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LAGANDE FIATALUNY

by Jonstone from an Eriginal Drawing by EA. Zolve
7
THE
70年
​LIFE AND ENTERPRISES
OF
ROBERT WILLIAM ELLISTON,
COMEDIAN.
BY GEORGE RAYMOND,
AUTHOR OF "DRAFTS FOR ACCEPTANCE," ETC. ETC.
"Joyousest of once embodied spirits!"
"I judged him, with no after-repentance, to be a person with whom it
would be a felicity to be more acquainted."-CHARLES LAMB: Elliston.
Illustrated by George Cruikshank and
LONDON:
44
1857.
Phis."
G. ROUTLEDGE & CO. FARRINGDON STREET;
NEW YORK: 18, BEEKMAN STREET,
PREFACE.
THE mere circumstantial account of an actor's profes-
sional career, however celebrated he might have been, would
scarcely be deemed a subject of general interest, at this
precise moment. The social world is less occupied in the
matter of plays, and has less sympathy with players, than
in past days, and the drama forms not so distinct and
leading a feature in popular enjoyment as it once did.
True it is, playhouses are open and frequented; but this
is not altogether our question. The drama, in its nobler
form, is neither studied nor represented, nor have modern
Societies any honours in store for dramatic distinction.
How strange and out of date would now appear the
expression of Sir Richard Steele: "Nothing makes a man
so popular," says he, "as the authorship of a new play;"
-few things, in our day, attract so little notice.
The slight which attaches to the inventive claim must
in equal degree await the ministers of its effects. The
graces of the actor are cramped in the shrunken measure
of degenerate taste, and he must be content to take only
such rewards as an unsupported school of art may offer
him.
The "old times" were at least "good," in this respect, by
so far differing from our own, and to such an extent do
we eagerly hope in their return; when "to see a good
A 2
iv
PREFACE.
play, will be to keep the best company," and when the
sayings and doings of the stage professor may secure a
place in our regard, consequent on the intellectual de-
light derived from exhibitions of his art.
From these observations, it will be inferred that a
mere history of a professional life is not the entire pur-
pose of these Memoirs. The material we have to deal
with offers pleasanter promise; for the history of Robert
William Elliston was verily a mingled yarn, in which,
though the "actor" might have been the main fibre, yet
the twistings were of such divers hues and quality; a
career of so much variety in adventure,-so much eccen-
tricity in purpose, so much was there in it of the
"Rover or the Strolling Gentleman," on the very stage of
life itself, that we would fain believe some general account
of him would form no unacceptable addition to the
"harmless stock of public amusement."
(6
Diversified in his employments, sudden in his operations,
we find him, at one time, flying off at a Tangent,” to
become the centre of some circulating-library, and at
another, the vertex of some Academic Institute.
"He
carried with him," says Lamb, "pit, boxes and gallery,
and set up his portable playhouse at the corner of streets.
By the turn of his magic ring, he will transport himself
from place to place, at the suggestion of a moment, and
with the wand of harlequin, erect ballrooms, fill shops
with merchandise, and string playhouses together like
beads upon a thread! In fact, he was a perpetual show-
man of the extra-ordinary in manners, which, with his
perception of the humorous and love of adventure, con-
stituted him an attractive feature in the round of life, and
gained him greater applause, perhaps, for the moment,
than that acquired by others who were moving more
""
PREFACE.
steadily in the orbit of decorum. Never shall we find
Elliston in repose: his lamp is perpetually exhausting;
his imagination constantly under the blow-pipe: "Urit
fulgore suo," and the result-early extinction.
It has been said of Mrs. Mattocks, that had she been
educated a nun, it would have required no great pene-
tration to perceive she was born for an actress: had
Elliston been cradled in Paraguay, it would have been
equally clear he must have found his way to Drury
Lane.
Suited to the adventurous days of Killigrew and Sidney,
the name of Elliston would have glittered with no incon-
siderable effect on the pages of Count Hamilton, or have
occupied a liberal space in the delightful records of Cibber.
He who would have been a feature in those days, has some
claim to be striking in ours; and as certain frailties will
necessarily be glanced at, which in that earlier age were
the fashion of the time, it is yet hoped sufficient eccen-
tricities will be offered to amuse, without dwelling on
outrages which might offend.
One little anecdote, highly characteristic of the man,
we beg here to insert, on the authority of the late Sir
John M'Mahon. In 1821, the King wished to give some
directions respecting his own box at Drury Lane Theatre,
and Elliston was commanded to be in attendance at Carl-
ton House. His Majesty having expressed his desires on
the subject, the manager was about to retire, when the
King, condescendingly, added his wishes for the lessee's.
success in his theatrical government; on which Elliston,
by one of those strange impulses so peculiar to him,
replied: "If you, sir, are loyal, I must obtain a
triumph." This was the regal style which Lamb so
delightfully commemorated in him.
vi
PREFACE.
Truly may we say, Elliston was born a full century
too late. The same qualities which in his own time
lost him frequently the respect of the humble, would in
that day have won him the admiration of the great; with
the advantage of being chronicled as a wit, rather than
remembered as a dupe. As a citizen of modern times, his
reputation must suffer; but as an actor on the mimic
scene, there was perhaps no period, since the first dawn of
comedy in England, in which he would not have been
accounted accomplished; justifying the whole attribute of
the Muse, "Imitatio vitae, speculum consuetudinis, imago
veritatis.”
In person, Elliston was of the middle size and well pro-
portioned: his countenance the very Mirror of Comedy.
His face was round, his features small yet highly
expressive ;— laughter lay cradled in his eye; and there
was a noticeable play of lip so pregnant of meaning, as
frequently to leave the words that followed but little to
explain. He displayed the art of tenderness and per-
suasion more strikingly than any actor of his time.
There was a warmth—a glow of colouring in all his
impersonations which constantly pleased. Nothing crude
or unripe was of his gathering; all was mature and yield-
ing-sometimes eccentric, but never exaggerated.
((
His assumptionsof filial piety or conjugal devotion were
most touching: in the latter there was no confessing
and avoiding," as though half in awe of the very senti-
ment committed to him; but earnest and ardent, his
advances admitted of no appeal-whilst his accents, as
Cibber has declared of Montford-
"Like flakes of feathered snow,
They melted as they fell."
PREFACE.
vii
His quality in art was not in the possession of any one
faculty pre-eminently, but rather in the participation of
all, in harmonious proportion. "The elements so mixed in
him," that he shared, in a great measure, the spright-
liness of Garrick, the melody of Barry, the polish of
O'Brien, and the manly bearing of the younger Kemble.
He had attained, indeed, that high elevation in art
which takes captive at once the ear, the eye, and the
understanding.
The greater part of the material from which the present
volume is composed (which might be termed, rather,
Anecdote Memoirs, than a complete Life), was supplied
by the late Mr. Winston, a faithful friend to Elliston,
and for many years so entirely in his confidence that, in
fact, nothing was concealed from him.
The letters and correspondence in connection with
Elliston's earlier life, had been preserved by himself, and
so passed into the hands of his representatives; while in
respect of documents relative to his latter days, we are
indebted to the industry and research of Mr. Winston,—
a kind of Theatrical "Rushworth "-always collecting,
and especially in any particular relative to the acts and
doings of the Manager of Drury Lane Theatre.
Some anecdotes will be found inserted on the sole
authority of popular report; in which, if the genuineness
cannot be entirely proved, the vraisemblance, will at
least be admitted.
CONTENTS.
PERIOD I.
1774-1809.
CHAPTER I.
Birth and parentage-St. Paul's School-Indication of ability-First
attempts at acting-Dilemmas-Flight from home-Fellow travel-
lers-Stage-coach adventures-A sprightly girl-Snug quarters—
Arrival at Bath - First public appearance Tate Wilkinson-
Eccentricities -Elliston's remorse-Increasing despondency -
Second letter-Elliston in London - Dr. Farmer, Mr. George
Steevens-Aged and youthful actors-An adventure-A conflagra-
tion-A model writing-master-An amorous spinster-Thwarted
tactics, further machinations-Elliston a suitor-A married man
-First appearance in London-George Colman-Jocular epistle-
"The Iron Chest "-Observations thereon-Elliston acts
"Sir
Edward Mortimer "-An eccentric widow-Heaps and hoards-
Interview with Sheridan-Letter from Mrs. Collins-"Philaster
"Walter "-All-night clubs-"Court of Comus "-Scenes therein
-Further disclosures-An unexpected meeting-Elliston a critic-
Mrs. Collins again!-Earl Harcourt-Remarks on acting-Sheri-
dan's note-Further strictures on acting-Fête at Frogmore
'Friend and Pitcher"-A bruiser-The King fast asleep!-A
game at billiards-A fracas-A round at loo-Elliston grows
""
X
CONTENTS.
Mrs.
ambitious-A masque champêtre-Elliston a conjuror!
Elliston's letter-Admonition to a gamester-Mr. Sims, a charac-
ter-A comic adventure-A dinner-Three courses-Plenty of
wine-Humorous letter-Lord Nelson-Lady Hamilton-A scene
at Cocksheath-A bewildered artist-Naples - Elliston " 'plays
many parts ❞—George III.-Scene with the King-Declaration—
Plea and rejoinder-Francis Blissett-His strange habits-Inter-
esting letter-Anecdotes-University of Oxford-The Vice-Chan-
cellor-Escourt, the actor-Remarkable incident - The youth's
final escape.
CHAPTER II.
Elliston-His tragic parts-Observations thereon-A Bath benefit—
An "émeute"-Colman's humorous letter-A painful meeting-
A melancholy history-Widowhood and desolation-Elliston acts
“Richard III.”-Correspondence with Colman-A dissolution of
partnership-Elliston "at home!"-Mr. Charles Young
Young - A
tickler from Colman-A creditor's manoeuvre-A green parrot-
An extraordinary benefit-A crowded stage-Aaron Graham—
Elliston succeeds Kemble at Drury Lane-"The Honeymoon
Mr. Gore-Lord Harcourt Elliston an author-Assault and
battery-"Three and the Deuce "-" The Tailors "-Liston-An
awkward critique-Outrage and revenge-The "Humbug" club—
-Ceremony and matriculation—"Pug," a brother runaway
Young days again-Death of Dr. Elliston-Margravine of Anspach
-Warner Phipps-Critique-Sensible advice—A country theatre-
Whimsical expedients-A dreadful exposure-Mystifications of an
old actor-A French prisoner-Contemplation in Dove Dale-
"Hob and Nob "-A midnight adventure Eclaircissement
Elliston and the "Mirror"-Miss Pope-Her letter to Lord Har-
court-Mrs. Jordan-Elliston's letters to his wife-Scene in a
Glasgow tavern-Anecdotes-An itinerant company.
""
M
S
CONTENTS.
PERIOD II.
1809-1820.
xi
CHAPTER I.
Progress-Le jeu, le vin, and les femmes-A city madam-Dangers
of a clandestine trip-Anonymous communications "Invisi-
blina!"-Poetry, indeed marvellous !-Drury Lane Theatre in
flames-Incidental anecdote-Mrs. Jordan's letter to Sheridan-
A fête in Stratford Place-The Drury Lane Company at the Opera
House-Arnold and the English Opera House-The Royal Circus
-The Rev. Rowland Hill-Col. Greville and the "Pic Nic"-
Capt. Caulfield and the "Bedlamite "-Anecdotes of the "Pic
Nic "-Elliston acts "Macheath "-Management-A whimsey of
Bannister-Actors of one part-Anecdote of Mrs. Billington-An
Irish patroness-Petition to the House of Commons-Elliston cor-
responds with Mr. Perceval-A pawnbroker's wife-The Surrey
Theatre Rival Columbines-" Horrida bella!"-Prolonged hosti-
lities—A dancer's proclamation—“Bring me a chair!”—Impres-
sive letter from Phipps-Spasmodic holiness-Lovegrove-A mys-
terious adventure-Continuation of the story-A gaming house-
A painful incident in a gambler's life-Loss upon loss-Scene con-
tinues-Closes-A literary association-A dilapidated schoolmaster
-Records of the "Horse Academy "-Rivalries very original-
Further examples-Elliston acts with Munden-A practical joke—
Lord Mayor's Show-Men in armour-Letter of Mrs. Garrick-
Elliston fights a duel-Invisiblina's letter-Anecdotes of duel-
lings-The new Drury Lane Theatre-Addresses-Lord Byron-
Letter from Lord Holland-Opening of the new theatre—Mrs.
Bland, anecdote - Disappointed poets-" Petroniculus "-Ellis-
ton's comedy parts.
—
xii
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER II.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
M
Philip Astley-Wych Street Theatre -A horse tamer-Abraham
Saunders-"Little Drury Lane Theatre "-Conway, Farren, Miss
O'Neil-The Birmingham Theatre-"Gelert and Victor "___`“ `
"Jack
Taylor"-Jocular letter-Edmund Kean-Bitter correspondence
Settlement of the question-"Violino obligato!'' - Deeper
mystification-An unexpected shower-Kean's parentage-His
infancy-Early anecdotes-Young actors -A consternation
Richardson's booth-Offley's supper rooms-A scene therein—Ill-
starred actors-Bartley in a dilemma-An extraordinary "double"
-Half-witch, half-baronet-Charles Dignum and the Duke of
Sussex-The dwarf, Simon Paap-A wondrous pie –
(C The Bohe-
mian!"-Elliston in his element-" This is the stone!"-A very
original artist—A perplexing imprisonment-Perishing with cold
and hunger-Sewing on a button-Mrs. Allsop and the "Hen
and Chickens " - Necessaries of life A tête-à-tête-A soft
encounter― Jeremy Collier-A philippic-A very characteristic
address-The great patentees in array-Curious letter-Disasters
of Drury Lane Theatre-"Rochester
"' and " Giovanni in London"
-Shifting scenery-Mr. Howard Payne-A bamboozled actor-
Stephen Kemble's management-Lord Byron's statement-Drury
Lane Theatre to be let-Kean's offer by letter-Elliston a candi-
date-The accepted lessee.
→
M
PERIOD III.
1820-1831.
dig
CHAPTER I.
Mrs.
The "Great Lessee "-The manager's pleasantries- Charles Lamb
and Munden-Correspondence with Kean-Mrs. Kean
Siddons, her note-Sir Walter Scott to Elliston-" Brutus "
Maturin, his plays-Miss Jane Porter-The Drury Lane opening
fête- The professional company-Mr. Peake, his history-Sheri-
dan's characteristic notes-Madame Vestris-Dowton and big letters
CONTENTS.
M
-Method of securing a bed-Kean plays "Lear"-Sick actors
-An impudent attempt at extortion-" Giovanni in London
-Kean "plays many parts "-"Jack and the Bean Stalk "—
Kean's bust-A woman and child-Miss Ann Wilson-Extraordi-
nary success-Frailties - Death of Mrs. Elliston "Marino
Faliero"- Elliston and Lord Eldon-Douglas Kinnaird's letter-
The Queen at Drury Lane-Extracts from an offered melodrama-
A
masque festival-A battle royal-Mr. Mackay-Sir Walter
Scott's letter-A cat and kittens-Elliston's inconsistencies-A
special procession -Preparation for Elliston's "Coronation ".
Aggrandizement of the manager-Elliston kills the Queen-Shifts
of strollers-Alarming illness-" Giovanni in Ireland"-Elliston
in Paris-" La belle Harriette "-Extensive alterations at Drury
Lane "Welcome to Leamington Spa!"-More vagaries, dukes
and duchesses-Mr. Thomas Moore-A dinner aloft-The theatre
re-opens-Kean's letters-Kean acts with Young-Mr. Talfourd's
critique-Elliston at Croydon-A humourous adventure-" The
Chinese Sorcerer "-Dr. Kitchiner- A mal-à-propos dinner-A
French gentleman-John Harley-A pair of nankeen smallclothes
Anecdotes-" To bed, to bed!"-A knight scene-Mr. Bunn-
Macready acts " Virginius"-Kean's flight to Brighton-An un-
toward discovery-An angry correspondence-Joseph Shepherd
Munden-History of a miniature-Ducrow and his horses-Mr.
Thomas Wooller-His remarkable epistle-Awful threatenings--
Madame Catalani-Lady Morgan-Laconic notes.
xiii
—
CHAPTER II.
"Der Freischutz " The "Glass-blowers "A delicate question—
Tumult on Kean's re-appearance-Douglas Kinnaird's protest-
Ancient roisterers-Harley, a youngster-Ralph Wewitzer-An
appointment with Sheridan-John Ashley-" The Princess of Cum-
berland"-Her singular statements-"The Young Roscius "—
George IV. at Drury Lane-A nocturnal visit at the Horse Guards
-Hostile preparations-Lord Graham's apology-"William Tell"
and the rehearsal-Success of the tragedy-Scene on the Tunbridge
Road-Outside passengers "John Sobieski " A perplexed
author-A theatrical "D'Eon "-"
"—" Invisiblina "
from Talma-Another attack of illness-Elliston's reverses-A
again-Letter
""
M
xiv
CONTENTS.
prisoner!--The Drury Lane Beaf-steak Club-Members of the
Club-Consternation in Oxford Street-The mob thickens-
"Rover" again!-Elliston acts "Falstaff"-The last night at
Drury-Mr. Gordon-Munificent offers-Ibbertson's Hotel in an
uproar-Meeting of the committee-A fellow-sinner-Once again
at the Surrey-Master Burke-The sweeps-Adventure at a coach-
maker's-An eccentric drive "Black-eyed Susan"-A parting
entertainment-Wine-speeches and songs-Weber's opera Syl-
vana "—The "Shilling Orders"—A British tar at the Surrey-
More speeches-Pierce Egan-A kangaroo-Elliston's alarming
state of health-A seat in Parliament-A second marriage—The
spell broken-Curious history of a Surrey actor-Affectionate letter
of Elliston to his children-Family matters-Elliston's extraordi-
nary constitution-Last efforts-The death of Elliston-Elliston-
Retrospect and reflections-Funeral-Tablet.
(6
LIFE
OF
ROBERT WILLIAM ELLISTON.
Fr
"If to inflame
The noble youth with an ambitious heat,
T'endure the frosts of danger and of death,
By glorious undertakings, may deserve
Reward or favour from the commonwealth,-
ACTORS may put in for as large a share
As all the sects of the philosophers."
MASSINGER—" The Roman Actor.”
PERIOD THE FIRST.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND PARENTAGE.
ROBERT WILLIAM ELLISTON was born on the 7th of
April, 1774, in Orange Street, Bloomsbury, where his
father, Robert Elliston, resided and carried on the mystery
of a watchmaker.
He (the father) was the youngest son of a respectable
farmer of Gedgrave, near Orford, on the Suffolk coast.
The elaer brother was in the navy, and had attained
the rank of commander when he died. He shared, we
are informed, in the glory of the action of August, 1759,
at that time a lieutenant, when Admiral Boscawen
defeated the French fleet off Gibraltar.
The eldest brother, William, was a member of St. John's
College, Cambridge; he received his degree in 1754, with
the distinction of fourth Wrangler, and was elected
master of Sidney College in 1760.
Their sister, aunt to the subject of these Memoirs, was
married to the Rev. Thomas Martyn, also of Sidney
College, who succeeded the Rev. John Martyn in the
professor's chair of botany, in 1761.
It may not be uninteresting to notice another vener-
able member of the family stock-Robert Elliston, of
Monk's Ileigh, or Ely, in the county of Suffolk; great-
uncle to the subject of these Memoirs. He had resided,
his whole life, namely, eighty-six years, like Edward
Ballard, of Little Britain, in the same house in which he
was born; a fine, hale, hearty old yeoman, whose death
B
2
ST. PAUL'S SCHOOL.
was at last the result of accident-a severe fall. This
event was rendered the more remarkable, as the old gen-
tleman had been in the habit of saying, he had been told
by a "cunning man "that accidental death alone would
balk him of a century.
Robert, the watchmaker, appears to have been the least
interesting personage in the whole family group, except,
indeed, in being the sire of our future hero. He was a man
of indolent habits and low pursuits; so that whatever
little skill he might have acquired in the management of
clocks, he sadly wanted a regulator to his own con-
duct. From extravagance he passed to niggardness; that
sera in fundo parsimonia, displacing one vice by another.
Dr. Elliston having for some time noticed with much
anxiety, the state of affairs in Orange-street, and remarked
on various occasions early indications of quickness and
intelligence in the youth, his nephew, determined to take
his education altogether into his own hands; an offer
which it is not to be supposed met with any opposition
on the part of the irregular watchmaker, and certainly
acknowledged with much gratitude by the boy himself.
In pursuance of this, young Elliston was in a short
time entered at St. Paul's School, and his father removing
about the same period to Charles-street, Covent-garden,
afforded the son more suitable means of domestic comfort;
for during the school months the boy still lodged with his
parents, his uncle being on no account desirous of alienating
filial respect from the breast of his pupil, and more particu-
larly as the mother was a quiet and well-conditioned woman.
The holidays, however, the young gentleman passed
with either his uncle Elliston or Martyn-generally the
former; in winter at Cambridge, and during the summer
in his company on any excursion the Doctor might be
making in the long vacation. The youth thus became so
great a favourite at Sidney Lodge, that the master never
parted with him on his return to St. Paul's without a
secret wish he might be too late for the coach.
It was the intention of the Doctor to enter his nephew
a member of his own college, with a view that he might
ultimately take holy orders. He perceived him daily to
INDICATIONS OF ABILITY.
3
give further demonstrations of ability and intelligence,
and amongst his humbler accomplishments, that of
reading impressively. On many occasions, but invariably
on the Sunday evening, the Doctor would assemble his
household to hear his nephew deliver some selected
discourse Barrow, was the great author,—and the con-
sciousness of excelling in this particular, was perhaps not
the least delight the young man experienced in these
spiritual exercises.
:
It is a custom at our public schools to observe certain
anniversaries, by speeches delivered by the upper boys
before their assembled friends.
At Westminster the plays of Terence are acted ; bu
in most other public schools, this "speech day" is but a
dull, monotonous, antiquated piece of business. Some
classic oration, committed laboriously to memory, mistily
understood, and mechanically recited, is the coup d'essai
of the eventful year, and the intellectual treat to some
three or four hundred well-dressed persons after a long
and dusty journey.
It is, however, beyond all doubt, that the first time our
young friend became animated with a sense of his own
powers, on oratorical grounds, was on one of these anni-
versaries at St. Paul's, when, to the confusion of the pre-
siding master, Dr. Roberts, he presumed to win some
genuine tokens of applause, by mixing a little of the
Drury Lane ingredient.
It would be scarcely fair to fix on this trifling incident
the great sin of that change which soon passed over the
spirit of the schoolboy's dream; but it was not long from
this event that our young declaimer was seized with an
inordinate desire for theatrical pursuits-a disease which
is seldom taken mildly, but when once contracted, has no
remedy but to run its course.
In the upper part of a pastrycook's house, in the
Strand, resided a Madame Cotterille, who conducted
there an "Evening Academy "-a lady enjoying great
respect amongst the world of mothers in the parishes of
St. Martin and St. Anne.
It was here young Elliston passed many of his half-
B 2
4
FIRST ATTEMPTS AT ACTING.
holidays, receiving parenthetically Madame's instruction
in the French language. It was here, also, he first met
the inimitable Charles Mathews, son of a bookseller of
that neighbourhood; an occurrence which eventually
turned out greatly to their mutual congratulation; for,
independently of their emulation in the tongue of Wano-
strocht's grammar, far more extensive parts of speech
were now opened to their ambition, under the same roof
and patronage.
Madame Cotterille, by way of improving her scholars
in the French language, allowed them, once or twice in
the year, to enact English plays,—a philological compro-
mise very quietly assented to by her auditors, who were
composed of the mothers, aunts, and guardians of her
pupils. Young Elliston was now invaluable. Generously
did he liquidate his debt to Wanostrocht by the funds of
Otway; nor did he hesitate paying a still severer
penalty, by undergoing a frequent flogging at St. Paul's,
for a protracted rehearsal in the Strand.
In December of the same year, he and his co-disciple
Matthews made their first appearance before a closely-
packed audience over the pastrycook's shop.
((
The play was the "Distrest Mother"-Elliston sus-
taining the part of Pyrrhus-Matthews, Phoenix; and
we are bound to confess, by the kind permission of Mr.
Mathews" himself, that the hero of our Memoir was the
undeniable hero of that night-a report which might
otherwise have been deemed a puff, recollecting the place
whence it proceeded. But such, indeed, was the result;
the evening passing off with unbounded satisfaction, in
which ices, jellies, lemonade, and raspberry-tarts, by no
means played an inconsiderable part.
""
was
After some months, another jam took place at the
pastry cook's, when the tragedy of the "Orphan
represented to fresh raptures of the old party. Elliston
on this occasion played Chamont, and his friend Mathews
the part of the Chaplain. The cook's house was verily
an oven. Robert William was now twice a hero, reaping
in the contest" whole fields of laurel." Caressed by the
elderly ladies, and in special favour with the young, this
DILEMMAS.
10
5
enfant gaté abandoned himself entirely to the flattering
bondage he had so closely courted. All other pursuits.
were neglected, and nearly all other ties forgotten. With
the enraptured Nell he exclaimed, "I dreamt last night I
went to heaven, and this is it!"
Elliston was now in the nightly habit of attending
theatres, and witnessing the best efforts of acting. His
ambition by this time, had grown too bulky for the first-
floor of the pastrycook's; and though he ever recollected
with rapture the scenic glories he had there participated,
and the softer dalliance he had perhaps wholly engrossed,
yet was he naturally desirous of showing his quality
before a more enlightened auditory than the rusty rela-
tives of Madame Cotterille's scholars.
He consequently took part in sundry private represen-
tations at the Lyceum Rooms, where he at once became
the leading tragedian. Young Norval and Pierre, charac-
ters which he frequently repeated before some of the
leading wits of the town, placed him at the head of all
unprofessional aspirants.
Our youthful adventurer now began to stand in awe
of the very fame he had been so sedulously acquiring.
These proceedings could neither be concealed from the
Master of St. Paul's, nor the Master of Sidney, who had
hitherto fondly persuaded themselves a far different part
had been the object of the boy's study, and academic
applause the only approbation he had been pursuing.
The resolution Elliston had now positively taken of
adopting the stage as a profession was not unattended by
mental distress. He thought on the disappointment he
was laying up for his two best friends-his relatives at
Cambridge. In his uncle, the master of Sidney, he had
enjoyed both the love and protection of a parent, without
the natural claim. His debt was heavier than even a
long course of diligence could expect wholly to satisfy,
and yet he was about to repay it with the base coin of
ingratitude.
The youth's conduct became like that of most persons
under similar delinquencies. The holidays were antici-
pated with less anxiety and delight; his letters to Cam-
6
FLIGHT FROM HOME.
bridge were brief and vague, and might have become
equally rare, but his constant demands for money altoge-
ther prevented their falling under that imputation.
As it is necessary that all your heroes who would
recommend themselves hereafter, should run away in the
first instance, and commence vagabond, that they may
finish better with the gentleman; no sooner had Master
Robert determined one point than he resolved on the
other, which was to quit his home clandestinely, and
throw himself on a far wider theatre than had hitherto
been his fortune to encounter.
He was not long in planning the direction of his flight.
A boon acquaintance, who had frequently acted under
the management of our young fugitive at the Lyceum,
was at this time living at Bath, and was a friend, more-
over, of Mr. Dimond, the theatrical manager in that city.
Our adventurer thought he could not do better than fix
on this place as a point of present refuge and future
expectation.
It was in pursuance of this, that on a black, chilly
morning, in the very early part of spring, 1791, light in
baggage as the Hon. Mr. Dowlas himself, with but little
in his pocket and still less in his stomach, Robert William
slipped from the street-door of his father's house, punc-
tually at half-past four by the paternal chronometer,
and made the best of his way to the coach-office in
Piccadilly.
In the year 1791, the English stage-coach wore as
different an aspect to the vehicle of the present time, as
the gold-laced hat and silver shoe-buckles differ from the
costume of modern use. There was "the heavy Falmouth,”
the weighty York "Highflier," and the lengthy "Cater-
pillar;" and a journey of a hundred miles was an under-
taking of time, privation, and endurance.
Fain would our hero have retraced his steps on finding,
at reaching the coach-office, the "long body" completely
full, and all persons so occupied on their own affairs as
to afford him no assistance under this dilemma. But the
alarum was by this time sounded in the watchmaker's
warehouse, and the youth's absence discovered, so that he
FELLOW-TRAVELLERS.
"
7
On
had no alternative but to proceed at all hazard.
further inquiry, he learnt that the two-horse "Invalid
Double-Body would start from a neighbouring office
within an hour, but that no other conveyance for the city
of Bath would leave London before the mail,
Perplexed, and by this time somewhat alarmed, the
truant readily seized the only chance left for him, and
paying part of his fare, was booked forthwith in a feigned
name. The "Invalid" travelled slowly for the benefit of
its ailing inmates; taking them only part of the journey
on the first day, and concluding it late enough on the
second; so that it was a coach which really performed
what it professed to do-namely, "slept on the road."
""
A hackney vehicle was drawn up to the office, contain-
ing an elderly gentleman, who had secured in the "Inva-
lid one place for his body and an opposite for his legs,
which were swaddled in flannel. With a sigh did our
young friend gaze upon a face in which were mingled,
expression of pain arising from disease, and fury the result
of pain. The operation of shifting the elderly cripple
from one coach to the other was in progress, which, to
the adagio of a volley of curses, was at length accom-
plished. Rewarding his attendants with a look of re-
newed fury, the growler pulled up the glasses with all the
violence he could muster, and was heard no more-for
the present.
It was now within ten minutes of the time of starting;
and as young Elliston was speculating on the next
character he might be introduced to in this drama of
“The Bath Road," the coach-door was again opened to
the approach, "with lingering steps and slow," of a tall
female, labouring under a sharp attack of inflamed eyes,
and conducted by a footboy, who was beguiling his
tortoise pace by licking what still adhered to the paper
wrapper of some baked treacle.
Fixed on the pavement to the very last, Elliston,
the third patient, entered the narrow ward of this
migrating hospital. Placing himself next to the swad-
dled feet of the raving martyr, and opposite to two
faces, one of the widest he had ever gazed on out of a
8
STAGE-COACH ADVENTURES.
masquerade shop, and the other the longest he had
ever seen except in the convex of a silver spoon, he was
conveyed from the rugged pavement of Piccadilly, to
travel one hundred and ten miles at this rate of enjoy-
ment.
It was towards the evening, when the company had
resumed their seats in the coach, after dining, at the
usual house for stopping, where the snarler had secured
to himself nearly the whole of the fire, and demolished
quite the whole of a bottle of Madeira, that he fell
into a roaring sleep. The cartilaginous bassoon which
nature had fixed in the centre of his face seemed to
emit indications of rest, while accompanying groans gave
equal evidence of endurance.
The trick of nodding appeared (like everything else
upon the road) to be overtaking the whole coach, and
our young traveller himself began to doze, like a judge
upon his seat.
A jolt of the vehicle, in passing over the rotten high-
way of a certain borough, threw him, bodily, athwart the
horizontal limbs of the snoring invalid, who thereupon,
snatching his short crutch at his side, let fall so absolute
a crack on the sconce of his unconscious offender, that
Elliston, seizing his assailant by the folds of his fleecy
comforter, would certainly have strangled him out-
right, had he not been awakened to fresh terrors by the
shriek of the poor obumbrated lady, who was nearly
smothered in the attack.
In due time the party arrived at Newbury, their
resting-place for the night. Too full of the past, and too
anxious about the future, Elliston, our dispirited adven-
turer, stood leaning against the doorway of the inn,
scarcely aware of the repeated supplications of the tapster
that he would occupy the parlour.
He had been already some time in this state of abstrac-
tion, when the hostess herself advanced towards him.
The sorrows of a handsome youth are petitioners rarely
dismissed abruptly from the avenues to female sympathy;
and as the landlady was really a kind woman, she was
willing to extend her good offices on this occasion beyond
9
Dropping him a
the mere civilities of her calling.
curtsey, she said,-
"I fear, young gentleman, this is but a chilly spot.
Pardon me; we have a brisk fire within the bar-my
little family are just going to sit down to supper, and we
would contrive to make you comfortable, if you would
step in and partake of what we have."
(C
My dear madam, I thank you," replied he; "this is
indeed an act of benevolence."
A SPRIGHTLY GIRL.
Following his conductress, Elliston found himself in
the midst of the domestic circle. A table was most in-
vitingly spread, and there was an air of comfort around,
which at once finds its way to the heart.
“I must tell you, sir," continued his hostess, looking
round with evident pride, "this is the birthday of my
eldest girl, so we have a little more going on, this evening,
than usual; and the younger ones sit up to supper."
Our adventurer had now an opportunity of observing
the party, which consisted of the landlord's father, a
small, good-humoured old man, who chuckled at every-
thing he saw and every syllable he heard. Two plain, or
rather heavy-looking young men, sat at a distance, evi-
dently guests; their apparel was remarkably neat, and
their deportment equally precise; for at every word
addressed to them, they rose from their chairs, acknow-
ledging the favour by a kind of half-bow.
-
The family of the house constituted the remainder of
the company—namely, two or three nicely-dressed chil-
dren, who were collected around their grown-up sister, a
fine girl, who had that day attained her sixteenth year.
The landlord now also made his appearance, and the
whole party sat down to supper.
Our runaway, charmed by this spirit of hospitality,
rendered himself, as will readily be believed, highly
agreeable. He talked much of London-its incidents-
its places of amusement ;-the French Revolution-the
taking of the Bastile,-at all of which the little old
gentleman laughed, as the landlady expressed it, " fit to kill
himself." But they all laughed, with the exception of
the two diffident young men, who still persisted in rising
10
from their chairs, on receiving any portion of the repast
which might fall to their share.
Elliston, who by accident-or it might have been
otherwise-was seated next to the fair heroine of the
evening, took occasion to allude to the birthnight, in so
happy a manner, that blushes mounted into the cheeks
of the daughter and tears into the eyes of the mother,
at all of which the old gentleman laughed and laughed
again.
SNUG QUARTERS.
Elliston now began to repeat bits of poetry and recite
scraps of plays; so that by nine o'clock he had levied
contributions on almost the whole acting drama; which
though not always apposite to the moment, never failed
to make the old gentleman laugh, and we are led to
believe were equally successful in pleasing his sweet
neighbour.
The revel was now at the best; and we might have
searched in vain the whole of his Majesty's dominions to
have found a similar number of persons assembled, at this
precise moment, more completely happy than the inn-
keeper's party!
The landlady now turning to her daughter, "Alice,
child," said she, "do sing to us your favourite. The senti-
ment is not quite suited to a merry-making, sir," con-
tinued she, addressing herself more particularly to Elliston
"but she does sing it so sweetly, that I much question
whether any of your town ladies could excel her." Our
enraptured visitor was by no means slow in backing the
suit. With some slight hesitation, therefore, Alice began
the beautiful ballad of Burns, "Ye banks and braes;"
this she sang in a style so inartificial, but at the same
time with taste so cultivated, that the old gentleman, for
the first time, did not laugh, but participated in the
milder sensations of delight which occupied the whole
circle.
It being nearly midnight, the party began to sepa-
rate; Elliston retired to his truckle-bed, but not to
repose. So little inclination had he to sleep during
the night, that already (for it was now five o'clock on the
following morning) had it been announced to him the
11
"Invalid” was again starting, before he had closed his
eyes. A sudden resolution seized him not to resume his
journey. He pleaded sickness-megrim,-and in due
time the "Invalid” was on its toilsome way without him.
He soon, however, rose, and after a hasty breakfast,
turned his steps in the direction of the bar-to thank his
hostess for her hospitality-to gain information respecting
other conveyances,-and sundry further inquiries; scarcely
suspecting, what no one else in the world could have
doubted, that the lovely ballad-singer was the sole object
of his thoughts.
ARRIVAL AT BATH.
In that same apartment, which a few hours before rang
with the light tones of merriment, but now restored to
the trim precision of a well-regulated bar, Elliston made
his acknowledgments to his hostess, somewhat less than
one hundred times, for her benevolence of the day previous.
Alice abruptly entered, and would have withdrawn.
"Nay, young lady," said he, taking her hand and gently
detaining her; "I am come to thank you, too—and how
sincerely, I cannot explain. Believe me," continued he,
dejectedly, "I may have cause to look back on the dawn
of yesterday with sorrow-with contrition-but let this,
at least, be void of mystery, that my happiness at its close
will never-never be obliterated."
But his hour was come. Mounting the roof of the
four-horse coach, with a spirit far weightier than all his
worldly effects, once more was he on the king's high-
road. His backward gaze was still fixed beneath the portal
of the iun; and with the hope-the belief—that he was
followed by a pair of sparkling messengers, bright as the
day-star, he gave the signal of a last farewell; when
turning sternly round upon his onward course, he looked
once more his fortune in the face.
