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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eaf2f36 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51923 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51923) diff --git a/old/51923-0.txt b/old/51923-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5c6a583..0000000 --- a/old/51923-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5236 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Impudent Comedian & Others, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Impudent Comedian & Others - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51923] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - - - - - - - - -THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -Herbert S. Stone & Co - -1896 - - - - -THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN - -“Nelly--Nelly--Nell! Now, where's the wench?” cried Mrs. Gwyn, before -she had more than passed the threshold of her daughter's house in St. -James's Park--the house with the terrace garden, where, as the sedate -Evelyn records, the charming Nelly had stood exchanging some very lively -phrases with her royal lover on the green walk below, giving the grave -gentleman cause to grieve greatly. But, alas! the record of his sorrow -has only made his untold readers mad that they had not been present to -grieve, also, over that entrancing tableau. “Nelly--Nell! Where's -your mistress, sirrah?” continued the somewhat portly and undoubtedly -overdressed mother of the “impudent comedian,” referred to by Evelyn, -turning to a man-servant who wore the scarlet livery of the king. - -“Where should she be, madam, at this hour, unless in the hands of her -tirewomen? It is but an hour past noon.” - -“You lie, knave! She is at hand,” cried the lady, as the musical lilt of -a song sounded on the landing above the dozen shallow oak stairs leading -out of the square hall, and a couple of fat spaniels, at the sound, -lazily left their place on a cushion, and waddled towards the stairs to -meet and greet their mistress. - -She appeared in the lobby, and stood for a moment or two looking out of -a window that commanded a fine view of the trees outside--they were in -blossom right down to the wall. She made a lovely picture, with one hand -shading her eyes from the sunlight that entered through the small square -panes, singing all the time in pure lightness of heart. She wore her -brown hair in the short ringlets of the period, and they danced on each -side of her face as if they were knowing little sprites for whose ears -her singing was meant. - -“Wench!” shouted her mother from below. The sprites that danced to the -music of the mother's voice were of a heavier order altogether. - -“What, mother? I scarce knew that you were journeying hither to-day,” - cried Nelly, coming down the stairs. “'T is an honour, and a surprise -as well; and, i' faith, now that I come to think on't, the surprise is -a deal greater than the honour. If you say you have n't come hither for -more money, my surprise will be unbounded.” - -It was nothing to Nelly that she spoke loud enough to be heard by the -footmen in the hall, as well as by the servants in the kitchen. She knew -that they knew all about her, and all about her mother as well. Perhaps -some of them had bought oranges from her or her mother in the old days -at Drury Lane, before she had become distinguished as an actress, and in -other ways. - -“I 'm not come for money, though a trifle would be welcome,” said the -mother, when Nelly had shown her the way into one of the rooms opening -off a corridor at one side of the hall--a large apartment, furnished -with ludicrous incongruity. A lovely settee, made by the greatest artist -in France, and upholstered in bright tapestry, was flanked by a couple -of hideous chairs made by the stage carpenter of Drury Lane, and by him -presented to Nelly. A pair of Sèvres vases, which had for some years -been in St. James's Palace stood on a side-board among some rubbish of -porcelain that Nelly had picked up in the purlieus of Westminster. - -The mother was about to seat herself heavily on the gilded settee, when -Nelly gave a little scream, startling the elder lady so that she, too, -screamed--a little hoarsely--in sympathy. - -“What's the matter, girl--what's the matter?” she cried. - -“Nothing is the matter, so far, mother, but a mighty deal would have -been the matter, if you had seated yourself other where than in that -chair.'Snails, madam, who are you that you should plump your person down -on a seat that was made for a legitimate monarch?” - -“I'm a legitimate wife, hear you that, you perky wench?” cried the -mother, craning her neck forward after the most approved fashion of -pending belligerents at Lewkinor Street, Drury Lane. - -“The greater reason you should avoid that settee, dear mother; it has -never been other than the chattel of a prince,” laughed Nelly. “And now, -prithee, why the honour of this visit, while the month is not yet near -its close?” - -“I have met with an old friend of yours, this day, Nell,” said the -mother, “and he is coming hither,--'t is that hath brought me.” - -“An old friend! I' faith, good mother, 't is the young friends are more -to my taste. The savour of Lewkinor Street doth not smell sweet, and it -clings most foully to all our old friends.” - -“Oh, ay, but you once was n't so dainty a madam!” - -“'T were vain to deny it, mother, since it can be urged against me that -I became your daughter. No, no, good mother, friend me no old friends--I -like them new--the newer the better--plenty of gilding--none of it -rubbed off--gingerbread and courtiers--plenty of gilding, and plenty -of spice beneath. But the old life in Lewkinor Street--in the -coal-yard--ah! 't was like to sour oranges, mother, thick skin above, and -sourness under. 'Snails! it doth set my teeth on edge to think of it.” - -“Oh, ay; but now and again we lighted upon a Levant orange in the midst -of a basketful--a sweet one to suck, and one to leave a sweet taste -behind it.” - -“The best were mightily improved by the addition of a lump of sugar. -But what hath all this vegetable philosophy to do with your visit to -me to-day? If you mean to stay, I'll send out for a couple of stone of -sugar without delay!” - -“Philosophy, Madame Impudence! You accuse your mother of philosophy, -when everyone knows that your own language was--” - -“Worthy of a lady of quality, mother. It seemeth that you are anxious to -hear whether or not I retain anything of my old skill in that direction, -and by my faith, dear mother, you shall learn more than will satisfy -your curiosity, if you beat about the bush much longer. Whom say you -that you met to-day?” - -“What should you say if I told you that his name was Dick Harraden?” - -“What, Dick! Dick!--Dick Harraden!” - -Nell had sprung to her feet, and had grasped her mother by the shoulder, -eagerly peering into her face. After a moment of silence following her -exclamation, she gave her mother a little push, in the act of taking -her hand off her shoulder, and threw herself back in her own chair -again with a laugh--a laugh that surrounded a sigh, as a bright nimbus -surrounds the sad face of a saint in a picture. - -“What should I say, do you ask me?” she cried. “Well, I should say -that you were a liar, good mother.” Nell was never particular in her -language. As an exponent of the reaction against the Puritanism of the -previous generation, she was admitted by very competent judges to have -scarcely an equal. - -“I'm no liar,” said the mother. “'T was Dick himself I met, face to -face.” - -“It puzzles me to see wherein lies your hope of getting money from me by -telling me such a tale,” said Nell. - -“I want not your money--at least not till the end of the month, or -thereabouts. I tell you, I saw Dick within the hour.” - -“'T was his ghost. You know that when he threw away his link he took to -the sea, and was drowned in a storm off the Grand Canary. What did the -seafaring man tell us when I asked him if he had seen Dick?” - -“A maudlin knave, who offered you a guinea for a kiss at the pit door -of Drury Lane, and then bought a basket of oranges and gave them away -singly to all comers.” - -“But he said he had sailed in the same ship as Dick, and that it had -gone down with all aboard save only himself.” - -“Oh, ay; and he wept plentifully when he saw how you wept--ay, and -offered to be your sweetheart in the stead of poor Dick, the knave! For -I saw Dick with these eyes, within the hour.” - -“Oh, mother--and you told him--no, you durs n't tell him--” - -“He had just this morning come to London from the Indies, and it was -luck--ill-luck, maybe--that made him run against me. He plied me with -question after question--all about Nell--his Nell, he called you, if you -please.” - -“His Nell--ah, mother! his Nell! Well, you told him--” - -“I told him that you would never more need his aid to buy foot-gear. -Lord! Nell, do you mind how he bought you the worsted stockings when you -were nigh mad with the chilblains?” - -“And you told him... For God's sake, say what you told him!” - -“I did n't mention the king's name--no, I'm loyal to his Majesty, God -save him! I only told him that you had given up selling oranges in -the pit of Drury Lane, and had taken to the less reputable part of the -house, to wit, the stage.” - -“Poor Dick! he did n't like to hear that. Oh, if he had stayed at home -and had carried his link as before, all would have been well!” - -“What is the wench talking about? Well--all would have been well? And -is not all well, you jade? 'T were rank treason to say else. Is n't this -room with its gilded looking-glasses and painted vases pretty well for -one who had been an orange girl? The king is a gentleman, and a merry -gentleman, too. Well, indeed!” - -“But Dick!--what more did you say to him, mother?” - -“I asked him after himself, to be sure. I' faith the lad has prospered, -Nell--not as you have prospered, to be sure--” - -“Nay, not as I have prospered.” - -“Of course not; but still somewhat. He will tell you all, himself.” - -“What? You told him where I dwelt?” - -“'I meant it not, Nelly; but he had it from me before I was aware. But -he knows nothing. I tell you he only came to London from Bristol port -in the morning. He will have no time to hear of the king and the king's -fancies before he sees you.” - -“He is coming hither, then? No, he must not come! Oh, he shall not come! -Mother, you have played me false!” - -“I? Oh, the wench is mad! False? What could I say, girl, when he pressed -me?” - -“You could have said that I was dead--that would have been the truth. -The girl he knew is dead. He must not come to this house.” - -“Then give your lacqueys orders not to admit him, and all will be well. -But I thought that you would e'en see the lad, Nell, now that he has -prospered. If he had n't prospered it would be different.” - -“Only an orange-seller, and yet with the precepts of a lady of quality! -I'll not see him. Did he say he'd come soon?” - -“Within an hour, he said.” Instinctively, Nell looked at her reflection -in a mirror. - -“I'll not see him,” she repeated. “That gown will do well enough for one -just returned from the Indies,” said the mother, with a leer. - -“Oh, go away, go away,” cried her daughter. “You have done enough -mischief for one morning. Why could not you have let things be? Why -should you put this man on my track?” - -“'T is a fool that the wench is, for all her smartness,” said the -mother. “She was picked out of the gutter and set down among the noblest -in the land, and all that held on to her gown were landed in pleasant -places; and yet she talks like a kitchen jade with no sense. If you will -not see the lad, hussy, lock your door and close your shutters, after -giving orders to your lacqueys to admit him not. If needful, the king -can be petitioned to send a guard to line the Park with their pikes to -keep out poor Dick, as though he was the devil, and the Park the Garden -of Eden.” - -“Oh, go away--go away!” - -“Oh, yes; I 'll go--and you 'll see him, too--no fear about that. A -girl, however well provided for--and you're well provided for--would n't -refuse to see an old sweetheart, if he was the old serpent himself; -nay, she'd see him on that account alone. And so good day to you, good -Mistress Eve.” - -She made a mock courtesy, the irony of which was quite as broad as that -of her speech, and marched out of the room, holding her narrow skirts -sufficiently high to display a shocking pair of flat-footed boots -beneath. - -Her daughter watched her departure, and only when she had disappeared -burst into a laugh. In a moment she was grave once again. She remained -seated without changing her attitude or expression for a long time. At -last she sprang to her feet, saying out loud, as though some one were -present to hear her: - -“What a fool thou art, friend Nell, to become glum over a boy -sweetheart--and a link boy, of all boys. Were I to tell Mr. Dryden of my -fancy, he would write one of his verses about it, making out that poor -Dick was the little god Cupid in disguise, and that his link was the -torch of love. But I'll not see him.'T were best not. He'll hear all, -soon enough, and loathe me as at times I loathe myself--no, no; not so -much as that, not so much as that: Dick had always a kind heart. No; -I'll not see him.” She went resolutely to the bell-pull, but when there, -stood irresolute with the ornamental ring of brass in her hand, for some -moments before pulling it. She gave it a sudden jerk, and when it was -responded to by a lacquey, she said: - -“Should a man call asking to see me within the next hour, he is to be -told--with civility, mind you: he is a gentleman--that--that I am in -this room, and that I will see him for five minutes--only five minutes, -mind you, sirrah.” - -“And the man--the gentleman--is to be admitted, madam?” - -“Certainly--for five minutes.” - -“Your ladyship will regulate the time?” - -“Go away, you numbskull! How could I regulate the time? I'm no -astronomer.” - -“Madam, I meant but to inquire if you are to be interrupted at the end -of five minutes.” - -“I gave you no such instruction, sirrah. It is enough for you to carry -out the instruction I gave you. Carry it out, and yourself in the -bargain.” - -The man bowed and withdrew. He was familiar with the colloquial style of -his mistress and her moods. - -When the man had gone Nelly laughed again, but suddenly became graver -even than she had yet been. - -“What have I done?” she cried. “Oh, there never was so great a fool as -me! No, no; I'll not see him! I have as kind a heart as Dick, and I'll -prove it by not seeing him.” - -And yet, when she had her hand on the lock of the door, she stood -irresolute once again for some moments. Then she went out with a firm -step, her intention being to countermand in the hall the instructions -she had given to the servant in the parlour; but in the hall she found -herself face to face with her old friend, Sir Charles Sedley. He had -brought her a bunch of violets. - -“The satyr offers flowers to Aurora,” said the courtier to the -courtesan, bowing as gracefully as a touch of rheumatism permitted. - -“And Aurora was so fond of flowers that she accepted them, even from the -most satiric of satyrs,” said Nell, sinking into a courtesy. - -“I plucked these flowers for the fairest flower that--” - -“Ah, that is one of Mr. Dryden's images in the reverse,” laughed Nell. -“What was the name of t' other young thing?--Proserpine, that's it--who -was plucking flowers, and was herself plucked. 'Snails! that's not the -word--she was n't a fowl.” - -“'Fore Gad, Nell, I never heard that story; it sounds scandalous, so -tell it us,” said Sir Charles. “What was the name of the wench, did you -say?” - -“Her name was Nell Gwyn, and she was gathering oranges to sell in -the pit of Drury Lane, when, some say Satan, and some say Sedley--the -incongruity between the two accounts is too trifling to call for -notice--captivated her, and she had nothing more to do with oranges or -orange blossoms.” - -“And her life was all the merrier, as I doubt not Madame Proserpine's -was when she left the vale of Enna for--well, the Pit--not at Drury -Lane.” - -“That were a darker depth still. You 've heard the story, then. Mr. -Dryden says the moral of it is that the devil has got all the pretty -wenches for himself.” - -“Not so; he left a few for the king.” - -“Nay, the two are partners in the game; but the King, like t' other -monarch, is not so black as he is painted.” - -“Nor so absolutely white as to be tasteless as the white of an egg, -Nell.” - -“His Majesty is certainly not tasteless.” - -“On the contrary, he is in love with you still, Nell.” - -They were standing apart from the group of servants in the hall. Nell -Gwyn had pretended that she was about to ascend the stairs, but loitered -on the second step, with her right elbow resting on the oak banister, -while she smelt at the violets with her head poised daintily, looking -with eyes full of mischief and mirth at the courtier standing on the -mat, the feathers of his broad-leafed hat sweeping the ground, as he -swung it in making his bows. - -Suddenly Nell straightened herself as she looked down the hall toward -the door; she started and dropped her violets. All the mischief and -mirth fled from her eyes as a man was admitted, with some measure of -protestation, by the porter. He was a young man with a very brown face, -and he carried no sword, only the hanger of a sailor; his dress was of -the plainest--neither silk nor lace entered into its manufacture. - -Before Sir Charles had time to turn to satisfy himself as to the -identity of the man at whom Nell was gazing so eagerly, she had run down -the hall, and seized the newcomer by both hands, crying: - -“Dick--Dick--It is you, yourself, Dick, and no ghost!” - -“No ghost, I dare swear, Nell,” cried the man, in a tone that made the -candles in the chandelier quiver, and Sir Charles Sedley to be all but -swept off his feet. “No ghost, but--O Lord, how you've grown, Nell! Why, -when I burnt my last link seeing you home, you was only so high!” He put -his hand within a foot of the floor. - -“And you, too, Dick! Why, you're a man now--you'll grow no more, Dick,” - cried Nell, still standing in front of him, 'with his hands fast clasped -in her own. Suddenly recollecting the servants who were around, she -dropped his hands, saying: “Come along within, Dick, and tell me all -your adventures since last we were together.” - -“Lord! Adventures! You do n't know what you 've set yourself down for, -Nell. If I was to tell you all, I should be in your company for at least -a week.” - -[Illustration: 0042] - -She led him past Sir Charles Sedley, without so much as glancing at the -courtier, and the newcomer had no eyes for anyone save Nell. A servant -threw open the door of the room where she had been with her mother, and -the two entered. - -Sir Charles took snuff elaborately, after he had replaced his hat on his -head. - -“If his Majesty should arrive, let him know that I am in the long -parlour,” he said to a servant, as he walked toward a door on the left. - -He paused for a space with his hand on the handle of the door, for there -came from the room into which Nell Gwyn and Dick Harraden had gone a -loud peal of laugh ter--not a solo, but a duet. - -He turned the handle. - -So soon as he had disappeared, there came another ripple of laughter -from the other room, and the lacqueys lounging in the hall laughed, too. -Within the room, Nell was seated on the settee and Dick Harraden by her -side. She had just reminded him of the gift of the worsted stockings -which he had made to her, when he was a link-boy, and she an orange-girl -in Drury Lane. They had both laughed when she had pushed out a little -dainty shoe from beneath her gown, displaying at the same time a -tolerably liberal amount of silk stocking, as she said: - -“Ah, Dick, it 's not in worsted my toes are clad now. I have outgrown -your stockings.” - -“Not you, Nell!” he cried. “By the Lord Harry! your feet have got -smaller instead of larger during these years--I swear to you that is -so.” - -“Ah, the chilblains do make a difference, Dick,” said she, “and you -never saw my feet unless they were covered with chilblains. Lord! how -you cried when you saw my feet well covered for the first time.” - -“Not I---I didn't cry. What was there to cry about, Nell?” he said. - -She felt very much inclined to ask him the same question at that -moment, for his face was averted from her, and he had uttered his words -spasmodically. - -“Poor Dick! You wept because you had eaten nothing for three days in -order to save enough to buy my stockings,” she said. - -“How know you that?” he cried, turning to her suddenly. - -“I knew it not at the time,” she replied, “but I have thought over it -since.” - -“Think no more of it, Nell. O Lord! to think that I should live to see -Nell again! No--no; I'll not believe it. That fine lady that I see in -the big glass yonder cannot be Nell Gwyn!” - -“Oh, Dick, would any one but Nell Gwyn remember about Nell Gwyn's -chilblains?” - -“Hearsay, mere hearsay, my fine madam!” - -“By what means shall I convince you that I'm the Nell you knew? Let me -see--ah, I know. Dick, I 'll swear for you; you know well that there was -not one could match me in swearing. Let me but begin.” - -“O Lord! not for the world. You always knew when to begin, Nell, but you -ne'er knew when to stop. And how doth it come that you have n't forgot -the brimstone of the Lane, Nelly, though you have become so mighty fine -a lady?” - -“'Snails, Dick, the best way to remember a language is to keep -constantly talking it!” - -“But in silks and satins?” - -“Oh, I soon found that I only needed to double the intensity of my -language in the Lane in order to talk the mother tongue of fashion.” - -“If swearing make the fine lady, you'll be the leader of the town, Nell, -I'll warrant. But do n't say that you doubled your language--that would -be impossible.” - -“Oh, would it, indeed?” - -“Not so? Then for God's sake do n't give me a sample of what you reached -in that way, for I 've only lived among the pirates and buccaneers of -the Indies since.” - -“Then I'll e'en spare thee, Dick. But take warning: do n't provoke me. -You would n't provoke a pirate whose guns you knew to be double-shotted. -Do n't say that I'm not Nell Gwyn for all my silks and lace. Why, man, -doth oatmeal porridge cease to be porridge because it's served in a -silver platter? Did your salt pork turn to venison when you ate it off -the gold plate that you stole from the chapels?” - -“Lord, Nell, I was n't a pirate.” - -“What! Did n't you say just now that you had been among pirates and -buccaneers in the Indies?” - -“I was among them, but not of them.” - -“You mean to say that you were neither a pirate nor a buccaneer?” - -“Neither!” - -“Then all I can say is that I'm mightily ashamed of you, Dick. I counted -on your being at least a pirate. Don't say that you became a merchant; I -never could abide dishonesty, Dick.” - -“Well, no; I never became just a merchant, Nell--at least, not the sort -of merchant that merchants would call a merchant.” - -“Oh, then, there's some hope for you yet, Dick. We may be friends -still.” - -“Friends? Well, I should say so! What did I work for, do you think, -through all these years? What did I lay up a store of guineas -for--guineas and Spanish doubloons and pieces of eight for----” - -“And you have made a fortune, Dick? Think of that! Ah, I fear that you -must have been a regular merchant after all; only regular merchants make -fortunes in these days.” - -“Ay, but some irregular ones do pretty fairly for themselves.” - -“And you were somewhat irregular, I dare swear?” - -“Well, I wasn't regularly irregular, dear, only by fits and starts. Ah, -what I said to myself was: 'I've put the stockings on Nell, but I've -to get the shoes for her yet.' That's what gave me the strength of ten -men--working for those shoes, Nell.” - -“Poor Dick! and now when you come home, you find that I am already -provided for.” - -Again she showed him the dainty tips of her shoes. - -“Those are fair weather shoes, Nell,” he cried. - -“Ay, that they are, Dick,” she assented, with a note of sadness in her -voice. - -“But what I would offer you would stand the stress of all weather--fair -or foul, Nell.” - -“I believe you, Dick, with all my heart. I know what you had to offer -me; but it 's too late now, too late, Dick.” - -“Too late? What do you mean, girl?” - -The look that came into his face frightened her. She threw herself back -on the settee and laughed loudly for a minute or two. - -“That's what I mean,” she cried, tilting up her toes until they were -on a level with his knees. “What else could I mean than that I'm already -sufficiently shod? Even Nell Gwyn can't wear more than one pair of shoes -at a time, Dick. It's rather a pity, but 't is an ill that must be -borne. Now tell us all about yourself, Dick. Tell us how you fought with -pirates and buccaneers--never mind telling how you made a fortune in -pieces of eight: there's no romance about making a fortune--tell us -about the pirates, and above all, tell us what the Spanish Main is.” - -“The Spanish Main--why, it's the Spanish Main, to be sure--south of the -Indies--a good place for trade, and a good place for pirates. But you, -Nell; I wonder if you meant anything by saying that I had come back too -late? I thought, you know, when I met your mother----” - -“Oh, I want to hear about the fighting--the buccaneers! I do n't want to -hear about my mother; I hear enough about her. You fought the pirates? -Well, next to being a pirate yourself, that's the best thing.” - -“Well, if you must know, I got about me a few score of lads--most -of them were stout Irish lads who were sold to the plantations by -Cromwell.” - -“The monster!” - -“Ay, we made up a brave crew, I can tell you. Our plan was to do no -pirating on our own behalf, but only to attack the pirates when they had -a deck-load of spoil. Taking from thieves is n't stealing, is it, Nell?” - -“No; that's business.” - -“A bit irregular, it may be, as I said just now; but bless you, Nelly, -it was like sermon-preaching compared to some sorts of business that -thrive mightily at the Indies. Anyhow, here I am to-day, sound and -hearty, Nell, with a pretty nice fortune made already, and more to -come--here I am, ready and willing to buy you the best pair of shoes in -London town, and every other article of attire you may need for the next -dozen--ay, the next fifty years.” - -“Dick--Dick!” - -“Is n't it true that you were always my sweetheart, Nell? Didn't you -say that you would never marry another? Well, you've kept your word so -far--your mother told me that.” - -“Ah, that's the worst of it.” - -“The worst of it! That's the best of it, Nelly; for though a fine lady, -living in a mansion like this--why, it might be a palace--the King -himself might come here-----” - -“The King--you've heard that--that the King?” - -She grasped him fiercely by the sleeve, and was eagerly peering into his -face. - -He burst out laughing, but suddenly checked himself. - -“The King--the King--what was there for me to hear?” he asked in a low -voice. “I only arrived from Bristol port in the morning. How could I -hear anything?” - -“I do n't want to hear anything, except to hear you say that you have -n't broken your promise--that you have n't married any one else.” - -“Oh, go away, Dick--go away!” she cried, burying her face on the arm of -the settee. - -He got upon his feet slowly and painfully, and stood over her. - -“Why should I go away?” he asked, in the same grave voice. “If I love -you--and you know I do--and if you love me--and I believe that you -do--it is not for me to go away. Ah, is it possible that you have given -your promise to marry some one else? Do n't weep, Nell; that's it, I -see, and it can be made all right. Is that it, dear?” - -“No, no. Oh, go away--go away, and never return to make me feel how -miserable I am!” - -“I'll not go away. There's some mystery about you and this house, and -I'll not go before I fathom it.” - -She looked up and saw him standing there with his arms folded. - -She leaped up so quickly that she almost seemed to spring into his arms. -He thought so, at any rate, and was about to clasp her when she caught -both of his hands in her own, gazing tearfully--eagerly--wistfully, into -his face. - -“Dick--dear Dick,” she said; “if you love me still--and I know you -do--you will leave me now. Oh, you should never have come here--I -did not mean you to come; but if you love me, Dick, you will leave me -now--leave me and go into the nearest coffee-house, and ask of the first -man you see there who is Nell Gwyn? What is Nell Gwyn? If you return -to me after that, then--then, Dick, I swear to you that I'll marry -you; there will be none to stay us then, none to come between--the King -himself shall not come between us.” - -He gripped her hands fiercely, his face close down to hers. - -“By God, I 'll do it!” he said, through his set teeth. “I'll do it. You -have put it upon me. I know that I shall hear nothing but what is -good of you, and I'll return to claim you, as sure as there's a sun in -heaven.” - -He dropped her hands, snatched up his hat, and walked firmly to the -door. When there, he turned slowly and looked back at her. She was -standing pale and lovely where he had left her. Her eyes were upon his -face. - -He flung himself through the door, and she fell on her knees beside the -settee, burying her face in one of its cushions. - -For some minutes, nothing was heard in the room but the sound of her -sobs; but then the silence was broken by a shout outside--a shout and -the noise of a scuffle. Cries of “Hold him back! Hold him back!” came -from the servants, and mixed with some full-bodied imprecations in other -voices. Nell started to her feet, as the door of the room was all but -crashed in, and she was standing with a startled look on her face, as -the door was flung wide open, and Dick Harraden hurled a limp antagonist -into the room. - -“He shall eat his words--every foul word he uttered he shall swallow in -the presence of Nell herself,” cried Dick, and then Nell recognised Sir -Charles Sedley as the man who was standing panting, with a broken sword -in his hand, by her side, facing Dick. - -“For God's sake, Dick!--Sir Charles--what has happened?” - -The courtier was too breathless to speak--he signified so much very -pleasingly to Nell. - -“The cowardly knave!” panted Dick. “But I swore that I'd make him eat -his words, and by the Lord Harry, I'll keep my oath!” - -“Sir Charles, pray--oh, Dick!” - -“Dick me no Dicks, Nell, until this popinjay has gone down on his knees -before you and asked your pardon for his foul words,” cried Dick. “Down -you go, my gentleman, were you fifty times Sir Charles.” - -“For heaven's sake, Nell, keep that fire-eater at a distance,” gasped -Sir Charles; “he's fit for Bedlam!” - -“Stand where you be, Dick,” said Nell. “What said Sir Charles Sedley to -give you offence?” - -“He said that you--no, I 'll hang in chains in Execution Dock before I -repeat the lie--but he'll take it back, every word, if I have to wring -his neck!” - -Dick was with difficulty kept at a distance. - -“Did he say aught about the King and me?” asked Nell, in a low voice. - -“It was, I swear, a most unhappy _contretems_, Nell,” said Sir Charles, -smiling in a somewhat constrained way. “How could I know that there was -one man in England who did n't know how splendid, yet how natural, a -conquest the charms of Mistress Eleanor Gwyn have achieved?” - -“Then you only spoke the truth, Sir Charles,” said Nell. “God above us!” - -Dick staggered back, and grasped the frame of a chair to support -himself. There was a long silence. - -He took a faltering step or two towards where she stood in the middle of -the room. - -“I see it all now,” he said, in a low voice. “I see it all. This -house--the lacqueys in scarlet--the King's servants--they are the King's -servants, and you--you, Nell, are the King's----Oh, God! let me die--let -me die! This is what I came home for! You told me to go to the first -coffee-house; I did n't need to go so far. Oh, Nelly, if I had come home -to stand beside the green hillock of your grave I could have borne it, -but this--this!” - -He dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His sobbing -was the only sound in the room. - -After a long pause he got slowly upon his feet. - -“I'm going away,” he said. “My heart is broken, Nell--my heart is -broken. Good-bye, Nell.” - -“Good-bye, Dick.” - -She had not moved from the middle of the room. She did not hold out a -hand to him. He walked slowly to the door. Then he turned round. - -“I humbly ask your pardon, sir,” he said to Sir Charles. - -“Sir,” said the courtier, “I honour you more than any living man.” - -“Nell--Nell--come to me--come away with me--come to my arms, Nell,” - cried the man, holding out his hands to her from where she stood. - -Sir Charles watched her face. He saw it light up for a moment. Her hands -moved; she was going to him. - -No, she only looked at the man who loved her and was ready to offer her -everything, and said: - -“Dick, I have a boy in a cradle upstairs.” - -There was another long pause before Dick whispered the words: “God bless -thee, Nell,” Then the door was flung wide in his face by a lacquey, who -bowed to the ground as he ushered in a rather plainfaced man wearing a -diamond star and a broad blue sash, as well as a diamond garter. - -Nell sank in a courtesy, and Sir Charles Sedley made an obeisance. Dick -remained unmoved. - -“Ha! what have we here?” said the stranger. “'Odsfish! a pretty family -picture! Who may you be, good sir?” he asked of Dick. - -“Who may _you_ be?” asked Dick. - -“Well, who I may be in a year or two, the Lord and Nelly only knows--she -says a merry pauper. But who I am is easier said; I happen just now to -be the King.” - -Dick stood unmoved. - -“Then I could tell you _what_ you are, sir,' said Dick. - -“Not half as well as I could tell you, my friend,” said the King. - -“I wonder if your Majesty ever hears the truth?” said Dick. - -“Seldom; any time I do, it comes from the lips of Nelly, yonder,” - replied the King. “And by my soul, sir, I would rather hear the truth -from Nelly, than a lie from the most honourable of my subjects.” - -“Profligate!” cried Dick. - -“I answer to that name, sir; what then?” said the King. - -“What then? God only can reply to your 'what then?' The answer rests -with Him. He will not forget to answer you when His time comes.” - -“Even so,” said the King, in a low tone, bending his head. - -Sir Charles had moved round the settee, and had opened the door. He -touched Dick on the elbow. Dick started for a moment and then stalked -through the door. Sir Charles went out with his face turned towards the -King. - -“A straightforward fellow, but as conceited as a Puritan, Nell,” cried -the King, with a laugh. “What brought him here?” But Nell had sunk once -more on her knees beside the settee, and her face was, as before, buried -in the cushion. - -“Ha, what's this, Nelly? What's amiss?” said the King, bending over her. - -“Oh, go away--go away! I never want to see you again. You heard the -word, profligate, profligate!” - -“I'll go away, Nell, so soon as I pass to you the two papers which I -hold in my hand.” - -“I want no papers; I want to be alone.” - -“Come, dear child; see if you will like your new plaything.” - -He pushed before her one of the two papers which he held. - -She glanced at it without rising, and without taking it from him. -Suddenly she put out a hand to it. - -“What?” she cried. She was now on her feet. “You have done it for -me--all for me? The hospital to be built at Chelsea! Oh, my liege!” - -“Now the other paper,” said the King. - -She took it from him. - -“Ah, Royal Letters Patent--our boy--our Charlie--Duke of St. Albans! Oh, -my liege--my King--my love forever!” She sank on her knees, and, -catching his hand, covered it with kisses--with kisses and tears. - - - - -KITTY CLIVE, ACTRESS - -At the King's Head Inn at Thatcham on the Bath Road a post chaise drew -up, but with no great flourish, for the postilion knew that his only -passenger was a lady, and he had no intention of pulling his horses on -their haunches merely for the sake of impressing a lady. In his youth he -had made many flourishes of such a type, but had failed to win an extra -crown from a traveller of this sex. - -The groom, who advanced with some degree of briskness from the -stable-yard, became more languid in his movements when he perceived that -only a lady was descending from the chaise. He knew that briskness on -the part of a groom never caused a coin to spring from the purse of a -lady. The landlord, however, taking a more hopeful view of the harvest -prospects of the solitary lady as a guest--he had lived in London, -and had heard of assignations in which the (temporarily) solitary lady -became a source of profit to the inn-keeper--made a pretence of bustling -out to assist the occupant of the chaise to alight, bowing elaborately -when he perceived that the lining of her travel-ling-cloak was of -quilted silk, and once again as she tripped very daintily over the -cobble-stones in front of the King's Head, and smiled very bewitchingly -within the satin frame of her hood. The landlord had a notion that -he had seen her face and her smile before. He carried with him the -recollection of a good many faces and smiles within the frame-work of -quilted satin hoods. - -“Madam, you honour my poor house,” he said in his best London manner as -the lady passed through the porch. “'T is rarely that a person of your -ladyship's quality--” - -“Spare us good lord--good landlord,” cried the lady in an accent that -had a certain amount of Hibernian persuasiveness about it. “Spare -us your remarks about our quality.'T is two horses and not four that -brought me hither. It's of your quality, sir, that I'd fain have a -taste. If I do n't have breakfast within an hour, I honestly believe -that my death will be at your door, and where will your compliments be -then, my good man?” - -“Your ladyship is pleased to be facetious,” said the landlord, throwing -open the door of the public room with as great a flourish as if he were -giving admittance to sixty-foot _salle_, instead of a twenty-foot inn -parlour. He looked closely at his visitor as she passed through: her -voice sounded strangely familiar to him. “'T is a poor room for one, -who, I doubt not, is no stranger to the noblest mansions,” he added. - -“There's no one better accustomed to the noblest mansions than myself,” - said the lady, going to the looking-glass that occupied a place in a -panel between the windows, throwing back her hood, and then arranging -her hair. - -“Yes, faith, many's the palace I've lived in--for the space of half an -hour at a time--but I make no objections to the room I 'm in just now. -See the pictures!” She raised her hands in an attitude of surprise and -admiration, so well simulated as to deceive the landlord, though he had -lived in London. - -“Pictures! Oh, the grandeur of it all! And what about breakfast? Give us -your notions of the proper decorations of a breakfast-table, good sir. -It's a picture of rashers that I've got my heart set on.” - -“The best breakfast that my poor house can afford your ladyship shall be -prepared.” - -“And soon, good Mr. Landlord, I implore of you, sir. Breakfast for two.” - -“For two, madam!” The landlord began to feel that his experience of -assignations was about to be augmented. - -“For two, sir--I look for my brother to arrive by the coach from -Levizes. If he should enquire for me at the bar, just show him in here.” - -“Your commands shall be obeyed, madam. Will he enquire for your ladyship -by name?” - -“By name? Why, how else would you have him enquire, my good man? Do you -fancy that he carries a Bow Street runner's description of so humble a -person as myself?” - -“Nay, madam; but you see your name is just what I have n't yet had the -honour of learning.” - -The lady burst out laughing. - -“Faith, good sir, my name is a somewhat important detail in the -transaction I speak of. The gentleman will ask for Mistress Clive.” - -“Ah,” cried the landlord, “I could have sworn that I knew the face and -the voice, but I failed to think of them in connection with our Kitty.” - He checked himself in his cackle of laughter, and bowed in his best -style. “Madam, I implore your pardon, but--oh lord! how I've laughed in -the old days at Kitty's pranks!--nay, madam, forgive my familiarity. I -am your servant. Oh, lord! to think that it's Kitty Clive herself--our -Kitty--madam--” - -Only when he had fled to the door and had opened it did the man -recover himself sufficiently to be able to repeat his bow. After he had -disappeared at the other side of the door, the lady heard his outburst -of laughter once again. It grew fainter as he hurried off to (she hoped) -the kitchen. - -Kitty Clive laughed, also, as she seated herself carefully on the -settle, for it was a piece of furniture whose cushions required to be -tenderly treated. - -“And this is real fame,” she murmured. “To be 'our Kitty' to a hundred -thousand men and women is my ambition--a laudable one, too, I swear--one -worth struggling for--worth fighting Davy for, and Davy Garrick takes -a deal of fighting. He has got more of it from Kitty Clive than he -bargained for.” - -The recollection of her constant bickerings with David Garrick seemed to -offer her a good deal of satisfaction. It is doubtful if David Garrick's -recollection of the same incidents would have been equally pleasing -to him; for Kitty Clive was very annoying, especially when she got -the better of her manager in any matter upon which he tried to get the -better of her, and those occasions were frequent. - -She remained on the settle smiling now and again, and giving a laugh at -intervals as she thought of how she had worsted David, as his namesake -had worsted the champion of Gath. But soon she became grave. - -“I should be ashamed of myself,” she muttered. “David Garrick is the -only one of the whole crew at the Lane that never varies. He 's the only -one that 's always at his best. God forgive me for the way. I sometimes -try to spoil his scenes, for he 's worth Quinn, Macklin, and Barry bound -up in one; only why does he keep his purse-strings so close? Ah, if he -only had a pint of Irish blood in his veins.” - -She yawned, for her contests with Garrick did not cause her any great -concern; and then she tucked up her feet upon the settle and hummed an -air from the _Beggars' Opera_. Hearing the sound of wheels she paused, -listening. - -“Sure it can't be the coach with my brother yet awhile,” said she. “Ah, -no, 't is the sound of a chaise, not a coach.” She resumed her lilting -of the air; but once again it was interrupted. Just outside the door -of the room there was the sound of an altercation. The voice of the -landlord was heard, apparently remonstrating with a very self-assertive -person. - -“I know my rights, sir, let me tell you,” this person shouted. “Lady me -no ladies, sir; I have a right to enter the room--'t is a public room. -Zounds, sir, cannot you perceive that I am a gentleman, if I am an -actor?” - -“I'll dare swear he could n't,” muttered Mrs. Clive. - -“Nay, sir, you shall not intrude on the privacy of a lady,” came the -voice of the landlord. - -“Out of the way, sirrah,” the other cried, and at the same moment the -door was flung open, and a tall young man wearing a travelling cloak and -boots strode into the room followed by the landlord, at whom he turned -scowling at every step. - -“Madam, I give you my word that I am not to blame; the gentleman would -come in,” cried the landlord. - -“That will do, sir,” said the stranger. “I myself will make whatever -apology may be needed. I flatter myself that I have had to make many -apologies before now.” - -“Madam,” continued the landlord, “I told him that you--” - -“That will do, Boniface!” cried the other, standing between the landlord -and Mrs. Clive, who had risen. Then giving a smirk and a flourishing -bow, he said: “Madam, you look to be a sensible woman.” - -“I vow, sir,” said Kitty, “I have never been accused of being sensible -before. If you cannot pay a woman a better compliment than to call her -sensible, you would be wise to refrain from the attempt to flatter her.” - -The pause that followed was broken by the self-satisfied chuckle of -the landlord. He seemed to take credit to himself for Kitty's sally. -He looked at the stranger, then at the lady; his face puckered with -a smile. Then he walked to the door, and gave another chuckle as he -glanced round with his hand on the door. - -“Mistress Kitty has taken the measure of my fine gentleman,” he -muttered, with a shrewd wink; “there's no need for me here.” - -His chuckle broadened into a guffaw as he went down the passage, having -closed the door. - -“Pray, madam, be not offended,” the man who was facing Kitty managed -to say, after an interval. “If I called you sensible, I most humbly -apologise. No offence was meant, madam.” - -“I believe that, sir; but no woman likes to be called sensible. You may -call one a silly piece, a romp, or a heartless coquette without offence; -but never a sensible woman.” - -“I forgot myself for the moment, madam, owing to the treatment I -received at the hands of that bumpkin Boniface. I am, in what is -doubtless your condition--awaiting the coach, and I objected to be -relegated to the kitchen.” - -“Faith, sir,” said Kitty, with a laugh, as she returned to the settle, -“I have passed some pleasant enough hours in a kitchen.” - -“And so have I, madam, when the wenches were well favoured,” said the -man, assuming the sly look of a man who had seen life. [Men who fancied -they knew the world were as plentiful in the last century as they are in -the present.] “Yes, madam; but then I went into the kitchen by choice, -not on compulsion.” - -“Maybe you left on compulsion; kitchen wenches have strong arms, sir,” - remarked Kitty. - -“Nay, nay, madam, Jack Bates--my name, madam--has always been a -favourite with the wenches.” - -“The kitchen wenches?” - -“Zounds, madam, a wench is a wench, whether in the kitchen or the -parlour, Oh, I know woman thoroughly: I have studied her. Woman is a -delightful branch of education.” - -“Oh, sir!” cried Kitty, sinking in a curtesy with the look of mock -demureness with which she was accustomed to fascinate her audiences at -Drury Lane. - -Mr. Bates was fascinated by that look. He smiled good-naturedly, waving -his hat as if to deprecate the suggestion that he meant to be a gay dog. - -“Nay, be not fluttered, fair one,” he cried with a smirk. “I protest -that I am a gentleman.” - -“Oh, I breathe again,” said Kitty, rising to the surface, so to speak, -after her curtesy, “A gentleman? I should never have guessed it. I -fancied I heard you assert that you were an actor--just the opposite, -you know.” - -“So I am, madam. I am an actor,” said Mr. Bates. Sharp though Kitty's -sarcasm was, it glanced off him. - -Kitty assumed a puzzled look. Then she pretended that his meaning had -dawned on her. - -“Oh, I see; you mean, sir, that you are the actor of the part of a -gentleman. Faith, sir, the part might have been better cast.” - -“I hope that I am a gentleman first, and an actor afterwards, madam,” - said Mr. Bates, with some measure of dignity. - -“In that case, I presume you were appearing in the former _rôle_ before -you arrived at the inn,” said Kitty, whose sarcasm was at no time -deficient in breadth. - -Even Mr. Bates was beginning to appreciate her last sally, when she -added, “I do not remember having seen your name in a bill of any of the -London playhouses, Mr. Bates.” - -“I have never appeared in London, madam,” said Mr. Bates, “and, so far as -I can gather, I have not lost much by remaining in the country.” - -“Nay, but think what the playgoers of London have lost, Mr. Bates,” said -Kitty solemnly. - -“I do think of it,” cried the man. “Yes, I swear to you that I do. When -I hear of the upstarts now in vogue I feel tempted sometimes to put my -pride in my pocket and appear in London.” - -“Before starting in London, a person needs to have his pockets full of -something besides pride,” said Kitty. “There are other ways of making -a fortune besides appearing on the London stage. Why should men come -to London to act when they may become highwaymen in the country--ay, or -inn-keepers--another branch of the same profession?” - -“It is clear, madam, that you have no high opinion of the stage. To let -you into a secret--neither have I.” Mr. Bates' voice sank to a whisper, -and he gave a confidential wink or two while making this confession. - -Kitty was now truly surprised. Most actors of the stamp of Mr. Bates, -whom she had met, had a profound belief in the art of acting, and -particularly in themselves as exponents of that art. - -“What, sir!” she cried, “are you not an actor on your own confession, -whatever the critics may say?” - -“I admit it, my dear lady; but at the same time, I repeat that I have -no faith in the stage. Acting is the most unconvincing of the arts. Is -there ever a human being outside Bedlam who fancies that the stage hero -is in earnest?” - -“I should say that the force of the illusion is largely dependent upon -the actor,” said Kitty. - -“Nothing of the sort, I assure you,” said Bates, with a pitying -smile--the smile of the professor for the amateur. “The greatest of -actors--nay, even I myself, madam, fail to carry an audience along with -me so as to make my hearers lose sight of the sham. What child would be -imposed on by the sufferings of the stage hero or heroine? What school -miss would fail to detect the ring of falsehood in the romance of what -authors call their plots?” - -“You fancy that everyone should be capable of detecting the difference -between a woman's account of her real woes and an actress's simulation -of such woes?” - -“That is my contention, madam. The truth has a ring about it that cannot -be simulated by even the best actress.” - -“Dear, dear!” cried Kitty, lifting up her hands. “What a wonder it is -that any persons can be prevailed upon to go evening after evening to -the playhouses! Why, I myself go--yes, frequently. Indeed--perhaps I -should blush to confess it--I am a constant attender at Drury Lane. I do -not believe I should be able to live without going to the playhouse!” - -“Tell the truth, madam,” cried Mr. Bates, stretching out an eloquent -forefinger at her as she sat on the settle looking at her hands on her -lap, “have you ever sat out an entire play?” - -Kitty looked up and laughed loud and long, so that Mr. Bates felt -greatly flattered. He began to believe that he had just said a very -clever thing. - -“Well, there I allow that you have me,” said Kitty. “Sir, I admit that -as a rule I do not remain seated during even an entire act of a play.” - -“Ah,” cried Mr. Bates triumphantly, “I knew that you were a sensible -woman, asking your pardon again for my presumption. Your confession -bears out my contention; and let me tell you that, on the stage, -matters, so far from improving, are steadily degenerating. I hear that -that young man Garrick is now more in vogue than that fine old actor, -Mr. Quin. Think of it, madam! A wine merchant they say this Garrick was. -Have you ever seen him?” - -“Oh, yes,” said Kitty; “I have seen him.” - -“And what may he be like?” - -“Mr. Garrick is like no one, and no one is like Mr. Garrick,” said Kitty -warmly. - -“Ah!” Mr. Bates' lips were curled with a sneer that caused Kitty's feet -to tap the floor nervously. “Ah! A little fellow, I understand--not up -to my shoulder.” - -“Physically, perhaps not,” Kitty replied. “But the stature of Mr. -Garrick varies. I have seen him tower over every one on the stage--over -every one in the playhouse; and again I have seen him dwindle until he -was no higher than a child.” - -Mr. Bates looked surprised. - -“How does he manage that? A stage trick, I expect.” - -“I dare say 't is so--merely that stage trick--genius.” - -“He could not deceive me: I would take his measure,” said Mr. Bates, -with a shrewd smirk. - -“Still, I have heard that even the players beside him on the stage are -sometimes carried away with the force of his acting,” said Kitty. - -“A paltry excuse for forgetting their lines!” sneered Mr. Bates. “Ah! no -actor could make a fool of me!” - -“Would anyone think it necessary to improve on Nature's handiwork in -this respect?” asked Kitty demurely. - -“How?” For a moment Mr. Bates had his doubts as to whether or not the -lady meant to pass a compliment upon him. The demure look upon her face -reassured him. “You are right, madam; they could easily see what I am,” - he said, tapping his chest. - -“They could, indeed, sir,” said Kitty, more demurely than ever. - -“I do not doubt, mind you, that there is a certain superficial ability -about this Mr. Garrick,” resumed Mr. Bates in a condescending way. - -“I am sure that Mr. Garrick would feel flattered could he but know that -he had the good opinion of Mr. Bates,” remarked Kitty. - -“Yes, I know that I am generous,” said Mr. Bates. “But this Garrick--I -wonder what his Hamlet is like.” - -“It is _like_ nothing, sir: it is Hamlet,” cried Kitty. - -“You have seen it? What is he like when the ghost enters? I have made -that scene my own.” - -Kitty sprang from the settle. - -“Like?” she said. “What is he like? He is like a man in the presence of -a ghost at first, and then--then the ghost becomes more substantial than -he. You hear a sudden cry--he stands transfixed with horror--you see -that he is not breathing, and he makes you one with himself. You cannot -breathe. You feel that his hand is on your heart. You are in the power -of his grasp. He can do what he pleases with you. If he tightens his -grasp you will never breathe again in this world. There is a terrible -pause--he draws his breath--he allows you to draw yours; but you feel in -that long silence you have been carried away to another world--you -are in a place of ghosts--there is nothing real of all that is about -you--you have passed into a land of shadows, and you are aware of a -shadow voice that can thrill a thousand men and women as though they -were but one person:-- - -“'Angels and ministers of grace defend us!' - -“Bah! what a fool I am!” cried Kitty, flinging herself excitedly upon -the settle. “Imitate Mr. Garrick? Sir, he is inimitable! One may imitate -an actor of Hamlet. David Garrick is not that; he is, I repeat, Hamlet -himself.” - -Mr. Bates was breathing hard. There was a considerable pause before -he found words to say,--“Madam, for one who has no stage training, I -protest that you display some power. You have almost persuaded me to -admire another actor's Hamlet--a thing unheard of on the stage. I, -myself, play the part of the Prince of Denmark. It would gratify me to -be permitted to rehearse a scene in your presence. You would then see on -what points Mr. Garrick resembles me.” - -“Oh, lord!” muttered Kitty, making a face behind Mr. Bates' back. - -“There is the scene at the grave. I am reckoned amazing in that scene.” - -“Amazing? I do not doubt it.” - -“I wonder how Mr. Garrick acts the grave scene.” - -“Oh, sir,'t is his humour to treat it paradoxically.” Kitty was now -herself again. “He does not treat the grave scene gravely but merrily.” - -“Merrily?” - -“Why not? Novelty is everything in these days. Does not Mr. Macklin make -Shylock a serious and not a comic character? An innovation on the stage -draws the town.” - -“Faith, madam, to act the grave scene in a burst of merriment is past an -innovation.” - -“Not at all, sir. With Mr. Garrick it seems quite natural. He is one -of those actors who are superior to nature. I am sure you have met some -such.” - -“I never met one who was otherwise.” - -“Ah, then you will see how Mr. Garrick could enter upon the scene, -beginning to play bowls with Horatio, using skulls for the game; this -goes on for some time, while they quarrel on the score of the score. -They fling their skulls at one another, and then they take to fencing -with two thigh bones which they pick up. Hamlet runs Horatio through -with his bone, and he falls atop of the first grave-digger, who has -been watching the fight, and in pantomime--much is done by pantomime -nowadays--laying odds on Hamlet. Both topple over into the grave, and -Hamlet stands on the brink, convulsed with laughter. This, you observe, -gives extra point to Hamlet's enquiry, 'Whose grave is that, sirrah?' -and certainly extraordinary point to the man's reply, 'Mine, sir.' Has -it ever occurred to you to act the scene after that fashion?” - -“Never, madam--never, I swear,” cried Mr. Bates heartily. - -“Ah, there you see is the difference between Mr. Garrick and you,” said -Kitty. “Do you bring on Hamlet's Irish servant, Mr. Bates?” - -“Hamlet's Irish servant?” - -“Is it possible that you have not yet followed the new reading in the -scene where Hamlet comes upon the king praying?” - -“I know the scene,” cried Mr. Bates, throwing himself into an attitude -as he began: “Oh, my offense is rank; it smells to heaven!” - -“That is it,” cried Kitty, interrupting him. “Well, then Hamlet appears -with his Irish servant.” - -“'Tis the first I've heard of him.” - -“Let it not be the last.'T is a new reading. Hamlet enters, sees the -king, and then turns to his Irish servant saying, 'Now might I do it, -Pat'--the man's name is Patrick, you perceive?” - -“Madam, a more ridiculous innovation I protest I never heard of,” said -Mr. Bates. - -“By my faith, sir,'t is not more ridiculous than some stage innovations -that I could name,” said Kitty. - -“I could understand Kitty Clive introducing such a point into one of the -farces in which I hear she is a merry baggage, but--” - -“You have never seen Kitty Clive then?” - -“Never, but I hear she is a romp. Are you an admirer of hers, madam?” - -“Sir, she has no more devoted admirer than myself,” said Kitty, looking -at the man straight in the face. - -“Is she not a romp?” - -“Oh, surely, a sad, sad romp. She has by her romping, saved many a play -from being damned.” - -“She is so great a favorite with playgoers, I doubt her ability,” said -Mr. Bates. “I doubt if she could move me. What is the nature of her -merriment?” - -“Extravagance, sir, extravagance. She bounces on as a hoyden, and -pulls a long face like this”--even Mr. Bates roared at Kitty's long -face--“behind the back of the very proper gentleman who has come to woo -her. She catches the point of his sword sheath so that when he tries to -turn he almost falls. She pretends that he has struck her with his sword -and she howls with pain. He hastens to comfort her--down goes a chair, -and he topples over it. 'Murder, murder!' she cries, and snatches up the -shovel as if to defend herself. My gentleman recovers, and hastens to -assure her of his honourable intentions. She keeps him off with her -shovel. He drops his hat, and she shovels it up and runs around the room -to throw it on the fire. He follows her over tables, chairs, and a sofa -or two. 'Tally ho!' she cries and gives a view-halloo. Round the room -they go, and just as he is at the point of catching her she uses the -shovel as a racket, and sends the hat flying, and at the same stroke, -sends her lover sprawling.” - -“Madam, she is a vulgar jade, I swear,” cried Mr. Bates. He was more out -of breath than Kitty, for she had acted the part so vividly that she -had forced him involuntarily to take the part of the hoyden's lover, and -both he and his hat had suffered. “That scene which you have described -bears out my argument that the more outrageous a scene is, the better -pleased are the public. Women do not make fools of men in real life.” - -“Indeed, sir?” - -“No; there you have the absurdity of the stage. Authors set reason and -sense at defiance, daily. Shakespeare is one of the worst offenders.” - -“What, Shakespeare?” - -“Oh, believe me, madam, Shakespeare is a greatly over-rated writer. -Look, for instance, at his play of 'Romeo and Juliet': Romeo sees the -lady, exchanges a few words with her, and falls at once in love with -her. He has only to rant beneath her window by the light of the moon, -and forthwith she agrees to marry him, and sure enough, they are married -the very next day. Good lord! Would Shakespeare have us believe that -men can be so easily fooled? Our moderns have not greatly improved upon -Shakespeare.” - -“I am with you there, sir, heart and soul.” - -“No, they still outrage sense by their plots. A man meets a woman quite -by chance. She tells him a cock and bull story that any fool could see -outrages probability; but he is captivated in a moment. He falls on his -knees before her and vows that she has only to speak to make him the -happiest of mortals. All this is, madam, I need scarcely say, quite -monstrous and unnatural. Such a proceeding could not occur outside -Bedlam.” - -“This gentleman should be taught a lesson,” said Kitty to herself, as -she watched Mr. Bates swaggering across the room. She became thoughtful -for a moment, and then smiled--only for a second, however; then she -became grave and her voice faltered as she said: “Sir, I protest that I -never before knew--nay, felt--what real eloquence was--eloquence wedded -to reason.” - -“Nay, madam,” smirked Mr. Bates. - -“'T is the truth, sir. May I hope that you will not think me too -forward, if I venture to express a humble opinion, sir?” Her voice was -low, and it certainly faltered more than before. - -“I shall treasure that opinion, madam,” said Mr. Bates. That soft voice -produced its impression upon him. He felt that he was in the presence of -an amazingly fine woman. - -“You will not be offended, sir, if I say that I feel it to be a great -pity that one who has such eloquence at his command should spend his -time merely repeating the phrases--the very inferior phrases--of others. -The Senate, sir, should be your stage. You are not angry, sir?” - -She had laid a hand upon his arm and was looking pleadingly up to his -face. - -“Angry?” cried Mr. Bates, patting her hand, at which she turned her -eyes, modestly from his face to the ground. - -“Angry? Nay, dear lady, you have but expressed what I have often -thought.” - -“I am so glad that you are not offended by my presumption, sir,” said -Kitty, removing her hand--Mr. Bates did not seem willing to let it go. -“If you were offended, I protest that I should be the most wretched of -women.” - -Mr. Bates marked how her voice broke, He took a step after her, as she -went to the settle. - -“Dear madam, you deserve to be the happiest rather than the most -wretched of your sex,” he said--his voice was also very soft and low. - -Kitty turned to him, crying quickly: “And I should be so if--” here -she sighed--it seemed to Mr. Bates quite involuntarily. “Pardon me: -I--I--that is--sometimes the heart forces the lips to speak when they -should remain silent. A woman is a simple creature, sir.” - -“A woman is a very fascinating creature, I vow,” cried Mr. Bates, and he -felt that he was speaking the truth. - -“Ah, Mr. Bates, she has a heart: that is woman's weakness--her heart!” - murmured Kitty. - -“I protest that she has not a monopoly of that organ,” said Mr. Bates. -“May not a man have a heart also, sweet one?” - -“Alas!” sighed Kitty, “it has not been my lot to meet with any but those -who are heartless. I have often longed--but why should I burden you with -the story of my longings--of my sufferings?” - -“Your woman's instinct tells you that you have at last met with a man -who has a heart. I have a heart, dear creature. Was it my fate brought -me into this room to-day? Was it my inscrutable destiny that led me to -meet the most charming--” - -“Pray, Mr. Bates, be merciful as you are strong!” cried Kitty, pressing -one hand to her tumultuous bosom. “Do not compel a poor weak woman to -betray her weakness: the conqueror should be merciful. What a voice is -yours, sir! What poor woman could resist its melody? Oh, sir, forgive -the tears of a weak, unhappy creature.” - -She had thrown herself on the settle and had laid her head upon one of -its arms. - -In an instant he was beside her and had caught her hand. - -“Nay, dear one, I cannot forgive the tears that dim those bright eyes,” - he whispered in her ear. “You have had a past, madam?” - -“Ah, sir,” cried Kitty, from the folds of her handkerchief, “all my life -up to the present has been my past--that is why I weep.” - -“Is it so sad as that? You have a story?” - -“Should I tell it to you?” said Kitty, raising her head suddenly and -looking at the face that was so near hers. “I will, I will--yes, I will -trust you--you may be able to help me.” - -“With my latest breath!” cried Mr. Bates. - -“Sir, to be brief, I am a great heiress,” said Kitty, quite calmly. Mr. -Bates started, his eyes brightened. “My uncle was trustee of my father's -property--it is in two counties,” continued Kitty. “For some years after -my father's death I had no reason for complaint. But then a change came. -My uncle's son appeared upon the scene, and I soon perceived his true -character--a ruined, dissolute scamp, I knew him to be, and when I -rejected his advances with scorn, his father, who I fancied was my -friend, commenced such a series of persecutions as would have broken a -less ardent spirit than mine. They did not move me. They shut me up in a -cold, dark dungeon and loaded these limbs of mine with fetters.” - -“The infernal ruffians!” - -“They fed me with bread and water. They tortured me by playing on the -harpsichord outside my prison all the best known airs from the _Beggars' -Opera_. - -“Horrible!” - -“Oh, I thought I should have gone mad--mad; but I knew that that was -just what they wanted, in order that they might shut me up in Bedlam, -and enjoy my property. I made a resolution not to go mad, and I have -adhered to it ever since.” - -“Noble girl!” - -“At last the time came when I could stand their treatment no longer. -I flung my iron fetters to the winds--I burst through the doors of my -prison and rushed into the dining-hall where my two persecutors were -carousing in their cups. They sprang up with a cry of horror when I -appeared. My uncle's hand was upon the bell, when I felled him with a -heavy glass decanter. With a yell--I hear it now--his son sprang upon -me--he went down beneath the stroke of the ten-light chandelier which I -hastily plucked down and hurled at him. I called for a horse and chaise. -They were at the door in a moment and I fled all night. But alas! alas! -I feel that my flight shall avail me nothing. They are on my track, and -I shall be forced to marry at least one of them. But no, no, sooner than -submit, with this dagger--” - -She had sprung from her place and her hand was grasping something inside -her bodice, when Mr. Bates caught her firmly by the wrist. - -“You shall do nothing so impious, madam,” he cried. - -“Who shall prevent me?” cried Kitty, struggling with him. “Who shall -save me from my persecutors?” - -“I, madam--I will do it!” cried Mr. Bates. - -“You--how?” Kitty had now ceased to struggle. - -“I will marry you myself!” shouted Mr. Bates, grasping both her hands. - -“But only half an hour has passed since we met,” said Kitty, looking -down. - -“That is enough, madam, to convince me that my heart is yours. Sweet -one, I throw myself at your feet. Let me be your protector. Let me hold -you from your persecutors. Dearest lady, marry me and you are safe.” - -“Thank heaven--thank heaven I have found a friend!” murmured Kitty. - -“You agree?” said Mr. Bates, rising to his feet. - -“Oh, sir, I am overcome with gratitude,” cried Kitty, throwing herself -into his arms. - -“An heiress--and mine,” Mr. Bates whispered. - -“Mistress Clive, the gentleman has arrived--oh, lud! what has Kitty been -up to?” - -The landlord was standing at the door with his hands raised. - -“'T is my brother, Jimmy Raftor,” said Kitty, coolly arranging the -disordered hood of her cloak before the glass. “Jimmy is one of the best -pistol-shots in all Ireland, and that's saying a good deal. Show the -gentleman in, Mr. Landlord.” - -Mr. Bates stood aghast. “Mistress Clive--not Kitty Clive of Drury Lane?” - he faltered. - -“I am Kitty Clive of Drury Lane, at your service, sir, if you should -need another lesson to convince you that even the most ridiculous story, -if plausibly told, will carry conviction to the most astute of men.” - -Kitty Clive sank in a mock curtesy; the landlord roared with laughter; -Mr. Bates stood amazed in the center of the room. - - - - -A QUESTION OF ART - - -I - -If only she had a heart she would be perfect,” said Mr. Garrick to his -friend, Mrs. Woffington. - -“Ay, as an actress, not as a woman,” said Mrs. Woffington. “'T is -not the perfect women who have been most liberally supplied with that -organ.” - -“Faith, Madam Peggy, I, David Garrick, of Drury Lane Theatre, have good -reason to set much more store upon the perfect actress than the perfect -woman,” said Mr. Garrick. “If I had no rent to pay and no actors to pay, -I might be led to spend a profitable hour or two over the consideration -of so interesting a question as the relative merits of the perfect woman -with no heart worth speaking of and the perfect actress with a dangerous -superfluity of the same organ. Under existing conditions, however, I beg -leave to--” - -“Psha! Davy,” said Margaret; “try not your scholarship upon so poor a -thing as myself! It seems to me that you have never quite recovered -from the effects of your early training at the feet of our friend, Mr. -Johnson.” - -“Alas! Peggy,” said Garrick, “I have forgot all the better part of Mr. -Johnson's instruction. He has no reason to be proud of me.” - -“And yet he is proud of you, and, by my faith, he has some reason to be -so. Was it not he made you an actor?” - -“He! Mr. Johnson? oh, Lord, he never ceased to inculcate upon us a just -hatred and contempt of all that appertains to the stage.” - -“Ay, and that was the means of making you thoroughly interested in all -that appertains to the stage, my friend. But I hold as I have always -held, that Mr. Johnson gave you first chance. - -“What sophistry is this that you have seized upon, my dear? My first -chance?” - -“Yes, sir; I hold that your first and, I doubt not, your greatest, -success as an actor, was your imitation for the good of your -schoolfellows, of the mighty love passages between your good preceptor -and that painted piece of crockery who had led him to marry her, that -was old enough--ay, and nearly plain enough--to be his mother. What did -he call her?--his Tiffy?--his Taffy?” - -“Nay, only his Tessy, The lady's name was Elizabeth, you must know.” - -“Call her Saint Elizabeth, Davy--your patron saint, for, by the Lord -Harry, you would never have thought of coming on the stage if it had not -been for the applause you won when you returned to the schoolroom after -peeping through the door of the room where your schoolmaster chased his -Tessy into a corner for a kiss! Davy, 't is your finest part still. If -you and I were to act it, with a prologue written by Mr. Johnson, it -would draw all the town.” - -“I doubt it not; but it would likewise draw down upon me the wrath of -Mr. Johnson; and that is not to be lightly faced. But we have strayed -from our text, Margaret.” - -“Our text? I have forgotten that there was some preaching being done. -But all texts are but pretexts for straying, uttered in the hearing of -the strayed. What is your text, Davy?” - -“The text is the actress without the heart, Margaret, and the evil that -she doeth to the writer of the tragedy, to the man who hath a lease -of the playhouse, and above all to her sister actress, Mistress -Woffington.” - -“The last of the three evils would imperil the soul's safety of as -blameless a lady as Kitty Clive herself. But, if Mistress Woffington -acts her part well in the new tragedy, I scarce see how she can be hurt -by the bad acting of Miss Hoppner.” - -“That is because you are a trifle superficial in your views of the -drama, Mistress Woffington. What would you think of the painter who -should declare that, if the lights in his picture were carefully put in, -the shadows might be left to chance?” - -“Where is the analogy, David?” - -“It is apparent: the tragedy is the picture, Mrs. Woffington represents -the lighting, and Miss Hoppner the shading. Heavens! Mrs. Woffington, -madam, do you flatter yourself that the playgoers will be willing to -accept the author's account of the fascinations of the woman whom -you are representing, if you fail to rouse your rival to any point of -jealousy? Miss Hoppner, for all the strong language the poet puts into -her mouth, will not make the playgoers feel that the Lady Oriana bears -you a grudge for having taken her lover from her; and when she stabs you -with her dagger, she does so in such a halfhearted way that the whole -house will perceive that she is not in earnest.” - -“Then they will blame her, and she will deserve the blame. They cannot -blame me.” - -“Cannot they, indeed? Lord, my good woman, you little know the -playgoers. You think that they are so nice in their discrimination? -You should have learnt better since the days you hung on to Madame -Violanti's feet on the tight rope. If you had wriggled so that Violanti -had slipped off her rope, would her patrons have blamed aught but her? -Nay, you know that they would only have sneered at her clumsiness, and -thought nothing of the little devil who had upset her.” - -“Ay; I begin to perceive your meaning. You apprehend that the playgoers -will damn the play and all associated with it, because Miss Hoppner does -not kill me with sufficient good-will?” - -“I feel sure that they will say that if Mrs. Woffington had only acted -with sufficient intensity she would have stirred her rival into so real -a passion of jealousy that she would have stabbed you in a fury.” - -“Look you here, friend Davy; if it be in your thoughts that Mairgaret -Woffington is to be held accountable for the mistakes of all the other -members of your company, you would do well to revise your salary list.” - -“Nay, Peggy; I only said what the playgoers will, in their error, mind -you, assume.” - -“Come, Mr. Garrick, tell me plainly what you want me to do for you in -this business. What, sir, are we not on sufficiently friendly terms for -plain speaking? Tell me all that is on your mind, sir?” - -Garrick paused for some moments, and then laughed in a somewhat -constrained way, before walking on by the side of his friend. - -“Come, sir,” continued Mrs. Woffington. “Be as plain as you please. I am -not prone to take offence.” - -“We'll talk of that anon,” said Garrick. “Perhaps Mr. Macklin will be -able to give us his helpful counsel in this business.” - -“Psha!” said Peggy. “Mr. Macklin could never be brought to see with your -eyes.” - -“Then he will be all the better able to give us the result of Mr. -Macklin's observation,” said Garrick. - -“Ay, but that is not what you want, Davy,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a -pretty loud laugh. “No one ever calls in a counsellor with the hope of -obtaining an unprejudiced opinion; the only counsellor in whom we have -confidence is he who corroborates our own views.” - - -II - -They had reached their house. It was No. 6 Bow Street, and it was -presided over by Macklin--Garrick and Mrs. Woffington doing the -housekeeping on alternate months. - -Visitors preferred calling during Peggy's month, as the visitor, who was -now greeted by David Garrick in the parlour, testified in the presence -of his biographer years after; for it was Samuel Johnson who awaited the -return from rehearsal of his Lichfield pupil, David Garrick. - -“You shall have a dish of tea, Mr. Johnson, if we have to go thirsty for -the rest of the week,” cried the actress, when her hand had been kissed -by her visitor. Johnson's kissing of her hand was strangely suggestive -of an elephant's picking up a pin. - -“Madam,” said he, “your offer is made in the true spirit of hospitality. -Hospitality, let me tell you, consists not, as many suppose, in the -sharing of one's last crust with a friend--for the sacrifice in parting -with a modicum of so unappetising a comestible as a crust is not -great--nay; hospitality, to become a virtue, involves a real sacrifice.” - -“So in heaven's name let us have the tea,” said Garrick. “Make it not -too strong,” he whispered to Peggy as he opened the door for her. “I -have seen him drain his tenth cup at a sitting.” - -The actress made a mocking gesture by way of reply. She did not share -Garrick's parsimonious longings, and in the matter of tea brewing, she -was especially liberal. When she returned to the room bearing aloft a -large teapot, and had begun to pour out the contents, Garrick complained -bitterly of the strength of the tea, as his guest years afterwards told -Boswell. - -“'T is as red as blood,” growled the actor. - -“And how else should it be, sir?” cried Mrs. Woffington. “Is 't not the -nature of good tea to be red?” - -As Garrick continued growling, Peggy laughed the more heartily, and, -with an air of coquettish defiance which suited her admirably, poured -out a second brimming cup for their visitor--he had made very light of -the first--taking no care to avoid spilling some into the saucer. - -“Faith, sir, Mr. Garrick is right: 'tis as red as blood,” laughed Peggy, -looking with mischievous eyes into Johnson's face. - -“That were an indefinite statement, madam; its accuracy is wholly -dependent on the disposition of the person from whom the blood is -drawn,” said Johnson. “Now yours, I believe, madam, to be of a rich -and generous hue, but Davy's, I doubt not, is a pale and meagre -fluid--somewhat resembling the wine which he endeavored to sell, with, -let us hope for the sake of the health of his customers, indifferent -success for some years.” - -Garrick laughed with some constraint, while Mrs. Woffington roared with -delight. - -“Nay, sir; you are too hard upon me,” cried the actor. - -“What! would the rascal cry up his blood at the expense of his wine?” - said Johnson. “That, sir, were to eulogise nature at the expense of -art--an ill proceeding for an actor.” - -“And that brings us back to the question which we discussed on our way -hither from the theatre,” said Peggy. “List, good Mr. Johnson, to the -proposition of Mr. Garrick. He says that I should be held accountable -for the tameness in the acting of the part of a jealous woman by Miss -Hoppner, who is to appear in the tragedy on Tuesday week.” - -“I do not doubt, madam, that you should be held accountable for the -jealousy of many good women in the town,” said Johnson; “but it passes -my knowledge by what sophistry your responsibility extends to any matter -of art.” - -“Mrs. Woffington has not told you all, sir,” said Garrick. “She is, as -you may well suppose, the creature in the tragedy who is supposed to -excite the bitter jealousy of another woman. Now, I submit that the -play-goers will be ready to judge of the powers of Mrs. Woffington as -exercised in the play, by its effect upon the other characters in the -said play.” - -“How so, sir?” said Johnson. “Why, sir,” replied Garrick, “I maintain -that, when they perceive that the woman who is meant to be stung to a -point of madness through her jealousy of a rival, is scarce moved at -all, they will insensibly lay the blame upon her rival, saying that the -powers of the actress were not equal to the task assigned to her by the -poet.” - -“And I maintain, sir, that a more ridiculous contention than yours could -not be entertained by the most ignorant of men--nay, the most ignorant -of actors, and to say so much, sir, is to say a great deal,” cried -Johnson. “I pray you, friend Davy, let no men know that I was once your -teacher, if you formulate such foolishness as this; otherwise, it would -go hard with me in the world.” - -“Ah, sir, that last sentence shows that you are in perfect accord with -the views which I have tried to express to you,” said Garrick. “You are -ready to maintain that the world will hold you accountable for whatever -foolishness I may exhibit. The playgoers will, on the same principle, -pronounce on the force of Mrs. Woffington's fascinations by the effect -they have, not upon the playgoers themselves, but upon Miss Hoppner.” - -“Then the playgoers will show themselves to be the fools which I have -always suspected them of being,” said Johnson, recovering somewhat -ungracefully from the effects of swallowing a cup of tea; “Ay, but how -are we to fool them?--that's the question, Mr. Johnson,” said Peggy. “I -have no mind to get the blame which should fall on the shoulders of Miss -Hoppner; I would fain have the luxury of qualifying for blame by my own -act.” - -“What! you mean, madam, that before receiving the punishment for -sinning, you would fain enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season? That -is, I fear, but indifferent morality,” said Johnson, shaking his head -and his body as well with even more than his accustomed vehemence. - -“Look you here, Mrs. Woffington,” said Garrick. “You are far too kind to -Miss Hoppner. That would not be bad of itself, but when it induces her -to be kindly disposed to you, it cannot be tolerated. She is a poor -fool, and so is unable to stab with proper violence one who has shown -herself her friend.” - -“She cannot have lived in the world of fashion,” remarked Johnson. - -“Lud! would you have me arouse the real passion in the good woman for -the sake of the play?” cried Peggy. - -“He would e'en degrade nature by making her the handmaid of art. -Sir, let me tell you this will not do, and there's an end on't,” said -Johnson. - -“Then the play will be damned, sir,” said Garrick. - -“Let the play be damned, sir, rather than a woman's soul,” shouted -Johnson. - -“Meantime you will have another cup of tea, Mr. Johnson,” said Peggy, -smiling with a witchery of that type which, exercised in later years, -caused her visitor to make a resolution never to frequent the green -room of Drury Lane--a resolution which was possibly strengthened by the -failure of his tragedy. - -“Mrs. Woffington,” said he, passing on his empty cup, “let me tell you I -count it a pity so excellent a brewer of tea should waste her time upon -the stage. Any wench may learn to act, but the successful brewing of tea -demands the exercise of such judgment as cannot be easily acquired. -Briefly, the woman is effaced by the act of going on the stage; but the -brewing of tea is a revelation of femininity.” He took three more -cupfuls. - -***** - -The tragedy of “Oriana,” from the rehearsal of which Garrick and Mrs. -Woffington had returned to find Johnson at their house on Bow Street, -was by an unknown poet, but Garrick had come to the conclusion, after -reading it, that it possessed sufficient merit to justify his producing -it at Drury Lane. It abounded in that form of sentiment which found -favor with playgoers in an age of artificiality, and its blank verse was -strictly correct and inexpressible. It contained an apostrophe to -the Star of Love, and eulogies of Liberty, Virtue, Hope, and other -abstractions, without which no eighteenth century tragedy was considered -to be complete. Oriana was a Venetian lady of the early republican -period. She was in love with one Orsino, a prince, and they exchanged -sentiments in the first act, bearing generally upon the advantages -of first love, without touching upon its economic aspects. Unhappily, -however, Orsino allowed himself to be attracted by a lady named -Francesca, who made up in worldly possessions for the absence of those -cheerless sentiments which Oriana had at her fingers' ends, and the -result was that Oriana ran her dagger into the heart of her rival, into -the chest of her faithless lover, and into her own stays. The business -was carried on by the sorrowing relations of the three, with the -valuable assistance of the ghosts of the slain, who explained their -relative positions with fluency and lucidity, and urged upon the -survivors, with considerable argumentative skill, the advisability of -foregoing the elaborate scheme of revenge which each side was hoping -to carry out against the other from the date of the obsequies of the -deceased. - -The character of Oriana was being rehearsed by Miss Hoppner, an -extremely handsome young woman, whom Garrick had met and engaged in the -country, Mrs. Woffington being the fatally fascinating Francesca, and -Garrick, himself, the Prince Orsino. - -The tragedy had been in rehearsal for a fortnight, and it promised well, -if the representative of the jealous woman could only be brought to “put -a little life into the death scene”--the exhortation which the -Irish actress of the part of Francesca offered to her daily, but -ineffectually. Miss Hoppner neither looked the part of a tragically -jealous woman, nor did the stabbing of her rival in anything like that -whirlwind of passion with which Garrick, in spite of the limping of the -blank verse of the poet, almost swept the rest of the company off the -stage when endeavoring to explain to the actress what her representation -lacked, on the day after his chat with Mrs. Woffington on the same -subject. - -Poor Miss Hoppner took a long breath, and passed her hand across her -eyes as if to get rid of the effects of that horrible expression of -deadly hate which Garrick's face had worn, as he had craned his head -forward close to hers to show her how she should stab her rival--the -slow movement of his body suggesting the stealth of the leopard -approaching its victim, and his delivery of the lines through his -teeth more than suggesting the hissing of a deadly snake in the act of -springing. - -“Ay, do it that way, my dear madam,” said Mrs. Woffington, “and the day -after the tragedy is played, you will be as famous as Mr. Garrick. 'T is -the simplest thing in the world.” - -[Illustration: 0130] - -“You have so unnerved me, sir, that I vow I have no head for my lines,” - said Miss Hoppner. - -But when, by the aid of the prompter, the lines were recovered and -she had repeated the scene, the result showed very little improvement. -Garrick grumbled, and Miss Hoppner was tearful, as they went to the -wardrobe room to see the dresses which had just been made for the -principal ladies. - -Miss Hoppner's tears quickly dried when she was brought face to face -with the gorgeous fabric which she was to wear. It was a pink satin -brocaded with white hawthorne, the stomacher trimmed with pearls. She -saw that it was infinitely superior to the crimson stuff which had been -assigned to Mrs. Woffington. She spoke rapturously of the brocade, and -hurried with it in front of a mirror to see how it suited her style of -beauty. - -Mrs. Woffington watched her with a smile. A sudden thought seemed to -strike her, and she gave a little laugh. After a moment's hesitation she -went behind the other actress and said: - -“I'm glad to see that you admire my dress, Miss Hoppner.” - -“Your dress?” said Miss Hoppner. “Oh, yes, that crimson stuff--'t -is very becoming to you, I'm sure, Mrs. Woffington; though, for that -matter, you look well in everything.” - -“'T is you who are to wear the crimson, my dear,” said Peggy. “I have -made up my mind that the one you hold in your hand is the most suitable -for me in the tragedy.” - -“Nay, madam, Mr. Garrick assigned this one to me, and I think 't will -suit me very well.” - -“That is where Mr. Garrick made a mistake, child,” said Peggy. “And -I mean to repair his error. The choice of dresses lies with me, Miss -Hoppner.” - -“I have yet to be made aware of that, madam.” said Miss Hoppner. Her -voice had a note of shrillness in it, and Garrick, who was standing -apart, noticed that her colour had risen with her voice. He became -greatly interested in these manifestations of a spirit beyond that which -she had displayed when rehearsing the tragedy. - -“The sooner you are made aware of it, the better it will be for all -concerned,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a deadly smile. - -“I make bold to assure you, madam, that I shall be instructed on this -point by Mr. Garrick and Mr. Garrick only,” said the other, raising -her chin an inch or two higher than she was wont, except under great -provocation. - -“I care not whom you make your instructor, provided that you receive the -instruction,” sneered Peggy. - -“Mr. Garrick,” cried Miss Hoppner, “I beg that you will exercise your -authority. You assigned to me the brocade, did you not, sir?” - -“And I affirm that the brocade will be more suitably worn by me, sir,” - said Peggy. “And I further affirm that I mean to wear it, Mr. Garrick.” - -“I would fain hope that the caprice of a vain woman will not be -permitted to have force against every reasonable consideration,” said -Miss Hoppner, elevating her chin by another inch as she glanced out of -the corners of her eyes in the direction of the other actress. - -“That is all I ask for, madam; and as we are so agreed, I presume that -you will hand me over the gown without demur.” - -“Yours is the caprice, madam, let me tell you. I have right on my side.” - -“And I shall have the brocade on mine by way of compensation, my dear -lady.” - -“Ladies!” cried Garrick, interposing, “I must beg of you not to -embarrass me. 'T is a small matter--this of dress, and one that should -not make a disagreement between ladies of talent. If one is a good -actress, one can move an audience without so paltry an auxiliary as a -yard or two of silk.” - -“I will not pay Miss Hoppner so poor a compliment as would be implied by -the suggestion that she needs the help of a silk brocade to eke out her -resources as an actress,” said Peggy. - -“I ask not for compliments from Mrs. Woffington. The brocade was -assigned to me, and--” - -“It would be ungenerous to take advantage of Mr. Garrick's error, -madam.” - -“It was no error, Mrs. Woffington.” - -“What! you would let all the world know that Mr. Garrick's opinion was -that you stood in need of a showy gown to conceal the defects of your -art?” - -“You are insolent, Mrs. Woffington!” - -“Nay, nay, my dear ladies; let's have no more of this recrimination over -a question of rags. It is unworthy of you,” said Garrick. - -“I feel that, sir, and so I mean to wear the brocade,” said Mrs. -Woffington. “Good lud, Mr. Garrick, what were you thinking of when you -assigned to the poor victim of the murderess in the tragedy the crimson -robe which was plainly meant to be in keeping with the gory intentions -of her rival?” - -“Surely I did not commit that mistake,” said Garrick. “Heavens! where -can my thoughts have been? Miss Hoppner, madam, I am greatly vexed--” - -“Let her take her brocade,” cried Miss Hoppner, looking with indignant -eyes, first at the smiling Peggy, and then at Garrick, who was acting -the part of a distracted man to perfection. “Let her wear it and see -if it will hide the shortcomings of her complexion from the eyes of the -playgoers.” - -She walked away with a sniff before Peggy could deliver any reply. - - -III - -Pray what trick have you on your mind now? asked Garrick, when he was -alone with Peggy. “What was that caprice of yours?” - -“Caprice? You are a fool, Davy. You even forget your own precepts, which -your friend Mr. Johnson, in his wisdom condemned so heartily yesterday.” - -“Good Lord! You mean to--” - -“I mean to make Miss Hoppner act the part of a jealous woman to -perfection.” And she did so. The next day at the rehearsal, Garrick, as -well as every member of the company, was amazed at the energy which -Miss Hoppner contrived to impart to the scene in the play where, in the -character of Oriana, she stabbed her successful rival. She acted with a -force that had scarcely been surpassed by Garrick's reading of the scene -for her instruction the previous day. - -“Faith, Peggy, you have given her a weapon for your own undoing,” said -Garrick, as he walked home with Mrs. Woffington. “She will eclipse you, -if you do not mind.” - -“I 'll e'en run the risk,” said Peggy. - -Alas! the next day Miss Hoppner was as feeble as ever--nay, the stabbing -scene had never been so feebly gone through by her; and Garrick grumbled -loudly. - -Miss Hoppner did not seem to mind. At the end of the rehearsal she -sought Peggy and offered her her hand. - -“Mrs. Woffington,” she said, “I am desirous of asking your pardon for -my curtness in the matter of the dress. I owe so much to your kindness, -madam, I feel that my attempt to fix a quarrel upon you was the more -base. Pray, forgive an unhappy creature, who only seeks to retain the -honour of your friendship.” - -“Oh, you goose!” said Peggy. “Why are you so foolish as to desire to -make friends with me? You should have hated me--been ready to kill -me--anything for the sake of becoming an actress.” - -“You will not refuse me the forgiveness which I implore?” said Miss -Hoppner. - -“Nay, nay; I was in the wrong; it was my caprice, but carried out solely -on your behalf, child,” said Peggy. - -“On my behalf? Oh, you are quite right; I was beginning to forget -myself--to forget that I was but a provincial actress.” - -“Oh, you good natured creature!” cried Peggy. “I'll have to begin all -over again.” - -They had reached the stage door by this time, and were standing together -in the long passage when a tall and good-looking man was admitted, -enquiring for Miss Hoppner. Peggy did not fail to notice the brightening -of the color of her companion as the gentleman advanced and took off -his hat with a low bow. It was with a certain proprietary air that Miss -Hoppner presented him to Peggy, by the name of Captain Joycelyn, of the -Royal Scots. - -“Captain Joycelyn is one of your warmest admirers, Mrs. Woffington,” - said Miss Hoppner. - -“Sir, I am overwhelmed,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a deep courtesy. - -“Nay, madam, I am your servant, I swear,” said the gentleman. “I have -often longed for this honor, but it ever seemed out of my reach. We of -the Royal Scots consider ourselves no mean judges of your art, and we -agree that the playhouse without Mrs. Woffington would be lusterless.” - -“Ah, sir, you would still have Mrs. Clive,” suggested Peggy. - -“Mrs. Clive? You can afford to be generous, madam,” laughed Captain -Joycelyn. - -“She is the most generous woman alive,” said Miss Hoppner. “She will -prove herself such if she converses with you here for five minutes. I -was going away forgetting that I had to talk to the wardrobe mistress -about my turban. I shall not be more than five minutes away.” - -“I protest it makes no demand upon my generosity to remain to listen -to so agreeable a critic, though I admit that I do so with a certain -tremor, sir,” said Peggy, with a charming assumption of the fluttered -miss. - -“A certain tremor? Why should you have a tremor, dear madam?” said the -officer. - -“Ah,'t is the talk of the town that all hearts go down before the Royal -Scots, as the King's enemies did in the Low Countries.” - -“An idle rumour, madam, I do assure you.” - -“I might have thought so up till now; but now I think I would do wisely -to retreat in order, Captain, while there is yet time.” - -She looked up at his face with a smile of matchless coquetry. - -“Nay, madam, you shall not stir,” said he, laughing. “'T is not the -conqueror that should retreat. I am too conscientious a soldier to -permit so gross a violation of the art of war. Seriously, why should you -fly?” - -“I am a poor strategist, but I have a sense of danger. Is Miss Hoppner a -special friend of yours, sir?” - -“A special friend? Well, we have been acquaintances for nigh half a -year.” - -“I thought I had seen her by your side at Ranelagh. She looked very -happy. I dare say I should be ashamed to confess it, but I envied her.” - -Peggy's eyes were turned upon the ground with a demureness that -represented the finest art of the coquette. - -“You--you envied her?” cried the officer. “How humble must be your -aspirations, sweet creature! If I should not be thought to be over-bold -I would offer--ah! I fear that so brief an acquaintanceship as ours does -not warrant my presumption--” - -“And yet you do not look like one who would be likely to give offense by -overpresumption, sir.” - -“I should be sorry to do so, madam. Well, if you promise not to flout -me, I will say that if you will accept my escort any night to the -Gardens, you will do me a great honour.” - -“Oh, sir, your graceful offer overwhelms me. But, alas! all my evenings -are not my own. I am free but this evening and to-morrow evening.” - -“Then why not come this evening, madam?” - -“Why not, indeed? only--is 't not too sudden, Captain? Ah, the dash of -Royal Scots cannot be resisted!” - -At this moment Miss Hoppner returned, and Peggy cried to her, “My dear -child, your friend is Mercury--the messenger of the Elysian Fields--he -has invited us to accompany him to Ranelagh to-night.” - -“Indeed! That is kind of him,” said Miss Hoppner, without any great show -of enthusiasm. “And you have accepted his invitation?” - -“Ah! who could refuse?” cried Peggy. She had not failed to notice -Captain Joycelyn's little start at her assumption that Miss Hoppner was -also to be of the party. “You will not mar our enjoyment by refusing to -come, my dear?” she added. - -“Nay; if 't is all settled, I will not hold aloof,” said Miss Hoppner, -brightening up somewhat. - -They went out together, and before Peggy had parted from the others, the -manner and the hour of their going had been arranged. - - -IV - -They went up to the gardens by boat. Their party numbered four, for -Miss Hoppner had, when alone with Captain Joycelyn, so pouted that he -had promised to bring with him a brother officer to add symmetry to -the party. But if she fancied that this gentleman, who was one Ensign -Cardew, was to be the companion of Mrs. Woffington, she soon became -sensible of her mistake. By some strange error, for which only Peggy -could account the couples got parted in the crowd, Peggy and the Captain -disappearing mysteriously, and only meeting the Ensign and his companion -at supper time. - -The merriment of Peggy, at the supper, and the high spirits of Captain -Joycelyn, who allowed himself to be spoon-fed by her with minced -chicken, were powerless to disperse the cloud which hung over Miss -Hoppner. She pouted at the supper, and pouted in the boat, and made only -sarcastic replies to the exclamations of enjoyment addressed to her by -the volatile Peggy. - -The next day, before the rehearsal of the tragedy, Miss Hoppner said to -Peggy, who was renewing her protestations of the enjoyment she had had -on the previous evening: - -“I think it right that you should know, Mrs. Woffington, that Captain -Joycelyn some time ago made a proposal of marriage to me, which I -accepted.” - -“Good creature, what has that to do with me?” asked Peggy. “Captain -Joycelyn certainly said nothing to me on that particular subject last -night, and why should you do so now?” - -“I am desirous of playing a fair game, madam,” cried Miss Hoppner. - -“And I am not desirous of playing any game, fair or otherwise,” said -Peggy. “Lud, Miss Hoppner, do you fancy that 't is my duty to prevent the -straying of the lovers of the ladies of Mr. Garrick's company? I vow, -I took upon me no such responsibility; I should have no time for my -meals.” - -The woman whom she addressed looked at her with flashing eyes, her hands -tightly clenched, and her teeth set, for some moments. Once her lips -parted; she seemed about to speak; but with an evident struggle she -restrained herself. Then the fierce light in her eyes flamed into scorn. - -“Words were wasted on such a creature,” she said in a whisper, that had -something of a hiss in its tone, as she walked away. - -Peggy laughed somewhat stridently, and cried: - -“Excellently spoke, beyond doubt. The woman will be an actress yet.” - -Not a word of complaint had Garrick reason for uttering in regard to -the rehearsal of the scene in the tragedy, this day, and on their way -homewards, he remarked to Peggy, smilingly: - -“Perhaps in the future, my dear Peggy, you will acknowledge that I know -something of the art and methods of acting, though you did not hesitate -to join with Mr. Johnson in calling my theories fantastic.” - -“Perhaps I may,” said Peggy, quietly; “but just now I protest that I -have some qualms.” - -“Qualms? Qualms? An actress with qualms!” cried Garrick. “What a comedy -could be written on that basis! 'The Actress with Qualms; or, Letting I -Dare Not wait upon I Would!' Pray, madam, do your qualms arise from -the reflection that you have contributed to the success of a sister -actress?” - -“The tragedy has not yet been played,” said Peggy. “It were best not -to talk of the success of an actress in a play until the play has been -acted.” - -That night, Mrs. Woffington occupied a box in the theater, and by her -side was Captain Joycelyn. Miss Hoppner was in a box opposite, and by -her side was her mother. - -On Monday, Peggy greeted her quite pleasantly as she came upon the stage -to rehearse the tragedy; but she returned the greeting with a glance of -scorn, far more fierce than any which, in the character of Oriana, she -had yet cast at her rival in the scenes of the play. Peggy's mocking -face and the merry laugh in which she indulged did not cause the other -to abate any of her fierceness; but when the great scene was rehearsed -for the last time previous to the performance, Mrs. Woffington became -aware of the fact that, not only was Miss Hoppner's representation of -the passionate jealousy of the one woman real, but her own expression -of fear, on the part of the other woman when she saw the flash of the -dagger, was also real. With an involuntary cry she shrank back before -the wild eyes of the actress, who approached her with the stealthy -movement of a panther measuring its distance for a spring at the throat -of its victim. - -Garrick complimented both ladies at the close of the scene, but they -both seemed too overcome to acknowledge his compliments. - -“By my soul, Peggy,” said Garrick, when they met at the house in Bow -street, “you have profited as much by your teaching of that woman as -she has. The expression upon your face to-day as she approached you gave -even me a thrill. The climax needed such a cry as you uttered, though -that fool of a poet did not provide for it.” - -She did not respond until some moments had passed, and then she merely -said: - -“Where are we to end, Davy, if we are to bring real and not simulated -passion to our aid at the theater? Heavens, sir! we shall be in a pretty -muddle presently. Are we to cultivate our hates and our jealousies and -our affections for the sake of exhibiting them in turn?” - -“'T would not be convenient to do so,” said Garrick. “Still, you have -seen how much can be done by an exhibition of the real, and not the -simulated passion.” - -“Depend upon it, sir, if you introduce the real passions into the acting -of a tragedy you will have a real and not a simulated tragedy on the -stage.” - -“Psha! that is the thought of--a woman,” said Garrick. “A woman seeks to -carry an idea to its furthest limits; she will not be content to accept -it within its reasonable limitations.” - -“And, being a woman,'tis my misfortune to think as a woman,” said Mrs. -Woffington. - -The theatre was crowded on the evening when “Oriana” appeared for the -first time on the bills. Garrick had many friends, and so also had -Margaret Woffington. The appearance of either in a new character -was sufficient to fill the theatre, but in “Oriana” they were both -appearing, and the interest of playgoers had been further stimulated by -the rumors which had been circulated respecting the ability of the new -actress whom Garrick had brought from the country. - -When the company assembled in the green-room, Garrick gave all his -attention to Miss Hoppner. He saw how terribly nervous she was. Not for -a moment would she remain seated. She paced the room excitedly, -every now and again casting a furtive glance in the direction of Mrs. -Woffington, who was laughing with Macklin in a corner. - -“You have no cause for trepidation, my dear lady,” said Garrick to Miss -Hoppner. - -[Illustration: 0155] - -“Your charm of person will make you a speedy favorite with the -playgoers, and if you act the stabbing scene as faithfully as you did at -the last two rehearsals your success will be assured.” - -“I can but do my best, sir,” said the actress. “I think you will find -that I shall act the stabbing scene with great effect.” - -“I do not doubt it,” said Garrick. “Your own friends in the boxes will -be gratified.” - -“I have no friends in the boxes, sir,” said the actress. - -“Nay, surely I heard of at least one--a certain officer in the Royal -Scots,” whispered Garrick. - -“I know of none such, sir,” replied the actress, fixing her eyes, half -closed, upon Peg Woffington, who was making a jest at Macklin's expense -for the members of the company in the neighbourhood. - -“Surely I heard--,” continued Garrick, but suddenly checked himself. -“Ah, I recollect now what I heard,” he resumed, in a low tone. “Alas! -Peggy is a sad coquette, but I doubt not that the story of your -conquests will ring through the town after to-night.” - -She did not seem to hear him. Her eyes were fixed upon Peggy Woffington, -and in another moment the signal came that the curtain was ready to -rise. - -Garrick and Macklin went on the stage together, the former smiling in a -self-satisfied way. - -“I think I have made it certain that she will startle the house in at -least one scene,” he whispered to Macklin. - -“Ah, that is why Peggy is so boisterous,” said Macklin. “'Tis only when -she is over-nervous that she becomes boisterous. Peggy is beginning to -feel that she may have a rival.” - -But if Peggy was nervous she certainly did not suggest it by her acting. -She had not many opportunities for displaying her comedy powers in the -play, but she contrived to impart a few touches of humour to the love -scenes in the first act, which brightened up the gloom of the tragedy, -and raised the spirits of the audience in some measure. Her mature style -contrasted very effectively with the efforts of Miss Hoppner, who showed -herself to be excessively nervous, and thereby secured at once the -sympathies of the house. It was doubtful which of the two obtained the -larger share of applause. - -At the end of the act, Captain Joycelyn was waiting at the back of the -stage to compliment Peggy upon her acting. Miss Hoppner brushed past -them on her way to her dressing-room, without deigning to recognise -either. - -Curiously enough, in the next act the position of the two actresses -seemed to be reversed. It was Mrs. Woffington who was nervous, whereas -Miss Hoppner was thoroughly self-possessed. - -“What in the world has come over you, my dear?” asked Garrick, when -Peggy had made an exit so rapidly as to cause the latter half of one of -her lines to be quite inaudible. - -“God knows what it is!” said Peggy. “I have felt all through the act -as if I were going to break down--as if I wanted to run away from an -impending calamity. By heaven, sir, I feel as if the tragedy were real -and not simulated!” - -“Psha! You are but a woman, after all,” said Garrick. - -“I fear that is the truth,” said she. “Good God! that woman seems to -have changed places with me. She is speaking her lines as if she had -been acting in London for years. She is doing what she pleases with the -house.” - -Garrick had to leave her to go through his great scene with the Oriana -of the play, and Mrs. Woffington watched, as if spell-bound, the -marvellous variety of his emotional expression, as, in the character of -the Prince Orsino, he confessed to Oriana that he no longer loved her, -but that he had given his heart to Francesca. She saw the gleam in the -eyes of the actress of the part of the jealous woman as she denounced -the perfidy of her lover, and bade him leave her presence. Then came -Oriana's long soliloquy, in which she swore that the Prince should never -taste the happiness which he had sought at her expense. - - “I have a heart for murder, murder, murder! - - My blood now surges like an angry sea, - - Eager to grapple with its struggling prey, - - And strangle it, as I shall strangle her, - - With these hands hungering for her shapely - - throat, - - The throat on which his kisses have been flung. - - Give her to me, just God, give her to me, - - But for the time it takes to close my hand - - Thus, and if justice reign supreme above, - - The traitress shall come hither to her doom.” - -(_Enter Francesca._) - -(_Aside_) “My prayer is answered. It is Jove's decree.” So the passage -ran, and it was delivered by the actress with a fervour that thrilled -the house. - -After her aside, Oriana turned, according to the stage directions, to -Francesca with a smile. In Miss Hoppner's eyes there was a light -of triumph--of gratified revenge--and before it Margaret Woffington -quailed. She gave a frightened glance around, as if looking for a way of -escape; there was a little pause, and then upon the silence of the -house there fell the half-hissed words of Oriana as she craned her head -forward facing her rival: - - “Thou think'st to ride in triumph o'er my - - corse-- - - The corse which his indecent feet have spurned - - Into the dust. But there's a God above! - - I tell thee, traitress,'t is not I shall lie - - For vulture-beaks to rend--but thou--thou-- - - thou! - - Traitress abhorred, this knife shall find thy - - heart!” - -“My God! the dagger--it is real!” shrieked Peggy; but before she could -turn to fly, the other had sprung upon her, throwing her partly over a -couch, and holding her down by the throat while she stabbed her twice. - -A hoarse cry came from Peg Woffington, and then she rolled off the couch -and fell limply to the stage, the backs of her hands rapping helplessly -on the boards as she fell. - -The other actress stood over her for a moment with a smile; then she -looked strangely at the dagger which glistened in her hand. Then, with a -hysterical cry, she flung the weapon from her and fell back. - -The curtain went down upon the roar of applause that came from every -part of the theatre. But though the applause was maintained, neither of -the actresses responded to the call. Several minutes had passed before -Garrick himself appeared and made a sign that he wished to speak. When -the house became silent, he explained to his patrons that both actresses -had swooned through the great demands which the scene had made upon -them, and would be unable to appear for the rest of the evening. Under -these melancholy circumstances, he hoped that no objection would be made -to the bringing on of the burletta immediately. - -The audience seemed satisfied to forego the enjoyment of the ghost -scenes of the tragedy, and the burletta was proceeded with. - -It was not thought advisable to let the audience know that Mrs. -Woffington was lying on a couch in her dressing room, while a surgeon -was binding up a wound made in her side by the dagger used by the -other actress. It was not until Garrick had examined the weapon that he -perceived it was not a stage blade, but a real one, which had been used -by Miss Hoppner. Fortunately, however, the point had been turned aside -by the steel in Peg Woffington's stays, so that it had only inflicted a -flesh wound. - -In the course of a couple of hours Peggy had recovered consciousness, -and, though very weak, was still able to make an effort to captivate -the surgeon with her witty allusions to the privileges incidental to his -profession. She was so engaged, when Garrick entered the room and told -her that Miss Hoppner was weeping outside the door, but that he had -given orders that she was not to be admitted. - -“Why should the poor girl not be admitted?” cried Peggy. “Should such -an accident as that which happened be treated as though it were murder? -Send her into the room, sir, and leave us alone together.” - -Garrick protested, but Peggy insisted on having her own way, and the -moment Miss Hoppner was permitted to enter, she flung herself on her -knees at the side of the couch, weeping upon the hand that Peggy gave to -her. - -When Garrick entered with Captain Joycelyn, a short time afterwards, -Peggy would not allow him to remain in the room. The Captain remained, -however, for some minutes, and when he left, Miss Hoppner was on his -arm. They crossed the stage together, and that was the last time she -ever trod that or any other stage, for Captain Joycelyn married her -within a month. - -“Ah, friend Davy,” cried Peggy to Garrick, “there was, after all, some -sense in what Mr. Johnson said. We actors are, doubtless, great folk; -but 't were presumptuous to attempt to turn Nature into the handmaid -of Art. I have tried it, sir, and was only saved from disaster by -the excellence of the art of my stays-maker. Nay, the stage is not -Nature--it is but Nature seen on the surface of a mirror; and even then, -I protest, only when David Garrick is the actor, and Shakespeare's the -poet.” - - - - -THE MUSE OF TRAGEDY - - -I - -Madam,” said Mr. Daly, the manager, in his politest style, “no one -could regret the occurrence more than myself”--he pronounced the word -“meself”--“especially as you say it has hurt your feelings. Do n't -I know what feelings are?”--he pronounced the word “failings,” which -tended in some measure to alter the effect of the phrase, though his -friends would have been inclined to assert that its accuracy was not -thereby diminished. - -“I have been grossly insulted, sir,” said Mrs. Siddons. - -“Grossly insulted,” echoed Mr. Siddons. He played the part of echo to -his stately wife very well indeed. - -“And it took place under your roof, sir,” said the lady. - -“Your roof,” echoed the husband. - -“And there's no one in the world sorrier than myself for it,” said Mr. -Daly. “But I do n't think that you should take a joke of the college -gentlemen so seriously.” - -“Joke?” cried Mrs. Siddons, with a passion that caused the manager, -in the instinct of self-preservation to jump back. “Joke, sir!--a joke -passed upon Sarah Siddons! My husband, sir, whose honour I have ever -upheld as dearer to me than life itself, will tell you that I am not -accustomed to be made the subject of ribald jests.” - -“I do n't know the tragedy that that quotation is made from,” remarked -Mr. Daly, taking out his snuff-box and tapping it, affecting a coolness -which he certainly was far from possessing; “but if it's all written -in that strain I'll bring it out at Smock Alley and give you an extra -benefit. You never spoke anything better than that phrase. Pray let us -have it again, madam--'my husband, sir,' and so forth.” - -Mrs. Siddons rose slowly and majestically. Her eyes flashed as she -pointed a shapely forefinger to the door of the greenroom, saying in her -deepest tones: - -“Sir! degrade the room no longer by your presence. You have yet to know -Sarah Siddons.” - -“Sarah Siddons,” murmured the husband very weakly. He would have liked -to maintain the stand taken up by his wife, but he had his fears that -to do so would jeopardise the success of his appearance at the manager's -treasury, and Mr. Siddons now and again gave people to understand that -he could not love his wife so well loved he not the treasury more. - -Mr. Daly laughed. - -“Faith, Mrs. Siddons,” said he, “'t is a new thing for a man to be -ordered out of his own house by a guest. I happen to be the owner of -this tenement in Smock Alley, in the city of Dublin, and you are my -guest--my honoured guest, madam. How could I fail to honour a lady who, -in spite of the fact of being the greatest actress in the world, is -still a pattern wife and mother?” - -Mrs. Siddons was visibly softening under the balmy brogue of the -Irishman. - -“It is because I am sensible of my duties to my husband and my children -that I feel the insult the more, sir,” she said, in a tone that was -still tragic. - -“Sure I know that that's what makes the sting of it so bitter,” said Mr. -Daly, shaking his head sadly. “It's only the truly virtuous, madam, that -have feelings”--again he pronounced the word “failings.” - -“Enough, madam,” he continued, after he had flourished his handkerchief -and had wiped away an imaginary tear. “Enough! In the name of the -citizens of Dublin I offer you the humblest apology in my power for -the gross misconduct of that scoundrel in the pit who called out, 'Well -done, Sally, my jewel!' after your finest soliloquy; and I promise you -that if we can find the miscreant we shall have him brought to justice.” - -“If you believe that the citizens of Dublin are really conscious of the -stigma which they shall bear for ages to come for having insulted one -whose virtue has, I rejoice to say, been ever beyond reproach, I will -accept your apology, sir,” said Mrs. Siddons with dignity. - -“I 'll undertake to swear that the citizens feel the matter quite as -deeply as I do, Mrs. Siddons,” cried Mr. Daly, with both his hands -clasped over his waistcoat. “I dare swear that they do not even now know -the enormity of your virtue, madam. It will be my pleasing duty to -make them acquainted with it; and so, madam, I am your grateful, humble -servant.” - -With a low bow he made his escape from the green-room, leaving Mrs. -Sid-dons seated on a high chair in precisely the attitude which she -assumed when she sat for the Tragic Muse of Reynolds. - -“Thank heavens that 's over!” muttered the manager, as he hurried down -Smock Alley to the tavern at the corner kept by an old actor named -Barney Rafferty, and much frequented by the Trinity College students, -who in the year 1783 were quite as enthusiastic theatre-goers as their -successors are in the present year. - -“For the love of heaven, Barney, give us a jorum,” cried Daly, as he -entered the bar parlor. “A jorum of punch, Barney, for I 'm as dry as -a lime kiln, making speeches in King Cambyses' vein to that Queen of -Tragedy.” - -“It'll be at your hand in a minute, Mr. Daly, sir,” said Barney, -hurrying off. - -In the parlour were assembled a number of the “college boys,” as the -students were always called in Dublin. They greeted the arrival of their -friend Daly with acclamation, only they wanted to know what had occurred -to detain him so long at the theatre. - -“Delay and Daly have never been associated before now when there's a -jorum of punch in view,” remarked young Mr. Blenerhassett of Limerick, -who was reported to have a very pretty wit. - -“It's lucky you see me among you at all, boys,” said the manager, wiping -his brow. “By the powers, I might have remained in the green-room all -night listening to homilies on the virtue of wives and the honour of -husbands.” - -“And 't is yourself that would be nothing the worse for listening to a -homily or two on such topics,” remarked young Blake of Connaught. “And -who was the preacher of the evening, Daly?” - -“None else than the great Sarah herself, my boy,” replied the manager. -“Saint Malachi! what did you mean by shouting out what you did, after -that scene?” he added. - -“What did I shout?” asked Jimmy Blake. “I only ventured humbly to cry, -'Well done, Sally, my jewel'--what offence is there in that?” - -“Ay, by Saint Patrick, but there's much offence in 't,” cried Daly. -“Mrs. Siddons sent for me to my dressing-room after the play, and -there I found her pacing the green-room like a lioness in her cage, -her husband, poor man, standing by as tame as the keeper of the royal -beast.” - -A series of interested exclamations passed round the room, and the -circle of heads about the table became narrower. “Mother o' Moses! She -objected to my civil words of encouragement?” said Mr. Blake. - -“She declared that not only had she been insulted, but her husband's -honour had been dragged in the mire, and her innocent children's names -had been sullied.” - -“Faith, that was a Sally for you, Mr. Daly,” said young Home, the Dublin -painter to whom Mrs. Siddons had refused to sit, assuring him that she -could only pay such a compliment to Sir Joshua Reynolds. - -“Boys, may this be my poison if I ever put in a worse half hour,” cried -Daly, as he raised a tumbler of punch and swallowed half the contents. - -“I 'd give fifty pounds to have been there,” said Home. “Think what a -picture it would make!--the indignant Sarah, the ever courteous manager -Daly, and the humble husband in the corner. What would not posterity pay -for such a picture!” - -“A guinea in hand is worth a purse in the future,” said one of the -college boys. “I wish I could draw a bill on posterity for the payment -of the silversmith who made my buckles.” - -“Daly,” said Blake, “you're after playing a joke on us. Sally never took -you to task for what I shouted from the Pit.” - -Mr. Daly became dignified--he had finished the tumbler of punch. He drew -himself up, and, with one hand thrust into his waistcoat, he said: -“Sir, I conceive that I understand as well as any gentleman present -what constitutes the elements of a jest. I have just conveyed to you -a statement of facts, sir. If you had seen Sarah Siddons as I left -her--egad, she is a very fine woman--you would n't hint that there was -much jest in the matter. Oh, lord, boys”--another jug of punch had just -been brought in, and the manager was becoming genial once more--“Oh, -lord, you should have heard the way she talked about the honour of her -husband, as if there never had been a virtuous woman on the boards until -Sarah Siddons arose!” - -“And was there one, Daly?” asked young Murphy, a gentleman from whom -great things were expected by his college and his creditors. - -“There was surely, my boy,” said Daly, “but I've forgot her name. The -name's not to the point. I tell you, then, the Siddons stormed in the -stateliest blank verse and periods, about how she had elevated the -stage--how she had checked Brereton for clasping her as she thought too -ardently--how she had family prayers every day, and looked forward to -the day when she could afford a private chaplain.” - -“Stop there,” shouted Blake. “You'll begin to exaggerate if you go -beyond the chaplain, Daly.” - -“It's the truth I've told so far, at any rate, barring the chaplain,” - said Daly. - -“And all because I saw she was a bit nervous and did my best to -encourage her and give her confidence by shouting, 'Well done, Sally!'” - said Blake. “Boys, it's not Sarah Siddons that has been insulted, it's -Trinity College--it's the city of Dublin! by my soul, it's the Irish -nation that she has insulted by supposing them capable of insulting a -woman.” - -“Faith, there 's something in that, Jimmy,” said half a dozen voices. - -“Who is this Sarah Siddons, will ye tell me, for I 'd like to know?” - resumed Blake, casting a look of almost painful enquiry round the room. - -“Ay, that 's the question,” said Daly, in a tone that he invariably -reserved for the soliloquy which flourished on the stage a century ago. - -“We 're all gentlemen here,” resumed Mr. Blake. - -“And that 's more than she is,” said young Blenerhassett of Limerick. - -“Gentlemen,” said the manager, “I beg that you'll not forget that -Mrs. Siddons and myself belong to the same profession. I cannot suffer -anything derogatory”--the word gave him some trouble, but he mastered -it after a few false starts--“to the stage to be uttered in this -apartment.” - -“You adorn the profession, sir,” said Blake. “But can the same be said -of Mrs. Siddons? What could Garrick make of her, gentlemen?” - -“Ahem! we know what he failed to make of her,” said Digges, the actor, -who sat in the corner, and was supposed to have more Drury Lane scandal -on his fingers' ends than Daly himself. - -“Pooh!” sneered Daly. “Davy Garrick never made love to her, Digges. It -was her vanity that tried to make out that he did.” - -“He did not make her a London success--that's certain,” said Blake. -“And though Dublin, with the assistance of the College, can pronounce a -better judgment on an actor or actress than London, still we must admit -that London is improving, and if there had been any merit in Sarah -Siddons she would not have been forced to keep to the provinces as she -does now. Gentlemen, she has insulted us and it's our duty to teach her -a lesson.” - -“And we're the boys to do it,” said one Moriarty. - -“Gentlemen, I 'll take my leave of you,” said the manager, rising with a -little assistance and bowing to the company. “It's not for me to dictate -any course for you to pursue. I do n't presume to ask to be let into any -of your secrets; I only beg that you will remember that Mrs. Siddons -has three more nights to appear in my theatre, and she grasps so large -a share of the receipts that, unless the house continues to be crowded, -it's a loser I'll be at the end of the engagement. You'll not do -anything that will jeopardise the pit or the gallery--the boxes are -sure--for the rest of the week.” - -“Trust to us, sir, trust to us,” said Jimmy Blake, as the manager -withdrew. “Now, boys,” he continued in a low voice, bending over the -table, “I've hit upon a way of convincing this fine lady that has taken -the drama under her wing, so to speak, that she can't play any of her -high tragedy tricks here, whatever she may do at Bath. She does n't -understand us, boys; well, we'll teach her to.” - -“Bravo, Jimmy!” - -“The Blake's Country and the sky over it!” - -“Give us your notions,” came several voices from around the table. - -“She bragged of her respectability; of her armour of virtue, Daly told -us. Well, suppose we put a decent coat on Dionysius Hogan and send him -to propose an elopement to her to-morrow; how would that do for a joke -when it gets around the town?” - -“By the powers, boys, whether or not Dionysius gets kicked down the -stairs, she'll be the laughing-stock of the town. It's a genius”--he -pronounced it “jan-yus”--“that you are, Jimmy, and no mistake,” cried -young Moriarty. - -“We'll talk it over,” said Jimmy. And they did talk it over. - - -II - -Dionysius Hogan was a celebrated character in Dublin during the -last quarter of the eighteenth century. The Irish capital has always -cherished curious characters, for pretty much the same reason that -caused badgers to be preserved; any man, or, for that matter, any woman, -who was only eccentric enough, could depend on the patronage of the -people of Dublin. Dionysius Hogan afforded his fellow-citizens many a -laugh on account of his numerous eccentricities. He was a man of about -fifty years of age, but his great anxiety was to appear thirty years -younger; and he fancied he accomplished this aim by wearing in 1783 the -costume of 1750, only in an exaggerated form. His chief hallucination -was that several of the best known ladies in society were in love with -him, and that it was necessary for him to be very careful lest he -should compromise himself by a correspondence with some of those who had -husbands. - -[Illustration: 0186] - -It need scarcely be said that this idea of his was not greatly -discouraged by the undergraduates of Trinity College. It was not their -fault if he did not receive every week a letter from some distinguished -lady begging the favor of an interview with him. Upon many occasions the -communications, which purported to come from married ladies, took the -form of verses. These he exhibited with great pride, and only after -extorting promises of profound secrecy, to his student friends. - -It was immaterial that Dionysius found almost every week that he had -been the victim of practical jokes; his belief in his own powers of -captivating womankind was superior to every rebuff that he encountered. -He exhibited his dapper little figure, crowned with the wig of a -macaroni, to the promenaders in all the chief thoroughfares daily, -and every evening he had some fresh story to tell of how he had been -exerting himself to avoid an assignation that was being urged on him by -a lady of quality sojourning not a hundred miles from the Castle. - -The scheme which Mr. Blake had suggested to his fellow-students in -the Smock Alley tavern found a willing agent for its realisation in -Dionysius Hogan. Mrs. Siddons, her beauty and her powers, were, of -course, the talk of the town during her first visit to Dublin. It only -needed Jimmy Blake to drop a few dark hints in the hearing of Dionysius -on the subject of a rumor that was current, to the effect that a certain -well-known gentleman in Dublin had attracted the attention of the great -actress, to make Dionysius believe that he had made a conquest of the -Siddons. - -For the remainder of the evening he took to dropping dark hints to this -effect, and before he had slept that night there was no doubt on his -mind that Sarah Sid-dons was another lady who had succumbed to his -attractive exterior. To be sure, he had heard it said that she was as -hard as marble; but then she had not seen him until she had come to -Dublin. All women, he believed, had their weak moments, and there was no -article of his creed more strongly impressed upon him than that the weak -moment of many women was when they saw him for the first time. - -When, on descending from his bedroom to his little sitting-room in his -humble lodgings--for Mr. Hogan's income did not exceed eighty pounds a -year--a letter was put into his hand bearing the signature “S. S.,” and -when he found that above these initials there was a passionate avowal -of affection and a strong appeal to him to be merciful as he was strong, -and to pay the writer a visit at her lodgings before the hour of one, -“when Mr. S. returns from the theatre, where he goes every forenoon,” - poor Dionysius felt that the time had at last come for him to cast -discretion to the winds. The beauty of Mrs. Siddons had had a powerful -effect upon his susceptible heart when she had first come before his -eyes on the stage of the Smock Alley theatre. - -[Illustration: 0192] - -On that night he believed that she had kept her eyes fixed upon him -while repeating some of the beautiful soliloquies in “Isabella.” The -artful suggestions of Jimmy Blake had had their effect upon him, and now -he held in his hand a letter that left him no room to doubt--even if he -had been inclined that way--the accuracy of the tale that his poor heart -had originally told him. - -He dressed himself with his accustomed care, and, having deluged his -cambric with civet--it had been the favourite scent of thirty years -before--he indulged in the unusual luxury of a chair to convey him to -the lodgings of the great actress; for he felt that it might seriously -jeopardise his prospects to appear in the presence of the lady with -soiled shoes. - -The house where Mrs. Siddons lodged was not an imposing one. She had -arrived in Dublin from Holyhead at two o'clock in the morning, and -she was compelled to walk about the streets in a downpour of rain for -several hours before she could prevail upon any one to take her in. -It is scarcely surprising that she conceived a strong and enduring -prejudice against Dublin and its inhabitants. - -On enquiring in a whisper and with a confidential smirk for Mrs. -Siddons, he learned from the maid servant that the lady was in her room, -and that Mr. Siddons had not returned from his morning visit to the -theatre. The servant stated, however, that Mrs. Siddons had given the -strictest orders to admit no one into her presence. - -“Ah, discreet as one might have expected,” murmured Dionysius. “She does -not mean to run the chance of disappointing me. Which is her parlour, -child?” - -“It's the first front, yer honour,” said the girl; “but, Lord save yer -honour, she'd murther me if I let ye go up. Oh, it's joking ye are.” - -“Hush,” whispered Dionysius, his finger on his lips. “Not so loud, I -pray. She is waiting for me.” - -“Holy Biddy! waiting for yer?” cried the maid. “Now do n't be afther -getting a poor colleen into throuble, sir. I'm telling ye that it's -killed entirely I'd be if I let ye go up.” - -“Do n't be a fool, girl,” said Dionysius, still speaking in a whisper. -“I give you my word of honour as a gentleman that Mrs. Siddons is -awaiting me. Zounds! why do I waste time talking to a menial? Out of my -way, girl.” - -He pushed past the servant, leaving her somewhat awe-stricken at his -grand manner and his finery, and when she recovered and made a grab for -his coat tails, he was too quick for her. He plucked them out of her -reach, and she perceived that he had got such a start of her that -pursuit would be useless. In a few moments he was standing before the -door of the room on the first floor that faced the street. - -His heart was fluttering so that he had scarcely courage to tap upon the -panel. He had tapped a second time before that grand contralto, that -few persons could hear without emotion, bade him enter. He turned the -handle, and stood facing Mrs. Siddons. - -[Illustration: 0197] - -She was sitting in a gracefully majestic attitude by the side of a small -table on which a desk was placed. Mrs. Siddons never unbent for a moment -in private life. - -She assumed majestic attitudes in the presence of the lodging-house -servant, and spoke in a tragic contralto to the linen-draper's -apprentice. She turned her lovely eyes upon Dionysius Hogan as he stood -smirking and bowing at the door. There was a vista of tragedy in the -delivery of the two words-- - -“Well, sir?” - -It took him some moments to recover from the effect the words produced -upon him. He cleared his throat--it was somewhat husky--and with an -artificial smirk he piped out: - -“Madam--ah, my charmer, I have rushed to clasp my goddess to my bosom! -Ah, fair creature, who could resist your appeal?” - -He advanced in the mincing gait of the Macaronis. She sprang to her -feet. She pointed an eloquent forefinger at a spot on the floor directly -in front of him. - -“Wretch,” she cried, “advance a step at your peril!” Her eyes were -flashing, and her lips were apart. - -His mincing ceased abruptly; and only the ghost of a smirk remained upon -his patched and painted face. It was in a very fluty falsetto that he -said: - -“Ah, I see my charmer wants to be wooed. But why should Amanda reproach -her Strephon for but obeying her behests? Wherefore so coy, dear nymph? -Let these loving arms--” - -“Madman--wretch--” - -“Nay, chide me not, dear one. 'T is but the ardour of my passion that -bids me clasp thee, the fairest of Hebe's train. We shall fly together -to some retreat--far from the distractions--” - -“Oh, the man is mad--mad!” cried the lady, retreating a step or two as -he advanced. - -“Only mad with the ardour of my passion,” whispered Dionysius. - -“Oh, heaven! that I should live to hear such words spoken in my -presence!” cried Mrs. Siddons, with her hands clasped in passionate -appeal to a smiling portrait of the landlady's husband that hung over -the fireplace. Then she turned upon Dionysius and looked at him. - -Her eyes blazed. Their fire consumed the unfortunate man on whom they -rested. He felt himself shrivelled up and become crisp as an autumn -leaf. He certainly trembled like one, as a terrible voice, but no louder -than a whisper, sounded in his ears: “Are you a human being or the -monster of a dream, that you dare to speak such words in my hearing? -What wretch are you that fancies that Sarah Siddons may be addressed -by such as you, and in language that is an insult to a pure wife and -mother. I am Sarah Siddons, sir! I am a wife who holds her husband's -honour dearer than life itself--I am a mother who will never cause a -blush of shame to mantle the brow of one of her children. Wretch, -insulter, why are mine eyes not basilisks, with death in their glance -to such as you?” - -Down went Dionysius on his knees before that terrible figure that -stretched out wild quivering hands above his head. Such gestures as hers -would have fitted the stage of Drury Lane. - -In the lodging-house parlour they were overwhelming. - -“For God's sake, spare me, spare me!” he faltered, with his hands -clasped and his head bent before that fury. - -“Why should I spare such a wretch--why should I not trample such a worm -into the dust?” - -She took a frantic step toward him. With a short cry of abject terror he -fell along the floor, and gasped. It seemed to him that she had trampled -the life out of his body. - -She stood above him with a heaving bosom beneath her folded arms. - -There was a long pause before he heard the door open. A weight seemed -lifted off him. He found that he could breathe. In a few moments he -ventured to raise his head. He saw a beautiful figure sitting at the -desk writing. Even in the scratching of her pen along the paper there -was a tone of tragedy. - -He crawled backward upon his hands and knees, with his eyes furtively -fixed upon that figure at the desk. If, when he had looked up he had -found her standing with an arm outstretched tin the direction of the -door, he felt that he would have been able to rise to his feet and leave -her presence; but Mrs. Siddons' dramatic instinct caused her to produce -a deeper impression upon him by simply treating him as if he were dead -at her feet--as if she had, indeed, trampled the life out of his body. - -He crept away slowly and painfully backward, until he was actually in -the lobby. Then by a great effort he sprang to his feet, rushed headlong -down the stairs, picked himself up in the hall, and fled wildly through -the door, that chanced to be open, into the street. He overthrew a -chairman in his wild flight, and as he turned the corner he went with a -rush into the arms of a young man, who, with a few others by his side, -was sauntering along. - -[Illustration: 0205] - -“Zounds, sir! what do you mean by this mode of progression?” cried the -young man, holding him fast. - -Dionysius grasped him limply, looking at him with wild, staring eyes. - -“For God's sake, Mr. Blake, save me from her--do n't let her get hold of -me, for the love of all the saints.” - -“What do you mean, you fool?” said Jimmy Blake. “Who is anxious to get -hold of you?” - -But no answer was returned by poor Dionysius. He lay with his head over -Blake's shoulder, his arms swaying limply like two pendulums. - -“By the powers, he has gone off in a swoon,” said young Blenerhassett. -“Let us carry him to the nearest tavern.” - -In less than half an hour Dionysius had recovered consciousness; but -it required a longer space of time, and the administration of a -considerable quantity of whisky, to enable him to tell all his story. He -produced the letter signed “S. S.” which he had received in the morning, -and explained that he had paid the visit to Mrs. Siddons only with a -view of reasoning her out of her infatuation, which, he said with a -shadowy simper, he could not encourage. - -“I had hardly obtained access to her when she turned upon me in a fury,” - said he. “Ah, boys, those eyes of hers!--I feel them still upon me. They -made me feel like a poor wretch that's marched out in front of a platoon -to be shot before breakfast. And her voice! well, it sounded like the -voice of the officer giving the word of command to the platoon to fire. -When I lay ready to expire at her feet, every word that she spoke had -the effect of a bayonet prod upon my poor body. Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! I'll -leave it to yourself, Mr. Blake: was it generous of her to stab me with -cold steel after I was riddled with red-hot bullets?” - -“I'm sorry to say, Mr. Hogan,” replied Blake, “that I can't take a -lenient view of your conduct. We all know what you are, sir. You seek -to ingraft the gallantries of the reign of his late Majesty upon the -present highly moral age. Mrs. Siddons, sir, is a true wife and mother, -besides being a most estimable actress, and you deserved the rebuff from -the effects of which you are now suffering. Sir, we leave you to the -gnawings of that remorse which I trust you feel acutely.” - -Mr. Blake, with his friends, left the tavern room as Dionysius was -beginning to whimper. - -In the street a roar of laughter burst from the students. - -“Mother o' Moses!” cried Moriarty. “'T is a golden guinea I'd give to -have been present when the Siddons turned upon the poor devil.” - -“Then I 'll give you a chance of being present at a better scene than -that,” said Blake. - -“What do you mean, Jimmy?” asked Moriarty. - -“I mean to bring you with me to pay a visit to Mrs. Siddons this very -minute.” - -“'T is joking you are, Jimmy?” - -“Oh, the devil a joke, ma bouchai! Man alive, can't you see that the fun -is only beginning? We'll go to her in a body and make it out that she -has insulted a friend of ours by attributing false motives to him, and -that her husband must come out to the Park in the morning.” - -“That's carrying a joke a bit too far,” said Mr. Blenerhassett. “I'll -not join in with you there.” - -“Nobody axed ye, sir,” said Blake. “There are three of us here without -you, and that's enough for our purpose.” - -“If Mr. Siddons kicks you into the street, or if Sally treats you as she -did that poor devil in the tavern,'t is served right that you'll be,” - said Blenerhassett, walking off. - -“We'll have a scene with Sarah Siddons for our trouble, at any rate,” - laughed Blake. - -The three young men who remained when the more scrupulous youth had -departed, went together to Mrs. Siddons' lodgings. They understood more -than Dionysius did about the art of obtaining admittance when only a -portress stood in the way--a squeeze, a kiss, and a crown combined to -make the maid take a lenient view of the consequences of permitting them -to go up the stairs. - -When, after politely rapping at the door of the parlour, the three -entered the room, they found the great actress in precisely the same -attitude she had assumed for her last visitor. The dignity of her -posture was not without its effect upon the young men. They were not -quite so self-confident as they had been outside the door. Each of them -looked at the other, so to speak; but somehow none of the three appeared -to be fluent. They stood bowing politely, keeping close to the door. - -“Who are these persons?” said Mrs. Siddons, as if uttering her thoughts. -“Am I in a civilised country or not?” - -“Madam,” said Blake, finding his voice, at last, when a slur was cast -upon his country. “Madam, Ireland was the home of civilisation when the -inhabitants of England were prowling the woods naked, except for a coat -of paint.” - -Mrs. Siddons sprang to her feet. - -“Sir,” she cried, “you are indelicate as well as impertinent. You have -no right to intrude upon me without warning.” - -“The urgency of our mission is our excuse, madam,” said Blake. “The fact -is, madam, to come to the point, the gentleman who visited you just now -is our friend.” - -“Your friend, sir, is a scoundrel. He grossly insulted me,” said Mrs. -Siddons. - -“Ah,'t is sorry I am to find you do n't yet understand the impulses of a -warmhearted nation, madam,” said Blake, shaking his head. “The gentleman -came to compliment you on your acting, and yet you drove him from -your door like a hound. That, according to our warmhearted Irish ways, -constitutes an offence that must be washed out in blood--ay, blood, -madam.” - -“What can be your meaning, sir?” - -“I only mean, madam, that your husband, whom we all honour on account of -the genius--we do n't deny it--the genius and virtue of his wife, will -have to meet the most expert swordsman in Ireland in the Phonix Park -in the morning, and that Sarah Siddons will be a widow before breakfast -time.” - -There was a pause before there came a cry of anguish more pitiful than -any expression of emotion that the three youths had ever heard. - -“My husband!” were the words that sounded like a sob in their ears. - -Mrs. Siddons had averted her head. Her face was buried in her hands. -The wink in which Jimmy Blake indulged as he gave Moriarty a nudge was -anything but natural. - -“Why was I ever tempted to come to this country?” cried the lady wildly. - -“Madam, we humbly sympathise with you, and with the country,” said -Blake. He would not allow any reflection to be cast on his country. - -She took a few steps toward the three young men, and faced them with -clasped hands. She looked into the three faces in turn, with passionate -intreaty in her eyes. “Have you no pity?” she faltered. - -“Yes,” said Blake, “that we have; we do pity you heartily, madam.” - -“Are you willing to take part in this act of murder--murder?” cried Mrs. -Siddons, in a low voice that caused the flesh of at least two of her -audience to creep. “Are you blind? Can 't you see the world pointing at -you as I point at you, and call you murderers?” She stood before them -with her eyes half closed, her right hand pointing to each of them in -turn as she prolonged the word, suggesting a thousand voices whispering -“murderers!” There was a long pause, during which the spell-bound -youths, their jaws fallen, stared at that terrible figure--the awful -form of the Muse of Tragedy. Drops of perspiration stood on the forehead -of young Moriarty. Blake himself gave a gasp. “Have you no compassion?” - Mrs. Sid-dons continued, but in another tone--a tone of such pathos as -no human being could hear unmoved. Clasping her hands, she cried: “My -poor husband! What harm has he done? Is he to be dragged from these -arms--these arms that have cherished him with all the devotion that a -too-loving wife can offer? Is he to be dragged away from this true heart -to be butchered? Sirs, we have children--tender little blossoms. Oh, -cannot you hear their cries? Listen, listen--the wailing of the babes -over the mangled body of their father.” - -Surely the sound of children's sobbing went around the room. - -One of the young men dropped into a chair and burst into tears. - -Blake's lips were quivering, as the streaming eyes of the woman were -turned upon him. - -“For heaven's sake, madam!” he faltered--“for heaven's sake--oh, my God! -what have we done?--what have we done? Worse than Herod! the innocent -children!--I hear them--I hear them! Oh, God forgive us! God forgive us -for this cruel joke.” - -He broke down utterly. The room now was certainly filled with wild -sobbing and the sound of convulsive weeping. - -[Illustration: 0217] - -For several minutes the three emotional Irishmen sat weeping. They were -in the power of the woman, who, at the confession of Blake, had become -perfectly self-possessed in a moment. She stood watching them, a -scornful smile upon her lips. She knew that the magic which she had at -her command could enchain them so long as she wished. She was merciful, -however. - -“If you consider your jest sufficiently successful, gentlemen,” said -she, “perhaps you will oblige me by withdrawing. I have letters to -write.” - -The spell that she had cast around them was withdrawn. - -Blake sprang to his feet and drew his handkerchief across his eyes. - -“Mrs. Siddons--madam,” said he, “we have behaved like fools--nay, worse, -like scoundrels. We are not bold enough to ask your pardon, madam; but -believe me, we feel deeply humiliated. You may forgive us, but we shall -never forgive ourselves. Madam, you are the greatest actress in the -world, and you may expect the finest benefit ever given to an actress in -this city.” - -But in spite of the fact that Mrs. Siddons' benefit the following night -was all that Mr. Blake predicted it would be, she wrote some very hard -words about Dublin to her friend, Mr. Whately, of Bath. - - - - -THE WAY TO KEEP HIM - - -I - -Nay, sir,” cried Mrs. Abington, with such a smile of infinite witchery -as she wore when Sir Joshua Reynolds painted her as 'Miss Prue;' I would -not have you make any stronger love to me than is absolutely necessary -to keep yourself in training for the love scenes in Dr. Goldsmith's new -comedy.” - -“Ah, you talk glibly of measuring out the exact portion of one's love, -as if love were a physic to be doled out to the precise grain,” cried -Lee Lewis, impatiently turning away from the fascinating lady who was -smiling archly at him over the back of her chair. - -“By my faith, sir, you have e'en given the best description of love that -I have heard;'t is beyond doubt a physic, given to mankind to cure many -of the ills of life; but, la, sir! there are so many quacks about,'t is -well-nigh impossible to obtain the genuine thing.” - -And once more the actress smiled at her latest victim. - -“I have often wondered if you ever knew what love means,” said he. - -“Indeed the same thought has frequently occurred to me, sir,” said the -actress. “When one has been offered the nostrums of quacks so often, one -begins to lose faith in the true prescription.” - -“You think that I am a quack, and therefore have no faith in me,” said -Lewis. - -“I know that you are an excellent actor, Mr. Lewis.” - -“And therefore you suspect my truth?” - -“Nay, I respect your art.” - -“Perish my art, so long as I gain the favour of the most adorable woman -who ever flitted like a vision of beauty--” - -“Ah, sir, do not take advantage of my lack of memory; give me the title -of the comedy from which you quote, so that I may know my cue, and have -my reply ready.” - -Lewis flung himself across the room with an exclamation of impatience. - -“You are the most cruel woman that lives,” he cried. “I have often left -this house vowing that I would never come nigh it again because of your -cruelty.” - -“What a terrible vengeance!” cried the actress, raising her hands, while -a mock expression of terror came over her face. “You would fain prove -yourself the most cruel of men because you account me the most cruel of -women? Ah, sir, you are ungenerous; I am but a poor weak creature, while -you--” - -“I am weak enough to be your slave, but let me tell you, madam, I am -quite strong enough to throw off your bonds should I fail to be treated -with some consideration,” said Lewis. - -“Oh, so far as I am concerned you may take your freedom to-morrow,” - laughed Mrs. Abington. “The fetters that I weave are of silken thread.” - -“I would rather wear your fetters, though they be of iron, than those -of the next loveliest woman to you, though hers should be a chain of -roses,” said the actor. “Come, now, my dear lady, listen to reason.” - -“Gladly; 't will be a change from your usual discourse, which is of -love--just the opposite, you know.” - -“Why will you not consent to come with me to Vauxhall once more?” - -“La, sir, think of the scandal? Have not we been seen there together -half a dozen times?” - -“Scandal! Do you think that the scandal-mongers can add anything to what -they have already said regarding us?” - -“I place no limits on the imagination of the scandal-monger, sir, but -I desire to assign a limit to my own indiscretions, which, I fear, have -set tongues wagging--” - -“Pooh! my dear madam, cannot you see that tongues will wag all the -faster if I appear at the Gardens with some one else?” - -“Say, with your wife. Surely you are not afraid of the tongue of slander -if you appear by the side of your wife, sir.” - -“'T is for you I fear.” - -“What! you fancy that people will slander me if you appear at Vauxhall -with your lawful wedded wife?” - -“Even so, for they will say that you were not strong enough to keep me -faithful to you.” - -Mrs. Abington sprang to her feet. - -“The wretches!” she cried. “I will show them that------psha! let them -say their worst. What care I what they say? I'll go or stay away, as the -fancy seizes.” - -“You may take your choice, my dear madam,” said Lewis: “Whether you -would rather be slandered for coming with me or for staying at home!” - -“The terms are not the same in both cases,” said she; “for if I go with -you I know that I shall have an excellent supper.” - -“So you 'll come! Ah, I knew that you would not forsake me!” he cried, -catching her hand and kissing it. - -“You foolish man! You take credit to yourself for a decision that is due -to the prospect of a supper!” said Mrs. Abington. - -“Ah, I know what I know, my dear,” cried he. “And so I will take my -leave at once, lest you should change your mind.” - -“I protest, sir,” said she, as he kissed her hand again. “I protest that -'t was the thought of the supper decided me.” - -He roared with laughter. - -So did she when he had left her house. - -“What fools these men are!” she cried, throwing herself back on her -couch with a very capacious yawn. “What fools! The idea of a poor woman -being influenced by the thought of minced chicken in a decision that -involves being by their side seems preposterous to them! Oh, if they but -knew all that such a woman as I am could tell them!” - -She laughed softly--subtly--as certain recollections came to her, for -Mrs. Abington was a lady of many recollections. - -After a space, she resumed her study of the part of Miss Hardcastle, -for which she had been cast by Colman in Dr. Goldsmith's new comedy, but -which, the following week, to her everlasting regret, she relinquished -in favor of Mrs. Bulkley. - -Lee Lewis, who was studying the part of Young Marlow, had accompanied -her home after rehearsal. He had, during the previous month, shown -himself to be extremely polite in regard to her, for he had walked home -with her several times, and more than once he had been seen by her side -at Ranelagh and Vauxhall, as well as at the Pantheon in the Oxford Road. -People about the theater were saying that the beautiful Mrs. Abington -had added to the number of her conquests, and Miss Catley, the most -imprudent of all the imprudent ladies in Colman's company, said some -very spiteful things regarding her. (It was understood that Miss Catley -had angled for Lee Lewis herself, but without success.) - -Before Mrs. Abington had been alone for half an hour, her maid entered -to tell her that a lady was inquiring for her at the hall door. - -“Another of our stage-struck misses, Lucette?” said the actress, -alluding to the three visits which she had had during the week from -young women who were desirous of obtaining a footing on the stage. - -“Nay, madam, this lady seems somewhat different,” replied the maid. - -“Then let her be shown in at once, whoever she may be,” said Mrs. -Abington. “There can surely be no scandal in receiving a lady visitor.” - -She gave a glance at a mirror, and saw that her hair was in a proper -condition for a visitor who was a lady. She knew that it did not matter -so much when her visitors were of the other sex; and a moment afterwards -there entered a graceful little woman, whom she could not recollect -having ever seen before. She walked quickly to the centre of the room, -and stood there, gazing with soft grey eyes at the actress, who had -risen from her sofa, and was scrutinising her visitor. - -There was a pause before Mrs. Abington, with a smile--the smile she -reserved for women--quite different from that with which she was -accustomed to greet men--said: - -“Pray seat yourself, madam; and let me know to what I am indebted for -the honour of this visit.” - -But the lady made no move; she remained there, gazing at the actress -without a word. - -Mrs. Abington gave a laugh, saying, as she returned to her sofa: - -“Do not let me hurry you, my dear lady; but I must ask your pardon if I -seat myself.” Then the stranger spoke. “You are Mrs. Abington. I wish -I had not come to you. Now that I find myself face to face with you, I -perceive that I have no chance. You are overwhelmingly beautiful.” - -“Did you come here only to tell me that? Faith, you might have saved -yourself the trouble, my dear. I have known just how beautiful I am for -the past twenty years,” laughed the actress. - -“I did not come here to tell you that,” said the visitor; “on the -contrary, I meant to call you an ugly harridan--a vile witch, who -glories in seeing the ruin of good men; but now--well, now, I am dumb. -I perceive you are so beautiful, it is only natural that all men--my -husband among the number--should worship you.” - -“You are so flattering, my dear madam, I can without difficulty perceive -that you have not lived long in the world of fashion--ay, or in the -world of play-houses,” said the actress. - -“I am Mrs. Lewis, madam,” said the lady, and then dropping into a chair -she burst into tears. - -Mrs. Abington went beside the unhappy woman, and patted her on the -shoulder. - -“Dear child,” she said, “the thought that you are Mr. Lewis's wife -should not cause you to shed a tear. You should be glad rather than -sorry that you are married to a gentleman who is so highly esteemed. -Your husband, Mrs. Lewis, is a great friend of mine, and I hope that his -wife may become even a greater.” - -“Ah--ah!” moaned the lady. “A friend? a friend? Oh, give me back my -husband, woman--give me back my husband, whom you stole from me!” - -She had sprung to her feet as she spoke her passionate words, and now -stood with quivering, clenched hands in front of the actress. - -“My good woman,” said Mrs. Abington, “you have need to calm yourself. -I can assure you that I have not your husband in my keeping. Would you -like to search the room? Look under the sofa--into all the cupboards.” - -“I know that he left here half an hour ago--I watched him,” said Mrs. -Lewis. “You watched him? Oh, fie!” - -“You may make a mock of me, if you please; I expected that you would; -but he is my husband, and I love him--I believe that he loved me until -your witchery came over him and--oh, I am a most unhappy woman! But you -will give him back to me; you have many admirers, madam; one poor man is -nothing here or there to you.” - -“Listen to me, my poor child.” Mrs. Abington had led her to the sofa, -and sat down beside her, still holding her hand. “You have spoken some -very foolish words since you came into this room. From whom have you -heard that your husband was--well, was ensnared by me?” - -“From whom? Why, every one knows it!” cried Mrs. Lewis. “And besides, I -got a letter that told me--” - -“A letter from whom?” - -“From--I suppose she was a lady; at any rate she said that she -sympathised with me, and I'm certain that she did.” - -“Ah, the letter was not signed by her real name, and yet you believed -the slanders that you knew came from a jealous woman? Oh, Mrs. Lewis, -I'm ashamed of you.” - -“Nay, I did not need to receive any letter; my husband's neglect of -me made me aware of the truth--it is the truth, whether you deny it or -not.” - -“You are a silly goose, and I have half a mind to take your husband from -you, as mothers deprive their children of a toy when they injure it. -You do n't know how to treat a husband, madam, and you do n't deserve -to have one. Think how many girls, prettier and cleverer than you, are -obliged to go without husbands all their lives, poor things!” - -“It is enough for me to think of those women who are never satisfied -unless they have other women's husbands in their train, madam.” - -“Look you, my dear ill-treated creature, I do assure you that I have no -designs upon your husband. I do not care if I never see him again except -on the stage.” - -“Is that the truth? Ah, no, everybody says that Mrs. Abington is only -happy when--” - -“Then leave Mrs. Abington's room if you believe the statements of that -vague everybody.” - -The actress had risen, and was pointing in fine tragic style to the -door. - -Mrs. Lewis rose also, but slowly; her eyes fell beneath the flashing -eyes of Mrs. Abington. Suddenly she raised her head, and put out a -trembling hand. - -“I will not believe what I have heard,” she said. “And yet--yet--you are -so very beautiful.” - -“That you think it impossible I should have any good in me?” laughed -the actress. “Well, I do believe that I have some good in me--not much, -perhaps, but enough to make me wish to do you a friendly turn in spite -of your impudence. Listen to me, you little goose. Why have you allowed -your husband to neglect you, and to come here asking me to sup with him -at Vauxhall?” - -“Ah, then,'t is true!” cried the wife. “You have gone with him--you are -going with him?” - -“'Tis true that I went with him, and that he left me just now believing -that I would accompany him to the Gardens on Monday next. Well, what -I want you to explain is how you have neglected your duty toward your -husband so that he should stray into such evil ways as supping with -actresses at Vauxhall.” - -“What! would you make out that his neglect of his duty is my fault?” - -“Great heavens, child, whose fault is it, if it is not yours? That is -what I say, you do n't deserve to have a toy if you let some strange -child snatch it away from you.” - -“I protest, Mrs. Abington, that I scarce take your meaning. I have -nothing to reproach myself with. I have ever been the best of wives. -I have never gone gadding about to balls and routs as some wives do; I -have remained at home with my baby.” - -“Exactly, and so your poor husband has been forced to ask certain -actresses to bear him company at those innocent pleasures, which he, in -common with most gentlemen of distinction, enjoy. Ah,'t is you domestic -wives that will have to answer for your husbands' backslidings.” - -“Is it possible that--why, madam, you bewilder me. You think that I -should--I do n't know what you think--oh, I'm quite bewildered!” - -“Why, child, have you not seen enough of the world to learn that a woman -is most attractive to a man when he perceives that she is admired by -other men? Have you not seen that a man seeks to marry a particular -woman, not because he cares so greatly for her himself, but because he -believes that other men care greatly for her? Your good husband is, I -doubt not, fond enough of you; but when he perceives that you think much -more of your baby than you do of him--when he perceives that the men -whom he considered his rivals before he carried you _off_ from them, no -longer follow in your train, is he to be blamed if he finds you a trifle -insipid? Ah, let me tell you, my sweet young wife, a husband is a horse -that requires the touch of a spur now and again. A jog-trot is not what -suits a spirited creature.” - -“Heavens, madam! You mean that he--my husband--would be true to me if I -only I--I--” - -“If only you were not too anxious that he should keep pace with the -jog-trot into which you have fallen, my dear. Do you not fancy that I -know he wishes me to sup with him only because he is well aware that -a dozen men will be longing to mince him when they see him mincing my -chicken for me?” - -“But I would go with him to the Gardens if he would ask me, only--ah, no -one would want to mince him on my account.” - -“You silly one! Cannot you see that you must place him in the position -of wanting to mince the other man?” - -“How? I protest that I am bewildered.” - -“Dear child, go to the Gardens, not with your husband, but with another -man, and you will soon see him return to you with all the ardour of a -lover with a rival in view. Jealousy is the spur which a husband needs -to recall him to a sense of his duty, now and again.” - -“I will never consent to adopt such a course, madam. In the first place, -I cannot force myself upon any gentleman of my acquaintance.” - -“Then the sooner you find one on whom you can force yourself, the better -chance you will have of bringing your husband to your side.” - -“In the second place, I respect my husband too highly--” - -“Too highly to win him back to you, though not too highly to come to me -with a story of the wrongs he has done to you? Oh, go away now; you do -n't deserve your toy.” - -Mrs. Lewis did not respond to the laughter of the actress. She remained -standing in the centre of the room with her head down. Fresh tears were -welling up to her eyes. - -“I have given you my advice--and it is the advice of one who knows a -good deal of men and their manners,” resumed Mrs. Abington. “If you -cannot see your way to follow it there is nothing more to be said.” - -“I may be foolish; but I cannot bring myself to go alone with any man to -the Gardens,” said her visitor in a low tone. - -“Then good-bye to you!” cried the actress, with a wave of her hand. - -The little lady went slowly to the door; when there she cast an -appealing glance at Mrs. Abington; but the latter had picked up her copy -of the new comedy, and was apparently studying the contents. With a sigh -Mrs. Lewis opened the door and went out. - -“Foolish child! She will have to buy her experience of men, as her -sisters buy theirs,” cried Mrs. Abington, throwing away the book. - -She rose from her seat and yawned, stretching out her arms. As she -recovered herself, her eyes rested on a charcoal sketch of herself in -the character Sir Harry Wildair, in “The Constant Couple,” done by Sir -Joshua Reynolds' pupil, Northcote. She gave a little start, then ran to -the door, and called out to Mrs. Lewis, who had not had time to get to -the foot of the stairs. - -“Come back for one moment, madam,” cried Mrs. Abington over the -banisters, and when Mrs. Lewis returned, she said: “I called you back to -tell you to be ready dressed for the Gardens on Monday night. I will -accompany you thither in my coach.” - -“You mean that you will--” - -“Go away now, like a good child. Ask no more questions till Monday -night.” - -She went away, and on the Monday night she was dressed to go to -Vauxhall, when the room in which she was waiting was entered by an -extremely handsome and splendidly dressed young gentleman, who had all -the swagger of one of the beaux of the period, as he advanced to her -smirking. - -“I protest, sir,” cried Mrs. Lewis, starting up; “you have made a -mistake. I have not the honour of your acquaintance.” - -“'Fore Gad, my charmer, you assume the airs of an innocent miss with -amazing ability,” smirked her visitor. “My name, madam, is Wildair, at -your service, and I would fain hope that you will accept my poor escort -to the Gardens.” - -A puzzled look was on Mrs. Lewis's face as the gallant began to speak, -but gradually this expression disappeared. She clapped her hands -together girlishly, and then threw herself back on a chair, roaring with -laughter. - - -II. - -The next day at the playhouse Mrs. Abington met Lee Lewis with a -reproachful look. She had written to him on the Saturday, expressing her -regret that she could not go with him to the Gardens, but assuring him -that she would be there, and charging him to look for her. - -“I thought you would believe it worth your while to keep an eye open for -me last night, sir,” she now said. “But I dare say you found some metal -more attractive elsewhere.” - -“By heavens! I waited for you for an hour on the lantern walk, but you -did not appear,” cried Lewis. - -“An hour? only an hour?” said the lady. “And pray how did you pass the -rest of the time?” - -“A strange thing happened,” said Lewis, after a pause. “I was amazed to -see my wife there--or one whom I took to be my wife.” - -“Ah, sir, these mistakes are of common occurrence,” laughed Mrs. -Abington. “Was she, like her husband, alone?” - -“No, that's the worst of it; she was by the side of a handsome young -fellow in a pink coat embroidered with silver.” - -“Oh, Mrs. Lewis would seem to have borrowed a leaf from her husband's -book; that is, if it was Mrs. Lewis. Have you asked her if she was at -the Gardens?” - -“How could I ask her that when I had told her that I was going to the -playhouse? I was struck with amazement when I saw her in the distance -with that man--did I mention that he was a particularly good-looking -rascal?” - -“You did; but why you should have been amazed I am at a loss to know. -Mrs. Lewis is a very charming lady, I know.” - -“You have seen her?” - -“She was pointed out to me last night.” - -“Heavens! then it was she whom I saw in the Gardens? I would not have -believed it.” - -“What, are you so unreasonable as to think that 't is a wife's duty to -remain at home while her husband amuses himself at Vauxhall?” - -“Nay, but my wife--” - -“Is a vastly pretty young creature, sir, whom a hundred men as exacting -as her husband, would think it a pleasure to attend at the Gardens or -the Pantheon.” - -“She is, beyond doubt a sweet young creature; but Lord, madam, she is so -bound up in her baby that she can give no thought to her husband; and as -for other men--did you see the youth who was beside her?” - -“To be sure I did. He was devoted to her--and so good looking! I give -you my word, sir, I never saw anyone with whose looks I was better -pleased.” - -“Zounds, madam, if I had got near him I would have spoilt his good -looks, I promise you. Good Lord! to think that my wife--I tried to get -close to her, but the pair seemed to vanish mysteriously.” “You would -have been better employed looking for me. But we will arrange for -another evening, you and I, Mr. Lewis.” - -“Yes, we will--we will.” - -There was not much heartiness in the way Mr. Lewis assented; and when -the lady tried to get him to fix upon an evening, he excused himself in -a feeble way. - -The day following he walked with her to her house after rehearsal, but -he did not think it necessary to make use of any of those phrases of -gallantry in which he had previously indulged. He talked a good deal -of his wife and her attractions. He had bought her a new gown, he said, -and, beyond a doubt, it would be difficult to find a match for her in -grace and sweetness. He declined Mrs. Abington's invitation to enter the -house. He had to hurry home, he said, having promised to take his wife -by water to Greenwich Park. - -The actress burst into a merry laugh as she stood before the drawing of -Sir Harry Wildair. - -“All men are alike,” she cried. “And all women, too, for that matter. -Psha, there are only two people in the world; the name of one is Adam, -the name of the other is Eve.” - -In the course of the afternoon a letter was brought to her. It was from -Mrs. Lewis, and it stated that the writer was so much overcome with the -recent kindness and attention which her husband had been showing her, -she had resolved to confess that she had played a trick upon him, and -begged Mrs. Abington's leave to do so. - -Mrs. Abington immediately sat down and wrote a line to her. - -“Do n't be a little fool,” she wrote. “Are you so anxious to undo all -that we have done between us? If you pursue that course, I swear to you -that he will be at my feet the next day. No, dear child, leave me to -tell him all that there is to be told.” - -Two days afterwards Lee Lewis said to her: - -“I wonder if 't is true that my wife has an admirer.” - -“Why should it not be true, sir? Everything that is admirable has an -admirer,” said Mrs. Abington. - -“She is not quite the same as she used to be,” said he. “I half suspect -that she has something on her mind. Can it be possible that--” - -“Psha, sir, why not put her to the test?” cried Mrs. Abington. - -“The test? How?” - -“Why, sir, give her a chance of going again to the Gardens. Tell her -that you are going to the playhouse on Thursday night, and then do as -you did before, only keep a better look-out for her, and--well you must -promise me that if you find her with that handsome young spark you will -not run him through the body.” - -“You seem to take a great interest in this same young spark,” said -Lewis. - -“And so I do, sir! Lord, sir, are you jealous of me as well as your -wife?” - -“Jealous? By my soul, madam, I desire nothing more heartily than to hear -of your taking him from my wife.” - -“Then carry out my plan, and perhaps I shall be able to oblige you. Put -her to the test on Thursday.” - -“You will be there?” - -“I will be there, I promise you.” - -“Then I agree.” - -“You promise further not to run him through the body?” - -“I promise. Yes, you will have more than a corpse to console you.” - -He walked off looking somewhat glum, and in another half hour she had -sent a letter to his wife asking her to be dressed for Vauxhall on -Thursday night. - -The Gardens were flooded with light--except in certain occasional -nooks--and with music everywhere. (It is scarcely necessary to say that -the few dimly-lighted nooks were the most popular in the Gardens.) - -As Mrs. Lewis, accompanied by her dashing escort, descended from the -coach and walked up the long avenue toward the tea-house, many eyes were -focussed upon her, for all the town seemed to be at Vauxhall that night. -But only the quick eyes of Mrs. Abington perceived the face of Lee Lewis -at the outskirts of the crowd. Mrs. Abington smiled; she knew perfectly -well that her disguise was so complete as to remain impenetrable, even -to her most familiar friends, and she had a voice to suit the costume of -the beau, so that, upon previous occasions, she had, when in a similar -dress, escaped all recognition, even at one of the balls at the little -playhouse in the Haymarket. - -She now swaggered through the crowds, rallying, after the most approved -style of the modish young spark, her somewhat timid companion, and -pointing out to her the various celebrities who were strolling about -under the coloured lamps. She pointed out the lively little lady, who -was clearly delighted at being the centre of a circle of admirers, -as Mrs. Thrale, the wife of the great brewer. Around her were General -Paoli, the Corsican refugee; the great Dr. Samuel Johnson; Dr. Burney, -the musician; and Richard Burke, just home from Grenada. - -Some distance further on stood Oliver Goldsmith, the author of the new -comedy, in which Lee Lewis was cast for the part of Young Marlow, and -Mrs. Abington for the part of Miss Hardcastle. Dr. Goldsmith wore a -peach-bloom velvet coat and a waistcoat covered with silver. He was -making the beautiful Miss Horneck and her sister, Mrs. Bunbury, laugh -heartily at some of his witty sayings, which were too subtle to be -understood by such people as James Boswell and Miss Reynolds, but which -were thoroughly relished by the two girls who loved him so well. In -another part of the grounds, Sir Joshua Reynolds walked with his friend -David Garrick; and when she caught sight of the latter, Mrs. Abington -hurried her companion down a side walk, saying: - -“David Garrick is the only one in the Gardens whom I fear; he would see -through my disguise in a moment.” - -“My husband is not here, after all, for I have been looking for him,” - said Mrs. Lewis. “You see he does not always speak an untruth when he -tells me he is going to the playhouse on the nights he is not acting.” - -“Nothing could be clearer, my dear,” said her companion. “Oh, yes, men -do speak the truth--yes, sometimes.” - -Mrs. Lewis was anxious to return to her home as soon as she had walked -once through the Gardens, but Mrs. Abington declared that to go away -without having supper would make her so ashamed of her impersonation -of the reckless young gallant, she would never again be able to face -an audience in the playhouse; so supper they had together in one of the -raised boxes, Mrs. Abington swearing at the waiters in the truest style -of the man of fashion. - -And all the time they were at supper she could see Lee Lewis furtively -watching them. - -Another hour the actress and her companion remained in the Gardens, and -when at last they returned to the hackney coach, the former did not fail -to see that Lewis was still watching them and following them, though his -wife, all the time the coach was being driven homeward, chattered about -her husband's fidelity. “He will most likely be at home when I arrive,” - she said; “and in that case I will tell him all.” - -“For fear of any mistake I will enter the house with you,” said Mrs. -Abington. “I have heard before now of husbands casting doubt upon even -the most plausible stories their wives invented to account for their -absence.” - -“My husband will believe me,” said Mrs. Lewis coldly. - -“I shall take very good care that he does,” said her companion. - -When they reached the house, they learnt that Mr. Lewis had not yet come -back, and so Mrs. Abington went upstairs and seated herself by the side -of her friend in her parlour. - -Not many minutes had passed before her quick ears became aware of the -opening of the hall-door, and of the stealthy steps of a man upon the -stairs. The steps paused outside the room door, and then putting on her -masculine voice, the actress suddenly cried: - -“Ah, my beloved creature! why will you remain with a husband who cannot -love you as I swear I do? Why not fly with me to happiness?” - -Mrs. Lewis gave a laugh, while her cheek was being kissed--very audibly -kissed--by her companion. - -The next moment the door was flung open so suddenly that Mrs. Lewis was -startled, and gave a cry; but before her husband had time to take a step -into the room, Mrs. Abington had blown out the lamp, leaving the room in -complete darkness. - -“Stand where you are,” cried the actress, in her assumed voice; “Stand, -or by the Lord Harry, I'll run you through the vitals!” - -The sound of the whisking of her sword from its sheath followed. - -“Who are you, fellow, and what do you want here?” she continued. - -“The rascal's impudence confounds me,” said Lewis. “Infamous scoundrel! -I have had my eye on you all night; I am the husband of the lady whom -you lured from her home to be your companion.” - -“Oh, then you are Mr. Lee Lewis, the actor,” said Mrs. Abington. “Pray, -how does it come, sir, that you were at Vauxhall when you assured your -poor wife that you were going to the playhouse?” - -“What! the rascal has the audacity--” - -“Husband--husband--a moment will explain all!” cried Mrs. Lewis, across -the table. - -“Silence, woman!” shouted the man. - -“She had better remain silent,” said the actress. “Look you, sir, how -often have you not deceived that poor young thing, whose only fault is -loving you too well? What, sir, have you the effrontery to accuse her? -Does your own conscience acquit you of every attempt to deceive her, -that you can throw a stone at her? You blame her for going with me to -the Gardens--can you say that you have never made an appointment with a -lady to meet you at the same Gardens? What truth is there in the -report which is in everyone's mouth, that you are in the train of Mrs. -Abington's admirers?” - -“'Tis false, sir! I love my wife--alas, I should say that I love her -better than a score of Mrs. Abingtons,” cried Lewis. - -“Ah, husband, dear husband,” began his wife, when Mrs. Abington -interrupted her. - -“Hush, child,” she cried. “Let me ask him if he never implored that -woman, Abington, to accompany him to Vauxhall while he told you he was -going to the playhouse? Let me ask him how often he has whiled away the -hours in Mrs. Abington's house, assuring his wife that he was detained -at the play-house. He is silent, you perceive. That means that he has -still a remnant of what once was a conscience. Mr. Lewis, were it light -enough to see you, I am sure that we should find that you were hanging -your head. What! are you surprised that any one should admire the wife -whom you neglected? You are enraged because you saw me by her side at -the Gardens. You have played the spy on us, sir, and in doing so you -have played the fool, and you will acknowledge it and ask your wife's -pardon and mine before five minutes have passed. Call for a light, sir; -we do not expect you to apologise in the dark.” - -“The fellow's impudence astounds me,” muttered Lewis. He then threw open -the door and shouted down the stairs for a light. - -Mrs. Lewis, while the light was being brought, made another attempt to -explain matters, but Mrs. Abington commanded her to be silent. - -“Everything will be explained when the light comes,” said she. - -“Yes,” said the man, grimly, “for men cannot cross swords in the dark.” - -“There will be no crossing swords here,” said Mrs. Abington. - -“Coward--Scoundrel! Now we shall see what you are made of,” said the -man, as a servant appeared on the landing with a lighted lamp. - -“Yes; that's just what you will see,” said Mrs. Abington in her natural -voice, as the light flooded the room. - -“Great powers!” whispered Lewis, as he found himself confronted by the -fascinating face that he knew so well. - -Mrs. Abington had thrown off her wig in the darkness, and now her own -hair was flowing over her shoulders. - -“Great powers! Mrs. Abington!” - -“Yes, Mr. Lewis, Mrs. Abington, who only waits to hear a very foolish -fellow confess that he has been a fool in letting a thought of any other -woman come into his mind, when he is the husband of so charming a lady -as took supper with me to-night.” - -Lee Lewis bowed his head, and, kneeling before his wife, pressed her -hand to his lips. - - - - -THE CAPTURE OF THE DUKE - - -I - -As all hearts are captivated by the most charming Mistress Barry, so it -is my hope that all souls will be captivated by her picture,” cried Sir -Godfrey, bowing low between his palette which he held in one hand and -his sheaf of brushes which he held in the other. His pronunciation of -the word charming--he said “sharmink”--had a suggestion of his native -Lübeck about it; but his courtliness was beyond suspicion. None of his -distinguished sitters could complain of his having failed to represent -them on his canvases with dignity and refinement, whatever their candid -friends might think of the accuracy of the portraitures. - -“I only ask to be painted as I am, Sir Godfrey,” said Mrs. Barry, when -she had risen after her courtesy in acknowledgment of Sir Godfrey's -gallant compliment. - -“As you are, madam? Ah, your ladyship is the most exacting of my -sitters. As you are? Ah, my dear lady, you must modify your conditions; -my art has its limitations.” - -“Your art, but not your arts, sir. I protest that I am overwhelmed by -the latter, as I am lost in admiration of the former,” said the actress, -adopting a pose which she knew the painter would appreciate. “Alas, -Sir Godfrey,” she added, “you do not well to talk to an actress of the -limitations of art. What a paltry aim has our art compared with yours! I -have had cravings after immortality--that is why I am here to-day.” - -“'T is surely, then, the future of the painter that you have had at -heart, my dear madam; you come with immortality shining in your face.” - -“Nay, sir; Sir Godfrey Kneller will live forevermore in his long line of -legitimate monarchs--ay, and others, perhaps not quite--” - -“For God's sake, Mistress Barry! These are dangerous days; pray remember -that I am the queen's limner.” - -Sir Godfrey Kneller spoke in a whisper, touching her arm with the -handles of his brushes as he glanced apprehensively around the -painting-room of his house in Great Queen Street. - -Mrs. Barry looked at him with a reckless gaiety in her eyes. - -“What, have I said anything treasonable, anything to compromise the -Court painter?” she cried. - -“Walls have ears, my dear,” whispered the painter. - -“And what matters that, so long as they have not tongues?” laughed the -lady. “Ah, my dear Sir Godfrey, you do your art an injustice to fancy -that any one could utter a word of treason in this room surrounded by so -many living faces.” She pointed to the easels on which were hung several -portraits approaching completion. “They are all living, my friend. I vow -that when I entered here just now I felt inclined to sink in a courtesy -before Her Grace of Marlborough.” She indicated the portrait of the -duchess which Sir Godfrey had all but finished--one of the finest of all -his works. - -Sir Godfrey smiled. - -“Ah, who, indeed, could talk treason in the presence of Her Grace?” he -said. - -“None, save His Grace, I suppose,” said the actress. “And now I am ready -to sit to you--unless you have any further courtly compliments to pass -on me. Only, by my faith, I do not choose to place myself nigh to Her -Grace. Those eyes of hers make me feel uneasy. Prithee, Sir Godfrey, -permit me to turn my back upon the duchess; the act will, I protest, -give me a feeling of pride which will speedily betray itself on my -face. People will say, 'Only an actress, yet she turned her back upon -a duchess'--ay, and such a duchess! They say their Graces have lost -nothing by their adherence to the Queen.” - -Mrs. Barry had now posed herself, flinging back her hair from her -forehead, so that her broad, massive brow was fully shown, and the -painter had begun to work upon her picture. - -“Ah, people say that? And what reason have they for saying it, I -wonder?” remarked Sir Godfrey. - -“The best of reasons, my good friend. They say that their Graces have -lost nothing by standing by the Queen, because if they ran a chance of -losing anything they would quickly stand by the King--His Majesty over -the water.” - -Sir Godfrey laughed. “I vow, Mistress Barry, that your gossips have -failed to interpret as I would the expression upon the face of Her Grace -of Marlborough,” said he. “Great heaven, madam, cannot one perceive a -pensiveness upon that face of hers?--nay, prithee, do not turn your head -to look for the expression. I want not to lose your expression while you -are endeavoring to catch that of Her Grace.” - -“The Sad Sarah! And you mean to reproduce the sadness, Sir Godfrey?” - -“Not sadness--only pensiveness.” - -“The one is the same as t' other. Then you will cause posterity to -affirm that Sarah was sad to find that she had not become so rich in -adhering to the Queen as she might have if she had sent her pensive -glances across to France?” - -“Then posterity will do her wrong. Her Grace is truly attached to the -Queen--so truly attached that she becomes melancholic at the thought of -not being completely trusted by Her Majesty.” - -Sir Godfrey's voice had sunk to a whisper as he made this revelation; -and when he had spoken he glanced once more round the room as if to -assure himself that he had no listeners beside Mrs. Barry. - -“And the Queen does not trust her?” cried the actress. “Ah, well, I -suppose 't is impossible even for a Queen to be for so many years in her -company without understanding her. Ah, the poor Duke! Prithee continue -your story, Sir Godfrey. I perceive that you would fain lead one up to -the scandalous part.” - -“Scandalous part, madam? Nay, if you discern not a deep pathos in the -sad look of Her Grace, the Duchess, after the key which I have given you -to her expression, no rehearsal of scandal would awake your interest in -the subject of yonder portrait.” - -“Nay, sir, if you refuse to tell me further, you will have to bear with -the mockery of posterity for depicting me with a melancholic visage, as -well as your Duchess. Pray tell me the scandal, or I vow I shall have a -fit of the vapours all the time you are painting my portrait.” - -“My dear lady, there is no scandal to rehearse, I pledge you my word,” - said the painter. “'T is only said that Her Majesty--” - -“Is blest by heaven with excellent eyesight? Well, yes; I dare swear -that your Duchess is strongly of that opinion--that is what adds to her -melancholy. But I vow 't is most scandalous that there's no scandal. We -must try and repair this, you and I, Sir Godfrey.” - -“What, does the woman fancy that all lives should be regulated on the -lines set down by the poets who write for your playhouses?” - -“And why not? If our poets will not be true to nature, is it not our -duty to try to make nature true to the poets?” - -“Faith, madam, that were to put an outrage upon nature, if I grasp your -meaning aright.” - -“Nay, sir, 'tis no great outrage. If our writers treat of the humours -of an intrigue in high places, and if we find, on climbing to these high -places, that no scandal is to be found there but only humdrum existence, -is it not our duty to foster a scandal for the justification of our -writers?” - -“_Mille tonnerres!_ Have I been cherishing a fiery flying serpent all -this time? Have I been playing with a firebrand? Why, 't is in the -aspect of Medusa I should be painting you, Mistress Barry; you should -have ringletted snakes entwined among your hair. I' faith, madam, that -is a pretty theory to propound in an honest man's house. We must become -scandalous in order to save a playhouse poet from being accounted untrue -to life?” - -“And why not? Ah, Sir Godfrey, I greatly fear that you have no true -feeling for art.” - -The actress spoke sadly and shook her head with such exquisite -simulation of melancholy as caused the painter to lay down his palette -and roar with laughter. - -“You have a true feeling for art, beyond doubt, my Barry,” he cried. -“You have no room to reproach yourself, I dare swear. You have all the -men in town at your feet, and all their wives ready to scratch out your -eyes--and all for the advancement of art, you say. You are ready to -jeopardise your own reputation in order to save that of your poets! Ah, -what a kind heart hath the Barry!” - -“Faith, Sir Godfrey, if I did not make a wife or two jealous, how could -I know what a jealous woman looks like, and if I did not know what a -jealous woman looks like, how could I act the part of a jealous woman in -the playhouse?” - -“Ah, how indeed? The play-goers worship you if their wives long for -those ringlets that ensnare their husbands in their meshes. What is a -wedding-ring against a wanton ringlet?” - -“'T is my duty as an actress that compels me to seek for examples of the -strongest emotions, Sir Godfrey--you perceive that that is so?” - -“Ah, beyond doubt--beyond doubt, madam.” - -“That rejoices me. And now touching this Duchess of Marlborough--” - -“You will have to seek your examples of strong emotion outside my house, -my friend. Do you fancy that Her Grace--” - -“Is a woman? Nay, she is a very woman, so far as my poor observation, -supplemented by a small trifle of experience, is permitted to judge. -Think you that her sadness of visage is due to mortification that her -spouse is still faithful to her?” - -“Surely such a reflection should call for an expression of satisfaction, -my fair observer.” - -“Nay, Sir Godfrey; that were to take a view of the matter in no -wise deep. Would you not have Her Grace to think as other women less -formidable think, in this wise: 'what fate is mine to be wed to a man -whom no woman thinks worth the tempting'?” - -“Zounds, my Barry, that were the strangest way recorded to account for a -wife's sadness. How know you that His Grace has not been tempted?” - -“I make no such charge against him, Sir Godfrey; I think not such evil -of him as that he hath not been tempted. I make but a humble attempt to -think as Her Grace may think when she has her moods.” - -“That were a presumption for such as you, madam. What! you an actress, -and she a duchess, and yet you would venture--” - -The laugh which illuminated the face of Sir Godfrey had scarcely passed -away before his servant entered the painting room in haste, announcing -that the coach of the Duchess of Marlborough was at the door, and that -Her Grace was in the act of dismounting. - -“That means that my sitting is at an end,” said Mrs. Barry. - -“And I must e'en hustle you out of the room, my dear,” said the painter. -“Her Grace is not the most patient of dames when it comes to waiting on -a painter.” - -“Or on a painter's sitter, particularly when that sitter is only an -actress. Ah, Sir Godfrey, you might permit me to remain in secret that I -may know how a Duchess conducts herself upon occasions.” - -“Tut--tut! Would you play a comedy in my house, you baggage?” cried the -painter, pushing her playfully to the door. “Fly--fly--before it is too -late.” - -“Ah, Sir Godfrey, you are indeed unkind. Prithee how may I hope to enact -the part of a duchess in the playhouse if I am not permitted to witness -one in the life?” - -“Off--off--I say! You will have to trust to your own instinct, which I -take to be a faithful enough guide in your case, my dear Barry. And -so farewell to you.” Still protesting, and very prettily pouting, the -actress suffered herself to be gently forced from the room into the -square, inner hall, which was lighted by a dome of coloured glass. Sir -Godfrey, kissing the tip of one of his fingers, bowed her an adieu, but -without speaking, as he held up the tapestry _portière_. - -[Illustration: 0278] - -Mrs. Barry replied with a modified courtesy, and turned as if to make -her way to the outer hall; but the moment Sir Godfrey let fall the -tapestry, she returned on tiptoe, and moving it an inch to one side, -peered through into the studio. She saw the painter hurrying from the -large apartment into the small retiring-room at the farther end, and the -moment that he disappeared she was back like a flash into the studio and -in hiding behind a full-length canvas that leant against an easel in a -dark corner. - -Five seconds were sufficient to carry out the plan which she had -conceived on the impulse of the moment. Had it occupied seven she would -have been discovered, for Sir Godfrey had merely entered his wardrobe -to throw off one coat and put on another. He returned to the studio, and -immediately rang his bell. When the servant entered, he said: - -“When Her Grace is ready, lead her hither.” - -The servant bowed and left the studio, while Sir Godfrey arranged the -chair on the dais for his new sitter, and placed the half-finished -portrait of the Duchess on his easel. He had scarcely done so before the -rings of the _portière_ were rattling, and the Duchess of Marlborough -entered, attired for the sitting. How she looked on that day, the -painter has by his art enabled all succeeding generations to learn. -Sir Godfrey Kneller's portrait of the Duchess is, perhaps, his most -characteristic work. If the distinction which it possesses in every -feature was scarcely shared by the original in the same degree, there -was still sufficient character in the face of the great lady to make -it profoundly interesting, especially to so close an observer as Sir -Godfrey Kneller. - -“Ah, my dear Kneller,” cried Her Grace, as the painter advanced to greet -her with bowed head, “I am even before my appointed hour to-day. That -glance of sad reproach which you cast at your timepiece when I last came -hither--though only half an hour late, I swear--had its effect upon me.” - -“Her Grace of Marlborough is one of those rare ones for whom it might -reasonably be expected that the sun would stand still,” said the -painter. - -“As it did once at the command of the Hebrew general? Ah, my Kneller, -what a pity it is that a certain great General of the moderns cannot -make his commands respected in the same direction.” - -“His Grace has no need to supplement his own generalship by--by--” - -“By the aid of heaven, you would say? By the Lord, Sir Godfrey,'t is -rather the aid of the opposite power our generalissimo would invoke, if -taken at a disadvantage.” - -“It would be impossible to conceive an incident so remarkable as His -Grace taken at a disadvantage.” - -“I would fain believe you to be right, friend Kneller. Yes, I have not -once caught him tripping. But that, you may say, is not so much because -His Grace does not trip, as because his generalship is too subtle for -such an one as I.” - -“Nay, nay, madam; so ungenteel a thought could never be entertained -by one who has the privilege of knowing the Duke and of seeing the -Duchess.” - -“Vastly prettily spoken, Sir Godfrey; and with the air of a courtier, -too; but, unlike t' other things of the Court, there is truth in your -words. Look you, Kneller, there's the slut who calls herself Mistress -Barry--she carries half the town away captive at her chariot-wheels--” - she pointed to the portrait of Mrs. Barry. “But think you that her -fascinations would have power to prevail against my lord the Duke? Nay, -adamant is as snow compared to his demeanour when the wretch is moving -all hearts within the playhouse. Have not I found him sitting with -closed eyes while the woman was flaunting it about the stage, and men's -swords were ready to fly from their scabbards at the throats of them -that had got a soft look from her?” - -“Is 't possible?” - -“Ay, sir; 't is more than possible. The insolent hussy has oft cast up -her eyes at our box in the playhouse, ogling His Grace, if you please. -The fool little knew that she was ogling a slumbering man. Nay, Sir -Godfrey, if I were as sure of my ground in other directions as I am of -His Grace, I were a happy woman.” - -She took her place on the dais, and the expression of pensiveness which -appears on the face of the portrait became intensified. This fact, -however, did not prevent a dainty little fist from quivering in her -direction from the side of the full-length picture in the corner. The -Duchess had her back turned to that particular corner. - -“Your Grace deserves to be the happiest of women,” said the painter. - -“If only to give so admirable a limner an opportunity of depicting a -smiling face,” said the Duchess. - -“Nay, madam, a smile doth not make a picture,” replied Sir Godfrey. “On -the contrary, it oft destroys one. Your painter of smirking goddesses -finds his vocation at the Fair of St. Bartolemy. I would fain hope that -I am not such.” There was a silence, during which Sir Godfrey painted -the hair upon his canvas with his usual dexterity. Then Her Grace -sighed. - -“Know you the best means of bringing back an errant confidence, Sir -Godfrey?” she asked after another long pause. - -“An errant confidence, madam?” - -“The confidence of one whom I love, and who I think would fain love me -still, were it not for the tongue of slander.” - -“Nay, your Grace, I am but a painter; no Rubens am I in the skill that -pertains to an envoy. Still, it occurs to me that the rendering of some -signal service to the one whose mood your Grace describes should bring -you to her heart again.” - -The Duchess sprang from her chair and began pacing the narrow limits of -the dais, her hands clenched, and the expression on her face becoming -one of passion solely. - -“Some signal service--some signal service!” she cried. “Man, have I not -grown aged in her service? Who among those around her hath shown her and -hers such service as ours has been--my husband's and mine? And yet when -she hears the rumour of a plot she taunts me that I was not the first -to warn her. Heavens! Does it rest with me to see the word 'conspirator' -branded on the flesh of one who may hap to wear a cuirass? Is there -any skill that will enable mine eyes to perceive in a man's bearing -an adherent to the family at St. Germains? By the Lord, Sir Godfrey -Kneller, I may be tried too much. Think you that if we were to turn our -eyes in the direction of St. Germains there would not be a goodly number -of persons in this realm who would turn their eyes and their coats with -us?” - -“For God's sake, madam--” - -“Nay, 't is but an abstract proposition, friend Kneller. I have wit -enough to perceive that the atmosphere of France suiteth best the -health of some folk. For mine own part, I like best our English air; but -if--ah, continue your painting, Sir Godfrey, and see that you make mine -eyes the eyes of one who looks not overseas for succour.” - -Her Grace threw herself once more into the chair, and the painter -resumed his work in silence. He could not but reproduce the pensive -expression that once more was worn by the face of the Duchess. - -At the end of half an hour she rose, complaining that she was tired. She -smiled, giving her hand to Sir Godfrey, as she said. - -“I know, my good friend, that it is safe to rage in your presence; you -are discretion itself.” - -“Your Grace hath never put my discretion to the test,” said the Court -painter, with a low bow. - -“The Duke will mayhap visit you to inspect the portrait, Sir Godfrey,” - said the Duchess when at the door. “Pray let him know that I await him -at St. James's.” - -“I shall not fail, madam,” said the painter. “And I will not ask your -Grace to sit to me until Friday. I have to be in Richmond on Thursday.” - -He held back the _portière_ for her exit, and then followed her through -the domed hall to the apartment where her maid awaited her. - -On his return to the studio he found himself face to face with Mrs. -Barry. For an instant he stood speechless. Then, with a glance behind -him, he whispered: - -“How did you come hither, in the name of heaven?” - -“In a name which you are bound to respect--the name of art,” she -replied. - -“I sought but a lesson, and I have not sought in vain. A duchess! Good -Lord! These be your duchesses! The manners of a kitchen wench allied to -the language of a waterman. A duchess!” - -“Madam--Mistress Barry--” - -“Oh, the poor Duke! How oft have not I heard that His Grace looks -forward to the hottest campaign with joy? Oh, I can well believe it. And -the look of pensiveness on Her Grace's face--observe it, most faithful -of limners.” - -She stood pointing to the portrait of the Duchess in a stage attitude -of scorn. Sir Godfrey, as he looked at her, felt that he should like to -paint her in that attitude for the benefit of posterity. Then she burst -into a scornful laugh, at which he became more serious than ever. In -another moment, however, she had introduced a note of merriment into her -laughter, and in spite of the fact that he had been extremely angry on -finding that she had been in hiding he could not help joining in her -laughter. - -“The pensive Duchess!” she cried. “Nay, rather, the pensive Duke, my -friend. Paint him as 'Il Penseroso'--the Duke who had eyes only for -the graces of Her Grace--who had ears only for her dulcet phrases--who -snored in the face of the actress who was ogling him from the stage. -Grant me patience, heaven! If I fail to bring him to my feet in the -sight of that woman, may I never tread the stage more! I have a scheme, -Sir Godfrey, which only needs your help to--” - -“My help! _Gott in Himmel!_ You shall not have my help! What! do you -fancy that you may turn my painting-room into a playhouse stage, and act -your farces--” - -“His Grace the Duke of Marlborough.” - -The servant had thrown open the door as he made the announcement. - -“Ah! Heaven is on my side! I need not your help,” cried the actress, in -an aside, as she turned to a mirror to still further dishevel her hair. - -The Duke of Marlborough, entering the studio, found himself confronted -by a lovely woman visibly fluttered, and apparently anxious to prevent -the lace upon her shoulders from revealing even so much of her bosom as -the painter had thought necessary for artistic purposes. - -“Ha! Kneller!” cried the Duke, “I find that I am an intruder. How is -this, sir? Your fellow said that you were alone.” - -“It is only my friend, Mistress Barry, your Grace, whose portrait has -become my pastime,” said Sir Godfrey. - -“And Mistress Barry is of no account,” said the actress, sinking in a -courtesy. “Ah, your Grace, Sir Godfrey forces me to excuse both his own -imprudence and my impudence. When I learned that the Duke of Marlborough -was to come hither I implored him to permit me to remain in order that -the dream of my poor life might be realised.” - -“The dream of your life, madam?” said the Duke. - -“I dare say 't is the dream of many lives,” said the lady in a low -voice, somewhat broken by an emotion she could not repress, even though -she took one hand away from her lace to still the beating of her heart. -“And now that I find myself face to face with the one who has saved our -country's honour in an hundred fights, I protest that I am overcome with -the result of my boldness. Oh, your Grace, forgive the weakness of a -poor weak woman.” - -“Madam,” said the Duke, “this moment repays me for whatever trifling -hardship I have undergone in my campaigns. To find that all the charms -of Mistress Barry on the stage are but feeble compared with those gifts -of nature with which she had been endowed, were sure an astonishment to -one who had seen her only when she was the centre of a thousand eyes.” - -“Oh, your Grace is determined to overwhelm your friends with your -compliments as you do your enemies with your culverins. But I vow I am -too forward. I am presuming to include my poor self among your Grace's -friends.” - -“Then think of a sweeter name, my dear lady, and I shall agree to it -without demur.” - -The Duke was beyond doubt not insensible to the charms of the beautiful -actress. She had apparently quite forgotten that the drapery about her -shoulders had fallen away more freely even than was permissible in -the exigencies of the classical art affected by the eighteenth century -painters. - -“Ah, Your Grace leaves me without a voice even of protest,” murmured the -actress, glancing modestly at the floor. - -“Nay, Mistress Barry has need only to protest against the limitations -of speech,” said the Duke, facing her and offering her his hand, which, -after a moment's hesitation, she took with the homage that she would -have given to the hand of a monarch. Then she dropped it with a half -stifled sigh, and turned to the door without a word. - -“Wherefore fly?” said the Duke, raising the side of the _portière_ while -she made a courtesy. - -“'T were better so, though I know your Grace cannot understand how -flight should ever be linked with discretion.” - -“At least, let me conduct you to your chair, madam. Nay, I insist.” - -They had scarcely got beneath the glass dome before she had laid her -hand upon his arm. - -“I was determined to see you face to face,” she said in a rapid whisper. -“I have something of the greatest gravity that is for your ear alone. -You would step between the Queen and disaster?” - -“I have done so before now,” said the Duke. “Heaven may be equally kind -to me again. Come with me in my coach now; it is already dusk.” - -“No--no--that would be fatal to both of us,” she whispered. “We are -surrounded by enemies--spies--purveyors of treason--the very life of the -Queen is in danger.” - -“You speak sincerely,” said the Duke. “Come to my house after the play.” - -“Impossible! Your Grace little knows in what quarter the danger lies. I -lit upon it by accident myself. Let me see. Ah, I have it: Sir Godfrey's -painting room at a quarter after four on Thursday--this is Tuesday--yes, -in secret--and in the mean time, not a word to living man or woman--not -even Her Grace.” - -“Why not take your seat in my coach; it has curtains.” - -“Impossible! Ah, trust me to know wherein lieth safety and prudence. -Hasten back. Good Sir Godfrey must not suspect.” - -“Heavens! You do not say that he is--” - -“He is true; but he talks. We need those who are dumb. Not a word in -human ear.” - -He looked into her face--eagerly--searchingly. She never winced. He -pressed her hand and returned to the studio. - -She was halfway down the street in her chair before she burst into a -merry laugh. - -“Her Grace shall have enough of plots to last her for awhile at -any rate. Our painter goes to Richmond on Thursday; he said so. Oh, -Lud--Lud! how quick the notion came to me when His Grace appeared. Ah, -Mistress Barry, thou hast not read in vain all that the poets have -writ for the playhouse. I can see that they are both wild to show their -devotion to Her Majesty. They would fain discover plots growing along -the hedgerows of St. James's Park. They will be as easily trapped as -tame pigeons.” - -“What,” cried Mistress Barry on Thursday afternoon, to the servant who -opened the door for her at Sir Godfrey Kneller's house, “what! gone to -Richmond? Nay,'t is not possible. I sit to him at four.” - -“My master said it would be five ere he returned from her ladyship's, -madam.” - -“Oh, Lud, surely he made a mistake; or you have misheard him, sirrah. He -will be back at four, and I'll e'n wait for him in the painting-room. If -he have not returned by the half hour I will tarry no longer.” - -She walked past the servant--he made no demur--and entered the studio. -Sauntering about for a few moments, she then went to the door and locked -it. She hastened to a shelf on which lay some broken chalks. In a few -moments, standing before the tall mirror, she had completely altered her -face; she had “made up” her features and complexion as those of an old -woman. - -Then from apparently capacious pockets in the cloak which she wore -she brought forth a grey wig of many curls, which she put over her own -chestnut hair; and a servant's apron which completely hid her gown. -A few adroit touches transformed her into a venerable person of much -respectability--one whose appearance suggested that of an aged retainer -in a family where her services were properly valued. She surveyed -herself in the glass, saying, “Her Grace will, I can swear, recognise -the good woman whose sense of duty compelled her to address so mighty -a lady touching the vile conspiracy to which Her Grace is to be made -privy.” - -While she was standing back from the glass, laughing as she kissed -the tips of her fingers to the figure who responded in like fashion, -a gentle knock sounded on the small side door that led into the arched -passage to the garden--the door by which the painter's models were -admitted to the studio without passing through the house. The actress, -giving a final smooth to her apron, hastened to open the door, but only -to the extent of an inch or two. - -“What's your business, madam?” she inquired, in the quavering accents of -age, through the opening. - -“I have come hither for Mrs. Freeman's frock,” was the reply in a low -voice. - -“It will be ready for you in half an hour, my good woman,” said the -actress. “Meantime, enter and wait.” - -She admitted a muffled and closely-veiled figure, and, when she had -closed the door, made an old-fashioned curtesy. - -“You are Mrs. Smollett?” said the figure, in a low voice, after glancing -round the studio. - -“Elizabeth Smollett, your Grace, is my name,” quavered Mrs. Barry. “Ah, -madam, you have had the courage to come hither.” - -“Courage?” said the Duchess. “It needed none. If what your letter told -me be true, it is time that some true friend of the Queen's came hither. -Is it possible that your master, Sir Godfrey, knoweth naught of the -plot?” - -“He knoweth naught, madam. The head and front of the wicked business -came to him as his _valet de chambre_ with the best recommendations. It -was only by accident that I discovered the fellow's motives. He was for -three years at St. Germains.” - -“At St. Germains! The wretch! Mrs. Smollett, your devotion to Her -Majesty in this matter shall not go unrewarded. I can promise you that. -They hope to seize the Queen! Merciful heaven! Are they fools enough to -fancy that that act would further their ends? Ah, shall I now be avenged -upon mine enemies who whisper to Her Majesty! And you, Smollett--you -will bless the day you wrote to me.” - -“Not so loud, your Grace,” whispered the actress. “There may be those at -hand that we know not of. This is where your grace must be in hiding.” - She led the Duchess up the studio to the curtain that hung across the -retiring room. “Your Grace will be entirely hid in the recess of the -door, and unless I am far mistaken you shall hear more than you ever -expected. Now, madam, for God's sake remain fast hid behind the curtain. -I shall return to my household duties lest I should be suspected.” - -“You will bless this day,” whispered Her Grace from behind the -_portière_. - -Mrs. Barry put her finger to her lips as she noiselessly unlocked the -door leading to the domed hall and then passed through. - -She hastily removed all traces of her disguise, placing the wig and -apron behind a marble pedestal that bore a reproduction of the flying -Mercury. She paused at the door for some time before returning to the -studio, and when at last she opened it she did so very cautiously, -putting her head just beyond the _portière_ at first. Then she closed -the door behind her and advanced. She did not fail to notice the little -movement of the curtain at the farther end of the studio. Then she gave -a fine sigh and threw herself into a chair. - -“Heigh ho!” she said, in a tone that she meant to be audible in every -part of the room. “Heigh ho! 't is weary waiting for one's love. But my -love--my hero--is worthy to be waited for by empresses. Yet, if I had -not his picture to look upon now I vow I should feel melancholic. Ah, -Sir Godfrey. He has dealt as harshly with the face of my Duke as he -hath dealt gently with that ancient harridan, the Duchess.” (She saw the -distant _portière_ quiver.) “Great heavens!” she continued, rising and -standing in front of the portrait of the Duchess. “Great heavens! is it -a matter of wonder that His Grace should be sick unto death of that face -of hers? All the flattery of the painter cannot hide the malevolence of -her countenance. The Queen perceived it long ago, and yet they say that -she hopes to regain the favour of her royal mistress! - -“Poor creature! But indeed she is to be pitied. She hath lost the favour -of her Queen and the heart of her spouse. Ah, my hero--my beloved--your -heart is mine--all mine. How oft have I not heard your sweet words -telling me that--how oft? But why are you not here to tell it to me now? -Why--ah, at last--at last!” - -A knock had sounded at the side door in the midst of her passionate -inquiries, and she almost flew to the door, “Ah, at last--at last you -have come!” she said in a fervent whisper as the Duke entered. - -“I have come,” he replied, still holding her hand. He had no choice left -in the matter. She did not withdraw her hand after she had given it to -him. It would scarcely have done for him to cast it from him. “You are -sure that Sir Godfrey has not yet returned?” - -“I am sure of it,” said she. “Would I be here with you alone if he had -returned?” - -“No, no; of course not,” said the Duke. “But would I not come far if -only to press this little hand?” - -His experience of women had taught him that a little flattery is never -out of place with them. He supposed it was out of sheer nervousness that -Mrs. Barry had failed to withdraw her hand. - -She did not withdraw it even now, however. It was only when they had -walked side by side half way across the room that she withdrew her -hand. She saw that a large picture on an easel was between them and the -distant _portiere_. - -“You have come--you have trusted me,” she murmured, with her eyes cast -down. - -He looked at her. He began to fear that she was faltering. She needed -encouragement to make her revelation to him. - -“I have trusted you, dear one; ah, you know not to what extent I would -trust you. I would go to the ends of the earth to hear what you have to -tell me.” - -“That is what I wish,” she cried. “Could we not meet at some distant -spot where all that my heart contains might be yours? Ah, let us fly -thither without delay! Delay may make havoc of our future.” - -“Pray, calm yourself,” said the Duke. He perceived that his companion -was of an hysterical type. She would need to be treated with great tact -before she could be brought to communicate anything that she knew. - -“Ah, 't is easy for a soldier to be calm,” she cried. “'T is not so -easy for a poor woman who is by nature trustful and yet by experience -distrustful.” - -“You may trust me, my sweet creature,” he said. - -“May I? May I?” she whispered, looking into his face. “Ah, no, no; leave -me--leave me alone to die here! Mine was the fault--mine alone.” - -She had put her hands before her face and gone excitedly halfway down -the apartment. - -“You shall not die!” he cried, following her. “Just heaven, child, am I -nobody? Is my protection worth nothing, that you should be afraid?” - -“Your protection?” She had removed her hands from her face. “What! you -will let me be under your protection?” - -“I swear to you.” - -“Ah, then I will trust you--forever--for ever,” cried the actress, -flinging herself into the arms of the astonished Duke and laying her -head on his shoulder. - -He was much more astonished when a voice rang through the studio: - -“Wretch! Infamous wretches both!” - -“Oh, Lud!” cried Mrs. Barry, forsaking her resting place and standing a -yard or two apart. “Oh, Lud, who is the plain little woman that has been -eavesdropping? I vow, Duke, she was not invited to our meeting.” - -“Infamous creature! I am the Duchess of Marlborough!” - -“Nay, that were impossible. I happen to know that the Duchess has a -limitless faith in the Duke, especially in regard to so plain a creature -as Mistress Barry, and you have the face and bearing of a jealous woman. -Her Grace of Marlborough would not be jealous, my good creature.” - -“Madam,” said the Duke, turning to his wife, “madam, you have played an -unworthy part--spying--” - -“Silence, libertine!” thundered the Duchess, looking like a fury. - -[Illustration: 0309] - -“Faith, 't is the Duchess, after all,” said the actress. “Ah, Sir -Godfrey has returned in good time.” Sir Godfrey was standing at the -door. “Dear Sir Godfrey, Her Grace is anxious for you to paint her in -her true character--that of the jealous wife; and so I leave her in -your good hands. Adieu, your Grace. Oh, fie, to be jealous of so poor a -creature as an actress!” - -She stood for a moment by the side of the painter, turning half round as -she raised the tapestry hanging. Her laughter when she had passed into -the hall, rang through the studio. - -Sir Godfrey began to speak. - -“I fear greatly that in my absence--” - -“Sir, in your absence your house has been turned into a lover's -rendezvous!” cried the Duchess. “Your aged domestic, Mrs. Smollett, -wrote to me a confidential letter--” - -“Madam, I have no aged domestic, and I know no one of the name of -Smollett,” said Sir Godfrey. - -“What! Oh, the man is in the plot also! It were beneath my dignity to -converse further with him. Shame, sir--shame on both of you!” - -She flung herself through the _portière_ and disappeared in a billow of -tapestry. - -The Duke and Sir Godfrey stood side by side in silence in the studio. At -last the former spoke. - -“Faith, Kneller, I think I begin to see how we have all been tricked. -That play-actress hath made fools of us all for her own sport.” - -“I begin to fear that that is so,” said Sir Godfrey. - -“Ay, sir; she hath fooled us,” said the Duke. “Methinks it will be some -space of time before the wrath of Her Grace will be appeased.” - -And so it was. - - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Impudent Comedian & Others, by -Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS *** - -***** This file should be named 51923-0.txt or 51923-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/2/51923/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/51923-0.zip b/old/51923-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c8f3b94..0000000 --- a/old/51923-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51923-8.txt b/old/51923-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a125046..0000000 --- a/old/51923-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5235 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Impudent Comedian & Others, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Impudent Comedian & Others - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51923] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - - - - - - - - -THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -Herbert S. Stone & Co - -1896 - - - - -THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN - -"Nelly--Nelly--Nell! Now, where's the wench?" cried Mrs. Gwyn, before -she had more than passed the threshold of her daughter's house in St. -James's Park--the house with the terrace garden, where, as the sedate -Evelyn records, the charming Nelly had stood exchanging some very lively -phrases with her royal lover on the green walk below, giving the grave -gentleman cause to grieve greatly. But, alas! the record of his sorrow -has only made his untold readers mad that they had not been present to -grieve, also, over that entrancing tableau. "Nelly--Nell! Where's -your mistress, sirrah?" continued the somewhat portly and undoubtedly -overdressed mother of the "impudent comedian," referred to by Evelyn, -turning to a man-servant who wore the scarlet livery of the king. - -"Where should she be, madam, at this hour, unless in the hands of her -tirewomen? It is but an hour past noon." - -"You lie, knave! She is at hand," cried the lady, as the musical lilt of -a song sounded on the landing above the dozen shallow oak stairs leading -out of the square hall, and a couple of fat spaniels, at the sound, -lazily left their place on a cushion, and waddled towards the stairs to -meet and greet their mistress. - -She appeared in the lobby, and stood for a moment or two looking out of -a window that commanded a fine view of the trees outside--they were in -blossom right down to the wall. She made a lovely picture, with one hand -shading her eyes from the sunlight that entered through the small square -panes, singing all the time in pure lightness of heart. She wore her -brown hair in the short ringlets of the period, and they danced on each -side of her face as if they were knowing little sprites for whose ears -her singing was meant. - -"Wench!" shouted her mother from below. The sprites that danced to the -music of the mother's voice were of a heavier order altogether. - -"What, mother? I scarce knew that you were journeying hither to-day," -cried Nelly, coming down the stairs. "'T is an honour, and a surprise -as well; and, i' faith, now that I come to think on't, the surprise is -a deal greater than the honour. If you say you have n't come hither for -more money, my surprise will be unbounded." - -It was nothing to Nelly that she spoke loud enough to be heard by the -footmen in the hall, as well as by the servants in the kitchen. She knew -that they knew all about her, and all about her mother as well. Perhaps -some of them had bought oranges from her or her mother in the old days -at Drury Lane, before she had become distinguished as an actress, and in -other ways. - -"I 'm not come for money, though a trifle would be welcome," said the -mother, when Nelly had shown her the way into one of the rooms opening -off a corridor at one side of the hall--a large apartment, furnished -with ludicrous incongruity. A lovely settee, made by the greatest artist -in France, and upholstered in bright tapestry, was flanked by a couple -of hideous chairs made by the stage carpenter of Drury Lane, and by him -presented to Nelly. A pair of Svres vases, which had for some years -been in St. James's Palace stood on a side-board among some rubbish of -porcelain that Nelly had picked up in the purlieus of Westminster. - -The mother was about to seat herself heavily on the gilded settee, when -Nelly gave a little scream, startling the elder lady so that she, too, -screamed--a little hoarsely--in sympathy. - -"What's the matter, girl--what's the matter?" she cried. - -"Nothing is the matter, so far, mother, but a mighty deal would have -been the matter, if you had seated yourself other where than in that -chair.'Snails, madam, who are you that you should plump your person down -on a seat that was made for a legitimate monarch?" - -"I'm a legitimate wife, hear you that, you perky wench?" cried the -mother, craning her neck forward after the most approved fashion of -pending belligerents at Lewkinor Street, Drury Lane. - -"The greater reason you should avoid that settee, dear mother; it has -never been other than the chattel of a prince," laughed Nelly. "And now, -prithee, why the honour of this visit, while the month is not yet near -its close?" - -"I have met with an old friend of yours, this day, Nell," said the -mother, "and he is coming hither,--'t is that hath brought me." - -"An old friend! I' faith, good mother, 't is the young friends are more -to my taste. The savour of Lewkinor Street doth not smell sweet, and it -clings most foully to all our old friends." - -"Oh, ay, but you once was n't so dainty a madam!" - -"'T were vain to deny it, mother, since it can be urged against me that -I became your daughter. No, no, good mother, friend me no old friends--I -like them new--the newer the better--plenty of gilding--none of it -rubbed off--gingerbread and courtiers--plenty of gilding, and plenty -of spice beneath. But the old life in Lewkinor Street--in the -coal-yard--ah!'t was like to sour oranges, mother, thick skin above, and -sourness under. 'Snails! it doth set my teeth on edge to think of it." - -"Oh, ay; but now and again we lighted upon a Levant orange in the midst -of a basketful--a sweet one to suck, and one to leave a sweet taste -behind it." - -"The best were mightily improved by the addition of a lump of sugar. -But what hath all this vegetable philosophy to do with your visit to -me to-day? If you mean to stay, I'll send out for a couple of stone of -sugar without delay!" - -"Philosophy, Madame Impudence! You accuse your mother of philosophy, -when everyone knows that your own language was--" - -"Worthy of a lady of quality, mother. It seemeth that you are anxious to -hear whether or not I retain anything of my old skill in that direction, -and by my faith, dear mother, you shall learn more than will satisfy -your curiosity, if you beat about the bush much longer. Whom say you -that you met to-day?" - -"What should you say if I told you that his name was Dick Harraden?" - -"What, Dick! Dick!--Dick Harraden!" - -Nell had sprung to her feet, and had grasped her mother by the shoulder, -eagerly peering into her face. After a moment of silence following her -exclamation, she gave her mother a little push, in the act of taking -her hand off her shoulder, and threw herself back in her own chair -again with a laugh--a laugh that surrounded a sigh, as a bright nimbus -surrounds the sad face of a saint in a picture. - -"What should I say, do you ask me?" she cried. "Well, I should say -that you were a liar, good mother." Nell was never particular in her -language. As an exponent of the reaction against the Puritanism of the -previous generation, she was admitted by very competent judges to have -scarcely an equal. - -"I'm no liar," said the mother. "'T was Dick himself I met, face to -face." - -"It puzzles me to see wherein lies your hope of getting money from me by -telling me such a tale," said Nell. - -"I want not your money--at least not till the end of the month, or -thereabouts. I tell you, I saw Dick within the hour." - -"'T was his ghost. You know that when he threw away his link he took to -the sea, and was drowned in a storm off the Grand Canary. What did the -seafaring man tell us when I asked him if he had seen Dick?" - -"A maudlin knave, who offered you a guinea for a kiss at the pit door -of Drury Lane, and then bought a basket of oranges and gave them away -singly to all comers." - -"But he said he had sailed in the same ship as Dick, and that it had -gone down with all aboard save only himself." - -"Oh, ay; and he wept plentifully when he saw how you wept--ay, and -offered to be your sweetheart in the stead of poor Dick, the knave! For -I saw Dick with these eyes, within the hour." - -"Oh, mother--and you told him--no, you durs n't tell him--" - -"He had just this morning come to London from the Indies, and it was -luck--ill-luck, maybe--that made him run against me. He plied me with -question after question--all about Nell--his Nell, he called you, if you -please." - -"His Nell--ah, mother! his Nell! Well, you told him--" - -"I told him that you would never more need his aid to buy foot-gear. -Lord! Nell, do you mind how he bought you the worsted stockings when you -were nigh mad with the chilblains?" - -"And you told him... For God's sake, say what you told him!" - -"I did n't mention the king's name--no, I'm loyal to his Majesty, God -save him! I only told him that you had given up selling oranges in -the pit of Drury Lane, and had taken to the less reputable part of the -house, to wit, the stage." - -"Poor Dick! he did n't like to hear that. Oh, if he had stayed at home -and had carried his link as before, all would have been well!" - -"What is the wench talking about? Well--all would have been well? And -is not all well, you jade? 'T were rank treason to say else. Is n't this -room with its gilded looking-glasses and painted vases pretty well for -one who had been an orange girl? The king is a gentleman, and a merry -gentleman, too. Well, indeed!" - -"But Dick!--what more did you say to him, mother?" - -"I asked him after himself, to be sure. I' faith the lad has prospered, -Nell--not as you have prospered, to be sure--" - -"Nay, not as I have prospered." - -"Of course not; but still somewhat. He will tell you all, himself." - -"What? You told him where I dwelt?" - -"'I meant it not, Nelly; but he had it from me before I was aware. But -he knows nothing. I tell you he only came to London from Bristol port -in the morning. He will have no time to hear of the king and the king's -fancies before he sees you." - -"He is coming hither, then? No, he must not come! Oh, he shall not come! -Mother, you have played me false!" - -"I? Oh, the wench is mad! False? What could I say, girl, when he pressed -me?" - -"You could have said that I was dead--that would have been the truth. -The girl he knew is dead. He must not come to this house." - -"Then give your lacqueys orders not to admit him, and all will be well. -But I thought that you would e'en see the lad, Nell, now that he has -prospered. If he had n't prospered it would be different." - -"Only an orange-seller, and yet with the precepts of a lady of quality! -I'll not see him. Did he say he'd come soon?" - -"Within an hour, he said." Instinctively, Nell looked at her reflection -in a mirror. - -"I'll not see him," she repeated. "That gown will do well enough for one -just returned from the Indies," said the mother, with a leer. - -"Oh, go away, go away," cried her daughter. "You have done enough -mischief for one morning. Why could not you have let things be? Why -should you put this man on my track?" - -"'T is a fool that the wench is, for all her smartness," said the -mother. "She was picked out of the gutter and set down among the noblest -in the land, and all that held on to her gown were landed in pleasant -places; and yet she talks like a kitchen jade with no sense. If you will -not see the lad, hussy, lock your door and close your shutters, after -giving orders to your lacqueys to admit him not. If needful, the king -can be petitioned to send a guard to line the Park with their pikes to -keep out poor Dick, as though he was the devil, and the Park the Garden -of Eden." - -"Oh, go away--go away!" - -"Oh, yes; I 'll go--and you 'll see him, too--no fear about that. A -girl, however well provided for--and you're well provided for--would n't -refuse to see an old sweetheart, if he was the old serpent himself; -nay, she'd see him on that account alone. And so good day to you, good -Mistress Eve." - -She made a mock courtesy, the irony of which was quite as broad as that -of her speech, and marched out of the room, holding her narrow skirts -sufficiently high to display a shocking pair of flat-footed boots -beneath. - -Her daughter watched her departure, and only when she had disappeared -burst into a laugh. In a moment she was grave once again. She remained -seated without changing her attitude or expression for a long time. At -last she sprang to her feet, saying out loud, as though some one were -present to hear her: - -"What a fool thou art, friend Nell, to become glum over a boy -sweetheart--and a link boy, of all boys. Were I to tell Mr. Dryden of my -fancy, he would write one of his verses about it, making out that poor -Dick was the little god Cupid in disguise, and that his link was the -torch of love. But I'll not see him.'T were best not. He'll hear all, -soon enough, and loathe me as at times I loathe myself--no, no; not so -much as that, not so much as that: Dick had always a kind heart. No; -I'll not see him." She went resolutely to the bell-pull, but when there, -stood irresolute with the ornamental ring of brass in her hand, for some -moments before pulling it. She gave it a sudden jerk, and when it was -responded to by a lacquey, she said: - -"Should a man call asking to see me within the next hour, he is to be -told--with civility, mind you: he is a gentleman--that--that I am in -this room, and that I will see him for five minutes--only five minutes, -mind you, sirrah." - -"And the man--the gentleman--is to be admitted, madam?" - -"Certainly--for five minutes." - -"Your ladyship will regulate the time?" - -"Go away, you numbskull! How could I regulate the time? I'm no -astronomer." - -"Madam, I meant but to inquire if you are to be interrupted at the end -of five minutes." - -"I gave you no such instruction, sirrah. It is enough for you to carry -out the instruction I gave you. Carry it out, and yourself in the -bargain." - -The man bowed and withdrew. He was familiar with the colloquial style of -his mistress and her moods. - -When the man had gone Nelly laughed again, but suddenly became graver -even than she had yet been. - -"What have I done?" she cried. "Oh, there never was so great a fool as -me! No, no; I'll not see him! I have as kind a heart as Dick, and I'll -prove it by not seeing him." - -And yet, when she had her hand on the lock of the door, she stood -irresolute once again for some moments. Then she went out with a firm -step, her intention being to countermand in the hall the instructions -she had given to the servant in the parlour; but in the hall she found -herself face to face with her old friend, Sir Charles Sedley. He had -brought her a bunch of violets. - -"The satyr offers flowers to Aurora," said the courtier to the -courtesan, bowing as gracefully as a touch of rheumatism permitted. - -"And Aurora was so fond of flowers that she accepted them, even from the -most satiric of satyrs," said Nell, sinking into a courtesy. - -"I plucked these flowers for the fairest flower that--" - -"Ah, that is one of Mr. Dryden's images in the reverse," laughed Nell. -"What was the name of t' other young thing?--Proserpine, that's it--who -was plucking flowers, and was herself plucked. 'Snails! that's not the -word--she was n't a fowl." - -"'Fore Gad, Nell, I never heard that story; it sounds scandalous, so -tell it us," said Sir Charles. "What was the name of the wench, did you -say?" - -"Her name was Nell Gwyn, and she was gathering oranges to sell in -the pit of Drury Lane, when, some say Satan, and some say Sedley--the -incongruity between the two accounts is too trifling to call for -notice--captivated her, and she had nothing more to do with oranges or -orange blossoms." - -"And her life was all the merrier, as I doubt not Madame Proserpine's -was when she left the vale of Enna for--well, the Pit--not at Drury -Lane." - -"That were a darker depth still. You 've heard the story, then. Mr. -Dryden says the moral of it is that the devil has got all the pretty -wenches for himself." - -"Not so; he left a few for the king." - -"Nay, the two are partners in the game; but the King, like t' other -monarch, is not so black as he is painted." - -"Nor so absolutely white as to be tasteless as the white of an egg, -Nell." - -"His Majesty is certainly not tasteless." - -"On the contrary, he is in love with you still, Nell." - -They were standing apart from the group of servants in the hall. Nell -Gwyn had pretended that she was about to ascend the stairs, but loitered -on the second step, with her right elbow resting on the oak banister, -while she smelt at the violets with her head poised daintily, looking -with eyes full of mischief and mirth at the courtier standing on the -mat, the feathers of his broad-leafed hat sweeping the ground, as he -swung it in making his bows. - -Suddenly Nell straightened herself as she looked down the hall toward -the door; she started and dropped her violets. All the mischief and -mirth fled from her eyes as a man was admitted, with some measure of -protestation, by the porter. He was a young man with a very brown face, -and he carried no sword, only the hanger of a sailor; his dress was of -the plainest--neither silk nor lace entered into its manufacture. - -Before Sir Charles had time to turn to satisfy himself as to the -identity of the man at whom Nell was gazing so eagerly, she had run down -the hall, and seized the newcomer by both hands, crying: - -"Dick--Dick--It is you, yourself, Dick, and no ghost!" - -"No ghost, I dare swear, Nell," cried the man, in a tone that made the -candles in the chandelier quiver, and Sir Charles Sedley to be all but -swept off his feet. "No ghost, but--O Lord, how you've grown, Nell! Why, -when I burnt my last link seeing you home, you was only so high!" He put -his hand within a foot of the floor. - -"And you, too, Dick! Why, you're a man now--you'll grow no more, Dick," -cried Nell, still standing in front of him, 'with his hands fast clasped -in her own. Suddenly recollecting the servants who were around, she -dropped his hands, saying: "Come along within, Dick, and tell me all -your adventures since last we were together." - -"Lord! Adventures! You do n't know what you 've set yourself down for, -Nell. If I was to tell you all, I should be in your company for at least -a week." - -[Illustration: 0042] - -She led him past Sir Charles Sedley, without so much as glancing at the -courtier, and the newcomer had no eyes for anyone save Nell. A servant -threw open the door of the room where she had been with her mother, and -the two entered. - -Sir Charles took snuff elaborately, after he had replaced his hat on his -head. - -"If his Majesty should arrive, let him know that I am in the long -parlour," he said to a servant, as he walked toward a door on the left. - -He paused for a space with his hand on the handle of the door, for there -came from the room into which Nell Gwyn and Dick Harraden had gone a -loud peal of laugh ter--not a solo, but a duet. - -He turned the handle. - -So soon as he had disappeared, there came another ripple of laughter -from the other room, and the lacqueys lounging in the hall laughed, too. -Within the room, Nell was seated on the settee and Dick Harraden by her -side. She had just reminded him of the gift of the worsted stockings -which he had made to her, when he was a link-boy, and she an orange-girl -in Drury Lane. They had both laughed when she had pushed out a little -dainty shoe from beneath her gown, displaying at the same time a -tolerably liberal amount of silk stocking, as she said: - -"Ah, Dick, it 's not in worsted my toes are clad now. I have outgrown -your stockings." - -"Not you, Nell!" he cried. "By the Lord Harry! your feet have got -smaller instead of larger during these years--I swear to you that is -so." - -"Ah, the chilblains do make a difference, Dick," said she, "and you -never saw my feet unless they were covered with chilblains. Lord! how -you cried when you saw my feet well covered for the first time." - -"Not I---I didn't cry. What was there to cry about, Nell?" he said. - -She felt very much inclined to ask him the same question at that -moment, for his face was averted from her, and he had uttered his words -spasmodically. - -"Poor Dick! You wept because you had eaten nothing for three days in -order to save enough to buy my stockings," she said. - -"How know you that?" he cried, turning to her suddenly. - -"I knew it not at the time," she replied, "but I have thought over it -since." - -"Think no more of it, Nell. O Lord! to think that I should live to see -Nell again! No--no; I'll not believe it. That fine lady that I see in -the big glass yonder cannot be Nell Gwyn!" - -"Oh, Dick, would any one but Nell Gwyn remember about Nell Gwyn's -chilblains?" - -"Hearsay, mere hearsay, my fine madam!" - -"By what means shall I convince you that I'm the Nell you knew? Let me -see--ah, I know. Dick, I 'll swear for you; you know well that there was -not one could match me in swearing. Let me but begin." - -"O Lord! not for the world. You always knew when to begin, Nell, but you -ne'er knew when to stop. And how doth it come that you have n't forgot -the brimstone of the Lane, Nelly, though you have become so mighty fine -a lady?" - -"'Snails, Dick, the best way to remember a language is to keep -constantly talking it!" - -"But in silks and satins?" - -"Oh, I soon found that I only needed to double the intensity of my -language in the Lane in order to talk the mother tongue of fashion." - -"If swearing make the fine lady, you'll be the leader of the town, Nell, -I'll warrant. But do n't say that you doubled your language--that would -be impossible." - -"Oh, would it, indeed?" - -"Not so? Then for God's sake do n't give me a sample of what you reached -in that way, for I 've only lived among the pirates and buccaneers of -the Indies since." - -"Then I'll e'en spare thee, Dick. But take warning: do n't provoke me. -You would n't provoke a pirate whose guns you knew to be double-shotted. -Do n't say that I'm not Nell Gwyn for all my silks and lace. Why, man, -doth oatmeal porridge cease to be porridge because it's served in a -silver platter? Did your salt pork turn to venison when you ate it off -the gold plate that you stole from the chapels?" - -"Lord, Nell, I was n't a pirate." - -"What! Did n't you say just now that you had been among pirates and -buccaneers in the Indies?" - -"I was among them, but not of them." - -"You mean to say that you were neither a pirate nor a buccaneer?" - -"Neither!" - -"Then all I can say is that I'm mightily ashamed of you, Dick. I counted -on your being at least a pirate. Don't say that you became a merchant; I -never could abide dishonesty, Dick." - -"Well, no; I never became just a merchant, Nell--at least, not the sort -of merchant that merchants would call a merchant." - -"Oh, then, there's some hope for you yet, Dick. We may be friends -still." - -"Friends? Well, I should say so! What did I work for, do you think, -through all these years? What did I lay up a store of guineas -for--guineas and Spanish doubloons and pieces of eight for----" - -"And you have made a fortune, Dick? Think of that! Ah, I fear that you -must have been a regular merchant after all; only regular merchants make -fortunes in these days." - -"Ay, but some irregular ones do pretty fairly for themselves." - -"And you were somewhat irregular, I dare swear?" - -"Well, I wasn't regularly irregular, dear, only by fits and starts. Ah, -what I said to myself was: 'I've put the stockings on Nell, but I've -to get the shoes for her yet.' That's what gave me the strength of ten -men--working for those shoes, Nell." - -"Poor Dick! and now when you come home, you find that I am already -provided for." - -Again she showed him the dainty tips of her shoes. - -"Those are fair weather shoes, Nell," he cried. - -"Ay, that they are, Dick," she assented, with a note of sadness in her -voice. - -"But what I would offer you would stand the stress of all weather--fair -or foul, Nell." - -"I believe you, Dick, with all my heart. I know what you had to offer -me; but it 's too late now, too late, Dick." - -"Too late? What do you mean, girl?" - -The look that came into his face frightened her. She threw herself back -on the settee and laughed loudly for a minute or two. - -"That's what I mean," she cried, tilting up her toes until they were -on a level with his knees. "What else could I mean than that I'm already -sufficiently shod? Even Nell Gwyn can't wear more than one pair of shoes -at a time, Dick. It's rather a pity, but 't is an ill that must be -borne. Now tell us all about yourself, Dick. Tell us how you fought with -pirates and buccaneers--never mind telling how you made a fortune in -pieces of eight: there's no romance about making a fortune--tell us -about the pirates, and above all, tell us what the Spanish Main is." - -"The Spanish Main--why, it's the Spanish Main, to be sure--south of the -Indies--a good place for trade, and a good place for pirates. But you, -Nell; I wonder if you meant anything by saying that I had come back too -late? I thought, you know, when I met your mother----" - -"Oh, I want to hear about the fighting--the buccaneers! I do n't want to -hear about my mother; I hear enough about her. You fought the pirates? -Well, next to being a pirate yourself, that's the best thing." - -"Well, if you must know, I got about me a few score of lads--most -of them were stout Irish lads who were sold to the plantations by -Cromwell." - -"The monster!" - -"Ay, we made up a brave crew, I can tell you. Our plan was to do no -pirating on our own behalf, but only to attack the pirates when they had -a deck-load of spoil. Taking from thieves is n't stealing, is it, Nell?" - -"No; that's business." - -"A bit irregular, it may be, as I said just now; but bless you, Nelly, -it was like sermon-preaching compared to some sorts of business that -thrive mightily at the Indies. Anyhow, here I am to-day, sound and -hearty, Nell, with a pretty nice fortune made already, and more to -come--here I am, ready and willing to buy you the best pair of shoes in -London town, and every other article of attire you may need for the next -dozen--ay, the next fifty years." - -"Dick--Dick!" - -"Is n't it true that you were always my sweetheart, Nell? Didn't you -say that you would never marry another? Well, you've kept your word so -far--your mother told me that." - -"Ah, that's the worst of it." - -"The worst of it! That's the best of it, Nelly; for though a fine lady, -living in a mansion like this--why, it might be a palace--the King -himself might come here-----" - -"The King--you've heard that--that the King?" - -She grasped him fiercely by the sleeve, and was eagerly peering into his -face. - -He burst out laughing, but suddenly checked himself. - -"The King--the King--what was there for me to hear?" he asked in a low -voice. "I only arrived from Bristol port in the morning. How could I -hear anything?" - -"I do n't want to hear anything, except to hear you say that you have -n't broken your promise--that you have n't married any one else." - -"Oh, go away, Dick--go away!" she cried, burying her face on the arm of -the settee. - -He got upon his feet slowly and painfully, and stood over her. - -"Why should I go away?" he asked, in the same grave voice. "If I love -you--and you know I do--and if you love me--and I believe that you -do--it is not for me to go away. Ah, is it possible that you have given -your promise to marry some one else? Do n't weep, Nell; that's it, I -see, and it can be made all right. Is that it, dear?" - -"No, no. Oh, go away--go away, and never return to make me feel how -miserable I am!" - -"I'll not go away. There's some mystery about you and this house, and -I'll not go before I fathom it." - -She looked up and saw him standing there with his arms folded. - -She leaped up so quickly that she almost seemed to spring into his arms. -He thought so, at any rate, and was about to clasp her when she caught -both of his hands in her own, gazing tearfully--eagerly--wistfully, into -his face. - -"Dick--dear Dick," she said; "if you love me still--and I know you -do--you will leave me now. Oh, you should never have come here--I -did not mean you to come; but if you love me, Dick, you will leave me -now--leave me and go into the nearest coffee-house, and ask of the first -man you see there who is Nell Gwyn? What is Nell Gwyn? If you return -to me after that, then--then, Dick, I swear to you that I'll marry -you; there will be none to stay us then, none to come between--the King -himself shall not come between us." - -He gripped her hands fiercely, his face close down to hers. - -"By God, I 'll do it!" he said, through his set teeth. "I'll do it. You -have put it upon me. I know that I shall hear nothing but what is -good of you, and I'll return to claim you, as sure as there's a sun in -heaven." - -He dropped her hands, snatched up his hat, and walked firmly to the -door. When there, he turned slowly and looked back at her. She was -standing pale and lovely where he had left her. Her eyes were upon his -face. - -He flung himself through the door, and she fell on her knees beside the -settee, burying her face in one of its cushions. - -For some minutes, nothing was heard in the room but the sound of her -sobs; but then the silence was broken by a shout outside--a shout and -the noise of a scuffle. Cries of "Hold him back! Hold him back!" came -from the servants, and mixed with some full-bodied imprecations in other -voices. Nell started to her feet, as the door of the room was all but -crashed in, and she was standing with a startled look on her face, as -the door was flung wide open, and Dick Harraden hurled a limp antagonist -into the room. - -"He shall eat his words--every foul word he uttered he shall swallow in -the presence of Nell herself," cried Dick, and then Nell recognised Sir -Charles Sedley as the man who was standing panting, with a broken sword -in his hand, by her side, facing Dick. - -"For God's sake, Dick!--Sir Charles--what has happened?" - -The courtier was too breathless to speak--he signified so much very -pleasingly to Nell. - -"The cowardly knave!" panted Dick. "But I swore that I'd make him eat -his words, and by the Lord Harry, I'll keep my oath!" - -"Sir Charles, pray--oh, Dick!" - -"Dick me no Dicks, Nell, until this popinjay has gone down on his knees -before you and asked your pardon for his foul words," cried Dick. "Down -you go, my gentleman, were you fifty times Sir Charles." - -"For heaven's sake, Nell, keep that fire-eater at a distance," gasped -Sir Charles; "he's fit for Bedlam!" - -"Stand where you be, Dick," said Nell. "What said Sir Charles Sedley to -give you offence?" - -"He said that you--no, I 'll hang in chains in Execution Dock before I -repeat the lie--but he'll take it back, every word, if I have to wring -his neck!" - -Dick was with difficulty kept at a distance. - -"Did he say aught about the King and me?" asked Nell, in a low voice. - -"It was, I swear, a most unhappy _contretems_, Nell," said Sir Charles, -smiling in a somewhat constrained way. "How could I know that there was -one man in England who did n't know how splendid, yet how natural, a -conquest the charms of Mistress Eleanor Gwyn have achieved?" - -"Then you only spoke the truth, Sir Charles," said Nell. "God above us!" - -Dick staggered back, and grasped the frame of a chair to support -himself. There was a long silence. - -He took a faltering step or two towards where she stood in the middle of -the room. - -"I see it all now," he said, in a low voice. "I see it all. This -house--the lacqueys in scarlet--the King's servants--they are the King's -servants, and you--you, Nell, are the King's----Oh, God! let me die--let -me die! This is what I came home for! You told me to go to the first -coffee-house; I did n't need to go so far. Oh, Nelly, if I had come home -to stand beside the green hillock of your grave I could have borne it, -but this--this!" - -He dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His sobbing -was the only sound in the room. - -After a long pause he got slowly upon his feet. - -"I'm going away," he said. "My heart is broken, Nell--my heart is -broken. Good-bye, Nell." - -"Good-bye, Dick." - -She had not moved from the middle of the room. She did not hold out a -hand to him. He walked slowly to the door. Then he turned round. - -"I humbly ask your pardon, sir," he said to Sir Charles. - -"Sir," said the courtier, "I honour you more than any living man." - -"Nell--Nell--come to me--come away with me--come to my arms, Nell," -cried the man, holding out his hands to her from where she stood. - -Sir Charles watched her face. He saw it light up for a moment. Her hands -moved; she was going to him. - -No, she only looked at the man who loved her and was ready to offer her -everything, and said: - -"Dick, I have a boy in a cradle upstairs." - -There was another long pause before Dick whispered the words: "God bless -thee, Nell," Then the door was flung wide in his face by a lacquey, who -bowed to the ground as he ushered in a rather plainfaced man wearing a -diamond star and a broad blue sash, as well as a diamond garter. - -Nell sank in a courtesy, and Sir Charles Sedley made an obeisance. Dick -remained unmoved. - -"Ha! what have we here?" said the stranger. "'Odsfish! a pretty family -picture! Who may you be, good sir?" he asked of Dick. - -"Who may _you_ be?" asked Dick. - -"Well, who I may be in a year or two, the Lord and Nelly only knows--she -says a merry pauper. But who I am is easier said; I happen just now to -be the King." - -Dick stood unmoved. - -"Then I could tell you _what_ you are, sir,' said Dick. - -"Not half as well as I could tell you, my friend," said the King. - -"I wonder if your Majesty ever hears the truth?" said Dick. - -"Seldom; any time I do, it comes from the lips of Nelly, yonder," -replied the King. "And by my soul, sir, I would rather hear the truth -from Nelly, than a lie from the most honourable of my subjects." - -"Profligate!" cried Dick. - -"I answer to that name, sir; what then?" said the King. - -"What then? God only can reply to your 'what then?' The answer rests -with Him. He will not forget to answer you when His time comes." - -"Even so," said the King, in a low tone, bending his head. - -Sir Charles had moved round the settee, and had opened the door. He -touched Dick on the elbow. Dick started for a moment and then stalked -through the door. Sir Charles went out with his face turned towards the -King. - -"A straightforward fellow, but as conceited as a Puritan, Nell," cried -the King, with a laugh. "What brought him here?" But Nell had sunk once -more on her knees beside the settee, and her face was, as before, buried -in the cushion. - -"Ha, what's this, Nelly? What's amiss?" said the King, bending over her. - -"Oh, go away--go away! I never want to see you again. You heard the -word, profligate, profligate!" - -"I'll go away, Nell, so soon as I pass to you the two papers which I -hold in my hand." - -"I want no papers; I want to be alone." - -"Come, dear child; see if you will like your new plaything." - -He pushed before her one of the two papers which he held. - -She glanced at it without rising, and without taking it from him. -Suddenly she put out a hand to it. - -"What?" she cried. She was now on her feet. "You have done it for -me--all for me? The hospital to be built at Chelsea! Oh, my liege!" - -"Now the other paper," said the King. - -She took it from him. - -"Ah, Royal Letters Patent--our boy--our Charlie--Duke of St. Albans! Oh, -my liege--my King--my love forever!" She sank on her knees, and, -catching his hand, covered it with kisses--with kisses and tears. - - - - -KITTY CLIVE, ACTRESS - -At the King's Head Inn at Thatcham on the Bath Road a post chaise drew -up, but with no great flourish, for the postilion knew that his only -passenger was a lady, and he had no intention of pulling his horses on -their haunches merely for the sake of impressing a lady. In his youth he -had made many flourishes of such a type, but had failed to win an extra -crown from a traveller of this sex. - -The groom, who advanced with some degree of briskness from the -stable-yard, became more languid in his movements when he perceived that -only a lady was descending from the chaise. He knew that briskness on -the part of a groom never caused a coin to spring from the purse of a -lady. The landlord, however, taking a more hopeful view of the harvest -prospects of the solitary lady as a guest--he had lived in London, -and had heard of assignations in which the (temporarily) solitary lady -became a source of profit to the inn-keeper--made a pretence of bustling -out to assist the occupant of the chaise to alight, bowing elaborately -when he perceived that the lining of her travel-ling-cloak was of -quilted silk, and once again as she tripped very daintily over the -cobble-stones in front of the King's Head, and smiled very bewitchingly -within the satin frame of her hood. The landlord had a notion that -he had seen her face and her smile before. He carried with him the -recollection of a good many faces and smiles within the frame-work of -quilted satin hoods. - -"Madam, you honour my poor house," he said in his best London manner as -the lady passed through the porch. "'T is rarely that a person of your -ladyship's quality--" - -"Spare us good lord--good landlord," cried the lady in an accent that -had a certain amount of Hibernian persuasiveness about it. "Spare -us your remarks about our quality.'T is two horses and not four that -brought me hither. It's of your quality, sir, that I'd fain have a -taste. If I do n't have breakfast within an hour, I honestly believe -that my death will be at your door, and where will your compliments be -then, my good man?" - -"Your ladyship is pleased to be facetious," said the landlord, throwing -open the door of the public room with as great a flourish as if he were -giving admittance to sixty-foot _salle_, instead of a twenty-foot inn -parlour. He looked closely at his visitor as she passed through: her -voice sounded strangely familiar to him. "'T is a poor room for one, -who, I doubt not, is no stranger to the noblest mansions," he added. - -"There's no one better accustomed to the noblest mansions than myself," -said the lady, going to the looking-glass that occupied a place in a -panel between the windows, throwing back her hood, and then arranging -her hair. - -"Yes, faith, many's the palace I've lived in--for the space of half an -hour at a time--but I make no objections to the room I 'm in just now. -See the pictures!" She raised her hands in an attitude of surprise and -admiration, so well simulated as to deceive the landlord, though he had -lived in London. - -"Pictures! Oh, the grandeur of it all! And what about breakfast? Give us -your notions of the proper decorations of a breakfast-table, good sir. -It's a picture of rashers that I've got my heart set on." - -"The best breakfast that my poor house can afford your ladyship shall be -prepared." - -"And soon, good Mr. Landlord, I implore of you, sir. Breakfast for two." - -"For two, madam!" The landlord began to feel that his experience of -assignations was about to be augmented. - -"For two, sir--I look for my brother to arrive by the coach from -Levizes. If he should enquire for me at the bar, just show him in here." - -"Your commands shall be obeyed, madam. Will he enquire for your ladyship -by name?" - -"By name? Why, how else would you have him enquire, my good man? Do you -fancy that he carries a Bow Street runner's description of so humble a -person as myself?" - -"Nay, madam; but you see your name is just what I have n't yet had the -honour of learning." - -The lady burst out laughing. - -"Faith, good sir, my name is a somewhat important detail in the -transaction I speak of. The gentleman will ask for Mistress Clive." - -"Ah," cried the landlord, "I could have sworn that I knew the face and -the voice, but I failed to think of them in connection with our Kitty." -He checked himself in his cackle of laughter, and bowed in his best -style. "Madam, I implore your pardon, but--oh lord! how I've laughed in -the old days at Kitty's pranks!--nay, madam, forgive my familiarity. I -am your servant. Oh, lord! to think that it's Kitty Clive herself--our -Kitty--madam--" - -Only when he had fled to the door and had opened it did the man -recover himself sufficiently to be able to repeat his bow. After he had -disappeared at the other side of the door, the lady heard his outburst -of laughter once again. It grew fainter as he hurried off to (she hoped) -the kitchen. - -Kitty Clive laughed, also, as she seated herself carefully on the -settle, for it was a piece of furniture whose cushions required to be -tenderly treated. - -"And this is real fame," she murmured. "To be 'our Kitty' to a hundred -thousand men and women is my ambition--a laudable one, too, I swear--one -worth struggling for--worth fighting Davy for, and Davy Garrick takes -a deal of fighting. He has got more of it from Kitty Clive than he -bargained for." - -The recollection of her constant bickerings with David Garrick seemed to -offer her a good deal of satisfaction. It is doubtful if David Garrick's -recollection of the same incidents would have been equally pleasing -to him; for Kitty Clive was very annoying, especially when she got -the better of her manager in any matter upon which he tried to get the -better of her, and those occasions were frequent. - -She remained on the settle smiling now and again, and giving a laugh at -intervals as she thought of how she had worsted David, as his namesake -had worsted the champion of Gath. But soon she became grave. - -"I should be ashamed of myself," she muttered. "David Garrick is the -only one of the whole crew at the Lane that never varies. He 's the only -one that 's always at his best. God forgive me for the way. I sometimes -try to spoil his scenes, for he 's worth Quinn, Macklin, and Barry bound -up in one; only why does he keep his purse-strings so close? Ah, if he -only had a pint of Irish blood in his veins." - -She yawned, for her contests with Garrick did not cause her any great -concern; and then she tucked up her feet upon the settle and hummed an -air from the _Beggars' Opera_. Hearing the sound of wheels she paused, -listening. - -"Sure it can't be the coach with my brother yet awhile," said she. "Ah, -no, 't is the sound of a chaise, not a coach." She resumed her lilting -of the air; but once again it was interrupted. Just outside the door -of the room there was the sound of an altercation. The voice of the -landlord was heard, apparently remonstrating with a very self-assertive -person. - -"I know my rights, sir, let me tell you," this person shouted. "Lady me -no ladies, sir; I have a right to enter the room--'t is a public room. -Zounds, sir, cannot you perceive that I am a gentleman, if I am an -actor?" - -"I'll dare swear he could n't," muttered Mrs. Clive. - -"Nay, sir, you shall not intrude on the privacy of a lady," came the -voice of the landlord. - -"Out of the way, sirrah," the other cried, and at the same moment the -door was flung open, and a tall young man wearing a travelling cloak and -boots strode into the room followed by the landlord, at whom he turned -scowling at every step. - -"Madam, I give you my word that I am not to blame; the gentleman would -come in," cried the landlord. - -"That will do, sir," said the stranger. "I myself will make whatever -apology may be needed. I flatter myself that I have had to make many -apologies before now." - -"Madam," continued the landlord, "I told him that you--" - -"That will do, Boniface!" cried the other, standing between the landlord -and Mrs. Clive, who had risen. Then giving a smirk and a flourishing -bow, he said: "Madam, you look to be a sensible woman." - -"I vow, sir," said Kitty, "I have never been accused of being sensible -before. If you cannot pay a woman a better compliment than to call her -sensible, you would be wise to refrain from the attempt to flatter her." - -The pause that followed was broken by the self-satisfied chuckle of -the landlord. He seemed to take credit to himself for Kitty's sally. -He looked at the stranger, then at the lady; his face puckered with -a smile. Then he walked to the door, and gave another chuckle as he -glanced round with his hand on the door. - -"Mistress Kitty has taken the measure of my fine gentleman," he -muttered, with a shrewd wink; "there's no need for me here." - -His chuckle broadened into a guffaw as he went down the passage, having -closed the door. - -"Pray, madam, be not offended," the man who was facing Kitty managed -to say, after an interval. "If I called you sensible, I most humbly -apologise. No offence was meant, madam." - -"I believe that, sir; but no woman likes to be called sensible. You may -call one a silly piece, a romp, or a heartless coquette without offence; -but never a sensible woman." - -"I forgot myself for the moment, madam, owing to the treatment I -received at the hands of that bumpkin Boniface. I am, in what is -doubtless your condition--awaiting the coach, and I objected to be -relegated to the kitchen." - -"Faith, sir," said Kitty, with a laugh, as she returned to the settle, -"I have passed some pleasant enough hours in a kitchen." - -"And so have I, madam, when the wenches were well favoured," said the -man, assuming the sly look of a man who had seen life. [Men who fancied -they knew the world were as plentiful in the last century as they are in -the present.] "Yes, madam; but then I went into the kitchen by choice, -not on compulsion." - -"Maybe you left on compulsion; kitchen wenches have strong arms, sir," -remarked Kitty. - -"Nay, nay, madam, Jack Bates--my name, madam--has always been a -favourite with the wenches." - -"The kitchen wenches?" - -"Zounds, madam, a wench is a wench, whether in the kitchen or the -parlour, Oh, I know woman thoroughly: I have studied her. Woman is a -delightful branch of education." - -"Oh, sir!" cried Kitty, sinking in a curtesy with the look of mock -demureness with which she was accustomed to fascinate her audiences at -Drury Lane. - -Mr. Bates was fascinated by that look. He smiled good-naturedly, waving -his hat as if to deprecate the suggestion that he meant to be a gay dog. - -"Nay, be not fluttered, fair one," he cried with a smirk. "I protest -that I am a gentleman." - -"Oh, I breathe again," said Kitty, rising to the surface, so to speak, -after her curtesy, "A gentleman? I should never have guessed it. I -fancied I heard you assert that you were an actor--just the opposite, -you know." - -"So I am, madam. I am an actor," said Mr. Bates. Sharp though Kitty's -sarcasm was, it glanced off him. - -Kitty assumed a puzzled look. Then she pretended that his meaning had -dawned on her. - -"Oh, I see; you mean, sir, that you are the actor of the part of a -gentleman. Faith, sir, the part might have been better cast." - -"I hope that I am a gentleman first, and an actor afterwards, madam," -said Mr. Bates, with some measure of dignity. - -"In that case, I presume you were appearing in the former _rle_ before -you arrived at the inn," said Kitty, whose sarcasm was at no time -deficient in breadth. - -Even Mr. Bates was beginning to appreciate her last sally, when she -added, "I do not remember having seen your name in a bill of any of the -London playhouses, Mr. Bates." - -"I have never appeared in London, madam," said Mr. Bates, "and, so far as -I can gather, I have not lost much by remaining in the country." - -"Nay, but think what the playgoers of London have lost, Mr. Bates," said -Kitty solemnly. - -"I do think of it," cried the man. "Yes, I swear to you that I do. When -I hear of the upstarts now in vogue I feel tempted sometimes to put my -pride in my pocket and appear in London." - -"Before starting in London, a person needs to have his pockets full of -something besides pride," said Kitty. "There are other ways of making -a fortune besides appearing on the London stage. Why should men come -to London to act when they may become highwaymen in the country--ay, or -inn-keepers--another branch of the same profession?" - -"It is clear, madam, that you have no high opinion of the stage. To let -you into a secret--neither have I." Mr. Bates' voice sank to a whisper, -and he gave a confidential wink or two while making this confession. - -Kitty was now truly surprised. Most actors of the stamp of Mr. Bates, -whom she had met, had a profound belief in the art of acting, and -particularly in themselves as exponents of that art. - -"What, sir!" she cried, "are you not an actor on your own confession, -whatever the critics may say?" - -"I admit it, my dear lady; but at the same time, I repeat that I have -no faith in the stage. Acting is the most unconvincing of the arts. Is -there ever a human being outside Bedlam who fancies that the stage hero -is in earnest?" - -"I should say that the force of the illusion is largely dependent upon -the actor," said Kitty. - -"Nothing of the sort, I assure you," said Bates, with a pitying -smile--the smile of the professor for the amateur. "The greatest of -actors--nay, even I myself, madam, fail to carry an audience along with -me so as to make my hearers lose sight of the sham. What child would be -imposed on by the sufferings of the stage hero or heroine? What school -miss would fail to detect the ring of falsehood in the romance of what -authors call their plots?" - -"You fancy that everyone should be capable of detecting the difference -between a woman's account of her real woes and an actress's simulation -of such woes?" - -"That is my contention, madam. The truth has a ring about it that cannot -be simulated by even the best actress." - -"Dear, dear!" cried Kitty, lifting up her hands. "What a wonder it is -that any persons can be prevailed upon to go evening after evening to -the playhouses! Why, I myself go--yes, frequently. Indeed--perhaps I -should blush to confess it--I am a constant attender at Drury Lane. I do -not believe I should be able to live without going to the playhouse!" - -"Tell the truth, madam," cried Mr. Bates, stretching out an eloquent -forefinger at her as she sat on the settle looking at her hands on her -lap, "have you ever sat out an entire play?" - -Kitty looked up and laughed loud and long, so that Mr. Bates felt -greatly flattered. He began to believe that he had just said a very -clever thing. - -"Well, there I allow that you have me," said Kitty. "Sir, I admit that -as a rule I do not remain seated during even an entire act of a play." - -"Ah," cried Mr. Bates triumphantly, "I knew that you were a sensible -woman, asking your pardon again for my presumption. Your confession -bears out my contention; and let me tell you that, on the stage, -matters, so far from improving, are steadily degenerating. I hear that -that young man Garrick is now more in vogue than that fine old actor, -Mr. Quin. Think of it, madam! A wine merchant they say this Garrick was. -Have you ever seen him?" - -"Oh, yes," said Kitty; "I have seen him." - -"And what may he be like?" - -"Mr. Garrick is like no one, and no one is like Mr. Garrick," said Kitty -warmly. - -"Ah!" Mr. Bates' lips were curled with a sneer that caused Kitty's feet -to tap the floor nervously. "Ah! A little fellow, I understand--not up -to my shoulder." - -"Physically, perhaps not," Kitty replied. "But the stature of Mr. -Garrick varies. I have seen him tower over every one on the stage--over -every one in the playhouse; and again I have seen him dwindle until he -was no higher than a child." - -Mr. Bates looked surprised. - -"How does he manage that? A stage trick, I expect." - -"I dare say 't is so--merely that stage trick--genius." - -"He could not deceive me: I would take his measure," said Mr. Bates, -with a shrewd smirk. - -"Still, I have heard that even the players beside him on the stage are -sometimes carried away with the force of his acting," said Kitty. - -"A paltry excuse for forgetting their lines!" sneered Mr. Bates. "Ah! no -actor could make a fool of me!" - -"Would anyone think it necessary to improve on Nature's handiwork in -this respect?" asked Kitty demurely. - -"How?" For a moment Mr. Bates had his doubts as to whether or not the -lady meant to pass a compliment upon him. The demure look upon her face -reassured him. "You are right, madam; they could easily see what I am," -he said, tapping his chest. - -"They could, indeed, sir," said Kitty, more demurely than ever. - -"I do not doubt, mind you, that there is a certain superficial ability -about this Mr. Garrick," resumed Mr. Bates in a condescending way. - -"I am sure that Mr. Garrick would feel flattered could he but know that -he had the good opinion of Mr. Bates," remarked Kitty. - -"Yes, I know that I am generous," said Mr. Bates. "But this Garrick--I -wonder what his Hamlet is like." - -"It is _like_ nothing, sir: it is Hamlet," cried Kitty. - -"You have seen it? What is he like when the ghost enters? I have made -that scene my own." - -Kitty sprang from the settle. - -"Like?" she said. "What is he like? He is like a man in the presence of -a ghost at first, and then--then the ghost becomes more substantial than -he. You hear a sudden cry--he stands transfixed with horror--you see -that he is not breathing, and he makes you one with himself. You cannot -breathe. You feel that his hand is on your heart. You are in the power -of his grasp. He can do what he pleases with you. If he tightens his -grasp you will never breathe again in this world. There is a terrible -pause--he draws his breath--he allows you to draw yours; but you feel in -that long silence you have been carried away to another world--you -are in a place of ghosts--there is nothing real of all that is about -you--you have passed into a land of shadows, and you are aware of a -shadow voice that can thrill a thousand men and women as though they -were but one person:-- - -"'Angels and ministers of grace defend us!' - -"Bah! what a fool I am!" cried Kitty, flinging herself excitedly upon -the settle. "Imitate Mr. Garrick? Sir, he is inimitable! One may imitate -an actor of Hamlet. David Garrick is not that; he is, I repeat, Hamlet -himself." - -Mr. Bates was breathing hard. There was a considerable pause before -he found words to say,--"Madam, for one who has no stage training, I -protest that you display some power. You have almost persuaded me to -admire another actor's Hamlet--a thing unheard of on the stage. I, -myself, play the part of the Prince of Denmark. It would gratify me to -be permitted to rehearse a scene in your presence. You would then see on -what points Mr. Garrick resembles me." - -"Oh, lord!" muttered Kitty, making a face behind Mr. Bates' back. - -"There is the scene at the grave. I am reckoned amazing in that scene." - -"Amazing? I do not doubt it." - -"I wonder how Mr. Garrick acts the grave scene." - -"Oh, sir,'t is his humour to treat it paradoxically." Kitty was now -herself again. "He does not treat the grave scene gravely but merrily." - -"Merrily?" - -"Why not? Novelty is everything in these days. Does not Mr. Macklin make -Shylock a serious and not a comic character? An innovation on the stage -draws the town." - -"Faith, madam, to act the grave scene in a burst of merriment is past an -innovation." - -"Not at all, sir. With Mr. Garrick it seems quite natural. He is one -of those actors who are superior to nature. I am sure you have met some -such." - -"I never met one who was otherwise." - -"Ah, then you will see how Mr. Garrick could enter upon the scene, -beginning to play bowls with Horatio, using skulls for the game; this -goes on for some time, while they quarrel on the score of the score. -They fling their skulls at one another, and then they take to fencing -with two thigh bones which they pick up. Hamlet runs Horatio through -with his bone, and he falls atop of the first grave-digger, who has -been watching the fight, and in pantomime--much is done by pantomime -nowadays--laying odds on Hamlet. Both topple over into the grave, and -Hamlet stands on the brink, convulsed with laughter. This, you observe, -gives extra point to Hamlet's enquiry, 'Whose grave is that, sirrah?' -and certainly extraordinary point to the man's reply, 'Mine, sir.' Has -it ever occurred to you to act the scene after that fashion?" - -"Never, madam--never, I swear," cried Mr. Bates heartily. - -"Ah, there you see is the difference between Mr. Garrick and you," said -Kitty. "Do you bring on Hamlet's Irish servant, Mr. Bates?" - -"Hamlet's Irish servant?" - -"Is it possible that you have not yet followed the new reading in the -scene where Hamlet comes upon the king praying?" - -"I know the scene," cried Mr. Bates, throwing himself into an attitude -as he began: "Oh, my offense is rank; it smells to heaven!" - -"That is it," cried Kitty, interrupting him. "Well, then Hamlet appears -with his Irish servant." - -"'Tis the first I've heard of him." - -"Let it not be the last.'T is a new reading. Hamlet enters, sees the -king, and then turns to his Irish servant saying, 'Now might I do it, -Pat'--the man's name is Patrick, you perceive?" - -"Madam, a more ridiculous innovation I protest I never heard of," said -Mr. Bates. - -"By my faith, sir,'t is not more ridiculous than some stage innovations -that I could name," said Kitty. - -"I could understand Kitty Clive introducing such a point into one of the -farces in which I hear she is a merry baggage, but--" - -"You have never seen Kitty Clive then?" - -"Never, but I hear she is a romp. Are you an admirer of hers, madam?" - -"Sir, she has no more devoted admirer than myself," said Kitty, looking -at the man straight in the face. - -"Is she not a romp?" - -"Oh, surely, a sad, sad romp. She has by her romping, saved many a play -from being damned." - -"She is so great a favorite with playgoers, I doubt her ability," said -Mr. Bates. "I doubt if she could move me. What is the nature of her -merriment?" - -"Extravagance, sir, extravagance. She bounces on as a hoyden, and -pulls a long face like this"--even Mr. Bates roared at Kitty's long -face--"behind the back of the very proper gentleman who has come to woo -her. She catches the point of his sword sheath so that when he tries to -turn he almost falls. She pretends that he has struck her with his sword -and she howls with pain. He hastens to comfort her--down goes a chair, -and he topples over it. 'Murder, murder!' she cries, and snatches up the -shovel as if to defend herself. My gentleman recovers, and hastens to -assure her of his honourable intentions. She keeps him off with her -shovel. He drops his hat, and she shovels it up and runs around the room -to throw it on the fire. He follows her over tables, chairs, and a sofa -or two. 'Tally ho!' she cries and gives a view-halloo. Round the room -they go, and just as he is at the point of catching her she uses the -shovel as a racket, and sends the hat flying, and at the same stroke, -sends her lover sprawling." - -"Madam, she is a vulgar jade, I swear," cried Mr. Bates. He was more out -of breath than Kitty, for she had acted the part so vividly that she -had forced him involuntarily to take the part of the hoyden's lover, and -both he and his hat had suffered. "That scene which you have described -bears out my argument that the more outrageous a scene is, the better -pleased are the public. Women do not make fools of men in real life." - -"Indeed, sir?" - -"No; there you have the absurdity of the stage. Authors set reason and -sense at defiance, daily. Shakespeare is one of the worst offenders." - -"What, Shakespeare?" - -"Oh, believe me, madam, Shakespeare is a greatly over-rated writer. -Look, for instance, at his play of 'Romeo and Juliet': Romeo sees the -lady, exchanges a few words with her, and falls at once in love with -her. He has only to rant beneath her window by the light of the moon, -and forthwith she agrees to marry him, and sure enough, they are married -the very next day. Good lord! Would Shakespeare have us believe that -men can be so easily fooled? Our moderns have not greatly improved upon -Shakespeare." - -"I am with you there, sir, heart and soul." - -"No, they still outrage sense by their plots. A man meets a woman quite -by chance. She tells him a cock and bull story that any fool could see -outrages probability; but he is captivated in a moment. He falls on his -knees before her and vows that she has only to speak to make him the -happiest of mortals. All this is, madam, I need scarcely say, quite -monstrous and unnatural. Such a proceeding could not occur outside -Bedlam." - -"This gentleman should be taught a lesson," said Kitty to herself, as -she watched Mr. Bates swaggering across the room. She became thoughtful -for a moment, and then smiled--only for a second, however; then she -became grave and her voice faltered as she said: "Sir, I protest that I -never before knew--nay, felt--what real eloquence was--eloquence wedded -to reason." - -"Nay, madam," smirked Mr. Bates. - -"'T is the truth, sir. May I hope that you will not think me too -forward, if I venture to express a humble opinion, sir?" Her voice was -low, and it certainly faltered more than before. - -"I shall treasure that opinion, madam," said Mr. Bates. That soft voice -produced its impression upon him. He felt that he was in the presence of -an amazingly fine woman. - -"You will not be offended, sir, if I say that I feel it to be a great -pity that one who has such eloquence at his command should spend his -time merely repeating the phrases--the very inferior phrases--of others. -The Senate, sir, should be your stage. You are not angry, sir?" - -She had laid a hand upon his arm and was looking pleadingly up to his -face. - -"Angry?" cried Mr. Bates, patting her hand, at which she turned her -eyes, modestly from his face to the ground. - -"Angry? Nay, dear lady, you have but expressed what I have often -thought." - -"I am so glad that you are not offended by my presumption, sir," said -Kitty, removing her hand--Mr. Bates did not seem willing to let it go. -"If you were offended, I protest that I should be the most wretched of -women." - -Mr. Bates marked how her voice broke, He took a step after her, as she -went to the settle. - -"Dear madam, you deserve to be the happiest rather than the most -wretched of your sex," he said--his voice was also very soft and low. - -Kitty turned to him, crying quickly: "And I should be so if--" here -she sighed--it seemed to Mr. Bates quite involuntarily. "Pardon me: -I--I--that is--sometimes the heart forces the lips to speak when they -should remain silent. A woman is a simple creature, sir." - -"A woman is a very fascinating creature, I vow," cried Mr. Bates, and he -felt that he was speaking the truth. - -"Ah, Mr. Bates, she has a heart: that is woman's weakness--her heart!" -murmured Kitty. - -"I protest that she has not a monopoly of that organ," said Mr. Bates. -"May not a man have a heart also, sweet one?" - -"Alas!" sighed Kitty, "it has not been my lot to meet with any but those -who are heartless. I have often longed--but why should I burden you with -the story of my longings--of my sufferings?" - -"Your woman's instinct tells you that you have at last met with a man -who has a heart. I have a heart, dear creature. Was it my fate brought -me into this room to-day? Was it my inscrutable destiny that led me to -meet the most charming--" - -"Pray, Mr. Bates, be merciful as you are strong!" cried Kitty, pressing -one hand to her tumultuous bosom. "Do not compel a poor weak woman to -betray her weakness: the conqueror should be merciful. What a voice is -yours, sir! What poor woman could resist its melody? Oh, sir, forgive -the tears of a weak, unhappy creature." - -She had thrown herself on the settle and had laid her head upon one of -its arms. - -In an instant he was beside her and had caught her hand. - -"Nay, dear one, I cannot forgive the tears that dim those bright eyes," -he whispered in her ear. "You have had a past, madam?" - -"Ah, sir," cried Kitty, from the folds of her handkerchief, "all my life -up to the present has been my past--that is why I weep." - -"Is it so sad as that? You have a story?" - -"Should I tell it to you?" said Kitty, raising her head suddenly and -looking at the face that was so near hers. "I will, I will--yes, I will -trust you--you may be able to help me." - -"With my latest breath!" cried Mr. Bates. - -"Sir, to be brief, I am a great heiress," said Kitty, quite calmly. Mr. -Bates started, his eyes brightened. "My uncle was trustee of my father's -property--it is in two counties," continued Kitty. "For some years after -my father's death I had no reason for complaint. But then a change came. -My uncle's son appeared upon the scene, and I soon perceived his true -character--a ruined, dissolute scamp, I knew him to be, and when I -rejected his advances with scorn, his father, who I fancied was my -friend, commenced such a series of persecutions as would have broken a -less ardent spirit than mine. They did not move me. They shut me up in a -cold, dark dungeon and loaded these limbs of mine with fetters." - -"The infernal ruffians!" - -"They fed me with bread and water. They tortured me by playing on the -harpsichord outside my prison all the best known airs from the _Beggars' -Opera_. - -"Horrible!" - -"Oh, I thought I should have gone mad--mad; but I knew that that was -just what they wanted, in order that they might shut me up in Bedlam, -and enjoy my property. I made a resolution not to go mad, and I have -adhered to it ever since." - -"Noble girl!" - -"At last the time came when I could stand their treatment no longer. -I flung my iron fetters to the winds--I burst through the doors of my -prison and rushed into the dining-hall where my two persecutors were -carousing in their cups. They sprang up with a cry of horror when I -appeared. My uncle's hand was upon the bell, when I felled him with a -heavy glass decanter. With a yell--I hear it now--his son sprang upon -me--he went down beneath the stroke of the ten-light chandelier which I -hastily plucked down and hurled at him. I called for a horse and chaise. -They were at the door in a moment and I fled all night. But alas! alas! -I feel that my flight shall avail me nothing. They are on my track, and -I shall be forced to marry at least one of them. But no, no, sooner than -submit, with this dagger--" - -She had sprung from her place and her hand was grasping something inside -her bodice, when Mr. Bates caught her firmly by the wrist. - -"You shall do nothing so impious, madam," he cried. - -"Who shall prevent me?" cried Kitty, struggling with him. "Who shall -save me from my persecutors?" - -"I, madam--I will do it!" cried Mr. Bates. - -"You--how?" Kitty had now ceased to struggle. - -"I will marry you myself!" shouted Mr. Bates, grasping both her hands. - -"But only half an hour has passed since we met," said Kitty, looking -down. - -"That is enough, madam, to convince me that my heart is yours. Sweet -one, I throw myself at your feet. Let me be your protector. Let me hold -you from your persecutors. Dearest lady, marry me and you are safe." - -"Thank heaven--thank heaven I have found a friend!" murmured Kitty. - -"You agree?" said Mr. Bates, rising to his feet. - -"Oh, sir, I am overcome with gratitude," cried Kitty, throwing herself -into his arms. - -"An heiress--and mine," Mr. Bates whispered. - -"Mistress Clive, the gentleman has arrived--oh, lud! what has Kitty been -up to?" - -The landlord was standing at the door with his hands raised. - -"'T is my brother, Jimmy Raftor," said Kitty, coolly arranging the -disordered hood of her cloak before the glass. "Jimmy is one of the best -pistol-shots in all Ireland, and that's saying a good deal. Show the -gentleman in, Mr. Landlord." - -Mr. Bates stood aghast. "Mistress Clive--not Kitty Clive of Drury Lane?" -he faltered. - -"I am Kitty Clive of Drury Lane, at your service, sir, if you should -need another lesson to convince you that even the most ridiculous story, -if plausibly told, will carry conviction to the most astute of men." - -Kitty Clive sank in a mock curtesy; the landlord roared with laughter; -Mr. Bates stood amazed in the center of the room. - - - - -A QUESTION OF ART - - -I - -If only she had a heart she would be perfect," said Mr. Garrick to his -friend, Mrs. Woffington. - -"Ay, as an actress, not as a woman," said Mrs. Woffington. "'T is -not the perfect women who have been most liberally supplied with that -organ." - -"Faith, Madam Peggy, I, David Garrick, of Drury Lane Theatre, have good -reason to set much more store upon the perfect actress than the perfect -woman," said Mr. Garrick. "If I had no rent to pay and no actors to pay, -I might be led to spend a profitable hour or two over the consideration -of so interesting a question as the relative merits of the perfect woman -with no heart worth speaking of and the perfect actress with a dangerous -superfluity of the same organ. Under existing conditions, however, I beg -leave to--" - -"Psha! Davy," said Margaret; "try not your scholarship upon so poor a -thing as myself! It seems to me that you have never quite recovered -from the effects of your early training at the feet of our friend, Mr. -Johnson." - -"Alas! Peggy," said Garrick, "I have forgot all the better part of Mr. -Johnson's instruction. He has no reason to be proud of me." - -"And yet he is proud of you, and, by my faith, he has some reason to be -so. Was it not he made you an actor?" - -"He! Mr. Johnson? oh, Lord, he never ceased to inculcate upon us a just -hatred and contempt of all that appertains to the stage." - -"Ay, and that was the means of making you thoroughly interested in all -that appertains to the stage, my friend. But I hold as I have always -held, that Mr. Johnson gave you first chance. - -"What sophistry is this that you have seized upon, my dear? My first -chance?" - -"Yes, sir; I hold that your first and, I doubt not, your greatest, -success as an actor, was your imitation for the good of your -schoolfellows, of the mighty love passages between your good preceptor -and that painted piece of crockery who had led him to marry her, that -was old enough--ay, and nearly plain enough--to be his mother. What did -he call her?