engagement at the Adelphil Price will jump at you, for to get a comedian is the principal object of his visit to England." "Why, Rod well and I are old friends," said I, " and the management collectively have a warm feeling towards me, and under the circumstances, I have no doubt of their consent ; at all events, if this American and I agree, I'll go at any risk." " Oh, of that there is no danger," said Oxberry, " and I'll see him to-night, and name you to him ; he's a devilish pleasant fellow, when you get used to him, but his manners are coarse in the extreme ; if he is a fair specimen of the Yankees, they must be a d— rough set. But they say he's very rich, a counsellor, and a colonel in the army, and the devil knows what. He's the Mr. Harris of America, and owns all the Uiealres in the United Stales .'" On the following day I got a note from Stephen Price, requesting that I would breakfast with him at ten o'clock the next morning. He lodg- ed in Norfolk-street, in the Strand. The door was opened by a servant-girl; in answer to my inquiry, she said, " Fll see," and in a minute a negro man appeared, and showed his own teeth and me into the parlour, where a cloth was laid for breakfast. In a short time he returned to say, "Mr. Price would be glad to see me upstairs." I was conducted to a chamber; and on the bed, with his feet wrapped in flannel, and his body in a wad- ded silk morning-gown, lay Stephen Price. In a peculiarly distinct, drawling manner, which, till you got accustomed to it, had a very singu- lar effect, he said the usual civil things on a first meeting. The hesitency in his style of delivery, didn't convey an idea that he was waiting for words, lor he appeared a very well-informed man ; but rather, that he was weighing the value of each, and its probable consequences, before he gave it utterance. As some one remarked of. him, " Stephen Price is not a man to eat his words, but he always chews them well up before he spits them out." Of his person no opinion could be formed, in consequence of its attitude and costume ; his countenance was anything but what would be called good, though capable of an extremely agreeable expression ; small, bright, mischievous eyes, an abominable nose — looking like a large thumb very much swollen, and near- ly "coming to a head," but decision and firm- ness strongly marked around his mouth; his appearance and manner were greatly at vari- ance, for he looked like fifty, and talked like- twenty. " I must apologize to you, Mr. Cowell," said he, "for asking you to take your breakfast in, my bedroom; but after calling in at Astley's to see you, Jeemcs Wallack and myself finished the evening at Vauxhall, and I didn't get home till four this morning; and the cons'quence is I caught cold, and have got a fit of the b — gout — I'm very subject to the d — thing. But Wal- laces the d — b — I ever met with— nothing ever hurts him." I, of course, was exactly of his way of think- ing. " Mr. Oxberry informs me, sir," said he, " that you have a desire to visit New-Yo-ork." " I have, sir," I replied. " Well, sir," said he, "I'll tell you, cand'dly, that I'm d — if you'll do for New-Yo-ork, if you are not a better actor than you a'peared last night. I'll tell you what 'tis, there's a little b— in the Park Theatre of the name of Nexon, who can play that character quite as well as you can, and he merely d'livers messages there." "You hare, I conclude, then, an excellent company," said I, a little nettled, "on your side the water V " A d — deal better company than they have in any theatre in London," said he, faster than any- thing he had said yet. " I have a young man, a countryman of yours, of the name of Simp-son; he's a much better actor than your cePbrated Jones, somewheres about his size, and the most industrious b — in the world. I have given him one quarter of the Park Theatre, and made him my stage-manager," looking at me as if to give me a hope I might get a quarter if I minded my hits ; but I said, as if ending the treaty, "Well, sir, surrounded as you are by such a galaxy of talent, it will be advisable for me to remain in London 1" "Why, sir," he replied, quickly, " I'll tell you what 'tis : Jeemes Wallack and sev'ral of my friends say that you're a b — good actor, but that you won't act at Astley's. What will you take to go to New-Yo-ork 1" "Fifteen pounds a week," I replied. " I'll give you ten pounds a week for the first season," said" he, " and twelve for the second." "Agreed," said I. " When can you gol" said he. " To-morrow," said I. "Well, sir," said he, smiling, "I'm d— but you are certainly the easiest man to make a bar- gain I ever dealt with." If he had known, however, as much as I did, he would have offered me a guinea a week, and PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 51 I would have taken it ; but, Heaven be praised ! he didn't, and he continued, " There's an etemalfine ship, called the Tames, sails from London on the first of September, and another, called the Albion, on the same day from Liverpool, in which I shall sail. The only dif- 'rence in the thing is, you get to sea a d — deal quicker by going to Liverpool." I gave the London ship the preference, as more convenient on account of baggage, and trat I might once more visit my old cruising- ground the British Channel, and perhaps forever bid farewell to the scenes of my boyhood. The terms of benefits, and other important items of the engagement, were pointed out and specified in a plain, honest, business-like man- ner. He was to see Captain Charles H. Mar- shall, and secure the passages, and have the arti- cles prepared for signature, during the little week that was to- elapse before my departure. We had a long and extremely pleasant conversation, chiefly descriptive of the country I was about to adopt. His style was peculiarly suited to mi- nute detail, and information in that shape, then so interesting to me, was highly entertaining; and, to his honour be it said, I did not detect by experience the most remote exaggeration in any of the matters he named, always excepting the talent of his dramatic corps, and even there " his failing leaned to virtue's side." And upon acquaintance, I found he made it a rule to speak of all, while in his employ, in the most exalted terms of praise, but, the moment they left him, they were "d — impostors and b — scoundrels." The coarse and highly objectionable epithets with which he unsparingly larded nis conversa- tion were delivered, apparently, so unconscious- ly, and, from long habit, were mixed up so mi- nutely with his discourse, that by those familiar with him the peculiarity would pass unnoticed. My lamented friend Rodwell met my case with the feeling of a brother, but Jones was out of town, and, without his concurrence, the neces- sary form of release from my obligation could not be effected; but, as " the affair cried haste," he undertook to write to him. As Price very justly said, " Anybody could play Gil Bias as well as I did;" the part itself was little better than a walking gentleman, and the jackass sus- tained that part of the character ; and though the author intended we should divide the ap- plause, I quietly resigned my share in his favour. I felt, therefore, confident that Astley would be delighted to save my useless and large salary for the next four weeks, but, to my great astonish- ment — for I put the cause of my wishing to re- sign on that footing — he declared himself more than satisfied with my engagement, and refused, in the most positive manner, to give up my arti- cles. To him, of course, I said nothing of my intention of sailing to America. On Friday evening Willis Jones sent for me to the stage door, presented me with a letter, full of kind wishes-, from Rodwell, and the documents of our agreement, and we parted — as warm friends al- ways part. I complained of indisposition, and Astley, who, unlike his father, was a most gen- tlemanly creature — in manner and appearance more like an eminent physician or a clergyman than the manager of a circus — insisted that I shouldn't play; and some young man, who had bsen instructed, in case of an accident, to under- studv the character, took the jackass ride for me, and I packed up my baggage. The next morn- ing I signed and sealed with Price, was introdu- ced to the captain, who was our witness on the occasion, and on Sunday evening I joined the ship at Gravesend. It was a dark, drizzly, melancholy night — a fair specimen of Gravesend weather and the parts adjacent — no " star that's westward from the pole" to point my destined path, and furnish food for speculative thought; and, after sliding five or six times up and down some twenty feet of wet deck, I groped my way to the cabin. The captain was not on board, and I found myself a stranger among men, for there were four besides myself, or, rather, three, for one was asleep, I suppose, for he was snoring very loud, in a berth next to my state-room. Such stopped-headed gentlemen are an abominable nuisance, near, or in your dormitory on shore, in harbour, or "caught in a calm;" but under way on the At- lantic, he may breathe as loud and in any way he thinks proper, without inconvenience to any- body but himself. Of all gregarious animals, man is the most tardy in getting acquainted: meet them for the first time in a jury-box, a stage-coach, or the cabin of a ship, and they al- ways remind me of a little lot of specimen sheep from different flocks, put together for the first time in the same pen ; they walk about, and round and round, with all their heads and tails in different directions, and not a baa ! escapes them; but in half an hour some crooked-pated bell-wether, perhaps, gives a South-down a little dig in the ribs, and this example is followed by a Merino, and, before the ending of the fair, theii* heads are all one way, and you'll find them bleat- ing together in full chorus. Now, in the case of man, a snuff-box, or a mull, instead of the sheep's horn, is an admira- ble introduction ; for, if he refuses to take a pinch, he'll generally give you a sufficient reason why he does not, and that's an excellent chance- to form, perhaps, a lasting friendship — but te*> "scrape an acquaintance" to a certainty; and if he takes it, perhaps he'll sneeze, and you can. come in with your " God bless you !" and so on, to a conversation about the plague in '66, or the yellow fever on some other occasion, and can " bury your friends by dozens," and " escape yourself by miracle," very pleasantly for half an hour. But in this instance it was a total failure : one said, "I don't use it;" another shook his head, and the third emptied his mouth of half a pint of spittle, and said " he thought it bad enough to chaw." Well, as I couldn't with propriety ask why he "didn't use snuff," and the mandarin-man might be dumb for anything I knew to the contrary, and expect me to talk; with my fingers ; and if I had contradicted the last I might, from his appearance and manner, have got into a fight instead of a chat, I quietly took a seat at the table, snuffed two tallow-can- dles, and took a synopsis of the floating apart- ment. There were two horse-hair sofas on either side a table, twelve berths with red cur- tains and sea-sick-yellow fringe, and, properly, four state-rooms forward of the mizen-mast one of which Price had engaged for myself and Mrs. Cowell, and the one next to it was used as a pan- try. I was speculating as to what kind of hu- man beings were shut up in the other two, when my curiosity was half removed by a female leading out a beautiful little boy from one of them. No matter what I may be with men and women, I am always a great favourite with dogs, and cats, and infants of a certain age, and we generally get acquainted in an instant. He 52 THIRTY TEARS, ETC. had just gained that delightful period when chil- dren think more than they have power to utter; and I love to translate their innocent thoughts. I had been obliged to leave my two dear boys to follow me; and this little fellow, by reminding me of them, seemed to have a claim to my af- fection ; his mother was a simple, amiable crea- ture in her deportment, and myself and wife were rejoiced at meeting companions for our voyage so suited to our feeling. She, with art- less eloquence, told us that her husband, an Eng- lish farmer in good circumstances, had sailed for America more than three years before, and that she had been prevented accompanying him in consequence of the sudden illness of her mother, " who is in heaven now," and, with her beautiful baby, whom his father had never seen, ■was journeying to her new home in the United States. In the morning the captain arrived, and in- troduced me to the gentleman who didn't use snuff, as Mr. Scovell, a part-owner of the vessel ; he was a resident of New-York, and in partner- ship with his brother, a merchant in South-street, but a native of Connecticut; and after the river in that state, which wanders "his silver wind- ing way," the ship was named, and pronounced by him as spelled, the Thames; contrary to the usage of "Full many a sprightly race, Disporting on the margent green" of" father Thames;" whether " bound 'prentice to a waterman," or "on earnest business bent," all there agree to call it " Terns." The gentle- man who shook his head was a Presbyterian cler- gyman, of the name of Arbuckle, of Pennsylva- nia, a most amiable young man. The chaw individual had a sick wife on board, a sufficient excuse for his being very disagreeable ; and I make it a rule never to remember the names of persons I don't think it worth while to like or dislike. My friend with the impediment in his nose was Mr. John Kent, who claimed to be a brother actor; he was engaged by Mr. Price, but I had never been introduced to him before. The captain was Charles H. Marshall, a very good-looking, and very fine fellow, with " no drowning marks upon him." The mate was a weather-beaten, humorous "sea-monster;" upon asking his name, he replied, "If you're an Englishman, and I once tell you my name, you'll never forget it." " I don't know that," I replied ; " I'm very un- fortunate in remembering names." " Oh, never mind!" said he, with a peculiarly sly, comical look: "if you're an Englishman you'll never forget mine." " Then I certainly am," I replied. "Well, then," said he, dryly, "my name's Bunker! and I'm d — if any Englishman will ever forget that name !" "All in the Downs the fleet lay moored," as visual; perhaps twenty sail, bound to all sorts of places, and waiting for all sorts of winds, and we were obliged to follow the fashion of that abominable stopping-place ; but the few days' detention gave our small party time to get ac- quainted e'er that " The vessel spread her ample sail From Albion's coast, obsequious to the gale." My pet and playfellow and myself were sworn friends ; and 'twas delicious, each night, to listen to him while, with his little hands to- wards heaven held, kneeling at his mother's feet, and gazing with childish earnestness on her face, made beautiful by the expression of pure piety, repeat in lisping tones, soft and sweet as music at a distance, prayers and blessings on a father he had never seen. On a Saturday night he went to bed apparently well, and the next morning he was a corpse ! he had died of the croup. A fair breeze had sprung up, and orders were necessarily given to unmoor. He was hurried to the burial-ground at Deal. The mother's agony was frightful; and when she saw him placed in "his narrow eell." "Oh! the cry did knock against my very heart !" and the last tear I shed upon my native land moistened AN INFANT'S GRAVE. " As one who, in his journey, bates at noon, Though bent on speed," I'll here end the first volume. THIRTY YEARS PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA: INTERSPERSED WITH ANECDOTES AND REMINISCENCES OF A VARIETY OF PERSONS, DIRECTLY OR INDIRECTLY CONNECTED WITH THE DRAMA DURING THE THEATRICAL LIFE OF JOE COWELL, COMEDIAN. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. IN TWO PARTS. PART II.-AMERICA. " So many particulars may perhaps disgust a philosophical reader ; but curiosity, that weakness so com- mon to mankind, deserves a higher name when it is employed upon times and persons of which posterity has no other means of forming an opinion." — Chambaud. NEW-YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-STREET. 1844. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, hy Harper & Brothers, hi the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New- York- T HI RTF FEARS PASSED AMONG THEPLAYE R S. CHAPTER I. " Home of the free ! Land of the great and good, Whose heritage is glory ! Hail to thee '. Thou oft. undaunted, nobly hath withstood Europa"s best and proudest chivalry ; And, conquering, won a mighty destiny First rnid the nations ; and thy flag of light Gleams on all climes, a brilliant galaxy, To guide to Freedom from foul Slavery's might ; Typing thy hero-sous' apotheosis bright." Lewis Foulke Thomas. We left the Downs on the 8th of September, 1821, and, after a tedious and most boisterous passage, on the 23d of October, as the sun "went down into the sea," the welcome cry of " Land, ho !" from the ibretop, cheered the spirits of the mind-tired passengers and worn-out crew. We had a light, fair breeze and fine weather, and we stood boldly on all night. For though " the A. No. 1, copper-bottomed, good ship Thames," as she was rated on the books at Lloyd's, had well- nigh sent " Old Kent and I," parson and all, to the bottom, the captain was "of very expert and approved allowance," and at daylight — tor be sure I was in his watch— for the first time in my life, I beheld the Highlands of Neversink. Marshall and myself had become great friends, and, being most anxious to get to the city, he kind- ly allowed me to take the yawl with four hands, and as Scovill was equally desirous, he accom- panied me. After four hours' good rowing we met the tide, and were obliged to make a landing on Staten Island, about two miles from the Quar- antine ground. Leaving the boat in the care of the people, the owner and myself walked to the ferry. The steamer Nautilus, which was still puffing and blowing in the same line of business when I was last in New- York, six years ago, ]anded us at the Battery. Scovill took me to his counting-room and introduced me to his brother, who very sedately, yet kindly, welcom- ed me to his country, and their porter conducted me to the Park Theatre. Price was standing on the steps, and as the ship was not yet even reported " below," he had no expectation of see- ing me, and, in fact, had begun to suspect the ship was below in the genuine sense of the word. Jt was after the time of rehearsal, and Simpson had left the theatre. Price gave me the address of a boarding-house he had kindly provided for me, and, of course, asked me to dinner, which I declined, on the score of having placed myself, as it were, under the conduct of Scovill for the day, and he would, of course, expect me, but promised to be at the theatre in the evening. I returned to the counting-room. Both the merchants inquired if I had seen Mr. Price- how I liked the city. " Wasn't it very superior to London? 1 ' and so on; handed me a news- paper, turned the top of a candle-box inside out, and begged I would be seated. For an hour or more they continued in conversation, and I to read the National Advocate, every advertisement decorated with a woodcut of little boys pulling on boots, ladies having their hair dressed, and other useful and necessary arts illustrated, on a sheet of paper about the same size as two pages of the Penny Magazine. I had read it all through once, and got so far the second time as the price for advertising, and "published by Phillips and edited by M. M. Noah," when one Scovill looked at his watch and the other asked the time — they were partners even to a watch — and they both agreed it was the dinner-hour; took their hats; begged I wouldn't disturb myself; "would be happy to see me at any time; Is/wuld always find the morning news," and walked off. During the passage Scovill had been very un- well, and very frightened, and, under the cir- cumstances, I had been able to render him some very valuable services ; any attention while suf- fering from terror or sea-sickness is very apt to produce strong symptoms of gratitude at the time, and I don't know what Scovill had not promised to do for me when he got to New- York. But I had a right to expect a dinner; for soon after leaving the ship in the morning, in conse- quence of shipping a spray now and then, and the boat, having been so long out of the water, leaked a little, we were obliged to bail ; at the sight of this operation his heart failed him, and he entreated us to go back ; but upon assuring him that there was not the least cause of alarm, to change the subject of his thoughts, I presume, " Trembling and talking loud," he said, " Of course you'll dine and spend the day with me and my dear brother'?" and I said, "Yes." But I conclude his dear brother didn't calculate there was any advantage to be gained, in a mercantile point of view, by an acquaint- ance with a play-actor, and as I was not likely to be of any farther use to my sea friend, the little expense was very prudently saved. Tumbling by accident over such specimens of humanity, on first landing in a strange country, frequently lays the foundation of a lasting prej- udice against a whole people. I stood for a few seconds on the threshold of that inhospitable door, "And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds." My acquaintance with Price was too slight to return to him and explain my disappointment, and accept his proffered dinner; and, indeed, how could I tell but that he had also repented of his impulsive civility, and that I might receive 56 THIRTY YEARS a second, and, from him, a more severe mortifi- cation 1 I had refused to be introduced to the boarding-house Price had selected, preferring that my dear wife should form an unbiased opinion of the necessary comforts required for our new home. There was no human being to my knowledge I was acquainted with in New- York, with the exception of Barnes, who, I found, was a member of the company ; he had ever been very kind to me while at Plymouth — he used to call me his son — and if I had been, he could not have shown more anxiety to give me every instruction in his power, in my early at- tempts at low comedy. But some years had elapsed since we parted, and the Atlantic rolled between the land where our friendship had been formed, and inviting myself to dinner was rather an odd way of renewing it. I could not tell, too, if change of air, as well as circumstances, might not have an effect on that " charm that lulls to sleep," and give likely cause " to steep his senses in forgetfulness." When we left the ship, Scovill had provided himself with a "hunk" of gingerbread— that is, if a cake of molasses and flour, without spice, could be so called — and myself and the men with some bread and pork, and a keg of water; nearly all the luxuries the ship could boast of, with the ex- ception of some sea-sick ducks, a pig with the measles, and a sheep in a consumption ; for, as the never-to-be-forgotten Bunker said, " It coughs like a Christian, don't it, parson?" It will readily be imagined that I had a most devouring appetite, for, with the exception of a " bite" in the boat, I had not tasted food since the night before. I had put in my pockets, more for show than service, some thirteen or fourteen English shillings : New- York was then a very different place of accommodation for travellers from what it is at the present day ; no oyster-cel- lars that you could tumble into at every corner ; " restaurat" staring you in the face in every street ; and coffee-houses, and all sorts of houses, capable and ready to accommodate a stranger. The only two places of the kind in existence then, even when you were directed where to find them, was " Morse's," a very humbly-fitted-up cellar, where a table-cloth was never seen, and a clean knife only by waiting till the operation was performed, under a store in Park Row, where now, I suppose, there are thirty ; and there you could get a fried beef-steak, raw oysters, or soup made of the same material, which at that time I considered sauce for codfish by another name ; and one of a little better class, kept by a French- man, under Washington Hall, then the second best hotel in the city. After wandering about I knew not whither, " oppressed with two weak evils," fatigue and hunger, I entered what in London would be called a chandler's shop, put some money on the counter, and inquired if they would sell me for that coin some bread and but- ter and a tempting red herring or two I saw in a barrel at the door. "Why, what coin is if!" said a fellow in a red-flannel shirt and a straw hat. "English shillings," I replied. " No," said the fellow, " I know nothing about English, shillings, nor English anything, nor I don't want to." I thought, under all the circumstances, and from the appearance of the brute, it might be imprudent to extol or explain their value, and therefore I " cast one longing, lingering look be- hind" at the red herrings in the barrel, and turn- ed the corner of the street, where I encountered two young men picking their teeth, for which I have never forgiven them. The feelings created by the war with Eng- land, then long since over, was still rankling in the minds of the lower order of Americans, as if it were yet raging, and their hatred of an Eng- lishman they took a pride in showing whenever in their power. In every quarrel, domestic or national, it will always be found that the con- queror is the last to forget, and generally the last to forgive. The language necessarily used in boasting of success rekindles the fury of a fire the dews of peace should always quench. In England it had ceased to be spoken of, or even alluded to. But, it must be acceded, a war there, or in any monarchical government, cre- ates very different feelings (if any at all) from the "one spirit" which actuates a free and sov- ereign people, whose lives, whose fortunes, and whose sacred honour were pledged by their fa- thers to defend their homes and liberty, and who with one accord exclaim, " United we stand, divided we fall." But in my country, such an event being declared against any power, with a large portion of its inhabitants only occasions re- gret, or delight, according to how much it may interfere with or advance individual interest;, and the combatants themselves, hired to fight, never care for what, nor even inquire the cause of quarrel, but, with bulldog courage, seek the "bubble reputation, even at the cannon's mouth." The turning I had made from the grocery was into a badly-paved, dirty street, leading up a slight ascent from the river to Broadway, and at about half the distance, to my joy, I beheld, over a dingy-looking cellar, " Exchange Office. Foreign gold and silver bought here," I descended three or four wooden steps, and handed my handful of silver to one of "God's chosen people," and, af- ter its undergoing a most severe ringing and rubbing, the (I have no doubt) honest Israe\ite handed me three dirty, ragged one-dollar bills, which, he said, " s'help me God is petter as gould." As all I wanted then was that they should be better than silver, my politics at that time didn't cavil at the currency, and I hastily retraced my steps to the red-shirted herring deal- er, and, placing one of the dirty scraps of paper on the counter, I exclaimed, with an air of con- fidence, " There, sir, will that answer your pur- pose V He was nearly of the Jew's opinion, for he declared that it was "as good as gold," and I gave him a large order, and made my first meal in the United States seated on a barrel, in a grocery at the foot of Wall-street. The best sauce to meat is appetite, and my herrings and bread and butter put me in a much better humour with myself and even-body else. From information gleaned from my anti-English friend and his customers, I was assured that the ship would be up by the evening tide, and anchor for the night in the stream, by nine or tea o'clock, and I engaged an owld counthryman to take me on board. Thus relieved in mind and body, I sallied forth again, up Wall-street and through Broadway. The pavement was horri- ble, and the sidewalks, partly brick and partly flagstones, of all shapes, put together as nearly as their unlrimmed forms would permit. The Park, which Scovill had spoken of with en- thusiasm, 1 found to be about the size of Port- man Square, but of a shape defying any geo- metrical term to convey the form of it. It had PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 57 been surrounded by a wooden, unpainted, rough fence, but a storm on the first of September, the power of which we had felt the full force of, twenty days after, on the Atlantic, had prostra- ted the larger portion, together with some fine old buttonwood-trees, which either nature or the good taste of the first settlers had planted there, and the little grass the cows and pigs allowed to remain was checkered o'er by the short cuts to the different streets in its neighbourhood. The exterior of the theatre was the most prison- like-looking place I had ever seen appropriated to such a purpose. It is not much better now ; but then it was merely rough stone, but now it's rough cast, and can boast of a cornice. Ob- serving (he front doors open, I ventured in, and, opening one of the boxes, endeavoured to take a peep at the interior of the shrine at which I was either to be accepted or sacrificed; but, coming immediately out of the daylight, all was dark as Erebus. A large door at the back of the stage gave me a glimmer of that department, and gro- ping my way through the lobby, I felt, at the ex- tremity, a small opening, and proceeding, as I intended, very cautiously, tumbled down three or four steps, and was picked up at the bottom by some one in the dark, who led me on the stage. " Have you hurt yourself?" said this im- mensely tall, raw-boned fellow, with his shirt sleeves rolled up over an arm the same size from the wrist to the shoulder. " No," I replied, " but I wonder I didn't." " Have you any business herel" said he. "No, nothing particular," said I. " Then you can go out," said he, and he point- ed to the opening at the back. I took the hint and direction, and found myself in an alley knee deep with filth the whole width of the theatre. I continued my walk up Broad- way, and as I went the houses diminished both in size and number, and in less than a mile 1 was in the country. On my return, the theatre doors were open, and the audience already assembling. Phillips, the singer, was the "star," and the per- formance, " Lionel and Clarrissa." The opera had not commenced, but I took a seat, with about twenty others, in the second tier. The house Avas excessively dark; oil, of course, then was used, in common brass Liverpool lamps, ten or twelve of which were placed in a large sheet- iron hoop, painted green, hanging from the ceil- ing in the centre, and one, half the size, on each side of the stage. The fronts of the boxes were decorated, if it could be so called, with one con- tinuous American ensign, a splendid subject, and very difficult to handle properly, but this was designed in the taste of an upholsterer, and executed without any taste at all ; the seats were covered with green baize, and the back of the boxes with whitewash, and the iron columns which supported them covered with burnished gold! and looking as if they had no business there, but had made their escape from the Co- burg. The audience came evidently to see the play, and be pleased, if they possibly could, with everything; the men, generally, wore their hats; at all events, they consulted only their own opin- ion and comfort in the matter; and the ladies, I observed, very sensibly all came in bonnets, but usually dispossessed themselves of them, and tied them, in large bunches, high up to the gold columns; and as there is nothing a woman can touch that she does not instinctively adorn, the varied colours of the ribands and materials of which they were made, were in my opinion a vast improvement to the unfurnished appearance of the house. Phillips as Lionel, and Mrs. Holman as Clar- rissa, shared equally the approbation of the audience: the current of whose simple, unso- phisticated taste had not then been turned awry by fashion, obliging them to profess an admira- tion of the enormities of the German and Italian school, which, in these days of humbug and re- finement, they alone pretend to listen to. Simp- son was the Jessatny. As it happened, 'twas one of Jones's very good parts. The audience ap- peared to back Price's opinion, judging from the applause, but, for my own part, / was of a very different way of thinking. Barnes was Colonel Oldboy : in vulgar old men, such as Delph or Lord Duberly, he was excellent; but, though Oldboy is extremely coarse in his language, he is still a gentleman of that school, and, therefore, a character out of Barnes's direct line. It was either the very first or second appearance of my friend Peteriilichings, one of the best general actors now on the continent; he was the Mr. Harman, and I honestly believe he was even more stupid than 1 was at the same point of ex- perience. But for the friendly interference of the amiable Miss Johnston, through his embar- rassment he would inevitably have been shut outside the drop at the finale to the first act, and his narrow escape seemed greatly to add to the amusement of the good-tempered audience. Fully satisfied that 1 had nothing to fear, judging by the way the portion of the perform- ance I had witnessed that evening had been ap- proved of, I set off in good spirits to my appoint- ment at the foot of Wall-street. The night was very dark, not a lamp was to be seen, save a twinkle from a little light through the closed glass door of a solitary chemist's shop, in the whole distance; 'twas about eight o'clock, and every store was shut ; nor did I meet more than thirty persons during my walk. Look at Broad- way and Wall-street now ! I found my Irish Charon true to his appointment, but the ship was not expected for two hours at least. I inquired of mine host if I should be an intruder by remaining in his shop, and being answered in the negative, I ordered some more bread and butter, and a her- ring "to close the orifice of the stomach," and took my old seat on a barrel of pickled shad, as it proved to be; for, after a while, the head slip- ped in, and so did the tail of my new black coat, which I had had made out of respect to the memory of poor Queen Caroline. To make my- self as amiable as possible in the estimation of four or five gentlemen, short of shirt and long in beard, who may frequently be found in such places, I treated, " like a man," to two or three rounds of grog and cigars. I was then no con- noisseur in the latter article, having never smo- ked tobacco in any shape in my life ; but to act up to the pure agrarian principles I professed, I undertook a "long nine" and a couple of glasses of "excellent brandy," as old red shirt said. On the passage I had never even tasted wine or spirits, though those luxuries were included in the thirty-five guineas apiece cabin fare. So illy prepared, the " long nine" soon knocked me over as flat as a nine-pounder : I was sick; "The dews of death Hung clammy on my forehead, like the damps Of midnight sepulchres." I was perfectly in my senses, but was incapa- ble of sound or motion, or, I should more proper- 58 THIRTY YEARS ly say, voice or action. In these days the march of improvement in such matters, would have doomed me to the certainty of having my throat cut, then stripped, and thrown into the dock; and the next dav a coroner's inquest would have quietly brought in a verdict of "fowid drowned," and no more would be said about the matter. But at the untutored period I speak of, they were content to take only my movables, id est, my hat. cravat, watch, snuffbox, handkerchief, and the balance of the dirty dollars. My incapacity to make resistance saved my coat, for I was so lim- ber they couldn't get it off whole, and after, in their endeavours, splitting it down the back, and the tail being in a precious pickle, they con- cluded it would be more honourable to let me keep it — carried me down to a boat, rowed me off to the ship, and delivered me to Old Bunker, as "a gentleman very unwell." This is " a full, true, and particular account" of my manner of passing one day out of upward of Eight Thousand I've seen in the United States. CHAPTER II. •" My name is Pestilence : hither and thither I nit about, that I may slay and smother ; All lips which I have kissed must surely wither, But Death's — if thou art he, we'll work together." Revolt of Islam. The next day the ship got into her berth long before I got out of mine, and it was nearly sun- down when we drove to our new abode at the corner of Greenwich and Dey streets. Price bad selected a boarding-house kept by an Eng- lish widow, considerately thinking our tastes would be better understood by a countrywoman of our own. It is too late in the day to give ad- vice on this subject; but I soon learned that in any dealings in which an English man or woman should properly be the subordinate party, to avoid them as I would a pestilence. Intoxicated with the supposed sudden possession of what is called ■liberty and. equality, they mistake " impudence for independence." To use a homely phrase, "They don't know which way their 'ed 'angs," and their unbridled ignorance, as well as being inconve- nient, has often made me blush lor my country. This lady had been a lady's maid according to her own account, and, to use her idiom, " Had ■moved in the first society, till left by her dear hus- band, who was gone to Abraham's bosom, to keep a boarding-house .'" She had two very genteel young women for daughters, who, in London, might have got a living by clear-starching and stitch- ing ; here, the foolish mother prided herself upon "their not being able to do anything at all." It was a large house, the lower story occupied as an extensive grocery. The private entrance was carpeted all over, and crowded with house- hold furniture; some of it appeared as if it had no business there, but I soon found out it was all the fashion ; for example, there were two di- ning tables, one with mahogany leaves down to its ankles, very much in the way, against the wall, and another more so, making believe to get out of it, by being turned up on its tripod leg behind the street door. There were two well-appointed parlours, one for dining and the other for sitting, with sofas, mirrors, and a pianoforte, upon which, I was de- lighted to hear, the ladies couldn't play. The ajiartment allotted for the use of myself and Mrs. Cowell was all over the store and the two par- lours into the bargain; a sort of sized room that any strolling company in England would be de- lighted to meet with, in the event of not being able to procure the Town Hall. There were eight large windows — three on one side and five on the other; a little fireplace in one corner, with four bricks, instead of andirons, supporting two or three sticks of green wood, hissing and boil- ing to death, and making water instead of fire all over the hearth ; a bedstead, without posts or curtains; four chairs, about twelve feet apart, by way of making the most of them, and a piece of ragged carpet, about the same portable size of those used for little spangled children to dislo- cate their bodies on, to a tune on the tambarine, about the streets of London. After starving with cold and hunger, and taking lessons in the Cock- ney dialect, whether I liked it or not, for two weeks, I moved to a plain, honest Yankee wom- an's — Mrs. Gantley — where I remained till I could procure a house. There is still a remnant of the custom, but then it was universal, for all classes of citizens, tradesmen or otherwise, no matter how advan- tageously they were situated for either business or comfort, to change their abode on the first of May. From that date all houses and stores were rented for one year; and the hurry, bustle, turmoil, and confusion into which that day threw the whole population of New- York, from the highest to the lowest, cannot be conceived; it could be compared with nothing but itself. A town besieged, or a general conflagration, would fail to convey an idea of the ridiculous effect of an immense mass of men, women, and children, loaded with articles of household utility or orna- ment, taking shelter, with much seeming anx- iety, in some abode, from which another party, loaded in the same manner, were making their escape. The streets crowded with carts, wag- ons, and carriages of every denomination — en- gaged, perhaps, three months before — teeming over with chairs and tables, in the hurry, appa- rently, packed on purpose to tumble off, to the great delight of the cabinet-makers and others, who took no interest in the matter beyond the mischief. No better proof of the national for- bearance, and government of temper natural to the Americans, than such a trial of patience as this could possibly be invented ; and yet even the demolition of a favourite basket of china, or a dray carrying a load of furniture nobody could find out where; or the porter's placing a ponder- ous piece of furniture in the fourth story of Nc. 80, when it was expected in the front parlour of No. 1, were causes for merriment, especially to those who had the right to be annoyed ; and, with the exception of some disputed points of etiquette among the Irish carmen, the whole day's ,: toi and trouble" — for " My business in this state Made me a looker-on here in Vienna" — appeared to be considered an excellent frolic. Simpson I found to be a blunt, plain man, who welcomed me without either warmth or ceremony ; he hadn't a morning-gown, but the most amiable expression of countenance I think I ever beheld. For the convenience of the the- atre, I was to appear in L'Clair, in the "Found- ling of the Forest ;" and Crack, in the " Turn- pike Gate," was suggested, or, rather, insisted upon by Price as the farce ; for, having formed a " Gil Bias" opinion of my talent, he was de- PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 59 termined to be satisfied at once if I was equal to what my friends in London had represented. Barnes was a great favourite in that character, and him, I found, I was expressly engaged to supplant in the favour of the audience. 