Arrived at Bath, Elliston soon discovered his friend,
who willingly renewed his promise of giving him an
introduction to Mr. Dimond. But the opportunity
not appearing at that moment the most favourable,
something was to be done in the interim; for the
state of our adventurer's "viaticum" by no means
flattered him
him with any hope of sustaining the
12
FIRST PUBLIC APPEARANCE.
"walking gentleman" on the pavé of this elegant place of
resort.
After sundry failures in application for employment,
he obtained the situation of clerk to a lottery-office
keeper, at a salary of one guinea per week. Here, en-
sconced behind a wooden desk, sat the future "hero of a
hundred" playhouses; here the infant majesty of Elliston
cribbed in the mahogany fixture of "Hazard and Co."
Often with a sigh did his thoughts revert to the " con-
fitures" and first-floor scenes of Madame Cotterille; as
often, with still deeper sensations of sadness, to the place
he once held in his uncle's esteem. What rendered his
time still more burdensome was the want of occupation,
for he had little more to do than to sit on a tall stool, and
hand over the candidates for the favours of Fortune to her
ministers in an inner apartment.
In a very few weeks, however, an engagement was
accomplished with Mr. Dimond; lottery-tickets gave
place to box-tickets, and the "Wheel of Fortune was
studied under another roof.
10
""
On the 21st of April, 1792, Robert William Elliston
made his "first appearance upon any stage," at this city,
in the character of Tressell in "Richard III." He was
received with favour, and went through this unambitious
part with entire success. The following notice appeared
in one of their leading journals :—
66
A young gentleman, whose name we are not
yet in possession of, but whose connections, we under-
stand, are of the highest respectability in the University
of Cambridge, sustained the character of Tressell. He
displayed considerable ability-far greater, indeed, than
could have been anticipated from his age, which cannot
be more than sixteen or seventeen years.
The Bath theatrical season being near its close, and
most of the ensuing acting nights appropriated for bene-
fits, no permanent engagement could be obtained. But
fortunately for our young débutant, Wallis (the father
of Miss Wallis, then the reigning favourite at Bath) had
witnessed this successful exhibition in Tressell, with
which he was so much pleased, that he wrote to his old
TATE WILKINSON.
""
13
The young
friend Tate Wilkinson, in Elliston's favour.
actor received at once an invitation to visit Leeds, which,
without hesitation, he accepted.
Tate Wilkinson, known so long as the " Eccentric,"
might, with equal justice, have won the appellation of
the "Honest.' He was born in the year 1740. Foote
introduced him first to a London audience, in his "Tea "
parties at the Haymarket Theatre. At these entertain-
ments, Tate occupied the time between the acts of his
master by giving imitations of certain actors, which, per-
haps, might have been considered by some the plums of
the pudding. On one particular evening, however, he
seized an opportunity for throwing in so humorous a
mimicry of "Aristophanes" himself, that the whole
audience were convulsed with laughter. Foote was not
a little angry; indeed, he showed so much ill-temper in
the affair, as perfectly to convince the offender that he
was not a man to be imitated.
Wilkinson became ultimately the much-respected ma-
nager of the York company. He had, however, sundry pe-
culiar habits. During his career as manager, if any member
of his company had obstinately neglected to listen to his
advice on any particular point of acting, he would mount,
on some future night, into the gallery, and hiss him most
strenuously an expedient which presently brought the
trifler to his senses. On one occasion, being more than
usually indignant at some very slovenly exhibition on the
stage, his hiss was remarkably audible. The object of his
attack, however, seemed to have friends on the benches,
for on a cry of "Turn him out!" poor Wilkinson was un-
ceremoniously handed down from his own gallery and
ejected into the street.
To actors more worthy his regard, he would prefer ex-
plaining himself by writing, when he believed that any
advice of his might be of service. We have an original
letter of Wilkinson to this effect, addressed to Miss
Campion, who was afterwards Mrs. Spencer, and ultimately
Mrs. Pope, on her first appearance at York in the part
of Juliet. The letter is singular enough-written in
characters half an inch high, on the largest and coarsest
TATE'S ECCENTRICITIES.
folio, exhibiting much such a billet as would raise a laugh
in a harlequin farce. The lady in question became sub-
sequently highly celebrated in this character.
14
"DEAR MADAM,-Without compt, I think that your
Balcony Scene, in many Passages, has more simplicity
than that of any Actress of ye many I have seen from ye
year 1752.
But here and there you want Quickness and
Variety; as, for instance, Romeo, Juliet, all slain,' &c.,
which shd run into a sudden climax; and you shd say
Pha e ton, not Photon. You shd also be discovered on ye
Bed, exactly ye same as when left after ye Draught. In
ye Soliloquy, you shd plead to Tibalt, in your Frensy, on
one side, & on ye other, as to Romeo. I can give you a
better mode of waking in ye Tomb; and where you stab
y'self, I will shew you Mrs. Cibber's method. When you
have to say, 'There rest and let me die,' ye dagger shd
remain, and not be thrown away, as that is a contradiction
to ye Words. Favor me with a call by half pt 12 on
Thursday, after I have seen yr Monimia, and every Hint
in my Power you may command for ye mutual Interest of,
"Yourself and yours,
"TATE WILKINSON."
6
When Wrench made his début in the York company,
Tate took his usual station in the front of the house.
At the end of the play, which was "Speed the Plough,"
wherein Wrench had acted the part of Henry, he hobbled
into the green-room, exclaiming "Where's Mr. Drench ?”
(for he seldom called anybody by his right name). “Here,
sir," replied the young actor. Sir, you're a clever
Wench," continued Wilkinson, tapping him on the shoul-
der. "There's some roast beef in you, Mr. French."
((
But to return to our own hero. Elliston having speedily
acquired fame, became almost as soon the "leader" on
the York "circuit." Never had a "junior" risen so
rapidly into business, or gained so many verdicts by
virtue of a speech.
dad de
In equal favour with his manager and the public, and
receiving nightly the "spirit-stirring" reward of his
ELLISTON'S REMORSE.
15
labours, we might have been induced to believe that
smiles alone were the wages of indiscretion, and a light
heart the consequence of folly. But a sterner prompting
was at hand. A recollection of his uncle's repeated
expressions of hope in his advancement to academic
honours, pierced him like so many daggers. Months had
passed away, and no indication had he given of contrition.
Stung with the thoughts of home," he withdrew for
some days from the theatre, and resolved at length to
address Dr. Elliston by letter. After many unsuccessful
attempts, he composed the following:-
،،
"SIR,—However dismayed I find myself in my present
undertaking, I know the attempt to gain your forgive-
ness is my duty. Fearful as I have reason to be of your
anger,—how shall I address you-or what can I allege?
I can see no middle state between that of the beloved
nephew (as I have a thousand proofs to know I once was)
and the discarded Robert Elliston. If but a faint ray of
hope would break in to lead me to suppose I could ever
regain your confidence and esteem, I should then indeed
be at ease.
"Unfortunately for me, the profession I have chosen
by no means meets with the concurrence of even my
general friends,—and the world at large has hitherto held
it in the light of disrespect. What was the infatuation
which first prompted me to swerve from the path of wis-
dom and rectitude which you had pointed out, I know
not: had I followed that, I might have made a reputable
stand in life--at any rate, moving in a circle more.
honoured than that into which I have thrown myself. If
I succeed in removing any portion of your anger, I more
than repay myself—if not, the attempt is a trifling evidence
of my affection, though repaying not a thousandth part
of what I am indebted to you. My most sanguine hopes
do not hint at sudden, or perhaps at any period, entire
forgiveness. Suffer me to write to you now and then-
to feel that I am addressing you—to relieve my aching
heart, by assuring you how I love and honour you. May
I entreat, too, you will not let my mother share with me
16
INCREASING DESPONDENCY.
your anger. I declare to you she is blameless in respect
of this step I have taken.
"Your affectionate and contrite nephew,
"R. W. ELLISTON.
"York, May 6th, 1792."
The very despatch of this letter brought relief to his
bosom, which he fain would have mistaken for pardon
already received-a delusion not very dissimilar to that
in after life, when, on giving a bill at six months to his
timber-merchant, he exclaimed, “Thank God, that account
is paid!" Elliston returned to his duties a new man. What
the Bath waters could never have effected, his own pre-
scription had readily accomplished. His health was
restored-and thus his first engagement at York was
brought to the pleasing termination of pecuniary profit
and popular approbation.
But, alas! nothing was responded from Cambridge—
no reply reached him from his uncle. This continued
silence reduced him again to a state of great mental
suffering. Till now he had not felt himself disowned.
All this was the more distressing as it was about the
period of his making a first appearance on the Hull
Theatre. He felt he should fail, and became indeed
almost indifferent to the result. The night arrived ; and
in the most flattering manner he was received in the part
of Young Marlow. But his forebodings were no less
true. He did fail-his acting was languid or unnaturally
forced; and although the press appeared to acknowledge
all that had been hitherto reported of his quality, yet he
well knew his effort on that night dropped short of the
goal.
After seven months, however, from the date of his
first epistle, he contemplated a second. But as most
penitential salmigondis, like love-letters and sea-fights,
are pretty much alike, we shall forbear serving up any
further courses of the sort, and merely offer our guests a
fragment—this is given from
SECOND LETTER.
17
"Hull, Dec. 25th, -92,
"At Mr. Thompson's, Black Fryar's Gate.
Do not mistake me, sir; my supplication is not
prorapted by any hardships which I have suffered, for I
am receiving a competency, and welcomed as a friend,
but from the humble position in which I stand before
you. With respect to the profession I have chosen,
I know public impression is unfriendly to it. Some
of its members may be profligate and immoral; but the
state of an actor is that of being almost as much before
the public when off the stage as on it. His errors and
indiscretions are presently abroad, and the world there-
fore may too hastily be led to imagine that the life of an
actor is inseparable from shame. But, sir, this is not
true; or if it be true, I have indeed been singularly for-
tunate in being placed amongst so many worthy excep-
tions. Believe, me, sir, it shall at least be my endeavour
to carry into this profession the principles and conduct of
a man of honour and morality."
Well said, Resolution!
And now amongst other subjects of meditation, let it
not be supposed the gentle Alice was forgotten.
"When
the heart of a man's oppressed with care," nothing could
come kindlier. Young Marlow steeped his thoughts.
in the recollection of her, as a kind of anodyne to his
aching uncertainty; and cajoled himself by musing on
her beauty to supply the void of a sequestered home.
It was early in the next year, February, —93, on a
certain morning about as forbidding as that on which he
“left his father's house," when in the act of raising the
latch of his lodging, to proceed to rehearsal, Elliston was
startled by a double rap at the entrance, which set his
very pulse into a gallop. It was the postman—a letter !
not for his own landlady, though she was still indebted
in her Christmas rent, nor for the medical student in the
second floor, who had really a great frailty for correspond-
ing, but for himself — “Mr. Robert W. Elliston "—the
с
18
ELLISTON IN LONDON.
postmark "Cambridge," and the hand-writing that of his
uncle, the Master !
Seizing the letter, Robert William kissed it, pressed it
to his bosom before breaking the seal, and played about
as many antics as Tom Jones on discovering Miss
Western's pocket-book on his road to Upton. No
rehearsal that morning. A half-guinea fine stood in the
place of "Mr. Elliston called for the reading of the new
piece at ten;" for there was another manuscript to be
looked at, and that the letter from Sidney Lodge !
The tone of the Doctor was that which a man of sense
and sensibility would have adopted-it was the dove
with the olive-but the waters were not subsided.
"Much as I have cause for indignation," said he, "I
write less to reproach than to instruct-less to satisfy
any vindictive feeling which I might have towards
you, than to offer a lesson, which, if timely, will content
me more than the exaction of penalties. Tears, and a
mere confession of error, are little; they may, indeed, be
a suit for pardon, but they are no evidence of amend-
ment. No renewal of my favour will I offer you on
trust; whatever portion of this you may acquire, you
must win. If these be not the most indulgent terms, I
am sure they are the most valuable I can offer you."
Our happy friend, it will readily be believed, lost no
time in forwarding a grateful acknowledgment to his
excellent monitor, in which he renewed those several
undertakings he had formerly given for the payment of
good conduct, offering with them such additional interest,
that we forbear to set them out, lest our readers should
tremble for the consequences.
The spring of this year terminated the youth's engage-
ment with Wilkinson; and he hastened early in May to
London, for the purpose of paying his duty to his uncle
Elliston, who had been, for some time past, on a visit at
Professor Martyn's, in Frith Street, Soho. On his arrival,
however, he learnt the Doctor had quitted London for
Cambridge, a piece of intelligence which came not un-
acceptably to his temporary relief; for, to confess the
truth, his courage had been wondrously oozing some-
Start
DR. FARMER-MR. GEORGE STEEVENS.
19
where during the whole journey, so that he was, in fact,
"little better than a coward," as he mounted the steps
of the botanical lecturer.
To Cambridge, however, he followed his good uncle.
The aspect of old St. Mary's Church, and the glories of the
Senate House, now barred against him for ever, smote
him in the keen recollection of the past; and as he
trailed along the quadrangle of the small college, over
which he once had bounded, tears rose in his eyes, and
depression was a far greater sentiment than fear. Dr.
Elliston received him with the affection of a well-disci-
plined mind; and heard, with more than patience, per-
haps, the repeated story of contrition. But the truant
was no guest at the Lodge. This single interview was all
that was conceded; and on such cool terms, within two
days, the ingrate retraced his steps to London.
Professor Martyn, by means of his fellow-collegian,
Dr. Farmer,* now introduced our young aspirant to Mr.
George Steevens,† who took an early opportunity for
making him personally known to Mr. John Kemble.
Elliston was received with much courtesy, and the part
of Romeo was suggested by Mr. Kemble for his particular
study, proposing that character for his first London
appearance, at Drury Lane Theatre. It was July, 1793,
in which this meeting took place, and as the new splendid.
edifice was not then completed, nor likely to be so by
the ensuing winter, it was arranged that the young actor
should appear about the commencement of the season
1794. This event, however, did not take place.
Bidding adieu, in a less abrupt manner than on the
first occasion, to his parents in Charles Street, with whom
he had lodged during his stay in London, Elliston re-
traced his steps to Bath, and made his second appearance
there, in the same month, in the character recommended
to his attention by Mr. Kemble. His success in Romeo
was a yet brighter colouring of that hue which had dis-
* Author of an (4
Essay on the Learning of Shakspeare," and
Master of Emmanuel College, Cambridge.
+ George Steevens, the able coadjutor of Dr. Johnson, in an
edition of the Works of Shakspeare.
c 2
20
AGED AND YOUTHFUL ACTORS.
tinguished his earlier days. The wild, romantic dream
of the Veronese boy-the outpouring of soul on the altar
of a youth's first passion-stood forth, a beautiful iden-
tity of that image which imagination conjures up as it
dwells on the progress of this Italian tale.
Complete as was the success of his second visit to Bath,
Elliston was, for a time, shut out from the "first line of
business." The youthful parts of either tragedy or
comedy were yet in the hands of certain actors, who once,
indeed, might have graced them well, but who still
retained them, on the claim of thirty years' enjoyment!
a plea, which though good and sufficient to the fee-
simple of dirty acres, became a questionable tenure to
the brighter territory of art.
We remember to have met with a somewhat ludi-
crous incident in point. An aged actor, having pertina-
ciously clung to light comedy long after he had been
blessed with a numerous family, had amongst them a son
of considerable theatrical ability, but it was in the line of
old men.
This youth made the first trial of his skill at
Exeter, in the part of Sir Anthony, in the comedy of
"The Rivals," wherein his real father was equipped
for his son, Jack Absolute. The play, it will be at once
remembered, must have afforded many points which con-
sequently became mightily absurd; but when the enraged
baronet had to exclaim: "I'll disown you—I'll unget
you-I'll never call you Jack, my boy, again!" it produced
a roar in the theatre which far surpassed any other indica-
tion of the night's enjoyment.
In August, 1794, Elliston came again to London, in con-
sequence of serious and repeated disagreements which had
taken place between his parents. These now terminated
in a separation of the parties.
،،
Clocks will go as they are set; but man,
Irregular man's ne'er constant-never certain,"
says the poet; and, true enough, the watchmaker had of
late contributed rather to the tableau vivant of Ho-
garth's "Midnight Conversation" than to the picture of
domestic enjoyment. His affairs, in short, were now
AN ADVENTURE
wound up, and the stock sold off. Young Elliston under-
took the support of her who had never failed in parental
kindness to him, and the "Distrest Mother” once more
occupied his thoughts in London, attended with applause
more hearty than any he had hitherto experienced—that
of his own conscience. The old gentleman became the
joint care of his two brothers.
Sauntering, one morning, while at Bath, with a friend
into the Pump Room, Elliston noticed a figure enveloped
in sundry flannels, whom he at once recognized as his old
fellow-traveller in the "Invalid." Scarcely could he for-
bear a smile on the first recollection of that pugnacious
morning, but
“Young men soon give and soon forget offence
Old age is slow to both"-
21
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
breaking from his companion, he approached the footstool
of this polluted “Mufti,” and in mock solemnity of tone,
said: “If I am so fortunate as to live in your recollec-
tion, sir, allow me to lament that you are still under your
severe sentence; but we have all our trials." On which,
to Elliston's further astonishment, the old snarler,
with a look which would have become Jefferies himself
at the plea of Richard Baxter, roared aloud—“ Scara-
mouch!"
A ludicrous air of perplexity which Elliston now ob-
served in the bystanders convinced him there was some-
thing yet to be explained.
"That
}
"Don't you know him?" asked his companion.
is Mr. D of the Corn Market, a rogue in grain, as
they call him at Bath. No one speaks to him here,
unless to affront him, as you have done. "Sentence !'.
'trial 'why, the equivoque was quite dramatic!"
S
He then went on to explain that the individual in ques-
tion was a certain corn-contractor, who, not very long
before, had been indicted for fraud in his commercial
dealings, and sentenced in severe penalties.
An adventure took place about this time worthy of
more particular remark. Elliston, on a certain evening,
proceeding to the theatre, where he had to play the part
22
of Don Juan, for about the fiftieth time, passing down an
obscure street, was suddenly startled by indications of
terror and distress, and discovered, on turning abruptly
into a narrow court, the lower part of a house enveloped in
flames. The occupiers had escaped unhurt, and most of
them, miserably poor, were watching, either in stupid
agony or with unavailing cries, the destruction of their
crazy homes.
A CONFLAGRATION.
Mingling with the various appeals of surrounding.
sufferers, the most heart-rending were those of a middle-
aged female, who, running from spot to spot, and thread-
ing the crowd without any intelligible purpose of action,
exclaimed: “Poor Jamie! he's gone-he's gone !—no
one can help poor, daft Jamie!" By the language and
manner of the woman, it was soon clear some one remained
unrescued. Elliston instantly pushed forward, and under-
stood that, in an upper apartment, some helpless being
was still imprisoned, whose awful fate was momentarily
expected. A side-door of the house afforded still the
possibility of ingress. Of this chance Elliston availed
himself; he rushed up the staircase, followed fortunately
by a bystander, emboldened by example, and found him-
self instantaneously in a wretched attic, where, on a still
more wretched pallet, lay extended a poor bed-ridden
being, whose state of idiotcy seemed roused to a glimmer-
ing sense of some proximate danger, but who had neither
power of utterance nor ability of motion.
""Tis useless!" exclaimed the man who had followed
Elliston into the house; "he cannot be saved! the stairs
are already in flames !"
"He can he shall!" was the reply; "be steady, and
we can accomplish it."
Approaching the bed, Elliston raised the poor creature
in his arms, and binding about him the tattered remnant
of sheet and clothing, carried him to the head of the
staircase. With difficulty he had passed to the first.
landing, where, forcing a side-window, he presented his
nearly-rescued charge to the multitude. But the shrieks
and struggles of the sufferer-the difficulty of making
the crowd understand that they were to assist him from
A MODEL WRITING-MASTER.
23
below, all, imperatively, the work of a few seconds-had
nearly left them in one common ruin. At length, how-
ever, by the aid of his companion, all was accomplished.
The living burden, lifted on the sill, was lowered by the
fragile tackle, and fell, unhurt, amid the crowd below.
The two liberators now effected their own escape, and
within three minutes the whole interior was in flames.
Disentangling himself from the embraces of the women,
Elliston now, like good Launcelot, "took to his heels and
ran," reaching the theatre just in time to see a substitute
Libertine, like other entrées, "dressed on the shortest
notice," and ready to be served up in his place.
His welcome, as may be well supposed, was enthu-
siastic. Called upon to tell his own story, Elliston was
as much in his element as Don Juan-for he had to
make a speech; a faculty which, though in after-life he
greatly improved, he by no means inconsiderably pos-
sessed at this present moment. The above incident gave
such additional attraction to this drama, that it was
scarcely out of the bills at any part of the season.
So much for the adventure itself; but Elliston, who
took the earliest opportunity of searching out the un-
happy patient he had rescued, discovered (strangely
enough) that he had originally been an actor, and fre-
quently a fellow-labourer with the great Macklin. Indis-
cretion, and consequent want of employment, had brought
on this state of mental aberration and wretchedness.
Elliston continued his kindness to him till he died.
The prosperity of our hero at this time, "like a full ear
of corn,” demanded only the gathering—and to do him
justice, he was neither careless of the present nor un-
mindful of the future.
His residence was now at the house of a highly respect-
able widower, who professed to give instruction in the
caligraphic art-a science which (with that enthusiasm
which should attend every man in his own vocation) he
placed immeasurably above all other accomplishments.
necessary to the polite world ;- "to write a good letter"
was, clearly, to write a good hand. He was the first who
announced to the public, through the centre pane of the
24
AN AMOROUS SPINSTER.
parlour window," This is a specimen of my handwriting,
before taking lessons of Mr. C ;" and a rude specimen
it was, to all intents and purposes. Immediately below-
"This is a specimen of my handwriting, after taking six
lessons of Mr. C ;" and a more rapid progress could
not reasonably have been expected, for no copper-plate
could match it. It was in this worthy gentleman's society
Elliston occasionally passed a leisure evening, and as the
writing-master was in the habit of giving little card
entertainments, the fortunate actor found an agreeable
relaxation in the acquaintance.
A certain merry dame, who, in after years, was an
amie du cœur of the Elliston family, was generally a
visitor on such occasions—a sprightly, agreeable woman,
who, by frequent hints and other indirect expressions, led
the young actor to understand that he was held in very
enviable favour in a certain quarter, and that it would be
his own fault if he did not improve his fortune. In fact,
she offered to become the means of making him acquainted
with a lady in Bath, well known for her great taste and
acquirements.
This personage was a Miss Flemming, whose reputation
as a teacher of dancing and deportment, had long been
pre-eminent at Bath. She was not, at this period, ex-
tremely young, nor had been, perhaps, at any, particularly
handsome; but what time might have ran away with, or
nature but niggardly bestowed, her own diligence more
liberally supplied-liberally, but discreetly-for she was
a woman, unquestionably, of judgment in this respect.
An early round at " quadrille," or an occasional visit at
the "Rooms," was all that prying curiosity could lay to
her charge on the score of frivolity.
999
But Miss Flemming now suddenly manifested an irre-
pressible desire for the drama! True, she eschewed
Congreve and Farquhar, as lax; but the "fine and serious
parts of the 'Provoked Husband were quite of another
texture. Frequently, she occupied a side-box at the
theatre, and under no circumstances would be absent
whenever the young actor was advertised for both play
and farce. These facts, with sundry invitations which
THWARTED TACTICS.
25
A
Elliston received to select parties at the lady's residence,
very naturally excited a whisper in the Bath coteries.
But prudence attended the designs of this lady; for in-
stead of hazarding a direct offer of herself in marriage, as
some silly, shortsighted women might have done, she
played what she considered the surer game, of building
up an implied engagement, of which, the wider the whisper
circulated, the more would the foundations be strengthened.
As to Elliston himself, he heard all these surmises with
that careless indifference which belongs to youth; for
although sensible of his obligations to the lady's patronage,
he was as cold under the irradiation of her smiles, as the
snow-capped Andes beneath the torrid zone.
Such was the state of things when, at one of these
select meetings, he beheld, for the first time, a Miss
Rundall, the principal assistant in Miss Flemming's
academy. This young lady, of considerable personal
attractions and sweetness of manner, Miss Flemming had
dexterously, until now, kept out of sight, and would fain
still have done so, but the introduction could no longer
be avoided. Suppressing suspicion, therefore, of what
she most dreaded, she too soon perceived the tender
contest would be hopeless on her part. Yet, if retreat
were inevitable, she still had hopes of harassing the
enemy.
Elliston, at once struck by the lustre of Miss Rundall,
was soon entirely captivated by her address; but his
generosity, and, perhaps, his interest, not a little induced
him to conduct himself in such a manner towards Miss
Flemming, that under no fair pretence could he be cur-
tailed the privilege which had once been so cordially con-
ceded to him, of visiting at the house. With the short
course of wooing, it will be unnecessary to detain the
reader,—particularly as we bear in mind the caution of
Ranger, that "nothing looks so silly as a pair of your
true lovers." Suffice it to say, a mutual sentiment occu-
pied the hearts of the youthful twain; and Elliston,
within "a fortnight and odd days," eperdument amoureux,
avowed his passion to one of the sweetest women in
England, which Miss Flemming heard with feelings not
26
FURTHER MACHINATIONS!
dissimilar to those of Queen Elizabeth on learning that
Leicester was married to Amy Robsart.
Frustrated in the first object of her heart, she now
looked to the full gratification of the second, which was,
of course, to prevent the match. Immediately, she ad-
dressed a letter to the parents of Miss Rundall, saying,
their daughter had formed a dangerous acquaintance with
a player, and, unless they at once interposed their autho-
rity by giving her-Miss Flemming the right of forbid-
ding any further intercourse, the worst consequences
might ensue.
On this intelligence, the brother of the young lady
arriving, booted and spurred, at Bath, Miss Flemming
looked on her triumph as complete; but, to her utter
dismay, she found it was the intention of Mr. Rundall to
remove his sister altogether from Miss Flemming, and
carry her off to London! Miss Flemming well knew
that the Don, Elliston himself, was on the eve of depar-
ture for the metropolis, to negotiate an engagement of
another description, and had great reason to fear that the
joint supplications of the devoted lovers would carry their
point with the Rundall family. But darker still was the
prospect to poor Miss Flemming. Miss Rundall had been
her assistant for several years; her manners and amiable
disposition had materially tended to the success of the
academy, and secured to it the highest patronage; the re-
moval, therefore, was as dangerous to Miss F.'s worldly
interests as fatal to her heart's desire-like the sailors,
who, to lighten the ship, threw over their bags of bis-
cuits, she had parted with the very means by which she
prospered.
This occurrence very soon became a topic of public
curiosity; and as both Elliston and Miss Rundall were
special favourites with many of the best families, the
peculiar nature of their distresses soon excited the sym-
pathy of the generous. A kind of Amphictyonic council
was held on the matter; and the result was, a request
forwarded by several of the beau monde of Bath to the
friends of Miss Rundall, that she might be permitted to
ELLISTON A SUITOR.
27
return, and that she should receive the best patronage,
"Mrs.
on opening an academy either as Miss Rundall or
Elliston."
Thus was another battle lost to "The Flemming."
Betrayed by her own machinations, she would fain have
quitted the field altogether. Calling once more a council
of war, the question was ultimately settled by treaty.
To the request forwarded as above to the friends of Miss
Rundall, Miss Flemming subjoined her own; but repre-
senting the unadvisableness of two dancing interests,
which would be ultimately fatal to both, she offered to
receive Miss Rundall into partnership. After a little
further correspondence, the matter was arranged. Miss
Rundall returned to Bath-the articles were signed-
"join hands-set partners"-and the matrimonial question
left altogether to the discretion of the parties themselves.
Late events had rendered a communication with the
Master of Sidney almost imperative, and too happy was
our young lover in the opportunity of again addressing
him by letter. This he did, announcing that it was more
than probable he should soon enter on an engagement at
the Haymarket Theatre, in London, and transmitted
£50, being part of his first professional savings, which
the Doctor placed in the Three per Cents., in their joint
names.
(C
"There is now, sir, a subject," said he, in continuation,
on which it still more becomes me to speak, and which,
although greatly advanced, must await your approba-
tion :—what I allude to, is an attachment I have formed
to a young lady of this place, and whom I ardently desire
to make my wife. Severed as I have been from my
earlier friends, it has been my endeavour, in forming new
ones, to connect myself with those who may do the first
no dishonour, should they again restore me to their
favour. I shall not detain you by professions of devotion
to the happiness of the lady to whom I have alluded, or
speak at length of the rare qualities of her mind and
person; but I may be permitted to say, for your own
satisfaction, that she is a lady of great respectability, and
28
A MARRIED MAN!
one who is regarded with the highest esteem by those
who are themselves esteemed."
Mr. Dimond now assenting (1796) to Colman's request
that Elliston should join him in London, for a short time,
Colman writes :- "I have many doubts about Octavian,
and as many about your appearing in a new piece. A
new drama is a risk of itself, and should it fail, the new
actor must, in some measure, fail with it. Let me have
immediately a list of the characters you have performed,
and mark those in which you think you have been
successful."
"If so
In a subsequent letter Colman observes,
valiant, e'en venture on the characters you propose, Oc-
tavian, Sheva, Hamlet. Hamlet, perhaps, requires further
deliberation. But you will feel the pulse of the town by
first playing the other two. As to Young Wilding, it is
to be remembered that Mr. Palmer will be with me, who
is established in the part.'
""
On the 8th of June, Elliston thus announced his
marriage to his uncle at Cambridge :
"MY DEAR SIR,-In adding a connection to that family,
of which you are justly the pride and ornament, I have
done it no discredit in the choice I have made; for I
have united with it all that goodness of heart, sweetness
of temper, or intellectual capabilities could confer. In
point of fortune we meet on equal terms, and it will he
our mutual endeavour to improve her favours. We have
been flattered by the congratulations of some of the lead-
ing families of this place, and encouraged by the assurance
of their patronage. I have engaged a small house,—one
suited to our present circumstances. It was not my in-
tention to have married until midsummer, but Mrs.
Elliston was compelled to open her academy by August,
and as the preparations required time, we have stolen this
matrimonial march upon the expectation of our friends.
This will also leave me at liberty to bring her with me to
London, where I am engaged to perform for two or
three nights, about the 24th of this month.
•
FIRST APPEARANCE IN LONDON.
"I feel, my dear sir, that I want only your approval of
my choice for the completion of a sense of happiness.
Believe me, my dear Sir, your affectionate nephew,
"R. W. ELLISTON.
66
29
Chapel Row, Bath, 8th June, —96.”
Nothing worthy particular remark signalized the
wedding-day, except, indeed, Miss Fleming appearing in
the character of bridemaid !—a part she went through in
a state of mind not very unlike that of some heir-pre-
sumptive to a rich estate, who, having for twenty years
been in the habit of looking on the reversion as inevitably
his own, suddenly hears of the birth of a direct heir,
leaving him in the interesting situation of £10,000
borrowed on his expectancies.
On the 25th of June, 1796, Elliston made his first
appearance in London, at the Haymarket Theatre, in the
part of Octavian, in the "Mountaineers ;" and played on
the same evening, Vapour, in the farce of "My Grand-
mother." On the ensuing morning, the following notices.
made also their appearance on the boards of the journals :
site to an actor
"This young performer has claims that fully entitle
him to the favourable reception he has met with from a
London audience. He appears to possess that first requi-
good conception of his character.
Many passages in his performance of Octavian were
marked by energy and feeling. His pathos made a suc-
cessful appeal to the audience, and discovered effects
beyond common artifice. His delivery in general was
good, except that, when he was desirous of being im-
pressive, he was occasionally too rapid. In Vapour, he
disclosed some power of whim and humour."
Taking the various accounts given at the time, there
can be no doubt that Elliston made a decided "hit" in
the part of Octavian, and in all probability would have
shot equally well in Fapour, but for this double attempt
before an entirely new audience.
On the 28th, Elliston repeated Octavian to great
G
30
GEORGE COLMAN.
""
applause, and on the 30th he appeared in the character
of Sheva. His success in this part was undeniable. In
the opinion of the journals, "no performer of better pro-
mise had presented himself in London for many years,'
and the Bath actor was, sur le champ, a confirmed
favourite with the London public. These two parts,
Octavian and Sheva, he alternately repeated for a few
nights, according to agreement.
Early in July, Elliston resumed his professional duties.
at Bath, and within a week of his return, his benefit at
Bristol took place, whereby he cleared nearly one hundred
pounds; a sum hitherto unprecedented in that city. On
the 15th he received the following flattering communica-
tion from Mr. Colman :—
London, July 14, 1796.
"MY DEAR SIR,-I shall be very happy to see you
again, the moment your affairs will permit you to
return. I will either defer settling terms till we meet,
or fix them with you by letter. If you prefer the latter,
pray propose, and nothing that I am able to effect shall
be left undone to meet your wishes.
"Octavian and Sheva, you might, I am confident,
repeat with increase of reputation to yourself, and advan-
tage to the theatre. Hamlet, too (of whom you seem a
little afraid), has nothing in the character which is not
within your scope. If you fancy my hints can be of ser-
vice to you in any part, I think they may be so in this,
for I have been reading "Hamlet" with no small atten-
tion, on your account, since your departure.
"I am, my dear Sir, sincerely yours,
"G. COLMAN.”
((
To this letter, so full of hope and encouragement,
Elliston did not reply for several days; for, notwithstand-
ing his recent anxiety to appear in London, and his great
reception there, he still doubted whether it would not be
wiser to remain in a place which had become so essentially
his home. "Hors de Bath, point de salut," thought he.
JOCULAR EPISTLE.
31.
In the mean time, he received a letter from Mr.
Gore, a gentleman who had long been on terms of
great intimacy with the Elliston family. The captain's
besetting passion was a play.
((
Why have you not replied to Colman's letter?”
says he.
"Sense of security is mortals' frailty; and a
man who has behaved so kindly to you as Colman, has a
claim on your best attention. I see no reason why you
should stand in awe of Hamlet; you have every qualifi-
cation for it, except feature, and art may do much for
you even in this. Dismiss all apprehension; and, as at
our Swedish game of Fer Herne,' rush boldly forward,
and win by daring.
C
"Cumberland and myself have met we chatted toge-
ther last Friday behind the scenes very freely, upwards
of an hour. He talked much about you; and do not
blush, that I praised you highly as a good son.
Last
night I was behind the scenes, at Colman's. Jack Ban-
nister bowed again en passant, more coolly than he was
wont to do. Perhaps he had heard of my attendance on
you; and rooks will smell gunpowder. Charles Kemble
asked very kindly after you; he seemed pleased to hear
of your probable return this season. Waldron, the re-
nowned Sir Walter Raleigh, rapped out some dozen oaths
-swore 'by 'gad,' he could not have thought there was
so much stuff in you-that, by 'gad,' you had taken
them all in; and that you were an astonishing young
man. He talked of Garrick, of whom, to his teeth, he
knows no more than I of Sanconiatho. He said, too, he
had heard you were engaged at Covent
week.
Garden, at £20 a
"In the front of the theatre I met Reynolds; he told
me he had finished another comedy for Harris, in which
Lewis is to play Harlequin- It is full of stale jokes,'
said he, because the public understand them; and as
for plot, even the lying critics can't accuse me of filching
them, for my plays have no plots at all.' This isn't being
6
* Mr. and Lady Morris Gore resided chiefly at Bath, and were on
the best terms with the Ellistons.
32
(( THE IRON CHEST."
too partial to one's own-is it? There is much conver-
sation stirring here on the death of Robert Burns: but
honourable fame is imperishable. I cannot do better
than dismiss my letter with a hint so useful."
Most of our readers are aware of the untoward circum-
stances which attended the production of Colman's drama
of "The Iron Chest"-that the essential incidents of the
piece were taken from Godwin's novel ("Caleb Wil-
liams")—that it was first represented at Drury Lane
Theatre, in March, 1796-and that the event was dis-
appointment and failure; on the cause of which there was
much diversity of public opinion, but on which the mind
of the author was at least free from any embarrassment
of doubt, as appeared by a "Preface" to the publication
of the above a production which, at the time, excited
very general attention.
That Mr. Colman might have had many grounds for
regret, in the first instance, the very subsequent suc-
cess of this drama is a sufficient proof; but nothing surely
could justify an attack on Mr. Kemble, which, for loud
invective and the use of certain language (for the first
time, then, the weapons of a gentleman), is almost with-
out parallel. That a rhapsody so furious should seize on
public attention was no matter of surprise; but attention
may be engaged without approbation attending it nor
is it with much difficulty we are led to believe that he
who penned so impotent a piece of reasoning, might pos-
sibly have written a play not worth the acting.
:
At no epoch of the drama were writers so much in-
debted to actors as at the time in which Colman wrote,
and none of them more so than Mr. Colman himself.