--his Tiffy?--his Taffy?" - -"Nay, only his Tessy, The lady's name was Elizabeth, you must know." - -"Call her Saint Elizabeth, Davy--your patron saint, for, by the Lord -Harry, you would never have thought of coming on the stage if it had not -been for the applause you won when you returned to the schoolroom after -peeping through the door of the room where your schoolmaster chased his -Tessy into a corner for a kiss! Davy, 't is your finest part still. If -you and I were to act it, with a prologue written by Mr. Johnson, it -would draw all the town." - -"I doubt it not; but it would likewise draw down upon me the wrath of -Mr. Johnson; and that is not to be lightly faced. But we have strayed -from our text, Margaret." - -"Our text? I have forgotten that there was some preaching being done. -But all texts are but pretexts for straying, uttered in the hearing of -the strayed. What is your text, Davy?" - -"The text is the actress without the heart, Margaret, and the evil that -she doeth to the writer of the tragedy, to the man who hath a lease -of the playhouse, and above all to her sister actress, Mistress -Woffington." - -"The last of the three evils would imperil the soul's safety of as -blameless a lady as Kitty Clive herself. But, if Mistress Woffington -acts her part well in the new tragedy, I scarce see how she can be hurt -by the bad acting of Miss Hoppner." - -"That is because you are a trifle superficial in your views of the -drama, Mistress Woffington. What would you think of the painter who -should declare that, if the lights in his picture were carefully put in, -the shadows might be left to chance?" - -"Where is the analogy, David?" - -"It is apparent: the tragedy is the picture, Mrs. Woffington represents -the lighting, and Miss Hoppner the shading. Heavens! Mrs. Woffington, -madam, do you flatter yourself that the playgoers will be willing to -accept the author's account of the fascinations of the woman whom -you are representing, if you fail to rouse your rival to any point of -jealousy? Miss Hoppner, for all the strong language the poet puts into -her mouth, will not make the playgoers feel that the Lady Oriana bears -you a grudge for having taken her lover from her; and when she stabs you -with her dagger, she does so in such a halfhearted way that the whole -house will perceive that she is not in earnest." - -"Then they will blame her, and she will deserve the blame. They cannot -blame me." - -"Cannot they, indeed? Lord, my good woman, you little know the -playgoers. You think that they are so nice in their discrimination? -You should have learnt better since the days you hung on to Madame -Violanti's feet on the tight rope. If you had wriggled so that Violanti -had slipped off her rope, would her patrons have blamed aught but her? -Nay, you know that they would only have sneered at her clumsiness, and -thought nothing of the little devil who had upset her." - -"Ay; I begin to perceive your meaning. You apprehend that the playgoers -will damn the play and all associated with it, because Miss Hoppner does -not kill me with sufficient good-will?" - -"I feel sure that they will say that if Mrs. Woffington had only acted -with sufficient intensity she would have stirred her rival into so real -a passion of jealousy that she would have stabbed you in a fury." - -"Look you here, friend Davy; if it be in your thoughts that Mairgaret -Woffington is to be held accountable for the mistakes of all the other -members of your company, you would do well to revise your salary list." - -"Nay, Peggy; I only said what the playgoers will, in their error, mind -you, assume." - -"Come, Mr. Garrick, tell me plainly what you want me to do for you in -this business. What, sir, are we not on sufficiently friendly terms for -plain speaking? Tell me all that is on your mind, sir?" - -Garrick paused for some moments, and then laughed in a somewhat -constrained way, before walking on by the side of his friend. - -"Come, sir," continued Mrs. Woffington. "Be as plain as you please. I am -not prone to take offence." - -"We'll talk of that anon," said Garrick. "Perhaps Mr. Macklin will be -able to give us his helpful counsel in this business." - -"Psha!" said Peggy. "Mr. Macklin could never be brought to see with your -eyes." - -"Then he will be all the better able to give us the result of Mr. -Macklin's observation," said Garrick. - -"Ay, but that is not what you want, Davy," said Mrs. Woffington, with a -pretty loud laugh. "No one ever calls in a counsellor with the hope of -obtaining an unprejudiced opinion; the only counsellor in whom we have -confidence is he who corroborates our own views." - - -II - -They had reached their house. It was No. 6 Bow Street, and it was -presided over by Macklin--Garrick and Mrs. Woffington doing the -housekeeping on alternate months. - -Visitors preferred calling during Peggy's month, as the visitor, who was -now greeted by David Garrick in the parlour, testified in the presence -of his biographer years after; for it was Samuel Johnson who awaited the -return from rehearsal of his Lichfield pupil, David Garrick. - -"You shall have a dish of tea, Mr. Johnson, if we have to go thirsty for -the rest of the week," cried the actress, when her hand had been kissed -by her visitor. Johnson's kissing of her hand was strangely suggestive -of an elephant's picking up a pin. - -"Madam," said he, "your offer is made in the true spirit of hospitality. -Hospitality, let me tell you, consists not, as many suppose, in the -sharing of one's last crust with a friend--for the sacrifice in parting -with a modicum of so unappetising a comestible as a crust is not -great--nay; hospitality, to become a virtue, involves a real sacrifice." - -"So in heaven's name let us have the tea," said Garrick. "Make it not -too strong," he whispered to Peggy as he opened the door for her. "I -have seen him drain his tenth cup at a sitting." - -The actress made a mocking gesture by way of reply. She did not share -Garrick's parsimonious longings, and in the matter of tea brewing, she -was especially liberal. When she returned to the room bearing aloft a -large teapot, and had begun to pour out the contents, Garrick complained -bitterly of the strength of the tea, as his guest years afterwards told -Boswell. - -"'T is as red as blood," growled the actor. - -"And how else should it be, sir?" cried Mrs. Woffington. "Is 't not the -nature of good tea to be red?" - -As Garrick continued growling, Peggy laughed the more heartily, and, -with an air of coquettish defiance which suited her admirably, poured -out a second brimming cup for their visitor--he had made very light of -the first--taking no care to avoid spilling some into the saucer. - -"Faith, sir, Mr. Garrick is right: 'tis as red as blood," laughed Peggy, -looking with mischievous eyes into Johnson's face. - -"That were an indefinite statement, madam; its accuracy is wholly -dependent on the disposition of the person from whom the blood is -drawn," said Johnson. "Now yours, I believe, madam, to be of a rich -and generous hue, but Davy's, I doubt not, is a pale and meagre -fluid--somewhat resembling the wine which he endeavored to sell, with, -let us hope for the sake of the health of his customers, indifferent -success for some years." - -Garrick laughed with some constraint, while Mrs. Woffington roared with -delight. - -"Nay, sir; you are too hard upon me," cried the actor. - -"What! would the rascal cry up his blood at the expense of his wine?" -said Johnson. "That, sir, were to eulogise nature at the expense of -art--an ill proceeding for an actor." - -"And that brings us back to the question which we discussed on our way -hither from the theatre," said Peggy. "List, good Mr. Johnson, to the -proposition of Mr. Garrick. He says that I should be held accountable -for the tameness in the acting of the part of a jealous woman by Miss -Hoppner, who is to appear in the tragedy on Tuesday week." - -"I do not doubt, madam, that you should be held accountable for the -jealousy of many good women in the town," said Johnson; "but it passes -my knowledge by what sophistry your responsibility extends to any matter -of art." - -"Mrs. Woffington has not told you all, sir," said Garrick. "She is, as -you may well suppose, the creature in the tragedy who is supposed to -excite the bitter jealousy of another woman. Now, I submit that the -play-goers will be ready to judge of the powers of Mrs. Woffington as -exercised in the play, by its effect upon the other characters in the -said play." - -"How so, sir?" said Johnson. "Why, sir," replied Garrick, "I maintain -that, when they perceive that the woman who is meant to be stung to a -point of madness through her jealousy of a rival, is scarce moved at -all, they will insensibly lay the blame upon her rival, saying that the -powers of the actress were not equal to the task assigned to her by the -poet." - -"And I maintain, sir, that a more ridiculous contention than yours could -not be entertained by the most ignorant of men--nay, the most ignorant -of actors, and to say so much, sir, is to say a great deal," cried -Johnson. "I pray you, friend Davy, let no men know that I was once your -teacher, if you formulate such foolishness as this; otherwise, it would -go hard with me in the world." - -"Ah, sir, that last sentence shows that you are in perfect accord with -the views which I have tried to express to you," said Garrick. "You are -ready to maintain that the world will hold you accountable for whatever -foolishness I may exhibit. The playgoers will, on the same principle, -pronounce on the force of Mrs. Woffington's fascinations by the effect -they have, not upon the playgoers themselves, but upon Miss Hoppner." - -"Then the playgoers will show themselves to be the fools which I have -always suspected them of being," said Johnson, recovering somewhat -ungracefully from the effects of swallowing a cup of tea; "Ay, but how -are we to fool them?--that's the question, Mr. Johnson," said Peggy. "I -have no mind to get the blame which should fall on the shoulders of Miss -Hoppner; I would fain have the luxury of qualifying for blame by my own -act." - -"What! you mean, madam, that before receiving the punishment for -sinning, you would fain enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season? That -is, I fear, but indifferent morality," said Johnson, shaking his head -and his body as well with even more than his accustomed vehemence. - -"Look you here, Mrs. Woffington," said Garrick. "You are far too kind to -Miss Hoppner. That would not be bad of itself, but when it induces her -to be kindly disposed to you, it cannot be tolerated. She is a poor -fool, and so is unable to stab with proper violence one who has shown -herself her friend." - -"She cannot have lived in the world of fashion," remarked Johnson. - -"Lud! would you have me arouse the real passion in the good woman for -the sake of the play?" cried Peggy. - -"He would e'en degrade nature by making her the handmaid of art. -Sir, let me tell you this will not do, and there's an end on't," said -Johnson. - -"Then the play will be damned, sir," said Garrick. - -"Let the play be damned, sir, rather than a woman's soul," shouted -Johnson. - -"Meantime you will have another cup of tea, Mr. Johnson," said Peggy, -smiling with a witchery of that type which, exercised in later years, -caused her visitor to make a resolution never to frequent the green -room of Drury Lane--a resolution which was possibly strengthened by the -failure of his tragedy. - -"Mrs. Woffington," said he, passing on his empty cup, "let me tell you I -count it a pity so excellent a brewer of tea should waste her time upon -the stage. Any wench may learn to act, but the successful brewing of tea -demands the exercise of such judgment as cannot be easily acquired. -Briefly, the woman is effaced by the act of going on the stage; but the -brewing of tea is a revelation of femininity." He took three more -cupfuls. - -***** - -The tragedy of "Oriana," from the rehearsal of which Garrick and Mrs. -Woffington had returned to find Johnson at their house on Bow Street, -was by an unknown poet, but Garrick had come to the conclusion, after -reading it, that it possessed sufficient merit to justify his producing -it at Drury Lane. It abounded in that form of sentiment which found -favor with playgoers in an age of artificiality, and its blank verse was -strictly correct and inexpressible. It contained an apostrophe to -the Star of Love, and eulogies of Liberty, Virtue, Hope, and other -abstractions, without which no eighteenth century tragedy was considered -to be complete. Oriana was a Venetian lady of the early republican -period. She was in love with one Orsino, a prince, and they exchanged -sentiments in the first act, bearing generally upon the advantages -of first love, without touching upon its economic aspects. Unhappily, -however, Orsino allowed himself to be attracted by a lady named -Francesca, who made up in worldly possessions for the absence of those -cheerless sentiments which Oriana had at her fingers' ends, and the -result was that Oriana ran her dagger into the heart of her rival, into -the chest of her faithless lover, and into her own stays. The business -was carried on by the sorrowing relations of the three, with the -valuable assistance of the ghosts of the slain, who explained their -relative positions with fluency and lucidity, and urged upon the -survivors, with considerable argumentative skill, the advisability of -foregoing the elaborate scheme of revenge which each side was hoping -to carry out against the other from the date of the obsequies of the -deceased. - -The character of Oriana was being rehearsed by Miss Hoppner, an -extremely handsome young woman, whom Garrick had met and engaged in the -country, Mrs. Woffington being the fatally fascinating Francesca, and -Garrick, himself, the Prince Orsino. - -The tragedy had been in rehearsal for a fortnight, and it promised well, -if the representative of the jealous woman could only be brought to "put -a little life into the death scene"--the exhortation which the -Irish actress of the part of Francesca offered to her daily, but -ineffectually. Miss Hoppner neither looked the part of a tragically -jealous woman, nor did the stabbing of her rival in anything like that -whirlwind of passion with which Garrick, in spite of the limping of the -blank verse of the poet, almost swept the rest of the company off the -stage when endeavoring to explain to the actress what her representation -lacked, on the day after his chat with Mrs. Woffington on the same -subject. - -Poor Miss Hoppner took a long breath, and passed her hand across her -eyes as if to get rid of the effects of that horrible expression of -deadly hate which Garrick's face had worn, as he had craned his head -forward close to hers to show her how she should stab her rival--the -slow movement of his body suggesting the stealth of the leopard -approaching its victim, and his delivery of the lines through his -teeth more than suggesting the hissing of a deadly snake in the act of -springing. - -"Ay, do it that way, my dear madam," said Mrs. Woffington, "and the day -after the tragedy is played, you will be as famous as Mr. Garrick. 'T is -the simplest thing in the world." - -[Illustration: 0130] - -"You have so unnerved me, sir, that I vow I have no head for my lines," -said Miss Hoppner. - -But when, by the aid of the prompter, the lines were recovered and -she had repeated the scene, the result showed very little improvement. -Garrick grumbled, and Miss Hoppner was tearful, as they went to the -wardrobe room to see the dresses which had just been made for the -principal ladies. - -Miss Hoppner's tears quickly dried when she was brought face to face -with the gorgeous fabric which she was to wear. It was a pink satin -brocaded with white hawthorne, the stomacher trimmed with pearls. She -saw that it was infinitely superior to the crimson stuff which had been -assigned to Mrs. Woffington. She spoke rapturously of the brocade, and -hurried with it in front of a mirror to see how it suited her style of -beauty. - -Mrs. Woffington watched her with a smile. A sudden thought seemed to -strike her, and she gave a little laugh. After a moment's hesitation she -went behind the other actress and said: - -"I'm glad to see that you admire my dress, Miss Hoppner." - -"Your dress?" said Miss Hoppner. "Oh, yes, that crimson stuff--'t -is very becoming to you, I'm sure, Mrs. Woffington; though, for that -matter, you look well in everything." - -"'T is you who are to wear the crimson, my dear," said Peggy. "I have -made up my mind that the one you hold in your hand is the most suitable -for me in the tragedy." - -"Nay, madam, Mr. Garrick assigned this one to me, and I think 't will -suit me very well." - -"That is where Mr. Garrick made a mistake, child," said Peggy. "And -I mean to repair his error. The choice of dresses lies with me, Miss -Hoppner." - -"I have yet to be made aware of that, madam." said Miss Hoppner. Her -voice had a note of shrillness in it, and Garrick, who was standing -apart, noticed that her colour had risen with her voice. He became -greatly interested in these manifestations of a spirit beyond that which -she had displayed when rehearsing the tragedy. - -"The sooner you are made aware of it, the better it will be for all -concerned," said Mrs. Woffington, with a deadly smile. - -"I make bold to assure you, madam, that I shall be instructed on this -point by Mr. Garrick and Mr. Garrick only," said the other, raising -her chin an inch or two higher than she was wont, except under great -provocation. - -"I care not whom you make your instructor, provided that you receive the -instruction," sneered Peggy. - -"Mr. Garrick," cried Miss Hoppner, "I beg that you will exercise your -authority. You assigned to me the brocade, did you not, sir?" - -"And I affirm that the brocade will be more suitably worn by me, sir," -said Peggy. "And I further affirm that I mean to wear it, Mr. Garrick." - -"I would fain hope that the caprice of a vain woman will not be -permitted to have force against every reasonable consideration," said -Miss Hoppner, elevating her chin by another inch as she glanced out of -the corners of her eyes in the direction of the other actress. - -"That is all I ask for, madam; and as we are so agreed, I presume that -you will hand me over the gown without demur." - -"Yours is the caprice, madam, let me tell you. I have right on my side." - -"And I shall have the brocade on mine by way of compensation, my dear -lady." - -"Ladies!" cried Garrick, interposing, "I must beg of you not to -embarrass me. 'T is a small matter--this of dress, and one that should -not make a disagreement between ladies of talent. If one is a good -actress, one can move an audience without so paltry an auxiliary as a -yard or two of silk." - -"I will not pay Miss Hoppner so poor a compliment as would be implied by -the suggestion that she needs the help of a silk brocade to eke out her -resources as an actress," said Peggy. - -"I ask not for compliments from Mrs. Woffington. The brocade was -assigned to me, and--" - -"It would be ungenerous to take advantage of Mr. Garrick's error, -madam." - -"It was no error, Mrs. Woffington." - -"What! you would let all the world know that Mr. Garrick's opinion was -that you stood in need of a showy gown to conceal the defects of your -art?" - -"You are insolent, Mrs. Woffington!" - -"Nay, nay, my dear ladies; let's have no more of this recrimination over -a question of rags. It is unworthy of you," said Garrick. - -"I feel that, sir, and so I mean to wear the brocade," said Mrs. -Woffington. "Good lud, Mr. Garrick, what were you thinking of when you -assigned to the poor victim of the murderess in the tragedy the crimson -robe which was plainly meant to be in keeping with the gory intentions -of her rival?" - -"Surely I did not commit that mistake," said Garrick. "Heavens! where -can my thoughts have been? Miss Hoppner, madam, I am greatly vexed--" - -"Let her take her brocade," cried Miss Hoppner, looking with indignant -eyes, first at the smiling Peggy, and then at Garrick, who was acting -the part of a distracted man to perfection. "Let her wear it and see -if it will hide the shortcomings of her complexion from the eyes of the -playgoers." - -She walked away with a sniff before Peggy could deliver any reply. - - -III - -Pray what trick have you on your mind now? asked Garrick, when he was -alone with Peggy. "What was that caprice of yours?" - -"Caprice? You are a fool, Davy. You even forget your own precepts, which -your friend Mr. Johnson, in his wisdom condemned so heartily yesterday." - -"Good Lord! You mean to--" - -"I mean to make Miss Hoppner act the part of a jealous woman to -perfection." And she did so. The next day at the rehearsal, Garrick, as -well as every member of the company, was amazed at the energy which -Miss Hoppner contrived to impart to the scene in the play where, in the -character of Oriana, she stabbed her successful rival. She acted with a -force that had scarcely been surpassed by Garrick's reading of the scene -for her instruction the previous day. - -"Faith, Peggy, you have given her a weapon for your own undoing," said -Garrick, as he walked home with Mrs. Woffington. "She will eclipse you, -if you do not mind." - -"I 'll e'en run the risk," said Peggy. - -Alas! the next day Miss Hoppner was as feeble as ever--nay, the stabbing -scene had never been so feebly gone through by her; and Garrick grumbled -loudly. - -Miss Hoppner did not seem to mind. At the end of the rehearsal she -sought Peggy and offered her her hand. - -"Mrs. Woffington," she said, "I am desirous of asking your pardon for -my curtness in the matter of the dress. I owe so much to your kindness, -madam, I feel that my attempt to fix a quarrel upon you was the more -base. Pray, forgive an unhappy creature, who only seeks to retain the -honour of your friendship." - -"Oh, you goose!" said Peggy. "Why are you so foolish as to desire to -make friends with me? You should have hated me--been ready to kill -me--anything for the sake of becoming an actress." - -"You will not refuse me the forgiveness which I implore?" said Miss -Hoppner. - -"Nay, nay; I was in the wrong; it was my caprice, but carried out solely -on your behalf, child," said Peggy. - -"On my behalf? Oh, you are quite right; I was beginning to forget -myself--to forget that I was but a provincial actress." - -"Oh, you good natured creature!" cried Peggy. "I'll have to begin all -over again." - -They had reached the stage door by this time, and were standing together -in the long passage when a tall and good-looking man was admitted, -enquiring for Miss Hoppner. Peggy did not fail to notice the brightening -of the color of her companion as the gentleman advanced and took off -his hat with a low bow. It was with a certain proprietary air that Miss -Hoppner presented him to Peggy, by the name of Captain Joycelyn, of the -Royal Scots. - -"Captain Joycelyn is one of your warmest admirers, Mrs. Woffington," -said Miss Hoppner. - -"Sir, I am overwhelmed," said Mrs. Woffington, with a deep courtesy. - -"Nay, madam, I am your servant, I swear," said the gentleman. "I have -often longed for this honor, but it ever seemed out of my reach. We of -the Royal Scots consider ourselves no mean judges of your art, and we -agree that the playhouse without Mrs. Woffington would be lusterless." - -"Ah, sir, you would still have Mrs. Clive," suggested Peggy. - -"Mrs. Clive? You can afford to be generous, madam," laughed Captain -Joycelyn. - -"She is the most generous woman alive," said Miss Hoppner. "She will -prove herself such if she converses with you here for five minutes. I -was going away forgetting that I had to talk to the wardrobe mistress -about my turban. I shall not be more than five minutes away." - -"I protest it makes no demand upon my generosity to remain to listen -to so agreeable a critic, though I admit that I do so with a certain -tremor, sir," said Peggy, with a charming assumption of the fluttered -miss. - -"A certain tremor? Why should you have a tremor, dear madam?" said the -officer. - -"Ah,'t is the talk of the town that all hearts go down before the Royal -Scots, as the King's enemies did in the Low Countries." - -"An idle rumour, madam, I do assure you." - -"I might have thought so up till now; but now I think I would do wisely -to retreat in order, Captain, while there is yet time." - -She looked up at his face with a smile of matchless coquetry. - -"Nay, madam, you shall not stir," said he, laughing. "'T is not the -conqueror that should retreat. I am too conscientious a soldier to -permit so gross a violation of the art of war. Seriously, why should you -fly?" - -"I am a poor strategist, but I have a sense of danger. Is Miss Hoppner a -special friend of yours, sir?" - -"A special friend? Well, we have been acquaintances for nigh half a -year." - -"I thought I had seen her by your side at Ranelagh. She looked very -happy. I dare say I should be ashamed to confess it, but I envied her." - -Peggy's eyes were turned upon the ground with a demureness that -represented the finest art of the coquette. - -"You--you envied her?" cried the officer. "How humble must be your -aspirations, sweet creature! If I should not be thought to be over-bold -I would offer--ah! I fear that so brief an acquaintanceship as ours does -not warrant my presumption--" - -"And yet you do not look like one who would be likely to give offense by -overpresumption, sir." - -"I should be sorry to do so, madam. Well, if you promise not to flout -me, I will say that if you will accept my escort any night to the -Gardens, you will do me a great honour." - -"Oh, sir, your graceful offer overwhelms me. But, alas! all my evenings -are not my own. I am free but this evening and to-morrow evening." - -"Then why not come this evening, madam?" - -"Why not, indeed? only--is 't not too sudden, Captain? Ah, the dash of -Royal Scots cannot be resisted!" - -At this moment Miss Hoppner returned, and Peggy cried to her, "My dear -child, your friend is Mercury--the messenger of the Elysian Fields--he -has invited us to accompany him to Ranelagh to-night." - -"Indeed! That is kind of him," said Miss Hoppner, without any great show -of enthusiasm. "And you have accepted his invitation?" - -"Ah! who could refuse?" cried Peggy. She had not failed to notice -Captain Joycelyn's little start at her assumption that Miss Hoppner was -also to be of the party. "You will not mar our enjoyment by refusing to -come, my dear?" she added. - -"Nay; if 't is all settled, I will not hold aloof," said Miss Hoppner, -brightening up somewhat. - -They went out together, and before Peggy had parted from the others, the -manner and the hour of their going had been arranged. - - -IV - -They went up to the gardens by boat. Their party numbered four, for -Miss Hoppner had, when alone with Captain Joycelyn, so pouted that he -had promised to bring with him a brother officer to add symmetry to -the party. But if she fancied that this gentleman, who was one Ensign -Cardew, was to be the companion of Mrs. Woffington, she soon became -sensible of her mistake. By some strange error, for which only Peggy -could account the couples got parted in the crowd, Peggy and the Captain -disappearing mysteriously, and only meeting the Ensign and his companion -at supper time. - -The merriment of Peggy, at the supper, and the high spirits of Captain -Joycelyn, who allowed himself to be spoon-fed by her with minced -chicken, were powerless to disperse the cloud which hung over Miss -Hoppner. She pouted at the supper, and pouted in the boat, and made only -sarcastic replies to the exclamations of enjoyment addressed to her by -the volatile Peggy. - -The next day, before the rehearsal of the tragedy, Miss Hoppner said to -Peggy, who was renewing her protestations of the enjoyment she had had -on the previous evening: - -"I think it right that you should know, Mrs. Woffington, that Captain -Joycelyn some time ago made a proposal of marriage to me, which I -accepted." - -"Good creature, what has that to do with me?" asked Peggy. "Captain -Joycelyn certainly said nothing to me on that particular subject last -night, and why should you do so now?" - -"I am desirous of playing a fair game, madam," cried Miss Hoppner. - -"And I am not desirous of playing any game, fair or otherwise," said -Peggy. "Lud, Miss Hoppner, do you fancy that 't is my duty to prevent the -straying of the lovers of the ladies of Mr. Garrick's company? I vow, -I took upon me no such responsibility; I should have no time for my -meals." - -The woman whom she addressed looked at her with flashing eyes, her hands -tightly clenched, and her teeth set, for some moments. Once her lips -parted; she seemed about to speak; but with an evident struggle she -restrained herself. Then the fierce light in her eyes flamed into scorn. - -"Words were wasted on such a creature," she said in a whisper, that had -something of a hiss in its tone, as she walked away. - -Peggy laughed somewhat stridently, and cried: - -"Excellently spoke, beyond doubt. The woman will be an actress yet." - -Not a word of complaint had Garrick reason for uttering in regard to -the rehearsal of the scene in the tragedy, this day, and on their way -homewards, he remarked to Peggy, smilingly: - -"Perhaps in the future, my dear Peggy, you will acknowledge that I know -something of the art and methods of acting, though you did not hesitate -to join with Mr. Johnson in calling my theories fantastic." - -"Perhaps I may," said Peggy, quietly; "but just now I protest that I -have some qualms." - -"Qualms? Qualms? An actress with qualms!" cried Garrick. "What a comedy -could be written on that basis! 'The Actress with Qualms; or, Letting I -Dare Not wait upon I Would!' Pray, madam, do your qualms arise from -the reflection that you have contributed to the success of a sister -actress?" - -"The tragedy has not yet been played," said Peggy. "It were best not -to talk of the success of an actress in a play until the play has been -acted." - -That night, Mrs. Woffington occupied a box in the theater, and by her -side was Captain Joycelyn. Miss Hoppner was in a box opposite, and by -her side was her mother. - -On Monday, Peggy greeted her quite pleasantly as she came upon the stage -to rehearse the tragedy; but she returned the greeting with a glance of -scorn, far more fierce than any which, in the character of Oriana, she -had yet cast at her rival in the scenes of the play. Peggy's mocking -face and the merry laugh in which she indulged did not cause the other -to abate any of her fierceness; but when the great scene was rehearsed -for the last time previous to the performance, Mrs. Woffington became -aware of the fact that, not only was Miss Hoppner's representation of -the passionate jealousy of the one woman real, but her own expression -of fear, on the part of the other woman when she saw the flash of the -dagger, was also real. With an involuntary cry she shrank back before -the wild eyes of the actress, who approached her with the stealthy -movement of a panther measuring its distance for a spring at the throat -of its victim. - -Garrick complimented both ladies at the close of the scene, but they -both seemed too overcome to acknowledge his compliments. - -"By my soul, Peggy," said Garrick, when they met at the house in Bow -street, "you have profited as much by your teaching of that woman as -she has. The expression upon your face to-day as she approached you gave -even me a thrill. The climax needed such a cry as you uttered, though -that fool of a poet did not provide for it." - -She did not respond until some moments had passed, and then she merely -said: - -"Where are we to end, Davy, if we are to bring real and not simulated -passion to our aid at the theater? Heavens, sir! we shall be in a pretty -muddle presently. Are we to cultivate our hates and our jealousies and -our affections for the sake of exhibiting them in turn?" - -"'T would not be convenient to do so," said Garrick. "Still, you have -seen how much can be done by an exhibition of the real, and not the -simulated passion." - -"Depend upon it, sir, if you introduce the real passions into the acting -of a tragedy you will have a real and not a simulated tragedy on the -stage." - -"Psha! that is the thought of--a woman," said Garrick. "A woman seeks to -carry an idea to its furthest limits; she will not be content to accept -it within its reasonable limitations." - -"And, being a woman,'tis my misfortune to think as a woman," said Mrs. -Woffington. - -The theatre was crowded on the evening when "Oriana" appeared for the -first time on the bills. Garrick had many friends, and so also had -Margaret Woffington. The appearance of either in a new character -was sufficient to fill the theatre, but in "Oriana" they were both -appearing, and the interest of playgoers had been further stimulated by -the rumors which had been circulated respecting the ability of the new -actress whom Garrick had brought from the country. - -When the company assembled in the green-room, Garrick gave all his -attention to Miss Hoppner. He saw how terribly nervous she was. Not for -a moment would she remain seated. She paced the room excitedly, -every now and again casting a furtive glance in the direction of Mrs. -Woffington, who was laughing with Macklin in a corner. - -"You have no cause for trepidation, my dear lady," said Garrick to Miss -Hoppner. - -[Illustration: 0155] - -"Your charm of person will make you a speedy favorite with the -playgoers, and if you act the stabbing scene as faithfully as you did at -the last two rehearsals your success will be assured." - -"I can but do my best, sir," said the actress. "I think you will find -that I shall act the stabbing scene with great effect." - -"I do not doubt it," said Garrick. "Your own friends in the boxes will -be gratified." - -"I have no friends in the boxes, sir," said the actress. - -"Nay, surely I heard of at least one--a certain officer in the Royal -Scots," whispered Garrick. - -"I know of none such, sir," replied the actress, fixing her eyes, half -closed, upon Peg Woffington, who was making a jest at Macklin's expense -for the members of the company in the neighbourhood. - -"Surely I heard--," continued Garrick, but suddenly checked himself. -"Ah, I recollect now what I heard," he resumed, in a low tone. "Alas! -Peggy is a sad coquette, but I doubt not that the story of your -conquests will ring through the town after to-night." - -She did not seem to hear him. Her eyes were fixed upon Peggy Woffington, -and in another moment the signal came that the curtain was ready to -rise. - -Garrick and Macklin went on the stage together, the former smiling in a -self-satisfied way. - -"I think I have made it certain that she will startle the house in at -least one scene," he whispered to Macklin. - -"Ah, that is why Peggy is so boisterous," said Macklin. "'Tis only when -she is over-nervous that she becomes boisterous. Peggy is beginning to -feel that she may have a rival." - -But if Peggy was nervous she certainly did not suggest it by her acting. -She had not many opportunities for displaying her comedy powers in the -play, but she contrived to impart a few touches of humour to the love -scenes in the first act, which brightened up the gloom of the tragedy, -and raised the spirits of the audience in some measure. Her mature style -contrasted very effectively with the efforts of Miss Hoppner, who showed -herself to be excessively nervous, and thereby secured at once the -sympathies of the house. It was doubtful which of the two obtained the -larger share of applause. - -At the end of the act, Captain Joycelyn was waiting at the back of the -stage to compliment Peggy upon her acting. Miss Hoppner brushed past -them on her way to her dressing-room, without deigning to recognise -either. - -Curiously enough, in the next act the position of the two actresses -seemed to be reversed. It was Mrs. Woffington who was nervous, whereas -Miss Hoppner was thoroughly self-possessed. - -"What in the world has come over you, my dear?" asked Garrick, when -Peggy had made an exit so rapidly as to cause the latter half of one of -her lines to be quite inaudible. - -"God knows what it is!" said Peggy. "I have felt all through the act -as if I were going to break down--as if I wanted to run away from an -impending calamity. By heaven, sir, I feel as if the tragedy were real -and not simulated!" - -"Psha! You are but a woman, after all," said Garrick. - -"I fear that is the truth," said she. "Good God! that woman seems to -have changed places with me. She is speaking her lines as if she had -been acting in London for years. She is doing what she pleases with the -house." - -Garrick had to leave her to go through his great scene with the Oriana -of the play, and Mrs. Woffington watched, as if spell-bound, the -marvellous variety of his emotional expression, as, in the character of -the Prince Orsino, he confessed to Oriana that he no longer loved her, -but that he had given his heart to Francesca. She saw the gleam in the -eyes of the actress of the part of the jealous woman as she denounced -the perfidy of her lover, and bade him leave her presence. Then came -Oriana's long soliloquy, in which she swore that the Prince should never -taste the happiness which he had sought at her expense. - - "I have a heart for murder, murder, murder! - - My blood now surges like an angry sea, - - Eager to grapple with its struggling prey, - - And strangle it, as I shall strangle her, - - With these hands hungering for her shapely - - throat, - - The throat on which his kisses have been flung. - - Give her to me, just God, give her to me, - - But for the time it takes to close my hand - - Thus, and if justice reign supreme above, - - The traitress shall come hither to her doom." - -(_Enter Francesca._) - -(_Aside_) "My prayer is answered. It is Jove's decree." So the passage -ran, and it was delivered by the actress with a fervour that thrilled -the house. - -After her aside, Oriana turned, according to the stage directions, to -Francesca with a smile. In Miss Hoppner's eyes there was a light -of triumph--of gratified revenge--and before it Margaret Woffington -quailed. She gave a frightened glance around, as if looking for a way of -escape; there was a little pause, and then upon the silence of the -house there fell the half-hissed words of Oriana as she craned her head -forward facing her rival: - - "Thou think'st to ride in triumph o'er my - - corse-- - - The corse which his indecent feet have spurned - - Into the dust. But there's a God above! - - I tell thee, traitress,'t is not I shall lie - - For vulture-beaks to rend--but thou--thou-- - - thou! - - Traitress abhorred, this knife shall find thy - - heart!" - -"My God! the dagger--it is real!" shrieked Peggy; but before she could -turn to fly, the other had sprung upon her, throwing her partly over a -couch, and holding her down by the throat while she stabbed her twice. - -A hoarse cry came from Peg Woffington, and then she rolled off the couch -and fell limply to the stage, the backs of her hands rapping helplessly -on the boards as she fell. - -The other actress stood over her for a moment with a smile; then she -looked strangely at the dagger which glistened in her hand. Then, with a -hysterical cry, she flung the weapon from her and fell back. - -The curtain went down upon the roar of applause that came from every -part of the theatre. But though the applause was maintained, neither of -the actresses responded to the call. Several minutes had passed before -Garrick himself appeared and made a sign that he wished to speak. When -the house became silent, he explained to his patrons that both actresses -had swooned through the great demands which the scene had made upon -them, and would be unable to appear for the rest of the evening. Under -these melancholy circumstances, he hoped that no objection would be made -to the bringing on of the burletta immediately. - -The audience seemed satisfied to forego the enjoyment of the ghost -scenes of the tragedy, and the burletta was proceeded with. - -It was not thought advisable to let the audience know that Mrs. -Woffington was lying on a couch in her dressing room, while a surgeon -was binding up a wound made in her side by the dagger used by the -other actress. It was not until Garrick had examined the weapon that he -perceived it was not a stage blade, but a real one, which had been used -by Miss Hoppner. Fortunately, however, the point had been turned aside -by the steel in Peg Woffington's stays, so that it had only inflicted a -flesh wound. - -In the course of a couple of hours Peggy had recovered consciousness, -and, though very weak, was still able to make an effort to captivate -the surgeon with her witty allusions to the privileges incidental to his -profession. She was so engaged, when Garrick entered the room and told -her that Miss Hoppner was weeping outside the door, but that he had -given orders that she was not to be admitted. - -"Why should the poor girl not be admitted?" cried Peggy. "Should such -an accident as that which happened be treated as though it were murder? -Send her into the room, sir, and leave us alone together." - -Garrick protested, but Peggy insisted on having her own way, and the -moment Miss Hoppner was permitted to enter, she flung herself on her -knees at the side of the couch, weeping upon the hand that Peggy gave to -her. - -When Garrick entered with Captain Joycelyn, a short time afterwards, -Peggy would not allow him to remain in the room. The Captain remained, -however, for some minutes, and when he left, Miss Hoppner was on his -arm. They crossed the stage together, and that was the last time she -ever trod that or any other stage, for Captain Joycelyn married her -within a month. - -"Ah, friend Davy," cried Peggy to Garrick, "there was, after all, some -sense in what Mr. Johnson said. We actors are, doubtless, great folk; -but 't were presumptuous to attempt to turn Nature into the handmaid -of Art. I have tried it, sir, and was only saved from disaster by -the excellence of the art of my stays-maker. Nay, the stage is not -Nature--it is but Nature seen on the surface of a mirror; and even then, -I protest, only when David Garrick is the actor, and Shakespeare's the -poet." - - - - -THE MUSE OF TRAGEDY - - -I - -Madam," said Mr. Daly, the manager, in his politest style, "no one -could regret the occurrence more than myself"--he pronounced the word -"meself"--"especially as you say it has hurt your feelings. Do n't -I know what feelings are?"--he pronounced the word "failings," which -tended in some measure to alter the effect of the phrase, though his -friends would have been inclined to assert that its accuracy was not -thereby diminished. - -"I have been grossly insulted, sir," said Mrs. Siddons. - -"Grossly insulted," echoed Mr. Siddons. He played the part of echo to -his stately wife very well indeed. - -"And it took place under your roof, sir," said the lady. - -"Your roof," echoed the husband. - -"And there's no one in the world sorrier than myself for it," said Mr. -Daly. "But I do n't think that you should take a joke of the college -gentlemen so seriously." - -"Joke?" cried Mrs. Siddons, with a passion that caused the manager, -in the instinct of self-preservation to jump back. "Joke, sir!--a joke -passed upon Sarah Siddons! My husband, sir, whose honour I have ever -upheld as dearer to me than life itself, will tell you that I am not -accustomed to be made the subject of ribald jests." - -"I do n't know the tragedy that that quotation is made from," remarked -Mr. Daly, taking out his snuff-box and tapping it, affecting a coolness -which he certainly was far from possessing; "but if it's all written -in that strain I'll bring it out at Smock Alley and give you an extra -benefit. You never spoke anything better than that phrase. Pray let us -have it again, madam--'my husband, sir,' and so forth." - -Mrs. Siddons rose slowly and majestically. Her eyes flashed as she -pointed a shapely forefinger to the door of the greenroom, saying in her -deepest tones: - -"Sir! degrade the room no longer by your presence. You have yet to know -Sarah Siddons." - -"Sarah Siddons," murmured the husband very weakly. He would have liked -to maintain the stand taken up by his wife, but he had his fears that -to do so would jeopardise the success of his appearance at the manager's -treasury, and Mr. Siddons now and again gave people to understand that -he could not love his wife so well loved he not the treasury more. - -Mr. Daly laughed. - -"Faith, Mrs. Siddons," said he, "'t is a new thing for a man to be -ordered out of his own house by a guest. I happen to be the owner of -this tenement in Smock Alley, in the city of Dublin, and you are my -guest--my honoured guest, madam. How could I fail to honour a lady who, -in spite of the fact of being the greatest actress in the world, is -still a pattern wife and mother?" - -Mrs. Siddons was visibly softening under the balmy brogue of the -Irishman. - -"It is because I am sensible of my duties to my husband and my children -that I feel the insult the more, sir," she said, in a tone that was -still tragic. - -"Sure I know that that's what makes the sting of it so bitter," said Mr. -Daly, shaking his head sadly. "It's only the truly virtuous, madam, that -have feelings"--again he pronounced the word "failings." - -"Enough, madam," he continued, after he had flourished his handkerchief -and had wiped away an imaginary tear. "Enough! In the name of the -citizens of Dublin I offer you the humblest apology in my power for -the gross misconduct of that scoundrel in the pit who called out, 'Well -done, Sally, my jewel!' after your finest soliloquy; and I promise you -that if we can find the miscreant we shall have him brought to justice." - -"If you believe that the citizens of Dublin are really conscious of the -stigma which they shall bear for ages to come for having insulted one -whose virtue has, I rejoice to say, been ever beyond reproach, I will -accept your apology, sir," said Mrs. Siddons with dignity. - -"I 'll undertake to swear that the citizens feel the matter quite as -deeply as I do, Mrs. Siddons," cried Mr. Daly, with both his hands -clasped over his waistcoat. "I dare swear that they do not even now know -the enormity of your virtue, madam. It will be my pleasing duty to -make them acquainted with it; and so, madam, I am your grateful, humble -servant." - -With a low bow he made his escape from the green-room, leaving Mrs. -Sid-dons seated on a high chair in precisely the attitude which she -assumed when she sat for the Tragic Muse of Reynolds. - -"Thank heavens that 's over!" muttered the manager, as he hurried down -Smock Alley to the tavern at the corner kept by an old actor named -Barney Rafferty, and much frequented by the Trinity College students, -who in the year 1783 were quite as enthusiastic theatre-goers as their -successors are in the present year. - -"For the love of heaven, Barney, give us a jorum," cried Daly, as he -entered the bar parlor. "A jorum of punch, Barney, for I 'm as dry as -a lime kiln, making speeches in King Cambyses' vein to that Queen of -Tragedy." - -"It'll be at your hand in a minute, Mr. Daly, sir," said Barney, -hurrying off. - -In the parlour were assembled a number of the "college boys," as the -students were always called in Dublin. They greeted the arrival of their -friend Daly with acclamation, only they wanted to know what had occurred -to detain him so long at the theatre. - -"Delay and Daly have never been associated before now when there's a -jorum of punch in view," remarked young Mr. Blenerhassett of Limerick, -who was reported to have a very pretty wit. - -"It's lucky you see me among you at all, boys," said the manager, wiping -his brow. "By the powers, I might have remained in the green-room all -night listening to homilies on the virtue of wives and the honour of -husbands." - -"And 't is yourself that would be nothing the worse for listening to a -homily or two on such topics," remarked young Blake of Connaught. "And -who was the preacher of the evening, Daly?" - -"None else than the great Sarah herself, my boy," replied the manager. -"Saint Malachi! what did you mean by shouting out what you did, after -that scene?" he added. - -"What did I shout?" asked Jimmy Blake. "I only ventured humbly to cry, -'Well done, Sally, my jewel'--what offence is there in that?" - -"Ay, by Saint Patrick, but there's much offence in 't," cried Daly. -"Mrs. Siddons sent for me to my dressing-room after the play, and -there I found her pacing the green-room like a lioness in her cage, -her husband, poor man, standing by as tame as the keeper of the royal -beast." - -A series of interested exclamations passed round the room, and the -circle of heads about the table became narrower. "Mother o' Moses! She -objected to my civil words of encouragement?" said Mr. Blake. - -"She declared that not only had she been insulted, but her husband's -honour had been dragged in the mire, and her innocent children's names -had been sullied." - -"Faith, that was a Sally for you, Mr. Daly," said young Home, the Dublin -painter to whom Mrs. Siddons had refused to sit, assuring him that she -could only pay such a compliment to Sir Joshua Reynolds. - -"Boys, may this be my poison if I ever put in a worse half hour," cried -Daly, as he raised a tumbler of punch and swallowed half the contents. - -"I 'd give fifty pounds to have been there," said Home. "Think what a -picture it would make!--the indignant Sarah, the ever courteous manager -Daly, and the humble husband in the corner. What would not posterity pay -for such a picture!" - -"A guinea in hand is worth a purse in the future," said one of the -college boys. "I wish I could draw a bill on posterity for the payment -of the silversmith who made my buckles." - -"Daly," said Blake, "you're after playing a joke on us. Sally never took -you to task for what I shouted from the Pit." - -Mr. Daly became dignified--he had finished the tumbler of punch. He drew -himself up, and, with one hand thrust into his waistcoat, he said: -"Sir, I conceive that I understand as well as any gentleman present -what constitutes the elements of a jest. I have just conveyed to you -a statement of facts, sir. If you had seen Sarah Siddons as I left -her--egad, she is a very fine woman--you would n't hint that there was -much jest in the matter. Oh, lord, boys"--another jug of punch had just -been brought in, and the manager was becoming genial once more--"Oh, -lord, you should have heard the way she talked about the honour of her -husband, as if there never had been a virtuous woman on the boards until -Sarah Siddons arose!" - -"And was there one, Daly?" asked young Murphy, a gentleman from whom -great things were expected by his college and his creditors. - -"There was surely, my boy," said Daly, "but I've forgot her name. The -name's not to the point. I tell you, then, the Siddons stormed in the -stateliest blank verse and periods, about how she had elevated the -stage--how she had checked Brereton for clasping her as she thought too -ardently--how she had family prayers every day, and looked forward to -the day when she could afford a private chaplain." - -"Stop there," shouted Blake. "You'll begin to exaggerate if you go -beyond the chaplain, Daly." - -"It's the truth I've told so far, at any rate, barring the chaplain," -said Daly. - -"And all because I saw she was a bit nervous and did my best to -encourage her and give her confidence by shouting, 'Well done, Sally!'" -said Blake. "Boys, it's not Sarah Siddons that has been insulted, it's -Trinity College--it's the city of Dublin! by my soul, it's the Irish -nation that she has insulted by supposing them capable of insulting a -woman." - -"Faith, there 's something in that, Jimmy," said half a dozen voices. - -"Who is this Sarah Siddons, will ye tell me, for I 'd like to know?" -resumed Blake, casting a look of almost painful enquiry round the room. - -"Ay, that 's the question," said Daly, in a tone that he invariably -reserved for the soliloquy which flourished on the stage a century ago. - -"We 're all gentlemen here," resumed Mr. Blake. - -"And that 's more than she is," said young Blenerhassett of Limerick. - -"Gentlemen," said the manager, "I beg that you'll not forget that -Mrs. Siddons and myself belong to the same profession. I cannot suffer -anything derogatory"--the word gave him some trouble, but he mastered -it after a few false starts--"to the stage to be uttered in this -apartment." - -"You adorn the profession, sir," said Blake. "But can the same be said -of Mrs. Siddons? What could Garrick make of her, gentlemen?" - -"Ahem! we know what he failed to make of her," said Digges, the actor, -who sat in the corner, and was supposed to have more Drury Lane scandal -on his fingers' ends than Daly himself. - -"Pooh!" sneered Daly. "Davy Garrick never made love to her, Digges. It -was her vanity that tried to make out that he did." - -"He did not make her a London success--that's certain," said Blake. -"And though Dublin, with the assistance of the College, can pronounce a -better judgment on an actor or actress than London, still we must admit -that London is improving, and if there had been any merit in Sarah -Siddons she would not have been forced to keep to the provinces as she -does now. Gentlemen, she has insulted us and it's our duty to teach her -a lesson." - -"And we're the boys to do it," said one Moriarty. - -"Gentlemen, I 'll take my leave of you," said the manager, rising with a -little assistance and bowing to the company. "It's not for me to dictate -any course for you to pursue. I do n't presume to ask to be let into any -of your secrets; I only beg that you will remember that Mrs. Siddons -has three more nights to appear in my theatre, and she grasps so large -a share of the receipts that, unless the house continues to be crowded, -it's a loser I'll be at the end of the engagement. You'll not do -anything that will jeopardise the pit or the gallery--the boxes are -sure--for the rest of the week." - -"Trust to us, sir, trust to us," said Jimmy Blake, as the manager -withdrew. "Now, boys," he continued in a low voice, bending over the -table, "I've hit upon a way of convincing this fine lady that has taken -the drama under her wing, so to speak, that she can't play any of her -high tragedy tricks here, whatever she may do at Bath. She does n't -understand us, boys; well, we'll teach her to." - -"Bravo, Jimmy!" - -"The Blake's Country and the sky over it!" - -"Give us your notions," came several voices from around the table. - -"She bragged of her respectability; of her armour of virtue, Daly told -us. Well, suppose we put a decent coat on Dionysius Hogan and send him -to propose an elopement to her to-morrow; how would that do for a joke -when it gets around the town?" - -"By the powers, boys, whether or not Dionysius gets kicked down the -stairs, she'll be the laughing-stock of the town. It's a genius"--he -pronounced it "jan-yus"--"that you are, Jimmy, and no mistake," cried -young Moriarty. - -"We'll talk it over," said Jimmy. And they did talk it over. - - -II - -Dionysius Hogan was a celebrated character in Dublin during the -last quarter of the eighteenth century. The Irish capital has always -cherished curious characters, for pretty much the same reason that -caused badgers to be preserved; any man, or, for that matter, any woman, -who was only eccentric enough, could depend on the patronage of the -people of Dublin. Dionysius Hogan afforded his fellow-citizens many a -laugh on account of his numerous eccentricities. He was a man of about -fifty years of age, but his great anxiety was to appear thirty years -younger; and he fancied he accomplished this aim by wearing in 1783 the -costume of 1750, only in an exaggerated form. His chief hallucination -was that several of the best known ladies in society were in love with -him, and that it was necessary for him to be very careful lest he -should compromise himself by a correspondence with some of those who had -husbands. - -[Illustration: 0186] - -It need scarcely be said that this idea of his was not greatly -discouraged by the undergraduates of Trinity College. It was not their -fault if he did not receive every week a letter from some distinguished -lady begging the favor of an interview with him. Upon many occasions the -communications, which purported to come from married ladies, took the -form of verses. These he exhibited with great pride, and only after -extorting promises of profound secrecy, to his student friends. - -It was immaterial that Dionysius found almost every week that he had -been the victim of practical jokes; his belief in his own powers of -captivating womankind was superior to every rebuff that he encountered. -He exhibited his dapper little figure, crowned with the wig of a -macaroni, to the promenaders in all the chief thoroughfares daily, -and every evening he had some fresh story to tell of how he had been -exerting himself to avoid an assignation that was being urged on him by -a lady of quality sojourning not a hundred miles from the Castle. - -The scheme which Mr. Blake had suggested to his fellow-students in -the Smock Alley tavern found a willing agent for its realisation in -Dionysius Hogan. Mrs. Siddons, her beauty and her powers, were, of -course, the talk of the town during her first visit to Dublin. It only -needed Jimmy Blake to drop a few dark hints in the hearing of Dionysius -on the subject of a rumor that was current, to the effect that a certain -well-known gentleman in Dublin had attracted the attention of the great -actress, to make Dionysius believe that he had made a conquest of the -Siddons. - -For the remainder of the evening he took to dropping dark hints to this -effect, and before he had slept that night there was no doubt on his -mind that Sarah Sid-dons was another lady who had succumbed to his -attractive exterior. To be sure, he had heard it said that she was as -hard as marble; but then she had not seen him until she had come to -Dublin. All women, he believed, had their weak moments, and there was no -article of his creed more strongly impressed upon him than that the weak -moment of many women was when they saw him for the first time. - -When, on descending from his bedroom to his little sitting-room in his -humble lodgings--for Mr. Hogan's income did not exceed eighty pounds a -year--a letter was put into his hand bearing the signature "S. S.," and -when he found that above these initials there was a passionate avowal -of affection and a strong appeal to him to be merciful as he was strong, -and to pay the writer a visit at her lodgings before the hour of one, -"when Mr. S. returns from the theatre, where he goes every forenoon," -poor Dionysius felt that the time had at last come for him to cast -discretion to the winds. The beauty of Mrs. Siddons had had a powerful -effect upon his susceptible heart when she had first come before his -eyes on the stage of the Smock Alley theatre. - -[Illustration: 0192] - -On that night he believed that she had kept her eyes fixed upon him -while repeating some of the beautiful soliloquies in "Isabella." The -artful suggestions of Jimmy Blake had had their effect upon him, and now -he held in his hand a letter that left him no room to doubt--even if he -had been inclined that way--the accuracy of the tale that his poor heart -had originally told him. - -He dressed himself with his accustomed care, and, having deluged his -cambric with civet--it had been the favourite scent of thirty years -before--he indulged in the unusual luxury of a chair to convey him to -the lodgings of the great actress; for he felt that it might seriously -jeopardise his prospects to appear in the presence of the lady with -soiled shoes. - -The house where Mrs. Siddons lodged was not an imposing one. She had -arrived in Dublin from Holyhead at two o'clock in the morning, and -she was compelled to walk about the streets in a downpour of rain for -several hours before she could prevail upon any one to take her in. -It is scarcely surprising that she conceived a strong and enduring -prejudice against Dublin and its inhabitants. - -On enquiring in a whisper and with a confidential smirk for Mrs. -Siddons, he learned from the maid servant that the lady was in her room, -and that Mr. Siddons had not returned from his morning visit to the -theatre. The servant stated, however, that Mrs. Siddons had given the -strictest orders to admit no one into her presence. - -"Ah, discreet as one might have expected," murmured Dionysius. "She does -not mean to run the chance of disappointing me. Which is her parlour, -child?" - -"It's the first front, yer honour," said the girl; "but, Lord save yer -honour, she'd murther me if I let ye go up. Oh, it's joking ye are." - -"Hush," whispered Dionysius, his finger on his lips. "Not so loud, I -pray. She is waiting for me." - -"Holy Biddy! waiting for yer?" cried the maid. "Now do n't be afther -getting a poor colleen into throuble, sir. I'm telling ye that it's -killed entirely I'd be if I let ye go up." - -"Do n't be a fool, girl," said Dionysius, still speaking in a whisper. -"I give you my word of honour as a gentleman that Mrs. Siddons is -awaiting me. Zounds! why do I waste time talking to a menial? Out of my -way, girl." - -He pushed past the servant, leaving her somewhat awe-stricken at his -grand manner and his finery, and when she recovered and made a grab for -his coat tails, he was too quick for her. He plucked them out of her -reach, and she perceived that he had got such a start of her that -pursuit would be useless. In a few moments he was standing before the -door of the room on the first floor that faced the street. - -His heart was fluttering so that he had scarcely courage to tap upon the -panel. He had tapped a second time before that grand contralto, that -few persons could hear without emotion, bade him enter. He turned the -handle, and stood facing Mrs. Siddons. - -[Illustration: 0197] - -She was sitting in a gracefully majestic attitude by the side of a small -table on which a desk was placed. Mrs. Siddons never unbent for a moment -in private life. - -She assumed majestic attitudes in the presence of the lodging-house -servant, and spoke in a tragic contralto to the linen-draper's -apprentice. She turned her lovely eyes upon Dionysius Hogan as he stood -smirking and bowing at the door. There was a vista of tragedy in the -delivery of the two words-- - -"Well, sir?" - -It took him some moments to recover from the effect the words produced -upon him. He cleared his throat--it was somewhat husky--and with an -artificial smirk he piped out: - -"Madam--ah, my charmer, I have rushed to clasp my goddess to my bosom! -Ah, fair creature, who could resist your appeal?" - -He advanced in the mincing gait of the Macaronis. She sprang to her -feet. She pointed an eloquent forefinger at a spot on the floor directly -in front of him. - -"Wretch," she cried, "advance a step at your peril!" Her eyes were -flashing, and her lips were apart. - -His mincing ceased abruptly; and only the ghost of a smirk remained upon -his patched and painted face. It was in a very fluty falsetto that he -said: - -"Ah, I see my charmer wants to be wooed. But why should Amanda reproach -her Strephon for but obeying her behests? Wherefore so coy, dear nymph? -Let these loving arms--" - -"Madman--wretch--" - -"Nay, chide me not, dear one. 'T is but the ardour of my passion that -bids me clasp thee, the fairest of Hebe's train. We shall fly together -to some retreat--far from the distractions--" - -"Oh, the man is mad--mad!" cried the lady, retreating a step or two as -he advanced. - -"Only mad with the ardour of my passion," whispered Dionysius. - -"Oh, heaven! that I should live to hear such words spoken in my -presence!" cried Mrs. Siddons, with her hands clasped in passionate -appeal to a smiling portrait of the landlady's husband that hung over -the fireplace. Then she turned upon Dionysius and looked at him. - -Her eyes blazed. Their fire consumed the unfortunate man on whom they -rested. He felt himself shrivelled up and become crisp as an autumn -leaf. He certainly trembled like one, as a terrible voice, but no louder -than a whisper, sounded in his ears: "Are you a human being or the -monster of a dream, that you dare to speak such words in my hearing? -What wretch are you that fancies that Sarah Siddons may be addressed -by such as you, and in language that is an insult to a pure wife and -mother. I am Sarah Siddons, sir! I am a wife who holds her husband's -honour dearer than life itself--I am a mother who will never cause a -blush of shame to mantle the brow of one of her children. Wretch, -insulter, why are mine eyes not basilisks, with death in their glance -to such as you?" - -Down went Dionysius on his knees before that terrible figure that -stretched out wild quivering hands above his head. Such gestures as hers -would have fitted the stage of Drury Lane. - -In the lodging-house parlour they were overwhelming. - -"For God's sake, spare me, spare me!" he faltered, with his hands -clasped and his head bent before that fury. - -"Why should I spare such a wretch--why should I not trample such a worm -into the dust?" - -She took a frantic step toward him. With a short cry of abject terror he -fell along the floor, and gasped. It seemed to him that she had trampled -the life out of his body. - -She stood above him with a heaving bosom beneath her folded arms. - -There was a long pause before he heard the door open. A weight seemed -lifted off him. He found that he could breathe. In a few moments he -ventured to raise his head. He saw a beautiful figure sitting at the -desk writing. Even in the scratching of her pen along the paper there -was a tone of tragedy. - -He crawled backward upon his hands and knees, with his eyes furtively -fixed upon that figure at the desk. If, when he had looked up he had -found her standing with an arm outstretched tin the direction of the -door, he felt that he would have been able to rise to his feet and leave -her presence; but Mrs. Siddons' dramatic instinct caused her to produce -a deeper impression upon him by simply treating him as if he were dead -at her feet--as if she had, indeed, trampled the life out of his body. - -He crept away slowly and painfully backward, until he was actually in -the lobby. Then by a great effort he sprang to his feet, rushed headlong -down the stairs, picked himself up in the hall, and fled wildly through -the door, that chanced to be open, into the street. He overthrew a -chairman in his wild flight, and as he turned the corner he went with a -rush into the arms of a young man, who, with a few others by his side, -was sauntering along. - -[Illustration: 0205] - -"Zounds, sir! what do you mean by this mode of progression?" cried the -young man, holding him fast. - -Dionysius grasped him limply, looking at him with wild, staring eyes. - -"For God's sake, Mr. Blake, save me from her--do n't let her get hold of -me, for the love of all the saints." - -"What do you mean, you fool?" said Jimmy Blake. "Who is anxious to get -hold of you?" - -But no answer was returned by poor Dionysius. He lay with his head over -Blake's shoulder, his arms swaying limply like two pendulums. - -"By the powers, he has gone off in a swoon," said young Blenerhassett. -"Let us carry him to the nearest tavern." - -In less than half an hour Dionysius had recovered consciousness; but -it required a longer space of time, and the administration of a -considerable quantity of whisky, to enable him to tell all his story. He -produced the letter signed "S. S." which he had received in the morning, -and explained that he had paid the visit to Mrs. Siddons only with a -view of reasoning her out of her infatuation, which, he said with a -shadowy simper, he could not encourage. - -"I had hardly obtained access to her when she turned upon me in a fury," -said he. "Ah, boys, those eyes of hers!--I feel them still upon me. They -made me feel like a poor wretch that's marched out in front of a platoon -to be shot before breakfast. And her voice! well, it sounded like the -voice of the officer giving the word of command to the platoon to fire. -When I lay ready to expire at her feet, every word that she spoke had -the effect of a bayonet prod upon my poor body. Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! I'll -leave it to yourself, Mr. Blake: was it generous of her to stab me with -cold steel after I was riddled with red-hot bullets?" - -"I'm sorry to say, Mr. Hogan," replied Blake, "that I can't take a -lenient view of your conduct. We all know what you are, sir. You seek -to ingraft the gallantries of the reign of his late Majesty upon the -present highly moral age. Mrs. Siddons, sir, is a true wife and mother, -besides being a most estimable actress, and you deserved the rebuff from -the effects of which you are now suffering. Sir, we leave you to the -gnawings of that remorse which I trust you feel acutely." - -Mr. Blake, with his friends, left the tavern room as Dionysius was -beginning to whimper. - -In the street a roar of laughter burst from the students. - -"Mother o' Moses!" cried Moriarty. "'T is a golden guinea I'd give to -have been present when the Siddons turned upon the poor devil." - -"Then I 'll give you a chance of being present at a better scene than -that," said Blake. - -"What do you mean, Jimmy?" asked Moriarty. - -"I mean to bring you with me to pay a visit to Mrs. Siddons this very -minute." - -"'T is joking you are, Jimmy?" - -"Oh, the devil a joke, ma bouchai! Man alive, can't you see that the fun -is only beginning? We'll go to her in a body and make it out that she -has insulted a friend of ours by attributing false motives to him, and -that her husband must come out to the Park in the morning." - -"That's carrying a joke a bit too far," said Mr. Blenerhassett. "I'll -not join in with you there." - -"Nobody axed ye, sir," said Blake. "There are three of us here without -you, and that's enough for our purpose." - -"If Mr. Siddons kicks you into the street, or if Sally treats you as she -did that poor devil in the tavern,'t is served right that you'll be," -said Blenerhassett, walking off. - -"We'll have a scene with Sarah Siddons for our trouble, at any rate," -laughed Blake. - -The three young men who remained when the more scrupulous youth had -departed, went together to Mrs. Siddons' lodgings. They understood more -than Dionysius did about the art of obtaining admittance when only a -portress stood in the way--a squeeze, a kiss, and a crown combined to -make the maid take a lenient view of the consequences of permitting them -to go up the stairs. - -When, after politely rapping at the door of the parlour, the three -entered the room, they found the great actress in precisely the same -attitude she had assumed for her last visitor. The dignity of her -posture was not without its effect upon the young men. They were not -quite so self-confident as they had been outside the door. Each of them -looked at the other, so to speak; but somehow none of the three appeared -to be fluent. They stood bowing politely, keeping close to the door. - -"Who are these persons?" said Mrs. Siddons, as if uttering her thoughts. -"Am I in a civilised country or not?" - -"Madam," said Blake, finding his voice, at last, when a slur was cast -upon his country. "Madam, Ireland was the home of civilisation when the -inhabitants of England were prowling the woods naked, except for a coat -of paint." - -Mrs. Siddons sprang to her feet. - -"Sir," she cried, "you are indelicate as well as impertinent. You have -no right to intrude upon me without warning." - -"The urgency of our mission is our excuse, madam," said Blake. "The fact -is, madam, to come to the point, the gentleman who visited you just now -is our friend." - -"Your friend, sir, is a scoundrel. He grossly insulted me," said Mrs. -Siddons. - -"Ah,'t is sorry I am to find you do n't yet understand the impulses of a -warmhearted nation, madam," said Blake, shaking his head. "The gentleman -came to compliment you on your acting, and yet you drove him from -your door like a hound. That, according to our warmhearted Irish ways, -constitutes an offence that must be washed out in blood--ay, blood, -madam." - -"What can be your meaning, sir?" - -"I only mean, madam, that your husband, whom we all honour on account of -the genius--we do n't deny it--the genius and virtue of his wife, will -have to meet the most expert swordsman in Ireland in the Phonix Park -in the morning, and that Sarah Siddons will be a widow before breakfast -time." - -There was a pause before there came a cry of anguish more pitiful than -any expression of emotion that the three youths had ever heard. - -"My husband!" were the words that sounded like a sob in their ears. - -Mrs. Siddons had averted her head. Her face was buried in her hands. -The wink in which Jimmy Blake indulged as he gave Moriarty a nudge was -anything but natural. - -"Why was I ever tempted to come to this country?" cried the lady wildly. - -"Madam, we humbly sympathise with you, and with the country," said -Blake. He would not allow any reflection to be cast on his country. - -She took a few steps toward the three young men, and faced them with -clasped hands. She looked into the three faces in turn, with passionate -intreaty in her eyes. "Have you no pity?" she faltered. - -"Yes," said Blake, "that we have; we do pity you heartily, madam." - -"Are you willing to take part in this act of murder--murder?" cried Mrs. -Siddons, in a low voice that caused the flesh of at least two of her -audience to creep. "Are you blind? Can 't you see the world pointing at -you as I point at you, and call you murderers?" She stood before them -with her eyes half closed, her right hand pointing to each of them in -turn as she prolonged the word, suggesting a thousand voices whispering -"murderers!" There was a long pause, during which the spell-bound -youths, their jaws fallen, stared at that terrible figure--the awful -form of the Muse of Tragedy. Drops of perspiration stood on the forehead -of young Moriarty. Blake himself gave a gasp. "Have you no compassion?" -Mrs. Sid-dons continued, but in another tone--a tone of such pathos as -no human being could hear unmoved. Clasping her hands, she cried: "My -poor husband! What harm has he done? Is he to be dragged from these -arms--these arms that have cherished him with all the devotion that a -too-loving wife can offer? Is he to be dragged away from this true heart -to be butchered? Sirs, we have children--tender little blossoms. Oh, -cannot you hear their cries? Listen, listen--the wailing of the babes -over the mangled body of their father." - -Surely the sound of children's sobbing went around the room. - -One of the young men dropped into a chair and burst into tears. - -Blake's lips were quivering, as the streaming eyes of the woman were -turned upon him. - -"For heaven's sake, madam!" he faltered--"for heaven's sake--oh, my God! -what have we done?--what have we done? Worse than Herod! the innocent -children!--I hear them--I hear them! Oh, God forgive us! God forgive us -for this cruel joke." - -He broke down utterly. The room now was certainly filled with wild -sobbing and the sound of convulsive weeping. - -[Illustration: 0217] - -For several minutes the three emotional Irishmen sat weeping. They were -in the power of the woman, who, at the confession of Blake, had become -perfectly self-possessed in a moment. She stood watching them, a -scornful smile upon her lips. She knew that the magic which she had at -her command could enchain them so long as she wished. She was merciful, -however. - -"If you consider your jest sufficiently successful, gentlemen," said -she, "perhaps you will oblige me by withdrawing. I have letters to -write." - -The spell that she had cast around them was withdrawn. - -Blake sprang to his feet and drew his handkerchief across his eyes. - -"Mrs. Siddons--madam," said he, "we have behaved like fools--nay, worse, -like scoundrels. We are not bold enough to ask your pardon, madam; but -believe me, we feel deeply humiliated. You may forgive us, but we shall -never forgive ourselves. Madam, you are the greatest actress in the -world, and you may expect the finest benefit ever given to an actress in -this city." - -But in spite of the fact that Mrs. Siddons' benefit the following night -was all that Mr. Blake predicted it would be, she wrote some very hard -words about Dublin to her friend, Mr. Whately, of Bath. - - - - -THE WAY TO KEEP HIM - - -I - -Nay, sir," cried Mrs. Abington, with such a smile of infinite witchery -as she wore when Sir Joshua Reynolds painted her as 'Miss Prue;' I would -not have you make any stronger love to me than is absolutely necessary -to keep yourself in training for the love scenes in Dr. Goldsmith's new -comedy." - -"Ah, you talk glibly of measuring out the exact portion of one's love, -as if love were a physic to be doled out to the precise grain," cried -Lee Lewis, impatiently turning away from the fascinating lady who was -smiling archly at him over the back of her chair. - -"By my faith, sir, you have e'en given the best description of love that -I have heard;'t is beyond doubt a physic, given to mankind to cure many -of the ills of life; but, la, sir! there are so many quacks about,'t is -well-nigh impossible to obtain the genuine thing." - -And once more the actress smiled at her latest victim. - -"I have often wondered if you ever knew what love means," said he. - -"Indeed the same thought has frequently occurred to me, sir," said the -actress. "When one has been offered the nostrums of quacks so often, one -begins to lose faith in the true prescription." - -"You think that I am a quack, and therefore have no faith in me," said -Lewis. - -"I know that you are an excellent actor, Mr. Lewis." - -"And therefore you suspect my truth?" - -"Nay, I respect your art." - -"Perish my art, so long as I gain the favour of the most adorable woman -who ever flitted like a vision of beauty--" - -"Ah, sir, do not take advantage of my lack of memory; give me the title -of the comedy from which you quote, so that I may know my cue, and have -my reply ready." - -Lewis flung himself across the room with an exclamation of impatience. - -"You are the most cruel woman that lives," he cried. "I have often left -this house vowing that I would never come nigh it again because of your -cruelty." - -"What a terrible vengeance!" cried the actress, raising her hands, while -a mock expression of terror came over her face. "You would fain prove -yourself the most cruel of men because you account me the most cruel of -women? Ah, sir, you are ungenerous; I am but a poor weak creature, while -you--" - -"I am weak enough to be your slave, but let me tell you, madam, I am -quite strong enough to throw off your bonds should I fail to be treated -with some consideration," said Lewis. - -"Oh, so far as I am concerned you may take your freedom to-morrow," -laughed Mrs. Abington. "The fetters that I weave are of silken thread." - -"I would rather wear your fetters, though they be of iron, than those -of the next loveliest woman to you, though hers should be a chain of -roses," said the actor. "Come, now, my dear lady, listen to reason." - -"Gladly; 't will be a change from your usual discourse, which is of -love--just the opposite, you know." - -"Why will you not consent to come with me to Vauxhall once more?" - -"La, sir, think of the scandal? Have not we been seen there together -half a dozen times?" - -"Scandal! Do you think that the scandal-mongers can add anything to what -they have already said regarding us?" - -"I place no limits on the imagination of the scandal-monger, sir, but -I desire to assign a limit to my own indiscretions, which, I fear, have -set tongues wagging--" - -"Pooh! my dear madam, cannot you see that tongues will wag all the -faster if I appear at the Gardens with some one else?" - -"Say, with your wife. Surely you are not afraid of the tongue of slander -if you appear by the side of your wife, sir." - -"'T is for you I fear." - -"What! you fancy that people will slander me if you appear at Vauxhall -with your lawful wedded wife?" - -"Even so, for they will say that you were not strong enough to keep me -faithful to you." - -Mrs. Abington sprang to her feet. - -"The wretches!" she cried. "I will show them that------psha! let them -say their worst. What care I what they say? I'll go or stay away, as the -fancy seizes." - -"You may take your choice, my dear madam," said Lewis: "Whether you -would rather be slandered for coming with me or for staying at home!" - -"The terms are not the same in both cases," said she; "for if I go with -you I know that I shall have an excellent supper." - -"So you 'll come! Ah, I knew that you would not forsake me!" he cried, -catching her hand and kissing it. - -"You foolish man! You take credit to yourself for a decision that is due -to the prospect of a supper!" said Mrs. Abington. - -"Ah, I know what I know, my dear," cried he. "And so I will take my -leave at once, lest you should change your mind." - -"I protest, sir," said she, as he kissed her hand again. "I protest that -'t was the thought of the supper decided me." - -He roared with laughter. - -So did she when he had left her house. - -"What fools these men are!" she cried, throwing herself back on her -couch with a very capacious yawn. "What fools! The idea of a poor woman -being influenced by the thought of minced chicken in a decision that -involves being by their side seems preposterous to them! Oh, if they but -knew all that such a woman as I am could tell them!" - -She laughed softly--subtly--as certain recollections came to her, for -Mrs. Abington was a lady of many recollections. - -After a space, she resumed her study of the part of Miss Hardcastle, -for which she had been cast by Colman in Dr. Goldsmith's new comedy, but -which, the following week, to her everlasting regret, she relinquished -in favor of Mrs. Bulkley. - -Lee Lewis, who was studying the part of Young Marlow, had accompanied -her home after rehearsal. He had, during the previous month, shown -himself to be extremely polite in regard to her, for he had walked home -with her several times, and more than once he had been seen by her side -at Ranelagh and Vauxhall, as well as at the Pantheon in the Oxford Road. -People about the theater were saying that the beautiful Mrs. Abington -had added to the number of her conquests, and Miss Catley, the most -imprudent of all the imprudent ladies in Colman's company, said some -very spiteful things regarding her. (It was understood that Miss Catley -had angled for Lee Lewis herself, but without success.) - -Before Mrs. Abington had been alone for half an hour, her maid entered -to tell her that a lady was inquiring for her at the hall door. - -"Another of our stage-struck misses, Lucette?" said the actress, -alluding to the three visits which she had had during the week from -young women who were desirous of obtaining a footing on the stage. - -"Nay, madam, this lady seems somewhat different," replied the maid. - -"Then let her be shown in at once, whoever she may be," said Mrs. -Abington. "There can surely be no scandal in receiving a lady visitor." - -She gave a glance at a mirror, and saw that her hair was in a proper -condition for a visitor who was a lady. She knew that it did not matter -so much when her visitors were of the other sex; and a moment afterwards -there entered a graceful little woman, whom she could not recollect -having ever seen before. She walked quickly to the centre of the room, -and stood there, gazing with soft grey eyes at the actress, who had -risen from her sofa, and was scrutinising her visitor. - -There was a pause before Mrs. Abington, with a smile--the smile she -reserved for women--quite different from that with which she was -accustomed to greet men--said: - -"Pray seat yourself, madam; and let me know to what I am indebted for -the honour of this visit." - -But the lady made no move; she remained there, gazing at the actress -without a word. - -Mrs. Abington gave a laugh, saying, as she returned to her sofa: - -"Do not let me hurry you, my dear lady; but I must ask your pardon if I -seat myself." Then the stranger spoke. "You are Mrs. Abington. I wish -I had not come to you. Now that I find myself face to face with you, I -perceive that I have no chance. You are overwhelmingly beautiful." - -"Did you come here only to tell me that? Faith, you might have saved -yourself the trouble, my dear. I have known just how beautiful I am for -the past twenty years," laughed the actress. - -"I did not come here to tell you that," said the visitor; "on the -contrary, I meant to call you an ugly harridan--a vile witch, who -glories in seeing the ruin of good men; but now--well, now, I am dumb. -I perceive you are so beautiful, it is only natural that all men--my -husband among the number--should worship you." - -"You are so flattering, my dear madam, I can without difficulty perceive -that you have not lived long in the world of fashion--ay, or in the -world of play-houses," said the actress. - -"I am Mrs. Lewis, madam," said the lady, and then dropping into a chair -she burst into tears. - -Mrs. Abington went beside the unhappy woman, and patted her on the -shoulder. - -"Dear child," she said, "the thought that you are Mr. Lewis's wife -should not cause you to shed a tear. You should be glad rather than -sorry that you are married to a gentleman who is so highly esteemed. -Your husband, Mrs. Lewis, is a great friend of mine, and I hope that his -wife may become even a greater." - -"Ah--ah!" moaned the lady. "A friend? a friend? Oh, give me back my -husband, woman--give me back my husband, whom you stole from me!" - -She had sprung to her feet as she spoke her passionate words, and now -stood with quivering, clenched hands in front of the actress. - -"My good woman," said Mrs. Abington, "you have need to calm yourself. -I can assure you that I have not your husband in my keeping. Would you -like to search the room? Look under the sofa--into all the cupboards." - -"I know that he left here half an hour ago--I watched him," said Mrs. -Lewis. "You watched him? Oh, fie!" - -"You may make a mock of me, if you please; I expected that you would; -but he is my husband, and I love him--I believe that he loved me until -your witchery came over him and--oh, I am a most unhappy woman! But you -will give him back to me; you have many admirers, madam; one poor man is -nothing here or there to you." - -"Listen to me, my poor child." Mrs. Abington had led her to the sofa, -and sat down beside her, still holding her hand. "You have spoken some -very foolish words since you came into this room. From whom have you -heard that your husband was--well, was ensnared by me?" - -"From whom? Why, every one knows it!" cried Mrs. Lewis. "And besides, I -got a letter that told me--" - -"A letter from whom?" - -"From--I suppose she was a lady; at any rate she said that she -sympathised with me, and I'm certain that she did." - -"Ah, the letter was not signed by her real name, and yet you believed -the slanders that you knew came from a jealous woman? Oh, Mrs. Lewis, -I'm ashamed of you." - -"Nay, I did not need to receive any letter; my husband's neglect of -me made me aware of the truth--it is the truth, whether you deny it or -not." - -"You are a silly goose, and I have half a mind to take your husband from -you, as mothers deprive their children of a toy when they injure it. -You do n't know how to treat a husband, madam, and you do n't deserve -to have one. Think how many girls, prettier and cleverer than you, are -obliged to go without husbands all their lives, poor things!" - -"It is enough for me to think of those women who are never satisfied -unless they have other women's husbands in their train, madam." - -"Look you, my dear ill-treated creature, I do assure you that I have no -designs upon your husband. I do not care if I never see him again except -on the stage." - -"Is that the truth? Ah, no, everybody says that Mrs. Abington is only -happy when--" - -"Then leave Mrs. Abington's room if you believe the statements of that -vague everybody." - -The actress had risen, and was pointing in fine tragic style to the -door. - -Mrs. Lewis rose also, but slowly; her eyes fell beneath the flashing -eyes of Mrs. Abington. Suddenly she raised her head, and put out a -trembling hand. - -"I will not believe what I have heard," she said. "And yet--yet--you are -so very beautiful." - -"That you think it impossible I should have any good in me?" laughed -the actress. "Well, I do believe that I have some good in me--not much, -perhaps, but enough to make me wish to do you a friendly turn in spite -of your impudence. Listen to me, you little goose. Why have you allowed -your husband to neglect you, and to come here asking me to sup with him -at Vauxhall?" - -"Ah, then,'t is true!" cried the wife. "You have gone with him--you are -going with him?" - -"'Tis true that I went with him, and that he left me just now believing -that I would accompany him to the Gardens on Monday next. Well, what -I want you to explain is how you have neglected your duty toward your -husband so that he should stray into such evil ways as supping with -actresses at Vauxhall." - -"What! would you make out that his neglect of his duty is my fault?" - -"Great heavens, child, whose fault is it, if it is not yours? That is -what I say, you do n't deserve to have a toy if you let some strange -child snatch it away from you." - -"I protest, Mrs. Abington, that I scarce take your meaning. I have -nothing to reproach myself with. I have ever been the best of wives. -I have never gone gadding about to balls and routs as some wives do; I -have remained at home with my baby." - -"Exactly, and so your poor husband has been forced to ask certain -actresses to bear him company at those innocent pleasures, which he, in -common with most gentlemen of distinction, enjoy. Ah,'t is you domestic -wives that will have to answer for your husbands' backslidings." - -"Is it possible that--why, madam, you bewilder me. You think that I -should--I do n't know what you think--oh, I'm quite bewildered!" - -"Why, child, have you not seen enough of the world to learn that a woman -is most attractive to a man when he perceives that she is admired by -other men? Have you not seen that a man seeks to marry a particular -woman, not because he cares so greatly for her himself, but because he -believes that other men care greatly for her? Your good husband is, I -doubt not, fond enough of you; but when he perceives that you think much -more of your baby than you do of him--when he perceives that the men -whom he considered his rivals before he carried you _off_ from them, no -longer follow in your train, is he to be blamed if he finds you a trifle -insipid? Ah, let me tell you, my sweet young wife, a husband is a horse -that requires the touch of a spur now and again. A jog-trot is not what -suits a spirited creature." - -"Heavens, madam! You mean that he--my husband--would be true to me if I -only I--I--" - -"If only you were not too anxious that he should keep pace with the -jog-trot into which you have fallen, my dear. Do you not fancy that I -know he wishes me to sup with him only because he is well aware that -a dozen men will be longing to mince him when they see him mincing my -chicken for me?" - -"But I would go with him to the Gardens if he would ask me, only--ah, no -one would want to mince him on my account." - -"You silly one! Cannot you see that you must place him in the position -of wanting to mince the other man?" - -"How? I protest that I am bewildered." - -"Dear child, go to the Gardens, not with your husband, but with another -man, and you will soon see him return to you with all the ardour of a -lover with a rival in view. Jealousy is the spur which a husband needs -to recall him to a sense of his duty, now and again." - -"I will never consent to adopt such a course, madam. In the first place, -I cannot force myself upon any gentleman of my acquaintance." - -"Then the sooner you find one on whom you can force yourself, the better -chance you will have of bringing your husband to your side." - -"In the second place, I respect my husband too highly--" - -"Too highly to win him back to you, though not too highly to come to me -with a story of the wrongs he has done to you? Oh, go away now; you do -n't deserve your toy." - -Mrs. Lewis did not respond to the laughter of the actress. She remained -standing in the centre of the room with her head down. Fresh tears were -welling up to her eyes. - -"I have given you my advice--and it is the advice of one who knows a -good deal of men and their manners," resumed Mrs. Abington. "If you -cannot see your way to follow it there is nothing more to be said." - -"I may be foolish; but I cannot bring myself to go alone with any man to -the Gardens," said her visitor in a low tone. - -"Then good-bye to you!" cried the actress, with a wave of her hand. - -The little lady went slowly to the door; when there she cast an -appealing glance at Mrs. Abington; but the latter had picked up her copy -of the new comedy, and was apparently studying the contents. With a sigh -Mrs. Lewis opened the door and went out. - -"Foolish child! She will have to buy her experience of men, as her -sisters buy theirs," cried Mrs. Abington, throwing away the book. - -She rose from her seat and yawned, stretching out her arms. As she -recovered herself, her eyes rested on a charcoal sketch of herself in -the character Sir Harry Wildair, in "The Constant Couple," done by Sir -Joshua Reynolds' pupil, Northcote. She gave a little start, then ran to -the door, and called out to Mrs. Lewis, who had not had time to get to -the foot of the stairs. - -"Come back for one moment, madam," cried Mrs. Abington over the -banisters, and when Mrs. Lewis returned, she said: "I called you back to -tell you to be ready dressed for the Gardens on Monday night. I will -accompany you thither in my coach." - -"You mean that you will--" - -"Go away now, like a good child. Ask no more questions till Monday -night." - -She went away, and on the Monday night she was dressed to go to -Vauxhall, when the room in which she was waiting was entered by an -extremely handsome and splendidly dressed young gentleman, who had all -the swagger of one of the beaux of the period, as he advanced to her -smirking. - -"I protest, sir," cried Mrs. Lewis, starting up; "you have made a -mistake. I have not the honour of your acquaintance." - -"'Fore Gad, my charmer, you assume the airs of an innocent miss with -amazing ability," smirked her visitor. "My name, madam, is Wildair, at -your service, and I would fain hope that you will accept my poor escort -to the Gardens." - -A puzzled look was on Mrs. Lewis's face as the gallant began to speak, -but gradually this expression disappeared. She clapped her hands -together girlishly, and then threw herself back on a chair, roaring with -laughter. - - -II. - -The next day at the playhouse Mrs. Abington met Lee Lewis with a -reproachful look. She had written to him on the Saturday, expressing her -regret that she could not go with him to the Gardens, but assuring him -that she would be there, and charging him to look for her. - -"I thought you would believe it worth your while to keep an eye open for -me last night, sir," she now said. "But I dare say you found some metal -more attractive elsewhere." - -"By heavens! I waited for you for an hour on the lantern walk, but you -did not appear," cried Lewis. - -"An hour? only an hour?" said the lady. "And pray how did you pass the -rest of the time?" - -"A strange thing happened," said Lewis, after a pause. "I was amazed to -see my wife there--or one whom I took to be my wife." - -"Ah, sir, these mistakes are of common occurrence," laughed Mrs. -Abington. "Was she, like her husband, alone?" - -"No, that's the worst of it; she was by the side of a handsome young -fellow in a pink coat embroidered with silver." - -"Oh, Mrs. Lewis would seem to have borrowed a leaf from her husband's -book; that is, if it was Mrs. Lewis. Have you asked her if she was at -the Gardens?" - -"How could I ask her that when I had told her that I was going to the -playhouse? I was struck with amazement when I saw her in the distance -with that man--did I mention that he was a particularly good-looking -rascal?" - -"You did; but why you should have been amazed I am at a loss to know. -Mrs. Lewis is a very charming lady, I know." - -"You have seen her?" - -"She was pointed out to me last night." - -"Heavens! then it was she whom I saw in the Gardens? I would not have -believed it." - -"What, are you so unreasonable as to think that 't is a wife's duty to -remain at home while her husband amuses himself at Vauxhall?" - -"Nay, but my wife--" - -"Is a vastly pretty young creature, sir, whom a hundred men as exacting -as her husband, would think it a pleasure to attend at the Gardens or -the Pantheon." - -"She is, beyond doubt a sweet young creature; but Lord, madam, she is so -bound up in her baby that she can give no thought to her husband; and as -for other men--did you see the youth who was beside her?" - -"To be sure I did. He was devoted to her--and so good looking! I give -you my word, sir, I never saw anyone with whose looks I was better -pleased." - -"Zounds, madam, if I had got near him I would have spoilt his good -looks, I promise you. Good Lord! to think that my wife--I tried to get -close to her, but the pair seemed to vanish mysteriously." "You would -have been better employed looking for me. But we will arrange for -another evening, you and I, Mr. Lewis." - -"Yes, we will--we will." - -There was not much heartiness in the way Mr. Lewis assented; and when -the lady tried to get him to fix upon an evening, he excused himself in -a feeble way. - -The day following he walked with her to her house after rehearsal, but -he did not think it necessary to make use of any of those phrases of -gallantry in which he had previously indulged. He talked a good deal -of his wife and her attractions. He had bought her a new gown, he said, -and, beyond a doubt, it would be difficult to find a match for her in -grace and sweetness. He declined Mrs. Abington's invitation to enter the -house. He had to hurry home, he said, having promised to take his wife -by water to Greenwich Park. - -The actress burst into a merry laugh as she stood before the drawing of -Sir Harry Wildair. - -"All men are alike," she cried. "And all women, too, for that matter. -Psha, there are only two people in the world; the name of one is Adam, -the name of the other is Eve." - -In the course of the afternoon a letter was brought to her. It was from -Mrs. Lewis, and it stated that the writer was so much overcome with the -recent kindness and attention which her husband had been showing her, -she had resolved to confess that she had played a trick upon him, and -begged Mrs. Abington's leave to do so. - -Mrs. Abington immediately sat down and wrote a line to her. - -"Do n't be a little fool," she wrote. "Are you so anxious to undo all -that we have done between us? If you pursue that course, I swear to you -that he will be at my feet the next day. No, dear child, leave me to -tell him all that there is to be told." - -Two days afterwards Lee Lewis said to her: - -"I wonder if 't is true that my wife has an admirer." - -"Why should it not be true, sir? Everything that is admirable has an -admirer," said Mrs. Abington. - -"She is not quite the same as she used to be," said he. "I half suspect -that she has something on her mind. Can it be possible that--" - -"Psha, sir, why not put her to the test?" cried Mrs. Abington. - -"The test? How?" - -"Why, sir, give her a chance of going again to the Gardens. Tell her -that you are going to the playhouse on Thursday night, and then do as -you did before, only keep a better look-out for her, and--well you must -promise me that if you find her with that handsome young spark you will -not run him through the body." - -"You seem to take a great interest in this same young spark," said -Lewis. - -"And so I do, sir! Lord, sir, are you jealous of me as well as your -wife?" - -"Jealous? By my soul, madam, I desire nothing more heartily than to hear -of your taking him from my wife." - -"Then carry out my plan, and perhaps I shall be able to oblige you. Put -her to the test on Thursday." - -"You will be there?" - -"I will be there, I promise you." - -"Then I agree." - -"You promise further not to run him through the body?" - -"I promise. Yes, you will have more than a corpse to console you." - -He walked off looking somewhat glum, and in another half hour she had -sent a letter to his wife asking her to be dressed for Vauxhall on -Thursday night. - -The Gardens were flooded with light--except in certain occasional -nooks--and with music everywhere. (It is scarcely necessary to say that -the few dimly-lighted nooks were the most popular in the Gardens.) - -As Mrs. Lewis, accompanied by her dashing escort, descended from the -coach and walked up the long avenue toward the tea-house, many eyes were -focussed upon her, for all the town seemed to be at Vauxhall that night. -But only the quick eyes of Mrs. Abington perceived the face of Lee Lewis -at the outskirts of the crowd. Mrs. Abington smiled; she knew perfectly -well that her disguise was so complete as to remain impenetrable, even -to her most familiar friends, and she had a voice to suit the costume of -the beau, so that, upon previous occasions, she had, when in a similar -dress, escaped all recognition, even at one of the balls at the little -playhouse in the Haymarket. - -She now swaggered through the crowds, rallying, after the most approved -style of the modish young spark, her somewhat timid companion, and -pointing out to her the various celebrities who were strolling about -under the coloured lamps. She pointed out the lively little lady, who -was clearly delighted at being the centre of a circle of admirers, -as Mrs. Thrale, the wife of the great brewer. Around her were General -Paoli, the Corsican refugee; the great Dr. Samuel Johnson; Dr. Burney, -the musician; and Richard Burke, just home from Grenada. - -Some distance further on stood Oliver Goldsmith, the author of the new -comedy, in which Lee Lewis was cast for the part of Young Marlow, and -Mrs. Abington for the part of Miss Hardcastle. Dr. Goldsmith wore a -peach-bloom velvet coat and a waistcoat covered with silver. He was -making the beautiful Miss Horneck and her sister, Mrs. Bunbury, laugh -heartily at some of his witty sayings, which were too subtle to be -understood by such people as James Boswell and Miss Reynolds, but which -were thoroughly relished by the two girls who loved him so well. In -another part of the grounds, Sir Joshua Reynolds walked with his friend -David Garrick; and when she caught sight of the latter, Mrs. Abington -hurried her companion down a side walk, saying: - -"David Garrick is the only one in the Gardens whom I fear; he would see -through my disguise in a moment." - -"My husband is not here, after all, for I have been looking for him," -said Mrs. Lewis. "You see he does not always speak an untruth when he -tells me he is going to the playhouse on the nights he is not acting." - -"Nothing could be clearer, my dear," said her companion. "Oh, yes, men -do speak the truth--yes, sometimes." - -Mrs. Lewis was anxious to return to her home as soon as she had walked -once through the Gardens, but Mrs. Abington declared that to go away -without having supper would make her so ashamed of her impersonation -of the reckless young gallant, she would never again be able to face -an audience in the playhouse; so supper they had together in one of the -raised boxes, Mrs. Abington swearing at the waiters in the truest style -of the man of fashion. - -And all the time they were at supper she could see Lee Lewis furtively -watching them. - -Another hour the actress and her companion remained in the Gardens, and -when at last they returned to the hackney coach, the former did not fail -to see that Lewis was still watching them and following them, though his -wife, all the time the coach was being driven homeward, chattered about -her husband's fidelity. "He will most likely be at home when I arrive," -she said; "and in that case I will tell him all." - -"For fear of any mistake I will enter the house with you," said Mrs. -Abington. "I have heard before now of husbands casting doubt upon even -the most plausible stories their wives invented to account for their -absence." - -"My husband will believe me," said Mrs. Lewis coldly. - -"I shall take very good care that he does," said her companion. - -When they reached the house, they learnt that Mr. Lewis had not yet come -back, and so Mrs. Abington went upstairs and seated herself by the side -of her friend in her parlour. - -Not many minutes had passed before her quick ears became aware of the -opening of the hall-door, and of the stealthy steps of a man upon the -stairs. The steps paused outside the room door, and then putting on her -masculine voice, the actress suddenly cried: - -"Ah, my beloved creature! why will you remain with a husband who cannot -love you as I swear I do? Why not fly with me to happiness?" - -Mrs. Lewis gave a laugh, while her cheek was being kissed--very audibly -kissed--by her companion. - -The next moment the door was flung open so suddenly that Mrs. Lewis was -startled, and gave a cry; but before her husband had time to take a step -into the room, Mrs. Abington had blown out the lamp, leaving the room in -complete darkness. - -"Stand where you are," cried the actress, in her assumed voice; "Stand, -or by the Lord Harry, I'll run you through the vitals!" - -The sound of the whisking of her sword from its sheath followed. - -"Who are you, fellow, and what do you want here?" she continued. - -"The rascal's impudence confounds me," said Lewis. "Infamous scoundrel! -I have had my eye on you all night; I am the husband of the lady whom -you lured from her home to be your companion." - -"Oh, then you are Mr. Lee Lewis, the actor," said Mrs. Abington. "Pray, -how does it come, sir, that you were at Vauxhall when you assured your -poor wife that you were going to the playhouse?" - -"What! the rascal has the audacity--" - -"Husband--husband--a moment will explain all!" cried Mrs. Lewis, across -the table. - -"Silence, woman!" shouted the man. - -"She had better remain silent," said the actress. "Look you, sir, how -often have you not deceived that poor young thing, whose only fault is -loving you too well? What, sir, have you the effrontery to accuse her? -Does your own conscience acquit you of every attempt to deceive her, -that you can throw a stone at her? You blame her for going with me to -the Gardens--can you say that you have never made an appointment with a -lady to meet you at the same Gardens? What truth is there in the -report which is in everyone's mouth, that you are in the train of Mrs. -Abington's admirers?" - -"'Tis false, sir! I love my wife--alas, I should say that I love her -better than a score of Mrs. Abingtons," cried Lewis. - -"Ah, husband, dear husband," began his wife, when Mrs. Abington -interrupted her. - -"Hush, child," she cried. "Let me ask him if he never implored that -woman, Abington, to accompany him to Vauxhall while he told you he was -going to the playhouse? Let me ask him how often he has whiled away the -hours in Mrs. Abington's house, assuring his wife that he was detained -at the play-house. He is silent, you perceive. That means that he has -still a remnant of what once was a conscience. Mr. Lewis, were it light -enough to see you, I am sure that we should find that you were hanging -your head. What! are you surprised that any one should admire the wife -whom you neglected? You are enraged because you saw me by her side at -the Gardens. You have played the spy on us, sir, and in doing so you -have played the fool, and you will acknowledge it and ask your wife's -pardon and mine before five minutes have passed. Call for a light, sir; -we do not expect you to apologise in the dark." - -"The fellow's impudence astounds me," muttered Lewis. He then threw open -the door and shouted down the stairs for a light. - -Mrs. Lewis, while the light was being brought, made another attempt to -explain matters, but Mrs. Abington commanded her to be silent. - -"Everything will be explained when the light comes," said she. - -"Yes," said the man, grimly, "for men cannot cross swords in the dark." - -"There will be no crossing swords here," said Mrs. Abington. - -"Coward--Scoundrel! Now we shall see what you are made of," said the -man, as a servant appeared on the landing with a lighted lamp. - -"Yes; that's just what you will see," said Mrs. Abington in her natural -voice, as the light flooded the room. - -"Great powers!" whispered Lewis, as he found himself confronted by the -fascinating face that he knew so well. - -Mrs. Abington had thrown off her wig in the darkness, and now her own -hair was flowing over her shoulders. - -"Great powers! Mrs. Abington!" - -"Yes, Mr. Lewis, Mrs. Abington, who only waits to hear a very foolish -fellow confess that he has been a fool in letting a thought of any other -woman come into his mind, when he is the husband of so charming a lady -as took supper with me to-night." - -Lee Lewis bowed his head, and, kneeling before his wife, pressed her -hand to his lips. - - - - -THE CAPTURE OF THE DUKE - - -I - -As all hearts are captivated by the most charming Mistress Barry, so it -is my hope that all souls will be captivated by her picture," cried Sir -Godfrey, bowing low between his palette which he held in one hand and -his sheaf of brushes which he held in the other. His pronunciation of -the word charming--he said "sharmink"--had a suggestion of his native -Lbeck about it; but his courtliness was beyond suspicion. None of his -distinguished sitters could complain of his having failed to represent -them on his canvases with dignity and refinement, whatever their candid -friends might think of the accuracy of the portraitures. - -"I only ask to be painted as I am, Sir Godfrey," said Mrs. Barry, when -she had risen after her courtesy in acknowledgment of Sir Godfrey's -gallant compliment. - -"As you are, madam? Ah, your ladyship is the most exacting of my -sitters. As you are? Ah, my dear lady, you must modify your conditions; -my art has its limitations." - -"Your art, but not your arts, sir. I protest that I am overwhelmed by -the latter, as I am lost in admiration of the former," said the actress, -adopting a pose which she knew the painter would appreciate. "Alas, -Sir Godfrey," she added, "you do not well to talk to an actress of the -limitations of art. What a paltry aim has our art compared with yours! I -have had cravings after immortality--that is why I am here to-day." - -"'T is surely, then, the future of the painter that you have had at -heart, my dear madam; you come with immortality shining in your face." - -"Nay, sir; Sir Godfrey Kneller will live forevermore in his long line of -legitimate monarchs--ay, and others, perhaps not quite--" - -"For God's sake, Mistress Barry! These are dangerous days; pray remember -that I am the queen's limner." - -Sir Godfrey Kneller spoke in a whisper, touching her arm with the -handles of his brushes as he glanced apprehensively around the -painting-room of his house in Great Queen Street. - -Mrs. Barry looked at him with a reckless gaiety in her eyes. - -"What, have I said anything treasonable, anything to compromise the -Court painter?" she cried. - -"Walls have ears, my dear," whispered the painter. - -"And what matters that, so long as they have not tongues?" laughed the -lady. "Ah, my dear Sir Godfrey, you do your art an injustice to fancy -that any one could utter a word of treason in this room surrounded by so -many living faces." She pointed to the easels on which were hung several -portraits approaching completion. "They are all living, my friend. I vow -that when I entered here just now I felt inclined to sink in a courtesy -before Her Grace of Marlborough." She indicated the portrait of the -duchess which Sir Godfrey had all but finished--one of the finest of all -his works. - -Sir Godfrey smiled. - -"Ah, who, indeed, could talk treason in the presence of Her Grace?" he -said. - -"None, save His Grace, I suppose," said the actress. "And now I am ready -to sit to you--unless you have any further courtly compliments to pass -on me. Only, by my faith, I do not choose to place myself nigh to Her -Grace. Those eyes of hers make me feel uneasy. Prithee, Sir Godfrey, -permit me to turn my back upon the duchess; the act will, I protest, -give me a feeling of pride which will speedily betray itself on my -face. People will say, 'Only an actress, yet she turned her back upon -a duchess'--ay, and such a duchess! They say their Graces have lost -nothing by their adherence to the Queen." - -Mrs. Barry had now posed herself, flinging back her hair from her -forehead, so that her broad, massive brow was fully shown, and the -painter had begun to work upon her picture. - -"Ah, people say that? And what reason have they for saying it, I -wonder?" remarked Sir Godfrey. - -"The best of reasons, my good friend. They say that their Graces have -lost nothing by standing by the Queen, because if they ran a chance of -losing anything they would quickly stand by the King--His Majesty over -the water." - -Sir Godfrey laughed. "I vow, Mistress Barry, that your gossips have -failed to interpret as I would the expression upon the face of Her Grace -of Marlborough," said he. "Great heaven, madam, cannot one perceive a -pensiveness upon that face of hers?--nay, prithee, do not turn your head -to look for the expression. I want not to lose your expression while you -are endeavoring to catch that of Her Grace." - -"The Sad Sarah! And you mean to reproduce the sadness, Sir Godfrey?" - -"Not sadness--only pensiveness." - -"The one is the same as t' other. Then you will cause posterity to -affirm that Sarah was sad to find that she had not become so rich in -adhering to the Queen as she might have if she had sent her pensive -glances across to France?" - -"Then posterity will do her wrong. Her Grace is truly attached to the -Queen--so truly attached that she becomes melancholic at the thought of -not being completely trusted by Her Majesty." - -Sir Godfrey's voice had sunk to a whisper as he made this revelation; -and when he had spoken he glanced once more round the room as if to -assure himself that he had no listeners beside Mrs. Barry. - -"And the Queen does not trust her?" cried the actress. "Ah, well, I -suppose 't is impossible even for a Queen to be for so many years in her -company without understanding her. Ah, the poor Duke! Prithee continue -your story, Sir Godfrey. I perceive that you would fain lead one up to -the scandalous part." - -"Scandalous part, madam? Nay, if you discern not a deep pathos in the -sad look of Her Grace, the Duchess, after the key which I have given you -to her expression, no rehearsal of scandal would awake your interest in -the subject of yonder portrait." - -"Nay, sir, if you refuse to tell me further, you will have to bear with -the mockery of posterity for depicting me with a melancholic visage, as -well as your Duchess. Pray tell me the scandal, or I vow I shall have a -fit of the vapours all the time you are painting my portrait." - -"My dear lady, there is no scandal to rehearse, I pledge you my word," -said the painter. "'T is only said that Her Majesty--" - -"Is blest by heaven with excellent eyesight? Well, yes; I dare swear -that your Duchess is strongly of that opinion--that is what adds to her -melancholy. But I vow 't is most scandalous that there's no scandal. We -must try and repair this, you and I, Sir Godfrey." - -"What, does the woman fancy that all lives should be regulated on the -lines set down by the poets who write for your playhouses?" - -"And why not? If our poets will not be true to nature, is it not our -duty to try to make nature true to the poets?" - -"Faith, madam, that were to put an outrage upon nature, if I grasp your -meaning aright." - -"Nay, sir, 'tis no great outrage. If our writers treat of the humours -of an intrigue in high places, and if we find, on climbing to these high -places, that no scandal is to be found there but only humdrum existence, -is it not our duty to foster a scandal for the justification of our -writers?" - -"_Mille tonnerres!_ Have I been cherishing a fiery flying serpent all -this time? Have I been playing with a firebrand? Why, 't is in the -aspect of Medusa I should be painting you, Mistress Barry; you should -have ringletted snakes entwined among your hair. I' faith, madam, that -is a pretty theory to propound in an honest man's house. We must become -scandalous in order to save a playhouse poet from being accounted untrue -to life?" - -"And why not? Ah, Sir Godfrey, I greatly fear that you have no true -feeling for art." - -The actress spoke sadly and shook her head with such exquisite -simulation of melancholy as caused the painter to lay down his palette -and roar with laughter. - -"You have a true feeling for art, beyond doubt, my Barry," he cried. -"You have no room to reproach yourself, I dare swear. You have all the -men in town at your feet, and all their wives ready to scratch out your -eyes--and all for the advancement of art, you say. You are ready to -jeopardise your own reputation in order to save that of your poets! Ah, -what a kind heart hath the Barry!" - -"Faith, Sir Godfrey, if I did not make a wife or two jealous, how could -I know what a jealous woman looks like, and if I did not know what a -jealous woman looks like, how could I act the part of a jealous woman in -the playhouse?" - -"Ah, how indeed? The play-goers worship you if their wives long for -those ringlets that ensnare their husbands in their meshes. What is a -wedding-ring against a wanton ringlet?" - -"'T is my duty as an actress that compels me to seek for examples of the -strongest emotions, Sir Godfrey--you perceive that that is so?" - -"Ah, beyond doubt--beyond doubt, madam." - -"That rejoices me. And now touching this Duchess of Marlborough--" - -"You will have to seek your examples of strong emotion outside my house, -my friend. Do you fancy that Her Grace--" - -"Is a woman? Nay, she is a very woman, so far as my poor observation, -supplemented by a small trifle of experience, is permitted to judge. -Think you that her sadness of visage is due to mortification that her -spouse is still faithful to her?" - -"Surely such a reflection should call for an expression of satisfaction, -my fair observer." - -"Nay, Sir Godfrey; that were to take a view of the matter in no -wise deep. Would you not have Her Grace to think as other women less -formidable think, in this wise: 'what fate is mine to be wed to a man -whom no woman thinks worth the tempting'?" - -"Zounds, my Barry, that were the strangest way recorded to account for a -wife's sadness. How know you that His Grace has not been tempted?" - -"I make no such charge against him, Sir Godfrey; I think not such evil -of him as that he hath not been tempted. I make but a humble attempt to -think as Her Grace may think when she has her moods." - -"That were a presumption for such as you, madam. What! you an actress, -and she a duchess, and yet you would venture--" - -The laugh which illuminated the face of Sir Godfrey had scarcely passed -away before his servant entered the painting room in haste, announcing -that the coach of the Duchess of Marlborough was at the door, and that -Her Grace was in the act of dismounting. - -"That means that my sitting is at an end," said Mrs. Barry. - -"And I must e'en hustle you out of the room, my dear," said the painter. -"Her Grace is not the most patient of dames when it comes to waiting on -a painter." - -"Or on a painter's sitter, particularly when that sitter is only an -actress. Ah, Sir Godfrey, you might permit me to remain in secret that I -may know how a Duchess conducts herself upon occasions." - -"Tut--tut! Would you play a comedy in my house, you baggage?" cried the -painter, pushing her playfully to the door. "Fly--fly--before it is too -late." - -"Ah, Sir Godfrey, you are indeed unkind. Prithee how may I hope to enact -the part of a duchess in the playhouse if I am not permitted to witness -one in the life?" - -"Off--off--I say! You will have to trust to your own instinct, which I -take to be a faithful enough guide in your case, my dear Barry. And -so farewell to you." Still protesting, and very prettily pouting, the -actress suffered herself to be gently forced from the room into the -square, inner hall, which was lighted by a dome of coloured glass. Sir -Godfrey, kissing the tip of one of his fingers, bowed her an adieu, but -without speaking, as he held up the tapestry _portire_. - -[Illustration: 0278] - -Mrs. Barry replied with a modified courtesy, and turned as if to make -her way to the outer hall; but the moment Sir Godfrey let fall the -tapestry, she returned on tiptoe, and moving it an inch to one side, -peered through into the studio. She saw the painter hurrying from the -large apartment into the small retiring-room at the farther end, and the -moment that he disappeared she was back like a flash into the studio and -in hiding behind a full-length canvas that leant against an easel in a -dark corner. - -Five seconds were sufficient to carry out the plan which she had -conceived on the impulse of the moment. Had it occupied seven she would -have been discovered, for Sir Godfrey had merely entered his wardrobe -to throw off one coat and put on another. He returned to the studio, and -immediately rang his bell. When the servant entered, he said: - -"When Her Grace is ready, lead her hither." - -The servant bowed and left the studio, while Sir Godfrey arranged the -chair on the dais for his new sitter, and placed the half-finished -portrait of the Duchess on his easel. He had scarcely done so before the -rings of the _portire_ were rattling, and the Duchess of Marlborough -entered, attired for the sitting. How she looked on that day, the -painter has by his art enabled all succeeding generations to learn. -Sir Godfrey Kneller's portrait of the Duchess is, perhaps, his most -characteristic work. If the distinction which it possesses in every -feature was scarcely shared by the original in the same degree, there -was still sufficient character in the face of the great lady to make -it profoundly interesting, especially to so close an observer as Sir -Godfrey Kneller. - -"Ah, my dear Kneller," cried Her Grace, as the painter advanced to greet -her with bowed head, "I am even before my appointed hour to-day. That -glance of sad reproach which you cast at your timepiece when I last came -hither--though only half an hour late, I swear--had its effect upon me." - -"Her Grace of Marlborough is one of those rare ones for whom it might -reasonably be expected that the sun would stand still," said the -painter. - -"As it did once at the command of the Hebrew general? Ah, my Kneller, -what a pity it is that a certain great General of the moderns cannot -make his commands respected in the same direction." - -"His Grace has no need to supplement his own generalship by--by--" - -"By the aid of heaven, you would say? By the Lord, Sir Godfrey,'t is -rather the aid of the opposite power our generalissimo would invoke, if -taken at a disadvantage." - -"It would be impossible to conceive an incident so remarkable as His -Grace taken at a disadvantage." - -"I would fain believe you to be right, friend Kneller. Yes, I have not -once caught him tripping. But that, you may say, is not so much because -His Grace does not trip, as because his generalship is too subtle for -such an one as I." - -"Nay, nay, madam; so ungenteel a thought could never be entertained -by one who has the privilege of knowing the Duke and of seeing the -Duchess." - -"Vastly prettily spoken, Sir Godfrey; and with the air of a courtier, -too; but, unlike t' other things of the Court, there is truth in your -words. Look you, Kneller, there's the slut who calls herself Mistress -Barry--she carries half the town away captive at her chariot-wheels--" -she pointed to the portrait of Mrs. Barry. "But think you that her -fascinations would have power to prevail against my lord the Duke? Nay, -adamant is as snow compared to his demeanour when the wretch is moving -all hearts within the playhouse. Have not I found him sitting with -closed eyes while the woman was flaunting it about the stage, and men's -swords were ready to fly from their scabbards at the throats of them -that had got a soft look from her?" - -"Is 't possible?" - -"Ay, sir; 't is more than possible. The insolent hussy has oft cast up -her eyes at our box in the playhouse, ogling His Grace, if you please. -The fool little knew that she was ogling a slumbering man. Nay, Sir -Godfrey, if I were as sure of my ground in other directions as I am of -His Grace, I were a happy woman." - -She took her place on the dais, and the expression of pensiveness which -appears on the face of the portrait became intensified. This fact, -however, did not prevent a dainty little fist from quivering in her -direction from the side of the full-length picture in the corner. The -Duchess had her back turned to that particular corner. - -"Your Grace deserves to be the happiest of women," said the painter. - -"If only to give so admirable a limner an opportunity of depicting a -smiling face," said the Duchess. - -"Nay, madam, a smile doth not make a picture," replied Sir Godfrey. "On -the contrary, it oft destroys one. Your painter of smirking goddesses -finds his vocation at the Fair of St. Bartolemy. I would fain hope that -I am not such." There was a silence, during which Sir Godfrey painted -the hair upon his canvas with his usual dexterity. Then Her Grace -sighed. - -"Know you the best means of bringing back an errant confidence, Sir -Godfrey?" she asked after another long pause. - -"An errant confidence, madam?" - -"The confidence of one whom I love, and who I think would fain love me -still, were it not for the tongue of slander." - -"Nay, your Grace, I am but a painter; no Rubens am I in the skill that -pertains to an envoy. Still, it occurs to me that the rendering of some -signal service to the one whose mood your Grace describes should bring -you to her heart again." - -The Duchess sprang from her chair and began pacing the narrow limits of -the dais, her hands clenched, and the expression on her face becoming -one of passion solely. - -"Some signal service--some signal service!" she cried. "Man, have I not -grown aged in her service? Who among those around her hath shown her and -hers such service as ours has been--my husband's and mine? And yet when -she hears the rumour of a plot she taunts me that I was not the first -to warn her. Heavens! Does it rest with me to see the word 'conspirator' -branded on the flesh of one who may hap to wear a cuirass? Is there -any skill that will enable mine eyes to perceive in a man's bearing -an adherent to the family at St. Germains? By the Lord, Sir Godfrey -Kneller, I may be tried too much. Think you that if we were to turn our -eyes in the direction of St. Germains there would not be a goodly number -of persons in this realm who would turn their eyes and their coats with -us?" - -"For God's sake, madam--" - -"Nay, 't is but an abstract proposition, friend Kneller. I have wit -enough to perceive that the atmosphere of France suiteth best the -health of some folk. For mine own part, I like best our English air; but -if--ah, continue your painting, Sir Godfrey, and see that you make mine -eyes the eyes of one who looks not overseas for succour." - -Her Grace threw herself once more into the chair, and the painter -resumed his work in silence. He could not but reproduce the pensive -expression that once more was worn by the face of the Duchess. - -At the end of half an hour she rose, complaining that she was tired. She -smiled, giving her hand to Sir Godfrey, as she said. - -"I know, my good friend, that it is safe to rage in your presence; you -are discretion itself." - -"Your Grace hath never put my discretion to the test," said the Court -painter, with a low bow. - -"The Duke will mayhap visit you to inspect the portrait, Sir Godfrey," -said the Duchess when at the door. "Pray let him know that I await him -at St. James's." - -"I shall not fail, madam," said the painter. "And I will not ask your -Grace to sit to me until Friday. I have to be in Richmond on Thursday." - -He held back the _portire_ for her exit, and then followed her through -the domed hall to the apartment where her maid awaited her. - -On his return to the studio he found himself face to face with Mrs. -Barry. For an instant he stood speechless. Then, with a glance behind -him, he whispered: - -"How did you come hither, in the name of heaven?" - -"In a name which you are bound to respect--the name of art," she -replied. - -"I sought but a lesson, and I have not sought in vain. A duchess! Good -Lord! These be your duchesses! The manners of a kitchen wench allied to -the language of a waterman. A duchess!" - -"Madam--Mistress Barry--" - -"Oh, the poor Duke! How oft have not I heard that His Grace looks -forward to the hottest campaign with joy? Oh, I can well believe it. And -the look of pensiveness on Her Grace's face--observe it, most faithful -of limners." - -She stood pointing to the portrait of the Duchess in a stage attitude -of scorn. Sir Godfrey, as he looked at her, felt that he should like to -paint her in that attitude for the benefit of posterity. Then she burst -into a scornful laugh, at which he became more serious than ever. In -another moment, however, she had introduced a note of merriment into her -laughter, and in spite of the fact that he had been extremely angry on -finding that she had been in hiding he could not help joining in her -laughter. - -"The pensive Duchess!" she cried. "Nay, rather, the pensive Duke, my -friend. Paint him as 'Il Penseroso'--the Duke who had eyes only for -the graces of Her Grace--who had ears only for her dulcet phrases--who -snored in the face of the actress who was ogling him from the stage. -Grant me patience, heaven! If I fail to bring him to my feet in the -sight of that woman, may I never tread the stage more! I have a scheme, -Sir Godfrey, which only needs your help to--" - -"My help! _Gott in Himmel!_ You shall not have my help! What! do you -fancy that you may turn my painting-room into a playhouse stage, and act -your farces--" - -"His Grace the Duke of Marlborough." - -The servant had thrown open the door as he made the announcement. - -"Ah! Heaven is on my side! I need not your help," cried the actress, in -an aside, as she turned to a mirror to still further dishevel her hair. - -The Duke of Marlborough, entering the studio, found himself confronted -by a lovely woman visibly fluttered, and apparently anxious to prevent -the lace upon her shoulders from revealing even so much of her bosom as -the painter had thought necessary for artistic purposes. - -"Ha! Kneller!" cried the Duke, "I find that I am an intruder. How is -this, sir? Your fellow said that you were alone." - -"It is only my friend, Mistress Barry, your Grace, whose portrait has -become my pastime," said Sir Godfrey. - -"And Mistress Barry is of no account," said the actress, sinking in a -courtesy. "Ah, your Grace, Sir Godfrey forces me to excuse both his own -imprudence and my impudence. When I learned that the Duke of Marlborough -was to come hither I implored him to permit me to remain in order that -the dream of my poor life might be realised." - -"The dream of your life, madam?" said the Duke. - -"I dare say 't is the dream of many lives," said the lady in a low -voice, somewhat broken by an emotion she could not repress, even though -she took one hand away from her lace to still the beating of her heart. -"And now that I find myself face to face with the one who has saved our -country's honour in an hundred fights, I protest that I am overcome with -the result of my boldness. Oh, your Grace, forgive the weakness of a -poor weak woman." - -"Madam," said the Duke, "this moment repays me for whatever trifling -hardship I have undergone in my campaigns. To find that all the charms -of Mistress Barry on the stage are but feeble compared with those gifts -of nature with which she had been endowed, were sure an astonishment to -one who had seen her only when she was the centre of a thousand eyes." - -"Oh, your Grace is determined to overwhelm your friends with your -compliments as you do your enemies with your culverins. But I vow I am -too forward. I am presuming to include my poor self among your Grace's -friends." - -"Then think of a sweeter name, my dear lady, and I shall agree to it -without demur." - -The Duke was beyond doubt not insensible to the charms of the beautiful -actress. She had apparently quite forgotten that the drapery about her -shoulders had fallen away more freely even than was permissible in -the exigencies of the classical art affected by the eighteenth century -painters. - -"Ah, Your Grace leaves me without a voice even of protest," murmured the -actress, glancing modestly at the floor. - -"Nay, Mistress Barry has need only to protest against the limitations -of speech," said the Duke, facing her and offering her his hand, which, -after a moment's hesitation, she took with the homage that she would -have given to the hand of a monarch. Then she dropped it with a half -stifled sigh, and turned to the door without a word. - -"Wherefore fly?" said the Duke, raising the side of the _portire_ while -she made a courtesy. - -"'T were better so, though I know your Grace cannot understand how -flight should ever be linked with discretion." - -"At least, let me conduct you to your chair, madam. Nay, I insist." - -They had scarcely got beneath the glass dome before she had laid her -hand upon his arm. - -"I was determined to see you face to face," she said in a rapid whisper. -"I have something of the greatest gravity that is for your ear alone. -You would step between the Queen and disaster?" - -"I have done so before now," said the Duke. "Heaven may be equally kind -to me again. Come with me in my coach now; it is already dusk." - -"No--no--that would be fatal to both of us," she whispered. "We are -surrounded by enemies--spies--purveyors of treason--the very life of the -Queen is in danger." - -"You speak sincerely," said the Duke. "Come to my house after the play." - -"Impossible! Your Grace little knows in what quarter the danger lies. I -lit upon it by accident myself. Let me see. Ah, I have it: Sir Godfrey's -painting room at a quarter after four on Thursday--this is Tuesday--yes, -in secret--and in the mean time, not a word to living man or woman--not -even Her Grace." - -"Why not take your seat in my coach; it has curtains." - -"Impossible! Ah, trust me to know wherein lieth safety and prudence. -Hasten back. Good Sir Godfrey must not suspect." - -"Heavens! You do not say that he is--" - -"He is true; but he talks. We need those who are dumb. Not a word in -human ear." - -He looked into her face--eagerly--searchingly. She never winced. He -pressed her hand and returned to the studio. - -She was halfway down the street in her chair before she burst into a -merry laugh. - -"Her Grace shall have enough of plots to last her for awhile at -any rate. Our painter goes to Richmond on Thursday; he said so. Oh, -Lud--Lud! how quick the notion came to me when His Grace appeared. Ah, -Mistress Barry, thou hast not read in vain all that the poets have -writ for the playhouse. I can see that they are both wild to show their -devotion to Her Majesty. They would fain discover plots growing along -the hedgerows of St. James's Park. They will be as easily trapped as -tame pigeons." - -"What," cried Mistress Barry on Thursday afternoon, to the servant who -opened the door for her at Sir Godfrey Kneller's house, "what! gone to -Richmond? Nay,'t is not possible. I sit to him at four." - -"My master said it would be five ere he returned from her ladyship's, -madam." - -"Oh, Lud, surely he made a mistake; or you have misheard him, sirrah. He -will be back at four, and I'll e'n wait for him in the painting-room. If -he have not returned by the half hour I will tarry no longer." - -She walked past the servant--he made no demur--and entered the studio. -Sauntering about for a few moments, she then went to the door and locked -it. She hastened to a shelf on which lay some broken chalks. In a few -moments, standing before the tall mirror, she had completely altered her -face; she had "made up" her features and complexion as those of an old -woman. - -Then from apparently capacious pockets in the cloak which she wore -she brought forth a grey wig of many curls, which she put over her own -chestnut hair; and a servant's apron which completely hid her gown. -A few adroit touches transformed her into a venerable person of much -respectability--one whose appearance suggested that of an aged retainer -in a family where her services were properly valued. She surveyed -herself in the glass, saying, "Her Grace will, I can swear, recognise -the good woman whose sense of duty compelled her to address so mighty -a lady touching the vile conspiracy to which Her Grace is to be made -privy." - -While she was standing back from the glass, laughing as she kissed -the tips of her fingers to the figure who responded in like fashion, -a gentle knock sounded on the small side door that led into the arched -passage to the garden--the door by which the painter's models were -admitted to the studio without passing through the house. The actress, -giving a final smooth to her apron, hastened to open the door, but only -to the extent of an inch or two. - -"What's your business, madam?" she inquired, in the quavering accents of -age, through the opening. - -"I have come hither for Mrs. Freeman's frock," was the reply in a low -voice. - -"It will be ready for you in half an hour, my good woman," said the -actress. "Meantime, enter and wait." - -She admitted a muffled and closely-veiled figure, and, when she had -closed the door, made an old-fashioned curtesy. - -"You are Mrs. Smollett?" said the figure, in a low voice, after glancing -round the studio. - -"Elizabeth Smollett, your Grace, is my name," quavered Mrs. Barry. "Ah, -madam, you have had the courage to come hither." - -"Courage?" said the Duchess. "It needed none. If what your letter told -me be true, it is time that some true friend of the Queen's came hither. -Is it possible that your master, Sir Godfrey, knoweth naught of the -plot?" - -"He knoweth naught, madam. The head and front of the wicked business -came to him as his _valet de chambre_ with the best recommendations. It -was only by accident that I discovered the fellow's motives. He was for -three years at St. Germains." - -"At St. Germains! The wretch! Mrs. Smollett, your devotion to Her -Majesty in this matter shall not go unrewarded. I can promise you that. -They hope to seize the Queen! Merciful heaven! Are they fools enough to -fancy that that act would further their ends? Ah, shall I now be avenged -upon mine enemies who whisper to Her Majesty! And you, Smollett--you -will bless the day you wrote to me." - -"Not so loud, your Grace," whispered the actress. "There may be those at -hand that we know not of. This is where your grace must be in hiding." -She led the Duchess up the studio to the curtain that hung across the -retiring room. "Your Grace will be entirely hid in the recess of the -door, and unless I am far mistaken you shall hear more than you ever -expected. Now, madam, for God's sake remain fast hid behind the curtain. -I shall return to my household duties lest I should be suspected." - -"You will bless this day," whispered Her Grace from behind the -_portire_. - -Mrs. Barry put her finger to her lips as she noiselessly unlocked the -door leading to the domed hall and then passed through. - -She hastily removed all traces of her disguise, placing the wig and -apron behind a marble pedestal that bore a reproduction of the flying -Mercury. She paused at the door for some time before returning to the -studio, and when at last she opened it she did so very cautiously, -putting her head just beyond the _portire_ at first. Then she closed -the door behind her and advanced. She did not fail to notice the little -movement of the curtain at the farther end of the studio. Then she gave -a fine sigh and threw herself into a chair. - -"Heigh ho!" she said, in a tone that she meant to be audible in every -part of the room. "Heigh ho! 