1 was merely underlined "from Drury Lane/' my "first appearance in America," on one of Phillips's off-nights, and, in consequence, the house was very little better than it probably would have been without my playing at all. My reception was kind in the extreme; and at the end of the first piece, Price came round and paid me some very high compliments. Simpson said some civil things ; but i could plainly see peep- ing through them that he thought me " very dear for the money." I was then only twenty-nine years of age, and the contrast between the young soldier and Crack was very great ; and my ap- pearance, when disguised for the latter part, I suppose, gave hope to the junior partner, from his altered manner, that I might be worth my salary. Old Kent and Simpson had been to- gether in the Dublin theatre. I had never seen Kent play, but I found great expectations were formed of his making a hit. He had selected Sir Anthony Absolute and Looney M'Twolter, "to astonish the natives in," and, without any consultation of my taste on the subject, I, of course, was cast Acres and Caleb Gluotem. His next night was to be the " Road to Ruin," for the sake of his Old Dornton — I to play Goldfinch — and to show his versatility, he was to sing Bel- ville, in " Rosina," and I to play the pretty part of William. To all this I had no right or cause to make the least objection; but the first act of the u Turnpike Gate" changed the state of affairs. Captain Marshal], whenever it didn't blow, would blow the flute, exclusively to please him- self— " How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no pro- portion kept !" and two tunes, which I couldn't discover to be at all like any air I had ever heard before, I found were great favourites with my friend, and these, I was informed, were " Yankee Doodle" and " Hail Columbia ;" and unexpectedly intro- ducing these then unhackneyed tunes in a song 1 manufactured for the occasion, produced a great effect, and my success altogether was im- mense. "Simp-son," said Price, hobbling down the same steps 1 had tumbled, "look here; as to playing the ' Review' on Thursday night is all d — nonsense ; the farce will be this Crack-thing. Cowell," giving me a hearty shake of the hand, "you've made the greatest hit, sir, that ever was made in Ameri-ca. Look here, Neddy, what's the play o' Thursday'?" " The ' Rivals,' " said Simpson. " Well, here, Cowell," said Price, " if you don't like that part of Acres, say so, and you can play whatever you choose." " I have already said so to Mr. Cowell," said Simpson ; " but he assures me 'tis a favourite character." And so he had, and, like a sensible man, he paid me all the attention the good opinion I had earned deserved. I became at once a decided favourite with the audience; and that enviable position, I am proud to say, I have maintained, in all the principal cities of the Union, up to the present hour. At the termination of the per- formance I was introduced to some half dozen critics and admirers of the drama, among them M. M. Noah, then the high-sheriff, who has ever since, when in his power, shown me great kind- ness and attention. That night I felt a triumph- ant, self-satisfied sensation, I never experienced be- fore nor since. Simpson had only been married a short time, and, like myself and others, was waiting till the first of May to go into housekeeping; but he gave a very handsome dinner, on Sunday, at his boarding-house, kept by the widow of George Frederic Cooke, where I met Price's two broth- ers, William and Edward, Noah, Jarvis, the cel- ebrated painter, and most eccentric character, and a large party of gentlemen. Simpson, true to Price's description, was the most industrious man I ever knew; he generally played in every piece that there was any necessity for his appear- ing in, whether in his line or not, greatly to his own disadvantage, for in a certain range of characters he was excellent. For six days in the week he was scarcely out of the theatre ; but on Sunday, it must, be a very urgent point of business that would induce him even to write a letter. He seldom visited, but generally gave a dinner to a choice circle of friends; and it was some engagement, more for policy than taste, which prevented my being his guest on those occasions while I remained in New-York. At the end of some twelve nights 1 had a benefit, the profits arising from which I had sold to Price for our passages, which it considerably exceed- ed, and he generously offered me the overplus ; but I, like John Astley, stuck to my bargain, whether good or bad. I was now strongly urged by Simpson and Price to go to Boston for two weeks, and receive half the proceeds of an engagement there ; but • to this no persuasion could induce me to con- sent. My argument was, that as I had never achieved" the position of a "star" in my own country, I would not subject myself to ridicule in attempting to shine out of my sphere in this. My foolish modesty on this point, if it might so be called, has been amply compensated for by the host of impostors who have yearly scoured the country since, till they have drained it dry as hay; with nothing under heaven to recom- mend them but an announcement from one of the London theatres, and T. R. C. G. or T. R. D. L., in gilt or conspicuous letters, on every book or manuscript they have an opportunity to place upon a prompt-table. The managers, secure in a profit, aid the imposition; they de- mand their charges, and, should the he or she humbug prove too gross, even for the indulgence of the most indulgent audience in the world, no blame can attach to them for introducing novel- ty so highly self-recommended. The theatres being numerous and "far between," if some well-paid-for puffs succeed in exciting curiosity for a night or two, they travel round the Conti- nent, and escape to Europe before they are fair- ly found out ; often with a well-lined purse, as proof of the easy gullibility of the hospitable Americans, and send " his fellow of the self- same flight the self-same way." Some years since, in travelling down the Mis- sissippi, a Swiss or German steerage-passenger made himself conspicuous by singing all man- ner of outlandish songs an octave above com- mon sense — a squeaking falsetto, resembling the excruciating appeals to humanity a pig makes while having his nose bored, or under- going other necessary or ornamental surgical operations — and collecting, by this unnatural 60 THIRTY YEARS exertion of the lungs, divers bits and picayunes from the deck-hands and other admirers of " mu- sic out of tune, and harsh ;" and, a few days af- ter my arrival at New-Orleans, Caldwell under- lined " Signer Carl Maria Von Bliss, from the Royal Academy of Music at Vienna!" or some- where ; and, to my astonishment, it proved to be this yelling German, who had put my ear out of joint, and helped to wood the boat on the pas- sage down. Of course, this was too much of a joke ; but the warm-hearted Southerners, find- ing the fellow was in poverty, made him an ex- cellent benefit, though they couldn't endure his music. Cooper succeeded Phillips, then the theatrical god of America; and he behaved like a most disagreeable one to all the mortals beneath him. He was to open in Macbeth; the rehearsal was called at ten o'clock; Mrs. Wheatley, Barnes, and myself were the Witches ; we went through our first scene, and so far in the second as Mae- beth's entrance ; he had been on the stage an in- stant before he was wanted, but then he was missing. "Call Mr. Cooper!" says Simpson. " He's gone in the front!" says the boy. "Go lor him, sir!" said Simpson. Mrs. Wheatley, Old Jack, and myself told, or listened in turn, to two or three excellent jokes before Cooper arrived. Then he gave long and particular directions to Anderson, the prompter, as to the exact time of the commencing of the march, and the exact time of its leaving off, and had just got as far in the dialogue as to inquire, " What ar-re these," when the thought occurred that we should look better, or he could act better, if he had a witch at each entrance. He appealed to Simpson, who grumbled out something, and the Fusdli groupe was desired to take open order, and Mrs. Wheat- ley went half up the stage. This wouldn't do, unless the meeting was supposed to be with three old women, in lifferent streets ; and the word was given, " As you were !" and 'twas finally agreed that Barnes and I should stand at the first entrance, and Mrs. Wheatley close to the wing at the second. The manner of direct- ing these alterations and improvements, and the time occupied in making them, put my patience to a severe test; and at this critical juncture a boy entered, and delivered him a note, and he coolly sat down to the table to answer it. This was the climax; and, leading Mrs. Wheatley off the stage, I said, with much temper, "Mr. Simpson, I can put up with this rude- ness no longer; I'm going home!" Simpson, whose endurance was the wonder of everybody, followed me off the stage: "Oh! nonsense, Joe! nonsense! come back! it's only his way." "D — his way!" said I; and home I went. At night Barnes explained to me the altera- tions which had been made in the usual busi- ness, but I had made up my mind to play the part exactly as I had done it with Kean, at Dru- ry Lane, with Munden and Knight as my allies, right or wrong; and when Barnes and Mrs. Wheatley were stirring the boiling gruel at the back of the stage, I was very coolly standing in the comer. I couldn't but admire the man's splendid talent; and he had administered to my vanity by waiting every night to see my farce, and making it part of his bargain, as he receiv- ed a per centage, that I should appear on his nights ; but I looked upon him as a brute, not- withstanding; and he never spoke to me, nor I to him. One night, while he was performing Virginius, I was seated on a sofa, placed under a large glass, in the green-room, when he came in to adjust his toga. I moved my head out of his way, and not my person ; he came close up to the glass, and then stooped his head within six inches of mine, and stared me straight in the face, and I said, " Booh !" He looked perfectly astonished, and walked out amid a hearty laugh from the ladies, for I was an excellent clown in their estimation. A day or two after he address- ed me behind the scenes with, " Mr. Cowell, no one has been civil enough to introduce me to you, therefore I'm compelled to do it myself!" and, after paying me some very handsome compliments, ended with invi- ting me to dine with him; and we have been very intimate ever since; nor do I know, in my large list of acquaintances, a more agreeable companion than Thomas Cooper. During my residence in the Northern States, I was a fre- quent guest, for a day or two at a time, at his delightful cottage, at Bristol, Pennsylvania , where the luxuries attendant Upon affluence were so regulated by good taste, that Cooper never appeared to such advantage as when at home. His family was numerous, and very in- teresting. He used to boast of never allowing his children to cry. " Sir, when my children were young, and be- gan to cry, I always dashed a glass of water in their face, and that so astonished them that they would leave off; and if they began again. I'd dash another, and keep on increasing the dose till they were entirely cured." His second daughter, Priscilla, who is marri- ed to the son of John Tyler, the present Presi- dent of the United States, is perhaps indebted to some of her father's lessons lor that affable, yet dignified deportment which commands the admiration of all parties. The Park company was not extensive, but very useful, consisting of Messrs. Simpson, Barnes, Pritchard, Ritch- ings, Phillips, Nixon, Anderson, Reed, Banker, Mayvvood, and myself. Mesdames Wheatley, Barnes, Holman, Barrett; Miss Johnson, Jones, Brundage, and Bland. If there were more, I have forgotten them. Of course, we all had to play nearly every night, and I never escaped. Gillingham was the leader; a good-tempered, eccentric fellow, with an odd kind of nervous affection, which made him appear as if he was continually endeavour- ing to bite his own ear; this singularity was most conspicuous when he was under the influ- ence of liquor, which was very frequently the case; and one night, while accompanying one of my songs, he made a more than usual ener- getic snap over his shoulder, lost his balance, and fell into the orchestra, carrying with him the second violin, his own stool, and a music- stand, to the great amusement of the audience. He was, strange to say, as fond of eating as he was of drinking, and, when searching for a lodg- ing, his first inquiry would be, "Madam, have you a gridiron 1" and if the answer was " Yes," the kind of rooms, or the price of them, was a secondary consideration ; but if "No," he turn- ed on his heel and vanished without another word. This efficient conductor, with six or eight other professors, formed a very wretched or- chestra, but then even so many, and of such a PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 61 quality, could only be obtained at a very high price; they never came to rehearsal but on very particular occasions, and even then they were paid extra, and all the music in the performance was gone through, one piece alter another, and an hour selected the least likely to interfere with their teaching, or other out- door avocations. Times are sadly changed. I wonder how many good musicians there are at this day out of em- ployment 1 I know fifty at least. Robbins was the principal artist, and also played the double bass ; he always came to rehearsal, for he'd do anything rather than paint. H. Reinagle, Ev- ers, and H. lsherwood, an apprentice to Robbins, completed this department, and among them they would perpetrate two scenes in a month. By a law, of their own making, I suppose, they only made believe to work from ten o'clock in the morning till four in the afternoon. In short, at the period I speak of, perlbrmers, and others employed in a theatre, couldn't be obtained; nor were there a sufficient number of American actors on the whole continent to form a company : for- tunately for the young population of that day, they had something better to do. Out of the members I have named at the Park, all were English with the exception of Reed, Woodhull, Phillips, Banker, and Nixon. Woodhull had considerable talent, though he contented himself with being an imitator of Pritchard, and natu- rally so like him that a stranger could scarcely tell the difference. He died soon after he had formed a style of his own and began to be es- teemed a good actor. Phillips was an uncle to Noah — I don't mean "the ancient mariner," but the editor — and through his influence, perhaps to aid his own talent, he was engaged to play walking gentlemen, but was anything but inter- esting in his appearance ; if a profile of his per- son had been taken in black, you couldn't have told the difference between it and the shadow of a boy's top with two pegs. He very prudently took to playing old men, and, in a secondary line, became very respectable. Poor Banker didn't live long enough to "come to judgment;" and Nixon delivered messages then, and was still explaining that "the carriage waits" when I last saw him. All the females worth speaking of were English, with the exception of Mrs. Wheatley, and she, I believe, is a native of New- York, and a much better actress, in my opinion, than all of them put together, without in the least degree intending to speak slightingly of the acknowledged talent of the other ladies. When I joined the company, Mrs. Barrett, the mother of George, played the old women. She was a very ladylike creature, excessively tall, and in her day, no doubt, had been very good- looking, and greatly esteemed in the higher walks of the drama, but brought with her for the task she then undertook nothing but her appro- priate age and knowledge of the profession. Light comedy men and interesting ladies, when they get into years, as a last resource un- dertake to play old men and women : this is a great affliction to the audience, and to those who have to perform with them; memory, hearing, and seeing, all impaired ; the recollection of what they have been distressing themselves, and what they are everybody else. Acting is — acting; and a young woman of eighteen or twenty is just as capable, or more so, of playing Mrs. Mala- prop, or the Duenna, than an old lady of forty-five is to play Juliet, or Sophia in the Road to Ruin ; and yet those latter characters are often so rep- resented. Few pretty women will sacrifice their love of admiration, and consent to be " An angel of lore in the morning, And then an old woman at night." But Mrs. Wheatley was an exception to the gen- eral prejudice, and whenever there was an ap- propriate part in a new piece in which I was in- terested that Mrs. Wheatley could with propri- ety be cast, I used to urge all my power with Mr. Simpson to have her in the character ; and I boldly assert, that had she had the good luck to have commenced her career in London at that same period, she would have established a distinct path in the intricate maze of the drama, where alone nature, leading truth, and exquisite humour would have ever dared to follow. The season terminated on the fourth of July, to commence again on the first of September. Rather as an acknowledgment than a return for the many acts of kindness I had received from both Price and Simpson, I undertook to decorate the theatre gratuitously. Henry lsher- wood I selected for my assistant, a lad of great promise as an artist; but the little that Robbins was able to teach him he had neglected to impart, and his after success in his profession I have been much flattered by his attributing to my en- couragement and instruction. Glass chande- liers were purchased to supply the place of the iron hoops ; the procenium was arched and rais- ed; no expense was spared for material; and, dressed in gray and gold, the next season the " Park" assumed the responsible appearance it has maintained ever since. Price went to Eng- land lor recruits, and Simpson and the larger portion of the company into the country, " To keep the flame from wasting by repose." The season was unusually warm, and about the middle of August great alarm was created by some cases of yellow fever occurring in the northern part of the city. In a day or two the contagion crossed Broadway, and a death be- ing reported at the Custom- House, in Wall- street, the panic became universal and frightful- ly ridiculous. The whole population in that section of the city who were well or able, beat a retreat with bag and baggage — the sick and poor at the expense of the authorities — the move- ment on the first of May would bear no compar- ison. Well-dressed women with " a blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up," were seen drag- ging along a squalling child, without a hat, through the blazing sun, and the fond father fol- lowing with a bed on his head, and perhaps a gridiron or a pair of tongs in his hand. All the ferry-boats to Hoboken, Powles Hook, Staten Island, and Brooklyn were constantly plying, loaded down with passengers, who seemed to think drowning a secondary consideration ; and in one hour the thickly-inhabited and largest por- tion of New- York was deserted by every human being. The district supposed to be infected was boarded up, the streets covered ankle deep with lime, and all intercourse prohibited. My family were fortunately in New-Jersey, and my house, though far enough from the point of danger to ensure my own safety, was still too near, in the estimation of my friends, for them to make it a sanctuary, so John Kent and I kept bachelor's hall, for not a soul would venture to pay us a visit. He was a faithful old negro, who for years had been employed in the theatre as a sort of deputy property-maker ; he professed a great regard for me in consequence of my being 62 THIRTY YEARS "a countryman !" for, happening tc be born on the Island of Jamaica, lie prided himself upon being "English." Twice a week we made it a rule late at night to trespass on the uninhabited re- gion, John loaded with a huge basket of coarse f>rovisions for the starving cats, who instinctive- y believe " there is no place like home," and, after a donation or two of the sort, the numbers that would surround us, the moment they heard us approach, would be past belief: I found it a most whimsical mode of cheating a long, dull night of part of its death-like solitude; not an- other thing that breathes and stirs would we meet in our walk, excepting a single horse, per- haps, trotting along with an unattended hearse, and the driver smoking a cigar or whistling " Yankee Doodle." I had once witnessed the full horrors of this scourge to mankind in the West Indies, and though a great number fell victims in New- York, yet, by comparison with what I had seen, to my mind it was disarmed of its terrors; but not so with the generality of the inhabitants, and I firm- ly believe half the deaths were caused by fright alone. A fine, jovial fellow, a jeweller, by the name of Irish, had "a dog he loved," who a day or two after his master's flight, it was supposed, had strayed back to the old dwelling, in the very heart of the infected district; and though he valued the animal as dearly as he could a child, and danger in " any shape but that" he would have despised, yet, though suffering actual ago- ny at the thought of the poor little wretch being starved to death, he could not summon strength of mind enough to go in search of him, nor hire any one who would. Though " to do good is sometimes dangerous folly," I undertook the task, and after a fight on the steps with the half-fam- ished wasp, i succeeded in tying him up in my handkerchief, and bundled him back to his master. Many of the retail dealers from Broadway and Pearl-street, after the first alarm had subsi- ded, had erected temporary sheds for the sale of their various merchandise at Greenwich Village, which could then only boast of a state-prison and some dozen scattered houses, and, in conse- quence, the place suddenly assumed the appear- ance of a fair. The young clerks and appren- tices, having little else to do, had displayed their wit in various jokes in rhyme on their make- shift signs; Irish applied to me for one "accord- ing to the fashion of the time," and I perpetra- ted the following: Charles Irish, that brave-looking fellow, Watchmaker, late of Wall-street, Took fright at the fever called yellow, And to this place has made his retreat ; Now in this don't you think he was right? For had he stayed there and got sick, He'd no more wind his clock up at night. Or sell you a watch upon tick. CHAPTER III. "E'en ere an artful spider spins a line Of metaphysic texture, man's thin thread Of life is hroken : how analogous Their parallel of lines ! slight, subtle, vain." Sickness, a Poem, by William Thompson. The first of September came, the then regular period of commencing the season at the Park, and no abatement of the epidemic. But the panic which this unexpected visitation had cre- ated having in part subsided, a number of the inhabitants had returned to the city, though but few to their houses; and. in consequence, the town and village were crowded with idlers, in- cluding the actors, with long faces and empty pockets. As a resource, it was proposed to fit up the Circus in Broadway, belonging to West, as a temporary theatre; the same building that is now called Tattersal's, and then literally out of town. My friend, Sam Dunn, the long Yan- kee carpenter, who picked me up and trundled me out the first day I tumbled on an American" stage, had all prepared in a few days, and we- went into successful operation; playing to busi- ness which enabled us to pay all the expendi- ture, and two thirds salary the first three weeks, and then the whole amount, till the Park open- ed. When the affair was past a doubt, Simpson- packed up his fishing-tackle and took the reins of government. Like most large cities, places of public amusement in New- York depend for their chief support on strangers and visiters; but the inhabitants then attended the theatre from- the fact of there being nowhere else to go ; even most of the churches were shut up — I have fre- quently found the parsons, whether at sea or on land, the very first to run from danger — and the houses were well filled nightly. I took one of my benefits there, and had upward of eight hun- dred dollars at circus prices. That excellent actor, John Clark, whom Price engaged upon my recommendation, and Watkin- son, to play the old men in the place of Barnes, who had left for England at the end of the season, arrived at the very height of the sickness ; and poor Charles Matthews and Price popped? in in the thick of it, but, fortunately, none of them suffered from anything but fright. Matthews made his appearance in Goldfinch, and was very coldly received ; he introduced his- two excellent songs, " The picture of a play- house." and " A description of a ring-fight;" nei- ther being then understood, they were not en- cored, and the whole performance might be con- sidered a failure; but, fortunately for him and the management, he had studied on the passage M. Morbleau, and Price, who was a great di- plomatist in theatrical politics, knowing the ad- vantage of an original part, urged him to play that character in the farce, and in that he made a tremendous hit. Little dependance was placed on his entertain- ments; but, contrary to all expectation, his main success was hinged upon them. He was more- highly relished at Philadelphia and Boston than at New-York, though he drew crowded houses everywhere he went. Price followed him like a shadow, and nursed him like a child. He was really an amiable, good-hearted man ; but his nervous irritability — commenced, no doubt, in affectation, and terminated in disease— rendered him extremely objectionable to those who were not inclined either to submit to, or laugh at his prejudices; and his uncontrolled expressions of disgust at everything American would have speedily ended his career, but that Price man- aged to have him continually surrounded by a certain set, who had good sense enough to ad- mit his talent as ample amends for his rudeness. He actually came to rehearsal with his nose stopped with cotton, to prevent his smelling " the d — American mutton chops !" who could even laugh at such folly 1 It was positively neces- sary to his health and happiness to have some fresh annoyance every day, He hadn't been in PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 63 New- York a week, when he got a letter from , ered, in the first scene, digging away in a Turk some poor woman, who craved his assistance, ish garden ; I was a sort of overseer, and enter- on the score of having known him before at Old York : this was most deliriously disagreeable ; he showed the letter to everybody — explained the persecutions he had experienced in the same way in England : " And now," said he, " dam'me, they are full cry after me in America i" Upon this hint, Price and myself, in disguised hands, sent him two or three epistles every morning, dated from the Five Points, or Chapel-street, from some "disconsolate English widow," or "« poor forsaken young wo?nan." And by introducing the names of persons he might happen to men- tion in his convivial anecdotes, or those whom I had heard speak of him while at York and other places, he had no doubt of their authenti- city, and one purporting to be from Johnny Winter's niece, stating that " she remembered his flaying Lingo when she was a child, icas now in great distress, and, for the love he bore Jier uncle, claimed his aid," kept him fully employed in ima- ginary misery for a week. At his last engagement that season, his attrac- tion decreasing, Price cajoled him into playing Othello, which drew a full house ; and he was actually childish enough to believe he could play it — not in imitation, but in the manner of John Kemblel But no matter whose manner it was intended to convey, he made the Moor the most melancholy, limping negro I ever beheld. The audience were exactly of my way of think- ing; and but for the high favour he had gained, they would have smothered him, long before he smothered Desdemona. Before I left England Tom, and Jerry was in preparation for the Adelphi. Burroughs, alias Watkins, was to be the Corinthian; Wilkinson, Logic ; and Jerry, Moncrief had written for me, but when I came to America, by omitting the songs and otherwise altering the character, from what was exclusively meant to suit my style, Burroughs played the part, and Wrench was en- gaged for Tom. Simpson had had the manu- script for some time, but was under the appre- hension that an American audience would never tolerate the vulgar slang nonsense. At my ear- nest solicitation, at length the experiment was made, but so positive was he that the piece could not succeed, that little or nothing was done to assist it; it was even carelessly rehearsed at the back of the stage while business of more sup- posed importance occupied the front; but, not- withstanding, Tom and Jerry, in its day, drew more money than any other piece ever played in the United "States ! M. M. Noah, who had already produced sev- eral dramatic pieces with success, manufac- tured a play called The Grecian Captive, which was performed for his uncle's benefit, A. Phil- lips. I was cast for what was said to be the best part in the piece; at all events, it was the longest; all I ever did know about it was the name, and that was Goodman. The drama was supposed to be written in blank verse, that is, good, wholesome, commonplace language, the wrong end foremost, after the manner of Sheri- dan Knowles : "And to cram these words into mine ears Against the stomach of my sense," for one night only, was out of the question, and I made up my mind to speak the meaning of the part after what flourish my nature prompted, and so, indeed, I believe, had all the performers. Simpson and some other captives were diseov- ed to them, after the manner of Sadi, in the Mountaineers, and recognised, somehow or an- other, in the captive I was chiding for idleness, " a beloved master," and Simpson and I were proceeding with an interesting dialogue after this fashion : " Captive. My faithful Goodman, do I behold once more That honest form ? " Goodman. Master, most dearly loved, Let an embrace assure me that I do not dream'."' And as we were suiting the action to the word, he whispered in my ear, " Dam'me, Joe, look at the books." And, upon turning to the audience, every one in the front had a copy in his hand. To in- crease the attraction, the play had been publish- ed, and every purchaser of a box-ticket had been presented with a book, which arrangement I had never heard of till then. I am not easily embar- rassed, but this annoyed me exceedingly. If I had not been the principal victim in the business — for I was on the stage nearly the whole of the- piece — I could have enjoyed the anxiety of the audience endeavouring to find out where we were. You might see one thumbing over the leaves one after another, then turn them all back,, listen an instant, and then begin again. An- other appeal to his neighbour, and he shake his head in despair. I was assured very seriously by a young critic, the next day, that I had actu~ ally sometimes cut out a whole page at a time. But I could not laugh at it ; I was angry, and con- sidered the arrangement a rudeness on the part of Mr. Phillips. At nearly the close of a long and laborious season, a whole company had cheer- fully, for the sake of serving him, undertaken to get through with a composition that the author himself could never wish should see daylight; and though Phillips knew that not a soul could learn more than the action, he, for the sake of a few dollars, lets an audience into a secret which, for their own sake as well as ours, they had better not have known. Towards the end of the first act I had to be seized and taken off to prison. Supernumeraries were not easily obtained in those days ; gener- ally they consisted of young men with souls oMove buttons; Booths and Forrests in the shell, full of starts and attitudes, and terribly in earnest in all they had to do. If they had to seize you, they really seized you, and left the print of their fin- gers on either arm for a week ; and if they had to knock you down, the odds were large against your ever coming to time. I was well aware of their reality propensities, and had particularly requested them in the morning to " use all gently." But Woodhull — " a pestilence on him for a mad wag," he's in his grave long ago — delighted at my an- noyance, and determining, if possible, to increase it — having taken a leaf out of my own book — told these gentlemen, who were engaged to do as they were bid by everybody, that I had chan- ged my mind, and that at the word they were to rush upon me with all their force and trip me behind, which, I being off my guard, they did most effectively. When I could scramble on> my feet again, with all my might I floored the- first man I met with, and then rushed off the stage. Poor Nixen was my victim, and he " only gave the order," was not to blame, and therefore promised to thrash me after the play; but as I had bunged his eye up by mistake, he looked over the matter with the other. I was ■■64 THIRTY YEARS most ridiculously angry, and vowed I would not go on the stage again. But Simpson smoothed me down, and my friend Noah acknowledged the bad taste of the books being distributed, and confessed the language " was very hard to learn." "And so is Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper," I stuttered out ; " but it's hor- rid trash ibr all that." In the last scene, Phillips, half frightened ■to death, came on wriggling, on the back of a j'eal elephant ; and an unexpected hydraulic ex- periment he introduced — I mean the elephant — to the great astonishment and discomfiture of the musicians, closed the performance amid the shouts of the audience. Now, though I and my numerous assistants had effectually damned the piece, the kind-heart- ed Noah, the next day, in his own paper, wrote an excuse for the performers, and placed the whole blame to his imprudence in permitting the books to be given away. West, with a fine company of performers, and a magnificent stud of horses, paid a yearly visit to New- York, to the serious injury of the thea- tre; and, in self-defence, Price and Simpson were desirous to buy him out. To effect this, resort was had to stratagem, in which I played a very useful part. My particular intimacy with the management being notorious, with binding oaths of secrecy, I named to those well fitted to instantly convey the news to West, that the Park proprietors intended erecting a most splendid amphitheatre in Broadway, on the va- cant lot where the Masonic Hall now stands; a model, somewhat after the plan of Astley's, was placed in the green-room, and imagination, aided by the whisper abroad, soon gave it a lo- cal habitation and a name. A delinquent from the circus (Tatnal) was engaged, and employed to break two horses in a temporary ring, boarded round, in a lot on the alley at the back of the theatre. These broad hints at opposition soon brought matters to an issue ; and at a fair price, and easy mode of payment — for a large portion of the amount was raised by the re- ceipts after they were in possession — Simpson and Price, and some others, who then objected to be known to be interested, and, through my means, shall not now, purchased the build- ings, lease, engagements, horses, wardrobe, scenery, and a prohibition against West again establishing a circus in the United States. And, well pleased with such a winding-up to his experiment, West, with a handsome fortune, went to England ; for, when he arrived in Amer- ica, he had not the means to pay for the passa- ges of his company until Price and Simpson ad- vanced the money, and engaged the horse and foot to " Timouf the Tartar" and " Siege of Belgrade" for the Park Theatre. A Frenchman, by the name of Barriere, had fitted up a small garden at the back of a confec- tioner's shop in Chatham-street, with two or three dozen transparent lamps, and " Seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made ;" and, by selling "sweets to the sweet" at a shil- ling a head, had made a great deal of money; which, to rapidly increase, he raised a plat- form, called it an orchestra, covered it with can- vass, engaged a French horn, clarionet, fiddle, and a chorus-singer from the Park, with the gentle name of Lamb, who bleated a song or -two, and with this combination of talent attract- ed crowds every night, to the great injury, "in the springtime of year," of the theatre. Price put in force some fire-proof law, prohibiting all canvass or skin-deep establishments within a certain limit, and the old Frenchman was obli- ged to strike his tent; but, with the ice-cream profits, he purchased bricks and mortar, and built the Chatham Theatre. While this was in embryo, Mrs. Baldwin, a sister to Mrs. Barnes, turned the brains of some half dozen would-be-acting young men and wom- en, and a private house in Warren-street into a theatre, and opened a show there. Tom Hilson had been seduced away from the Park, where he had been a great favourite in my line of busi- ness, by Charles Gilfert, a German musician, who had married Miss Holman, and was, in consequence, manager of the Charleston, South Carolina, Theatre. On Hilson's necessary re- turn to the North in the summer, being shut out by me from the Park, he accepted a star engage- ment at this old lady's concern, and drew crowd- ed houses. Gilfert, who was a very enterpri- sing, talented man, with some powerful friends, already began to talk of a theatre in the Bowery; and Hilson, in such an event, being a dangerous ally, I sacrificed my taste to aid my friends, and on the fourth of July, 1823, took the control of the circus, vacating my position at the theatre, to be filled by Hilson, and Harry Placide as his assistant, in my very extensive round of charac- ters. Hilson was the son of a picture-dealer by the name of Hill, a man of some wealth; for in that day, copying and repairing pictures, and giving them an ancient name and appearance, was as profitable as passing counterfeit money, and relieved of the disgrace and danger; and, indeed, I have seen copies of pictures so excel- lent, that they were cheap at the price the origi- nals could command. Who ever grumbled at paying a dollar to see Booth play Richard the Third, provided they had never beheld Kean in the same character 1 His family being averse to his imitating Na- ture instead of art, Tom bade adieu to his coun- try, denied his father by putting the son to his name, and came to America, where he might freely indulge his predilection for the drama. But, having entered the profession more after the manner of an amateur, than an actor who had regularly and patiently climbed the rounds of the Thespian ladder, the drudgery of the trade he never could surmount. He required time for study, and a choice of characters, in which for years he was indulged; while Harry Placide quietly filled up the interstices with such care and skill, that ultimately the trifling space Hil- son occupied was not worth paying largely for by the management, nor the vacancy likely to be noticed by the audience. Poor Hilson took ref- uge in the West, and left Placide the undisputed master of the field. He died suddenly, about two years afterward, at Louisville, Kentucky. In characters requi- ring homely pathos, if they can be so described, such as the old father in "Clari," he could not be equalled; in humorous parts, in endeavour- ing to be broad, he was coarse. As a man he was most estimable. He married Miss Johnson, one of the very few who make you feel truly proud that you belong to the same profession. They lived but for each other; and when he died, a beautiful little girl was all that tied her to the earth, who, shortly after, being seized with a ma- PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 65 lignant fever, the widowed parent vowed one grave should hold them, and wildly inhaled her infant's poisoned breath till saturated with dis- ease. But God spared the child, and the poor mother perished. I loved them both as I would a brother and a sister, which is much to*say " in this all-hating world." CHAPTER IV. " Have they not sword-players, and every sort Of gymnic artists, wrestlers, riders, runners, Jugglers and dancers, antics, mummers, mimics, To make them sport?'' — Sampson Agonistes. I now look back and laugh at the contradict- ory feelings I experienced the first day I walked through the aisle-like stable, to be introduced to the members of the circus as their future man- ager ; each stall occupied by a magnificent ani- mal, knee-deep in unsoiled straw, platted into a kind of door-mat fringe on its outer edge, to se- cure the particles from littering the snow-white pavement. The childish pride I felt as "to my- self I said," " I'm monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute," was checked by the recollection of the sacrifice I was about to make of my profession; and for the life of me I could not suppress the thought that there might be some of my legitimate asso- ciates who, in speaking of my appointment, would apply to me that coarse but common com- bination of words and wit, "horse — and saw- dust" manager; which, though, in point of fact, it amounts to the same thing as "sole director of the celebrated equestrian company," yet, by taking away the dignified name of the office, all that remained was mental slavery of the worst kind, because totally at variance with my taste or former pursuits. But Tom Ash, the chair- maker and celebrated financier, said I should make a fortune "by the