We would detract nothing from the merits of "John
Bull," or the "Heir at Law;" but we do mean to con-
gratulate the reputation of the author that these plays.
were produced at this fortunate period.
The cause of the above dispute we do not enter into-
its interest passed away with the moment that begot it;
satisfied we are that no provocation could acquit Mr.
Colman of doing either violence to his friend or discredit
to himself—a dispute in which, as he was not nice in
OBSERVATIONS THEREON.
33
respect of implements of offence, it is the more mournful
that he should have been without a triumph-for triumph
this was none, except with those who, like himself, could
mistake fury for argument, and "calling names" for the
pungency of satire.
Mr. D'Israeli, in noticing the infirmities of genius, gives
the following pointed illustration of self-laudification in
the case of Kepler, which, mutatis mutandis, might be
here applied. I dare insult," cries the astronomer, "the
whole world, by confessing that I am he who has turned
science (a novel) into advantage (a play). If I am par-
doned, I shall rejoice—if blamed, I shall endure it. The
die is cast. I have written this book (Preface!') and
whether it be read by posterity, or by my cotemporaries,
is of little consequence-it can well wait for readers during
one century, when God himself, during six thousand
years, has not sent an observer (a dramatist) like myself!"
No sooner was Elliston safe in Colman's hands, than
the manager disclosed his purpose-namely, the resusci-
tation of “Sir Edmund Mortimer," in the person of
Robert Elliston.
Having taken some liberties with Mr. Colman's "Pre-
face," we must now, in justice to the drama itself, pursue
its history to the close. The "Mirror," a great theatrical
authority of the time, had pronounced this play beyond all
hope; that it was a very defective piece of work, and under
no circumstances could possibly make a stand. But the
experiment Colman was resolved on attempting ;—the
"magic lamp" he was determined to possess, and on looking
round for a fit instrument to his project, fixed on the young
Aladdin he had purposely enticed to London. Elliston was
of an ardent but not a presumptuous temper. Hamlet he
had regarded with becoming diffidence of his immature
powers, and the proposition now made to him of rescuing
from the very grave a subject which the faculty had
pronounced beyond all cure, and emphatically given over
by the great Paracelsus himself, inspired him with no
slight sensations of fear.
He resumes his correspondence with his uncle :—
"Here am I once more in the metropolis, and have
D
34
ELLISTON ACTS SIR EDWARD MORTIMER."
(C
again paid my respects to a London audience, by whom I
have been received with renewed—with increased demon-
strations of welcome. Colman's Iron Chest,' which has
made some noise in the dramatic world, is published, and
with it a 'Preface,' or a prescription, which the author
no doubt intended for Kemble's malady. The 'Iron
Chest' is now to be performed at the Haymarket, and I
am fixed on to take the character of Sir Edward Mor-
timer. It is thought by many a bold attempt, but by
none more so than myself. Young Bannister, eaten up
with spleen, has positively refused my repeating Sheva,
which he claims his unalienable own; and as I do not
think it prudent to perform Hamlet, or indeed anything
I could not confidently offer to the public, I am at a
stand. The Iron Chest' engages all my attention-I
am already in the stirrup of my purpose-wish me, dear
Sir, success."
C
The morning of the 29th arrived. Never had Elliston
felt himself more depressed, not even when at Hull he
believed himself abandoned by his revered relative. He
remembered Colman's words, "A new play redoubles the
hazard to a new actor." He almost fancied this manager-
author was sacrificing him to the desperate hope of his
own extrication. The state of his nerves was something
like that of a young barrister on the first day of term,
having "to move " in a court as yet unconscious of his
accents. A thousand times did he wish the "
were already granted.
new trial"
A full house and loud encouragement greeted the
appearance of the Haymarket Sir Edward, which, like
the first shot in the field, freed his spirit from its
bondage, and he entered gallantly on the fight. The ex-
periment was adequate to the purpose-Colman's object
was fully accomplished, and Elliston's fame in a con-
siderable degree advanced. The play met with success—
the chief performer with approbation and applause,-and
from that moment the "Iron Chest
"Iron Chest" became a stock-
piece in the acting drama, and was repeated every evening
to the last of the season.
The "Mirror" had this curious paragraph :---“ Had
35
Mr. Kemble played Mortimer infinitely better than he
did, the 'Iron Chest' would, nevertheless, have been con-
demned at Drury Lane." (It has been acted at Drury
Lane a hundred times since with success.) "Had Mr.
Elliston not played half so well as he did, the 'Iron
Chest' would have been successful at Mr. Colman's own
theatre." (The insinuation is clear; the charge easily
made; but does the history of the piece for forty years
bear out the assertion? Had its success been the work
of claqueurs, the pages of the "Iron Chest" had long since
gone to the trunkmakers.)
But not merely with the young and ardent, to whom
novelty is as the very dayspring of existence, had Elliston
become an object of interest, but he shared also the regard
of those in whom passion is said to wait on the judgment,
and sobriety to reprove the whispers of imagination.
Of that mature class to which Bath had long been a
haven and a refuge, was a Mrs. Collins, a widow lady,
who, having here buried her husband three years since,
with whom she had lived in tolerable peace for full thirty,
was content to make the experiment of her viduity in
the same place which had yielded her so fair an average
of connubial profit.
AN ECCENTRIC WIDOW.
Mrs. Collins was a highly respectable, well-meaning
woman. She had, however, one peculiarity, which, as it
ran into extremes, we fear we must place in the catalogue
of sins; and this was, that she never destroyed, parted
with, or lost sight of anything which had ever once
passed into her possession. Not that she was a niggard :
on the contrary-she was liberal with her means and
generous in her sentiments, but she was incurably pos-
sessed with the acervatic spirit of hoarding. Neither
note, slip, scrap, bill, nor account had she ever sentenced
to the flame: however trivial the document, the senseless
record was still enrolled in her " Cottonian" Museum.
"Mr. Jones will see Mr. Fitz Simons at two o'clock this
day," she had already preserved for twenty years; pro-
spectuses of schemes never carried into effect; shop-cards
of parties long since in the "Gazette
Gazette;" London Direc-
tories previous to the days of Wilkes, and hallowed
D 2
36
HEAPS AND HOARDS!
almanacs nearly coeval with herself. Saddles and stoves,
frames of pictures and remnants of carpet; locks of doors
and stoppers of decanters; injured Daphnes, and noseless
Strephons; spectacle-cases and snuffer-stands; boot-hooks
and bell-wires; old turnpike-tickets and wine-corks;
cataplasms of a relative who died of a gangrene, and the
residue of Mr. Collins' medicine in his last illness.
-
This well-saved heterogeneous mass, occupying sundry
attics, and yielding but little rent, the good widow at
stated periods deemed it necessary to overhaul and ex-
amine. Taking stock in an extensive retail concern was
a trifle to this job-it was her occupation for days-the
whole went through the operation of fresh pepper for
preservation, and new labels for inventory; and according
to Elliston, who was ever mightily amused with the
original, she had actually an old jack-weight brought once.
a-year before the kitchen fire, to be well-aired and made
comfortable for the remainder of the twelvemonth.
With this besetting propensity to conservation, it may,
be supposed that she guarded with Papistic zeal every
relic of her sainted husband. There was his wig, his hat,
his walking-stick, and every thread and button that had
encased his perishable form. In fact, she had saved all
things but him.
But these eccentricities impaired not the more sterling
quality of Mrs. Collins. Mrs. Elliston she always valued,
and Robert William she sometimes admonished. This
she did occasionally by letter; and though we do not
consider her grave exhortations so necessary to our
readers as to the object whom she addressed, we cannot
refrain from giving one or two examples.
The following characteristic epistle Elliston received
before leaving Bath :—
"Milsom Street (no date).
"I am always in terror, my dear young friend, when I
hear you are to dine at the houses of those who love to
push the bottle, and think robbing persons of their reason
is an evidence of hospitality. In this class is Sir J. Cope
-and I deem it a kind of duty to let you into his cha-
INTERVIEW WITH MR. SHERIDAN.
37
ructer. Beware of going a second time to the 'Harmonic'
with a head full of discord. I heard, with concern, the
dispute you got into ; but forbore defending you to Mrs.
E., lest she might really have heard nothing of the matter.
When your enemies (for so they are) would lead you
astray, repeat to them your own constant expression,
'professional people should be cautious.' What is become
of Mr. Foote? I have a particular wish to see him, be-
cause he was recommended to Mrs. C. Brownlow by
Colonel Greville.
"Your faithful friend,
A. C.
"P.S. The benefit tickets which were not used I have
put by.”
Not many days after the first representation of the
"Iron Chest," at the Haymarket, Elliston received offers
from both Mr. Harris and Mr. Sheridan. The latter
gentleman, having appointed to breakfast with him, was
so far true to his engagement, but arrived in Frith Street
at a quarter before six o'clock, P.M., just seven hours after
the time that had been named. Sheridan, however,
immediately entered on the business of his mission, and
appeared extremely anxious to see this new light burn-
ing under the dome of Drury Lane Theatre; but Ellis-
ton, a newly married man, his wife settled at Bath, in
partnership with Miss Flemming under a bond of £500,
and himself the paramount favourite as an actor in the
same place, was not easily persuaded to the project.
He therefore made such proposals to Sheridan as he
pretty well knew could not be acceded to—namely,
£1,000 to be paid down-the forfeit sum of his articles
with Dimond, the penalty of his bond in respect of his
wife, "and in conclusion," a large weekly salary for his
own professional exertions. Besides which, his prefer-
ence would have been decidedly in favour of Covent
Garden, where he fancied a better security for his money
—a consideration which we trust our readers will deem
reasonable enough. The result was, that Mr. Harris
proved the successful bidder,—his proposal being that
I
38
LETTER FROM MRS. COLLINS.
Elliston should play twelve nights in the course of the
season; to receive £200; and in the event of his being
found greatly attractive, to be paid an adequate additional
sum.
In the mean time our new acquaintance, Mrs. Collins,
again addresses him.
،
Ashley Grove, August 19, 1797.
"DEAR FRIEND,-I have heard with pleasure from
sweet Mrs. Elliston, who kindly enclosed a paragraph.
from the Oracle,' which gave me infinite satisfaction.
As you request me to become your monitress, I do not
think I should discharge the trust faithfully unless I
were to transmit my sentiments as you may give occasion
for them, lest by delay they might be too late to be useful.
I have been perusing the part of Colonel Fainwell with
much attention, and it strikes me as one calculated to
portray your powers and versatility to great advantage.
"But, on a subject infinitely of greater importance (no
less, my young friend, than the preservation of your
health and morals), it now behoves me to say a few words.
You will readily believe I wish you to consult Mr. C.*
on theatricals ONLY. Avoid being led by him into convi-
vial parties, which may be ruinous to your purse, and,
above all, to your peace of mind. Be wary of him when
the playhouse doors are shut! Of his abilities I think
highly, and therefore wish you to talk with him on your
performing Belcour and Don Felix on the stage of the
theatre; but on the stage of life, have as little to do with
any of them as possible. I am pleased to hear you are to
appear in Walter.
You outshone Bannister in Sheva, and
may do no less in Walter. If it be practicable, I will
attend on your night at the Haymarket, therefore let me
have your bill of fure.
"In a few hours I set off for Bath, where I hope to
find Mrs. Elliston and my pretty god-daughtert well.
"Believe me, my dear friend, your faithful well-
wisher,
"ANNE COLLINS."
"(
* Mr. Colman.
† Eliza, Elliston's first child, born at Bath, May 22, 1797.
"PHILASTER."
39
On the 21st of September, 1797, Elliston made his
début on Covent Garden stage, in the part of Sheva. His
observant friends had long confirmed the opinion of Tate
Wilkinson, namely, that too frequently he wanted force,
and they were consequently not without some apprehen-
sion that he might fail in so large a theatre. But he had
better confidence in himself; the experiment was made ;
and while the most sanguine of his auditors were taken
by surprise, the backward and unwilling confessed he was
indeed an actor. The night's receipt, amounting to
£258, was welcome as summer to Mr. Harris; and on
Elliston's repeating the part on the 28th, the amount
was £300. On the following evening he acted the same
character at Bristol !
After repeating Sheva at Covent Garden, the bills
announced that the proprietors of the Bath Theatre had
consented that Elliston should perform in London once
in every fortnight throughout the season, and that his
subsequent characters would be those of Philaster and
Don Felix.
"Philaster" is a piece of bilious mosaic, compounded
in a great measure of the ravings of Hamlet, the jealousy
of Othello, and the turbulence of Posthumus. Elliston's
success in Octavian and Mortimer suggested, no doubt,
the probability of a “hit” in this new part; and though
he seems to have aimed with good success in those pas-
sages wherein tenderness and suspicion alternately pre-
vail, yet on the whole it does not appear that Philaster
was one of his triumphant undertakings. The recipt to
"Philaster was only £148. The play was not repeated,
nor did Elliston's name appear in the Covent Garden
bills after that occasion. He acted only seven nights.
""
Elliston again settled at Bath; Colman renews his
correspondence with him :--
“ All I shall observe," he says, "of your Covent Gar.
den business is, that never was so promising a child so
ill nursed. Your letter bears with it an air of disappoint-
ment; but you are so unused to checks, that trifles seem
to upset you. I am now deep in the matter of a new
40
"WALTER.'
*
comedy; as far as I have proceeded, there is nothing
which I think would suit you—it is all sock, not a shred
of buskin—nor can I introduce anything likely to show
you off to advantage. The cut and dry you can still make
palatable. I am for Macbeth! Open my booth on the
12th of June."
Mr. Palmer, the principal shareholder of the Bath
Theatre, had just served the office of mayor of that city,
which he carried through in a most expensive and spirited
manner, and was conjectured, at this moment, to be in
want of money; this Elliston thought a good opportunity
for endeavouring to effect a part purchase of the theatre.
Measures were taken for this object, and his most conci-
liatory uncle agreed to advance the funds necessary. But
Elliston's calculations appear to have been erroneously
made: the offer was not entertained by the other parties.
When, however, the new theatre was building in 1805,
he fancied himself sure of his object: his offers were not
positively rejected, but so many obstacles were raised,
that he finally abandoned the project altogether.
Elliston now took a spacious house in Pulteney Street,
estimating that he should stand rent-free by letting off
part of it, a very common piece of miscalculation,
which, like fortunes made on the slate, appear at the
outset so natural and easy.
Owing to the lateness of the Bath season, Elliston was
not able to join the Haymarket company before the 9th
of August, when he made his appearance in his favourite
Octavian. His reception was highly gratifying. He
seemed to have surmounted the prejudices even of the
enthusiastic followers of Kemble, in this part, and obtained
credit for that which always charms-originality.
Having next played Sir Edward Mortimer, he appeared
in the part of Walter, in "The Children of the Wood."
Here Elliston had the same obstacles to contend with as
in Octavian-namely, stepping into a character rendered
singularly attractive by a living popular actor. Bannister
had justly acquired a perfect command over the feelings
*This was the "Heir-at-Law."
41
of the auditor, in this part of Walter: his acting was
natural, simple, yet deeply impressive; a part, also, in
which he was constantly before the public. The stand,
however, which the Bath actor made was greatly flattering.
"Elliston's Walter was only inferior to Bannister's
because it did not precede it," said a great theatrical
authority; but although the pathos of the part was a
material which he was expected successfully to deal with,
he was perhaps somewhat too stilted for the impersonation
of lowly and familiar scenes Difficile est communia
dicere it was the pathetic of tragedy, not comedy.
This, like all Elliston's previous attempts, was no copy-
confirming his reputation as an original actor.
Elliston, "the child of fortune," was now in a fair way
of becoming a man of fortune for not only was he
making money, but what is more rare, he was saving it.
The sensation, also, he had lately produced rendered him
quite "the observed" of the gay metropolis, so that he
was nearly as much courted by the élégants of London as
he had been at Bath itself.
-
ALL-NIGHT CLUBS.
But London affords a vast variety of scenes to lads of
metal, other than the halls of science, or the chambers of
the polite—many places which young men, not absolutely
" content to dwell in decencies for ever," would just like
to witness once !-scenes which, being fortunately hidden
from the world, and loving darkness rather than light,
are sometimes sought under the most curious plea which
was perhaps ever advanced-namely, of seeing the world!
But to proceed there existed at this period (1797)
certain conventions, yclep'd "clubs," which, though not
containing the peculiar essence of Will's, or the precise
quality of Button's, had yet most assuredly a quality of
their own.
Here was no narrow, mean exclusiveness;
no ignoble sensitiveness of character-the doors, like a
box of charity, were open to the whole world, pro hâc
nocte, on the payment of sixpence. These places were
frequented chiefly by a class of persons who had but one
plan in life, namely, to give over work the first moment
they had earned enough to get drunk for the remainder
of the week.
42
،، COURT OF COMUS."
One of the principal establishments of the above kind
was the "Court of Comus," which had laid its foundations
in Wych Street, whereof a certain choice spirit of the
name of Desborough was rated to the poor; or in other
words, the landlord. This Desborough, as dull a rogue
on most points, as any in Christendom, was yet famous by
a kind of concentration of genius, the light whereof
became more vivid by the illimitable stupidity by which
it was encircled. This outrageously stupid man was
famous, in fact, for doing one thing well-well! surpass-
ing, in sooth, any effort of the "Court of Comus" itself—
and this was, singing Dibdin's song of "Fortune's
Wheel!"
But to return to the "Court of Comus." Precisely at
nine o'clock p.m. by the chimes of St. Clement Dane, the
doors of this sanctuary were thrown open to devotees
(who, like crabs, moved only at night), and the "Flamen"
of the sanded floor (Cussans) ascended the curule chair,
before whom a pickled herring, some strong waters, and
an ounce of tobacco, were regularly placed.
This celebrated youth was the son of an opulent West
Indian, and educated at Marylebone school-an indubi-
table genius; but like farmer Ashfield's horse of that
name, "he would never work.
""
Cussans lodged at a baker's, as it afforded him the
means of getting in at any hour of the four-and-twenty,
except on Saturdays, when he never went home at all.
Sands, another lad, hopeful as young Filch himself, occu-
pied one room of a tenement in Dark-house Lane, the
door of which, for the sake of light and air, had not been
shut for forty years; and Hawtin, the trumpeter and
stone-eater, with one Smith, a glass-eyed clarionet-player,
constituted the "leaders" in the "Court of Comus."
On Cussans taking the chair, the official club cocked-
hat was handed to him by the Serjeant-at-Arms, Sands;
and the moment he placed it on his head, "the kettle to
the trumpet spake," and the court was declared sitting.
The first thing, as we have heard, was "Fortune's
Wheel." Then the renowned Cussans, the court improv-
visatore, gave a canzona, in which, with some ability, he
SCENES THEREIN.
((
identified each visitor present; afterwards, in turn, every
one present was separately called on to "do something."
This "doing something" was imperative, except, indeed,
that indulgences and absolutions might be purchased;
but these, though always marketable, were placed con-
siderably beyond the reach of the generality of sinners,
the price for each being half-a-crown. Doing some-
thing" implied either a song, a speech, poising a tobacco-
pipe or coal-skuttle; an imitation of cat, dog, or fowl,
posturizing, or the more classic feat of quaffing to the
dregs the pewter Amystis of some potent compound.
"Qui canerent agerentque peruncti fæcibus ora."
43
Each actor had his turn, and each effort its short pre-
eminence, till drink alone was triumphant, which, like
the sole survivor of the fray, claimed the prostrate field
its own.
On gala nights, Cussans, as the clock struck twelve,
from a god, descended, like Jupiter himself, into a beast,
—not, indeed, as a rampant bull, but as a dancing bear !
The scene of riot was thus conducted :-Sands, the bear-
leader, beating the bottom of a pewter pot with a
marrow-bone, threw a lasso about the loins of Cussans,
now rolling in the sand, whilst Hawtin and Smith accom-
panied the exhibition with other signs and sounds fitting
the occasion. The belluine judge, nobly sustaining his
part, which, like Snug, the joiner, he might do extem-
pore, for it was nothing but roaring," danced, whirled,
evoluted, till the poor excitement which drunkenness had
produced left him at length as lifeless as an unburied
(.
corse.
""
"Man differs more from man than man from beast.'
In his idiosyncrary, Cussans had also a singular and
conceited regard for his word of promise. This, whether
given under a false representation from others; forced at
the very point of the bayonet, or filched from him in the
moment (the many hours!) of intoxication, he still in-
variably regarded. Having been reminded that, on one
of these occasions, he had promised to hire himself as a
44
FURTHER DISCLOSURES.
pot-boy to a neighbouring house of call for wits, he
actually entered on the ignoble service, at the "Red
Lion," in Russell Street, for one entire month, at the ex-
piration of which, he gave notice to his allies that a
"Lodge" would be open at the "Court of Comus." The
procession of his manumission quitted the blushing lion
at a certain hour-Sands, Hawtin, and others, occupying
the interior of a hackney-coach, and Cussans, ipsissimus,
in a harlequin party tire, perched on the roof-Desbo-
rough preceding, and, of course, singing "Fortune's
Wheel!"
On another occasion, a review of troops taking place in
Hyde Park, before the King and Prince of Wales, Cussans
procured a military uniform and charger, and having
effected his way on the ground, actually joined the royal
party as they were passing along the line. The dis-
tinguished stranger attracted presently universal atten-
tion, his mock-heroic aspect and imperturbability of
deportment bade defiance to the gravity of the whole
staff, and shook the nerves of as gallant a brigade as ever
entered the field.
""
Cussans was also a considerable actor; he played
frequently at Sadler's Wells, generally choosing Sneak,
in the " Mayor of Garratt," as he was much celebrated in
the character-song of "Oh ! Poor Robinson Crusoe !" In
this song, he had as many "encores as he pleased; and
on a certain evening, having sang it three or four times,
the curtain drew up for another part of the night's enter-
tainment, when, to the astonishment, but still greater
delight, of the Sadler's Wells auditory, Cussans started
up from the very centre of the shilling gallery, vigorously
singing "Oh! Poor Robinson Crusoe!" nor would the
Wellsites suffer the drama to proceed till he had again
sang it twice from the same spot.
Poor Cussans! brandy was his death, and water his
grave; for he died on his voyage to a softer climate, and
was buried in the deep.
Such were the "clubs "-at least such the "Court of
Comus !" —ex uno, &c., and such was the place (we con-
fess it with a blush) where Robert William, oblivious of
45
dear Mrs. Collins, "when the playhouse doors were shut,”
satisfied his young curiosity. Shaking his plumes from
the encumbrance of rule, and unbuckling the heavy
breastplate of decorum-here, amongst the "free and
easy," we track the footsteps of our adventurous hero;
but (as the "bills" express it) "for this night only”—at
least we hope so—and will therefore leave him to all the
gratification the adventures can afford.
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.
By one of those fortuities which render truth some-
times stranger than fiction, the unhappy parents of our
hero, between whom, it will be remembered, a separation
had taken place many months before, were now brought,
face to face, tout à coup, in the small back parlour of a
chemist's shop, in Somers Town.
A crowd had collected before the glazed door, owing
to a man having been carried within who had a few
minutes before fallen down in a fit. The good mother,
passing at the time, being well known to the compounder
of drugs, gained ready admittance; and prompted by
something better than curiosity, approached the unfor-
tunate sufferer just as he was coming to." No sooner
had she fixed her eyes on the object in question, than,
clasping her hands, she faintly exclaimed, "Robert!" and
sank on a chair beside him. The one was the horloger,
old Elliston himself; and the good Samaritan, no other
than his faithful helpmate, whose affection for her
husband neglect had never weakened nor separation
estranged.
Being thus brought together, a renewal of conjugal
rights was the result; and a cottage, in the neighbourhood
of Bath, was taken and furnished for the aged couple—
the expenses of which young Elliston, with some assistance
from the Doctor, cheerfully engaged to defray. The old
lady, however, did not long enjoy the comfort thus pro-
vided—she died in November, 1798. The widower was
then removed to his son's house, where he lingered till
the June of the following year, and then expired. The
fact was, both mother and son had gone through much
vexation and painful trouble on the watchmaker's ac-
count. Drink had sadly disordered Nature's works; and
(6
46
the time-piece, man, was no more.
If his amiable mate
had ever found him a blessing, he was, beyond all ques-
tion, a blessing "disguised," for he was seldom sober.
As a proof of Elliston's devotion to his art, at this
period of his career, it should be noticed that he was in
the habit of drawing up an analysis of each part previous
to his first appearance therein. For an example, we
give a brief slip of the character of Panglos :
"It is no uncommon thing to find men of letters
courting the hand of power or fortune, by descending to
meannesses which an independent mind would shudder at.
In this state, is the subject of our present contemplation.
He continues with few or no attempts to release himself
from the caprice and insults of his employers, and his
conscience is presently reconciled to his interest. His
quotations are not unnatural and irresistibly laughable,
and we forgive his vanity for the sake of the mirth it
causes,
ELLISTON A CRITIC.
"Comic characters are seldom analyzed in their moral
features; we laugh at singularities, without regarding
their tendency, which may possibly be bad. The oddity
of Panglos, his pedantry and cringing, all combine to
make him ridiculous; but the author has done good dra-
matic justice; for, while we find the Doctor amusing, to
answer the cause of theatrical entertainment, he is left
contemptible, as a lesson to take home with us.
""
Happy should we have been to leave undisturbed the
good impression which no doubt our hero has made on
our readers, by this example of professional diligence; but,
as faithful historians, we are compelled now to present
them with a letter, which may possibly raise more than a
suspicion of his fallibility, and call to mind those sundry
airy securities for good behaviour which in 1792 he
showered on his confiding uncle, and made us tremble, at
the time, for his liabilities. The epistle is from the con-
servative Mrs. Collins, who, from the storehouse of her
affection, supplies the following admonition-the exigency
of which will be explained by the tenour of her words:
"I received your packet, my dear young friend. with
mingled sentiments of concern and satisfaction. If I ever
MRS. COLLINS AGAIN!
47
mentioned to Mrs. E. the report of your being an unsteady
husband, it was to weaken the blow of her being a de-
ceived wife—for these latter reports are flying about like
musquitoes.
"That you are really in debt, I never have believed;
but that you go the way to become in debt, I do believe,
because I know it-know that you play—gamble-know
that you have visited the hazard table-thank God, I do
not believe it is yet a HABIT. But it is in dread of this
that I now write-when once the habit is confirmed-
when once this idle pleasure has ripened into passion, you
are lost to any hope which this world can give of your
own preservation; whilst the pang that event will inflict
on you, will be a hundredfold repeated in the knowledge
that you are the curse instead of the blessing to those who
now look up to you alone for shelter.
"The reports that 'young Elliston is a gambler,' have
already reached Mr. Gore; I therefore recommend you to
take an early opportunity, not of denying these, if they be
true, but of breaking the vicious bonds while yet they are
within your strength. What have I heard that even
between the scenes of the very playhouse-frequently in
your dressing-room there-you gamble in some shape or
other. Can such things fail of notoriety? and will noto-
riety have any tenderness for the ears of your inestimable
wife? I say again, Take heed!' and believe me,
"Your sincere friend,
"ANNE COLLINS.”
On receipt of the above, Elliston first made an attempt
at some display at indignation on reading it, but, like
Jonathan Wild, who, when thrust to sea alone, in an open
boat, cocked his hat and looked fierce for a moment, and
then recollected there was no one by to applaud him, so
did our hero think better of his anger, and pocketing the
affront, vowed there was no real happiness, but what con-
science approved; and so passed that evening in the full
enjoyment of virtuous resolutions.
In the midst of these things--the analysis, one moment,
48
and the dice, another-schemes of theatrical partnership,
and sudden excursions of pleasure,-Elliston made his ap-
pearance as a public teacher!
During the Lent season of this year, he undertook a
series of lectures, both at Bath and Bristol, on morals and
general criticism—it was a kind of "Blair,” “Kames,"
and Elliston partnership, in which the moralist and the
critic, pleasantly impregnated with the popular actor, drew
together very profitable assemblies at both cities, and
ended greatly to the success of this new enterprise. Poor
Mrs. Collins! what a letter would she have written-how
emphatically scored each alternate word-had she heard
the malicious tattle which for a time prevailed on the
termination of these evening displays!
Some few months previous to these events, Elliston had
discovered the mistake in his calculation of the Pulteney-
street establishment. He found that bringing a large
house "
over his head" was as destructive as an
"old
one,”—part of it had never once been occupied at all, and
his tenant for another had absconded, with a month's
rent yet unsatisfied, and a few pounds to boot, borrowed
from his landlord in the hurry of some business, by which
any gentleman may be surprised. Elliston and his family
had now taken up their residence in Bathwick-street.
It was about this period our young friend became
known to the Earl Harcourt, a nobleman of unostenta-
tious friendliness and refined taste, enjoying the favour of
the sovereign, and dispensing patronage and encourage-
ment to British art under every denomination.
EARL HARCOURT.
The Earl's father had been nominated ambassador ex-
traordinary to the court of Mecklenburgh Strelitz, to
demand the Princess Charlotte in marriage for George
III.; he lost his life by a lamentable accident-falling
into a well in his own park at Nuneham.
The present Lord was a great patron of the stage and
its professors; the Kenible family shared his especial
favour, and many actors of merit, his notice and regard.
To Elliston and his wife he was most friendly.
The following is among the earliest of Lord Harcourt's
letters-addressed to Mrs. Elliston:-
REMARKS ON ACTING.
(C
"Nuneham, April 6th, 1799.
MADAM,-As it cannot but be gratifying to you to
hear the opinion of a good judge of acting, and who is
himself an excellent comedian, respecting Mr. Elliston's
performance of Charles, I will not deny myself the plea-
sure of transcribing a paragraph from a letter I received
this morning.
43
"Charles was better performed by Elliston than by
Smith at least in my opinion. Smith I never really
liked in the part. It was a relief to me not to see the
chair leaned upon, &c. &c. Elliston looks the character
admirably. Lord St. Helens was as much pleased as
myself, who, never having seen O'Brien, thinks Elliston
the first gentleman on the stage-he has an easy vivacity
and a spiritual quality which no other performer possesses
-a charming voice, and his side-acting is admirable.
"If your affection, madam, has some satisfaction from
reading this eulogy, my own vanity is gratified while I
write it, as I take to myself the credit of having dis-
covered Mr. Elliston's appropriate talent in much earlier
days than the present. The annals of the stage record
two gentlemen actors only-viz., Wilkes, in the time of
Cibber and Mrs. Oldfield, and O'Brien in that of Garrick,
which last-named, with all his astonishing powers both in
tragedy and comedy, could be anything-everything-
except a gentleman.
“I am, Madam, your humble servant,
"HARCOURT."
Who the correspondent of Lord Harcourt really was,
does not appear; but we by no means call on our readers
to subscribe implicitly to his opinion of Elliston's personi-
fication of Charles Surface. In our own humble im-
pression, Charles was not amongst his most successful
efforts; and we the more regret this, as it was no doubt
the dazzle of this character which led Elliston away from
Joseph—a part which he ought to have made most tri-
umphantly his own.
E
50
SHERIDAN'S NOTE.
Joseph Surface is perhaps the most difficult part in
comedy on the stage, to sustain with effect; to make what
is called a hit, is next to impossible. Here are no points
no strong situations which sometimes command ap-
plause; all that can be done must be accomplished by
sound, intrinsic acting. The character is introduced by
neither flower nor flourish the mere "Good morrow!" are
the simple words committed to him. You sympathize
with him for not one moment in the play,—for he is no
bold-faced villain, who will sometimes beguile the spec-
tator of a transient impulse of pity or applause;—he is
detested throughout, on whose shoulders the airy fascina-
tion of Charles is borne sparkling to the close; and yet,
with all this, is Joseph the hero of the play— a question
which the inimitable Palmer satisfactorily proved.
In July of this year (1799) Elliston received the
following:-
"Mr. Sheridan presents compliments to Mr. Elliston,
and, at the desire of the Duchess of Devonshire, has
transmitted the enclosed. Mr. Sheridan will do himself
the pleasure of writing to Mr. Elliston on the subject, in
a day or two."
The enclosure was addressed to Mrs. Elliston by the
Duchess.
"The Duchess of Devonshire has heard so much of
Mr. Elliston's success in London, that if he wishes to be
engaged at Drury Lane Theatre, she thinks there can be
no doubt of his succeeding; and Mr. Sheridan would offer
him terms he would approve. The Duchess will, in case
this should take place, endeavour to obtain for Mrs.
Elliston a great number of scholars."
There can be no doubt that the "desire of the
Duchess" was, in point of fact, the suggestion of Sheridan
himself; but Elliston's duty and inclinations had both
been pledged to his Bath friends; and, for the present at
least, he refused acceding to any permanent engagement
in London.
Thornton, the Windsor manager, having offered pro-
posals to Elliston for his services for a certain number of
nights, Robert William solicits the advice of his friend
-
FURTHER STICTURES ON ACTING.
K
51
Lord Harcourt on the occasion, and receives the following
answer:
"Oxford, July 11, 1799.
((
SIR, AS I understand their Majesties will not leave
Windsor before the beginning of next month, I am glad to
hear that you are in treaty with Mr. Thornton, as it will be
the means of making your talents known to the King and
Queen, who, I doubt not, will honour you with their com-
mands. I have apprised them of the probability of your
engagement at Windsor, and allow me to say, their Ma-
jesties are no strangers to the opinion I entertain of your
abilities in the art you profess.
"I fear you will experience some difficulty in your
choice of character for an appearance before their Ma-
jesties; for I must observe, that if Mr. Thornton's
company be not improved since I last saw it, then is it
only fit to exhibit in a village barn. Spite of this, I wish
you had seen Mr. Fawcett and Munden in the 'Birthday;'
their performance was exquisite; worthy, not only the
Garrick school, but even Garrick himself. Munden is an
actor of true genius; but I trust he will, for the future,
honour Nature, and not hold her up to scorn; that he
will see by the fairly earned applause he obtained in the
above drama, that it is not necessary to become a Merry-
Andrew in order to please. The loudest langh is not
always the liveliest sensation of delight, it is a kind
of borachio, which leads to no better satisfaction than a
headache.
(
"Don Felix, Charles Surface, Young Wilding, the Jew
(in the Jew and Doctor'), and Vapour, are characters
which would please their Majesties, and represent you to
advantage. Walter, one of your best performances, I do
not mention, because I am sure the King will never again
see the 'Children in the Wood.' Pray give my compli-
ments to Mrs. Elliston, and believe me to be, your humble
servant,
"HARCOURT."
In consequence of this flattering correspondence with
his noble patron, Elliston arrived at Windsor, and by
command of his Majesty acted on the following night,
E 2
52
Don Felix, before the royal party. On the 26th, the
next night, he was playing at Bristol, and again on the
27th at Windsor, Thus, to and fro, between Bristol and
Windsor, he vibrated in the space of each natural day;
constant as the sun, for one whole fortnight, he performed
his course, and like him imparting light and life to the
opaque bodies of his clustering fraternity.
FETE AT FROGMORE.
It was interesting as singular to behold, at this time, a
sovereign—the King of England, at the head of his family,
in simple citizenship, indulging sympathies with his people
in their national pastimes; brought almost in contact
with them; asking no adulation but the respect of well-
disciplined minds to age and honour; placing no restraint
on the impulsive expression of joy or wonderment, but
leading the way in each indication of delight; echoing
the youthful glee which the boy's "first play" excited,
and almost pressing the same plank which danced with
the compact array of animated gazers !
A fête on the 7th of August, in honour of the birthday of
the Princess Amelia, was given by her Majesty at Frog-
more, and more especially in consequence of the princess's
recovery from recent illness. Elliston was invited to
speak some occasional lines, in the character of Merlin,
before the royal party.
Elliston acted six times in the fortnight's engagement
at Windsor, the King having commanded five; by whose
order, also, twenty-five guineas were transmitted for his
benefit. The comedian cleared by this trip above one
hundred guineas.
These daily transits between Bristol and Windsor,
being undertaken after each performance, by night (for our
hero slept like a top within a coach, as sound and as ver-
tical), were styled by his companions Night Errantry; and
verily our "Troubadour" could have been no other than
“William de la Tour" himself, achieving also some cer-
tain exploits on these missions, if report be true, not
altogether unworthy the famed "Provençal" band.
On one occasion, having acted the night at Windsor,
and finding himself too late for the mail on reaching
Slough, he was compelled at once to order a post-chaise,
P
،، FRIEND AND PITCHER,"
53
as it was necessary he should arrive at Bath by a certain
hour the next day. With but a faint hope of finding any
companion at that time of night, who might be about to
take the same direction, he still made application within
the entry of the "White Hart," when a stranger of no
ordinary size, and enveloped in a large shaggy coat,
sprang eagerly forward, declaring at once that he " was
his man!"
His new-found friend was evidently a little sprung,
rough, but not vulgar; rude in speech, yet on the best
terms with the very pride of nobility; and the tumblers
he had emptied (which too frequently, in humble life, like
cupping-glasses, only draw out the ill humours of the
animal) proved him clearly enough as good-tempered a
fellow-voyager as many of his betters. What could he be ?