't is weary waiting for one's love. But my -love--my hero--is worthy to be waited for by empresses. Yet, if I had -not his picture to look upon now I vow I should feel melancholic. Ah, -Sir Godfrey. He has dealt as harshly with the face of my Duke as he -hath dealt gently with that ancient harridan, the Duchess." (She saw the -distant _portire_ quiver.) "Great heavens!" she continued, rising and -standing in front of the portrait of the Duchess. "Great heavens! is it -a matter of wonder that His Grace should be sick unto death of that face -of hers? All the flattery of the painter cannot hide the malevolence of -her countenance. The Queen perceived it long ago, and yet they say that -she hopes to regain the favour of her royal mistress! - -"Poor creature! But indeed she is to be pitied. She hath lost the favour -of her Queen and the heart of her spouse. Ah, my hero--my beloved--your -heart is mine--all mine. How oft have I not heard your sweet words -telling me that--how oft? But why are you not here to tell it to me now? -Why--ah, at last--at last!" - -A knock had sounded at the side door in the midst of her passionate -inquiries, and she almost flew to the door, "Ah, at last--at last you -have come!" she said in a fervent whisper as the Duke entered. - -"I have come," he replied, still holding her hand. He had no choice left -in the matter. She did not withdraw her hand after she had given it to -him. It would scarcely have done for him to cast it from him. "You are -sure that Sir Godfrey has not yet returned?" - -"I am sure of it," said she. "Would I be here with you alone if he had -returned?" - -"No, no; of course not," said the Duke. "But would I not come far if -only to press this little hand?" - -His experience of women had taught him that a little flattery is never -out of place with them. He supposed it was out of sheer nervousness that -Mrs. Barry had failed to withdraw her hand. - -She did not withdraw it even now, however. It was only when they had -walked side by side half way across the room that she withdrew her -hand. She saw that a large picture on an easel was between them and the -distant _portiere_. - -"You have come--you have trusted me," she murmured, with her eyes cast -down. - -He looked at her. He began to fear that she was faltering. She needed -encouragement to make her revelation to him. - -"I have trusted you, dear one; ah, you know not to what extent I would -trust you. I would go to the ends of the earth to hear what you have to -tell me." - -"That is what I wish," she cried. "Could we not meet at some distant -spot where all that my heart contains might be yours? Ah, let us fly -thither without delay! Delay may make havoc of our future." - -"Pray, calm yourself," said the Duke. He perceived that his companion -was of an hysterical type. She would need to be treated with great tact -before she could be brought to communicate anything that she knew. - -"Ah, 't is easy for a soldier to be calm," she cried. "'T is not so -easy for a poor woman who is by nature trustful and yet by experience -distrustful." - -"You may trust me, my sweet creature," he said. - -"May I? May I?" she whispered, looking into his face. "Ah, no, no; leave -me--leave me alone to die here! Mine was the fault--mine alone." - -She had put her hands before her face and gone excitedly halfway down -the apartment. - -"You shall not die!" he cried, following her. "Just heaven, child, am I -nobody? Is my protection worth nothing, that you should be afraid?" - -"Your protection?" She had removed her hands from her face. "What! you -will let me be under your protection?" - -"I swear to you." - -"Ah, then I will trust you--forever--for ever," cried the actress, -flinging herself into the arms of the astonished Duke and laying her -head on his shoulder. - -He was much more astonished when a voice rang through the studio: - -"Wretch! Infamous wretches both!" - -"Oh, Lud!" cried Mrs. Barry, forsaking her resting place and standing a -yard or two apart. "Oh, Lud, who is the plain little woman that has been -eavesdropping? I vow, Duke, she was not invited to our meeting." - -"Infamous creature! I am the Duchess of Marlborough!" - -"Nay, that were impossible. I happen to know that the Duchess has a -limitless faith in the Duke, especially in regard to so plain a creature -as Mistress Barry, and you have the face and bearing of a jealous woman. -Her Grace of Marlborough would not be jealous, my good creature." - -"Madam," said the Duke, turning to his wife, "madam, you have played an -unworthy part--spying--" - -"Silence, libertine!" thundered the Duchess, looking like a fury. - -[Illustration: 0309] - -"Faith, 't is the Duchess, after all," said the actress. "Ah, Sir -Godfrey has returned in good time." Sir Godfrey was standing at the -door. "Dear Sir Godfrey, Her Grace is anxious for you to paint her in -her true character--that of the jealous wife; and so I leave her in -your good hands. Adieu, your Grace. Oh, fie, to be jealous of so poor a -creature as an actress!" - -She stood for a moment by the side of the painter, turning half round as -she raised the tapestry hanging. Her laughter when she had passed into -the hall, rang through the studio. - -Sir Godfrey began to speak. - -"I fear greatly that in my absence--" - -"Sir, in your absence your house has been turned into a lover's -rendezvous!" cried the Duchess. "Your aged domestic, Mrs. Smollett, -wrote to me a confidential letter--" - -"Madam, I have no aged domestic, and I know no one of the name of -Smollett," said Sir Godfrey. - -"What! Oh, the man is in the plot also! It were beneath my dignity to -converse further with him. Shame, sir--shame on both of you!" - -She flung herself through the _portire_ and disappeared in a billow of -tapestry. - -The Duke and Sir Godfrey stood side by side in silence in the studio. At -last the former spoke. - -"Faith, Kneller, I think I begin to see how we have all been tricked. -That play-actress hath made fools of us all for her own sport." - -"I begin to fear that that is so," said Sir Godfrey. - -"Ay, sir; she hath fooled us," said the Duke. "Methinks it will be some -space of time before the wrath of Her Grace will be appeased." - -And so it was. - - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Impudent Comedian & Others, by -Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS *** - -***** This file should be named 51923-8.txt or 51923-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/2/51923/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/51923-8.zip b/old/51923-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0ea10b8..0000000 --- a/old/51923-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51923-h.zip b/old/51923-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4911e03..0000000 --- a/old/51923-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51923-h/51923-h.htm b/old/51923-h/51923-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 9db3402..0000000 --- a/old/51923-h/51923-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6601 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title> - The Impudent Comedian &; Others, by Frank Frankfort Moore - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's The Impudent Comedian & Others, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Impudent Comedian & Others - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51923] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS - </h1> - <h2> - By Frank Frankfort Moore - </h2> - <h4> - Herbert S. Stone & Co - </h4> - <h3> - 1897 - </h3> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0014.jpg" alt="0014 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0014.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> KITTY CLIVE, ACTRESS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> A QUESTION OF ART </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE MUSE OF TRAGEDY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE WAY TO KEEP HIM </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE CAPTURE OF THE DUKE </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span> elly—Nelly—Nell! - Now, where's the wench?” cried Mrs. Gwyn, before she had more than passed - the threshold of her daughter's house in St. James's Park—the house - with the terrace garden, where, as the sedate Evelyn records, the charming - Nelly had stood exchanging some very lively phrases with her royal lover - on the green walk below, giving the grave gentleman cause to grieve - greatly. But, alas! the record of his sorrow has only made his untold - readers mad that they had not been present to grieve, also, over that - entrancing tableau. “Nelly—Nell! Where's your mistress, sirrah?” - continued the somewhat portly and undoubtedly overdressed mother of the - “impudent comedian,” referred to by Evelyn, turning to a man-servant who - wore the scarlet livery of the king. - </p> - <p> - “Where should she be, madam, at this hour, unless in the hands of her - tirewomen? It is but an hour past noon.” - </p> - <p> - “You lie, knave! She is at hand,” cried the lady, as the musical lilt of a - song sounded on the landing above the dozen shallow oak stairs leading out - of the square hall, and a couple of fat spaniels, at the sound, lazily - left their place on a cushion, and waddled towards the stairs to meet and - greet their mistress. - </p> - <p> - She appeared in the lobby, and stood for a moment or two looking out of a - window that commanded a fine view of the trees outside—they were in - blossom right down to the wall. She made a lovely picture, with one hand - shading her eyes from the sunlight that entered through the small square - panes, singing all the time in pure lightness of heart. She wore her brown - hair in the short ringlets of the period, and they danced on each side of - her face as if they were knowing little sprites for whose ears her singing - was meant. - </p> - <p> - “Wench!” shouted her mother from below. The sprites that danced to the - music of the mother's voice were of a heavier order altogether. - </p> - <p> - “What, mother? I scarce knew that you were journeying hither to-day,” - cried Nelly, coming down the stairs. “'T is an honour, and a surprise as - well; and, i' faith, now that I come to think on't, the surprise is a deal - greater than the honour. If you say you have n't come hither for more - money, my surprise will be unbounded.” - </p> - <p> - It was nothing to Nelly that she spoke loud enough to be heard by the - footmen in the hall, as well as by the servants in the kitchen. She knew - that they knew all about her, and all about her mother as well. Perhaps - some of them had bought oranges from her or her mother in the old days at - Drury Lane, before she had become distinguished as an actress, and in - other ways. - </p> - <p> - “I 'm not come for money, though a trifle would be welcome,” said the - mother, when Nelly had shown her the way into one of the rooms opening off - a corridor at one side of the hall—a large apartment, furnished with - ludicrous incongruity. A lovely settee, made by the greatest artist in - France, and upholstered in bright tapestry, was flanked by a couple of - hideous chairs made by the stage carpenter of Drury Lane, and by him - presented to Nelly. A pair of Sèvres vases, which had for some years been - in St. James's Palace stood on a side-board among some rubbish of - porcelain that Nelly had picked up in the purlieus of Westminster. - </p> - <p> - The mother was about to seat herself heavily on the gilded settee, when - Nelly gave a little scream, startling the elder lady so that she, too, - screamed—a little hoarsely—in sympathy. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter, girl—what's the matter?” she cried. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing is the matter, so far, mother, but a mighty deal would have been - the matter, if you had seated yourself other where than in that - chair.'Snails, madam, who are you that you should plump your person down - on a seat that was made for a legitimate monarch?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm a legitimate wife, hear you that, you perky wench?” cried the mother, - craning her neck forward after the most approved fashion of pending - belligerents at Lewkinor Street, Drury Lane. - </p> - <p> - “The greater reason you should avoid that settee, dear mother; it has - never been other than the chattel of a prince,” laughed Nelly. “And now, - prithee, why the honour of this visit, while the month is not yet near its - close?” - </p> - <p> - “I have met with an old friend of yours, this day, Nell,” said the mother, - “and he is coming hither,—'t is that hath brought me.” - </p> - <p> - “An old friend! I' faith, good mother, 't is the young friends are more to - my taste. The savour of Lewkinor Street doth not smell sweet, and it - clings most foully to all our old friends.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, ay, but you once was n't so dainty a madam!” - </p> - <p> - “'T were vain to deny it, mother, since it can be urged against me that I - became your daughter. No, no, good mother, friend me no old friends—I - like them new—the newer the better—plenty of gilding—none - of it rubbed off—gingerbread and courtiers—plenty of gilding, - and plenty of spice beneath. But the old life in Lewkinor Street—in - the coal-yard—ah! 't was like to sour oranges, mother, thick skin - above, and sourness under. 'Snails! it doth set my teeth on edge to think - of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, ay; but now and again we lighted upon a Levant orange in the midst of - a basketful—a sweet one to suck, and one to leave a sweet taste - behind it.” - </p> - <p> - “The best were mightily improved by the addition of a lump of sugar. But - what hath all this vegetable philosophy to do with your visit to me - to-day? If you mean to stay, I'll send out for a couple of stone of sugar - without delay!” - </p> - <p> - “Philosophy, Madame Impudence! You accuse your mother of philosophy, when - everyone knows that your own language was—” - </p> - <p> - “Worthy of a lady of quality, mother. It seemeth that you are anxious to - hear whether or not I retain anything of my old skill in that direction, - and by my faith, dear mother, you shall learn more than will satisfy your - curiosity, if you beat about the bush much longer. Whom say you that you - met to-day?” - </p> - <p> - “What should you say if I told you that his name was Dick Harraden?” - </p> - <p> - “What, Dick! Dick!—Dick Harraden!” - </p> - <p> - Nell had sprung to her feet, and had grasped her mother by the shoulder, - eagerly peering into her face. After a moment of silence following her - exclamation, she gave her mother a little push, in the act of taking her - hand off her shoulder, and threw herself back in her own chair again with - a laugh—a laugh that surrounded a sigh, as a bright nimbus surrounds - the sad face of a saint in a picture. - </p> - <p> - “What should I say, do you ask me?” she cried. “Well, I should say that - you were a liar, good mother.” Nell was never particular in her language. - As an exponent of the reaction against the Puritanism of the previous - generation, she was admitted by very competent judges to have scarcely an - equal. - </p> - <p> - “I'm no liar,” said the mother. “'T was Dick himself I met, face to face.” - </p> - <p> - “It puzzles me to see wherein lies your hope of getting money from me by - telling me such a tale,” said Nell. - </p> - <p> - “I want not your money—at least not till the end of the month, or - thereabouts. I tell you, I saw Dick within the hour.” - </p> - <p> - “'T was his ghost. You know that when he threw away his link he took to - the sea, and was drowned in a storm off the Grand Canary. What did the - seafaring man tell us when I asked him if he had seen Dick?” - </p> - <p> - “A maudlin knave, who offered you a guinea for a kiss at the pit door of - Drury Lane, and then bought a basket of oranges and gave them away singly - to all comers.” - </p> - <p> - “But he said he had sailed in the same ship as Dick, and that it had gone - down with all aboard save only himself.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, ay; and he wept plentifully when he saw how you wept—ay, and - offered to be your sweetheart in the stead of poor Dick, the knave! For I - saw Dick with these eyes, within the hour.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, mother—and you told him—no, you durs n't tell him—” - </p> - <p> - “He had just this morning come to London from the Indies, and it was luck—ill-luck, - maybe—that made him run against me. He plied me with question after - question—all about Nell—his Nell, he called you, if you - please.” - </p> - <p> - “His Nell—ah, mother! his Nell! Well, you told him—” - </p> - <p> - “I told him that you would never more need his aid to buy foot-gear. Lord! - Nell, do you mind how he bought you the worsted stockings when you were - nigh mad with the chilblains?” - </p> - <p> - “And you told him... For God's sake, say what you told him!” - </p> - <p> - “I did n't mention the king's name—no, I'm loyal to his Majesty, God - save him! I only told him that you had given up selling oranges in the pit - of Drury Lane, and had taken to the less reputable part of the house, to - wit, the stage.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor Dick! he did n't like to hear that. Oh, if he had stayed at home and - had carried his link as before, all would have been well!” - </p> - <p> - “What is the wench talking about? Well—all would have been well? And - is not all well, you jade? 'T were rank treason to say else. Is n't this - room with its gilded looking-glasses and painted vases pretty well for one - who had been an orange girl? The king is a gentleman, and a merry - gentleman, too. Well, indeed!” - </p> - <p> - “But Dick!—what more did you say to him, mother?” - </p> - <p> - “I asked him after himself, to be sure. I' faith the lad has prospered, - Nell—not as you have prospered, to be sure—” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, not as I have prospered.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course not; but still somewhat. He will tell you all, himself.” - </p> - <p> - “What? You told him where I dwelt?” - </p> - <p> - “'I meant it not, Nelly; but he had it from me before I was aware. But he - knows nothing. I tell you he only came to London from Bristol port in the - morning. He will have no time to hear of the king and the king's fancies - before he sees you.” - </p> - <p> - “He is coming hither, then? No, he must not come! Oh, he shall not come! - Mother, you have played me false!” - </p> - <p> - “I? Oh, the wench is mad! False? What could I say, girl, when he pressed - me?” - </p> - <p> - “You could have said that I was dead—that would have been the truth. - The girl he knew is dead. He must not come to this house.” - </p> - <p> - “Then give your lacqueys orders not to admit him, and all will be well. - But I thought that you would e'en see the lad, Nell, now that he has - prospered. If he had n't prospered it would be different.” - </p> - <p> - “Only an orange-seller, and yet with the precepts of a lady of quality! - I'll not see him. Did he say he'd come soon?” - </p> - <p> - “Within an hour, he said.” Instinctively, Nell looked at her reflection in - a mirror. - </p> - <p> - “I'll not see him,” she repeated. “That gown will do well enough for one - just returned from the Indies,” said the mother, with a leer. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, go away, go away,” cried her daughter. “You have done enough mischief - for one morning. Why could not you have let things be? Why should you put - this man on my track?” - </p> - <p> - “'T is a fool that the wench is, for all her smartness,” said the mother. - “She was picked out of the gutter and set down among the noblest in the - land, and all that held on to her gown were landed in pleasant places; and - yet she talks like a kitchen jade with no sense. If you will not see the - lad, hussy, lock your door and close your shutters, after giving orders to - your lacqueys to admit him not. If needful, the king can be petitioned to - send a guard to line the Park with their pikes to keep out poor Dick, as - though he was the devil, and the Park the Garden of Eden.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, go away—go away!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes; I 'll go—and you 'll see him, too—no fear about - that. A girl, however well provided for—and you're well provided for—would - n't refuse to see an old sweetheart, if he was the old serpent himself; - nay, she'd see him on that account alone. And so good day to you, good - Mistress Eve.” - </p> - <p> - She made a mock courtesy, the irony of which was quite as broad as that of - her speech, and marched out of the room, holding her narrow skirts - sufficiently high to display a shocking pair of flat-footed boots beneath. - </p> - <p> - Her daughter watched her departure, and only when she had disappeared - burst into a laugh. In a moment she was grave once again. She remained - seated without changing her attitude or expression for a long time. At - last she sprang to her feet, saying out loud, as though some one were - present to hear her: - </p> - <p> - “What a fool thou art, friend Nell, to become glum over a boy sweetheart—and - a link boy, of all boys. Were I to tell Mr. Dryden of my fancy, he would - write one of his verses about it, making out that poor Dick was the little - god Cupid in disguise, and that his link was the torch of love. But I'll - not see him.'T were best not. He'll hear all, soon enough, and loathe me - as at times I loathe myself—no, no; not so much as that, not so much - as that: Dick had always a kind heart. No; I'll not see him.” She went - resolutely to the bell-pull, but when there, stood irresolute with the - ornamental ring of brass in her hand, for some moments before pulling it. - She gave it a sudden jerk, and when it was responded to by a lacquey, she - said: - </p> - <p> - “Should a man call asking to see me within the next hour, he is to be told—with - civility, mind you: he is a gentleman—that—that I am in this - room, and that I will see him for five minutes—only five minutes, - mind you, sirrah.” - </p> - <p> - “And the man—the gentleman—is to be admitted, madam?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly—for five minutes.” - </p> - <p> - “Your ladyship will regulate the time?” - </p> - <p> - “Go away, you numbskull! How could I regulate the time? I'm no - astronomer.” - </p> - <p> - “Madam, I meant but to inquire if you are to be interrupted at the end of - five minutes.” - </p> - <p> - “I gave you no such instruction, sirrah. It is enough for you to carry out - the instruction I gave you. Carry it out, and yourself in the bargain.” - </p> - <p> - The man bowed and withdrew. He was familiar with the colloquial style of - his mistress and her moods. - </p> - <p> - When the man had gone Nelly laughed again, but suddenly became graver even - than she had yet been. - </p> - <p> - “What have I done?” she cried. “Oh, there never was so great a fool as me! - No, no; I'll not see him! I have as kind a heart as Dick, and I'll prove - it by not seeing him.” - </p> - <p> - And yet, when she had her hand on the lock of the door, she stood - irresolute once again for some moments. Then she went out with a firm - step, her intention being to countermand in the hall the instructions she - had given to the servant in the parlour; but in the hall she found herself - face to face with her old friend, Sir Charles Sedley. He had brought her a - bunch of violets. - </p> - <p> - “The satyr offers flowers to Aurora,” said the courtier to the courtesan, - bowing as gracefully as a touch of rheumatism permitted. - </p> - <p> - “And Aurora was so fond of flowers that she accepted them, even from the - most satiric of satyrs,” said Nell, sinking into a courtesy. - </p> - <p> - “I plucked these flowers for the fairest flower that—” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, that is one of Mr. Dryden's images in the reverse,” laughed Nell. - “What was the name of t' other young thing?—Proserpine, that's it—who - was plucking flowers, and was herself plucked. 'Snails! that's not the - word—she was n't a fowl.” - </p> - <p> - “'Fore Gad, Nell, I never heard that story; it sounds scandalous, so tell - it us,” said Sir Charles. “What was the name of the wench, did you say?” - </p> - <p> - “Her name was Nell Gwyn, and she was gathering oranges to sell in the pit - of Drury Lane, when, some say Satan, and some say Sedley—the - incongruity between the two accounts is too trifling to call for notice—captivated - her, and she had nothing more to do with oranges or orange blossoms.” - </p> - <p> - “And her life was all the merrier, as I doubt not Madame Proserpine's was - when she left the vale of Enna for—well, the Pit—not at Drury - Lane.” - </p> - <p> - “That were a darker depth still. You 've heard the story, then. Mr. Dryden - says the moral of it is that the devil has got all the pretty wenches for - himself.” - </p> - <p> - “Not so; he left a few for the king.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, the two are partners in the game; but the King, like t' other - monarch, is not so black as he is painted.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor so absolutely white as to be tasteless as the white of an egg, Nell.” - </p> - <p> - “His Majesty is certainly not tasteless.” - </p> - <p> - “On the contrary, he is in love with you still, Nell.” - </p> - <p> - They were standing apart from the group of servants in the hall. Nell Gwyn - had pretended that she was about to ascend the stairs, but loitered on the - second step, with her right elbow resting on the oak banister, while she - smelt at the violets with her head poised daintily, looking with eyes full - of mischief and mirth at the courtier standing on the mat, the feathers of - his broad-leafed hat sweeping the ground, as he swung it in making his - bows. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly Nell straightened herself as she looked down the hall toward the - door; she started and dropped her violets. All the mischief and mirth fled - from her eyes as a man was admitted, with some measure of protestation, by - the porter. He was a young man with a very brown face, and he carried no - sword, only the hanger of a sailor; his dress was of the plainest—neither - silk nor lace entered into its manufacture. - </p> - <p> - Before Sir Charles had time to turn to satisfy himself as to the identity - of the man at whom Nell was gazing so eagerly, she had run down the hall, - and seized the newcomer by both hands, crying: - </p> - <p> - “Dick—Dick—It is you, yourself, Dick, and no ghost!” - </p> - <p> - “No ghost, I dare swear, Nell,” cried the man, in a tone that made the - candles in the chandelier quiver, and Sir Charles Sedley to be all but - swept off his feet. “No ghost, but—O Lord, how you've grown, Nell! - Why, when I burnt my last link seeing you home, you was only so high!” He - put his hand within a foot of the floor. - </p> - <p> - “And you, too, Dick! Why, you're a man now—you'll grow no more, - Dick,” cried Nell, still standing in front of him, 'with his hands fast - clasped in her own. Suddenly recollecting the servants who were around, - she dropped his hands, saying: “Come along within, Dick, and tell me all - your adventures since last we were together.” - </p> - <p> - “Lord! Adventures! You do n't know what you 've set yourself down for, - Nell. If I was to tell you all, I should be in your company for at least a - week.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0042.jpg" alt="0042 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0042.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - She led him past Sir Charles Sedley, without so much as glancing at the - courtier, and the newcomer had no eyes for anyone save Nell. A servant - threw open the door of the room where she had been with her mother, and - the two entered. - </p> - <p> - Sir Charles took snuff elaborately, after he had replaced his hat on his - head. - </p> - <p> - “If his Majesty should arrive, let him know that I am in the long - parlour,” he said to a servant, as he walked toward a door on the left. - </p> - <p> - He paused for a space with his hand on the handle of the door, for there - came from the room into which Nell Gwyn and Dick Harraden had gone a loud - peal of laugh ter—not a solo, but a duet. - </p> - <p> - He turned the handle. - </p> - <p> - So soon as he had disappeared, there came another ripple of laughter from - the other room, and the lacqueys lounging in the hall laughed, too. Within - the room, Nell was seated on the settee and Dick Harraden by her side. She - had just reminded him of the gift of the worsted stockings which he had - made to her, when he was a link-boy, and she an orange-girl in Drury Lane. - They had both laughed when she had pushed out a little dainty shoe from - beneath her gown, displaying at the same time a tolerably liberal amount - of silk stocking, as she said: - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Dick, it 's not in worsted my toes are clad now. I have outgrown your - stockings.” - </p> - <p> - “Not you, Nell!” he cried. “By the Lord Harry! your feet have got smaller - instead of larger during these years—I swear to you that is so.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, the chilblains do make a difference, Dick,” said she, “and you never - saw my feet unless they were covered with chilblains. Lord! how you cried - when you saw my feet well covered for the first time.” - </p> - <p> - “Not I—-I didn't cry. What was there to cry about, Nell?” he said. - </p> - <p> - She felt very much inclined to ask him the same question at that moment, - for his face was averted from her, and he had uttered his words - spasmodically. - </p> - <p> - “Poor Dick! You wept because you had eaten nothing for three days in order - to save enough to buy my stockings,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “How know you that?” he cried, turning to her suddenly. - </p> - <p> - “I knew it not at the time,” she replied, “but I have thought over it - since.” - </p> - <p> - “Think no more of it, Nell. O Lord! to think that I should live to see - Nell again! No—no; I'll not believe it. That fine lady that I see in - the big glass yonder cannot be Nell Gwyn!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Dick, would any one but Nell Gwyn remember about Nell Gwyn's - chilblains?” - </p> - <p> - “Hearsay, mere hearsay, my fine madam!” - </p> - <p> - “By what means shall I convince you that I'm the Nell you knew? Let me see—ah, - I know. Dick, I 'll swear for you; you know well that there was not one - could match me in swearing. Let me but begin.” - </p> - <p> - “O Lord! not for the world. You always knew when to begin, Nell, but you - ne'er knew when to stop. And how doth it come that you have n't forgot the - brimstone of the Lane, Nelly, though you have become so mighty fine a - lady?” - </p> - <p> - “'Snails, Dick, the best way to remember a language is to keep constantly - talking it!” - </p> - <p> - “But in silks and satins?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I soon found that I only needed to double the intensity of my - language in the Lane in order to talk the mother tongue of fashion.” - </p> - <p> - “If swearing make the fine lady, you'll be the leader of the town, Nell, - I'll warrant. But do n't say that you doubled your language—that - would be impossible.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, would it, indeed?” - </p> - <p> - “Not so? Then for God's sake do n't give me a sample of what you reached - in that way, for I 've only lived among the pirates and buccaneers of the - Indies since.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I'll e'en spare thee, Dick. But take warning: do n't provoke me. You - would n't provoke a pirate whose guns you knew to be double-shotted. Do - n't say that I'm not Nell Gwyn for all my silks and lace. Why, man, doth - oatmeal porridge cease to be porridge because it's served in a silver - platter? Did your salt pork turn to venison when you ate it off the gold - plate that you stole from the chapels?” - </p> - <p> - “Lord, Nell, I was n't a pirate.” - </p> - <p> - “What! Did n't you say just now that you had been among pirates and - buccaneers in the Indies?” - </p> - <p> - “I was among them, but not of them.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean to say that you were neither a pirate nor a buccaneer?” - </p> - <p> - “Neither!” - </p> - <p> - “Then all I can say is that I'm mightily ashamed of you, Dick. I counted - on your being at least a pirate. Don't say that you became a merchant; I - never could abide dishonesty, Dick.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, no; I never became just a merchant, Nell—at least, not the - sort of merchant that merchants would call a merchant.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, then, there's some hope for you yet, Dick. We may be friends still.” - </p> - <p> - “Friends? Well, I should say so! What did I work for, do you think, - through all these years? What did I lay up a store of guineas for—guineas - and Spanish doubloons and pieces of eight for——” - </p> - <p> - “And you have made a fortune, Dick? Think of that! Ah, I fear that you - must have been a regular merchant after all; only regular merchants make - fortunes in these days.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, but some irregular ones do pretty fairly for themselves.” - </p> - <p> - “And you were somewhat irregular, I dare swear?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I wasn't regularly irregular, dear, only by fits and starts. Ah, - what I said to myself was: 'I've put the stockings on Nell, but I've to - get the shoes for her yet.' That's what gave me the strength of ten men—working - for those shoes, Nell.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor Dick! and now when you come home, you find that I am already - provided for.” - </p> - <p> - Again she showed him the dainty tips of her shoes. - </p> - <p> - “Those are fair weather shoes, Nell,” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that they are, Dick,” she assented, with a note of sadness in her - voice. - </p> - <p> - “But what I would offer you would stand the stress of all weather—fair - or foul, Nell.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe you, Dick, with all my heart. I know what you had to offer me; - but it 's too late now, too late, Dick.” - </p> - <p> - “Too late? What do you mean, girl?” - </p> - <p> - The look that came into his face frightened her. She threw herself back on - the settee and laughed loudly for a minute or two. - </p> - <p> - “That's what I mean,” she cried, tilting up her toes until they were on a - level with his knees. “What else could I mean than that I'm already - sufficiently shod? Even Nell Gwyn can't wear more than one pair of shoes - at a time, Dick. It's rather a pity, but 't is an ill that must be borne. - Now tell us all about yourself, Dick. Tell us how you fought with pirates - and buccaneers—never mind telling how you made a fortune in pieces - of eight: there's no romance about making a fortune—tell us about - the pirates, and above all, tell us what the Spanish Main is.” - </p> - <p> - “The Spanish Main—why, it's the Spanish Main, to be sure—south - of the Indies—a good place for trade, and a good place for pirates. - But you, Nell; I wonder if you meant anything by saying that I had come - back too late? I thought, you know, when I met your mother——” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I want to hear about the fighting—the buccaneers! I do n't want - to hear about my mother; I hear enough about her. You fought the pirates? - Well, next to being a pirate yourself, that's the best thing.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, if you must know, I got about me a few score of lads—most of - them were stout Irish lads who were sold to the plantations by Cromwell.” - </p> - <p> - “The monster!” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, we made up a brave crew, I can tell you. Our plan was to do no - pirating on our own behalf, but only to attack the pirates when they had a - deck-load of spoil. Taking from thieves is n't stealing, is it, Nell?” - </p> - <p> - “No; that's business.” - </p> - <p> - “A bit irregular, it may be, as I said just now; but bless you, Nelly, it - was like sermon-preaching compared to some sorts of business that thrive - mightily at the Indies. Anyhow, here I am to-day, sound and hearty, Nell, - with a pretty nice fortune made already, and more to come—here I am, - ready and willing to buy you the best pair of shoes in London town, and - every other article of attire you may need for the next dozen—ay, - the next fifty years.” - </p> - <p> - “Dick—Dick!” - </p> - <p> - “Is n't it true that you were always my sweetheart, Nell? Didn't you say - that you would never marry another? Well, you've kept your word so far—your - mother told me that.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, that's the worst of it.” - </p> - <p> - “The worst of it! That's the best of it, Nelly; for though a fine lady, - living in a mansion like this—why, it might be a palace—the - King himself might come here——-” - </p> - <p> - “The King—you've heard that—that the King?” - </p> - <p> - She grasped him fiercely by the sleeve, and was eagerly peering into his - face. - </p> - <p> - He burst out laughing, but suddenly checked himself. - </p> - <p> - “The King—the King—what was there for me to hear?” he asked in - a low voice. “I only arrived from Bristol port in the morning. How could I - hear anything?” - </p> - <p> - “I do n't want to hear anything, except to hear you say that you have n't - broken your promise—that you have n't married any one else.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, go away, Dick—go away!” she cried, burying her face on the arm - of the settee. - </p> - <p> - He got upon his feet slowly and painfully, and stood over her. - </p> - <p> - “Why should I go away?” he asked, in the same grave voice. “If I love you—and - you know I do—and if you love me—and I believe that you do—it - is not for me to go away. Ah, is it possible that you have given your - promise to marry some one else? Do n't weep, Nell; that's it, I see, and - it can be made all right. Is that it, dear?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no. Oh, go away—go away, and never return to make me feel how - miserable I am!” - </p> - <p> - “I'll not go away. There's some mystery about you and this house, and I'll - not go before I fathom it.” - </p> - <p> - She looked up and saw him standing there with his arms folded. - </p> - <p> - She leaped up so quickly that she almost seemed to spring into his arms. - He thought so, at any rate, and was about to clasp her when she caught - both of his hands in her own, gazing tearfully—eagerly—wistfully, - into his face. - </p> - <p> - “Dick—dear Dick,” she said; “if you love me still—and I know - you do—you will leave me now. Oh, you should never have come here—I - did not mean you to come; but if you love me, Dick, you will leave me now—leave - me and go into the nearest coffee-house, and ask of the first man you see - there who is Nell Gwyn? What is Nell Gwyn? If you return to me after that, - then—then, Dick, I swear to you that I'll marry you; there will be - none to stay us then, none to come between—the King himself shall - not come between us.” - </p> - <p> - He gripped her hands fiercely, his face close down to hers. - </p> - <p> - “By God, I 'll do it!” he said, through his set teeth. “I'll do it. You - have put it upon me. I know that I shall hear nothing but what is good of - you, and I'll return to claim you, as sure as there's a sun in heaven.” - </p> - <p> - He dropped her hands, snatched up his hat, and walked firmly to the door. - When there, he turned slowly and looked back at her. She was standing pale - and lovely where he had left her. Her eyes were upon his face. - </p> - <p> - He flung himself through the door, and she fell on her knees beside the - settee, burying her face in one of its cushions. - </p> - <p> - For some minutes, nothing was heard in the room but the sound of her sobs; - but then the silence was broken by a shout outside—a shout and the - noise of a scuffle. Cries of “Hold him back! Hold him back!” came from the - servants, and mixed with some full-bodied imprecations in other voices. - Nell started to her feet, as the door of the room was all but crashed in, - and she was standing with a startled look on her face, as the door was - flung wide open, and Dick Harraden hurled a limp antagonist into the room. - </p> - <p> - “He shall eat his words—every foul word he uttered he shall swallow - in the presence of Nell herself,” cried Dick, and then Nell recognised Sir - Charles Sedley as the man who was standing panting, with a broken sword in - his hand, by her side, facing Dick. - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake, Dick!—Sir Charles—what has happened?” - </p> - <p> - The courtier was too breathless to speak—he signified so much very - pleasingly to Nell. - </p> - <p> - “The cowardly knave!” panted Dick. “But I swore that I'd make him eat his - words, and by the Lord Harry, I'll keep my oath!” - </p> - <p> - “Sir Charles, pray—oh, Dick!” - </p> - <p> - “Dick me no Dicks, Nell, until this popinjay has gone down on his knees - before you and asked your pardon for his foul words,” cried Dick. “Down - you go, my gentleman, were you fifty times Sir Charles.” - </p> - <p> - “For heaven's sake, Nell, keep that fire-eater at a distance,” gasped Sir - Charles; “he's fit for Bedlam!” - </p> - <p> - “Stand where you be, Dick,” said Nell. “What said Sir Charles Sedley to - give you offence?” - </p> - <p> - “He said that you—no, I 'll hang in chains in Execution Dock before - I repeat the lie—but he'll take it back, every word, if I have to - wring his neck!” - </p> - <p> - Dick was with difficulty kept at a distance. - </p> - <p> - “Did he say aught about the King and me?” asked Nell, in a low voice. - </p> - <p> - “It was, I swear, a most unhappy <i>contretems</i>, Nell,” said Sir - Charles, smiling in a somewhat constrained way. “How could I know that - there was one man in England who did n't know how splendid, yet how - natural, a conquest the charms of Mistress Eleanor Gwyn have achieved?” - </p> - <p> - “Then you only spoke the truth, Sir Charles,” said Nell. “God above us!” - </p> - <p> - Dick staggered back, and grasped the frame of a chair to support himself. - There was a long silence. - </p> - <p> - He took a faltering step or two towards where she stood in the middle of - the room. - </p> - <p> - “I see it all now,” he said, in a low voice. “I see it all. This house—the - lacqueys in scarlet—the King's servants—they are the King's - servants, and you—you, Nell, are the King's——Oh, God! - let me die—let me die! This is what I came home for! You told me to - go to the first coffee-house; I did n't need to go so far. Oh, Nelly, if I - had come home to stand beside the green hillock of your grave I could have - borne it, but this—this!” - </p> - <p> - He dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His sobbing - was the only sound in the room. - </p> - <p> - After a long pause he got slowly upon his feet. - </p> - <p> - “I'm going away,” he said. “My heart is broken, Nell—my heart is - broken. Good-bye, Nell.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye, Dick.” - </p> - <p> - She had not moved from the middle of the room. She did not hold out a hand - to him. He walked slowly to the door. Then he turned round. - </p> - <p> - “I humbly ask your pardon, sir,” he said to Sir Charles. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said the courtier, “I honour you more than any living man.” - </p> - <p> - “Nell—Nell—come to me—come away with me—come to my - arms, Nell,” cried the man, holding out his hands to her from where she - stood. - </p> - <p> - Sir Charles watched her face. He saw it light up for a moment. Her hands - moved; she was going to him. - </p> - <p> - No, she only looked at the man who loved her and was ready to offer her - everything, and said: - </p> - <p> - “Dick, I have a boy in a cradle upstairs.” - </p> - <p> - There was another long pause before Dick whispered the words: “God bless - thee, Nell,” Then the door was flung wide in his face by a lacquey, who - bowed to the ground as he ushered in a rather plainfaced man wearing a - diamond star and a broad blue sash, as well as a diamond garter. - </p> - <p> - Nell sank in a courtesy, and Sir Charles Sedley made an obeisance. Dick - remained unmoved. - </p> - <p> - “Ha! what have we here?” said the stranger. “'Odsfish! a pretty family - picture! Who may you be, good sir?” he asked of Dick. - </p> - <p> - “Who may <i>you</i> be?” asked Dick. - </p> - <p> - “Well, who I may be in a year or two, the Lord and Nelly only knows—she - says a merry pauper. But who I am is easier said; I happen just now to be - the King.” - </p> - <p> - Dick stood unmoved. - </p> - <p> - “Then I could tell you <i>what</i> you are, sir,' said Dick. - </p> - <p> - “Not half as well as I could tell you, my friend,” said the King. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if your Majesty ever hears the truth?” said Dick. - </p> - <p> - “Seldom; any time I do, it comes from the lips of Nelly, yonder,” replied - the King. “And by my soul, sir, I would rather hear the truth from Nelly, - than a lie from the most honourable of my subjects.” - </p> - <p> - “Profligate!” cried Dick. - </p> - <p> - “I answer to that name, sir; what then?” said the King. - </p> - <p> - “What then? God only can reply to your 'what then?' The answer rests with - Him. He will not forget to answer you when His time comes.” - </p> - <p> - “Even so,” said the King, in a low tone, bending his head. - </p> - <p> - Sir Charles had moved round the settee, and had opened the door. He - touched Dick on the elbow. Dick started for a moment and then stalked - through the door. Sir Charles went out with his face turned towards the - King. - </p> - <p> - “A straightforward fellow, but as conceited as a Puritan, Nell,” cried the - King, with a laugh. “What brought him here?” But Nell had sunk once more - on her knees beside the settee, and her face was, as before, buried in the - cushion. - </p> - <p> - “Ha, what's this, Nelly? What's amiss?” said the King, bending over her. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, go away—go away! I never want to see you again. You heard the - word, profligate, profligate!” - </p> - <p> - “I'll go away, Nell, so soon as I pass to you the two papers which I hold - in my hand.” - </p> - <p> - “I want no papers; I want to be alone.” - </p> - <p> - “Come, dear child; see if you will like your new plaything.” - </p> - <p> - He pushed before her one of the two papers which he held. - </p> - <p> - She glanced at it without rising, and without taking it from him. Suddenly - she put out a hand to it. - </p> - <p> - “What?” she cried. She was now on her feet. “You have done it for me—all - for me? The hospital to be built at Chelsea! Oh, my liege!” - </p> - <p> - “Now the other paper,” said the King. - </p> - <p> - She took it from him. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Royal Letters Patent—our boy—our Charlie—Duke of - St. Albans! Oh, my liege—my King—my love forever!” She sank on - her knees, and, catching his hand, covered it with kisses—with - kisses and tears. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - KITTY CLIVE, ACTRESS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t the King's Head - Inn at Thatcham on the Bath Road a post chaise drew up, but with no great - flourish, for the postilion knew that his only passenger was a lady, and - he had no intention of pulling his horses on their haunches merely for the - sake of impressing a lady. In his youth he had made many flourishes of - such a type, but had failed to win an extra crown from a traveller of this - sex. - </p> - <p> - The groom, who advanced with some degree of briskness from the - stable-yard, became more languid in his movements when he perceived that - only a lady was descending from the chaise. He knew that briskness on the - part of a groom never caused a coin to spring from the purse of a lady. - The landlord, however, taking a more hopeful view of the harvest prospects - of the solitary lady as a guest—he had lived in London, and had - heard of assignations in which the (temporarily) solitary lady became a - source of profit to the inn-keeper—made a pretence of bustling out - to assist the occupant of the chaise to alight, bowing elaborately when he - perceived that the lining of her travel-ling-cloak was of quilted silk, - and once again as she tripped very daintily over the cobble-stones in - front of the King's Head, and smiled very bewitchingly within the satin - frame of her hood. The landlord had a notion that he had seen her face and - her smile before. He carried with him the recollection of a good many - faces and smiles within the frame-work of quilted satin hoods. - </p> - <p> - “Madam, you honour my poor house,” he said in his best London manner as - the lady passed through the porch. “'T is rarely that a person of your - ladyship's quality—” - </p> - <p> - “Spare us good lord—good landlord,” cried the lady in an accent that - had a certain amount of Hibernian persuasiveness about it. “Spare us your - remarks about our quality.'T is two horses and not four that brought me - hither. It's of your quality, sir, that I'd fain have a taste. If I do n't - have breakfast within an hour, I honestly believe that my death will be at - your door, and where will your compliments be then, my good man?” - </p> - <p> - “Your ladyship is pleased to be facetious,” said the landlord, throwing - open the door of the public room with as great a flourish as if he were - giving admittance to sixty-foot <i>salle</i>, instead of a twenty-foot inn - parlour. He looked closely at his visitor as she passed through: her voice - sounded strangely familiar to him. “'T is a poor room for one, who, I - doubt not, is no stranger to the noblest mansions,” he added. - </p> - <p> - “There's no one better accustomed to the noblest mansions than myself,” - said the lady, going to the looking-glass that occupied a place in a panel - between the windows, throwing back her hood, and then arranging her hair. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, faith, many's the palace I've lived in—for the space of half - an hour at a time—but I make no objections to the room I 'm in just - now. See the pictures!” She raised her hands in an attitude of surprise - and admiration, so well simulated as to deceive the landlord, though he - had lived in London. - </p> - <p> - “Pictures! Oh, the grandeur of it all! And what about breakfast? Give us - your notions of the proper decorations of a breakfast-table, good sir. - It's a picture of rashers that I've got my heart set on.” - </p> - <p> - “The best breakfast that my poor house can afford your ladyship shall be - prepared.” - </p> - <p> - “And soon, good Mr. Landlord, I implore of you, sir. Breakfast for two.” - </p> - <p> - “For two, madam!” The landlord began to feel that his experience of - assignations was about to be augmented. - </p> - <p> - “For two, sir—I look for my brother to arrive by the coach from - Levizes. If he should enquire for me at the bar, just show him in here.” - </p> - <p> - “Your commands shall be obeyed, madam. Will he enquire for your ladyship - by name?” - </p> - <p> - “By name? Why, how else would you have him enquire, my good man? Do you - fancy that he carries a Bow Street runner's description of so humble a - person as myself?” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, madam; but you see your name is just what I have n't yet had the - honour of learning.” - </p> - <p> - The lady burst out laughing. - </p> - <p> - “Faith, good sir, my name is a somewhat important detail in the - transaction I speak of. The gentleman will ask for Mistress Clive.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” cried the landlord, “I could have sworn that I knew the face and the - voice, but I failed to think of them in connection with our Kitty.” He - checked himself in his cackle of laughter, and bowed in his best style. - “Madam, I implore your pardon, but—oh lord! how I've laughed in the - old days at Kitty's pranks!—nay, madam, forgive my familiarity. I am - your servant. Oh, lord! to think that it's Kitty Clive herself—our - Kitty—madam—” - </p> - <p> - Only when he had fled to the door and had opened it did the man recover - himself sufficiently to be able to repeat his bow. After he had - disappeared at the other side of the door, the lady heard his outburst of - laughter once again. It grew fainter as he hurried off to (she hoped) the - kitchen. - </p> - <p> - Kitty Clive laughed, also, as she seated herself carefully on the settle, - for it was a piece of furniture whose cushions required to be tenderly - treated. - </p> - <p> - “And this is real fame,” she murmured. “To be 'our Kitty' to a hundred - thousand men and women is my ambition—a laudable one, too, I swear—one - worth struggling for—worth fighting Davy for, and Davy Garrick takes - a deal of fighting. He has got more of it from Kitty Clive than he - bargained for.” - </p> - <p> - The recollection of her constant bickerings with David Garrick seemed to - offer her a good deal of satisfaction. It is doubtful if David Garrick's - recollection of the same incidents would have been equally pleasing to - him; for Kitty Clive was very annoying, especially when she got the better - of her manager in any matter upon which he tried to get the better of her, - and those occasions were frequent. - </p> - <p> - She remained on the settle smiling now and again, and giving a laugh at - intervals as she thought of how she had worsted David, as his namesake had - worsted the champion of Gath. But soon she became grave. - </p> - <p> - “I should be ashamed of myself,” she muttered. “David Garrick is the only - one of the whole crew at the Lane that never varies. He 's the only one - that 's always at his best. God forgive me for the way. I sometimes try to - spoil his scenes, for he 's worth Quinn, Macklin, and Barry bound up in - one; only why does he keep his purse-strings so close? Ah, if he only had - a pint of Irish blood in his veins.” - </p> - <p> - She yawned, for her contests with Garrick did not cause her any great - concern; and then she tucked up her feet upon the settle and hummed an air - from the <i>Beggars' Opera</i>. Hearing the sound of wheels she paused, - listening. - </p> - <p> - “Sure it can't be the coach with my brother yet awhile,” said she. “Ah, - no, 't is the sound of a chaise, not a coach.” She resumed her lilting of - the air; but once again it was interrupted. Just outside the door of the - room there was the sound of an altercation. The voice of the landlord was - heard, apparently remonstrating with a very self-assertive person. - </p> - <p> - “I know my rights, sir, let me tell you,” this person shouted. “Lady me no - ladies, sir; I have a right to enter the room—'t is a public room. - Zounds, sir, cannot you perceive that I am a gentleman, if I am an actor?” - </p> - <p> - “I'll dare swear he could n't,” muttered Mrs. Clive. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir, you shall not intrude on the privacy of a lady,” came the voice - of the landlord. - </p> - <p> - “Out of the way, sirrah,” the other cried, and at the same moment the door - was flung open, and a tall young man wearing a travelling cloak and boots - strode into the room followed by the landlord, at whom he turned scowling - at every step. - </p> - <p> - “Madam, I give you my word that I am not to blame; the gentleman would - come in,” cried the landlord. - </p> - <p> - “That will do, sir,” said the stranger. “I myself will make whatever - apology may be needed. I flatter myself that I have had to make many - apologies before now.” - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” continued the landlord, “I told him that you—” - </p> - <p> - “That will do, Boniface!” cried the other, standing between the landlord - and Mrs. Clive, who had risen. Then giving a smirk and a flourishing bow, - he said: “Madam, you look to be a sensible woman.” - </p> - <p> - “I vow, sir,” said Kitty, “I have never been accused of being sensible - before. If you cannot pay a woman a better compliment than to call her - sensible, you would be wise to refrain from the attempt to flatter her.” - </p> - <p> - The pause that followed was broken by the self-satisfied chuckle of the - landlord. He seemed to take credit to himself for Kitty's sally. He looked - at the stranger, then at the lady; his face puckered with a smile. Then he - walked to the door, and gave another chuckle as he glanced round with his - hand on the door. - </p> - <p> - “Mistress Kitty has taken the measure of my fine gentleman,” he muttered, - with a shrewd wink; “there's no need for me here.” - </p> - <p> - His chuckle broadened into a guffaw as he went down the passage, having - closed the door. - </p> - <p> - “Pray, madam, be not offended,” the man who was facing Kitty managed to - say, after an interval. “If I called you sensible, I most humbly - apologise. No offence was meant, madam.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe that, sir; but no woman likes to be called sensible. You may - call one a silly piece, a romp, or a heartless coquette without offence; - but never a sensible woman.” - </p> - <p> - “I forgot myself for the moment, madam, owing to the treatment I received - at the hands of that bumpkin Boniface. I am, in what is doubtless your - condition—awaiting the coach, and I objected to be relegated to the - kitchen.” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, sir,” said Kitty, with a laugh, as she returned to the settle, “I - have passed some pleasant enough hours in a kitchen.” - </p> - <p> - “And so have I, madam, when the wenches were well favoured,” said the man, - assuming the sly look of a man who had seen life. [Men who fancied they - knew the world were as plentiful in the last century as they are in the - present.] “Yes, madam; but then I went into the kitchen by choice, not on - compulsion.” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe you left on compulsion; kitchen wenches have strong arms, sir,” - remarked Kitty. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, nay, madam, Jack Bates—my name, madam—has always been a - favourite with the wenches.” - </p> - <p> - “The kitchen wenches?” - </p> - <p> - “Zounds, madam, a wench is a wench, whether in the kitchen or the parlour, - Oh, I know woman thoroughly: I have studied her. Woman is a delightful - branch of education.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir!” cried Kitty, sinking in a curtesy with the look of mock - demureness with which she was accustomed to fascinate her audiences at - Drury Lane. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bates was fascinated by that look. He smiled good-naturedly, waving - his hat as if to deprecate the suggestion that he meant to be a gay dog. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, be not fluttered, fair one,” he cried with a smirk. “I protest that - I am a gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I breathe again,” said Kitty, rising to the surface, so to speak, - after her curtesy, “A gentleman? I should never have guessed it. I fancied - I heard you assert that you were an actor—just the opposite, you - know.” - </p> - <p> - “So I am, madam. I am an actor,” said Mr. Bates. Sharp though Kitty's - sarcasm was, it glanced off him. - </p> - <p> - Kitty assumed a puzzled look. Then she pretended that his meaning had - dawned on her. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I see; you mean, sir, that you are the actor of the part of a - gentleman. Faith, sir, the part might have been better cast.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope that I am a gentleman first, and an actor afterwards, madam,” said - Mr. Bates, with some measure of dignity. - </p> - <p> - “In that case, I presume you were appearing in the former <i>rôle</i> - before you arrived at the inn,” said Kitty, whose sarcasm was at no time - deficient in breadth. - </p> - <p> - Even Mr. Bates was beginning to appreciate her last sally, when she added, - “I do not remember having seen your name in a bill of any of the London - playhouses, Mr. Bates.” - </p> - <p> - “I have never appeared in London, madam,” said Mr. Bates, “and, so far as - I can gather, I have not lost much by remaining in the country.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, but think what the playgoers of London have lost, Mr. Bates,” said - Kitty solemnly. - </p> - <p> - “I do think of it,” cried the man. “Yes, I swear to you that I do. When I - hear of the upstarts now in vogue I feel tempted sometimes to put my pride - in my pocket and appear in London.” - </p> - <p> - “Before starting in London, a person needs to have his pockets full of - something besides pride,” said Kitty. “There are other ways of making a - fortune besides appearing on the London stage. Why should men come to - London to act when they may become highwaymen in the country—ay, or - inn-keepers—another branch of the same profession?” - </p> - <p> - “It is clear, madam, that you have no high opinion of the stage. To let - you into a secret—neither have I.” Mr. Bates' voice sank to a - whisper, and he gave a confidential wink or two while making this - confession. - </p> - <p> - Kitty was now truly surprised. Most actors of the stamp of Mr. Bates, whom - she had met, had a profound belief in the art of acting, and particularly - in themselves as exponents of that art. - </p> - <p> - “What, sir!” she cried, “are you not an actor on your own confession, - whatever the critics may say?” - </p> - <p> - “I admit it, my dear lady; but at the same time, I repeat that I have no - faith in the stage. Acting is the most unconvincing of the arts. Is there - ever a human being outside Bedlam who fancies that the stage hero is in - earnest?” - </p> - <p> - “I should say that the force of the illusion is largely dependent upon the - actor,” said Kitty. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing of the sort, I assure you,” said Bates, with a pitying smile—the - smile of the professor for the amateur. “The greatest of actors—nay, - even I myself, madam, fail to carry an audience along with me so as to - make my hearers lose sight of the sham. What child would be imposed on by - the sufferings of the stage hero or heroine? What school miss would fail - to detect the ring of falsehood in the romance of what authors call their - plots?” - </p> - <p> - “You fancy that everyone should be capable of detecting the difference - between a woman's account of her real woes and an actress's simulation of - such woes?” - </p> - <p> - “That is my contention, madam. The truth has a ring about it that cannot - be simulated by even the best actress.” - </p> - <p> - “Dear, dear!” cried Kitty, lifting up her hands. “What a wonder it is that - any persons can be prevailed upon to go evening after evening to the - playhouses! Why, I myself go—yes, frequently. Indeed—perhaps I - should blush to confess it—I am a constant attender at Drury Lane. I - do not believe I should be able to live without going to the playhouse!” - </p> - <p> - “Tell the truth, madam,” cried Mr. Bates, stretching out an eloquent - forefinger at her as she sat on the settle looking at her hands on her - lap, “have you ever sat out an entire play?” - </p> - <p> - Kitty looked up and laughed loud and long, so that Mr. Bates felt greatly - flattered. He began to believe that he had just said a very clever thing. - </p> - <p> - “Well, there I allow that you have me,” said Kitty. “Sir, I admit that as - a rule I do not remain seated during even an entire act of a play.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” cried Mr. Bates triumphantly, “I knew that you were a sensible - woman, asking your pardon again for my presumption. Your confession bears - out my contention; and let me tell you that, on the stage, matters, so far - from improving, are steadily degenerating. I hear that that young man - Garrick is now more in vogue than that fine old actor, Mr. Quin. Think of - it, madam! A wine merchant they say this Garrick was. Have you ever seen - him?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes,” said Kitty; “I have seen him.” - </p> - <p> - “And what may he be like?” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Garrick is like no one, and no one is like Mr. Garrick,” said Kitty - warmly. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” Mr. Bates' lips were curled with a sneer that caused Kitty's feet to - tap the floor nervously. “Ah! A little fellow, I understand—not up - to my shoulder.” - </p> - <p> - “Physically, perhaps not,” Kitty replied. “But the stature of Mr. Garrick - varies. I have seen him tower over every one on the stage—over every - one in the playhouse; and again I have seen him dwindle until he was no - higher than a child.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bates looked surprised. - </p> - <p> - “How does he manage that? A stage trick, I expect.” - </p> - <p> - “I dare say 't is so—merely that stage trick—genius.” - </p> - <p> - “He could not deceive me: I would take his measure,” said Mr. Bates, with - a shrewd smirk. - </p> - <p> - “Still, I have heard that even the players beside him on the stage are - sometimes carried away with the force of his acting,” said Kitty. - </p> - <p> - “A paltry excuse for forgetting their lines!” sneered Mr. Bates. “Ah! no - actor could make a fool of me!” - </p> - <p> - “Would anyone think it necessary to improve on Nature's handiwork in this - respect?” asked Kitty demurely. - </p> - <p> - “How?” For a moment Mr. Bates had his doubts as to whether or not the lady - meant to pass a compliment upon him. The demure look upon her face - reassured him. “You are right, madam; they could easily see what I am,” he - said, tapping his chest. - </p> - <p> - “They could, indeed, sir,” said Kitty, more demurely than ever. - </p> - <p> - “I do not doubt, mind you, that there is a certain superficial ability - about this Mr. Garrick,” resumed Mr. Bates in a condescending way. - </p> - <p> - “I am sure that Mr. Garrick would feel flattered could he but know that he - had the good opinion of Mr. Bates,” remarked Kitty. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I know that I am generous,” said Mr. Bates. “But this Garrick—I - wonder what his Hamlet is like.” - </p> - <p> - “It is <i>like</i> nothing, sir: it is Hamlet,” cried Kitty. - </p> - <p> - “You have seen it? What is he like when the ghost enters? I have made that - scene my own.” - </p> - <p> - Kitty sprang from the settle. - </p> - <p> - “Like?” she said. “What is he like? He is like a man in the presence of a - ghost at first, and then—then the ghost becomes more substantial - than he. You hear a sudden cry—he stands transfixed with horror—you - see that he is not breathing, and he makes you one with himself. You - cannot breathe. You feel that his hand is on your heart. You are in the - power of his grasp. He can do what he pleases with you. If he tightens his - grasp you will never breathe again in this world. There is a terrible - pause—he draws his breath—he allows you to draw yours; but you - feel in that long silence you have been carried away to another world—you - are in a place of ghosts—there is nothing real of all that is about - you—you have passed into a land of shadows, and you are aware of a - shadow voice that can thrill a thousand men and women as though they were - but one person:— - </p> - <p> - “'Angels and ministers of grace defend us!' - </p> - <p> - “Bah! what a fool I am!” cried Kitty, flinging herself excitedly upon the - settle. “Imitate Mr. Garrick? Sir, he is inimitable! One may imitate an - actor of Hamlet. David Garrick is not that; he is, I repeat, Hamlet - himself.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bates was breathing hard. There was a considerable pause before he - found words to say,—“Madam, for one who has no stage training, I - protest that you display some power. You have almost persuaded me to - admire another actor's Hamlet—a thing unheard of on the stage. I, - myself, play the part of the Prince of Denmark. It would gratify me to be - permitted to rehearse a scene in your presence. You would then see on what - points Mr. Garrick resembles me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, lord!” muttered Kitty, making a face behind Mr. Bates' back. - </p> - <p> - “There is the scene at the grave. I am reckoned amazing in that scene.” - </p> - <p> - “Amazing? I do not doubt it.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder how Mr. Garrick acts the grave scene.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir, 't is his humour to treat it paradoxically.” Kitty was now - herself again. “He does not treat the grave scene gravely but merrily.” - </p> - <p> - “Merrily?” - </p> - <p> - “Why not? Novelty is everything in these days. Does not Mr. Macklin make - Shylock a serious and not a comic character? An innovation on the stage - draws the town.” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, madam, to act the grave scene in a burst of merriment is past an - innovation.” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all, sir. With Mr. Garrick it seems quite natural. He is one of - those actors who are superior to nature. I am sure you have met some - such.” - </p> - <p> - “I never met one who was otherwise.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, then you will see how Mr. Garrick could enter upon the scene, - beginning to play bowls with Horatio, using skulls for the game; this goes - on for some time, while they quarrel on the score of the score. They fling - their skulls at one another, and then they take to fencing with two thigh - bones which they pick up. Hamlet runs Horatio through with his bone, and - he falls atop of the first grave-digger, who has been watching the fight, - and in pantomime—much is done by pantomime nowadays—laying - odds on Hamlet. Both topple over into the grave, and Hamlet stands on the - brink, convulsed with laughter. This, you observe, gives extra point to - Hamlet's enquiry, 'Whose grave is that, sirrah?' and certainly - extraordinary point to the man's reply, 'Mine, sir.' Has it ever occurred - to you to act the scene after that fashion?” - </p> - <p> - “Never, madam—never, I swear,” cried Mr. Bates heartily. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, there you see is the difference between Mr. Garrick and you,” said - Kitty. “Do you bring on Hamlet's Irish servant, Mr. Bates?” - </p> - <p> - “Hamlet's Irish servant?” - </p> - <p> - “Is it possible that you have not yet followed the new reading in the - scene where Hamlet comes upon the king praying?” - </p> - <p> - “I know the scene,” cried Mr. Bates, throwing himself into an attitude as - he began: “Oh, my offense is rank; it smells to heaven!” - </p> - <p> - “That is it,” cried Kitty, interrupting him. “Well, then Hamlet appears - with his Irish servant.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis the first I've heard of him.” - </p> - <p> - “Let it not be the last.'T is a new reading. Hamlet enters, sees the king, - and then turns to his Irish servant saying, 'Now might I do it, Pat'—the - man's name is Patrick, you perceive?” - </p> - <p> - “Madam, a more ridiculous innovation I protest I never heard of,” said Mr. - Bates. - </p> - <p> - “By my faith, sir, 't is not more ridiculous than some stage innovations - that I could name,” said Kitty. - </p> - <p> - “I could understand Kitty Clive introducing such a point into one of the - farces in which I hear she is a merry baggage, but—” - </p> - <p> - “You have never seen Kitty Clive then?” - </p> - <p> - “Never, but I hear she is a romp. Are you an admirer of hers, madam?” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, she has no more devoted admirer than myself,” said Kitty, looking at - the man straight in the face. - </p> - <p> - “Is she not a romp?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, surely, a sad, sad romp. She has by her romping, saved many a play - from being damned.” - </p> - <p> - “She is so great a favorite with playgoers, I doubt her ability,” said Mr. - Bates. “I doubt if she could move me. What is the nature of her - merriment?” - </p> - <p> - “Extravagance, sir, extravagance. She bounces on as a hoyden, and pulls a - long face like this”—even Mr. Bates roared at Kitty's long face—“behind - the back of the very proper gentleman who has come to woo her. She catches - the point of his sword sheath so that when he tries to turn he almost - falls. She pretends that he has struck her with his sword and she howls - with pain. He hastens to comfort her—down goes a chair, and he - topples over it. 'Murder, murder!' she cries, and snatches up the shovel - as if to defend herself. My gentleman recovers, and hastens to assure her - of his honourable intentions. She keeps him off with her shovel. He drops - his hat, and she shovels it up and runs around the room to throw it on the - fire. He follows her over tables, chairs, and a sofa or two. 'Tally ho!' - she cries and gives a view-halloo. Round the room they go, and just as he - is at the point of catching her she uses the shovel as a racket, and sends - the hat flying, and at the same stroke, sends her lover sprawling.” - </p> - <p> - “Madam, she is a vulgar jade, I swear,” cried Mr. Bates. He was more out - of breath than Kitty, for she had acted the part so vividly that she had - forced him involuntarily to take the part of the hoyden's lover, and both - he and his hat had suffered. “That scene which you have described bears - out my argument that the more outrageous a scene is, the better pleased - are the public. Women do not make fools of men in real life.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “No; there you have the absurdity of the stage. Authors set reason and - sense at defiance, daily. Shakespeare is one of the worst offenders.” - </p> - <p> - “What, Shakespeare?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, believe me, madam, Shakespeare is a greatly over-rated writer. Look, - for instance, at his play of 'Romeo and Juliet': Romeo sees the lady, - exchanges a few words with her, and falls at once in love with her. He has - only to rant beneath her window by the light of the moon, and forthwith - she agrees to marry him, and sure enough, they are married the very next - day. Good lord! Would Shakespeare have us believe that men can be so - easily fooled? Our moderns have not greatly improved upon Shakespeare.” - </p> - <p> - “I am with you there, sir, heart and soul.” - </p> - <p> - “No, they still outrage sense by their plots. A man meets a woman quite by - chance. She tells him a cock and bull story that any fool could see - outrages probability; but he is captivated in a moment. He falls on his - knees before her and vows that she has only to speak to make him the - happiest of mortals. All this is, madam, I need scarcely say, quite - monstrous and unnatural. Such a proceeding could not occur outside - Bedlam.” - </p> - <p> - “This gentleman should be taught a lesson,” said Kitty to herself, as she - watched Mr. Bates swaggering across the room. She became thoughtful for a - moment, and then smiled—only for a second, however; then she became - grave and her voice faltered as she said: “Sir, I protest that I never - before knew—nay, felt—what real eloquence was—eloquence - wedded to reason.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, madam,” smirked Mr. Bates. - </p> - <p> - “'T is the truth, sir. May I hope that you will not think me too forward, - if I venture to express a humble opinion, sir?” Her voice was low, and it - certainly faltered more than before. - </p> - <p> - “I shall treasure that opinion, madam,” said Mr. Bates. That soft voice - produced its impression upon him. He felt that he was in the presence of - an amazingly fine woman. - </p> - <p> - “You will not be offended, sir, if I say that I feel it to be a great pity - that one who has such eloquence at his command should spend his time - merely repeating the phrases—the very inferior phrases—of - others. The Senate, sir, should be your stage. You are not angry, sir?” - </p> - <p> - She had laid a hand upon his arm and was looking pleadingly up to his - face. - </p> - <p> - “Angry?” cried Mr. Bates, patting her hand, at which she turned her eyes, - modestly from his face to the ground. - </p> - <p> - “Angry? Nay, dear lady, you have but expressed what I have often thought.” - </p> - <p> - “I am so glad that you are not offended by my presumption, sir,” said - Kitty, removing her hand—Mr. Bates did not seem willing to let it - go. “If you were offended, I protest that I should be the most wretched of - women.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bates marked how her voice broke, He took a step after her, as she - went to the settle. - </p> - <p> - “Dear madam, you deserve to be the happiest rather than the most wretched - of your sex,” he said—his voice was also very soft and low. - </p> - <p> - Kitty turned to him, crying quickly: “And I should be so if—” here - she sighed—it seemed to Mr. Bates quite involuntarily. “Pardon me: I—I—that - is—sometimes the heart forces the lips to speak when they should - remain silent. A woman is a simple creature, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “A woman is a very fascinating creature, I vow,” cried Mr. Bates, and he - felt that he was speaking the truth. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Mr. Bates, she has a heart: that is woman's weakness—her - heart!” murmured Kitty. - </p> - <p> - “I protest that she has not a monopoly of that organ,” said Mr. Bates. - “May not a man have a heart also, sweet one?” - </p> - <p> - “Alas!” sighed Kitty, “it has not been my lot to meet with any but those - who are heartless. I have often longed—but why should I burden you - with the story of my longings—of my sufferings?” - </p> - <p> - “Your woman's instinct tells you that you have at last met with a man who - has a heart. I have a heart, dear creature. Was it my fate brought me into - this room to-day? Was it my inscrutable destiny that led me to meet the - most charming—” - </p> - <p> - “Pray, Mr. Bates, be merciful as you are strong!” cried Kitty, pressing - one hand to her tumultuous bosom. “Do not compel a poor weak woman to - betray her weakness: the conqueror should be merciful. What a voice is - yours, sir! What poor woman could resist its melody? Oh, sir, forgive the - tears of a weak, unhappy creature.” - </p> - <p> - She had thrown herself on the settle and had laid her head upon one of its - arms. - </p> - <p> - In an instant he was beside her and had caught her hand. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, dear one, I cannot forgive the tears that dim those bright eyes,” he - whispered in her ear. “You have had a past, madam?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir,” cried Kitty, from the folds of her handkerchief, “all my life - up to the present has been my past—that is why I weep.” - </p> - <p> - “Is it so sad as that? You have a story?” - </p> - <p> - “Should I tell it to you?” said Kitty, raising her head suddenly and - looking at the face that was so near hers. “I will, I will—yes, I - will trust you—you may be able to help me.” - </p> - <p> - “With my latest breath!” cried Mr. Bates. - </p> - <p> - “Sir, to be brief, I am a great heiress,” said Kitty, quite calmly. Mr. - Bates started, his eyes brightened. “My uncle was trustee of my father's - property—it is in two counties,” continued Kitty. “For some years - after my father's death I had no reason for complaint. But then a change - came. My uncle's son appeared upon the scene, and I soon perceived his - true character—a ruined, dissolute scamp, I knew him to be, and when - I rejected his advances with scorn, his father, who I fancied was my - friend, commenced such a series of persecutions as would have broken a - less ardent spirit than mine. They did not move me. They shut me up in a - cold, dark dungeon and loaded these limbs of mine with fetters.” - </p> - <p> - “The infernal ruffians!” - </p> - <p> - “They fed me with bread and water. They tortured me by playing on the - harpsichord outside my prison all the best known airs from the <i>Beggars' - Opera</i>. - </p> - <p> - “Horrible!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I thought I should have gone mad—mad; but I knew that that was - just what they wanted, in order that they might shut me up in Bedlam, and - enjoy my property. I made a resolution not to go mad, and I have adhered - to it ever since.” - </p> - <p> - “Noble girl!” - </p> - <p> - “At last the time came when I could stand their treatment no longer. I - flung my iron fetters to the winds—I burst through the doors of my - prison and rushed into the dining-hall where my two persecutors were - carousing in their cups. They sprang up with a cry of horror when I - appeared. My uncle's hand was upon the bell, when I felled him with a - heavy glass decanter. With a yell—I hear it now—his son sprang - upon me—he went down beneath the stroke of the ten-light chandelier - which I hastily plucked down and hurled at him. I called for a horse and - chaise. They were at the door in a moment and I fled all night. But alas! - alas! I feel that my flight shall avail me nothing. They are on my track, - and I shall be forced to marry at least one of them. But no, no, sooner - than submit, with this dagger—” - </p> - <p> - She had sprung from her place and her hand was grasping something inside - her bodice, when Mr. Bates caught her firmly by the wrist. - </p> - <p> - “You shall do nothing so impious, madam,” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “Who shall prevent me?” cried Kitty, struggling with him. “Who shall save - me from my persecutors?” - </p> - <p> - “I, madam—I will do it!” cried Mr. Bates. - </p> - <p> - “You—how?” Kitty had now ceased to struggle. - </p> - <p> - “I will marry you myself!” shouted Mr. Bates, grasping both her hands. - </p> - <p> - “But only half an hour has passed since we met,” said Kitty, looking down. - </p> - <p> - “That is enough, madam, to convince me that my heart is yours. Sweet one, - I throw myself at your feet. Let me be your protector. Let me hold you - from your persecutors. Dearest lady, marry me and you are safe.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank heaven—thank heaven I have found a friend!” murmured Kitty. - </p> - <p> - “You agree?” said Mr. Bates, rising to his feet. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir, I am overcome with gratitude,” cried Kitty, throwing herself - into his arms. - </p> - <p> - “An heiress—and mine,” Mr. Bates whispered. - </p> - <p> - “Mistress Clive, the gentleman has arrived—oh, lud! what has Kitty - been up to?” - </p> - <p> - The landlord was standing at the door with his hands raised. - </p> - <p> - “'T is my brother, Jimmy Raftor,” said Kitty, coolly arranging the - disordered hood of her cloak before the glass. “Jimmy is one of the best - pistol-shots in all Ireland, and that's saying a good deal. Show the - gentleman in, Mr. Landlord.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bates stood aghast. “Mistress Clive—not Kitty Clive of Drury - Lane?” he faltered. - </p> - <p> - “I am Kitty Clive of Drury Lane, at your service, sir, if you should need - another lesson to convince you that even the most ridiculous story, if - plausibly told, will carry conviction to the most astute of men.” - </p> - <p> - Kitty Clive sank in a mock curtesy; the landlord roared with laughter; Mr. - Bates stood amazed in the center of the room. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - A QUESTION OF ART - </h2> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>f only she had a - heart she would be perfect,” said Mr. Garrick to his friend, Mrs. - Woffington. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, as an actress, not as a woman,” said Mrs. Woffington. “'T is not the - perfect women who have been most liberally supplied with that organ.” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, Madam Peggy, I, David Garrick, of Drury Lane Theatre, have good - reason to set much more store upon the perfect actress than the perfect - woman,” said Mr. Garrick. “If I had no rent to pay and no actors to pay, I - might be led to spend a profitable hour or two over the consideration of - so interesting a question as the relative merits of the perfect woman with - no heart worth speaking of and the perfect actress with a dangerous - superfluity of the same organ. Under existing conditions, however, I beg - leave to—” - </p> - <p> - “Psha! Davy,” said Margaret; “try not your scholarship upon so poor a - thing as myself! It seems to me that you have never quite recovered from - the effects of your early training at the feet of our friend, Mr. - Johnson.” - </p> - <p> - “Alas! Peggy,” said Garrick, “I have forgot all the better part of Mr. - Johnson's instruction. He has no reason to be proud of me.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet he is proud of you, and, by my faith, he has some reason to be - so. Was it not he made you an actor?” - </p> - <p> - “He! Mr. Johnson? oh, Lord, he never ceased to inculcate upon us a just - hatred and contempt of all that appertains to the stage.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, and that was the means of making you thoroughly interested in all - that appertains to the stage, my friend. But I hold as I have always held, - that Mr. Johnson gave you first chance. - </p> - <p> - “What sophistry is this that you have seized upon, my dear? My first - chance?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir; I hold that your first and, I doubt not, your greatest, success - as an actor, was your imitation for the good of your schoolfellows, of the - mighty love passages between your good preceptor and that painted piece of - crockery who had led him to marry her, that was old enough—ay, and - nearly plain enough—to be his mother. What did he call her?—his - Tiffy?—his Taffy?” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, only his Tessy, The lady's name was Elizabeth, you must know.” - </p> - <p> - “Call her Saint Elizabeth, Davy—your patron saint, for, by the Lord - Harry, you would never have thought of coming on the stage if it had not - been for the applause you won when you returned to the schoolroom after - peeping through the door of the room where your schoolmaster chased his - Tessy into a corner for a kiss! Davy, 't is your finest part still. If you - and I were to act it, with a prologue written by Mr. Johnson, it would - draw all the town.” - </p> - <p> - “I doubt it not; but it would likewise draw down upon me the wrath of Mr. - Johnson; and that is not to be lightly faced. But we have strayed from our - text, Margaret.” - </p> - <p> - “Our text? I have forgotten that there was some preaching being done. But - all texts are but pretexts for straying, uttered in the hearing of the - strayed. What is your text, Davy?” - </p> - <p> - “The text is the actress without the heart, Margaret, and the evil that - she doeth to the writer of the tragedy, to the man who hath a lease of the - playhouse, and above all to her sister actress, Mistress Woffington.” - </p> - <p> - “The last of the three evils would imperil the soul's safety of as - blameless a lady as Kitty Clive herself. But, if Mistress Woffington acts - her part well in the new tragedy, I scarce see how she can be hurt by the - bad acting of Miss Hoppner.” - </p> - <p> - “That is because you are a trifle superficial in your views of the drama, - Mistress Woffington. What would you think of the painter who should - declare that, if the lights in his picture were carefully put in, the - shadows might be left to chance?” - </p> - <p> - “Where is the analogy, David?” - </p> - <p> - “It is apparent: the tragedy is the picture, Mrs. Woffington represents - the lighting, and Miss Hoppner the shading. Heavens! Mrs. Woffington, - madam, do you flatter yourself that the playgoers will be willing to - accept the author's account of the fascinations of the woman whom you are - representing, if you fail to rouse your rival to any point of jealousy? - Miss Hoppner, for all the strong language the poet puts into her mouth, - will not make the playgoers feel that the Lady Oriana bears you a grudge - for having taken her lover from her; and when she stabs you with her - dagger, she does so in such a halfhearted way that the whole house will - perceive that she is not in earnest.” - </p> - <p> - “Then they will blame her, and she will deserve the blame. They cannot - blame me.” - </p> - <p> - “Cannot they, indeed? Lord, my good woman, you little know the playgoers. - You think that they are so nice in their discrimination? You should have - learnt better since the days you hung on to Madame Violanti's feet on the - tight rope. If you had wriggled so that Violanti had slipped off her rope, - would her patrons have blamed aught but her? Nay, you know that they would - only have sneered at her clumsiness, and thought nothing of the little - devil who had upset her.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay; I begin to perceive your meaning. You apprehend that the playgoers - will damn the play and all associated with it, because Miss Hoppner does - not kill me with sufficient good-will?” - </p> - <p> - “I feel sure that they will say that if Mrs. Woffington had only acted - with sufficient intensity she would have stirred her rival into so real a - passion of jealousy that she would have stabbed you in a fury.” - </p> - <p> - “Look you here, friend Davy; if it be in your thoughts that Mairgaret - Woffington is to be held accountable for the mistakes of all the other - members of your company, you would do well to revise your salary list.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Peggy; I only said what the playgoers will, in their error, mind - you, assume.” - </p> - <p> - “Come, Mr. Garrick, tell me plainly what you want me to do for you in this - business. What, sir, are we not on sufficiently friendly terms for plain - speaking? Tell me all that is on your mind, sir?” - </p> - <p> - Garrick paused for some moments, and then laughed in a somewhat - constrained way, before walking on by the side of his friend. - </p> - <p> - “Come, sir,” continued Mrs. Woffington. “Be as plain as you please. I am - not prone to take offence.” - </p> - <p> - “We'll talk of that anon,” said Garrick. “Perhaps Mr. Macklin will be able - to give us his helpful counsel in this business.” - </p> - <p> - “Psha!” said Peggy. “Mr. Macklin could never be brought to see with your - eyes.” - </p> - <p> - “Then he will be all the better able to give us the result of Mr. - Macklin's observation,” said Garrick. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, but that is not what you want, Davy,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a - pretty loud laugh. “No one ever calls in a counsellor with the hope of - obtaining an unprejudiced opinion; the only counsellor in whom we have - confidence is he who corroborates our own views.” - </p> - <h3> - II - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span> - hey had reached their house. It was No. 6 Bow Street, and it was presided - over by Macklin—Garrick and Mrs. Woffington doing the housekeeping - on alternate months. - </p> - <p> - Visitors preferred calling during Peggy's month, as the visitor, who was - now greeted by David Garrick in the parlour, testified in the presence of - his biographer years after; for it was Samuel Johnson who awaited the - return from rehearsal of his Lichfield pupil, David Garrick. - </p> - <p> - “You shall have a dish of tea, Mr. Johnson, if we have to go thirsty for - the rest of the week,” cried the actress, when her hand had been kissed by - her visitor. Johnson's kissing of her hand was strangely suggestive of an - elephant's picking up a pin. - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” said he, “your offer is made in the true spirit of hospitality. - Hospitality, let me tell you, consists not, as many suppose, in the - sharing of one's last crust with a friend—for the sacrifice in - parting with a modicum of so unappetising a comestible as a crust is not - great—nay; hospitality, to become a virtue, involves a real - sacrifice.” - </p> - <p> - “So in heaven's name let us have the tea,” said Garrick. “Make it not too - strong,” he whispered to Peggy as he opened the door for her. “I have seen - him drain his tenth cup at a sitting.” - </p> - <p> - The actress made a mocking gesture by way of reply. She did not share - Garrick's parsimonious longings, and in the matter of tea brewing, she was - especially liberal. When she returned to the room bearing aloft a large - teapot, and had begun to pour out the contents, Garrick complained - bitterly of the strength of the tea, as his guest years afterwards told - Boswell. - </p> - <p> - “'T is as red as blood,” growled the actor. - </p> - <p> - “And how else should it be, sir?” cried Mrs. Woffington. “Is 't not the - nature of good tea to be red?” - </p> - <p> - As Garrick continued growling, Peggy laughed the more heartily, and, with - an air of coquettish defiance which suited her admirably, poured out a - second brimming cup for their visitor—he had made very light of the - first—taking no care to avoid spilling some into the saucer. - </p> - <p> - “Faith, sir, Mr. Garrick is right: 'tis as red as blood,” laughed Peggy, - looking with mischievous eyes into Johnson's face. - </p> - <p> - “That were an indefinite statement, madam; its accuracy is wholly - dependent on the disposition of the person from whom the blood is drawn,” - said Johnson. “Now yours, I believe, madam, to be of a rich and generous - hue, but Davy's, I doubt not, is a pale and meagre fluid—somewhat - resembling the wine which he endeavored to sell, with, let us hope for the - sake of the health of his customers, indifferent success for some years.” - </p> - <p> - Garrick laughed with some constraint, while Mrs. Woffington roared with - delight. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir; you are too hard upon me,” cried the actor. - </p> - <p> - “What! would the rascal cry up his blood at the expense of his wine?” said - Johnson. “That, sir, were to eulogise nature at the expense of art—an - ill proceeding for an actor.” - </p> - <p> - “And that brings us back to the question which we discussed on our way - hither from the theatre,” said Peggy. “List, good Mr. Johnson, to the - proposition of Mr. Garrick. He says that I should be held accountable for - the tameness in the acting of the part of a jealous woman by Miss Hoppner, - who is to appear in the tragedy on Tuesday week.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not doubt, madam, that you should be held accountable for the - jealousy of many good women in the town,” said Johnson; “but it passes my - knowledge by what sophistry your responsibility extends to any matter of - art.” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Woffington has not told you all, sir,” said Garrick. “She is, as you - may well suppose, the creature in the tragedy who is supposed to excite - the bitter jealousy of another woman. Now, I submit that the play-goers - will be ready to judge of the powers of Mrs. Woffington as exercised in - the play, by its effect upon the other characters in the said play.” - </p> - <p> - “How so, sir?” said Johnson. “Why, sir,” replied Garrick, “I maintain - that, when they perceive that the woman who is meant to be stung to a - point of madness through her jealousy of a rival, is scarce moved at all, - they will insensibly lay the blame upon her rival, saying that the powers - of the actress were not equal to the task assigned to her by the poet.” - </p> - <p> - “And I maintain, sir, that a more ridiculous contention than yours could - not be entertained by the most ignorant of men—nay, the most - ignorant of actors, and to say so much, sir, is to say a great deal,” - cried Johnson. “I pray you, friend Davy, let no men know that I was once - your teacher, if you formulate such foolishness as this; otherwise, it - would go hard with me in the world.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir, that last sentence shows that you are in perfect accord with the - views which I have tried to express to you,” said Garrick. “You are ready - to maintain that the world will hold you accountable for whatever - foolishness I may exhibit. The playgoers will, on the same principle, - pronounce on the force of Mrs. Woffington's fascinations by the effect - they have, not upon the playgoers themselves, but upon Miss Hoppner.” - </p> - <p> - “Then the playgoers will show themselves to be the fools which I have - always suspected them of being,” said Johnson, recovering somewhat - ungracefully from the effects of swallowing a cup of tea; “Ay, but how are - we to fool them?—that's the question, Mr. Johnson,” said Peggy. “I - have no mind to get the blame which should fall on the shoulders of Miss - Hoppner; I would fain have the luxury of qualifying for blame by my own - act.” - </p> - <p> - “What! you mean, madam, that before receiving the punishment for sinning, - you would fain enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season? That is, I fear, - but indifferent morality,” said Johnson, shaking his head and his body as - well with even more than his accustomed vehemence. - </p> - <p> - “Look you here, Mrs. Woffington,” said Garrick. “You are far too kind to - Miss Hoppner. That would not be bad of itself, but when it induces her to - be kindly disposed to you, it cannot be tolerated. She is a poor fool, and - so is unable to stab with proper violence one who has shown herself her - friend.” - </p> - <p> - “She cannot have lived in the world of fashion,” remarked Johnson. - </p> - <p> - “Lud! would you have me arouse the real passion in the good woman for the - sake of the play?” cried Peggy. - </p> - <p> - “He would e'en degrade nature by making her the handmaid of art. Sir, let - me tell you this will not do, and there's an end on't,” said Johnson. - </p> - <p> - “Then the play will be damned, sir,” said Garrick. - </p> - <p> - “Let the play be damned, sir, rather than a woman's soul,” shouted - Johnson. - </p> - <p> - “Meantime you will have another cup of tea, Mr. Johnson,” said Peggy, - smiling with a witchery of that type which, exercised in later years, - caused her visitor to make a resolution never to frequent the green room - of Drury Lane—a resolution which was possibly strengthened by the - failure of his tragedy. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Woffington,” said he, passing on his empty cup, “let me tell you I - count it a pity so excellent a brewer of tea should waste her time upon - the stage. Any wench may learn to act, but the successful brewing of tea - demands the exercise of such judgment as cannot be easily acquired. - Briefly, the woman is effaced by the act of going on the stage; but the - brewing of tea is a revelation of femininity.” He took three more cupfuls. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - The tragedy of “Oriana,” from the rehearsal of which Garrick and Mrs. - Woffington had returned to find Johnson at their house on Bow Street, was - by an unknown poet, but Garrick had come to the conclusion, after reading - it, that it possessed sufficient merit to justify his producing it at - Drury Lane. It abounded in that form of sentiment which found favor with - playgoers in an age of artificiality, and its blank verse was strictly - correct and inexpressible. It contained an apostrophe to the Star of Love, - and eulogies of Liberty, Virtue, Hope, and other abstractions, without - which no eighteenth century tragedy was considered to be complete. Oriana - was a Venetian lady of the early republican period. She was in love with - one Orsino, a prince, and they exchanged sentiments in the first act, - bearing generally upon the advantages of first love, without touching upon - its economic aspects. Unhappily, however, Orsino allowed himself to be - attracted by a lady named Francesca, who made up in worldly possessions - for the absence of those cheerless sentiments which Oriana had at her - fingers' ends, and the result was that Oriana ran her dagger into the - heart of her rival, into the chest of her faithless lover, and into her - own stays. The business was carried on by the sorrowing relations of the - three, with the valuable assistance of the ghosts of the slain, who - explained their relative positions with fluency and lucidity, and urged - upon the survivors, with considerable argumentative skill, the - advisability of foregoing the elaborate scheme of revenge which each side - was hoping to carry out against the other from the date of the obsequies - of the deceased. - </p> - <p> - The character of Oriana was being rehearsed by Miss Hoppner, an extremely - handsome young woman, whom Garrick had met and engaged in the country, - Mrs. Woffington being the fatally fascinating Francesca, and Garrick, - himself, the Prince Orsino. - </p> - <p> - The tragedy had been in rehearsal for a fortnight, and it promised well, - if the representative of the jealous woman could only be brought to “put a - little life into the death scene”—the exhortation which the Irish - actress of the part of Francesca offered to her daily, but ineffectually. - Miss Hoppner neither looked the part of a tragically jealous woman, nor - did the stabbing of her rival in anything like that whirlwind of passion - with which Garrick, in spite of the limping of the blank verse of the - poet, almost swept the rest of the company off the stage when endeavoring - to explain to the actress what her representation lacked, on the day after - his chat with Mrs. Woffington on the same subject. - </p> - <p> - Poor Miss Hoppner took a long breath, and passed her hand across her eyes - as if to get rid of the effects of that horrible expression of deadly hate - which Garrick's face had worn, as he had craned his head forward close to - hers to show her how she should stab her rival—the slow movement of - his body suggesting the stealth of the leopard approaching its victim, and - his delivery of the lines through his teeth more than suggesting the - hissing of a deadly snake in the act of springing. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, do it that way, my dear madam,” said Mrs. Woffington, “and the day - after the tragedy is played, you will be as famous as Mr. Garrick. 'T is - the simplest thing in the world.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0130.jpg" alt="0130 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0130.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “You have so unnerved me, sir, that I vow I have no head for my lines,” - said Miss Hoppner. - </p> - <p> - But when, by the aid of the prompter, the lines were recovered and she had - repeated the scene, the result showed very little improvement. Garrick - grumbled, and Miss Hoppner was tearful, as they went to the wardrobe room - to see the dresses which had just been made for the principal ladies. - </p> - <p> - Miss Hoppner's tears quickly dried when she was brought face to face with - the gorgeous fabric which she was to wear. It was a pink satin brocaded - with white hawthorne, the stomacher trimmed with pearls. She saw that it - was infinitely superior to the crimson stuff which had been assigned to - Mrs. Woffington. She spoke rapturously of the brocade, and hurried with it - in front of a mirror to see how it suited her style of beauty. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Woffington watched her with a smile. A sudden thought seemed to - strike her, and she gave a little laugh. After a moment's hesitation she - went behind the other actress and said: - </p> - <p> - “I'm glad to see that you admire my dress, Miss Hoppner.” - </p> - <p> - “Your dress?” said Miss Hoppner. “Oh, yes, that crimson stuff—'t is - very becoming to you, I'm sure, Mrs. Woffington; though, for that matter, - you look well in everything.” - </p> - <p> - “'T is you who are to wear the crimson, my dear,” said Peggy. “I have made - up my mind that the one you hold in your hand is the most suitable for me - in the tragedy.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, madam, Mr. Garrick assigned this one to me, and I think 't will suit - me very well.” - </p> - <p> - “That is where Mr. Garrick made a mistake, child,” said Peggy. “And I mean - to repair his error. The choice of dresses lies with me, Miss Hoppner.” - </p> - <p> - “I have yet to be made aware of that, madam.” said Miss Hoppner. Her voice - had a note of shrillness in it, and Garrick, who was standing apart, - noticed that her colour had risen with her voice. He became greatly - interested in these manifestations of a spirit beyond that which she had - displayed when rehearsing the tragedy. - </p> - <p> - “The sooner you are made aware of it, the better it will be for all - concerned,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a deadly smile. - </p> - <p> - “I make bold to assure you, madam, that I shall be instructed on this - point by Mr. Garrick and Mr. Garrick only,” said the other, raising her - chin an inch or two higher than she was wont, except under great - provocation. - </p> - <p> - “I care not whom you make your instructor, provided that you receive the - instruction,” sneered Peggy. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Garrick,” cried Miss Hoppner, “I beg that you will exercise your - authority. You assigned to me the brocade, did you not, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “And I affirm that the brocade will be more suitably worn by me, sir,” - said Peggy. “And I further affirm that I mean to wear it, Mr. Garrick.” - </p> - <p> - “I would fain hope that the caprice of a vain woman will not be permitted - to have force against every reasonable consideration,” said Miss Hoppner, - elevating her chin by another inch as she glanced out of the corners of - her eyes in the direction of the other actress. - </p> - <p> - “That is all I ask for, madam; and as we are so agreed, I presume that you - will hand me over the gown without demur.” - </p> - <p> - “Yours is the caprice, madam, let me tell you. I have right on my side.” - </p> - <p> - “And I shall have the brocade on mine by way of compensation, my dear - lady.” - </p> - <p> - “Ladies!” cried Garrick, interposing, “I must beg of you not to embarrass - me. 'T is a small matter—this of dress, and one that should not make - a disagreement between ladies of talent. If one is a good actress, one can - move an audience without so paltry an auxiliary as a yard or two of silk.” - </p> - <p> - “I will not pay Miss Hoppner so poor a compliment as would be implied by - the suggestion that she needs the help of a silk brocade to eke out her - resources as an actress,” said Peggy. - </p> - <p> - “I ask not for compliments from Mrs. Woffington. The brocade was assigned - to me, and—” - </p> - <p> - “It would be ungenerous to take advantage of Mr. Garrick's error, madam.” - </p> - <p> - “It was no error, Mrs. Woffington.” - </p> - <p> - “What! you would let all the world know that Mr. Garrick's opinion was - that you stood in need of a showy gown to conceal the defects of your - art?” - </p> - <p> - “You are insolent, Mrs. Woffington!” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, nay, my dear ladies; let's have no more of this recrimination over a - question of rags. It is unworthy of you,” said Garrick. - </p> - <p> - “I feel that, sir, and so I mean to wear the brocade,” said Mrs. - Woffington. “Good lud, Mr. Garrick, what were you thinking of when you - assigned to the poor victim of the murderess in the tragedy the crimson - robe which was plainly meant to be in keeping with the gory intentions of - her rival?” - </p> - <p> - “Surely I did not commit that mistake,” said Garrick. “Heavens! where can - my thoughts have been? Miss Hoppner, madam, I am greatly vexed—” - </p> - <p> - “Let her take her brocade,” cried Miss Hoppner, looking with indignant - eyes, first at the smiling Peggy, and then at Garrick, who was acting the - part of a distracted man to perfection. “Let her wear it and see if it - will hide the shortcomings of her complexion from the eyes of the - playgoers.” - </p> - <p> - She walked away with a sniff before Peggy could deliver any reply. - </p> - <h3> - III - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>ray what trick - have you on your mind now? asked Garrick, when he was alone with Peggy. - “What was that caprice of yours?” - </p> - <p> - “Caprice? You are a fool, Davy. You even forget your own precepts, which - your friend Mr. Johnson, in his wisdom condemned so heartily yesterday.” - </p> - <p> - “Good Lord! You mean to—” - </p> - <p> - “I mean to make Miss Hoppner act the part of a jealous woman to - perfection.” And she did so. The next day at the rehearsal, Garrick, as - well as every member of the company, was amazed at the energy which Miss - Hoppner contrived to impart to the scene in the play where, in the - character of Oriana, she stabbed her successful rival. She acted with a - force that had scarcely been surpassed by Garrick's reading of the scene - for her instruction the previous day. - </p> - <p> - “Faith, Peggy, you have given her a weapon for your own undoing,” said - Garrick, as he walked home with Mrs. Woffington. “She will eclipse you, if - you do not mind.” - </p> - <p> - “I 'll e'en run the risk,” said Peggy. - </p> - <p> - Alas! the next day Miss Hoppner was as feeble as ever—nay, the - stabbing scene had never been so feebly gone through by her; and Garrick - grumbled loudly. - </p> - <p> - Miss Hoppner did not seem to mind. At the end of the rehearsal she sought - Peggy and offered her her hand. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Woffington,” she said, “I am desirous of asking your pardon for my - curtness in the matter of the dress. I owe so much to your kindness, - madam, I feel that my attempt to fix a quarrel upon you was the more base. - Pray, forgive an unhappy creature, who only seeks to retain the honour of - your friendship.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you goose!” said Peggy. “Why are you so foolish as to desire to make - friends with me? You should have hated me—been ready to kill me—anything - for the sake of becoming an actress.” - </p> - <p> - “You will not refuse me the forgiveness which I implore?” said Miss - Hoppner. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, nay; I was in the wrong; it was my caprice, but carried out solely - on your behalf, child,” said Peggy. - </p> - <p> - “On my behalf? Oh, you are quite right; I was beginning to forget myself—to - forget that I was but a provincial actress.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you good natured creature!” cried Peggy. “I'll have to begin all over - again.” - </p> - <p> - They had reached the stage door by this time, and were standing together - in the long passage when a tall and good-looking man was admitted, - enquiring for Miss Hoppner. Peggy did not fail to notice the brightening - of the color of her companion as the gentleman advanced and took off his - hat with a low bow. It was with a certain proprietary air that Miss - Hoppner presented him to Peggy, by the name of Captain Joycelyn, of the - Royal Scots. - </p> - <p> - “Captain Joycelyn is one of your warmest admirers, Mrs. Woffington,” said - Miss Hoppner. - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I am overwhelmed,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a deep courtesy. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, madam, I am your servant, I swear,” said the gentleman. “I have - often longed for this honor, but it ever seemed out of my reach. We of the - Royal Scots consider ourselves no mean judges of your art, and we agree - that the playhouse without Mrs. Woffington would be lusterless.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir, you would still have Mrs. Clive,” suggested Peggy. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Clive? You can afford to be generous, madam,” laughed Captain - Joycelyn. - </p> - <p> - “She is the most generous woman alive,” said Miss Hoppner. “She will prove - herself such if she converses with you here for five minutes. I was going - away forgetting that I had to talk to the wardrobe mistress about my - turban. I shall not be more than five minutes away.” - </p> - <p> - “I protest it makes no demand upon my generosity to remain to listen to so - agreeable a critic, though I admit that I do so with a certain tremor, - sir,” said Peggy, with a charming assumption of the fluttered miss. - </p> - <p> - “A certain tremor? Why should you have a tremor, dear madam?” said the - officer. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, 't is the talk of the town that all hearts go down before the Royal - Scots, as the King's enemies did in the Low Countries.” - </p> - <p> - “An idle rumour, madam, I do assure you.” - </p> - <p> - “I might have thought so up till now; but now I think I would do wisely to - retreat in order, Captain, while there is yet time.” - </p> - <p> - She looked up at his face with a smile of matchless coquetry. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, madam, you shall not stir,” said he, laughing. “'T is not the - conqueror that should retreat. I am too conscientious a soldier to permit - so gross a violation of the art of war. Seriously, why should you fly?” - </p> - <p> - “I am a poor strategist, but I have a sense of danger. Is Miss Hoppner a - special friend of yours, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “A special friend? Well, we have been acquaintances for nigh half a year.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought I had seen her by your side at Ranelagh. She looked very happy. - I dare say I should be ashamed to confess it, but I envied her.” - </p> - <p> - Peggy's eyes were turned upon the ground with a demureness that - represented the finest art of the coquette. - </p> - <p> - “You—you envied her?” cried the officer. “How humble must be your - aspirations, sweet creature! If I should not be thought to be over-bold I - would offer—ah! I fear that so brief an acquaintanceship as ours - does not warrant my presumption—” - </p> - <p> - “And yet you do not look like one who would be likely to give offense by - overpresumption, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “I should be sorry to do so, madam. Well, if you promise not to flout me, - I will say that if you will accept my escort any night to the Gardens, you - will do me a great honour.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir, your graceful offer overwhelms me. But, alas! all my evenings - are not my own. I am free but this evening and to-morrow evening.” - </p> - <p> - “Then why not come this evening, madam?” - </p> - <p> - “Why not, indeed? only—is 't not too sudden, Captain? Ah, the dash - of Royal Scots cannot be resisted!” - </p> - <p> - At this moment Miss Hoppner returned, and Peggy cried to her, “My dear - child, your friend is Mercury—the messenger of the Elysian Fields—he - has invited us to accompany him to Ranelagh to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed! That is kind of him,” said Miss Hoppner, without any great show - of enthusiasm. “And you have accepted his invitation?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! who could refuse?” cried Peggy. She had not failed to notice Captain - Joycelyn's little start at her assumption that Miss Hoppner was also to be - of the party. “You will not mar our enjoyment by refusing to come, my - dear?” she added. - </p> - <p> - “Nay; if 't is all settled, I will not hold aloof,” said Miss Hoppner, - brightening up somewhat. - </p> - <p> - They went out together, and before Peggy had parted from the others, the - manner and the hour of their going had been arranged. - </p> - <h3> - IV - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey went up to the - gardens by boat. Their party numbered four, for Miss Hoppner had, when - alone with Captain Joycelyn, so pouted that he had promised to bring with - him a brother officer to add symmetry to the party. But if she fancied - that this gentleman, who was one Ensign Cardew, was to be the companion of - Mrs. Woffington, she soon became sensible of her mistake. By some strange - error, for which only Peggy could account the couples got parted in the - crowd, Peggy and the Captain disappearing mysteriously, and only meeting - the Ensign and his companion at supper time. - </p> - <p> - The merriment of Peggy, at the supper, and the high spirits of Captain - Joycelyn, who allowed himself to be spoon-fed by her with minced chicken, - were powerless to disperse the cloud which hung over Miss Hoppner. She - pouted at the supper, and pouted in the boat, and made only sarcastic - replies to the exclamations of enjoyment addressed to her by the volatile - Peggy. - </p> - <p> - The next day, before the rehearsal of the tragedy, Miss Hoppner said to - Peggy, who was renewing her protestations of the enjoyment she had had on - the previous evening: - </p> - <p> - “I think it right that you should know, Mrs. Woffington, that Captain - Joycelyn some time ago made a proposal of marriage to me, which I - accepted.” - </p> - <p> - “Good creature, what has that to do with me?” asked Peggy. “Captain - Joycelyn certainly said nothing to me on that particular subject last - night, and why should you do so now?” - </p> - <p> - “I am desirous of playing a fair game, madam,” cried Miss Hoppner. - </p> - <p> - “And I am not desirous of playing any game, fair or otherwise,” said - Peggy. “Lud, Miss Hoppner, do you fancy that 't is my duty to prevent the - straying of the lovers of the ladies of Mr. Garrick's company? I vow, I - took upon me no such responsibility; I should have no time for my meals.” - </p> - <p> - The woman whom she addressed looked at her with flashing eyes, her hands - tightly clenched, and her teeth set, for some moments. Once her lips - parted; she seemed about to speak; but with an evident struggle she - restrained herself. Then the fierce light in her eyes flamed into scorn. - </p> - <p> - “Words were wasted on such a creature,” she said in a whisper, that had - something of a hiss in its tone, as she walked away. - </p> - <p> - Peggy laughed somewhat stridently, and cried: - </p> - <p> - “Excellently spoke, beyond doubt. The woman will be an actress yet.” - </p> - <p> - Not a word of complaint had Garrick reason for uttering in regard to the - rehearsal of the scene in the tragedy, this day, and on their way - homewards, he remarked to Peggy, smilingly: - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps in the future, my dear Peggy, you will acknowledge that I know - something of the art and methods of acting, though you did not hesitate to - join with Mr. Johnson in calling my theories fantastic.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I may,” said Peggy, quietly; “but just now I protest that I have - some qualms.” - </p> - <p> - “Qualms? Qualms? An actress with qualms!” cried Garrick. “What a comedy - could be written on that basis! 'The Actress with Qualms; or, Letting I - Dare Not wait upon I Would!' Pray, madam, do your qualms arise from the - reflection that you have contributed to the success of a sister actress?” - </p> - <p> - “The tragedy has not yet been played,” said Peggy. “It were best not to - talk of the success of an actress in a play until the play has been - acted.” - </p> - <p> - That night, Mrs. Woffington occupied a box in the theater, and by her side - was Captain Joycelyn. Miss Hoppner was in a box opposite, and by her side - was her mother. - </p> - <p> - On Monday, Peggy greeted her quite pleasantly as she came upon the stage - to rehearse the tragedy; but she returned the greeting with a glance of - scorn, far more fierce than any which, in the character of Oriana, she had - yet cast at her rival in the scenes of the play. Peggy's mocking face and - the merry laugh in which she indulged did not cause the other to abate any - of her fierceness; but when the great scene was rehearsed for the last - time previous to the performance, Mrs. Woffington became aware of the fact - that, not only was Miss Hoppner's representation of the passionate - jealousy of the one woman real, but her own expression of fear, on the - part of the other woman when she saw the flash of the dagger, was also - real. With an involuntary cry she shrank back before the wild eyes of the - actress, who approached her with the stealthy movement of a panther - measuring its distance for a spring at the throat of its victim. - </p> - <p> - Garrick complimented both ladies at the close of the scene, but they both - seemed too overcome to acknowledge his compliments. - </p> - <p> - “By my soul, Peggy,” said Garrick, when they met at the house in Bow - street, “you have profited as much by your teaching of that woman as she - has. The expression upon your face to-day as she approached you gave even - me a thrill. The climax needed such a cry as you uttered, though that fool - of a poet did not provide for it.” - </p> - <p> - She did not respond until some moments had passed, and then she merely - said: - </p> - <p> - “Where are we to end, Davy, if we are to bring real and not simulated - passion to our aid at the theater? Heavens, sir! we shall be in a pretty - muddle presently. Are we to cultivate our hates and our jealousies and our - affections for the sake of exhibiting them in turn?” - </p> - <p> - “'T would not be convenient to do so,” said Garrick. “Still, you have seen - how much can be done by an exhibition of the real, and not the simulated - passion.” - </p> - <p> - “Depend upon it, sir, if you introduce the real passions into the acting - of a tragedy you will have a real and not a simulated tragedy on the - stage.” - </p> - <p> - “Psha! that is the thought of—a woman,” said Garrick. “A woman seeks - to carry an idea to its furthest limits; she will not be content to accept - it within its reasonable limitations.” - </p> - <p> - “And, being a woman, 'tis my misfortune to think as a woman,” said Mrs. - Woffington. - </p> - <p> - The theatre was crowded on the evening when “Oriana” appeared for the - first time on the bills. Garrick had many friends, and so also had - Margaret Woffington. The appearance of either in a new character was - sufficient to fill the theatre, but in “Oriana” they were both appearing, - and the interest of playgoers had been further stimulated by the rumors - which had been circulated respecting the ability of the new actress whom - Garrick had brought from the country. - </p> - <p> - When the company assembled in the green-room, Garrick gave all his - attention to Miss Hoppner. He saw how terribly nervous she was. Not for a - moment would she remain seated. She paced the room excitedly, every now - and again casting a furtive glance in the direction of Mrs. Woffington, - who was laughing with Macklin in a corner. - </p> - <p> - “You have no cause for trepidation, my dear lady,” said Garrick to Miss - Hoppner. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0155.jpg" alt="0155 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0155.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Your charm of person will make you a speedy favorite with the playgoers, - and if you act the stabbing scene as faithfully as you did at the last two - rehearsals your success will be assured.” - </p> - <p> - “I can but do my best, sir,” said the actress. “I think you will find that - I shall act the stabbing scene with great effect.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not doubt it,” said Garrick. “Your own friends in the boxes will be - gratified.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no friends in the boxes, sir,” said the actress. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, surely I heard of at least one—a certain officer in the Royal - Scots,” whispered Garrick. - </p> - <p> - “I know of none such, sir,” replied the actress, fixing her eyes, half - closed, upon Peg Woffington, who was making a jest at Macklin's expense - for the members of the company in the neighbourhood. - </p> - <p> - “Surely I heard—,” continued Garrick, but suddenly checked himself. - “Ah, I recollect now what I heard,” he resumed, in a low tone. “Alas! - Peggy is a sad coquette, but I doubt not that the story of your conquests - will ring through the town after to-night.” - </p> - <p> - She did not seem to hear him. Her eyes were fixed upon Peggy Woffington, - and in another moment the signal came that the curtain was ready to rise. - </p> - <p> - Garrick and Macklin went on the stage together, the former smiling in a - self-satisfied way. - </p> - <p> - “I think I have made it certain that she will startle the house in at - least one scene,” he whispered to Macklin. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, that is why Peggy is so boisterous,” said Macklin. “'Tis only when - she is over-nervous that she becomes boisterous. Peggy is beginning to - feel that she may have a rival.” - </p> - <p> - But if Peggy was nervous she certainly did not suggest it by her acting. - She had not many opportunities for displaying her comedy powers in the - play, but she contrived to impart a few touches of humour to the love - scenes in the first act, which brightened up the gloom of the tragedy, and - raised the spirits of the audience in some measure. Her mature style - contrasted very effectively with the efforts of Miss Hoppner, who showed - herself to be excessively nervous, and thereby secured at once the - sympathies of the house. It was doubtful which of the two obtained the - larger share of applause. - </p> - <p> - At the end of the act, Captain Joycelyn was waiting at the back of the - stage to compliment Peggy upon her acting. Miss Hoppner brushed past them - on her way to her dressing-room, without deigning to recognise either. - </p> - <p> - Curiously enough, in the next act the position of the two actresses seemed - to be reversed. It was Mrs. Woffington who was nervous, whereas Miss - Hoppner was thoroughly self-possessed. - </p> - <p> - “What in the world has come over you, my dear?” asked Garrick, when Peggy - had made an exit so rapidly as to cause the latter half of one of her - lines to be quite inaudible. - </p> - <p> - “God knows what it is!” said Peggy. “I have felt all through the act as if - I were going to break down—as if I wanted to run away from an - impending calamity. By heaven, sir, I feel as if the tragedy were real and - not simulated!” - </p> - <p> - “Psha! You are but a woman, after all,” said Garrick. - </p> - <p> - “I fear that is the truth,” said she. “Good God! that woman seems to have - changed places with me. She is speaking her lines as if she had been - acting in London for years. She is doing what she pleases with the house.” - </p> - <p> - Garrick had to leave her to go through his great scene with the Oriana of - the play, and Mrs. Woffington watched, as if spell-bound, the marvellous - variety of his emotional expression, as, in the character of the Prince - Orsino, he confessed to Oriana that he no longer loved her, but that he - had given his heart to Francesca. She saw the gleam in the eyes of the - actress of the part of the jealous woman as she denounced the perfidy of - her lover, and bade him leave her presence. Then came Oriana's long - soliloquy, in which she swore that the Prince should never taste the - happiness which he had sought at her expense. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - “I have a heart for murder, murder, murder! - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - My blood now surges like an angry sea, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Eager to grapple with its struggling prey, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - And strangle it, as I shall strangle her, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - With these hands hungering for her shapely - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - throat, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - The throat on which his kisses have been flung. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Give her to me, just God, give her to me, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - But for the time it takes to close my hand - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Thus, and if justice reign supreme above, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - The traitress shall come hither to her doom.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Francesca.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Aside</i>) “My prayer is answered. It is Jove's decree.” So the - passage ran, and it was delivered by the actress with a fervour that - thrilled the house. - </p> - <p> - After her aside, Oriana turned, according to the stage directions, to - Francesca with a smile. In Miss Hoppner's eyes there was a light of - triumph—of gratified revenge—and before it Margaret Woffington - quailed. She gave a frightened glance around, as if looking for a way of - escape; there was a little pause, and then upon the silence of the house - there fell the half-hissed words of Oriana as she craned her head forward - facing her rival: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - “Thou think'st to ride in triumph o'er my - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - corse— - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - The corse which his indecent feet have spurned - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Into the dust. But there's a God above! - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - I tell thee, traitress, 't is not I shall lie - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - For vulture-beaks to rend—but thou—thou— - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - thou! - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Traitress abhorred, this knife shall find thy - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - heart!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “My God! the dagger—it is real!” shrieked Peggy; but before she - could turn to fly, the other had sprung upon her, throwing her partly over - a couch, and holding her down by the throat while she stabbed her twice. - </p> - <p> - A hoarse cry came from Peg Woffington, and then she rolled off the couch - and fell limply to the stage, the backs of her hands rapping helplessly on - the boards as she fell. - </p> - <p> - The other actress stood over her for a moment with a smile; then she - looked strangely at the dagger which glistened in her hand. Then, with a - hysterical cry, she flung the weapon from her and fell back. - </p> - <p> - The curtain went down upon the roar of applause that came from every part - of the theatre. But though the applause was maintained, neither of the - actresses responded to the call. Several minutes had passed before Garrick - himself appeared and made a sign that he wished to speak. When the house - became silent, he explained to his patrons that both actresses had swooned - through the great demands which the scene had made upon them, and would be - unable to appear for the rest of the evening. Under these melancholy - circumstances, he hoped that no objection would be made to the bringing on - of the burletta immediately. - </p> - <p> - The audience seemed satisfied to forego the enjoyment of the ghost scenes - of the tragedy, and the burletta was proceeded with. - </p> - <p> - It was not thought advisable to let the audience know that Mrs. Woffington - was lying on a couch in her dressing room, while a surgeon was binding up - a wound made in her side by the dagger used by the other actress. It was - not until Garrick had examined the weapon that he perceived it was not a - stage blade, but a real one, which had been used by Miss Hoppner. - Fortunately, however, the point had been turned aside by the steel in Peg - Woffington's stays, so that it had only inflicted a flesh wound. - </p> - <p> - In the course of a couple of hours Peggy had recovered consciousness, and, - though very weak, was still able to make an effort to captivate the - surgeon with her witty allusions to the privileges incidental to his - profession. She was so engaged, when Garrick entered the room and told her - that Miss Hoppner was weeping outside the door, but that he had given - orders that she was not to be admitted. - </p> - <p> - “Why should the poor girl not be admitted?” cried Peggy. “Should such an - accident as that which happened be treated as though it were murder? Send - her into the room, sir, and leave us alone together.” - </p> - <p> - Garrick protested, but Peggy insisted on having her own way, and the - moment Miss Hoppner was permitted to enter, she flung herself on her knees - at the side of the couch, weeping upon the hand that Peggy gave to her. - </p> - <p> - When Garrick entered with Captain Joycelyn, a short time afterwards, Peggy - would not allow him to remain in the room. The Captain remained, however, - for some minutes, and when he left, Miss Hoppner was on his arm. They - crossed the stage together, and that was the last time she ever trod that - or any other stage, for Captain Joycelyn married her within a month. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, friend Davy,” cried Peggy to Garrick, “there was, after all, some - sense in what Mr. Johnson said. We actors are, doubtless, great folk; but - 't were presumptuous to attempt to turn Nature into the handmaid of Art. I - have tried it, sir, and was only saved from disaster by the excellence of - the art of my stays-maker. Nay, the stage is not Nature—it is but - Nature seen on the surface of a mirror; and even then, I protest, only - when David Garrick is the actor, and Shakespeare's the poet.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE MUSE OF TRAGEDY - </h2> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>adam,” said Mr. - Daly, the manager, in his politest style, “no one could regret the - occurrence more than myself”—he pronounced the word “meself”—“especially - as you say it has hurt your feelings. Do n't I know what feelings are?”—he - pronounced the word “failings,” which tended in some measure to alter the - effect of the phrase, though his friends would have been inclined to - assert that its accuracy was not thereby diminished. - </p> - <p> - “I have been grossly insulted, sir,” said Mrs. Siddons. - </p> - <p> - “Grossly insulted,” echoed Mr. Siddons. He played the part of echo to his - stately wife very well indeed. - </p> - <p> - “And it took place under your roof, sir,” said the lady. - </p> - <p> - “Your roof,” echoed the husband. - </p> - <p> - “And there's no one in the world sorrier than myself for it,” said Mr. - Daly. “But I do n't think that you should take a joke of the college - gentlemen so seriously.” - </p> - <p> - “Joke?” cried Mrs. Siddons, with a passion that caused the manager, in the - instinct of self-preservation to jump back. “Joke, sir!—a joke - passed upon Sarah Siddons! My husband, sir, whose honour I have ever - upheld as dearer to me than life itself, will tell you that I am not - accustomed to be made the subject of ribald jests.” - </p> - <p> - “I do n't know the tragedy that that quotation is made from,” remarked Mr. - Daly, taking out his snuff-box and tapping it, affecting a coolness which - he certainly was far from possessing; “but if it's all written in that - strain I'll bring it out at Smock Alley and give you an extra benefit. You - never spoke anything better than that phrase. Pray let us have it again, - madam—'my husband, sir,' and so forth.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Siddons rose slowly and majestically. Her eyes flashed as she pointed - a shapely forefinger to the door of the greenroom, saying in her deepest - tones: - </p> - <p> - “Sir! degrade the room no longer by your presence. You have yet to know - Sarah Siddons.” - </p> - <p> - “Sarah Siddons,” murmured the husband very weakly. He would have liked to - maintain the stand taken up by his wife, but he had his fears that to do - so would jeopardise the success of his appearance at the manager's - treasury, and Mr. Siddons now and again gave people to understand that he - could not love his wife so well loved he not the treasury more. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Daly laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Faith, Mrs. Siddons,” said he, “'t is a new thing for a man to be ordered - out of his own house by a guest. I happen to be the owner of this tenement - in Smock Alley, in the city of Dublin, and you are my guest—my - honoured guest, madam. How could I fail to honour a lady who, in spite of - the fact of being the greatest actress in the world, is still a pattern - wife and mother?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Siddons was visibly softening under the balmy brogue of the Irishman. - </p> - <p> - “It is because I am sensible of my duties to my husband and my children - that I feel the insult the more, sir,” she said, in a tone that was still - tragic. - </p> - <p> - “Sure I know that that's what makes the sting of it so bitter,” said Mr. - Daly, shaking his head sadly. “It's only the truly virtuous, madam, that - have feelings”—again he pronounced the word “failings.” - </p> - <p> - “Enough, madam,” he continued, after he had flourished his handkerchief - and had wiped away an imaginary tear. “Enough! In the name of the citizens - of Dublin I offer you the humblest apology in my power for the gross - misconduct of that scoundrel in the pit who called out, 'Well done, Sally, - my jewel!' after your finest soliloquy; and I promise you that if we can - find the miscreant we shall have him brought to justice.” - </p> - <p> - “If you believe that the citizens of Dublin are really conscious of the - stigma which they shall bear for ages to come for having insulted one - whose virtue has, I rejoice to say, been ever beyond reproach, I will - accept your apology, sir,” said Mrs. Siddons with dignity. - </p> - <p> - “I 'll undertake to swear that the citizens feel the matter quite as - deeply as I do, Mrs. Siddons,” cried Mr. Daly, with both his hands clasped - over his waistcoat. “I dare swear that they do not even now know the - enormity of your virtue, madam. It will be my pleasing duty to make them - acquainted with it; and so, madam, I am your grateful, humble servant.” - </p> - <p> - With a low bow he made his escape from the green-room, leaving Mrs. - Sid-dons seated on a high chair in precisely the attitude which she - assumed when she sat for the Tragic Muse of Reynolds. - </p> - <p> - “Thank heavens that 's over!” muttered the manager, as he hurried down - Smock Alley to the tavern at the corner kept by an old actor named Barney - Rafferty, and much frequented by the Trinity College students, who in the - year 1783 were quite as enthusiastic theatre-goers as their successors are - in the present year. - </p> - <p> - “For the love of heaven, Barney, give us a jorum,” cried Daly, as he - entered the bar parlor. “A jorum of punch, Barney, for I 'm as dry as a - lime kiln, making speeches in King Cambyses' vein to that Queen of - Tragedy.” - </p> - <p> - “It'll be at your hand in a minute, Mr. Daly, sir,” said Barney, hurrying - off. - </p> - <p> - In the parlour were assembled a number of the “college boys,” as the - students were always called in Dublin. They greeted the arrival of their - friend Daly with acclamation, only they wanted to know what had occurred - to detain him so long at the theatre. - </p> - <p> - “Delay and Daly have never been associated before now when there's a jorum - of punch in view,” remarked young Mr. Blenerhassett of Limerick, who was - reported to have a very pretty wit. - </p> - <p> - “It's lucky you see me among you at all, boys,” said the manager, wiping - his brow. “By the powers, I might have remained in the green-room all - night listening to homilies on the virtue of wives and the honour of - husbands.” - </p> - <p> - “And 't is yourself that would be nothing the worse for listening to a - homily or two on such topics,” remarked young Blake of Connaught. “And who - was the preacher of the evening, Daly?” - </p> - <p> - “None else than the great Sarah herself, my boy,” replied the manager. - “Saint Malachi! what did you mean by shouting out what you did, after that - scene?” he added. - </p> - <p> - “What did I shout?” asked Jimmy Blake. “I only ventured humbly to cry, - 'Well done, Sally, my jewel'—what offence is there in that?” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, by Saint Patrick, but there's much offence in 't,” cried Daly. “Mrs. - Siddons sent for me to my dressing-room after the play, and there I found - her pacing the green-room like a lioness in her cage, her husband, poor - man, standing by as tame as the keeper of the royal beast.” - </p> - <p> - A series of interested exclamations passed round the room, and the circle - of heads about the table became narrower. “Mother o' Moses! She objected - to my civil words of encouragement?” said Mr. Blake. - </p> - <p> - “She declared that not only had she been insulted, but her husband's - honour had been dragged in the mire, and her innocent children's names had - been sullied.” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, that was a Sally for you, Mr. Daly,” said young Home, the Dublin - painter to whom Mrs. Siddons had refused to sit, assuring him that she - could only pay such a compliment to Sir Joshua Reynolds. - </p> - <p> - “Boys, may this be my poison if I ever put in a worse half hour,” cried - Daly, as he raised a tumbler of punch and swallowed half the contents. - </p> - <p> - “I 'd give fifty pounds to have been there,” said Home. “Think what a - picture it would make!—the indignant Sarah, the ever courteous - manager Daly, and the humble husband in the corner. What would not - posterity pay for such a picture!” - </p> - <p> - “A guinea in hand is worth a purse in the future,” said one of the college - boys. “I wish I could draw a bill on posterity for the payment of the - silversmith who made my buckles.” - </p> - <p> - “Daly,” said Blake, “you're after playing a joke on us. Sally never took - you to task for what I shouted from the Pit.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Daly became dignified—he had finished the tumbler of punch. He - drew himself up, and, with one hand thrust into his waistcoat, he said: - “Sir, I conceive that I understand as well as any gentleman present what - constitutes the elements of a jest. I have just conveyed to you a - statement of facts, sir. If you had seen Sarah Siddons as I left her—egad, - she is a very fine woman—you would n't hint that there was much jest - in the matter. Oh, lord, boys”—another jug of punch had just been - brought in, and the manager was becoming genial once more—“Oh, lord, - you should have heard the way she talked about the honour of her husband, - as if there never had been a virtuous woman on the boards until Sarah - Siddons arose!” - </p> - <p> - “And was there one, Daly?” asked young Murphy, a gentleman from whom great - things were expected by his college and his creditors. - </p> - <p> - “There was surely, my boy,” said Daly, “but I've forgot her name. The - name's not to the point. I tell you, then, the Siddons stormed in the - stateliest blank verse and periods, about how she had elevated the stage—how - she had checked Brereton for clasping her as she thought too ardently—how - she had family prayers every day, and looked forward to the day when she - could afford a private chaplain.” - </p> - <p> - “Stop there,” shouted Blake. “You'll begin to exaggerate if you go beyond - the chaplain, Daly.” - </p> - <p> - “It's the truth I've told so far, at any rate, barring the chaplain,” said - Daly. - </p> - <p> - “And all because I saw she was a bit nervous and did my best to encourage - her and give her confidence by shouting, 'Well done, Sally!'” said Blake. - “Boys, it's not Sarah Siddons that has been insulted, it's Trinity College—it's - the city of Dublin! by my soul, it's the Irish nation that she has - insulted by supposing them capable of insulting a woman.” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, there 's something in that, Jimmy,” said half a dozen voices. - </p> - <p> - “Who is this Sarah Siddons, will ye tell me, for I 'd like to know?” - resumed Blake, casting a look of almost painful enquiry round the room. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that 's the question,” said Daly, in a tone that he invariably - reserved for the soliloquy which flourished on the stage a century ago. - </p> - <p> - “We 're all gentlemen here,” resumed Mr. Blake. - </p> - <p> - “And that 's more than she is,” said young Blenerhassett of Limerick. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen,” said the manager, “I beg that you'll not forget that Mrs. - Siddons and myself belong to the same profession. I cannot suffer anything - derogatory”—the word gave him some trouble, but he mastered it after - a few false starts—“to the stage to be uttered in this apartment.” - </p> - <p> - “You adorn the profession, sir,” said Blake. “But can the same be said of - Mrs. Siddons? What could Garrick make of her, gentlemen?” - </p> - <p> - “Ahem! we know what he failed to make of her,” said Digges, the actor, who - sat in the corner, and was supposed to have more Drury Lane scandal on his - fingers' ends than Daly himself. - </p> - <p> - “Pooh!” sneered Daly. “Davy Garrick never made love to her, Digges. It was - her vanity that tried to make out that he did.” - </p> - <p> - “He did not make her a London success—that's certain,” said Blake. - “And though Dublin, with the assistance of the College, can pronounce a - better judgment on an actor or actress than London, still we must admit - that London is improving, and if there had been any merit in Sarah Siddons - she would not have been forced to keep to the provinces as she does now. - Gentlemen, she has insulted us and it's our duty to teach her a lesson.” - </p> - <p> - “And we're the boys to do it,” said one Moriarty. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen, I 'll take my leave of you,” said the manager, rising with a - little assistance and bowing to the company. “It's not for me to dictate - any course for you to pursue. I do n't presume to ask to be let into any - of your secrets; I only beg that you will remember that Mrs. Siddons has - three more nights to appear in my theatre, and she grasps so large a share - of the receipts that, unless the house continues to be crowded, it's a - loser I'll be at the end of the engagement. You'll not do anything that - will jeopardise the pit or the gallery—the boxes are sure—for - the rest of the week.” - </p> - <p> - “Trust to us, sir, trust to us,” said Jimmy Blake, as the manager - withdrew. “Now, boys,” he continued in a low voice, bending over the - table, “I've hit upon a way of convincing this fine lady that has taken - the drama under her wing, so to speak, that she can't play any of her high - tragedy tricks here, whatever she may do at Bath. She does n't understand - us, boys; well, we'll teach her to.” - </p> - <p> - “Bravo, Jimmy!” - </p> - <p> - “The Blake's Country and the sky over it!” - </p> - <p> - “Give us your notions,” came several voices from around the table. - </p> - <p> - “She bragged of her respectability; of her armour of virtue, Daly told us. - Well, suppose we put a decent coat on Dionysius Hogan and send him to - propose an elopement to her to-morrow; how would that do for a joke when - it gets around the town?” - </p> - <p> - “By the powers, boys, whether or not Dionysius gets kicked down the - stairs, she'll be the laughing-stock of the town. It's a genius”—he - pronounced it “jan-yus”—“that you are, Jimmy, and no mistake,” cried - young Moriarty. - </p> - <p> - “We'll talk it over,” said Jimmy. And they did talk it over. - </p> - <h3> - II - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ionysius Hogan was - a celebrated character in Dublin during the last quarter of the eighteenth - century. The Irish capital has always cherished curious characters, for - pretty much the same reason that caused badgers to be preserved; any man, - or, for that matter, any woman, who was only eccentric enough, could - depend on the patronage of the people of Dublin. Dionysius Hogan afforded - his fellow-citizens many a laugh on account of his numerous - eccentricities. He was a man of about fifty years of age, but his great - anxiety was to appear thirty years younger; and he fancied he accomplished - this aim by wearing in 1783 the costume of 1750, only in an exaggerated - form. His chief hallucination was that several of the best known ladies in - society were in love with him, and that it was necessary for him to be - very careful lest he should compromise himself by a correspondence with - some of those who had husbands. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0186.jpg" alt="0186 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0186.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - It need scarcely be said that this idea of his was not greatly discouraged - by the undergraduates of Trinity College. It was not their fault if he did - not receive every week a letter from some distinguished lady begging the - favor of an interview with him. Upon many occasions the communications, - which purported to come from married ladies, took the form of verses. - These he exhibited with great pride, and only after extorting promises of - profound secrecy, to his student friends. - </p> - <p> - It was immaterial that Dionysius found almost every week that he had been - the victim of practical jokes; his belief in his own powers of captivating - womankind was superior to every rebuff that he encountered. He exhibited - his dapper little figure, crowned with the wig of a macaroni, to the - promenaders in all the chief thoroughfares daily, and every evening he had - some fresh story to tell of how he had been exerting himself to avoid an - assignation that was being urged on him by a lady of quality sojourning - not a hundred miles from the Castle. - </p> - <p> - The scheme which Mr. Blake had suggested to his fellow-students in the - Smock Alley tavern found a willing agent for its realisation in Dionysius - Hogan. Mrs. Siddons, her beauty and her powers, were, of course, the talk - of the town during her first visit to Dublin. It only needed Jimmy Blake - to drop a few dark hints in the hearing of Dionysius on the subject of a - rumor that was current, to the effect that a certain well-known gentleman - in Dublin had attracted the attention of the great actress, to make - Dionysius believe that he had made a conquest of the Siddons. - </p> - <p> - For the remainder of the evening he took to dropping dark hints to this - effect, and before he had slept that night there was no doubt on his mind - that Sarah Sid-dons was another lady who had succumbed to his attractive - exterior. To be sure, he had heard it said that she was as hard as marble; - but then she had not seen him until she had come to Dublin. All women, he - believed, had their weak moments, and there was no article of his creed - more strongly impressed upon him than that the weak moment of many women - was when they saw him for the first time. - </p> - <p> - When, on descending from his bedroom to his little sitting-room in his - humble lodgings—for Mr. Hogan's income did not exceed eighty pounds - a year—a letter was put into his hand bearing the signature “S. S.,” - and when he found that above these initials there was a passionate avowal - of affection and a strong appeal to him to be merciful as he was strong, - and to pay the writer a visit at her lodgings before the hour of one, - “when Mr. S. returns from the theatre, where he goes every forenoon,” poor - Dionysius felt that the time had at last come for him to cast discretion - to the winds. The beauty of Mrs. Siddons had had a powerful effect upon - his susceptible heart when she had first come before his eyes on the stage - of the Smock Alley theatre. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0192.jpg" alt="0192 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0192.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - On that night he believed that she had kept her eyes fixed upon him while - repeating some of the beautiful soliloquies in “Isabella.” The artful - suggestions of Jimmy Blake had had their effect upon him, and now he held - in his hand a letter that left him no room to doubt—even if he had - been inclined that way—the accuracy of the tale that his poor heart - had originally told him. - </p> - <p> - He dressed himself with his accustomed care, and, having deluged his - cambric with civet—it had been the favourite scent of thirty years - before—he indulged in the unusual luxury of a chair to convey him to - the lodgings of the great actress; for he felt that it might seriously - jeopardise his prospects to appear in the presence of the lady with soiled - shoes. - </p> - <p> - The house where Mrs. Siddons lodged was not an imposing one. She had - arrived in Dublin from Holyhead at two o'clock in the morning, and she was - compelled to walk about the streets in a downpour of rain for several - hours before she could prevail upon any one to take her in. It is scarcely - surprising that she conceived a strong and enduring prejudice against - Dublin and its inhabitants. - </p> - <p> - On enquiring in a whisper and with a confidential smirk for Mrs. Siddons, - he learned from the maid servant that the lady was in her room, and that - Mr. Siddons had not returned from his morning visit to the theatre. The - servant stated, however, that Mrs. Siddons had given the strictest orders - to admit no one into her presence. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, discreet as one might have expected,” murmured Dionysius. “She does - not mean to run the chance of disappointing me. Which is her parlour, - child?” - </p> - <p> - “It's the first front, yer honour,” said the girl; “but, Lord save yer - honour, she'd murther me if I let ye go up. Oh, it's joking ye are.” - </p> - <p> - “Hush,” whispered Dionysius, his finger on his lips. “Not so loud, I pray. - She is waiting for me.” - </p> - <p> - “Holy Biddy! waiting for yer?” cried the maid. “Now do n't be afther - getting a poor colleen into throuble, sir. I'm telling ye that it's killed - entirely I'd be if I let ye go up.” - </p> - <p> - “Do n't be a fool, girl,” said Dionysius, still speaking in a whisper. “I - give you my word of honour as a gentleman that Mrs. Siddons is awaiting - me. Zounds! why do I waste time talking to a menial? Out of my way, girl.” - </p> - <p> - He pushed past the servant, leaving her somewhat awe-stricken at his grand - manner and his finery, and when she recovered and made a grab for his coat - tails, he was too quick for her. He plucked them out of her reach, and she - perceived that he had got such a start of her that pursuit would be - useless. In a few moments he was standing before the door of the room on - the first floor that faced the street. - </p> - <p> - His heart was fluttering so that he had scarcely courage to tap upon the - panel. He had tapped a second time before that grand contralto, that few - persons could hear without emotion, bade him enter. He turned the handle, - and stood facing Mrs. Siddons. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0197.jpg" alt="0197 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0197.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - She was sitting in a gracefully majestic attitude by the side of a small - table on which a desk was placed. Mrs. Siddons never unbent for a moment - in private life. - </p> - <p> - She assumed majestic attitudes in the presence of the lodging-house - servant, and spoke in a tragic contralto to the linen-draper's apprentice. - She turned her lovely eyes upon Dionysius Hogan as he stood smirking and - bowing at the door. There was a vista of tragedy in the delivery of the - two words— - </p> - <p> - “Well, sir?” - </p> - <p> - It took him some moments to recover from the effect the words produced - upon him. He cleared his throat—it was somewhat husky—and with - an artificial smirk he piped out: - </p> - <p> - “Madam—ah, my charmer, I have rushed to clasp my goddess to my - bosom! Ah, fair creature, who could resist your appeal?” - </p> - <p> - He advanced in the mincing gait of the Macaronis. She sprang to her feet. - She pointed an eloquent forefinger at a spot on the floor directly in - front of him. - </p> - <p> - “Wretch,” she cried, “advance a step at your peril!” Her eyes were - flashing, and her lips were apart. - </p> - <p> - His mincing ceased abruptly; and only the ghost of a smirk remained upon - his patched and painted face. It was in a very fluty falsetto that he - said: - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I see my charmer wants to be wooed. But why should Amanda reproach - her Strephon for but obeying her behests? Wherefore so coy, dear nymph? - Let these loving arms—” - </p> - <p> - “Madman—wretch—” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, chide me not, dear one. 'T is but the ardour of my passion that bids - me clasp thee, the fairest of Hebe's train. We shall fly together to some - retreat—far from the distractions—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the man is mad—mad!” cried the lady, retreating a step or two - as he advanced. - </p> - <p> - “Only mad with the ardour of my passion,” whispered Dionysius. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, heaven! that I should live to hear such words spoken in my presence!” - cried Mrs. Siddons, with her hands clasped in passionate appeal to a - smiling portrait of the landlady's husband that hung over the fireplace. - Then she turned upon Dionysius and looked at him. - </p> - <p> - Her eyes blazed. Their fire consumed the unfortunate man on whom they - rested. He felt himself shrivelled up and become crisp as an autumn leaf. - He certainly trembled like one, as a terrible voice, but no louder than a - whisper, sounded in his ears: “Are you a human being or the monster of a - dream, that you dare to speak such words in my hearing? What wretch are - you that fancies that Sarah Siddons may be addressed by such as you, and - in language that is an insult to a pure wife and mother. I am Sarah - Siddons, sir! I am a wife who holds her husband's honour dearer than life - itself—I am a mother who will never cause a blush of shame to mantle - the brow of one of her children. Wretch, insulter, why are mine eyes not - basilisks, with death in their glance to such as you?” - </p> - <p> - Down went Dionysius on his knees before that terrible figure that - stretched out wild quivering hands above his head. Such gestures as hers - would have fitted the stage of Drury Lane. - </p> - <p> - In the lodging-house parlour they were overwhelming. - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake, spare me, spare me!” he faltered, with his hands clasped - and his head bent before that fury. - </p> - <p> - “Why should I spare such a wretch—why should I not trample such a - worm into the dust?” - </p> - <p> - She took a frantic step toward him. With a short cry of abject terror he - fell along the floor, and gasped. It seemed to him that she had trampled - the life out of his body. - </p> - <p> - She stood above him with a heaving bosom beneath her folded arms. - </p> - <p> - There was a long pause before he heard the door open. A weight seemed - lifted off him. He found that he could breathe. In a few moments he - ventured to raise his head. He saw a beautiful figure sitting at the desk - writing. Even in the scratching of her pen along the paper there was a - tone of tragedy. - </p> - <p> - He crawled backward upon his hands and knees, with his eyes furtively - fixed upon that figure at the desk. If, when he had looked up he had found - her standing with an arm outstretched tin the direction of the door, he - felt that he would have been able to rise to his feet and leave her - presence; but Mrs. Siddons' dramatic instinct caused her to produce a - deeper impression upon him by simply treating him as if he were dead at - her feet—as if she had, indeed, trampled the life out of his body. - </p> - <p> - He crept away slowly and painfully backward, until he was actually in the - lobby. Then by a great effort he sprang to his feet, rushed headlong down - the stairs, picked himself up in the hall, and fled wildly through the - door, that chanced to be open, into the street. He overthrew a chairman in - his wild flight, and as he turned the corner he went with a rush into the - arms of a young man, who, with a few others by his side, was sauntering - along. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0205.jpg" alt="0205 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0205.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Zounds, sir! what do you mean by this mode of progression?” cried the - young man, holding him fast. - </p> - <p> - Dionysius grasped him limply, looking at him with wild, staring eyes. - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake, Mr. Blake, save me from her—do n't let her get hold - of me, for the love of all the saints.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean, you fool?” said Jimmy Blake. “Who is anxious to get - hold of you?” - </p> - <p> - But no answer was returned by poor Dionysius. He lay with his head over - Blake's shoulder, his arms swaying limply like two pendulums. - </p> - <p> - “By the powers, he has gone off in a swoon,” said young Blenerhassett. - “Let us carry him to the nearest tavern.” - </p> - <p> - In less than half an hour Dionysius had recovered consciousness; but it - required a longer space of time, and the administration of a considerable - quantity of whisky, to enable him to tell all his story. He produced the - letter signed “S. S.” which he had received in the morning, and explained - that he had paid the visit to Mrs. Siddons only with a view of reasoning - her out of her infatuation, which, he said with a shadowy simper, he could - not encourage. - </p> - <p> - “I had hardly obtained access to her when she turned upon me in a fury,” - said he. “Ah, boys, those eyes of hers!—I feel them still upon me. - They made me feel like a poor wretch that's marched out in front of a - platoon to be shot before breakfast. And her voice! well, it sounded like - the voice of the officer giving the word of command to the platoon to - fire. When I lay ready to expire at her feet, every word that she spoke - had the effect of a bayonet prod upon my poor body. Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! - I'll leave it to yourself, Mr. Blake: was it generous of her to stab me - with cold steel after I was riddled with red-hot bullets?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry to say, Mr. Hogan,” replied Blake, “that I can't take a lenient - view of your conduct. We all know what you are, sir. You seek to ingraft - the gallantries of the reign of his late Majesty upon the present highly - moral age. Mrs. Siddons, sir, is a true wife and mother, besides being a - most estimable actress, and you deserved the rebuff from the effects of - which you are now suffering. Sir, we leave you to the gnawings of that - remorse which I trust you feel acutely.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Blake, with his friends, left the tavern room as Dionysius was - beginning to whimper. - </p> - <p> - In the street a roar of laughter burst from the students. - </p> - <p> - “Mother o' Moses!” cried Moriarty. “'T is a golden guinea I'd give to have - been present when the Siddons turned upon the poor devil.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I 'll give you a chance of being present at a better scene than - that,” said Blake. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean, Jimmy?” asked Moriarty. - </p> - <p> - “I mean to bring you with me to pay a visit to Mrs. Siddons this very - minute.” - </p> - <p> - “'T is joking you are, Jimmy?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the devil a joke, ma bouchai! Man alive, can't you see that the fun - is only beginning? We'll go to her in a body and make it out that she has - insulted a friend of ours by attributing false motives to him, and that - her husband must come out to the Park in the morning.” - </p> - <p> - “That's carrying a joke a bit too far,” said Mr. Blenerhassett. “I'll not - join in with you there.” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody axed ye, sir,” said Blake. “There are three of us here without - you, and that's enough for our purpose.” - </p> - <p> - “If Mr. Siddons kicks you into the street, or if Sally treats you as she - did that poor devil in the tavern, 't is served right that you'll be,” said - Blenerhassett, walking off. - </p> - <p> - “We'll have a scene with Sarah Siddons for our trouble, at any rate,” - laughed Blake. - </p> - <p> - The three young men who remained when the more scrupulous youth had - departed, went together to Mrs. Siddons' lodgings. They understood more - than Dionysius did about the art of obtaining admittance when only a - portress stood in the way—a squeeze, a kiss, and a crown combined to - make the maid take a lenient view of the consequences of permitting them - to go up the stairs. - </p> - <p> - When, after politely rapping at the door of the parlour, the three entered - the room, they found the great actress in precisely the same attitude she - had assumed for her last visitor. The dignity of her posture was not - without its effect upon the young men. They were not quite so - self-confident as they had been outside the door. Each of them looked at - the other, so to speak; but somehow none of the three appeared to be - fluent. They stood bowing politely, keeping close to the door. - </p> - <p> - “Who are these persons?” said Mrs. Siddons, as if uttering her thoughts. - “Am I in a civilised country or not?” - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” said Blake, finding his voice, at last, when a slur was cast upon - his country. “Madam, Ireland was the home of civilisation when the - inhabitants of England were prowling the woods naked, except for a coat of - paint.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Siddons sprang to her feet. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” she cried, “you are indelicate as well as impertinent. You have no - right to intrude upon me without warning.” - </p> - <p> - “The urgency of our mission is our excuse, madam,” said Blake. “The fact - is, madam, to come to the point, the gentleman who visited you just now is - our friend.” - </p> - <p> - “Your friend, sir, is a scoundrel. He grossly insulted me,” said Mrs. - Siddons. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, 't is sorry I am to find you do n't yet understand the impulses of a - warmhearted nation, madam,” said Blake, shaking his head. “The gentleman - came to compliment you on your acting, and yet you drove him from your - door like a hound. That, according to our warmhearted Irish ways, - constitutes an offence that must be washed out in blood—ay, blood, - madam.” - </p> - <p> - “What can be your meaning, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “I only mean, madam, that your husband, whom we all honour on account of - the genius—we do n't deny it—the genius and virtue of his - wife, will have to meet the most expert swordsman in Ireland in the Phonix - Park in the morning, and that Sarah Siddons will be a widow before - breakfast time.” - </p> - <p> - There was a pause before there came a cry of anguish more pitiful than any - expression of emotion that the three youths had ever heard. - </p> - <p> - “My husband!” were the words that sounded like a sob in their ears. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Siddons had averted her head. Her face was buried in her hands. The - wink in which Jimmy Blake indulged as he gave Moriarty a nudge was - anything but natural. - </p> - <p> - “Why was I ever tempted to come to this country?” cried the lady wildly. - </p> - <p> - “Madam, we humbly sympathise with you, and with the country,” said Blake. - He would not allow any reflection to be cast on his country. - </p> - <p> - She took a few steps toward the three young men, and faced them with - clasped hands. She looked into the three faces in turn, with passionate - intreaty in her eyes. “Have you no pity?” she faltered. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Blake, “that we have; we do pity you heartily, madam.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you willing to take part in this act of murder—murder?” cried - Mrs. Siddons, in a low voice that caused the flesh of at least two of her - audience to creep. “Are you blind? Can 't you see the world pointing at - you as I point at you, and call you murderers?” She stood before them with - her eyes half closed, her right hand pointing to each of them in turn as - she prolonged the word, suggesting a thousand voices whispering - “murderers!” There was a long pause, during which the spell-bound youths, - their jaws fallen, stared at that terrible figure—the awful form of - the Muse of Tragedy. Drops of perspiration stood on the forehead of young - Moriarty. Blake himself gave a gasp. “Have you no compassion?” Mrs. - Sid-dons continued, but in another tone—a tone of such pathos as no - human being could hear unmoved. Clasping her hands, she cried: “My poor - husband! What harm has he done? Is he to be dragged from these arms—these - arms that have cherished him with all the devotion that a too-loving wife - can offer? Is he to be dragged away from this true heart to be butchered? - Sirs, we have children—tender little blossoms. Oh, cannot you hear - their cries? Listen, listen—the wailing of the babes over the - mangled body of their father.” - </p> - <p> - Surely the sound of children's sobbing went around the room. - </p> - <p> - One of the young men dropped into a chair and burst into tears. - </p> - <p> - Blake's lips were quivering, as the streaming eyes of the woman were - turned upon him. - </p> - <p> - “For heaven's sake, madam!” he faltered—“for heaven's sake—oh, - my God! what have we done?—what have we done? Worse than Herod! the - innocent children!—I hear them—I hear them! Oh, God forgive - us! God forgive us for this cruel joke.” - </p> - <p> - He broke down utterly. The room now was certainly filled with wild sobbing - and the sound of convulsive weeping. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0217.jpg" alt="0217 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0217.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - For several minutes the three emotional Irishmen sat weeping. They were in - the power of the woman, who, at the confession of Blake, had become - perfectly self-possessed in a moment. She stood watching them, a scornful - smile upon her lips. She knew that the magic which she had at her command - could enchain them so long as she wished. She was merciful, however. - </p> - <p> - “If you consider your jest sufficiently successful, gentlemen,” said she, - “perhaps you will oblige me by withdrawing. I have letters to write.” - </p> - <p> - The spell that she had cast around them was withdrawn. - </p> - <p> - Blake sprang to his feet and drew his handkerchief across his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Siddons—madam,” said he, “we have behaved like fools—nay, - worse, like scoundrels. We are not bold enough to ask your pardon, madam; - but believe me, we feel deeply humiliated. You may forgive us, but we - shall never forgive ourselves. Madam, you are the greatest actress in the - world, and you may expect the finest benefit ever given to an actress in - this city.” - </p> - <p> - But in spite of the fact that Mrs. Siddons' benefit the following night - was all that Mr. Blake predicted it would be, she wrote some very hard - words about Dublin to her friend, Mr. Whately, of Bath. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE WAY TO KEEP HIM - </h2> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ay, sir,” cried - Mrs. Abington, with such a smile of infinite witchery as she wore when Sir - Joshua Reynolds painted her as 'Miss Prue;' I would not have you make any - stronger love to me than is absolutely necessary to keep yourself in - training for the love scenes in Dr. Goldsmith's new comedy.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, you talk glibly of measuring out the exact portion of one's love, as - if love were a physic to be doled out to the precise grain,” cried Lee - Lewis, impatiently turning away from the fascinating lady who was smiling - archly at him over the back of her chair. - </p> - <p> - “By my faith, sir, you have e'en given the best description of love that I - have heard; 't is beyond doubt a physic, given to mankind to cure many of - the ills of life; but, la, sir! there are so many quacks about, 't is - well-nigh impossible to obtain the genuine thing.” - </p> - <p> - And once more the actress smiled at her latest victim. - </p> - <p> - “I have often wondered if you ever knew what love means,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed the same thought has frequently occurred to me, sir,” said the - actress. “When one has been offered the nostrums of quacks so often, one - begins to lose faith in the true prescription.” - </p> - <p> - “You think that I am a quack, and therefore have no faith in me,” said - Lewis. - </p> - <p> - “I know that you are an excellent actor, Mr. Lewis.” - </p> - <p> - “And therefore you suspect my truth?” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, I respect your art.” - </p> - <p> - “Perish my art, so long as I gain the favour of the most adorable woman - who ever flitted like a vision of beauty—” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir, do not take advantage of my lack of memory; give me the title of - the comedy from which you quote, so that I may know my cue, and have my - reply ready.” - </p> - <p> - Lewis flung himself across the room with an exclamation of impatience. - </p> - <p> - “You are the most cruel woman that lives,” he cried. “I have often left - this house vowing that I would never come nigh it again because of your - cruelty.” - </p> - <p> - “What a terrible vengeance!” cried the actress, raising her hands, while a - mock expression of terror came over her face. “You would fain prove - yourself the most cruel of men because you account me the most cruel of - women? Ah, sir, you are ungenerous; I am but a poor weak creature, while - you—” - </p> - <p> - “I am weak enough to be your slave, but let me tell you, madam, I am quite - strong enough to throw off your bonds should I fail to be treated with - some consideration,” said Lewis. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, so far as I am concerned you may take your freedom to-morrow,” - laughed Mrs. Abington. “The fetters that I weave are of silken thread.” - </p> - <p> - “I would rather wear your fetters, though they be of iron, than those of - the next loveliest woman to you, though hers should be a chain of roses,” - said the actor. “Come, now, my dear lady, listen to reason.” - </p> - <p> - “Gladly; 't will be a change from your usual discourse, which is of love—just - the opposite, you know.” - </p> - <p> - “Why will you not consent to come with me to Vauxhall once more?” - </p> - <p> - “La, sir, think of the scandal? Have not we been seen there together half - a dozen times?” - </p> - <p> - “Scandal! Do you think that the scandal-mongers can add anything to what - they have already said regarding us?” - </p> - <p> - “I place no limits on the imagination of the scandal-monger, sir, but I - desire to assign a limit to my own indiscretions, which, I fear, have set - tongues wagging—” - </p> - <p> - “Pooh! my dear madam, cannot you see that tongues will wag all the faster - if I appear at the Gardens with some one else?” - </p> - <p> - “Say, with your wife. Surely you are not afraid of the tongue of slander - if you appear by the side of your wife, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “'T is for you I fear.” - </p> - <p> - “What! you fancy that people will slander me if you appear at Vauxhall - with your lawful wedded wife?” - </p> - <p> - “Even so, for they will say that you were not strong enough to keep me - faithful to you.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Abington sprang to her feet. - </p> - <p> - “The wretches!” she cried. “I will show them that———psha! - let them say their worst. What care I what they say? I'll go or stay away, - as the fancy seizes.” - </p> - <p> - “You may take your choice, my dear madam,” said Lewis: “Whether you would - rather be slandered for coming with me or for staying at home!” - </p> - <p> - “The terms are not the same in both cases,” said she; “for if I go with - you I know that I shall have an excellent supper.” - </p> - <p> - “So you 'll come! Ah, I knew that you would not forsake me!” he cried, - catching her hand and kissing it. - </p> - <p> - “You foolish man! You take credit to yourself for a decision that is due - to the prospect of a supper!” said Mrs. Abington. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I know what I know, my dear,” cried he. “And so I will take my leave - at once, lest you should change your mind.” - </p> - <p> - “I protest, sir,” said she, as he kissed her hand again. “I protest that - 't was the thought of the supper decided me.” - </p> - <p> - He roared with laughter. - </p> - <p> - So did she when he had left her house. - </p> - <p> - “What fools these men are!” she cried, throwing herself back on her couch - with a very capacious yawn. “What fools! The idea of a poor woman being - influenced by the thought of minced chicken in a decision that involves - being by their side seems preposterous to them! Oh, if they but knew all - that such a woman as I am could tell them!” - </p> - <p> - She laughed softly—subtly—as certain recollections came to - her, for Mrs. Abington was a lady of many recollections. - </p> - <p> - After a space, she resumed her study of the part of Miss Hardcastle, for - which she had been cast by Colman in Dr. Goldsmith's new comedy, but - which, the following week, to her everlasting regret, she relinquished in - favor of Mrs. Bulkley. - </p> - <p> - Lee Lewis, who was studying the part of Young Marlow, had accompanied her - home after rehearsal. He had, during the previous month, shown himself to - be extremely polite in regard to her, for he had walked home with her - several times, and more than once he had been seen by her side at Ranelagh - and Vauxhall, as well as at the Pantheon in the Oxford Road. People about - the theater were saying that the beautiful Mrs. Abington had added to the - number of her conquests, and Miss Catley, the most imprudent of all the - imprudent ladies in Colman's company, said some very spiteful things - regarding her. (It was understood that Miss Catley had angled for Lee - Lewis herself, but without success.) - </p> - <p> - Before Mrs. Abington had been alone for half an hour, her maid entered to - tell her that a lady was inquiring for her at the hall door. - </p> - <p> - “Another of our stage-struck misses, Lucette?” said the actress, alluding - to the three visits which she had had during the week from young women who - were desirous of obtaining a footing on the stage. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, madam, this lady seems somewhat different,” replied the maid. - </p> - <p> - “Then let her be shown in at once, whoever she may be,” said Mrs. - Abington. “There can surely be no scandal in receiving a lady visitor.” - </p> - <p> - She gave a glance at a mirror, and saw that her hair was in a proper - condition for a visitor who was a lady. She knew that it did not matter so - much when her visitors were of the other sex; and a moment afterwards - there entered a graceful little woman, whom she could not recollect having - ever seen before. She walked quickly to the centre of the room, and stood - there, gazing with soft grey eyes at the actress, who had risen from her - sofa, and was scrutinising her visitor. - </p> - <p> - There was a pause before Mrs. Abington, with a smile—the smile she - reserved for women—quite different from that with which she was - accustomed to greet men—said: - </p> - <p> - “Pray seat yourself, madam; and let me know to what I am indebted for the - honour of this visit.” - </p> - <p> - But the lady made no move; she remained there, gazing at the actress - without a word. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Abington gave a laugh, saying, as she returned to her sofa: - </p> - <p> - “Do not let me hurry you, my dear lady; but I must ask your pardon if I - seat myself.” Then the stranger spoke. “You are Mrs. Abington. I wish I - had not come to you. Now that I find myself face to face with you, I - perceive that I have no chance. You are overwhelmingly beautiful.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you come here only to tell me that? Faith, you might have saved - yourself the trouble, my dear. I have known just how beautiful I am for - the past twenty years,” laughed the actress. - </p> - <p> - “I did not come here to tell you that,” said the visitor; “on the - contrary, I meant to call you an ugly harridan—a vile witch, who - glories in seeing the ruin of good men; but now—well, now, I am - dumb. I perceive you are so beautiful, it is only natural that all men—my - husband among the number—should worship you.” - </p> - <p> - “You are so flattering, my dear madam, I can without difficulty perceive - that you have not lived long in the world of fashion—ay, or in the - world of play-houses,” said the actress. - </p> - <p> - “I am Mrs. Lewis, madam,” said the lady, and then dropping into a chair - she burst into tears. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Abington went beside the unhappy woman, and patted her on the - shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Dear child,” she said, “the thought that you are Mr. Lewis's wife should - not cause you to shed a tear. You should be glad rather than sorry that - you are married to a gentleman who is so highly esteemed. Your husband, - Mrs. Lewis, is a great friend of mine, and I hope that his wife may become - even a greater.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah—ah!” moaned the lady. “A friend? a friend? Oh, give me back my - husband, woman—give me back my husband, whom you stole from me!” - </p> - <p> - She had sprung to her feet as she spoke her passionate words, and now - stood with quivering, clenched hands in front of the actress. - </p> - <p> - “My good woman,” said Mrs. Abington, “you have need to calm yourself. I - can assure you that I have not your husband in my keeping. Would you like - to search the room? Look under the sofa—into all the cupboards.” - </p> - <p> - “I know that he left here half an hour ago—I watched him,” said Mrs. - Lewis. “You watched him? Oh, fie!” - </p> - <p> - “You may make a mock of me, if you please; I expected that you would; but - he is my husband, and I love him—I believe that he loved me until - your witchery came over him and—oh, I am a most unhappy woman! But - you will give him back to me; you have many admirers, madam; one poor man - is nothing here or there to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Listen to me, my poor child.” Mrs. Abington had led her to the sofa, and - sat down beside her, still holding her hand. “You have spoken some very - foolish words since you came into this room. From whom have you heard that - your husband was—well, was ensnared by me?” - </p> - <p> - “From whom? Why, every one knows it!” cried Mrs. Lewis. “And besides, I - got a letter that told me—” - </p> - <p> - “A letter from whom?” - </p> - <p> - “From—I suppose she was a lady; at any rate she said that she - sympathised with me, and I'm certain that she did.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, the letter was not signed by her real name, and yet you believed the - slanders that you knew came from a jealous woman? Oh, Mrs. Lewis, I'm - ashamed of you.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, I did not need to receive any letter; my husband's neglect of me - made me aware of the truth—it is the truth, whether you deny it or - not.” - </p> - <p> - “You are a silly goose, and I have half a mind to take your husband from - you, as mothers deprive their children of a toy when they injure it. You - do n't know how to treat a husband, madam, and you do n't deserve to have - one. Think how many girls, prettier and cleverer than you, are obliged to - go without husbands all their lives, poor things!” - </p> - <p> - “It is enough for me to think of those women who are never satisfied - unless they have other women's husbands in their train, madam.” - </p> - <p> - “Look you, my dear ill-treated creature, I do assure you that I have no - designs upon your husband. I do not care if I never see him again except - on the stage.” - </p> - <p> - “Is that the truth? Ah, no, everybody says that Mrs. Abington is only - happy when—” - </p> - <p> - “Then leave Mrs. Abington's room if you believe the statements of that - vague everybody.” - </p> - <p> - The actress had risen, and was pointing in fine tragic style to the door. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Lewis rose also, but slowly; her eyes fell beneath the flashing eyes - of Mrs. Abington. Suddenly she raised her head, and put out a trembling - hand. - </p> - <p> - “I will not believe what I have heard,” she said. “And yet—yet—you - are so very beautiful.” - </p> - <p> - “That you think it impossible I should have any good in me?” laughed the - actress. “Well, I do believe that I have some good in me—not much, - perhaps, but enough to make me wish to do you a friendly turn in spite of - your impudence. Listen to me, you little goose. Why have you allowed your - husband to neglect you, and to come here asking me to sup with him at - Vauxhall?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, then, 't is true!” cried the wife. “You have gone with him—you - are going with him?” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis true that I went with him, and that he left me just now believing - that I would accompany him to the Gardens on Monday next. Well, what I - want you to explain is how you have neglected your duty toward your - husband so that he should stray into such evil ways as supping with - actresses at Vauxhall.” - </p> - <p> - “What! would you make out that his neglect of his duty is my fault?” - </p> - <p> - “Great heavens, child, whose fault is it, if it is not yours? That is what - I say, you do n't deserve to have a toy if you let some strange child - snatch it away from you.” - </p> - <p> - “I protest, Mrs. Abington, that I scarce take your meaning. I have nothing - to reproach myself with. I have ever been the best of wives. I have never - gone gadding about to balls and routs as some wives do; I have remained at - home with my baby.” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly, and so your poor husband has been forced to ask certain - actresses to bear him company at those innocent pleasures, which he, in - common with most gentlemen of distinction, enjoy. Ah, 't is you domestic - wives that will have to answer for your husbands' backslidings.” - </p> - <p> - “Is it possible that—why, madam, you bewilder me. You think that I - should—I do n't know what you think—oh, I'm quite bewildered!” - </p> - <p> - “Why, child, have you not seen enough of the world to learn that a woman - is most attractive to a man when he perceives that she is admired by other - men? Have you not seen that a man seeks to marry a particular woman, not - because he cares so greatly for her himself, but because he believes that - other men care greatly for her? Your good husband is, I doubt not, fond - enough of you; but when he perceives that you think much more of your baby - than you do of him—when he perceives that the men whom he considered - his rivals before he carried you <i>off</i> from them, no longer follow in - your train, is he to be blamed if he finds you a trifle insipid? Ah, let - me tell you, my sweet young wife, a husband is a horse that requires the - touch of a spur now and again. A jog-trot is not what suits a spirited - creature.” - </p> - <p> - “Heavens, madam! You mean that he—my husband—would be true to - me if I only I—I—” - </p> - <p> - “If only you were not too anxious that he should keep pace with the - jog-trot into which you have fallen, my dear. Do you not fancy that I know - he wishes me to sup with him only because he is well aware that a dozen - men will be longing to mince him when they see him mincing my chicken for - me?” - </p> - <p> - “But I would go with him to the Gardens if he would ask me, only—ah, - no one would want to mince him on my account.” - </p> - <p> - “You silly one! Cannot you see that you must place him in the position of - wanting to mince the other man?” - </p> - <p> - “How? I protest that I am bewildered.” - </p> - <p> - “Dear child, go to the Gardens, not with your husband, but with another - man, and you will soon see him return to you with all the ardour of a - lover with a rival in view. Jealousy is the spur which a husband needs to - recall him to a sense of his duty, now and again.” - </p> - <p> - “I will never consent to adopt such a course, madam. In the first place, I - cannot force myself upon any gentleman of my acquaintance.” - </p> - <p> - “Then the sooner you find one on whom you can force yourself, the better - chance you will have of bringing your husband to your side.” - </p> - <p> - “In the second place, I respect my husband too highly—” - </p> - <p> - “Too highly to win him back to you, though not too highly to come to me - with a story of the wrongs he has done to you? Oh, go away now; you do n't - deserve your toy.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Lewis did not respond to the laughter of the actress. She remained - standing in the centre of the room with her head down. Fresh tears were - welling up to her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I have given you my advice—and it is the advice of one who knows a - good deal of men and their manners,” resumed Mrs. Abington. “If you cannot - see your way to follow it there is nothing more to be said.” - </p> - <p> - “I may be foolish; but I cannot bring myself to go alone with any man to - the Gardens,” said her visitor in a low tone. - </p> - <p> - “Then good-bye to you!” cried the actress, with a wave of her hand. - </p> - <p> - The little lady went slowly to the door; when there she cast an appealing - glance at Mrs. Abington; but the latter had picked up her copy of the new - comedy, and was apparently studying the contents. With a sigh Mrs. Lewis - opened the door and went out. - </p> - <p> - “Foolish child! She will have to buy her experience of men, as her sisters - buy theirs,” cried Mrs. Abington, throwing away the book. - </p> - <p> - She rose from her seat and yawned, stretching out her arms. As she - recovered herself, her eyes rested on a charcoal sketch of herself in the - character Sir Harry Wildair, in “The Constant Couple,” done by Sir Joshua - Reynolds' pupil, Northcote. She gave a little start, then ran to the door, - and called out to Mrs. Lewis, who had not had time to get to the foot of - the stairs. - </p> - <p> - “Come back for one moment, madam,” cried Mrs. Abington over the banisters, - and when Mrs. Lewis returned, she said: “I called you back to tell you to - be ready dressed for the Gardens on Monday night. I will accompany you - thither in my coach.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean that you will—” - </p> - <p> - “Go away now, like a good child. Ask no more questions till Monday night.” - </p> - <p> - She went away, and on the Monday night she was dressed to go to Vauxhall, - when the room in which she was waiting was entered by an extremely - handsome and splendidly dressed young gentleman, who had all the swagger - of one of the beaux of the period, as he advanced to her smirking. - </p> - <p> - “I protest, sir,” cried Mrs. Lewis, starting up; “you have made a mistake. - I have not the honour of your acquaintance.” - </p> - <p> - “'Fore Gad, my charmer, you assume the airs of an innocent miss with - amazing ability,” smirked her visitor. “My name, madam, is Wildair, at - your service, and I would fain hope that you will accept my poor escort to - the Gardens.” - </p> - <p> - A puzzled look was on Mrs. Lewis's face as the gallant began to speak, but - gradually this expression disappeared. She clapped her hands together - girlishly, and then threw herself back on a chair, roaring with laughter. - </p> - <h3> - II. - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span> - he next day at the playhouse Mrs. Abington met Lee Lewis with a - reproachful look. She had written to him on the Saturday, expressing her - regret that she could not go with him to the Gardens, but assuring him - that she would be there, and charging him to look for her. - </p> - <p> - “I thought you would believe it worth your while to keep an eye open for - me last night, sir,” she now said. “But I dare say you found some metal - more attractive elsewhere.” - </p> - <p> - “By heavens! I waited for you for an hour on the lantern walk, but you did - not appear,” cried Lewis. - </p> - <p> - “An hour? only an hour?” said the lady. “And pray how did you pass the - rest of the time?” - </p> - <p> - “A strange thing happened,” said Lewis, after a pause. “I was amazed to - see my wife there—or one whom I took to be my wife.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir, these mistakes are of common occurrence,” laughed Mrs. Abington. - “Was she, like her husband, alone?” - </p> - <p> - “No, that's the worst of it; she was by the side of a handsome young - fellow in a pink coat embroidered with silver.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mrs. Lewis would seem to have borrowed a leaf from her husband's - book; that is, if it was Mrs. Lewis. Have you asked her if she was at the - Gardens?” - </p> - <p> - “How could I ask her that when I had told her that I was going to the - playhouse? I was struck with amazement when I saw her in the distance with - that man—did I mention that he was a particularly good-looking - rascal?” - </p> - <p> - “You did; but why you should have been amazed I am at a loss to know. Mrs. - Lewis is a very charming lady, I know.” - </p> - <p> - “You have seen her?” - </p> - <p> - “She was pointed out to me last night.” - </p> - <p> - “Heavens! then it was she whom I saw in the Gardens? I would not have - believed it.” - </p> - <p> - “What, are you so unreasonable as to think that 't is a wife's duty to - remain at home while her husband amuses himself at Vauxhall?” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, but my wife—” - </p> - <p> - “Is a vastly pretty young creature, sir, whom a hundred men as exacting as - her husband, would think it a pleasure to attend at the Gardens or the - Pantheon.” - </p> - <p> - “She is, beyond doubt a sweet young creature; but Lord, madam, she is so - bound up in her baby that she can give no thought to her husband; and as - for other men—did you see the youth who was beside her?” - </p> - <p> - “To be sure I did. He was devoted to her—and so good looking! I give - you my word, sir, I never saw anyone with whose looks I was better - pleased.” - </p> - <p> - “Zounds, madam, if I had got near him I would have spoilt his good looks, - I promise you. Good Lord! to think that my wife—I tried to get close - to her, but the pair seemed to vanish mysteriously.” “You would have been - better employed looking for me. But we will arrange for another evening, - you and I, Mr. Lewis.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, we will—we will.” - </p> - <p> - There was not much heartiness in the way Mr. Lewis assented; and when the - lady tried to get him to fix upon an evening, he excused himself in a - feeble way. - </p> - <p> - The day following he walked with her to her house after rehearsal, but he - did not think it necessary to make use of any of those phrases of - gallantry in which he had previously indulged. He talked a good deal of - his wife and her attractions. He had bought her a new gown, he said, and, - beyond a doubt, it would be difficult to find a match for her in grace and - sweetness. He declined Mrs. Abington's invitation to enter the house. He - had to hurry home, he said, having promised to take his wife by water to - Greenwich Park. - </p> - <p> - The actress burst into a merry laugh as she stood before the drawing of - Sir Harry Wildair. - </p> - <p> - “All men are alike,” she cried. “And all women, too, for that matter. - Psha, there are only two people in the world; the name of one is Adam, the - name of the other is Eve.” - </p> - <p> - In the course of the afternoon a letter was brought to her. It was from - Mrs. Lewis, and it stated that the writer was so much overcome with the - recent kindness and attention which her husband had been showing her, she - had resolved to confess that she had played a trick upon him, and begged - Mrs. Abington's leave to do so. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Abington immediately sat down and wrote a line to her. - </p> - <p> - “Do n't be a little fool,” she wrote. “Are you so anxious to undo all that - we have done between us? If you pursue that course, I swear to you that he - will be at my feet the next day. No, dear child, leave me to tell him all - that there is to be told.” - </p> - <p> - Two days afterwards Lee Lewis said to her: - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if 't is true that my wife has an admirer.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should it not be true, sir? Everything that is admirable has an - admirer,” said Mrs. Abington. - </p> - <p> - “She is not quite the same as she used to be,” said he. “I half suspect - that she has something on her mind. Can it be possible that—” - </p> - <p> - “Psha, sir, why not put her to the test?” cried Mrs. Abington. - </p> - <p> - “The test? How?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir, give her a chance of going again to the Gardens. Tell her that - you are going to the playhouse on Thursday night, and then do as you did - before, only keep a better look-out for her, and—well you must - promise me that if you find her with that handsome young spark you will - not run him through the body.” - </p> - <p> - “You seem to take a great interest in this same young spark,” said Lewis. - </p> - <p> - “And so I do, sir! Lord, sir, are you jealous of me as well as your wife?” - </p> - <p> - “Jealous? By my soul, madam, I desire nothing more heartily than to hear - of your taking him from my wife.” - </p> - <p> - “Then carry out my plan, and perhaps I shall be able to oblige you. Put - her to the test on Thursday.” - </p> - <p> - “You will be there?” - </p> - <p> - “I will be there, I promise you.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I agree.” - </p> - <p> - “You promise further not to run him through the body?” - </p> - <p> - “I promise. Yes, you will have more than a corpse to console you.” - </p> - <p> - He walked off looking somewhat glum, and in another half hour she had sent - a letter to his wife asking her to be dressed for Vauxhall on Thursday - night. - </p> - <p> - The Gardens were flooded with light—except in certain occasional - nooks—and with music everywhere. (It is scarcely necessary to say - that the few dimly-lighted nooks were the most popular in the Gardens.) - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - As Mrs. Lewis, accompanied by her dashing escort, descended from the coach - and walked up the long avenue toward the tea-house, many eyes were - focussed upon her, for all the town seemed to be at Vauxhall that night. - But only the quick eyes of Mrs. Abington perceived the face of Lee Lewis - at the outskirts of the crowd. Mrs. Abington smiled; she knew perfectly - well that her disguise was so complete as to remain impenetrable, even to - her most familiar friends, and she had a voice to suit the costume of the - beau, so that, upon previous occasions, she had, when in a similar dress, - escaped all recognition, even at one of the balls at the little playhouse - in the Haymarket. - </p> - <p> - She now swaggered through the crowds, rallying, after the most approved - style of the modish young spark, her somewhat timid companion, and - pointing out to her the various celebrities who were strolling about under - the coloured lamps. She pointed out the lively little lady, who was - clearly delighted at being the centre of a circle of admirers, as Mrs. - Thrale, the wife of the great brewer. Around her were General Paoli, the - Corsican refugee; the great Dr. Samuel Johnson; Dr. Burney, the musician; - and Richard Burke, just home from Grenada. - </p> - <p> - Some distance further on stood Oliver Goldsmith, the author of the new - comedy, in which Lee Lewis was cast for the part of Young Marlow, and Mrs. - Abington for the part of Miss Hardcastle. Dr. Goldsmith wore a peach-bloom - velvet coat and a waistcoat covered with silver. He was making the - beautiful Miss Horneck and her sister, Mrs. Bunbury, laugh heartily at - some of his witty sayings, which were too subtle to be understood by such - people as James Boswell and Miss Reynolds, but which were thoroughly - relished by the two girls who loved him so well. In another part of the - grounds, Sir Joshua Reynolds walked with his friend David Garrick; and - when she caught sight of the latter, Mrs. Abington hurried her companion - down a side walk, saying: - </p> - <p> - “David Garrick is the only one in the Gardens whom I fear; he would see - through my disguise in a moment.” - </p> - <p> - “My husband is not here, after all, for I have been looking for him,” said - Mrs. Lewis. “You see he does not always speak an untruth when he tells me - he is going to the playhouse on the nights he is not acting.” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing could be clearer, my dear,” said her companion. “Oh, yes, men do - speak the truth—yes, sometimes.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Lewis was anxious to return to her home as soon as she had walked - once through the Gardens, but Mrs. Abington declared that to go away - without having supper would make her so ashamed of her impersonation of - the reckless young gallant, she would never again be able to face an - audience in the playhouse; so supper they had together in one of the - raised boxes, Mrs. Abington swearing at the waiters in the truest style of - the man of fashion. - </p> - <p> - And all the time they were at supper she could see Lee Lewis furtively - watching them. - </p> - <p> - Another hour the actress and her companion remained in the Gardens, and - when at last they returned to the hackney coach, the former did not fail - to see that Lewis was still watching them and following them, though his - wife, all the time the coach was being driven homeward, chattered about - her husband's fidelity. “He will most likely be at home when I arrive,” - she said; “and in that case I will tell him all.” - </p> - <p> - “For fear of any mistake I will enter the house with you,” said Mrs. - Abington. “I have heard before now of husbands casting doubt upon even the - most plausible stories their wives invented to account for their absence.” - </p> - <p> - “My husband will believe me,” said Mrs. Lewis coldly. - </p> - <p> - “I shall take very good care that he does,” said her companion. - </p> - <p> - When they reached the house, they learnt that Mr. Lewis had not yet come - back, and so Mrs. Abington went upstairs and seated herself by the side of - her friend in her parlour. - </p> - <p> - Not many minutes had passed before her quick ears became aware of the - opening of the hall-door, and of the stealthy steps of a man upon the - stairs. The steps paused outside the room door, and then putting on her - masculine voice, the actress suddenly cried: - </p> - <p> - “Ah, my beloved creature! why will you remain with a husband who cannot - love you as I swear I do? Why not fly with me to happiness?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Lewis gave a laugh, while her cheek was being kissed—very - audibly kissed—by her companion. - </p> - <p> - The next moment the door was flung open so suddenly that Mrs. Lewis was - startled, and gave a cry; but before her husband had time to take a step - into the room, Mrs. Abington had blown out the lamp, leaving the room in - complete darkness. - </p> - <p> - “Stand where you are,” cried the actress, in her assumed voice; “Stand, or - by the Lord Harry, I'll run you through the vitals!” - </p> - <p> - The sound of the whisking of her sword from its sheath followed. - </p> - <p> - “Who are you, fellow, and what do you want here?” she continued. - </p> - <p> - “The rascal's impudence confounds me,” said Lewis. “Infamous scoundrel! I - have had my eye on you all night; I am the husband of the lady whom you - lured from her home to be your companion.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, then you are Mr. Lee Lewis, the actor,” said Mrs. Abington. “Pray, - how does it come, sir, that you were at Vauxhall when you assured your - poor wife that you were going to the playhouse?” - </p> - <p> - “What! the rascal has the audacity—” - </p> - <p> - “Husband—husband—a moment will explain all!” cried Mrs. Lewis, - across the table. - </p> - <p> - “Silence, woman!” shouted the man. - </p> - <p> - “She had better remain silent,” said the actress. “Look you, sir, how - often have you not deceived that poor young thing, whose only fault is - loving you too well? What, sir, have you the effrontery to accuse her? - Does your own conscience acquit you of every attempt to deceive her, that - you can throw a stone at her? You blame her for going with me to the - Gardens—can you say that you have never made an appointment with a - lady to meet you at the same Gardens? What truth is there in the report - which is in everyone's mouth, that you are in the train of Mrs. Abington's - admirers?” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis false, sir! I love my wife—alas, I should say that I love her - better than a score of Mrs. Abingtons,” cried Lewis. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, husband, dear husband,” began his wife, when Mrs. Abington - interrupted her. - </p> - <p> - “Hush, child,” she cried. “Let me ask him if he never implored that woman, - Abington, to accompany him to Vauxhall while he told you he was going to - the playhouse? Let me ask him how often he has whiled away the hours in - Mrs. Abington's house, assuring his wife that he was detained at the - play-house. He is silent, you perceive. That means that he has still a - remnant of what once was a conscience. Mr. Lewis, were it light enough to - see you, I am sure that we should find that you were hanging your head. - What! are you surprised that any one should admire the wife whom you - neglected? You are enraged because you saw me by her side at the Gardens. - You have played the spy on us, sir, and in doing so you have played the - fool, and you will acknowledge it and ask your wife's pardon and mine - before five minutes have passed. Call for a light, sir; we do not expect - you to apologise in the dark.” - </p> - <p> - “The fellow's impudence astounds me,” muttered Lewis. He then threw open - the door and shouted down the stairs for a light. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Lewis, while the light was being brought, made another attempt to - explain matters, but Mrs. Abington commanded her to be silent. - </p> - <p> - “Everything will be explained when the light comes,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the man, grimly, “for men cannot cross swords in the dark.” - </p> - <p> - “There will be no crossing swords here,” said Mrs. Abington. - </p> - <p> - “Coward—Scoundrel! Now we shall see what you are made of,” said the - man, as a servant appeared on the landing with a lighted lamp. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; that's just what you will see,” said Mrs. Abington in her natural - voice, as the light flooded the room. - </p> - <p> - “Great powers!” whispered Lewis, as he found himself confronted by the - fascinating face that he knew so well. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Abington had thrown off her wig in the darkness, and now her own hair - was flowing over her shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “Great powers! Mrs. Abington!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Mr. Lewis, Mrs. Abington, who only waits to hear a very foolish - fellow confess that he has been a fool in letting a thought of any other - woman come into his mind, when he is the husband of so charming a lady as - took supper with me to-night.” - </p> - <p> - Lee Lewis bowed his head, and, kneeling before his wife, pressed her hand - to his lips. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE CAPTURE OF THE DUKE - </h2> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s all hearts are - captivated by the most charming Mistress Barry, so it is my hope that all - souls will be captivated by her picture,” cried Sir Godfrey, bowing low - between his palette which he held in one hand and his sheaf of brushes - which he held in the other. His pronunciation of the word charming—he - said “sharmink”—had a suggestion of his native Lübeck about it; but - his courtliness was beyond suspicion. None of his distinguished sitters - could complain of his having failed to represent them on his canvases with - dignity and refinement, whatever their candid friends might think of the - accuracy of the portraitures. - </p> - <p> - “I only ask to be painted as I am, Sir Godfrey,” said Mrs. Barry, when she - had risen after her courtesy in acknowledgment of Sir Godfrey's gallant - compliment. - </p> - <p> - “As you are, madam? Ah, your ladyship is the most exacting of my sitters. - As you are? Ah, my dear lady, you must modify your conditions; my art has - its limitations.” - </p> - <p> - “Your art, but not your arts, sir. I protest that I am overwhelmed by the - latter, as I am lost in admiration of the former,” said the actress, - adopting a pose which she knew the painter would appreciate. “Alas, Sir - Godfrey,” she added, “you do not well to talk to an actress of the - limitations of art. What a paltry aim has our art compared with yours! I - have had cravings after immortality—that is why I am here to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “'T is surely, then, the future of the painter that you have had at heart, - my dear madam; you come with immortality shining in your face.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir; Sir Godfrey Kneller will live forevermore in his long line of - legitimate monarchs—ay, and others, perhaps not quite—” - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake, Mistress Barry! These are dangerous days; pray remember - that I am the queen's limner.” - </p> - <p> - Sir Godfrey Kneller spoke in a whisper, touching her arm with the handles - of his brushes as he glanced apprehensively around the painting-room of - his house in Great Queen Street. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Barry looked at him with a reckless gaiety in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “What, have I said anything treasonable, anything to compromise the Court - painter?” she cried. - </p> - <p> - “Walls have ears, my dear,” whispered the painter. - </p> - <p> - “And what matters that, so long as they have not tongues?” laughed the - lady. “Ah, my dear Sir Godfrey, you do your art an injustice to fancy that - any one could utter a word of treason in this room surrounded by so many - living faces.” She pointed to the easels on which were hung several - portraits approaching completion. “They are all living, my friend. I vow - that when I entered here just now I felt inclined to sink in a courtesy - before Her Grace of Marlborough.” She indicated the portrait of the - duchess which Sir Godfrey had all but finished—one of the finest of - all his works. - </p> - <p> - Sir Godfrey smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, who, indeed, could talk treason in the presence of Her Grace?” he - said. - </p> - <p> - “None, save His Grace, I suppose,” said the actress. “And now I am ready - to sit to you—unless you have any further courtly compliments to - pass on me. Only, by my faith, I do not choose to place myself nigh to Her - Grace. Those eyes of hers make me feel uneasy. Prithee, Sir Godfrey, - permit me to turn my back upon the duchess; the act will, I protest, give - me a feeling of pride which will speedily betray itself on my face. People - will say, 'Only an actress, yet she turned her back upon a duchess'—ay, - and such a duchess! They say their Graces have lost nothing by their - adherence to the Queen.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Barry had now posed herself, flinging back her hair from her - forehead, so that her broad, massive brow was fully shown, and the painter - had begun to work upon her picture. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, people say that? And what reason have they for saying it, I wonder?” - remarked Sir Godfrey. - </p> - <p> - “The best of reasons, my good friend. They say that their Graces have lost - nothing by standing by the Queen, because if they ran a chance of losing - anything they would quickly stand by the King—His Majesty over the - water.” - </p> - <p> - Sir Godfrey laughed. “I vow, Mistress Barry, that your gossips have failed - to interpret as I would the expression upon the face of Her Grace of - Marlborough,” said he. “Great heaven, madam, cannot one perceive a - pensiveness upon that face of hers?—nay, prithee, do not turn your - head to look for the expression. I want not to lose your expression while - you are endeavoring to catch that of Her Grace.” - </p> - <p> - “The Sad Sarah! And you mean to reproduce the sadness, Sir Godfrey?” - </p> - <p> - “Not sadness—only pensiveness.” - </p> - <p> - “The one is the same as t' other. Then you will cause posterity to affirm - that Sarah was sad to find that she had not become so rich in adhering to - the Queen as she might have if she had sent her pensive glances across to - France?” - </p> - <p> - “Then posterity will do her wrong. Her Grace is truly attached to the - Queen—so truly attached that she becomes melancholic at the thought - of not being completely trusted by Her Majesty.” - </p> - <p> - Sir Godfrey's voice had sunk to a whisper as he made this revelation; and - when he had spoken he glanced once more round the room as if to assure - himself that he had no listeners beside Mrs. Barry. - </p> - <p> - “And the Queen does not trust her?” cried the actress. “Ah, well, I - suppose 't is impossible even for a Queen to be for so many years in her - company without understanding her. Ah, the poor Duke! Prithee continue - your story, Sir Godfrey. I perceive that you would fain lead one up to the - scandalous part.” - </p> - <p> - “Scandalous part, madam? Nay, if you discern not a deep pathos in the sad - look of Her Grace, the Duchess, after the key which I have given you to - her expression, no rehearsal of scandal would awake your interest in the - subject of yonder portrait.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir, if you refuse to tell me further, you will have to bear with - the mockery of posterity for depicting me with a melancholic visage, as - well as your Duchess. Pray tell me the scandal, or I vow I shall have a - fit of the vapours all the time you are painting my portrait.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear lady, there is no scandal to rehearse, I pledge you my word,” - said the painter. “'T is only said that Her Majesty—” - </p> - <p> - “Is blest by heaven with excellent eyesight? Well, yes; I dare swear that - your Duchess is strongly of that opinion—that is what adds to her - melancholy. But I vow 't is most scandalous that there's no scandal. We - must try and repair this, you and I, Sir Godfrey.” - </p> - <p> - “What, does the woman fancy that all lives should be regulated on the - lines set down by the poets who write for your playhouses?” - </p> - <p> - “And why not? If our poets will not be true to nature, is it not our duty - to try to make nature true to the poets?” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, madam, that were to put an outrage upon nature, if I grasp your - meaning aright.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir, 'tis no great outrage. If our writers treat of the humours of - an intrigue in high places, and if we find, on climbing to these high - places, that no scandal is to be found there but only humdrum existence, - is it not our duty to foster a scandal for the justification of our - writers?” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Mille tonnerres!</i> Have I been cherishing a fiery flying serpent all - this time? Have I been playing with a firebrand? Why, 't is in the aspect - of Medusa I should be painting you, Mistress Barry; you should have - ringletted snakes entwined among your hair. I' faith, madam, that is a - pretty theory to propound in an honest man's house. We must become - scandalous in order to save a playhouse poet from being accounted untrue - to life?” - </p> - <p> - “And why not? Ah, Sir Godfrey, I greatly fear that you have no true - feeling for art.” - </p> - <p> - The actress spoke sadly and shook her head with such exquisite simulation - of melancholy as caused the painter to lay down his palette and roar with - laughter. - </p> - <p> - “You have a true feeling for art, beyond doubt, my Barry,” he cried. “You - have no room to reproach yourself, I dare swear. You have all the men in - town at your feet, and all their wives ready to scratch out your eyes—and - all for the advancement of art, you say. You are ready to jeopardise your - own reputation in order to save that of your poets! Ah, what a kind heart - hath the Barry!” - </p> - <p> - “Faith, Sir Godfrey, if I did not make a wife or two jealous, how could I - know what a jealous woman looks like, and if I did not know what a jealous - woman looks like, how could I act the part of a jealous woman in the - playhouse?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, how indeed? The play-goers worship you if their wives long for those - ringlets that ensnare their husbands in their meshes. What is a - wedding-ring against a wanton ringlet?” - </p> - <p> - “'T is my duty as an actress that compels me to seek for examples of the - strongest emotions, Sir Godfrey—you perceive that that is so?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, beyond doubt—beyond doubt, madam.” - </p> - <p> - “That rejoices me. And now touching this Duchess of Marlborough—” - </p> - <p> - “You will have to seek your examples of strong emotion outside my house, - my friend. Do you fancy that Her Grace—” - </p> - <p> - “Is a woman? Nay, she is a very woman, so far as my poor observation, - supplemented by a small trifle of experience, is permitted to judge. Think - you that her sadness of visage is due to mortification that her spouse is - still faithful to her?” - </p> - <p> - “Surely such a reflection should call for an expression of satisfaction, - my fair observer.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Sir Godfrey; that were to take a view of the matter in no wise deep. - Would you not have Her Grace to think as other women less formidable - think, in this wise: 'what fate is mine to be wed to a man whom no woman - thinks worth the tempting'?” - </p> - <p> - “Zounds, my Barry, that were the strangest way recorded to account for a - wife's sadness. How know you that His Grace has not been tempted?” - </p> - <p> - “I make no such charge against him, Sir Godfrey; I think not such evil of - him as that he hath not been tempted. I make but a humble attempt to think - as Her Grace may think when she has her moods.” - </p> - <p> - “That were a presumption for such as you, madam. What! you an actress, and - she a duchess, and yet you would venture—” - </p> - <p> - The laugh which illuminated the face of Sir Godfrey had scarcely passed - away before his servant entered the painting room in haste, announcing - that the coach of the Duchess of Marlborough was at the door, and that Her - Grace was in the act of dismounting. - </p> - <p> - “That means that my sitting is at an end,” said Mrs. Barry. - </p> - <p> - “And I must e'en hustle you out of the room, my dear,” said the painter. - “Her Grace is not the most patient of dames when it comes to waiting on a - painter.” - </p> - <p> - “Or on a painter's sitter, particularly when that sitter is only an - actress. Ah, Sir Godfrey, you might permit me to remain in secret that I - may know how a Duchess conducts herself upon occasions.” - </p> - <p> - “Tut—tut! Would you play a comedy in my house, you baggage?” cried - the painter, pushing her playfully to the door. “Fly—fly—before - it is too late.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Sir Godfrey, you are indeed unkind. Prithee how may I hope to enact - the part of a duchess in the playhouse if I am not permitted to witness - one in the life?” - </p> - <p> - “Off—off—I say! You will have to trust to your own instinct, - which I take to be a faithful enough guide in your case, my dear Barry. - And so farewell to you.” Still protesting, and very prettily pouting, the - actress suffered herself to be gently forced from the room into the - square, inner hall, which was lighted by a dome of coloured glass. Sir - Godfrey, kissing the tip of one of his fingers, bowed her an adieu, but - without speaking, as he held up the tapestry <i>portière</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0278.jpg" alt="0278 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0278.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Mrs. Barry replied with a modified courtesy, and turned as if to make her - way to the outer hall; but the moment Sir Godfrey let fall the tapestry, - she returned on tiptoe, and moving it an inch to one side, peered through - into the studio. She saw the painter hurrying from the large apartment - into the small retiring-room at the farther end, and the moment that he - disappeared she was back like a flash into the studio and in hiding behind - a full-length canvas that leant against an easel in a dark corner. - </p> - <p> - Five seconds were sufficient to carry out the plan which she had conceived - on the impulse of the moment. Had it occupied seven she would have been - discovered, for Sir Godfrey had merely entered his wardrobe to throw off - one coat and put on another. He returned to the studio, and immediately - rang his bell. When the servant entered, he said: - </p> - <p> - “When Her Grace is ready, lead her hither.” - </p> - <p> - The servant bowed and left the studio, while Sir Godfrey arranged the - chair on the dais for his new sitter, and placed the half-finished - portrait of the Duchess on his easel. He had scarcely done so before the - rings of the <i>portière</i> were rattling, and the Duchess of Marlborough - entered, attired for the sitting. How she looked on that day, the painter - has by his art enabled all succeeding generations to learn. Sir Godfrey - Kneller's portrait of the Duchess is, perhaps, his most characteristic - work. If the distinction which it possesses in every feature was scarcely - shared by the original in the same degree, there was still sufficient - character in the face of the great lady to make it profoundly interesting, - especially to so close an observer as Sir Godfrey Kneller. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, my dear Kneller,” cried Her Grace, as the painter advanced to greet - her with bowed head, “I am even before my appointed hour to-day. That - glance of sad reproach which you cast at your timepiece when I last came - hither—though only half an hour late, I swear—had its effect - upon me.” - </p> - <p> - “Her Grace of Marlborough is one of those rare ones for whom it might - reasonably be expected that the sun would stand still,” said the painter. - </p> - <p> - “As it did once at the command of the Hebrew general? Ah, my Kneller, what - a pity it is that a certain great General of the moderns cannot make his - commands respected in the same direction.” - </p> - <p> - “His Grace has no need to supplement his own generalship by—by—” - </p> - <p> - “By the aid of heaven, you would say? By the Lord, Sir Godfrey, 't is - rather the aid of the opposite power our generalissimo would invoke, if - taken at a disadvantage.” - </p> - <p> - “It would be impossible to conceive an incident so remarkable as His Grace - taken at a disadvantage.” - </p> - <p> - “I would fain believe you to be right, friend Kneller. Yes, I have not - once caught him tripping. But that, you may say, is not so much because - His Grace does not trip, as because his generalship is too subtle for such - an one as I.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, nay, madam; so ungenteel a thought could never be entertained by one - who has the privilege of knowing the Duke and of seeing the Duchess.” - </p> - <p> - “Vastly prettily spoken, Sir Godfrey; and with the air of a courtier, too; - but, unlike t' other things of the Court, there is truth in your words. - Look you, Kneller, there's the slut who calls herself Mistress Barry—she - carries half the town away captive at her chariot-wheels—” she - pointed to the portrait of Mrs. Barry. “But think you that her - fascinations would have power to prevail against my lord the Duke? Nay, - adamant is as snow compared to his demeanour when the wretch is moving all - hearts within the playhouse. Have not I found him sitting with closed eyes - while the woman was flaunting it about the stage, and men's swords were - ready to fly from their scabbards at the throats of them that had got a - soft look from her?” - </p> - <p> - “Is 't possible?” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, sir; 't is more than possible. The insolent hussy has oft cast up her - eyes at our box in the playhouse, ogling His Grace, if you please. The - fool little knew that she was ogling a slumbering man. Nay, Sir Godfrey, - if I were as sure of my ground in other directions as I am of His Grace, I - were a happy woman.” - </p> - <p> - She took her place on the dais, and the expression of pensiveness which - appears on the face of the portrait became intensified. This fact, - however, did not prevent a dainty little fist from quivering in her - direction from the side of the full-length picture in the corner. The - Duchess had her back turned to that particular corner. - </p> - <p> - “Your Grace deserves to be the happiest of women,” said the painter. - </p> - <p> - “If only to give so admirable a limner an opportunity of depicting a - smiling face,” said the Duchess. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, madam, a smile doth not make a picture,” replied Sir Godfrey. “On - the contrary, it oft destroys one. Your painter of smirking goddesses - finds his vocation at the Fair of St. Bartolemy. I would fain hope that I - am not such.” There was a silence, during which Sir Godfrey painted the - hair upon his canvas with his usual dexterity. Then Her Grace sighed. - </p> - <p> - “Know you the best means of bringing back an errant confidence, Sir - Godfrey?” she asked after another long pause. - </p> - <p> - “An errant confidence, madam?” - </p> - <p> - “The confidence of one whom I love, and who I think would fain love me - still, were it not for the tongue of slander.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, your Grace, I am but a painter; no Rubens am I in the skill that - pertains to an envoy. Still, it occurs to me that the rendering of some - signal service to the one whose mood your Grace describes should bring you - to her heart again.” - </p> - <p> - The Duchess sprang from her chair and began pacing the narrow limits of - the dais, her hands clenched, and the expression on her face becoming one - of passion solely. - </p> - <p> - “Some signal service—some signal service!” she cried. “Man, have I - not grown aged in her service? Who among those around her hath shown her - and hers such service as ours has been—my husband's and mine? And - yet when she hears the rumour of a plot she taunts me that I was not the - first to warn her. Heavens! Does it rest with me to see the word - 'conspirator' branded on the flesh of one who may hap to wear a cuirass? - Is there any skill that will enable mine eyes to perceive in a man's - bearing an adherent to the family at St. Germains? By the Lord, Sir - Godfrey Kneller, I may be tried too much. Think you that if we were to - turn our eyes in the direction of St. Germains there would not be a goodly - number of persons in this realm who would turn their eyes and their coats - with us?” - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake, madam—” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, 't is but an abstract proposition, friend Kneller. I have wit enough - to perceive that the atmosphere of France suiteth best the health of some - folk. For mine own part, I like best our English air; but if—ah, - continue your painting, Sir Godfrey, and see that you make mine eyes the - eyes of one who looks not overseas for succour.” - </p> - <p> - Her Grace threw herself once more into the chair, and the painter resumed - his work in silence. He could not but reproduce the pensive expression - that once more was worn by the face of the Duchess. - </p> - <p> - At the end of half an hour she rose, complaining that she was tired. She - smiled, giving her hand to Sir Godfrey, as she said. - </p> - <p> - “I know, my good friend, that it is safe to rage in your presence; you are - discretion itself.” - </p> - <p> - “Your Grace hath never put my discretion to the test,” said the Court - painter, with a low bow. - </p> - <p> - “The Duke will mayhap visit you to inspect the portrait, Sir Godfrey,” - said the Duchess when at the door. “Pray let him know that I await him at - St. James's.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall not fail, madam,” said the painter. “And I will not ask your - Grace to sit to me until Friday. I have to be in Richmond on Thursday.” - </p> - <p> - He held back the <i>portière</i> for her exit, and then followed her - through the domed hall to the apartment where her maid awaited her. - </p> - <p> - On his return to the studio he found himself face to face with Mrs. Barry. - For an instant he stood speechless. Then, with a glance behind him, he - whispered: - </p> - <p> - “How did you come hither, in the name of heaven?” - </p> - <p> - “In a name which you are bound to respect—the name of art,” she - replied. - </p> - <p> - “I sought but a lesson, and I have not sought in vain. A duchess! Good - Lord! These be your duchesses! The manners of a kitchen wench allied to - the language of a waterman. A duchess!” - </p> - <p> - “Madam—Mistress Barry—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the poor Duke! How oft have not I heard that His Grace looks forward - to the hottest campaign with joy? Oh, I can well believe it. And the look - of pensiveness on Her Grace's face—observe it, most faithful of - limners.” - </p> - <p> - She stood pointing to the portrait of the Duchess in a stage attitude of - scorn. Sir Godfrey, as he looked at her, felt that he should like to paint - her in that attitude for the benefit of posterity. Then she burst into a - scornful laugh, at which he became more serious than ever. In another - moment, however, she had introduced a note of merriment into her laughter, - and in spite of the fact that he had been extremely angry on finding that - she had been in hiding he could not help joining in her laughter. - </p> - <p> - “The pensive Duchess!” she cried. “Nay, rather, the pensive Duke, my - friend. Paint him as 'Il Penseroso'—the Duke who had eyes only for - the graces of Her Grace—who had ears only for her dulcet phrases—who - snored in the face of the actress who was ogling him from the stage. Grant - me patience, heaven! If I fail to bring him to my feet in the sight of - that woman, may I never tread the stage more! I have a scheme, Sir - Godfrey, which only needs your help to—” - </p> - <p> - “My help! <i>Gott in Himmel!</i> You shall not have my help! What! do you - fancy that you may turn my painting-room into a playhouse stage, and act - your farces—” - </p> - <p> - “His Grace the Duke of Marlborough.” - </p> - <p> - The servant had thrown open the door as he made the announcement. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Heaven is on my side! I need not your help,” cried the actress, in an - aside, as she turned to a mirror to still further dishevel her hair. - </p> - <p> - The Duke of Marlborough, entering the studio, found himself confronted by - a lovely woman visibly fluttered, and apparently anxious to prevent the - lace upon her shoulders from revealing even so much of her bosom as the - painter had thought necessary for artistic purposes. - </p> - <p> - “Ha! Kneller!” cried the Duke, “I find that I am an intruder. How is this, - sir? Your fellow said that you were alone.” - </p> - <p> - “It is only my friend, Mistress Barry, your Grace, whose portrait has - become my pastime,” said Sir Godfrey. - </p> - <p> - “And Mistress Barry is of no account,” said the actress, sinking in a - courtesy. “Ah, your Grace, Sir Godfrey forces me to excuse both his own - imprudence and my impudence. When I learned that the Duke of Marlborough - was to come hither I implored him to permit me to remain in order that the - dream of my poor life might be realised.” - </p> - <p> - “The dream of your life, madam?” said the Duke. - </p> - <p> - “I dare say 't is the dream of many lives,” said the lady in a low voice, - somewhat broken by an emotion she could not repress, even though she took - one hand away from her lace to still the beating of her heart. “And now - that I find myself face to face with the one who has saved our country's - honour in an hundred fights, I protest that I am overcome with the result - of my boldness. Oh, your Grace, forgive the weakness of a poor weak - woman.” - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” said the Duke, “this moment repays me for whatever trifling - hardship I have undergone in my campaigns. To find that all the charms of - Mistress Barry on the stage are but feeble compared with those gifts of - nature with which she had been endowed, were sure an astonishment to one - who had seen her only when she was the centre of a thousand eyes.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, your Grace is determined to overwhelm your friends with your - compliments as you do your enemies with your culverins. But I vow I am too - forward. I am presuming to include my poor self among your Grace's - friends.” - </p> - <p> - “Then think of a sweeter name, my dear lady, and I shall agree to it - without demur.” - </p> - <p> - The Duke was beyond doubt not insensible to the charms of the beautiful - actress. She had apparently quite forgotten that the drapery about her - shoulders had fallen away more freely even than was permissible in the - exigencies of the classical art affected by the eighteenth century - painters. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Your Grace leaves me without a voice even of protest,” murmured the - actress, glancing modestly at the floor. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Mistress Barry has need only to protest against the limitations of - speech,” said the Duke, facing her and offering her his hand, which, after - a moment's hesitation, she took with the homage that she would have given - to the hand of a monarch. Then she dropped it with a half stifled sigh, - and turned to the door without a word. - </p> - <p> - “Wherefore fly?” said the Duke, raising the side of the <i>portière</i> - while she made a courtesy. - </p> - <p> - “'T were better so, though I know your Grace cannot understand how flight - should ever be linked with discretion.” - </p> - <p> - “At least, let me conduct you to your chair, madam. Nay, I insist.” - </p> - <p> - They had scarcely got beneath the glass dome before she had laid her hand - upon his arm. - </p> - <p> - “I was determined to see you face to face,” she said in a rapid whisper. - “I have something of the greatest gravity that is for your ear alone. You - would step between the Queen and disaster?” - </p> - <p> - “I have done so before now,” said the Duke. “Heaven may be equally kind to - me again. Come with me in my coach now; it is already dusk.” - </p> - <p> - “No—no—that would be fatal to both of us,” she whispered. “We - are surrounded by enemies—spies—purveyors of treason—the - very life of the Queen is in danger.” - </p> - <p> - “You speak sincerely,” said the Duke. “Come to my house after the play.” - </p> - <p> - “Impossible! Your Grace little knows in what quarter the danger lies. I - lit upon it by accident myself. Let me see. Ah, I have it: Sir Godfrey's - painting room at a quarter after four on Thursday—this is Tuesday—yes, - in secret—and in the mean time, not a word to living man or woman—not - even Her Grace.” - </p> - <p> - “Why not take your seat in my coach; it has curtains.” - </p> - <p> - “Impossible! Ah, trust me to know wherein lieth safety and prudence. - Hasten back. Good Sir Godfrey must not suspect.” - </p> - <p> - “Heavens! You do not say that he is—” - </p> - <p> - “He is true; but he talks. We need those who are dumb. Not a word in human - ear.” - </p> - <p> - He looked into her face—eagerly—searchingly. She never winced. - He pressed her hand and returned to the studio. - </p> - <p> - She was halfway down the street in her chair before she burst into a merry - laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Her Grace shall have enough of plots to last her for awhile at any rate. - Our painter goes to Richmond on Thursday; he said so. Oh, Lud—Lud! - how quick the notion came to me when His Grace appeared. Ah, Mistress - Barry, thou hast not read in vain all that the poets have writ for the - playhouse. I can see that they are both wild to show their devotion to Her - Majesty. They would fain discover plots growing along the hedgerows of St. - James's Park. They will be as easily trapped as tame pigeons.” - </p> - <p> - “What,” cried Mistress Barry on Thursday afternoon, to the servant who - opened the door for her at Sir Godfrey Kneller's house, “what! gone to - Richmond? Nay, 't is not possible. I sit to him at four.” - </p> - <p> - “My master said it would be five ere he returned from her ladyship's, - madam.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Lud, surely he made a mistake; or you have misheard him, sirrah. He - will be back at four, and I'll e'n wait for him in the painting-room. If - he have not returned by the half hour I will tarry no longer.” - </p> - <p> - She walked past the servant—he made no demur—and entered the - studio. Sauntering about for a few moments, she then went to the door and - locked it. She hastened to a shelf on which lay some broken chalks. In a - few moments, standing before the tall mirror, she had completely altered - her face; she had “made up” her features and complexion as those of an old - woman. - </p> - <p> - Then from apparently capacious pockets in the cloak which she wore she - brought forth a grey wig of many curls, which she put over her own - chestnut hair; and a servant's apron which completely hid her gown. A few - adroit touches transformed her into a venerable person of much - respectability—one whose appearance suggested that of an aged - retainer in a family where her services were properly valued. She surveyed - herself in the glass, saying, “Her Grace will, I can swear, recognise the - good woman whose sense of duty compelled her to address so mighty a lady - touching the vile conspiracy to which Her Grace is to be made privy.” - </p> - <p> - While she was standing back from the glass, laughing as she kissed the - tips of her fingers to the figure who responded in like fashion, a gentle - knock sounded on the small side door that led into the arched passage to - the garden—the door by which the painter's models were admitted to - the studio without passing through the house. The actress, giving a final - smooth to her apron, hastened to open the door, but only to the extent of - an inch or two. - </p> - <p> - “What's your business, madam?” she inquired, in the quavering accents of - age, through the opening. - </p> - <p> - “I have come hither for Mrs. Freeman's frock,” was the reply in a low - voice. - </p> - <p> - “It will be ready for you in half an hour, my good woman,” said the - actress. “Meantime, enter and wait.” - </p> - <p> - She admitted a muffled and closely-veiled figure, and, when she had closed - the door, made an old-fashioned curtesy. - </p> - <p> - “You are Mrs. Smollett?” said the figure, in a low voice, after glancing - round the studio. - </p> - <p> - “Elizabeth Smollett, your Grace, is my name,” quavered Mrs. Barry. “Ah, - madam, you have had the courage to come hither.” - </p> - <p> - “Courage?” said the Duchess. “It needed none. If what your letter told me - be true, it is time that some true friend of the Queen's came hither. Is - it possible that your master, Sir Godfrey, knoweth naught of the plot?” - </p> - <p> - “He knoweth naught, madam. The head and front of the wicked business came - to him as his <i>valet de chambre</i> with the best recommendations. It - was only by accident that I discovered the fellow's motives. He was for - three years at St. Germains.” - </p> - <p> - “At St. Germains! The wretch! Mrs. Smollett, your devotion to Her Majesty - in this matter shall not go unrewarded. I can promise you that. They hope - to seize the Queen! Merciful heaven! Are they fools enough to fancy that - that act would further their ends? Ah, shall I now be avenged upon mine - enemies who whisper to Her Majesty! And you, Smollett—you will bless - the day you wrote to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Not so loud, your Grace,” whispered the actress. “There may be those at - hand that we know not of. This is where your grace must be in hiding.” She - led the Duchess up the studio to the curtain that hung across the retiring - room. “Your Grace will be entirely hid in the recess of the door, and - unless I am far mistaken you shall hear more than you ever expected. Now, - madam, for God's sake remain fast hid behind the curtain. I shall return - to my household duties lest I should be suspected.” - </p> - <p> - “You will bless this day,” whispered Her Grace from behind the <i>portière</i>. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Barry put her finger to her lips as she noiselessly unlocked the door - leading to the domed hall and then passed through. - </p> - <p> - She hastily removed all traces of her disguise, placing the wig and apron - behind a marble pedestal that bore a reproduction of the flying Mercury. - She paused at the door for some time before returning to the studio, and - when at last she opened it she did so very cautiously, putting her head - just beyond the <i>portière</i> at first. Then she closed the door behind - her and advanced. She did not fail to notice the little movement of the - curtain at the farther end of the studio. Then she gave a fine sigh and - threw herself into a chair. - </p> - <p> - “Heigh ho!” she said, in a tone that she meant to be audible in every part - of the room. “Heigh ho! 't is weary waiting for one's love. But my love—my - hero—is worthy to be waited for by empresses. Yet, if I had not his - picture to look upon now I vow I should feel melancholic. Ah, Sir Godfrey. - He has dealt as harshly with the face of my Duke as he hath dealt gently - with that ancient harridan, the Duchess.” (She saw the distant <i>portière</i> - quiver.) “Great heavens!” she continued, rising and standing in front of - the portrait of the Duchess. “Great heavens! is it a matter of wonder that - His Grace should be sick unto death of that face of hers? All the flattery - of the painter cannot hide the malevolence of her countenance. The Queen - perceived it long ago, and yet they say that she hopes to regain the - favour of her royal mistress! - </p> - <p> - “Poor creature! But indeed she is to be pitied. She hath lost the favour - of her Queen and the heart of her spouse. Ah, my hero—my beloved—your - heart is mine—all mine. How oft have I not heard your sweet words - telling me that—how oft? But why are you not here to tell it to me - now? Why—ah, at last—at last!” - </p> - <p> - A knock had sounded at the side door in the midst of her passionate - inquiries, and she almost flew to the door, “Ah, at last—at last you - have come!” she said in a fervent whisper as the Duke entered. - </p> - <p> - “I have come,” he replied, still holding her hand. He had no choice left - in the matter. She did not withdraw her hand after she had given it to - him. It would scarcely have done for him to cast it from him. “You are - sure that Sir Godfrey has not yet returned?” - </p> - <p> - “I am sure of it,” said she. “Would I be here with you alone if he had - returned?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no; of course not,” said the Duke. “But would I not come far if only - to press this little hand?” - </p> - <p> - His experience of women had taught him that a little flattery is never out - of place with them. He supposed it was out of sheer nervousness that Mrs. - Barry had failed to withdraw her hand. - </p> - <p> - She did not withdraw it even now, however. It was only when they had - walked side by side half way across the room that she withdrew her hand. - She saw that a large picture on an easel was between them and the distant - <i>portiere</i>. - </p> - <p> - “You have come—you have trusted me,” she murmured, with her eyes - cast down. - </p> - <p> - He looked at her. He began to fear that she was faltering. She needed - encouragement to make her revelation to him. - </p> - <p> - “I have trusted you, dear one; ah, you know not to what extent I would - trust you. I would go to the ends of the earth to hear what you have to - tell me.” - </p> - <p> - “That is what I wish,” she cried. “Could we not meet at some distant spot - where all that my heart contains might be yours? Ah, let us fly thither - without delay! Delay may make havoc of our future.” - </p> - <p> - “Pray, calm yourself,” said the Duke. He perceived that his companion was - of an hysterical type. She would need to be treated with great tact before - she could be brought to communicate anything that she knew. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, 't is easy for a soldier to be calm,” she cried. “'T is not so easy - for a poor woman who is by nature trustful and yet by experience - distrustful.” - </p> - <p> - “You may trust me, my sweet creature,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “May I? May I?” she whispered, looking into his face. “Ah, no, no; leave - me—leave me alone to die here! Mine was the fault—mine alone.” - </p> - <p> - She had put her hands before her face and gone excitedly halfway down the - apartment. - </p> - <p> - “You shall not die!” he cried, following her. “Just heaven, child, am I - nobody? Is my protection worth nothing, that you should be afraid?” - </p> - <p> - “Your protection?” She had removed her hands from her face. “What! you - will let me be under your protection?” - </p> - <p> - “I swear to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, then I will trust you—forever—for ever,” cried the - actress, flinging herself into the arms of the astonished Duke and laying - her head on his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - He was much more astonished when a voice rang through the studio: - </p> - <p> - “Wretch! Infamous wretches both!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Lud!” cried Mrs. Barry, forsaking her resting place and standing a - yard or two apart. “Oh, Lud, who is the plain little woman that has been - eavesdropping? I vow, Duke, she was not invited to our meeting.” - </p> - <p> - “Infamous creature! I am the Duchess of Marlborough!” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, that were impossible. I happen to know that the Duchess has a - limitless faith in the Duke, especially in regard to so plain a creature - as Mistress Barry, and you have the face and bearing of a jealous woman. - Her Grace of Marlborough would not be jealous, my good creature.” - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” said the Duke, turning to his wife, “madam, you have played an - unworthy part—spying—” - </p> - <p> - “Silence, libertine!” thundered the Duchess, looking like a fury. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0309.jpg" alt="0309 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0309.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Faith, 't is the Duchess, after all,” said the actress. “Ah, Sir Godfrey - has returned in good time.” Sir Godfrey was standing at the door. “Dear - Sir Godfrey, Her Grace is anxious for you to paint her in her true - character—that of the jealous wife; and so I leave her in your good - hands. Adieu, your Grace. Oh, fie, to be jealous of so poor a creature as - an actress!” - </p> - <p> - She stood for a moment by the side of the painter, turning half round as - she raised the tapestry hanging. Her laughter when she had passed into the - hall, rang through the studio. - </p> - <p> - Sir Godfrey began to speak. - </p> - <p> - “I fear greatly that in my absence—” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, in your absence your house has been turned into a lover's - rendezvous!” cried the Duchess. “Your aged domestic, Mrs. Smollett, wrote - to me a confidential letter—” - </p> - <p> - “Madam, I have no aged domestic, and I know no one of the name of - Smollett,” said Sir Godfrey. - </p> - <p> - “What! Oh, the man is in the plot also! It were beneath my dignity to - converse further with him. Shame, sir—shame on both of you!” - </p> - <p> - She flung herself through the <i>portière</i> and disappeared in a billow - of tapestry. - </p> - <p> - The Duke and Sir Godfrey stood side by side in silence in the studio. At - last the former spoke. - </p> - <p> - “Faith, Kneller, I think I begin to see how we have all been tricked. That - play-actress hath made fools of us all for her own sport.” - </p> - <p> - “I begin to fear that that is so,” said Sir Godfrey. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, sir; she hath fooled us,” said the Duke. “Methinks it will be some - space of time before the wrath of Her Grace will be appeased.” - </p> - <p> - And so it was. - </p> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Impudent Comedian & Others, by -Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS *** - -***** This file should be named 51923-h.htm or 51923-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/2/51923/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Impudent Comedian & Others - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51923] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - - - - - - - - -THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -Herbert S. Stone & Co - -1896 - - - - -THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN - -"Nelly--Nelly--Nell! Now, where's the wench?" cried Mrs. Gwyn, before -she had more than passed the threshold of her daughter's house in St. -James's Park--the house with the terrace garden, where, as the sedate -Evelyn records, the charming Nelly had stood exchanging some very lively -phrases with her royal lover on the green walk below, giving the grave -gentleman cause to grieve greatly. But, alas! the record of his sorrow -has only made his untold readers mad that they had not been present to -grieve, also, over that entrancing tableau. "Nelly--Nell! Where's -your mistress, sirrah?" continued the somewhat portly and undoubtedly -overdressed mother of the "impudent comedian," referred to by Evelyn, -turning to a man-servant who wore the scarlet livery of the king. - -"Where should she be, madam, at this hour, unless in the hands of her -tirewomen? It is but an hour past noon." - -"You lie, knave! She is at hand," cried the lady, as the musical lilt of -a song sounded on the landing above the dozen shallow oak stairs leading -out of the square hall, and a couple of fat spaniels, at the sound, -lazily left their place on a cushion, and waddled towards the stairs to -meet and greet their mistress. - -She appeared in the lobby, and stood for a moment or two looking out of -a window that commanded a fine view of the trees outside--they were in -blossom right down to the wall. She made a lovely picture, with one hand -shading her eyes from the sunlight that entered through the small square -panes, singing all the time in pure lightness of heart. She wore her -brown hair in the short ringlets of the period, and they danced on each -side of her face as if they were knowing little sprites for whose ears -her singing was meant. - -"Wench!" shouted her mother from below. The sprites that danced to the -music of the mother's voice were of a heavier order altogether. - -"What, mother? I scarce knew that you were journeying hither to-day," -cried Nelly, coming down the stairs. "'T is an honour, and a surprise -as well; and, i' faith, now that I come to think on't, the surprise is -a deal greater than the honour. If you say you have n't come hither for -more money, my surprise will be unbounded." - -It was nothing to Nelly that she spoke loud enough to be heard by the -footmen in the hall, as well as by the servants in the kitchen. She knew -that they knew all about her, and all about her mother as well. Perhaps -some of them had bought oranges from her or her mother in the old days -at Drury Lane, before she had become distinguished as an actress, and in -other ways. - -"I 'm not come for money, though a trifle would be welcome," said the -mother, when Nelly had shown her the way into one of the rooms opening -off a corridor at one side of the hall--a large apartment, furnished -with ludicrous incongruity. A lovely settee, made by the greatest artist -in France, and upholstered in bright tapestry, was flanked by a couple -of hideous chairs made by the stage carpenter of Drury Lane, and by him -presented to Nelly. A pair of Sevres vases, which had for some years -been in St. James's Palace stood on a side-board among some rubbish of -porcelain that Nelly had picked up in the purlieus of Westminster. - -The mother was about to seat herself heavily on the gilded settee, when -Nelly gave a little scream, startling the elder lady so that she, too, -screamed--a little hoarsely--in sympathy. - -"What's the matter, girl--what's the matter?" she cried. - -"Nothing is the matter, so far, mother, but a mighty deal would have -been the matter, if you had seated yourself other where than in that -chair.'Snails, madam, who are you that you should plump your person down -on a seat that was made for a legitimate monarch?" - -"I'm a legitimate wife, hear you that, you perky wench?" cried the -mother, craning her neck forward after the most approved fashion of -pending belligerents at Lewkinor Street, Drury Lane. - -"The greater reason you should avoid that settee, dear mother; it has -never been other than the chattel of a prince," laughed Nelly. "And now, -prithee, why the honour of this visit, while the month is not yet near -its close?" - -"I have met with an old friend of yours, this day, Nell," said the -mother, "and he is coming hither,--'t is that hath brought me." - -"An old friend! I' faith, good mother, 't is the young friends are more -to my taste. The savour of Lewkinor Street doth not smell sweet, and it -clings most foully to all our old friends." - -"Oh, ay, but you once was n't so dainty a madam!" - -"'T were vain to deny it, mother, since it can be urged against me that -I became your daughter. No, no, good mother, friend me no old friends--I -like them new--the newer the better--plenty of gilding--none of it -rubbed off--gingerbread and courtiers--plenty of gilding, and plenty -of spice beneath. But the old life in Lewkinor Street--in the -coal-yard--ah!'t was like to sour oranges, mother, thick skin above, and -sourness under. 'Snails! it doth set my teeth on edge to think of it." - -"Oh, ay; but now and again we lighted upon a Levant orange in the midst -of a basketful--a sweet one to suck, and one to leave a sweet taste -behind it." - -"The best were mightily improved by the addition of a lump of sugar. -But what hath all this vegetable philosophy to do with your visit to -me to-day? If you mean to stay, I'll send out for a couple of stone of -sugar without delay!" - -"Philosophy, Madame Impudence! You accuse your mother of philosophy, -when everyone knows that your own language was--" - -"Worthy of a lady of quality, mother. It seemeth that you are anxious to -hear whether or not I retain anything of my old skill in that direction, -and by my faith, dear mother, you shall learn more than will satisfy -your curiosity, if you beat about the bush much longer. Whom say you -that you met to-day?" - -"What should you say if I told you that his name was Dick Harraden?" - -"What, Dick! Dick!--Dick Harraden!" - -Nell had sprung to her feet, and had grasped her mother by the shoulder, -eagerly peering into her face. After a moment of silence following her -exclamation, she gave her mother a little push, in the act of taking -her hand off her shoulder, and threw herself back in her own chair -again with a laugh--a laugh that surrounded a sigh, as a bright nimbus -surrounds the sad face of a saint in a picture. - -"What should I say, do you ask me?" she cried. "Well, I should say -that you were a liar, good mother." Nell was never particular in her -language. As an exponent of the reaction against the Puritanism of the -previous generation, she was admitted by very competent judges to have -scarcely an equal. - -"I'm no liar," said the mother. "'T was Dick himself I met, face to -face." - -"It puzzles me to see wherein lies your hope of getting money from me by -telling me such a tale," said Nell. - -"I want not your money--at least not till the end of the month, or -thereabouts. I tell you, I saw Dick within the hour." - -"'T was his ghost. You know that when he threw away his link he took to -the sea, and was drowned in a storm off the Grand Canary. What did the -seafaring man tell us when I asked him if he had seen Dick?" - -"A maudlin knave, who offered you a guinea for a kiss at the pit door -of Drury Lane, and then bought a basket of oranges and gave them away -singly to all comers." - -"But he said he had sailed in the same ship as Dick, and that it had -gone down with all aboard save only himself." - -"Oh, ay; and he wept plentifully when he saw how you wept--ay, and -offered to be your sweetheart in the stead of poor Dick, the knave! For -I saw Dick with these eyes, within the hour." - -"Oh, mother--and you told him--no, you durs n't tell him--" - -"He had just this morning come to London from the Indies, and it was -luck--ill-luck, maybe--that made him run against me. He plied me with -question after question--all about Nell--his Nell, he called you, if you -please." - -"His Nell--ah, mother! his Nell! Well, you told him--" - -"I told him that you would never more need his aid to buy foot-gear. -Lord! Nell, do you mind how he bought you the worsted stockings when you -were nigh mad with the chilblains?" - -"And you told him... For God's sake, say what you told him!" - -"I did n't mention the king's name--no, I'm loyal to his Majesty, God -save him! I only told him that you had given up selling oranges in -the pit of Drury Lane, and had taken to the less reputable part of the -house, to wit, the stage." - -"Poor Dick! he did n't like to hear that. Oh, if he had stayed at home -and had carried his link as before, all would have been well!" - -"What is the wench talking about? Well--all would have been well? And -is not all well, you jade? 'T were rank treason to say else. Is n't this -room with its gilded looking-glasses and painted vases pretty well for -one who had been an orange girl? The king is a gentleman, and a merry -gentleman, too. Well, indeed!" - -"But Dick!--what more did you say to him, mother?" - -"I asked him after himself, to be sure. I' faith the lad has prospered, -Nell--not as you have prospered, to be sure--" - -"Nay, not as I have prospered." - -"Of course not; but still somewhat. He will tell you all, himself." - -"What? You told him where I dwelt?" - -"'I meant it not, Nelly; but he had it from me before I was aware. But -he knows nothing. I tell you he only came to London from Bristol port -in the morning. He will have no time to hear of the king and the king's -fancies before he sees you." - -"He is coming hither, then? No, he must not come! Oh, he shall not come! -Mother, you have played me false!" - -"I? Oh, the wench is mad! False? What could I say, girl, when he pressed -me?" - -"You could have said that I was dead--that would have been the truth. -The girl he knew is dead. He must not come to this house." - -"Then give your lacqueys orders not to admit him, and all will be well. -But I thought that you would e'en see the lad, Nell, now that he has -prospered. If he had n't prospered it would be different." - -"Only an orange-seller, and yet with the precepts of a lady of quality! -I'll not see him. Did he say he'd come soon?" - -"Within an hour, he said." Instinctively, Nell looked at her reflection -in a mirror. - -"I'll not see him," she repeated. "That gown will do well enough for one -just returned from the Indies," said the mother, with a leer. - -"Oh, go away, go away," cried her daughter. "You have done enough -mischief for one morning. Why could not you have let things be? Why -should you put this man on my track?" - -"'T is a fool that the wench is, for all her smartness," said the -mother. "She was picked out of the gutter and set down among the noblest -in the land, and all that held on to her gown were landed in pleasant -places; and yet she talks like a kitchen jade with no sense. If you will -not see the lad, hussy, lock your door and close your shutters, after -giving orders to your lacqueys to admit him not. If needful, the king -can be petitioned to send a guard to line the Park with their pikes to -keep out poor Dick, as though he was the devil, and the Park the Garden -of Eden." - -"Oh, go away--go away!" - -"Oh, yes; I 'll go--and you 'll see him, too--no fear about that. A -girl, however well provided for--and you're well provided for--would n't -refuse to see an old sweetheart, if he was the old serpent himself; -nay, she'd see him on that account alone. And so good day to you, good -Mistress Eve." - -She made a mock courtesy, the irony of which was quite as broad as that -of her speech, and marched out of the room, holding her narrow skirts -sufficiently high to display a shocking pair of flat-footed boots -beneath. - -Her daughter watched her departure, and only when she had disappeared -burst into a laugh. In a moment she was grave once again. She remained -seated without changing her attitude or expression for a long time. At -last she sprang to her feet, saying out loud, as though some one were -present to hear her: - -"What a fool thou art, friend Nell, to become glum over a boy -sweetheart--and a link boy, of all boys. Were I to tell Mr. Dryden of my -fancy, he would write one of his verses about it, making out that poor -Dick was the little god Cupid in disguise, and that his link was the -torch of love. But I'll not see him.'T were best not. He'll hear all, -soon enough, and loathe me as at times I loathe myself--no, no; not so -much as that, not so much as that: Dick had always a kind heart. No; -I'll not see him." She went resolutely to the bell-pull, but when there, -stood irresolute with the ornamental ring of brass in her hand, for some -moments before pulling it. She gave it a sudden jerk, and when it was -responded to by a lacquey, she said: - -"Should a man call asking to see me within the next hour, he is to be -told--with civility, mind you: he is a gentleman--that--that I am in -this room, and that I will see him for five minutes--only five minutes, -mind you, sirrah." - -"And the man--the gentleman--is to be admitted, madam?" - -"Certainly--for five minutes." - -"Your ladyship will regulate the time?" - -"Go away, you numbskull! How could I regulate the time? I'm no -astronomer." - -"Madam, I meant but to inquire if you are to be interrupted at the end -of five minutes." - -"I gave you no such instruction, sirrah. It is enough for you to carry -out the instruction I gave you. Carry it out, and yourself in the -bargain." - -The man bowed and withdrew. He was familiar with the colloquial style of -his mistress and her moods. - -When the man had gone Nelly laughed again, but suddenly became graver -even than she had yet been. - -"What have I done?" she cried. "Oh, there never was so great a fool as -me! No, no; I'll not see him! I have as kind a heart as Dick, and I'll -prove it by not seeing him." - -And yet, when she had her hand on the lock of the door, she stood -irresolute once again for some moments. Then she went out with a firm -step, her intention being to countermand in the hall the instructions -she had given to the servant in the parlour; but in the hall she found -herself face to face with her old friend, Sir Charles Sedley. He had -brought her a bunch of violets. - -"The satyr offers flowers to Aurora," said the courtier to the -courtesan, bowing as gracefully as a touch of rheumatism permitted. - -"And Aurora was so fond of flowers that she accepted them, even from the -most satiric of satyrs," said Nell, sinking into a courtesy. - -"I plucked these flowers for the fairest flower that--" - -"Ah, that is one of Mr. Dryden's images in the reverse," laughed Nell. -"What was the name of t' other young thing?--Proserpine, that's it--who -was plucking flowers, and was herself plucked. 'Snails! that's not the -word--she was n't a fowl." - -"'Fore Gad, Nell, I never heard that story; it sounds scandalous, so -tell it us," said Sir Charles. "What was the name of the wench, did you -say?" - -"Her name was Nell Gwyn, and she was gathering oranges to sell in -the pit of Drury Lane, when, some say Satan, and some say Sedley--the -incongruity between the two accounts is too trifling to call for -notice--captivated her, and she had nothing more to do with oranges or -orange blossoms." - -"And her life was all the merrier, as I doubt not Madame Proserpine's -was when she left the vale of Enna for--well, the Pit--not at Drury -Lane." - -"That were a darker depth still. You 've heard the story, then. Mr. -Dryden says the moral of it is that the devil has got all the pretty -wenches for himself." - -"Not so; he left a few for the king." - -"Nay, the two are partners in the game; but the King, like t' other -monarch, is not so black as he is painted." - -"Nor so absolutely white as to be tasteless as the white of an egg, -Nell." - -"His Majesty is certainly not tasteless." - -"On the contrary, he is in love with you still, Nell." - -They were standing apart from the group of servants in the hall. Nell -Gwyn had pretended that she was about to ascend the stairs, but loitered -on the second step, with her right elbow resting on the oak banister, -while she smelt at the violets with her head poised daintily, looking -with eyes full of mischief and mirth at the courtier standing on the -mat, the feathers of his broad-leafed hat sweeping the ground, as he -swung it in making his bows. - -Suddenly Nell straightened herself as she looked down the hall toward -the door; she started and dropped her violets. All the mischief and -mirth fled from her eyes as a man was admitted, with some measure of -protestation, by the porter. He was a young man with a very brown face, -and he carried no sword, only the hanger of a sailor; his dress was of -the plainest--neither silk nor lace entered into its manufacture. - -Before Sir Charles had time to turn to satisfy himself as to the -identity of the man at whom Nell was gazing so eagerly, she had run down -the hall, and seized the newcomer by both hands, crying: - -"Dick--Dick--It is you, yourself, Dick, and no ghost!" - -"No ghost, I dare swear, Nell," cried the man, in a tone that made the -candles in the chandelier quiver, and Sir Charles Sedley to be all but -swept off his feet. "No ghost, but--O Lord, how you've grown, Nell! Why, -when I burnt my last link seeing you home, you was only so high!" He put -his hand within a foot of the floor. - -"And you, too, Dick! Why, you're a man now--you'll grow no more, Dick," -cried Nell, still standing in front of him, 'with his hands fast clasped -in her own. Suddenly recollecting the servants who were around, she -dropped his hands, saying: "Come along within, Dick, and tell me all -your adventures since last we were together." - -"Lord! Adventures! You do n't know what you 've set yourself down for, -Nell. If I was to tell you all, I should be in your company for at least -a week." - -[Illustration: 0042] - -She led him past Sir Charles Sedley, without so much as glancing at the -courtier, and the newcomer had no eyes for anyone save Nell. A servant -threw open the door of the room where she had been with her mother, and -the two entered. - -Sir Charles took snuff elaborately, after he had replaced his hat on his -head. - -"If his Majesty should arrive, let him know that I am in the long -parlour," he said to a servant, as he walked toward a door on the left. - -He paused for a space with his hand on the handle of the door, for there -came from the room into which Nell Gwyn and Dick Harraden had gone a -loud peal of laugh ter--not a solo, but a duet. - -He turned the handle. - -So soon as he had disappeared, there came another ripple of laughter -from the other room, and the lacqueys lounging in the hall laughed, too. -Within the room, Nell was seated on the settee and Dick Harraden by her -side. She had just reminded him of the gift of the worsted stockings -which he had made to her, when he was a link-boy, and she an orange-girl -in Drury Lane. They had both laughed when she had pushed out a little -dainty shoe from beneath her gown, displaying at the same time a -tolerably liberal amount of silk stocking, as she said: - -"Ah, Dick, it 's not in worsted my toes are clad now. I have outgrown -your stockings." - -"Not you, Nell!" he cried. "By the Lord Harry! your feet have got -smaller instead of larger during these years--I swear to you that is -so." - -"Ah, the chilblains do make a difference, Dick," said she, "and you -never saw my feet unless they were covered with chilblains. Lord! how -you cried when you saw my feet well covered for the first time." - -"Not I---I didn't cry. What was there to cry about, Nell?" he said. - -She felt very much inclined to ask him the same question at that -moment, for his face was averted from her, and he had uttered his words -spasmodically. - -"Poor Dick! You wept because you had eaten nothing for three days in -order to save enough to buy my stockings," she said. - -"How know you that?" he cried, turning to her suddenly. - -"I knew it not at the time," she replied, "but I have thought over it -since." - -"Think no more of it, Nell. O Lord! to think that I should live to see -Nell again! No--no; I'll not believe it. That fine lady that I see in -the big glass yonder cannot be Nell Gwyn!" - -"Oh, Dick, would any one but Nell Gwyn remember about Nell Gwyn's -chilblains?" - -"Hearsay, mere hearsay, my fine madam!" - -"By what means shall I convince you that I'm the Nell you knew? Let me -see--ah, I know. Dick, I 'll swear for you; you know well that there was -not one could match me in swearing. Let me but begin." - -"O Lord! not for the world. You always knew when to begin, Nell, but you -ne'er knew when to stop. And how doth it come that you have n't forgot -the brimstone of the Lane, Nelly, though you have become so mighty fine -a lady?" - -"'Snails, Dick, the best way to remember a language is to keep -constantly talking it!" - -"But in silks and satins?" - -"Oh, I soon found that I only needed to double the intensity of my -language in the Lane in order to talk the mother tongue of fashion." - -"If swearing make the fine lady, you'll be the leader of the town, Nell, -I'll warrant. But do n't say that you doubled your language--that would -be impossible." - -"Oh, would it, indeed?" - -"Not so? Then for God's sake do n't give me a sample of what you reached -in that way, for I 've only lived among the pirates and buccaneers of -the Indies since." - -"Then I'll e'en spare thee, Dick. But take warning: do n't provoke me. -You would n't provoke a pirate whose guns you knew to be double-shotted. -Do n't say that I'm not Nell Gwyn for all my silks and lace. Why, man, -doth oatmeal porridge cease to be porridge because it's served in a -silver platter? Did your salt pork turn to venison when you ate it off -the gold plate that you stole from the chapels?" - -"Lord, Nell, I was n't a pirate." - -"What! Did n't you say just now that you had been among pirates and -buccaneers in the Indies?" - -"I was among them, but not of them." - -"You mean to say that you were neither a pirate nor a buccaneer?" - -"Neither!" - -"Then all I can say is that I'm mightily ashamed of you, Dick. I counted -on your being at least a pirate. Don't say that you became a merchant; I -never could abide dishonesty, Dick." - -"Well, no; I never became just a merchant, Nell--at least, not the sort -of merchant that merchants would call a merchant." - -"Oh, then, there's some hope for you yet, Dick. We may be friends -still." - -"Friends? Well, I should say so! What did I work for, do you think, -through all these years? What did I lay up a store of guineas -for--guineas and Spanish doubloons and pieces of eight for----" - -"And you have made a fortune, Dick? Think of that! Ah, I fear that you -must have been a regular merchant after all; only regular merchants make -fortunes in these days." - -"Ay, but some irregular ones do pretty fairly for themselves." - -"And you were somewhat irregular, I dare swear?" - -"Well, I wasn't regularly irregular, dear, only by fits and starts. Ah, -what I said to myself was: 'I've put the stockings on Nell, but I've -to get the shoes for her yet.' That's what gave me the strength of ten -men--working for those shoes, Nell." - -"Poor Dick! and now when you come home, you find that I am already -provided for." - -Again she showed him the dainty tips of her shoes. - -"Those are fair weather shoes, Nell," he cried. - -"Ay, that they are, Dick," she assented, with a note of sadness in her -voice. - -"But what I would offer you would stand the stress of all weather--fair -or foul, Nell." - -"I believe you, Dick, with all my heart. I know what you had to offer -me; but it 's too late now, too late, Dick." - -"Too late? What do you mean, girl?" - -The look that came into his face frightened her. She threw herself back -on the settee and laughed loudly for a minute or two. - -"That's what I mean," she cried, tilting up her toes until they were -on a level with his knees. "What else could I mean than that I'm already -sufficiently shod? Even Nell Gwyn can't wear more than one pair of shoes -at a time, Dick. It's rather a pity, but 't is an ill that must be -borne. Now tell us all about yourself, Dick. Tell us how you fought with -pirates and buccaneers--never mind telling how you made a fortune in -pieces of eight: there's no romance about making a fortune--tell us -about the pirates, and above all, tell us what the Spanish Main is." - -"The Spanish Main--why, it's the Spanish Main, to be sure--south of the -Indies--a good place for trade, and a good place for pirates. But you, -Nell; I wonder if you meant anything by saying that I had come back too -late? I thought, you know, when I met your mother----" - -"Oh, I want to hear about the fighting--the buccaneers! I do n't want to -hear about my mother; I hear enough about her. You fought the pirates? -Well, next to being a pirate yourself, that's the best thing." - -"Well, if you must know, I got about me a few score of lads--most -of them were stout Irish lads who were sold to the plantations by -Cromwell." - -"The monster!" - -"Ay, we made up a brave crew, I can tell you. Our plan was to do no -pirating on our own behalf, but only to attack the pirates when they had -a deck-load of spoil. Taking from thieves is n't stealing, is it, Nell?" - -"No; that's business." - -"A bit irregular, it may be, as I said just now; but bless you, Nelly, -it was like sermon-preaching compared to some sorts of business that -thrive mightily at the Indies. Anyhow, here I am to-day, sound and -hearty, Nell, with a pretty nice fortune made already, and more to -come--here I am, ready and willing to buy you the best pair of shoes in -London town, and every other article of attire you may need for the next -dozen--ay, the next fifty years." - -"Dick--Dick!" - -"Is n't it true that you were always my sweetheart, Nell? Didn't you -say that you would never marry another? Well, you've kept your word so -far--your mother told me that." - -"Ah, that's the worst of it." - -"The worst of it! That's the best of it, Nelly; for though a fine lady, -living in a mansion like this--why, it might be a palace--the King -himself might come here-----" - -"The King--you've heard that--that the King?" - -She grasped him fiercely by the sleeve, and was eagerly peering into his -face. - -He burst out laughing, but suddenly checked himself. - -"The King--the King--what was there for me to hear?" he asked in a low -voice. "I only arrived from Bristol port in the morning. How could I -hear anything?" - -"I do n't want to hear anything, except to hear you say that you have -n't broken your promise--that you have n't married any one else." - -"Oh, go away, Dick--go away!" she cried, burying her face on the arm of -the settee. - -He got upon his feet slowly and painfully, and stood over her. - -"Why should I go away?" he asked, in the same grave voice. "If I love -you--and you know I do--and if you love me--and I believe that you -do--it is not for me to go away. Ah, is it possible that you have given -your promise to marry some one else? Do n't weep, Nell; that's it, I -see, and it can be made all right. Is that it, dear?" - -"No, no. Oh, go away--go away, and never return to make me feel how -miserable I am!" - -"I'll not go away. There's some mystery about you and this house, and -I'll not go before I fathom it." - -She looked up and saw him standing there with his arms folded. - -She leaped up so quickly that she almost seemed to spring into his arms. -He thought so, at any rate, and was about to clasp her when she caught -both of his hands in her own, gazing tearfully--eagerly--wistfully, into -his face. - -"Dick--dear Dick," she said; "if you love me still--and I know you -do--you will leave me now. Oh, you should never have come here--I -did not mean you to come; but if you love me, Dick, you will leave me -now--leave me and go into the nearest coffee-house, and ask of the first -man you see there who is Nell Gwyn? What is Nell Gwyn? If you return -to me after that, then--then, Dick, I swear to you that I'll marry -you; there will be none to stay us then, none to come between--the King -himself shall not come between us." - -He gripped her hands fiercely, his face close down to hers. - -"By God, I 'll do it!" he said, through his set teeth. "I'll do it. You -have put it upon me. I know that I shall hear nothing but what is -good of you, and I'll return to claim you, as sure as there's a sun in -heaven." - -He dropped her hands, snatched up his hat, and walked firmly to the -door. When there, he turned slowly and looked back at her. She was -standing pale and lovely where he had left her. Her eyes were upon his -face. - -He flung himself through the door, and she fell on her knees beside the -settee, burying her face in one of its cushions. - -For some minutes, nothing was heard in the room but the sound of her -sobs; but then the silence was broken by a shout outside--a shout and -the noise of a scuffle. Cries of "Hold him back! Hold him back!" came -from the servants, and mixed with some full-bodied imprecations in other -voices. Nell started to her feet, as the door of the room was all but -crashed in, and she was standing with a startled look on her face, as -the door was flung wide open, and Dick Harraden hurled a limp antagonist -into the room. - -"He shall eat his words--every foul word he uttered he shall swallow in -the presence of Nell herself," cried Dick, and then Nell recognised Sir -Charles Sedley as the man who was standing panting, with a broken sword -in his hand, by her side, facing Dick. - -"For God's sake, Dick!