operation" and, with this imaginary gilding, I swallowed the pill. My few weeks' experience at Astley's I found of infinite service in my new undertaking; at all events, it gave me the power of backing my di- rections with "that's t/ie way we always did it at Astley's," and such authority was indisputable. To successfully command an army, a banditti, or a circus, it is all-important that the corps should have implicit confidence in the capability of their leader; and who could doubt mine, when J had graduated at Astley's ? Large additions to horse and foot had been made, and the company was both extensive and excellent : a stud of thirty-three horses, four ponies, and a jackass, all so admirably selected and educated, that for beauty and utility they could not be equalled anywhere. The concern was already popular, and the powerful influence of the proprietors in- cog, made it (oh, enviable democratic distinction !) a very fashionable resort, and our success was enormous. Of course, like others when first placed in power, I made a total change in my cabinet. John Blake I appointed secretary of the treasury and principal ticket-seller ; and to prove how excellent a judge I was of integrity and capacity, he was engaged at the Park at the end of the season, and has held that important situation there ever since. A delicious speci- men of the Emerald Isle, with the appropriate equestrian appellation of Billy Rider, received an office of nearly equal trust, though smaller chance of perquisites — stage and stable door- keeper at night, and through the day a variety of duties, to designate half of which would oc- cupy a chapter. He was strict to a fault in the discharge of his duty, as every urchin of that day who attempted to sneak into the Circus can testify. Conway the tragedian called to see me one evening, and in attempting to pass was stop- ped by Billy, armed, as usual, with a pitchfork. " What's this you want? Who are ye? and where are you going?" says Billy. " 1 wish to see Mr. Cowell," says Conway. "Oh, then, it's till to-morrow at'lO o'clock, in his office, that you'll have to wait to perform that operation." "But, my dear fellcw, my name is Conway, of the theatre ; Mr. Cowell is my particular friend, and I have his permission to enter." " By my word, sir, I thank ye kindly for the explination — and it's a mighty tall, good-looking 'gentleman you are too," says Billy, presenting his pitchfork; " but if ye were the blessed Re- deemer, with the cross under your arm, you couldn't pass me without an orther from Mr. Cowell." Bob Mayvvood, on his benefit night, during my first season at the Park, mistaking the noise made by the call-boy and some of his playmates frolicking behind the scenes, before the curtain was up, for the commencement of the perform- ance, poked his nose through the door in the flat to take a peep at the house before he went on, when one of the lads, supposing Bob's nose was that of his comrade, sneaked softly by the side of the scene and tweaked it most abomina- bly; discovering his mistake, the boy was off and under the stage before Maywood could get to the front. I was greatly amused at poor Bob's astonishment and anger at this mysterious insult. A reward was offered for the discovery of the offender, but as I alone was witness to the deed, he wasn't likely to be found out. In the course of the evening a fine-countenanced, bold-looking, red-headed rascal, with an extra- ordinary large mole on his chin, exhibiting half a dozen hairs of the same complexion, came sidling up to me, and, with a roguish smile, said, " Don't you go to tell on me, sir." "Oh, oh," said I, "then you are the villain who pulled Bob May wood's nose, are you ?" " Yes, sir," said the boy ; " but indeed I thought it was George Went's." This was my first acquaintance with Tom Blakeley. I faithfully kept his secret; and he, in gratitude, was always on the alert to run of an errand, or do any little job I required ; but if he should see me and Maywood in conversa- tion, he'd come up, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and say, "Will you have a stick of candy, sir?" or " an apple," and give me an imploring don't-tett look. I liked the young rogue, but the run of the piece in which boys were required being over, I lost sight of him; but a few days after my ta- king the circus, a well-grown lad presented him- self as an applicant for a situation, and by the extraordinary mole on the chin I instantly rec- ognised my young friend of nose-pulling celeb- rity. For old acquaintance' sake I gave him a small salary to do "anything," but his great in- dustry and propriety of conduct soon made him a most valuable member of the company. He afterward became an excellent actor, and for some years was a great favourite at the Park 66 THIRTY YEARS and Bowery. He was the first to introduce rve- gro singing on the American stage, and his " Coal "Black Rose" set the fashion for African melodies which Rice for years has so success- fully followed. While at Philadelphia, Tom was called upon by the city authorities to give security for the maintenance of a "little respon- sibility ';" this he appeared to consider a most vile plot against his moral character, and, indig- nantly declining any parental honour of the sort, retained Colonel James Page as his counsel, and the cause went to trial. An alibi — that most im- portant point in any case, but particularly so in one of this kind — was, with much plausibility, very nearly established, when the prosecuting attorney begged permission to introduce what he called a very material witness. A young woman, dressed in virgin white, with a black veil, advanced, and, removing a cap from the head of an infant, disclosed to the eyes of the court and jury a fine head of bright red hair, and the fac- simile of Tom's mole on the chin. The cause was instantly decided to the satisfaction of all parties — perhaps excepting the unexpected father; though I thought I saw a smile of re- sponsible parental pride play over his counte- nance as he named me as his security to the parish, and declared that, "As I have to pay for a child, I'll have the worth of my money, and keep it myself." And to his credit be it told, that he did, and educated it respectably, and is now proud of an amiable and interesting daughter. Among the horses was a cream-coloured Han- overian charger, of extraordinary beauty and immense size, and went so proud in action, "as if he disdained the ground." Though nothing in his life was applicable to his name but the leaving of it (he was killed at sea), he was called Nelson. Immediately after taking the direction of the establishment, I made myself acquainted with the titles and general character and qualifica- tions of all the horses, but was not so well in- formed as to how the grooms, minor people, and musicians were called ; and among the latter was a clarionet player, with less talent but with the same name as the horse — Nelson. But, as Juliet says, " What's in a name ? thai which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet." On a Sunday, in the forenoon. Rodgers, an equestrian performer, and father to one of the first riders of the present day, called at my house, and requested to see me on very particular busi- ness. Upon inquiring his errand, he said, with much solemnity of manner, " I'm very sorry to inform you, sir, that poor Nelson is dead." " Dead !" said I, with astonishment : " why, Mr. Rodgers, it's impossible! he was well enough last night;" for, in passing through the stable, I had stopped to caress the beautiful animal, and he was as full of mischief and spirit as usual. " Oh no, sir," said Rodgers, " he was very un- well for two days, and scarcely able to perform." "Why, I knew nothing of it," I replied; " why didn't some of them let me know? There was no necessity for his being employed in anything but the entree; and, indeed, if he was sick, he shouldn't have been used even for that, if I had known it." " You're very kind, sir, I'm sure," replied the friend of the dead musician. " He'll be a great loss to the concern ; and he was such a kind,, good creature." " Why, as to his kindness, I can't agree with you there; he was most difficult to manage; but his loss, as you observe, will be irreparable. When did he die?" "Early this morning. I was up with him all night. He kicked and rolled about in great ag- ony, and you might have heard his groans for half a square." " Poor creature ! And what did they say was the matter with him. Mr. Rodgers 1" I inquired. "The colic, or something of that sort; and we think it was brought on by his eating cu- cumbers." "Cucumbers!" said I: "why, where did he get cucumbers'!" " Mr. Blyth," he replied, "received some as a present, and he gave poor Nelson two or three." " Well, my clear sir, they never could have hurt him; and if they were likely to do so, Mr. Blyth, of all others" — he was our riding-master — " would never have given them to him; you may depend upon it, Rodgers, it was the hots." " Oh dear, no, sir," said he, with a confident veterinary manner : " that's a disease as horses often dies on; but his was quite different; his body was all drawn up in a heap, and the sweat poured oft" him in pailfuls; we dosed him with brandy ard laudanum, and kept rubbing of him, but before the doctor arrived he was a gone horse;" and then, with a sigh, he continued, " There's George Yeaman, and Williams, and a few more as came out with Old West along with him, wishes to pay him the compliment of giving him a funeral, and wants to know if you would be good enough to attend ?" " Oh, pooh ! that's perfectly ridiculous, Rodgers. I respect your innocent-minded, good-hearted feeling ; I have quite as good a right to be sorry for his death as any of you, but a funeral is all nonsense ; we'll have him hauled away early in the morning, and thrown in the river." " Sir!" said he, looking aghast. " Are you going back to the circus, Mr. Rod- gers 1" I inquired. " No. sir," said he, " but I live within a door or two." " Well, then, you will greatly oblige me if you will call and tell Peter, or any of the grooms you may find there, to employ a butcher, or any one who understands the business, and have him skinned." " Sir! what! skinned 1" said Rodgers, in as- tonishment. "And if you please, tell them to have it done carefully, and be sure not to cut off his ears and tail ; I intend to have him stuffed." " Stuffed !" said Rodgers. '■' Yes," said I; " and on the fourth of July, or other great occasions, we'll have him hoisted out for a sign, or use him for a dead horse, at any rate." This brought our equivocal conversation to a climax; and, highly delighted at finding it was Nelson the musician instead of Nelson the horse who had been killed with cucumbers and kindness, the next morning I joined the mourn- ers, and saw the poor fellow "quietly inurned." During the time Lafayette was travelling through the Union, receiving the enthusiastic homnge of all classes of persons, and, by the only mode in his power, showing his gratitude by kissing all the young women, shaking hands with the old, and blessing the little children, it PASSED AMONfi THE PLAYERS. 67 so happened that my company was always in some city where he was not; but on his return to New-York, I fortunately encountered him, and through the influence of the committee of arrangements, he honoured the circus with a visit, which, of course, produced an overflowing house. The box appropriated for the use ot himself and suite I had decorated with as many flags as 1 could borrow from volunteer and fire companies, mechanic and masonic societies, with the French and American ensigns enfold- ing each other in divers affectionate attitudes, interspersed with a profusion of every descrip- tion of vegetable matter, with the exception of boughs of oak and laurel, which Billy Rider had been desired exclusivelv to obtain. " There, sir, that's what you sent me for," said Billy, throwing down a huge bundle of shrubs. "No, sir, it is not; I said oak and laurel/' "Divil a sprig of laurel is there, I believe, in the whole State of Jarsey. By my word, sir, it was down to Weehawk I was, and back again twiced. As to oak, by the powers, there's plinty o' that at the tops o' trees where no mortal man could touch a leaf of it, av he had the legs of Goliath. By my troth, now, they are mighty green and pretty— see the red birries on that darling there— depend on it, sir, d_ the difference will the ould gineral know; he's had something better to do than to be bothering his brains about bothany ; and all those flags and finery, that's the thing itself, sir, to tickle a Frenchman." And I believe Rider was partially right, for upon conducting the marquis to his box, for the sake of saying something, I apologized for the lack of preparation in consequence of the short- ness of the notice I had received of the honour he intended; and with earnest sincerity of man- ner, he exclaimed, " Sir, it is most superb !" It was notorious that he never remained more than half an hour, at farthest, at any theatre he attended; but (in my opinion) he showed his taste by witnessing the whole of our perform- ance, and expressing his admiration at the prac- tical jokes of the clown. I had, of course, sent refreshments to the party, which the committee, like all committees, appeared to enjoy most heartily; but observing the general didn't par- take, I inquired personally if there was anything he "particularly wished," and he requested "a glass of sugar and water." Old Hays, the cele- brated police-officer, whom I had stationed at the door to prevent his being killed with kind- ness, I despatched for the desired beverage ; and wishing " to take a drink" with the good old man, 1 ordered two glasses, slyly whispering Hays to put some gin in mine : when he return- ed, he gave me a cunning sort of thief-catching wink to direct me to my " sling;" but the gener- al having the first choice, got the gin, and I the sugar and water. We drank without a remark ; I don't know if the marquis ever repeated his dose, but I pledge my honour I never have mine. -«fr- CHAPTER V. "The south and west wj.nds joined, and, as they blew, Waves, like a rowling trench, before them threw. ********** Thousands our noyses were, yet we, 'mongst all, Could none by bis rishr name, but thunder call. Lightning- was all our light ; and it rain'd more Than if the sunne had drunke the sea before. Some rofhu'd in their cabbins lye, equally Grieved that they are not dead, and yet must dye ; And, as sin-burden'd sorties from grave will crcepe At the last day, some forth their cabbins peep, And tremblingly aske, What news?"— John Donne. The following towns constituted our circuit.-. New- York, Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore,. Washington City, and Charleston, South Caro- lina. At the last-named place a large building- had been erected, but without a stage; and Blythe had been usually sent there with an ex- clusively equestrian company, to perform during the winter months ; but, on Kean's revisiting the United States, as he had never been to the South, it was thought good policy to engage him, hire the theatre there, which was to rent, make some additions to my dramatic corps, and open both establishments on alternate nights. Eighteen of the most valuable horses were se- lected ; the remainder, with Blythe, and a few" of the grooms who couldn't "cackle," were left to occasionally perform equestrian pieces at the Park; and, with fifty-five souls, including mu- sicians, artists, and carpenters, I set off" for the sunny South. The journey by land, in the depth of winter r was out of the question; it was therefore deter- mined that we should sail from Baltimore; and the ship Orbit, Captain Fish, was engaged for the purpose. She was a fine, roomy vessel, and built expressly for one of the line of packets be- tween New- York and Liverpool, but not proving fast enough to compete with her magnificent al- lies, had been taken out of the trade. We paid one thousand dollars for the use of her, furnish- ing our own bedding and provisions, and fitting up, at our own expense, the stables upon deck, and the temporary berths and state-rooms be- tween. On a fine, sunshiny Sabbath morning, though unseasonably warm for the month of January, we hauled off from the wharf, and were towed into the tide, to float down the beautiful river- harbour of the "Monumental City," " With glist'ning spires and pinnacles adorn'd." There was not a breath of air stirring, nor a rip- ple on the water to disturb the equilibrity of man or horse — a calm so profound as to realize the immortal Donne's beautiful illustration, " In one place lay Feathers and dust, to-day and yesterday ;" and, in the language of naval postscripts, "offi- cers and crew all well, and in fine spirits." The ladies had the exclusive use of the regular cabin . and forward of it some divisions were made to form state-rooms for myself and family, and the married folks; and berths, or bunks, were erect- ed on either side of the remaining space for the rest of the company. They formed themselves into different messes; the subordinates, espe- cially those who had had experience in mari- time matters, acting as stewards. Billy Rider was in great request ; he had crossed the Atlan- tic three times, and once been cast away in a British bark bound to Belfast. The horses, well trained to go through fire or water, appear- ed to care little about the novelty of their situa- tion. The grooms and carpenters were divided into three parties, one of which was appointed to constantly watch and attend them, and every- thing appeared to promise a pleasant trip. About noon a light breeze sprung up from the northward, and we made sail ; towards sundown it freshened considerably, and, as only a solitary lantera was allowed to swing below, all the 68 THIRTY YEARS landsmen unemployed had a good excuse for sneaking quietly to their berths. The next day the wind still continued favourable; and the fol- lowing morning I was rejoiced to find we had got rid of our pilot, and cleared the Capes. The wind kept in our favour the whole of the day and night, though blowing unequally, in sudden gusts and flurries, with cold and drizzly rain, demanding an additional allowance of blankets for the horses, and an extra glass to the men. About midnight it suddenly chopped round to the southeast, and soon increased to a violent gale, which lasted five or six hours, knocked up a tremendous sea, and then lulled away to an awful calm. The swell was dreadful; and the rolling of the ship, being accelerated by the treading of the horses on either side up and down, according to the action of the vessel, caused everything that was movable below to roll and jump, according to its specific gravity, from one side to the other, at regular intervals; and among trunks, boots, books, demijohns, broken pitchers, and plates, in a sitting posture, looking the picture of patience, was poor Harry Moreland, arm and arm with William Isher- wood, sliding to and fro, and exclaiming at ev- ery pause, " Curious!" Rider had fast hold of the hanging part of the chain-cable, a portion of which was upon deck, and the rest in the hold; he had mistaken it, I supposed, for a stanchion, and was dangling backward and forward like the pendulum of a clock, express- ing, with a woful countenance, his contrition at having "aten a meat dinner with a frind the Saturday before." I gave him absolution and an order on deck in the same breath. His boasted experience was now required. During the blow the spar on the starboard side, that was lashed fore and aft to partly support the divisions of the stalls, and keep the horses in them, had part- ed, and caused some confusion ; and now the ship rolled so heavily, and the horses backing, or actually hanging by their halters at every lurch, it required all the exertion of all the hands I could muster to replace it : from the crew I could get no assistance ; they were too busily engaged in sending down the royal-mast and top-gallant-yards, close-reefing topsail, bending storm-stay-sails, and making "all snitg," to re- ceive the coming tempest, full warning of which Avas given in the most unequivocal and terrific forms. The air felt hot and thick— you could actually touch it — the swell increased; and when the helpless ship rolled over the sullen liquid hi.lls, the little sail she carried flapped against the masts, w«hich shook to their founda- tions, as she tumbled, as it were, into the abyss, which seemed yawning to receive her. It was about ten o'clock in the day, but pitch-black clouds, so slowly moving that you couldn't see them move, appeared to crawl all over us from every point — " above, about, or underneath" — and in a minute we were in "darkness more dread than niglrt." You could not see your hand, nor the ropes to which you clung with instinctive horror; weath- er-beaten "old sea dogs" trembled and stood aghast, mumbled out God, and mixed up pray- ers and oaths in whispers. Suddenly the zig- zag lightning seemed to tear asunder the curtains of eternity, plash on the deck, and struggle at your feet! And, on the instant, thunder, " so loud and dread" it shook your very heart, made you hold your breath, and feel both deaf and Wind. We heard it rushing on Us ! "Look out there, men; take care of yourselves!" was a broad hint from our jolly fat-headed captain lor all my val- iant party, with the exception of worthy John Hallam and little Sinker, to tumble head over heels below — and well they did. It struck us forward, and with such overwhelming violence we could feel her tremble to the core, as she in- stantly keeled over on her side. The sea was fairly lifted up and hurled over us in torrents, with a noise so great and uniform it knocked all sound out of the world; we could not hear, and we could not see, but when the instantaneous flash showed a glimpse of horror which made us shut our eyes. By the gasping sensation in my throat, I believed she was quietly settling down, and all was over. I could not pray for cursing my foolhardiness in not skulking below with the rest, and being drowned with my wife and. children. I had lashed myself to the belaying- pins, near the weather mizzen rigging, and was literally hanging over the " black profound," and to stir from thence with life was impossible. How long we were in this predicament I cannot even guess at, but, of course, not long — real hurri- canes do not last long. The ship seemed to la- bour to get her keel once more under water, and by the more frequent but less effulgent flashes of lightning we could see the fore-top- mast, yard and all, hanging overboard, but not a vestige, on the leeward side, of the poor horses nor their stables ; but on the other I fancied I still saw a head or two. The mountain-like waves had been blown into something like smooth water by the extraordinary violence of the wind, which had greatly abated, though it still blew tremendously. The clouds began to separate, producing a supernatural kind of light, which would be considered awful even in the last scene of a melodrame. Close by me I found the cap- tain made fast, without his hat, and the mate and several of the crew huddled together around the mizzenmast. I could see them screeching to each other, and the mate, a capital sailor — I wish I could remember his name — partly tum- bled and partly rolled from his moorings, and with a desperate effort, with life or death at the ends of his fingers, caught hold of the ropes be- layed to the main bitts, jerked himself forward, seized the lashings of the long-boat, which still maintained her station, though emptied of her contents — two learned ponies — crawled along under the lee of her gunwale, and, with some- thing like the agility of a drunken monkey, gained the weather fore rigging, and with the assistance of two of the crew, who " Claimed the danger, proud of skilful hands," the wreck was cleared from the ship, and she righted ! A good imitation of a storm-staysail was with some difficulty rigged and set, and a mizzen topsail, and she was once more under some control, and very nearly the right side up- ward. All the horses on the side that had been under water, of course, were gone " No man knows whither,' 1 '' with the exception of a pretty little mare called Fanny. Poor Fanny ! she was named after an angel in heaven now. She was nearest the bow, and had, through fright, accident, or instinct, got her fore feet over the spar, intended to secure the stalls in front, and when the ship lay over, some booms and masts belonging to the vessel had shifted, and jambing against her legs, had PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 69 there held her fast ; though skinned and torn, no bones were broken, and in this cruel manner her life was saved. On shore a similar accident would have sealed her death-warrant — but wlio could give an order for her execution then ? Char- ley Lee was her doctor, and she recoTOred suf- ficiently to be made a pet of. To windward, three of the horses, wonderful to relate, were still on their legs, Platoff, Wellington, and Jack- son. They were rightly named. They stood next each other, and the farthest forward, near where the hurricane first struck us, and where even now the " ruffian billows" were " Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them. With deafning clamours, in the slippery shrouds." Of the remaining six two were still alive — Julia and poor old Jack — though dreadfully mangled, and lying panting and groaning in a heap with their dead companions: as soon as possible, with the assistance of the crew, Hallam ami Stoker got them overboard. Soaked to the backbone and stupified, I scram- bled below ; and there a beautiful scene present- ed itself. There had not been time to batten down the hatchway after my lubbers had made their retreat, and, in consequence, tons of water at a time had been thrown down, to the amaze- ment and dismay of those between decks; and men, boxes, beds, and barrels of oats were float- ing about in " most admired disorder." Alarm for my absence had diverted from the mind of my wife all terror for the real danger, and my children were too young to understand it; therefore, my reappearance made all right in an instant "at home," and a "thundering stiff" glass of grog and a dry shirt soon restored me to myself. The companion gangway having been secured, the cabin was all tight and dry, and so were the ladies, I suppose; for on my arrival at Charleston, I lound a barrel of bottled Scotch ale, which my friend John Boyde had put up for me, and placed in the cabin for safe keeping, full of empty bottles. Old Jones and his wife were hugging one another in a corner of my state-room; misery loves company, and they had crawled from their own to make up a pleas- ant party for the other world. Sam Wisdom, my master carpenter, a fellow six feet and a half high, and stout in proportion, was sitting in his shirt on the deck a foot deep in water, like a wringing wet mandarin, blubbering over his children, and persuading the poor little innocent creatures that they were going to be drowned along with " poor pa" in a few minutes! The gale having sensibly abated, all made snug, and the ship hove to, part of the hands were set to bail and swab. Henry Isherwood was discovered coiled away in his berth, for- ward, half smothered in wet oats, and immedi- ately reported to me as "killed." When the ship was thrown on her beam-ends, some barrels of "feed" for the horses, piled up in midships, had been tumbled over, and one of the heads coming in contact with his, had started, and its contents emptied all over him ; and the sea rush- ing down the gangway at the same time, he, stunned with the blow, believed he was drown- ed, and, in his own mind, had quietly given up the ghost. "Don't touch me," said he: "oh, don't touch me ; it's all over with me ; my brains are knocked out ;" placing his hand to his head, and looking up most piteously. Sure enough, he appeared in a woful plight : large black streaks, resembling congealed blood, were trickling down his pale face, and I had no doubt but that his scull was split open; but on examining more closely, we found the clotted blood to be nothing more than diluted molasses-candy, a large cake of which was still fast in his hair. His father had been a confectioner, and inheriting his par- tiality for sweets, he had provided himself with a large stock for the trip; which had fallen from a ledge where it was " safely stowed," by the side of his berth, and, in his fright, he had slapped his head into it. The gale continued with more or less violence for five days, the ship hove to all the time. Our captain had had no experience on that coast, and the weather not permitting an observation to be taken, he didn't know which way to run, so pa- tiently awaited the termination of the tempest. The company became accustomed to " the great contention of the sea and skies;" and Hal- lam's favourite slut " Molly" having produced a fine litter of pups in the hour of peril, amply repaid that worthy fellow for all his toil and danger. Platoff and Wellington both died be- fore the termination of the blow; but old Jack- son stuck it out till we got into smooth water, and then, as Billy Rider said, " Poor creature, he kicked the bucket in comfort, any how." After mistaking Georgetown light for Charles- ton, and bumping us half to pieces on Frying- pan Shoals, we succeeded in reaching our des- tined port, in the " ship Orbit, Captain Fish, fif- teen days from Baltimore, with loss of a deck- load of horses." CHAPTER VI. " But ye ! ye are changed since I saw you last ; The shadow of ages has round you been cast ; Ye are changed — ye are changed — and I see not here What I once saw in the long-vanish'd year." Mns. IIemans "Alas! poor gentleman, He look'd not like the ruins of his youth, liut like the ruin of those ruins." — John Ford. Leaving the ship, as a climax, thumping on the bar with which Nature has defended a har- bour in appearance only excelled by the Bay of Naples, the Cove of Cork, and perhaps equalled by New- York, the custom-house officer politely landed myself and family at the Battery in his boat. As recommended, I took up my abode at the Broad-street House, an excellent hotel, con- sidered the first in the city, and, to my surprise, kept by a gray-headed negro called Jones. I found letters from Simpson, as yet, of course, ignorant of the loss, stating that, depending on the high reputation of the vessel, he had saved the expense of ensurance, which he had under- taken to effect in New- York at a much lower rate than I could get it done in Baltimore. It seemed as if we had struck a vein of bad luck. Another "discontented paper" gave me an ac- count of Kean's having been driven from the stage in that city, and inquiring if, under the cir- cumstances, his engagement had not better be cancelled. The painful responsibility of my po- sition at this juncture is even now irksome to refer to: a large amount of property, owned by various individuals, exclusively at my disposal, and deprived, by distance, of their advice or as- sistance. To the performers, whose travelling expenses we paid, and a salary every Saturday in the year, I was indebted, in consequence of the length of the journey, nearly three thousand dol- lars. A very doubtlul point if Kean would be 70 THIRTY YEARS received, and without him, my company, select- ed exclusively for his support, most unfit to play even a saving game ; the very sinews of attrac- tion torn from the circus, and the man-end of my numerous Centaurs walking about with nothing but theiT hands in their pockets, and heavy wa- ges hourly accumulating. I was seated at the dinner-table, making be- lieve to eat, when a servant handed me a note. The address " To Howell, Esq.," would have prevented my examining the contents, but that the man assured me I was the person in- tended. It ran as follows : " Colonel M'Clane presents his compliments to Mr. Howell : through the newspapers has heard of his loss, and begs he will send some of his riders to select from his stable as many horses as he may consider likely to aid him in opening his circus. He has a number of horses, and -among them some well adapted for the purpose; and all, or any, are at Mr. Howell's service, for as long as he may have occasion for them. " Charleston, Wednesday." This from a stranger, who did not even know my name, spoke the current language of the •warm-hearted natives of South Carolina. I, of course, accepted the offer, and in an hour the grooms, with much glee, paraded under my win- dow some dozen animals, as beautiful as were " E'er created, to be awed by man." Cheered by this unsought-for proof of kindness, I addressed a commonplace note — for I despise the usual " yovr-pctitioncr-mll-cver-praij" appli- cation — to the intendant and wardens, to request, tinder the circumstances, a diminution of the usual sum charged for a license for each estab- lishment; and the next morning I received the following : " City Council, February 7, 1826. "Read a letter from Joe Cowell, requesting Council to remit a portion of the license impo- sed on the Theatre and Circus for the ensuing season. "Resolved, that the whole of the license be remitted. Extract from the minutes. " William Roach, " Joe Cmeell, Esq." " Clerk of Council. This was five hundred dollars saved, and, what was almost as valuable, a farther proof of a strong public feeling in my favour. I instant- ly wrote to Simpson to send me Kean, " With all his imperfections on his head," having hope that the interest created by the drowned horses would gain him leave to swim. I have an objection to publish a letter intended by the writer only for the perusal of the party to whom it is directed. But the following laconic epistle so much better conveys an insight of the character of my friend Simpson than any de- scription that I might undertake to write, that 1 cannot forbear making it public: "New-York, February 13, 1826. " Dear Joe, " The Othello reported the ship Orbit on Charleston bar, with the loss of a deck-load of horses, before I got your melancholy letter. God be praised, we can stand it! I didn't en- sure, depending, as I said in my former letter, on the high reputation of the vessel. Keep up your spirits. I'm sure you will get out of the scrape somehow. Yours truly, E. Simpson. "What shall we do about Keanl" This from the largest sufferer, and the most responsible of the firm, in case of a failure, speaks volumes in proof of the calm, Atlas-like support with which, for so many years, he sus- tained the fortunes of the Park Theatre. The «mateur horses, whose " very failings set them oft'," were an attraction. Dr. Porcher, Mr. Kennedy, and several gentlemen, followed the example of the colonel, and parties were made up, by persons xvho had never before vis- ited a circus, to see how a favourite horse would behave in the ring. The inefficiency of my the- atrical corps was hoodwinked by sympathy for my misfoitunes, and we performed, in conse- quence, to much better business than we prob- ably should have done had we offered a supe- rior entertainment, without the difficulties at- tending its preparation. Every means in my power I artfully used to smooth the path for Kean's reception ; having it generally understood by the public that on his success was hinged the hope of redeeming my fallen fortunes. But still the Eastern papers were torturing his offence into a national insult, and calling on the chivalry of the South to avenge the wrongs this immoral play-actor had heaped upon the country! I had determined that there should be no time allowed to organize a plan of hostility, at any rate, by having the bills already printed, announcing " Kea?t's ; first appearance this evening" and intending, no mat- ter when he arrived, that he should perform the same night; but in this point of policy I was in part defeated, by the ship Othello, in which Simpson had advised me he was a passenger, being reported " below" early on a Sunday morning. I boarded the vessel before she cross- ed the bar, and found this wreck of better days feeble in body, and that brilliant, poetic face, a Raphael might have envied for a study, "sick- lied o'er with the pale cast of thought." His first inquiry was, if the public were hostile to his appearing; and like a child he appealed to me: "Cowell, for God's sake — by the ties of old fellowship and countrymen — I entreat you not to let me play, if you think the audience will not receive me. I have not strength of mind or body — look how I'm changed since you saw me last — to endure a continuance of the. persecutions I have already endured, and I be- lieve a repetition of them would kill me on the spot." I, of course, encouraged him to hope all would go well; but on landing from the boat, some twenty idlers collected, and as we turned from, the wharf, hissed and groaned; the well-known, hateful sound seemed to enter his very soul, and looking up in my face, with " God help me!" quivering on his parted lips, he clung to my arm, as if for succour, not support. I assured him the disapprobation was meant for an officer of the customs, in whose boat we had landed, who was objectionable to the people; and doubting, yet hoping it was true, I conducted him to my house next to the theatre, which had been left handsomely furnished by the improvident Gil- fert, and which I had hired for the season. He passed the day with me and some new- found friends, and made himself, as lie always could when he thought proper, most agreeable. " The sweetest morsel of the nigh! we left unpick- ed," and early in the evening I conducted him to his quarters which 1 had prepared for him at Jones's. He was delighted with his black land- lord, and astonished to find that a negro could PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 71 amass a fortune, and possess all the rational ad- vantages of a well-behaved white man, in the same situation ol life, in a slave state. His no- tions of slavery had more than likely been al- together formed by acting in the opera of Paul and Virginia. Though most comfortably lodged, he assured me the ucxi day he had never closed his eyes; his anxiety had brought alone such rest 11 As wretches have o'er night Who wait for execution in the morn." What would be the night's event, who could tell? The public is a hard riddle to find out, but when you do happen to hit upon it, how sim- ple it is. Fifty friends gave fifty different opin- ions, each with an "if" so that each might after say, " There, I told you so." For my own part, I, of course, most earnestly desired his success, and therefore honestly believed his genius would triumph. Not a place was taken, but the house was .filled soon after the doors were opened. Before it was uncomfortably crowded, I stopped the sale of tickets, for nothing puts an auditor so soon out of humour as a disagreeable seat. Kean had set his "soul and body on the ac- tion both," and I never saw him play better. At his entrance, all was " hushed as midnight"— a quiet so profound "that the blind mole might not hear a footfall;" and this awful attention continued during the whole performance, when- ever he was on the stage; and when the curtain fell, some few "amazed spectators hummed ap- plause." There was but one ladij in Ike whole house I the wife of the district attorney, and a warm friend to the drama. Woman, in thy pu- riiy, how powerful thou art ! The presence oi' this one acted like a charm. She sat alone, the beauteous representative of the moral courage of her sex, and awed to respectful silence the predetermined turbulence of twelve hundred men ! Poor Kean was in ecstasies at his escape. The next morning nearly all the places were secured for Wednesday, and a splendid house- ful of ladies, as well as gentlemen, assembled to witness his master-piece, Othello. At his en- trance, some ill-advised applause was instantly drowned in a shower of hisses ; and in the early portion of the play, several sudden expressions of disapprobation occurred ; and in the third act, at nearly the end of his fine scene with Iago, the storm so long pent up burst forth ; some or- anges, thrown on the stage, appeared to be the signal for a general tumult " Of roaring, shrieking, howling, With strange and several noises," in the midst of which I had the curtain lowered, opened the stage door, and presented myself to the audience. It was my intention to have made an appeal to their indulgence on my own ac- count ; but remembering " The silence, often, of pure innocence Persuades when speaking fails," I assumed as innocent an appearance as I knew how, proceeded quietly and slowly to pick up the atoms of oranges "and apples, looked unut- terable things, and once " / lifted up my head, and did address Myself in motion, like as / would speak ; But even then — " I bowed myself across the stage and departed, amid thunders of applause ! and, before it had subsided, thrust Kean on with Desdemona, who, " As a child, would go by my direction ;" and the same people who, a minute before, were pelting him with rubbish, rose on their seats, and with "caps, hands, and tongues, applauded to the clouds." and the play proceeded with un- disputed approbation ! ! At the end, Kean was loudly called for; but, from experience, know- ing that for him to open his mouth, tilled with language of his own, would probably ruin all, I pleaded his exhaustion as an excuse for his making me the means to express -the grateful sense he had of their kindness, and tendered his respectful acknowledgments. The next day some of the first men in the city left him their cards; dinner-parties were made expressly for him ; carriages were proffered for his use; the rarities of the season or climate poured in upon him; and the numerous atten- tions shown him by the kind, yet aristocratic inhabitants of Charleston, equalled, and were more gratifying to his feelings, than the hollow- hearted homage paid to him by a crowd of flat- terers in the sunshine of his career. He receiv- ed fifty pounds sterling per night: that is, two hundred and twenty-two dollars and twenty-two cents; but our profits, notwithstanding, went far towards redeeming the