In summing up the case, Elliston concluded him to be
the first-born of some good easy yeoman, who, on his first
visit to London, had paid dearly for the "Stranger's
Guide," and was now returning with mock satisfaction
and empty pockets to astonish the "auld wife at home.
Suddenly, the unknown struck up the ballad of "Black-
eyed Susan," which he sang not without some slight pre-
tensions to taste; and on Elliston expressing his satisfac-
tion at the change of entertainment, he again tuned his
pipe to “ My Friend and Pitcher."
"
""
How long he would have pursued this vein of melody
is uncertain; but on the chaise stopping for change of
horses (as to the term "fresh," it was far more applicable
to the travellers than the poor cattle), he abruptly broke
off, and ordering one other tumbler " of the same," cried,
"So much for good luck at Moulsey, and now all's over!
But I know you, sir," continued he;" you are the Prince
of Wales. I'll not sell you—I'll not sell you," shaking
Elliston cordially. "Here! mark me; I would say it
before your honoured father himself, God bless him!-
never a drop more from this day midnight-six weeks and
hard allowance; you look to me—I know you look to
me, and I'll stand your friend.”
Like an Egyptian hieroglyphic, full of interest, yet per-
fectly unintelligible, he continued his fragmental address
54
A BRUISER.
for some miles further, when again murmuring, "You're
the Prince of Wales,' " he fell into a most audible
sleep.
In due time, the travellers reached Woolhampton, the
place, as Elliston had understood, his friend intended part-
ing; he hereupon roared aloud, "Woolhampton!" This
altisonant announcement had the desired effect. Up
sprang the tenant of the rough habiliment, and rubbing
his eyes violently for a few moments, "Woolhampton?
repeated he. Yes," continued Elliston ; " and here I'm
afraid we part.”
"Sir," replied the other, taking the actor's hand, "we've
been fellow-travellers so far; and now, with best service
to ye for the number o' merry tales you've told us, what's
the total of my whack?" and out he drew a canvass bag,
containing no despicable sum.
66
"Why, verily, my good fellow" began Elliston; but
the other at once apprehending his meaning, jerked him
smartly by the collar, exclaiming, "Gingerly-gingerly!
You don't stir to-night unless I
whack.
pay my
how much-a brace o' smelts?"
Come !
“A brace of smelts!" repeated Elliston.
"Two half-guineas," continued the other; "remember,
I've six hard weeks on't in yon village there. Why,
didn't I tell you all at the White Hart ?" "
(
"Not a word.”
66
"Whew!—that I should'a been travelling with a grandee
thirty mile, and said not a word!" Elliston here merely
interrupted him with a smile. My name 's Tom Owen,"
proceeded he, jocosely, but confidentially; "you've heard
of the fight that's to come off, in September, at Moulsey,
'twixt me and Davis, as good a man as ever entered the
ring; but 'tis plaguy hard, training-six weeks on't.
Harkye, I know I'm the better man for a' that; so make
your bets." Which having said, and insisted on paying
his share of the chaise expenses, he snapped his fingers
with a laugh, and was presently out of sight.
Elliston had acted this season at Weymouth, a place to
which the King was extremely partial, and where it was
no unusual thing for him to take his stroll, unattended.
፡
55
THE KING FAST ASLEEP!
On the morning of Elliston's benefit, he had been enjoying
one of these afternoon wanderings, when rain coming on
just as he was passing the theatre-door, in he went, and
finding no one immediately at hand, proceeded at once to
the royal box, and seated himself in his own chair.
The dim daylight of the theatre, and slight fatigue,
which exercise had occasioned, induced an inclination to
drowsiness. His Majesty, in fact, fell into a comfortable
In the
doze, which presently became a sound sleep.
mean time, Lord Townshend, who had encountered Ellis-
ton in the neighbourhood, inquired whether he had seen
the King, as his Majesty had not been at the palace since
his three o'clock dinner; and it being then nearly five,
the Queen and princesses were in some little anxiety about
him. But his lordship gaining no direction from the
dramatic star, pursued his object in another course.
Elliston, now making his way to the theatre for the
purpose of superintending all things necessary for the re-
ception of his august patrons, went straight into the King's
box; and on perceiving a man fast asleep in his Majesty's
chair, was about recalling him to his senses, in no gentle
manner, when, very fortunately, he recognized the King
himself.
What was to be done? Elliston could not presume to
wake his Majesty-to approach him-speak to him-
touch him, impossible! and yet something was necessary
to be attempted, as it was now time the theatre should
be lit.
Elliston hit on the following expedient: taking up a
violin, from the orchestra, he stepped into the pit, and
placing himself just beneath his truly exalted guest, struck
up, dolcemente, "God Save the King!" The expedient
had the desired effect: the royal sleeper was gently
loosened from the spell which had bound him; and
awaking, up he sprang, and, staring the genuflecting
comedian full in the face, exclaimed, "Hey! hey! hey!
what, what! Oh, yes! I see, Elliston-ha! ha! rain
came on—took a seat-took a nap. What's o'clock ?
Approaching six, your Majesty."
((
"Six!-six o'clock !" interrupted the King. "Send to
56
her Majesty-say I'm here. Stay-stay-this wig won't
do, -eh, eh? Don't keep the people waiting-light up
-light up-let 'em in-let 'em in-ha! ha! fast asleep.
-Play well to-night, Elliston! Great favourite with the
Queen. Let 'em in-let 'em in."
A GAME AT BILLIARDS.
The house was presently illuminated-messengers were
sent off to the royal party, which, in a short lapse of time,
reached the theatre. Elliston then quitted the side of
his most affable monarch; and dressing himself in five
minutes for his part in the drama, went through his
business with bounding spirit; nor was his glee at all
diminished, when, on attending the royal visitors to their
carriage, the King once more nodded his head, saying,
"Fast asleep, eh, Elliston !-fast asleep !"
Elliston was fond of billiards, and played a good game,
but had as little chance with the first-rate in this pursuit
as any idler who suddenly takes a fancy for a country
life, and turns agriculturist in opposition to the whole
farming practice of the county.
On one of his excursions to Windsor, he visited the
Subscription Room of that celebrated town; and
amongst other persons, met there a Mr. R., a gentleman
of much taste and knowledge in the fine arts, and in-
finitely a better billiard-player than our hero. Elliston,
however, not at all mistrustful of his own abilities, and
by this time much accustomed to triumphs in his fanciful
undertakings, arrogantly challenged Mr. R. to a trial of
skill. The friendly invitation was at once accepted, and
the two gentlemen took their places accordingly at
the "Board of Green Cloth."
،،
For some time they played about even. The stakes
being now raised to a considerable amount, the com-
batants began anew. The actor required no prompter to
give him his cue, nor the artist to be reminded of the
bold strokes of the great masters. To it they went—
when, after a fair struggle, Apelles beat his adversary
completely off the field; so that, in the proportion he
filled the pockets of the table, he of course emptied those
of the comedian.

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​57
Elliston, annoyed by defeat, had now the audacity to
accuse his adversary of foul play.
The limner, ill enduring "the immediate jewel of his
soul" to be thus outraged, threw down his cue, and ad-
vancing to Elliston, threatened to kick him down stairs.
But though the assault was the painter's, the battery was
the player's; for Elliston, directing a well-aimed blow at
the head of his assailant, sent him reeling over a tall
coal-scuttle, scattering, at the same time, the bituminous
contents over the "Subscribers apartment.
The
painter soon recovered his legs, but was in a woful plight;
in the language of art, his eye actually stood out from the
canvass, and he displayed a bold outline of feature, of
which Fuseli himself might have been enamoured.
The result was a trial, in which a verdict was very
properly given for Mr. R., the plaintiff,—damages £50.
Mr. Rundall, having attended the cause in the Court
of King's Bench, transmits to our hero the following:
"The evidence of Brown, the waiter, differed wonder-
fully from the history he gave to me; he stated that,
without any provocation, beyond mortification at your own
bad play, you gratified your humour by knocking down
your opponent, declaring that, if you couldn't beat him
one way, you would another. Your counsel, Erskine,
dwelt on the improbability of this statement; and in a
humorous speech, alluding to the scuttle, told the jury
that this witness being hauled over coals, in cross-
examination, cut but a dirty figure."
A FRACAS.
•
939
About this time, Elliston being at an inn with Mana-
ger Shatford, after a night's performance at Salisbury,
from which place the only public conveyance to Bath was
a coach, which passed through Sarum between two and
three o'clock in the morning, Shatford suggested, for
pastime, a game at loo.
“But where can we procure a third ?" said he,—“ the
landlord? let's call him up!”
re
By all means," responded Elliston.
"And I'll run
and hold the maids from stepping into bed ;" which part
of the proposition he was in-the act of prosecuting, when
58
the ears of both were assailed by a voice on the stairs,
chanting, "The early Horn salutes the Morn ;" and on
the two companions opening the door, they descried a
tall, gaunt stranger on the landing, in a scarlet coat,
brown hat turned up with green, and leathern small
clothes, exhibiting unequivocal indications of the lutulent.
condition of the highways.
A ROUND AT LOO.
Elliston, rushing forward, and catching him by his
bespattered tail, exclaimed,
"You'll make one, sir!-come, let's begin!"
.
The stranger, not a little astonished, gazed for a
moment without reply, and then began, deliberately to
resume his stave.
"Hoh! ha! Early Horn!” "What again?” in-
terrupted Elliston ; "but hark ye, one game—one round
at loo, before you go,-'tis a noble, a charming game.
Socrates learnt to dance, and Isocrates played at loo.
Come, come, a chair for 'Actæon'!"
"With all my heart, gentlemen," replied the stranger,
raising his hat with profound politeness-"but the poor
state of my purse-
66
Nay, nay, we'll lend you five guineas," interposed
Shatford.
(C
""
"Ten!" rejoined Elliston; on which, the guest in
scarlet again manifesting the deepest sense of obligation,
they all sat down together. Shatford produced his cards,
which, like a charm against witchcraft, he ever carried
about him, and in a very short time our friend, the
Early Horn," made considerable progress. He pre-
sently won the five guineas already lent to him! and in
the course of one half-hour cleared the purses of Elliston
and his companion; winning, in fine, a gold pencil-case,
the last tenant of Robert William's side-pocket.
Deliberately drawing forth his watch, and marking the
time, the gentleman in red, with his wonted politeness,
rose to take his leave.
66
"You'll give us our revenge, sir?" shrieked Octavian.
Why really, sir, I would indulge you," continued the
tall traveller, "but I have an engagement at Devizes, to
cut a cock's head off!"
59
"To cut a cock's head off!" repeated Elliston, with the
most petrifying solemnity-" to cut a cock's head off !—
and have we been playing with a decapitator of the
sultan of dunghills? Who are you, sir?”
"Much at your service," answered the politest horse-
man in England, presenting, at the same time, a card,
not remarkable for cleanliness, on which Elliston, in his
beloved intonation of voice, read,— "Mr. Moon, the cele-
brated conjurer, whose dexterity in command of the cards
is universally acknowledged, will undertake to convey the
contents of any gentleman's purse into his, Mr. Moon's,
pocket, with surprising facility. He will, moreover, cut a
cock's head off without injuring that noble bird !”
It may be well conceived the group at this moment
formed rather a striking picture.
The scarlet Caterfelto
was the first to dissolve the tableau; when, again bend-
ing his body, he quitted the apartment, with the same
marked politeness he had entered it.
Lord Harcourt's favour and interest had operated use-
fully to Mrs. Elliston's progress in the good graces of the
great. "Mrs. Elliston" was the fashion-the rage! The
young débutantes in elegant life were proud of the in-
struction received under her direction.
ELLISTON GROWS AMBITIOUS.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Eminently endowed with those qualities which tend to
the solid endurance of domestic peace, she was cheerful,
but circumspect; gentle, yet energetic; and liberal, yet
prudent in all her actions.
Elliston, at this period (the commencement of 1801),
was suddenly possessed by an esprit de vertige—-a fancy
for obtaining a royal license for opening a third theatre
in London; and such was the sanguine quality of his
mind, that in his own imagination he beheld the new
edifice already built-himself absolute dictator— onward
as the hero of Marengo-threatening the dynasties of
Drury Lane and Covent Garden, and declaring their stage-
doors in a state of positive blockade. On this subject the
Earl admonishes him in the following terms :-
60
A MASQUE CHAMPETRE.
"Harcourt House, April 25, 1801.
SIR,-My firm belief is, that the King would not be
inclined to grant another patent; and were his Majesty
so disposed, the opposition of the existing patentees would
induce the King to yield to their prayer in petition
against it.
66
Recollect, too, the existing theatres have been en-
larged, to meet the extended population of the town;
and if you were to examine their accounts at the termi-
nation of each season, you would perhaps find that the
number of persons who frequent plays scarcely remune-
rate the exertions of the 'Rival Houses.' The pure drama
has but little attraction for the unhappy fancy of the
day. How is success at present calculated on ?—a five-
act farce composed of such characters as never did yet
exist, intermixed, occasionally, with some forced, or
sickly sentiment, supported by grimace or buffoonery,
with the motley train of processions, battles, spectres,
pantomimes, and Scaramouch ballets. I should regret
that you, sir, should administer to this perversion of a
noble study; but this you must do, should your object
be pecuniary success in any new theatrical speculation."
On the 1st of August, a fête dramatique took place at
Radipole, under the immediate direction of the Princess
Elizabeth—a kind of masque champêtre, projected, and
given by her royal highness to the King and Queen,
including other branches of the family, and many of the
nobility.
A superb tent was erected for the reception of their
Majesties, before whom young damsels, in the character
of Dryads, tripped, and carolled, scattering flowerets and
devices. Then an entertainment by agrestic masquerade :
a party of comedians, attired as gipsies, being grouped
under a hedge in the distance, which formed the boun-
dary of the pansied stage. Here was a "King" mightier
than George of England, and a "Queen" of spells more
potent than the flag of Britain; for here, enthroned,
were Oberon and Titania-here, Puck and Pease-blossom,
ELLISTON A CONJURER!
and here—a handful of fairies, outtripping far the Alpine
progress of the hero of Marengo. Music, too, breaking
in dulcet sounds the willing air, joined the conspiracy to
charm and captivate.
At a later period of the entertainment, Elliston
appeared before the delighted party in the quality of
"Herald of the British arms! The Danish fleet had
been just destroyed by Lord Nelson; and in the same
year the French had been defeated by Abercrombie at
Alexandria. Elliston, laying the captured ensigns of
victory at the feet of the King, repeated a poetic
address, written expressly by the Princess Amelia.
61
""
<<
The applause which followed this recital had scarcely
ceased, when Elliston, a new impersonation-"forsooth,
took on him as a conjurer "—and in the garb of "Phi-
lippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus Paracelsus de
Hohenheim," or more familiarly, as the renowned Para-
celsus, presented himself again on the parterre.
ille suæ non immemor artis,
Omnia transformat sese in miracula rerum."
In this he was very happy; sustaining the part of the
magician, with timely allusions to the martial glories of
England-that the genius of Britain was, in fact, the
long-dreamt-of philosopher's stone, and the valour of
her sons that moral elixir, diffusing unanimity and peace
throughout the nations of the world!
There was but one slight failure in this whole tissue of
clap-trap. A young vocalist of some promise, belonging
to the Weymouth company, having been appointed to
sing one of Dibdin's ballads, in the costume of a sailor,
was seized by sudden panic on being brought into the
presence of real Majesty, and most piteously broke down
at the first stanza. His cheek fairly struck its colours ;
his whistle failed him, and in point of fact, the British
tar “stuck in his throat." The King good-humouredly
observed it was the first time he had ever seen an English
sailor frightened.
Elliston having transmitted all these fine accounts to
62
MRS. ELLISTON'S LETTER.
his wife, at Bath, she writes the following to his uncle,
the Doctor :—
"Bath, August 20, 1801.
"MY DEAR SIR,-As I know the pleasure you always
feel in hearing good news of ourselves, I am induced to
send you a short statement of Mr. Elliston's progress at
Weymouth. He tells me that the royal family wit-
nessed all his performances, and said so many handsome
things of him, that had he not been writing to me, his
sense of modesty would have withheld him from repeat-
ing them.
At an entertainment given by the Princess
Elizabeth, at Radipole, he was entrusted with the whole
management. The King presented him with twenty-five
guineas, the Queen with ten, the Princess Elizabeth
twelve, and he received ten in addition from the rest of
the royal family.
"I bless God that our prospects are so good; and I
pray blessings on those who have been the instruments,
in His hands, of conferring on us so much comfort. Your
god-daughter, Eliza, has had the hooping-cough, but is
now fast recovering; the other two continue well.
"I have ventured to send you half a dozen of our Bath
cheeses, as you may have some friends near you whom
you might wish to oblige with a sample, as well as for
your own use. And believe me, my dear sir, with all
respect and gratitude,
"Your dutiful Niece,
"ELIZABETH ELLISTON."
As we have professed in the outset, so will we endeavour
to preserve to the end, the character of fidelity in these
pages, nor, in tenderness to the memory of our subject,
cast a veil over facts which might operate as a lesson to
others in a career similar to his own.
Within two months from the date of the above, the
following was addressed to Elliston, by his friend Mr.
Rundall, brother to his wife :-
ADMONITION TO A GAMESTER.
“MY DEAR ROBERT,—I have heard a piece of intel-
ligence which has afflicted me more severely than anything
which has occurred to me for many years. This, to speak
out, is your love of gaming! Dalmeida has given me this
most unwelcome information. He was lately in company
with some friends-theatrical and otherwise; and on men-
tioning you with commendation, a gentleman present-a
counsellor, very high in his profession-acceded willingly
to your public talents, but pronounced you a determinel
—an habitual gamester.
"Your exploits are the gossip amongst the very waiters
at the White Hart. You will gain the character of a
blackleg long before you will acquire wit enough to live
by his profession.
63
"I will not, my dear Robert, disguise my sentiments
from you, however deeply they may wound you for the
moment; for, by the blessing of God, you may have
hereafter cause to thank me. I am cut to the soul when I
contemplate these facts, looking on you, at the same time,
as a husband and a father. Think of your shame, too,
should the knowledge, the hint only of these reports,
reach your uncle—one who has indeed been a parent to
you, having cherished you in your days of guiltlessness,
and forgiven your after transgressions. For the sake of
others, let me implore you to reflect! I have not told you
all I have heard, nor many anecdotes, which I am still
willing to account untrue.
"I am most affectionately yours,
"T. W. RUNDALL.
"East-India House, Dec. 18, 1801."
ܕ
Having fulfilled our duty by inserting the above, we turn
cheerfully to an incident which will show that our subject
could sometimes be merry without sacrifice of character:-
In the vicinity of the Abbey Church, Bath, resided a
Mr. Sims, an opulent woollen-draper.
This personage was a bachelor, and at this time, about
sixty-five years of age. His figure was tall, his step airy,
his deportment the flower of politeness, and in disputes
64
he was the very Atticus of parties. His dress was usually
a suit of grey; and his hair, of which there was a pro-
fusion, being perfectly white, whereunto a queue appended,
gave him somewhat of a Sir Joshua contour; though per-
haps he bore a nearer resemblance to the more modern
portrait of that precise merchant, as personated by the
late Mr. Terry, in Poole's little comedy of "Simpson
and Co."
MR. SIMS-A CHARACTER.
While he paid a marked deference to all men's opinious,
he had a mistrust of his own, which was singularly
curious.
His ménage consisted of a duplicate female attendant,
that is, two separate beings, but with brains under
the same meridian, whose autumnal time of life and
counterpart in attire rendered them perfectly homo-
geneous.
((
The great characteristic of Mr. Sims was a painful
precision in all things. His hat always occupied the left
peg in respect of his coat. His parlour furniture was
cased in cotton covers, which covers were again involuted
by divers sheets of brown paper. Everything, according
to him, was to wear even;" if he pulled this bell-rope
on the first occasion, he would bear in mind to handle that
on the second; every chair, teacup, and silver spoon, had
its day of labour and relaxation; and had he discovered
that, by misadventure, he had worn a pair of shoes or
grey stockings out of turn, he would positively have lost his
stomach.
In his dressing-room, he was constantly attended by
his two tire-women; not that he actually required the
services of both, but by such means the reputation of each
was kept in a state of preservation; and, to conclude,
whenever he retired to bed, he invariably crept up the
foot of it, that his linen might be without a wrinkle.
It may not at once appear, how any sympathy could
have existed between Elliston and such a matter-of-fact
character as this; but Mr. Sims was by no means an
ascetic; if never as wise as Ximenes, he was not always
as moderate as Fleury; and in respect of his little indul-
gences, like the country wench, he looked very much as
though he had rather sin again, than repent. An extra
glass of punch, or a visit prolonged to midnight, consti-
tuted his excess; though once, indeed, he had been known
to have so far mystified himself, as to toast a certain
female of no extraordinary virtue, in a tumbler of toddy.
He, however, confessed that for three days from the above
event he had not the assurance to look on himself in the
glass.
A COMIC ADVENTURE.
On a certain afternoon, a knock announced some visitor
at Elliston's door, and Mr. Sims deferentially entered.
(C
My dear Mr. Elliston," cried he, as he advanced, with
a step lighter than a roebuck, "this is charming-and
how well you look! Listen: you positively must-
must, I say, dine with me to-day."
"Dine with you, Mr. Sims?" exclaimed Elliston, in
a tone which must have been truly comic.
"My good
Mr. Sims-
CC
65
:)
(C
Nay, nay-I shall be downright riotous if I hear
In
any excuses. I absolutely must-must have you.
fact," continued he, making a leg, as he advanced, and
tapping the tip of his left fore-fiuger with the corre-
sponding extremity of the right, "my dinner is already
ordered-within one hour will be served ;-see, with what
little ceremony I treat you."
There was something irresistibly grotesque even in the
proposition.
To-day said you, worthy neighbour?" demanded
Elliston, as he passed his hand thoughtfully across his
forehead—“ to-day-that is—this day, is-
"Thursday, I would suggest," interposed Sims, most
apologetically.
"Just so; and here comes my friend Quick, who re-
minds me of his promised visit. Dinner on table punc-
tually at five" continued Elliston, addressing himself
to Quick, just as he entered; while he himself was quite
aware he had not a solitary cutlet in the house.
"But-but-" interrupted Sims, with his fingers
as before-"my humble fare is preparing is nearly
ready.
""
،،
>>
And will be excellent when eaten cold to-
F
66
A DINNER.
morrow," rejoined Elliston; "but to-day-to-day, Sims,
you are my guest!"
The draper having recovered from the shock which
these words occasioned, was evidently as pleased as Punch
at the proposition, though he looked on the affair as one
of the maddest pranks ever yet attempted.
"I will at least apprise my domestics," said Sims, catch-
ing up his hat and cane, with the intention of tripping off to
his own abode; but Elliston, grasping his arm with con-
siderable melodramatic effect, said, "Not so, friend Sims;
this is a point easier settled; and our time is short.
Take your own card, neighbour, and just subscribe in
pencil, 'remains to-day with Mr. Elliston,' and I will des-
patch it instantly to your own house."
The expedient was no sooner suggested than adopted,
and Elliston, taking Mr. Sims' card, vanished instantly
from the room, for the purpose already named, but se-
cretly interpolated certain other words to the protocol in
question, so that it ran thus-“ Mr. Sims remains to-day
with Mr. Elliston, and begs that the dinner he had ordered,
may be carefully delivered, just as prepared, to the bearer.”
This being achieved, Elliston returned to the apart-
ment; and Quick being, by this time, clearly aware some
belle plaisanterie was in blossom, took part in the amica-
ble contest of civil things, till dinner was announced; and
thus, within a quarter of an hour of five, the happy trio
sat down together.
But no sooner was the first cover removed, than Sims,
with some little look of surprise, and great show of satis-
faction, exclaimed-" A trout! Mr. Elliston. Well, and
I protest a very fine one! but the fishmonger 's a rogue,
for he told me mine was the only one in the market !"
Fishmongers do lie most abominably," observed Ellis-
ton; "why, he told me the very same thing,-Come, a
glass of wine."
(C
A second cover was now removed, and a shoulder of
mutton, admirably dressed, was presented; at the sight
of which Sims, clasping his hands in token of renewed
astonishment, exclaimed,
"A shoulder of mutton !-why, it is a shoulder-the
very dish I had ordered myself."
67
"Similar, similar," interposed Quick, laughingly; "a
coincidence."
THREE COURSES.
"Coincidences are indeed extraordinary," observed
Elliston. "I remember in May, -99, the very day
Seringapatam was taken, our sexton's wife was brought
to bed of twins."
"With great humility, my dear Mr. Elliston," whis-
pered Sims, that may be a coincidence; but is it,
think you, so very—very remarkable ?”
،،
Why, Hindostan does not yield us cities every
spring," replied Elliston, "nor are sextons' wives brought
to bed of twins, as a matter of course."
“And that both of these events should have happened
on the same day, is at least extraordinary," added Quick.
Here Elliston again suggested a glass of wine all round.
By this time a third cover was removed, and a tart,
very temptingly served, succeeded, which Elliston having
commenced dividing, Sims rose from his chair, and ex-
tending his hands, screamed out,
"An apple-pie, as I live! Forgive me for swearing,
but I gave special orders for an apple-pie myself. Apple
-apple, said I to Mrs. Green and Mrs. Blowflower, and
here it is!"
"Yes, I'll give up Seringapatam after this," said Ellis-
ton, mysteriously ; "but when fruit is in season, you
know why, I'll be bound they have an apple-tart
next door."
(C
Apples are unusually plentiful this year," observed
Quick.
،،
Come, another glass of wine! It shall at least be no
apple of discord.”
The repast was now drawing to a close, and Elliston,
who had promised his guests a bottle of superior port
wine, gave orders for its immediate introduction; but in
the mean time, half a Stilton cheese, in prime condition,
was placed on the table.
We are told that a certain maréchal of France was
always taken in convulsions at the sight of a sucking-pig ;
that Tycho Brahe swooned at the glimpse of poor puss;
but nothing could exceed the shock produced by the
F 2
68
PLENTY OF WINE.
sudden appearance of the said Stilton cheese on the
nerves of Mr. Sims. Springing from his seat, as though
stung by an adder, he shrieked aloud,
"A cheese! a cheese!—and is it possible? a Stilton
cheese, too!"
،،
My good Sims interposed Elliston.
'Tis magic! magic! Excuse me for swearing;
but I-I, myself, my dear Mr. Elliston, have a Stilton,
too!"
(C
""
"And what more probable?"
"But the mould !—that fine blue mould !—and all this
marble tracing-'tis most positively the same !"
66
Similar, similar," interposed Quick, a second time.
"Tell me," said Elliston, with an ineffable look of
wisdom, "where did you purchase your half Stilton ?
"At Coxe's," was the reply.
""
"Then, upon my honour, the cheese before you was
bought at the same place. Why, 'tis the other half! and
your fine blue mould and marble veining must inevitably
correspond to the minutest speck. The fact is, we have
been lucky to-day in hitting each other's taste. Come,
the port !"
This lucid judgment was acquiesced in by Sims, and
the cloth being removed, the host began to push the
bottle.
In vain have we collected all the fine things that tran-
spired from this moment. The three friends were in
considerable force, and the decanter circulated as briskly
as a hat in a mountebank's ring. As the wine sank, their
spirits rose; Mr. Sims so far forgot himself as to remember
a song, and by ten o'clock there was not a happier gentle-
man of threescore in the four parishes.
Mr. Sims being now sufficiently far gone-in fact, very,
very tipsy-Elliston gave directions for a sedan-chair to
be in waiting, and collecting the crockery of the woollen-
draper, which had lately graced the dinner-table, he placed
the pyramidical pile on a wooden tray, flanking the edifice
by the four black bottles they had just emptied.
All things being now in readiness, Mr. Sims, much
against his inclination, was assisted into the chair; the
69
tray and porcelain, borne on the head of a porter, like a
board of black plumes in advance of a solemn hearse, led
the procession to the Abbey Churchyard. The body of
Mr. Sims, dancing between the poles, came next in order,
while Elliston and his friend, as chief mourners, brought
up the rear. In this way they reached the blest abode
of the illustrious departed, and having "made wet their
eyes with penitential tears," left the rites of sepulture to
the care of Mrs. Green and Mrs. Blowflower.
HUMOROUS LETTER.
Elliston, in the summer of 1802, received the following
communication from his lively friend, Mr. Gore. It is
written from Tenby :—
"Never in my days have I been so disappointed in a
place as this. We have neither bread, meat, liquor,
horses, conveyances, nor lodging. Alexander Selkirk was
not more destitute. We have no clothing, but what we
carry with us; no water, but the sea, and we must fish
for our living.
"I made a visit to the small isle of Caldy; it is
throughout alive with rabbits, as a cheese is said to be
with mites. Their multitudes might inspire even their
pavid nature with courage to attack, and brought to my
fancy the fate of that unhappy prisoner who, thrown into
a blind dungeon, was in one night literally devoured with
rats.
“I am in a hovel which is termed an hotel, with less
accommodation than a roadside alehouse, aud by no means
so picturesque. One of the female natives acts in the
capacity of landlady, a being resembling the Maid' in
the comedy of 'Rule a Wife,' as our players are pleased
to represent her; with great variety in her face, her eyes
being of different colours, and the left side of her nose
gone.
"I was yesterday witness to an exhibition which,
though greatly ridiculous, was not wholly so, for it was
likewise pitiable ; and this was in the persons of two indi-
viduals who have lately occupied much public attention-I
[Henry Twistleton Elliston, born 14th January, 1802. Godfather,
the Hon. C. J. Twistleton.]
70
mean the Duke of Bronté, Lord Nelson, and Emma, Lady
Hamilton. The whole town was at their heels as they
walked together. The lady is grown immensely fat and
equally coarse, while her 'companion in arms' had taken the
other extreme-thin, shrunken, and, to my impression, in
bad health. They were evidently vain of each other, as
though the one would have said, 'This is the Horatio of
the Nile' and the other, 'This is the Emma of Sir
William !'
LORD NELSON.
"Poor Sir William! wretched, but not abashed, he
followed at a short distance, bearing in his arms a
cucciolo, and other emblems of combined folly. You re-
member Hogarth's admirable subject, Evening; it
somewhat illustrates the scene I would describe.
،
"This distinguished trio are concluding a summer tour ;
but at Blenheim, I understand, they encountered a rebuff,
which must have stung the hero to the quick. Emma is
reported to have said-'Nelson shall have a monument,
to which Blenheim shall be but a pig-sty !'
"After what I have said of Tenby, what think you of
a theatre in the town? But such is no less the fact.
Truly, it is no bigger than a bulky bathing-machine, and
bears about the same proportion to Sadler's Wells as a
silver penny to a Spanish dollar. They play 'The Mock
Doctor' to-night, and the Hero of the Nile is the subject
of an Address."
We will beg leave, en passant, to notice some incidents
in the career of Lady Hamilton :—
Emma Lyon, after quitting the service of the honest
tradesman in St. James's Market, which must have been
about the year 1777, passed into the family of Mr. Lin-
ley, the composer, where she first gave indications of
strong natural talent for music. Novels and romances,
however, engrossing that attention which housemaids are
expected to give to other studies, and the "Minerva
Press" having gained an entire ascendancy over the linen
press, she was dismissed; and thus becoming her own
mistress, made at least one step towards becoming the
mistress of others.
That clever actress, Mrs. Powell, was at this time
71
a servant also in a family at Blackfriars. The two dam-
sels became acquainted, and being of similar dispositions,
their hearts were presently open to each other; and as
these, together with their heels, were as light as might be,
they started on what we should call at the present day
"a lark," and in the capacity of ballad-singers, made
their entrée at the Cocksheath camp.
LADY HAMILTON.
Mr. Perry, who was afterwards proprietor of the
"Morning Chronicle," with his friend Bish, subsequently
director of the well-known lottery office-young men at
this period-made a similar excursion to this celebrated
depôt, and in a sutler's booth fell in with the two adven-
turous girls.
The gentlemen were at once struck with their wit and
deportment; and though they looked on them as ballad-
singers of no common order, yet they verily believed
them to be ballad-singers, having no suspicion of their
real elevation as housemaids. Unsuspecting as Killigrew
and Sidney when at the playhouse, in the actual presence
of the blonde Jennings and dazzling Price, equipped as
saucy orange-girls, they were, nevertheless, not so careless
of the bonne fortune which the adventure seemed to pro-
mise; but, rather with the perseverance of Rochester and
Brounker, they determined to trace the damsels to Lon-
don; for it is nothing more than just to the character of
the girls to mention that they had obstinately refused a
treat offered them at a tavern, and were now dexterously
eluding their suitors, whom they began to look on as
persecutors.
"Vitas hinnuleo me similis, Chloe," cried the baffled
Perry, which, as Emma did not hear nor Bish under-
stand, he might have spared. As to Bish himself, it was
hard that he should lose a "prize," yet such appeared to
be the fate which awaited both, when, to their mortifica-
tion, they beheld the wenches mount a higgler's cart for
the purpose of making their final escape.
It was now half-past two on the following morning,
and the creaking caravan had already commenced its
journey. Perry and Bish had travelled to Cocksheath on
horseback, and now, as on a sudden alarum "to arms,"
72
A SCENE AT COCKSHEATH.
they had to seek their steeds. The stables were closed,
and the ostler fast asleep. However, by dint of thunder-
ing with their sticks, the man was roused. The couchant
animals were started from their repose; the unoccupied
beds at a neighbouring inn paid for, and within three
quarters of an hour of the fugitives, Robin Hood and his
companion were in full pursuit.
After a gallop of above an hour, during which not a
word was exchanged, the horsemen pulled up, and Perry,
with a look of ineffable concern, said, very wisely, "The
jades have been over cunning for us, and have taken
another road." Bish was too blown immediately to reply,
but gave some pantomimic indication that he was much
of the same opinion. They continued their course, how-
ever, at a foot pace, and after spending an hour at an ale-
house, for the purpose of refreshing their horses, they
resumed their journey towards London.
It was now nearly seven o'clock when our two friends,
jaded and disappointed, had entered the Kent Road, and
were approaching London Bridge, that a loud shout of
merriment induced them simultaneously to turn about,
and to their unspeakable delight they beheld the cara-
van, passengers complete, in the act of giving them the
"go-by."
All was again hope and activity. Suddenly the cart
stopped, and out jumped one of the girls,-Emma,-
when the vehicle as instantaneously jogged on towards
the bridge. Bish's "prize" being still "in the wheel," he
stuck close to the caravan, while Perry directed all his
attention towards the flying Daphne. In a twinkling he
lost sight of her. What was to be done? He could not
dismount, unless, indeed, at the price of his horse. Wild
with vexation, he looked on one side and on the other—
paced backwards and forwards
expressing himself in
terms that even startled the tired animal.
M
Being now on the centre of the bridge, and casting his
eyes over the parapet, he descried Emma in a wherry,
taking the down direction of the river. No sooner
did she perceive he had discovered her, than she gave
distinct evidence of unbounded mirth, waving her ivory
73
arms in token of victory. Ill-starred Perry! In a state
of frenzy he sat grinding his teeth and threatening vain.
revenge; nor did he quit the spot until he saw the little
vixen safely ashore, whence she finally vanished amid the
gloom of Wapping.
Such was the Cocksheath adventure; but Robin Hood
and his ally were, in fine, amply recompensed for all their
toil. Bish traced his damsel to her service in Bridge
Street, where, if she did not put off the garb of a princess,
she certainly resumed that of a Cinderella; through
whom a meeting, within a few days, was effected between
Perry and Emma; and the double couple, from this time,
entered on the most agreeable interchange of favours.
Not long after the marriage of Sir William Hamilton
with the witching Emma, Marinari made a visit to
Naples, with letters of introduction to the ambassador.
Sir William received the artist with affability in his
studio. It was a chamber at the upper part of the house,
without any apparent entrance, and entirely surrounded
with looking-glass. Fancy was gratified with specimens.
of the choice antique, while nothing was wanting to
administer to luxurious imaginings or fulfil the variety in
actual enjoyment.
A BEWILDERED ARTIST.
"Sofas, 'twas half a sin to sit upon,
So costly were they ;-carpets, every stitch
Of workmanship so rare, they made you wish
You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.'
After some conversation on the arts, Sir William
expressed a wish that Marinari would visit him the next
day, for the purpose of taking a drawing of one of the
finest models of the human form.
Punctual to his appointment, and armed with the
necessary implements for the work in question, the artist.
took his position in the hall of mirrors, patiently await-
ing his more circumstantial instructions. After a short
pause, seraphic sounds, first in soft murmurs, broke upon
the ear-perfumes, sweeter than the violet, mounted to
the delighted sense-harmony then, in the fulness of
sound, proclaimed the scene at hand, and Emma Hamilton,
74
NAPLES.
attired as "Hebe," with about as much drapery as poetry
permits, glided from the secret opening of a glass panel,
and stood before the bewildered painter.