--Sir Charles--what has happened?" - -The courtier was too breathless to speak--he signified so much very -pleasingly to Nell. - -"The cowardly knave!" panted Dick. "But I swore that I'd make him eat -his words, and by the Lord Harry, I'll keep my oath!" - -"Sir Charles, pray--oh, Dick!" - -"Dick me no Dicks, Nell, until this popinjay has gone down on his knees -before you and asked your pardon for his foul words," cried Dick. "Down -you go, my gentleman, were you fifty times Sir Charles." - -"For heaven's sake, Nell, keep that fire-eater at a distance," gasped -Sir Charles; "he's fit for Bedlam!" - -"Stand where you be, Dick," said Nell. "What said Sir Charles Sedley to -give you offence?" - -"He said that you--no, I 'll hang in chains in Execution Dock before I -repeat the lie--but he'll take it back, every word, if I have to wring -his neck!" - -Dick was with difficulty kept at a distance. - -"Did he say aught about the King and me?" asked Nell, in a low voice. - -"It was, I swear, a most unhappy _contretems_, Nell," said Sir Charles, -smiling in a somewhat constrained way. "How could I know that there was -one man in England who did n't know how splendid, yet how natural, a -conquest the charms of Mistress Eleanor Gwyn have achieved?" - -"Then you only spoke the truth, Sir Charles," said Nell. "God above us!" - -Dick staggered back, and grasped the frame of a chair to support -himself. There was a long silence. - -He took a faltering step or two towards where she stood in the middle of -the room. - -"I see it all now," he said, in a low voice. "I see it all. This -house--the lacqueys in scarlet--the King's servants--they are the King's -servants, and you--you, Nell, are the King's----Oh, God! let me die--let -me die! This is what I came home for! You told me to go to the first -coffee-house; I did n't need to go so far. Oh, Nelly, if I had come home -to stand beside the green hillock of your grave I could have borne it, -but this--this!" - -He dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His sobbing -was the only sound in the room. - -After a long pause he got slowly upon his feet. - -"I'm going away," he said. "My heart is broken, Nell--my heart is -broken. Good-bye, Nell." - -"Good-bye, Dick." - -She had not moved from the middle of the room. She did not hold out a -hand to him. He walked slowly to the door. Then he turned round. - -"I humbly ask your pardon, sir," he said to Sir Charles. - -"Sir," said the courtier, "I honour you more than any living man." - -"Nell--Nell--come to me--come away with me--come to my arms, Nell," -cried the man, holding out his hands to her from where she stood. - -Sir Charles watched her face. He saw it light up for a moment. Her hands -moved; she was going to him. - -No, she only looked at the man who loved her and was ready to offer her -everything, and said: - -"Dick, I have a boy in a cradle upstairs." - -There was another long pause before Dick whispered the words: "God bless -thee, Nell," Then the door was flung wide in his face by a lacquey, who -bowed to the ground as he ushered in a rather plainfaced man wearing a -diamond star and a broad blue sash, as well as a diamond garter. - -Nell sank in a courtesy, and Sir Charles Sedley made an obeisance. Dick -remained unmoved. - -"Ha! what have we here?" said the stranger. "'Odsfish! a pretty family -picture! Who may you be, good sir?" he asked of Dick. - -"Who may _you_ be?" asked Dick. - -"Well, who I may be in a year or two, the Lord and Nelly only knows--she -says a merry pauper. But who I am is easier said; I happen just now to -be the King." - -Dick stood unmoved. - -"Then I could tell you _what_ you are, sir,' said Dick. - -"Not half as well as I could tell you, my friend," said the King. - -"I wonder if your Majesty ever hears the truth?" said Dick. - -"Seldom; any time I do, it comes from the lips of Nelly, yonder," -replied the King. "And by my soul, sir, I would rather hear the truth -from Nelly, than a lie from the most honourable of my subjects." - -"Profligate!" cried Dick. - -"I answer to that name, sir; what then?" said the King. - -"What then? God only can reply to your 'what then?' The answer rests -with Him. He will not forget to answer you when His time comes." - -"Even so," said the King, in a low tone, bending his head. - -Sir Charles had moved round the settee, and had opened the door. He -touched Dick on the elbow. Dick started for a moment and then stalked -through the door. Sir Charles went out with his face turned towards the -King. - -"A straightforward fellow, but as conceited as a Puritan, Nell," cried -the King, with a laugh. "What brought him here?" But Nell had sunk once -more on her knees beside the settee, and her face was, as before, buried -in the cushion. - -"Ha, what's this, Nelly? What's amiss?" said the King, bending over her. - -"Oh, go away--go away! I never want to see you again. You heard the -word, profligate, profligate!" - -"I'll go away, Nell, so soon as I pass to you the two papers which I -hold in my hand." - -"I want no papers; I want to be alone." - -"Come, dear child; see if you will like your new plaything." - -He pushed before her one of the two papers which he held. - -She glanced at it without rising, and without taking it from him. -Suddenly she put out a hand to it. - -"What?" she cried. She was now on her feet. "You have done it for -me--all for me? The hospital to be built at Chelsea! Oh, my liege!" - -"Now the other paper," said the King. - -She took it from him. - -"Ah, Royal Letters Patent--our boy--our Charlie--Duke of St. Albans! Oh, -my liege--my King--my love forever!" She sank on her knees, and, -catching his hand, covered it with kisses--with kisses and tears. - - - - -KITTY CLIVE, ACTRESS - -At the King's Head Inn at Thatcham on the Bath Road a post chaise drew -up, but with no great flourish, for the postilion knew that his only -passenger was a lady, and he had no intention of pulling his horses on -their haunches merely for the sake of impressing a lady. In his youth he -had made many flourishes of such a type, but had failed to win an extra -crown from a traveller of this sex. - -The groom, who advanced with some degree of briskness from the -stable-yard, became more languid in his movements when he perceived that -only a lady was descending from the chaise. He knew that briskness on -the part of a groom never caused a coin to spring from the purse of a -lady. The landlord, however, taking a more hopeful view of the harvest -prospects of the solitary lady as a guest--he had lived in London, -and had heard of assignations in which the (temporarily) solitary lady -became a source of profit to the inn-keeper--made a pretence of bustling -out to assist the occupant of the chaise to alight, bowing elaborately -when he perceived that the lining of her travel-ling-cloak was of -quilted silk, and once again as she tripped very daintily over the -cobble-stones in front of the King's Head, and smiled very bewitchingly -within the satin frame of her hood. The landlord had a notion that -he had seen her face and her smile before. He carried with him the -recollection of a good many faces and smiles within the frame-work of -quilted satin hoods. - -"Madam, you honour my poor house," he said in his best London manner as -the lady passed through the porch. "'T is rarely that a person of your -ladyship's quality--" - -"Spare us good lord--good landlord," cried the lady in an accent that -had a certain amount of Hibernian persuasiveness about it. "Spare -us your remarks about our quality.'T is two horses and not four that -brought me hither. It's of your quality, sir, that I'd fain have a -taste. If I do n't have breakfast within an hour, I honestly believe -that my death will be at your door, and where will your compliments be -then, my good man?" - -"Your ladyship is pleased to be facetious," said the landlord, throwing -open the door of the public room with as great a flourish as if he were -giving admittance to sixty-foot _salle_, instead of a twenty-foot inn -parlour. He looked closely at his visitor as she passed through: her -voice sounded strangely familiar to him. "'T is a poor room for one, -who, I doubt not, is no stranger to the noblest mansions," he added. - -"There's no one better accustomed to the noblest mansions than myself," -said the lady, going to the looking-glass that occupied a place in a -panel between the windows, throwing back her hood, and then arranging -her hair. - -"Yes, faith, many's the palace I've lived in--for the space of half an -hour at a time--but I make no objections to the room I 'm in just now. -See the pictures!" She raised her hands in an attitude of surprise and -admiration, so well simulated as to deceive the landlord, though he had -lived in London. - -"Pictures! Oh, the grandeur of it all! And what about breakfast? Give us -your notions of the proper decorations of a breakfast-table, good sir. -It's a picture of rashers that I've got my heart set on." - -"The best breakfast that my poor house can afford your ladyship shall be -prepared." - -"And soon, good Mr. Landlord, I implore of you, sir. Breakfast for two." - -"For two, madam!" The landlord began to feel that his experience of -assignations was about to be augmented. - -"For two, sir--I look for my brother to arrive by the coach from -Levizes. If he should enquire for me at the bar, just show him in here." - -"Your commands shall be obeyed, madam. Will he enquire for your ladyship -by name?" - -"By name? Why, how else would you have him enquire, my good man? Do you -fancy that he carries a Bow Street runner's description of so humble a -person as myself?" - -"Nay, madam; but you see your name is just what I have n't yet had the -honour of learning." - -The lady burst out laughing. - -"Faith, good sir, my name is a somewhat important detail in the -transaction I speak of. The gentleman will ask for Mistress Clive." - -"Ah," cried the landlord, "I could have sworn that I knew the face and -the voice, but I failed to think of them in connection with our Kitty." -He checked himself in his cackle of laughter, and bowed in his best -style. "Madam, I implore your pardon, but--oh lord! how I've laughed in -the old days at Kitty's pranks!--nay, madam, forgive my familiarity. I -am your servant. Oh, lord! to think that it's Kitty Clive herself--our -Kitty--madam--" - -Only when he had fled to the door and had opened it did the man -recover himself sufficiently to be able to repeat his bow. After he had -disappeared at the other side of the door, the lady heard his outburst -of laughter once again. It grew fainter as he hurried off to (she hoped) -the kitchen. - -Kitty Clive laughed, also, as she seated herself carefully on the -settle, for it was a piece of furniture whose cushions required to be -tenderly treated. - -"And this is real fame," she murmured. "To be 'our Kitty' to a hundred -thousand men and women is my ambition--a laudable one, too, I swear--one -worth struggling for--worth fighting Davy for, and Davy Garrick takes -a deal of fighting. He has got more of it from Kitty Clive than he -bargained for." - -The recollection of her constant bickerings with David Garrick seemed to -offer her a good deal of satisfaction. It is doubtful if David Garrick's -recollection of the same incidents would have been equally pleasing -to him; for Kitty Clive was very annoying, especially when she got -the better of her manager in any matter upon which he tried to get the -better of her, and those occasions were frequent. - -She remained on the settle smiling now and again, and giving a laugh at -intervals as she thought of how she had worsted David, as his namesake -had worsted the champion of Gath. But soon she became grave. - -"I should be ashamed of myself," she muttered. "David Garrick is the -only one of the whole crew at the Lane that never varies. He 's the only -one that 's always at his best. God forgive me for the way. I sometimes -try to spoil his scenes, for he 's worth Quinn, Macklin, and Barry bound -up in one; only why does he keep his purse-strings so close? Ah, if he -only had a pint of Irish blood in his veins." - -She yawned, for her contests with Garrick did not cause her any great -concern; and then she tucked up her feet upon the settle and hummed an -air from the _Beggars' Opera_. Hearing the sound of wheels she paused, -listening. - -"Sure it can't be the coach with my brother yet awhile," said she. "Ah, -no, 't is the sound of a chaise, not a coach." She resumed her lilting -of the air; but once again it was interrupted. Just outside the door -of the room there was the sound of an altercation. The voice of the -landlord was heard, apparently remonstrating with a very self-assertive -person. - -"I know my rights, sir, let me tell you," this person shouted. "Lady me -no ladies, sir; I have a right to enter the room--'t is a public room. -Zounds, sir, cannot you perceive that I am a gentleman, if I am an -actor?" - -"I'll dare swear he could n't," muttered Mrs. Clive. - -"Nay, sir, you shall not intrude on the privacy of a lady," came the -voice of the landlord. - -"Out of the way, sirrah," the other cried, and at the same moment the -door was flung open, and a tall young man wearing a travelling cloak and -boots strode into the room followed by the landlord, at whom he turned -scowling at every step. - -"Madam, I give you my word that I am not to blame; the gentleman would -come in," cried the landlord. - -"That will do, sir," said the stranger. "I myself will make whatever -apology may be needed. I flatter myself that I have had to make many -apologies before now." - -"Madam," continued the landlord, "I told him that you--" - -"That will do, Boniface!" cried the other, standing between the landlord -and Mrs. Clive, who had risen. Then giving a smirk and a flourishing -bow, he said: "Madam, you look to be a sensible woman." - -"I vow, sir," said Kitty, "I have never been accused of being sensible -before. If you cannot pay a woman a better compliment than to call her -sensible, you would be wise to refrain from the attempt to flatter her." - -The pause that followed was broken by the self-satisfied chuckle of -the landlord. He seemed to take credit to himself for Kitty's sally. -He looked at the stranger, then at the lady; his face puckered with -a smile. Then he walked to the door, and gave another chuckle as he -glanced round with his hand on the door. - -"Mistress Kitty has taken the measure of my fine gentleman," he -muttered, with a shrewd wink; "there's no need for me here." - -His chuckle broadened into a guffaw as he went down the passage, having -closed the door. - -"Pray, madam, be not offended," the man who was facing Kitty managed -to say, after an interval. "If I called you sensible, I most humbly -apologise. No offence was meant, madam." - -"I believe that, sir; but no woman likes to be called sensible. You may -call one a silly piece, a romp, or a heartless coquette without offence; -but never a sensible woman." - -"I forgot myself for the moment, madam, owing to the treatment I -received at the hands of that bumpkin Boniface. I am, in what is -doubtless your condition--awaiting the coach, and I objected to be -relegated to the kitchen." - -"Faith, sir," said Kitty, with a laugh, as she returned to the settle, -"I have passed some pleasant enough hours in a kitchen." - -"And so have I, madam, when the wenches were well favoured," said the -man, assuming the sly look of a man who had seen life. [Men who fancied -they knew the world were as plentiful in the last century as they are in -the present.] "Yes, madam; but then I went into the kitchen by choice, -not on compulsion." - -"Maybe you left on compulsion; kitchen wenches have strong arms, sir," -remarked Kitty. - -"Nay, nay, madam, Jack Bates--my name, madam--has always been a -favourite with the wenches." - -"The kitchen wenches?" - -"Zounds, madam, a wench is a wench, whether in the kitchen or the -parlour, Oh, I know woman thoroughly: I have studied her. Woman is a -delightful branch of education." - -"Oh, sir!" cried Kitty, sinking in a curtesy with the look of mock -demureness with which she was accustomed to fascinate her audiences at -Drury Lane. - -Mr. Bates was fascinated by that look. He smiled good-naturedly, waving -his hat as if to deprecate the suggestion that he meant to be a gay dog. - -"Nay, be not fluttered, fair one," he cried with a smirk. "I protest -that I am a gentleman." - -"Oh, I breathe again," said Kitty, rising to the surface, so to speak, -after her curtesy, "A gentleman? I should never have guessed it. I -fancied I heard you assert that you were an actor--just the opposite, -you know." - -"So I am, madam. I am an actor," said Mr. Bates. Sharp though Kitty's -sarcasm was, it glanced off him. - -Kitty assumed a puzzled look. Then she pretended that his meaning had -dawned on her. - -"Oh, I see; you mean, sir, that you are the actor of the part of a -gentleman. Faith, sir, the part might have been better cast." - -"I hope that I am a gentleman first, and an actor afterwards, madam," -said Mr. Bates, with some measure of dignity. - -"In that case, I presume you were appearing in the former _role_ before -you arrived at the inn," said Kitty, whose sarcasm was at no time -deficient in breadth. - -Even Mr. Bates was beginning to appreciate her last sally, when she -added, "I do not remember having seen your name in a bill of any of the -London playhouses, Mr. Bates." - -"I have never appeared in London, madam," said Mr. Bates, "and, so far as -I can gather, I have not lost much by remaining in the country." - -"Nay, but think what the playgoers of London have lost, Mr. Bates," said -Kitty solemnly. - -"I do think of it," cried the man. "Yes, I swear to you that I do. When -I hear of the upstarts now in vogue I feel tempted sometimes to put my -pride in my pocket and appear in London." - -"Before starting in London, a person needs to have his pockets full of -something besides pride," said Kitty. "There are other ways of making -a fortune besides appearing on the London stage. Why should men come -to London to act when they may become highwaymen in the country--ay, or -inn-keepers--another branch of the same profession?" - -"It is clear, madam, that you have no high opinion of the stage. To let -you into a secret--neither have I." Mr. Bates' voice sank to a whisper, -and he gave a confidential wink or two while making this confession. - -Kitty was now truly surprised. Most actors of the stamp of Mr. Bates, -whom she had met, had a profound belief in the art of acting, and -particularly in themselves as exponents of that art. - -"What, sir!" she cried, "are you not an actor on your own confession, -whatever the critics may say?" - -"I admit it, my dear lady; but at the same time, I repeat that I have -no faith in the stage. Acting is the most unconvincing of the arts. Is -there ever a human being outside Bedlam who fancies that the stage hero -is in earnest?" - -"I should say that the force of the illusion is largely dependent upon -the actor," said Kitty. - -"Nothing of the sort, I assure you," said Bates, with a pitying -smile--the smile of the professor for the amateur. "The greatest of -actors--nay, even I myself, madam, fail to carry an audience along with -me so as to make my hearers lose sight of the sham. What child would be -imposed on by the sufferings of the stage hero or heroine? What school -miss would fail to detect the ring of falsehood in the romance of what -authors call their plots?" - -"You fancy that everyone should be capable of detecting the difference -between a woman's account of her real woes and an actress's simulation -of such woes?" - -"That is my contention, madam. The truth has a ring about it that cannot -be simulated by even the best actress." - -"Dear, dear!" cried Kitty, lifting up her hands. "What a wonder it is -that any persons can be prevailed upon to go evening after evening to -the playhouses! Why, I myself go--yes, frequently. Indeed--perhaps I -should blush to confess it--I am a constant attender at Drury Lane. I do -not believe I should be able to live without going to the playhouse!" - -"Tell the truth, madam," cried Mr. Bates, stretching out an eloquent -forefinger at her as she sat on the settle looking at her hands on her -lap, "have you ever sat out an entire play?" - -Kitty looked up and laughed loud and long, so that Mr. Bates felt -greatly flattered. He began to believe that he had just said a very -clever thing. - -"Well, there I allow that you have me," said Kitty. "Sir, I admit that -as a rule I do not remain seated during even an entire act of a play." - -"Ah," cried Mr. Bates triumphantly, "I knew that you were a sensible -woman, asking your pardon again for my presumption. Your confession -bears out my contention; and let me tell you that, on the stage, -matters, so far from improving, are steadily degenerating. I hear that -that young man Garrick is now more in vogue than that fine old actor, -Mr. Quin. Think of it, madam! A wine merchant they say this Garrick was. -Have you ever seen him?" - -"Oh, yes," said Kitty; "I have seen him." - -"And what may he be like?" - -"Mr. Garrick is like no one, and no one is like Mr. Garrick," said Kitty -warmly. - -"Ah!" Mr. Bates' lips were curled with a sneer that caused Kitty's feet -to tap the floor nervously. "Ah! A little fellow, I understand--not up -to my shoulder." - -"Physically, perhaps not," Kitty replied. "But the stature of Mr. -Garrick varies. I have seen him tower over every one on the stage--over -every one in the playhouse; and again I have seen him dwindle until he -was no higher than a child." - -Mr. Bates looked surprised. - -"How does he manage that? A stage trick, I expect." - -"I dare say 't is so--merely that stage trick--genius." - -"He could not deceive me: I would take his measure," said Mr. Bates, -with a shrewd smirk. - -"Still, I have heard that even the players beside him on the stage are -sometimes carried away with the force of his acting," said Kitty. - -"A paltry excuse for forgetting their lines!" sneered Mr. Bates. "Ah! no -actor could make a fool of me!" - -"Would anyone think it necessary to improve on Nature's handiwork in -this respect?" asked Kitty demurely. - -"How?" For a moment Mr. Bates had his doubts as to whether or not the -lady meant to pass a compliment upon him. The demure look upon her face -reassured him. "You are right, madam; they could easily see what I am," -he said, tapping his chest. - -"They could, indeed, sir," said Kitty, more demurely than ever. - -"I do not doubt, mind you, that there is a certain superficial ability -about this Mr. Garrick," resumed Mr. Bates in a condescending way. - -"I am sure that Mr. Garrick would feel flattered could he but know that -he had the good opinion of Mr. Bates," remarked Kitty. - -"Yes, I know that I am generous," said Mr. Bates. "But this Garrick--I -wonder what his Hamlet is like." - -"It is _like_ nothing, sir: it is Hamlet," cried Kitty. - -"You have seen it? What is he like when the ghost enters? I have made -that scene my own." - -Kitty sprang from the settle. - -"Like?" she said. "What is he like? He is like a man in the presence of -a ghost at first, and then--then the ghost becomes more substantial than -he. You hear a sudden cry--he stands transfixed with horror--you see -that he is not breathing, and he makes you one with himself. You cannot -breathe. You feel that his hand is on your heart. You are in the power -of his grasp. He can do what he pleases with you. If he tightens his -grasp you will never breathe again in this world. There is a terrible -pause--he draws his breath--he allows you to draw yours; but you feel in -that long silence you have been carried away to another world--you -are in a place of ghosts--there is nothing real of all that is about -you--you have passed into a land of shadows, and you are aware of a -shadow voice that can thrill a thousand men and women as though they -were but one person:-- - -"'Angels and ministers of grace defend us!' - -"Bah! what a fool I am!" cried Kitty, flinging herself excitedly upon -the settle. "Imitate Mr. Garrick? Sir, he is inimitable! One may imitate -an actor of Hamlet. David Garrick is not that; he is, I repeat, Hamlet -himself." - -Mr. Bates was breathing hard. There was a considerable pause before -he found words to say,--"Madam, for one who has no stage training, I -protest that you display some power. You have almost persuaded me to -admire another actor's Hamlet--a thing unheard of on the stage. I, -myself, play the part of the Prince of Denmark. It would gratify me to -be permitted to rehearse a scene in your presence. You would then see on -what points Mr. Garrick resembles me." - -"Oh, lord!" muttered Kitty, making a face behind Mr. Bates' back. - -"There is the scene at the grave. I am reckoned amazing in that scene." - -"Amazing? I do not doubt it." - -"I wonder how Mr. Garrick acts the grave scene." - -"Oh, sir,'t is his humour to treat it paradoxically." Kitty was now -herself again. "He does not treat the grave scene gravely but merrily." - -"Merrily?" - -"Why not? Novelty is everything in these days. Does not Mr. Macklin make -Shylock a serious and not a comic character? An innovation on the stage -draws the town." - -"Faith, madam, to act the grave scene in a burst of merriment is past an -innovation." - -"Not at all, sir. With Mr. Garrick it seems quite natural. He is one -of those actors who are superior to nature. I am sure you have met some -such." - -"I never met one who was otherwise." - -"Ah, then you will see how Mr. Garrick could enter upon the scene, -beginning to play bowls with Horatio, using skulls for the game; this -goes on for some time, while they quarrel on the score of the score. -They fling their skulls at one another, and then they take to fencing -with two thigh bones which they pick up. Hamlet runs Horatio through -with his bone, and he falls atop of the first grave-digger, who has -been watching the fight, and in pantomime--much is done by pantomime -nowadays--laying odds on Hamlet. Both topple over into the grave, and -Hamlet stands on the brink, convulsed with laughter. This, you observe, -gives extra point to Hamlet's enquiry, 'Whose grave is that, sirrah?' -and certainly extraordinary point to the man's reply, 'Mine, sir.' Has -it ever occurred to you to act the scene after that fashion?" - -"Never, madam--never, I swear," cried Mr. Bates heartily. - -"Ah, there you see is the difference between Mr. Garrick and you," said -Kitty. "Do you bring on Hamlet's Irish servant, Mr. Bates?" - -"Hamlet's Irish servant?" - -"Is it possible that you have not yet followed the new reading in the -scene where Hamlet comes upon the king praying?" - -"I know the scene," cried Mr. Bates, throwing himself into an attitude -as he began: "Oh, my offense is rank; it smells to heaven!" - -"That is it," cried Kitty, interrupting him. "Well, then Hamlet appears -with his Irish servant." - -"'Tis the first I've heard of him." - -"Let it not be the last.'T is a new reading. Hamlet enters, sees the -king, and then turns to his Irish servant saying, 'Now might I do it, -Pat'--the man's name is Patrick, you perceive?" - -"Madam, a more ridiculous innovation I protest I never heard of," said -Mr. Bates. - -"By my faith, sir,'t is not more ridiculous than some stage innovations -that I could name," said Kitty. - -"I could understand Kitty Clive introducing such a point into one of the -farces in which I hear she is a merry baggage, but--" - -"You have never seen Kitty Clive then?" - -"Never, but I hear she is a romp. Are you an admirer of hers, madam?" - -"Sir, she has no more devoted admirer than myself," said Kitty, looking -at the man straight in the face. - -"Is she not a romp?" - -"Oh, surely, a sad, sad romp. She has by her romping, saved many a play -from being damned." - -"She is so great a favorite with playgoers, I doubt her ability," said -Mr. Bates. "I doubt if she could move me. What is the nature of her -merriment?" - -"Extravagance, sir, extravagance. She bounces on as a hoyden, and -pulls a long face like this"--even Mr. Bates roared at Kitty's long -face--"behind the back of the very proper gentleman who has come to woo -her. She catches the point of his sword sheath so that when he tries to -turn he almost falls. She pretends that he has struck her with his sword -and she howls with pain. He hastens to comfort her--down goes a chair, -and he topples over it. 'Murder, murder!' she cries, and snatches up the -shovel as if to defend herself. My gentleman recovers, and hastens to -assure her of his honourable intentions. She keeps him off with her -shovel. He drops his hat, and she shovels it up and runs around the room -to throw it on the fire. He follows her over tables, chairs, and a sofa -or two. 'Tally ho!' she cries and gives a view-halloo. Round the room -they go, and just as he is at the point of catching her she uses the -shovel as a racket, and sends the hat flying, and at the same stroke, -sends her lover sprawling." - -"Madam, she is a vulgar jade, I swear," cried Mr. Bates. He was more out -of breath than Kitty, for she had acted the part so vividly that she -had forced him involuntarily to take the part of the hoyden's lover, and -both he and his hat had suffered. "That scene which you have described -bears out my argument that the more outrageous a scene is, the better -pleased are the public. Women do not make fools of men in real life." - -"Indeed, sir?" - -"No; there you have the absurdity of the stage. Authors set reason and -sense at defiance, daily. Shakespeare is one of the worst offenders." - -"What, Shakespeare?" - -"Oh, believe me, madam, Shakespeare is a greatly over-rated writer. -Look, for instance, at his play of 'Romeo and Juliet': Romeo sees the -lady, exchanges a few words with her, and falls at once in love with -her. He has only to rant beneath her window by the light of the moon, -and forthwith she agrees to marry him, and sure enough, they are married -the very next day. Good lord! Would Shakespeare have us believe that -men can be so easily fooled? Our moderns have not greatly improved upon -Shakespeare." - -"I am with you there, sir, heart and soul." - -"No, they still outrage sense by their plots. A man meets a woman quite -by chance. She tells him a cock and bull story that any fool could see -outrages probability; but he is captivated in a moment. He falls on his -knees before her and vows that she has only to speak to make him the -happiest of mortals. All this is, madam, I need scarcely say, quite -monstrous and unnatural. Such a proceeding could not occur outside -Bedlam." - -"This gentleman should be taught a lesson," said Kitty to herself, as -she watched Mr. Bates swaggering across the room. She became thoughtful -for a moment, and then smiled--only for a second, however; then she -became grave and her voice faltered as she said: "Sir, I protest that I -never before knew--nay, felt--what real eloquence was--eloquence wedded -to reason." - -"Nay, madam," smirked Mr. Bates. - -"'T is the truth, sir. May I hope that you will not think me too -forward, if I venture to express a humble opinion, sir?" Her voice was -low, and it certainly faltered more than before. - -"I shall treasure that opinion, madam," said Mr. Bates. That soft voice -produced its impression upon him. He felt that he was in the presence of -an amazingly fine woman. - -"You will not be offended, sir, if I say that I feel it to be a great -pity that one who has such eloquence at his command should spend his -time merely repeating the phrases--the very inferior phrases--of others. -The Senate, sir, should be your stage. You are not angry, sir?" - -She had laid a hand upon his arm and was looking pleadingly up to his -face. - -"Angry?" cried Mr. Bates, patting her hand, at which she turned her -eyes, modestly from his face to the ground. - -"Angry? Nay, dear lady, you have but expressed what I have often -thought." - -"I am so glad that you are not offended by my presumption, sir," said -Kitty, removing her hand--Mr. Bates did not seem willing to let it go. -"If you were offended, I protest that I should be the most wretched of -women." - -Mr. Bates marked how her voice broke, He took a step after her, as she -went to the settle. - -"Dear madam, you deserve to be the happiest rather than the most -wretched of your sex," he said--his voice was also very soft and low. - -Kitty turned to him, crying quickly: "And I should be so if--" here -she sighed--it seemed to Mr. Bates quite involuntarily. "Pardon me: -I--I--that is--sometimes the heart forces the lips to speak when they -should remain silent. A woman is a simple creature, sir." - -"A woman is a very fascinating creature, I vow," cried Mr. Bates, and he -felt that he was speaking the truth. - -"Ah, Mr. Bates, she has a heart: that is woman's weakness--her heart!" -murmured Kitty. - -"I protest that she has not a monopoly of that organ," said Mr. Bates. -"May not a man have a heart also, sweet one?" - -"Alas!" sighed Kitty, "it has not been my lot to meet with any but those -who are heartless. I have often longed--but why should I burden you with -the story of my longings--of my sufferings?" - -"Your woman's instinct tells you that you have at last met with a man -who has a heart. I have a heart, dear creature. Was it my fate brought -me into this room to-day? Was it my inscrutable destiny that led me to -meet the most charming--" - -"Pray, Mr. Bates, be merciful as you are strong!" cried Kitty, pressing -one hand to her tumultuous bosom. "Do not compel a poor weak woman to -betray her weakness: the conqueror should be merciful. What a voice is -yours, sir! What poor woman could resist its melody? Oh, sir, forgive -the tears of a weak, unhappy creature." - -She had thrown herself on the settle and had laid her head upon one of -its arms. - -In an instant he was beside her and had caught her hand. - -"Nay, dear one, I cannot forgive the tears that dim those bright eyes," -he whispered in her ear. "You have had a past, madam?" - -"Ah, sir," cried Kitty, from the folds of her handkerchief, "all my life -up to the present has been my past--that is why I weep." - -"Is it so sad as that? You have a story?" - -"Should I tell it to you?" said Kitty, raising her head suddenly and -looking at the face that was so near hers. "I will, I will--yes, I will -trust you--you may be able to help me." - -"With my latest breath!" cried Mr. Bates. - -"Sir, to be brief, I am a great heiress," said Kitty, quite calmly. Mr. -Bates started, his eyes brightened. "My uncle was trustee of my father's -property--it is in two counties," continued Kitty. "For some years after -my father's death I had no reason for complaint. But then a change came. -My uncle's son appeared upon the scene, and I soon perceived his true -character--a ruined, dissolute scamp, I knew him to be, and when I -rejected his advances with scorn, his father, who I fancied was my -friend, commenced such a series of persecutions as would have broken a -less ardent spirit than mine. They did not move me. They shut me up in a -cold, dark dungeon and loaded these limbs of mine with fetters." - -"The infernal ruffians!" - -"They fed me with bread and water. They tortured me by playing on the -harpsichord outside my prison all the best known airs from the _Beggars' -Opera_. - -"Horrible!" - -"Oh, I thought I should have gone mad--mad; but I knew that that was -just what they wanted, in order that they might shut me up in Bedlam, -and enjoy my property. I made a resolution not to go mad, and I have -adhered to it ever since." - -"Noble girl!" - -"At last the time came when I could stand their treatment no longer. -I flung my iron fetters to the winds--I burst through the doors of my -prison and rushed into the dining-hall where my two persecutors were -carousing in their cups. They sprang up with a cry of horror when I -appeared. My uncle's hand was upon the bell, when I felled him with a -heavy glass decanter. With a yell--I hear it now--his son sprang upon -me--he went down beneath the stroke of the ten-light chandelier which I -hastily plucked down and hurled at him. I called for a horse and chaise. -They were at the door in a moment and I fled all night. But alas! alas! -I feel that my flight shall avail me nothing. They are on my track, and -I shall be forced to marry at least one of them. But no, no, sooner than -submit, with this dagger--" - -She had sprung from her place and her hand was grasping something inside -her bodice, when Mr. Bates caught her firmly by the wrist. - -"You shall do nothing so impious, madam," he cried. - -"Who shall prevent me?" cried Kitty, struggling with him. "Who shall -save me from my persecutors?" - -"I, madam--I will do it!" cried Mr. Bates. - -"You--how?" Kitty had now ceased to struggle. - -"I will marry you myself!" shouted Mr. Bates, grasping both her hands. - -"But only half an hour has passed since we met," said Kitty, looking -down. - -"That is enough, madam, to convince me that my heart is yours. Sweet -one, I throw myself at your feet. Let me be your protector. Let me hold -you from your persecutors. Dearest lady, marry me and you are safe." - -"Thank heaven--thank heaven I have found a friend!" murmured Kitty. - -"You agree?" said Mr. Bates, rising to his feet. - -"Oh, sir, I am overcome with gratitude," cried Kitty, throwing herself -into his arms. - -"An heiress--and mine," Mr. Bates whispered. - -"Mistress Clive, the gentleman has arrived--oh, lud! what has Kitty been -up to?" - -The landlord was standing at the door with his hands raised. - -"'T is my brother, Jimmy Raftor," said Kitty, coolly arranging the -disordered hood of her cloak before the glass. "Jimmy is one of the best -pistol-shots in all Ireland, and that's saying a good deal. Show the -gentleman in, Mr. Landlord." - -Mr. Bates stood aghast. "Mistress Clive--not Kitty Clive of Drury Lane?" -he faltered. - -"I am Kitty Clive of Drury Lane, at your service, sir, if you should -need another lesson to convince you that even the most ridiculous story, -if plausibly told, will carry conviction to the most astute of men." - -Kitty Clive sank in a mock curtesy; the landlord roared with laughter; -Mr. Bates stood amazed in the center of the room. - - - - -A QUESTION OF ART - - -I - -If only she had a heart she would be perfect," said Mr. Garrick to his -friend, Mrs. Woffington. - -"Ay, as an actress, not as a woman," said Mrs. Woffington. "'T is -not the perfect women who have been most liberally supplied with that -organ." - -"Faith, Madam Peggy, I, David Garrick, of Drury Lane Theatre, have good -reason to set much more store upon the perfect actress than the perfect -woman," said Mr. Garrick. "If I had no rent to pay and no actors to pay, -I might be led to spend a profitable hour or two over the consideration -of so interesting a question as the relative merits of the perfect woman -with no heart worth speaking of and the perfect actress with a dangerous -superfluity of the same organ. Under existing conditions, however, I beg -leave to--" - -"Psha! Davy," said Margaret; "try not your scholarship upon so poor a -thing as myself! It seems to me that you have never quite recovered -from the effects of your early training at the feet of our friend, Mr. -Johnson." - -"Alas! Peggy," said Garrick, "I have forgot all the better part of Mr. -Johnson's instruction. He has no reason to be proud of me." - -"And yet he is proud of you, and, by my faith, he has some reason to be -so. Was it not he made you an actor?" - -"He! Mr. Johnson? oh, Lord, he never ceased to inculcate upon us a just -hatred and contempt of all that appertains to the stage." - -"Ay, and that was the means of making you thoroughly interested in all -that appertains to the stage, my friend. But I hold as I have always -held, that Mr. Johnson gave you first chance. - -"What sophistry is this that you have seized upon, my dear? My first -chance?" - -"Yes, sir; I hold that your first and, I doubt not, your greatest, -success as an actor, was your imitation for the good of your -schoolfellows, of the mighty love passages between your good preceptor -and that painted piece of crockery who had led him to marry her, that -was old enough--ay, and nearly plain enough--to be his mother. What did -he call her?--his Tiffy?--his Taffy?" - -"Nay, only his Tessy, The lady's name was Elizabeth, you must know." - -"Call her Saint Elizabeth, Davy--your patron saint, for, by the Lord -Harry, you would never have thought of coming on the stage if it had not -been for the applause you won when you returned to the schoolroom after -peeping through the door of the room where your schoolmaster chased his -Tessy into a corner for a kiss! Davy, 't is your finest part still. If -you and I were to act it, with a prologue written by Mr. Johnson, it -would draw all the town." - -"I doubt it not; but it would likewise draw down upon me the wrath of -Mr. Johnson; and that is not to be lightly faced. But we have strayed -from our text, Margaret." - -"Our text? I have forgotten that there was some preaching being done. -But all texts are but pretexts for straying, uttered in the hearing of -the strayed. What is your text, Davy?" - -"The text is the actress without the heart, Margaret, and the evil that -she doeth to the writer of the tragedy, to the man who hath a lease -of the playhouse, and above all to her sister actress, Mistress -Woffington." - -"The last of the three evils would imperil the soul's safety of as -blameless a lady as Kitty Clive herself. But, if Mistress Woffington -acts her part well in the new tragedy, I scarce see how she can be hurt -by the bad acting of Miss Hoppner." - -"That is because you are a trifle superficial in your views of the -drama, Mistress Woffington. What would you think of the painter who -should declare that, if the lights in his picture were carefully put in, -the shadows might be left to chance?" - -"Where is the analogy, David?" - -"It is apparent: the tragedy is the picture, Mrs. Woffington represents -the lighting, and Miss Hoppner the shading. Heavens! Mrs. Woffington, -madam, do you flatter yourself that the playgoers will be willing to -accept the author's account of the fascinations of the woman whom -you are representing, if you fail to rouse your rival to any point of -jealousy? Miss Hoppner, for all the strong language the poet puts into -her mouth, will not make the playgoers feel that the Lady Oriana bears -you a grudge for having taken her lover from her; and when she stabs you -with her dagger, she does so in such a halfhearted way that the whole -house will perceive that she is not in earnest." - -"Then they will blame her, and she will deserve the blame. They cannot -blame me." - -"Cannot they, indeed? Lord, my good woman, you little know the -playgoers. You think that they are so nice in their discrimination? -You should have learnt better since the days you hung on to Madame -Violanti's feet on the tight rope. If you had wriggled so that Violanti -had slipped off her rope, would her patrons have blamed aught but her? -Nay, you know that they would only have sneered at her clumsiness, and -thought nothing of the little devil who had upset her." - -"Ay; I begin to perceive your meaning. You apprehend that the playgoers -will damn the play and all associated with it, because Miss Hoppner does -not kill me with sufficient good-will?" - -"I feel sure that they will say that if Mrs. Woffington had only acted -with sufficient intensity she would have stirred her rival into so real -a passion of jealousy that she would have stabbed you in a fury." - -"Look you here, friend Davy; if it be in your thoughts that Mairgaret -Woffington is to be held accountable for the mistakes of all the other -members of your company, you would do well to revise your salary list." - -"Nay, Peggy; I only said what the playgoers will, in their error, mind -you, assume." - -"Come, Mr. Garrick, tell me plainly what you want me to do for you in -this business. What, sir, are we not on sufficiently friendly terms for -plain speaking? Tell me all that is on your mind, sir?" - -Garrick paused for some moments, and then laughed in a somewhat -constrained way, before walking on by the side of his friend. - -"Come, sir," continued Mrs. Woffington. "Be as plain as you please. I am -not prone to take offence." - -"We'll talk of that anon," said Garrick. "Perhaps Mr. Macklin will be -able to give us his helpful counsel in this business." - -"Psha!" said Peggy. "Mr. Macklin could never be brought to see with your -eyes." - -"Then he will be all the better able to give us the result of Mr. -Macklin's observation," said Garrick. - -"Ay, but that is not what you want, Davy," said Mrs. Woffington, with a -pretty loud laugh. "No one ever calls in a counsellor with the hope of -obtaining an unprejudiced opinion; the only counsellor in whom we have -confidence is he who corroborates our own views." - - -II - -They had reached their house. It was No. 6 Bow Street, and it was -presided over by Macklin--Garrick and Mrs. Woffington doing the -housekeeping on alternate months. - -Visitors preferred calling during Peggy's month, as the visitor, who was -now greeted by David Garrick in the parlour, testified in the presence -of his biographer years after; for it was Samuel Johnson who awaited the -return from rehearsal of his Lichfield pupil, David Garrick. - -"You shall have a dish of tea, Mr. Johnson, if we have to go thirsty for -the rest of the week," cried the actress, when her hand had been kissed -by her visitor. Johnson's kissing of her hand was strangely suggestive -of an elephant's picking up a pin. - -"Madam," said he, "your offer is made in the true spirit of hospitality. -Hospitality, let me tell you, consists not, as many suppose, in the -sharing of one's last crust with a friend--for the sacrifice in parting -with a modicum of so unappetising a comestible as a crust is not -great--nay; hospitality, to become a virtue, involves a real sacrifice." - -"So in heaven's name let us have the tea," said Garrick. "Make it not -too strong," he whispered to Peggy as he opened the door for her. "I -have seen him drain his tenth cup at a sitting." - -The actress made a mocking gesture by way of reply. She did not share -Garrick's parsimonious longings, and in the matter of tea brewing, she -was especially liberal. When she returned to the room bearing aloft a -large teapot, and had begun to pour out the contents, Garrick complained -bitterly of the strength of the tea, as his guest years afterwards told -Boswell. - -"'T is as red as blood," growled the actor. - -"And how else should it be, sir?" cried Mrs. Woffington. "Is 't not the -nature of good tea to be red?" - -As Garrick continued growling, Peggy laughed the more heartily, and, -with an air of coquettish defiance which suited her admirably, poured -out a second brimming cup for their visitor--he had made very light of -the first--taking no care to avoid spilling some into the saucer. - -"Faith, sir, Mr. Garrick is right: 'tis as red as blood," laughed Peggy, -looking with mischievous eyes into Johnson's face. - -"That were an indefinite statement, madam; its accuracy is wholly -dependent on the disposition of the person from whom the blood is -drawn," said Johnson. "Now yours, I believe, madam, to be of a rich -and generous hue, but Davy's, I doubt not, is a pale and meagre -fluid--somewhat resembling the wine which he endeavored to sell, with, -let us hope for the sake of the health of his customers, indifferent -success for some years." - -Garrick laughed with some constraint, while Mrs. Woffington roared with -delight. - -"Nay, sir; you are too hard upon me," cried the actor. - -"What! would the rascal cry up his blood at the expense of his wine?" -said Johnson. "That, sir, were to eulogise nature at the expense of -art--an ill proceeding for an actor." - -"And that brings us back to the question which we discussed on our way -hither from the theatre," said Peggy. "List, good Mr. Johnson, to the -proposition of Mr. Garrick. He says that I should be held accountable -for the tameness in the acting of the part of a jealous woman by Miss -Hoppner, who is to appear in the tragedy on Tuesday week." - -"I do not doubt, madam, that you should be held accountable for the -jealousy of many good women in the town," said Johnson; "but it passes -my knowledge by what sophistry your responsibility extends to any matter -of art." - -"Mrs. Woffington has not told you all, sir," said Garrick. "She is, as -you may well suppose, the creature in the tragedy who is supposed to -excite the bitter jealousy of another woman. Now, I submit that the -play-goers will be ready to judge of the powers of Mrs. Woffington as -exercised in the play, by its effect upon the other characters in the -said play." - -"How so, sir?" said Johnson. "Why, sir," replied Garrick, "I maintain -that, when they perceive that the woman who is meant to be stung to a -point of madness through her jealousy of a rival, is scarce moved at -all, they will insensibly lay the blame upon her rival, saying that the -powers of the actress were not equal to the task assigned to her by the -poet." - -"And I maintain, sir, that a more ridiculous contention than yours could -not be entertained by the most ignorant of men--nay, the most ignorant -of actors, and to say so much, sir, is to say a great deal," cried -Johnson. "I pray you, friend Davy, let no men know that I was once your -teacher, if you formulate such foolishness as this; otherwise, it would -go hard with me in the world." - -"Ah, sir, that last sentence shows that you are in perfect accord with -the views which I have tried to express to you," said Garrick. "You are -ready to maintain that the world will hold you accountable for whatever -foolishness I may exhibit. The playgoers will, on the same principle, -pronounce on the force of Mrs. Woffington's fascinations by the effect -they have, not upon the playgoers themselves, but upon Miss Hoppner." - -"Then the playgoers will show themselves to be the fools which I have -always suspected them of being," said Johnson, recovering somewhat -ungracefully from the effects of swallowing a cup of tea; "Ay, but how -are we to fool them?--that's the question, Mr. Johnson," said Peggy. "I -have no mind to get the blame which should fall on the shoulders of Miss -Hoppner; I would fain have the luxury of qualifying for blame by my own -act." - -"What! you mean, madam, that before receiving the punishment for -sinning, you would fain enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season? That -is, I fear, but indifferent morality," said Johnson, shaking his head -and his body as well with even more than his accustomed vehemence. - -"Look you here, Mrs. Woffington," said Garrick. "You are far too kind to -Miss Hoppner. That would not be bad of itself, but when it induces her -to be kindly disposed to you, it cannot be tolerated. She is a poor -fool, and so is unable to stab with proper violence one who has shown -herself her friend." - -"She cannot have lived in the world of fashion," remarked Johnson. - -"Lud! would you have me arouse the real passion in the good woman for -the sake of the play?" cried Peggy. - -"He would e'en degrade nature by making her the handmaid of art. -Sir, let me tell you this will not do, and there's an end on't," said -Johnson. - -"Then the play will be damned, sir," said Garrick. - -"Let the play be damned, sir, rather than a woman's soul," shouted -Johnson. - -"Meantime you will have another cup of tea, Mr. Johnson," said Peggy, -smiling with a witchery of that type which, exercised in later years, -caused her visitor to make a resolution never to frequent the green -room of Drury Lane--a resolution which was possibly strengthened by the -failure of his tragedy. - -"Mrs. Woffington," said he, passing on his empty cup, "let me tell you I -count it a pity so excellent a brewer of tea should waste her time upon -the stage. Any wench may learn to act, but the successful brewing of tea -demands the exercise of such judgment as cannot be easily acquired. -Briefly, the woman is effaced by the act of going on the stage; but the -brewing of tea is a revelation of femininity." He took three more -cupfuls. - -***** - -The tragedy of "Oriana," from the rehearsal of which Garrick and Mrs. -Woffington had returned to find Johnson at their house on Bow Street, -was by an unknown poet, but Garrick had come to the conclusion, after -reading it, that it possessed sufficient merit to justify his producing -it at Drury Lane. It abounded in that form of sentiment which found -favor with playgoers in an age of artificiality, and its blank verse was -strictly correct and inexpressible. It contained an apostrophe to -the Star of Love, and eulogies of Liberty, Virtue, Hope, and other -abstractions, without which no eighteenth century tragedy was considered -to be complete. Oriana was a Venetian lady of the early republican -period. She was in love with one Orsino, a prince, and they exchanged -sentiments in the first act, bearing generally upon the advantages -of first love, without touching upon its economic aspects. Unhappily, -however, Orsino allowed himself to be attracted by a lady named -Francesca, who made up in worldly possessions for the absence of those -cheerless sentiments which Oriana had at her fingers' ends, and the -result was that Oriana ran her dagger into the heart of her rival, into -the chest of her faithless lover, and into her own stays. The business -was carried on by the sorrowing relations of the three, with the -valuable assistance of the ghosts of the slain, who explained their -relative positions with fluency and lucidity, and urged upon the -survivors, with considerable argumentative skill, the advisability of -foregoing the elaborate scheme of revenge which each side was hoping -to carry out against the other from the date of the obsequies of the -deceased. - -The character of Oriana was being rehearsed by Miss Hoppner, an -extremely handsome young woman, whom Garrick had met and engaged in the -country, Mrs. Woffington being the fatally fascinating Francesca, and -Garrick, himself, the Prince Orsino. - -The tragedy had been in rehearsal for a fortnight, and it promised well, -if the representative of the jealous woman could only be brought to "put -a little life into the death scene"--the exhortation which the -Irish actress of the part of Francesca offered to her daily, but -ineffectually. Miss Hoppner neither looked the part of a tragically -jealous woman, nor did the stabbing of her rival in anything like that -whirlwind of passion with which Garrick, in spite of the limping of the -blank verse of the poet, almost swept the rest of the company off the -stage when endeavoring to explain to the actress what her representation -lacked, on the day after his chat with Mrs. Woffington on the same -subject. - -Poor Miss Hoppner took a long breath, and passed her hand across her -eyes as if to get rid of the effects of that horrible expression of -deadly hate which Garrick's face had worn, as he had craned his head -forward close to hers to show her how she should stab her rival--the -slow movement of his body suggesting the stealth of the leopard -approaching its victim, and his delivery of the lines through his -teeth more than suggesting the hissing of a deadly snake in the act of -springing. - -"Ay, do it that way, my dear madam," said Mrs. Woffington, "and the day -after the tragedy is played, you will be as famous as Mr. Garrick. 'T is -the simplest thing in the world." - -[Illustration: 0130] - -"You have so unnerved me, sir, that I vow I have no head for my lines," -said Miss Hoppner. - -But when, by the aid of the prompter, the lines were recovered and -she had repeated the scene, the result showed very little improvement. -Garrick grumbled, and Miss Hoppner was tearful, as they went to the -wardrobe room to see the dresses which had just been made for the -principal ladies. - -Miss Hoppner's tears quickly dried when she was brought face to face -with the gorgeous fabric which she was to wear. It was a pink satin -brocaded with white hawthorne, the stomacher trimmed with pearls. She -saw that it was infinitely superior to the crimson stuff which had been -assigned to Mrs. Woffington. She spoke rapturously of the brocade, and -hurried with it in front of a mirror to see how it suited her style of -beauty. - -Mrs. Woffington watched her with a smile. A sudden thought seemed to -strike her, and she gave a little laugh. After a moment's hesitation she -went behind the other actress and said: - -"I'm glad to see that you admire my dress, Miss Hoppner." - -"Your dress?" said Miss Hoppner. "Oh, yes, that crimson stuff--'t -is very becoming to you, I'm sure, Mrs. Woffington; though, for that -matter, you look well in everything." - -"'T is you who are to wear the crimson, my dear," said Peggy. "I have -made up my mind that the one you hold in your hand is the most suitable -for me in the tragedy." - -"Nay, madam, Mr. Garrick assigned this one to me, and I think 't will -suit me very well." - -"That is where Mr. Garrick made a mistake, child," said Peggy. "And -I mean to repair his error. The choice of dresses lies with me, Miss -Hoppner." - -"I have yet to be made aware of that, madam." said Miss Hoppner. Her -voice had a note of shrillness in it, and Garrick, who was standing -apart, noticed that her colour had risen with her voice. He became -greatly interested in these manifestations of a spirit beyond that which -she had displayed when rehearsing the tragedy. - -"The sooner you are made aware of it, the better it will be for all -concerned," said Mrs. Woffington, with a deadly smile. - -"I make bold to assure you, madam, that I shall be instructed on this -point by Mr. Garrick and Mr. Garrick only," said the other, raising -her chin an inch or two higher than she was wont, except under great -provocation. - -"I care not whom you make your instructor, provided that you receive the -instruction," sneered Peggy. - -"Mr. Garrick," cried Miss Hoppner, "I beg that you will exercise your -authority. You assigned to me the brocade, did you not, sir?" - -"And I affirm that the brocade will be more suitably worn by me, sir," -said Peggy. "And I further affirm that I mean to wear it, Mr. Garrick." - -"I would fain hope that the caprice of a vain woman will not be -permitted to have force against every reasonable consideration," said -Miss Hoppner, elevating her chin by another inch as she glanced out of -the corners of her eyes in the direction of the other actress. - -"That is all I ask for, madam; and as we are so agreed, I presume that -you will hand me over the gown without demur." - -"Yours is the caprice, madam, let me tell you. I have right on my side." - -"And I shall have the brocade on mine by way of compensation, my dear -lady." - -"Ladies!" cried Garrick, interposing, "I must beg of you not to -embarrass me. 'T is a small matter--this of dress, and one that should -not make a disagreement between ladies of talent. If one is a good -actress, one can move an audience without so paltry an auxiliary as a -yard or two of silk." - -"I will not pay Miss Hoppner so poor a compliment as would be implied by -the suggestion that she needs the help of a silk brocade to eke out her -resources as an actress," said Peggy. - -"I ask not for compliments from Mrs. Woffington. The brocade was -assigned to me, and--" - -"It would be ungenerous to take advantage of Mr. Garrick's error, -madam." - -"It was no error, Mrs. Woffington." - -"What! you would let all the world know that Mr. Garrick's opinion was -that you stood in need of a showy gown to conceal the defects of your -art?" - -"You are insolent, Mrs. Woffington!" - -"Nay, nay, my dear ladies; let's have no more of this recrimination over -a question of rags. It is unworthy of you," said Garrick. - -"I feel that, sir, and so I mean to wear the brocade," said Mrs. -Woffington. "Good lud, Mr. Garrick, what were you thinking of when you -assigned to the poor victim of the murderess in the tragedy the crimson -robe which was plainly meant to be in keeping with the gory intentions -of her rival?" - -"Surely I did not commit that mistake," said Garrick. "Heavens! where -can my thoughts have been? Miss Hoppner, madam, I am greatly vexed--" - -"Let her take her brocade," cried Miss Hoppner, looking with indignant -eyes, first at the smiling Peggy, and then at Garrick, who was acting -the part of a distracted man to perfection. "Let her wear it and see -if it will hide the shortcomings of her complexion from the eyes of the -playgoers." - -She walked away with a sniff before Peggy could deliver any reply. - - -III - -Pray what trick have you on your mind now? asked Garrick, when he was -alone with Peggy. "What was that caprice of yours?" - -"Caprice? You are a fool, Davy. You even forget your own precepts, which -your friend Mr. Johnson, in his wisdom condemned so heartily yesterday." - -"Good Lord! You mean to--" - -"I mean to make Miss Hoppner act the part of a jealous woman to -perfection." And she did so. The next day at the rehearsal, Garrick, as -well as every member of the company, was amazed at the energy which -Miss Hoppner contrived to impart to the scene in the play where, in the -character of Oriana, she stabbed her successful rival. She acted with a -force that had scarcely been surpassed by Garrick's reading of the scene -for her instruction the previous day. - -"Faith, Peggy, you have given her a weapon for your own undoing," said -Garrick, as he walked home with Mrs. Woffington. "She will eclipse you, -if you do not mind." - -"I 'll e'en run the risk," said Peggy. - -Alas! the next day Miss Hoppner was as feeble as ever--nay, the stabbing -scene had never been so feebly gone through by her; and Garrick grumbled -loudly. - -Miss Hoppner did not seem to mind. At the end of the rehearsal she -sought Peggy and offered her her hand. - -"Mrs. Woffington," she said, "I am desirous of asking your pardon for -my curtness in the matter of the dress. I owe so much to your kindness, -madam, I feel that my attempt to fix a quarrel upon you was the more -base. Pray, forgive an unhappy creature, who only seeks to retain the -honour of your friendship." - -"Oh, you goose!" said Peggy. "Why are you so foolish as to desire to -make friends with me? You should have hated me--been ready to kill -me--anything for the sake of becoming an actress." - -"You will not refuse me the forgiveness which I implore?" said Miss -Hoppner. - -"Nay, nay; I was in the wrong; it was my caprice, but carried out solely -on your behalf, child," said Peggy. - -"On my behalf? Oh, you are quite right; I was beginning to forget -myself--to forget that I was but a provincial actress." - -"Oh, you good natured creature!" cried Peggy. "I'll have to begin all -over again." - -They had reached the stage door by this time, and were standing together -in the long passage when a tall and good-looking man was admitted, -enquiring for Miss Hoppner. Peggy did not fail to notice the brightening -of the color of her companion as the gentleman advanced and took off -his hat with a low bow. It was with a certain proprietary air that Miss -Hoppner presented him to Peggy, by the name of Captain Joycelyn, of the -Royal Scots. - -"Captain Joycelyn is one of your warmest admirers, Mrs. Woffington," -said Miss Hoppner. - -"Sir, I am overwhelmed," said Mrs. Woffington, with a deep courtesy. - -"Nay, madam, I am your servant, I swear," said the gentleman. "I have -often longed for this honor, but it ever seemed out of my reach. We of -the Royal Scots consider ourselves no mean judges of your art, and we -agree that the playhouse without Mrs. Woffington would be lusterless." - -"Ah, sir, you would still have Mrs. Clive," suggested Peggy. - -"Mrs. Clive? You can afford to be generous, madam," laughed Captain -Joycelyn. - -"She is the most generous woman alive," said Miss Hoppner. "She will -prove herself such if she converses with you here for five minutes. I -was going away forgetting that I had to talk to the wardrobe mistress -about my turban. I shall not be more than five minutes away." - -"I protest it makes no demand upon my generosity to remain to listen -to so agreeable a critic, though I admit that I do so with a certain -tremor, sir," said Peggy, with a charming assumption of the fluttered -miss. - -"A certain tremor? Why should you have a tremor, dear madam?" said the -officer. - -"Ah,'t is the talk of the town that all hearts go down before the Royal -Scots, as the King's enemies did in the Low Countries." - -"An idle rumour, madam, I do assure you." - -"I might have thought so up till now; but now I think I would do wisely -to retreat in order, Captain, while there is yet time." - -She looked up at his face with a smile of matchless coquetry. - -"Nay, madam, you shall not stir," said he, laughing. "'T is not the -conqueror that should retreat. I am too conscientious a soldier to -permit so gross a violation of the art of war. Seriously, why should you -fly?" - -"I am a poor strategist, but I have a sense of danger. Is Miss Hoppner a -special friend of yours, sir?" - -"A special friend? Well, we have been acquaintances for nigh half a -year." - -"I thought I had seen her by your side at Ranelagh. She looked very -happy. I dare say I should be ashamed to confess it, but I envied her." - -Peggy's eyes were turned upon the ground with a demureness that -represented the finest art of the coquette. - -"You--you envied her?" cried the officer. "How humble must be your -aspirations, sweet creature! If I should not be thought to be over-bold -I would offer--ah! I fear that so brief an acquaintanceship as ours does -not warrant my presumption--" - -"And yet you do not look like one who would be likely to give offense by -overpresumption, sir." - -"I should be sorry to do so, madam. Well, if you promise not to flout -me, I will say that if you will accept my escort any night to the -Gardens, you will do me a great honour." - -"Oh, sir, your graceful offer overwhelms me. But, alas! all my evenings -are not my own. I am free but this evening and to-morrow evening." - -"Then why not come this evening, madam?" - -"Why not, indeed? only--is 't not too sudden, Captain? Ah, the dash of -Royal Scots cannot be resisted!" - -At this moment Miss Hoppner returned, and Peggy cried to her, "My dear -child, your friend is Mercury--the messenger of the Elysian Fields--he -has invited us to accompany him to Ranelagh to-night." - -"Indeed! That is kind of him," said Miss Hoppner, without any great show -of enthusiasm. "And you have accepted his invitation?" - -"Ah! who could refuse?" cried Peggy. She had not failed to notice -Captain Joycelyn's little start at her assumption that Miss Hoppner was -also to be of the party. "You will not mar our enjoyment by refusing to -come, my dear?" she added. - -"Nay; if 't is all settled, I will not hold aloof," said Miss Hoppner, -brightening up somewhat. - -They went out together, and before Peggy had parted from the others, the -manner and the hour of their going had been arranged. - - -IV - -They went up to the gardens by boat. Their party numbered four, for -Miss Hoppner had, when alone with Captain Joycelyn, so pouted that he -had promised to bring with him a brother officer to add symmetry to -the party. But if she fancied that this gentleman, who was one Ensign -Cardew, was to be the companion of Mrs. Woffington, she soon became -sensible of her mistake. By some strange error, for which only Peggy -could account the couples got parted in the crowd, Peggy and the Captain -disappearing mysteriously, and only meeting the Ensign and his companion -at supper time. - -The merriment of Peggy, at the supper, and the high spirits of Captain -Joycelyn, who allowed himself to be spoon-fed by her with minced -chicken, were powerless to disperse the cloud which hung over Miss -Hoppner. She pouted at the supper, and pouted in the boat, and made only -sarcastic replies to the exclamations of enjoyment addressed to her by -the volatile Peggy. - -The next day, before the rehearsal of the tragedy, Miss Hoppner said to -Peggy, who was renewing her protestations of the enjoyment she had had -on the previous evening: - -"I think it right that you should know, Mrs. Woffington, that Captain -Joycelyn some time ago made a proposal of marriage to me, which I -accepted." - -"Good creature, what has that to do with me?" asked Peggy. "Captain -Joycelyn certainly said nothing to me on that particular subject last -night, and why should you do so now?" - -"I am desirous of playing a fair game, madam," cried Miss Hoppner. - -"And I am not desirous of playing any game, fair or otherwise," said -Peggy. "Lud, Miss Hoppner, do you fancy that 't is my duty to prevent the -straying of the lovers of the ladies of Mr. Garrick's company? I vow, -I took upon me no such responsibility; I should have no time for my -meals." - -The woman whom she addressed looked at her with flashing eyes, her hands -tightly clenched, and her teeth set, for some moments. Once her lips -parted; she seemed about to speak; but with an evident struggle she -restrained herself. Then the fierce light in her eyes flamed into scorn. - -"Words were wasted on such a creature," she said in a whisper, that had -something of a hiss in its tone, as she walked away. - -Peggy laughed somewhat stridently, and cried: - -"Excellently spoke, beyond doubt. The woman will be an actress yet." - -Not a word of complaint had Garrick reason for uttering in regard to -the rehearsal of the scene in the tragedy, this day, and on their way -homewards, he remarked to Peggy, smilingly: - -"Perhaps in the future, my dear Peggy, you will acknowledge that I know -something of the art and methods of acting, though you did not hesitate -to join with Mr. Johnson in calling my theories fantastic." - -"Perhaps I may," said Peggy, quietly; "but just now I protest that I -have some qualms." - -"Qualms? Qualms? An actress with qualms!" cried Garrick. "What a comedy -could be written on that basis! 'The Actress with Qualms; or, Letting I -Dare Not wait upon I Would!' Pray, madam, do your qualms arise from -the reflection that you have contributed to the success of a sister -actress?" - -"The tragedy has not yet been played," said Peggy. "It were best not -to talk of the success of an actress in a play until the play has been -acted." - -That night, Mrs. Woffington occupied a box in the theater, and by her -side was Captain Joycelyn. Miss Hoppner was in a box opposite, and by -her side was her mother. - -On Monday, Peggy greeted her quite pleasantly as she came upon the stage -to rehearse the tragedy; but she returned the greeting with a glance of -scorn, far more fierce than any which, in the character of Oriana, she -had yet cast at her rival in the scenes of the play. Peggy's mocking -face and the merry laugh in which she indulged did not cause the other -to abate any of her fierceness; but when the great scene was rehearsed -for the last time previous to the performance, Mrs. Woffington became -aware of the fact that, not only was Miss Hoppner's representation of -the passionate jealousy of the one woman real, but her own expression -of fear, on the part of the other woman when she saw the flash of the -dagger, was also real. With an involuntary cry she shrank back before -the wild eyes of the actress, who approached her with the stealthy -movement of a panther measuring its distance for a spring at the throat -of its victim. - -Garrick complimented both ladies at the close of the scene, but they -both seemed too overcome to acknowledge his compliments. - -"By my soul, Peggy," said Garrick, when they met at the house in Bow -street, "you have profited as much by your teaching of that woman as -she has. The expression upon your face to-day as she approached you gave -even me a thrill. The climax needed such a cry as you uttered, though -that fool of a poet did not provide for it." - -She did not respond until some moments had passed, and then she merely -said: - -"Where are we to end, Davy, if we are to bring real and not simulated -passion to our aid at the theater? Heavens, sir! we shall be in a pretty -muddle presently. Are we to cultivate our hates and our jealousies and -our affections for the sake of exhibiting them in turn?" - -"'T would not be convenient to do so," said Garrick. "Still, you have -seen how much can be done by an exhibition of the real, and not the -simulated passion." - -"Depend upon it, sir, if you introduce the real passions into the acting -of a tragedy you will have a real and not a simulated tragedy on the -stage." - -"Psha! that is the thought of--a woman," said Garrick. "A woman seeks to -carry an idea to its furthest limits; she will not be content to accept -it within its reasonable limitations." - -"And, being a woman,'tis my misfortune to think as a woman," said Mrs. -Woffington. - -The theatre was crowded on the evening when "Oriana" appeared for the -first time on the bills. Garrick had many friends, and so also had -Margaret Woffington. The appearance of either in a new character -was sufficient to fill the theatre, but in "Oriana" they were both -appearing, and the interest of playgoers had been further stimulated by -the rumors which had been circulated respecting the ability of the new -actress whom Garrick had brought from the country. - -When the company assembled in the green-room, Garrick gave all his -attention to Miss Hoppner. He saw how terribly nervous she was. Not for -a moment would she remain seated. She paced the room excitedly, -every now and again casting a furtive glance in the direction of Mrs. -Woffington, who was laughing with Macklin in a corner. - -"You have no cause for trepidation, my dear lady," said Garrick to Miss -Hoppner. - -[Illustration: 0155] - -"Your charm of person will make you a speedy favorite with the -playgoers, and if you act the stabbing scene as faithfully as you did at -the last two rehearsals your success will be assured." - -"I can but do my best, sir," said the actress. "I think you will find -that I shall act the stabbing scene with great effect." - -"I do not doubt it," said Garrick. "Your own friends in the boxes will -be gratified." - -"I have no friends in the boxes, sir," said the actress. - -"Nay, surely I heard of at least one--a certain officer in the Royal -Scots," whispered Garrick. - -"I know of none such, sir," replied the actress, fixing her eyes, half -closed, upon Peg Woffington, who was making a jest at Macklin's expense -for the members of the company in the neighbourhood. - -"Surely I heard--," continued Garrick, but suddenly checked himself. -"Ah, I recollect now what I heard," he resumed, in a low tone. "Alas! -Peggy is a sad coquette, but I doubt not that the story of your -conquests will ring through the town after to-night." - -She did not seem to hear him. Her eyes were fixed upon Peggy Woffington, -and in another moment the signal came that the curtain was ready to -rise. - -Garrick and Macklin went on the stage together, the former smiling in a -self-satisfied way. - -"I think I have made it certain that she will startle the house in at -least one scene," he whispered to Macklin. - -"Ah, that is why Peggy is so boisterous," said Macklin. "'Tis only when -she is over-nervous that she becomes boisterous. Peggy is beginning to -feel that she may have a rival." - -But if Peggy was nervous she certainly did not suggest it by her acting. -She had not many opportunities for displaying her comedy powers in the -play, but she contrived to impart a few touches of humour to the love -scenes in the first act, which brightened up the gloom of the tragedy, -and raised the spirits of the audience in some measure. Her mature style -contrasted very effectively with the efforts of Miss Hoppner, who showed -herself to be excessively nervous, and thereby secured at once the -sympathies of the house. It was doubtful which of the two obtained the -larger share of applause. - -At the end of the act, Captain Joycelyn was waiting at the back of the -stage to compliment Peggy upon her acting. Miss Hoppner brushed past -them on her way to her dressing-room, without deigning to recognise -either. - -Curiously enough, in the next act the position of the two actresses -seemed to be reversed. It was Mrs. Woffington who was nervous, whereas -Miss Hoppner was thoroughly self-possessed. - -"What in the world has come over you, my dear?" asked Garrick, when -Peggy had made an exit so rapidly as to cause the latter half of one of -her lines to be quite inaudible. - -"God knows what it is!" said Peggy. "I have felt all through the act -as if I were going to break down--as if I wanted to run away from an -impending calamity. By heaven, sir, I feel as if the tragedy were real -and not simulated!" - -"Psha! You are but a woman, after all," said Garrick. - -"I fear that is the truth," said she. "Good God! that woman seems to -have changed places with me. She is speaking her lines as if she had -been acting in London for years. She is doing what she pleases with the -house." - -Garrick had to leave her to go through his great scene with the Oriana -of the play, and Mrs. Woffington watched, as if spell-bound, the -marvellous variety of his emotional expression, as, in the character of -the Prince Orsino, he confessed to Oriana that he no longer loved her, -but that he had given his heart to Francesca. She saw the gleam in the -eyes of the actress of the part of the jealous woman as she denounced -the perfidy of her lover, and bade him leave her presence. Then came -Oriana's long soliloquy, in which she swore that the Prince should never -taste the happiness which he had sought at her expense. - - "I have a heart for murder, murder, murder! - - My blood now surges like an angry sea, - - Eager to grapple with its struggling prey, - - And strangle it, as I shall strangle her, - - With these hands hungering for her shapely - - throat, - - The throat on which his kisses have been flung. - - Give her to me, just God, give her to me, - - But for the time it takes to close my hand - - Thus, and if justice reign supreme above, - - The traitress shall come hither to her doom." - -(_Enter Francesca._) - -(_Aside_) "My prayer is answered. It is Jove's decree." So the passage -ran, and it was delivered by the actress with a fervour that thrilled -the house. - -After her aside, Oriana turned, according to the stage directions, to -Francesca with a smile. In Miss Hoppner's eyes there was a light -of triumph--of gratified revenge--and before it Margaret Woffington -quailed. She gave a frightened glance around, as if looking for a way of -escape; there was a little pause, and then upon the silence of the -house there fell the half-hissed words of Oriana as she craned her head -forward facing her rival: - - "Thou think'st to ride in triumph o'er my - - corse-- - - The corse which his indecent feet have spurned - - Into the dust. But there's a God above! - - I tell thee, traitress,'t is not I shall lie - - For vulture-beaks to rend--but thou--thou-- - - thou! - - Traitress abhorred, this knife shall find thy - - heart!" - -"My God! the dagger--it is real!" shrieked Peggy; but before she could -turn to fly, the other had sprung upon her, throwing her partly over a -couch, and holding her down by the throat while she stabbed her twice. - -A hoarse cry came from Peg Woffington, and then she rolled off the couch -and fell limply to the stage, the backs of her hands rapping helplessly -on the boards as she fell. - -The other actress stood over her for a moment with a smile; then she -looked strangely at the dagger which glistened in her hand. Then, with a -hysterical cry, she flung the weapon from her and fell back. - -The curtain went down upon the roar of applause that came from every -part of the theatre. But though the applause was maintained, neither of -the actresses responded to the call. Several minutes had passed before -Garrick himself appeared and made a sign that he wished to speak. When -the house became silent, he explained to his patrons that both actresses -had swooned through the great demands which the scene had made upon -them, and would be unable to appear for the rest of the evening. Under -these melancholy circumstances, he hoped that no objection would be made -to the bringing on of the burletta immediately. - -The audience seemed satisfied to forego the enjoyment of the ghost -scenes of the tragedy, and the burletta was proceeded with. - -It was not thought advisable to let the audience know that Mrs. -Woffington was lying on a couch in her dressing room, while a surgeon -was binding up a wound made in her side by the dagger used by the -other actress. It was not until Garrick had examined the weapon that he -perceived it was not a stage blade, but a real one, which had been used -by Miss Hoppner. Fortunately, however, the point had been turned aside -by the steel in Peg Woffington's stays, so that it had only inflicted a -flesh wound. - -In the course of a couple of hours Peggy had recovered consciousness, -and, though very weak, was still able to make an effort to captivate -the surgeon with her witty allusions to the privileges incidental to his -profession. She was so engaged, when Garrick entered the room and told -her that Miss Hoppner was weeping outside the door, but that he had -given orders that she was not to be admitted. - -"Why should the poor girl not be admitted?" cried Peggy. "Should such -an accident as that which happened be treated as though it were murder? -Send her into the room, sir, and leave us alone together." - -Garrick protested, but Peggy insisted on having her own way, and the -moment Miss Hoppner was permitted to enter, she flung herself on her -knees at the side of the couch, weeping upon the hand that Peggy gave to -her. - -When Garrick entered with Captain Joycelyn, a short time afterwards, -Peggy would not allow him to remain in the room. The Captain remained, -however, for some minutes, and when he left, Miss Hoppner was on his -arm. They crossed the stage together, and that was the last time she -ever trod that or any other stage, for Captain Joycelyn married her -within a month. - -"Ah, friend Davy," cried Peggy to Garrick, "there was, after all, some -sense in what Mr. Johnson said. We actors are, doubtless, great folk; -but 't were presumptuous to attempt to turn Nature into the handmaid -of Art. I have tried it, sir, and was only saved from disaster by -the excellence of the art of my stays-maker. Nay, the stage is not -Nature--it is but Nature seen on the surface of a mirror; and even then, -I protest, only when David Garrick is the actor, and Shakespeare's the -poet." - - - - -THE MUSE OF TRAGEDY - - -I - -Madam," said Mr. Daly, the manager, in his politest style, "no one -could regret the occurrence more than myself"--he pronounced the word -"meself"--"especially as you say it has hurt your feelings. Do n't -I know what feelings are?"--he pronounced the word "failings," which -tended in some measure to alter the effect of the phrase, though his -friends would have been inclined to assert that its accuracy was not -thereby diminished. - -"I have been grossly insulted, sir," said Mrs. Siddons. - -"Grossly insulted," echoed Mr. Siddons. He played the part of echo to -his stately wife very well indeed. - -"And it took place under your roof, sir," said the lady. - -"Your roof," echoed the husband. - -"And there's no one in the world sorrier than myself for it," said Mr. -Daly. "But I do n't think that you should take a joke of the college -gentlemen so seriously." - -"Joke?" cried Mrs. Siddons, with a passion that caused the manager, -in the instinct of self-preservation to jump back. "Joke, sir!--a joke -passed upon Sarah Siddons! My husband, sir, whose honour I have ever -upheld as dearer to me than life itself, will tell you that I am not -accustomed to be made the subject of ribald jests." - -"I do n't know the tragedy that that quotation is made from," remarked -Mr. Daly, taking out his snuff-box and tapping it, affecting a coolness -which he certainly was far from possessing; "but if it's all written -in that strain I'll bring it out at Smock Alley and give you an extra -benefit. You never spoke anything better than that phrase. Pray let us -have it again, madam--'my husband, sir,' and so forth." - -Mrs. Siddons rose slowly and majestically. Her eyes flashed as she -pointed a shapely forefinger to the door of the greenroom, saying in her -deepest tones: - -"Sir! degrade the room no longer by your presence. You have yet to know -Sarah Siddons." - -"Sarah Siddons," murmured the husband very weakly. He would have liked -to maintain the stand taken up by his wife, but he had his fears that -to do so would jeopardise the success of his appearance at the manager's -treasury, and Mr. Siddons now and again gave people to understand that -he could not love his wife so well loved he not the treasury more. - -Mr. Daly laughed. - -"Faith, Mrs. Siddons," said he, "'t is a new thing for a man to be -ordered out of his own house by a guest. I happen to be the owner of -this tenement in Smock Alley, in the city of Dublin, and you are my -guest--my honoured guest, madam. How could I fail to honour a lady who, -in spite of the fact of being the greatest actress in the world, is -still a pattern wife and mother?" - -Mrs. Siddons was visibly softening under the balmy brogue of the -Irishman. - -"It is because I am sensible of my duties to my husband and my children -that I feel the insult the more, sir," she said, in a tone that was -still tragic. - -"Sure I know that that's what makes the sting of it so bitter," said Mr. -Daly, shaking his head sadly. "It's only the truly virtuous, madam, that -have feelings"--again he pronounced the word "failings." - -"Enough, madam," he continued, after he had flourished his handkerchief -and had wiped away an imaginary tear. "Enough! In the name of the -citizens of Dublin I offer you the humblest apology in my power for -the gross misconduct of that scoundrel in the pit who called out, 'Well -done, Sally, my jewel!' after your finest soliloquy; and I promise you -that if we can find the miscreant we shall have him brought to justice." - -"If you believe that the citizens of Dublin are really conscious of the -stigma which they shall bear for ages to come for having insulted one -whose virtue has, I rejoice to say, been ever beyond reproach, I will -accept your apology, sir," said Mrs. Siddons with dignity. - -"I 'll undertake to swear that the citizens feel the matter quite as -deeply as I do, Mrs. Siddons," cried Mr. Daly, with both his hands -clasped over his waistcoat. "I dare swear that they do not even now know -the enormity of your virtue, madam. It will be my pleasing duty to -make them acquainted with it; and so, madam, I am your grateful, humble -servant." - -With a low bow he made his escape from the green-room, leaving Mrs. -Sid-dons seated on a high chair in precisely the attitude which she -assumed when she sat for the Tragic Muse of Reynolds. - -"Thank heavens that 's over!" muttered the manager, as he hurried down -Smock Alley to the tavern at the corner kept by an old actor named -Barney Rafferty, and much frequented by the Trinity College students, -who in the year 1783 were quite as enthusiastic theatre-goers as their -successors are in the present year. - -"For the love of heaven, Barney, give us a jorum," cried Daly, as he -entered the bar parlor. "A jorum of punch, Barney, for I 'm as dry as -a lime kiln, making speeches in King Cambyses' vein to that Queen of -Tragedy." - -"It'll be at your hand in a minute, Mr. Daly, sir," said Barney, -hurrying off. - -In the parlour were assembled a number of the "college boys," as the -students were always called in Dublin. They greeted the arrival of their -friend Daly with acclamation, only they wanted to know what had occurred -to detain him so long at the theatre. - -"Delay and Daly have never been associated before now when there's a -jorum of punch in view," remarked young Mr. Blenerhassett of Limerick, -who was reported to have a very pretty wit. - -"It's lucky you see me among you at all, boys," said the manager, wiping -his brow. "By the powers, I might have remained in the green-room all -night listening to homilies on the virtue of wives and the honour of -husbands." - -"And 't is yourself that would be nothing the worse for listening to a -homily or two on such topics," remarked young Blake of Connaught. "And -who was the preacher of the evening, Daly?" - -"None else than the great Sarah herself, my boy," replied the manager. -"Saint Malachi! what did you mean by shouting out what you did, after -that scene?" he added. - -"What did I shout?" asked Jimmy Blake. "I only ventured humbly to cry, -'Well done, Sally, my jewel'--what offence is there in that?" - -"Ay, by Saint Patrick, but there's much offence in 't," cried Daly. -"Mrs. Siddons sent for me to my dressing-room after the play, and -there I found her pacing the green-room like a lioness in her cage, -her husband, poor man, standing by as tame as the keeper of the royal -beast." - -A series of interested exclamations passed round the room, and the -circle of heads about the table became narrower. "Mother o' Moses! She -objected to my civil words of encouragement?" said Mr. Blake. - -"She declared that not only had she been insulted, but her husband's -honour had been dragged in the mire, and her innocent children's names -had been sullied." - -"Faith, that was a Sally for you, Mr. Daly," said young Home, the Dublin -painter to whom Mrs. Siddons had refused to sit, assuring him that she -could only pay such a compliment to Sir Joshua Reynolds. - -"Boys, may this be my poison if I ever put in a worse half hour," cried -Daly, as he raised a tumbler of punch and swallowed half the contents. - -"I 'd give fifty pounds to have been there," said Home. "Think what a -picture it would make!--the indignant Sarah, the ever courteous manager -Daly, and the humble husband in the corner. What would not posterity pay -for such a picture!" - -"A guinea in hand is worth a purse in the future," said one of the -college boys. "I wish I could draw a bill on posterity for the payment -of the silversmith who made my buckles." - -"Daly," said Blake, "you're after playing a joke on us. Sally never took -you to task for what I shouted from the Pit." - -Mr. Daly became dignified--he had finished the tumbler of punch. He drew -himself up, and, with one hand thrust into his waistcoat, he said: -"Sir, I conceive that I understand as well as any gentleman present -what constitutes the elements of a jest. I have just conveyed to you -a statement of facts, sir. If you had seen Sarah Siddons as I left -her--egad, she is a very fine woman--you would n't hint that there was -much jest in the matter. Oh, lord, boys"--another jug of punch had just -been brought in, and the manager was becoming genial once more--"Oh, -lord, you should have heard the way she talked about the honour of her -husband, as if there never had been a virtuous woman on the boards until -Sarah Siddons arose!" - -"And was there one, Daly?" asked young Murphy, a gentleman from whom -great things were expected by his college and his creditors. - -"There was surely, my boy," said Daly, "but I've forgot her name. The -name's not to the point. I tell you, then, the Siddons stormed in the -stateliest blank verse and periods, about how she had elevated the -stage--how she had checked Brereton for clasping her as she thought too -ardently--how she had family prayers every day, and looked forward to -the day when she could afford a private chaplain." - -"Stop there," shouted Blake. "You'll begin to exaggerate if you go -beyond the chaplain, Daly." - -"It's the truth I've told so far, at any rate, barring the chaplain," -said Daly. - -"And all because I saw she was a bit nervous and did my best to -encourage her and give her confidence by shouting, 'Well done, Sally!'" -said Blake. "Boys, it's not Sarah Siddons that has been insulted, it's -Trinity College--it's the city of Dublin! by my soul, it's the Irish -nation that she has insulted by supposing them capable of insulting a -woman." - -"Faith, there 's something in that, Jimmy," said half a dozen voices. - -"Who is this Sarah Siddons, will ye tell me, for I 'd like to know?" -resumed Blake, casting a look of almost painful enquiry round the room. - -"Ay, that 's the question," said Daly, in a tone that he invariably -reserved for the soliloquy which flourished on the stage a century ago. - -"We 're all gentlemen here," resumed Mr. Blake. - -"And that 's more than she is," said young Blenerhassett of Limerick. - -"Gentlemen," said the manager, "I beg that you'll not forget that -Mrs. Siddons and myself belong to the same profession. I cannot suffer -anything derogatory"--the word gave him some trouble, but he mastered -it after a few false starts--"to the stage to be uttered in this -apartment." - -"You adorn the profession, sir," said Blake. "But can the same be said -of Mrs. Siddons? What could Garrick make of her, gentlemen?" - -"Ahem! we know what he failed to make of her," said Digges, the actor, -who sat in the corner, and was supposed to have more Drury Lane scandal -on his fingers' ends than Daly himself. - -"Pooh!" sneered Daly. "Davy Garrick never made love to her, Digges. It -was her vanity that tried to make out that he did." - -"He did not make her a London success--that's certain," said Blake. -"And though Dublin, with the assistance of the College, can pronounce a -better judgment on an actor or actress than London, still we must admit -that London is improving, and if there had been any merit in Sarah -Siddons she would not have been forced to keep to the provinces as she -does now. Gentlemen, she has insulted us and it's our duty to teach her -a lesson." - -"And we're the boys to do it," said one Moriarty. - -"Gentlemen, I 'll take my leave of you," said the manager, rising with a -little assistance and bowing to the company. "It's not for me to dictate -any course for you to pursue. I do n't presume to ask to be let into any -of your secrets; I only beg that you will remember that Mrs. Siddons -has three more nights to appear in my theatre, and she grasps so large -a share of the receipts that, unless the house continues to be crowded, -it's a loser I'll be at the end of the engagement. You'll not do -anything that will jeopardise the pit or the gallery--the boxes are -sure--for the rest of the week." - -"Trust to us, sir, trust to us," said Jimmy Blake, as the manager -withdrew. "Now, boys," he continued in a low voice, bending over the -table, "I've hit upon a way of convincing this fine lady that has taken -the drama under her wing, so to speak, that she can't play any of her -high tragedy tricks here, whatever she may do at Bath. She does n't -understand us, boys; well, we'll teach her to." - -"Bravo, Jimmy!" - -"The Blake's Country and the sky over it!" - -"Give us your notions," came several voices from around the table. - -"She bragged of her respectability; of her armour of virtue, Daly told -us. Well, suppose we put a decent coat on Dionysius Hogan and send him -to propose an elopement to her to-morrow; how would that do for a joke -when it gets around the town?" - -"By the powers, boys, whether or not Dionysius gets kicked down the -stairs, she'll be the laughing-stock of the town. It's a genius"--he -pronounced it "jan-yus"--"that you are, Jimmy, and no mistake," cried -young Moriarty. - -"We'll talk it over," said Jimmy. And they did talk it over. - - -II - -Dionysius Hogan was a celebrated character in Dublin during the -last quarter of the eighteenth century. The Irish capital has always -cherished curious characters, for pretty much the same reason that -caused badgers to be preserved; any man, or, for that matter, any woman, -who was only eccentric enough, could depend on the patronage of the -people of Dublin. Dionysius Hogan afforded his fellow-citizens many a -laugh on account of his numerous eccentricities. He was a man of about -fifty years of age, but his great anxiety was to appear thirty years -younger; and he fancied he accomplished this aim by wearing in 1783 the -costume of 1750, only in an exaggerated form. His chief hallucination -was that several of the best known ladies in society were in love with -him, and that it was necessary for him to be very careful lest he -should compromise himself by a correspondence with some of those who had -husbands. - -[Illustration: 0186] - -It need scarcely be said that this idea of his was not greatly -discouraged by the undergraduates of Trinity College. It was not their -fault if he did not receive every week a letter from some distinguished -lady begging the favor of an interview with him. Upon many occasions the -communications, which purported to come from married ladies, took the -form of verses. These he exhibited with great pride, and only after -extorting promises of profound secrecy, to his student friends. - -It was immaterial that Dionysius found almost every week that he had -been the victim of practical jokes; his belief in his own powers of -captivating womankind was superior to every rebuff that he encountered. -He exhibited his dapper little figure, crowned with the wig of a -macaroni, to the promenaders in all the chief thoroughfares daily, -and every evening he had some fresh story to tell of how he had been -exerting himself to avoid an assignation that was being urged on him by -a lady of quality sojourning not a hundred miles from the Castle. - -The scheme which Mr. Blake had suggested to his fellow-students in -the Smock Alley tavern found a willing agent for its realisation in -Dionysius Hogan. Mrs. Siddons, her beauty and her powers, were, of -course, the talk of the town during her first visit to Dublin. It only -needed Jimmy Blake to drop a few dark hints in the hearing of Dionysius -on the subject of a rumor that was current, to the effect that a certain -well-known gentleman in Dublin had attracted the attention of the great -actress, to make Dionysius believe that he had made a conquest of the -Siddons. - -For the remainder of the evening he took to dropping dark hints to this -effect, and before he had slept that night there was no doubt on his -mind that Sarah Sid-dons was another lady who had succumbed to his -attractive exterior. To be sure, he had heard it said that she was as -hard as marble; but then she had not seen him until she had come to -Dublin. All women, he believed, had their weak moments, and there was no -article of his creed more strongly impressed upon him than that the weak -moment of many women was when they saw him for the first time. - -When, on descending from his bedroom to his little sitting-room in his -humble lodgings--for Mr. Hogan's income did not exceed eighty pounds a -year--a letter was put into his hand bearing the signature "S. S.," and -when he found that above these initials there was a passionate avowal -of affection and a strong appeal to him to be merciful as he was strong, -and to pay the writer a visit at her lodgings before the hour of one, -"when Mr. S. returns from the theatre, where he goes every forenoon," -poor Dionysius felt that the time had at last come for him to cast -discretion to the winds. The beauty of Mrs. Siddons had had a powerful -effect upon his susceptible heart when she had first come before his -eyes on the stage of the Smock Alley theatre. - -[Illustration: 0192] - -On that night he believed that she had kept her eyes fixed upon him -while repeating some of the beautiful soliloquies in "Isabella." The -artful suggestions of Jimmy Blake had had their effect upon him, and now -he held in his hand a letter that left him no room to doubt--even if he -had been inclined that way--the accuracy of the tale that his poor heart -had originally told him. - -He dressed himself with his accustomed care, and, having deluged his -cambric with civet--it had been the favourite scent of thirty years -before--he indulged in the unusual luxury of a chair to convey him to -the lodgings of the great actress; for he felt that it might seriously -jeopardise his prospects to appear in the presence of the lady with -soiled shoes. - -The house where Mrs. Siddons lodged was not an imposing one. She had -arrived in Dublin from Holyhead at two o'clock in the morning, and -she was compelled to walk about the streets in a downpour of rain for -several hours before she could prevail upon any one to take her in. -It is scarcely surprising that she conceived a strong and enduring -prejudice against Dublin and its inhabitants. - -On enquiring in a whisper and with a confidential smirk for Mrs. -Siddons, he learned from the maid servant that the lady was in her room, -and that Mr. Siddons had not returned from his morning visit to the -theatre. The servant stated, however, that Mrs. Siddons had given the -strictest orders to admit no one into her presence. - -"Ah, discreet as one might have expected," murmured Dionysius. "She does -not mean to run the chance of disappointing me. Which is her parlour, -child?" - -"It's the first front, yer honour," said the girl; "but, Lord save yer -honour, she'd murther me if I let ye go up. Oh, it's joking ye are." - -"Hush," whispered Dionysius, his finger on his lips. "Not so loud, I -pray. She is waiting for me." - -"Holy Biddy! waiting for yer?" cried the maid. "Now do n't be afther -getting a poor colleen into throuble, sir. I'm telling ye that it's -killed entirely I'd be if I let ye go up." - -"Do n't be a fool, girl," said Dionysius, still speaking in a whisper. -"I give you my word of honour as a gentleman that Mrs. Siddons is -awaiting me. Zounds! why do I waste time talking to a menial? Out of my -way, girl." - -He pushed past the servant, leaving her somewhat awe-stricken at his -grand manner and his finery, and when she recovered and made a grab for -his coat tails, he was too quick for her. He plucked them out of her -reach, and she perceived that he had got such a start of her that -pursuit would be useless. In a few moments he was standing before the -door of the room on the first floor that faced the street. - -His heart was fluttering so that he had scarcely courage to tap upon the -panel. He had tapped a second time before that grand contralto, that -few persons could hear without emotion, bade him enter. He turned the -handle, and stood facing Mrs. Siddons. - -[Illustration: 0197] - -She was sitting in a gracefully majestic attitude by the side of a small -table on which a desk was placed. Mrs. Siddons never unbent for a moment -in private life. - -She assumed majestic attitudes in the presence of the lodging-house -servant, and spoke in a tragic contralto to the linen-draper's -apprentice. She turned her lovely eyes upon Dionysius Hogan as he stood -smirking and bowing at the door. There was a vista of tragedy in the -delivery of the two words-- - -"Well, sir?" - -It took him some moments to recover from the effect the words produced -upon him. He cleared his throat--it was somewhat husky--and with an -artificial smirk he piped out: - -"Madam--ah, my charmer, I have rushed to clasp my goddess to my bosom! -Ah, fair creature, who could resist your appeal?" - -He advanced in the mincing gait of the Macaronis. She sprang to her -feet. She pointed an eloquent forefinger at a spot on the floor directly -in front of him. - -"Wretch," she cried, "advance a step at your peril!" Her eyes were -flashing, and her lips were apart. - -His mincing ceased abruptly; and only the ghost of a smirk remained upon -his patched and painted face. It was in a very fluty falsetto that he -said: - -"Ah, I see my charmer wants to be wooed. But why should Amanda reproach -her Strephon for but obeying her behests? Wherefore so coy, dear nymph? -Let these loving arms--" - -"Madman--wretch--" - -"Nay, chide me not, dear one. 'T is but the ardour of my passion that -bids me clasp thee, the fairest of Hebe's train. We shall fly together -to some retreat--far from the distractions--" - -"Oh, the man is mad--mad!" cried the lady, retreating a step or two as -he advanced. - -"Only mad with the ardour of my passion," whispered Dionysius. - -"Oh, heaven! that I should live to hear such words spoken in my -presence!" cried Mrs. Siddons, with her hands clasped in passionate -appeal to a smiling portrait of the landlady's husband that hung over -the fireplace. Then she turned upon Dionysius and looked at him. - -Her eyes blazed. Their fire consumed the unfortunate man on whom they -rested. He felt himself shrivelled up and become crisp as an autumn -leaf. He certainly trembled like one, as a terrible voice, but no louder -than a whisper, sounded in his ears: "Are you a human being or the -monster of a dream, that you dare to speak such words in my hearing? -What wretch are you that fancies that Sarah Siddons may be addressed -by such as you, and in language that is an insult to a pure wife and -mother. I am Sarah Siddons, sir! I am a wife who holds her husband's -honour dearer than life itself--I am a mother who will never cause a -blush of shame to mantle the brow of one of her children. Wretch, -insulter, why are mine eyes not basilisks, with death in their glance -to such as you?" - -Down went Dionysius on his knees before that terrible figure that -stretched out wild quivering hands above his head. Such gestures as hers -would have fitted the stage of Drury Lane. - -In the lodging-house parlour they were overwhelming. - -"For God's sake, spare me, spare me!" he faltered, with his hands -clasped and his head bent before that fury. - -"Why should I spare such a wretch--why should I not trample such a worm -into the dust?" - -She took a frantic step toward him. With a short cry of abject terror he -fell along the floor, and gasped. It seemed to him that she had trampled -the life out of his body. - -She stood above him with a heaving bosom beneath her folded arms. - -There was a long pause before he heard the door open. A weight seemed -lifted off him. He found that he could breathe. In a few moments he -ventured to raise his head. He saw a beautiful figure sitting at the -desk writing. Even in the scratching of her pen along the paper there -was a tone of tragedy. - -He crawled backward upon his hands and knees, with his eyes furtively -fixed upon that figure at the desk. If, when he had looked up he had -found her standing with an arm outstretched tin the direction of the -door, he felt that he would have been able to rise to his feet and leave -her presence; but Mrs. Siddons' dramatic instinct caused her to produce -a deeper impression upon him by simply treating him as if he were dead -at her feet--as if she had, indeed, trampled the life out of his body. - -He crept away slowly and painfully backward, until he was actually in -the lobby. Then by a great effort he sprang to his feet, rushed headlong -down the stairs, picked himself up in the hall, and fled wildly through -the door, that chanced to be open, into the street. He overthrew a -chairman in his wild flight, and as he turned the corner he went with a -rush into the arms of a young man, who, with a few others by his side, -was sauntering along. - -[Illustration: 0205] - -"Zounds, sir! what do you mean by this mode of progression?" cried the -young man, holding him fast. - -Dionysius grasped him limply, looking at him with wild, staring eyes. - -"For God's sake, Mr. Blake, save me from her--do n't let her get hold of -me, for the love of all the saints." - -"What do you mean, you fool?" said Jimmy Blake. "Who is anxious to get -hold of you?" - -But no answer was returned by poor Dionysius. He lay with his head over -Blake's shoulder, his arms swaying limply like two pendulums. - -"By the powers, he has gone off in a swoon," said young Blenerhassett. -"Let us carry him to the nearest tavern." - -In less than half an hour Dionysius had recovered consciousness; but -it required a longer space of time, and the administration of a -considerable quantity of whisky, to enable him to tell all his story. He -produced the letter signed "S. S." which he had received in the morning, -and explained that he had paid the visit to Mrs. Siddons only with a -view of reasoning her out of her infatuation, which, he said with a -shadowy simper, he could not encourage. - -"I had hardly obtained access to her when she turned upon me in a fury," -said he. "Ah, boys, those eyes of hers!--I feel them still upon me. They -made me feel like a poor wretch that's marched out in front of a platoon -to be shot before breakfast. And her voice! well, it sounded like the -voice of the officer giving the word of command to the platoon to fire. -When I lay ready to expire at her feet, every word that she spoke had -the effect of a bayonet prod upon my poor body. Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! I'll -leave it to yourself, Mr. Blake: was it generous of her to stab me with -cold steel after I was riddled with red-hot bullets?" - -"I'm sorry to say, Mr. Hogan," replied Blake, "that I can't take a -lenient view of your conduct. We all know what you are, sir. You seek -to ingraft the gallantries of the reign of his late Majesty upon the -present highly moral age. Mrs. Siddons, sir, is a true wife and mother, -besides being a most estimable actress, and you deserved the rebuff from -the effects of which you are now suffering. Sir, we leave you to the -gnawings of that remorse which I trust you feel acutely." - -Mr. Blake, with his friends, left the tavern room as Dionysius was -beginning to whimper. - -In the street a roar of laughter burst from the students. - -"Mother o' Moses!" cried Moriarty. "'T is a golden guinea I'd give to -have been present when the Siddons turned upon the poor devil." - -"Then I 'll give you a chance of being present at a better scene than -that," said Blake. - -"What do you mean, Jimmy?" asked Moriarty. - -"I mean to bring you with me to pay a visit to Mrs. Siddons this very -minute." - -"'T is joking you are, Jimmy?" - -"Oh, the devil a joke, ma bouchai! Man alive, can't you see that the fun -is only beginning? We'll go to her in a body and make it out that she -has insulted a friend of ours by attributing false motives to him, and -that her husband must come out to the Park in the morning." - -"That's carrying a joke a bit too far," said Mr. Blenerhassett. "I'll -not join in with you there." - -"Nobody axed ye, sir," said Blake. "There are three of us here without -you, and that's enough for our purpose." - -"If Mr. Siddons kicks you into the street, or if Sally treats you as she -did that poor devil in the tavern,'t is served right that you'll be," -said Blenerhassett, walking off. - -"We'll have a scene with Sarah Siddons for our trouble, at any rate," -laughed Blake. - -The three young men who remained when the more scrupulous youth had -departed, went together to Mrs. Siddons' lodgings. They understood more -than Dionysius did about the art of obtaining admittance when only a -portress stood in the way--a squeeze, a kiss, and a crown combined to -make the maid take a lenient view of the consequences of permitting them -to go up the stairs. - -When, after politely rapping at the door of the parlour, the three -entered the room, they found the great actress in precisely the same -attitude she had assumed for her last visitor. The dignity of her -posture was not without its effect upon the young men. They were not -quite so self-confident as they had been outside the door. Each of them -looked at the other, so to speak; but somehow none of the three appeared -to be fluent. They stood bowing politely, keeping close to the door. - -"Who are these persons?" said Mrs. Siddons, as if uttering her thoughts. -"Am I in a civilised country or not?" - -"Madam," said Blake, finding his voice, at last, when a slur was cast -upon his country. "Madam, Ireland was the home of civilisation when the -inhabitants of England were prowling the woods naked, except for a coat -of paint." - -Mrs. Siddons sprang to her feet. - -"Sir," she cried, "you are indelicate as well as impertinent. You have -no right to intrude upon me without warning." - -"The urgency of our mission is our excuse, madam," said Blake. "The fact -is, madam, to come to the point, the gentleman who visited you just now -is our friend." - -"Your friend, sir, is a scoundrel. He grossly insulted me," said Mrs. -Siddons. - -"Ah,'t is sorry I am to find you do n't yet understand the impulses of a -warmhearted nation, madam," said Blake, shaking his head. "The gentleman -came to compliment you on your acting, and yet you drove him from -your door like a hound. That, according to our warmhearted Irish ways, -constitutes an offence that must be washed out in blood--ay, blood, -madam." - -"What can be your meaning, sir?" - -"I only mean, madam, that your husband, whom we all honour on account of -the genius--we do n't deny it--the genius and virtue of his wife, will -have to meet the most expert swordsman in Ireland in the Phonix Park -in the morning, and that Sarah Siddons will be a widow before breakfast -time." - -There was a pause before there came a cry of anguish more pitiful than -any expression of emotion that the three youths had ever heard. - -"My husband!" were the words that sounded like a sob in their ears. - -Mrs. Siddons had averted her head. Her face was buried in her hands. -The wink in which Jimmy Blake indulged as he gave Moriarty a nudge was -anything but natural. - -"Why was I ever tempted to come to this country?" cried the lady wildly. - -"Madam, we humbly sympathise with you, and with the country," said -Blake. He would not allow any reflection to be cast on his country. - -She took a few steps toward the three young men, and faced them with -clasped hands. She looked into the three faces in turn, with passionate -intreaty in her eyes. "Have you no pity?" she faltered. - -"Yes," said Blake, "that we have; we do pity you heartily, madam." - -"Are you willing to take part in this act of murder--murder?" cried Mrs. -Siddons, in a low voice that caused the flesh of at least two of her -audience to creep. "Are you blind? Can 't you see the world pointing at -you as I point at you, and call you murderers?" She stood before them -with her eyes half closed, her right hand pointing to each of them in -turn as she prolonged the word, suggesting a thousand voices whispering -"murderers!" There was a long pause, during which the spell-bound -youths, their jaws fallen, stared at that terrible figure--the awful -form of the Muse of Tragedy. Drops of perspiration stood on the forehead -of young Moriarty. Blake himself gave a gasp. "Have you no compassion?" -Mrs. Sid-dons continued, but in another tone--a tone of such pathos as -no human being could hear unmoved. Clasping her hands, she cried: "My -poor husband! What harm has he done? Is he to be dragged from these -arms--these arms that have cherished him with all the devotion that a -too-loving wife can offer? Is he to be dragged away from this true heart -to be butchered? Sirs, we have children--tender little blossoms. Oh, -cannot you hear their cries? Listen, listen--the wailing of the babes -over the mangled body of their father." - -Surely the sound of children's sobbing went around the room. - -One of the young men dropped into a chair and burst into tears. - -Blake's lips were quivering, as the streaming eyes of the woman were -turned upon him. - -"For heaven's sake, madam!" he faltered--"for heaven's sake--oh, my God! -what have we done?--what have we done? Worse than Herod! the innocent -children!--I hear them--I hear them! Oh, God forgive us! God forgive us -for this cruel joke." - -He broke down utterly. The room now was certainly filled with wild -sobbing and the sound of convulsive weeping. - -[Illustration: 0217] - -For several minutes the three emotional Irishmen sat weeping. They were -in the power of the woman, who, at the confession of Blake, had become -perfectly self-possessed in a moment. She stood watching them, a -scornful smile upon her lips. She knew that the magic which she had at -her command could enchain them so long as she wished. She was merciful, -however. - -"If you consider your jest sufficiently successful, gentlemen," said -she, "perhaps you will oblige me by withdrawing. I have letters to -write." - -The spell that she had cast around them was withdrawn. - -Blake sprang to his feet and drew his handkerchief across his eyes. - -"Mrs. Siddons--madam," said he, "we have behaved like fools--nay, worse, -like scoundrels. We are not bold enough to ask your pardon, madam; but -believe me, we feel deeply humiliated. You may forgive us, but we shall -never forgive ourselves. Madam, you are the greatest actress in the -world, and you may expect the finest benefit ever given to an actress in -this city." - -But in spite of the fact that Mrs. Siddons' benefit the following night -was all that Mr. Blake predicted it would be, she wrote some very hard -words about Dublin to her friend, Mr. Whately, of Bath. - - - - -THE WAY TO KEEP HIM - - -I - -Nay, sir," cried Mrs. Abington, with such a smile of infinite witchery -as she wore when Sir Joshua Reynolds painted her as 'Miss Prue;' I would -not have you make any stronger love to me than is absolutely necessary -to keep yourself in training for the love scenes in Dr. Goldsmith's new -comedy." - -"Ah, you talk glibly of measuring out the exact portion of one's love, -as if love were a physic to be doled out to the precise grain," cried -Lee Lewis, impatiently turning away from the fascinating lady who was -smiling archly at him over the back of her chair. - -"By my faith, sir, you have e'en given the best description of love that -I have heard;'t is beyond doubt a physic, given to mankind to cure many -of the ills of life; but, la, sir! there are so many quacks about,'t is -well-nigh impossible to obtain the genuine thing." - -And once more the actress smiled at her latest victim. - -"I have often wondered if you ever knew what love means," said he. - -"Indeed the same thought has frequently occurred to me, sir," said the -actress. "When one has been offered the nostrums of quacks so often, one -begins to lose faith in the true prescription." - -"You think that I am a quack, and therefore have no faith in me," said -Lewis. - -"I know that you are an excellent actor, Mr. Lewis." - -"And therefore you suspect my truth?" - -"Nay, I respect your art." - -"Perish my art, so long as I gain the favour of the most adorable woman -who ever flitted like a vision of beauty--" - -"Ah, sir, do not take advantage of my lack of memory; give me the title -of the comedy from which you quote, so that I may know my cue, and have -my reply ready." - -Lewis flung himself across the room with an exclamation of impatience. - -"You are the most cruel woman that lives," he cried. "I have often left -this house vowing that I would never come nigh it again because of your -cruelty." - -"What a terrible vengeance!" cried the actress, raising her hands, while -a mock expression of terror came over her face. "You would fain prove -yourself the most cruel of men because you account me the most cruel of -women? Ah, sir, you are ungenerous; I am but a poor weak creature, while -you--" - -"I am weak enough to be your slave, but let me tell you, madam, I am -quite strong enough to throw off your bonds should I fail to be treated -with some consideration," said Lewis. - -"Oh, so far as I am concerned you may take your freedom to-morrow," -laughed Mrs. Abington. "The fetters that I weave are of silken thread." - -"I would rather wear your fetters, though they be of iron, than those -of the next loveliest woman to you, though hers should be a chain of -roses," said the actor. "Come, now, my dear lady, listen to reason." - -"Gladly; 't will be a change from your usual discourse, which is of -love--just the opposite, you know." - -"Why will you not consent to come with me to Vauxhall once more?" - -"La, sir, think of the scandal? Have not we been seen there together -half a dozen times?" - -"Scandal! Do you think that the scandal-mongers can add anything to what -they have already said regarding us?" - -"I place no limits on the imagination of the scandal-monger, sir, but -I desire to assign a limit to my own indiscretions, which, I fear, have -set tongues wagging--" - -"Pooh! my dear madam, cannot you see that tongues will wag all the -faster if I appear at the Gardens with some one else?" - -"Say, with your wife. Surely you are not afraid of the tongue of slander -if you appear by the side of your wife, sir." - -"'T is for you I fear." - -"What! you fancy that people will slander me if you appear at Vauxhall -with your lawful wedded wife?" - -"Even so, for they will say that you were not strong enough to keep me -faithful to you." - -Mrs. Abington sprang to her feet. - -"The wretches!" she cried. "I will show them that------psha! let them -say their worst. What care I what they say? I'll go or stay away, as the -fancy seizes." - -"You may take your choice, my dear madam," said Lewis: "Whether you -would rather be slandered for coming with me or for staying at home!" - -"The terms are not the same in both cases," said she; "for if I go with -you I know that I shall have an excellent supper." - -"So you 'll come! Ah, I knew that you would not forsake me!" he cried, -catching her hand and kissing it. - -"You foolish man! You take credit to yourself for a decision that is due -to the prospect of a supper!" said Mrs. Abington. - -"Ah, I know what I know, my dear," cried he. "And so I will take my -leave at once, lest you should change your mind." - -"I protest, sir," said she, as he kissed her hand again. "I protest that -'t was the thought of the supper decided me." - -He roared with laughter. - -So did she when he had left her house. - -"What fools these men are!" she cried, throwing herself back on her -couch with a very capacious yawn. "What fools! The idea of a poor woman -being influenced by the thought of minced chicken in a decision that -involves being by their side seems preposterous to them! Oh, if they but -knew all that such a woman as I am could tell them!" - -She laughed softly--subtly--as certain recollections came to her, for -Mrs. Abington was a lady of many recollections. - -After a space, she resumed her study of the part of Miss Hardcastle, -for which she had been cast by Colman in Dr. Goldsmith's new comedy, but -which, the following week, to her everlasting regret, she relinquished -in favor of Mrs. Bulkley. - -Lee Lewis, who was studying the part of Young Marlow, had accompanied -her home after rehearsal. He had, during the previous month, shown -himself to be extremely polite in regard to her, for he had walked home -with her several times, and more than once he had been seen by her side -at Ranelagh and Vauxhall, as well as at the Pantheon in the Oxford Road. -People about the theater were saying that the beautiful Mrs. Abington -had added to the number of her conquests, and Miss Catley, the most -imprudent of all the imprudent ladies in Colman's company, said some -very spiteful things regarding her. (It was understood that Miss Catley -had angled for Lee Lewis herself, but without success.) - -Before Mrs. Abington had been alone for half an hour, her maid entered -to tell her that a lady was inquiring for her at the hall door. - -"Another of our stage-struck misses, Lucette?" said the actress, -alluding to the three visits which she had had during the week from -young women who were desirous of obtaining a footing on the stage. - -"Nay, madam, this lady seems somewhat different," replied the maid. - -"Then let her be shown in at once, whoever she may be," said Mrs. -Abington. "There can surely be no scandal in receiving a lady visitor." - -She gave a glance at a mirror, and saw that her hair was in a proper -condition for a visitor who was a lady. She knew that it did not matter -so much when her visitors were of the other sex; and a moment afterwards -there entered a graceful little woman, whom she could not recollect -having ever seen before. She walked quickly to the centre of the room, -and stood there, gazing with soft grey eyes at the actress, who had -risen from her sofa, and was scrutinising her visitor. - -There was a pause before Mrs. Abington, with a smile--the smile she -reserved for women--quite different from that with which she was -accustomed to greet men--said: - -"Pray seat yourself, madam; and let me know to what I am indebted for -the honour of this visit." - -But the lady made no move; she remained there, gazing at the actress -without a word. - -Mrs. Abington gave a laugh, saying, as she returned to her sofa: - -"Do not let me hurry you, my dear lady; but I must ask your pardon if I -seat myself." Then the stranger spoke. "You are Mrs. Abington. I wish -I had not come to you. Now that I find myself face to face with you, I -perceive that I have no chance. You are overwhelmingly beautiful." - -"Did you come here only to tell me that? Faith, you might have saved -yourself the trouble, my dear. I have known just how beautiful I am for -the past twenty years," laughed the actress. - -"I did not come here to tell you that," said the visitor; "on the -contrary, I meant to call you an ugly harridan--a vile witch, who -glories in seeing the ruin of good men; but now--well, now, I am dumb. -I perceive you are so beautiful, it is only natural that all men--my -husband among the number--should worship you." - -"You are so flattering, my dear madam, I can without difficulty perceive -that you have not lived long in the world of fashion--ay, or in the -world of play-houses," said the actress. - -"I am Mrs. Lewis, madam," said the lady, and then dropping into a chair -she burst into tears. - -Mrs. Abington went beside the unhappy woman, and patted her on the -shoulder. - -"Dear child," she said, "the thought that you are Mr. Lewis's wife -should not cause you to shed a tear. You should be glad rather than -sorry that you are married to a gentleman who is so highly esteemed. -Your husband, Mrs. Lewis, is a great friend of mine, and I hope that his -wife may become even a greater." - -"Ah--ah!" moaned the lady. "A friend? a friend? Oh, give me back my -husband, woman--give me back my husband, whom you stole from me!" - -She had sprung to her feet as she spoke her passionate words, and now -stood with quivering, clenched hands in front of the actress. - -"My good woman," said Mrs. Abington, "you have need to calm yourself. -I can assure you that I have not your husband in my keeping. Would you -like to search the room? Look under the sofa--into all the cupboards." - -"I know that he left here half an hour ago--I watched him," said Mrs. -Lewis. "You watched him? Oh, fie!" - -"You may make a mock of me, if you please; I expected that you would; -but he is my husband, and I love him--I believe that he loved me until -your witchery came over him and--oh, I am a most unhappy woman! But you -will give him back to me; you have many admirers, madam; one poor man is -nothing here or there to you." - -"Listen to me, my poor child." Mrs. Abington had led her to the sofa, -and sat down beside her, still holding her hand. "You have spoken some -very foolish words since you came into this room. From whom have you -heard that your husband was--well, was ensnared by me?" - -"From whom? Why, every one knows it!" cried Mrs. Lewis. "And besides, I -got a letter that told me--" - -"A letter from whom?" - -"From--I suppose she was a lady; at any rate she said that she -sympathised with me, and I'm certain that she did." - -"Ah, the letter was not signed by her real name, and yet you believed -the slanders that you knew came from a jealous woman? Oh, Mrs. Lewis, -I'm ashamed of you." - -"Nay, I did not need to receive any letter; my husband's neglect of -me made me aware of the truth--it is the truth, whether you deny it or -not." - -"You are a silly goose, and I have half a mind to take your husband from -you, as mothers deprive their children of a toy when they injure it. -You do n't know how to treat a husband, madam, and you do n't deserve -to have one. Think how many girls, prettier and cleverer than you, are -obliged to go without husbands all their lives, poor things!" - -"It is enough for me to think of those women who are never satisfied -unless they have other women's husbands in their train, madam." - -"Look you, my dear ill-treated creature, I do assure you that I have no -designs upon your husband. I do not care if I never see him again except -on the stage." - -"Is that the truth? Ah, no, everybody says that Mrs. Abington is only -happy when--" - -"Then leave Mrs. Abington's room if you believe the statements of that -vague everybody." - -The actress had risen, and was pointing in fine tragic style to the -door. - -Mrs. Lewis rose also, but slowly; her eyes fell beneath the flashing -eyes of Mrs. Abington. Suddenly she raised her head, and put out a -trembling hand. - -"I will not believe what I have heard," she said. "And yet--yet--you are -so very beautiful." - -"That you think it impossible I should have any good in me?" laughed -the actress. "Well, I do believe that I have some good in me--not much, -perhaps, but enough to make me wish to do you a friendly turn in spite -of your impudence. Listen to me, you little goose. Why have you allowed -your husband to neglect you, and to come here asking me to sup with him -at Vauxhall?" - -"Ah, then,'t is true!" cried the wife. "You have gone with him--you are -going with him?" - -"'Tis true that I went with him, and that he left me just now believing -that I would accompany him to the Gardens on Monday next. Well, what -I want you to explain is how you have neglected your duty toward your -husband so that he should stray into such evil ways as supping with -actresses at Vauxhall." - -"What! would you make out that his neglect of his duty is my fault?" - -"Great heavens, child, whose fault is it, if it is not yours? That is -what I say, you do n't deserve to have a toy if you let some strange -child snatch it away from you." - -"I protest, Mrs. Abington, that I scarce take your meaning. I have -nothing to reproach myself with. I have ever been the best of wives. -I have never gone gadding about to balls and routs as some wives do; I -have remained at home with my baby." - -"Exactly, and so your poor husband has been forced to ask certain -actresses to bear him company at those innocent pleasures, which he, in -common with most gentlemen of distinction, enjoy. Ah,'t is you domestic -wives that will have to answer for your husbands' backslidings." - -"Is it possible that--why, madam, you bewilder me. You think that I -should--I do n't know what you think--oh, I'm quite bewildered!" - -"Why, child, have you not seen enough of the world to learn that a woman -is most attractive to a man when he perceives that she is admired by -other men? Have you not seen that a man seeks to marry a particular -woman, not because he cares so greatly for her himself, but because he -believes that other men care greatly for her? Your good husband is, I -doubt not, fond enough of you; but when he perceives that you think much -more of your baby than you do of him--when he perceives that the men -whom he considered his rivals before he carried you _off_ from them, no -longer follow in your train, is he to be blamed if he finds you a trifle -insipid? Ah, let me tell you, my sweet young wife, a husband is a horse -that requires the touch of a spur now and again. A jog-trot is not what -suits a spirited creature." - -"Heavens, madam! You mean that he--my husband--would be true to me if I -only I--I--" - -"If only you were not too anxious that he should keep pace with the -jog-trot into which you have fallen, my dear. Do you not fancy that I -know he wishes me to sup with him only because he is well aware that -a dozen men will be longing to mince him when they see him mincing my -chicken for me?" - -"But I would go with him to the Gardens if he would ask me, only--ah, no -one would want to mince him on my account." - -"You silly one! Cannot you see that you must place him in the position -of wanting to mince the other man?" - -"How? I protest that I am bewildered." - -"Dear child, go to the Gardens, not with your husband, but with another -man, and you will soon see him return to you with all the ardour of a -lover with a rival in view. Jealousy is the spur which a husband needs -to recall him to a sense of his duty, now and again." - -"I will never consent to adopt such a course, madam. In the first place, -I cannot force myself upon any gentleman of my acquaintance." - -"Then the sooner you find one on whom you can force yourself, the better -chance you will have of bringing your husband to your side." - -"In the second place, I respect my husband too highly--" - -"Too highly to win him back to you, though not too highly to come to me -with a story of the wrongs he has done to you? Oh, go away now; you do -n't deserve your toy." - -Mrs. Lewis did not respond to the laughter of the actress. She remained -standing in the centre of the room with her head down. Fresh tears were -welling up to her eyes. - -"I have given you my advice--and it is the advice of one who knows a -good deal of men and their manners," resumed Mrs. Abington. "If you -cannot see your way to follow it there is nothing more to be said." - -"I may be foolish; but I cannot bring myself to go alone with any man to -the Gardens," said her visitor in a low tone. - -"Then good-bye to you!" cried the actress, with a wave of her hand. - -The little lady went slowly to the door; when there she cast an -appealing glance at Mrs. Abington; but the latter had picked up her copy -of the new comedy, and was apparently studying the contents. With a sigh -Mrs. Lewis opened the door and went out. - -"Foolish child! She will have to buy her experience of men, as her -sisters buy theirs," cried Mrs. Abington, throwing away the book. - -She rose from her seat and yawned, stretching out her arms. As she -recovered herself, her eyes rested on a charcoal sketch of herself in -the character Sir Harry Wildair, in "The Constant Couple," done by Sir -Joshua Reynolds' pupil, Northcote. She gave a little start, then ran to -the door, and called out to Mrs. Lewis, who had not had time to get to -the foot of the stairs. - -"Come back for one moment, madam," cried Mrs. Abington over the -banisters, and when Mrs. Lewis returned, she said: "I called you back to -tell you to be ready dressed for the Gardens on Monday night. I will -accompany you thither in my coach." - -"You mean that you will--" - -"Go away now, like a good child. Ask no more questions till Monday -night." - -She went away, and on the Monday night she was dressed to go to -Vauxhall, when the room in which she was waiting was entered by an -extremely handsome and splendidly dressed young gentleman, who had all -the swagger of one of the beaux of the period, as he advanced to her -smirking. - -"I protest, sir," cried Mrs. Lewis, starting up; "you have made a -mistake. I have not the honour of your acquaintance." - -"'Fore Gad, my charmer, you assume the airs of an innocent miss with -amazing ability," smirked her visitor. "My name, madam, is Wildair, at -your service, and I would fain hope that you will accept my poor escort -to the Gardens." - -A puzzled look was on Mrs. Lewis's face as the gallant began to speak, -but gradually this expression disappeared. She clapped her hands -together girlishly, and then threw herself back on a chair, roaring with -laughter. - - -II. - -The next day at the playhouse Mrs. Abington met Lee Lewis with a -reproachful look. She had written to him on the Saturday, expressing her -regret that she could not go with him to the Gardens, but assuring him -that she would be there, and charging him to look for her. - -"I thought you would believe it worth your while to keep an eye open for -me last night, sir," she now said. "But I dare say you found some metal -more attractive elsewhere." - -"By heavens! I waited for you for an hour on the lantern walk, but you -did not appear," cried Lewis. - -"An hour? only an hour?" said the lady. "And pray how did you pass the -rest of the time?" - -"A strange thing happened," said Lewis, after a pause. "I was amazed to -see my wife there--or one whom I took to be my wife." - -"Ah, sir, these mistakes are of common occurrence," laughed Mrs. -Abington. "Was she, like her husband, alone?" - -"No, that's the worst of it; she was by the side of a handsome young -fellow in a pink coat embroidered with silver." - -"Oh, Mrs. Lewis would seem to have borrowed a leaf from her husband's -book; that is, if it was Mrs. Lewis. Have you asked her if she was at -the Gardens?" - -"How could I ask her that when I had told her that I was going to the -playhouse? I was struck with amazement when I saw her in the distance -with that man--did I mention that he was a particularly good-looking -rascal?" - -"You did; but why you should have been amazed I am at a loss to know. -Mrs. Lewis is a very charming lady, I know." - -"You have seen her?" - -"She was pointed out to me last night." - -"Heavens! then it was she whom I saw in the Gardens? I would not have -believed it." - -"What, are you so unreasonable as to think that 't is a wife's duty to -remain at home while her husband amuses himself at Vauxhall?" - -"Nay, but my wife--" - -"Is a vastly pretty young creature, sir, whom a hundred men as exacting -as her husband, would think it a pleasure to attend at the Gardens or -the Pantheon." - -"She is, beyond doubt a sweet young creature; but Lord, madam, she is so -bound up in her baby that she can give no thought to her husband; and as -for other men--did you see the youth who was beside her?" - -"To be sure I did. He was devoted to her--and so good looking! I give -you my word, sir, I never saw anyone with whose looks I was better -pleased." - -"Zounds, madam, if I had got near him I would have spoilt his good -looks, I promise you. Good Lord! to think that my wife--I tried to get -close to her, but the pair seemed to vanish mysteriously." "You would -have been better employed looking for me. But we will arrange for -another evening, you and I, Mr. Lewis." - -"Yes, we will--we will." - -There was not much heartiness in the way Mr. Lewis assented; and when -the lady tried to get him to fix upon an evening, he excused himself in -a feeble way. - -The day following he walked with her to her house after rehearsal, but -he did not think it necessary to make use of any of those phrases of -gallantry in which he had previously indulged. He talked a good deal -of his wife and her attractions. He had bought her a new gown, he said, -and, beyond a doubt, it would be difficult to find a match for her in -grace and sweetness. He declined Mrs. Abington's invitation to enter the -house. He had to hurry home, he said, having promised to take his wife -by water to Greenwich Park. - -The actress burst into a merry laugh as she stood before the drawing of -Sir Harry Wildair. - -"All men are alike," she cried. "And all women, too, for that matter. -Psha, there are only two people in the world; the name of one is Adam, -the name of the other is Eve." - -In the course of the afternoon a letter was brought to her. It was from -Mrs. Lewis, and it stated that the writer was so much overcome with the -recent kindness and attention which her husband had been showing her, -she had resolved to confess that she had played a trick upon him, and -begged Mrs. Abington's leave to do so. - -Mrs. Abington immediately sat down and wrote a line to her. - -"Do n't be a little fool," she wrote. "Are you so anxious to undo all -that we have done between us? If you pursue that course, I swear to you -that he will be at my feet the next day. No, dear child, leave me to -tell him all that there is to be told." - -Two days afterwards Lee Lewis said to her: - -"I wonder if 't is true that my wife has an admirer." - -"Why should it not be true, sir? Everything that is admirable has an -admirer," said Mrs. Abington. - -"She is not quite the same as she used to be," said he. "I half suspect -that she has something on her mind. Can it be possible that--" - -"Psha, sir, why not put her to the test?" cried Mrs. Abington. - -"The test? How?" - -"Why, sir, give her a chance of going again to the Gardens. Tell her -that you are going to the playhouse on Thursday night, and then do as -you did before, only keep a better look-out for her, and--well you must -promise me that if you find her with that handsome young spark you will -not run him through the body." - -"You seem to take a great interest in this same young spark," said -Lewis. - -"And so I do, sir! Lord, sir, are you jealous of me as well as your -wife?" - -"Jealous? By my soul, madam, I desire nothing more heartily than to hear -of your taking him from my wife." - -"Then carry out my plan, and perhaps I shall be able to oblige you. Put -her to the test on Thursday." - -"You will be there?" - -"I will be there, I promise you." - -"Then I agree." - -"You promise further not to run him through the body?" - -"I promise. Yes, you will have more than a corpse to console you." - -He walked off looking somewhat glum, and in another half hour she had -sent a letter to his wife asking her to be dressed for Vauxhall on -Thursday night. - -The Gardens were flooded with light--except in certain occasional -nooks--and with music everywhere. (It is scarcely necessary to say that -the few dimly-lighted nooks were the most popular in the Gardens.) - -As Mrs. Lewis, accompanied by her dashing escort, descended from the -coach and walked up the long avenue toward the tea-house, many eyes were -focussed upon her, for all the town seemed to be at Vauxhall that night. -But only the quick eyes of Mrs. Abington perceived the face of Lee Lewis -at the outskirts of the crowd. Mrs. Abington smiled; she knew perfectly -well that her disguise was so complete as to remain impenetrable, even -to her most familiar friends, and she had a voice to suit the costume of -the beau, so that, upon previous occasions, she had, when in a similar -dress, escaped all recognition, even at one of the balls at the little -playhouse in the Haymarket. - -She now swaggered through the crowds, rallying, after the most approved -style of the modish young spark, her somewhat timid companion, and -pointing out to her the various celebrities who were strolling about -under the coloured lamps. She pointed out the lively little lady, who -was clearly delighted at being the centre of a circle of admirers, -as Mrs. Thrale, the wife of the great brewer. Around her were General -Paoli, the Corsican refugee; the great Dr. Samuel Johnson; Dr. Burney, -the musician; and Richard Burke, just home from Grenada. - -Some distance further on stood Oliver Goldsmith, the author of the new -comedy, in which Lee Lewis was cast for the part of Young Marlow, and -Mrs. Abington for the part of Miss Hardcastle. Dr. Goldsmith wore a -peach-bloom velvet coat and a waistcoat covered with silver. He was -making the beautiful Miss Horneck and her sister, Mrs. Bunbury, laugh -heartily at some of his witty sayings, which were too subtle to be -understood by such people as James Boswell and Miss Reynolds, but which -were thoroughly relished by the two girls who loved him so well. In -another part of the grounds, Sir Joshua Reynolds walked with his friend -David Garrick; and when she caught sight of the latter, Mrs. Abington -hurried her companion down a side walk, saying: - -"David Garrick is the only one in the Gardens whom I fear; he would see -through my disguise in a moment." - -"My husband is not here, after all, for I have been looking for him," -said Mrs. Lewis. "You see he does not always speak an untruth when he -tells me he is going to the playhouse on the nights he is not acting." - -"Nothing could be clearer, my dear," said her companion. "Oh, yes, men -do speak the truth--yes, sometimes." - -Mrs. Lewis was anxious to return to her home as soon as she had walked -once through the Gardens, but Mrs. Abington declared that to go away -without having supper would make her so ashamed of her impersonation -of the reckless young gallant, she would never again be able to face -an audience in the playhouse; so supper they had together in one of the -raised boxes, Mrs. Abington swearing at the waiters in the truest style -of the man of fashion. - -And all the time they were at supper she could see Lee Lewis furtively -watching them. - -Another hour the actress and her companion remained in the Gardens, and -when at last they returned to the hackney coach, the former did not fail -to see that Lewis was still watching them and following them, though his -wife, all the time the coach was being driven homeward, chattered about -her husband's fidelity. "He will most likely be at home when I arrive," -she said; "and in that case I will tell him all." - -"For fear of any mistake I will enter the house with you," said Mrs. -Abington. "I have heard before now of husbands casting doubt upon even -the most plausible stories their wives invented to account for their -absence." - -"My husband will believe me," said Mrs. Lewis coldly. - -"I shall take very good care that he does," said her companion. - -When they reached the house, they learnt that Mr. Lewis had not yet come -back, and so Mrs. Abington went upstairs and seated herself by the side -of her friend in her parlour. - -Not many minutes had passed before her quick ears became aware of the -opening of the hall-door, and of the stealthy steps of a man upon the -stairs. The steps paused outside the room door, and then putting on her -masculine voice, the actress suddenly cried: - -"Ah, my beloved creature! why will you remain with a husband who cannot -love you as I swear I do? Why not fly with me to happiness?" - -Mrs. Lewis gave a laugh, while her cheek was being kissed--very audibly -kissed--by her companion. - -The next moment the door was flung open so suddenly that Mrs. Lewis was -startled, and gave a cry; but before her husband had time to take a step -into the room, Mrs. Abington had blown out the lamp, leaving the room in -complete darkness. - -"Stand where you are," cried the actress, in her assumed voice; "Stand, -or by the Lord Harry, I'll run you through the vitals!" - -The sound of the whisking of her sword from its sheath followed. - -"Who are you, fellow, and what do you want here?" she continued. - -"The rascal's impudence confounds me," said Lewis. "Infamous scoundrel! -I have had my eye on you all night; I am the husband of the lady whom -you lured from her home to be your companion." - -"Oh, then you are Mr. Lee Lewis, the actor," said Mrs. Abington. "Pray, -how does it come, sir, that you were at Vauxhall when you assured your -poor wife that you were going to the playhouse?" - -"What! the rascal has the audacity--" - -"Husband--husband--a moment will explain all!" cried Mrs. Lewis, across -the table. - -"Silence, woman!" shouted the man. - -"She had better remain silent," said the actress. "Look you, sir, how -often have you not deceived that poor young thing, whose only fault is -loving you too well? What, sir, have you the effrontery to accuse her? -Does your own conscience acquit you of every attempt to deceive her, -that you can throw a stone at her? You blame her for going with me to -the Gardens--can you say that you have never made an appointment with a -lady to meet you at the same Gardens? What truth is there in the -report which is in everyone's mouth, that you are in the train of Mrs. -Abington's admirers?" - -"'Tis false, sir! I love my wife--alas, I should say that I love her -better than a score of Mrs. Abingtons," cried Lewis. - -"Ah, husband, dear husband," began his wife, when Mrs. Abington -interrupted her. - -"Hush, child," she cried. "Let me ask him if he never implored that -woman, Abington, to accompany him to Vauxhall while he told you he was -going to the playhouse? Let me ask him how often he has whiled away the -hours in Mrs. Abington's house, assuring his wife that he was detained -at the play-house. He is silent, you perceive. That means that he has -still a remnant of what once was a conscience. Mr. Lewis, were it light -enough to see you, I am sure that we should find that you were hanging -your head. What! are you surprised that any one should admire the wife -whom you neglected? You are enraged because you saw me by her side at -the Gardens. You have played the spy on us, sir, and in doing so you -have played the fool, and you will acknowledge it and ask your wife's -pardon and mine before five minutes have passed. Call for a light, sir; -we do not expect you to apologise in the dark." - -"The fellow's impudence astounds me," muttered Lewis. He then threw open -the door and shouted down the stairs for a light. - -Mrs. Lewis, while the light was being brought, made another attempt to -explain matters, but Mrs. Abington commanded her to be silent. - -"Everything will be explained when the light comes," said she. - -"Yes," said the man, grimly, "for men cannot cross swords in the dark." - -"There will be no crossing swords here," said Mrs. Abington. - -"Coward--Scoundrel! Now we shall see what you are made of," said the -man, as a servant appeared on the landing with a lighted lamp. - -"Yes; that's just what you will see," said Mrs. Abington in her natural -voice, as the light flooded the room. - -"Great powers!" whispered Lewis, as he found himself confronted by the -fascinating face that he knew so well. - -Mrs. Abington had thrown off her wig in the darkness, and now her own -hair was flowing over her shoulders. - -"Great powers! Mrs. Abington!" - -"Yes, Mr. Lewis, Mrs. Abington, who only waits to hear a very foolish -fellow confess that he has been a fool in letting a thought of any other -woman come into his mind, when he is the husband of so charming a lady -as took supper with me to-night." - -Lee Lewis bowed his head, and, kneeling before his wife, pressed her -hand to his lips. - - - - -THE CAPTURE OF THE DUKE - - -I - -As all hearts are captivated by the most charming Mistress Barry, so it -is my hope that all souls will be captivated by her picture," cried Sir -Godfrey, bowing low between his palette which he held in one hand and -his sheaf of brushes which he held in the other. His pronunciation of -the word charming--he said "sharmink"--had a suggestion of his native -Luebeck about it; but his courtliness was beyond suspicion. None of his -distinguished sitters could complain of his having failed to represent -them on his canvases with dignity and refinement, whatever their candid -friends might think of the accuracy of the portraitures. - -"I only ask to be painted as I am, Sir Godfrey," said Mrs. Barry, when -she had risen after her courtesy in acknowledgment of Sir Godfrey's -gallant compliment. - -"As you are, madam? Ah, your ladyship is the most exacting of my -sitters. As you are? Ah, my dear lady, you must modify your conditions; -my art has its limitations." - -"Your art, but not your arts, sir. I protest that I am overwhelmed by -the latter, as I am lost in admiration of the former," said the actress, -adopting a pose which she knew the painter would appreciate. "Alas, -Sir Godfrey," she added, "you do not well to talk to an actress of the -limitations of art. What a paltry aim has our art compared with yours! I -have had cravings after immortality--that is why I am here to-day." - -"'T is surely, then, the future of the painter that you have had at -heart, my dear madam; you come with immortality shining in your face." - -"Nay, sir; Sir Godfrey Kneller will live forevermore in his long line of -legitimate monarchs--ay, and others, perhaps not quite--" - -"For God's sake, Mistress Barry! These are dangerous days; pray remember -that I am the queen's limner." - -Sir Godfrey Kneller spoke in a whisper, touching her arm with the -handles of his brushes as he glanced apprehensively around the -painting-room of his house in Great Queen Street. - -Mrs. Barry looked at him with a reckless gaiety in her eyes. - -"What, have I said anything treasonable, anything to compromise the -Court painter?" she cried. - -"Walls have ears, my dear," whispered the painter. - -"And what matters that, so long as they have not tongues?" laughed the -lady. "Ah, my dear Sir Godfrey, you do your art an injustice to fancy -that any one could utter a word of treason in this room surrounded by so -many living faces." She pointed to the easels on which were hung several -portraits approaching completion. "They are all living, my friend. I vow -that when I entered here just now I felt inclined to sink in a courtesy -before Her Grace of Marlborough." She indicated the portrait of the -duchess which Sir Godfrey had all but finished--one of the finest of all -his works. - -Sir Godfrey smiled. - -"Ah, who, indeed, could talk treason in the presence of Her Grace?" he -said. - -"None, save His Grace, I suppose," said the actress. "And now I am ready -to sit to you--unless you have any further courtly compliments to pass -on me. Only, by my faith, I do not choose to place myself nigh to Her -Grace. Those eyes of hers make me feel uneasy. Prithee, Sir Godfrey, -permit me to turn my back upon the duchess; the act will, I protest, -give me a feeling of pride which will speedily betray itself on my -face. People will say, 'Only an actress, yet she turned her back upon -a duchess'--ay, and such a duchess! They say their Graces have lost -nothing by their adherence to the Queen." - -Mrs. Barry had now posed herself, flinging back her hair from her -forehead, so that her broad, massive brow was fully shown, and the -painter had begun to work upon her picture. - -"Ah, people say that? And what reason have they for saying it, I -wonder?" remarked Sir Godfrey. - -"The best of reasons, my good friend. They say that their Graces have -lost nothing by standing by the Queen, because if they ran a chance of -losing anything they would quickly stand by the King--His Majesty over -the water." - -Sir Godfrey laughed. "I vow, Mistress Barry, that your gossips have -failed to interpret as I would the expression upon the face of Her Grace -of Marlborough," said he. "Great heaven, madam, cannot one perceive a -pensiveness upon that face of hers?