pecuniary part of our losses. I had some really talented people in my em- ploy; but, from the want of numbers, many of my grooms and riders had to be trusted with subordinate characters, and their Shaksperian blunders were actually serviceable in keeping the audience in good humour. Charley Lee — the father of the now juvenile rival to Ellsler — a most valuable creature in a stable, and excel- lent in a monkey, performed one of the officers in King Lear, and in reply to Kean's saying, " I killed the slave : did I not, fellow ?" answered, in his natty manner, " 'Tis true, my lord ! see where the good king Has slew'd two on 'em !" My king was an ignorant, dissipated brute, whom I had, unfortunately, engaged on his own recommendation. His incapacity was most vexatious, but sometimes very droll. As Dun- can, where Lady Macbeth enters to receive him at the Castle, instead of a speech of some four or five lines, he merely said, "Ah! here's the hostess ! we thank you for your trouble." And after her speech, in lieu of continuing the dialogue, in a pompous but familiar manner he said, "Where's Cawderl Is he not home yet"? Well, no matter ; we'll sleep with you to-night. Give me your hand; walk in, madam; we in- tend to be very particular with yen;" and off he went, with a good laugh at his heels. His King, in Hamlet, could not be described. In the last scene, after mixing up " the kettles and the trumpets, the cannons, the thunder, and the heavens," in a most ludicrous manner, he ended with, "Stop a minute! give me the cup; here's your good health ! Come, Hamlet, take a drink." The easy, tavern-style in which this was said was too much for Kean's gravity; the audience caught the laugh from him, and the curtain went down, as it ought to do, at the termination of a verv broad farce; but it ended his career with me. The next day I gave him two weeks' sal- ary, paid las passage to New- York, and have never seen the poor devil since. Kean was so delighted with the place and the people that he determined to remain until the season was concluded. A friend gave him the 72 THIRTY YEARS use of a country house on Sullivan's Island — a most romantic sandbank in the centre of the harbour. With two Newfoundland dogs of mine, a pet deer, and the Fanny marc, he was "alone in his glory;" for it was literally unin- habited in the winter, with the exception of a few soldiers in the fort. He played Bertram for my benefit, on the last night, to the largest amount then ever received at the Charleston Theatre. He took his passage with me in the ship Saluda, and with " Calm seas, auspicious gales, and sail so expeditious," that in three days, recruited in mind and body, he arrived at New- York, " in the merry month of May," 1826. Poor Kean ! I never more saw him act ; and though, for years after, his brightness flickered at intervals on the gloomy path of the declining drama, it never blazed again with its uniform, unequalled brilliancy. His neglected early life had grafted habits on his nature totally at vari- ance with his pure poetic taste, and giant-like strength of admiration of all that was great and noble in art, and made him the contradictory, and, at times, objectionable creature which, in general, he is so exclusively described. The truth of the adage in his case was painfully pro- ved : Ac kmio not iclw was his father. When all the thinking world were awe-struck in contem- plating his genius, several were named as hav- ing a title to that honour, and among them the late Duke of Norfolk ; and Kean was weak enough to appear proud of this parental appro- priation. A Mrs. Carey, who was an inferior actress at one of the minor theatres, claimed him as her son ; and whether he believed her to be his mother or not, he supported her and her daughter for years. The startling effect of his style of acting, bold- ly and suddenly setting at defiance the law and decorum of the long-accustomed school of which a Siddons and a Kemble were the models, can- not be conceived at this day, where every aspi- rant to dramatic fame totters in the path his genius boldly trod, and "drags at each remove a lengthening chain;" for, though he left behind no parallel to his excellence, he created a host of imitators, down to the third and fourth gener- ation. The novelty of his manner may be un- derstood by the following anecdote, which he told me himself. At his first rehearsal at Drury Lane, "steeped in poverty to the very lips," ■wrapped in an old, rough greatcoat — though it was warm weather — and his appearance alto- gether bespeaking his estate, several of the well- clothed and well-fed minions of the drama did not condescend to rehearse with him at all ; and those who did, refused to deviate from the ac- customed business of the stage, which, right or •wrong, they had followed for years, and turned into unconcealed ridicule his temerity in presu- ming to suggest any alteration of the acknowl- edged laws. Among others, he particularly named De Camp — he, poor fellow, long since died of a dysentery, mixed up with old age and abject poverty, in Texas! He eloquently, yet playfully, described the laceration of his feelings at hearing his peculiarities of voice imitated be- hind the scenes, accompanied by : 'The loud laugh, that speaks the vacant mind." Amid these "outward and visible signs" of con- tempt for his talent, old Miss Tidswell, who had played small characters in the theatre since Gar- rick's time, I believe, and who afterward called herself his aunt, poked him in the back with her umbrella "to entreat listening," beckoned him to the wing, and petitioned him not to persevers in playing: explaining, that all the actors and good judges were laughing at him; and point- ing out to him the horrible disgrace of his inev- itably being pelted from the stage would be to her, as she had acknowledged him as a distant rela- tion, and introduced him as such to some per- formers of her own class in the second green- room ! ! Wounded in spirit, he left the theatre, half in- clined to follow her advice; not in consequence of any doubt in his own mind of his capacity — for true talent is always self-informed — but to shrink from the dirty annoyances attending its assertion. But, fortunately, he met at the door an old comrade, from some country theatre, to whom he unburdened his " o'er-fraught heart," and the poor disciple of Thespis being in pos- session of the extraordinary sum of five shillings, Kean accompanied him to a tavern. After a good dinner, a pot of porter, and the warm en- couragement of his ragged but sincere friend, he went to the theatre, desperate in his determi- nation to succeed; played Shylock to a very in- different house, but sealed his fame forever. CHAPTER VII. " The first tragedians found that serious style Too grave for their uncultivated age, And so brought wild and naked satyrs in (Whose motions, words, and shape were all a farce) As oft as decency would give them leave ; Because the mad, ungovernable rout, Full of confusion and the fumes of wine, Loved such variety and antic tricks." Roscommon's Horace. Booth, though not a servile imitator of Kean, founded his manner exclusively on his style. He played precisely the same round of charac- ters, dressed them exactly in the same costume, and, being naturally like him in appearance, the similitude was extraordinary. Kean's trans- cendent genius had so dazzled the public taste, that his defects of voice and figure, " by the aid of use," were actually considered necessary at- tributes, and Booth possessed the same advan- tages. Old Dowton morosely said, when Kean first appeared, " God renounce me ! 'tis only ne- cessary nowadays to be under four feet high, have bandy legs, and a hoarseness, and, mince my liver ! but you'll be thought a great trage- dian." Soon after Booth's arrival in this country, he declared his intention of becoming a citizen, and purchased a small farm, if it might so be called, near the village of Belle-air, in Maryland — the only steril section of land I know of in the whole state; deposited his wife and family in a log cabin, and shone himself, periodically, as a star of the first magnitude through the theatrical hemisphere. Scrupulously avoiding all osten- tatious display, he adopted the reverse extreme: attired in a conspicuously plebeian garb, he would take up his quarters at some humble tav- ern or obscure boarding-house ; and when he visited Baltimore (being near his home), he usu- ally attended the market with some vegetables, a load of hay, or sat with a calf, tied by the leg, till time to rehearse " Richard the Third." His simple Republican deportment, well spiced, when occasion served, with "the jolly dog" and "the good fellow," who was "not too proud" to sing PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 73 " Billy Taylor" in a beerhouse, or give you a taste of his quality in an oyster-cellar, rendered him most popular with the multitude ; a scholar and a linguist, he was an intelligent listener to the pothouse pedant, and could "drink with any linker in his own language ;" carefully con- cealing any advantages he possessed above the capacity of his companions, his acquirements were lauded and admitted: for it is the charac- teristic of the nation, as 1 have read it, some- times to allow a foreigner to be equal, but never superior in anything. This probably accidental mode of conduct, naturally enough, compared with his prototype Kean's arbitrary offences, aided by Booth's undisputed talent, for years caused him to be greatly followed and admired. His father, who was a devotee to the doctrines, civil and religious, which clogged with blood the wings of liberty during the French Revolu- tion, named hitn Junius Brutus, as a type of the stern Republican character he hoped his son would achieve ; and with an excellent education mixed the seeds of those dogmas which, no mat- ter how gilded o'er by the poetic imaginings of a Voltaire, a Byron, or a Shelley, are to a mind early tutored to adopt them, and undefended by Christianity, dangerous to the happiness of the social compact, and fatal to the ties with which conscience should bind the intercourse with our fellow-man. It is a dreadful mischance to be early cast upon the world without a guide or protector; but worse, far worse, to have our way of life pointed out by those in whose direction nature tells us to believe, and pursue, at their instiga- tion, a path through this world's pilgrimage at which our young, pure feeling hesitates at the outset, and experience proves leads to a death- bed divested of hope beyond the grave. Kean's irregularities were coarse and brutal, but their ill effects recoiled exclusively upon himself; Booth's involved the destiny of those nearest and dearest; for years he sheltered him- self from their consequences by assuming mad- ness; and the long practice of this periodical " antic disposition," like Hamlet's, ended in its being, I believe, partially the fact. In one of his trips to New-Orleans, two itinerant preachers were on the same boat, whose zeal in distrib- uting tracts, and obtrusive interference with the usual amusements on a steamer, made them objectionable to all, but particularly to Booth, and he invented the following severe scheme of retaliation. He had a large sum of money about him, and, when all were asleep in bed, he placed his pocket-book, with a portion of the notes, under the mattress of one of the par- sons, and the balance, with some papers easily described, in the pocket of the other. Early in the morning, before the clergymen were up, he loudly proclaimed his loss, and a general search was ordered by the captain, to which all cheer- fully submitted: when the property was found, the astonishment of all could only be equalled by the supposed culprits themselves. In vain their protestations of innocence; the boat was landed, and they, according to " Lynch law," were to receive a severe flagellation, and then De left in the wilderness. This, of course, Booth could not permit, and he explained the joke he had intended, without dreaming of the conse- quences. The indignation of the passengers, influenced by their excited feelings, might fearfully have turned the direction of their revenge, but that " everybody knew Mr. Booth was an oddity," and " at times supposed to be insane." A sketch of his numerous eccentricities would alone rill a volume; but, being generally divested of wit of humour, and, for the most part, mischievous in their character, an account of them would be painful to either write or read. I don't mean to assert that his having been called alter the pat- tern of severe justice, who assumed the mask of lolly in the cause of virtue, had any influence on the conduct of Booth; but baptizing children as if to designate their character is a nonsensical custom, and ought to be condemned. There are enough good, homely Christian names, in all conscience, to satisfy the varied tastes of the most fastidious, and this deviation from the beat- en track to please the doting lolly of a mother, or the political prejudices of a father, is often, in after lite, a positive affliction to the bearer ; for if they equal, in mind or station, their illustrious namesakes, the glory they achieve is liable to be passed to the credit of their predecessors; and should their talent, appearance, or opinion be at variance with their title, it will often place them in a painful or ridiculous position. Ima- gine a politician writing a long tirade against " removing the deposites," and then being obliged to sign himself "Andrew Jackson ;" or " Apollo," a knife-grinder, with a hump at his back; or "Diogenes" apprenticed to a washings- tub maker. I feel positively obliged to my god- fathers and godmothers for having unostenta- tiously named me after the amiable, ragged- coated, modest Joseph ; and the etymology of the designation I have been fortunate enough to prove the appropriateness of, by being already the father and grandfather, to a certainly, of chil- dren in two quarters of the world, at any rate. When Bonaparte was First Consul, an honest old Church and King parson, at Manchester, in England, who was wearied with the frequency of the name of the future emperor being claimed for a child born to be a weaver or spinner, at length determined to christen no more so ridicu- lously; and upon inquiring the name intended lor the next infant presented, was answered, as usual, " Napoleon." " In the name," &c., says the clergyman, " I baptize thee John." "John!" says the astonished father; "I tell'd thee to call the lad Napoleon." " Pooh, pooh, nonsense !" says the parson ; " I have christened him John. Take him away, and call him what you like." I wish all parsons would do the same. The yellow fever gave so broad a hint as to the necessity of buildings being prepared in the upper sections of the city, that New- York in- creased in that direction with a rapidity that was truly astonishing. A very superior theatre was erected on the site of the old Bull's Head Tav- ern in the Bowery, a short time before consider- ed out of town, and used as the cattle mart. The control was placed in the hands of Charles Gil- fert, a highly-accomplished German, whose chief ambition was to manage a theatre on an exten- sive scale, and be considered "more knave than fool," in both of which desires he was fully grat- ified; for the establishment given to him to con- duct infinitely exceeded in its extent and appoint- ments any then on the continent, and everybody agreed he was a consummate rogue. Thought- less, extravagant, and unprincipled as to the means used to obtain on the instant his real or 74 THIRTY YEARS imaginary wants in his private station, he car- ried with him the same reckless spirit to control the fortunes of others. Large inducements were held out to the various members of the profession to join the concern, and an excellent, but very costly, company was engaged; and though the overflowing houses attracted by the newness, and, perhaps, superiority of the entertainments, were ruinous to the Park, the expenditure quite equalled the receipts. Barrett was the stage- manager; and though at that time not distin- guished by the title of "Gentleman George," he was as deserving of the appellation then as now. But if one had been selected which would have more clearly conveyed the idea of an inconsid- erately liberal, kind-hearted man, it would better have described his intrinsic character. As an actor in smart, impudent servants, eccentric parts, bordering on caricature, and light comedy, where the claims to the gentleman do not exceed those required for Corinthian Tom, he is excel- lent. He has attempted to perform some old men lately, in consequence, I suppose, of his whiskers getting gray; but, if he'll take my ad- vice, he'd better dye them, and stick to his old line of business: six feet four is too tall to fit the common run of elderly gentlemen nowadays. He went to England a few years since, and very imprudently made his appearance at Drury Lane as Puff, in the " Critic," a character requiring a long acquaintance with both the actors and audi- ence to be made effective ; the innocent jokes, at the expense of either, always introduced, and the principal means of rendering the character amusing, if called in aid by a perfect stranger, would either be not noticed at all, or considered a liberty. According to Bunn's sore-mintlcd book, the performance was a failure, which he merely mentions in proof of the general inability of the Americans to become actors; but for his partic- ular information I beg to state that George Bar- rett was born in England, of English parents, though he arrived in this country when a boy; and, therefore, his incapacity, according to Bunn's judgment, must be "all owing to the climate." as poor Watkinson said when he was dying, in consequence of drinking too much brandy-and- water. For years the drama had been generally under the control of foreigners, and the better class of actors were, as I have before observed, exclu- sively English ; but the increase of theatres ex- tending the inducements to make the stage a profession, a number of young Americans be- came candidates for fame and fortune in that hitherto European monopoly. Of course, they commenced as Keans and Booths; for it is the marked character of the nation to begin at the top of everything, and the energies of the people increase in proportion to the difficulty or danger. In arts or arms, they might with propriety adopt as a motto, individually, "What man dare, I dare." Foremost amid a host of tyros stood Edwin Forrest. He had had the advantage of some useful practice, and had already achieved a trifling reputation in the South and West, to which almost "undiscovered country" in that day but few foreigners had dared to venture. He possessed a fine, untaught face, and good, manly figure, and, though unpolished in his de- portment, his manners were frank and honest, and his uncultivated taste, speaking the language of truth and Nature, could be readily under- stood ; and yet so intrinsically superior to the ninds of the class of persons among whom his fortunes had thrown him, that he could call to his aid requisites well calculated to make both friends and admirers. Early left to the care of a widowed mother, her fond indulgence or pain- ful necessities had deprived him" of an educa- tion even equal to his peers. This stumbling- block to his success he most keenly felt. With praiseworthy ambition, and the nieans his ad- vancing fortunes furnished, with unwearied in- dustry he laboured to remove this obstacle in his path to fame, and may now compare in acquire- ments with those whose early lite was cradled in ease, and learning made a toy. Having had an opportunity of witnessing his unschooled efforts, I strongly urged his engagement at the Park; but, while the dollars and cents were under con- sideration, Gilfert secured the prize, and, cun- ningly enlisting the natural national prejudices of the Americans in the cause, Forrest filled the coffers of the Bowery treasury, and received the unthinking, overwrought, enthusiastic admira- tion of his countrymen, which, after years of unceasing study and practice, he now so justly merits from all admirers of genuine talent. The destruction of the Bowery Theatre by fire, to such a mind as Gilfert's, seemed only to increase his energies; and in an unprecedented short space of time — sixty days — it was rebuilt and opened, even with increased magnificence. Agents had been despatched to Europe for talent of every description, and the first good theatrical orchestra ever brought to America Gilfert could boast of having congregated. William Chap- man, an excellent comedian, was engaged, and George Holland, inimitable in the small list of characters he undertook, proved a deserved at- traction, while Forrest, if possible, increased in public estimation. A very capable man, by the name of Harby, was employed, at a handsome salary, to " write up" the merits of the theatre, and such members of the company as the inter- est of the management desired to be advanced. This, being the first introduction of the system of forestalling, or, rather, directing public opin- ion, had a powerful effect ; and the avidity with which a large class of persons, in all countries, swallow, and implicitly believe what they read in a newspaper, is truly and quaintly enough described by Mopsa, in the "Winter's Tale:" " I love a ballad in print a' life, for then we are sure they are true." All these circumstances combined, and the theatrical population of New- York not being then equal to the support of more than one establishment of the kind, the tide of opinion sat full in favour of the Bowery, while the Park was trembling on the brink of ruin. In defiance of the somewhat prudish charac- ter of the Americans at " That blushing time, When modesty was scarcely held a crime," Gilfert, whose moral feelings never interfered with his interests, introduced a troupe of French dancers. The experiment was considered a dangerous one ; and though all, at the onset, were loud in their denunciation of the immodest exhibition, all crowded to witness it. By com- parison with what I had seen in Europe, they were of the fourth or fifth class in the way of talent ; and the exposure of the persons of the females, unexcused by elegance and grace, and the ribald remarks indulged in aloud, at the close of every pirouette, by the gross-minded por- tion of the audience, rendered the performance most disgusting to the feelings of the virtuous PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 75 and refined; while the poor half-undressed su- pernumerary women, made, for the first time in their lives, to stand upon one leg, bashfully tot- tering, and looking as foolish, and about as graceful, as a plucked goose in the same posi- tion, were pitiably laughable. This was the first relish given to that false taste which has taken the place of the whole- some mental food furnished by the legitimate drama; and, " As if excess of appetite had grown By what it fed on," "dancers, mimics, mummers" have usurped the claims of poetry and morality, and brought the stage to its present degraded position. Among the corps was Celeste, then very young and beautiful, and though not in the first rank, there was a native grace and modesty in her manner, by comparison with those by whom she was surrounded, which gained her many admirers. A young man by the name of Elliot, who had nearly squandered a handsome fortune left him by his father, who had been a livery- stable keeper in Baltimore, became enamoured, and after a short courtship, if it might so be call- ed — for, as she could not understand English, and he could not speak French, recourse was had to an interpreter, to say the usual soft things, which, Heaven be praised, I never had occasion to trust any one to say for me — they became man and wife ; and for years she maintained the very first reputation in her line, and supported her husband in affluence. Perhaps prejudiced by placing her estimable private deportment in the scale with her acknowledged talent, and my ig- norance of the art, may cause me to think she has never been excelled, for, to my untutored taste, " An antelope, In the suspended impulse of its lightness, Were less ethereally light. The brightness Of her divinest presence trembles through Her limbs, as, underneath a cloud of dew, Imbodied in the windless heaven of June, Amid the splendour-winged stars, the moon Burns inextinguishably beautiful." — Shelley. CHAPTER VIII. " When, in this vale of years, I backward look, And miss such numbers — numbers, too, of such, Firmer in health, and greener in their age, And stricter on their guard, and better far To play life's subtle game — 1 scarce believe 1 still survive." — Night Thoughts. I have already said that my company was extensive ; and for talent, in many instances it could compete with the best on the Continent. William B. Jones and his lady, omitting their just claims to excellence on the stage, by their private worth alone were ornaments to any es- tablishment. I have just heard of the death of my old friend and companion. I am not one of the crying sort, but the paper got blotted while placing Young's thought upon it, which very appropriately came to my mind on hearing the sac! news. Roberts, too, gone long ago, will be remembered by many a lover of fun, as a most chaste and capital comedian. And my ladies ! for beauty, utility, in fact, for every decoration but docility, would not suffer by comparison even with our magnificent stud of horses. Mrs. Tatnall, Mrs. Williams, Mrs. and Miss Pelby, Mrs. and Miss Virginia Monier, Mrs. Parker, and the lovely Mrs. Robertson — now Mrs. Watkins Burroughs — can never be forgot- ten by the admirers of the " Last and best Of all God's works !" But eighteen or twenty years make an awful al- teration in all such matters. Poor Mrs. Tatnall! she died at Texas a short time since — that last resource for " Talent struggling with despair and death !" Many years gone by, I strongly recommend- ed her to Simpson, to play the Lady Macbeths, and other would-be queens, with Cooper : he turned up his nose at my circus heroine then, but not long after she was a most successful star in such characters at all the principal the- atres, and in many of them she was eminent. A comparison with her personation of Massero- ni, in the melodrame called the Brigand, would make even James Wallack and "All the stars Hide their diminished beads." She was really an excellent general actress, a warm-hearted friend, affectionate mother, and, I have no doubt, a most desirable wife. She had but one failing that I know of, if it could so be called, for even that " leaned to virtue's side," and that was an extraordinary propensity to get married every now and then ; allowing for the difference of sex and position in society, Henry the Eighth was u no toheres" as Stephen Price would say, in comparison with her conjugal propensities. She was the lawfully-wedded wife of five husbands to my certain knowledge, three of them all alive at the same time, and two, 1 believe, not dead yet. But for the bury- ing part of the business, she might have sung with feeling Colman's Irish song: " To the priest says I, ' Father O'Casey, dear ! don't my weddings and funerals plase ye, dear?' Says he, ' Ye bla'guaid, betwixt church and churchyard you never will let me be aisy, dear !' " Her maiden name was Pritchard, and, as far as I know, her first spouse was the Mr. Pember- ton who some years since played Virginius with some success in London ; he was acknowl- edged to be a gentleman of education and talent, though somewhat eccentric in his mode of dis- playing his acquirements; from him she was separated, and married Tatnall, one of the ear- liest American equestrians; from him she was separated, and, undismayed by his notoriously cruel conduct — for Tatnall treated his wife very nearly in the same way he did his horse — she married Hartwig, a very inferior actor, and a widower, in consequence of his first wife having poisoned herself three months before ; her sep- arating from him very speedily caused little sur- prise, and she married Hosack, a nephew of the celebrated physician of that name in New- York, and, by the desire of his family, resumed her own of Pritchard m the playbills. Hosack had a small annuity, and was a very worthy young man ; they had two or three children, and appeared to live most happily together, but death interfered with that arrangement, and shortly af- terward she became the wife of Riley; he claim- ed the author of the " Itinerant" as his father, and, I am told, had been a good actor, and a re- spectable man. This connubial career soon came to an end, and she left him to close his wander- ings and his eyes in the hospital at St. Louis. I doubt much if she ever had an offer of mar- riage since, for I don't believe she had the heart to refuse one ; and in the brief notice of her de- 76 THIRTY YEARS mise in a Texas paper, "no afflicted husband" was named " to bewail her loss," which, in the familiar idiom of that country, might, under all the circumstances, be called " d — hard luck." It couldn't be expected that during the increase of successful theatrical establishments, the cir- cus should remain quietly and alone in posses- sion of the field. A large building was erected in Grand-street, New- York, and, like everything new, for a time had its supporters; and though, through bad management, and its then out-of- the-way situation, it was ultimately a failure, it interfered for a time sensibly with our receipts. The loss, too, of the horses was severely felt ; for though their place was supplied as regarded numbers, those that were gone had each been worth the price of admission merely to look at, and while they were alive, we could defy any competition " that stood upon four legs." Mr. Sandford, now General Sandford, who had married Mrs. Holman the singer, and the widow of the well-known old actor of that name, erected a very extensive amphitheatre within pistol-shot of our encampment, and called it, as everything was called at that time that wanted a name, Irom an oyster-cellar to an omnibus, Lafayette. With every horse that could be pur- chased with a long tail and a spot in its neigh- bourhood, a few runaway rascals of ours, with Tatnall at their head, and some nothing-better-to- do boys, who had tumbled into the notice of the amateur manager, outside of our stable on a pile of straw, but whose " vaulting ambition' - ' has long since rendered them superior in gymnastic talent to any that can be produced in Europe, he commenced his campaign with Watkins Burroughs, from the Surry and Adelphi Theatre, to conduct the dramatic department ; and by forcing us to an expensive competition, and, at the same time, drawing oft" a portion of our au- dience, this powerful opposition took largely from our former profits, though it ultimately brought the proprietor to a state of bankruptcy — was closed in a year or two, burned down, and never rebuilt. Price, who visited London every year, sent me periodically all the come-at-able talent, hum- bug, or nonsense to which the English show- shop had given a name, or that he knew from experience would suit the wonder-loving public here. Hunter proved an immense attraction ; he was the first rider in this country who dex- terously and fearlessly went through all the usu- al antics on the bare back of the horse, instead of on the oldfashioned flat saddle, the size of a sideboard. Stoker, a rope-vaulter, was another wonder; he, among a variety of liberties he took with himself, used to hang by the neck, not till he was dead, but just long enough to give his audi- ence reason to believe that he might be ; and this faithful imitation of the last agonies of a malefactor, in a spangled jacket, drew together, nightly, quite as large a crowd as a public exe- cution always does. Fortunately for the man- agement, several ladies fainted the first night he appeared ; and this fact being named in some of the papers, and the exhibition described as most shocking to witness, and certain on some night, when least expected, to cause the death of the performer, the boxes were always filled with the fair sex whenever the feat was advertised. In short, every novelty that money could procure, tact invent, or unwearied industry produce, to excite the creative appetite of curiosity, was served up in unceasing variety. Every specta- cle "got up" had no rival but its predecessor, and even at this day it is admitted that the Cat- aract of the Ganges, and other gorgeous affairs of the sort, have never been excelled in splen- dour and effect. Mine was a genuine Democratic government: the man who swept the stable received quite as much courtesy from me as he who could vault over all the horses in it, and balance the broom on his nose into the bargain. I, in consequence, had a very high reputation for even-handed jus- tice, and, " against my own inclining," was cho- sen arbiter in all the private and domestic quar- rels and troubles, and the causes of either were sometimes very amusing. Most of my performers, both horse and foot r had a claim to some share, large or small, of the receipts of a house as a benefit in each sea- son ; but to avoid trouble to others, and save them from the very common folly of selecting some piece likely to keep money out of the treas- ury, for the sake of playing a part they are par- ticularly unfitted for, I always controlled the na- ture of the performance. The benefits, on one occasion, came on during the very successful run of El Hyder, and, of course, I would not have its career interrupted. Mrs. Tatnall played Harry Clifton — ay, and played it better than anybody ever did or could play it. Mrs. Williams, who was exclusively an equestrian, when her night came, thought it would be an attraction for her to undertake the part, and I gave my consent that she should show her versatility, to the great annoyance of Mrs. Tatnall. Mrs. Pelby, in turn, claimed the like indulgence on her benefit, and, in common justice, she had as good a right as Mrs. Will- iams to amuse herself, at any rate, and I adver- tised her for the character. Mrs. Tatnall was outrageous at this accumulated infringement of her rights, and vowed to be signally revenged. The part is really an excellent one, and any circus lady might be justified in even using more than " wild and windy words" to maintain the possession of it. A dashing young midshipman, after the true Saddler's-Wells model, in white tights, fighting broad-sword combats to no par- ticular tune, audanle, with three or four giant- like assassins at a time ; shouting for " liberty!" at the end of every speech, and a " dam'me" at the end of every line, and surrounded by blue- fire and piebald horses in the last scene, is not to be sneezed at. I was the old sailor, and quite as unlike a sailor as my master, and, of course, quite as effective. While the performance was proceeding, I ob- served Mrs. Pelby to be particularly restless and odd in her deportment, standing sometimes upon one leg, then balancing herself on the other, rub- bing the upper ends of them together, thumping herself with her cocked-hat in all sorts of places, twitching her beautiful face about as children sometimes do in the green-gooseberry season, and at the end of every highly-relished Repub- lican sentiment whispering such disjointed sen- tences as, " I can't bear it !" " What shall I do 1" "Good Heaven! it's dreadful!" "1 shall cer- tainly go mad!" "I must pull them off!" and bang would go the cocked-hat against the skirts of her coat, both before and behind, with her fingers extended as if itching for the luxury of an uncontrolled scratch. During a pause, in a confidential manner and imploring accent, she said to me, " Oh ! I am in torture ; for Heaven's. PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 77 sake, make an act at the end of this scene. You don't know what I suffer; I must change them or I shall die. That beast, Mrs. Tatnall, must have put cow-itch in my pantaloons !" And so, no doubt, she had — " to what ex- tremes may not a woman's vengeance lead !" but the supposed culprit strongly denied all knowl- edge of the ticklish transgression, and very truly said " that no lady could be capable of anything half so villanous." I, and everybody else, be- lieved her to be the irritator, but as there was no law, even of ray own making, applicable to the offence, I was glad she did not confess. The usual remedies, whatever they are, were appli- ed, and in a pair of blue trousers, a little too large in one place and not big enough in an- other, Mrs. Pelby finished the part without any farther apparent titillation. Though my income was large, my outlay was on the same scale ; wherever 1 went, Mrs. Cow- ell and my younger children went ; and in that day, travelling, with all the comfort that could be bought, was a very costly amusement, and liv- ing at the principal hotels, with private parlours and other privileges, beyond a joke to pay for. it is not of the least consequence in this coun- try what a man's profession may be; he obtains a station, and is respected in society, not accord- ing to how he makes money, but according to how much he makes; wealth is the aristocracy of the land, and a poor gentleman an incomprehensible character to the million. In my doubtful position — a circus manager — there was no proof so con- vincing of my being the possessor of wealth, and, therefore, having a claim to consideration, as by lavishly squandering it away. My liber- ality got quite as much applause as my comic songs; and though the interests of the sleeping partners in the concern were advanced at my expense, at the end of three years of intense toil and annoyance, I awoke to the consciousness that if I had remained in New- York and follow- ed my profession, of which I was then proud, I should have been quite as well, if not better off. All I had gained by my management was a high reputation, which continued success in any pur- suit is sure to obtain. I once heard a man who had just lost his last stake at roulette, a game which sets all calculation at defiance, say to an- other, who was staring with astonishment at winning, thrice in succession, thirty-six times the amount of his bet, "Ah ! I wish I understood the thing as well as you do — I'd make a fortune at it." Warren and Wood, who for years had been associated as managers of the Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington Theatres, at about this period dissolved partnership, and Warren, "who by purchase had become the sole director, made me an offer of a very handsome salary to undertake the acting management, which hith- erto had been Mr. Wood's department. I had long since selected Philadelphia as my home, though I could only enjoy the pleasures of one three months in the year ; this arrangement, therefore, held out domestic inducements that jumped well with my humour, and at the latter end of 1826 I took the reins of government at the Chestnut-street Theatre. My seceding from the circus. I was pleased to find, met with less opposition from the proprie- tors than I had anticipated. My income was a large item saved in the general expenditure, and ■Dinneford, who had been some time in my em- ploy, and Blythe, the riding-master, with Simp- son to advise and control, they had a right to be- lieve would economically, yet amply, supply my place. My new company, if not eminent for talent in every department, was highly respectable; and having been trained by my predecessor Wood, a gentleman and a man of taste, to submit with cheerfulness to the wholesome subordination on which a well-conducted theatre so much de- pends, the direction was divested of its prover- bial annoyances, and the season proving profit- able beyond all precedent, I have reason to recur to this period of my life with both pride and pleasure. Wood and his lady still continued members of the company. He was a most mechanically correct actor, and when his great peculiarities happened to exactly^ a character, which in the extensive range he allotted to himself was often the case, he might be considered excellent by those who had long been acquainted with his style ; but the singularity of his voice, to a strange auditor, took largely from the pleasure his sensible delivery demanded. There was a kind of comic pathos in its two distinct tones, which, though it did not assist a laugh where it should occur, was very apt to cause one in the wrong place. Mrs. Wood was a sterling actress, indebted to nature for a very superior mind, and then — the account was closed. They were both enthusiasts in their art, and most ardent admi- rers of each other's talent ; and in parts they frequently played together, such as Mrs. Haller and the Stranger, they infused so much reality into the scene, that they literally appropriated all the sorrow to themselves; positive sobs and tears by turns, at each other's plaints and penitence, would so interfere with and divert the sympa- thies of the audience, as to drown all recollec- tion of the imaginary characters in pity for the sufferings of Billy Wood and his wife. Warren was highly esteemed as a man, and admired as an actor. He had obtained a great reputation as Falstaff, which character his bulk admirably adapted him to represent; and, as far as "unbuttoning after supper, and sleeping on benches after noon," there was an extraordinary similarity in his habits, and the "cause that wit is in other men." Poor Warren was a man of wealth at the time I am now speaking of, but he unfortunately outlived his fortunes. Jefferson was the low-comedian, and had been for more than five-and-twenty years ! Of course, he was a most overwhelming favourite, though at this time drops of pity for fast-coming signs of age and infirmity began to be freely sprinkled with the approbation long habit, more than en- thusiasm, now elicited. I am told " Mr. Jefferson was a native of Lon- don, and arrived at Boston, at the age of nine- teen, as a member of Powell's theatrical com- pany, in the year 1795." Literally born on the stage, he brought with him to this country the experience of age with all the energy of youth, and, in the then infant state of the drama, his superior talent, adorned by his most exemplary private deportment, gave him lasting claims to the respect and gratitude both of the members of the profession and its ad- mirers. And perhaps on some such imaginary reed he placed too much dependance ; for the whole range of the drama cannot probably fur- nish a more painful yet perfect example of the mutability of theatrical popularity than Joseph Jefferson. 