The words of Sir William were verified to the letter.
"Never had the artist witnessed a form so lovely, a grace
so enchanting." He felt totally disarmed of all power of
art, and the pencil he held was a lifeless reed. Like the
wily magician, Sir William watched, in secret exultation,
the working of his spell. "To your task," said he,
"Begin!"
Again was the air gently agitated by the strains of
music, as though sweeping over the distant bay.
""Tis a dream!--a vision!" exclaimed the half-terri-
fied painter. And as he turned his gaze a moment from
the canvass, the airy figure vanished as it came.
“Oh, for-
give me my sins!" cried Marinari, like the bewildered
Trinculo.
The magician, however, had not yet fully accomplished
his purpose; Marinari was that day detained the ambas-
sador's guest. A sumptuous entertainment succeeded, at
which the modern Thais presided. Here, all that was
most costly was most profusive. Imagination could
suggest nothing which art had been unequal to supply to
this house of joy; but the bleeding soil in which its
foundations were laid claimed not a sigh, not a thought;
nor were the mingling cries of trampled thousands for one
moment heard amidst the unpausing shout of diplomatic
festivity.
As to poor Marinari, excess followed soon upon indul-
gence; bewildered with delight, he was now more mysti-
fied with the grape, and if the day commenced with
illusion, the night closed in absolute forgetfulness. Like
Christopher Sly, he awoke the next morning in his own
narrow cell, nor had he quite made up his mind be-
tween the substance and the shadow, when Sir William
Hamilton accosted him with an English gripe, which
left but little doubt on the question of identity.
During the Bath recess, Elliston commenced manager
of the pigmy theatres (we might have said bandboxes, had
there been either band or boxes) of Wells and Shepton
75
Mallet, where he played everything, from Macbeth to
Pantaloon; so that he very fairly might have been con-
sidered a host in himself.
(C
ELLISTON PLAYS MANY PARTS."
On one occasion he made the extraordinary experiment
of sustaining the two parts of Richard and Richmond in
the same drama, and this he executed with the most
amusing dexterity. Richmond, it will be remembered,
makes his entrée in the last act of the play, when the
scenes become alternate, in which the king and the earl
are before the audience. On making his exit as Richard,
Elliston dropped his hump from his shoulder, as he would
a knapsack, and straightening his leg with the facility of
a posture-master, slipped into a bit of pasteboard armour,
and, galeated with fresh head-gear, went through the
heroic lines of the Tudor prince. Well might the inter-
polation have been forgiven, Myself am to my own
turned enemy!" Going off on the other side of the stage,
he was expeditiously again invested with his bison shape,
and thrusting a sheet of music into his stocking, was
again the vindicator of the Yorkist rose.
In this way he carried through the scenes until the
last; and when the field was to be decided by personal
collision, shifted was the pasteboard to the body of a
shifter of scenes, who, being enjoined to say nothing, but
fight like a devil, was thus enabled to bear the drama suc-
cessfully to a close; in which, so far from "six Richmonds
in the field," there had not been one; and as to Richard,
if "deformed." he was indeed "unfinished," and "but
half-made up."
(C
Elliston, active in body as well as mind, in the heyday
of youth and spirits, positively gloried in these little shifts
and hindrances, transmuting all dilemmas into rosy laugh-
ter, by an alchemy peculiar to his own genius.
His love of fun often got the better of his sense of dig-
nity; and when it is remembered that this latter organ
was pretty strongly developed in the character of Robert
William, his love of fun must, at times, have been indeed
exuberant. He acted Macbeth and Harlequin, Hamlet
and the Clown; so that by the time he had closed his
profitless campaign at Shepton Mallet and Wells, it is a
76
GEORGE III.
question whether his scenic impersonations had not out-
numbered his audience.
Elliston, on his re-appearance at Weymouth, had the
happiness of finding he had lost no portion of his Majesty's
favour, since last he had had the honour of acting before
the royal party. At his benefit, his Majesty being pre-
sent, Elliston introduced his own daughter Eliza, then only
five years old, in a dance; on which occasion, Mrs. Ellis-
ton and her sister also made their appearance in the same
ballet of action. This was entitled the "Temple of
Fame," composed expressly by Mrs. Elliston, quite as full
of loyalty as poetry-" Peace, the offspring of British
valour!"—" King George," an illuminated medallion, with
a transparent young woman volante, above his shoulders,
blowing the only trumpet in the playhouse. An addi-
tional stanza to "God Save the King," telling regenerate
France what she was to expect from the British Lion,
terminated the occasion.
It being Elliston's property as a "star" to light the
King through the narrow mazes of "all the world"
namely, the "stage," it was by no means below the dig-
nity of Majesty to hold communion with his astral guide.
George the Third was a good king, and consulted his
stars; and although he frequently put more questions to
them in a breath than they could reply to in a night, yet
it was sufficient to show he duly acknowledged their
intendency.
"Well, well, Elliston," said he ; "where-where have
you been acting lately?"
"At Wells and Shepton Mallet, your Majesty, in which
places I was manager."
፡፡
Manager-manager! that won't do that won't do,
eh, Charlotte? Managers go to the wall-get the worst
of it." Her Majesty graciously vouchsafed a smile on the
attendant comedian.
"It didn't do, your Majesty. At Wells I was parti-
cularly unfortunate."
"At Wells-Wells!" replied the King, good-humour-
edly, "'mongst the bishops! quite right-quite right; no
business with the bishops, eh, Charlotte?" Her Majesty
here turned a look of slight rebuke upon her lord-
"Bishops don't go to plays-no business at plays-you,
no business with them. Well, well, where next?"
"I returned to Weymouth, where I have redeemed
everything, in the honour of serving your Majesty.”
"Eh, eh?" responded the King, in the same affability of
tone and manner- What, kings better than bishops,
eh ?—found it out-found it out, Elliston?"
By this time their Majesties had entered the carriage,
and the King having taken the seat, cried out, while the
horses were withheld one moment to his signal, "Bishops
and managers-both a mistake-ought to have known
better—eh, eh, Elliston ?" and away they drove.*
But neither the gracious hint of the King, the repeated
caution of the earl, nor Elliston's own observation on the
fate of managers, could restrain him long from new specu-
lations. His "
His "ventures were not in one bottom trusted,
nor to one place."
The Liverpool theatre was now "to be let:" Elliston
was amongst the first in the field, and in this instance
preferred consulting his uncle, before whom he placed so
clear but flattering a statement of the question, that the
Doctor agreed to become security for two years' rent-
namely, 3,0007. The property passed to the united
Portius..
Juba..
Cato.
Lucius
* The royal house of Brunswick had always been attached to
theatrical amusements. George II., notwithstanding his imperfect
knowledge of the English language, was still fond of going to the
play.
·
Frederick of Wales, his son, directed Mrs. Devenish (whose first
husband was Rowe, the poet) to prepare an edition of Rowe's dramatic
works, for the benefit of the young princes, who were in the habit of
acting plays at Leicester House. These were under the direction of
Quin. The graceful manner in which Prince George delivered his
first speech from the throne, impelled this celebrated actor to exclaim,
Ah, I taught that boy to speak !”’
66
On the 4th Jan. 1749, the children of his royal highness, with the
aid of some juvenile branches of the nobility, performed the tragedy
of "Cato" before the Court-and the following was the cast :-
•
·
•
•
·
• ·
•
·
•
SCENE WITH THE KING.
•
•
((
•
•
Prince George.
Prince Edward.
Sempronius
Decius
Marcia.
77
Master Nugent.
Master Montague. Lucia
·
• •
..
Master Evelyn.
Lord Milsington.
Princess Augusta.
Princess Elizabeth.
78
DECLARATION.
bidding of Lewis and T. Knight, who, like Hippias and
Hipparchus, now succeeded to the joint investiture of
Attic sovereignty.
The speculation terminated very profitably to both
these adventurers. They continued lessees till their
death; and one of Lewis's family held the theatre until
within the last few years, when he retired from the toils
of management on a handsome independence.
Late in 1802, Coleman writes, as follows :—
66
My purpose is to offer you an engagement at the
Haymarket; but to suit me, it must be for a longer
duration than any of our former agreements—and such I
trust may suit you. In short, we must meet on the
Haymarket ground next year for four months, or not at
all. It is my intention to open the house on the 15th of
May, with an independent company, to support the new
efforts of my pen which has been so long smokedried in
London.
"As I know what may be your own views, I offer the
following general outline of agreement-articles, for three
years; a weekly salary of 127., and a benefit. Your busi-
ness will be that of a performer of the first rank in the
company. Remember, you have eight months of the
year at your own disposal, during which you will, of
course, not be idle.
To this a long correspondence succeeded on the sub-
ject. Elliston, like the paper on which he wrote, was
"Bath superfine;" but his line of argument was business-
like:
"Had I," he says, "voluntarily offered you a commo-
dity for purchase, I might have been expected, perhaps,
to accept the terms you have named; but as you come to
me, who am no willing seller, on your own exigencies,
It is
you have no right to complain of my conditions.
like money; money is more valuable at one time than
another, to a certain party; and if this be your case, and
you will have it, why you must pay for it.
I have already
invested the capital of my professional attraction here
with 'Bath, Bristol, and Co.,' and 'I must sell out at an
amazing loss to satisfy you. This is usurious language;
>
PLEA AND REJOINDER.
79
but I cannot apply the metaphor to one who will better
understand its force, than George Colman."
Again, he says,—
"The terms you have offered me are liberal; and when
I object, I do it, not from a belief that I am a better
actor than some you have hitherto engaged, but that cir-
cumstances have made me more attractive. If that
attraction were a mop-stick without a head, still the mu-
tilated piece of household stuff would be worthy its results.
Some time since, you gave me a clear benefit and twenty
guineas per week, for my eight weeks-I am now to come
to you, with more experience and greater fame, on a less
remuneration. I shall take all the risk, while you grow
fat on the cream of the dairy."
He concluded by asking twenty pounds per week and
a clear benefit. But,
"Wits are game-cocks to one another."
The "mop-stick" produced the following cudgelling-
"You tell me I have made you a liberal offer, and yet
you demand a great deal more; now a foot beyond
liberality seems to me a stride beyond common sense.
"I cannot call you a mop-stick, and I am quite sure
you are not without a head; but while you were with
me, as a new broom, you never swept money into my
treasury in proportion to the price with which you have
ticketed yourself. If you should again take a brush in
the Haymarket, what you carried off before is nothing to
the present business, or rather, is an argument against
your proposal.
"That you have more fame is undeniable; but it is
that country fame of which the good London people know
and care as little as may be. But it is past a doubt that
you would have left the metropolis with a currency of
fame payable on demand everywhere, had you kept your
account in the Haymarket instead of going to Covent
Garden. If I, in a new and hazardous speculation, accede
to your lofty terms, I cannot conceive how you will take
all the risk, nor (since at Covent Garden you kicked
down a little of the milk) how I am to get all the cream
.
80
of the dairy. Did it never occur to you that, as some of
your reasons for swelling your demands were grounded
on the fear of future loss, if that loss did not occur, you
should refund something of your profits in the Hay-
market? This, my good friend, I fear, has never entered
that head which you certainly have.
"Let us now go to work again; I want you, and have
fairly told you so; the following is my ultimatum.
Fourteen pounds per week, and a clear benefit, as a per-
former; to cease after one season, or proceed for three, at
my option, not yours."
After sundry other recapitulations, Elliston concludes
his letter by accepting the terms which Coleman had
offered in his last, and at the same time earnestly recom-
mending Blissett to the manager's attention.
"Be assured," says he, "you ought not to miss sight of
him; he is a sterling actor. His Falstaff, Lord Duberly,
Old Rapid, and Lope Tocho, are all inimitable; the
former would, I think, be highly attractive."
Of this "sterling actor" and eccentric man, we beg
here to offer some account.
FRANCIS BLISSETT.
William Wyatt Dimond and Francis Blissett originally
tramped into the city of Bath together, which by the time
they had reached, they were nearly barefooted. Like
Roderick Random and his friend Strap, they got an occa-
sional lift by some waggon, and on a certain stock of
patience, their only resources, commenced the work of
their future fortunes. Blissett was quite an eccentric.
When Dimond, in after-days, had become the director of
the theatre, and Blissett himself in the way of prosperity,
the latter invited his manager to a little entertainment
at his lodgings, and in the course of the evening
observed-
"This day, friend, is the anniversary of our entering
Bath together; it was bleak and chilly as our prospects—
I well remember it; and to-day is likewise cheerful as our
prosperity. I'll introduce you to an old acquaintance"-
saying which, he produced a pair of old shoes, literally
worn through.
"See! here they are!" cried he, "the only friends I
HIS STRANGE HABITS.
81
had at the time, save yourself; they bore me safely here,
and I shall keep them till I die. I could almost wish to
be buried in these shoes."
Some time after this, he took occasion to intimate to
his manager, it was his intention of withdrawing from the
company, unless he had an increase of salary.
"Nay, nay, my old friend," replied Dimond; "not so,
I trust. You already receive the highest salary which is
given in Bath-three pounds a week; we cannot exceed
it, and I am happy in knowing you do not want."
66
I'll have it!" interrupted Blissett, striking the
table with his hand.
"What, then, do you demand?" asked the manager.
"Three guineas!" exclaimed the actor, with an energy
irresistibly humorous. "I'll have them, or I go."
"And so you shall," rejoined Dimond, not a little
amused," and in consideration of our new piece last
week, the increase shall begin from that time;" saying
which, he drew three shillings from his pocket, and paid
them over to his peremptory friend.
Blissett was a kind of amateur chapman, and had a
great fancy for cheapening small articles, of whatever
description they might be. He would, in fact, buy or sell
anything within his reach, and as not unfrequently his
personal chattels became objects of sudden alienation, the
marketing was ludicrous enough.
He would leave his abode at the early part of the day
in one coat, and return in another, which second he had
picked up in exchange during his ramble. A dozen pair
of knee-buckles have passed through his hands in the
course of a single month; and he has even been known to
part with the very brass buttons off his coat, whose places
have been supplied by mother-of-pearl.
On one occasion, he arrived at the theatre without a
hat, having sold his only one in the course of his walk,
and had not yet selected another. Everything appertain-
ing to him was open to a bargain, except his good name,
and a certain pair of old shoes, which last, like “Sir
Oliver's" picture, "he would keep as long as he had a
room to hang them in." Elliston himself accidentally
G
82
INTERESTING LETTER.
crossed him in one of these fanciful expeditions; meeting
the humorist in the neighbourhood of Milsom Street, with
a tea-caddy under one arm, and "Dodsley's Poems,"
together with an oil-skin umbrella, tucked under the
other; these, it appears, he had bartered, giving in ex-
change a pair of pistols and a punch-bowl.
Blissett died at Bath in 1824.
To this slight notice of an actor, who was so eminent a
favourite in that place, where he was chiefly known, we
will beg leave to subjoin a letter, addressed by him to a
leading comedian of the present day :
Na
"MY GOOD FRIEND,-You wish some historical account
of the Bath theatre, from which place, for me,
'there is
but one stage more' (in the words of Bishop Juxon to
Charles the Martyr), nor shall I repine, unless it be the
regret that I had not fulfilled my duty better.
"Who the first Bath manager was I cannot pretend to
say, but I believe Gentleman,' alias 'Copper Captain'
Brown. Mr. Griffith, of the Norwich Theatre, followed.
Next came Arthur, who was a great comic actor, and to
him succeeded Keasberry. Henderson arrived under
this reign, thirty years ago—a clumsy Dutch figure, but
with a very strong understanding. He went by the
name of Courtney, and was a most stickling imitator of
Garrick. Yet with all his disadvantages, I think he read
and played Hamlet better than your present king.* His
salary was the trifling sum of one guinea per week; so
that he was wont jokingly to say to his friends, he should
certainly grow rich, as he had a guinea a week, a benefit
in the dog-days, and Keasberry to teach him acting! But
his good sense soon freed him from the Garrick trammels,
and, like a discreet painter, who had too long copied the
ancients with pedantry, retained at last only their beauties,
to which he added a fancy and manner of his own.
"Mr. Dimond came soon after this gentleman; he
had acted at Drury Lane the part of Romeo, under
the direction of Garrick. His respectability and gentle
* Kemble.
83
behaviour soon gained him many friends at Bath, in
which place he became quite as great a favourite as
Elliston is at present. Mr. Dimond was lucky in marry-
ing a lady with a good estate, with which he purchased
a part of the theatre; and there is not an actor who
sits uneasy under the shade of his government. Blissett
(ipsissimus), who was born at Reading, was thurst upon
the world at the age of thirteen. He would be an actor,
and came out under the management of Bobby Bates, at
Shepton Mallet, but was soon after shipped off by Little
Derrick, the then M. C. of Bath, to Smock Alley. This
was the period in which Mr. and Mrs. Didier, Mr. Edwin,
Mr. Richards (the present Mrs. Edwin's father), Miss
Catley, and several others, made their début in Dublin.
“Much I could say of Mossop, but he would occupy
more time than I can just now afford. We literally
starved one whole season. I am quite sure, that had we
been put into the scales at the end of it, we should not
have weighed half our original ounces,—and we never
were a sleek company at best.
"I then followed the fortunes of an itinerant manager,
the famous Fisher, who went to Russia. From him I
went to Edinburgh, with Ross; thence to Birmingham,
and at length to Bath.
And now, with something less than an annual sum
of £200, I quit the chequered scene of a player's life; a
woof in which, if there be but few bright colours, I have
found some threads of friendship and attachment, which
are yet strong and binding. If you think my experience.
can yield you anything useful, command me, my good
friend.
'F. BLISSETT."
ANECDOTES.
Elliston's professional duties at Bath, his occasional
acting in other theatres, and the prospect of fresh labours
awaiting him at the Haymarket, in London, might have
satisfied him for the present. But no such thing; the
comedian, like the sentimental young lady, was formed
“to shine in adversity," and yearned for the sweets of
martyrdom. Having learned the many fruitless attempts
G 2
1
84
which had been made by dramatic managers for permis-
sion to import plays and players into the University of
Oxford, he determined at once to enter himself on the
same hazard, and to carry, if possible, a point in which all
his predecessors had failed.
To Lord Harcourt he applies as usual; and, as usual,
the Earl responds :-
UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.
"Harcourt House, Feb. 10, 1803.
"SIR,-You may have formed a higher notion of my
influence in the University of Oxford than I possess; for
although my family has for six centuries been settled
in its neighbourhood, I received no part of my education
in that place.
66
Having, however, many friends resident there, I have
already endeavoured to interest in your favour a leading
member of the University.
"But should your application meet with assent, I do
not see how you can carry on your project with the many
other engagements which you tell me you have entered
into. Every man knows, or is supposed to know, his own
affairs best; and although I am well aware you can per-
form many parts by your single talent, I cannot see how
you can be in twenty places at once.
"Mr. Elliston, Milsom Street, Bath."
"HARCOURT."
As in all his promises, the earl was as good as his
word; but the importation of modern stage-plays into
the bosom of this antique seat of learning was not so easy
an experiment.
The negotiation being opened, Elliston received the
following:-
"Oxford, Pembroke College, Feb. 19, 1803.
"SIR,-The Vice-Chancellor having lately lost a near
relative, prevented me from conversing with him on the
subject of your letter till yesterday.
"His reply is, that no plays will be allowed to be acted
85
in the University next summer. He told me that he
had received several applications on the same subject pre-
vious to yours; but if it were possible to grant permission,
the preference would be given to your respectability and
professional talents.
"I am, sir, your obedient servant,
THE VICE-CHANCELLOR.
"JOHN VINICOMBE.”
This announcement from Pembroke appears by no
means to have settled the question with Elliston. He
still follows up his object, and receives the annexed gentle
rebuke from the Vice-Chancellor himself :—
،،
"Worcester College, Oxford, March 5th, 1803.
SIR,-I am sorry you should have taken the trouble
of repeating your application to me, after the reasons
which I thought it my duty to give to Mr. Vinicombe,
for declining to comply with your request.
"The manner in which Mr. Vinicombe spoke of you
could leave me no room to doubt the respectability of
your character. It is not, therefore, for want of confi-
dence in that, that I did then, and still must, withhold
my consent to the visit of any persons to this place for
the purpose of making theatrical exhibitions. If I could
consent to any, I would not object to your application ;
but it is my determination to consent to none.
"I am, sir, your obedient humble servant,
"W. LANDON,
Vice-Chancellor of Oxford."
And thus terminated the Oxford experiment.
The introduction of theatrical amusements into our
Universities appears as forbidding as theatrical specula-
tions were once deemed hazardous in Scotland; for we
remember to have heard that, in the year 1726, one
Tony Aston spoke a prologue in that country, written
by Allan Ramsay, in which he compared himself to
"Columbus," in the danger of so bold an enterprise !
86
ESCOURT THE ACTOR.
Mr. Gore, in his fondness for the drama, had, from
time to time, collected and transmitted much theatrical
anecdote.
The following incident, amongst his memorabilia, may
not be generally known.
Escourt was a celebrated player in the latter days of
the seventeenth century. When quite a boy, he de-
camped from paternal authority, and enlisted under the
banners of a theatrical leader. He was but fifteen years
of age when, at Worcester, he acted the part of Roxana,
in the play of "Alexander the Great;" his feminine
appearance being at that time a greater recommendation
than his immature skill as an actor.
To this place he was traced by his enraged parent,
who would evidently have commuted his dramatic salary
into a sound whipping; but the manager's wife taking
compassion on him, furnished him with an entire suit of
her own clothes, and thus equipped, he escaped for the
second time.
Arriving at Chipping Norton, he entered an inn. Fear
and fatigue induced him to seek an early bed, to which,
in a remote attic, he had not long retired, when the busy
landlady, abruptly entering, begged that, as the house
was full of travellers, "the young gentlewoman" would
accept a companion for the night. Poor Escourt here-
upon gave consent in that language which is said always
to imply it—namely, silence,-which the hostess deeming
quite sufficient, handed up a third personage, and hastily
quitted the apartment to attend on far more profitable
customers below.
Dread, rather than delight, occupied the young run-
away, when, on stealthily raising his eyes from the bed-
covering, he descried a toothless, beetle-eyed antique,
“swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing like so
clean." The lad could have crept into a very nutshell,
and rolling himself into as small a compass as possible,
withdrew to the edge of the pallet, still counterfeiting
sleep.
After a laborious fit of coughing and ventriloquizing,
+
REMARKABLE INCIDENT.
87
the distempered crone approached the bed, and loosen-
ing by degrees portions of her attire, scrambled on that
division of the couch which the trembling boy had so
liberally allotted her. With a heavy groan down she
lay, whilst deeper horrors than the tyranny of Mezentius
ever devised, filled the thoughts of her companion.
The wheeze was soon lost in more distinct accents of
sleep, which, though but little grateful to the ear of
him who watched so near, yet somewhat relieved him
from the terrors of detection and consequent punish-
ment.
But terror-pain itself-will yield to fatigue; and as
Damiens himself is said to have even slept upon the rack,
so, as the morning approached, exhausted by long suf-
fering, the younger of the twain fell also into a profound
slumber.
"C
But the grey-eyed morn had scarcely opened on the
denizens of earth, when the snoring travellers of the
Rampant Lion "
were roused to a sense of alarm by
a shriek hoarser than the raven; and, at the same
moment, a sudden overthrow of a water-butt and pew-
ter vessel on the staircase, set the whole establishment
into the wildest commotion.
Young Escourt, it may be well supposed, was startled
with no less affright, and in confused recollection of
the late events, missing his companion, was about
springing from his bed, when renewed accents bursting
through the bondage of a well-remembered wheeze, ex-
claimed,-
"Abomination on your house! help! help! I say.
You nest of rogues and varlets! help! help! I say !"
It was now clear, that by some strange accident the
poor youth had been discovered, and totally unconscious
of the ludicrous evidence of moral turpitude fixed upon
him, recollecting only his filial disobedience and its pro-
bable consequences, he fell on his knees just as the land-
lady, followed by half the household, entered the apart-
ment, avowing himself a most guilty wretch, but claiming
pity and protection.
+
88
THE YOUTH'S FINAL ESCAPE.
The good hostess, mistaking the nature both of his
distress and confession, as well she might, burst into
an immoderate fit of laughter, in which she was joined
by the whole posse at her heels. Further explanations,
however, took place; the unconscious libertine was
acquitted, and, provided with fresh disguise, was again
forwarded on his flight.
CHAPTER II.
ELLISTON.-HIS TRAGIC PARTS.
As the subject of these Memoirs is now about to bid
farewell to the home of his dramatic youth, it may be ex-
pected that we should bear some testimony to the public
opinion of his talent, in a few of those leading parts of
tragedy to which by this time he had put forth high
pretensions.
ELLISTON was an actor of what may be termed the
Romantic School. Unlike in style, either of his great
contemporaries, Kemble or Cooke, he was yet distin-
guished in some delineations of tragedy, by which the
names of those two actors have become so justly me-
morable.
Of the commanding presence-the stoicism—which
characterized so much the style of Mr. Kemble, and of
that classic bearing which, on the Roman scene, rendered
him incomparably greater than any English actor history
may have handed to us since the days of Betterton,
Elliston had no perception. The metaphysical ponderings
of Brutus, the inspelled imaginings of Macbeth, were seen
in the very form and aspect of Kemble; but the fire of
Hotspur and chivalry of Henry V., bright as they were in
his beautiful portraiture, did not extinguish his fellow in
art, who suffered but little by a propinquity to that great
master.
Elliston was distinguished for flexibility and vari-
ableness of voice, which produced powerful effects; now
"the silver-toned Barry," and now again the manly into-
nations of Booth.
The mental abstraction which belongs to the character
of Hamlet, met with a happy delineation in Elliston's
efforts;—his tremulous awe, his impressive accents, when
.
90
(6
in the presence of his father's spirit, produced on his au-
ditory a cleaving sympathy; like Betterton, "he made
the ghost equally terrible to the spectator as to himself."
Mr. Kemble was here too much the "Prince of Den-
mark," his awe too much at court, as though he might
have uttered, Angels and ministers of state, defend us!”
And though Elliston by no means retained for any length
of time, this ability in the part in question, yet in its brief
possession, he was popularly considered to have had no
superior. In the chastening interview with the players,
Mr. Kemble's style of instruction and manner rose far
above the attempts of his young rival; and in the closet
scene, Mr. Kemble was equally his master.
At one
moment Elliston seemed almost affected to tears;-he ap-
peared to take too literally "si vis me flere, dolendum
est primum ipsi tibi;”—the effect was bad, and altogether
inconsistent with the tenor of the scene.
ELLISTON AS A TRAGEDIAN.
The mixed character of Orestes was one of Elliston's
most successful delineations. His depressed state of mind
at disappointed passion, in the commencement of the play,
—his speech in the presence of Hermoine, flattered that
she had sent for him-
"Ah! madam, is it true? Does, then, Orestes
At length attend you by your own commands?"
were all finely impressive.
The manner in which he related the death of Pyrrhus,
and that wilderness of idea which precedes confirmed
madness, exhibited a masterpiece of the Romantic
School.
In Romeo, Elliston was always attractive;—a success
multiplying his triumphs without greatly adding to his
fame; as Romeo is perhaps the least intellectual character
of Shakspeare's heroes. But the wild, romantic passion
of the youthful Veronese, and that frightful despair, the
last of mortal suffering, were powerfully portrayed by
him—the scene with Friar Lawrence, wherein he hears
his sentence, "banishment," and particularly the speech,
concluding—
A BATH BENEFIT.
"They may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal blessings from her lips,"
were also most effectively sustained.
We do not find any great praise given to his imper-
sonation of Othello, although he frequently acted the part.
If, therefore, we are to conclude that the attempt was
not what might be deemed successful, it is but fair to his
attainments in other directions, to credit that there were
at least some features in it of considerable merit.
91
Though far short of a great tragedian, Elliston was an
impressive player of tragic parts. If not Cato, Lear,
Macbeth, or Melantius, he was Juba, Edgar, Macduff, and
Amintor, without a superior. In the character of Amintor,
full of those inconsistencies and weaknesses, which, as in
that of Jaffier, not unfrequently give a peculiar interest to
the scene, Elliston won the praise of his auditors; and
the manner and force in which he delivered one speech,
was always a point of admiration. He addresses Evadne
on her remorse :-
"Do not mock me,
Though I am tame, and bred up with my wrongs,
Which are my foster-brothers, I may leap,
Like a hand-wolf, into my native wildness,
And do an outrage. Prithee, do not mock me!
"?
His Falconbridge was good; but Mr. Charles Kemble has
so far excelled all actors we have on record, in this par-
ticular delineation, that we venture not a momentary
hazard with him.
Baffled in his many attempts at becoming part pro-
prietor in the Bath property, Elliston had now, however,
attained a joint management in a London establishment
-namely, that of the Haymarket Theatre,-and in March
he took leave of his old friends by a benefit, which was
rendered not a little remarkable by a speech from the
actor and a "row " in the playhouse.
The manner in which Elliston, in after-days, distin-
guished himself by these addresses to his audience, of which
92
،،
AN EMEUTE."
he was clearly so vain, induces us to take more notice of
this particular instance than, perhaps, we should other-
wise have done; for he verily became, in course of time,
a kind of dramatic Anacharsis Clootz, vindicating drama-
tic rights, one moment, in a Court of Chancery, and at
another, instructing his playgoing auditory in the forma-
tion of their judgment, and telling them plainly what was
wholesome for them, as critics and men of taste.
His address on this occasion was woven in many party-
coloured threads, which gave to his harangue a most
pleasing variety ;-of course, he had much to say about
"gratitude" and "early friends"—then came the "French
Revolution" and his " own prospects”—while "Shakspeare
and the musical glasses" completed the tissue.
It had been publicly announced, that on the occasion of
this benefit, "the pit would be thrown into boxes,” and
"the gallery admission advanced to pit prices;" no sooner
did the curtain rise for the play, than there was a rising
also amongst the spectators, which threatened, for a time,
serious consequences.
-
"Throwing the pit into boxes," had very nearly pro-
duced throwing the boxes into the pit; for some of the
most irritated of the party were actually about demolish-
ing the furniture, and the extra tax which had been ex-
torted by the gallery commissioners, seemed to indicate
as awful a result as the impost of "ship-money" itself, or
any similar act of tyrannic "benevolence." Elliston,
however, "made a speech "—which many might have
envied, and none but George Robins excelled;-by which
he presently won all hearts to his own service, and peace
was restored without one sixpence returned.
Before leaving Bath, Elliston receives the following
from Colman :-
"I have engaged," says he, a "Mr. Kelly; and as those
whom Heaven has joined, no man is to put asunder, I am
compelled to take with him-wife and baggage.
"The lady's tongue bears with it a lazy lisp, which could
not fail teaching our audience the 'Whole Art of' hissing,
did they require to be reminded of such accomplishments.
Plain she is, at all times; but in speaking she chews
COLMAN'S HUMOROUS LETTER.
93
the cud, and is rather fitted for a museum than a play-
house.
"It is Plutarch, I believe, who tells us that Minerva
threw away her flute on perceiving the grimaces she made
in the surface of a river. She was a sensible woman I
would to heaven Mrs. Kelly would throw me over too.
"I have also engaged a Mr. Hatton-a three-pounder,
and a very useful man; for he can double up a hundred
lengths into his head with the facility of a land-surveyor's
reel-measure.
"I hope to greet you in town on the 24th. Come to
Waldron's at two o'clock, and I will read to you the Pre-
lude; I will then give you some clue to my castellum,
where George Colman is to be found by his friends—'a
place,' as Mrs. Millwood declares, by art so cunningly
contrived, that the piercing eyes of jealousy may search in
vain to find an entrance.'
66
Weighty Lady Buckinghamshire* has just written to
me for a stage-box, on our opening-for her, unquestion-
ably an opening must it be. And now, success attend us!
""
Early in May, Elliston started for London, but the
journey itself was a little interrupted by the coach break-
ing down within two miles of Devizes. Unfortunately it
rained hard at the moment, a pelting torrent, so that the
inside passengers being prevented walking onwards, the
vehicle was propped up, and the good people compelled to
remain stationary, whilst the guard rode on with a pair
of horses, for the purpose of bringing back some convey-
ance for carrying the party into the town.
This incident was, at this moment, a great annoyance
to Elliston, as he had appointed to meet Colman, at a
certain hour, in London. However, he made the best of
it, converting his own mortification into a source of
amusement for others, particularly with one old lady,
who declared “it was as good as a play to hear him."
He talked, as usual, of Ben Jonson and Moses, Julius
Caesar and Lord George Gordon, so that, however gloomy
*Lady Buckinghamshire, when Mrs. Hobart, was celebrated in
the Duke of Richmond's private theatricals.
94
the prospect might have been without, all was cheerful
and sunny within.
A PAINFUL MEETING.
After waiting in this situation for above an hour, the
fresh carriage arrived, which proved to be no other than
a black, mourning-coach, followed by a hearse, intended as
a conveyance for the luggage. Here new difficulties arose,
some of the parties refusing to enter so mortally grave a
vehicle;—difficulties, which were but little removed by
the many nervous stories Elliston had to tell about
Colonel Despard, who had just been hanged, and poor
Colonel Montgomery, who had just been murdered.
A mourning-coach conveying passengers, habited in all
the colours of a harlequin jacket, with harlequin himself
in the midst; and a hearse following, containing amongst
other things the wardrobe of a travelling comedian, must
have been a strange sight to the "upturned, wondering
eyes" of the townspeople of Devizes. The cavalcade,
however, without further impediment, reached the inn,
when it was ascertained that at least two hours must
elapse before a proper vehicle could be got in readiness
for the travellers to proceed.
Part of the intervening time Elliston occupied by peram-
bulating the town; and, entering a stationer's shop for the
purchase of some article, his attention was arrested by the
fair boutiquière who attended him. She was habited in
half-mourning, and followed by a little prattling infant,
evidently her own darling.
Elliston regarded her with the curiosity of half-awakened
recollection, and protracting his stay under some trifling
pretence, endeavoured to solve his perplexity. The truth
presently flashed on him, and he exclaimed,
"Alice Alice is it indeed you! Do you not re-
member me
""
A slight suffusion passed over her, as he uttered these
words, and raising her eyes, which spoke too evidently of
sorrow, replied, with a faint, nervous smile-"Oh, yes!
""
you are
"Is it really my young, kind friend Alice whom I see?"
interrupted Elliston-" who was so good to me at New-
bury, eleven years ago, when, melancholy myself, I—————”
A MELANCHOLY HISTORY.
95
Here, the tears of poor Alice beginning to flow, Elliston
at once frankly asked the history of her distress.
The following is the narrative he collected:
Alice, for a fleeting season a happy wife, was now, at
twenty-seven years, a broken-hearted widow! She had
married, about six years before, a lieutenant in the navy-
"the noblest and the kindest of men, and so handsome that
he was quite a prodigy !"—for such were her own words.
Their means were but slender, but they enjoyed that
felicity which gives to days the rapidity of moments, and
to moments the value of ages.
Their first blow was the death of her own father; a
calamity not lessened by the discovery that he had left
his family in poor circumstances.
The expedition against Copenhagen, not long after,
called the young sailor suddenly to his "first love"
namely, his country.
،،
Having joined the naval armament in the Yarmouth
Roads, under Sir Hyde Parker, the lieutenant felt no
longer "a divided duty.” Love, honour, and obey," was
now his country's; and he was quickly called on to prove
his allegiance, in the memorable day of the Danish siege.
The glorious upshot was the immediate theme of the
young sailor's communication to her, who was at that
moment praying for his safety.
A second letter, not long after the former, reached her.
Its tone was less of havoc, much more of affection. The
lieutenant, in fact, spoke ardently of return, and antici-
pated, in colours more glowing than those of England's
flag, the ecstasy of meeting.
The day mentioned in the letter had arrived. Alice,
attired in the very dress her husband had chosen for her
as his parting present, caressed her infant by a thousand
kisses, on the sweetest holiday she had ever known.
The hour arrived, had passed, but he--he came not.
The coach had already rolled through Maidstone (the
town near which she then resided), yet brought not her
husband.
"He is detained," cried she; "to-morrow I shall see
him; to-morrow, which shall gild my many days to come.
96
She rehearsed again his favourite song, that she might be
the more perfect in its performance (as she said), but it
was, in fact, to divert her misgivings.
Again, the coach—again, on this second day—threaded
the town, yet no form of him, whose spirit was locked up
in her heart. She would not be alarmed-she was ac-
tually frightened at alarm,-framing in her hurried fancy
new excuses for his stay, the probability of which she
would not trust herself to examine.
WIDOWHOOD AND DESOLATION.
Abruptly-almost involuntarily-she rose up, and ap-
proaching the window, beheld a gentleman, a friend of her
husband resident at Maidstone, already at her gate. She
flew to receive him.