--nay, prithee, do not turn your head -to look for the expression. I want not to lose your expression while you -are endeavoring to catch that of Her Grace." - -"The Sad Sarah! And you mean to reproduce the sadness, Sir Godfrey?" - -"Not sadness--only pensiveness." - -"The one is the same as t' other. Then you will cause posterity to -affirm that Sarah was sad to find that she had not become so rich in -adhering to the Queen as she might have if she had sent her pensive -glances across to France?" - -"Then posterity will do her wrong. Her Grace is truly attached to the -Queen--so truly attached that she becomes melancholic at the thought of -not being completely trusted by Her Majesty." - -Sir Godfrey's voice had sunk to a whisper as he made this revelation; -and when he had spoken he glanced once more round the room as if to -assure himself that he had no listeners beside Mrs. Barry. - -"And the Queen does not trust her?" cried the actress. "Ah, well, I -suppose 't is impossible even for a Queen to be for so many years in her -company without understanding her. Ah, the poor Duke! Prithee continue -your story, Sir Godfrey. I perceive that you would fain lead one up to -the scandalous part." - -"Scandalous part, madam? Nay, if you discern not a deep pathos in the -sad look of Her Grace, the Duchess, after the key which I have given you -to her expression, no rehearsal of scandal would awake your interest in -the subject of yonder portrait." - -"Nay, sir, if you refuse to tell me further, you will have to bear with -the mockery of posterity for depicting me with a melancholic visage, as -well as your Duchess. Pray tell me the scandal, or I vow I shall have a -fit of the vapours all the time you are painting my portrait." - -"My dear lady, there is no scandal to rehearse, I pledge you my word," -said the painter. "'T is only said that Her Majesty--" - -"Is blest by heaven with excellent eyesight? Well, yes; I dare swear -that your Duchess is strongly of that opinion--that is what adds to her -melancholy. But I vow 't is most scandalous that there's no scandal. We -must try and repair this, you and I, Sir Godfrey." - -"What, does the woman fancy that all lives should be regulated on the -lines set down by the poets who write for your playhouses?" - -"And why not? If our poets will not be true to nature, is it not our -duty to try to make nature true to the poets?" - -"Faith, madam, that were to put an outrage upon nature, if I grasp your -meaning aright." - -"Nay, sir, 'tis no great outrage. If our writers treat of the humours -of an intrigue in high places, and if we find, on climbing to these high -places, that no scandal is to be found there but only humdrum existence, -is it not our duty to foster a scandal for the justification of our -writers?" - -"_Mille tonnerres!_ Have I been cherishing a fiery flying serpent all -this time? Have I been playing with a firebrand? Why, 't is in the -aspect of Medusa I should be painting you, Mistress Barry; you should -have ringletted snakes entwined among your hair. I' faith, madam, that -is a pretty theory to propound in an honest man's house. We must become -scandalous in order to save a playhouse poet from being accounted untrue -to life?" - -"And why not? Ah, Sir Godfrey, I greatly fear that you have no true -feeling for art." - -The actress spoke sadly and shook her head with such exquisite -simulation of melancholy as caused the painter to lay down his palette -and roar with laughter. - -"You have a true feeling for art, beyond doubt, my Barry," he cried. -"You have no room to reproach yourself, I dare swear. You have all the -men in town at your feet, and all their wives ready to scratch out your -eyes--and all for the advancement of art, you say. You are ready to -jeopardise your own reputation in order to save that of your poets! Ah, -what a kind heart hath the Barry!" - -"Faith, Sir Godfrey, if I did not make a wife or two jealous, how could -I know what a jealous woman looks like, and if I did not know what a -jealous woman looks like, how could I act the part of a jealous woman in -the playhouse?" - -"Ah, how indeed? The play-goers worship you if their wives long for -those ringlets that ensnare their husbands in their meshes. What is a -wedding-ring against a wanton ringlet?" - -"'T is my duty as an actress that compels me to seek for examples of the -strongest emotions, Sir Godfrey--you perceive that that is so?" - -"Ah, beyond doubt--beyond doubt, madam." - -"That rejoices me. And now touching this Duchess of Marlborough--" - -"You will have to seek your examples of strong emotion outside my house, -my friend. Do you fancy that Her Grace--" - -"Is a woman? Nay, she is a very woman, so far as my poor observation, -supplemented by a small trifle of experience, is permitted to judge. -Think you that her sadness of visage is due to mortification that her -spouse is still faithful to her?" - -"Surely such a reflection should call for an expression of satisfaction, -my fair observer." - -"Nay, Sir Godfrey; that were to take a view of the matter in no -wise deep. Would you not have Her Grace to think as other women less -formidable think, in this wise: 'what fate is mine to be wed to a man -whom no woman thinks worth the tempting'?" - -"Zounds, my Barry, that were the strangest way recorded to account for a -wife's sadness. How know you that His Grace has not been tempted?" - -"I make no such charge against him, Sir Godfrey; I think not such evil -of him as that he hath not been tempted. I make but a humble attempt to -think as Her Grace may think when she has her moods." - -"That were a presumption for such as you, madam. What! you an actress, -and she a duchess, and yet you would venture--" - -The laugh which illuminated the face of Sir Godfrey had scarcely passed -away before his servant entered the painting room in haste, announcing -that the coach of the Duchess of Marlborough was at the door, and that -Her Grace was in the act of dismounting. - -"That means that my sitting is at an end," said Mrs. Barry. - -"And I must e'en hustle you out of the room, my dear," said the painter. -"Her Grace is not the most patient of dames when it comes to waiting on -a painter." - -"Or on a painter's sitter, particularly when that sitter is only an -actress. Ah, Sir Godfrey, you might permit me to remain in secret that I -may know how a Duchess conducts herself upon occasions." - -"Tut--tut! Would you play a comedy in my house, you baggage?" cried the -painter, pushing her playfully to the door. "Fly--fly--before it is too -late." - -"Ah, Sir Godfrey, you are indeed unkind. Prithee how may I hope to enact -the part of a duchess in the playhouse if I am not permitted to witness -one in the life?" - -"Off--off--I say! You will have to trust to your own instinct, which I -take to be a faithful enough guide in your case, my dear Barry. And -so farewell to you." Still protesting, and very prettily pouting, the -actress suffered herself to be gently forced from the room into the -square, inner hall, which was lighted by a dome of coloured glass. Sir -Godfrey, kissing the tip of one of his fingers, bowed her an adieu, but -without speaking, as he held up the tapestry _portiere_. - -[Illustration: 0278] - -Mrs. Barry replied with a modified courtesy, and turned as if to make -her way to the outer hall; but the moment Sir Godfrey let fall the -tapestry, she returned on tiptoe, and moving it an inch to one side, -peered through into the studio. She saw the painter hurrying from the -large apartment into the small retiring-room at the farther end, and the -moment that he disappeared she was back like a flash into the studio and -in hiding behind a full-length canvas that leant against an easel in a -dark corner. - -Five seconds were sufficient to carry out the plan which she had -conceived on the impulse of the moment. Had it occupied seven she would -have been discovered, for Sir Godfrey had merely entered his wardrobe -to throw off one coat and put on another. He returned to the studio, and -immediately rang his bell. When the servant entered, he said: - -"When Her Grace is ready, lead her hither." - -The servant bowed and left the studio, while Sir Godfrey arranged the -chair on the dais for his new sitter, and placed the half-finished -portrait of the Duchess on his easel. He had scarcely done so before the -rings of the _portiere_ were rattling, and the Duchess of Marlborough -entered, attired for the sitting. How she looked on that day, the -painter has by his art enabled all succeeding generations to learn. -Sir Godfrey Kneller's portrait of the Duchess is, perhaps, his most -characteristic work. If the distinction which it possesses in every -feature was scarcely shared by the original in the same degree, there -was still sufficient character in the face of the great lady to make -it profoundly interesting, especially to so close an observer as Sir -Godfrey Kneller. - -"Ah, my dear Kneller," cried Her Grace, as the painter advanced to greet -her with bowed head, "I am even before my appointed hour to-day. That -glance of sad reproach which you cast at your timepiece when I last came -hither--though only half an hour late, I swear--had its effect upon me." - -"Her Grace of Marlborough is one of those rare ones for whom it might -reasonably be expected that the sun would stand still," said the -painter. - -"As it did once at the command of the Hebrew general? Ah, my Kneller, -what a pity it is that a certain great General of the moderns cannot -make his commands respected in the same direction." - -"His Grace has no need to supplement his own generalship by--by--" - -"By the aid of heaven, you would say? By the Lord, Sir Godfrey,'t is -rather the aid of the opposite power our generalissimo would invoke, if -taken at a disadvantage." - -"It would be impossible to conceive an incident so remarkable as His -Grace taken at a disadvantage." - -"I would fain believe you to be right, friend Kneller. Yes, I have not -once caught him tripping. But that, you may say, is not so much because -His Grace does not trip, as because his generalship is too subtle for -such an one as I." - -"Nay, nay, madam; so ungenteel a thought could never be entertained -by one who has the privilege of knowing the Duke and of seeing the -Duchess." - -"Vastly prettily spoken, Sir Godfrey; and with the air of a courtier, -too; but, unlike t' other things of the Court, there is truth in your -words. Look you, Kneller, there's the slut who calls herself Mistress -Barry--she carries half the town away captive at her chariot-wheels--" -she pointed to the portrait of Mrs. Barry. "But think you that her -fascinations would have power to prevail against my lord the Duke? Nay, -adamant is as snow compared to his demeanour when the wretch is moving -all hearts within the playhouse. Have not I found him sitting with -closed eyes while the woman was flaunting it about the stage, and men's -swords were ready to fly from their scabbards at the throats of them -that had got a soft look from her?" - -"Is 't possible?" - -"Ay, sir; 't is more than possible. The insolent hussy has oft cast up -her eyes at our box in the playhouse, ogling His Grace, if you please. -The fool little knew that she was ogling a slumbering man. Nay, Sir -Godfrey, if I were as sure of my ground in other directions as I am of -His Grace, I were a happy woman." - -She took her place on the dais, and the expression of pensiveness which -appears on the face of the portrait became intensified. This fact, -however, did not prevent a dainty little fist from quivering in her -direction from the side of the full-length picture in the corner. The -Duchess had her back turned to that particular corner. - -"Your Grace deserves to be the happiest of women," said the painter. - -"If only to give so admirable a limner an opportunity of depicting a -smiling face," said the Duchess. - -"Nay, madam, a smile doth not make a picture," replied Sir Godfrey. "On -the contrary, it oft destroys one. Your painter of smirking goddesses -finds his vocation at the Fair of St. Bartolemy. I would fain hope that -I am not such." There was a silence, during which Sir Godfrey painted -the hair upon his canvas with his usual dexterity. Then Her Grace -sighed. - -"Know you the best means of bringing back an errant confidence, Sir -Godfrey?" she asked after another long pause. - -"An errant confidence, madam?" - -"The confidence of one whom I love, and who I think would fain love me -still, were it not for the tongue of slander." - -"Nay, your Grace, I am but a painter; no Rubens am I in the skill that -pertains to an envoy. Still, it occurs to me that the rendering of some -signal service to the one whose mood your Grace describes should bring -you to her heart again." - -The Duchess sprang from her chair and began pacing the narrow limits of -the dais, her hands clenched, and the expression on her face becoming -one of passion solely. - -"Some signal service--some signal service!" she cried. "Man, have I not -grown aged in her service? Who among those around her hath shown her and -hers such service as ours has been--my husband's and mine? And yet when -she hears the rumour of a plot she taunts me that I was not the first -to warn her. Heavens! Does it rest with me to see the word 'conspirator' -branded on the flesh of one who may hap to wear a cuirass? Is there -any skill that will enable mine eyes to perceive in a man's bearing -an adherent to the family at St. Germains? By the Lord, Sir Godfrey -Kneller, I may be tried too much. Think you that if we were to turn our -eyes in the direction of St. Germains there would not be a goodly number -of persons in this realm who would turn their eyes and their coats with -us?" - -"For God's sake, madam--" - -"Nay, 't is but an abstract proposition, friend Kneller. I have wit -enough to perceive that the atmosphere of France suiteth best the -health of some folk. For mine own part, I like best our English air; but -if--ah, continue your painting, Sir Godfrey, and see that you make mine -eyes the eyes of one who looks not overseas for succour." - -Her Grace threw herself once more into the chair, and the painter -resumed his work in silence. He could not but reproduce the pensive -expression that once more was worn by the face of the Duchess. - -At the end of half an hour she rose, complaining that she was tired. She -smiled, giving her hand to Sir Godfrey, as she said. - -"I know, my good friend, that it is safe to rage in your presence; you -are discretion itself." - -"Your Grace hath never put my discretion to the test," said the Court -painter, with a low bow. - -"The Duke will mayhap visit you to inspect the portrait, Sir Godfrey," -said the Duchess when at the door. "Pray let him know that I await him -at St. James's." - -"I shall not fail, madam," said the painter. "And I will not ask your -Grace to sit to me until Friday. I have to be in Richmond on Thursday." - -He held back the _portiere_ for her exit, and then followed her through -the domed hall to the apartment where her maid awaited her. - -On his return to the studio he found himself face to face with Mrs. -Barry. For an instant he stood speechless. Then, with a glance behind -him, he whispered: - -"How did you come hither, in the name of heaven?" - -"In a name which you are bound to respect--the name of art," she -replied. - -"I sought but a lesson, and I have not sought in vain. A duchess! Good -Lord! These be your duchesses! The manners of a kitchen wench allied to -the language of a waterman. A duchess!" - -"Madam--Mistress Barry--" - -"Oh, the poor Duke! How oft have not I heard that His Grace looks -forward to the hottest campaign with joy? Oh, I can well believe it. And -the look of pensiveness on Her Grace's face--observe it, most faithful -of limners." - -She stood pointing to the portrait of the Duchess in a stage attitude -of scorn. Sir Godfrey, as he looked at her, felt that he should like to -paint her in that attitude for the benefit of posterity. Then she burst -into a scornful laugh, at which he became more serious than ever. In -another moment, however, she had introduced a note of merriment into her -laughter, and in spite of the fact that he had been extremely angry on -finding that she had been in hiding he could not help joining in her -laughter. - -"The pensive Duchess!" she cried. "Nay, rather, the pensive Duke, my -friend. Paint him as 'Il Penseroso'--the Duke who had eyes only for -the graces of Her Grace--who had ears only for her dulcet phrases--who -snored in the face of the actress who was ogling him from the stage. -Grant me patience, heaven! If I fail to bring him to my feet in the -sight of that woman, may I never tread the stage more! I have a scheme, -Sir Godfrey, which only needs your help to--" - -"My help! _Gott in Himmel!_ You shall not have my help! What! do you -fancy that you may turn my painting-room into a playhouse stage, and act -your farces--" - -"His Grace the Duke of Marlborough." - -The servant had thrown open the door as he made the announcement. - -"Ah! Heaven is on my side! I need not your help," cried the actress, in -an aside, as she turned to a mirror to still further dishevel her hair. - -The Duke of Marlborough, entering the studio, found himself confronted -by a lovely woman visibly fluttered, and apparently anxious to prevent -the lace upon her shoulders from revealing even so much of her bosom as -the painter had thought necessary for artistic purposes. - -"Ha! Kneller!" cried the Duke, "I find that I am an intruder. How is -this, sir? Your fellow said that you were alone." - -"It is only my friend, Mistress Barry, your Grace, whose portrait has -become my pastime," said Sir Godfrey. - -"And Mistress Barry is of no account," said the actress, sinking in a -courtesy. "Ah, your Grace, Sir Godfrey forces me to excuse both his own -imprudence and my impudence. When I learned that the Duke of Marlborough -was to come hither I implored him to permit me to remain in order that -the dream of my poor life might be realised." - -"The dream of your life, madam?" said the Duke. - -"I dare say 't is the dream of many lives," said the lady in a low -voice, somewhat broken by an emotion she could not repress, even though -she took one hand away from her lace to still the beating of her heart. -"And now that I find myself face to face with the one who has saved our -country's honour in an hundred fights, I protest that I am overcome with -the result of my boldness. Oh, your Grace, forgive the weakness of a -poor weak woman." - -"Madam," said the Duke, "this moment repays me for whatever trifling -hardship I have undergone in my campaigns. To find that all the charms -of Mistress Barry on the stage are but feeble compared with those gifts -of nature with which she had been endowed, were sure an astonishment to -one who had seen her only when she was the centre of a thousand eyes." - -"Oh, your Grace is determined to overwhelm your friends with your -compliments as you do your enemies with your culverins. But I vow I am -too forward. I am presuming to include my poor self among your Grace's -friends." - -"Then think of a sweeter name, my dear lady, and I shall agree to it -without demur." - -The Duke was beyond doubt not insensible to the charms of the beautiful -actress. She had apparently quite forgotten that the drapery about her -shoulders had fallen away more freely even than was permissible in -the exigencies of the classical art affected by the eighteenth century -painters. - -"Ah, Your Grace leaves me without a voice even of protest," murmured the -actress, glancing modestly at the floor. - -"Nay, Mistress Barry has need only to protest against the limitations -of speech," said the Duke, facing her and offering her his hand, which, -after a moment's hesitation, she took with the homage that she would -have given to the hand of a monarch. Then she dropped it with a half -stifled sigh, and turned to the door without a word. - -"Wherefore fly?" said the Duke, raising the side of the _portiere_ while -she made a courtesy. - -"'T were better so, though I know your Grace cannot understand how -flight should ever be linked with discretion." - -"At least, let me conduct you to your chair, madam. Nay, I insist." - -They had scarcely got beneath the glass dome before she had laid her -hand upon his arm. - -"I was determined to see you face to face," she said in a rapid whisper. -"I have something of the greatest gravity that is for your ear alone. -You would step between the Queen and disaster?" - -"I have done so before now," said the Duke. "Heaven may be equally kind -to me again. Come with me in my coach now; it is already dusk." - -"No--no--that would be fatal to both of us," she whispered. "We are -surrounded by enemies--spies--purveyors of treason--the very life of the -Queen is in danger." - -"You speak sincerely," said the Duke. "Come to my house after the play." - -"Impossible! Your Grace little knows in what quarter the danger lies. I -lit upon it by accident myself. Let me see. Ah, I have it: Sir Godfrey's -painting room at a quarter after four on Thursday--this is Tuesday--yes, -in secret--and in the mean time, not a word to living man or woman--not -even Her Grace." - -"Why not take your seat in my coach; it has curtains." - -"Impossible! Ah, trust me to know wherein lieth safety and prudence. -Hasten back. Good Sir Godfrey must not suspect." - -"Heavens! You do not say that he is--" - -"He is true; but he talks. We need those who are dumb. Not a word in -human ear." - -He looked into her face--eagerly--searchingly. She never winced. He -pressed her hand and returned to the studio. - -She was halfway down the street in her chair before she burst into a -merry laugh. - -"Her Grace shall have enough of plots to last her for awhile at -any rate. Our painter goes to Richmond on Thursday; he said so. Oh, -Lud--Lud! how quick the notion came to me when His Grace appeared. Ah, -Mistress Barry, thou hast not read in vain all that the poets have -writ for the playhouse. I can see that they are both wild to show their -devotion to Her Majesty. They would fain discover plots growing along -the hedgerows of St. James's Park. They will be as easily trapped as -tame pigeons." - -"What," cried Mistress Barry on Thursday afternoon, to the servant who -opened the door for her at Sir Godfrey Kneller's house, "what! gone to -Richmond? Nay,'t is not possible. I sit to him at four." - -"My master said it would be five ere he returned from her ladyship's, -madam." - -"Oh, Lud, surely he made a mistake; or you have misheard him, sirrah. He -will be back at four, and I'll e'n wait for him in the painting-room. If -he have not returned by the half hour I will tarry no longer." - -She walked past the servant--he made no demur--and entered the studio. -Sauntering about for a few moments, she then went to the door and locked -it. She hastened to a shelf on which lay some broken chalks. In a few -moments, standing before the tall mirror, she had completely altered her -face; she had "made up" her features and complexion as those of an old -woman. - -Then from apparently capacious pockets in the cloak which she wore -she brought forth a grey wig of many curls, which she put over her own -chestnut hair; and a servant's apron which completely hid her gown. -A few adroit touches transformed her into a venerable person of much -respectability--one whose appearance suggested that of an aged retainer -in a family where her services were properly valued. She surveyed -herself in the glass, saying, "Her Grace will, I can swear, recognise -the good woman whose sense of duty compelled her to address so mighty -a lady touching the vile conspiracy to which Her Grace is to be made -privy." - -While she was standing back from the glass, laughing as she kissed -the tips of her fingers to the figure who responded in like fashion, -a gentle knock sounded on the small side door that led into the arched -passage to the garden--the door by which the painter's models were -admitted to the studio without passing through the house. The actress, -giving a final smooth to her apron, hastened to open the door, but only -to the extent of an inch or two. - -"What's your business, madam?" she inquired, in the quavering accents of -age, through the opening. - -"I have come hither for Mrs. Freeman's frock," was the reply in a low -voice. - -"It will be ready for you in half an hour, my good woman," said the -actress. "Meantime, enter and wait." - -She admitted a muffled and closely-veiled figure, and, when she had -closed the door, made an old-fashioned curtesy. - -"You are Mrs. Smollett?" said the figure, in a low voice, after glancing -round the studio. - -"Elizabeth Smollett, your Grace, is my name," quavered Mrs. Barry. "Ah, -madam, you have had the courage to come hither." - -"Courage?" said the Duchess. "It needed none. If what your letter told -me be true, it is time that some true friend of the Queen's came hither. -Is it possible that your master, Sir Godfrey, knoweth naught of the -plot?" - -"He knoweth naught, madam. The head and front of the wicked business -came to him as his _valet de chambre_ with the best recommendations. It -was only by accident that I discovered the fellow's motives. He was for -three years at St. Germains." - -"At St. Germains! The wretch! Mrs. Smollett, your devotion to Her -Majesty in this matter shall not go unrewarded. I can promise you that. -They hope to seize the Queen! Merciful heaven! Are they fools enough to -fancy that that act would further their ends? Ah, shall I now be avenged -upon mine enemies who whisper to Her Majesty! And you, Smollett--you -will bless the day you wrote to me." - -"Not so loud, your Grace," whispered the actress. "There may be those at -hand that we know not of. This is where your grace must be in hiding." -She led the Duchess up the studio to the curtain that hung across the -retiring room. "Your Grace will be entirely hid in the recess of the -door, and unless I am far mistaken you shall hear more than you ever -expected. Now, madam, for God's sake remain fast hid behind the curtain. -I shall return to my household duties lest I should be suspected." - -"You will bless this day," whispered Her Grace from behind the -_portiere_. - -Mrs. Barry put her finger to her lips as she noiselessly unlocked the -door leading to the domed hall and then passed through. - -She hastily removed all traces of her disguise, placing the wig and -apron behind a marble pedestal that bore a reproduction of the flying -Mercury. She paused at the door for some time before returning to the -studio, and when at last she opened it she did so very cautiously, -putting her head just beyond the _portiere_ at first. Then she closed -the door behind her and advanced. She did not fail to notice the little -movement of the curtain at the farther end of the studio. Then she gave -a fine sigh and threw herself into a chair. - -"Heigh ho!" she said, in a tone that she meant to be audible in every -part of the room. "Heigh ho! 't is weary waiting for one's love. But my -love--my hero--is worthy to be waited for by empresses. Yet, if I had -not his picture to look upon now I vow I should feel melancholic. Ah, -Sir Godfrey. He has dealt as harshly with the face of my Duke as he -hath dealt gently with that ancient harridan, the Duchess." (She saw the -distant _portiere_ quiver.) "Great heavens!" she continued, rising and -standing in front of the portrait of the Duchess. "Great heavens! is it -a matter of wonder that His Grace should be sick unto death of that face -of hers? All the flattery of the painter cannot hide the malevolence of -her countenance. The Queen perceived it long ago, and yet they say that -she hopes to regain the favour of her royal mistress! - -"Poor creature! But indeed she is to be pitied. She hath lost the favour -of her Queen and the heart of her spouse. Ah, my hero--my beloved--your -heart is mine--all mine. How oft have I not heard your sweet words -telling me that--how oft? But why are you not here to tell it to me now? -Why--ah, at last--at last!" - -A knock had sounded at the side door in the midst of her passionate -inquiries, and she almost flew to the door, "Ah, at last--at last you -have come!" she said in a fervent whisper as the Duke entered. - -"I have come," he replied, still holding her hand. He had no choice left -in the matter. She did not withdraw her hand after she had given it to -him. It would scarcely have done for him to cast it from him. "You are -sure that Sir Godfrey has not yet returned?" - -"I am sure of it," said she. "Would I be here with you alone if he had -returned?" - -"No, no; of course not," said the Duke. "But would I not come far if -only to press this little hand?" - -His experience of women had taught him that a little flattery is never -out of place with them. He supposed it was out of sheer nervousness that -Mrs. Barry had failed to withdraw her hand. - -She did not withdraw it even now, however. It was only when they had -walked side by side half way across the room that she withdrew her -hand. She saw that a large picture on an easel was between them and the -distant _portiere_. - -"You have come--you have trusted me," she murmured, with her eyes cast -down. - -He looked at her. He began to fear that she was faltering. She needed -encouragement to make her revelation to him. - -"I have trusted you, dear one; ah, you know not to what extent I would -trust you. I would go to the ends of the earth to hear what you have to -tell me." - -"That is what I wish," she cried. "Could we not meet at some distant -spot where all that my heart contains might be yours? Ah, let us fly -thither without delay! Delay may make havoc of our future." - -"Pray, calm yourself," said the Duke. He perceived that his companion -was of an hysterical type. She would need to be treated with great tact -before she could be brought to communicate anything that she knew. - -"Ah, 't is easy for a soldier to be calm," she cried. "'T is not so -easy for a poor woman who is by nature trustful and yet by experience -distrustful." - -"You may trust me, my sweet creature," he said. - -"May I? May I?" she whispered, looking into his face. "Ah, no, no; leave -me--leave me alone to die here! Mine was the fault--mine alone." - -She had put her hands before her face and gone excitedly halfway down -the apartment. - -"You shall not die!" he cried, following her. "Just heaven, child, am I -nobody? Is my protection worth nothing, that you should be afraid?" - -"Your protection?" She had removed her hands from her face. "What! you -will let me be under your protection?" - -"I swear to you." - -"Ah, then I will trust you--forever--for ever," cried the actress, -flinging herself into the arms of the astonished Duke and laying her -head on his shoulder. - -He was much more astonished when a voice rang through the studio: - -"Wretch! Infamous wretches both!" - -"Oh, Lud!" cried Mrs. Barry, forsaking her resting place and standing a -yard or two apart. "Oh, Lud, who is the plain little woman that has been -eavesdropping? I vow, Duke, she was not invited to our meeting." - -"Infamous creature! I am the Duchess of Marlborough!" - -"Nay, that were impossible. I happen to know that the Duchess has a -limitless faith in the Duke, especially in regard to so plain a creature -as Mistress Barry, and you have the face and bearing of a jealous woman. -Her Grace of Marlborough would not be jealous, my good creature." - -"Madam," said the Duke, turning to his wife, "madam, you have played an -unworthy part--spying--" - -"Silence, libertine!" thundered the Duchess, looking like a fury. - -[Illustration: 0309] - -"Faith, 't is the Duchess, after all," said the actress. "Ah, Sir -Godfrey has returned in good time." Sir Godfrey was standing at the -door. "Dear Sir Godfrey, Her Grace is anxious for you to paint her in -her true character--that of the jealous wife; and so I leave her in -your good hands. Adieu, your Grace. Oh, fie, to be jealous of so poor a -creature as an actress!" - -She stood for a moment by the side of the painter, turning half round as -she raised the tapestry hanging. Her laughter when she had passed into -the hall, rang through the studio. - -Sir Godfrey began to speak. - -"I fear greatly that in my absence--" - -"Sir, in your absence your house has been turned into a lover's -rendezvous!" cried the Duchess. "Your aged domestic, Mrs. Smollett, -wrote to me a confidential letter--" - -"Madam, I have no aged domestic, and I know no one of the name of -Smollett," said Sir Godfrey. - -"What! Oh, the man is in the plot also! It were beneath my dignity to -converse further with him. Shame, sir--shame on both of you!" - -She flung herself through the _portiere_ and disappeared in a billow of -tapestry. - -The Duke and Sir Godfrey stood side by side in silence in the studio. At -last the former spoke. - -"Faith, Kneller, I think I begin to see how we have all been tricked. -That play-actress hath made fools of us all for her own sport." - -"I begin to fear that that is so," said Sir Godfrey. - -"Ay, sir; she hath fooled us," said the Duke. "Methinks it will be some -space of time before the wrath of Her Grace will be appeased." - -And so it was. - - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Impudent Comedian & Others, by -Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS *** - -***** This file should be named 51923.txt or 51923.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/2/51923/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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- <title>
- The Impudent Comedian &; Others, by Frank Frankfort Moore
- </title>
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-<pre>
-
-Project Gutenberg's The Impudent Comedian & Others, by Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: The Impudent Comedian & Others
-
-Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51923]
-Last Updated: March 13, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by Google Books
-
-
-
-
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-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN & OTHERS
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Frank Frankfort Moore
- </h2>
- <h4>
- Herbert S. Stone & Co
- </h4>
- <h3>
- 1897
- </h3>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0014.jpg" alt="0014 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0014.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> KITTY CLIVE, ACTRESS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> A QUESTION OF ART </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE MUSE OF TRAGEDY </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE WAY TO KEEP HIM </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE CAPTURE OF THE DUKE </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE IMPUDENT COMEDIAN
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span> elly—Nelly—Nell!
- Now, where's the wench?” cried Mrs. Gwyn, before she had more than passed
- the threshold of her daughter's house in St. James's Park—the house
- with the terrace garden, where, as the sedate Evelyn records, the charming
- Nelly had stood exchanging some very lively phrases with her royal lover
- on the green walk below, giving the grave gentleman cause to grieve
- greatly. But, alas! the record of his sorrow has only made his untold
- readers mad that they had not been present to grieve, also, over that
- entrancing tableau. “Nelly—Nell! Where's your mistress, sirrah?”
- continued the somewhat portly and undoubtedly overdressed mother of the
- “impudent comedian,” referred to by Evelyn, turning to a man-servant who
- wore the scarlet livery of the king.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where should she be, madam, at this hour, unless in the hands of her
- tirewomen? It is but an hour past noon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You lie, knave! She is at hand,” cried the lady, as the musical lilt of a
- song sounded on the landing above the dozen shallow oak stairs leading out
- of the square hall, and a couple of fat spaniels, at the sound, lazily
- left their place on a cushion, and waddled towards the stairs to meet and
- greet their mistress.
- </p>
- <p>
- She appeared in the lobby, and stood for a moment or two looking out of a
- window that commanded a fine view of the trees outside—they were in
- blossom right down to the wall. She made a lovely picture, with one hand
- shading her eyes from the sunlight that entered through the small square
- panes, singing all the time in pure lightness of heart. She wore her brown
- hair in the short ringlets of the period, and they danced on each side of
- her face as if they were knowing little sprites for whose ears her singing
- was meant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wench!” shouted her mother from below. The sprites that danced to the
- music of the mother's voice were of a heavier order altogether.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, mother? I scarce knew that you were journeying hither to-day,”
- cried Nelly, coming down the stairs. “'T is an honour, and a surprise as
- well; and, i' faith, now that I come to think on't, the surprise is a deal
- greater than the honour. If you say you have n't come hither for more
- money, my surprise will be unbounded.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was nothing to Nelly that she spoke loud enough to be heard by the
- footmen in the hall, as well as by the servants in the kitchen. She knew
- that they knew all about her, and all about her mother as well. Perhaps
- some of them had bought oranges from her or her mother in the old days at
- Drury Lane, before she had become distinguished as an actress, and in
- other ways.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I 'm not come for money, though a trifle would be welcome,” said the
- mother, when Nelly had shown her the way into one of the rooms opening off
- a corridor at one side of the hall—a large apartment, furnished with
- ludicrous incongruity. A lovely settee, made by the greatest artist in
- France, and upholstered in bright tapestry, was flanked by a couple of
- hideous chairs made by the stage carpenter of Drury Lane, and by him
- presented to Nelly. A pair of Sèvres vases, which had for some years been
- in St. James's Palace stood on a side-board among some rubbish of
- porcelain that Nelly had picked up in the purlieus of Westminster.
- </p>
- <p>
- The mother was about to seat herself heavily on the gilded settee, when
- Nelly gave a little scream, startling the elder lady so that she, too,
- screamed—a little hoarsely—in sympathy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's the matter, girl—what's the matter?” she cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing is the matter, so far, mother, but a mighty deal would have been
- the matter, if you had seated yourself other where than in that
- chair.'Snails, madam, who are you that you should plump your person down
- on a seat that was made for a legitimate monarch?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm a legitimate wife, hear you that, you perky wench?” cried the mother,
- craning her neck forward after the most approved fashion of pending
- belligerents at Lewkinor Street, Drury Lane.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The greater reason you should avoid that settee, dear mother; it has
- never been other than the chattel of a prince,” laughed Nelly. “And now,
- prithee, why the honour of this visit, while the month is not yet near its
- close?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have met with an old friend of yours, this day, Nell,” said the mother,
- “and he is coming hither,—'t is that hath brought me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An old friend! I' faith, good mother, 't is the young friends are more to
- my taste. The savour of Lewkinor Street doth not smell sweet, and it
- clings most foully to all our old friends.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, ay, but you once was n't so dainty a madam!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T were vain to deny it, mother, since it can be urged against me that I
- became your daughter. No, no, good mother, friend me no old friends—I
- like them new—the newer the better—plenty of gilding—none
- of it rubbed off—gingerbread and courtiers—plenty of gilding,
- and plenty of spice beneath. But the old life in Lewkinor Street—in
- the coal-yard—ah! 't was like to sour oranges, mother, thick skin
- above, and sourness under. 'Snails! it doth set my teeth on edge to think
- of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, ay; but now and again we lighted upon a Levant orange in the midst of
- a basketful—a sweet one to suck, and one to leave a sweet taste
- behind it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The best were mightily improved by the addition of a lump of sugar. But
- what hath all this vegetable philosophy to do with your visit to me
- to-day? If you mean to stay, I'll send out for a couple of stone of sugar
- without delay!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Philosophy, Madame Impudence! You accuse your mother of philosophy, when
- everyone knows that your own language was—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Worthy of a lady of quality, mother. It seemeth that you are anxious to
- hear whether or not I retain anything of my old skill in that direction,
- and by my faith, dear mother, you shall learn more than will satisfy your
- curiosity, if you beat about the bush much longer. Whom say you that you
- met to-day?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What should you say if I told you that his name was Dick Harraden?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, Dick! Dick!—Dick Harraden!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Nell had sprung to her feet, and had grasped her mother by the shoulder,
- eagerly peering into her face. After a moment of silence following her
- exclamation, she gave her mother a little push, in the act of taking her
- hand off her shoulder, and threw herself back in her own chair again with
- a laugh—a laugh that surrounded a sigh, as a bright nimbus surrounds
- the sad face of a saint in a picture.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What should I say, do you ask me?” she cried. “Well, I should say that
- you were a liar, good mother.” Nell was never particular in her language.
- As an exponent of the reaction against the Puritanism of the previous
- generation, she was admitted by very competent judges to have scarcely an
- equal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm no liar,” said the mother. “'T was Dick himself I met, face to face.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It puzzles me to see wherein lies your hope of getting money from me by
- telling me such a tale,” said Nell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want not your money—at least not till the end of the month, or
- thereabouts. I tell you, I saw Dick within the hour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T was his ghost. You know that when he threw away his link he took to
- the sea, and was drowned in a storm off the Grand Canary. What did the
- seafaring man tell us when I asked him if he had seen Dick?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A maudlin knave, who offered you a guinea for a kiss at the pit door of
- Drury Lane, and then bought a basket of oranges and gave them away singly
- to all comers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But he said he had sailed in the same ship as Dick, and that it had gone
- down with all aboard save only himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, ay; and he wept plentifully when he saw how you wept—ay, and
- offered to be your sweetheart in the stead of poor Dick, the knave! For I
- saw Dick with these eyes, within the hour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, mother—and you told him—no, you durs n't tell him—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He had just this morning come to London from the Indies, and it was luck—ill-luck,
- maybe—that made him run against me. He plied me with question after
- question—all about Nell—his Nell, he called you, if you
- please.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His Nell—ah, mother! his Nell! Well, you told him—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told him that you would never more need his aid to buy foot-gear. Lord!
- Nell, do you mind how he bought you the worsted stockings when you were
- nigh mad with the chilblains?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you told him... For God's sake, say what you told him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did n't mention the king's name—no, I'm loyal to his Majesty, God
- save him! I only told him that you had given up selling oranges in the pit
- of Drury Lane, and had taken to the less reputable part of the house, to
- wit, the stage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor Dick! he did n't like to hear that. Oh, if he had stayed at home and
- had carried his link as before, all would have been well!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is the wench talking about? Well—all would have been well? And
- is not all well, you jade? 'T were rank treason to say else. Is n't this
- room with its gilded looking-glasses and painted vases pretty well for one
- who had been an orange girl? The king is a gentleman, and a merry
- gentleman, too. Well, indeed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Dick!—what more did you say to him, mother?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I asked him after himself, to be sure. I' faith the lad has prospered,
- Nell—not as you have prospered, to be sure—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, not as I have prospered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course not; but still somewhat. He will tell you all, himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What? You told him where I dwelt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'I meant it not, Nelly; but he had it from me before I was aware. But he
- knows nothing. I tell you he only came to London from Bristol port in the
- morning. He will have no time to hear of the king and the king's fancies
- before he sees you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is coming hither, then? No, he must not come! Oh, he shall not come!
- Mother, you have played me false!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I? Oh, the wench is mad! False? What could I say, girl, when he pressed
- me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You could have said that I was dead—that would have been the truth.
- The girl he knew is dead. He must not come to this house.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then give your lacqueys orders not to admit him, and all will be well.
- But I thought that you would e'en see the lad, Nell, now that he has
- prospered. If he had n't prospered it would be different.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only an orange-seller, and yet with the precepts of a lady of quality!
- I'll not see him. Did he say he'd come soon?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Within an hour, he said.” Instinctively, Nell looked at her reflection in
- a mirror.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll not see him,” she repeated. “That gown will do well enough for one
- just returned from the Indies,” said the mother, with a leer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, go away, go away,” cried her daughter. “You have done enough mischief
- for one morning. Why could not you have let things be? Why should you put
- this man on my track?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T is a fool that the wench is, for all her smartness,” said the mother.
- “She was picked out of the gutter and set down among the noblest in the
- land, and all that held on to her gown were landed in pleasant places; and
- yet she talks like a kitchen jade with no sense. If you will not see the
- lad, hussy, lock your door and close your shutters, after giving orders to
- your lacqueys to admit him not. If needful, the king can be petitioned to
- send a guard to line the Park with their pikes to keep out poor Dick, as
- though he was the devil, and the Park the Garden of Eden.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, go away—go away!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes; I 'll go—and you 'll see him, too—no fear about
- that. A girl, however well provided for—and you're well provided for—would
- n't refuse to see an old sweetheart, if he was the old serpent himself;
- nay, she'd see him on that account alone. And so good day to you, good
- Mistress Eve.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She made a mock courtesy, the irony of which was quite as broad as that of
- her speech, and marched out of the room, holding her narrow skirts
- sufficiently high to display a shocking pair of flat-footed boots beneath.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her daughter watched her departure, and only when she had disappeared
- burst into a laugh. In a moment she was grave once again. She remained
- seated without changing her attitude or expression for a long time. At
- last she sprang to her feet, saying out loud, as though some one were
- present to hear her:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a fool thou art, friend Nell, to become glum over a boy sweetheart—and
- a link boy, of all boys. Were I to tell Mr. Dryden of my fancy, he would
- write one of his verses about it, making out that poor Dick was the little
- god Cupid in disguise, and that his link was the torch of love. But I'll
- not see him.'T were best not. He'll hear all, soon enough, and loathe me
- as at times I loathe myself—no, no; not so much as that, not so much
- as that: Dick had always a kind heart. No; I'll not see him.” She went
- resolutely to the bell-pull, but when there, stood irresolute with the
- ornamental ring of brass in her hand, for some moments before pulling it.
- She gave it a sudden jerk, and when it was responded to by a lacquey, she
- said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Should a man call asking to see me within the next hour, he is to be told—with
- civility, mind you: he is a gentleman—that—that I am in this
- room, and that I will see him for five minutes—only five minutes,
- mind you, sirrah.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the man—the gentleman—is to be admitted, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly—for five minutes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your ladyship will regulate the time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go away, you numbskull! How could I regulate the time? I'm no
- astronomer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, I meant but to inquire if you are to be interrupted at the end of
- five minutes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I gave you no such instruction, sirrah. It is enough for you to carry out
- the instruction I gave you. Carry it out, and yourself in the bargain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man bowed and withdrew. He was familiar with the colloquial style of
- his mistress and her moods.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the man had gone Nelly laughed again, but suddenly became graver even
- than she had yet been.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What have I done?” she cried. “Oh, there never was so great a fool as me!
- No, no; I'll not see him! I have as kind a heart as Dick, and I'll prove
- it by not seeing him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet, when she had her hand on the lock of the door, she stood
- irresolute once again for some moments. Then she went out with a firm
- step, her intention being to countermand in the hall the instructions she
- had given to the servant in the parlour; but in the hall she found herself
- face to face with her old friend, Sir Charles Sedley. He had brought her a
- bunch of violets.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The satyr offers flowers to Aurora,” said the courtier to the courtesan,
- bowing as gracefully as a touch of rheumatism permitted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Aurora was so fond of flowers that she accepted them, even from the
- most satiric of satyrs,” said Nell, sinking into a courtesy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I plucked these flowers for the fairest flower that—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, that is one of Mr. Dryden's images in the reverse,” laughed Nell.
- “What was the name of t' other young thing?—Proserpine, that's it—who
- was plucking flowers, and was herself plucked. 'Snails! that's not the
- word—she was n't a fowl.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Fore Gad, Nell, I never heard that story; it sounds scandalous, so tell
- it us,” said Sir Charles. “What was the name of the wench, did you say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Her name was Nell Gwyn, and she was gathering oranges to sell in the pit
- of Drury Lane, when, some say Satan, and some say Sedley—the
- incongruity between the two accounts is too trifling to call for notice—captivated
- her, and she had nothing more to do with oranges or orange blossoms.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And her life was all the merrier, as I doubt not Madame Proserpine's was
- when she left the vale of Enna for—well, the Pit—not at Drury
- Lane.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That were a darker depth still. You 've heard the story, then. Mr. Dryden
- says the moral of it is that the devil has got all the pretty wenches for
- himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not so; he left a few for the king.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, the two are partners in the game; but the King, like t' other
- monarch, is not so black as he is painted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor so absolutely white as to be tasteless as the white of an egg, Nell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His Majesty is certainly not tasteless.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On the contrary, he is in love with you still, Nell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They were standing apart from the group of servants in the hall. Nell Gwyn
- had pretended that she was about to ascend the stairs, but loitered on the
- second step, with her right elbow resting on the oak banister, while she
- smelt at the violets with her head poised daintily, looking with eyes full
- of mischief and mirth at the courtier standing on the mat, the feathers of
- his broad-leafed hat sweeping the ground, as he swung it in making his
- bows.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly Nell straightened herself as she looked down the hall toward the
- door; she started and dropped her violets. All the mischief and mirth fled
- from her eyes as a man was admitted, with some measure of protestation, by
- the porter. He was a young man with a very brown face, and he carried no
- sword, only the hanger of a sailor; his dress was of the plainest—neither
- silk nor lace entered into its manufacture.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before Sir Charles had time to turn to satisfy himself as to the identity
- of the man at whom Nell was gazing so eagerly, she had run down the hall,
- and seized the newcomer by both hands, crying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dick—Dick—It is you, yourself, Dick, and no ghost!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No ghost, I dare swear, Nell,” cried the man, in a tone that made the
- candles in the chandelier quiver, and Sir Charles Sedley to be all but
- swept off his feet. “No ghost, but—O Lord, how you've grown, Nell!
- Why, when I burnt my last link seeing you home, you was only so high!” He
- put his hand within a foot of the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you, too, Dick! Why, you're a man now—you'll grow no more,
- Dick,” cried Nell, still standing in front of him, 'with his hands fast
- clasped in her own. Suddenly recollecting the servants who were around,
- she dropped his hands, saying: “Come along within, Dick, and tell me all
- your adventures since last we were together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lord! Adventures! You do n't know what you 've set yourself down for,
- Nell. If I was to tell you all, I should be in your company for at least a
- week.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0042.jpg" alt="0042 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0042.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- She led him past Sir Charles Sedley, without so much as glancing at the
- courtier, and the newcomer had no eyes for anyone save Nell. A servant
- threw open the door of the room where she had been with her mother, and
- the two entered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Charles took snuff elaborately, after he had replaced his hat on his
- head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If his Majesty should arrive, let him know that I am in the long
- parlour,” he said to a servant, as he walked toward a door on the left.
- </p>
- <p>
- He paused for a space with his hand on the handle of the door, for there
- came from the room into which Nell Gwyn and Dick Harraden had gone a loud
- peal of laugh ter—not a solo, but a duet.
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned the handle.
- </p>
- <p>
- So soon as he had disappeared, there came another ripple of laughter from
- the other room, and the lacqueys lounging in the hall laughed, too. Within
- the room, Nell was seated on the settee and Dick Harraden by her side. She
- had just reminded him of the gift of the worsted stockings which he had
- made to her, when he was a link-boy, and she an orange-girl in Drury Lane.
- They had both laughed when she had pushed out a little dainty shoe from
- beneath her gown, displaying at the same time a tolerably liberal amount
- of silk stocking, as she said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Dick, it 's not in worsted my toes are clad now. I have outgrown your
- stockings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not you, Nell!” he cried. “By the Lord Harry! your feet have got smaller
- instead of larger during these years—I swear to you that is so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, the chilblains do make a difference, Dick,” said she, “and you never
- saw my feet unless they were covered with chilblains. Lord! how you cried
- when you saw my feet well covered for the first time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not I—-I didn't cry. What was there to cry about, Nell?” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- She felt very much inclined to ask him the same question at that moment,
- for his face was averted from her, and he had uttered his words
- spasmodically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor Dick! You wept because you had eaten nothing for three days in order
- to save enough to buy my stockings,” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How know you that?” he cried, turning to her suddenly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I knew it not at the time,” she replied, “but I have thought over it
- since.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Think no more of it, Nell. O Lord! to think that I should live to see
- Nell again! No—no; I'll not believe it. That fine lady that I see in
- the big glass yonder cannot be Nell Gwyn!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Dick, would any one but Nell Gwyn remember about Nell Gwyn's
- chilblains?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hearsay, mere hearsay, my fine madam!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By what means shall I convince you that I'm the Nell you knew? Let me see—ah,
- I know. Dick, I 'll swear for you; you know well that there was not one
- could match me in swearing. Let me but begin.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O Lord! not for the world. You always knew when to begin, Nell, but you
- ne'er knew when to stop. And how doth it come that you have n't forgot the
- brimstone of the Lane, Nelly, though you have become so mighty fine a
- lady?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Snails, Dick, the best way to remember a language is to keep constantly
- talking it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But in silks and satins?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I soon found that I only needed to double the intensity of my
- language in the Lane in order to talk the mother tongue of fashion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If swearing make the fine lady, you'll be the leader of the town, Nell,
- I'll warrant. But do n't say that you doubled your language—that
- would be impossible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, would it, indeed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not so? Then for God's sake do n't give me a sample of what you reached
- in that way, for I 've only lived among the pirates and buccaneers of the
- Indies since.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I'll e'en spare thee, Dick. But take warning: do n't provoke me. You
- would n't provoke a pirate whose guns you knew to be double-shotted. Do
- n't say that I'm not Nell Gwyn for all my silks and lace. Why, man, doth
- oatmeal porridge cease to be porridge because it's served in a silver
- platter? Did your salt pork turn to venison when you ate it off the gold
- plate that you stole from the chapels?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lord, Nell, I was n't a pirate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! Did n't you say just now that you had been among pirates and
- buccaneers in the Indies?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was among them, but not of them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean to say that you were neither a pirate nor a buccaneer?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neither!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then all I can say is that I'm mightily ashamed of you, Dick. I counted
- on your being at least a pirate. Don't say that you became a merchant; I
- never could abide dishonesty, Dick.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, no; I never became just a merchant, Nell—at least, not the
- sort of merchant that merchants would call a merchant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, then, there's some hope for you yet, Dick. We may be friends still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Friends? Well, I should say so! What did I work for, do you think,
- through all these years? What did I lay up a store of guineas for—guineas
- and Spanish doubloons and pieces of eight for——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have made a fortune, Dick? Think of that! Ah, I fear that you
- must have been a regular merchant after all; only regular merchants make
- fortunes in these days.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, but some irregular ones do pretty fairly for themselves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you were somewhat irregular, I dare swear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I wasn't regularly irregular, dear, only by fits and starts. Ah,
- what I said to myself was: 'I've put the stockings on Nell, but I've to
- get the shoes for her yet.' That's what gave me the strength of ten men—working
- for those shoes, Nell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor Dick! and now when you come home, you find that I am already
- provided for.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again she showed him the dainty tips of her shoes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Those are fair weather shoes, Nell,” he cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, that they are, Dick,” she assented, with a note of sadness in her
- voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what I would offer you would stand the stress of all weather—fair
- or foul, Nell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe you, Dick, with all my heart. I know what you had to offer me;
- but it 's too late now, too late, Dick.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Too late? What do you mean, girl?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The look that came into his face frightened her. She threw herself back on
- the settee and laughed loudly for a minute or two.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's what I mean,” she cried, tilting up her toes until they were on a
- level with his knees. “What else could I mean than that I'm already
- sufficiently shod? Even Nell Gwyn can't wear more than one pair of shoes
- at a time, Dick. It's rather a pity, but 't is an ill that must be borne.
- Now tell us all about yourself, Dick. Tell us how you fought with pirates
- and buccaneers—never mind telling how you made a fortune in pieces
- of eight: there's no romance about making a fortune—tell us about
- the pirates, and above all, tell us what the Spanish Main is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Spanish Main—why, it's the Spanish Main, to be sure—south
- of the Indies—a good place for trade, and a good place for pirates.
- But you, Nell; I wonder if you meant anything by saying that I had come
- back too late? I thought, you know, when I met your mother——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I want to hear about the fighting—the buccaneers! I do n't want
- to hear about my mother; I hear enough about her. You fought the pirates?
- Well, next to being a pirate yourself, that's the best thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, if you must know, I got about me a few score of lads—most of
- them were stout Irish lads who were sold to the plantations by Cromwell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The monster!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, we made up a brave crew, I can tell you. Our plan was to do no
- pirating on our own behalf, but only to attack the pirates when they had a
- deck-load of spoil. Taking from thieves is n't stealing, is it, Nell?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; that's business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A bit irregular, it may be, as I said just now; but bless you, Nelly, it
- was like sermon-preaching compared to some sorts of business that thrive
- mightily at the Indies. Anyhow, here I am to-day, sound and hearty, Nell,
- with a pretty nice fortune made already, and more to come—here I am,
- ready and willing to buy you the best pair of shoes in London town, and
- every other article of attire you may need for the next dozen—ay,
- the next fifty years.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dick—Dick!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is n't it true that you were always my sweetheart, Nell? Didn't you say
- that you would never marry another? Well, you've kept your word so far—your
- mother told me that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, that's the worst of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The worst of it! That's the best of it, Nelly; for though a fine lady,
- living in a mansion like this—why, it might be a palace—the
- King himself might come here——-”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The King—you've heard that—that the King?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She grasped him fiercely by the sleeve, and was eagerly peering into his
- face.
- </p>
- <p>
- He burst out laughing, but suddenly checked himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The King—the King—what was there for me to hear?” he asked in
- a low voice. “I only arrived from Bristol port in the morning. How could I
- hear anything?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do n't want to hear anything, except to hear you say that you have n't
- broken your promise—that you have n't married any one else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, go away, Dick—go away!” she cried, burying her face on the arm
- of the settee.
- </p>
- <p>
- He got upon his feet slowly and painfully, and stood over her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should I go away?” he asked, in the same grave voice. “If I love you—and
- you know I do—and if you love me—and I believe that you do—it
- is not for me to go away. Ah, is it possible that you have given your
- promise to marry some one else? Do n't weep, Nell; that's it, I see, and
- it can be made all right. Is that it, dear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no. Oh, go away—go away, and never return to make me feel how
- miserable I am!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll not go away. There's some mystery about you and this house, and I'll
- not go before I fathom it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked up and saw him standing there with his arms folded.
- </p>
- <p>
- She leaped up so quickly that she almost seemed to spring into his arms.
- He thought so, at any rate, and was about to clasp her when she caught
- both of his hands in her own, gazing tearfully—eagerly—wistfully,
- into his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dick—dear Dick,” she said; “if you love me still—and I know
- you do—you will leave me now. Oh, you should never have come here—I
- did not mean you to come; but if you love me, Dick, you will leave me now—leave
- me and go into the nearest coffee-house, and ask of the first man you see
- there who is Nell Gwyn? What is Nell Gwyn? If you return to me after that,
- then—then, Dick, I swear to you that I'll marry you; there will be
- none to stay us then, none to come between—the King himself shall
- not come between us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He gripped her hands fiercely, his face close down to hers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By God, I 'll do it!” he said, through his set teeth. “I'll do it. You
- have put it upon me. I know that I shall hear nothing but what is good of
- you, and I'll return to claim you, as sure as there's a sun in heaven.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He dropped her hands, snatched up his hat, and walked firmly to the door.
- When there, he turned slowly and looked back at her. She was standing pale
- and lovely where he had left her. Her eyes were upon his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- He flung himself through the door, and she fell on her knees beside the
- settee, burying her face in one of its cushions.
- </p>
- <p>
- For some minutes, nothing was heard in the room but the sound of her sobs;
- but then the silence was broken by a shout outside—a shout and the
- noise of a scuffle. Cries of “Hold him back! Hold him back!” came from the
- servants, and mixed with some full-bodied imprecations in other voices.
- Nell started to her feet, as the door of the room was all but crashed in,
- and she was standing with a startled look on her face, as the door was
- flung wide open, and Dick Harraden hurled a limp antagonist into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He shall eat his words—every foul word he uttered he shall swallow
- in the presence of Nell herself,” cried Dick, and then Nell recognised Sir
- Charles Sedley as the man who was standing panting, with a broken sword in
- his hand, by her side, facing Dick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For God's sake, Dick!—Sir Charles—what has happened?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The courtier was too breathless to speak—he signified so much very
- pleasingly to Nell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The cowardly knave!” panted Dick. “But I swore that I'd make him eat his
- words, and by the Lord Harry, I'll keep my oath!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir Charles, pray—oh, Dick!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dick me no Dicks, Nell, until this popinjay has gone down on his knees
- before you and asked your pardon for his foul words,” cried Dick. “Down
- you go, my gentleman, were you fifty times Sir Charles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For heaven's sake, Nell, keep that fire-eater at a distance,” gasped Sir
- Charles; “he's fit for Bedlam!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stand where you be, Dick,” said Nell. “What said Sir Charles Sedley to
- give you offence?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He said that you—no, I 'll hang in chains in Execution Dock before
- I repeat the lie—but he'll take it back, every word, if I have to
- wring his neck!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Dick was with difficulty kept at a distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did he say aught about the King and me?” asked Nell, in a low voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was, I swear, a most unhappy <i>contretems</i>, Nell,” said Sir
- Charles, smiling in a somewhat constrained way. “How could I know that
- there was one man in England who did n't know how splendid, yet how
- natural, a conquest the charms of Mistress Eleanor Gwyn have achieved?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you only spoke the truth, Sir Charles,” said Nell. “God above us!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Dick staggered back, and grasped the frame of a chair to support himself.
- There was a long silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took a faltering step or two towards where she stood in the middle of
- the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see it all now,” he said, in a low voice. “I see it all. This house—the
- lacqueys in scarlet—the King's servants—they are the King's
- servants, and you—you, Nell, are the King's——Oh, God!
- let me die—let me die! This is what I came home for! You told me to
- go to the first coffee-house; I did n't need to go so far. Oh, Nelly, if I
- had come home to stand beside the green hillock of your grave I could have
- borne it, but this—this!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His sobbing
- was the only sound in the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a long pause he got slowly upon his feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm going away,” he said. “My heart is broken, Nell—my heart is
- broken. Good-bye, Nell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-bye, Dick.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had not moved from the middle of the room. She did not hold out a hand
- to him. He walked slowly to the door. Then he turned round.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I humbly ask your pardon, sir,” he said to Sir Charles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the courtier, “I honour you more than any living man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nell—Nell—come to me—come away with me—come to my
- arms, Nell,” cried the man, holding out his hands to her from where she
- stood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Charles watched her face. He saw it light up for a moment. Her hands
- moved; she was going to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- No, she only looked at the man who loved her and was ready to offer her
- everything, and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dick, I have a boy in a cradle upstairs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was another long pause before Dick whispered the words: “God bless
- thee, Nell,” Then the door was flung wide in his face by a lacquey, who
- bowed to the ground as he ushered in a rather plainfaced man wearing a
- diamond star and a broad blue sash, as well as a diamond garter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nell sank in a courtesy, and Sir Charles Sedley made an obeisance. Dick
- remained unmoved.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ha! what have we here?” said the stranger. “'Odsfish! a pretty family
- picture! Who may you be, good sir?” he asked of Dick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who may <i>you</i> be?” asked Dick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, who I may be in a year or two, the Lord and Nelly only knows—she
- says a merry pauper. But who I am is easier said; I happen just now to be
- the King.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Dick stood unmoved.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I could tell you <i>what</i> you are, sir,' said Dick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not half as well as I could tell you, my friend,” said the King.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if your Majesty ever hears the truth?” said Dick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seldom; any time I do, it comes from the lips of Nelly, yonder,” replied
- the King. “And by my soul, sir, I would rather hear the truth from Nelly,
- than a lie from the most honourable of my subjects.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Profligate!” cried Dick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I answer to that name, sir; what then?” said the King.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What then? God only can reply to your 'what then?' The answer rests with
- Him. He will not forget to answer you when His time comes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Even so,” said the King, in a low tone, bending his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Charles had moved round the settee, and had opened the door. He
- touched Dick on the elbow. Dick started for a moment and then stalked
- through the door. Sir Charles went out with his face turned towards the
- King.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A straightforward fellow, but as conceited as a Puritan, Nell,” cried the
- King, with a laugh. “What brought him here?” But Nell had sunk once more
- on her knees beside the settee, and her face was, as before, buried in the
- cushion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ha, what's this, Nelly? What's amiss?” said the King, bending over her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, go away—go away! I never want to see you again. You heard the
- word, profligate, profligate!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll go away, Nell, so soon as I pass to you the two papers which I hold
- in my hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want no papers; I want to be alone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, dear child; see if you will like your new plaything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pushed before her one of the two papers which he held.
- </p>
- <p>
- She glanced at it without rising, and without taking it from him. Suddenly
- she put out a hand to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?” she cried. She was now on her feet. “You have done it for me—all
- for me? The hospital to be built at Chelsea! Oh, my liege!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now the other paper,” said the King.
- </p>
- <p>
- She took it from him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Royal Letters Patent—our boy—our Charlie—Duke of
- St. Albans! Oh, my liege—my King—my love forever!” She sank on
- her knees, and, catching his hand, covered it with kisses—with
- kisses and tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- KITTY CLIVE, ACTRESS
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t the King's Head
- Inn at Thatcham on the Bath Road a post chaise drew up, but with no great
- flourish, for the postilion knew that his only passenger was a lady, and
- he had no intention of pulling his horses on their haunches merely for the
- sake of impressing a lady. In his youth he had made many flourishes of
- such a type, but had failed to win an extra crown from a traveller of this
- sex.
- </p>
- <p>
- The groom, who advanced with some degree of briskness from the
- stable-yard, became more languid in his movements when he perceived that
- only a lady was descending from the chaise. He knew that briskness on the
- part of a groom never caused a coin to spring from the purse of a lady.
- The landlord, however, taking a more hopeful view of the harvest prospects
- of the solitary lady as a guest—he had lived in London, and had
- heard of assignations in which the (temporarily) solitary lady became a
- source of profit to the inn-keeper—made a pretence of bustling out
- to assist the occupant of the chaise to alight, bowing elaborately when he
- perceived that the lining of her travel-ling-cloak was of quilted silk,
- and once again as she tripped very daintily over the cobble-stones in
- front of the King's Head, and smiled very bewitchingly within the satin
- frame of her hood. The landlord had a notion that he had seen her face and
- her smile before. He carried with him the recollection of a good many
- faces and smiles within the frame-work of quilted satin hoods.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, you honour my poor house,” he said in his best London manner as
- the lady passed through the porch. “'T is rarely that a person of your
- ladyship's quality—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spare us good lord—good landlord,” cried the lady in an accent that
- had a certain amount of Hibernian persuasiveness about it. “Spare us your
- remarks about our quality.'T is two horses and not four that brought me
- hither. It's of your quality, sir, that I'd fain have a taste. If I do n't
- have breakfast within an hour, I honestly believe that my death will be at
- your door, and where will your compliments be then, my good man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your ladyship is pleased to be facetious,” said the landlord, throwing
- open the door of the public room with as great a flourish as if he were
- giving admittance to sixty-foot <i>salle</i>, instead of a twenty-foot inn
- parlour. He looked closely at his visitor as she passed through: her voice
- sounded strangely familiar to him. “'T is a poor room for one, who, I
- doubt not, is no stranger to the noblest mansions,” he added.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's no one better accustomed to the noblest mansions than myself,”
- said the lady, going to the looking-glass that occupied a place in a panel
- between the windows, throwing back her hood, and then arranging her hair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, faith, many's the palace I've lived in—for the space of half
- an hour at a time—but I make no objections to the room I 'm in just
- now. See the pictures!” She raised her hands in an attitude of surprise
- and admiration, so well simulated as to deceive the landlord, though he
- had lived in London.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pictures! Oh, the grandeur of it all! And what about breakfast? Give us
- your notions of the proper decorations of a breakfast-table, good sir.
- It's a picture of rashers that I've got my heart set on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The best breakfast that my poor house can afford your ladyship shall be
- prepared.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And soon, good Mr. Landlord, I implore of you, sir. Breakfast for two.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For two, madam!” The landlord began to feel that his experience of
- assignations was about to be augmented.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For two, sir—I look for my brother to arrive by the coach from
- Levizes. If he should enquire for me at the bar, just show him in here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your commands shall be obeyed, madam. Will he enquire for your ladyship
- by name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By name? Why, how else would you have him enquire, my good man? Do you
- fancy that he carries a Bow Street runner's description of so humble a
- person as myself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, madam; but you see your name is just what I have n't yet had the
- honour of learning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lady burst out laughing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, good sir, my name is a somewhat important detail in the
- transaction I speak of. The gentleman will ask for Mistress Clive.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,” cried the landlord, “I could have sworn that I knew the face and the
- voice, but I failed to think of them in connection with our Kitty.” He
- checked himself in his cackle of laughter, and bowed in his best style.
- “Madam, I implore your pardon, but—oh lord! how I've laughed in the
- old days at Kitty's pranks!—nay, madam, forgive my familiarity. I am
- your servant. Oh, lord! to think that it's Kitty Clive herself—our
- Kitty—madam—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Only when he had fled to the door and had opened it did the man recover
- himself sufficiently to be able to repeat his bow. After he had
- disappeared at the other side of the door, the lady heard his outburst of
- laughter once again. It grew fainter as he hurried off to (she hoped) the
- kitchen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Kitty Clive laughed, also, as she seated herself carefully on the settle,
- for it was a piece of furniture whose cushions required to be tenderly
- treated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this is real fame,” she murmured. “To be 'our Kitty' to a hundred
- thousand men and women is my ambition—a laudable one, too, I swear—one
- worth struggling for—worth fighting Davy for, and Davy Garrick takes
- a deal of fighting. He has got more of it from Kitty Clive than he
- bargained for.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The recollection of her constant bickerings with David Garrick seemed to
- offer her a good deal of satisfaction. It is doubtful if David Garrick's
- recollection of the same incidents would have been equally pleasing to
- him; for Kitty Clive was very annoying, especially when she got the better
- of her manager in any matter upon which he tried to get the better of her,
- and those occasions were frequent.
- </p>
- <p>
- She remained on the settle smiling now and again, and giving a laugh at
- intervals as she thought of how she had worsted David, as his namesake had
- worsted the champion of Gath. But soon she became grave.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should be ashamed of myself,” she muttered. “David Garrick is the only
- one of the whole crew at the Lane that never varies. He 's the only one
- that 's always at his best. God forgive me for the way. I sometimes try to
- spoil his scenes, for he 's worth Quinn, Macklin, and Barry bound up in
- one; only why does he keep his purse-strings so close? Ah, if he only had
- a pint of Irish blood in his veins.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She yawned, for her contests with Garrick did not cause her any great
- concern; and then she tucked up her feet upon the settle and hummed an air
- from the <i>Beggars' Opera</i>. Hearing the sound of wheels she paused,
- listening.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sure it can't be the coach with my brother yet awhile,” said she. “Ah,
- no, 't is the sound of a chaise, not a coach.” She resumed her lilting of
- the air; but once again it was interrupted. Just outside the door of the
- room there was the sound of an altercation. The voice of the landlord was
- heard, apparently remonstrating with a very self-assertive person.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know my rights, sir, let me tell you,” this person shouted. “Lady me no
- ladies, sir; I have a right to enter the room—'t is a public room.
- Zounds, sir, cannot you perceive that I am a gentleman, if I am an actor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll dare swear he could n't,” muttered Mrs. Clive.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, sir, you shall not intrude on the privacy of a lady,” came the voice
- of the landlord.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Out of the way, sirrah,” the other cried, and at the same moment the door
- was flung open, and a tall young man wearing a travelling cloak and boots
- strode into the room followed by the landlord, at whom he turned scowling
- at every step.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, I give you my word that I am not to blame; the gentleman would
- come in,” cried the landlord.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That will do, sir,” said the stranger. “I myself will make whatever
- apology may be needed. I flatter myself that I have had to make many
- apologies before now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” continued the landlord, “I told him that you—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That will do, Boniface!” cried the other, standing between the landlord
- and Mrs. Clive, who had risen. Then giving a smirk and a flourishing bow,
- he said: “Madam, you look to be a sensible woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I vow, sir,” said Kitty, “I have never been accused of being sensible
- before. If you cannot pay a woman a better compliment than to call her
- sensible, you would be wise to refrain from the attempt to flatter her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The pause that followed was broken by the self-satisfied chuckle of the
- landlord. He seemed to take credit to himself for Kitty's sally. He looked
- at the stranger, then at the lady; his face puckered with a smile. Then he
- walked to the door, and gave another chuckle as he glanced round with his
- hand on the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mistress Kitty has taken the measure of my fine gentleman,” he muttered,
- with a shrewd wink; “there's no need for me here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His chuckle broadened into a guffaw as he went down the passage, having
- closed the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray, madam, be not offended,” the man who was facing Kitty managed to
- say, after an interval. “If I called you sensible, I most humbly
- apologise. No offence was meant, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe that, sir; but no woman likes to be called sensible. You may
- call one a silly piece, a romp, or a heartless coquette without offence;
- but never a sensible woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I forgot myself for the moment, madam, owing to the treatment I received
- at the hands of that bumpkin Boniface. I am, in what is doubtless your
- condition—awaiting the coach, and I objected to be relegated to the
- kitchen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, sir,” said Kitty, with a laugh, as she returned to the settle, “I
- have passed some pleasant enough hours in a kitchen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so have I, madam, when the wenches were well favoured,” said the man,
- assuming the sly look of a man who had seen life. [Men who fancied they
- knew the world were as plentiful in the last century as they are in the
- present.] “Yes, madam; but then I went into the kitchen by choice, not on
- compulsion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Maybe you left on compulsion; kitchen wenches have strong arms, sir,”
- remarked Kitty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, nay, madam, Jack Bates—my name, madam—has always been a
- favourite with the wenches.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The kitchen wenches?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Zounds, madam, a wench is a wench, whether in the kitchen or the parlour,
- Oh, I know woman thoroughly: I have studied her. Woman is a delightful
- branch of education.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sir!” cried Kitty, sinking in a curtesy with the look of mock
- demureness with which she was accustomed to fascinate her audiences at
- Drury Lane.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Bates was fascinated by that look. He smiled good-naturedly, waving
- his hat as if to deprecate the suggestion that he meant to be a gay dog.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, be not fluttered, fair one,” he cried with a smirk. “I protest that
- I am a gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I breathe again,” said Kitty, rising to the surface, so to speak,
- after her curtesy, “A gentleman? I should never have guessed it. I fancied
- I heard you assert that you were an actor—just the opposite, you
- know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So I am, madam. I am an actor,” said Mr. Bates. Sharp though Kitty's
- sarcasm was, it glanced off him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Kitty assumed a puzzled look. Then she pretended that his meaning had
- dawned on her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I see; you mean, sir, that you are the actor of the part of a
- gentleman. Faith, sir, the part might have been better cast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope that I am a gentleman first, and an actor afterwards, madam,” said
- Mr. Bates, with some measure of dignity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case, I presume you were appearing in the former <i>rôle</i>
- before you arrived at the inn,” said Kitty, whose sarcasm was at no time
- deficient in breadth.
- </p>
- <p>
- Even Mr. Bates was beginning to appreciate her last sally, when she added,
- “I do not remember having seen your name in a bill of any of the London
- playhouses, Mr. Bates.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have never appeared in London, madam,” said Mr. Bates, “and, so far as
- I can gather, I have not lost much by remaining in the country.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, but think what the playgoers of London have lost, Mr. Bates,” said
- Kitty solemnly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do think of it,” cried the man. “Yes, I swear to you that I do. When I
- hear of the upstarts now in vogue I feel tempted sometimes to put my pride
- in my pocket and appear in London.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before starting in London, a person needs to have his pockets full of
- something besides pride,” said Kitty. “There are other ways of making a
- fortune besides appearing on the London stage. Why should men come to
- London to act when they may become highwaymen in the country—ay, or
- inn-keepers—another branch of the same profession?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is clear, madam, that you have no high opinion of the stage. To let
- you into a secret—neither have I.” Mr. Bates' voice sank to a
- whisper, and he gave a confidential wink or two while making this
- confession.
- </p>
- <p>
- Kitty was now truly surprised. Most actors of the stamp of Mr. Bates, whom
- she had met, had a profound belief in the art of acting, and particularly
- in themselves as exponents of that art.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, sir!” she cried, “are you not an actor on your own confession,
- whatever the critics may say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I admit it, my dear lady; but at the same time, I repeat that I have no
- faith in the stage. Acting is the most unconvincing of the arts. Is there
- ever a human being outside Bedlam who fancies that the stage hero is in
- earnest?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should say that the force of the illusion is largely dependent upon the
- actor,” said Kitty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing of the sort, I assure you,” said Bates, with a pitying smile—the
- smile of the professor for the amateur. “The greatest of actors—nay,
- even I myself, madam, fail to carry an audience along with me so as to
- make my hearers lose sight of the sham. What child would be imposed on by
- the sufferings of the stage hero or heroine? What school miss would fail
- to detect the ring of falsehood in the romance of what authors call their
- plots?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You fancy that everyone should be capable of detecting the difference
- between a woman's account of her real woes and an actress's simulation of
- such woes?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is my contention, madam. The truth has a ring about it that cannot
- be simulated by even the best actress.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear, dear!” cried Kitty, lifting up her hands. “What a wonder it is that
- any persons can be prevailed upon to go evening after evening to the
- playhouses! Why, I myself go—yes, frequently. Indeed—perhaps I
- should blush to confess it—I am a constant attender at Drury Lane. I
- do not believe I should be able to live without going to the playhouse!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell the truth, madam,” cried Mr. Bates, stretching out an eloquent
- forefinger at her as she sat on the settle looking at her hands on her
- lap, “have you ever sat out an entire play?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Kitty looked up and laughed loud and long, so that Mr. Bates felt greatly
- flattered. He began to believe that he had just said a very clever thing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, there I allow that you have me,” said Kitty. “Sir, I admit that as
- a rule I do not remain seated during even an entire act of a play.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,” cried Mr. Bates triumphantly, “I knew that you were a sensible
- woman, asking your pardon again for my presumption. Your confession bears
- out my contention; and let me tell you that, on the stage, matters, so far
- from improving, are steadily degenerating. I hear that that young man
- Garrick is now more in vogue than that fine old actor, Mr. Quin. Think of
- it, madam! A wine merchant they say this Garrick was. Have you ever seen
- him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes,” said Kitty; “I have seen him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what may he be like?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Garrick is like no one, and no one is like Mr. Garrick,” said Kitty
- warmly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” Mr. Bates' lips were curled with a sneer that caused Kitty's feet to
- tap the floor nervously. “Ah! A little fellow, I understand—not up
- to my shoulder.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Physically, perhaps not,” Kitty replied. “But the stature of Mr. Garrick
- varies. I have seen him tower over every one on the stage—over every
- one in the playhouse; and again I have seen him dwindle until he was no
- higher than a child.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Bates looked surprised.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How does he manage that? A stage trick, I expect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare say 't is so—merely that stage trick—genius.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He could not deceive me: I would take his measure,” said Mr. Bates, with
- a shrewd smirk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Still, I have heard that even the players beside him on the stage are
- sometimes carried away with the force of his acting,” said Kitty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A paltry excuse for forgetting their lines!” sneered Mr. Bates. “Ah! no
- actor could make a fool of me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would anyone think it necessary to improve on Nature's handiwork in this
- respect?” asked Kitty demurely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How?” For a moment Mr. Bates had his doubts as to whether or not the lady
- meant to pass a compliment upon him. The demure look upon her face
- reassured him. “You are right, madam; they could easily see what I am,” he
- said, tapping his chest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They could, indeed, sir,” said Kitty, more demurely than ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not doubt, mind you, that there is a certain superficial ability
- about this Mr. Garrick,” resumed Mr. Bates in a condescending way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure that Mr. Garrick would feel flattered could he but know that he
- had the good opinion of Mr. Bates,” remarked Kitty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I know that I am generous,” said Mr. Bates. “But this Garrick—I
- wonder what his Hamlet is like.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is <i>like</i> nothing, sir: it is Hamlet,” cried Kitty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have seen it? What is he like when the ghost enters? I have made that
- scene my own.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Kitty sprang from the settle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Like?” she said. “What is he like? He is like a man in the presence of a
- ghost at first, and then—then the ghost becomes more substantial
- than he. You hear a sudden cry—he stands transfixed with horror—you
- see that he is not breathing, and he makes you one with himself. You
- cannot breathe. You feel that his hand is on your heart. You are in the
- power of his grasp. He can do what he pleases with you. If he tightens his
- grasp you will never breathe again in this world. There is a terrible
- pause—he draws his breath—he allows you to draw yours; but you
- feel in that long silence you have been carried away to another world—you
- are in a place of ghosts—there is nothing real of all that is about
- you—you have passed into a land of shadows, and you are aware of a
- shadow voice that can thrill a thousand men and women as though they were
- but one person:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Angels and ministers of grace defend us!'
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bah! what a fool I am!” cried Kitty, flinging herself excitedly upon the
- settle. “Imitate Mr. Garrick? Sir, he is inimitable! One may imitate an
- actor of Hamlet. David Garrick is not that; he is, I repeat, Hamlet
- himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Bates was breathing hard. There was a considerable pause before he
- found words to say,—“Madam, for one who has no stage training, I
- protest that you display some power. You have almost persuaded me to
- admire another actor's Hamlet—a thing unheard of on the stage. I,
- myself, play the part of the Prince of Denmark. It would gratify me to be
- permitted to rehearse a scene in your presence. You would then see on what
- points Mr. Garrick resembles me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, lord!” muttered Kitty, making a face behind Mr. Bates' back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is the scene at the grave. I am reckoned amazing in that scene.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Amazing? I do not doubt it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder how Mr. Garrick acts the grave scene.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sir, 't is his humour to treat it paradoxically.” Kitty was now
- herself again. “He does not treat the grave scene gravely but merrily.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Merrily?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not? Novelty is everything in these days. Does not Mr. Macklin make
- Shylock a serious and not a comic character? An innovation on the stage
- draws the town.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, madam, to act the grave scene in a burst of merriment is past an
- innovation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all, sir. With Mr. Garrick it seems quite natural. He is one of
- those actors who are superior to nature. I am sure you have met some
- such.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never met one who was otherwise.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, then you will see how Mr. Garrick could enter upon the scene,
- beginning to play bowls with Horatio, using skulls for the game; this goes
- on for some time, while they quarrel on the score of the score. They fling
- their skulls at one another, and then they take to fencing with two thigh
- bones which they pick up. Hamlet runs Horatio through with his bone, and
- he falls atop of the first grave-digger, who has been watching the fight,
- and in pantomime—much is done by pantomime nowadays—laying
- odds on Hamlet. Both topple over into the grave, and Hamlet stands on the
- brink, convulsed with laughter. This, you observe, gives extra point to
- Hamlet's enquiry, 'Whose grave is that, sirrah?' and certainly
- extraordinary point to the man's reply, 'Mine, sir.' Has it ever occurred
- to you to act the scene after that fashion?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never, madam—never, I swear,” cried Mr. Bates heartily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, there you see is the difference between Mr. Garrick and you,” said
- Kitty. “Do you bring on Hamlet's Irish servant, Mr. Bates?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hamlet's Irish servant?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it possible that you have not yet followed the new reading in the
- scene where Hamlet comes upon the king praying?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know the scene,” cried Mr. Bates, throwing himself into an attitude as
- he began: “Oh, my offense is rank; it smells to heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is it,” cried Kitty, interrupting him. “Well, then Hamlet appears
- with his Irish servant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Tis the first I've heard of him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let it not be the last.'T is a new reading. Hamlet enters, sees the king,
- and then turns to his Irish servant saying, 'Now might I do it, Pat'—the
- man's name is Patrick, you perceive?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, a more ridiculous innovation I protest I never heard of,” said Mr.
- Bates.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By my faith, sir, 't is not more ridiculous than some stage innovations
- that I could name,” said Kitty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could understand Kitty Clive introducing such a point into one of the
- farces in which I hear she is a merry baggage, but—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have never seen Kitty Clive then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never, but I hear she is a romp. Are you an admirer of hers, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, she has no more devoted admirer than myself,” said Kitty, looking at
- the man straight in the face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is she not a romp?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, surely, a sad, sad romp. She has by her romping, saved many a play
- from being damned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is so great a favorite with playgoers, I doubt her ability,” said Mr.
- Bates. “I doubt if she could move me. What is the nature of her
- merriment?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Extravagance, sir, extravagance. She bounces on as a hoyden, and pulls a
- long face like this”—even Mr. Bates roared at Kitty's long face—“behind
- the back of the very proper gentleman who has come to woo her. She catches
- the point of his sword sheath so that when he tries to turn he almost
- falls. She pretends that he has struck her with his sword and she howls
- with pain. He hastens to comfort her—down goes a chair, and he
- topples over it. 'Murder, murder!' she cries, and snatches up the shovel
- as if to defend herself. My gentleman recovers, and hastens to assure her
- of his honourable intentions. She keeps him off with her shovel. He drops
- his hat, and she shovels it up and runs around the room to throw it on the
- fire. He follows her over tables, chairs, and a sofa or two. 'Tally ho!'
- she cries and gives a view-halloo. Round the room they go, and just as he
- is at the point of catching her she uses the shovel as a racket, and sends
- the hat flying, and at the same stroke, sends her lover sprawling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, she is a vulgar jade, I swear,” cried Mr. Bates. He was more out
- of breath than Kitty, for she had acted the part so vividly that she had
- forced him involuntarily to take the part of the hoyden's lover, and both
- he and his hat had suffered. “That scene which you have described bears
- out my argument that the more outrageous a scene is, the better pleased
- are the public. Women do not make fools of men in real life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; there you have the absurdity of the stage. Authors set reason and
- sense at defiance, daily. Shakespeare is one of the worst offenders.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, Shakespeare?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, believe me, madam, Shakespeare is a greatly over-rated writer. Look,
- for instance, at his play of 'Romeo and Juliet': Romeo sees the lady,
- exchanges a few words with her, and falls at once in love with her. He has
- only to rant beneath her window by the light of the moon, and forthwith
- she agrees to marry him, and sure enough, they are married the very next
- day. Good lord! Would Shakespeare have us believe that men can be so
- easily fooled? Our moderns have not greatly improved upon Shakespeare.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am with you there, sir, heart and soul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, they still outrage sense by their plots. A man meets a woman quite by
- chance. She tells him a cock and bull story that any fool could see
- outrages probability; but he is captivated in a moment. He falls on his
- knees before her and vows that she has only to speak to make him the
- happiest of mortals. All this is, madam, I need scarcely say, quite
- monstrous and unnatural. Such a proceeding could not occur outside
- Bedlam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This gentleman should be taught a lesson,” said Kitty to herself, as she
- watched Mr. Bates swaggering across the room. She became thoughtful for a
- moment, and then smiled—only for a second, however; then she became
- grave and her voice faltered as she said: “Sir, I protest that I never
- before knew—nay, felt—what real eloquence was—eloquence
- wedded to reason.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, madam,” smirked Mr. Bates.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T is the truth, sir. May I hope that you will not think me too forward,
- if I venture to express a humble opinion, sir?” Her voice was low, and it
- certainly faltered more than before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall treasure that opinion, madam,” said Mr. Bates. That soft voice
- produced its impression upon him. He felt that he was in the presence of
- an amazingly fine woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will not be offended, sir, if I say that I feel it to be a great pity
- that one who has such eloquence at his command should spend his time
- merely repeating the phrases—the very inferior phrases—of
- others. The Senate, sir, should be your stage. You are not angry, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had laid a hand upon his arm and was looking pleadingly up to his
- face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Angry?” cried Mr. Bates, patting her hand, at which she turned her eyes,
- modestly from his face to the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Angry? Nay, dear lady, you have but expressed what I have often thought.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am so glad that you are not offended by my presumption, sir,” said
- Kitty, removing her hand—Mr. Bates did not seem willing to let it
- go. “If you were offended, I protest that I should be the most wretched of
- women.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Bates marked how her voice broke, He took a step after her, as she
- went to the settle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear madam, you deserve to be the happiest rather than the most wretched
- of your sex,” he said—his voice was also very soft and low.
- </p>
- <p>
- Kitty turned to him, crying quickly: “And I should be so if—” here
- she sighed—it seemed to Mr. Bates quite involuntarily. “Pardon me: I—I—that
- is—sometimes the heart forces the lips to speak when they should
- remain silent. A woman is a simple creature, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A woman is a very fascinating creature, I vow,” cried Mr. Bates, and he
- felt that he was speaking the truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Mr. Bates, she has a heart: that is woman's weakness—her
- heart!” murmured Kitty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I protest that she has not a monopoly of that organ,” said Mr. Bates.
- “May not a man have a heart also, sweet one?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alas!” sighed Kitty, “it has not been my lot to meet with any but those
- who are heartless. I have often longed—but why should I burden you
- with the story of my longings—of my sufferings?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your woman's instinct tells you that you have at last met with a man who
- has a heart. I have a heart, dear creature. Was it my fate brought me into
- this room to-day? Was it my inscrutable destiny that led me to meet the
- most charming—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray, Mr. Bates, be merciful as you are strong!” cried Kitty, pressing
- one hand to her tumultuous bosom. “Do not compel a poor weak woman to
- betray her weakness: the conqueror should be merciful. What a voice is
- yours, sir! What poor woman could resist its melody? Oh, sir, forgive the
- tears of a weak, unhappy creature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had thrown herself on the settle and had laid her head upon one of its
- arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- In an instant he was beside her and had caught her hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, dear one, I cannot forgive the tears that dim those bright eyes,” he
- whispered in her ear. “You have had a past, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sir,” cried Kitty, from the folds of her handkerchief, “all my life
- up to the present has been my past—that is why I weep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it so sad as that? You have a story?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Should I tell it to you?” said Kitty, raising her head suddenly and
- looking at the face that was so near hers. “I will, I will—yes, I
- will trust you—you may be able to help me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With my latest breath!” cried Mr. Bates.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, to be brief, I am a great heiress,” said Kitty, quite calmly. Mr.
- Bates started, his eyes brightened. “My uncle was trustee of my father's
- property—it is in two counties,” continued Kitty. “For some years
- after my father's death I had no reason for complaint. But then a change
- came. My uncle's son appeared upon the scene, and I soon perceived his
- true character—a ruined, dissolute scamp, I knew him to be, and when
- I rejected his advances with scorn, his father, who I fancied was my
- friend, commenced such a series of persecutions as would have broken a
- less ardent spirit than mine. They did not move me. They shut me up in a
- cold, dark dungeon and loaded these limbs of mine with fetters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The infernal ruffians!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They fed me with bread and water. They tortured me by playing on the
- harpsichord outside my prison all the best known airs from the <i>Beggars'
- Opera</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Horrible!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I thought I should have gone mad—mad; but I knew that that was
- just what they wanted, in order that they might shut me up in Bedlam, and
- enjoy my property. I made a resolution not to go mad, and I have adhered
- to it ever since.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Noble girl!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At last the time came when I could stand their treatment no longer. I
- flung my iron fetters to the winds—I burst through the doors of my
- prison and rushed into the dining-hall where my two persecutors were
- carousing in their cups. They sprang up with a cry of horror when I
- appeared. My uncle's hand was upon the bell, when I felled him with a
- heavy glass decanter. With a yell—I hear it now—his son sprang
- upon me—he went down beneath the stroke of the ten-light chandelier
- which I hastily plucked down and hurled at him. I called for a horse and
- chaise. They were at the door in a moment and I fled all night. But alas!
- alas! I feel that my flight shall avail me nothing. They are on my track,
- and I shall be forced to marry at least one of them. But no, no, sooner
- than submit, with this dagger—”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had sprung from her place and her hand was grasping something inside
- her bodice, when Mr. Bates caught her firmly by the wrist.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shall do nothing so impious, madam,” he cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who shall prevent me?” cried Kitty, struggling with him. “Who shall save
- me from my persecutors?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I, madam—I will do it!” cried Mr. Bates.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You—how?” Kitty had now ceased to struggle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will marry you myself!” shouted Mr. Bates, grasping both her hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But only half an hour has passed since we met,” said Kitty, looking down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is enough, madam, to convince me that my heart is yours. Sweet one,
- I throw myself at your feet. Let me be your protector. Let me hold you
- from your persecutors. Dearest lady, marry me and you are safe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank heaven—thank heaven I have found a friend!” murmured Kitty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You agree?” said Mr. Bates, rising to his feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sir, I am overcome with gratitude,” cried Kitty, throwing herself
- into his arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “An heiress—and mine,” Mr. Bates whispered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mistress Clive, the gentleman has arrived—oh, lud! what has Kitty
- been up to?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The landlord was standing at the door with his hands raised.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T is my brother, Jimmy Raftor,” said Kitty, coolly arranging the
- disordered hood of her cloak before the glass. “Jimmy is one of the best
- pistol-shots in all Ireland, and that's saying a good deal. Show the
- gentleman in, Mr. Landlord.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Bates stood aghast. “Mistress Clive—not Kitty Clive of Drury
- Lane?” he faltered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am Kitty Clive of Drury Lane, at your service, sir, if you should need
- another lesson to convince you that even the most ridiculous story, if
- plausibly told, will carry conviction to the most astute of men.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Kitty Clive sank in a mock curtesy; the landlord roared with laughter; Mr.
- Bates stood amazed in the center of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- A QUESTION OF ART
- </h2>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>f only she had a
- heart she would be perfect,” said Mr. Garrick to his friend, Mrs.
- Woffington.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, as an actress, not as a woman,” said Mrs. Woffington. “'T is not the
- perfect women who have been most liberally supplied with that organ.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, Madam Peggy, I, David Garrick, of Drury Lane Theatre, have good
- reason to set much more store upon the perfect actress than the perfect
- woman,” said Mr. Garrick. “If I had no rent to pay and no actors to pay, I
- might be led to spend a profitable hour or two over the consideration of
- so interesting a question as the relative merits of the perfect woman with
- no heart worth speaking of and the perfect actress with a dangerous
- superfluity of the same organ. Under existing conditions, however, I beg
- leave to—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Psha! Davy,” said Margaret; “try not your scholarship upon so poor a
- thing as myself! It seems to me that you have never quite recovered from
- the effects of your early training at the feet of our friend, Mr.
- Johnson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alas! Peggy,” said Garrick, “I have forgot all the better part of Mr.
- Johnson's instruction. He has no reason to be proud of me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet he is proud of you, and, by my faith, he has some reason to be
- so. Was it not he made you an actor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He! Mr. Johnson? oh, Lord, he never ceased to inculcate upon us a just
- hatred and contempt of all that appertains to the stage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, and that was the means of making you thoroughly interested in all
- that appertains to the stage, my friend. But I hold as I have always held,
- that Mr. Johnson gave you first chance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What sophistry is this that you have seized upon, my dear? My first
- chance?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir; I hold that your first and, I doubt not, your greatest, success
- as an actor, was your imitation for the good of your schoolfellows, of the
- mighty love passages between your good preceptor and that painted piece of
- crockery who had led him to marry her, that was old enough—ay, and
- nearly plain enough—to be his mother. What did he call her?—his
- Tiffy?—his Taffy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, only his Tessy, The lady's name was Elizabeth, you must know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Call her Saint Elizabeth, Davy—your patron saint, for, by the Lord
- Harry, you would never have thought of coming on the stage if it had not
- been for the applause you won when you returned to the schoolroom after
- peeping through the door of the room where your schoolmaster chased his
- Tessy into a corner for a kiss! Davy, 't is your finest part still. If you
- and I were to act it, with a prologue written by Mr. Johnson, it would
- draw all the town.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I doubt it not; but it would likewise draw down upon me the wrath of Mr.
- Johnson; and that is not to be lightly faced. But we have strayed from our
- text, Margaret.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Our text? I have forgotten that there was some preaching being done. But
- all texts are but pretexts for straying, uttered in the hearing of the
- strayed. What is your text, Davy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The text is the actress without the heart, Margaret, and the evil that
- she doeth to the writer of the tragedy, to the man who hath a lease of the
- playhouse, and above all to her sister actress, Mistress Woffington.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The last of the three evils would imperil the soul's safety of as
- blameless a lady as Kitty Clive herself. But, if Mistress Woffington acts
- her part well in the new tragedy, I scarce see how she can be hurt by the
- bad acting of Miss Hoppner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is because you are a trifle superficial in your views of the drama,
- Mistress Woffington. What would you think of the painter who should
- declare that, if the lights in his picture were carefully put in, the
- shadows might be left to chance?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is the analogy, David?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is apparent: the tragedy is the picture, Mrs. Woffington represents
- the lighting, and Miss Hoppner the shading. Heavens! Mrs. Woffington,
- madam, do you flatter yourself that the playgoers will be willing to
- accept the author's account of the fascinations of the woman whom you are
- representing, if you fail to rouse your rival to any point of jealousy?
- Miss Hoppner, for all the strong language the poet puts into her mouth,
- will not make the playgoers feel that the Lady Oriana bears you a grudge
- for having taken her lover from her; and when she stabs you with her
- dagger, she does so in such a halfhearted way that the whole house will
- perceive that she is not in earnest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then they will blame her, and she will deserve the blame. They cannot
- blame me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cannot they, indeed? Lord, my good woman, you little know the playgoers.
- You think that they are so nice in their discrimination? You should have
- learnt better since the days you hung on to Madame Violanti's feet on the
- tight rope. If you had wriggled so that Violanti had slipped off her rope,
- would her patrons have blamed aught but her? Nay, you know that they would
- only have sneered at her clumsiness, and thought nothing of the little
- devil who had upset her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay; I begin to perceive your meaning. You apprehend that the playgoers
- will damn the play and all associated with it, because Miss Hoppner does
- not kill me with sufficient good-will?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I feel sure that they will say that if Mrs. Woffington had only acted
- with sufficient intensity she would have stirred her rival into so real a
- passion of jealousy that she would have stabbed you in a fury.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look you here, friend Davy; if it be in your thoughts that Mairgaret
- Woffington is to be held accountable for the mistakes of all the other
- members of your company, you would do well to revise your salary list.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, Peggy; I only said what the playgoers will, in their error, mind
- you, assume.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, Mr. Garrick, tell me plainly what you want me to do for you in this
- business. What, sir, are we not on sufficiently friendly terms for plain
- speaking? Tell me all that is on your mind, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Garrick paused for some moments, and then laughed in a somewhat
- constrained way, before walking on by the side of his friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, sir,” continued Mrs. Woffington. “Be as plain as you please. I am
- not prone to take offence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We'll talk of that anon,” said Garrick. “Perhaps Mr. Macklin will be able
- to give us his helpful counsel in this business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Psha!” said Peggy. “Mr. Macklin could never be brought to see with your
- eyes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he will be all the better able to give us the result of Mr.
- Macklin's observation,” said Garrick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, but that is not what you want, Davy,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a
- pretty loud laugh. “No one ever calls in a counsellor with the hope of
- obtaining an unprejudiced opinion; the only counsellor in whom we have
- confidence is he who corroborates our own views.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- II
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>
- hey had reached their house. It was No. 6 Bow Street, and it was presided
- over by Macklin—Garrick and Mrs. Woffington doing the housekeeping
- on alternate months.
- </p>
- <p>
- Visitors preferred calling during Peggy's month, as the visitor, who was
- now greeted by David Garrick in the parlour, testified in the presence of
- his biographer years after; for it was Samuel Johnson who awaited the
- return from rehearsal of his Lichfield pupil, David Garrick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shall have a dish of tea, Mr. Johnson, if we have to go thirsty for
- the rest of the week,” cried the actress, when her hand had been kissed by
- her visitor. Johnson's kissing of her hand was strangely suggestive of an
- elephant's picking up a pin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said he, “your offer is made in the true spirit of hospitality.
- Hospitality, let me tell you, consists not, as many suppose, in the
- sharing of one's last crust with a friend—for the sacrifice in
- parting with a modicum of so unappetising a comestible as a crust is not
- great—nay; hospitality, to become a virtue, involves a real
- sacrifice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So in heaven's name let us have the tea,” said Garrick. “Make it not too
- strong,” he whispered to Peggy as he opened the door for her. “I have seen
- him drain his tenth cup at a sitting.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The actress made a mocking gesture by way of reply. She did not share
- Garrick's parsimonious longings, and in the matter of tea brewing, she was
- especially liberal. When she returned to the room bearing aloft a large
- teapot, and had begun to pour out the contents, Garrick complained
- bitterly of the strength of the tea, as his guest years afterwards told
- Boswell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T is as red as blood,” growled the actor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how else should it be, sir?” cried Mrs. Woffington. “Is 't not the
- nature of good tea to be red?”