78 THIRT\ YEARS When Warren left the management, "young- er, not belter," actors were brought in competition with the veteran ; and the same audience that had actually grown up laughing at him alone — as if they had been mistaken in his talent all this time — suddenly turned their smiles on for- eign faces; and, to place their changed opinion past a doubt, his benefits, which had never pro- duced less than twelve or fourteen hundred dol- lars, and often sixteen, fell down to less than three. Wounded in pride, and ill prepared in pocket for this sudden reverse of favour and for- tune, he bade adieu forever to Philadelphia. With the aid of his wife and children he formed a travelling company, and wandered through the smaller towns of Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia, making Washington City his head- quarters. Kindly received and respected every- where, his old age might still have passed in calm contentment, but that " One wo did tread upon another's heel, So fast they followed." His eldest daughter, Mrs. Anderson, and his youngest (I believe), Jane, both died in quick succession, after torturing hope, with long and lingering disease. His son-in-law, Sam Chap- man, was thrown from a horse, and the week following was in his grave. His son John, an excellent actor, performed for his father's bene- fit at Lancaster, Pennsylvania ; was well and happy; went home; fell in a fit, and was dead on the morning of September the 4ih, 1831. And " last, not least," to be named in this sad list, the wife of his youth, the mother of his thirteen chil- dren, the sharer of his joys and sorrows for six- and-thirty years, was " torn from out his heart." " The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity, but a wounded spirit who can bear ?" Joseph Jefferson died at Harrisburg, Pennsyl- vania, the 6th day of August, 1832. CHAPTER IX. " The hook of man he read with nicest art, And ransack'd all the secrets of the heart : Exerted penetration's utmost force, And traced each passion to its proper source." Churchill. I had secured a galaxy of stars of the first magnitude : among them, Macready, Cooper, Forrest, Mrs. Knight, and others of distinction ; but for attraction, none could compete with the brilliant Lydia Kelly; her extraordinary success must have astonished herself. When she was first underlined at the Park, one of those well- known theatrical insects who flutter round a box-office, and because they are free of the house, conceive themselves privileged to be imperti- nent, said to Price, " Why, Price, they say this Miss Kelly is not the celebrated Miss Kelly, but a sister of hers. Is that the fact?" "Why, doctor," says Stephen, "I'll tell you what it is; there arc three celebrated Miss Kel- lys in London, and as I had my choice, I should have been a b — fool if I hadn't picked out the best." If Price had his "choice," he certainly showed his wit in the selection. Fanny, the celebrated, was a delicacy, a nice little bit — five or six green peas on a plate to prove such things can be in the world at Christmas. Now a London audi- ence can afford to pay for such luxuries, but the drama in this country, Price was well aware, required more substantial food. Fanny's per- fection of art, too, always savoured of the kitch- en, or, at any rate, it never got higher than the back parlour, or the bar-room of an inn ; and then, indeed, if she happened to be '•'■Mary the maid" you would see the most consummate skill so skilfully concealed, that acting ceased to be; all she did was reality, but it was the reality of humble life, and, therefore, she couldn't even make believe to be Beatrice or Lady Teazle ; and those were the sort of characters that were the most attractive here. Now Lydia could in- troduce us to the drawing-room : it was one of her own, to be sure, but she was very free, and easy, and agreeable there, and she showed us the fashions; they, perhaps, were her own too; but she was a splendid-looking woman, and they were very dashing and effective, and, therefore, much admired; and so were her songs, and her legs, which she showed her good sense by show- ing she was not ashamed of showing, when the part she had to perform required such a display. To be sure, some ladies who are engaged to- be " generally useful" are often thrust into " breeches parts" whether they like it or not ; and then, poor dears, they have a right to seem ashamed of themselves if they like it, and it is highly probable that sometimes they really are. During the run of the pantomime called " Jack and the Bean Stalk" at Drury Lane, Miss Povey, who played Jack — by-the-by, it was singing a solo in the opening of this very pantomime that first brought Miss Povey into notice : I think I hear it now ; how exquisitely it vibrates on the memory, as deliciously as the never-to-be-for- gotten warble of the tame redbreast, the pet of my childhood ! What a pity it was she married little Knight ! Well, Mrs. Knight — Miss Povey, I mean — played Jack, climbed up a pole, and sung like a cock-robin. But the pretty flaxen-headed lit- tle creature felt embarrassed in breeches, and, therefore, had permission to use the principal green-room, which, though not more private than the general one, was safe from vulgar eyes. And there, in the right-hand corner next the window, the siren would take her station — look- ing more like a boy than a girl — at least two hours before she'd be wanted in the last piece. Her little feet, " and the demesnes that there ad- jacent lie," " folded like two cross boughs ;" the skirts of the little brown coat tucked over her knees, and her hat on her lap with the crown up- ward ; and without scarcely moving or looking, there she'd sit, the perfect picture of purity, in pantaloons. But this was all " The fault and g-lympse of newness j" when she did as she pleased, boys of all sorts were her favourite characters. What a pity it was little Knight died without hearing Father Matthew lecture on temperance ! John Greene and his wife were both members of the company, but in very subordinate situa- tions. He happened to be cast the Irishman in " Rosina," and I was amazed, both at the fine rich brogue he possessed, and his quaint, natural manner of personating the Paddy. I was the more surprised, because Wood, to whom I had applied for information as to the talent of all the strangers to me in the company, had descri- bed this couple particularly as only fit t<> be Irust- ed I'-ilk a line m two. I inquired of Greene if he could study O'Dcdimus, a very long part in the PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 19 comedy called " Man and Wile," which I wished to do lor Miss Kelly, and, from necessity, had cast the part to myself. Of course, he under- took it, and played it gloriously, astonished everybody, and Billy Wood into the bargain. / got up John Bull, principally lor the sake of his JJennis, and though, altogether, the play was very well performed, Greene made the great hit; it was acted on the stars' off-nights for many times more than the usual number of running a stock piece, to crowded houses, and for four or five of the benefits, his own among the number, filled to overflowing, i have no doubt I have seen a hundred Brulgruderiesin my time, including Jack Johnstone and Power, but none of them are fit to hold a candle to John Greene, and I feel cer- tain old George Colman " the younger" would have been exactly of my way of thinking. Johnstone was the beau ideal of Major O'Fla- herty and characters of that class — the Irish gen- tleman., of the Jonah Barrington sc/wol, he looked, and was — and Power — the Thing itself for the val- ets: the insolence and coxcombry of such parts he hit off delightfully on the stage, though the same style of manner made him exceedingly ob- jectionable in a green-room. But for the Teagues, the Murtochs, and the Looneys, "the boys.'' the genuine, unsophistica- ted Paddy, with a natural genius for cutting ca- nals and drinking whiskey, give me the Native American Irishman, John Greene. His good lady, of course, did not remain long in the background. Her high respectability is now loo generally known to need any commendation from me. She can play the Queen in Hamlet better than any one I ever saw in America ; and for the simple reason, that she can play Lady Macbeth much better than many who would con- sider the CUieen in Hamlet as derogating to their talent. About this time actors began to be manufac- tured by wholesale. The great and deserved success of Forrest induced, of course, a host of athletic young men to follow at a distance his career. But something more than a mere imi- tation of his powers being needed to command attention to their early efforts, native talent was the medium through which their claims to ex- cellence were expected to be viewed with in- creased brilliancy, and their failings entirely ob- scured. Some few have attained nigh consider- ation ; but, unfortunately for themselves, keep- ing you constantly in mind of their great master, they oblige you to take largely from their own intrinsic merits. Pelby was one of the first " na- tive American tragedians;" that is, the first who made a living exclusively on amor patriae capi- tal. He had a clumsy figure, rather a good face, and a very peculiar voice ; he could boast of originality of style, at any rate, for he was to- tally unlike anybody I ever saw in my life. John Jay Adams was taught to read Hamlet by Pritch- ard on condition that he would appear for his benefit at the Park, which he did during my first season ; and I thought it the very best first at- tempt I ever saw. He was a wholesale tobacco- nist, and retail dealer in literature ; he wrote very pretty poetry for some of the Sunday papers, and only played now and then ; but got worse by de- grees ; and when 1 last saw him he was "slack- ing bad." Cooper's faults had been so long copied, and, of course, increased in the appropriation, that there was not an objectionable, and, at the same time, original bit left for a new beginner to found a style on; but Booth, keeping, with truth and purity, a living likeness of Kean's beauties full in view, had, of course, all the smaller-sized mad actors as his satellites ; but 1 know of none worth naming among them except C. H. Eaton. He achieved a sort of popularity, and the distin- guished title, in the playbills, of the "Young American Tragedian." in addition to his giv- ing a most excellent imitation of Booth's acting, he assumed a lamentable caricature of his eccen- tricities off the stage. Now there was method in Booth's madness : however ridiculous his an- tics were, they only excited pity, but never laugh- ter. There was a melancholy responsibility, if it may so be called, about all he said and did while in " phrensy's imagined mood," that if you believed he was insane, it would grieve you to the heart to see a noble mind thus overthrown ; and if you thought it was assumed, it would cause quite as painful a feeling to think that one so gifted should condescend to ape degraded na- ture. But Eaton's secondhand vagaries were disgusting; his distorted fancies, too, like other monstrosities, had to call in the aid of alcohol to perpetuate their first-conceived deformity. Poor fellow ! he carried the joke too far at last, and fell from a balcony at his hotel, after performing one night at Pittsburgh, last May, and died in a day or two afterward. During this season, 1826-7, I had the gratifi- cation of introducing two of the " fairest of crea- tion" as candidates for histrionic fame — a daugh- ter of Old Warren and a daughter of Old Jeffer- son. They were cousins, and about the same age. Hetty Warren had decidedly the best of the race for favour at the start; but Elizabeth Jefferson soon shot ahead, and maintained a de- cided superiority. Poor girls! they were both born and educated in affluence, and both lived to see their parents sink to the grave in compara- tive poverty. Hetty married a great big man called Willis, a very talented musician, much against the will of her doting father ; and, like most arrangements of the kind, it proved a sorry one. Elizabeth became the wife of Sam Chap- man in 1828 ; he was a very worthy fellow, with both tact and talent in his favour, and her lot promised unbounded happiness. Who could have imagined that this young creature's heart should have been lacerated, and the entangle- ment of a first and fervent love unravelled and let loose for life, because the Reading mail was robbed'? but so it was. Now is this fate"] What should it be called if it is not ? The Reading mail stage, with four fine, fast horses — for Jemmy Reeside had trie contract — with nine male passengers and the driver, was stopped by three footpads — Porter, Potete, and Wilson — a few miles from Philadelphia, in the middle of the night. The horses were unhitched, and fast- ened to the fence, the driver's and the passen- gers' hands tied behind them with their own handkerchiefs, and quietly and civilly rifled of their property, without their making the slightest resistance! A watch, I think, said to be the gift of a mother or wife, and some other matters of private value, Porter, an Irishman, and the principal robber, politely returned ; helped him- self to a "chaw" of tobacco, and replaced the "plug" in the passenger's pocket; gave another some loose change ; and, in fact, conducted the whole affair with most admired decorum, and then took a respectful leave of his ten victims, sent his aides, with the mail-bags, into the woods, and departed. The entire operation was considered 80 THIRTY YEARS the most gentlemanly piece of Mghwayism that had occurred for some time, and caused much excitement. Potcte turned state's evidence; Wil- son's life was spared by President Jackson, and Porter, whose courage and urbanity were the ad- miration of everybody, was hanged. Chapman, who was extremely clever at dram- atizing local matters, took a ride out to the scene of the robbery, the better to regulate the action of a piece he was preparing on the subject, was thrown from his horse, and slightly grazed his shoulder. He had to wear that night a suit of brass armour, and the weather being excessive- ly hot, he wore it next his skin, which increased the excoriation ; and it was supposed the verde- gris had poisoned the wound. At any rate, he died in a week after the accident, and left his young wife, near her confinement, and a widow in less than a year after her happy marriage. " Oh ! grief beyond all other griefs, when fate First leaves the young heart lone and desolate In the wide world." It is the custom in Philadelphia for a vast Dumber of persons to attend all funerals. Chap- man being popular, his death sudden and singu- lar, and his poor little wife a native of the city, and adored by everybody, an immense concourse assembled. I walked and talked, as is the fash- ion, at the heels of some two hundred peripatet- ics, arm in arm with Edwin, the well known and excellent stipple-engraver, and the son of the great comedian, the original Lingo, and Darby. We were deep in disputation, and over our shoes in mud in crossing a street, when an- other large funeral procession passed through ours, in another direction, and caused some con- fusion. Absorbed in listening to anecdotes of his father, and Lord Barrymore's private theatricals, Ave reached the cemetery, and I proposed that Ave should make our way towards the grave, that the poor father and brother might be aware of our attendance ; we did so, and listened to a portion of the beautiful service, then looked round, with that timid glance always assumed on such occasions ; but no sorrowful look of recognition was exchanged ; every face was strange; I nudged my companion; we peeped under the handkerchief of each weeping mourn- er; there was no Old Chapman with spectacles bedewed; turned round at a stifled sob; it was not Williams; no, nor anybody that we knew; all were strangers. The truth stared us in the face — we had got mixed up in the other proces- sion, and had been making believe to cry over the wrong corpse ! A mind such as Forrest's, running riot, like the vines of his native woods, in uncultivated luxuriance, was predisposed to be impressed with an enthusiasm amounting to adoration by the electrical outbreakings of such a genius as Jvean's, " Who, passing nature's bounds, was something more." But a model, whose excellence was inspira- tion, gave an impetus, rather than a check, to its own naturally wild, spontaneous growth ; and, untrained by art, Forrest's splendid talent, choked by its own voluptuousness, might even now be rotting in obscurity. Macready's arri- val in this country may, therefore, be said to have formed an epoch in the history of the American drama. " In ancient learning train'd, His rigid judgment fancy's flights restrained, Correctly pruned each wild, luxuriant thought, Mark'd out her course, nor spared a glorious fault." This great practical example of the power of art over impulse was not lost upon Forrest. Without condescending to imitate the manner, he imitated the means whereby such eminence had been attained, and has achieved a glorious reward lor his industry and self-government. I had only seen Macready three times before I met him in Philadelphia, and that was in London — once in Rob Roy, and twice in Pes- cara, a most extraordinary and original concep- tion. The impression that comprehensible per- formance made on me, time still permits me to enjoy in full recollection, though at the same period I only remember that Charles Young, Charles Kemble, and Miss O'Niel sustained the other principal characters. Macready could neither boast of face nor fig- ure, but both were under such command, that they were everything which was required, in every character he undertook. By-the-by, it has been often remarked that we are very much alike — of course, I mean off the stage — but I beg most particularly to request those who are not acquainted with my personal appearance to un- derstand that I am much the belter-looking fellow of the two. CHAPTER X. " The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, com- edy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pasto- ral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical, historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited : Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ, and the liberty, these are the only men." — Hamlet. Meanwhile the circus had become so unprof- itable that the amateur stockholders were well inclined to sell out. I parted company with Warren, and Simpson and myself became the sole proprietors. The best of my dramatic company having "got half lost and scattered," I had to form a new one. Fortunately for me, John Hallam was most anxious to go to England for a wife he had chosen there. People ollen fall in love when they cannot afford to pay for it, but now he thought he might prudently indulge in this expensive luxury ; and I gave him an agency, at the same time, to engage any talented people he might meet with likely to suit me. He dis- charged this trust as he did everything, most faithfully; but, of course, he secured the ser- vices of Mrs. Hallam and her sister, Miss Ra- chel Stannard, and her sister Mrs. Mitchell, and her husband Mr. Mitchell ; the rest of the fam- ily wouldn't come, I suppose. The only females he introduced to an American audience, with the exception of his new relations, were Mrs. Lane and her talented little daughter, now the beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Hunt, of the Park Theatre. Warren engaged Francis Courtney Wemyss to supply my place ; a very worthy fellow, proud, and justly so, of being the descendant of several earls in Scotland, and some lords in England; he has been buffeting with the spotted fortunes of management ever since, till very lately, and now I see he advertises to sell, in a cellar in Philadelphia, perfumery, tetter ointment, and cheap publications. I hope he will recommend this book to his customers. As soon as Hallam's mission was known, Warren despatched Wemyss on a similar er- rand ; but Hallam was limited to give only three PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 81 guineas per week, as the highest salary. We- myss had to pay much more, of course, as he selected persons who, by talent or circumstances, had achieved some kind of reputation in Eng- land. Now my lot had never been heard of out of their own little circle, with the exception of my principal man, Grierson, and Hallam prided himself on having secured the original Duke of Wellington in the " Battle of Waterloo," at Ast- ley's. I was in successful operation at Philadel- phia when Simpson sent me an account of their arrival in the ship Britannia, my old friend, C. H. Marshall, commander. They could not com- plain of their mode of conveyance ; they had the same skilful captain who landed me here safe and sound, and a magnificent vessel. Charles Irish, of yellow-fever memory, then kept a "sec- ondary kind of hotel, where Hallam was in- structed to put up and remain a day or two, that the party might recover the fatigues of the voy- . age and see the lions of New- York. The bill of expenses rendered to me on this occasion re- minded me of Falstaff's : " Item. Sack, two gallons 5s. 8r/. Item. Anchovies and sack after supper, 2s. 6d. Item. Bread, a halfpenny." This was supposed to happen during the reign of Henry IV. The following did happen during the reign of Simpson and Cowell: "Mr. John Hallam To Charles Irish. One day's board and lodging for self and party $18 50 Refreshments at bar 56 00 ! ! $74 50." Hallam was a jolly dog himself, and, of course, he took care that the representatives of the Brit- ish drama, at that day, should do the thing hand- somely by their new associates. They were very foreign, both in appearance and manner — Eng- lish country actors are very odd-looking people — but, on the whole, I was well pleased with hon- est John Hallam's selection. Of course I made the most of them, and they all had opening parts. Grierson chose Rolla for his ddbut, and the same play served to introduce Mrs. Mitchell as Cora. She had a very pretty face and a broad Lincolnshire dialect; and her person strongly reminding me of the great Mrs. Davenport, I doubled her salary, on condition that she would undertake the old women, in which she was highly successful. Pretty women always con- trive to get well paid, even to make themselves ugly. Grierson was very tall and very uncouth in his deportment, and so near-sighted that it amounted to blindness; and in the scene where he has to seize the child, not having the little creature thrust into his arms, the necessity for which he had pointed out in the mornh g, he fumbled about for an instant, and then caught Charley Lee instead by the nape of his neck, and would have whirled him oft if not rescued by the soldiers. The public were well inclined to believe all I did was right at that time, but I had put their temper to a serious trial that night. But, fortunately, a most vehement appeal in good plain English, by the beautiful 'ittle boy who played Cora's child, to have some domestic matters attended to immediately, and being dis- regarded, the evidence that it should have been, trickling down the stage, put the audience in such high good-humour, that the play escaped disapprobation. The house was crowded to the ceiling. I stood for a few minutes behind poor old Warren. " If this is Cowell's great gun," said he, " why he's a pop-gun." But it was not: W. H. Smith became an im- mense favourite. He was one of those pink- looking men, with yellow hair, that the ladies always admire, and in his day was considered the best fop and light comedian on the continent. I doubled his salary directly. John Sefton was a sort of a failure ; though very queer and excellent in little bits, he did not hit the audience till he got to Baltimore; and there, his skilful personation of the Marquis, in. the "Cabinet," made his two pounds ten into twenty dollars. Some years since he played Jemmy Twitcher, in the " Golden Farmer," at New- York, in a little theatre called the Franklin. The audience were peculiarly capable of appre- ciating his talent, and his fame is hinged entirely on that one part; his appearance is the thing it- self—equal to Sir Joshua Reynolds's picture of " Mercury as a Pickpocket." The equestrian business ceasing to be so at- tractive, I determined to get rid of that portion of our expenses — sent the company to Wilming- ton, Delaware, where a temporary building was prepared, and had the ring fitted up as a spacious pit, and in September, 1827, opened the Phila- delphia Theatre, Walnut-street. Wemyss returned from England with his par- ty. But too much was expected from them; and in this interim my company had got licked into shape, and had grown into favour with the audience. They underlined Venice Preserved and the Young Widow, to introduce some of their new people — Belvidera, Miss E. ?ry; Jaffier, Mr. Southwell ; and Pierre, Mr. S. Chapman ; their first appearance in America— there were not more than two hundred persons in the house. I had the same pieces performed on the same evening, Mr. and Mrs. Hamblin in the princi- pal characters, and had upward of fourteen hundred! The full tide of public opinion was in our favour. We could play three light pieces for a week in succession, to six and seven hun- dred dollars a night; when the Chestnut-street would prepare an expensive performance, or, rather, display an expensive company to thirty persons. Among other stars, I engaged Cooper, who took his leave of an American audience, with whom he had been so many years the idol, prior to his departure for Europe; and he played his round of characters to crowded houses. He had prepared an excellent farewell speech; but it be- ing his own composition, he had not thought it necessary to fasten it so securely on his memory, as no doubt he would have done had it been the production of another's pen. The veteran, too, evinced much feeling at having to say sood- by, perhaps forever, to a people among whom, he had made so long and happy a sojourn; and, in his embarrassment, forgot the words. He is a very incompetent extemporaneous speaker ; and thinking it a pity some very pretty thoughts he had put on paper should be wasted, explained the dilemma he was placed in, and begged per- mission to read what he had written ; but, un- fortunately, the manuscript was in his own hand; and believing it, " As our statists do, a baseness to write fair," it was almost illegible, and occupying both sides of a sheet of foolscap, which became transparent 82 THIRTY YEARS ■when held behind the foot-lights, both pages were mixed up together, so that it became impossible to smoothly deliver the sense, and he was obliged at last to give up the task, said a few words •warm from the heart, and some honest tears were shed on all sides. Baltimore had for years been visited by War- ren and Wood, with the same jog-trot company and the same old pieces, till they had actually taught the audience to stay away, and it had then the reputation of being the worst theatrical town in the Union. I had always had enormous success there with my circus company; and, en- couraged to the undertaking by a host of friends, I leased the theatre from the committee, all of them my personal well-wishers. I had the house thoroughly repaired and decorated, the lobbies carpeted, and stoves erected there and under the stage. The gallery, which had become an un- profitable nuisance, I dispensed with entirely, and made that entrance serve for the third tier, effectually separating the visiters to that section from the decorous part of the house. There was a corporation tax of ten dollars on every night's performance, which Warren and Wood had for years been trying to get removed; but the influ- ence of my powerful friends got it instantly re- duced one half! Strict police regulations were adopted, and carried most rigorously into effect; and in November, 1827, we commenced the sea- son. Hamblin was my first star, to whom I paid one hundred dollars per night, and played to half the amount : a very dingy beginning, but 1 had " confidence, which is more than hope," of a good season yet. I was sitting one night at the back of one of the boxes: the play was the Revenge; there are but seven characters in the tragedy, and necessa- rily they are all very long. Smith was Alonzo, and Grierson, Carlos. In the same box with me was a tall, Kentucky-looking man, alone — the house was literally empty — and during a very tedious scene of theirs, he leaned back, and said to me, in a loud tone, " I say, stranger, has that long-legged fellow got much more to say in this business V I answered in the affirmative. " Then," said he, striding over the seats, " they are welcome to my dollar, for I can't stand list- ening to his preaching any longer;" and away he went. My company could boast of little tragic talent, but in comedy we worked together very happily. Wells was my ballet-master, and that depart- ment, under his experienced direction, was very effective. The business continued most wretch- ed for two or three weeks ; but, fortunately, we were able to make all our payments reg- ularly, and I professed to be perfectly satisfied with the certainty of having a fine season ulti- mately. Messrs. Dobbin, Murphy, and Bose, the proprietors of the American, had always been our printers; but General Robinson then kept a much-frequented, fashionable circula- ting library, and I gave him the printing, that it might be to his interest, as well as inclination, to talk in our favour, which he did most success- fully and kindly. My worthy host, too, David Barn n in — the emperor of all hotel-keepers — was most enthusiastic in his efforts to promote my interests. It is delightful to think that, after so many years of checkered fortune passed, that this very night, here in Baltimore, in July, 1813, we should take our glass of " old rye" together, in the same favourite corner; laugh old matters over, and refine upon the refinements of the gout, which we have both so honestly earned. Simpson sent me all the stars, in increasing attraction; and the season of 1827-8 is spoken of up to this day as the most brilliant ever known in Baltimore. Forrest, Hackett, Barnes, Horn, Pearman, Hamblin, Mrs. Austin, Mrs. Knight, Miss Kelly, and the captivating Clara Fisher — worth the whole of them at that day — appeared in rapid succession. She played with me for six weeks, to a succession of overflowing houses. No- thing could exceed the enthusiasm with which this most amiable creature was received every- where. "Clara Fisher" was the name given to everything it could possibly be applied to : ships, steamboats, racehorses, mint-juleps, and negro babies. Charles Fisher established a newspaper in New- York, called the " Spirit of the Times," and, to secure popularity to it and himself, ad- vertised it as " edited by C. J. B. Fisher, brother to the celebrated Clara Fisher." A hack propri- etor started an omnibus, and, of course, called it the " Clara Fisher ,-" and another had another, called "the celebrated Clara Fisher;" and another yet, determined not to be outdone, named his '"Brother to tlic celebrated Clara Fisher!" But anything so overdone was not likely to last, in her evanescent profession. She married Ma?der T a very pleasing composer and talented musician ; and though no diminution could be discovered, by the calm observer, in her intrinsic merit, the charm was broken, and she only now, as Clara Fisher, in remembrance lives. Washington City could then only boast of a very small theatre, in a very out-of-the-way sit- uation, and used by Warren and Wood as a sort of summer retreat for their company; where the disciples of Isaac Walton, with old Jefferson at their head, might indulge their fishing propensi- ties, without having them interfered with by either rehearsals or study. Now Miss Fisher had so turned the heads of the public in Baltimore, that I thought it a safe experiment to try if she couldn't turn the heads of the government, then in session, and I hired the theatre for an optional number of nights. " There is nothing like getting up an excite- ment," Pelby used to say. I immediately set a swarm of carpenters at work to bang out the backs of the boxes and extend the seats into the lobbies, which, in all the theatres built since the awful loss of life by the Richmond fire, were ridiculously large in proportion to the space al- lotted to the audience. As the house had seldom or ever been full, small as it was, my preparing it to hold twice the number which had ever tried to get in appeared somewhat extraordinary. Mashing down thin partitions, in an open space, plastered into a ceiling, is a most conspicuously- dusty and noisy operation, and attracted, as I wished, numerous inquiries — the doors being all thrown open — and my people were instructed simply to say, that "the house wasn't half large enough to accommodate the crowds which would throng to sec Clara Fisher." The plan succeeded to a nicety. Never had there been such a scram- ble for places before in the capital — I mean in the theatre. At the end of two days every seat was secured for the whole of her engagement. On the afternoon of the first performance I got a note from John duincy Adams, then the Pres- ident, requiring a certain box for that evening, directed to " Mr. Manager of tM Tlicatrc" and I sent a reply, regretting that he couldn't have it PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 83 till five nights afterward, directed to "Mr. Man- ager of the United States." I was afterward told that the kind old man was highly amused by the response. CHAPTER XI. " Quince. Have you sent to Bottom's house? Is he come home yet? " Starveling. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is transported. " Flute. If he comes not, then the play is marr'd ; it goes not forward, doth it .' " Quince. It is not possible. You have not a man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he." Midsummer Night's Dream. In consequence of the extraordinary success which had attended the temporary alteration of the Walnut-street Circus, the proprietors were easily persuaded to convert it into a permanent theatre. A lease on my own terms was grant- ed for ten years. Tamy experience was left the general detail of the improvements, and the cel- ebrated John Haviland was chosen as the archi- tect, and the present Walnut-street Theatre was erected withinside the walls of the old building. Scarcely had the note of preparation been sound- ed, when an entirety new theatre was proposed to be built in Arch-street by some property-holders in that neighbourhood. Building theatres was supposed to be an excellent investment of capital at that time, and a good excuse lor elderly, se- date, GLuaker-bred gentlemen to take a peep at a play, or a look at what was going on behind the scenes in the character of a stockholder. It had already been proved past a doubt to my mind and poor Warren's pocket, that Philadel- phia would not or could not support more than one establishment of the sort ; and tlic one the public would most probably select, in despite of my popularity, would most likely be the new one, and I began to tremble for the consequences. While I was wavering as to the course I should pursue, through the instrumentality of my friend Hamblin I received an offer from the proprietors of the Tremont Theatre at Boston to undertake its direction for forty weeks, for the sum of four thousand five hundred dollars, which, after duly weighing all the consequences, prudence, and the persuasion of my friends, induced me to ac- cept. And that I did / have most heartily regret- ted ever since. It was then late in June, and I instantly set off for Boston. Nearly all the proprietors there were my personal friends, and they readily agreed to take off my hands such engagements as I had entered into — ainong them Miss Stan- nard, Hallam, and Smith — and all other stipula- tions which I suggested were readily agreed to; and with two thousand dollars in cash to bind the bargain, I returned to Philadelphia. As I passed through Providence, on my way to Boston, I had promised Arthur Keene that I would give him notice of the exact day I would return, that he might advertise me to appear for his benefit. He was a sweet, untaught singer, in the style of Paddy Webb, an Irishman by birth, and over- flowing with fun and national modesty. He made his first appearance in America at the Park, in Henry Bertram. A duet, his portion of which is sung behind the scenes, with the exception of the last line, was to introduce him to the audi- ence. The air is very pretty, and the words, as I have ever heard them, very innocent, at any rate : " List, love, 'tis ay — ay — I, Rum tuin ti di-i-ay ; Where art thou, rum turn !" Then he should rush on, and, embracing Miss Mannering, most energetically sing, " I'm here, I'm here I'' but, unfortunately, forgetting, in the anxiety of the moment, that there was a threshold to the folding doors of the tlat, his toe caught the impediment, and with the tune in his throat, he came sprawl- ing down the stage on his face, close to the foot lights; in an instant he was on his feet, and, at the very top of his falsetto, shouted, " I'm here, I'm here 1" and he probably got a more joyous reception than he would have done under the usual cir- cumstances. I left Boston in the mail-stage, after a jolly supper, at one in the morning, and arrived at Providence, Rhode Island, in time for rehearsal, the same day. The weather was excruciatingly hot, as hot weather always is in high latitudes when it is hot, and after dinner I determined to take my lost share of sleep. I took a file of papers, that most efficacious lullaby, from the reading-room, and finding a mattress thrown in the corner of a balcony, where all the air Provi- dence could bestow appeared to flutter, I ar- ranged a siesta. When I awoke it was dusk, and after repairing my toilet, I set off for the theatre, all my companions being there, though I only had to play Crack, in the last piece. As I passed through the bar I inquired of a servant sweeping it out, "What is the time - ?" " About four, sir," said he. "About four!" said 1: "about eight, more likely," and on I walked. The shops were all closed, and everything appeared particularly quiet; but the steady habits of Providence I was prepared for by long report, and, therelbre, its appearance was not extraordinary. The carriers hanging the even- ing papers on the knobs of the doors, or in- sinuating them underneath, were the only hu- man beings I met with on my way to the thea- tre, which, to my astonishment, I found closed and quiet. A thought flashed across my mind — Could it be possible? I made an inquiry of a milkman, and found, to my amazement, that it was not to-night, but to-inorrovi morning. To return to the hotel and make ah explana- tion I knew full well would be at the expense of remaining to perform that night; so I sneak- ed on board the Connecticut steamboat, which was to take me to New- York, leaving my bag- gage behind. My old friend Captain Bunker met me with astonishment; he had been at the play, and fully described the consternation I had occasioned. The theatre had been crowded, and after every room in the Franklin Hotel had been searched, and every conceivable place in the city, it had been unanimously agreed that, in walking to the theatre after dark, that I had walked off one of the docks, and already a re- ward had been offered for the recovery of my body. But that my business was too urgent for me to spare the time, I would have delivered myself up, for the joke's sake, and claimed the ten dol- lars; but as it was, I got Bunker to keep my secret, and laid perdue in the ladies' cabin till the boat was off, and took the news of my sup- posed untimely end, to personally contradict it at New- York and Philadelphia. So popular was I at that time with the pro- m THIRTY YEARS prietors of the Walnut-street, that I had as much trouble in getting rid of the lease as most persons would have had in getting one granted. It was opened in the fall with an excellent but most extravagant company, under the direction of William Rufus Blake and Inslee, the latter having made a supposed fortune as keeper of the almshouse, and the former only wanting one to be fully considered one of the best fellows in the world. Near] j the whole company had been selected for the Tremont prior to my engagement, and Booth had been appointed siage-manager for a month. And it was whimsical enough, in ig- norance of my having the whole control, his of- fering me a situation for the season, of fifty dol- lars a week. I thanked him, and did not tell him then why I declined the offer. The arrangements at the Tremont Theatre were both costly and injudicious; and therefore, though the season was a brilliant one, it was most unprofitable. Booth received one hundred dollars for each night's performance ; and Ham- blin, for twenty or twenty-four, the same terms. On one occasion, the "direction," wished in some other way to occupy one of his nights; and they not only paid him the one hundred dol- lars for his sirpi)oscd playing, but gave him an- other hundred tor not playing ; or, in other words, they gave him two hundred dollars to be kind enough not to perform at all for one night only. He was on a visit to my house during his so- journ at Boston ; and while amusing himself with my children, during a leisure morning, made the discovery that my dear boy Samuel was perfect, both in the words and music of Crack, in the Turnpike Gate, and could give an excellent imitation of his father in that char- acter. Afier dinner we had a full rehearsal. The