"He has written to you?" cried Alice, inquiringly.
"You have intelligence of him? Why is he not with
you?" The silence of her visitor plainly indicated evil.
"Tell me," she almost shrieked-" Tell me why I do not
see my husband?"
The event may be recorded in a few words. The
visitor in question had humanely undertaken this mission,
for the purpose of breaking an intelligence to her, which
the public journals had already announced. The lieu-
tenant, it appears, had quitted his ship, and had gone on
board a cutter on some duty. One of those hurricanes,
so frequently fatal on the eastern coast of England, drove
the vessel ashore, and before assistance could be procured,
the greater part of the crew were lost, and amongst them
the husband of poor Alice! The state of anguish into which
she was thrown by this announcement may possibly be
conceived ;—mental stupor, which, after a certain time,
was awakened to the agonizing sense of sudden widow-
hood.
The marriage of Alice having been, from the very first,
an unwelcome subject to her husband's relatives, her pre-
sent distresses found but little favour with the lieutenant's
two sisters. These ladies now induced their mother to
treat Alice with positive inhumanity, so that in a short
time she was given to understand, as she had chosen
to force herself into their family, they did not feel them-
selves called on to extend her any assistance; and as
97
their feelings had already been so deeply wounded by the
death of their brother, they were totally incapable of en-
tering into other people's distresses.
"
ELLISTON ACTS RICHARD III.
(6
$
Collecting, therefore, her effects, Alice removed, with
her child, under her own mother's roof, on the borders of
Somersetshire. Having been informed of an opportunity
for investing her crumbs of fortune, in the town of Devizes,
to "unprecedented advantage," and being desirous of re-
lieving her mother from the additional burden of herself
and child, she hastily closed with the offer presented to
her; purchasing the stock and good-will of her present
shop at the round sum the out-going tenant had fixed on
it, "to save," as he pleasantly said, "unnecessary trouble
to either party."
Such were the events under which Elliston's recognition
of the benevolent Alice took place, an occurrence, by no
means calculated to render his journey so light-hearted an
undertaking as it had promised to be in the commencement.
The reunion between Colman and Elliston having
taken place, in London, over a stipulated rumpsteak ;
the "Little Theatre" in the Haymarket commenced its
season, on the 15th of May, with-"No Prelude," a dia-
logue written by the author-manager, and spoken by
Elliston and Waldron, the prompter. This production,
full of "pith and puissance," was extremely well re-
ceived.
But notwithstanding the promises, and--it is only fair
to say the exertions of Colman, his company was not
a good one. With the exception of Mathews, it was
meagre and inefficient; and even Mathews himself did
but little to keep the ship off a lee shore.
The season, on the termination, was but a disastrous
voyaye; nor could Colman, the "Prospero," with his "so
potent art," restore the vessel "tight and yare.”
Elliston now acted Richard the Third for the first time
in London, and frequently repeated the character; but we
apprehend it was, at best, but an unequal performance.
The early scenes were sustained with much adroitness;
but on the whole, Elliston was here incomparably inferior
to his great contemporary Cooke.
H
98
CORRESPONDENCE WITH COLMAN.
Colman, under the designation of "Arthur Griffinhoff,"
produced a new piece, entitled "Love Laughs at Lock-
smiths," in which Elliston impersonated Captain Beldaire
""
-a trifling part, but which he rendered an amusing fea-
ture, by his spirited acting and very clever execution of a
simple ballad. He also spoke a "Patriotic Address,
another fantaisie of Colman's muse, written by way of
epilogue to a play of Boaden, called "The Maid of Bris-
tol," which became, in fact, so popular as to render the
"Maid" in question, who was but an ordinary, illfavoured
piece of goods, almost "a toast ;" and sustaining a dull
drama, as Drelincourt on Death!" was borne on the
shoulders of Mrs. Veal!
The above suggests a little incident related in some of
the recollections of Miss Rafter, afterwards the celebrated
Mrs. Clive.
On the first night of "Love in a Riddle," a Pastoral by
the Laureat, in which Miss R. played the part of Phillida,
some persons had niet in the theatre for the sake of crush-
ing the piece, and they, in fine, succeeded; but when
Phillida first appeared on the scene, one of the rioters
was heard to say-" Zounds! Tom, take care, or this
charming little devil will save all." Colman's "little
devil" was yet more potent.
""
The "Castellum to which Colman alluded in his last
letter, and to which his pecuniary embarrassments had
driven him, was at Sudbury, near Harrow. Here, under
another name, latitavit, whilst all letters were conveyed
to him through a trusty messenger, who made his daily
journey for that purpose.
Colman having felt annoyance at some proceedings of
his stage-manager, wrote to him accordingly, and without
reserve. Elliston, nettled at his reproaches, vindicates his
conduct with some asperity.
Colman rejoins by the following:-
amour propre,
"DEAR ELLISTON,-Every man has his
and I certainly did not intend to alarm
loose hints which I transmitted to you.
yours, by the
Have you in-
stalled yourself Theatrical Pontiff, and assumed Infalli-
A DISSOLUTION OF PARTNERSHIP.
99
bility? Is it impertinent in the principal to give his
opinion to the agent? If so, woe to every man who ap-
points a deputy! Is it customary for an agent to think
himself insulted whenever he receives instructions? If
so, woe to every man who acknowledges a principal !
"As a proof that you can commit a blunder, even
while you deem yourself most adroit, I would mention
that you have this morning taken the trouble to come
from London to communicate my patronymic in your own
handwriting, to a cunning varlet, under the disguise of a
chaw-bacon, at my gate, from whom I had most cau-
tiously concealed it.
""
"Tell me if my frankness has really given you a wound,
and ceremony shall, at once, be applied as a balsam. I
will round my periods, cull my phrases, sift my words
before I offer them to your acute perception of offence.'
Thus was the grievance healed; another rumpsteak
was the result, nor was the Madeira a casus omissus,"
our readers may be well assured.
(C
On the 4th of April, the London Gazette had an-
nounced the dissolution of partnership between Elliston,
his wife, and Miss Flemming, by common consent. Mrs.
Elliston thereupon opened a Dancing Academy on her
own account, under the same patronage as that by which
she had been always distinguished; so that her schemes,
taking up the very genius of her appropriate art, vaulted,
with one elastic spring, on the pinnacle of success. Miss
Flemming, who found it was now no longer possible
to back out from her anteriority of years, gave up, not
only the fantastic toe, but other fantastic imaginings, ill
becoming a lady of full two-score; and cultivated the
more reasonable hope of interesting some Bath valetudi-
narian, who might be inclined to commute the vain pur-
suit of a belle amante, for the more seasonable qualities of
a steady wife.
On a certain morning, three ladies, who had not been
apprised of Mrs. Elliston's absence from home, arrived as
usual in Milsom Street, to take their lessous.
As they
had come from some distance, Elliston resolved they
should not depart disappointed, and promptly declared
or M
H 2
100
"he would give the lesson himself." The comedian was
really a very graceful dancer, so that he professed no more
than he was able to execute, and was guilty, therefore, of
far less audacity than Leander in the "Mock Doctor,"
who understood a cataplasm about as well as he did
Hebrew.
(C
ELLISTON AT HOME!"
The humour of the adventure pleased the comedian,
whilst an hour's pirouetting with three sparkling young
creatures (as he thought) would by no means be unac-
ceptable. It may be well conceived that it was at the
expense of a few blushes of the said damsels that he first
presented himself, announcing the circumstances under
which he had undertaken the part at so short a notice
but with happy address, he stood before them, a kind of
compound of the elasticity of Deshayes, and the sublimity
of " Merlin !"
In respect of the "more advanced" of these damsels-
a lady from Tipperary, it was clearly desirable that the
lesson should be given as soon as possible, for her "dancing
days were nearly over;" and as to personal attractions,
like those good people who, if they cannot command suc-
cess, will at least deserve it, so with the same ardour did
she laboriously cultivate the Graces.
In pursuance of this, she had already exhausted poor
Miss Flemming, and having nearly worn herself to a
thread, was now attended to Milsom Street by her black
footman, with the determination of doing no less for poor
Mrs. Elliston.
!
A short interval, and all was in operation. A little
French émigré was already seated at the harpsichord, and
Elliston had led out his belle aspirante to the movement
of cotillon. “Avancez -balancez-chassez," &c., ten times
repeated.
“Encore une fois-à votre place—à mer-
veille "-again, ten times. The second lady having no
longer the fear of mamma before her eyes, was absolutely
enamoured of her new instructor; whilst the youngest,
who had from the very first burst into an immoderate
giggle, appeared now to be under no less an influence
than the combined attack of laughing gas and the malady
of St. Vitus.
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ADBLONGER (H
101
A quick minuet succeeded. All was
All was "hail fellow !"
-Dancing mad !—the little émigré played like a spinning-
jenny, and chattered like a water-mill; all was in a whirl,
like March dust. "Miss Florence became as fiery as a
red Indian, and the little school-girl protested she “could
keep it up for a week.
""
MR. CHARLES YOUNG.
""
How great a portion of this time they would really
have occupied, is uncertain, when a servant entering the
apartment, suggested some slight refreshment, with a broad
hint that dinner-hour was just at hand. At length, all
was still; the movements, like the works of a musical-
box, were brought suddenly to a stand-and the curtain
fell on the Milsom Street Ballet to the entire satisfaction
of all present.
In December, 1803, Mathews made application to
Colman, on the part of Mr. Charles Young, for that gen-
tleman's engagement at the Haymarket; a question on
which the proprietor felt it expedient to consult Elliston.
After your long silence," says Colman, "never again
prefer a charge of idleness against me, it will be but a Pot-
and-Kettle recrimination, and only discover the coaly
complexion of each of us. Mr. Young has been men-
tioned to me, as an actor of high merit—even by yourself.
In respect of a clash with you, he is willing to engage
while you are acting manager, and in possession of the
first business.
"Our establishment last year was one of promise only,
not of performance, spite all our 'performances.' Young,
by this arrangement, would help, rather than mar you, for
your fence will be better shown by having a man who
would not parry so clumsily with you as many in our
salle d'armes. But if the subject be absolutely repulsive
to you, I shall drop it. In the mean, I will announce to
Mathews that I cannot definitively reply to him for
some days.
"I write from my cabin, but always direct to me at
Jewell's.
"Adieu! G. C."
“We must clash," observes Elliston, in reply. "Mr.
Young's claims are of that order, that he ought not to
102
hold a second rank, which he must do, should he engage
with you whilst I am at the Haymarket, and I cannot
afford to sacrifice any position to which the public favour
has advanced me."
A TICKLER FROM COLMAN.
(6
A few weeks previous to the opening of the theatre,
the part of Rigid, in a new comedy, entitled Guilty or
not Guilty," written by Mr. T. Dibdin, was forwarded to
Elliston, at Bath, for study.
Here was a new grievance! more hot water the
"Kettle" singing again, yet but a poor prospect of the
"Pot" boiling for Colman. Elliston fancied he should
have been first consulted on the play itself, before the
transmission of any part to him, and expressed himself
grandiloquently thereon, in a letter lengthy as a Statis-
tical Report, to which Colman rejoins:-
"You have amply made up for your silence, my dear
Elliston, for you shoot your plaustra verborum' on my
poor shoulders, almost to crush me. Your ink, like the
water of the Nile, is out upon me, literally with a ven-
geance. The extraordinary dimensions of your chand-
ler's-shop paper have tickled my fancy, as much as your
filling them has excited my wonderment.
"Could I forbear casting this play, with the devil, in
the person of its author, at my elbow? You have not
only the best part in the piece, but the part in itself is
good; and as to the rest, like my bread, it is a cast on
the waters of my current company, and must sink or
swim.
"I have engaged Miss Tyrer and Miss Howell, whom
I name in order (I think) of their merits. They will be
especially useful in our vocal business. Tyrer will become
more than useful.
"As the present are really my Night Thoughts, I may
fairly again mention Young. I must confess I deem you
in error on this point, though yield it I do, at your re-
quest—our object ought to be Rich Compounds.'
999
When Colman was first arrested, it was at the suit of
his friend; an event by no means remarkable on that ac-
* Now Mrs. Liston.
A CREDITOR'S MANŒUVRE.
103
count; but the circumstance which led to his immediate
capture, was highly characteristic of the dramatist himself.
Colman, who had for some time past been chary of his
visits abroad, had placed himself, on a certain fine morn-
ing, snugly within a hackney-coach, for the purpose of
calling on his legal adviser, near Bedford Square. He
reached the house about mid-day; and desiring the driver
to remain with his vehicle at the door, until he had
transacted his business, proceeded at once upstairs.
His purpose being in due time fully discussed, Colman
was about departing, but his solicitor, who, in point of
fact, was the best friend he ever had, having as great an
affection for the dramatist as the client, detained him as
his guest for the day; Colman remained, therefore, for
dinner; and at midnight, the supper-table found him still
unwilling to depart.
>
>
It so happened that Mr. A Colman's friendly cre-
ditor, had been accidentally passing the street on that very
morning, soon after the dramatist had been set down, and
had noticed the coach in question at the door of the law-
yer; and on passing the same spot about the chimes of
midnight, observed the identical vehicle on the identical
spot; for Colman had altogether forgotten he had even
arrived in a coach at all; obedient to whose orders, the
driver had remained nearly twelve hours at the kerb-stone.
A-
who was by no means a stranger to the coun-
cils of the manager of the Haymarket, at the house in
question, felt at once persuaded he had discovered his
man. This must be Colman !" cried he- there is but
one man in London who would keep a hackney-coach
waiting twelve hours, when at twelve paces distant he
might beckon twice the number to his service; here must
be Colman !" For jarvey, this was a good day's work.
The hire was of course paid, besides some five shillings
fraudulent percentage, which Colman, after supper, was
not in a state to dispute.
The driver had also in prospect a fat bribe for the dis-
covery on the following day, of the manager's retreat,
which he received in due course from the wily Mr.
A- and poor Colman surrendered.
104
A GREEN PARROT.
Some months previous to the foregoing event, Colman
had been living at Fulham, immediately contiguous to a
cottage then tenanted by Mathews. A--
was at that
time in search of him, and Colman being well aware of
this, was in the habit of stealthily entering Mathews'
house by the back-door, and thus had opportunities of
passing many agreeable evenings with his friend.
Mathews, who was fond of fun as school-boys of plum-
pudding, had a remarkably fine parrot, which was quick
at picking up words as any actor in the Haymarket com-
pany; and in as short a time as might be, the green pet
was instructed in the exclamation-" Be off! be off!
A- -'s coming! A -'s coming!"
On a certain evening, therefore, Colman having raised
the latch of Mathews' back door, and being about enter-
ing the yard, in which the parrot had been purposely
placed, his ears were suddenly startled by the bird's new
lesson-"Be off! be off! A 's coming! A- -'s
coming!"—a hint which, it may be well believed, he in-
stantly obeyed.
Puzzled by the possibility of A-being so near, but
at the same time not displeased at the hint, Colman, on
the following eve applied himself to the postern-gate, for
the purpose of ascertaining the true state of affairs, when
the stridulous assault was repeated-" Be off! be off! I
say!--A- 's coming!"
Utterly bewildered, and with renewed mortification,
the dramatist was once more taking to his heels, when
the actor, deeming he had carried the joke quite far
enough, popped his head from behind the wall, and in a
voice, half parrot and half Mathews, screamed out—“Come
back-come back A's in the water-butt !—A—————'s
in the water-butt !"
The Haymarket season, 1804, commenced: Elliston
now performed several new characters, particularly Vapid,
in the "Dramatist," in which he was so successful, that
the comedy became at once a favourite. Vapid was
decidedly his best "buffa" part. Elliston again assisted
the efforts of "Arthur Griffenhoff," by undertaking a
mediocre character, in a farce entitled "Gay Deceivers."
105
66
His popularity had now so increased, that on the an-
nouncement of his benefit, the dimensions of the "Little
Theatre" were found unequal to the accommodation of
his troops of friends." Like Bacon, he had grown too
large for his dwelling, and calling therefore a council of
his advisers, it was determined the Opera House should
be secured for the occasion. Taylor, the lessee, gave his
permission; Colman acquiesced-and Elliston's benefit
was re-announced at the King's Theatre, under the imme-
diate sanction of his Majesty.
AN EXTRAORDINARY BENEFIT.
The performances were Pizzaro," and "Love Laughs
at Locksmiths." At an early hour a crowd assembled
about the theatre, which, by the time the doors were
about opening, had so thickened, that neither constables
nor guards could prevent a pressure, which threatened
consequences as fatal as those at the "Haymarket” in
1794.
As the clock was striking five-" concussæ patuêre
fores!"—the doors were fairly, or rather unfairly, carried
off their hinges. To the very letter, it was a "Laugh at
Locksmiths;" the people poured into the theatre at every
aperture, like water into a wreck, and in a few minutes
there was an overflow in pit and boxes, which found its
level at no less an elevation than the ceiling. The boxes
which had been "taken" in the morning, were taken
after a different fashion in the afternoon; none of the
rightful parties being able to approach their appointed
seats.
(6
The house was literally blockaded. But a small por-
tion only had paid their money, though many had left
pledges to the amount, in the shape of hats, shoes, shawls,
and skirts of clothing. Some were seen climbing from the
pit into fancied refuge of the boxes, whilst not a few were
bodily forced again from the parapets into the steaming
pit. Action and reaction were equal. "Above! below!"
was equal discord; for it is not to be supposed the "gods"
were idle. No; there was a row amongst the deities, by
Jove! The Titans also were at warm work, at the very
gates of Olympus; the sons of Cœlus and Terra demand-
ing what they called "a settlement," whilst those who
106
had already gained it, were in vain applying for "out-
door relief." Celestials and infernals; popinjays and pau-
pers-were mingled "pell-mell" in one common confusion.
"Chaos was come again!"
At length, the chamade being sounded, Elliston stepped
forward, as plaintiff in this losing cause; though God
knows, his jury was sufficiently packed for any verdict he
might desire. As Richard the Second, at Smithfield (in
the words of Hume), "he advanced towards the multitude,
and accosted them with an affable but intrepid counte-
nance;" told them the eyes of all Europe were at that
moment upon them!-reminded them of the frightful
days of the year -80, and blessed his Majesty on the
throne ! From which culminate state of imagery, he
dropped into the "Martinus Scriblerus" vein, concluding
by saying that, "convinced as he was, every person
honouring him with their presence meant to pay, he
begged leave to observe that the deficiencies would be re-
ceived on the following morning at his house, No. 6, Great
Russell Street, Covent Garden.'
A CROWDED STAGE.
""
With great difficulty the play proceeded-" Pizzaro,”
as we have said. Part of the audience occupying those
inches on the stage, to which the Peruvian's "Brave asso-
ciates" vainly struggled to advance, Rolla's address was
actually delivered to an admiring circle of ladies and gen-
tlemen from the vicinity of Knightsbridge, Marylebone,
and Bloomsbury Square.
So unconscious were some of the party of their peculiar
situation, and so utterly destroyed was, at last, the scenic
illusion, that on Mrs. Litchfield (who played Elvira)
dropping, by accident, her mantle, while rising from the
Spaniard's couch, a bystanding young lady, with the
promptest kindness in the world, stepped forward, and
picking up the spangled vestment, begged, with a gracious
curtsy, she might have the pleasure of replacing it; nor
was she at all aware of this grotesque piece of maladroit,
until brought to her senses by one of the loudest shouts
which had transpired in the theatre on this memorable
night. Elliston realized by this benefit full GOO7.
A trifling incident occurred, about the closing week at
AARON GRAHAM.
107
the "Little Theatre," so strikingly homogène with our
subject, that we cannot forbear the present notice.
Ă certain comedian who had been playing here during
the season, and had made some impression in a part which
had fallen to his duty, was haunted by those distressing
Blue-devils yclept bailiffs; and though he had success-
fully baffled the attack for several nights, yet he was not
without pretty strong conviction that he would be
speedily laid up. In fact, the epidemic was very much
about just at this period. It was, however, important to
all parties that the actor should fulfil his engagements at
the theatre.
To elude the bailiffs, therefore, who were constantly
besetting the doors, like earth-stoppers, the following
expedient was put in motion. The actor's name was
changed in the bills, whilst he, dressing his characters
rather at variance with his usual manner, and being an
admirable mimic, assuming also a strange voice, went on
the stage, as usual; but under the designation of “a gen-
tleman, his first appearance."
Thus, in every single part, was he constantly sustaining
two characters, the one in the drama, and the other, that
of a country débutant, which he accomplished with entire
success. The bailiffs were convinced their man had given
them the slip, and after a time, like Charles Stuart's pur-
suers, they passed quietly off, whilst the king of the joke
sat grinning aloft, at an elevated window in the building.
In the course of this season, Mr. Aaron Graham, chief
police magistrate and one of the committee of manage-
ment at Drury Lane Theatre, renewed an application he
had previously made to Elliston, for his services at that
establishment.
The fortunes of Drury were greatly depressed, and the
recent failure of a comedy, "The Heart of Oak," as it was
called, had left scarcely a shot in the locker. Elliston,
however, did not so nimbly obey the magistrate's writ as
was expected, and Justice Graham entered up judgment.
against him in another epistle full of invectives.
The fact was, Elliston had certain secondary pursuits
which were greatly assisting his income, and rendered
108 ELLISTON SUCCEEDS KEMBLE AT DRURY LANE.
He was
him indifferent to the proposal in question.
giving, at this period, private instruction in reading and
reciting the English classics, and had as much employ-
ment of this description as he could conveniently despatch,
in addition to his other professional duties.
Graham, however, still kept close at his heels; and as
there really appeared, from what we have just noticed,
some danger of our hero falling into the magistrate's
hands, under less seemly circumstances than a professional
alliance, it is as well, perhaps, that he at length listened
to the Drury Lane overture; closing with the proposal
now made to him, for a three-years' engagement, at
twenty pounds per week, and a benefit at the most
favourable period of the year.
On the 20th September, 1804, Elliston opened the
campaign, taking the place of Kemble, who had now
quitted Drury Lane, by acting Rolla, and on the 27th.
Having repeated it, he started for Weymouth, where again,
at the express command of the King, he was appointed to
superintend a fête and perform a few nights at the theatre.
The fête took place on the 29th, on board the royal
yacht, and was given in honour of the birthday of the
Duchess of Wurtemberg. As their Majesties entered the
vessel, Elliston and Miss De Camp, in the characters of a
sailor and his wife, delivered a metrical address.
Patriotic rhapsodies were, at this period-the renewal
of the French war-much in vogue on our theatres.
They were well enough for the special purpose, but the
greater part of them, as poetic compositions, miserable
examples.
In October, Ellistou returned to Drury Lane, when he
acted Archer. Charles, in the "School for Scandal ;” Don
Felix, Orlando, Young Bevil, in the "Conscious Lovers;"
Wilding, Octavian, Benedict, Faulkland, Hamlet, Richard
the Third, Belcour, and Ranger, he also played in quick
succession; and on the 31st January, 1805, he appeared
in the part of Duke Aranza, the first representation of
"The Honeymoon."
[Charles Robert Elliston, born 4th November, 1894.]
109
This highly popular drama had been long slighted, re-
jected, indeed, by the management of Drury Lane. The
manuscript, which had been thrown amongst the dusty
piles of the condemned cell, fell by mere chance a second
time, under the notice of the turnkey, and as a kind of
desperate alternative, the play, with due ceremony, was
led out for execution. It was, however, strongly cast;
and after the first rehearsal, there was an evident change
of opinion amongst the actors; for although the main in-
cidents of this comedy are far from original, yet there was
such a jocund diversity of character, such an agreeable
succession of well-arranged action, and so happy an adapta-
tion of the vigorous diction of the "old masters," that all
doubts were ultimately removed as to its verdict with
the public.
(6 THE HONEYMOON !
And well indeed might all apprehensions have van-
ished, for the result was triumphant. It would be of little
purpose to speak of any particular instance in the acting of
either Elliston or Miss Duncan : where and what to choose
would be the difficulty; any special notice or selection
would be, in point of fact, a declaration of the whole, for
there was no moment in which the spectator had been
unequally delighted. Every actor in the piece was well
affected to his particular allotment, and no duties were
ever better performed than all the casts upon this
occasion.
Poor Tobin, the author of the play, lived not to witness
the triumph of his muse. He died, unfortunately, at
Cork, a few months only before this first representa-
tion.
"The Honeymoon" was acted twenty-eight times in
the season; twice by command of their Majesties—and
ran eleven consecutive nights, a course which would un-
doubtedly have been extended, but for that sudden
meteoric appearance in the dramatic horizon, which now
drew after it the eyes of all observers—namely,
Young Roscius."
"The
So rich and varied was the histrionic excellence which
Elliston displayed in this part, dranza, that had his quality
been hitherto equivocal, or altogether unaccredited, this
110
event would at once have placed him “ac prope socco,"
and the favourite delegate of the Comic Muse.*
Elliston receives the following letter from his attached
friend, Mr. Gore :-
MR. GORE.-LORD HARCOURT.
"Well, my cockmate, I congratulate you.
Fame is not
quite so nimble-footed as scandal, and yet your fresh re-
nown has reached us long ago.
But this is not the first
satisfaction you have given on the scene of the Honey-
moon.' Mrs. Elliston declares you acquitted yourself ten
years ago in this interesting situation quite as well,
though the world didn't know it.
"I have heard something of your little 'Roscius.' This
step from the playground to the playhouse I cannot
approve. I observe the lady who was to have performed
with him is gone to Ireland-Mrs. Litchfield. Pray
who is to take her place?—surely not Mrs. Siddons?
The character for his début is well chosen,—Dorilas, in
'Merope.'
"We have, by report, here a second Siddons in Miss
Smith. She interests all greatly, and some are thoroughly
fascinated by her. From myself I can say nothing-I
have not seen her."
Lord Harcourt again addresses Elliston :
"Harcourt House, April 16, 1805.
SIR, A party of my friends, and your admirers, have
solicited my interest to induce you to give them a reading,
on some evening, at Miss Berry's, North Audley Street.
I trust I may be able to make one in that circle, but, for
the present, a return of erysipelas on my forehead renders
it impossible for me to stir abroad. As you are accus-
tomed to the sight of spectres, goblins, and moving
simulacra, if you will call on me about any mid-day, I will
exhibit to you my own frightful features. Whether at
(6
* The principal cast of characters in the "Honeymoon" was as
follows: Duke Aranza, Elliston; Rolando, Bannister; Lampedo,
Mathews; Jacques, Collins; Juliana, Miss Duncan; Volante, Miss
Mellon; Hostess, Mrs. Sparks.
ELLISTON AN AUTHOR.
111
this advanced season of the year, and at a moment when
the public mind is greatly agitated by concerns of national
importance, it would be prudent in you to take a benefit,
you, perhaps, would be a far better judge than myself.
This I can say, that should I not be prevented by my
attendance on her Majesty, I will certainly not only go
myself to the play, in the event of your benefit, but will
promote the occasion in every way I may be able.
"Of gentlemanly acting, I have often spoken to you ;
the love of applause has betrayed many an actor into
tricks he has been utterly ashamed of afterwards. Wilkes,
I believe, never fell into this error. O'Brien, I am sure,
never did; nor have I ever witnessed this frailty in you;
'Never to make the unskilful laugh, make the judicious
grieve.'
"Our stage is still barbarous in respect of costume. A
short waist, a modish head-dress, are often coupled in the
old plays, with a Grecian robe and a Gothic ruff. I have
seen Woodward and Dodd wear white satin heels to their
shoes; and Lewis, too, in such a dress as could only be
fitting a mountebank in a fair. Mr. O'Brien made this
also an object of his best study.
I saw the 'Guardian' the other night. Mr. Murray
and Miss Wallis, in their respective characters, were ab-
solute perfection, but the Young Clackit, though repre-
sented by a performer of real merits, was marred by being
ill-dressed.
"I wish you could see Mr. Fawcett in 'A Cure for the
Heart-ache' his representation of the rustic is nature
herself. Garrick never exhibited a closer portrait.
"Your humble servant,
"HARCOURT."
The benefit took place in April, and was tolerably good,
the earl and party occupying a box. Elliston, on this
occasion, produced a piece entitled The Venetian Out-
law," dramatized by himself, from Lewis's Romance, "The
Bravo of Venice." The production was successful, and was
repeated sundry times before the termination of the season.
}
112
ASSAULT AND BATTERY.
Colman's negotiation with Messrs. Morris, Winston,
and Tahourdine, for the sale of one moiety of the Hay-
market property, and the result of a purchase by those
gentlemen, greatly disconcerted the subject of these
Memoirs.
Again had Elliston been baffled in his views of part-
nership; Bath, Liverpool, the Haymarket!-thrice had
he been thwarted in his besetting ambition; and he now
inet Colman, at the commencement of his third and last
season on the Haymarket boards, with no feelings of
cordiality.
In July, a petite comédie, written by Cherry, under the
title of "The World's Epitome," was produced at this
theatre.
Considerable opposition attended the progress of the
piece; and in the second act, Elliston, under the old im-
pulse, stepped forward, begging earnestly that the audience
would hear it to the close, which request he actually im-
pressed on his bended knee. The petition was granted,
but the "World's Epitome was damned on the first
reading, and the curtain fell amidst the yells and bootings
of an indignant audience.
The froissement, however, was not confined to the body
of spectators, for a difference taking place between
Mathews and Elliston, in the coulisses, the former accusing
our hero of some neglect, Elliston responded in that
peculiar language which never fails "to stir men's blood,"
and a blow from his irritated antagonist was the prompt
rejoinder.
At the commencement of the farce, Elliston, under
great excitement, made a rambling appeal to the audience;
but here also he appeared to get the worst of it, although
he had withdrawn the play, at the sentence of the house,
which had so emphatically pronounced there should be
no two bites at a Cherry.
""
On the following day a letter by Robert William
appeared in the public prints.
(C
(
THREE AND THE DEUCE.
"s
Haymarket Theatre, July 20, 1805.
"SIR,-Some misrepresentations having taken place.
respecting an occurrence at this theatre, last night, in
which I was a party, I beg leave to state,—
"It is true that a momentary altercation did arise
between Mr. Mathews and myself, which was attended
with some warmth on both sides, but it is not true that I
was knocked down twice,' nor indeed was I knocked
down at all. Neither is it true that I was placed in a
situation humiliating to the feelings of a man, or dero-
gatory to the character of a gentleman.
"It has been alleged that I am extremely officious in
addressing the audience, on many occasions.
If to my
office, as stage-manager, the term officious be applied, I do
plead guilty to the performance of my duty, but I do not
assent to any less worthy signification of the word. I
trouble the audience with observations only when I may
deem it necessary, and always endeavour to do so with
respect.
113
'I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
"R. W. ELLISTON.
""
Elliston's recent triumph in the part of Duke Aranza,
at Drury Lane, was now succeeded by an event at the
Haymarket, only less brilliant from the nature of the
drama in which he appeared; a musical entertainment,
entitled "Three and the Deuce."
This piece had been produced at the same theatre ten
years previous to the present; the principal part, or parts,
having been written expressly for the display of Mr.
Bannister's versatility of genius; an experiment, however,
which did not meet with a favourable reception.
Elliston, who had heretofore accomplished some tri-
umphs not dissimilar to the present-namely, a decided
success on Bannister's own ground-was by no means
deterred from the present trial. The fantastic triune im-
personation suited admirably his fancy, whilst a desire for
emulation gave him additional vigour for the experiment.
The versatility of powers (if we may venture so lofty a
I
114
،، THE TAILORS!"
term) necessary to success in the part of "The Singles,”
might very reasonably have attracted public favour to this
announcement, for Elliston was both a pleasing singer and
an elegant dancer, while his savoir faire of the mock
heroic and perception of broad farce, all conspired to the
fairest results.
The piece was acted for his own benefit, and the trial
was another decided hit. Like Diana, the actor was equally
divine under his three phases; and the petite comédie was,
from this time, assigned to him, by legal conveyance of
popular approbation, his own freehold.
In the course of this season, another outbreak took place
in the Little Theatre, which, commencing in deep tragedy,
concluded very properly in downright farce.
Dowton had chosen for his benefit Foote's burlesque
piece, entitled "The Tailors," or, "A Tragedy for Warm
Weather," in which the fraternity of the thimble were
not treated with the respect which their importance in
all ages appears to have enjoyed; and they now resolved,
like the Knights of the Shoulder-knot at Bath, some
years before (on the representation of "High Life below
Stairs"), to vindicate the dignity of their order.
A pallid battalion of tailors occupied (as well they
might) the dress boxes, another operative line threaded
the pit, whilst not a few were prepared for backing the
suit in the galleries. Dowton had advertised "The
Tailors," but they had resolved on "Measure for Measure."
The actor on his appearance in the part of Francisco, was
assailed by no less a missile than a pair of tremendous
shears, which would at once have cut the thread of his
existence, had the act been an echo to the will.
This demonstration of hostility caused the immediate
interference of the constables, and in nine minutes the
uproar was at the best. The tailors, it is true, were three
to one; but recollecting how many go to a man, it is not
surprising they were presently overmatched. Some of
the ringleaders, or, rather, foremen in the house, were
handed over to the public office, where Mr. Aaron Gra-
ham, like Priuli, was at that moment sitting.
LISTON.
Here good fortune appeared, in some degree, to attend
the tailors; for our friend Aaron being, as we have
already had occasion to notice, in the interests of Drury
Lane Theatre, was too well pleased at any mortification
which might attend another booth in the fair; and with
the exception, therefore, of the desperate little mechanic
convicted of sheer malice against Dowton, the whole party
were dismissed, or, we should rather have said, were
sent about their business.
115
Thus terminated this thimble émeute. The tailors
claimed the victory, and, quitting the play-house, were
content for the future to appear on no other boards than
their own.
In September of the same season, Liston made his first
appearance in London, at this theatre, in the character of
Sheep-face, in the "Village Lawyer." As of Tarleton
(whom, in fact, he must somewhat have resembled in style),
we can truly say,—
"cujus vox, vultus, actio possit
Ex Heraclito reddere Democritum.'
""
Hazlitt has pointedly said, "Liston is an actor hardly
belonging to the present age.
Had he lived in the time
of Colley Cibber, what a splendid niche he would have
given him in his Apology!
In October, a revival of Farquhar's comedy "The
Constant Couple" was advertised for representation, at
Drury Lane Theatre.
Late in the afternoon, handbills had been circulated,
stating, that in consequence of the sudden illness of Mr.
Elliston, who was to have personated Sir Harry Wildair,
the comedy would unavoidably be deferred; "She Stoops
to Conquer" was the substitute.
>>
As to the handbills, they of course had met the eye of
but a small portion of the "British public," and the greater
part of the audience, under a sense of disappointment, felt
inclined to "take it out" (as the
(as the money-lenders express
it) in some other article, and have a row for their money.
Due satisfaction being obtained in this manner, Goldsmith
I 2
116
AN AWKWARD CRITIQUE.
was entered "vice" Farquhar, and the substitution was
permitted to proceed.
But on the following day one of those awkward
contretemps occurred, of which we blush to confess we
have met with more examples than the present, in the
course of our theatrical reading.
The following critique! appeared in a journal called
"The British Neptune :".
"Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.-Last night, Farquhar's
sprightly comedy 'The Constant Couple' was most bar-
barously murdered at this theatre. The lively knight was
by Elliston reduced to a dull piece of affectation; it was
Tom Errand in Beau Clincher's clothes. Clincher was
altogether lost in the hands of Bannister; it approached
Farquhar as nearly as the frog resembled the ox in the
fable.
"Miss Mellon was not thoroughly unpleasant in her re-
presentation of Angelica; but criticism has not language
severe enough to deprecate the impertinence of Barrymore,
presuming to put himself forward in the part of Colonel
Standard. We were scarcely less offended with Dowton's
attempt at Alderman Smuggler; it was only not abso-
lutely the worst thing we ever saw."
""
Such was the "mirror in which the Drury Lane
company-ladies and gentlemen-beheld their unhappy
features at their toilet, on the following morning-Sun-
day!
On their swollen heads, black eyes, and lacerated
noses, they gazed in silent stupefaction. They had clearly
been cruelly belaboured by elves,—the victims of paw-
wawing-in their sleep (for Saturday nights are the Sab-
baths of witches), and acknowledged the providence of
having escaped with life itself.
They however determined, like the petulant beauty,
to be revenged upon their looking-glass; and Elliston,
Barrymore, Dowton, and Bannister entered a prosecution
against the old "Neptune," which would inevitably have
brought him from his coral palace, on the dry floor of the
Court of King's Beuch, but for the mercy of those whom
he had so deeply injured. The prosecution was stayed—
the proprietors of the paper paying of course all expenses,


MANU
TAHU
AKADIN KAMERIKAIDERY REFERRIFUGEMALTO HUMETĮ "GAL RELUDE
"
DN
DYEREKE
BERLELA
Alas, poor Ghost!