- </p>
- <p>
- As Garrick continued growling, Peggy laughed the more heartily, and, with
- an air of coquettish defiance which suited her admirably, poured out a
- second brimming cup for their visitor—he had made very light of the
- first—taking no care to avoid spilling some into the saucer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, sir, Mr. Garrick is right: 'tis as red as blood,” laughed Peggy,
- looking with mischievous eyes into Johnson's face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That were an indefinite statement, madam; its accuracy is wholly
- dependent on the disposition of the person from whom the blood is drawn,”
- said Johnson. “Now yours, I believe, madam, to be of a rich and generous
- hue, but Davy's, I doubt not, is a pale and meagre fluid—somewhat
- resembling the wine which he endeavored to sell, with, let us hope for the
- sake of the health of his customers, indifferent success for some years.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Garrick laughed with some constraint, while Mrs. Woffington roared with
- delight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, sir; you are too hard upon me,” cried the actor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! would the rascal cry up his blood at the expense of his wine?” said
- Johnson. “That, sir, were to eulogise nature at the expense of art—an
- ill proceeding for an actor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that brings us back to the question which we discussed on our way
- hither from the theatre,” said Peggy. “List, good Mr. Johnson, to the
- proposition of Mr. Garrick. He says that I should be held accountable for
- the tameness in the acting of the part of a jealous woman by Miss Hoppner,
- who is to appear in the tragedy on Tuesday week.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not doubt, madam, that you should be held accountable for the
- jealousy of many good women in the town,” said Johnson; “but it passes my
- knowledge by what sophistry your responsibility extends to any matter of
- art.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. Woffington has not told you all, sir,” said Garrick. “She is, as you
- may well suppose, the creature in the tragedy who is supposed to excite
- the bitter jealousy of another woman. Now, I submit that the play-goers
- will be ready to judge of the powers of Mrs. Woffington as exercised in
- the play, by its effect upon the other characters in the said play.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How so, sir?” said Johnson. “Why, sir,” replied Garrick, “I maintain
- that, when they perceive that the woman who is meant to be stung to a
- point of madness through her jealousy of a rival, is scarce moved at all,
- they will insensibly lay the blame upon her rival, saying that the powers
- of the actress were not equal to the task assigned to her by the poet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I maintain, sir, that a more ridiculous contention than yours could
- not be entertained by the most ignorant of men—nay, the most
- ignorant of actors, and to say so much, sir, is to say a great deal,”
- cried Johnson. “I pray you, friend Davy, let no men know that I was once
- your teacher, if you formulate such foolishness as this; otherwise, it
- would go hard with me in the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sir, that last sentence shows that you are in perfect accord with the
- views which I have tried to express to you,” said Garrick. “You are ready
- to maintain that the world will hold you accountable for whatever
- foolishness I may exhibit. The playgoers will, on the same principle,
- pronounce on the force of Mrs. Woffington's fascinations by the effect
- they have, not upon the playgoers themselves, but upon Miss Hoppner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then the playgoers will show themselves to be the fools which I have
- always suspected them of being,” said Johnson, recovering somewhat
- ungracefully from the effects of swallowing a cup of tea; “Ay, but how are
- we to fool them?—that's the question, Mr. Johnson,” said Peggy. “I
- have no mind to get the blame which should fall on the shoulders of Miss
- Hoppner; I would fain have the luxury of qualifying for blame by my own
- act.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! you mean, madam, that before receiving the punishment for sinning,
- you would fain enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season? That is, I fear,
- but indifferent morality,” said Johnson, shaking his head and his body as
- well with even more than his accustomed vehemence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look you here, Mrs. Woffington,” said Garrick. “You are far too kind to
- Miss Hoppner. That would not be bad of itself, but when it induces her to
- be kindly disposed to you, it cannot be tolerated. She is a poor fool, and
- so is unable to stab with proper violence one who has shown herself her
- friend.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She cannot have lived in the world of fashion,” remarked Johnson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lud! would you have me arouse the real passion in the good woman for the
- sake of the play?” cried Peggy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He would e'en degrade nature by making her the handmaid of art. Sir, let
- me tell you this will not do, and there's an end on't,” said Johnson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then the play will be damned, sir,” said Garrick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let the play be damned, sir, rather than a woman's soul,” shouted
- Johnson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Meantime you will have another cup of tea, Mr. Johnson,” said Peggy,
- smiling with a witchery of that type which, exercised in later years,
- caused her visitor to make a resolution never to frequent the green room
- of Drury Lane—a resolution which was possibly strengthened by the
- failure of his tragedy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. Woffington,” said he, passing on his empty cup, “let me tell you I
- count it a pity so excellent a brewer of tea should waste her time upon
- the stage. Any wench may learn to act, but the successful brewing of tea
- demands the exercise of such judgment as cannot be easily acquired.
- Briefly, the woman is effaced by the act of going on the stage; but the
- brewing of tea is a revelation of femininity.” He took three more cupfuls.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The tragedy of “Oriana,” from the rehearsal of which Garrick and Mrs.
- Woffington had returned to find Johnson at their house on Bow Street, was
- by an unknown poet, but Garrick had come to the conclusion, after reading
- it, that it possessed sufficient merit to justify his producing it at
- Drury Lane. It abounded in that form of sentiment which found favor with
- playgoers in an age of artificiality, and its blank verse was strictly
- correct and inexpressible. It contained an apostrophe to the Star of Love,
- and eulogies of Liberty, Virtue, Hope, and other abstractions, without
- which no eighteenth century tragedy was considered to be complete. Oriana
- was a Venetian lady of the early republican period. She was in love with
- one Orsino, a prince, and they exchanged sentiments in the first act,
- bearing generally upon the advantages of first love, without touching upon
- its economic aspects. Unhappily, however, Orsino allowed himself to be
- attracted by a lady named Francesca, who made up in worldly possessions
- for the absence of those cheerless sentiments which Oriana had at her
- fingers' ends, and the result was that Oriana ran her dagger into the
- heart of her rival, into the chest of her faithless lover, and into her
- own stays. The business was carried on by the sorrowing relations of the
- three, with the valuable assistance of the ghosts of the slain, who
- explained their relative positions with fluency and lucidity, and urged
- upon the survivors, with considerable argumentative skill, the
- advisability of foregoing the elaborate scheme of revenge which each side
- was hoping to carry out against the other from the date of the obsequies
- of the deceased.
- </p>
- <p>
- The character of Oriana was being rehearsed by Miss Hoppner, an extremely
- handsome young woman, whom Garrick had met and engaged in the country,
- Mrs. Woffington being the fatally fascinating Francesca, and Garrick,
- himself, the Prince Orsino.
- </p>
- <p>
- The tragedy had been in rehearsal for a fortnight, and it promised well,
- if the representative of the jealous woman could only be brought to “put a
- little life into the death scene”—the exhortation which the Irish
- actress of the part of Francesca offered to her daily, but ineffectually.
- Miss Hoppner neither looked the part of a tragically jealous woman, nor
- did the stabbing of her rival in anything like that whirlwind of passion
- with which Garrick, in spite of the limping of the blank verse of the
- poet, almost swept the rest of the company off the stage when endeavoring
- to explain to the actress what her representation lacked, on the day after
- his chat with Mrs. Woffington on the same subject.
- </p>
- <p>
- Poor Miss Hoppner took a long breath, and passed her hand across her eyes
- as if to get rid of the effects of that horrible expression of deadly hate
- which Garrick's face had worn, as he had craned his head forward close to
- hers to show her how she should stab her rival—the slow movement of
- his body suggesting the stealth of the leopard approaching its victim, and
- his delivery of the lines through his teeth more than suggesting the
- hissing of a deadly snake in the act of springing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, do it that way, my dear madam,” said Mrs. Woffington, “and the day
- after the tragedy is played, you will be as famous as Mr. Garrick. 'T is
- the simplest thing in the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0130.jpg" alt="0130 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0130.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- “You have so unnerved me, sir, that I vow I have no head for my lines,”
- said Miss Hoppner.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when, by the aid of the prompter, the lines were recovered and she had
- repeated the scene, the result showed very little improvement. Garrick
- grumbled, and Miss Hoppner was tearful, as they went to the wardrobe room
- to see the dresses which had just been made for the principal ladies.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Hoppner's tears quickly dried when she was brought face to face with
- the gorgeous fabric which she was to wear. It was a pink satin brocaded
- with white hawthorne, the stomacher trimmed with pearls. She saw that it
- was infinitely superior to the crimson stuff which had been assigned to
- Mrs. Woffington. She spoke rapturously of the brocade, and hurried with it
- in front of a mirror to see how it suited her style of beauty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Woffington watched her with a smile. A sudden thought seemed to
- strike her, and she gave a little laugh. After a moment's hesitation she
- went behind the other actress and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm glad to see that you admire my dress, Miss Hoppner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your dress?” said Miss Hoppner. “Oh, yes, that crimson stuff—'t is
- very becoming to you, I'm sure, Mrs. Woffington; though, for that matter,
- you look well in everything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T is you who are to wear the crimson, my dear,” said Peggy. “I have made
- up my mind that the one you hold in your hand is the most suitable for me
- in the tragedy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, madam, Mr. Garrick assigned this one to me, and I think 't will suit
- me very well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is where Mr. Garrick made a mistake, child,” said Peggy. “And I mean
- to repair his error. The choice of dresses lies with me, Miss Hoppner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have yet to be made aware of that, madam.” said Miss Hoppner. Her voice
- had a note of shrillness in it, and Garrick, who was standing apart,
- noticed that her colour had risen with her voice. He became greatly
- interested in these manifestations of a spirit beyond that which she had
- displayed when rehearsing the tragedy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The sooner you are made aware of it, the better it will be for all
- concerned,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a deadly smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I make bold to assure you, madam, that I shall be instructed on this
- point by Mr. Garrick and Mr. Garrick only,” said the other, raising her
- chin an inch or two higher than she was wont, except under great
- provocation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I care not whom you make your instructor, provided that you receive the
- instruction,” sneered Peggy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Garrick,” cried Miss Hoppner, “I beg that you will exercise your
- authority. You assigned to me the brocade, did you not, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I affirm that the brocade will be more suitably worn by me, sir,”
- said Peggy. “And I further affirm that I mean to wear it, Mr. Garrick.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would fain hope that the caprice of a vain woman will not be permitted
- to have force against every reasonable consideration,” said Miss Hoppner,
- elevating her chin by another inch as she glanced out of the corners of
- her eyes in the direction of the other actress.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is all I ask for, madam; and as we are so agreed, I presume that you
- will hand me over the gown without demur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yours is the caprice, madam, let me tell you. I have right on my side.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I shall have the brocade on mine by way of compensation, my dear
- lady.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ladies!” cried Garrick, interposing, “I must beg of you not to embarrass
- me. 'T is a small matter—this of dress, and one that should not make
- a disagreement between ladies of talent. If one is a good actress, one can
- move an audience without so paltry an auxiliary as a yard or two of silk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will not pay Miss Hoppner so poor a compliment as would be implied by
- the suggestion that she needs the help of a silk brocade to eke out her
- resources as an actress,” said Peggy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ask not for compliments from Mrs. Woffington. The brocade was assigned
- to me, and—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would be ungenerous to take advantage of Mr. Garrick's error, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was no error, Mrs. Woffington.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! you would let all the world know that Mr. Garrick's opinion was
- that you stood in need of a showy gown to conceal the defects of your
- art?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are insolent, Mrs. Woffington!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, nay, my dear ladies; let's have no more of this recrimination over a
- question of rags. It is unworthy of you,” said Garrick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I feel that, sir, and so I mean to wear the brocade,” said Mrs.
- Woffington. “Good lud, Mr. Garrick, what were you thinking of when you
- assigned to the poor victim of the murderess in the tragedy the crimson
- robe which was plainly meant to be in keeping with the gory intentions of
- her rival?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely I did not commit that mistake,” said Garrick. “Heavens! where can
- my thoughts have been? Miss Hoppner, madam, I am greatly vexed—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let her take her brocade,” cried Miss Hoppner, looking with indignant
- eyes, first at the smiling Peggy, and then at Garrick, who was acting the
- part of a distracted man to perfection. “Let her wear it and see if it
- will hide the shortcomings of her complexion from the eyes of the
- playgoers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She walked away with a sniff before Peggy could deliver any reply.
- </p>
- <h3>
- III
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>ray what trick
- have you on your mind now? asked Garrick, when he was alone with Peggy.
- “What was that caprice of yours?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Caprice? You are a fool, Davy. You even forget your own precepts, which
- your friend Mr. Johnson, in his wisdom condemned so heartily yesterday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good Lord! You mean to—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I mean to make Miss Hoppner act the part of a jealous woman to
- perfection.” And she did so. The next day at the rehearsal, Garrick, as
- well as every member of the company, was amazed at the energy which Miss
- Hoppner contrived to impart to the scene in the play where, in the
- character of Oriana, she stabbed her successful rival. She acted with a
- force that had scarcely been surpassed by Garrick's reading of the scene
- for her instruction the previous day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, Peggy, you have given her a weapon for your own undoing,” said
- Garrick, as he walked home with Mrs. Woffington. “She will eclipse you, if
- you do not mind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I 'll e'en run the risk,” said Peggy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Alas! the next day Miss Hoppner was as feeble as ever—nay, the
- stabbing scene had never been so feebly gone through by her; and Garrick
- grumbled loudly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Hoppner did not seem to mind. At the end of the rehearsal she sought
- Peggy and offered her her hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. Woffington,” she said, “I am desirous of asking your pardon for my
- curtness in the matter of the dress. I owe so much to your kindness,
- madam, I feel that my attempt to fix a quarrel upon you was the more base.
- Pray, forgive an unhappy creature, who only seeks to retain the honour of
- your friendship.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you goose!” said Peggy. “Why are you so foolish as to desire to make
- friends with me? You should have hated me—been ready to kill me—anything
- for the sake of becoming an actress.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will not refuse me the forgiveness which I implore?” said Miss
- Hoppner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, nay; I was in the wrong; it was my caprice, but carried out solely
- on your behalf, child,” said Peggy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “On my behalf? Oh, you are quite right; I was beginning to forget myself—to
- forget that I was but a provincial actress.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you good natured creature!” cried Peggy. “I'll have to begin all over
- again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They had reached the stage door by this time, and were standing together
- in the long passage when a tall and good-looking man was admitted,
- enquiring for Miss Hoppner. Peggy did not fail to notice the brightening
- of the color of her companion as the gentleman advanced and took off his
- hat with a low bow. It was with a certain proprietary air that Miss
- Hoppner presented him to Peggy, by the name of Captain Joycelyn, of the
- Royal Scots.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Captain Joycelyn is one of your warmest admirers, Mrs. Woffington,” said
- Miss Hoppner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, I am overwhelmed,” said Mrs. Woffington, with a deep courtesy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, madam, I am your servant, I swear,” said the gentleman. “I have
- often longed for this honor, but it ever seemed out of my reach. We of the
- Royal Scots consider ourselves no mean judges of your art, and we agree
- that the playhouse without Mrs. Woffington would be lusterless.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sir, you would still have Mrs. Clive,” suggested Peggy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. Clive? You can afford to be generous, madam,” laughed Captain
- Joycelyn.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is the most generous woman alive,” said Miss Hoppner. “She will prove
- herself such if she converses with you here for five minutes. I was going
- away forgetting that I had to talk to the wardrobe mistress about my
- turban. I shall not be more than five minutes away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I protest it makes no demand upon my generosity to remain to listen to so
- agreeable a critic, though I admit that I do so with a certain tremor,
- sir,” said Peggy, with a charming assumption of the fluttered miss.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A certain tremor? Why should you have a tremor, dear madam?” said the
- officer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, 't is the talk of the town that all hearts go down before the Royal
- Scots, as the King's enemies did in the Low Countries.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An idle rumour, madam, I do assure you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I might have thought so up till now; but now I think I would do wisely to
- retreat in order, Captain, while there is yet time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked up at his face with a smile of matchless coquetry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, madam, you shall not stir,” said he, laughing. “'T is not the
- conqueror that should retreat. I am too conscientious a soldier to permit
- so gross a violation of the art of war. Seriously, why should you fly?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am a poor strategist, but I have a sense of danger. Is Miss Hoppner a
- special friend of yours, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A special friend? Well, we have been acquaintances for nigh half a year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought I had seen her by your side at Ranelagh. She looked very happy.
- I dare say I should be ashamed to confess it, but I envied her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Peggy's eyes were turned upon the ground with a demureness that
- represented the finest art of the coquette.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You—you envied her?” cried the officer. “How humble must be your
- aspirations, sweet creature! If I should not be thought to be over-bold I
- would offer—ah! I fear that so brief an acquaintanceship as ours
- does not warrant my presumption—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet you do not look like one who would be likely to give offense by
- overpresumption, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should be sorry to do so, madam. Well, if you promise not to flout me,
- I will say that if you will accept my escort any night to the Gardens, you
- will do me a great honour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sir, your graceful offer overwhelms me. But, alas! all my evenings
- are not my own. I am free but this evening and to-morrow evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then why not come this evening, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not, indeed? only—is 't not too sudden, Captain? Ah, the dash
- of Royal Scots cannot be resisted!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At this moment Miss Hoppner returned, and Peggy cried to her, “My dear
- child, your friend is Mercury—the messenger of the Elysian Fields—he
- has invited us to accompany him to Ranelagh to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed! That is kind of him,” said Miss Hoppner, without any great show
- of enthusiasm. “And you have accepted his invitation?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! who could refuse?” cried Peggy. She had not failed to notice Captain
- Joycelyn's little start at her assumption that Miss Hoppner was also to be
- of the party. “You will not mar our enjoyment by refusing to come, my
- dear?” she added.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay; if 't is all settled, I will not hold aloof,” said Miss Hoppner,
- brightening up somewhat.
- </p>
- <p>
- They went out together, and before Peggy had parted from the others, the
- manner and the hour of their going had been arranged.
- </p>
- <h3>
- IV
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey went up to the
- gardens by boat. Their party numbered four, for Miss Hoppner had, when
- alone with Captain Joycelyn, so pouted that he had promised to bring with
- him a brother officer to add symmetry to the party. But if she fancied
- that this gentleman, who was one Ensign Cardew, was to be the companion of
- Mrs. Woffington, she soon became sensible of her mistake. By some strange
- error, for which only Peggy could account the couples got parted in the
- crowd, Peggy and the Captain disappearing mysteriously, and only meeting
- the Ensign and his companion at supper time.
- </p>
- <p>
- The merriment of Peggy, at the supper, and the high spirits of Captain
- Joycelyn, who allowed himself to be spoon-fed by her with minced chicken,
- were powerless to disperse the cloud which hung over Miss Hoppner. She
- pouted at the supper, and pouted in the boat, and made only sarcastic
- replies to the exclamations of enjoyment addressed to her by the volatile
- Peggy.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day, before the rehearsal of the tragedy, Miss Hoppner said to
- Peggy, who was renewing her protestations of the enjoyment she had had on
- the previous evening:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think it right that you should know, Mrs. Woffington, that Captain
- Joycelyn some time ago made a proposal of marriage to me, which I
- accepted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good creature, what has that to do with me?” asked Peggy. “Captain
- Joycelyn certainly said nothing to me on that particular subject last
- night, and why should you do so now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am desirous of playing a fair game, madam,” cried Miss Hoppner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I am not desirous of playing any game, fair or otherwise,” said
- Peggy. “Lud, Miss Hoppner, do you fancy that 't is my duty to prevent the
- straying of the lovers of the ladies of Mr. Garrick's company? I vow, I
- took upon me no such responsibility; I should have no time for my meals.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The woman whom she addressed looked at her with flashing eyes, her hands
- tightly clenched, and her teeth set, for some moments. Once her lips
- parted; she seemed about to speak; but with an evident struggle she
- restrained herself. Then the fierce light in her eyes flamed into scorn.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Words were wasted on such a creature,” she said in a whisper, that had
- something of a hiss in its tone, as she walked away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Peggy laughed somewhat stridently, and cried:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Excellently spoke, beyond doubt. The woman will be an actress yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Not a word of complaint had Garrick reason for uttering in regard to the
- rehearsal of the scene in the tragedy, this day, and on their way
- homewards, he remarked to Peggy, smilingly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps in the future, my dear Peggy, you will acknowledge that I know
- something of the art and methods of acting, though you did not hesitate to
- join with Mr. Johnson in calling my theories fantastic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps I may,” said Peggy, quietly; “but just now I protest that I have
- some qualms.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Qualms? Qualms? An actress with qualms!” cried Garrick. “What a comedy
- could be written on that basis! 'The Actress with Qualms; or, Letting I
- Dare Not wait upon I Would!' Pray, madam, do your qualms arise from the
- reflection that you have contributed to the success of a sister actress?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The tragedy has not yet been played,” said Peggy. “It were best not to
- talk of the success of an actress in a play until the play has been
- acted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- That night, Mrs. Woffington occupied a box in the theater, and by her side
- was Captain Joycelyn. Miss Hoppner was in a box opposite, and by her side
- was her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- On Monday, Peggy greeted her quite pleasantly as she came upon the stage
- to rehearse the tragedy; but she returned the greeting with a glance of
- scorn, far more fierce than any which, in the character of Oriana, she had
- yet cast at her rival in the scenes of the play. Peggy's mocking face and
- the merry laugh in which she indulged did not cause the other to abate any
- of her fierceness; but when the great scene was rehearsed for the last
- time previous to the performance, Mrs. Woffington became aware of the fact
- that, not only was Miss Hoppner's representation of the passionate
- jealousy of the one woman real, but her own expression of fear, on the
- part of the other woman when she saw the flash of the dagger, was also
- real. With an involuntary cry she shrank back before the wild eyes of the
- actress, who approached her with the stealthy movement of a panther
- measuring its distance for a spring at the throat of its victim.
- </p>
- <p>
- Garrick complimented both ladies at the close of the scene, but they both
- seemed too overcome to acknowledge his compliments.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By my soul, Peggy,” said Garrick, when they met at the house in Bow
- street, “you have profited as much by your teaching of that woman as she
- has. The expression upon your face to-day as she approached you gave even
- me a thrill. The climax needed such a cry as you uttered, though that fool
- of a poet did not provide for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not respond until some moments had passed, and then she merely
- said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where are we to end, Davy, if we are to bring real and not simulated
- passion to our aid at the theater? Heavens, sir! we shall be in a pretty
- muddle presently. Are we to cultivate our hates and our jealousies and our
- affections for the sake of exhibiting them in turn?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T would not be convenient to do so,” said Garrick. “Still, you have seen
- how much can be done by an exhibition of the real, and not the simulated
- passion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Depend upon it, sir, if you introduce the real passions into the acting
- of a tragedy you will have a real and not a simulated tragedy on the
- stage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Psha! that is the thought of—a woman,” said Garrick. “A woman seeks
- to carry an idea to its furthest limits; she will not be content to accept
- it within its reasonable limitations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And, being a woman, 'tis my misfortune to think as a woman,” said Mrs.
- Woffington.
- </p>
- <p>
- The theatre was crowded on the evening when “Oriana” appeared for the
- first time on the bills. Garrick had many friends, and so also had
- Margaret Woffington. The appearance of either in a new character was
- sufficient to fill the theatre, but in “Oriana” they were both appearing,
- and the interest of playgoers had been further stimulated by the rumors
- which had been circulated respecting the ability of the new actress whom
- Garrick had brought from the country.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the company assembled in the green-room, Garrick gave all his
- attention to Miss Hoppner. He saw how terribly nervous she was. Not for a
- moment would she remain seated. She paced the room excitedly, every now
- and again casting a furtive glance in the direction of Mrs. Woffington,
- who was laughing with Macklin in a corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have no cause for trepidation, my dear lady,” said Garrick to Miss
- Hoppner.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0155.jpg" alt="0155 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0155.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- “Your charm of person will make you a speedy favorite with the playgoers,
- and if you act the stabbing scene as faithfully as you did at the last two
- rehearsals your success will be assured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can but do my best, sir,” said the actress. “I think you will find that
- I shall act the stabbing scene with great effect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not doubt it,” said Garrick. “Your own friends in the boxes will be
- gratified.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no friends in the boxes, sir,” said the actress.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, surely I heard of at least one—a certain officer in the Royal
- Scots,” whispered Garrick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know of none such, sir,” replied the actress, fixing her eyes, half
- closed, upon Peg Woffington, who was making a jest at Macklin's expense
- for the members of the company in the neighbourhood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely I heard—,” continued Garrick, but suddenly checked himself.
- “Ah, I recollect now what I heard,” he resumed, in a low tone. “Alas!
- Peggy is a sad coquette, but I doubt not that the story of your conquests
- will ring through the town after to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not seem to hear him. Her eyes were fixed upon Peggy Woffington,
- and in another moment the signal came that the curtain was ready to rise.
- </p>
- <p>
- Garrick and Macklin went on the stage together, the former smiling in a
- self-satisfied way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think I have made it certain that she will startle the house in at
- least one scene,” he whispered to Macklin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, that is why Peggy is so boisterous,” said Macklin. “'Tis only when
- she is over-nervous that she becomes boisterous. Peggy is beginning to
- feel that she may have a rival.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But if Peggy was nervous she certainly did not suggest it by her acting.
- She had not many opportunities for displaying her comedy powers in the
- play, but she contrived to impart a few touches of humour to the love
- scenes in the first act, which brightened up the gloom of the tragedy, and
- raised the spirits of the audience in some measure. Her mature style
- contrasted very effectively with the efforts of Miss Hoppner, who showed
- herself to be excessively nervous, and thereby secured at once the
- sympathies of the house. It was doubtful which of the two obtained the
- larger share of applause.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the end of the act, Captain Joycelyn was waiting at the back of the
- stage to compliment Peggy upon her acting. Miss Hoppner brushed past them
- on her way to her dressing-room, without deigning to recognise either.
- </p>
- <p>
- Curiously enough, in the next act the position of the two actresses seemed
- to be reversed. It was Mrs. Woffington who was nervous, whereas Miss
- Hoppner was thoroughly self-possessed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What in the world has come over you, my dear?” asked Garrick, when Peggy
- had made an exit so rapidly as to cause the latter half of one of her
- lines to be quite inaudible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God knows what it is!” said Peggy. “I have felt all through the act as if
- I were going to break down—as if I wanted to run away from an
- impending calamity. By heaven, sir, I feel as if the tragedy were real and
- not simulated!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Psha! You are but a woman, after all,” said Garrick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I fear that is the truth,” said she. “Good God! that woman seems to have
- changed places with me. She is speaking her lines as if she had been
- acting in London for years. She is doing what she pleases with the house.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Garrick had to leave her to go through his great scene with the Oriana of
- the play, and Mrs. Woffington watched, as if spell-bound, the marvellous
- variety of his emotional expression, as, in the character of the Prince
- Orsino, he confessed to Oriana that he no longer loved her, but that he
- had given his heart to Francesca. She saw the gleam in the eyes of the
- actress of the part of the jealous woman as she denounced the perfidy of
- her lover, and bade him leave her presence. Then came Oriana's long
- soliloquy, in which she swore that the Prince should never taste the
- happiness which he had sought at her expense.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- “I have a heart for murder, murder, murder!
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- My blood now surges like an angry sea,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Eager to grapple with its struggling prey,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- And strangle it, as I shall strangle her,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- With these hands hungering for her shapely
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- throat,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- The throat on which his kisses have been flung.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Give her to me, just God, give her to me,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- But for the time it takes to close my hand
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Thus, and if justice reign supreme above,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- The traitress shall come hither to her doom.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- (<i>Enter Francesca.</i>)
- </p>
- <p>
- (<i>Aside</i>) “My prayer is answered. It is Jove's decree.” So the
- passage ran, and it was delivered by the actress with a fervour that
- thrilled the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- After her aside, Oriana turned, according to the stage directions, to
- Francesca with a smile. In Miss Hoppner's eyes there was a light of
- triumph—of gratified revenge—and before it Margaret Woffington
- quailed. She gave a frightened glance around, as if looking for a way of
- escape; there was a little pause, and then upon the silence of the house
- there fell the half-hissed words of Oriana as she craned her head forward
- facing her rival:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- “Thou think'st to ride in triumph o'er my
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- corse—
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- The corse which his indecent feet have spurned
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Into the dust. But there's a God above!
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- I tell thee, traitress, 't is not I shall lie
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- For vulture-beaks to rend—but thou—thou—
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- thou!
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Traitress abhorred, this knife shall find thy
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- heart!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God! the dagger—it is real!” shrieked Peggy; but before she
- could turn to fly, the other had sprung upon her, throwing her partly over
- a couch, and holding her down by the throat while she stabbed her twice.
- </p>
- <p>
- A hoarse cry came from Peg Woffington, and then she rolled off the couch
- and fell limply to the stage, the backs of her hands rapping helplessly on
- the boards as she fell.
- </p>
- <p>
- The other actress stood over her for a moment with a smile; then she
- looked strangely at the dagger which glistened in her hand. Then, with a
- hysterical cry, she flung the weapon from her and fell back.
- </p>
- <p>
- The curtain went down upon the roar of applause that came from every part
- of the theatre. But though the applause was maintained, neither of the
- actresses responded to the call. Several minutes had passed before Garrick
- himself appeared and made a sign that he wished to speak. When the house
- became silent, he explained to his patrons that both actresses had swooned
- through the great demands which the scene had made upon them, and would be
- unable to appear for the rest of the evening. Under these melancholy
- circumstances, he hoped that no objection would be made to the bringing on
- of the burletta immediately.
- </p>
- <p>
- The audience seemed satisfied to forego the enjoyment of the ghost scenes
- of the tragedy, and the burletta was proceeded with.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not thought advisable to let the audience know that Mrs. Woffington
- was lying on a couch in her dressing room, while a surgeon was binding up
- a wound made in her side by the dagger used by the other actress. It was
- not until Garrick had examined the weapon that he perceived it was not a
- stage blade, but a real one, which had been used by Miss Hoppner.
- Fortunately, however, the point had been turned aside by the steel in Peg
- Woffington's stays, so that it had only inflicted a flesh wound.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the course of a couple of hours Peggy had recovered consciousness, and,
- though very weak, was still able to make an effort to captivate the
- surgeon with her witty allusions to the privileges incidental to his
- profession. She was so engaged, when Garrick entered the room and told her
- that Miss Hoppner was weeping outside the door, but that he had given
- orders that she was not to be admitted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should the poor girl not be admitted?” cried Peggy. “Should such an
- accident as that which happened be treated as though it were murder? Send
- her into the room, sir, and leave us alone together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Garrick protested, but Peggy insisted on having her own way, and the
- moment Miss Hoppner was permitted to enter, she flung herself on her knees
- at the side of the couch, weeping upon the hand that Peggy gave to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Garrick entered with Captain Joycelyn, a short time afterwards, Peggy
- would not allow him to remain in the room. The Captain remained, however,
- for some minutes, and when he left, Miss Hoppner was on his arm. They
- crossed the stage together, and that was the last time she ever trod that
- or any other stage, for Captain Joycelyn married her within a month.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, friend Davy,” cried Peggy to Garrick, “there was, after all, some
- sense in what Mr. Johnson said. We actors are, doubtless, great folk; but
- 't were presumptuous to attempt to turn Nature into the handmaid of Art. I
- have tried it, sir, and was only saved from disaster by the excellence of
- the art of my stays-maker. Nay, the stage is not Nature—it is but
- Nature seen on the surface of a mirror; and even then, I protest, only
- when David Garrick is the actor, and Shakespeare's the poet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE MUSE OF TRAGEDY
- </h2>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>adam,” said Mr.
- Daly, the manager, in his politest style, “no one could regret the
- occurrence more than myself”—he pronounced the word “meself”—“especially
- as you say it has hurt your feelings. Do n't I know what feelings are?”—he
- pronounced the word “failings,” which tended in some measure to alter the
- effect of the phrase, though his friends would have been inclined to
- assert that its accuracy was not thereby diminished.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been grossly insulted, sir,” said Mrs. Siddons.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grossly insulted,” echoed Mr. Siddons. He played the part of echo to his
- stately wife very well indeed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it took place under your roof, sir,” said the lady.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your roof,” echoed the husband.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And there's no one in the world sorrier than myself for it,” said Mr.
- Daly. “But I do n't think that you should take a joke of the college
- gentlemen so seriously.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Joke?” cried Mrs. Siddons, with a passion that caused the manager, in the
- instinct of self-preservation to jump back. “Joke, sir!—a joke
- passed upon Sarah Siddons! My husband, sir, whose honour I have ever
- upheld as dearer to me than life itself, will tell you that I am not
- accustomed to be made the subject of ribald jests.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do n't know the tragedy that that quotation is made from,” remarked Mr.
- Daly, taking out his snuff-box and tapping it, affecting a coolness which
- he certainly was far from possessing; “but if it's all written in that
- strain I'll bring it out at Smock Alley and give you an extra benefit. You
- never spoke anything better than that phrase. Pray let us have it again,
- madam—'my husband, sir,' and so forth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Siddons rose slowly and majestically. Her eyes flashed as she pointed
- a shapely forefinger to the door of the greenroom, saying in her deepest
- tones:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir! degrade the room no longer by your presence. You have yet to know
- Sarah Siddons.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sarah Siddons,” murmured the husband very weakly. He would have liked to
- maintain the stand taken up by his wife, but he had his fears that to do
- so would jeopardise the success of his appearance at the manager's
- treasury, and Mr. Siddons now and again gave people to understand that he
- could not love his wife so well loved he not the treasury more.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Daly laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, Mrs. Siddons,” said he, “'t is a new thing for a man to be ordered
- out of his own house by a guest. I happen to be the owner of this tenement
- in Smock Alley, in the city of Dublin, and you are my guest—my
- honoured guest, madam. How could I fail to honour a lady who, in spite of
- the fact of being the greatest actress in the world, is still a pattern
- wife and mother?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Siddons was visibly softening under the balmy brogue of the Irishman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is because I am sensible of my duties to my husband and my children
- that I feel the insult the more, sir,” she said, in a tone that was still
- tragic.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sure I know that that's what makes the sting of it so bitter,” said Mr.
- Daly, shaking his head sadly. “It's only the truly virtuous, madam, that
- have feelings”—again he pronounced the word “failings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Enough, madam,” he continued, after he had flourished his handkerchief
- and had wiped away an imaginary tear. “Enough! In the name of the citizens
- of Dublin I offer you the humblest apology in my power for the gross
- misconduct of that scoundrel in the pit who called out, 'Well done, Sally,
- my jewel!' after your finest soliloquy; and I promise you that if we can
- find the miscreant we shall have him brought to justice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you believe that the citizens of Dublin are really conscious of the
- stigma which they shall bear for ages to come for having insulted one
- whose virtue has, I rejoice to say, been ever beyond reproach, I will
- accept your apology, sir,” said Mrs. Siddons with dignity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I 'll undertake to swear that the citizens feel the matter quite as
- deeply as I do, Mrs. Siddons,” cried Mr. Daly, with both his hands clasped
- over his waistcoat. “I dare swear that they do not even now know the
- enormity of your virtue, madam. It will be my pleasing duty to make them
- acquainted with it; and so, madam, I am your grateful, humble servant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With a low bow he made his escape from the green-room, leaving Mrs.
- Sid-dons seated on a high chair in precisely the attitude which she
- assumed when she sat for the Tragic Muse of Reynolds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank heavens that 's over!” muttered the manager, as he hurried down
- Smock Alley to the tavern at the corner kept by an old actor named Barney
- Rafferty, and much frequented by the Trinity College students, who in the
- year 1783 were quite as enthusiastic theatre-goers as their successors are
- in the present year.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For the love of heaven, Barney, give us a jorum,” cried Daly, as he
- entered the bar parlor. “A jorum of punch, Barney, for I 'm as dry as a
- lime kiln, making speeches in King Cambyses' vein to that Queen of
- Tragedy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It'll be at your hand in a minute, Mr. Daly, sir,” said Barney, hurrying
- off.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the parlour were assembled a number of the “college boys,” as the
- students were always called in Dublin. They greeted the arrival of their
- friend Daly with acclamation, only they wanted to know what had occurred
- to detain him so long at the theatre.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Delay and Daly have never been associated before now when there's a jorum
- of punch in view,” remarked young Mr. Blenerhassett of Limerick, who was
- reported to have a very pretty wit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's lucky you see me among you at all, boys,” said the manager, wiping
- his brow. “By the powers, I might have remained in the green-room all
- night listening to homilies on the virtue of wives and the honour of
- husbands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And 't is yourself that would be nothing the worse for listening to a
- homily or two on such topics,” remarked young Blake of Connaught. “And who
- was the preacher of the evening, Daly?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None else than the great Sarah herself, my boy,” replied the manager.
- “Saint Malachi! what did you mean by shouting out what you did, after that
- scene?” he added.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What did I shout?” asked Jimmy Blake. “I only ventured humbly to cry,
- 'Well done, Sally, my jewel'—what offence is there in that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, by Saint Patrick, but there's much offence in 't,” cried Daly. “Mrs.
- Siddons sent for me to my dressing-room after the play, and there I found
- her pacing the green-room like a lioness in her cage, her husband, poor
- man, standing by as tame as the keeper of the royal beast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A series of interested exclamations passed round the room, and the circle
- of heads about the table became narrower. “Mother o' Moses! She objected
- to my civil words of encouragement?” said Mr. Blake.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She declared that not only had she been insulted, but her husband's
- honour had been dragged in the mire, and her innocent children's names had
- been sullied.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, that was a Sally for you, Mr. Daly,” said young Home, the Dublin
- painter to whom Mrs. Siddons had refused to sit, assuring him that she
- could only pay such a compliment to Sir Joshua Reynolds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boys, may this be my poison if I ever put in a worse half hour,” cried
- Daly, as he raised a tumbler of punch and swallowed half the contents.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I 'd give fifty pounds to have been there,” said Home. “Think what a
- picture it would make!—the indignant Sarah, the ever courteous
- manager Daly, and the humble husband in the corner. What would not
- posterity pay for such a picture!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A guinea in hand is worth a purse in the future,” said one of the college
- boys. “I wish I could draw a bill on posterity for the payment of the
- silversmith who made my buckles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daly,” said Blake, “you're after playing a joke on us. Sally never took
- you to task for what I shouted from the Pit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Daly became dignified—he had finished the tumbler of punch. He
- drew himself up, and, with one hand thrust into his waistcoat, he said:
- “Sir, I conceive that I understand as well as any gentleman present what
- constitutes the elements of a jest. I have just conveyed to you a
- statement of facts, sir. If you had seen Sarah Siddons as I left her—egad,
- she is a very fine woman—you would n't hint that there was much jest
- in the matter. Oh, lord, boys”—another jug of punch had just been
- brought in, and the manager was becoming genial once more—“Oh, lord,
- you should have heard the way she talked about the honour of her husband,
- as if there never had been a virtuous woman on the boards until Sarah
- Siddons arose!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And was there one, Daly?” asked young Murphy, a gentleman from whom great
- things were expected by his college and his creditors.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was surely, my boy,” said Daly, “but I've forgot her name. The
- name's not to the point. I tell you, then, the Siddons stormed in the
- stateliest blank verse and periods, about how she had elevated the stage—how
- she had checked Brereton for clasping her as she thought too ardently—how
- she had family prayers every day, and looked forward to the day when she
- could afford a private chaplain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stop there,” shouted Blake. “You'll begin to exaggerate if you go beyond
- the chaplain, Daly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's the truth I've told so far, at any rate, barring the chaplain,” said
- Daly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And all because I saw she was a bit nervous and did my best to encourage
- her and give her confidence by shouting, 'Well done, Sally!'” said Blake.
- “Boys, it's not Sarah Siddons that has been insulted, it's Trinity College—it's
- the city of Dublin! by my soul, it's the Irish nation that she has
- insulted by supposing them capable of insulting a woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, there 's something in that, Jimmy,” said half a dozen voices.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is this Sarah Siddons, will ye tell me, for I 'd like to know?”
- resumed Blake, casting a look of almost painful enquiry round the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, that 's the question,” said Daly, in a tone that he invariably
- reserved for the soliloquy which flourished on the stage a century ago.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We 're all gentlemen here,” resumed Mr. Blake.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that 's more than she is,” said young Blenerhassett of Limerick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gentlemen,” said the manager, “I beg that you'll not forget that Mrs.
- Siddons and myself belong to the same profession. I cannot suffer anything
- derogatory”—the word gave him some trouble, but he mastered it after
- a few false starts—“to the stage to be uttered in this apartment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You adorn the profession, sir,” said Blake. “But can the same be said of
- Mrs. Siddons? What could Garrick make of her, gentlemen?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ahem! we know what he failed to make of her,” said Digges, the actor, who
- sat in the corner, and was supposed to have more Drury Lane scandal on his
- fingers' ends than Daly himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pooh!” sneered Daly. “Davy Garrick never made love to her, Digges. It was
- her vanity that tried to make out that he did.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He did not make her a London success—that's certain,” said Blake.
- “And though Dublin, with the assistance of the College, can pronounce a
- better judgment on an actor or actress than London, still we must admit
- that London is improving, and if there had been any merit in Sarah Siddons
- she would not have been forced to keep to the provinces as she does now.
- Gentlemen, she has insulted us and it's our duty to teach her a lesson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And we're the boys to do it,” said one Moriarty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gentlemen, I 'll take my leave of you,” said the manager, rising with a
- little assistance and bowing to the company. “It's not for me to dictate
- any course for you to pursue. I do n't presume to ask to be let into any
- of your secrets; I only beg that you will remember that Mrs. Siddons has
- three more nights to appear in my theatre, and she grasps so large a share
- of the receipts that, unless the house continues to be crowded, it's a
- loser I'll be at the end of the engagement. You'll not do anything that
- will jeopardise the pit or the gallery—the boxes are sure—for
- the rest of the week.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Trust to us, sir, trust to us,” said Jimmy Blake, as the manager
- withdrew. “Now, boys,” he continued in a low voice, bending over the
- table, “I've hit upon a way of convincing this fine lady that has taken
- the drama under her wing, so to speak, that she can't play any of her high
- tragedy tricks here, whatever she may do at Bath. She does n't understand
- us, boys; well, we'll teach her to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bravo, Jimmy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Blake's Country and the sky over it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give us your notions,” came several voices from around the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She bragged of her respectability; of her armour of virtue, Daly told us.
- Well, suppose we put a decent coat on Dionysius Hogan and send him to
- propose an elopement to her to-morrow; how would that do for a joke when
- it gets around the town?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the powers, boys, whether or not Dionysius gets kicked down the
- stairs, she'll be the laughing-stock of the town. It's a genius”—he
- pronounced it “jan-yus”—“that you are, Jimmy, and no mistake,” cried
- young Moriarty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We'll talk it over,” said Jimmy. And they did talk it over.
- </p>
- <h3>
- II
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ionysius Hogan was
- a celebrated character in Dublin during the last quarter of the eighteenth
- century. The Irish capital has always cherished curious characters, for
- pretty much the same reason that caused badgers to be preserved; any man,
- or, for that matter, any woman, who was only eccentric enough, could
- depend on the patronage of the people of Dublin. Dionysius Hogan afforded
- his fellow-citizens many a laugh on account of his numerous
- eccentricities. He was a man of about fifty years of age, but his great
- anxiety was to appear thirty years younger; and he fancied he accomplished
- this aim by wearing in 1783 the costume of 1750, only in an exaggerated
- form. His chief hallucination was that several of the best known ladies in
- society were in love with him, and that it was necessary for him to be
- very careful lest he should compromise himself by a correspondence with
- some of those who had husbands.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0186.jpg" alt="0186 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0186.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- It need scarcely be said that this idea of his was not greatly discouraged
- by the undergraduates of Trinity College. It was not their fault if he did
- not receive every week a letter from some distinguished lady begging the
- favor of an interview with him. Upon many occasions the communications,
- which purported to come from married ladies, took the form of verses.
- These he exhibited with great pride, and only after extorting promises of
- profound secrecy, to his student friends.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was immaterial that Dionysius found almost every week that he had been
- the victim of practical jokes; his belief in his own powers of captivating
- womankind was superior to every rebuff that he encountered. He exhibited
- his dapper little figure, crowned with the wig of a macaroni, to the
- promenaders in all the chief thoroughfares daily, and every evening he had
- some fresh story to tell of how he had been exerting himself to avoid an
- assignation that was being urged on him by a lady of quality sojourning
- not a hundred miles from the Castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The scheme which Mr. Blake had suggested to his fellow-students in the
- Smock Alley tavern found a willing agent for its realisation in Dionysius
- Hogan. Mrs. Siddons, her beauty and her powers, were, of course, the talk
- of the town during her first visit to Dublin. It only needed Jimmy Blake
- to drop a few dark hints in the hearing of Dionysius on the subject of a
- rumor that was current, to the effect that a certain well-known gentleman
- in Dublin had attracted the attention of the great actress, to make
- Dionysius believe that he had made a conquest of the Siddons.
- </p>
- <p>
- For the remainder of the evening he took to dropping dark hints to this
- effect, and before he had slept that night there was no doubt on his mind
- that Sarah Sid-dons was another lady who had succumbed to his attractive
- exterior. To be sure, he had heard it said that she was as hard as marble;
- but then she had not seen him until she had come to Dublin. All women, he
- believed, had their weak moments, and there was no article of his creed
- more strongly impressed upon him than that the weak moment of many women
- was when they saw him for the first time.
- </p>
- <p>
- When, on descending from his bedroom to his little sitting-room in his
- humble lodgings—for Mr. Hogan's income did not exceed eighty pounds
- a year—a letter was put into his hand bearing the signature “S. S.,”
- and when he found that above these initials there was a passionate avowal
- of affection and a strong appeal to him to be merciful as he was strong,
- and to pay the writer a visit at her lodgings before the hour of one,
- “when Mr. S. returns from the theatre, where he goes every forenoon,” poor
- Dionysius felt that the time had at last come for him to cast discretion
- to the winds. The beauty of Mrs. Siddons had had a powerful effect upon
- his susceptible heart when she had first come before his eyes on the stage
- of the Smock Alley theatre.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0192.jpg" alt="0192 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0192.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- On that night he believed that she had kept her eyes fixed upon him while
- repeating some of the beautiful soliloquies in “Isabella.” The artful
- suggestions of Jimmy Blake had had their effect upon him, and now he held
- in his hand a letter that left him no room to doubt—even if he had
- been inclined that way—the accuracy of the tale that his poor heart
- had originally told him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He dressed himself with his accustomed care, and, having deluged his
- cambric with civet—it had been the favourite scent of thirty years
- before—he indulged in the unusual luxury of a chair to convey him to
- the lodgings of the great actress; for he felt that it might seriously
- jeopardise his prospects to appear in the presence of the lady with soiled
- shoes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The house where Mrs. Siddons lodged was not an imposing one. She had
- arrived in Dublin from Holyhead at two o'clock in the morning, and she was
- compelled to walk about the streets in a downpour of rain for several
- hours before she could prevail upon any one to take her in. It is scarcely
- surprising that she conceived a strong and enduring prejudice against
- Dublin and its inhabitants.
- </p>
- <p>
- On enquiring in a whisper and with a confidential smirk for Mrs. Siddons,
- he learned from the maid servant that the lady was in her room, and that
- Mr. Siddons had not returned from his morning visit to the theatre. The
- servant stated, however, that Mrs. Siddons had given the strictest orders
- to admit no one into her presence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, discreet as one might have expected,” murmured Dionysius. “She does
- not mean to run the chance of disappointing me. Which is her parlour,
- child?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's the first front, yer honour,” said the girl; “but, Lord save yer
- honour, she'd murther me if I let ye go up. Oh, it's joking ye are.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hush,” whispered Dionysius, his finger on his lips. “Not so loud, I pray.
- She is waiting for me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holy Biddy! waiting for yer?” cried the maid. “Now do n't be afther
- getting a poor colleen into throuble, sir. I'm telling ye that it's killed
- entirely I'd be if I let ye go up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do n't be a fool, girl,” said Dionysius, still speaking in a whisper. “I
- give you my word of honour as a gentleman that Mrs. Siddons is awaiting
- me. Zounds! why do I waste time talking to a menial? Out of my way, girl.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pushed past the servant, leaving her somewhat awe-stricken at his grand
- manner and his finery, and when she recovered and made a grab for his coat
- tails, he was too quick for her. He plucked them out of her reach, and she
- perceived that he had got such a start of her that pursuit would be
- useless. In a few moments he was standing before the door of the room on
- the first floor that faced the street.
- </p>
- <p>
- His heart was fluttering so that he had scarcely courage to tap upon the
- panel. He had tapped a second time before that grand contralto, that few
- persons could hear without emotion, bade him enter. He turned the handle,
- and stood facing Mrs. Siddons.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0197.jpg" alt="0197 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0197.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- She was sitting in a gracefully majestic attitude by the side of a small
- table on which a desk was placed. Mrs. Siddons never unbent for a moment
- in private life.
- </p>
- <p>
- She assumed majestic attitudes in the presence of the lodging-house
- servant, and spoke in a tragic contralto to the linen-draper's apprentice.
- She turned her lovely eyes upon Dionysius Hogan as he stood smirking and
- bowing at the door. There was a vista of tragedy in the delivery of the
- two words—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It took him some moments to recover from the effect the words produced
- upon him. He cleared his throat—it was somewhat husky—and with
- an artificial smirk he piped out:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam—ah, my charmer, I have rushed to clasp my goddess to my
- bosom! Ah, fair creature, who could resist your appeal?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He advanced in the mincing gait of the Macaronis. She sprang to her feet.
- She pointed an eloquent forefinger at a spot on the floor directly in
- front of him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wretch,” she cried, “advance a step at your peril!” Her eyes were
- flashing, and her lips were apart.
- </p>
- <p>
- His mincing ceased abruptly; and only the ghost of a smirk remained upon
- his patched and painted face. It was in a very fluty falsetto that he
- said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, I see my charmer wants to be wooed. But why should Amanda reproach
- her Strephon for but obeying her behests? Wherefore so coy, dear nymph?
- Let these loving arms—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madman—wretch—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, chide me not, dear one. 'T is but the ardour of my passion that bids
- me clasp thee, the fairest of Hebe's train. We shall fly together to some
- retreat—far from the distractions—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, the man is mad—mad!” cried the lady, retreating a step or two
- as he advanced.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only mad with the ardour of my passion,” whispered Dionysius.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, heaven! that I should live to hear such words spoken in my presence!”
- cried Mrs. Siddons, with her hands clasped in passionate appeal to a
- smiling portrait of the landlady's husband that hung over the fireplace.
- Then she turned upon Dionysius and looked at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her eyes blazed. Their fire consumed the unfortunate man on whom they
- rested. He felt himself shrivelled up and become crisp as an autumn leaf.
- He certainly trembled like one, as a terrible voice, but no louder than a
- whisper, sounded in his ears: “Are you a human being or the monster of a
- dream, that you dare to speak such words in my hearing? What wretch are
- you that fancies that Sarah Siddons may be addressed by such as you, and
- in language that is an insult to a pure wife and mother. I am Sarah
- Siddons, sir! I am a wife who holds her husband's honour dearer than life
- itself—I am a mother who will never cause a blush of shame to mantle
- the brow of one of her children. Wretch, insulter, why are mine eyes not
- basilisks, with death in their glance to such as you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Down went Dionysius on his knees before that terrible figure that
- stretched out wild quivering hands above his head. Such gestures as hers
- would have fitted the stage of Drury Lane.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the lodging-house parlour they were overwhelming.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For God's sake, spare me, spare me!” he faltered, with his hands clasped
- and his head bent before that fury.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should I spare such a wretch—why should I not trample such a
- worm into the dust?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She took a frantic step toward him. With a short cry of abject terror he
- fell along the floor, and gasped. It seemed to him that she had trampled
- the life out of his body.
- </p>
- <p>
- She stood above him with a heaving bosom beneath her folded arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a long pause before he heard the door open. A weight seemed
- lifted off him. He found that he could breathe. In a few moments he
- ventured to raise his head. He saw a beautiful figure sitting at the desk
- writing. Even in the scratching of her pen along the paper there was a
- tone of tragedy.
- </p>
- <p>
- He crawled backward upon his hands and knees, with his eyes furtively
- fixed upon that figure at the desk. If, when he had looked up he had found
- her standing with an arm outstretched tin the direction of the door, he
- felt that he would have been able to rise to his feet and leave her
- presence; but Mrs. Siddons' dramatic instinct caused her to produce a
- deeper impression upon him by simply treating him as if he were dead at
- her feet—as if she had, indeed, trampled the life out of his body.
- </p>
- <p>
- He crept away slowly and painfully backward, until he was actually in the
- lobby. Then by a great effort he sprang to his feet, rushed headlong down
- the stairs, picked himself up in the hall, and fled wildly through the
- door, that chanced to be open, into the street. He overthrew a chairman in
- his wild flight, and as he turned the corner he went with a rush into the
- arms of a young man, who, with a few others by his side, was sauntering
- along.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0205.jpg" alt="0205 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0205.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- “Zounds, sir! what do you mean by this mode of progression?” cried the
- young man, holding him fast.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dionysius grasped him limply, looking at him with wild, staring eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For God's sake, Mr. Blake, save me from her—do n't let her get hold
- of me, for the love of all the saints.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean, you fool?” said Jimmy Blake. “Who is anxious to get
- hold of you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But no answer was returned by poor Dionysius. He lay with his head over
- Blake's shoulder, his arms swaying limply like two pendulums.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the powers, he has gone off in a swoon,” said young Blenerhassett.
- “Let us carry him to the nearest tavern.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In less than half an hour Dionysius had recovered consciousness; but it
- required a longer space of time, and the administration of a considerable
- quantity of whisky, to enable him to tell all his story. He produced the
- letter signed “S. S.” which he had received in the morning, and explained
- that he had paid the visit to Mrs. Siddons only with a view of reasoning
- her out of her infatuation, which, he said with a shadowy simper, he could
- not encourage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had hardly obtained access to her when she turned upon me in a fury,”
- said he. “Ah, boys, those eyes of hers!—I feel them still upon me.
- They made me feel like a poor wretch that's marched out in front of a
- platoon to be shot before breakfast. And her voice! well, it sounded like
- the voice of the officer giving the word of command to the platoon to
- fire. When I lay ready to expire at her feet, every word that she spoke
- had the effect of a bayonet prod upon my poor body. Oh, Lord! oh, Lord!
- I'll leave it to yourself, Mr. Blake: was it generous of her to stab me
- with cold steel after I was riddled with red-hot bullets?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm sorry to say, Mr. Hogan,” replied Blake, “that I can't take a lenient
- view of your conduct. We all know what you are, sir. You seek to ingraft
- the gallantries of the reign of his late Majesty upon the present highly
- moral age. Mrs. Siddons, sir, is a true wife and mother, besides being a
- most estimable actress, and you deserved the rebuff from the effects of
- which you are now suffering. Sir, we leave you to the gnawings of that
- remorse which I trust you feel acutely.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Blake, with his friends, left the tavern room as Dionysius was
- beginning to whimper.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the street a roar of laughter burst from the students.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mother o' Moses!” cried Moriarty. “'T is a golden guinea I'd give to have
- been present when the Siddons turned upon the poor devil.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I 'll give you a chance of being present at a better scene than
- that,” said Blake.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean, Jimmy?” asked Moriarty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I mean to bring you with me to pay a visit to Mrs. Siddons this very
- minute.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T is joking you are, Jimmy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, the devil a joke, ma bouchai! Man alive, can't you see that the fun
- is only beginning? We'll go to her in a body and make it out that she has
- insulted a friend of ours by attributing false motives to him, and that
- her husband must come out to the Park in the morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's carrying a joke a bit too far,” said Mr. Blenerhassett. “I'll not
- join in with you there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nobody axed ye, sir,” said Blake. “There are three of us here without
- you, and that's enough for our purpose.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If Mr. Siddons kicks you into the street, or if Sally treats you as she
- did that poor devil in the tavern, 't is served right that you'll be,” said
- Blenerhassett, walking off.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We'll have a scene with Sarah Siddons for our trouble, at any rate,”
- laughed Blake.
- </p>
- <p>
- The three young men who remained when the more scrupulous youth had
- departed, went together to Mrs. Siddons' lodgings. They understood more
- than Dionysius did about the art of obtaining admittance when only a
- portress stood in the way—a squeeze, a kiss, and a crown combined to
- make the maid take a lenient view of the consequences of permitting them
- to go up the stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- When, after politely rapping at the door of the parlour, the three entered
- the room, they found the great actress in precisely the same attitude she
- had assumed for her last visitor. The dignity of her posture was not
- without its effect upon the young men. They were not quite so
- self-confident as they had been outside the door. Each of them looked at
- the other, so to speak; but somehow none of the three appeared to be
- fluent. They stood bowing politely, keeping close to the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who are these persons?” said Mrs. Siddons, as if uttering her thoughts.
- “Am I in a civilised country or not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said Blake, finding his voice, at last, when a slur was cast upon
- his country. “Madam, Ireland was the home of civilisation when the
- inhabitants of England were prowling the woods naked, except for a coat of
- paint.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Siddons sprang to her feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” she cried, “you are indelicate as well as impertinent. You have no
- right to intrude upon me without warning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The urgency of our mission is our excuse, madam,” said Blake. “The fact
- is, madam, to come to the point, the gentleman who visited you just now is
- our friend.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your friend, sir, is a scoundrel. He grossly insulted me,” said Mrs.
- Siddons.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, 't is sorry I am to find you do n't yet understand the impulses of a
- warmhearted nation, madam,” said Blake, shaking his head. “The gentleman
- came to compliment you on your acting, and yet you drove him from your
- door like a hound. That, according to our warmhearted Irish ways,
- constitutes an offence that must be washed out in blood—ay, blood,
- madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What can be your meaning, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I only mean, madam, that your husband, whom we all honour on account of
- the genius—we do n't deny it—the genius and virtue of his
- wife, will have to meet the most expert swordsman in Ireland in the Phonix
- Park in the morning, and that Sarah Siddons will be a widow before
- breakfast time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a pause before there came a cry of anguish more pitiful than any
- expression of emotion that the three youths had ever heard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My husband!” were the words that sounded like a sob in their ears.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Siddons had averted her head. Her face was buried in her hands. The
- wink in which Jimmy Blake indulged as he gave Moriarty a nudge was
- anything but natural.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why was I ever tempted to come to this country?” cried the lady wildly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, we humbly sympathise with you, and with the country,” said Blake.
- He would not allow any reflection to be cast on his country.
- </p>
- <p>
- She took a few steps toward the three young men, and faced them with
- clasped hands. She looked into the three faces in turn, with passionate
- intreaty in her eyes. “Have you no pity?” she faltered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Blake, “that we have; we do pity you heartily, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you willing to take part in this act of murder—murder?” cried
- Mrs. Siddons, in a low voice that caused the flesh of at least two of her
- audience to creep. “Are you blind? Can 't you see the world pointing at
- you as I point at you, and call you murderers?” She stood before them with
- her eyes half closed, her right hand pointing to each of them in turn as
- she prolonged the word, suggesting a thousand voices whispering
- “murderers!” There was a long pause, during which the spell-bound youths,
- their jaws fallen, stared at that terrible figure—the awful form of
- the Muse of Tragedy. Drops of perspiration stood on the forehead of young
- Moriarty. Blake himself gave a gasp. “Have you no compassion?” Mrs.
- Sid-dons continued, but in another tone—a tone of such pathos as no
- human being could hear unmoved. Clasping her hands, she cried: “My poor
- husband! What harm has he done? Is he to be dragged from these arms—these
- arms that have cherished him with all the devotion that a too-loving wife
- can offer? Is he to be dragged away from this true heart to be butchered?
- Sirs, we have children—tender little blossoms. Oh, cannot you hear
- their cries? Listen, listen—the wailing of the babes over the
- mangled body of their father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Surely the sound of children's sobbing went around the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- One of the young men dropped into a chair and burst into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- Blake's lips were quivering, as the streaming eyes of the woman were
- turned upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For heaven's sake, madam!” he faltered—“for heaven's sake—oh,
- my God! what have we done?—what have we done? Worse than Herod! the
- innocent children!—I hear them—I hear them! Oh, God forgive
- us! God forgive us for this cruel joke.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He broke down utterly. The room now was certainly filled with wild sobbing
- and the sound of convulsive weeping.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0217.jpg" alt="0217 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0217.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- For several minutes the three emotional Irishmen sat weeping. They were in
- the power of the woman, who, at the confession of Blake, had become
- perfectly self-possessed in a moment. She stood watching them, a scornful
- smile upon her lips. She knew that the magic which she had at her command
- could enchain them so long as she wished. She was merciful, however.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you consider your jest sufficiently successful, gentlemen,” said she,
- “perhaps you will oblige me by withdrawing. I have letters to write.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The spell that she had cast around them was withdrawn.
- </p>
- <p>
- Blake sprang to his feet and drew his handkerchief across his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. Siddons—madam,” said he, “we have behaved like fools—nay,
- worse, like scoundrels. We are not bold enough to ask your pardon, madam;
- but believe me, we feel deeply humiliated. You may forgive us, but we
- shall never forgive ourselves. Madam, you are the greatest actress in the
- world, and you may expect the finest benefit ever given to an actress in
- this city.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But in spite of the fact that Mrs. Siddons' benefit the following night
- was all that Mr. Blake predicted it would be, she wrote some very hard
- words about Dublin to her friend, Mr. Whately, of Bath.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE WAY TO KEEP HIM
- </h2>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ay, sir,” cried
- Mrs. Abington, with such a smile of infinite witchery as she wore when Sir
- Joshua Reynolds painted her as 'Miss Prue;' I would not have you make any
- stronger love to me than is absolutely necessary to keep yourself in
- training for the love scenes in Dr. Goldsmith's new comedy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, you talk glibly of measuring out the exact portion of one's love, as
- if love were a physic to be doled out to the precise grain,” cried Lee
- Lewis, impatiently turning away from the fascinating lady who was smiling
- archly at him over the back of her chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By my faith, sir, you have e'en given the best description of love that I
- have heard; 't is beyond doubt a physic, given to mankind to cure many of
- the ills of life; but, la, sir! there are so many quacks about, 't is
- well-nigh impossible to obtain the genuine thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And once more the actress smiled at her latest victim.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have often wondered if you ever knew what love means,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed the same thought has frequently occurred to me, sir,” said the
- actress. “When one has been offered the nostrums of quacks so often, one
- begins to lose faith in the true prescription.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You think that I am a quack, and therefore have no faith in me,” said
- Lewis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that you are an excellent actor, Mr. Lewis.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And therefore you suspect my truth?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, I respect your art.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perish my art, so long as I gain the favour of the most adorable woman
- who ever flitted like a vision of beauty—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sir, do not take advantage of my lack of memory; give me the title of
- the comedy from which you quote, so that I may know my cue, and have my
- reply ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lewis flung himself across the room with an exclamation of impatience.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are the most cruel woman that lives,” he cried. “I have often left
- this house vowing that I would never come nigh it again because of your
- cruelty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a terrible vengeance!” cried the actress, raising her hands, while a
- mock expression of terror came over her face. “You would fain prove
- yourself the most cruel of men because you account me the most cruel of
- women? Ah, sir, you are ungenerous; I am but a poor weak creature, while
- you—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am weak enough to be your slave, but let me tell you, madam, I am quite
- strong enough to throw off your bonds should I fail to be treated with
- some consideration,” said Lewis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, so far as I am concerned you may take your freedom to-morrow,”
- laughed Mrs. Abington. “The fetters that I weave are of silken thread.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would rather wear your fetters, though they be of iron, than those of
- the next loveliest woman to you, though hers should be a chain of roses,”
- said the actor. “Come, now, my dear lady, listen to reason.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gladly; 't will be a change from your usual discourse, which is of love—just
- the opposite, you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why will you not consent to come with me to Vauxhall once more?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “La, sir, think of the scandal? Have not we been seen there together half
- a dozen times?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Scandal! Do you think that the scandal-mongers can add anything to what
- they have already said regarding us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I place no limits on the imagination of the scandal-monger, sir, but I
- desire to assign a limit to my own indiscretions, which, I fear, have set
- tongues wagging—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pooh! my dear madam, cannot you see that tongues will wag all the faster
- if I appear at the Gardens with some one else?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say, with your wife. Surely you are not afraid of the tongue of slander
- if you appear by the side of your wife, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T is for you I fear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! you fancy that people will slander me if you appear at Vauxhall
- with your lawful wedded wife?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Even so, for they will say that you were not strong enough to keep me
- faithful to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Abington sprang to her feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The wretches!” she cried. “I will show them that———psha!
- let them say their worst. What care I what they say? I'll go or stay away,
- as the fancy seizes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may take your choice, my dear madam,” said Lewis: “Whether you would
- rather be slandered for coming with me or for staying at home!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The terms are not the same in both cases,” said she; “for if I go with
- you I know that I shall have an excellent supper.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So you 'll come! Ah, I knew that you would not forsake me!” he cried,
- catching her hand and kissing it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You foolish man! You take credit to yourself for a decision that is due
- to the prospect of a supper!” said Mrs. Abington.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, I know what I know, my dear,” cried he. “And so I will take my leave
- at once, lest you should change your mind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I protest, sir,” said she, as he kissed her hand again. “I protest that
- 't was the thought of the supper decided me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He roared with laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- So did she when he had left her house.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What fools these men are!” she cried, throwing herself back on her couch
- with a very capacious yawn. “What fools! The idea of a poor woman being
- influenced by the thought of minced chicken in a decision that involves
- being by their side seems preposterous to them! Oh, if they but knew all
- that such a woman as I am could tell them!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She laughed softly—subtly—as certain recollections came to
- her, for Mrs. Abington was a lady of many recollections.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a space, she resumed her study of the part of Miss Hardcastle, for
- which she had been cast by Colman in Dr. Goldsmith's new comedy, but
- which, the following week, to her everlasting regret, she relinquished in
- favor of Mrs. Bulkley.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lee Lewis, who was studying the part of Young Marlow, had accompanied her
- home after rehearsal. He had, during the previous month, shown himself to
- be extremely polite in regard to her, for he had walked home with her
- several times, and more than once he had been seen by her side at Ranelagh
- and Vauxhall, as well as at the Pantheon in the Oxford Road. People about
- the theater were saying that the beautiful Mrs. Abington had added to the
- number of her conquests, and Miss Catley, the most imprudent of all the
- imprudent ladies in Colman's company, said some very spiteful things
- regarding her. (It was understood that Miss Catley had angled for Lee
- Lewis herself, but without success.)
- </p>
- <p>
- Before Mrs. Abington had been alone for half an hour, her maid entered to
- tell her that a lady was inquiring for her at the hall door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Another of our stage-struck misses, Lucette?” said the actress, alluding
- to the three visits which she had had during the week from young women who
- were desirous of obtaining a footing on the stage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, madam, this lady seems somewhat different,” replied the maid.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then let her be shown in at once, whoever she may be,” said Mrs.
- Abington. “There can surely be no scandal in receiving a lady visitor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She gave a glance at a mirror, and saw that her hair was in a proper
- condition for a visitor who was a lady. She knew that it did not matter so
- much when her visitors were of the other sex; and a moment afterwards
- there entered a graceful little woman, whom she could not recollect having
- ever seen before. She walked quickly to the centre of the room, and stood
- there, gazing with soft grey eyes at the actress, who had risen from her
- sofa, and was scrutinising her visitor.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a pause before Mrs. Abington, with a smile—the smile she
- reserved for women—quite different from that with which she was
- accustomed to greet men—said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray seat yourself, madam; and let me know to what I am indebted for the
- honour of this visit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the lady made no move; she remained there, gazing at the actress
- without a word.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Abington gave a laugh, saying, as she returned to her sofa:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not let me hurry you, my dear lady; but I must ask your pardon if I
- seat myself.” Then the stranger spoke. “You are Mrs. Abington. I wish I
- had not come to you. Now that I find myself face to face with you, I
- perceive that I have no chance. You are overwhelmingly beautiful.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you come here only to tell me that? Faith, you might have saved
- yourself the trouble, my dear. I have known just how beautiful I am for
- the past twenty years,” laughed the actress.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not come here to tell you that,” said the visitor; “on the
- contrary, I meant to call you an ugly harridan—a vile witch, who
- glories in seeing the ruin of good men; but now—well, now, I am
- dumb. I perceive you are so beautiful, it is only natural that all men—my
- husband among the number—should worship you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are so flattering, my dear madam, I can without difficulty perceive
- that you have not lived long in the world of fashion—ay, or in the
- world of play-houses,” said the actress.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am Mrs. Lewis, madam,” said the lady, and then dropping into a chair
- she burst into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Abington went beside the unhappy woman, and patted her on the
- shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear child,” she said, “the thought that you are Mr. Lewis's wife should
- not cause you to shed a tear. You should be glad rather than sorry that
- you are married to a gentleman who is so highly esteemed. Your husband,
- Mrs. Lewis, is a great friend of mine, and I hope that his wife may become
- even a greater.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah—ah!” moaned the lady. “A friend? a friend? Oh, give me back my
- husband, woman—give me back my husband, whom you stole from me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had sprung to her feet as she spoke her passionate words, and now
- stood with quivering, clenched hands in front of the actress.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My good woman,” said Mrs. Abington, “you have need to calm yourself. I
- can assure you that I have not your husband in my keeping. Would you like
- to search the room? Look under the sofa—into all the cupboards.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that he left here half an hour ago—I watched him,” said Mrs.
- Lewis. “You watched him? Oh, fie!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may make a mock of me, if you please; I expected that you would; but
- he is my husband, and I love him—I believe that he loved me until
- your witchery came over him and—oh, I am a most unhappy woman! But
- you will give him back to me; you have many admirers, madam; one poor man
- is nothing here or there to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me, my poor child.” Mrs. Abington had led her to the sofa, and
- sat down beside her, still holding her hand. “You have spoken some very
- foolish words since you came into this room. From whom have you heard that
- your husband was—well, was ensnared by me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From whom? Why, every one knows it!” cried Mrs. Lewis. “And besides, I
- got a letter that told me—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A letter from whom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From—I suppose she was a lady; at any rate she said that she
- sympathised with me, and I'm certain that she did.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, the letter was not signed by her real name, and yet you believed the
- slanders that you knew came from a jealous woman? Oh, Mrs. Lewis, I'm
- ashamed of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, I did not need to receive any letter; my husband's neglect of me
- made me aware of the truth—it is the truth, whether you deny it or
- not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are a silly goose, and I have half a mind to take your husband from
- you, as mothers deprive their children of a toy when they injure it. You
- do n't know how to treat a husband, madam, and you do n't deserve to have
- one. Think how many girls, prettier and cleverer than you, are obliged to
- go without husbands all their lives, poor things!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is enough for me to think of those women who are never satisfied
- unless they have other women's husbands in their train, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look you, my dear ill-treated creature, I do assure you that I have no
- designs upon your husband. I do not care if I never see him again except
- on the stage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that the truth? Ah, no, everybody says that Mrs. Abington is only
- happy when—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then leave Mrs. Abington's room if you believe the statements of that
- vague everybody.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The actress had risen, and was pointing in fine tragic style to the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Lewis rose also, but slowly; her eyes fell beneath the flashing eyes
- of Mrs. Abington. Suddenly she raised her head, and put out a trembling
- hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will not believe what I have heard,” she said. “And yet—yet—you
- are so very beautiful.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That you think it impossible I should have any good in me?” laughed the
- actress. “Well, I do believe that I have some good in me—not much,
- perhaps, but enough to make me wish to do you a friendly turn in spite of
- your impudence. Listen to me, you little goose. Why have you allowed your
- husband to neglect you, and to come here asking me to sup with him at
- Vauxhall?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, then, 't is true!” cried the wife. “You have gone with him—you
- are going with him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Tis true that I went with him, and that he left me just now believing
- that I would accompany him to the Gardens on Monday next. Well, what I
- want you to explain is how you have neglected your duty toward your
- husband so that he should stray into such evil ways as supping with
- actresses at Vauxhall.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! would you make out that his neglect of his duty is my fault?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great heavens, child, whose fault is it, if it is not yours? That is what
- I say, you do n't deserve to have a toy if you let some strange child
- snatch it away from you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I protest, Mrs. Abington, that I scarce take your meaning. I have nothing
- to reproach myself with. I have ever been the best of wives. I have never
- gone gadding about to balls and routs as some wives do; I have remained at
- home with my baby.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Exactly, and so your poor husband has been forced to ask certain
- actresses to bear him company at those innocent pleasures, which he, in
- common with most gentlemen of distinction, enjoy. Ah, 't is you domestic
- wives that will have to answer for your husbands' backslidings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it possible that—why, madam, you bewilder me. You think that I
- should—I do n't know what you think—oh, I'm quite bewildered!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, child, have you not seen enough of the world to learn that a woman
- is most attractive to a man when he perceives that she is admired by other
- men? Have you not seen that a man seeks to marry a particular woman, not
- because he cares so greatly for her himself, but because he believes that
- other men care greatly for her? Your good husband is, I doubt not, fond
- enough of you; but when he perceives that you think much more of your baby
- than you do of him—when he perceives that the men whom he considered
- his rivals before he carried you <i>off</i> from them, no longer follow in
- your train, is he to be blamed if he finds you a trifle insipid? Ah, let
- me tell you, my sweet young wife, a husband is a horse that requires the
- touch of a spur now and again. A jog-trot is not what suits a spirited
- creature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heavens, madam! You mean that he—my husband—would be true to
- me if I only I—I—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If only you were not too anxious that he should keep pace with the
- jog-trot into which you have fallen, my dear. Do you not fancy that I know
- he wishes me to sup with him only because he is well aware that a dozen
- men will be longing to mince him when they see him mincing my chicken for
- me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I would go with him to the Gardens if he would ask me, only—ah,
- no one would want to mince him on my account.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You silly one! Cannot you see that you must place him in the position of
- wanting to mince the other man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How? I protest that I am bewildered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear child, go to the Gardens, not with your husband, but with another
- man, and you will soon see him return to you with all the ardour of a
- lover with a rival in view. Jealousy is the spur which a husband needs to
- recall him to a sense of his duty, now and again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will never consent to adopt such a course, madam. In the first place, I
- cannot force myself upon any gentleman of my acquaintance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then the sooner you find one on whom you can force yourself, the better
- chance you will have of bringing your husband to your side.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the second place, I respect my husband too highly—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Too highly to win him back to you, though not too highly to come to me
- with a story of the wrongs he has done to you? Oh, go away now; you do n't
- deserve your toy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Lewis did not respond to the laughter of the actress. She remained
- standing in the centre of the room with her head down. Fresh tears were
- welling up to her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have given you my advice—and it is the advice of one who knows a
- good deal of men and their manners,” resumed Mrs. Abington. “If you cannot
- see your way to follow it there is nothing more to be said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I may be foolish; but I cannot bring myself to go alone with any man to
- the Gardens,” said her visitor in a low tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then good-bye to you!” cried the actress, with a wave of her hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little lady went slowly to the door; when there she cast an appealing
- glance at Mrs. Abington; but the latter had picked up her copy of the new
- comedy, and was apparently studying the contents. With a sigh Mrs. Lewis
- opened the door and went out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Foolish child! She will have to buy her experience of men, as her sisters
- buy theirs,” cried Mrs. Abington, throwing away the book.
- </p>
- <p>
- She rose from her seat and yawned, stretching out her arms. As she
- recovered herself, her eyes rested on a charcoal sketch of herself in the
- character Sir Harry Wildair, in “The Constant Couple,” done by Sir Joshua
- Reynolds' pupil, Northcote. She gave a little start, then ran to the door,
- and called out to Mrs. Lewis, who had not had time to get to the foot of
- the stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come back for one moment, madam,” cried Mrs. Abington over the banisters,
- and when Mrs. Lewis returned, she said: “I called you back to tell you to
- be ready dressed for the Gardens on Monday night. I will accompany you
- thither in my coach.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean that you will—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go away now, like a good child. Ask no more questions till Monday night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She went away, and on the Monday night she was dressed to go to Vauxhall,
- when the room in which she was waiting was entered by an extremely
- handsome and splendidly dressed young gentleman, who had all the swagger
- of one of the beaux of the period, as he advanced to her smirking.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I protest, sir,” cried Mrs. Lewis, starting up; “you have made a mistake.
- I have not the honour of your acquaintance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Fore Gad, my charmer, you assume the airs of an innocent miss with
- amazing ability,” smirked her visitor. “My name, madam, is Wildair, at
- your service, and I would fain hope that you will accept my poor escort to
- the Gardens.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A puzzled look was on Mrs. Lewis's face as the gallant began to speak, but
- gradually this expression disappeared. She clapped her hands together
- girlishly, and then threw herself back on a chair, roaring with laughter.
- </p>
- <h3>
- II.
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>
- he next day at the playhouse Mrs. Abington met Lee Lewis with a
- reproachful look. She had written to him on the Saturday, expressing her
- regret that she could not go with him to the Gardens, but assuring him
- that she would be there, and charging him to look for her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought you would believe it worth your while to keep an eye open for
- me last night, sir,” she now said. “But I dare say you found some metal
- more attractive elsewhere.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By heavens! I waited for you for an hour on the lantern walk, but you did
- not appear,” cried Lewis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “An hour? only an hour?” said the lady. “And pray how did you pass the
- rest of the time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A strange thing happened,” said Lewis, after a pause. “I was amazed to
- see my wife there—or one whom I took to be my wife.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sir, these mistakes are of common occurrence,” laughed Mrs. Abington.
- “Was she, like her husband, alone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, that's the worst of it; she was by the side of a handsome young
- fellow in a pink coat embroidered with silver.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Mrs. Lewis would seem to have borrowed a leaf from her husband's
- book; that is, if it was Mrs. Lewis. Have you asked her if she was at the
- Gardens?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How could I ask her that when I had told her that I was going to the
- playhouse? I was struck with amazement when I saw her in the distance with
- that man—did I mention that he was a particularly good-looking
- rascal?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You did; but why you should have been amazed I am at a loss to know. Mrs.
- Lewis is a very charming lady, I know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have seen her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was pointed out to me last night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heavens! then it was she whom I saw in the Gardens? I would not have
- believed it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, are you so unreasonable as to think that 't is a wife's duty to
- remain at home while her husband amuses himself at Vauxhall?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, but my wife—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is a vastly pretty young creature, sir, whom a hundred men as exacting as
- her husband, would think it a pleasure to attend at the Gardens or the
- Pantheon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is, beyond doubt a sweet young creature; but Lord, madam, she is so
- bound up in her baby that she can give no thought to her husband; and as
- for other men—did you see the youth who was beside her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure I did. He was devoted to her—and so good looking! I give
- you my word, sir, I never saw anyone with whose looks I was better
- pleased.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Zounds, madam, if I had got near him I would have spoilt his good looks,
- I promise you. Good Lord! to think that my wife—I tried to get close
- to her, but the pair seemed to vanish mysteriously.” “You would have been
- better employed looking for me. But we will arrange for another evening,
- you and I, Mr. Lewis.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, we will—we will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was not much heartiness in the way Mr. Lewis assented; and when the
- lady tried to get him to fix upon an evening, he excused himself in a
- feeble way.
- </p>
- <p>
- The day following he walked with her to her house after rehearsal, but he
- did not think it necessary to make use of any of those phrases of
- gallantry in which he had previously indulged. He talked a good deal of
- his wife and her attractions. He had bought her a new gown, he said, and,
- beyond a doubt, it would be difficult to find a match for her in grace and
- sweetness. He declined Mrs. Abington's invitation to enter the house. He
- had to hurry home, he said, having promised to take his wife by water to
- Greenwich Park.
- </p>
- <p>
- The actress burst into a merry laugh as she stood before the drawing of
- Sir Harry Wildair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All men are alike,” she cried. “And all women, too, for that matter.
- Psha, there are only two people in the world; the name of one is Adam, the
- name of the other is Eve.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In the course of the afternoon a letter was brought to her. It was from
- Mrs. Lewis, and it stated that the writer was so much overcome with the
- recent kindness and attention which her husband had been showing her, she
- had resolved to confess that she had played a trick upon him, and begged
- Mrs. Abington's leave to do so.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Abington immediately sat down and wrote a line to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do n't be a little fool,” she wrote. “Are you so anxious to undo all that
- we have done between us? If you pursue that course, I swear to you that he
- will be at my feet the next day. No, dear child, leave me to tell him all
- that there is to be told.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Two days afterwards Lee Lewis said to her:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if 't is true that my wife has an admirer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should it not be true, sir? Everything that is admirable has an
- admirer,” said Mrs. Abington.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is not quite the same as she used to be,” said he. “I half suspect
- that she has something on her mind. Can it be possible that—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Psha, sir, why not put her to the test?” cried Mrs. Abington.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The test? How?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, sir, give her a chance of going again to the Gardens. Tell her that
- you are going to the playhouse on Thursday night, and then do as you did
- before, only keep a better look-out for her, and—well you must
- promise me that if you find her with that handsome young spark you will
- not run him through the body.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem to take a great interest in this same young spark,” said Lewis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so I do, sir! Lord, sir, are you jealous of me as well as your wife?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jealous? By my soul, madam, I desire nothing more heartily than to hear
- of your taking him from my wife.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then carry out my plan, and perhaps I shall be able to oblige you. Put
- her to the test on Thursday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will be there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will be there, I promise you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I agree.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You promise further not to run him through the body?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I promise. Yes, you will have more than a corpse to console you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked off looking somewhat glum, and in another half hour she had sent
- a letter to his wife asking her to be dressed for Vauxhall on Thursday
- night.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Gardens were flooded with light—except in certain occasional
- nooks—and with music everywhere. (It is scarcely necessary to say
- that the few dimly-lighted nooks were the most popular in the Gardens.)
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- As Mrs. Lewis, accompanied by her dashing escort, descended from the coach
- and walked up the long avenue toward the tea-house, many eyes were
- focussed upon her, for all the town seemed to be at Vauxhall that night.
- But only the quick eyes of Mrs. Abington perceived the face of Lee Lewis
- at the outskirts of the crowd. Mrs. Abington smiled; she knew perfectly
- well that her disguise was so complete as to remain impenetrable, even to
- her most familiar friends, and she had a voice to suit the costume of the
- beau, so that, upon previous occasions, she had, when in a similar dress,
- escaped all recognition, even at one of the balls at the little playhouse
- in the Haymarket.
- </p>
- <p>
- She now swaggered through the crowds, rallying, after the most approved
- style of the modish young spark, her somewhat timid companion, and
- pointing out to her the various celebrities who were strolling about under
- the coloured lamps. She pointed out the lively little lady, who was
- clearly delighted at being the centre of a circle of admirers, as Mrs.
- Thrale, the wife of the great brewer. Around her were General Paoli, the
- Corsican refugee; the great Dr. Samuel Johnson; Dr. Burney, the musician;
- and Richard Burke, just home from Grenada.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some distance further on stood Oliver Goldsmith, the author of the new
- comedy, in which Lee Lewis was cast for the part of Young Marlow, and Mrs.
- Abington for the part of Miss Hardcastle. Dr. Goldsmith wore a peach-bloom
- velvet coat and a waistcoat covered with silver. He was making the
- beautiful Miss Horneck and her sister, Mrs. Bunbury, laugh heartily at
- some of his witty sayings, which were too subtle to be understood by such
- people as James Boswell and Miss Reynolds, but which were thoroughly
- relished by the two girls who loved him so well. In another part of the
- grounds, Sir Joshua Reynolds walked with his friend David Garrick; and
- when she caught sight of the latter, Mrs. Abington hurried her companion
- down a side walk, saying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “David Garrick is the only one in the Gardens whom I fear; he would see
- through my disguise in a moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My husband is not here, after all, for I have been looking for him,” said
- Mrs. Lewis. “You see he does not always speak an untruth when he tells me
- he is going to the playhouse on the nights he is not acting.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing could be clearer, my dear,” said her companion. “Oh, yes, men do
- speak the truth—yes, sometimes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Lewis was anxious to return to her home as soon as she had walked
- once through the Gardens, but Mrs. Abington declared that to go away
- without having supper would make her so ashamed of her impersonation of
- the reckless young gallant, she would never again be able to face an
- audience in the playhouse; so supper they had together in one of the
- raised boxes, Mrs. Abington swearing at the waiters in the truest style of
- the man of fashion.
- </p>
- <p>
- And all the time they were at supper she could see Lee Lewis furtively
- watching them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another hour the actress and her companion remained in the Gardens, and
- when at last they returned to the hackney coach, the former did not fail
- to see that Lewis was still watching them and following them, though his
- wife, all the time the coach was being driven homeward, chattered about
- her husband's fidelity. “He will most likely be at home when I arrive,”
- she said; “and in that case I will tell him all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For fear of any mistake I will enter the house with you,” said Mrs.
- Abington. “I have heard before now of husbands casting doubt upon even the
- most plausible stories their wives invented to account for their absence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My husband will believe me,” said Mrs. Lewis coldly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall take very good care that he does,” said her companion.
- </p>
- <p>
- When they reached the house, they learnt that Mr. Lewis had not yet come
- back, and so Mrs. Abington went upstairs and seated herself by the side of
- her friend in her parlour.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not many minutes had passed before her quick ears became aware of the
- opening of the hall-door, and of the stealthy steps of a man upon the
- stairs. The steps paused outside the room door, and then putting on her
- masculine voice, the actress suddenly cried:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my beloved creature! why will you remain with a husband who cannot
- love you as I swear I do? Why not fly with me to happiness?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Lewis gave a laugh, while her cheek was being kissed—very
- audibly kissed—by her companion.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next moment the door was flung open so suddenly that Mrs. Lewis was
- startled, and gave a cry; but before her husband had time to take a step
- into the room, Mrs. Abington had blown out the lamp, leaving the room in
- complete darkness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stand where you are,” cried the actress, in her assumed voice; “Stand, or
- by the Lord Harry, I'll run you through the vitals!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The sound of the whisking of her sword from its sheath followed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who are you, fellow, and what do you want here?” she continued.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The rascal's impudence confounds me,” said Lewis. “Infamous scoundrel! I
- have had my eye on you all night; I am the husband of the lady whom you
- lured from her home to be your companion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, then you are Mr. Lee Lewis, the actor,” said Mrs. Abington. “Pray,
- how does it come, sir, that you were at Vauxhall when you assured your
- poor wife that you were going to the playhouse?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! the rascal has the audacity—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Husband—husband—a moment will explain all!” cried Mrs. Lewis,
- across the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence, woman!” shouted the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She had better remain silent,” said the actress. “Look you, sir, how
- often have you not deceived that poor young thing, whose only fault is
- loving you too well? What, sir, have you the effrontery to accuse her?
- Does your own conscience acquit you of every attempt to deceive her, that
- you can throw a stone at her? You blame her for going with me to the
- Gardens—can you say that you have never made an appointment with a
- lady to meet you at the same Gardens? What truth is there in the report
- which is in everyone's mouth, that you are in the train of Mrs. Abington's
- admirers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Tis false, sir! I love my wife—alas, I should say that I love her
- better than a score of Mrs. Abingtons,” cried Lewis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, husband, dear husband,” began his wife, when Mrs. Abington
- interrupted her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hush, child,” she cried. “Let me ask him if he never implored that woman,
- Abington, to accompany him to Vauxhall while he told you he was going to
- the playhouse? Let me ask him how often he has whiled away the hours in
- Mrs. Abington's house, assuring his wife that he was detained at the
- play-house. He is silent, you perceive. That means that he has still a
- remnant of what once was a conscience. Mr. Lewis, were it light enough to
- see you, I am sure that we should find that you were hanging your head.
- What! are you surprised that any one should admire the wife whom you
- neglected? You are enraged because you saw me by her side at the Gardens.
- You have played the spy on us, sir, and in doing so you have played the
- fool, and you will acknowledge it and ask your wife's pardon and mine
- before five minutes have passed. Call for a light, sir; we do not expect
- you to apologise in the dark.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The fellow's impudence astounds me,” muttered Lewis. He then threw open
- the door and shouted down the stairs for a light.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Lewis, while the light was being brought, made another attempt to
- explain matters, but Mrs. Abington commanded her to be silent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everything will be explained when the light comes,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the man, grimly, “for men cannot cross swords in the dark.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There will be no crossing swords here,” said Mrs. Abington.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Coward—Scoundrel! Now we shall see what you are made of,” said the
- man, as a servant appeared on the landing with a lighted lamp.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; that's just what you will see,” said Mrs. Abington in her natural
- voice, as the light flooded the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great powers!” whispered Lewis, as he found himself confronted by the
- fascinating face that he knew so well.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Abington had thrown off her wig in the darkness, and now her own hair
- was flowing over her shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great powers! Mrs. Abington!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Mr. Lewis, Mrs. Abington, who only waits to hear a very foolish
- fellow confess that he has been a fool in letting a thought of any other
- woman come into his mind, when he is the husband of so charming a lady as
- took supper with me to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lee Lewis bowed his head, and, kneeling before his wife, pressed her hand
- to his lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE CAPTURE OF THE DUKE
- </h2>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s all hearts are
- captivated by the most charming Mistress Barry, so it is my hope that all
- souls will be captivated by her picture,” cried Sir Godfrey, bowing low
- between his palette which he held in one hand and his sheaf of brushes
- which he held in the other. His pronunciation of the word charming—he
- said “sharmink”—had a suggestion of his native Lübeck about it; but
- his courtliness was beyond suspicion. None of his distinguished sitters
- could complain of his having failed to represent them on his canvases with
- dignity and refinement, whatever their candid friends might think of the
- accuracy of the portraitures.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I only ask to be painted as I am, Sir Godfrey,” said Mrs. Barry, when she
- had risen after her courtesy in acknowledgment of Sir Godfrey's gallant
- compliment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As you are, madam? Ah, your ladyship is the most exacting of my sitters.
- As you are? Ah, my dear lady, you must modify your conditions; my art has
- its limitations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your art, but not your arts, sir. I protest that I am overwhelmed by the
- latter, as I am lost in admiration of the former,” said the actress,
- adopting a pose which she knew the painter would appreciate. “Alas, Sir
- Godfrey,” she added, “you do not well to talk to an actress of the
- limitations of art. What a paltry aim has our art compared with yours! I
- have had cravings after immortality—that is why I am here to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T is surely, then, the future of the painter that you have had at heart,
- my dear madam; you come with immortality shining in your face.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, sir; Sir Godfrey Kneller will live forevermore in his long line of
- legitimate monarchs—ay, and others, perhaps not quite—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For God's sake, Mistress Barry! These are dangerous days; pray remember
- that I am the queen's limner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Godfrey Kneller spoke in a whisper, touching her arm with the handles
- of his brushes as he glanced apprehensively around the painting-room of
- his house in Great Queen Street.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Barry looked at him with a reckless gaiety in her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, have I said anything treasonable, anything to compromise the Court
- painter?” she cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Walls have ears, my dear,” whispered the painter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what matters that, so long as they have not tongues?” laughed the
- lady. “Ah, my dear Sir Godfrey, you do your art an injustice to fancy that
- any one could utter a word of treason in this room surrounded by so many
- living faces.” She pointed to the easels on which were hung several
- portraits approaching completion. “They are all living, my friend. I vow
- that when I entered here just now I felt inclined to sink in a courtesy
- before Her Grace of Marlborough.” She indicated the portrait of the
- duchess which Sir Godfrey had all but finished—one of the finest of
- all his works.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Godfrey smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, who, indeed, could talk treason in the presence of Her Grace?” he
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “None, save His Grace, I suppose,” said the actress. “And now I am ready
- to sit to you—unless you have any further courtly compliments to
- pass on me. Only, by my faith, I do not choose to place myself nigh to Her
- Grace. Those eyes of hers make me feel uneasy. Prithee, Sir Godfrey,
- permit me to turn my back upon the duchess; the act will, I protest, give
- me a feeling of pride which will speedily betray itself on my face. People
- will say, 'Only an actress, yet she turned her back upon a duchess'—ay,
- and such a duchess! They say their Graces have lost nothing by their
- adherence to the Queen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Barry had now posed herself, flinging back her hair from her
- forehead, so that her broad, massive brow was fully shown, and the painter
- had begun to work upon her picture.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, people say that? And what reason have they for saying it, I wonder?”
- remarked Sir Godfrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The best of reasons, my good friend. They say that their Graces have lost
- nothing by standing by the Queen, because if they ran a chance of losing
- anything they would quickly stand by the King—His Majesty over the
- water.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Godfrey laughed. “I vow, Mistress Barry, that your gossips have failed
- to interpret as I would the expression upon the face of Her Grace of
- Marlborough,” said he. “Great heaven, madam, cannot one perceive a
- pensiveness upon that face of hers?—nay, prithee, do not turn your
- head to look for the expression. I want not to lose your expression while
- you are endeavoring to catch that of Her Grace.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Sad Sarah! And you mean to reproduce the sadness, Sir Godfrey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not sadness—only pensiveness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The one is the same as t' other. Then you will cause posterity to affirm
- that Sarah was sad to find that she had not become so rich in adhering to
- the Queen as she might have if she had sent her pensive glances across to
- France?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then posterity will do her wrong. Her Grace is truly attached to the
- Queen—so truly attached that she becomes melancholic at the thought
- of not being completely trusted by Her Majesty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Godfrey's voice had sunk to a whisper as he made this revelation; and
- when he had spoken he glanced once more round the room as if to assure
- himself that he had no listeners beside Mrs. Barry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the Queen does not trust her?” cried the actress. “Ah, well, I
- suppose 't is impossible even for a Queen to be for so many years in her
- company without understanding her. Ah, the poor Duke! Prithee continue
- your story, Sir Godfrey. I perceive that you would fain lead one up to the
- scandalous part.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Scandalous part, madam? Nay, if you discern not a deep pathos in the sad
- look of Her Grace, the Duchess, after the key which I have given you to
- her expression, no rehearsal of scandal would awake your interest in the
- subject of yonder portrait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, sir, if you refuse to tell me further, you will have to bear with
- the mockery of posterity for depicting me with a melancholic visage, as
- well as your Duchess. Pray tell me the scandal, or I vow I shall have a
- fit of the vapours all the time you are painting my portrait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear lady, there is no scandal to rehearse, I pledge you my word,”
- said the painter. “'T is only said that Her Majesty—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is blest by heaven with excellent eyesight? Well, yes; I dare swear that
- your Duchess is strongly of that opinion—that is what adds to her
- melancholy. But I vow 't is most scandalous that there's no scandal. We
- must try and repair this, you and I, Sir Godfrey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, does the woman fancy that all lives should be regulated on the
- lines set down by the poets who write for your playhouses?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why not? If our poets will not be true to nature, is it not our duty
- to try to make nature true to the poets?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, madam, that were to put an outrage upon nature, if I grasp your
- meaning aright.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, sir, 'tis no great outrage. If our writers treat of the humours of
- an intrigue in high places, and if we find, on climbing to these high
- places, that no scandal is to be found there but only humdrum existence,
- is it not our duty to foster a scandal for the justification of our
- writers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Mille tonnerres!</i> Have I been cherishing a fiery flying serpent all
- this time? Have I been playing with a firebrand? Why, 't is in the aspect
- of Medusa I should be painting you, Mistress Barry; you should have
- ringletted snakes entwined among your hair. I' faith, madam, that is a
- pretty theory to propound in an honest man's house. We must become
- scandalous in order to save a playhouse poet from being accounted untrue
- to life?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why not? Ah, Sir Godfrey, I greatly fear that you have no true
- feeling for art.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The actress spoke sadly and shook her head with such exquisite simulation
- of melancholy as caused the painter to lay down his palette and roar with
- laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have a true feeling for art, beyond doubt, my Barry,” he cried. “You
- have no room to reproach yourself, I dare swear. You have all the men in
- town at your feet, and all their wives ready to scratch out your eyes—and
- all for the advancement of art, you say. You are ready to jeopardise your
- own reputation in order to save that of your poets! Ah, what a kind heart
- hath the Barry!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, Sir Godfrey, if I did not make a wife or two jealous, how could I
- know what a jealous woman looks like, and if I did not know what a jealous
- woman looks like, how could I act the part of a jealous woman in the
- playhouse?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, how indeed? The play-goers worship you if their wives long for those
- ringlets that ensnare their husbands in their meshes. What is a
- wedding-ring against a wanton ringlet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T is my duty as an actress that compels me to seek for examples of the
- strongest emotions, Sir Godfrey—you perceive that that is so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, beyond doubt—beyond doubt, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That rejoices me. And now touching this Duchess of Marlborough—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will have to seek your examples of strong emotion outside my house,
- my friend. Do you fancy that Her Grace—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is a woman? Nay, she is a very woman, so far as my poor observation,
- supplemented by a small trifle of experience, is permitted to judge. Think
- you that her sadness of visage is due to mortification that her spouse is
- still faithful to her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely such a reflection should call for an expression of satisfaction,
- my fair observer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, Sir Godfrey; that were to take a view of the matter in no wise deep.
- Would you not have Her Grace to think as other women less formidable
- think, in this wise: 'what fate is mine to be wed to a man whom no woman
- thinks worth the tempting'?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Zounds, my Barry, that were the strangest way recorded to account for a
- wife's sadness. How know you that His Grace has not been tempted?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I make no such charge against him, Sir Godfrey; I think not such evil of
- him as that he hath not been tempted. I make but a humble attempt to think
- as Her Grace may think when she has her moods.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That were a presumption for such as you, madam. What! you an actress, and
- she a duchess, and yet you would venture—”
- </p>
- <p>
- The laugh which illuminated the face of Sir Godfrey had scarcely passed
- away before his servant entered the painting room in haste, announcing
- that the coach of the Duchess of Marlborough was at the door, and that Her
- Grace was in the act of dismounting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That means that my sitting is at an end,” said Mrs. Barry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I must e'en hustle you out of the room, my dear,” said the painter.
- “Her Grace is not the most patient of dames when it comes to waiting on a
- painter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Or on a painter's sitter, particularly when that sitter is only an
- actress. Ah, Sir Godfrey, you might permit me to remain in secret that I
- may know how a Duchess conducts herself upon occasions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tut—tut! Would you play a comedy in my house, you baggage?” cried
- the painter, pushing her playfully to the door. “Fly—fly—before
- it is too late.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Sir Godfrey, you are indeed unkind. Prithee how may I hope to enact
- the part of a duchess in the playhouse if I am not permitted to witness
- one in the life?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Off—off—I say! You will have to trust to your own instinct,
- which I take to be a faithful enough guide in your case, my dear Barry.
- And so farewell to you.” Still protesting, and very prettily pouting, the
- actress suffered herself to be gently forced from the room into the
- square, inner hall, which was lighted by a dome of coloured glass. Sir
- Godfrey, kissing the tip of one of his fingers, bowed her an adieu, but
- without speaking, as he held up the tapestry <i>portière</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0278.jpg" alt="0278 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0278.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Mrs. Barry replied with a modified courtesy, and turned as if to make her
- way to the outer hall; but the moment Sir Godfrey let fall the tapestry,
- she returned on tiptoe, and moving it an inch to one side, peered through
- into the studio. She saw the painter hurrying from the large apartment
- into the small retiring-room at the farther end, and the moment that he
- disappeared she was back like a flash into the studio and in hiding behind
- a full-length canvas that leant against an easel in a dark corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- Five seconds were sufficient to carry out the plan which she had conceived
- on the impulse of the moment. Had it occupied seven she would have been
- discovered, for Sir Godfrey had merely entered his wardrobe to throw off
- one coat and put on another. He returned to the studio, and immediately
- rang his bell. When the servant entered, he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “When Her Grace is ready, lead her hither.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The servant bowed and left the studio, while Sir Godfrey arranged the
- chair on the dais for his new sitter, and placed the half-finished
- portrait of the Duchess on his easel. He had scarcely done so before the
- rings of the <i>portière</i> were rattling, and the Duchess of Marlborough
- entered, attired for the sitting. How she looked on that day, the painter
- has by his art enabled all succeeding generations to learn. Sir Godfrey
- Kneller's portrait of the Duchess is, perhaps, his most characteristic
- work. If the distinction which it possesses in every feature was scarcely
- shared by the original in the same degree, there was still sufficient
- character in the face of the great lady to make it profoundly interesting,
- especially to so close an observer as Sir Godfrey Kneller.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my dear Kneller,” cried Her Grace, as the painter advanced to greet
- her with bowed head, “I am even before my appointed hour to-day. That
- glance of sad reproach which you cast at your timepiece when I last came
- hither—though only half an hour late, I swear—had its effect
- upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Her Grace of Marlborough is one of those rare ones for whom it might
- reasonably be expected that the sun would stand still,” said the painter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As it did once at the command of the Hebrew general? Ah, my Kneller, what
- a pity it is that a certain great General of the moderns cannot make his
- commands respected in the same direction.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His Grace has no need to supplement his own generalship by—by—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the aid of heaven, you would say? By the Lord, Sir Godfrey, 't is
- rather the aid of the opposite power our generalissimo would invoke, if
- taken at a disadvantage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would be impossible to conceive an incident so remarkable as His Grace
- taken at a disadvantage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would fain believe you to be right, friend Kneller. Yes, I have not
- once caught him tripping. But that, you may say, is not so much because
- His Grace does not trip, as because his generalship is too subtle for such
- an one as I.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, nay, madam; so ungenteel a thought could never be entertained by one
- who has the privilege of knowing the Duke and of seeing the Duchess.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vastly prettily spoken, Sir Godfrey; and with the air of a courtier, too;
- but, unlike t' other things of the Court, there is truth in your words.
- Look you, Kneller, there's the slut who calls herself Mistress Barry—she
- carries half the town away captive at her chariot-wheels—” she
- pointed to the portrait of Mrs. Barry. “But think you that her
- fascinations would have power to prevail against my lord the Duke? Nay,
- adamant is as snow compared to his demeanour when the wretch is moving all
- hearts within the playhouse. Have not I found him sitting with closed eyes
- while the woman was flaunting it about the stage, and men's swords were
- ready to fly from their scabbards at the throats of them that had got a
- soft look from her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is 't possible?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, sir; 't is more than possible. The insolent hussy has oft cast up her
- eyes at our box in the playhouse, ogling His Grace, if you please. The
- fool little knew that she was ogling a slumbering man. Nay, Sir Godfrey,
- if I were as sure of my ground in other directions as I am of His Grace, I
- were a happy woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She took her place on the dais, and the expression of pensiveness which
- appears on the face of the portrait became intensified. This fact,
- however, did not prevent a dainty little fist from quivering in her
- direction from the side of the full-length picture in the corner. The
- Duchess had her back turned to that particular corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your Grace deserves to be the happiest of women,” said the painter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If only to give so admirable a limner an opportunity of depicting a
- smiling face,” said the Duchess.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, madam, a smile doth not make a picture,” replied Sir Godfrey. “On
- the contrary, it oft destroys one. Your painter of smirking goddesses
- finds his vocation at the Fair of St. Bartolemy. I would fain hope that I
- am not such.” There was a silence, during which Sir Godfrey painted the
- hair upon his canvas with his usual dexterity. Then Her Grace sighed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Know you the best means of bringing back an errant confidence, Sir
- Godfrey?” she asked after another long pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “An errant confidence, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The confidence of one whom I love, and who I think would fain love me
- still, were it not for the tongue of slander.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, your Grace, I am but a painter; no Rubens am I in the skill that
- pertains to an envoy. Still, it occurs to me that the rendering of some
- signal service to the one whose mood your Grace describes should bring you
- to her heart again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Duchess sprang from her chair and began pacing the narrow limits of
- the dais, her hands clenched, and the expression on her face becoming one
- of passion solely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some signal service—some signal service!” she cried. “Man, have I
- not grown aged in her service? Who among those around her hath shown her
- and hers such service as ours has been—my husband's and mine? And
- yet when she hears the rumour of a plot she taunts me that I was not the
- first to warn her. Heavens! Does it rest with me to see the word
- 'conspirator' branded on the flesh of one who may hap to wear a cuirass?
- Is there any skill that will enable mine eyes to perceive in a man's
- bearing an adherent to the family at St. Germains? By the Lord, Sir
- Godfrey Kneller, I may be tried too much. Think you that if we were to
- turn our eyes in the direction of St. Germains there would not be a goodly
- number of persons in this realm who would turn their eyes and their coats
- with us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For God's sake, madam—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, 't is but an abstract proposition, friend Kneller. I have wit enough
- to perceive that the atmosphere of France suiteth best the health of some
- folk. For mine own part, I like best our English air; but if—ah,
- continue your painting, Sir Godfrey, and see that you make mine eyes the
- eyes of one who looks not overseas for succour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her Grace threw herself once more into the chair, and the painter resumed
- his work in silence. He could not but reproduce the pensive expression
- that once more was worn by the face of the Duchess.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the end of half an hour she rose, complaining that she was tired. She
- smiled, giving her hand to Sir Godfrey, as she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know, my good friend, that it is safe to rage in your presence; you are
- discretion itself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your Grace hath never put my discretion to the test,” said the Court
- painter, with a low bow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Duke will mayhap visit you to inspect the portrait, Sir Godfrey,”
- said the Duchess when at the door. “Pray let him know that I await him at
- St. James's.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall not fail, madam,” said the painter. “And I will not ask your
- Grace to sit to me until Friday. I have to be in Richmond on Thursday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He held back the <i>portière</i> for her exit, and then followed her
- through the domed hall to the apartment where her maid awaited her.
- </p>
- <p>
- On his return to the studio he found himself face to face with Mrs. Barry.
- For an instant he stood speechless. Then, with a glance behind him, he
- whispered:
- </p>
- <p>
- “How did you come hither, in the name of heaven?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In a name which you are bound to respect—the name of art,” she
- replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I sought but a lesson, and I have not sought in vain. A duchess! Good
- Lord! These be your duchesses! The manners of a kitchen wench allied to
- the language of a waterman. A duchess!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam—Mistress Barry—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, the poor Duke! How oft have not I heard that His Grace looks forward
- to the hottest campaign with joy? Oh, I can well believe it. And the look
- of pensiveness on Her Grace's face—observe it, most faithful of
- limners.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She stood pointing to the portrait of the Duchess in a stage attitude of
- scorn. Sir Godfrey, as he looked at her, felt that he should like to paint
- her in that attitude for the benefit of posterity. Then she burst into a
- scornful laugh, at which he became more serious than ever. In another
- moment, however, she had introduced a note of merriment into her laughter,
- and in spite of the fact that he had been extremely angry on finding that
- she had been in hiding he could not help joining in her laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The pensive Duchess!” she cried. “Nay, rather, the pensive Duke, my
- friend. Paint him as 'Il Penseroso'—the Duke who had eyes only for
- the graces of Her Grace—who had ears only for her dulcet phrases—who
- snored in the face of the actress who was ogling him from the stage. Grant
- me patience, heaven! If I fail to bring him to my feet in the sight of
- that woman, may I never tread the stage more! I have a scheme, Sir
- Godfrey, which only needs your help to—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My help! <i>Gott in Himmel!</i> You shall not have my help! What! do you
- fancy that you may turn my painting-room into a playhouse stage, and act
- your farces—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His Grace the Duke of Marlborough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The servant had thrown open the door as he made the announcement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Heaven is on my side! I need not your help,” cried the actress, in an
- aside, as she turned to a mirror to still further dishevel her hair.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Duke of Marlborough, entering the studio, found himself confronted by
- a lovely woman visibly fluttered, and apparently anxious to prevent the
- lace upon her shoulders from revealing even so much of her bosom as the
- painter had thought necessary for artistic purposes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ha! Kneller!” cried the Duke, “I find that I am an intruder. How is this,
- sir? Your fellow said that you were alone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is only my friend, Mistress Barry, your Grace, whose portrait has
- become my pastime,” said Sir Godfrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Mistress Barry is of no account,” said the actress, sinking in a
- courtesy. “Ah, your Grace, Sir Godfrey forces me to excuse both his own
- imprudence and my impudence. When I learned that the Duke of Marlborough
- was to come hither I implored him to permit me to remain in order that the
- dream of my poor life might be realised.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The dream of your life, madam?” said the Duke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare say 't is the dream of many lives,” said the lady in a low voice,
- somewhat broken by an emotion she could not repress, even though she took
- one hand away from her lace to still the beating of her heart. “And now
- that I find myself face to face with the one who has saved our country's
- honour in an hundred fights, I protest that I am overcome with the result
- of my boldness. Oh, your Grace, forgive the weakness of a poor weak
- woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said the Duke, “this moment repays me for whatever trifling
- hardship I have undergone in my campaigns. To find that all the charms of
- Mistress Barry on the stage are but feeble compared with those gifts of
- nature with which she had been endowed, were sure an astonishment to one
- who had seen her only when she was the centre of a thousand eyes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, your Grace is determined to overwhelm your friends with your
- compliments as you do your enemies with your culverins. But I vow I am too
- forward. I am presuming to include my poor self among your Grace's
- friends.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then think of a sweeter name, my dear lady, and I shall agree to it
- without demur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Duke was beyond doubt not insensible to the charms of the beautiful
- actress. She had apparently quite forgotten that the drapery about her
- shoulders had fallen away more freely even than was permissible in the
- exigencies of the classical art affected by the eighteenth century
- painters.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Your Grace leaves me without a voice even of protest,” murmured the
- actress, glancing modestly at the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, Mistress Barry has need only to protest against the limitations of
- speech,” said the Duke, facing her and offering her his hand, which, after
- a moment's hesitation, she took with the homage that she would have given
- to the hand of a monarch. Then she dropped it with a half stifled sigh,
- and turned to the door without a word.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wherefore fly?” said the Duke, raising the side of the <i>portière</i>
- while she made a courtesy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T were better so, though I know your Grace cannot understand how flight
- should ever be linked with discretion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At least, let me conduct you to your chair, madam. Nay, I insist.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They had scarcely got beneath the glass dome before she had laid her hand
- upon his arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was determined to see you face to face,” she said in a rapid whisper.
- “I have something of the greatest gravity that is for your ear alone. You
- would step between the Queen and disaster?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have done so before now,” said the Duke. “Heaven may be equally kind to
- me again. Come with me in my coach now; it is already dusk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—no—that would be fatal to both of us,” she whispered. “We
- are surrounded by enemies—spies—purveyors of treason—the
- very life of the Queen is in danger.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak sincerely,” said the Duke. “Come to my house after the play.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible! Your Grace little knows in what quarter the danger lies. I
- lit upon it by accident myself. Let me see. Ah, I have it: Sir Godfrey's
- painting room at a quarter after four on Thursday—this is Tuesday—yes,
- in secret—and in the mean time, not a word to living man or woman—not
- even Her Grace.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not take your seat in my coach; it has curtains.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible! Ah, trust me to know wherein lieth safety and prudence.
- Hasten back. Good Sir Godfrey must not suspect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heavens! You do not say that he is—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is true; but he talks. We need those who are dumb. Not a word in human
- ear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked into her face—eagerly—searchingly. She never winced.
- He pressed her hand and returned to the studio.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was halfway down the street in her chair before she burst into a merry
- laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Her Grace shall have enough of plots to last her for awhile at any rate.
- Our painter goes to Richmond on Thursday; he said so. Oh, Lud—Lud!
- how quick the notion came to me when His Grace appeared. Ah, Mistress
- Barry, thou hast not read in vain all that the poets have writ for the
- playhouse. I can see that they are both wild to show their devotion to Her
- Majesty. They would fain discover plots growing along the hedgerows of St.
- James's Park. They will be as easily trapped as tame pigeons.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What,” cried Mistress Barry on Thursday afternoon, to the servant who
- opened the door for her at Sir Godfrey Kneller's house, “what! gone to
- Richmond? Nay, 't is not possible. I sit to him at four.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My master said it would be five ere he returned from her ladyship's,
- madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Lud, surely he made a mistake; or you have misheard him, sirrah. He
- will be back at four, and I'll e'n wait for him in the painting-room. If
- he have not returned by the half hour I will tarry no longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She walked past the servant—he made no demur—and entered the
- studio. Sauntering about for a few moments, she then went to the door and
- locked it. She hastened to a shelf on which lay some broken chalks. In a
- few moments, standing before the tall mirror, she had completely altered
- her face; she had “made up” her features and complexion as those of an old
- woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then from apparently capacious pockets in the cloak which she wore she
- brought forth a grey wig of many curls, which she put over her own
- chestnut hair; and a servant's apron which completely hid her gown. A few
- adroit touches transformed her into a venerable person of much
- respectability—one whose appearance suggested that of an aged
- retainer in a family where her services were properly valued. She surveyed
- herself in the glass, saying, “Her Grace will, I can swear, recognise the
- good woman whose sense of duty compelled her to address so mighty a lady
- touching the vile conspiracy to which Her Grace is to be made privy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While she was standing back from the glass, laughing as she kissed the
- tips of her fingers to the figure who responded in like fashion, a gentle
- knock sounded on the small side door that led into the arched passage to
- the garden—the door by which the painter's models were admitted to
- the studio without passing through the house. The actress, giving a final
- smooth to her apron, hastened to open the door, but only to the extent of
- an inch or two.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's your business, madam?” she inquired, in the quavering accents of
- age, through the opening.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have come hither for Mrs. Freeman's frock,” was the reply in a low
- voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be ready for you in half an hour, my good woman,” said the
- actress. “Meantime, enter and wait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She admitted a muffled and closely-veiled figure, and, when she had closed
- the door, made an old-fashioned curtesy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are Mrs. Smollett?” said the figure, in a low voice, after glancing
- round the studio.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Elizabeth Smollett, your Grace, is my name,” quavered Mrs. Barry. “Ah,
- madam, you have had the courage to come hither.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Courage?” said the Duchess. “It needed none. If what your letter told me
- be true, it is time that some true friend of the Queen's came hither. Is
- it possible that your master, Sir Godfrey, knoweth naught of the plot?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He knoweth naught, madam. The head and front of the wicked business came
- to him as his <i>valet de chambre</i> with the best recommendations. It
- was only by accident that I discovered the fellow's motives. He was for
- three years at St. Germains.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At St. Germains! The wretch! Mrs. Smollett, your devotion to Her Majesty
- in this matter shall not go unrewarded. I can promise you that. They hope
- to seize the Queen! Merciful heaven! Are they fools enough to fancy that
- that act would further their ends? Ah, shall I now be avenged upon mine
- enemies who whisper to Her Majesty! And you, Smollett—you will bless
- the day you wrote to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not so loud, your Grace,” whispered the actress. “There may be those at
- hand that we know not of. This is where your grace must be in hiding.” She
- led the Duchess up the studio to the curtain that hung across the retiring
- room. “Your Grace will be entirely hid in the recess of the door, and
- unless I am far mistaken you shall hear more than you ever expected. Now,
- madam, for God's sake remain fast hid behind the curtain. I shall return
- to my household duties lest I should be suspected.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will bless this day,” whispered Her Grace from behind the <i>portière</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Barry put her finger to her lips as she noiselessly unlocked the door
- leading to the domed hall and then passed through.
- </p>
- <p>
- She hastily removed all traces of her disguise, placing the wig and apron
- behind a marble pedestal that bore a reproduction of the flying Mercury.
- She paused at the door for some time before returning to the studio, and
- when at last she opened it she did so very cautiously, putting her head
- just beyond the <i>portière</i> at first. Then she closed the door behind
- her and advanced. She did not fail to notice the little movement of the
- curtain at the farther end of the studio. Then she gave a fine sigh and
- threw herself into a chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heigh ho!” she said, in a tone that she meant to be audible in every part
- of the room. “Heigh ho! 't is weary waiting for one's love. But my love—my
- hero—is worthy to be waited for by empresses. Yet, if I had not his
- picture to look upon now I vow I should feel melancholic. Ah, Sir Godfrey.
- He has dealt as harshly with the face of my Duke as he hath dealt gently
- with that ancient harridan, the Duchess.” (She saw the distant <i>portière</i>
- quiver.) “Great heavens!” she continued, rising and standing in front of
- the portrait of the Duchess. “Great heavens! is it a matter of wonder that
- His Grace should be sick unto death of that face of hers? All the flattery
- of the painter cannot hide the malevolence of her countenance. The Queen
- perceived it long ago, and yet they say that she hopes to regain the
- favour of her royal mistress!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor creature! But indeed she is to be pitied. She hath lost the favour
- of her Queen and the heart of her spouse. Ah, my hero—my beloved—your
- heart is mine—all mine. How oft have I not heard your sweet words
- telling me that—how oft? But why are you not here to tell it to me
- now? Why—ah, at last—at last!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A knock had sounded at the side door in the midst of her passionate
- inquiries, and she almost flew to the door, “Ah, at last—at last you
- have come!” she said in a fervent whisper as the Duke entered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have come,” he replied, still holding her hand. He had no choice left
- in the matter. She did not withdraw her hand after she had given it to
- him. It would scarcely have done for him to cast it from him. “You are
- sure that Sir Godfrey has not yet returned?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure of it,” said she. “Would I be here with you alone if he had
- returned?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no; of course not,” said the Duke. “But would I not come far if only
- to press this little hand?”
- </p>
- <p>
- His experience of women had taught him that a little flattery is never out
- of place with them. He supposed it was out of sheer nervousness that Mrs.
- Barry had failed to withdraw her hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not withdraw it even now, however. It was only when they had
- walked side by side half way across the room that she withdrew her hand.
- She saw that a large picture on an easel was between them and the distant
- <i>portiere</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have come—you have trusted me,” she murmured, with her eyes
- cast down.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at her. He began to fear that she was faltering. She needed
- encouragement to make her revelation to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have trusted you, dear one; ah, you know not to what extent I would
- trust you. I would go to the ends of the earth to hear what you have to
- tell me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is what I wish,” she cried. “Could we not meet at some distant spot
- where all that my heart contains might be yours? Ah, let us fly thither
- without delay! Delay may make havoc of our future.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray, calm yourself,” said the Duke. He perceived that his companion was
- of an hysterical type. She would need to be treated with great tact before
- she could be brought to communicate anything that she knew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, 't is easy for a soldier to be calm,” she cried. “'T is not so easy
- for a poor woman who is by nature trustful and yet by experience
- distrustful.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may trust me, my sweet creature,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “May I? May I?” she whispered, looking into his face. “Ah, no, no; leave
- me—leave me alone to die here! Mine was the fault—mine alone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had put her hands before her face and gone excitedly halfway down the
- apartment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shall not die!” he cried, following her. “Just heaven, child, am I
- nobody? Is my protection worth nothing, that you should be afraid?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your protection?” She had removed her hands from her face. “What! you
- will let me be under your protection?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, then I will trust you—forever—for ever,” cried the
- actress, flinging herself into the arms of the astonished Duke and laying
- her head on his shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was much more astonished when a voice rang through the studio:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wretch! Infamous wretches both!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Lud!” cried Mrs. Barry, forsaking her resting place and standing a
- yard or two apart. “Oh, Lud, who is the plain little woman that has been
- eavesdropping? I vow, Duke, she was not invited to our meeting.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Infamous creature! I am the Duchess of Marlborough!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, that were impossible. I happen to know that the Duchess has a
- limitless faith in the Duke, especially in regard to so plain a creature
- as Mistress Barry, and you have the face and bearing of a jealous woman.
- Her Grace of Marlborough would not be jealous, my good creature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said the Duke, turning to his wife, “madam, you have played an
- unworthy part—spying—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence, libertine!” thundered the Duchess, looking like a fury.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0309.jpg" alt="0309 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0309.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- “Faith, 't is the Duchess, after all,” said the actress. “Ah, Sir Godfrey
- has returned in good time.” Sir Godfrey was standing at the door. “Dear
- Sir Godfrey, Her Grace is anxious for you to paint her in her true
- character—that of the jealous wife; and so I leave her in your good
- hands. Adieu, your Grace. Oh, fie, to be jealous of so poor a creature as
- an actress!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She stood for a moment by the side of the painter, turning half round as
- she raised the tapestry hanging. Her laughter when she had passed into the
- hall, rang through the studio.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Godfrey began to speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I fear greatly that in my absence—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, in your absence your house has been turned into a lover's
- rendezvous!” cried the Duchess. “Your aged domestic, Mrs. Smollett, wrote
- to me a confidential letter—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, I have no aged domestic, and I know no one of the name of
- Smollett,” said Sir Godfrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! Oh, the man is in the plot also! It were beneath my dignity to
- converse further with him. Shame, sir—shame on both of you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She flung herself through the <i>portière</i> and disappeared in a billow
- of tapestry.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Duke and Sir Godfrey stood side by side in silence in the studio. At
- last the former spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Faith, Kneller, I think I begin to see how we have all been tricked. That
- play-actress hath made fools of us all for her own sport.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I begin to fear that that is so,” said Sir Godfrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, sir; she hath fooled us,” said the Duke. “Methinks it will be some
- space of time before the wrath of Her Grace will be appeased.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And so it was.
- </p>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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