pianoforte was put in requisition, and Hamblin and myself played the off-parts by turns. I confess I thought he was extremely clever — what father would not 1 ? Hamblin was in ecstasies of admiration, and Sam's talent fur- nished food for a chat in my room at the theatre that evening:; and Dana, the principal of the committee of management, pertinently said, "Now, Cowell, \\you were to have the profits of your benefit," which was then advertised, "you would let your son play for it." This legitimate Yankee suspicion, of course, I had no better means of removing than by let- ing Sam perform. He was delighted at the aiovelty, and no farther instructed than by a ■usual rehearsal; he made his first appearance three nights afterward. Whatever he may be now, he was a very little boy, even for his age, in 1829; and he certainly eclipsed anything in the way of juvenile prodigies which I had ever seen — and so an overflowing house said too. But from long experience of the consequences in after life of forcing precocious talent, I never urged him to learn a line. For some two or three years following he played and sung such parts and comic songs as he thought proper, for his own amusement and my emolument; but in the course of that time he never studied more than six characters — Crack, Chip, Matty Mar- vellous, Bombastes — I forget the other — and one of the Dromios; and his impersonation of me toot me, at the small end of a telescope. He •chose, when it was time to choose, the stage for his profession, and is now an admitted favourite in the Edinburgh Theatre : no small boast at his age, for there the drama is considered one of the mental endowments of that refined and critical portion of Great Britain. And his uncle, Will- iam Murray, the manager, who, when a mere boy, was intrusted by his sister's husband. Hen- ry Siddons, with the direction of the National Theatre, has been for years universally admitted as the most finished disciplinarian now remain- ing to uphold the good old school. I was most heartily rejoiced when this en- gagement of mine terminated. The gentlemen composing the committee of arrangements for the proprietors, all with separate tastes and in- terests — some, but few, influenced by the prob- able loss and profit to themselves; others by the he or she actor they wished to patronise ; some for the sake of seeing a play acted as they would like to see it — would beg me to give them " some good casting." One of these actually proposed, that to support James Wallack, who was to do Macbeth, that Hamblin should play Banquo- all well enough — and Booth Macduff! to Wal- lack ! ! * "No!" said Booth, "I'll not play Macduff to Wallack, but I'll tell you what I will do— I'll play either Fleance or Seyton !" Hackett took the Chatham Theatre the fol- lowing spring, and I was engaged as his princi- pal comedian. For so long a time having been encumbered with the toils of management, lor myself or others, a plain, well-paid stock en- gagement was a delicious change. But it did not last long; for, after a month or so, the busi- ness not continuing very profitable, some reduc- tion of wages, or some mercantile arrangement of Hackett's, which I will not explain, being proposed, I backed out. My experience taught me, that when a manager asks you to take a little less one week, he will expect you to take nothing the next, and be perfectly satisfied. So I went home to Philadelphia. There I found my own-made theatre, the Walnut-street, under the management of Messrs. Edmunds, S. Chapman, and Green, on a commonwealth principle. Ed- munds had been a clerk of mine, recommended to me by Cooper as a starving countryman of ours, with a large family, great honesty, and a good handwriting. Out of several proposals which he made me. which he had learned in my school, I accepted a sort of stock engagement for two weeks, to receive no salary, but the whole receipts of my last night, in the shape of a benefit, as payment; by which I cleared twelve hundred dollars. John Boyd, of Baltimore, the Christophei North of South-street, and the laughter-loving and mirth-provoking Wildy, who cannot possi- bly have a higher caste in this world's estima- tion than by being acknowledged as the grand- father of the benevolent order of Odd Fellow- ship in the United States, had built an amphi- theatre on some property that they and others owned on Front-street. Wildy and Boyd had both made me an offer of the establishment, which I foolishly declined accepting, and Blanch- ard became the lessee, and cleared, the first sea- son, at least fifteen thousand dollars. I was en- gaged there for five consecutive nights — the sixth to be my benefit — on my favourite terms, receiv- ing the whole receipts. I merely played six farce parts, and got nine hundred dollars by the job. This establishment was burned down while occupied by Cooke's company; and the destruc- tion of property and unoffending animal life on that occasion is too dreadful to speak of. It is PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 85 now rebuilt by the same spirited and liberal pro- prietors ; and, with its complete and substantial appointments, either lor a theatre or a circus, is by far the most perfect building for such pur- poses now in the United States. A fat-faced gentleman, buttoned up to the chin, with a queer hat and a lisp, called upon me at Barnum's, and introduced himsell as Mr. Flynn, manager of the theatre at Annapolis, the capital of Maryland, the authority of Boz to the contrary notwithstanding, who bestows that hon- our upon Baltimore. He offered me half the re- ceipts of his theatre there per night, lor three nights, explaining that it would hold one hun- dred dollars. I accepted the proposal on hav- ing good security for the payment, which, in a very business-like manner, he immediately gave. I was to commence the engagement on the Monday following; and at dark on Saturday night I arrived at that very pretty little oklfash- ioned city. I must stop one instant here to say that the graveyard, with a few innocent sheep nibbling the short grass, and giving intensity to the repose of the romantic spot, would almost tempt anybody to be buried " quick" there. There is one grave where an Irish blacksmith is de-composed, with the iron anvil on which he worked for years for a tombstone: and a sim- ple tablet " To the memory of a good woman;" only think of having " dust to dust" shovelled on you just there ! . The hotel I found entirely deserted, with the exception of a negro, who was asleep outside the latticed portion of the bar-room. I had not been there an instant when I heard the chorus of the old Lincolnshire ditty I had introduced to this country : " Oh '. 'tis my delight of a shiny night, In the season of the year. Now, then !" CHAPTER XII. and in walked Booth— for 'twas he, followed by a clever young printer, by the name of Augus- tus Richardson, who afterward married Sam Chapman's widow, and a gentleman called Franciscus, whom I saw the other day at New- Orleans, and who didn't sow his wild oats with such good tasta. "Why, hallo!" said Booth, "what are you doing here, Cowein" I, like a true Englishman, answered by asking the same question. " Why," said Booth, " I am engaged for three nights and a benefit by Flynn ; I open here on Monday." . " So do I," said I, " and have the same nights.' " I am to get half the receipts," said he. " So am I," said I. " But I have it all signed and sealed, and Gwynn is security for the payment," said he. " Exactly the same case with me," said I. The fact is, Flynn had engaged us both on precisely the same terms, and as he explained to me not having the slightest reliance on Booth's promise to be there, he had engaged me to save him from the anger of the audience if Booth should disappoint them ; and was good-humour- edly prepared to give us oil between us. And it ■was with some difficulty— for, where money is concerned, Booth has sometimes a queer method in his madness— that he was induced to agree to take one third a piece all round. But this chapter is getting to be something too much of this, and I have a journey before me to " Tlie Far West." " In no country, and in no stage of society, his the drama ever existed (to my knowledge) in a ruder shite than that in which this company presented it."— The Doctor. I am not surprised that savages, when left to their own discretion to choose a God, should so frequently select the sun as the object of their adoration ; for, in his absence, even the Allegha- ny Mountains may be crossed, and Nature re- ceive no homage for her wonders. It was one o'clock in 'he morning, at the lat- ter end of November, that my dear boy Sam and myself left Baltimore in a stage-coach and a snow-storm; and in three days and two nights, through mud and mire, we arrived, as if by mir- acle, at Wheeling, Virginia, where we fortu- nately found a little steamboat, called the Poto- mac,' ready to start for Cincinnati. The Ohio River is notorious for being twelve hundred miles long, but as nothing is said about its width, to- my imagination it proved sadly out of proportion ; it happened to be a low stage of water, which then I knew nothing about; and I was disappoint- ed in not finding it wider than the Delaware, and not half so picturesque. The French christen- ed it La Belle Riviere, but a Frenchman's opin- ion should never be taken where the beauties oi Nature are concerned, unless they are fit to be cooked. John Randolph went to the other ex- treme, but was nearer the truth, when he descri- bed it as a paltry, nonsensical stream, dried up one half of the year, and frozen up the other. Winter had just taken Autumn in his rude em- brace, and the country on either side looked wild, and dreary, though divested of romance. " There stood the faded trees in grief, As various as their clouded leaf; With all the hues of sunset skies Were stamp'd the maple's mourning dies ; In meeker sorrow in the vale, The gentle ash was drooping pale ; Brown-sear'd, the walnut rear'd its head, The oak display'd a lifeless red, And grouping bass and white-wood hoar Sadly their yellow honours bore." Habitations were "few and far between," and then only a miserable log hut in the midst of "a clearing" of, perhaps, a dozen acres; the trunks of the fine old trees still standing, though burned to the core; and this evidence of their violent death adding artificial desolation to the natural- ly dreary landscape. At a wood-pile you would sometimes see a group of dirty, " loose, unatti- red" women and children, " With a sad, leaden, downward cast," destroying at a glance all your visions of primi- tive simplicity or rural felicity. These " early settlers " by a strange chain of thought, put me in mind of Paradise Lost and "Adam's first- green breeches ;" and I could not help but agree with Butler, that "The whole world, without art and dress, Would be but one great wilderness, And mankind but a savage herd, For all that Nature has conferr'd ; She does but rough-hew and design, Leaves art to polish and refine." Cincinnati in 1829 was a very different place from what it is now, but even then it wore a most imposing appearance : thanks to the clear- headed, adventurous Yankees, who, axe in hand, cut through the pathless forests, undismayed by toil and defying danger, until they found a spot, rowh-licwn and designed by Nature as the site for future ages to enthrone the pride of the Ohio Valley, the " dueen City of the West." We put 86 THIRTY YEARS up at the hotel near the landing, kept by Captain Cromwell, and in his little way quite as despotic as his namesake, the poor apology for a king ; lor after dinner — an operation which was per- formed by his boarders in three minutes at far- thest — myself and two acquaintances I had form- ed on the road drew towards the fire, and com- menced smoking our cigars. "You can't smoke here," said Captain Crom- well. And we instantly pleaded ignorance of his rules, though they might be thought a little fastidious after our scramble for dinner, and threw our cigars in the fire. "And you can't sit here," said Captain Crom- well. " If you want to sit, you must sit in the bar; and if you want to smoke, you can smoke in the bar." Slapping his hand on the table, after the man- ner of his ancestor dismissing the Long Parlia- ment ; and into the bar we went, where a play- bill on the wall announced that the " School for Scandal" was to be performed that evening for "the benefit of Mr. Anderson." I was making some inquiries of the barkeeper about the thea- tre, when a man about my own age and size, very shabby, very dirty, and very deaf, introdu- ced himself as Alexander Drake, the manager, curled his right hand round his ear, and, in a courteous whisper, invited me to "take some- thing." He was a kind, familiar, light-hearted creature, told me, with apparent glee, that he was over head and ears in debt to the company and everybody else ; that that night he had giv- en the use of the theatre, and the performers had tendered their services, to an old actor who ex- pected a "meeting of his creditors;" but that he had been obliged to close the theatre for the sim- ple reason that it wasn't fashionable ! What an abominable affliction have these ephemeral four syllables proved to the young and otherwise un- lettered country of which I am now writing ! Could the wrinkled outlaws of crippled monar- chies find no other chain to goad the neck and bow the head of independence, " Wandering mid woods and forests wild," than the introduction of fashionable atrocities to make the thoughtless laugh, the thinking grieve? The manager gave me an invitation to wit- ness the performance ; and after a pleasant chat — for he was a delightful companion — and " taking something" till the time for commencing, excu- sed himself for being obliged to leave, in conse- quence of having to "study Charles Surface, who went on in the third act." If he had never played the part before, he had an extraordinary "swallow;" for he was perfect, and performed it much better than I have often seen it done by those who consider such characters their line of business ; and he was a low comedian and an ex- cellent one, which may probably account for the unfitness of his dress : he wore white trousers of that peculiar cut you sometimes see frisk round the stage in what is called a sailor's hornpipe, and, being very short, exposed a pair of boots on which Day and Martin had never deigned to shine ; no gloves, a round hat, and the same blue coat and brass buttons I had already been intro- duced to, buttoned up to the top. His wife was the Lady Teazle ; a very fine looking woman, and plenty of her. I was not then accustomed to the peculiar twang in the pronunciation of the west end of the United States, which, in conse- quence, sounded uncouth and unlady-Teazle-like to me; for though Sir Peter particularly boasts that he has chosen a wife "bred altogether in the country," he didn't mean, I suppose, the West- ern country; but, at any rate, she got great ap- plause; everybody seemed very much pleased with her, and she seemed very much pleased with herself. Mrs. Drake has been very suc- cessful as a star since the time I speak of; she is one out of six or seven ladies who have by turns been called "the Mrs. Siddons of America;"- but what lor, for the life of me I never could find out ; but as the baptizers, in all probability, nev- er saw the Mrs. Siddons, they should stand ex- cused for taking her name in vain. Baron Hack- ett's sister-in-law, Mrs. Sharpe, was so christen- ed; but that must have been an oversight; for she is an English lady, the daughter of Old Le Sugg, well known thirty years ago as an eccen- tric itinerant, and said to have been the precept- or of Matthews in the art and mystery of imita- ting Punch and Judy. Raymond was the Joseph, a man nearly as big as " Big Scott," and would not now be men- tioned here, if he had not drowned himself be- cause some one said Parsons (another big one) was a better actor! Foolish fellow, " How poor are they who have not patience !" if he had waited a little longer he would have had the Western country heavy business all to himself; for, when theatricals began to decline in that hemisphere, Parsons turned Methodist, and joined the church. But whether he was disappointed in the profits attending his new profession, or that the groans his performance elicited were not understood at first to mean approval, and' he fancied he had made a failure, 1 know not, but the offer of a star engagement induced him to return to the stage. And nad he played the hypocrite, and got it understood that he was still a follower of the church, though, from necessity, an actor, he might have proved an attraction ; but he was honest for once, and took the other extreme, selected Doctor Cant- well for one of his characters, and insulted com- mon sense by his attempting to throw odium on the professors of religion ; and to the credit of the supporters of the drama be it said, he play- ed to empty benches. He is now, I understand, regularly engaged as a saint, and playing little business to Mafht. It must not be understood that I wish to con- vey an idea that an actor cannot be a religious man, and even a capable and devout teacher of Christianity ; but then his previous Hie should be strongly marked (like poor Conway's) with the attributes of piety, kindness of heart, and charity to all men; and Parsons, I'm afraid, if weighed in such a scale, like many other parsons, would be " found wanting." At the end of the play, a tall, scrambling-look- ing man with a sepulchral falsetto voice, sung " Giles Scroggin's Ghost," and I recognised him at once as an old acquaintance. While I was manager of the circus I called in one evening at the Park during the performance of " Bombas- tes Furioso," and was greatly amused at the eccentricities of one of the supernumeraries, and the more so, as I could plainly see it annoyed Hilson and Barnes. Simpson was with me, and we had a hearty laugh at the expense of the comedians, for they were all in the bill, and this man, vithovt a name, was the only person the audience appeared to notice ; and the next day Simpson told me that Hilson, Barnes, and Pla- cide had made a formal complaint against this PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 87 extemporaneous jester, and insisted on his not being again employed. His name, I found, was Rice, and not long after he " Turn'd about, and wheel'd about, And jump'd Jim Crow," to his own profit and the wonder and delight of all admirers of intellectual agility. The theatre was a small brick building, well designed, but wretchedly dark and disgustingly dirty, and, with the exception of the beneficiary and the per- sons I have named, the performance was quite in keeping. I don't know if it was considered a fashioiiabl-c house. There were about a hun- dred persons present, and I observed a majority of the ladies wore a little strip of silver cord or lace round their heads, an innocent remnant of national finery, I presume, and very generally worn by the Swiss and German peasants, who then constituted a large portion of the popula- tion. Old Drake had been a strolling manager in the West of England, and some years before had brought to this country a large family of children, all educated to sing, dance, fight com- bats, paint scenes, play the fiddle, and everything else ; and by wandering through the then wilder- ness, and giving entertainments at the numer- ous small towns which were daily ejecting the forest, he had made money by their combined exertions in that primitive dramatic way. But this portion of the Union had in a very few years outgrown even his boys and girls, and the march of improvement had marched rather be- yond the point of his experience. A few farms within a mile or two of each other had become, as if by magic, flourishing villages, then large towns and now magnifi- cent cities, the stumps of the firmly-rooted line old oaks still disputing inch by inch the paving of the well-built streets. A full-grown, enlightened population, kept pouring in from the older States, accompanied by the million skilful artisans who had been starving midst the crowd of equal talent in their native coun- tries, and whom Great Britain and the Conti- nent of Europe could so gladly spare. New towns must have new theatres, some- times even before they have new churches, and .Frankfort, Lexington, Louisville, and Cincin- nati had been so adorned for several years, and which now constituted the present circuit. Alexander Drake had been intrusted by his father with this branch of the concern, and had got in debt and got on the limits, and could not move out of the state till relieved by the insolv- ent law; and Old Drake was at Frankfort, .Kentucky, waiting for this company, to open the theatre there, and they could not move for want of funds. Poor Aleck so feelingly described his painful situation, that though there was very little prob- ability that I should make money under the ex- isting circumstances, with the remote hope of giving him some assistance, I agreed to play a Jew nights, to share with him after one hundred and thirty dollars, a sum very unlikely to be ever received, but to have half the amount of two houses for the services of myself and son, •which, in all probability, would cover my ex- penses, and give me time to form a better judg- ment of this new country. But, strange to say, our business averaged over two hundred dollars, .and both the benefits were crowded to overflow- ing. There is no class of persons in the world who so ostentatiously exhibit their estate as the play- ers. I speak of the majority. See them in pros- perity with "Rings, and things, and fine array:" their coat is always made in the extreme of the most ridiculous fashion then in vogue, and, that it may be useful on the stage, generally of a lighter blue, or green, or brown, than is usually worn; pantaloons of some peculiar colour — blot- ting-paper is a favourite tint — and a hat, either very little, very big, or very something, very un- like what would be seen on any head but an ac- tor's; but when either garment is unseamed and seated, and the brim of the hat bowed ofT, every rent speaks with a "dumb mouth" of abject beg- gary, when a homely garment, though thread- bare, if it did not conceal the poverty, would still shield the wearer from ridicule and contempt. The ladies, bless them, always dress beautifully when they can ; but 'tis melancholy to meet them when they cannot, with lace veils and flannel petticoats, artificial flowers and feathers, with worsted stockings and muddy shoes. I shall neither mention names nor particularly describe the party I saw the first morning I went to re- hearsal huddled round the fire, in what was call- ed the green-room. In one corner, on the floor, was a pallet-bed and some stage properties, evi- dently used to make shift to cook with, such as tin cups and dishes, a brass breastplate, and an iron helmet half full of boiled potatoes, which, I was informed, was the domestic paraphernalia of the housekeeper and ladies'-dresser. She was a sort of half Indian, half Meg-Merrilies-iooking creature, very busily employed in roasting cof- fee on a sheet of thunder, and stirring it round with one of Macbeth's daggers, for "on the blade and dudgeon, gouts" of rose-pink still re- mained. I soon got acquainted with the ladies and gentlemen; Rice I found a very unassuming, modest young man, little dreaming then that he was destined to astonish the Duchess of St. Al- ban's, or anybody else; he had a queer hat, very much pointed down before and behind, and very much cocked on one side. I perched myself on a throne-chair, by the side of Mrs. Drake, who was seated next the fire, on a bass drum. I found her a most joyous, affable creature, full of conundrums and good nature ; she made some capital jokes about her peculiar position ; mar- tial music — sounds by distance made more sweet; and an excellent rhyme to drum, which I arn very sorry I have forgotten. When a manager ceases to pay, he soon ceas- es to have any authority ; the rehearsals, there- fore, did not deserve the name ; the distribution of the characters the performers settled among themselves, and said as much of them as suited their convenience; but they were all very civil, and apparently anxious to attend to my interests, and the audience was esily pleased. Sam made a prodigious hit ; from ten to twenty dollars, and sometimes much more, would be thrown on the stage during his comic singing : a tribute of ad- miration not at all uncommon in those days in the South and West. At Louisville, one night, seven half-eagles were sprinkled amid the show- er of silver which always accompanied his Af- rican Melodies. Loose change is not so plenti- ful in these days. 88 THIRTY YEARS CHAPTER XIII. " The aspiring youth that fired the Ephesiarj dome Outlives in fame the pious fool that raised it." Richard the Third. The profits arising from our engagement had been distributed among the performers, and they had set off for Kentucky ; and Drake had had an excellent benefit, for which we had played gratuitously. It was now suggested by some of the Jirst peo- ple, that if Mrs. Drake could obtain our services, and give an entertainment in any place but the theatre, she might be certain that all the fashion- ables, who wished particularly to see my son, would attend, and so give their aid towards re- lieving the manager of part of the encumbrances their want of patronage had occasioned. I con- sented to sing a song, and Sam had no objection to singing a dozen, and a Grand Olio was con- cocted. Mr. and Mrs. Drake were to act Sir Peter and Lady Teazle's, and Sir Adam and Lady Constant's detached scenes ; Aleck to sing Kitty Clover, Gregory Redtail, Love and Sau- sages, and half a hundred more fashionable com- ic songs; and Mrs. Drake to deliver "O'Con- ner's Child," the " Scolding Wife," and half a hundred more fashionable recitations. I was to sing " Chit Chat for the Ladies," in the first part of the entertainment, ana Sam to give his "Ne- gro Melodies" with a white face, in the second ; and a violin and violoncello were to constitute the orchestra. Tosso was the leader, a gifted musician, who played familiar airs divinely ; but, being blind, his accompaniments to strange melodies had to run after the voice in a pretty frolicking manner, more for his own amusement than any assistance he gave to the singer. Now this hotch-potch was supposed to be more attractive for a. fashionable audience than the same actors would be in a wholesome play and farce, with the assistance of the company, and the advantages of scenery and dress. Pshaw ! After due preparation, a night was chosen by Mr. Drake's principal patroness, when it was positively ascertained there would not be a tea- party of any consequence in the whole city, and the place of exhibition Mrs. Trollope's Bazar. This is a very singular affair: built of brick- in a by-street turning out of Broadway, so that, fortunately, its nonsensical appearance don't ac- tually interfere with the good taste displayed in the simply elegant buildings just round the cor- ner. For what the original inventor intended this structure, Heaven only knows; in my time it has undergone a dozen alterations, at least, to endeavour to make it fit for something; but its first plan was so curiously contrived, that every effort Yankee ingenuity could suggest to make it useful has successively failed. It no doubt cost a vast sum of money to erect. These fan- cy buildings, which highly-imaginative ladies sometimes conceive, however clearly described, are very incomprehensible to the artists in bricks and mortar taught only to work by rule, even though the instructions may be assisted with prints in perspective to copy " something like that little bit" of the exterior of the Harem, or " this little bit" of the Pavilion at Brighton. But Mrs. Trollope's zeal to improve the taste of this young common-sense population, whom she intended, and fully expected, would ultimately look up to her with awe and admiration, nerved her with patience to surmount all the tortures of pulling down and building up, till she at length succeed- ed in getting a roof with a tin-basin-shaped : dome, and a large gilt crescent on the top, of the oddest-looking building that ever was invented. The interior, no doubt, was an after considera- tion. Two half-circular stairways met at the top of six or seven steps, which led to an en- trance wide enough for two persons to pass in conveniently at the same time, into a large din- gy-looking room : this was the Bazar. I am speaking of it as I saw it for the first time. There was a sort of long counter on either side, and some empty shelves here and there against the walls. On the left hand, near the door, an elderly lady in spectacles was sitting behind a little lot of dry goods, knitting either suspenders or garters ; and at the farther end of the room a very melancholy-looking man was employed in reading, behind his share of the counter, I sup- pose. He put his book down as we advanced and stood up, as much as to say. " What do you want to buy V I glanced at his stock in trade. There were a few pieces, or, rather, remnants of calico and Kentucky jean, the ends unrolled and fastened to the ceiling, some ribands in the usu- al pasteboard box, and the cover upside down by the side of it, filled with papers of pins, and needles, and cotton balls; whether he had just started in business, or was about closing the con- cern, it was impossible to guess, so I bought a paper of pins and asked the question. " I have only been here a week, sir," said he, dolefully, "and, with the exception of the socks I sold that young gentleman this morning, you are the only one as 'as bought anything since I opened." Sam had been to market, in conse- quence of the absence of the washerwoman, and had found out " this queer-looking place," as he justly called it. " Then you don't find it answer 7" said I. " Oh dear, no, sir — very far from it," he re- plied: "nothing answers that's rational in this outlandish country, as Mrs. Trollope says; I wish, with all my art, I'd never seen it." " You are an Englishman, are you not 1" said I. " Yes, sir, eaven be praised ; and you is too," he continued, with a very knowing look. " I re- member you at the Adelphi ; I took the gallery tickets there." " Pray, had I the pleasure of your acquaint- ance in London V I inquired, respectfully. " Oh no, sir, but I knowed you was the same as I knowed there as soon as I seen the play- bill. But I was very intimate with John Reeve," he continued, with much importance. " It was him as recommended me to Rodwell ; he was clerk in the same ouse as I was in afore he turn- ed a hactor — Mr. , the ozheer in Cheap- side : I used to weave stockins in the front cel- lar at the hairy winder." " I understand," said I : "a sort of living sign." " Why," he replied, with a look as if he didn't approve of my interpretation, "it's rather con- finin', to be sure; but one gets good wages, and with what I earned by keeping door at night, it's a plaguy sight better than setting all day in this rum concern, and getting nothing but your wickles." " And is that all you get for your services V I asked. " Why, you see," said he, in a confidential under-tone of voice, " the old woman thinks this ere will be a great go one of these days ; but she can't get the Yankees to believe in it, and they PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 89' won't rent the stands ; so any of her own coun- try as apply, she furnishes 'em with a few things, and gives 'em half the profits and a cold cut, and a cup o' tea, to try and get the place into notice. But 1 think it's all in my eye," he continued, with a cunning wink ; " she'll never be able to melerate the manners of the Mericans, as she calls it : d'ye sec them 'ere spitboxes 1" pointing to a row filled with clean sawdust, on the outside of the counter. " Well, she can't begin to persuade 'em to make use on 'em; they will squirt there backer on one side, which teazes the old woman half to death." It was in a room of similar dimensions to this that the aristocratic exhibition took place. At the extreme end there was a raised platform; this was permanent, and the apartment intended by the founder of the building as the forum, in which the mischievous outpourings of any wan- dering fanatic, whose solemn yet impotent ef- forts to overthrow the institutions and annihilate the creeds of the older country might here, on the fresh bosom of this newly-planted world, in- graft the poison of their mildewed minds, dis- guised in all the demoniacal decorations of our language, " And sweet religion make A rhapsody of words." A green baize curtain was fastened from the ceiling across the middle of the platform, to form the stage and behind tlie scenes, where we were huddled together, with two chairs between us, be- fore the audience arrived; there being only one door to get in or out at, this was our only re- source, or to parade through the fashionables when time to commence. When they did come they came all together, Mr. and Mrs. Trollope, with their family, leading the way, and amount- ing to about thirty in all, laughing and talking very happily, accompanied by Tosso and the bass, with some plaintive Irish melodies. Drake interrupted this only expression of hilarity du- ring the time I was sitting perdue behind the baize by ringing a little bell, and a minute passed in shuffling of feet and legs of chairs — all was breath- less silence. Another tingle-dingle, and Mrs. Drake appeared, her majestic form and white satin train, which Drake had spread out and pla- ced on the floor at its full extent, as she gracefully glided through a slit in the baize, taking posses- sion entirely of the stage. Three queen-like courtesies to the right, the left, and centre, which was entirely vacant, with the exception of the doorkeeper, who stood a little in advance of his station cutting and shuffling the few tickets he had received in his hands, and with which he gave a wh-r-r-rup ! which formed the only re- sponse to the courtesies. The fact is, it was not fashionable to take notice of anything; but a very loud sneeze, which a young lady favoured me with during the third verse of my song, caus- ed a whispering titter; and the one that usually follows, being interfered with by a friend or pocket-handkerchief, went the wrong way, and the very odd kind of noise it assumed caused a general laugh, during which I finished my song, and made my escape through the slit. The first part over, Mrs. Trollope invited me to the refreshment-room. Most of the gentlemen I had been acquainted with before, and many of the ladies I had had the pleasure of an introduc- tion to, and among them the beautiful, blushing young creature, who made some innocent apolo- gies "for the cold in her head. Mrs. Trollope gave fifty reasons why at least fifty more of her friends, and the first people in the city, were not there; but in an alter acquaintance with the character of the inhabitants, I found that her having anything do with it made it a wonder there were any there at all, her philosophical mode of going to heaven being objectionable to a large portion of the American population. She appeared delighted at this new appliance of her property. " I always told Mr. Trollope," said she, with great glee, "that I should make a fortune by this building, after all. A series of entertain- ments of this kind must become fashionable in time. My friend, Mrs. Drake, is exactly of my way of thinking: we must prevail on you and your dear little boy to remain with us for a week or two longer." " That will be impossible, madam," I replied. " And I have been too long accustomed to a reg- ular theatre to be of any use in a performance of this description." " Oh ! I beg your pardon," said she, quickly;. " the ladies are all delighted with your song — you must sing us another or two. And as to a regular theatre, just step this way, and I'll show you what I intend to do." And away the bustling little lady went, and I at her heels. " Now you see, Mr. Cowell, I'll have the dais enlarged, and made on a declivity ; and then I'll have beautiful scenes painted in oil colours, so that they can be washed every morning and kept clean. I have a wonderfully talented French painter, whom I brought with me, but the people here don't appreciate him, and this will help to bring him into notice. And then I'll have a hole cut here," describing a square on the floor with her toe; "and then a geometrical staircase for the artistes to ascend perpendicularly," twirling round and round her finger, " instead of having to walk through the audience part of the area. Or," said she, after a pause, " I'll tell you what will be as well, and not so costly. I'll have some canvass nailed along the ceiling, on this side, to form a passage to lead to the stage ; Mr. Hervien can paint it like damask, with a large gold border, and it would have a fine effect !" Fortunately, a farther description of contem- plated alterations was interrupted by one of her little ladies, as she appropriately called her daughters, who came in a hurry to inform her that the fashionables had eaten up all the cakes, and she trotted off to supply the deficiency; and I, recollecting the " one or two more" songs I might be expected to sing, whispered to Sam to follow me as soon as possible, and was sneaking quietly down stairs, when I was met by my friend Rogers. He then kept a dry-goods store, but formerly was of the firm of Rogers and Page, of Philadelphia, who had been my tailors for years. " Why, hallo! Cowell," said he, "you are not going. The ladies have commissioned me to get you to sing them another song." " Oh ! certainly," said I ; " with great pleas- ure. I shall be back in an instant." I knew it was useless to refuse ; everybody knows that tailors will never take no for an an- swer, even when they dun you for their bill; so, following the example of their customers, I lied. But fearing that his perseverance might induce him even to follow me to my hotel, I took shel- ter in a tavern at the corner of Market-street and Broadway ; had a chat with Jemmy Gibson, then the proprietor, and sipped gin-and-water till the 90 THIRTY YEARS lights were extinguished in Mrs. Trollope's tur- ret, and the show and all danger over. Cincinnati bore the character of a very bad theatrical town at that time; but even in the sketch I have given, I have shown, I think, good cause why nothing else could be expected. But the first season I was acting-manager for Cald- well, though we had a temporary theatre, a more elegant and discerning audience could not be met with in the United States ; and we had real- ly fashionable, and, what was better, crowded .houses every night. The next morning we started for Kentucky. CHAPTER XIV. " This is some fellow "Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he !" King Lear. The regular theatre at Louisville, an excel- 'lent brick building, belonging to old Drake, was closed ; but a cattle shed or stable had been ap- propriated to that purpose, and fitted up as a tem- porary stage. The yard adjoining, with the board fence heightened and covered with some old canvass, supported by scaffold poles to Ibrm the roof, and rough seats on an ascent to the back, and capable of holding about two hundred per- sons, constituted the audience part of the estab- lishment, the lower benches nearest the stage being dignified by the name of boxes, and the upper, nearest the ceiling, the pit. Here I found a strolling company on a sharing scheme, at the head of which was N. M. Ludlow. Nothing I had ever seen in the way of theatricals could be likened to this deplorable party. At Cincinnati ■I thought it was as wretched a specimen as it "well could be anywhere ; but there it was real- ly a theatre, and the company composed of much unexperienced talent : Rice and Mrs. George Rowe, for instance, and Drake and his accom- plished wife, were capable of holding the first xank in the drama in any theatre ; but here there was not one redeeming point. Who they all "were, or what has become of them, Heaven only knows ; I don't remember to have met with any of them since, with the exception of the manager and his lady. Hamblin had just concluded an ■engagement here ; and after as formal a negoti- ation as if it had been the Park Theatre, we en- tered into an agreement for a few nights, I think to receive forty per cent, after one hundred dol- lars for six or seven performances, and half of the whole receipts at each benefit. We played to crowded houses. The strict financial correctness, with the dili- gence and skill displayed by Ludlow in con- ducting this " poverty-struck" concern, is above all praise, and gained for him the confidence of Caldwell, who shortly after engaged him as his agent to manage a branch of his company at St. Louis and other places. This responsible though subordinate position he was well quali- fied to maintain, and with the powerful advanta- ges of Caldwell's name and purse to support the xespectability of the establishment, no matter if successful or not, his "official capacity" gained for him both friends and reputation. Three or four years afterward he went into management again on his own account with some success, and ultimately formed a partnership with Sol. Smith — a very worthy fellow, somewhat over- charged with caricature fun, which is tolerated on the stage more for old acquaintance' sake in that part of the Union where he has been long known and respected, than for any other reason common sense could give. He had also been a strolling manager through some small towns in Alabama and Georgia, by which he had realized a reputed handsome property. At that short- lived time when what went for money was in- trinsically of little or no value, and, of course, most plentiful, a splendid theatre was built and leased to them at St. Louis; and the profits of their first season was immense, for, receiving only money at par, or specie, and disbursing the depreciated paper then generally in circulation, their opportunities for a profitable exchange were alone worth a little fortune. But