│
-

117
and a supplemental fifty pounds to the Drury Lane
Theatrical Fund.
OUTRAGE AND REVENGE.
Whilst on the subject of "outrages we must beg
leave to narrate an act of surpassing audacity, to the cost
of poor Dowton.
""
During the representation of some piece, wherein
Dowton had to be lowered by means of a trap through
the stage, his face being turned towards the audience,
Elliston and De Camp, who were concealed below, had
provided themselves with small ratan canes, and as their
brother actor was slowly descending to solemn music,
they applied their sticks sharply and rapidly to the thinly-
clad calves of his legs.
Poor Dowton, whose duty it was to look as dignified
and intrenchant as a ghost, smarting under the pain, cur-
vetted with his heels, like a horse in Ducrow's arena.
Choking with rage, he was at length wholly let down, and
being now completely out of sight of the audience, he
looked earnestly round to discover the perpetrators of
the violence. As to Elliston and his companion,—it was
decamp with each of them; but at this moment Charles
Holland, dressed to the very finish of fashion, worthy of
Cibber himself, was crossing from one of the rooms. The
enraged actor, believing him to have been the offender,
seized a mop at that moment immersed in most un-seemly
water, and thrusting it in Charles's face, utterly destroyed
wig, ruffles, point-lace, and every particle of his elaborate
attire.
In vain Holland protested his innocence, and implored
for mercy; his cries only whetted the other's revenge,
and again and again the saturated mop was at work over
his finery.
Somewhat appeased at last, Dowton quitted his victim;
but in the mean time the prompter's bell had announced
the commencement of the piece in which Holland was to
have appeared. What was to be done? The drama was
proceeding, Holland already called to the stage! all was
confusion thrice confounded. An apology for a sudden
accident to Mr. Holland" was made, and the public in-
118
((
THE HUMBUG CLUB.
formed that De Camp had kindly undertaken to go on
for the part!'
In April (1806), Elliston applied for permission of the
Haymarket authorities to advertise Colman's pleasant
little comedy, "Blue Devils," for his benefit at Drury
Lane, to which he received the following direct answer:
""
"The proprietors of the Haymarket Theatre present
their compliments to Mr. Elliston, and acquaint him that
past circumstances prevent their acceding to a request
with which they have been so unexpectedly honoured.”
This note was in Colman's own handwriting. Such
was the acetous fermentation of that sweet friendship,
which had been so lately sealed in pledges of choice
Madeira, and witnessed in the little "rump-parliament "
at Waldron's.
It was at this period of life that Elliston became first
acquainted with a gentleman, who eventually proved one
of his truest and most valuable friends Mr. Warner
Phipps, actuary of the Albion Assurance Company—a
man of good understanding and rare sincerity. To Mr.
Phipps, Elliston was frequently indebted for pecuniary
aids, which never were denied when the object appeared
honest and reasonable.
An attempt was now made by a certain clique of the
leading spirits of Drury Lane, in conjunction with sundry
town wits (and amongst them Theodore Hook, then a
young man), for a revival of some of the London clubs,
which had lately fallen into abeyance. Elliston was the
very Monk of the "Restoration."
Their immediate object was a resuscitation of the
"Humbug Club," which had originally been projected
by Mr. Perry, proprietor of the Morning Chronicle.
،،
Mr. Perry, in fact, gave the people a constitution,"
at the head of which he was nominally placed. Colman,
who, from foregone conclusions, was unable to appear,
was yet, like Ariel, a most potent agent, invisible, and
duly executed the good bidding of Perry, the Prospero,
on the enchanted soil of the Oxford Coffee House, where
the roystering crew were fraternized.
"The Humbug"—that is, the "old original "—had
66
""
CEREMONY OF MATRICULATION.
119
been assembled on the first month of several years, by a
proclamation, issued by Mr. Perry, who was designated
"Humbugallo Rex," and countersigned by his secretary,
"Screech." These proclamations were exceedingly humo-
rous, and may be read on the files of the "Chronicle" of
the period.
Mr. Pryse Gordon, in his "Personal Memoirs," says,
When a new member was proposed, he was admitted
blindfolded, with much ceremony. He was then con-
ducted by a member to the bottom of a large apartment,
whence he mounted a dozen of almost perpendicular
steps, being warned, that if he slipped, he would inevita-
bly break his neck. When the candidate had ascended
the very summit of the tottering fabric, the bandage was
suddenly snatched from his eyes, and he found himself
standing on a platform of about a foot square, elevated
some ten feet above the inquisitors. Around the table
below were sitting the president, his secretary (Screech),
and twelve judges, all masked, with beards low as their
knees, and black gowns. In the centre of the table was
a caldron of spirits of wine, which threw a most infernal
glare on the whole assembly."
Certain questions were then put to the bewildered
candidate, which if, in the judgment of the court, he
answered satisfactorily, and respectfully bowed three times
in the act of descending, he was duly declared a member
of the body.
But as none of these things were possible, no candidate
ever succeeded in passing his examination. However, as
all is fish which comes to the devil's net, the infernal pre-
sident usually extended a grace to the failing votary, and
he was ultimately matriculated.
Bannister, who had been a member of the “old origi-
nal," was joyfully received into the association of the
Oxford Coffee House. He was here frequently president,
when Johnstone fulfilled the duties of "Screech.
The following examination of a candidate before these
two "Jacks in office" took place, as witnessed by the
hero of our Memoir. The usual question being put—
CC
Pray, sir, were you present at your birth?"
120
Reply
born."
CC
،،
(C
""
PUG
A BROTHER RUNAWAY.
((
No; I was
a changeling before I was
Pray, sir, what is the stock of wisdom you purpose
investing in this society?"
"I come here to get wisdom."
"True; you are of that class which experience some-
times renders wise."
(6
But notwithstanding the efforts of this "gallant crew,"
and all their appliances to boot, the new Humbug
lasted but for a season: the "Restoration," in fact, was
but of short duration; and a Revolution came which
swept from state and being this last of the Humbugs.
The Oxford Coffee House affair failed, as most revivals
have been found to do. When once a dog has had his
day, the best voltaic battery will but make him wag his
tail, at best.
""
In the course of Elliston's visit to Dublin, he was sur-
prised, one morning, by a visit from a dashing young
fellow, who, unceremoniously entering his room, grasped
him by the hand with the tenderness of a vice, invoking
on him many days of joy and good fortune. Startled by
this amicable assault, Elliston in vain cudgelled his brains
to bring his friend to memory.
Far more amused than mortified at the comedian's
dilemma, the stranger, in the exultation of high spirits.
and rosy prosperity, bantered him for a while on his frail
pledges of friendship, playing off, at the same time, a
thousand bouffonneries.
66
Why, don't you know me?
Donald?" cried he-
Donald, at Saint Paul's?-Don't you recollect Donald
pug Donald? Robert!
""
The veil immediately dropped from before the eyes of
our hero, who at once recalled to recollection his truant
schoolfellow, "pug Donald," and the many occasions,
also, on which, each being soundly whipped for their
common fault, the birch of Dr. Roberts might well be
supposed to have "twined their hearts in one.
""
About the time Robert William took flight from St.
Paul's to Bath, his schoolmate Donald (for "pug" was
121
a sad dog) made an equally abrupt excursion to the sea-
coast; one for the stage, the other on board ship.
Donald had secreted himself, like a rat, in the hold of
a coaster, which having put to sea, he crept from his
hiding-place, begging, in piteous accents, the mercy of
the master, and that he might be received as a cabin-boy.
His prayer was granted; in fact, it was too late for
refusal, and in this situation he remained for full three
years.
YOUNG DAYS AGAIN.
At the age of eighteen, he was made mate of a vessel
sailing from North Britain, and there being a press on
the river just at this time, Donald was illegally seized by
a man-of-war's gang, and put on board a tender, whence
he was shipped for the coast of Africa. Being a good
seaman, he was rated able, and his exemplary conduct
being noticed by the first-lieutenant, he was speedily
appointed quarter-master. In a brush with a French
frigate, Donald behaved with so much gallantry, that he
was placed on the quarter-deck as midshipman.
He had now been gazetted lieutenant three months,
and having been a week in Dublin, had discovered, in
knocking about the town, the companion of his earlier
days,—his partner in many a stolen afternoon, and a large
shareholder in a joint stock of flagellation.
Elliston was immediately made known to such of
Donald's family who were at that time resident in Dub-
lin. He passed several gala days in the society of his
friend; and their imaginations being so vividly recalled
to the scenes of youth, they conducted themselves, in
some instances, so much like schoolboys, as to become
once more joint tenants of the same narrow apartment,
namely the watchhouse.
(C
'Pug" of course went to see his friend act, and which
occasion was, in fact, the very first time he had ever
entered the doors of a playhouse.
The timely success which had attended the production
of "The Honeymoon," induced the directors of Drury
Lane theatre to apply again to their piles of neglected
MSS., and, like other coquettes, to turn their second
122
DEATH OF DR. ELLISTON.
thoughts towards some of those offers they had too unce-
remoniously slighted in past seasons.
Rejected comedies, mouldy by despair, were ogled from
their obscurity; and the frail managers repeated the
doleful ditty-
""
Any one of these, which I slighted before,
Will do very well for me.
""
"The Curfew," another of Tobin's, became now the reign-
ing favourite.
This drama, put into rehearsal, was advertised for
representation for the 14th of February (1807); two
days previous to which it was announced as indefinitely
postponed, owing to the sudden absence of Mr. Elliston,
who was to have performed the principal character.
The Master of Sidney College had been for some weeks
in declining health, and his illness having now become
alarming, his nephew proceeded at once to Cambridge.
Elliston found his uncle rapidly sinking. He was
received with great affection by his venerable relative,
who, in pardoning his offences, had no slight category to
remit.
The Doctor did not survive this interview many days.
He died full of honour, in the respect of all men who
had value for integrity and well-directed talents.
Doctor Elliston directed by will 600l. to be divided
equally between his nephews, R. W. Elliston and the son
of Professor Martyn. To each of his grandchildren, of
which there were twenty, he left 1007., to be paid with
accumulation, as they severally attained their twenty-first
year. As residuary legatees, Elliston and his cousin
Martyn received 1,7007. each.
Out of the late occurrence, certain wild reports were
presently spread through the dramatic circles of the
metropolis;-first, that Elliston had been bequeathed
20,000l., and an estate in Huntingdonshire, on condition
of his quitting the stage; secondly, that he had repudi-
ated the Muses, and embraced the Fathers; Thalia for
St. Chrysostom; the Green-room for the Cloister; and a
third rumour, that he was about to found a dramatic col-
123
lege, of which he was to be nominated Provost, with
power, under a charter, for admitting licentiates, and
conferring histrionic degrees! Certainly he returned to
London bearing on his brow the very stamp of an epoch;
-his very step was eventful, and he moved in an atmo-
sphere of fate.
MARGRAVINE OF ANSPACH.
On the 19th, however, the misty conglomeration of
surmises was dispelled, and Tobin's "Curfew" produced;
Elliston having resumed his duties at Drury Lane, by
sustaining the principal part in that drama.
Triumphs are not met with in coveys: the plumage
which distinguished the "Honeymoon" did not clothe
this second flight of the poet. The "Curfew was at
least successful, and brought money to the treasury.
""
For his benefit, Elliston played Fapid, Vapour, and
Don Juan—the receipts being four hundred and seventy-
six pounds!
Elliston being known to the Margravine of Anspach,
having figured at one or two of her private dramatical
entertainments, applied to her, on the part of a friend,
about to publish a Theatrical Tour, for permission to
introduce a notice of her tasteful Salle Dramatique at
Brandenburg House, into the work; to which her highness
replies-
"SIR,-In answer to yr request, I inform you that
there is likewise a Theatre in my Wood here, of a Con-
struction so peculiarly pretty, that it would perhaps be
ye most interesting Description in yr friend's Tour. I
shall write to my Housekeeper at B. House, to let him
view the Theatre there; but I wish him not to print
anything abt me or my Establishments, without first
letting me see what he intends writs
"I have been much assailed by printed Falsehoods—-
the Newspapers appear to say what they please, and pack
Stories as some people do the Cards, for the Pleasure of
cheating, without any prospect of Gain.
“ELIZABETH.
"Bonham, n' Newbury, Berks, July 8, 1807."
""
124
WARNER PHIPPS-CRITIQUE.
The Margravine's private theatricals excited quite a
sensation at this period.
On several of these occasions, Elliston was the very
Coryphæus of the rout, — particularly on one event,
wherein there was an equal portion of the antic with the
Attic, and where there was certainly no deficiency of
amusement, for the laugh which wit might have failed to
elicit, absurdity pretty clearly excited.
Sir John Carr, who had lately been knighted by the
Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, took a patronizing lead in
this instance, and appeared so highly gratified both with
himself and everything connected with the evening, that
Hook, who was present, declared the play could be
performed but for one knight only.
"Ah! we shall never see such another," replied Sir
John, sans le savoir.
In the summer, Elliston being at Liverpool, he received
the following letter from his friend, Mr. Warner Phipps :-
"I have lost no opportunity of seeing Mr. Young. It
would be offensive to friendship, were I to pander to any
vanity you may have, by underrating a man whom I look
on, in one branch of his profession, to be a most formidable
rival to you.
"In tragedy, Mr. Young has made a very strong, and,
I think, a well-deserved impression on the public mind.
His Hamlet contains beauties of very high order, and his
acting in the Stranger is powerfully, irresistibly im-
pressive. As a tragic actor, he cannot but succeed. His
Don Felix is a volume of failures, and his actings as
much out of character, as an undertaker's scarf on a
bridal attire.
"Nature has thrown such a solemnity about his form
and aspect, that Thalia will neither yield to his entreaties
nor be forced into his embraces—so much for the stage;
but unless I am much mistaken, there is still a vein of
fun running through his constitution, which to his friends.
at home, is rich and yielding.
"Mr. Young frequently sheds over his text a brilliant
125
lustre; there is a bold honesty in his manner which
persuades he is right; you believe him in all he says and
does. In tenderness he is deficient; he can vindicate
female honour, but he cannot condole with the sufferer;
he can championize the dignity of blood, but he cannot.
mingle tears with tears.
"Graham and Tom Sheridan have been watching him
nightly, and I have no doubt the Drury Lane merchants
are speculating on this new commodity. Sheridan saw
him last night in Hamlet, and walked behind the scenes at
the conclusion of the play.
"I went, two days ago, with Mr. Rundall, to look at
the house he proposed for you in Stratford Place. The
terms are certainly not high, but I hesitate in respect of
the situation. I think there would be a discretion in your
not taking the exact ground with families of rank and
title. The very people who might become patrons of
yourself and wife, would look coldly, disdainfully, on you,
as next-door neighbours.
"The great world may be pleased in being followed,
but will not forgive being encroached on; in plain English,
you have no business in Stratford Place: every house, I
believe, in this street, is occupied by rank or wealth; and
though no law forbids Mr. Elliston taking up his abode
here, yet his good sense should prevent it.
((
Garrick, with all his fame, sought and courted as he
was, did not presume to place himself in immediate
contact with nobility, though his fortune was equal to a
handsome residence, which he, in fact, had in the Adelphi
Terrace; and Kemble does not venture beyond the bourne
of Bloomsbury.
I would suggest Bedford Place to you; the houses
are spacious and convenient; but for God's sake, do
not let any duke overhear the fiddle of a dancing school,
or your neighbour the countess observe the actor stepping
into a hackney-coach. The very principle of the ridiculous
is in things being out of place.
55
SENSIBLE ADVICE.
Having concluded his short engagement at Liverpool,
Elliston made a sort of détour on his return to London,
126
A COUNTRY THEATRE.
taking Buxton in his circuit, at which place he acted for
a few nights.
"Iro
Miserable was the theatre, and the actors
pauperiores." The capabilities of the house consisted of
two scenes, which, like Master Solomon's waistcoat, had
been turned for many occasions, and from their state of
near obliteration, had arrived at such a point of utility as
to pass for anything. This will remind us of the Welsh
sheriff (of whom the facetious Tom Brown speaks), who
converted an old cloak, first into a coat, then into a
waistcoat, and lastly into a pair of small-clothes.
A few stage "foot-lamps" illumed the whole house,
throwing a dim irreligious light upon the fresco brick
wall, which supported both the roof of the building and
the back of the spectator. The pit floor was composed of
a line of hurdles, which kept the feet of the groundlings
at some distance from that only overflow which fortune
ever permitted, and which, owing to the low position of
the building, never failed in the rainy season.
The scant
wardrobe, to the last thread and button, was, it is true,
employed in every piece, but which, being a contribution
of all costumes under the sun (like the child's sham watch)
could not have been always wrong.
The company was numerically small, unless the nume-
ricals had reference to their sum of years, for, with the
exception of two urchins, who had but one hat between
them, there was not an actor or actress much under
seventy years of age.
The entertainment on the night of Elliston's arrival at
Buxton was the "Castle Spectre."
In the course of this play, it will be recollected, Earl
Percy is detained prisoner in Lord Osmond's tower, whose
movements are overwatched by Muley and Saib, two of
Osmond's black slaves. Whilst these Africans are play-
ing at dice in front of the stage, and the Earl feigning
sleep on his couch, fishermen without the walls of the
castle sing a chorus, which gives the Earl a cue for his
escape; this he accomplishes by climbing a window, un-
seen by the blacks, and dropping into the boat, supposed
WHIMSICAL EXPEDIENTS.
to be floating under the casement.
ever, the said scene was thus acted :-
On this night, how-
In the first place, the two slaves were represented by
one actor; "doubled," as it is called, and the dialogue
he carried on with himself, supposing the presence of the
second person—
"Hark! music!"-here the first strain of the distant
chorus is understood, but as there was not one in the
company who could express a note but himself, the actor
turned his head over his shoulders and slyly chanted it,
Percy still feigning sleep. The black continues.
I'll see what it is!"-he now, by means of a table,
ascended to the casement, and thrusting his head and
shoulders through the same, a fiddle from behind was
handed up to him, on which, out of sight of the audience,
he worked his elbows, singing and playing-
"Sleep you or wake you, lady bright,
Sing Megen oh! oh! Megen Ee!'
127
""
Concealing, then, his instrument, and withdrawing his
head, he turned to the audience—
(C
Surely I know that voice. Still my prisoner sleeps.
I'll listen again."
Once again, head and shoulders through the window,
the fiddle raised to his hands, on he went-
"To spring below then never dread,
Our arms to catch you shall be spread;
A boat now waits to set you free,
Sing Megen oh! oh! Megen Ee!
""
But, alas! just at this moment, when in the act of a second
time pulling in his body from the narrow aperture, the
exertion necessary to the operation, together with the
fragile state of the antique scenery, produced a most awful
crash; the whole side of Osmond's castle-wall, with Muley
sticking in the window-frame, like a rat caught by his
neck, fell inwards on the stage, disclosing at one view an
heterogeneous state of things beyond, beggaring all powers
of description.
128
A DREADFUL EXPOSURE !
Hogarth's "Strollers dressing in a Barn" is not more
fantastically conceived; pipkins and helmets, wigs and
smallclothes, paint and petticoats, bread and cheese, and
thunder and lightning; ladies and gentlemen, full-
dressed, half-dressed, undressed, in all the various stages
of hurried interchange of joint-stock attire; love and dis-
cord, fondling and fighting; chalk, tallow, poison, Cupids,
and brickbats; hips, beards, bosoms, bottles, glue-pots,
and broken-headed drums; garlands, gallipots, ghosts,
moonbeams, play-books, and brimstone!
On the night following the above disaster, Elliston
played at the same theatre his favourite Aranza; and
extraordinary efforts were made to render the play worthy
the expected patronage.
The house had an overflow, though a dry night; and
matters went for a time swimmingly, as it is called;
there was neither break-down in scenery nor acting.
Juliana (in the costume of Fatima !) was, it is true,
faulty both in her part and person; for she had lost
every tooth in her head; and though her articulation was
thereby rendered imperfect, this was of little detriment
to the scene, so long as she filled up the stage and showed
a spirit.
All went on amazingly well until the scene with the
Mock Duke, in the fourth act. Here Jaques is discovered.
sitting in a large arm-chair, which, to give it dignity, had
been covered over with an old curtain-hanging. On
rising from his seat, the hilt of the Mock Duke's sword
most inopportunely became entangled in one of the sun-
dry holes of the loose coverlid, which, on the actor's
walking towards the front of the stage,
"Like a wounded snake, dragg'd its slow length along."
This certainly provoked something more than a smile;
but it so happened that the chair in question had been
borrowed for the occasion from a neighbouring iun, and
being originally fashioned for the incidental purposes of a
sick-chamber, its appliances were so palpably disclosed to
the whole body of spectators, that the roar produced, far
more resembled thunder than any paltry imitation ever
MYSTIFICATIONS OF AN OLD ACTOR.
before witnessed in a theatre. The people actually
screamed with merriment-in fact, they laughed for a
whole week afterwards.
129
Of the acting company at Buxton, the greater part, as
we have observed, though low in gold, were at least rich
in those “silver hairs which purchase good opinion;"
and amongst them a Mr. Ladbroke, who had fallen into
the infirmity of forgetting the words of parts he was con-
stantly in the habit of playing.
Of this there are many instances on record. When Tom
Walker was performing Macheath for the seventieth time
he was a little imperfect, which Rich observing, said,—
"Hallo! Mister! your memory ought to be pretty
good by this time!"
"And so it is,” replied Walker; "but zounds, it can-
not last for ever!"
Mr. Ladbroke, however, was generally perfect at re-
hearsals; but his mystifications at night arose probably
from this cause-his role was always the old men; and
these, whether Sir A. Absolute, Don Lopez, Foresight, or
Adam Winterton, he acted in the same suit of clothes, so
that when he gazed on his own figure, ready dressed for
any particular one of these, all the words of "Bell's
Edition crowded to the threshhold of his memory,
which not unnaturally led to some confusion in the inte-
rior. Thus, for instance, would he proceed, on making
his bow as Sir Peter Teazle :-
""
•
"When an old bachelor marries a young wife
Ah! you pretty rogue, you shall outshine the queen's
box on an opera night. . His Pagod, his Poluph-
losboio, his Monsieur Musphonos, and his devil knows
what
It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to
the back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I
popped my bald head in Mrs. Frizzle's face—” so that
here we had a compound of Sir Peter Teazle, Sir Francis
Gripe, Periwinkle, and Old Hardcastle; all delightful
when taken "neat," but as little relished in the admix-
ture as old Burgundy, whisky punch, dry sherry, and
Staffordshire ale, in aliquot parts, for an afternoon's
draught.
K
130
A FRENCH PRISONER.
Elliston had driven over to Poole's Cavern with a
friend, in a gig, and in the course of his extended jaunt
was strolling on foot leisurely up one of the hills (his
companion having the reins of the horse), when a figure
approached him from the hedge-side, the most wretched,
the most emaciated of beings he had ever beheld.
The man was evidently dying of hunger and exhaus-
tion. This object was a poor Frenchman, who, having
escaped from one of the prisons, had wandered about a
country, of which he knew nothing, for four days and
nights, with no money, no means of assuaging the crav-
ings of nature.
Commiserating the poor creature as he did, Elliston
knew not how to proceed, or into what serious dilemma
he might bring himself, by sheltering an escaped prisoner
of war. He at least determined not to abuse the rights
of confidence; in other words, to maintain strictly the
rules of dramatic justice, and entitle himself to the
applause of his own conscience.
Desiring the poor Frenchman to lie snug in the field
from which he had just crawled (like the great Mon-
mouth, with a few peas only in his pocket), Elliston and
his friend drove back to a neighbouring village, where,
purchasing a couple of loaves, a little bacon, and a bottle
of wine, he returned to the spot where the famishing
foreigner lay concealed.
The wretched creature (who, in his days of plumage,
would scarcely have been a match for "Captain Weazel”)
having long since given himself up for lost, now began to
blubber in tears of gratitude, and express his battements
du cœur in as much pantomime as his weakness would
permit.
The evening was fast closing in, but the weather warm
and lovely, and Elliston, teeming with melodramatic fer-
vour, hurried the trembling refugee to a low copse in the
hollow of a contiguous dell, and boxing him snugly in
a heap of furze, completely obscured from the publie eye,
spread before him the restoratives he had just obtained.
The little Frenchman's head peeping from his prickly
nest-the bread and bacon-the bottle of "neat wine,"
CONTEMPLATION IN DOVE DALE.
131
and the true stage importance in which, no doubt, Ellis-
ton had fully invested himself, must have represented a
most characteristic picture. The actor, of course, delivered
a speech or two, more apposite to the occasion than intel-
ligible to his listener; and dropping, at the same time, a
small sum of money into the lap of the nidulated man of
war, commended him to the caprice of Fortune, who
sometimes, when in a pleasant mood, exerts herself in
extraordinary means, for the benefit of the most insignifi-
caut of her votaries.
Having still leisure at his disposal, Elliston felt no
inclination for an immediate return to London.
It was just at this time, he had received a letter from his
wife. Full of affection, but not unmixed by well-directed
reproof, Elliston read over sundry times its unanswerable
contents, till a kind of sentimentality crept over him, not
unusual to such constitutions, and too often mistaken for
solid repentance.
As he wandered this morning along the declivous parts
of Dove Dale, he pondered on the home-truths that had
just been presented to him; and having arraigned some
of those infirmities, to which we have had occasion
frequently to allude, and rhapsodized aloud to no incon-
siderable effect, he came to the conclusion that he was
about one of the most worthless fellows in his Majesty's
dominions.
Having done so much-he considered that he had done
quite enough. Confession is certainly one step to
amendment; and now, like a man who had compounded
with his creditors, he felt himself once more at liberty to
run in debt, at the first convenient opportunity.
On the following day Elliston arrived at Derby; and
avoiding what is called the head inn, after a short
reconnoitre, he entered a smaller house of entertainment
on the verge of the town, where he determined to take
up his quarters for the night. Here he soon ingratiated
himself with his landlord—a habit he delighted to indulge
in; and having despatched a hasty repast, invited his
K 2
૮. HOB AND NOB."
new-found friend to partake the bottle which bad been
just set before him.
132
The said landlord was nearly as bulky as the tun of
Heidelberg; and as it would require consequently about
as much to fill him, Elliston conceived he might have
made too hasty an engagement; but as this personage
was really a merry fellow, and a bit of a wag, our adven-
turer was not inclined to repent his challenge.
He soon discovered, however, the poor man had more
wives than he knew what to do with; for although (not
to perplex the reader) he had but one, yet was she "one
too many," so that the present moment was, in fact, the
first he had had for many a day, for the manifestation of
that good humour so natural to him.
Though in the presence of his landlord, Elliston soon
found he had calculated without his host; for the good
man's volubility was of that extent, that he fairly
chattered our hero dumb. But our traveller at least took
the lead in the bottle-a part which his landlord, for
many reasons, was not displeased in resigning to him; for
the liquor, though passing under the denomination,-
"Neat Wines," was, in fact, a compound greatly in circu-
lation at this period of the war-namely, a composition
of gin, treacle, blacking, and tobacco, or, in politer words,
"old crusted port.”
On producing a second and even a third bottle of this
delectable electuary, the landlord not unnaturally
indulged in the joint praise of the qualities of his
cordial and the judgment of his guest; declaring that the
squire on the hill never drank any other when he met the
judges of assize, and exultingly displaying not only the
bee's-wing, but the very bees themselves, who, in com-
munity with sundry smaller flies, had been carefully
corked in, at the bottling of this remarkable vintage.
But society will sweeten the coarsest fare, and the
sitting had been still prolonged, when the shrill notes
of the landlady suddenly recalled her husband to fresh
duties, in the arrival of other customers at the "Red
Cow."
Left to himself and the greater part of the third bottle
A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.
133
of the old crusted port, Elliston took refuge in his senti-
mentality of yesterday; and drawing his wife's letter
from his pocket, moistened sentence after sentence with
the remaining bumpers, so that, at length, heart, head,
and stomach being in one common state of insurrection,
he retired—widely from his custom-to an early bed.
And now, Spirit of time-honoured Radcliffe! Shade of
"wonder-working Lewis!" descend upon our humble
efforts in the "new scenes and changes" of our history.
A deep sleep was the immediate consequence of the
"drugged posset" so liberally indulged in by our graceless
wanderer, when, about the chime of midnight, as nearly
as he could guess, he was awakened by a sharp click at the
lock of his apartment, followed immediately by a long-
drawn creak of hinge, which left but little doubt in
respect of some intruder.
The moon was shining fully on the casement, which
was directly opposite the foot of his bed; but a large
folding-screen had been placed nearly midway of the
room, for the purpose, no doubt, of obscuring the morning
light, for the apartment was entirely destitute of
hangings; and behind this screen was also the door.
The creaking was presently repeated, at those abrupt
intervals, denoting the stealthy action of approach.
Elliston listened; sleep had sobered him, and some little
fear, perhaps, quickened too his faculties. Distinctly did
he hear the whispering of two persons, whose shadow the
moon's fulness had shown on the side wall. In breathless
attention, he remained motionless; the whispering was
resumed, and he now caught the very words:
"Afraid! What folly! He's asleep, I tell you;
go-go !"
I cannot !" was the reply.
Elliston felt convinced the second voice was that of a
woman, and being at once impressed their object was no
less than to cut his throat (for no one contemplates
simple robbery in the dead of night, without this
adagio accompaniment), he was hesitating whether his
quiet course were the wisest he could pursue, when again
he heard-
•
134
ECLAIRCISSEMENT.
"He sleeps! I tell you again, he sleeps! Why, he drank
two bottles, they say. Come-come, 'tis soon done!"
Oh, I cannot !" again responded the female.
(C
،،
Why, he snores-hark!" at which moment, Elliston
raised his eyes from the bed-clothes, and saw clearly the
figures of the speakers. They were in the instantaneous
act of stepping forward, when, by an involuntary impulse,
Elliston sprang from his bed, and rushing to the spot,
clasped, with a mingled shout of terror and triumph, the
waist of the advancing female, who, uttering a shriek
which might have awakened the occupiers of a cemetery,
fell on her knees before him.
The bouleversement thus suddenly excited (for other
sundry articles of furniture had been overthrown), at once
raised the whole establishment of the "Red Cow."
Elliston, with no other attire than that which usage
has deemed sufficient to the tenant of a pair of sheets,
was still holding, in convulsive exultation, his fainting
victim, when the fat landlord, who, by the size of his
stomach, might be said to carry all before him ("with
his rib by his side," whose voluminous nightcap almost
buried her vixen visage), tumbled into the apartment.
Not longer to perplex our readers, let the mystery be
here explained.
The event which had so inopportunely broken up the
tête-à-tête of Elliston and his landlord over their crusted
port, on the previous afternoon, was the arrival of a com-
mercial traveller and his lady, whose purpose it was to
remain that night at the inn.
These new guests, having well supped, at the hour of
midnight were about to retire. Unfortunately, however,
the room occupied by Elliston, was one through which it
was necessary they should pass, before reaching their own
chamber; and he having retired, as we have already
noticed, at an early hour, was consequently at this time
in bed.
The dismay which had assailed the commercial
gentleman's good lady, at passing through an apartment
in which there was a man positively abed, had given rise
to the whole of this common-law evidence of a felonious
135
intent, which could leave no doubt on the minds of any
respectable jury, and which had so unwittingly dragged
our hero into an attitude in which we blush ever to have
discovered him.
THE MIRROR."
(C
ELLISTON AND
Scarcely had Elliston resumed his duties at Drury
Lane, when he involved himself in a war of words with
the proprietors of his ancient ally, The Mirror.
The Mirror (if we may be pardoned a common-place
joke) had presumed to cast reflections on Elliston's
tragedy, which the self-esteem of the aggrieved party, of
course, set down as scandalum magnatum. In fact, this
journal had travelled a little out of the direct path of
criticism, by indulging in a few tart personalities affect-
ing the actor. As Dryden's criticism, it was no longer
"the majesty of a queen, but like Rymer's, the ferocity of
a tyrant.
" *
Among other things, it had stated that Elliston had of
late acquired a habit of stretching his mouth from ear to
ear, resembling one of those Dutch toys denominated
nut-crackers, and it had also gone so far as to question
our hero's terms of intimacy with the Latin tongue, by
the imputation of a false quantity in the word "marital,"
&c. &c. In respect of the former, all the nuts, of course,
fell to the share of the public, who mightily enjoyed the
absurd sensitiveness of the man who could " quarrel with
another for cracking nuts only because he himself had
hazel eyes”—and in respect of the latter, the "marital
quantity, the actor might have been content to take his
correction in good part from the critics, as in the marital
quality he had lately been so signally chastened by his
exemplary wife.
""
In May (1808), the admired Miss Pope made her fare-
well curtsey on Drury Lane stage, after a service of fifty-
two years in the same theatre.
* An expression of Malone.
[Albina Jane Martyn Elliston, born 10th of March, 1808, in
Stratford Place: godmothers, Albina Countess of Buckinghamshire
and Lady Jane Aston.]
136
MISS POPE.
Mr. Pope, the father of our heroine, who kept a hair-
dresser's shop adjoining the "Ben Jonson's Head” in
Little Russell Street, was barber in ordinary to the
theatre; he had introduced his daughter Jane, then
twelve years of age, to the notice of Mr. Garrick, who
was so pleased by the few specimens she gave of dramatic
ability, that he immediately assigned to the little demoi-
selle the part of Lady Flimnap, in a piece entitled
Lilliput," acted entirely by children, with the exception
of Gulliver himself.
((
،، a
Three years after, when only fifteen, Miss Pope was
announced for Corinna, in "The Confederacy," as
young gentlewoman, her first appearance." Her recep-
tion was highly encouraging, and success in her profes-
sion soon followed. She had very early attracted the
attention and friendship of the celebrated Mrs. Clive,
with whom she lived on intimate terms until that lady's
death, which took place in 1785.*
In the latter part of Miss Pope's career, she had been
importuned by her managers to play Mrs. Heidelbery, a
part which she had never studied in her earlier days, and
felt now totally unequal to attempt.
It happened, in 1802, Lord Harcourt, who had always
been amongst her best friends and admirers, despatched
to her the following note :—
"Lord Harcourt has just received the King's command
to notify to Miss Pope, that his Majesty has directed the
'Clandestine Marriage' for Thursday next; and has also,
by his Majesty's order, informed Mr. Kemble that it is
his pleasure Miss Pope should play the character of Mrs.
Heidelberg on that occasion.”
This was inclosed in the following from his lordship
"MADAM,—To a woman of your discernment, the con-
tents of the enclosed note will be highly flattering,
though, at the same time, possibly embarrassing.
"The case is this. Last night, at the Queen's house,
* Mrs. Clive passed her latter days at Little Strawberry Hill, near
the villa of Horace Walpole.
HER LETTER TO LORD HARCOURT.
137
where your theatrical talents are frequently mentioned, a
wish was expressed that you should play Mrs. Heidelberg
before their Majesties on Thursday next; to which I
observed to the King, that however honoured and happy
you must ever be in obeying his Majesty's pleasure, yet I
believed that you had never yet turned your attention to
the part, and doubted the possibility of your being ready
in it by the time. The King seemed to assent; but I
have just now received a letter from the Princess Eliza-
beth, in which her R. H. says,—
"I have received the King's command to inform you,
that if you can contrive that Miss Pope shall play Mrs.
Heidelberg on Thursday, he would be delighted; and
Lord Harcourt may tell her from me, observed the King,
that she is the only person who can act it, since the loss
of Mrs. Clive.'
"HARCOURT."
To which Miss Pope, in much alarm, replies :-
"MY LORD,-You well know my grateful sentiments
in respect of their Majesties. No subject has ever loved
and honoured them more than myself; and this instance,
alas in my declining day, is the only one in which I
feel unable to the great delight of obeying them. The
undertaking would be a tragedy, and not a comedy, for,
believe me, I should die in the attempt-my dear lord, it
would kill me. My powers are scarcely equal to it for
any time; but for Thursday! O me!
"The managers have frequently of late urged me to
this, with time for study; but I have taken it into my
poor head, that the critics would be soured against me,
and I might lose the little fame I have obtained-per-
haps, in some measure, the good opinion of their Majes-
ties. I tremble again at what I have written-I know I
should not have said so much—my duty tells me I should
not; but should their Majesties graciously be pleased to
see me play the part at a further time, I will make
instant preparation to obey them.
"My memory, to say nothing of my other humble quali-
ties, is not so lively as when I was eighteen; and, my lord,
138
I am an old woman now. If his Majesty would make me
a peeress, I could not do it by Thursday. Oh! my dear,
dear lord, send me a pardon under the great seal, or I
shall never leave home again.
"I have the honour to be, your lordship's most hum-
ble servant,
"JANE POPE.”
On the 6th of May (1802), however, the effort was
made, and Miss Pope played the part before their Majes-
ties. She succeeded, to the undivided opinion of the
whole house-" Never had the character been acted with
better effects," said one of the journals of the day,
"not
even by the regretted Mrs. Clive."