in a theatrical point of view only, the requisites that can make a few tattered actors in a room or stable profita- ble or respectable, are qualifications but ill cal- culated to exalt or maintain what should be the state of the legitimate drama. And now that Caldwell will no longer serve as a check or an example, the perfect prostration of the profession at the South and West may be considered as certain. I have just heard that they have leased the Mobile Theatre, as well as that they call the St. Charles at New-Orleans. Anderson, who made his exit from Cincinnati as soon as his benefit was over, I again met here. He is an Englishman of good family, and married Jefferson's eldest daughter. Endowed with much natural and acquired talent, he can be a most agreeable companion, but so eccentric is his disposition, that his own and other's miseries are his only jokes : he will tell of a child having been run over, or something equally shocking, with a smile of satisfaction ; and a piece of good luck to himself or any of his friends, with a most melancholy countenance. Determined to be wretched and prostrate himself, he glories in meeting mankind in the same situation ; and the theatrical society he found at Louisville appear- ed to actually intoxicate him with delight. His extreme disagreeableness was most amusing to me, and he was a constant visiter at my room at Langhorne's, then considered the principal hotel. Some five years ago, when everybody who did not care where they went, went to Texas, he went too ; and among the numbers I have known who have tried the experiment of making a liv- ing in that experimental country, he is the only one I ever knew return without either person or apparel being the worse for the trip ; everybody else appeared as if they had slept in their hats all the while they were there ; but he was water proof in hat and heart, and was the same as ever; and, according to his own account, he had literal- ly lived all through the cholera on mushrooms of his own gathering. To his experience I left the selection of a boat for New-Orleans, as, in conse- quence of procuring two passengers, he explained that the captain would take him for less than the usual charge, or, in all probability, "chalk his hat," and he chose the Helen M'Gregor, Tyson, master, on these favourable terms. A few days after we became intimate, byway of giving a business-like responsibility to our connexion, he became the borrower of a " V," as he called it, alias five dollars, which trifling ob- ligation he soon increased to an "X;" but, un- fortunately, my not being in the humour a day or two after to add another V to his Roman numer- als, " my offence was rank," and he left me, high- PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 91 ly incensed at my ungentlemanlike conduct; and though we travelled on the same boat, he did not even condescend to look at me, much less to speak, and I lost the gratification of his sarcastic pleasantries, for which there was such a glorious scope in the variegated party who constituted our companions. The morning after my arrival in New-Orleans, before I left my bed, a yellow ■woman with a cup of coffee announced a gentle- man : I opened my eyes to see Mr. Anderson toss ■with an air of dignity on the coverlet ten silver dollars, and then coming to my side, thrust forth his hand, and said, " Now, sir, I'm out of your debt — shall we be friends again V I, of course, said yes, but urged that he would not inconvenience himself by an immediate pay- ment. "Sir!" said he, pompously, "take the vile trash, and never name the subject. I was part- ly wrong, and you mistook your man." I laced my coffee ; he mixed himself some brandy-and- water; he has never asked to bor- row, and I have never offered to lend, and I have had the pleasure of his acquaintance ever since, and he is still the same; his well-merited, continual poverty serving to make his high sense of honour the more conspicuous. As an actor, he is highly respectable in all he undertakes ; and a little bit of him now and then Is so delicious in a green-room, that wherever I am employed, and have influence with the man- agement, Anderson is sure of an engagement. Jemmy Bland's reply, in Shakspeare's play, describes him to a nicety: " Who is this CoriolanusT' "Who is he"?" said Jemmy, not knowing -what he ought to say : " why, he's a fellow who is always going about grumbling, and making everybody uncomfortable." CHAPTER XV. " Oh, won't you — oh, won't you Go along with me Away down the river, Through Kentucky?" — Western Ballad. The floating palaces which now navigate the Western waters, bear as little likeness to the style of vessels then in use, as the manners and char- acters of the majority of passengers you met with then, resemble the travellers who now as- semble in the magnificent saloons of the pres- ent day, where all the etiquette and decorum is observed of a table d'hote at a well-appointed hotel. A sketch of what is will serve, by contrast, the better to convey an idea of what was considered a first-rate class of boat in 1829. In speaking of the Western steamers of the present day, I shall only allude to that portion of the vessel appropriated to the passengers, and that must not be considered as identical, but an average description; the Missouri, the Harry of the West, and twenty others, I could name as far exceed- ing, in many instances, the portrait I shall draw. The saloon, or principal chamber, extends near- ly the whole length of the boat, on the upper deck, over the machinery and steerage, as it is called — where comfortable accommodations are provided for the deck-hands and deck-passen- gers — terminating forward with large glazed doors opening on a covered space called the boiler-deck, and aft by the ladies' cabin, with which it communicates by folding doors, which are generally left open in warm weather, in the daytime. The whole is lighted from above by a continuous skylight, round the side of a long oval, which looks as if it had been cut out from the ceiling, and lifted some two feet above it perpendicularly, and there supported by framed glass. On either side of this carpeted and splen- didly-furnished apartment are ranged the state- rooms, the doors ornamented with Venitian or cut-glass windows, and assisting, by their long line of perspective, the general effect. These small chambers usually contain two berths, never more, which always look as if you were the first person who had ever slept in them — with curtains, moscheto-bars, toilet stands, draw- ers, chairs, carpets, and all the elegant necessa- ries of a cosey bedroom. Another door leads to the guard, or piazza, protected with a railing on the side, and covered overhead; and this forms a promenade all round the boat, and joins the boiler-deck, where you can lounge with your cigar, and view with wonder, perhaps with re- gret, if your nature is picturesque, the hourly interference of untiring man with the solitude of the long-remembered wilderness. The ladies are even more carefully provided for; there is usually one, and often two grand pianofortes in their apartment; which I should consider a positive nuisance if obliged to hear them tickled to death by young beginners and nurse-maids amusing themselves by making be- lieve to keep the children quiet; but, Heaven be praised, there is plenty of room to get out of the way, this area being usually from eighty to two hundred feet in length. In many of the lar- ger boats double state-rooms are provided for families, and young married people who are afraid to sleep by themselves, with four-post bed- steads, and other on-shore arrangements — such as are to be found at the St. Charles's Exchange, or Barnum's Hotel, or, what is better still, at home. Now the Helen M'Gregor was a very differ- ent affair, but in her day her reputation was as high as anybody's or boat's. It was at night, and in December, raining and making believe to snow, when I arrived on board at Shipping Port, some two miles below Louisville; the boat be- ing very heavily laden, and drawing too much water to get over the falls, and the canal was not then finished — a most beautiful piece of work, by-the-by; the excavation being made in the solid limestone rock, gave it the appearance of an enormous empty marble bath. She was crowded with passengers : perhaps a hundred in the cabin, and at least that number upon deck; for at that time the steerage occupied the space now allotted to the saloon, and was filled to over- flowing with men, women, and children, chiefly Irish and German labourers, with their families, in dirty dishabille. This man-pejvwas furnished with a stove, for warmth and domestic cooking, and two large, empty shelves, one above the other, all round, boarded up outside about four feet high. These served for sleeping-places for those who had bedding, or those who were obli- ged to plank it; the remaining space above these roosts was only protected from the weather by tattered canvass curtains between the pillars which supported the hurricane-deck, alias the roof, which was spread over with a multitude of cabbages, making sourkrout of themselves as fast as possible, and at least fifty coops of fight- ing-cocks, each in a separate apartment, with a hole" in the front for his head to come through; and their continual notes of defiance, mixed up 92 THIRTY YEARS •with the squalling and squeaking of women and children, and the boisterous mirth or vehement quarrelling of the men, in all kinds of languages, altogether kicked up a rumpus that drowned even the noise of the engine, which then was only separated from the cabin by a thin parti- tion. By-the-by, all our old poets speak of "the cock, that is the herald of the morn," as if he did not crow in the night! but only at the approach of day, and in the daytime. I know little about rural felicity in my own country; but here, in America, the cocks crow whenever they think proper, and always all night long, particularly on board a steamboat, because there you are more likely to take notice of the annoyance. The cabin was on the lower deck, immediate- ly abaft the boilers, with a small partition at the stern set apart for the females. At the time 1 speak of, there were very kw resident American merchants at New-Orleans at all, and those few generally left their families at home in the North and therefore the presence of woman — " Creatine in whom excell'd Whatever can to sight or thought be forin'd, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet !" •was no restraint on naturally barbarous man, and, consequently, " a trip down the river" was then an uncontrolled yearly opportunity for the young merchants and their clerks to go it with a perfect looseness, mixed up indiscriminately with "a sort of vagabonds" of all nations, who then made New-Orleans their " jumping-ojf place," till Texas fortunately offered superior inducements, and there war and disease have bravely thinned the hordes of " Rascals, runaways, and base lackey peasants, Whom their o'er-cloy'd countries vomit forth To desperate venture and assured destruction." All moral and social restraint was placed in the shade — there Jack was as good as his master — and never was Republicanism more practically re- publicanized than it was during the twelve days of confinement I passed on board this high-pres- sure prison. Some such a party I presume it was that Mrs. Trollope met with, which she, no doubt innocent- ly, but ignorantly, gives as a specimen of the ''■domestic maimers of the Americans." Poor old lady, what a mess she made of it! There were no state-rooms, no wash-room, nor even a social-hall ; and, therefore, on the guard — within two inches of the level of the river, and about two feet wide, with nothing to prevent your falling overboard if your foot slipped, or " was a little swipey" — you made your toilet, with a good chunk of yellow soap on a stool, to which two tin basins were chained, and alongside a barrel of water. The cabin contained thirty-two berths; and the two next the door Anderson had secured for myself and my dear boy. In the daytime these were piled up with the surplus mattresses and blankets, which, at night, were spread close together on the floor, and under and on the dining-tables, for so many of the remain- der of the passengers as were fortunate enough to have precedence even in this luxury, after the berths were disposed of. The remainder of the party sat up, drinking, smoking, playing cards, or grumbling at not being able to find a single horizontal space, under cover, large enough to stretch their weary limbs on; perhaps changing the scene of their discontent by going on shun: at a wood-pile, and putting their eyes out by standing in the smoke of the signal-fire, to de- fend themselves from the bloodthirsty attacks of a million of moschetoes. Fortunately, the weather was most delightful for the season of the year, and Sam and I passed most of our time on the hurricane-deck, among the cabbages, leaving their fragrance behind ; and the chicken-cocks, with Sam and the echoes, all imitating one another. Your arrival at the mouth of the Ohio is visibly announced by the sudden and extraordinary discoloration of the water, which gives you notice the moment you- pass the threshold of the great Mississippi.. From childhood familiar with all the wonders of the ocean, a mental comparison with it and this gigantic river was natural to me, on first making its acquaintance ; and I confess it claim- ed a formidable share of the awe and admiration I had hitherto considered only due, as far as wa- ter was concerned, to my old associate. Call it the Missouri — which I wish it had been called — and it measures 4490 miles in length ! and if the Mississippi, 2910, and passes through more than twenty degrees of latitude! What a pity that that microscopic observer of nature mi two legs, the immense Dickens, should so soon have made up his mind that it wasn't fit either to taste or talk of! " Oh ! think what tales he'd have to tell" if he, instead of taking the wrong pig by the ear, had taken a trip or two up the Missouri with my worthy friend Captain Dennis, of the Thames, or had had the useless experience " Of wandering youths like me." The Upper Mississippi, as it is called — God send that every friend I have on earth could be- hold for even once the stupendous wonders through which a portion of the navigable part of the Up- per Mississippi rolls along — though the stream itself might wander through the world, and be likened to a hundred others, or pass unnoticed : but when it joins the Missouri, or, more fitly speaking, when the Missouri takes possession of its course, its pure and placid character is gone forever. A Bath-brick finely pulverized and stirred up in a pailful of spring water may give a conceived resemblance of its colour and con- sistency ; and this appearance it maintains, wilh an interminable and never-ceasing rush, for the remainder of its journey, of more than thirteen hundred miles. Well was it named " The Fallier of Waters," ibr even when the " crystal pavement,'' for a win- ter month or two, suspends a portion of its navi- gation, "The whole imprison'd river growls below," embracing in its mad career the thousands of miles of waters emptied into it by the Illinois, the Ohio, the Arkansas, the Red River, and the innumerable smaller streams, all aiding to in- crease its power. And in return, the mighty ty- rant overwhelms on the instant their transparent interference, and carries with it, in its turgid course, its mountain-stained identity, even for miles, into the Gulf of Mexico! till, in contin- uous struggles for the mastery, it fades away, in oil-like circles, round and round the deep, dark blue of the old Atlantic. Who the ladies were on board, I know not: none were ever seen with the exception of Fanny Wright; and her notorious anti-matrimonial propensities, at that time, hardly gave her a claim to come under that denomination. As soon as our breakfast was over, which occupied an hour PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 93 and a half or more, the double row of tables, the •extreme length of the cabin, consisting of a com- mon mahogany one at each end, and the inter- mediate space tilled up by a pile of shutters laid side by side, and supported by trestles, had to be three or lour times provided with venison, wild ducks, geese, and turkies, and all the luxuries of this o'erteeming country, and there called common food. This operation ended, the origi- nal Fanny would take her station at a small ta- ble, near the door of the ladies' cabin, and sit and write or read till late at night, with the exception of the time for meals, and an hour or two of ex- ercise upon the guard ; and the moment she made her appearance there, without form or show of ceremony, it was respectfully deserted by the men till her promenade was over. The Amer- icans are naturally the most unostentatiously gallant people in the world. An Englishman will make a long apology for not doing what he should have done, and said nothing about it ; and a Frenchman will upset a glass oiparfaii V amour in a lady's lap, by dancing over a tea-stand to hand her a bon-bon, in an attitude ! Among the men were some most intelligent and entertaining companions. A day or two formed us all into little knots or parties; and I was a member of a most delightful one, among whom was gladly admitted, for his good-humour and originality, the proprietor of the fighting cocks. He was a young man, but had evident- ly taken so many liberties with Time, that he, in return, had honoured him with many conspicu- ous marks of early favour, and milk-white hairs began to dispute with his untrimned auburn locks the shading of his open, manly brow. He took a great fancy to my dear boy, and, in consequence, I was high in his favour and con- fidence, and he insisted on telling me a portion of his history. His grandfather was a man of great wealth in the Old Dominion, and a distin- guished member of her councils. His father, born to inherit his certain share of the property, began to spend it before he actually came in pos- session of his fortune, married early in life, and lost his wife in giving birth to this only son ; and living night and day full gallop, died of literal old age at forty-five. "The night he died," said my young friend, putting a deck of marble-backed cards into his pocket, with which he had just satisfactorily concluded a game at old sledge, "the night he died, my father called me to the side of his bed. ' Washington,' said he, taking my hand in his, which felt as cold and clammy as a dead fish, 'Washington, you'll never be able to pay off the mortgage on the property, and you'll be left without a dollar.' I said nothing ; it was of no use. ' Here, take my keys,' said he, ' and go to the escritoir, and in the right-hand little drawer you'll find — but no matter, bring the drawer and all.' I did as I was told. 'Now,' said he, picking out the apparatus, 'send the boy to get a chicken, and I'll show you some- thing I paid too dearly lor the learning — and that's just it,' said the old man, with a deep sigh ; 'if my father had left me nothing else, I should not now leave my boy in poverty.' 1 couldn't speak, for I saw the old man rub his hand across his eyes, so I kept on waxing the silk as he had di- rected. The boy had brought the bird — a perfect picture — he didn't touch the feathers; he had learned me all that, and how to hold a chicken, when I wasn't bigger than your boy Sam, but the heeling was the grand secret. The old gen- tleman then trimmed and sawed the spur, and spit upon the buckskin, telling me, all the time, to looic on and mind what he was doing; but he was so feeble the little exertion was too much, and he got quite exhausted, and I made the boy take the cock, while I supported father. When he got through, ' There,' said he, triumphantly, with a kind of squeaking chuckle, ' lhaX's the way to gaff a chicken', that will beat Ike world!' and fell back upon his pillow. He made the boy jump when he said, that's tlte way to gaff a chicken! and the steel jerked through the nig- ger's hand — the blood spirted out upon the sheet; and as I turned to sop it up, father's eyes were full upon me, but yet he didn't look. ' Father,' I said, softly, and waited, but he didn't speak: 1 Father !' I put my ear close to his open mouth : ' Father,' I said again, but he didn't answer — the old gentleman was dead. But he had showed, me how to gaff a chicken-cock." Playing at cards was the chief amusement at night, and my skill only extending to a homely game at whist, I was more frequently a looker on than a participator. My friend Washington was an adept at all short gambling games; and one that 1 don't remember to have seen played since, and which he boasted of having been the inventor of, of course he was particularly expert at. It appeared a game of chance, as simple as tossing up a dollar. Two only played at it, and three cards were singly dealt to each, of the same value as at whist, and a trump turned up ; and the opponent to the dealer might order it to be turned down, and then make it another suit more agreeable to his hand, or play it as it was. Of course, the great point in favour of the opponent to the dealer was to know if he held any trumps, and how many he had. For some time luck seemed to be greatly in favour of my chicken friend, and the bets were doubled — trebled, and he gave me a knowing, triumphant look, while glancing at his pile. But suddenly there came a sad reverse of fortune. Sitting by was an apparently uninterested looker-on like myself, peering over my friend's hand, and marking, by his fingers stretched upon the table, the number of trumps he held. The eagle eye of the Virginian soon detected the vil- lany, and taking out his hunting-knife — it was before Bowie christened them — began paring his nails with well-acted indifference, as if en- tirely absorbed in the game, and laid it quietly on the table without its sheath. The next hand dealt him one trump, and the spy placed his fore-finger on the table, which my friend instant- ly chopped off! " Hallo ! stranger, what are you about V shouted the dismembered gentleman. "You have cut off one of my fingers." " I know it," said old Virginia, coolly; "and if I had had more trumps, you would have had less fingers." This was considered an excellent practical joke, and we all took a drink together, and I lent the wounded a handkerchief to bind up his hand, which I reminded him last fall, at Gallatin races, that he had forgotten to return. A lieutenant in the navy, on his way to Pen- sacola to join his ship, was one of our boat- mates, and belonged to the flooring committee — so all were called who had to sleep on it. Two ardent devotees at seven-up, finding no better place late at night, while he was fast asleep coiled away in his cloak, squatted on either side of him", and made his shoulder their table. 94 THIRTY YEARS The continual tip, tap, as the cards were played by each upon his back, rather aided his seaman- like repose ; but an energetic slap by one of the combatants at being "High., by thunder!" awa- kened him, and looking up, one of the players, slightly urging down his head, said, in a confi- dential whisper, " Hold on a minute, stranger; the game's just out — I've only two to go — have twelve for game in my own hand, and have got the Jack." He, of course, accommodated them, and when the game was out, he found they had been keep- ing the run of it with, chalk tallied on his stand-up collar. One night, while I was getting instructed in the mysteries of uker, and Sam was amusing himself by building houses with the surplus cards at the corner of the table, close by us was a party playing poker. This was then exclu- sively a high-gambling Western game, founded on brag, invented, as it is said, by Henry Clay when a youth; and if so, very humanely, for ei- ther to win or lose, you are much sooner relieved of all anxiety than by the older operation. For the sake of the uninformed, who had bet- ter know no more about it than I shall tell them, I must endeavour to describe the game when play- ed with twenty-five cards only, and by four per- sons. The aces are the highest denomination ; then the kings, queens, Jacks, and tens ; the smaller cards are not used ; those I have named are all dealt out, and carefully concealed from one an- other; old players pack them in their hands, and peep at them as if they were afraid to trust even themselves to look. The four aces, with any other card, cannot be beat. Four kings, with an ace, cannot be beat, because then no one can have four aces; and four queens, or Jacks, or tens, with an ace, are all inferior hands to the kings, when so attended. But holding the cards I have instanced seldom occurs when they are fairly dealt; and three aces, for example, or three kings, with any two of the other cards, or four queens, or Jacks or tens, is called a full, and with an ace, though not invincible, are consider- ed very good bragging hands. The dealer makes the game, or value of the beginning bet, and called the ant i — in this instance it was a dollar — and then everybody stakes the same amount, and says, "I'm up." It was a foggy, wretched night. Our bell was kept tolling to warn other boats of our where- about or to entreat direction to a landing by a fire on the shore. Suddenly a most tremendous concussion, as if all-powerful Nature had shut his hand upon us, and crushed us all to atoms, upset our cards and calculations, and a general rush was made, over chairs and tables, towards the doors. I found myself, on the flash of re- turning thought, with my dear boy in my em- brace, and Fanny Wright sitting very affection- ately close at my side, with her eyes wide open, in silent astonishment, as much as to say, " Have you any idea what they are going to do next?' and her book still in her hand. The cabin was entirely cleared, or, rather, all the passengers were huddled together at the entrances, with the exception of one of the poker players; a gentle- man in green spectacles, a gold guard-chain, long and thick enough to moor a dog, and a brilliant diamond breastpin: he was, apparently, quietly shuffling and cutting the poker-deck for his own amusement. In less time than I am telling it, the swarm came laughing back, with broken sentences of what they thought had happened, in which snags, sawyers, bolts bloicn out, and boilers burst, were most conspicuous. But all the harm the fracas caused was fright ; the boat, in round- ing to a wood-pile, had run on the point of an island, and was high and dry among the first year's growth of cotton-wood, which seems u> guaranty a never-ending supply of fuel to feed this peculiar navigation, which alone can com- bat with the unceasing, serpentine, tempestuous- current of the I-will-havc-my-own-xeay, glorious Mississippi. The hubbub formed a good excuse to end our game, which my stupidity had made desirable long before, and I took a chair beside the poker- players, who, urged by the gentleman with the diamond pin, again resumed their seats. It was his turn to deal, and when he ended, he did not lift his cards, but sat watching quietly the coun- tenances of the others. The man on his left hand bet ten dollars; a young lawyer, son to the then Mayor of Pittsburgh, who little dreamed of what his boy was about, who had hardly recov- ered his shock, bet ten more ; at that time, fortu- nately for him, he was unconscious of the real value of his hand, and, consequently, did not be- tray by his manner, as greenhorns mostly do, his certainty of winning. My chicken friend" bet that ten dollars and five hundred dollars better ! " I must see that," said Green Spectacles, who now took up his hand, with "lam sure to win" trembling at his fingers' ends; for you couldn't see his eyes through his glasses: he paused a mo- ment in disappointed astonishment, and sighed " I pass," and threw his cards upon the table. The left-hand man bet "that five hundred dollars and one thousand dollars better .'" The young lawyer, who had had time to cal- culate the power of his hand — four kings and an ace — it could not be beat I but still he hesitated at the impossibility, as if he thought it could — look- ed at the money staked, and then his hand again, and, lingeringly, put his wallet on the table, and called. The left-hand man had four queens, with an ace ; and Washington, the four Jacks, with an ace. " Did you ever see the like on't 1" said he, good-humouredly, as he pushed the money to- wards the lawyer, who, very agreeably astonish- ed, pocketed his tico thousand and twenty-three dollars clear! The truth was, the cards had been put up, or stocked, as it is called, by the guard-chain-man while the party were off their guard, or, rather, on the guard of the boat in the fog, inquiring if the boiler had burst ; but the excitement of the time had caused him to make a slight mistake in the distribution of the hand; and young "Six-and- eight-pence" got the one he had intended for him- self. He was one of many who followed card playing for a living, a very common occupation at that time in that section of the country, but not properly coming under the denomination of the gentleman-sportsman, who alone depends on. his superior skill. But in that pursuit, as in all others, even among the players, some black-sheep and black-legs will creep in, as in the present in- stance. After the actors, there is no class of persons so misrepresented and abused behind their backs as the professional gamblers, as they are called; especially by those who sit down to bet against them every night without their wives and fam- ilies knowing anything about it, and who would think it most praiseworthy to cheat them out of PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 95 every dollar they had, if they knew how. As in my trade, the depraved and dishonourable are selected as the sample of all. Bat the majority are men too frequently born under similar cir- cumstances with my good-hearted friend Wash- ington, and left without any other resource but the speed of a horse, or the courage of a cock, to ob- tain wealth, in a world where to be rich is con- sidered of too much importance. My way of life has for years thrown me much in their soci- ety, in steamboats and hotels, and as a general body, for kindness of heart, liberality, and sin- cerity of friendship — out of their line of business — they cannot be excelled by any other set of men who make making money their only mental oc- cupation. And now, wicked reader, go on shore with me at Natchez " under the hill," on a Sunday morning, where our jovial captain, Tyson, tied up his boat for the day, for the sake of his pas- sengers' enjoying a spree. He was of the race, which miscalled refinement has almost made extinct, who would take the grand mogul or a giant by the nape of his neck and pitch him overboard, to wriggle a minute and then be suck- ed under the Mississippi, if he did not .behave himself; and take a poor woman and her babes as passengers, and nurse, feed, blanket, and physic them all for nothing, and provide them with employment, or put money in their pock- ets till they found some way of living, all in the same breath. He and Captain Shrieve were selected by the government to combat with the Red River Raft, and there they have met with their match. But, now I think of it, you must be tired of this steamboat trip, so we'll pass Natchez by, and land at New- Orleans. CHAPTER XVI. " Sister of joy ! thou art the child who wearest Thy mother's dying smile, tender and sweet ; Thy mother Autumn, for whose grave thou bearest Fresh flowers, and beams like flowers, with gentle feet, Disturbing not the leaves which are her winding-sheet.'' Revolt of Islatn. Shelley's beautiful thought applies, in its fullest force, to New-Orleans, even in Decem- ber; for there " Winter's savage train" is literal- ly left out of the calendar, and a long summer meets in luxurious greenness an early spring. There had been a formidable rise, and the river was in all its glory ; overtaking the up- rooted, " unmanufactured produce of the forest," and running on its own-made hill, actually above the land on either side, which gave us an oppor- tunity, not to be enjoyed at a low stage of water, of viewing the magnificent homesteads of the planters on the coast. It was a dark and drizzly evening when we arrived at New-Orleans, and landed at the foot of Poydrass-street, then close to the Levee, and before a wharf was built in the upper faubourg, now the Second Municipality, and parcel of the city. Captain Still, a harmless teacher of mu- sic, but who had been an actor, and honestly earned his warlike title by being so often adver- tised for all the Captains, "with a song," was my conductor to the Camp-street Theatre. At the time I speak of, an experienced pilot, with a lan- tern, could scarcely save you, in rainy weather, from being knee-deep in mud in wading to the Banquette, then-only curbed by the old timbers of a broken- up flat-boat, doomed by the impedi- mental current of the river never again to reach the quiet spot where it was launched, "Amid the obsolete prolixity of trees." I have seen two mules with a dray sink in a mudhole, in the now well-paved Camp-street, and struggle for an hour, till hauled out by ropes, with only their ears and noses above the mire to assure you they were there ! The enterprising, great Caldwell — "great will I call him" — for who but he, chained down by a profession which all the world is ever willing to degrade, would, or could, have first attempted to raise the standard of the American drama in the outskirts of a city then governed by the- refugees of France and Spain, and the imme- diate inheritors of all their national prejudices; and speaking — that apparently insurmountable, obstacle to his pursuit — a different language? But he was undismayed, and built the brave oUl Camp : one of the prettiest of theatres, and bet- ter adapted to that peculiar climate, and charac- ter of the theatrical patrons, than any I have ever seen. Caldwell's energies were not alone con- fined behind the scenes; his prophesying was listened to by the wealthy and intelligent Amer- icans, and his example followed in buying and improving property in the immediate neighbour- hood ; and it is now admitted by all that he is the actual founder of the Second Municipality, as it is called, but really first in everything ; its churches, hotels, squares, and well-paved, expan- sive streets leaving the old city "away down the river," literally out of town. With his own hard-earned, handsome fortune, in 1836 he rais- ed a temple to the drama on a spot where, a few- years before, a swamp had been, far excelling in extent and magnificence any building of the kind on this continent, and comparing with ad- vantage with any in the older world. At the time I speak of the Camp was the only building in the city lighted with gas, manufactured on the premises, and superintended by an intelli- gent Scotchman named Allen; and thus prac- tically educated, by experimenting with an ap- paratus not much larger than a cooking-stove, Caldwell ultimately introduced that best of all police to the whole city, and became the presi- dent of the New-Orleans Gas-light and Banking- Company. The destruction of the " Temple" by fire on Sunday evening, the 13th of March, 1842, with property to the enormous amount of half a million of dollars, prostrated, in all prob- ability, his dramatic fortunes forever. But his energetic nature is still unconsumed, and, as an able member in the councils of his adopted city, he still promises long to continue to witness and aid her increasing prosperity. Hamblin I found just concluding an engage- ment, at the termination of which I entered into a most successful one for "a few nights," which, to the advantage of all parties, was re- newed from week to week, till the "springtime of the year" found me parting with regret from a host of new-found friends. The company, taken collectively, was the best by far on the continent, the gentlemanly though austere na- ture of Caldwell ensuring to all kindred spirits a lasting and profitable employ under his liberal government. Richard Russell was his acting manager, with whom I formed a friendship which ended with my paying the mournful cere- mony of holding the corner of his pall. Miss Placide, Mrs. Rowe and her husband, Hernizen, Field, Old Gray, all, too, are gone; and others, 96 THIRTY YEARS which any eulogium of mine to their memory would but painfully disturb the slumbering rec- ollections of their numerous lamenting friends. Mrs. Russell and her charming daughter are still ornaments to the stage, the widow paying the highest tribute of respect in her power to her husband's memory, by still retaining his name. The daughter married my worthy friend, George Percy Farren, and she is now, and has been for some years, the principal attraction of Ludlow and Smith's company ; the expression of sincere regret at her yearly departure from St. Louis obliterated, in turn, by the smiles which always- welcome her at New-Orleans. The amiable wom- an and the talented actress were never more happily blended than when nature selected her as the model for both. Every one who knows her loves her, the endearing freshness of child- hood still remaining to adorn the well-borne du- ties of the wife and mother. It was my intention to have returned to the North again by the river, and, of course, I gave the Helen M'Gregor the preference as a convey- ance ; but, unfortunately, or, rather, fortunately, I missed my passage. I arrived at the Levee with my dear boy and baggage just five minutes after the boat had started, and at Memphis her boiler burst, and an extraordinary number of passengers were blown into eternity as she shoved off from the landing. " It had been so with us, had we been there ;" but " those who are born to be" — " the proverb is something mustt/." And in the good little ship Talma, Captain Den- nis — who now sails a vessel large enough to take her as a cabin passenger — after a boisterous passage of twenty-eight days, we arrived at New- York. CHAPTER XVII. "What neetl'st thou run so many miles about, When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way ?" Shakspeare's Richard III. My then "sweet home" was at Philadelphia, where we were joyfully welcomed the following day. That summer poor Charles Gilfert died, and Hackett and Hamblin became the lessees of the Bowery, at which I was engaged. But as my early acquaintance, Hamblin, whom I had ever considered as a brother, properly ex- pressed it, " friendship has nothing to do with business ;" and as I was unreasonable enough to believe that it should, our theatrical connex- ions terminated forever at the end of three nights. Russell had taken the Tremont Theatre, and t engaged with Caldwell as his acting manager at New-Orleans for the coming season, broke up my establishment at the North, as we South- ern gentlemem call all places where the ice grows, determining to make the Far West my home for the future. Willard employed me to conduct the Rich- mond Theatre for him for a month, where Cald- well and young Kean were to play a few nights, on their way to New-Orleans; and that job end- ed, I made my route through Virginia over the mountains, by the way of Charlottesville and the Sulphur Springs, to meet the Ohio River once more at Guyandotte. " Memory, the bequest of the past to the pres- ent and the future," urges me to linger in recol- lection of this most wondrous country; but it is not german to the character of this book to do so — that is, if this book has any character at all — and I must therefore pass it by, as other travellers have done, for I know of none who have ever noticed it! That year I bought a pretty little farm of one hundred acres in Whitewater township, Ham- ilton county, Ohio, eighteen miles northwest from Cincinnati, and seven due south from the estate of General Harrison, then clerk of the County Court ; a most amiable and kind-heart- ed neighbour, he then as little dreaming as I did that in ten years from that time he would be the most enthusiastically popular President of the United States ever known, "for a little, month." What a queer world it is ! He might, in all probability, have lived there for many years, but for this over-excitement that was heaped upon him, honoured as the defender of his country in her determination to maintain the position she had achieved, and pointed out in his calm old age as a model for the American farmer in the peaceful valley of the Miami. To compare small things with large, I meant, and had a right to believe then, that there 1 should pass the remainder of my days, making my pro- fession, during the winter months, a profitable pastime. But it was not to be. When Caldwell built his Dramatie Temple in 1836, 1 once more joined his standard for the season, and was hail- ed as New-Orleans knows how to welcome back a favourite ; but, in the midst of our splendid career, I was unexpectedly laid on a bed of sick- ness for four long months; and to Doctor Ca- rey, who tended my flickering chance of life with all the devotedly intense anxiety a timid child bestows upon an almost exhausted taper, left between it and darkness, I am indebted for being able now to say, I here, for the sake of others, throw a veil of oblivion over my theat- rical life, which individually I should wish to lift. For what gate leading through life is so strongly barred, even by virtue and religion — putting out of the question our compelled busi- ness in the world, which sometimes leaves it open — where poverty, disease, and death does not unhinge the doors, and, in one or all these shapes, take possession of our chimney-corner, and drown in unearned wretchedness the bright- ness of our domestic hearth! I have endured the tortures of all these, in their most terrific forms ; but I am "one, in suffering all, that suffers no- thing" in appearance ; an iron constitution has upheld what, in a fragile one, would have been sympathized with as a sensitive mind; and my uncountable number of friends in the United States — I shake hands with twenty-five thou- sand at least every year — will bear me out in the assertion, that during the varieties of fortune they have known me to struggle with, " Old Joe Cowcll" has always seemed the same. But, my dear wicked reader! — "so must I call you now," for we should by this time be on very familiar terms — I have not achieved this boasted reputa- tion from apathy for the miseries I have endu- red : no; but from the self-satisfactory triumph between myself and my nature, of proving my power to conceal them. And I have often gone to a theatre, and made an audience, you inclu- ded, "die with laughing," when I have felt my heart broken into such little pieces, that I have expected to see the fragments leaking out through the darns in the funny stockings I was wearing for Crack. The nature of my task, as I have already ob- served, prevents me from giving even a sketch PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 97 •of the beautiful " Crescent City," as she now is; but to me she must ever be most dear, as the depository of one unlettered tomb, on which I never " Shall have length of days enough To ruin upon remembrance with mine eyes." CHAPTER XVIII. ' It is time to close what I have to say of myself; one never gets anything by egotisms, which is a species of in- discretion that the public hardly ever excuses, even when we are forced upon them."— J. J. Rousseau. From the little experience I have gained while making this book, I firmly believe that the main difficulties an author has to encounter, in any work of the same ephemeral character, is to skilfully arrange a beginning and an end. A well-chosen text often entreats listening for a prosing sermon, and "many a dull play has been saved by a good epilogue." In choosing a book, too, of this class, the first and last chapters are all that are ever consulted; and, in many instances, all that are ever read. But I am deprived of the many advantages which fiction could so easily furnish, to dazzle and disarm criticism, and secure applause at the close of this performance, in consequence of being tied down by a plain, matter-of-fact narrative, and must, therefore, against my will, put an end to my theatrical life, in the same uninteresting, in- sipid manner in which it actually occurred. The remaining chapters will therefore contain as brief a detail as possible of the circumstances attending my last engagement, which may be considered as a very favourable picture of the dramatic world as it now exists in the United States. CHAPTER XIX. "In another room we found comedians shut up for having made the world laugh. Said they, ' If by chance some equivocal words have impressed the spectators with evil thoughts, was it not rather their fault than ours V " ' Oh !' said the devil to me, ' if they had done no more than that, they should scarcely have come here ; but think of their lost time, knaveries, and secret crimes ! No, it is not the comedy which damns the players ; it is what passes behind the scenes.' " — Quivedo's Vision of Hell. After the destruction of the St. Charles, John Greene and myself took a lease from Caldwell of the Nashville Theatre, which we opened in April and closed in July, 1842. Our company was highly creditable on and off the stage, and we re- alized all we expected in that beautiful little city, with the exception of money. Mr. Buckstone and Mrs. Fitzwilliam were our chief attractions, with the single exception of Martin Van Buren ; he very kindly visited the theatre one evening, and it was filled to overflowing. I should like to have engaged him, on his "own terms" for the season. But Buckstone and the joyous Fanny were not so successful ; their best house amount- ed to two hundred and eleven dollars, and their worst to thirty-eight; and we paid them half the gross proceeds ! ! The American, and the "Old Camp," then used as an auction mart, were both burned down — by design, no doubt — during the summer; and every effort Caldwell could exert to restore the Temple had totally failed, leaving New-Orleans without any theatre saving the French Opera- house. The proprietors at length agreed to re- H build the American, which was offered to Cald- well and accepted; and the day he signed the contract, his man of business, worthy George Holland, sent me an offer in his name. When I arrived in New-Orleans, in October, a very few minutes' conversation with my friend Cald- well gave me reason to believe it would be more to my interest to take an engagement for the win- ter at Mobile, if at that late period I could obtain one. The next morning I crossed the lake, and succeeded. The theatre there, Caldwell, who is the proprietor, had leased for the season to Messrs. De Vandel and Dumas. The former is "president pro lem." of the Gas Company, and the latter a celebrated restaurateur, who, having made a supposed fortune by keeping an eating- house and opening oysters, thought to easily in- crease it by opening a theatre. Charles Fisher, who is "secretary to the Gas Company," was em- ployed by the "president pro tern." to select the performers, his knowledge and experience in theatrical matters being as notorious as that he is " brotlier to the celebrated Clara Fisher." Now he being very desirous of proving his friendship for the Jefferson family, engaged all the imme- diate descendants of the " old man" now alive, and as many of the collateral branches as were in want of situations. Mrs. Richardson had been in Mobile the season before, and therefore she was the nucleus around whom was clustered her two sisters and their husbands, Messrs. Mac- kenzie and "Wright ; her brother, Mr. Joseph. Jefferson, and his two very clever children, and her niece, Mrs. Germon, and the good man who gave her that name. The whole company, in consequence, were literally in the family way, with the exception of Jemmy Thome and my- self, Mrs. Stewart, Morton, and Hodges and his lady ; so that when poor Joe Jefferson died of the yellow fever, which he did on the 24th of November, the theatre had to be closed for two nights, for without the assistance of the chief mourners we could not make a performance. B)'-the-by, it should have been said before, that the "president pro tern." had backed out, and Jules Dumas became the "sole lessee;" but, un- fortunately for him, the "secretary" had made the selection before he or his stage-manager had any control. Dumas was a Frenchman born, and, while a mere child, had been thrown headlong into the world's vortex, and had struggled round and round in every possible capacity where shrewd- ness and industry were all the capital required, to make money, till at last he got a little out of his depth, as the manager of the Mobile Thea- tre. His dramatic education had been obtained by being employed for a short time by the Rav- els, as a sort of prompter and interpreter, and having kept the saloons with great success. But even in the intricate conduct of a theatre, his su- perior talent for finance saved him from the pe- cuniary embarrassments which, in all probabil- ity, would have prostrated an American or an Englishman, surrounded by the same encum- brances. Well schooled, by saloon experience, in the modern propensities of dramatic life off the stage, immediately opposite the theatre he had a snug, quiet, well-appointed drinking-roorn, where backgammon, dominoes, and other inducements to conviviality might be comfortably indulged in, with the advantage of unlimited credit at the bar. And behind the scenes, contrary to the usu- al fastidious rules in most well-regulated estab- lishments, a servant was ready to procure, at a 98 THIRTY YEARS moment's notice, anything required, from a bot- tle of Champagne down to a gin-cocktail. Con- sequently, a large portion of each salary — some- times all — was paid in liquor to most of the gentlemen {including myself) beforehand; and the balance, if any, it was in his power to retain as a forfeit, should anyone be imprudent enough to take a drop too much. And by this very in- genious, tariff-like system, each actor was liable to a heavy tax upon his income, without feeling or considering that he was putting his earnings again into the pocket of the manager. The taste and moral wants of the audience were quite as carefully provided for. Next to the tavern he erected a spacious assembly-room, where, two or three times a week, as policy dic- tated, a ball was given, where "ladies that have their toes unplagued with corns" could dance, and drink iced-punch, and sip hot coffee free of all expense; and gentlemen in character or with- out character, or disguised in any way, even in liquor, or in " happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows," by paying only one dollar for a ticket, could jig away a harmless night to the ear-pier- cing noise of a negro band, and fancy themselves in heaven or Wapping, Paris or a lunatic asy- lum, without any extra charge. It was a glori- ous relaxation from the perils of the sea and toils of cotton sampling for the jolly Yankee captains and honest deacons' sons, whose early days had passed unknowing such enjoyments. The mas- ter of the ceremonies was a sleek-haired down- easter, from some place " where the sun rises" — he was a delicious character — a study for Dan Marble — he looked so particularly out of his natural element, dancing in his hat — I mean, with his hat on — his coat out at elbows, and a large diamond breastpin. It was a delightful place for fun or philosophy. I had a free ad- mission, and was there every night. Hodges, one of the very best educated tenor singers on the continent, but too lazy to assert the fact, had, from some cause or other, been ap- pointed by Dumas stage-manager, an office which nature, habit, and inexperience rendered him more unfit to sustain than any other man of the same high respectability in the Union. He said to me, seriously, and in a business-like man- ner, one night, in the office, " Cowell, have you ever played the comic part in the Apostate?" Of course I said, "Yes, often. But there are two comic parts," said I, " Pescara and Malec. Now if Thorne will do one, I'll do the other." Unfortunately, the stars — Kirby and Jones — had named these characters for themselves, or I believe he would have cast the play as I dictated. Whatever talent his good lady possessed, was entirely obscured by her transcendent personal charms — the beautiful Miss Nelson will no doubt be recollected, as the "divine perfection of a woman" who played with some success du- ring Fawcett's stage-management at Covent Gar- den. Now this lady, and Mrs. Stewart, and Mrs. Richardson, were all engaged for the same line of business. Mrs. Stewart and Mrs. Richardson were both powerful favourites with the audience, and the stage-manager very naturally believed his wife was a much better actress than either of them, and, by placing her continually and fa- vourably before the public, hoped, in lime, to get them to think as he did; but she couldn't play everything ; Mrs. Richardson was, therefore, kept full in sight, but Mrs. Stewart was scarcely seen or heard of, Dumas was easily convinced of the folly of paying three ladies for doing what two were made sufficient to perform, and deter- mined to get rid of one of them; but, unfortu- nately, made an imprudent selection. A long part was sent to Mrs. Stewart, which, as was expected, she refused, or said she couldn't learn in the short time required, and a forfeit of a week's salary was the consequence; which, being resisted, ended in a discharge. She sued for the amount, and gained her suit: the next week the same course was repeated, with the same result. It was then agreed, mutually,, to have the matter settled by arbitration. Some gentlemen of high standing were chosen on both sides ; and they decided in favour of the lady, awarding her her salary and a benefit, according to the contract, which, they agreed, had not been violated on her part; but with this verdict Du- mas very impolitically refused to comply. Mrs. Stewart, though not actually bom in Mo- bile — very few people are born in Moble who can possibly avoid it — was, from a residence there since childhood, held in the respect of a most estimable citizen. The regard demanded by her exemplary conduct as a daughter, wife, and mother, perhaps, might cause her actual tal- ent to be a little overrated; but on the honest, unmolested exercise of that talent depended, not only her own support — now a widow — but that of an aged parent and her two orphan children j the course Dumas had pursued was, therefore, justly considered an insult to public opinion, in selecting, as a victim to his un theatrical arrange- ments, a lady so conspicuously entitled to moral consideration and support. A most delicious row was the consequence ; and it so fell out, that it occurred on the very night that Hackett had advertised that he would prove to the whole crit- ical world — or, at any rate, as large a portion of it as might be found in Mobile — that Kcan knew nothing at all about the character of Richard the Third, and Cook but very little ; but that he, after long study and research, had arrived at the genuine, historical, and Shaksperian meaning of the part, and, on that occasion, would so deline- ate it. The house was filled as soon as the doors were opened, for most of the audience rushed in without paying, made a prodigious noise, broke some benches and gas-fixings, and demanded a free benefit for Mrs. Stewart, and the whole of her salunj to be paid for the ten weeks — the period of her engagement— all which Dumas was obliged to agree to. The mayor made a speech, and the row was over; and Hackett was left to deliver himself of his great conception. Under the cir- cumstances, a fair judgment couldn't be formed. The little I saw of it I thought was very odd, and very original, and reminded me very much of his unique manner of performing Rip Van Winkle. CHAPTER XX. " The best thing- in him Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue Did give offence, his eye did heal it up. He is not tall, yet for his years he's tall ; His leg is but so so, and yet 'tis well ; There was a pretty redness in his lip, A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix'd in his cheek ; 'twas but the difference Between the constant red and mingled damask." As You Like It. Hackett may be more properly called a suc- cessful dramatic merchant than an actor. He PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 99 started in business with a very small lot of goods, to be sure, but their variety was suitable to many markets; and, with great tact and shrewdness, he made everybody believe they could not be ob- tained at any other shop. Rochefoucault says, "The only good copies are those which expose the ridiculousness of bad originals." But, be that as it may, with an im- itation of poor old Barnes that amounted to iden- tity, he made " The two Droraios one in 'semblance," and gained, without farther study or struggle, a reputation, which many, with industry and tal- ent, have wasted a lifetime in endeavouring to attain. His profits were enormous. Barnes went with him everywhere, caricaturing him- self, to increase the effect. When this attraction began to flag, who but Hackett would have thought of using Colman's excellent but seldom- acted play of " Who wants a Guinea 1" as a ve- hicle tor introducing such a sketch of humanity as Solomon Swap 1 And though whittling a stick and cheating a man out of a watch are not very complimentary characteristics to select for a Yankee portrait, they were highly relished by the audience, from being better understood than Solomon Gundy's unpractical jokes and broken French. Hill and Marble put in their very su- perior claims to delineations of that description, which interfered greatly with the original invent- or ; but Hackett had an unapproachable re- source in his ancestral dialect, and in Rip Van Winkle he could securely say, " You can't come it, judge !" When Kean was driven from the stage, reek- ing with criminality in public opinion, Hackett undertook to play Richard the Third in imitation of him, the high reputation he had gained as a mimic giving warranty of a skilful likeness. Now here was an excellent opportunity given to the curiously virtuous to admire the secondhand mental beauties of Kean, portrayed by a gentle- man of unquestionable private worth and moral deportment, without having their nicer feelings shocked by the actual presence of the depraved original. This must be admitted to have been a clear-headed mercantile conception, but, strange to say, it didn't answer. I so advertised him at Baltimore sixteen years ago ; but it failed to attract a house, in the first place, and the larger portion of those who did come went away before the exhibition was half over. In fact, Hackett, from the first, looked upon the drama as an easy means of acquiring wealth with very scanty materials, if properly managed, and he has real- ized the justness of his calculation. He still holds a high place in dramatic estimation ; though he thought it necessary, the winter before the last, at New-Orleans, to rouse up public atten- tion by a long ancestral and heraldic expose, which occupied half the columns of a short-lived newspaper there, to prove that, though he con- descended to conduct himself like a plain, hon- est, well-disposed Republican player, he was, for all that, a real baron! And I'll bear witness that "that is a fact;" for some six years ago, in order to remove the possibility of any doubt or quib- ble on the subject that might arise hereafter, he actually imported his ancestor, with the title, and Dutch dialect — a most gentlemanly man, and a very ingenious gunsmith, with red and white mustache. He died of the yellow fever, and was buried at New-Orleans in the' summer of 1839 or 1840, and therefore Hackett is now the last of the barons of that ilk, Bulwer's novel to the con- trary notwithstanding. By-the-by, Hackett, if you have not read the book I allude to, do; you will find an excellent hint for a new conception of Richard there. Connor was another star : a very gentleman- like specimen of well-dressed mediocrity ; not good enough in anything to be bad by compari- son icilh himself in anything. He possesses an excellent wardrobe, and knows so well how to use it, that, in consequence, he often looks the character he intends to represent so excellently, that I have frequently felt sorry he was obliged to say anything about it. Richelieu is one of the parts I allude to. I am told he plays it in imitation of Forrest; but I can't believe it; he reminds me very strongly of Blanchard, of the Coburgh's manner of tottering about after he was changed, by a slap of Harlequin's bat, to the "lean and slippered Pantaloon." Connor has his ancestors too. Some few years since, at St. Louis, the papers made it to be un- derstood that he had great expectancies from a rich uncle. They didn't say if the old gentleman was a baron or not, but went on to explain that the nephew considered emolument a secondary matter, and was merely acting for his own amusement : an excellent way, by-the-by, of ac- counting for his style. It took. He got great applause, and was driven about and drenched with Champagne by all the first young dry- goods and grocery men in the city — they have all ta- ken the benefit of the Bankrupt Act since — and they made him a great house. But on his re- turn, a few months afterward, the same paper, by way of variety, I imagine, hinted at "pecuni- ary embarrassments," " domestic claims on his in- come," " disappointments :" his uncle wouldn't die, I suppose; or else he had, "and made no sign" in his favour ; in short, the truth leaked out that he was "an honest, exceeding poor man," and could lay claim to the negative virtue of sup- porting an aged mother ; and the corks ceased to pop, and the benefit was a comparative failure. To secure a bumper this time (in Mobile), it was advertised that a splendid silver cup would be presented to him by a committee of gentlemen, who had long admired his public virtue and private talent. It answered so well, that on my night I got a committee of gentlemen to take a fancy to my public and private virtue, and present me with a splendid tin cup. Connor had the best house; but when it is taken into consideration that his silver cup must have cost from eight to ten dol- lars, and I only gave six bits for my tin pot, I guess, in the end, we were about even. Mrs. Sefton, the very best general actress on the continent, adorned the theatre through a long engagement; and Miss Mary Anne Lee, "the celebrated American danseuse" and Joe Field, with some pleasant new farces, proved a refreshing relief. The audience were in ecstasies at her attainments, and the press declared she was quite equal to Ellsler. I am no judge of dan- cing, and I never saw Ellsler ; but I hope it's the fact; for her father was a worthy creature, and a great favourite of mine, and I have known her to be a very good little girl ever since she was dancing in her mother's arms, and I am oldfash- ioned enough to have a strong prejudice in fa- vour of old acquaintances. Dan. Marble, that most irresistibly comic soul, came with his bundle of fun. He possesses that extraordinary arbitrary power of making you laugh whether you like it or not : no matter if 100 THIRTY YEARS you have the toothache, the headache, or the heartache; the cool, quiet, deliberate nonsense, if you please, with which he surrounds you, as if he didn't mean to do it, would make you laugh at a funeral. In my opinion, he is a much supe- rior actor than he himself, or the public in gen- eral, believe him to be. It is an abstract portion of nature, to be sure ; but so perfect, so pure, that if you are not even acquainted with the source from whence the picture is drawn, you can swear that it is a likeness. The pieces which he car- ries on his shoulders are generally sad trash; but if he could get Buckstone, or some of these dramatic tacticians, to prepare two or three for him, and go to London, if he did not make a pow- erful impression, I will resign all claim to ad- judgment in such matters. The management, no doubt, must have looked at some future point of policy when they enga- ged Ludlow and Smith as stars at Mobile! Not both together; that would have been too much to expect ; neither do they shine to advantage in the same sphere. They each have a favourite round of characters ; but, strange to say, very nearly the same round of characters are the fa- vourites with each. In their own theatres, this is very amicably arranged between them. In the first place, Sol. Smith has given up the en- tire range of high tragedy to Ludlow, with the exceptions of Hecate and the High-priest in Pizzaro ; he also retains The Three Singles, an- other bit of tragedy; but. as a set-off, Ludlow is permitted to play Baron Willinghurst, which he makes equally melancholy, six or eight times in every season ; and as he has to keep looking like Ludlow, and change his dress seven times, it may be justly considered a fair equivalent. Puff, in the "Critic," they do turn and turn about. Sol. plays Darby, and Ludlow, Nipperkin ; and they both amuse themselves with the Lying Valet oc- casionally. Now Smith came first ; and, not sat- isfied with playing all his own pets, took a touch at one of his partner's, Frederic Baron Willing- hurst. I don't want to kick up a row between them, but I decidedly think myself it was taking rather an unfair advantage of Ludlow. They are both remarkably good-looking men ; but Lud- low, as the saying is, is no chicken, and though he is most abstemious in his habits, particularly in eating, he is getting a little clumsy for light comedy, especially about the legs. What a change a few years will make in a man! I re- member him a perfect he-sylph in appearance. Now Smith still retains his figure, and the same fine, frank, joyous, elegant, yet playful deport- ment that he ever had. But, then, he is extreme- ly particular about his personal appearance on or off the stage. I don't believe he either pads or laces, but he might be suspected of doing both; proud of his hair, his nails — I mean his finger- nails — and when he laughs, you can count ev- ery tooth he has in his head. Now, knowing his superior advantage over Ludlow, and that his engagement would commence immediately after his was concluded, and that Ludlow must play Baron Willinghurst or die, his forestalling him in that part, I say it again, was very unkind. Of course, 1 did not see Smith play the Baron; but I saw him dressed for the first scene. His coat was a little too short in the sleeves, to be sure; but that could not be said of the tail ; and it was very Revolutionary in its general character; white trousers, which had been badly packed; a very suspicious-looking hat ; and a pair of high- lows without strings. Well, as arranged by the sapient manage- ment, Ludlow followed, with the Lying Valet, Doctor Pangloss, She Stoops to Conquer, cut down to the Humours of Young Marlow ; Nipper- kin, the Duke in the Honeymoon; and on my benefit night he requested me to let him play Baron Willinghurst, and, as I wanted something to give time for me to change my dress, I con- sented, but suggested that any of his other farce parts would be better, as Smith had already played the Baron. " Smith played the Baron !" said he. " Psh-a- a-a-w !" I wish I could write down his face at that moment. " Smith played the Baron ! Pshaw !" and he looked as if he had swallowed a bad oyster. " Smith played it"? Then that's the very reason why I wish to do it myself." And I hadn't the heart to refuse him, though I knew it would keep money out of the house. Young Vandenhoff, an infinitely better actor than his father was at the same age, played to empty benches for a few nights; and Sinclair was mixed up with Sol. Smith, so that it was hard to tell who kept the money out of the house, but he proved to the few who did hear him the feeble power Time, in his case, has had over " Linked sweetness long drawn out." But the great incident of the season was the first appearance, on any stage, of Mr. Charles Fisher, in the character of Dazzle, in London Assurance. Gifted with a refined taste and great literary acquirements, and his whole life having been passed in intimate association with theatricals, it was unthinkingly supposed, in consequence, that he would present a more than usually brilliant display of histrionic talent. A large audience was assembled on the occasion, but not so large as might have been expected tinder the circumstances, when, in addition to the high claims on public favour of the fair ben- eficiary, for whom he had gallantly volunteered his services, it is remembered that Mr. Fisher has been a resident of Mobile for some years,, both summer and winter, and universally known and respected. In proof of his great popularity, among other honorary distinctions may be named, that he is a Mason, Odd Fellow, corresponding secretary for the Jockey Club, full private in the volunteer artillery, a fireman, a cowbellian, the founder, and a member for life of the Can'l-get- away Club, and, as I have before stated, making a living as secretary to the Gas Company. Now all this should, at any rate, have produced a full house, but it did not. I staked half an eagle to a sovereign with Joe Field, that there would be six hundred dollars, and I lost my American gold. Suffering from great nervous embarrassment, and his natural timidity increased by the knowl- edge of how much was expected of him by the overwrought anticipations of his friends, who had long looked up to him as the sole dramatic oracle for the State of Alabama, he became per- fectly bewildered, and certainly did make a sad mess of poor Dazzle. No allowance was made for stage fright. A highly-finished, experienced per- formance was fully expected from a critic "Whose lash was torture, and whose praise was fame ;" and his devotees were actually angry with him because he was not himself ail that he had ex- plained to them, in print and private, a good player ought to be. But I see no reason why he. PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 101 might not, with a little practice, make a star at any rate, if he wouldn't answer tor a regular ac- tor. He has excellent requisites for the kind of parts which assimilate with that he made choice of for his dibut. An immense point in his favour is his extremely youthful appearance, for which he is chielly indebted to his hue pink complexion, resembling the Jack of Hearts; with the same large, soft, washed-out-blue-looking eye, and not unlike him in figure when dressed in regiment- als, if Jack wore a bustle. When diamonds are trumps at a game at uker, I always think of Char- ley, if I happen to have the left botuer guarded. A Mr. Kirby, and Mr. G. W. Jones, " the cel- ebrated delineator of American sailors," two more stars, twinkled through a week or two; but if I was to devote a page in giving a description of their talent, it is probable by the time that page is in print they will have ceased to shine, and the reader would then wonder who I was talking about. A strong Frenchman — / ivon't remember his name — proved the strongest attraction of the sea- son. His benefit was an overflow ! while poor John Barton, the Shaksperian scholar, the in- nocently eccentric companion for a gentleman, whose talent, wrestling with infirmity, claimed the respect his private worth demanded from all who knew him, took, no doubt, his farewell forever of an American audience, and lost money by his ! CHAPTER XXI. Any scrap of Locke's poetical description of modem dis- coveries in the moon, which may live in the memory of the reader, will be very applicable to the subject most promi- nent in this chapter.— The Author. All the engagements terminated at the end of twenty weeks, which closed the season ; but a few members of the company with small sala- ries, who could afford to accept one third, or even half of their former income, or, to speak plainly, who could not afford to go without any income at all, commenced a new campaign un- der the management of Mrs. Richardson, instead of Mr. Hodges. Madame Vestris, I believe, was the first to set this fashion of petticoat gov- ernment, which has been followed, with various claims to popularity in this country, by Miss Cushman, Miss Maywood, Miss Virginia Mo- nier, Miss Clarendon, Mrs. Sefton, and now Mrs. Richardson, I am grieved to say, lent her name to eke out the very small demands on public favour of only half a company, only half paid. I had a right to a benefit during the twenty weeks, but the season had been so monopolized by sometimes two and three stars at a time, that I had to continue a week longer for a vacant night, and as in all probability I made my last appearance on that occasion, I'll reprint the bill. "MOBILE THEATRE, Under the management of Mrs. Richardson. FAREWELL BENEFIT OF Mr. JOE COWELL, Prior to his departure for some place, but where, He don't know, nor will anybody care. At the close of the performance, of course Mr. Cowell will be called out, but if not, he will go out, and have a splendid wreath thrown to him from a corner of the second tier, and be address- ed from the stage-box by one of a committee of gentlemen who have long admired his private worth and public services, and be presented with An elegant Tin Cup ; to which he will make an extemporaneous reply, prepared for the occasion, after the manner of oth- er distinguished artists. Among the many luxuries that could be na- med for both mind and body, such as old wine, old books, and old boots, might be mentioned old plays; but old Joe Cowell being desirous to please everybody, though he may lose his ass into the bargain, has made a selection of one about his own age ; two, born within his recollection, and another that never saw "the light of other days" till now, called Joe Short. Now Joe Cowell having the Assurance — not London — but of many friends, that they in- tend to Meddle in his favour on this occasion, begs in a Courtley manner not to Dazzle, but in- form the public that his benefit will take place on Friday evening, April 7th, 1843, when he hopes it will not be considered Pert his recom- mending the patrons of the drama to keep Cool and Harkaway to the theatre, and have the Grace to give him a Spanker. The performance will commence with the first and second acts of LONDON ASSURANCE. Sir Harcourt Courtley - Mr. Bridges. Dazzle Mr. Ludlow. Meddle Mr. Cowell. Max Harkaway - - - Mr. Germon. Charles Courtley - - Mr. Morton. Grace Harkaway - - Mrs. Mackenzie. Pert Mrs. Germon. After which, Not a Star, but a real Comet, from somewheres so far away down east that his childhood was passed in breaking day with brickbats, will appear and sing The Pizen Sarpient. By particular desire, OF AGE TO-MORROW. In which Mr. Ludlow will personate Seven Characters ! ! — Maria, with a favourite song, Mrs. Richardson. To be followed by a new farce called JOE SHORT. Principal characters by Mr. Cowell, Mr. An- derton, Mr. Wright, Mrs. Mackenzie, Mrs. Wright, and Mrs. Germon. To conclude with the WIDOW'S VICTIM. Jeremiah Clip, with his inimitable imitations - Mr. Cowell. Jenny Mrs. Richardson. The Widow - - - - Mrs. Mackenzie. The Splendid Tin Cup! will be exhibited on the day of performance, and a deposite at George Cull urn's made at the bar by the committee, for Cowell's friends to drink to his success in a bumper .'" 102 THIRTY YEARS The resident population of Mobile is too re- fined in taste, and too well acquainted with how the drama ought to be conducted, to visit the theatre at all, unless very superior attraction be offered; and at this season of the year all stran- gers are moving homeward as fast as they can. with the exception of the new members of the Can't-gct-away Club, and, poor fellows, their play- going days were passed long ago. Now setting at defiance all these disadvantages, the steward of the steamboat Southerner, who had so far the advantage of Dumas that he had a taste for acting as well as managing, opened a new es- tablishment in a large room over the Corinthian — a splendid grogshop— and called it the Ameri- can T7i£atre. Mr. and Mrs. Hodges, Sinclair, and Jemmy Thorne were engaged as stars ; there were none but stars employed, I believe, including the stew- ard, who, unfortunately, indulged himself by giv- ing his conception of Richard the Third, and got hissed so heartily that he advertised his retirement from dramatic life at the end of the week ; and in the same paper I saw that " the American Theatre was, for the future" to be under the management of the pretty young woman who played Grace Harkaway originally, and so very badly, at the Park. To effectively compete with such an opposi- tion, Doctor Lardner was engaged at the theatre to deliver a course of astronomical lectures, and, in excellent taste, Mr. George Holland to ex- hibit his magnificent Optical Illusions on the sane evenings! For some time past a horde of locomotive penny -magazine men had been scattering their real and pretended knowledge about the country, dignified by the name of lectures, till, like every babble fashion indiscriminately inflates, the practice had become most ridiculously distend- ed. Of course, the more inexplicable the sub- ject of dissertation, the more attractive; and, therefore, every description of mysterious hum- buggery had been administered, and greedily swallowed, and followed, though decency might be set at defiance under the influence of exhilara- ting gas, or common sense prostrated by experi- mental Mesmerism. This imbecile mania pro- duced some little good, at any rate. It had open- ed an unexpected path for a few scientific men, with a small share of worldly tact, and expensive families, to find a ready money-market for their hitherto unsaleable philosophical attainments. The doctor was one of these; and very judi- ciously took the moon by the horns, by way of a bold beginning, and without much danger of the numerous intellectual itinerant quacks pre- suming to intrude with him " Into the heaven of heavens !" A very fashionable audience attended his first lecture. The upper portion of the theatre was kept closed on the occasion, and very prudently, too, for I certainly think the gods would never have sat quietly and patiently for an hour and a half to hear their old acquaintance, the moon, abused like a pickpocket. All that portion of her early history which we usually learn in the nursery — so simple, and yet so wonderful — was most agreeable to hear repeated with a bit of the brogue ; but devil a bit of the blarny was used to describe her, now that she is found out to be a hard, ill-formed, chaotic lump of disagrecableiuss, *' without one good quality under heaven." The doctor is such a notoriously gallant man, too, that one would have thought her grammat- ical sex would have protected her from the rude and familiar manner in which he spoke of her behind her back, as if she were "Ease and unlustrous as the smoky light That's fed with stinking tallow." And, after setting the only beauty he allowed her to possess (and that a borrowed one) at de- fiance, with his proposed Drummond Pharos, he must have the Irish impudence of Daniel O'Con- nell himself if ever he looked her in the face again. And her inhabitants, too, if she has any, according to his account, are the most unpleas- ant people on earth — neither able to walk, talk, smell, see, hear, touch, taste, nor do anything like other respectable persons. In short, as But- ler says of some other lecturer, more than a century and a half ago, " Her secrets understood so clear, That some believed he had been there ; Told what her d'meter t'an inch is, And proved that she's not made of green cheese." In fact, destroying, in very commonplace prose, half the charm of Moore's poetry ; and, indeed, everybody's poetry ; and what is worse, and cruel, annihilating, with these scientific imagin- ings, the childish hope (if you please) of the poor shipwrecked mariner, who cheats despair with the innocent reliance on the moon's change to bring relief, while clinging to life, " with one plank between him and destruction." But, se- riously, if all Doctor Lardner said that night is really true, and any one believed that it was, " A sadder and a wiser man He rose the morrow morn." George Holland's exhibition followed. He is a man after my own heart, and thinks, with old John Ford, " Far better 'tis To bless the sun, than reason why he shines." His magic lantern was wisely introduced be- tween the first and second parts of the lunatic harangue, and the audience seemed to express their sense of the pleasing relief by their fre- quent approbation. This was as it should be; this was delightful; it disturbed no innocently happy belief, but brought back, in all its fresh- ness, the days of our childhood — the Christmas holydays, the evening at home, the hoarse mu- sic of the grinding organ, and the cry of the shivering Italian " Gallant ee shmv!" indistinctly heard through the pattering rain. The joyous preparation for its reception — the screen put round the blazing fire, the large table-cloth fork- ed against the wall, and the homely, moral fun, never to be forgotten, of pull devil! pull baker ! But, when you come to think of it, what a strange combination to form a fashionable en- tertainment in this lecturing age, in a play- house, instead of the sterling comedy, supported by the educated, good old actor, "all of the old- en time !" The doctor labouring with scientific enthusiasm to make you look with philosophic apathy, instead of awe and admiration, on one of the most conspicuous wonders in nature; and Holland, with his show, demanding you to be once more a child, to enable you to express de- light at his little trifles in art. As I wandered through Orange Grove, on my way to my solitary lodgings, I looked up at " Mine own loved light," and could not help but regret that Locke's de- scription of her had so soon been found out to PASSED AMONG THE PLAYERS. 103 be a hoax. What glorious playhouse lectures he covld have made ! " with new scenery, ma- chinery, dresses, and decorations;" much more agreeable to listen to, and quite as easy to be- lieve, as Dr. Lardner's learned suppositions. The next day I went to New-Orleans. As I had predicted before the building was completed, Caldwell had been unable to maintain the Amer- ican ; his system is too legitimate for these de- generate days. At the end of a month he pub- lished a manly valedictory, and bade farewell to management forever. Dinneford, who had achieved some unenviable notoriety as a theatri- cal speculator at New- York, some how or anoth- er became the lessee. His career, as might have been expected, was of very short duration. Mrs. Sefton now had the control : the company was small, but her superior talent and experienced energy made it respectably effective. I looked in only for an instant. Connor was toddling about as Richelieu, and Rowly Marks, a distin- guished member of the Synagogue, with an ex- traordinary large emblem of Christianity tied round his middle, toddling after him as " Jo-o~ zeph." Ludlow and Smith had managed to scrape to- gether some bricks and mortar, and built a small, unpretending affair, in one corner of the ruins of the Temple, and called it the St. Charles. The interior is very neat and pretty. The night I was there, Colonel Richard M. Johnson, the ex- Vice-president of the United States, had also hon- oured the theatre with his presence, but there was a very .slim house, notwithstanding — very few ladies; and a Quadroon ball happening on the same evening, at which, it was ridiculously hinted, it was the intention of the colonel to at- tend, accounted for the absence of that portion of the audience. . On the day that the fanatic, Miller, said the world would end, I took my departure from the Balize — which is more like the last end of it than any place that can be imagined — in the brig Orchilla, bound to Baltimore, with her hold full of pork, and a deck-load of molasses and blue-bottle flies. THE END. / / University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 • Box 951388 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 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