King, the original Lord Ogleby, quitted the stage on
the 24th of the same month, and the "Clandestine Mar-
riage " remained on the shelf for a considerable time from
this period.
MRS. JORDAN.
The suggestions of Mr. Phipps in respect of Elliston's
new abode, appear to have had but little weight with
him, for he had now entered on the house in Stratford-
place, which he fitted up not extravagantly; in fact, it
never was thoroughly furnished; but the vanity of the
comedian was thus far flattered, in calling so spacious a
residence his own, and placing Mrs. Elliston in a position,
which he still pertinaciously believed would advance her
professional interest with the fashionable world.
Elliston's benefit in this season was a very brilliant
occasion. He and Mrs. Jordan acted in their best style,
the play being "Much Ado about Nothing." So much
rank and fashion had rarely before attended a benefit.
Mrs. Jordan was complimented by an elegant ode, which
appeared two days afterwards in the Morning Post.
At the close of the Drury Lane season, Elliston pro-
ceeded on an engagement to Dublin, where he found his
attraction by no means equal to his expectations. In a
letter to his wife, he says:—
"I was tossed about for twenty-six hours. On leaving
139
ELLISTON'S LETTERS TO HIS WIFE.
the coach at Shrewsbury, being anxious immediately to
proceed, I ordered a chaise, but was told they had no
horses at the first post-house; at the second and third, I
received similar answers. I was greatly distressed, for it
was a point with me to reach Oswestry without delay.
"You will be amused at my expedient. Summoning a
diplomatic look into my countenance, I demanded in-
stantly to be conducted to the mayor, declaring that I
had despatches for the Duke of Richmond, and that if
horses were not immediately supplied, the affair would
come at once under the consideration of the secretary of
state !
Show me to the mayor!' said I.
"He is in bed, sir,' was the reply-'seriously ill.'
"Then I shall be sure to find him at home; my
business is as much of life and death as his own. Show
me to the mayor, or supply the horses.'
(C
My manner and words had the desired effect-horses
were provided, and within twenty minutes I was off
again."
Elliston's next letter was from Edinburgh.
"I have here made ample amends for my failure at
Dublin (for I can call it no less)-my reception was quite
an hurrah!
"I have already remitted 6107. to my bankers, and
have still this place, Glasgow and Manchester, to pillage.
But who can tell how long this tide of popularity will
last-this aura popularis—whether tide or gale, mutation
is the nature of both.
"If God preserve my life, and give me fortitude to
pursue my hopes, our happiest days are yet to come,
though I myself may pass into comparative obscurity.
Believe me I feel at greater distance from home than
four hundred miles, when I think of you and my family."
When Elliston was at Glasgow, in the course of this
northern trip, he dined on one occasion in the public
room of an inn, in which there was an elderly Scotch
140
SCENE IN A GLASGOW TAVERN.
gentleman, who had already taken his mid-day meal, and
was quietly enjoying his tumbler of whisky-toddy.
His exterior was not prepossessing. He wore a short
sandy wig, which the use of many seasons, and the
animal caloric of the wearer, had so puckered up, that it
came scarce midway of his pole, which was about as red
as a brickbat. His cravat was narrow and loose, for his
neck was of amazing dimensions. But the stranger soon dis-
covered better qualities than a comely exterior, for he was
thoroughly good-natured, and extremely communicative.
In Elliston, he had met with no uncongenial spirit—
they soon entered into familiar conversation; and having
brought their rummers to one common table, were tout
franc as thick as thieves.'
((
Here they sat together, hob and nob, for a considerable
time. At length, after a hearty burst of merriment on
the part of the stranger, he threw himself back into his
chair, and deliberately drawing forth his watch, said,
((
"And so, you're a stage-actor, you tell me. Perhaps
ye're acquainted with Harry Johnstone?" To this
Elliston having made assent, his companion proceeded-
Weel, weel; and now, sir, I've to tell you one thing
more. I have passed twa pleasant hours-vary pleasant
hours in your society; within twanty minutes, d'ye mind,
from this time, I shall be sa drunk, that I wi' na be able
to utter one word, and I just think it right to tak the
present opportunity, while I'm noo intelligible, of telling
ye who I am. My name is Scafield, and I live five gude
miles awa' from Glasgow, and I shall walk every foot on't,
this vary night, and I'll just come and see if you're as
brave a lad as Harry Johnstone, to-morrow night; for I'll
come and see ye act, and my family shall see ye act too.'
""
Having made this speech, Mr. Scafield again betook
himself to the whisky. He was verily as good as his
word ; within twenty minutes he was no more; for in a
last effort to keep up the fire, off went the wig, and he
rolled from his chair, "taking the measure of an unmade
grave." Elliston here called aloud for the waiter; but to
his surprise, Sandy seemed to take but little notice of the
prostrate North Briton, only remarking,
ANECDOTES.
141
"Eh, as sure as deeth, it's na but Mr. Scafield-he'll
walk hame to-night, I warrant ye; but you'd better let
him bide; he's used to it, and we're all used to it
here."
On the following night, Elliston acted Belcour. His
friend Scafield was in this instance, also, as good as his
word. There he was in the theatre, amongst the earliest
comers-his polished sconce, like a half-peeled orange-
there he was,—and about him, two fine strapping lasses,
his daughters, and the gude wife, Mrs. Scafield, to boot.
Not to mention the days when kings themselves con-
descended to turn playwrights-when Charles the Second
altered an incident in the plot of Dryden's "Aurung-
zebe," it is enough that, at this period of our history, by
the liberal patronage of George the Third, theatricals
were in a flourishing state, not merely in those considerable
cities and towns to which we have had occasion to allude,
but in obscurer country places, many of which, either in
barn or booth, contrived to have their circuit-going
comedians, while in London it was still the fashion "to
go to the play;" so that at this time, the words of the
critic in the days of Garrick and Macklin, were in equal
force-namely, that England had four estates, the King,
the Lords, the Commons, and the Players.
Of strollers, there is a curious anecdote, relating to the
remote period of 1587, not generally known.
When the Spanish Armada was hovering on the coast,
a company of vagrant actors were performing a piece
called "Sampson," in a booth, at Penryth, and the enemy,
having silently landed a body of men, were making their
way, at night, to burn the town; when fortunately, at
that instant, the players having let Sampson loose on the
Philistines, the sound of drums, trumpets, and shouts
created such a tremendous hubbub, that the Spaniards
fancied the whole town, with Beelzebub at their back,
were pouring down upon them, and immediately turning
tail, scampered off to their ships.
In 1733, an itinerant company of comedians proceeded
142
even to the island of Jamaica, and actually realized a large
sum of money by acting. They received 370 pistoles, the
first night of "The Beggar's Opera," but within the space
of two months they had buried their Polly, Mrs. Slam-
makin, Filch, and two others of the gang.
The gentlemen of the island, for some time, took their
turns upon the stage, to keep at least the diversion alive;
but this did not last long, for within two months more,
there were but one old man, a boy, and a woman of the
original company, surviving. The party had died either
by the distemper of the country, or the effects of rum
punch.
AN ITINERANT COMPANY.
The shattered remains of the crew, with upwards of
2,000 pistoles in bank, embarked for Carolina, to join
another company at Charlestown; but they also perished,
having been cast away on the voyage!
Had Jeremy Collier lived in these days, he scarcely
could have failed noticing this, as an instance of the just
wrath of Heaven at the frailties of stage plays.
ि
Gr
PERIOD THE SECOND.
CHAPTER I.
PROGRESS.
ELLISTON may now be considered to have attained the
culminating point of public favour.
The year 1809 had advanced Napoleon and the Come-
dian. Wagram and Drury were interwoven !
،،
It may be well suspected by those whose tastes have
led them to a close acquaintance with what is called
life," that Elliston, by nature well-favoured, skilled in
the art of pleasing, with passions, which like wine, are
termed "generous," and with the attraction of a sparkling
notoriety, was open to some of those perils so inseparable
from the polite world.
Elliston, who was really fond of his wife, and when in
her company preferred her to any other woman on earth,
might have been startled, perhaps, at hearing he was not
a good husband.
Constantly in the habit of listening to his own praises,
and never subject to direct reproaches, he cajoled his
conscience with a convenient sophistry, whilst he in-
dulged his inclinations with the more substantial fare of
their direct gratification.
The fact is, Elliston had now become a thorough man
of pleasure—a libertine who shoots in a preserve, where
the glut of game destroys the pleasure of his sport. Le
jeu, le vin, et les femmes either occupied him in turns, or
not unfrequently made one common cause.
His own
vain-glorious resolutions-the exhortations of his dying
144
LE JEU, LE VIN, ET LES FEMMES.
uncle,—his letters to his wife, were all equally forgotten ;
-were lost at play-were buried in the bowl, or more
shamelessly dishonoured in the blandishments of his
favourites. He had little reflection but what arose from
the wretched chagrin of the hazard table; and to satiety
alone was owing any temporary show of decorum.
It is not to be supposed that from the watchful alarms
of a devoted wife, these things could have long con-、
cealment. Mrs. Elliston felt them keenly, but met them
wisely; she well knew, if the strongest tie were broken,
little could be expected from inferior restraint,—her re-
proaches were only those she "could not spare him”-
the depression at her heart, and the cloud of sadness upon
her brow.
The form of play by which Elliston was chiefly infa-
tuated was Hazard; and this he would follow at any
brief opportunity which his professional engagements
might afford him. At no period of the day did it come
amiss; and the pecuniary supplies which he had received
under his uncle's will, added but fresh fuel to the element,
rendering "abundance the means of want.”
But this pursuit, varied only by indulgences equally
demoralizing, had no power yet over his constitutional
energy, or diverted his mind from new schemes of pro-
fessional speculation. The heated and protracted pas-
time of the previous night, stole not a moment from his
more creditable occupations of the morrow. Punctual
at his appointments, in full possession of his subject, and
directing the routine of business, his bodily constitution
long sustained him in these multifarious draughts upon its
resources, which if duly valued might have rendered him
exemplary as brilliant in his professional career.
Amongst the number of Elliston's gambling associates,
was a gentleman of the medical profession, residing in the
city. To this individual Elliston had lost, from time to
time, considerable sums of money; and under no little
suspicion of foul play in his adversary.
In spite of these occurrences, "frequent losses and no
reverse," Elliston was still an ami de maison of his city
acquaintance, who, whether bleeding his victims at home
A CITY MADAM.
145
or his patients abroad, was equally moulding all occupa-
tions to the same profitable account.
The truth is, the general practitioner had an exceed-
ingly pretty wife, who though scarcely meriting a better
fate than a union with such a man, was nevertheless the
subject of the basest perfidy; for the husband having
speedily squandered her "pretty little fortune," she was
now either totally neglected, or valued only as the con-
venient instrument to more extensive plunder. The lady,
however, was not one of those weak-minded persons who
take these matters greatly to heart, for, like a sensible
woman, she far more valued the admiration of many
than the affection of one; and as this precisely suited
the sporting practitioner's "book," he was inclined to
believe his matrimonial scrip might some day or other
turn out no idle investment.
-
Elliston, on one of these wine and walnut re-unions,
had proposed to this lady an excursion to the delightful
town of Sevenoaks, and as her husband was not to be
admitted into the secret, the expedition was to be con-
ducted by some dexterity on both sides.
Three days' absence of the medical gentleman at Don-
caster might have rendered the lady's escape safe enough,
as far as he was concerned, but it was deemed expedient
to take some precautions in respect of good-natured
friends, with which most neighbourhoods swarm, who
might perhaps conceive it their bounden duty to remove
any blissful ignorance from before the eyes of a husband,
and help him liberally to the tree of knowledge, with all
its superabundant consequences.
It was therefore arranged that the lady should equip
herself in a suit of mourning, assisted by the most posi-
tive of all female disguise-a widow's cap.
Thus attired,
she was to glide stealthily from home, when, at an
appointed spot, the comedian was to receive her into a
hackney coach, whence they were to proceed across the
water, and subsequently start by post-chaise for the quiet
little dinner at Sevenoaks.
Expectata dies aderat. The morning dawned, and the
lady prepared herself for the part of a widow with a
L
146
DANGERS OF A CLANDESTINE TRIP.
complacency quite worthy her bereavement, and arrived,
within a few minutes, at the appointed corner, where the
enterprising actor was in readiness to receive her.
Here they entered a hackney-coach, but taking, un-
wisely, the direction of Ludgate Hill, their progress was,
for a considerable time, impeded by the multitude of
vehicles which are always encountered on this spot.
During this suspense, sundry persons, well known to our
exemplary wife-widow, passed and re-passed, whilst the
lady's security was undoubtedly owing to the nature of
her disguise and her own imperturbability of manner.
Having traversed Blackfriars Bridge, this worthy
couple reached the spot where the post-chaise was in
waiting, and Elliston, with a grace and easy audacity
which would have become Ranger himself, tendered his
services to the transrhedation of his companion.
At this moment a gawky lad, in a tawdry livery, laden
with cheese, grocery, and other articles of household con-
sumption, who had been loitering at a shop-window near
the spot, now suddenly rushed forward, and casting him-
self before the widow, in the most grotesque posture of
distress, began to blubber out, in disjointed accents of
distress,
"Wooh! wooh! ha! ha!-wooh! ha! poor master!
poor master! ha ha! ha!"
The self-possession even of that lady who forms our
present subject was not proof against this abrupt out-
pouring of human agony; whilst Elliston looked on, for
the moment, if not with equal confusion, at least with as
much indecision of purpose. But the boy still kept up
his generous grief in unabated roaring.
It turned out that the youth, who had some time since
served in the capacity of doctor's boy to the general prac-
titioner in the city, had been discharged on suspicion of
having stolen the foetus of a hedgehog from his master's.
laboratory; and being at this moment impressed with
the untimely dissolution of his late employer, he had
burst into those demonstrations of grief already de-
scribed.
Another gasp or two might have brought him to him-
ANONYMOUS COMMUNICATIONS.
147
self, but on wheeling round, and perceiving the commis-
sariat wreck of tea, sugar, cheese, and pickles scattered by
accident at his feet, the sluices of his agony were again
opened, resembling far more the howl of a bull-calf than
the sobs of a heart-stricken page.
The nature of all this was soon apparent to one so
deep in the equivoque of comedies as our hero. He
immediately took up the clew thus thrown into his hands,
and having rescued the widow from the sticky fingers of
the hysteric lad, and deposited her within the yellow
post-chaise, he led the youth, with true Ellistonian
solemnity, apart from the crowd; and entering into a most
circumstantial account of the calenture which had so
unexpectedly removed the object of his lamentations
from the troubles of this world, namely, his late master,
and described with accuracy the very vault in Allhallows
Church where his remains were deposited, he left him in
lawful possession of a half-guinea, to recall his spirits and
refit his stores. And now, stepping into the vehicle with
the same solemnity of mien in which he had conducted
the previous business, the fugitives were once again on
their road to Sevenoaks.
There is a certain species of attack to which it is very
obvious public characters are more open than those of a
private station,—we mean that of anonymous communi-
cations.
The actor is one whose accessible ground renders him
strikingly liable to this kind of offence, as the vulgar
perpetrators thereof are, for the most part, actuated by
no deeper design than the gratification of an idle excite-
ment. An anonymous attack on a state official, for
instance, yields but au imperfect gratification to the
general class of these sporting characters-the bird is of
too lofty a flight; its " aiery buildeth in the cedar's
top;" but the game which flies nearer the ground-the
actor for instance,—while it is more easy to strike, tum-
bles also so immediately within the ken of the marksman,
that he has the pleasing satisfaction of being an eye-
witness, probably, to the very writhings of his victim.
L 2
148
(6
INVISIBLINA!
""
True it is, that no elevation is secure from these
attacks; but eagles are not shot at every day, nor does it
come within either the power or ambition of that vulgar
class of which we speak, to carry the rifle of "Junius.
""
As regards Elliston, we shall readily be spared many
instances of anonymous addresses, which would by no
means tend to elevate the dignity of our history ; but we
must take leave to mention one example intimately inter-
woven with the subsequent days of our subject. This was
an anonymous, or rather pseudonymous, friend, who
stuck to him for eighteen years! the first letter being
received in January, 1809, and the last in 1827!
These letters, received in course-some in the gossa-
mer dress of poetry, others in the more sober garb of
prose-some addressed to Elliston himself, others to his
wife—some castigatory, others adulatory-some affecting
dramatic matters, others relating to domestic concerns,-
all in the most unequivocal terms of regard, were in
number at least one hundred, and bearing the signature
“Invisiblina!” Suffice to say, the correspondent avowed
only her sex-for the rest, the mystery followed Elliston
to his grave.
"Invisiblina" was a pixy of no common order; no-
thing relative to the comedian or his transactions was
hidden from her knowledge. She was in possession of all
he did, and penetrated even his designs. His transgres-
sions stood in recorded lines against him within a day of
their commission. Like Frankenstein, he was in the
power of an agency he could not elude; but unlike Fran-
kenstein, he was the subject of a beneficent director.
At times, however, Elliston was almost driven to mad-
ness by these inexplicable transactions.
Gifts had reached him, which he was called on to
acknowledge through the public journals; and reproaches.
had followed him, which he was only called on to acknow-
ledge by a reformation of his errors.
(6
Invisiblina" was a spirit of honour-for she meddled
only to reclaim the husband, not to afflict the wife. To
Mrs. Elliston she was a friend and benefactor; to Elliston
himself, a benefactor and monitor.
POETRY-INDEED MARVELLOUS.
""
Year after year, lustrum after lustrum succeeded, and
no guess had been afforded to these perplexing benefits.
Plots laid by Elliston had been rendered abortive-
schemes for the discovery of "Invisiblina," which “Invi-
siblina herself had better cognizance of than some of
the agents for their accomplishment; and while the
comedian was ignorant of the very element in which she
dwelt, there was no corner in his own existence shut out
from her intelligence.
The following was amongst the earliest received :—
"May the blessings of life, now and ever befriend you!
Love of children and wife, in your efforts attend you!
Ev'ry sentence abroad, all your actions acquit,
And your conscience applaud ev'ry thought you admit!
But escape you can never the vigilant eye
Of that Spirit unknown-your Invisible Spy.
"May you ever advance in the path you've selected !
May you win ev'ry chance, if the cause be respected!
May your offspring be proud of the parent they find,
And the drama endow'd with the wealth of your mind!
But years shall revolve, and my caution be nigh,
And ne'er shall you know your Invisible Spy.
149
Again, the vigilance of "Invisiblina" appears to have
tracked him in his wanderings-
"Two nights together,' so Horatio said,
'He and Marcellus had not been in bed-'
Two nights together, speak your constant crime,
How much you lost-much more-than merely time.
Hours, guineas, squander'd-better far have kept 'em-
Rather pay bills, believe me,-than accept 'em!"
The following is one of Elliston's advertisements in the
Morning Post, in conformity to the will of the "Invisible
Power:"
(C
Why does so beneficent a being withhold herself
from receiving personal demonstrations of gratitude, for
innumerable favours? Why should thanks, fresh and
warm from the heart, be forced through the artificial
channel of the press ? Mysterious being, unfold
thyself!'"
150
DRURY LANE THEATRE IN FLAMES.
We subjoin one letter further from "Invisiblina,"
which will be sufficient for the present.
"Descending from the regions of air to become earthy
and of the flesh, I visited Drury Lane Theatre on Monday
last, to witness again your impersonation of the Duke Aranza.
"Believe me,
was disappointed. You have become
careless and inflated—undignified and unnatural. The
freshness and native bloom of this portraiture is faded,
and the complexion supplied by the daub of harlotry.
Trifle no longer with public favour-for he who loses the
wealth he once possessed, becomes poorer than he who
was never rich.
"The journals have spoken truly of you. Had you
acted this part on the first night of the representation of
the play, in the manner of Monday last, it never had been
one step in the ladder of your fame. Leave burlesque and
harlequinade to other places, and for other hands-poor
Lord Harcourt would have been pained to the heart had
he witnessed what I witnessed."
On the 24th of February of this year (1809), a convivial
theatrical party (Elliston being of the number) was
assembled in Lincoln's-Inn Fields, at the house of
Mr. Richard Wilson, a gentleman who had been appointed,
in 1802, one of the board of management of Drury Lane
Theatre. The King's health had been already given, with
suitable demonstrations of loyalty, and Mr. Wilson was
in possession of all attention, by an occasional speech, on
the state of affairs at Drury Lane, with a hearty hurrah
for its lasting prosperity, when the butler rushed into the
room, and announced Drury Lane Theatre in flames!
The consternation may be easily imagined. In a mo-
ment the house of festivity was a desert-the whole
party hurrying to the scene of destruction. A body of
constables, as usual in such cases, had formed a barrier at
a distance from the theatre, which Elliston had some
difficulty in passing. He was, however, fortunate enough
in gaining that part of the building in which he had de-
posited sundry articles of value.
151
Unhurt, but without his hat, he escaped with his effects
from the burning pile, on which he had scarcely congra-
tulated himself, when he discovered his watch was gone.
The rogues! it was a gold repeater, which had belonged
to the late Master of Sidney; the only tangible memorial
which there had been any chance of his nephew's
retaining, for all other bequests, being money, were about
as secure in the hands of Elliston, as the Apollo, at the
very moment, on the liquefying roof of old Drury.*
It is curious to remark, that on the opening of the late
theatre, which cost 129,000l., an occasional epilogue,
spoken by Miss Farren, assured the public that a con-
flagration could never take place in that theatre, as they
had water enough to drown authors, actors, auditory, and
all their applause, to boot: at the conclusion of which, a
shower of real water was produced, and an iron curtain
let down in sight of the assured spectators. The result,
however, forcibly reminds us of a friend, who was only
overturned once during his life, in a stage coach, which
happened when he travelled by the "Patent Safety."
Amongst the many epistolary attentions
which
INCIDENTAL ANECDOTE.
* We subjoin the following extract from Moore's Life of Sheridan,
on this calamitous event. "On the night of the 24th of February,
when the House of Commons was occupied with Mr. Ponsonby's
motion on the conduct of the war in Spain, and Mr. Sheridan was
present, the house was suddenly illuminated by a blaze of light, and
the debate being interrupted, it was ascertained that the theatre in
Drury Lane was on fire.
"A motion was made to adjourn, but Mr. Sheridan said that
"Whatever might be the extent of the private calamity, he hoped it
would not interfere with the public business of the country. He then
left the house, and, proceeding to Drury Lane, witnessed, with a
fortitude which strongly interested all, the entire destruction of his
property.
"It is said, that as he sat at the Piazza Coffee House, during the
fire, taking some refreshment, a friend of his having remarked on the
philosophic calmness in which he bore his misfortune, Sheridan
answered, 'A man may surely take a glass of wine by his own
fireside.'
"Without vouching," continues Moore, "for the authenticity of
this anecdote (which may have been, for aught I know, like the
Wandering Jew, a regular attendant upon all fires since the time of
Hierocles), I give it as I heard it."
MRS. JORDAN'S LETTER TO SHERIDAN.
Sheridan received on this event, the following was from
Mrs. Jordan :—
152
Bushey House, March 2nd.
"MY DEAR SIR,-It is not for one with such weak
powers as mine, to attempt any consolatory address to
you under this late calamity, who must have a mind to
encounter any misfortune, as to comprehend all subjects.
But I feel I should be wanting in respect to you, were I
to suffer an event which calls forth the sympathy of the
whole country, to pass unnoticed by one who has the hap-
piness of being ranked amongst your friends. Believe me,
my dear sir, I condole with you sincerely in this late
calamity at Drury Lane. I lament, with the public, the
destruction of that edifice, on whose ancient site so many
literary triumphs have been celebrated, and none greater
than your own. And I condole with those sufferers who,
in having less strength of mind than yourself, may have
had more need of it; and who, in addition to their loss of
all, find themselves unblest by the powers of regaining
anything.
""
But I am not without satisfaction in finding such
prompt exertions are making for the benefit of our ex-
tensive company.
I shall neither be wanting in effort or
goodwill in the cause; and if my humble talent should be
deemed advisable, do not let it remain idle on a single
occasion.
"Believe me, my dear Sir,
"Your sincere Friend, and humble Servant,
"DORA JORDAN."
On the event of the great national jubilee, Elliston
gave a fête in Stratford Place, to a select party of his own
and Mrs. Elliston's friends; which, divested of some
bizarreries, was reasonable enough. But Elliston could do
nothing like other people—all his designs were a little larger
than life, and he was ever making that certain point beyond
the sublime, which we have long been taught is but a step.
153
Dr. Kitchener, Mr. Phipps, Pope, Johnstone, and the
celebrated Mr. "Romeo
"Coates were of the enter-
tainment—a party well-suited to elicit the peculiarities of
the latter gentleman, who, though never wanting encou-
ragement, was now in the hands of a host, who, like
Wycherley himself, had the quality of bringing the
peculiar humours of men into play.
Mr. Coates, of course, was called on to recite, and
Dr. Kitchener well observing that, as music was a sister
art, he should accompany the recitative with appropriate
bars on the pianoforte. This was accordingly put into
operation; but the playful "sister," a little too malicious,
fell on the tender passages of Lothario with such astound-
ing fracasso, that the aspirations for Calista were
completely drowned in the Murder of the Innocents!
"It is frequently in that nice discrimination, in which
our greatest actors fail," observed Mr Coates, "you will
perceive in me indications of delicacy in recitations, that
neither Booth, Barry, Garrick, nor Kemble ever exhibited.
When I address myself to Providence, I always raise the
left-hand—the innocent, the inoffensive limb!
The right
arm is the instrument of war and devastation."
A FETE IN STRATFORD PLACE.
"True,” replied Pope; "but it is also the right hand
of fellowship."
"Ay-ay," rejoined "Romeo," a little puzzled; "but
I am ambidextrous." Saying which, he turned towards
two ladies, and taking one in each arm, seated himself
between them: "Now, this is what I call Love amongst
the Roses," cried he.
To do Mr. Coates justice, however, Elliston repeated a
"bon mot" of his guest, which gained him better applause.
They were speaking together of the merits of a certain
great actor, when some one by, observed, "That gentleman
is beyond all praise.
>>
"Yes," replied Romeo, "so far beyond it, that it will
never reach him.”
Pope's besetting sin, gastronomie, is well remembered.
Amongst the many anecdotes related concerning him, is a
humorous equivoque, which transpired at Drury Lane.
The "Suspicious Husband" was in rehearsal, in which
154
THE D. L. COMPANY AT THE OPERA HOUSE.
Pope had gone through the character of Mr. Strickland,
but the actor who was to have sustained the part of his
servant, Tester, being "suddenly taken ill," a very
underling, who had scarcely ever spoken a line on the
stage, was called on to fulfil his duty. After the
morning's rehearsal, which this unhappy wight got through
with fear and trembling, his next puzzle was respecting
his costume. Accosting Pope just as he was passing off
at the wing, he said, "Pray, sir, how is it to be dressed?'
But Pope, who had ever one thing uppermost in his
thoughts, namely, first and second course, replied as
abruptly, "Stuffed, to be sure-stuffed by all means.
With this intelligence, his friend, the actor, departed.
""
On the evening of the play's representation, when "all
ladies and gentlemen concerned" were met in the Green
Room, in walks the Tester of the night, as complete a
Falstaff in livery, as could possibly have been accom-
plished. His small clothes, in fact, could scarcely contain
the weight within. The shrieks of the assembled party
can be well imagined. "In the name of all that's
wonderful, what is this?' was the universal demand.
"Why! why! Mr. Pope said it should be stuffed, and
may the devil fetch me, but I've had trouble enough,"
cried the terrified underling.
On Thursday, 16th March, the Drury Lane company
opened the Opera House, for three nights, as stated, for
their common benefit. The first performance was
"Man
and Wife," "Sylvester Daggerwood," and the ballet of
"Quichotte," by the whole force of the Opera corps, pro-
ducing 5491. The second night was the "Honeymoon,"
with an occasional address. Mrs. Jordan acted "The
Country Girl," on the third night, the receipts being 8347.
So warmly did the public take up the cause of the Drury
refugees, that three additional nights were then an-
nounced. On the evening in which Madame Catalani
sang, in the part of Semiramide, the receipts were 9037.
The total of these receipts amounted to 4,2667.,—the
principal performers receiving 75l. per cent. on their
respective salaries-the second class, 877. 10s. per cent.,
and the third class their full demands.
ARNOLD AND THE ENGLISH OPERA HOUSE.
155
For some little time previous to the destruction of
Drury Lane Theatre, Arnold, who had obtained a licence
for the representation of English operas, had been co-
quetting with one Lingham, a breeches-maker, and
proprietor of the Lyceum, for renting that building
for such performances. The house was at this juncture
occupied by wild beasts, conjurors, phantasmagorians, &c.,
"mendici, mimæ, balatrones," bipeds, quadrupeds, and
multipeds; for all of which Arnold fancied he had a
charm, potent as that of Orpheus-namely, his own music.
But on the Tuesday immediately following the fire, no
engagements having been concluded, Lingham, with
laudable activity, offered Sheridan the theatre on the
same terms he had named to Arnold, and thus the
breeches-maker fitting the immediate necessities of the
Drury dictator, the proposal was entertained.
The very next day, however, Arnold calls on Lingham,
proposing to conclude the negotiation at once, and the
tradesman, believing he had been commissioned on the
part of the Drury Lane proprietors (in whose service
Arnold was intimately engaged), without hesitation
assented. Everything was therefore supposed to be
mutually understood, and the matter was settled; except
the formalities of legal instruments.
On the following morning, Lingham quitted London,
leaving to his son the power of ratifying this treaty,
which was accordingly done, and Arnold, under a
written agreement, became lessee for a term of three
years.
But the astonishment of the good landlord was by no
means slight, when, on his return to town, he discovered
who, in fact, his real lessee was; and also, that his son,
Mr. Lingham, junior, had consented to the insertion of a
clause, giving Arnold the right of purchase at any time
within the unexpired term of the lease.
Lingham was by no means indifferent to a choice of
tenants-he preferred the Drury proprietors; and as he
fancied a little sharp practice had been employed in the
transaction, an attempt was made, on his part, to set
aside the agreement; but as it appeared he had given
156
THE ROYAL CIRCUS.
absolute power to his son to act in his behalf, the object
was found difficult.
To avoid litigation, the agreement was suffered to
remain in force, and the Drury Lane company entered
the Lyceum as tenants of Arnold, in the place of Lingham.
The Covent Garden company was at this time carrying
on their business at the "Little Theatre" in the Hay-
market, previous to the opening of the new and magnifi-
cent edifice, and was perhaps the best body of performers
that had ever been got together, in the memory of the living.
It was composed as follows:-Kemble, Cooke, Young,
C. Kemble, Pope, Brunton, Murray, &c.; Lewis, Jones,
Munden, Fawcett, Liston, Emery, Blanchard, Simmons,
Farley, &c.; Incledon, Taylor, Bellamy, &c.; Grimaldi,
Bologna, Byrne, &c.; Mrs. Siddons, Miss Norton, Mrs.
St. Leger, Mrs. Humphries, Mrs. H. Johnston, Mrs. C.
Kemble, Mrs. Gibbs, Mrs. Davenport, Mrs. Dickens,
Mrs. Liston, Miss Meadows, Miss Bolton, &c., &c.
But scarcely will it believed that, with this extraordi-
nary assemblage of talent engaged in the Haymarket
Theatre-representing, too, the most sterling plays on the
national roll,— the receipts were sometimes under the
nightly expenses !
This identical company, a few weeks before, acting in
the Italian Opera House, rarely failed attracting full
audiences—a fact which, undoubtedly, proves that, whe-
ther or not large theatres be more beneficial to dramatic
representations, the public, at least, like them; perhaps
under a sort of impression that they get more for their
money, or that—
"Magno de flumine mallem,
Quam ex hoc fonticulo sumere."
The Royal Circus in Blackfriars-Road, having been
advertised for lease or sale, early in this year, Elliston on
the 23rd of February (the day before the fire at Drury)
sent in proposals as a tenant, and after a lengthy corre-
spondence on the subject, became lessee for seven years, at
2,1007. per annum.
157
When this theatre was in the course of building, the
chapel, erected by the Rev. Rowland Hill, in Blackfriars-
road, was in a similar progressive state; but the divine
having observed, with some bitterness of spirit, the great
advance the theatre was daily making over the chapel—
that the one party worked like bees, whilst his own ope-
ratives were sluggish as drones—he took an opportunity
of pointedly animadverting on the case, in an address to
his congregation, at the place where he was preaching in
the meantime :
THE REVEREND ROWLAND HILL.
"There are two ships," said he, "within sight of a spice
island. One is manned by the elect of heaven, and
freighted with good works-the other, directed by the
devil's crew, and laden with sinfulness. The object of
both these craft, is to reach the spicy port as soon as
possible; but the devil's ship, if not a better vessel, is
more actively manned,-for, to do Satan justice, he is
always industrious. Let it only land, and the whole
shore will become tainted,-this fiue aromatic flavour
which invites you now, will become fetid-mephitic, as
the scientific people call it—and you will be poisoned on
the very pastures which ought to be yours."
One of the most curious, and equally successful ora-
tions of this eccentric divine, about the same time, was
in the service of his friend, William Walker, the astro-
nomical lecturer.
Walker, however, had but little hope in finding favour
with the preacher, as he was in the habit of engaging the
Haymarket Theatre for the purpose of lecturing, but he
was happily undeceived on this point, for on the occasion
alluded to, Rowland Hill thus addressed his auditors :-
"You have often, my friends, heard me denounce the
playhouse as a temple of sin and the habitation of the
devil-and I say so still. But when our beloved friend
and brother, William Walker, introduces the heavenly
bodies, ha ha! it is quite another thing-you may
freely enter, enter without prejudice to your souls, and
with great benefit to your understandings. And now,
let me scatter these notices amongst you.
You may go
freely, I tell you, on Friday next, and I hope you will.”
―
158
،،
COL. GREVILLE AND THE PIC NIC."
Saying which, he threw from his pulpit about a dozen
of Mr. Walker's printed bills, which were speedily in cir-
culation amongst his congregation.
About this time Elliston was invited to join a theatrical
speculation, originated by Colonel Greville, a gentleman
well known in the fashionable circles.
This institution was to be called "The Pic-Nic." The
scheme was, to erect a ball-room, a private theatre, and
all the concomitant accommodations of card and supper
rooms, vestibules, &c., under one roof, on a piece of ground
then vacant in Albemarle Street, where the chapel now
stands. But not being able to carry this into effect, the
colonel took the King's Concert Room, in Tottenham
Street, and issued proposals for carrying on his enterprise
on this spot.
It is worthy of remark that, some few years afterwards,
Elliston was positively in treaty for the purchase of the
above Albemarle Chapel, having serious thoughts of
taking holy orders, and preaching therein himself!
Elliston, like our old friend, Mrs. Cole, was subject to
holy attacks; yet these were but of an acute nature,—the
paroxysms passed speedily away, and his constitution was
not materially shaken by the malady. This chapel attack,
however, was one of the longest fits he ever had-he was
ill for a week.
But to return to the Pic-Nic. A number of public
paragraphs appeared, in which various ladies of fashion.
were handed up by inuendo, as the "Frails" and
"Foresights," to whom this house of intrigue would be of
the greatest accommodation. But conscious innocence !
conscious innocence! looked calmly on. The Thespian
martyrs rose superior to the malice of the crowd, and the
playhouse was announced for opening on the 15th of
March.
On a moveable theatre, constructed at one end of the
ball-room, the colonel, in person, opened the entertain-
ments of the night by a prologue. This was followed
by a French proverb-then came an act from the
"Bedlamite"—another French proverb succeeded—a
CAPTAIN CAULFIELD AND THE BEDLAMITE."
159
little more of the "Bedlamite "-the whole dramatic part
terminating by an occasional epilogue.
Next in order, was a little music-Mich. Kelly in all
his glory; to this, without doubt, a ball succeeded, and a
pic nic supper was the sum total of the night's enjoyment.
The repast was thus furnished The maitre d'hôtel
had previously made out a bill of fare, numbering every
dish. Corresponding numbers were then drawn at ran-
dom by the general subscribers, and each had to supply
the stated contents of that dish to which his number
corresponded.
Richard Choyce Snowden, one of the most rabid in the
Pic Nic affair, had originally entered the navy, and was
appointed lieutenant before he was twenty years of age;
which piece of good luck was augmented by his coming
into possession of a handsome fortune at about the same
time. This, however, he did not long enjoy, even after
his own notion of enjoyment. "Marylebone and the
chocolate houses were his undoing;" or, in more modern
words, Pall Mall, Soho Square, and its neighbourhood,
soon brought him on his beam ends,-" he was in fact a
ruined man before he came to "-the Pic Nic.
(C
Snowden then embraced the stage as a profession; and
under the name of Stapleton, made his appearance at the
Haymarket Theatre in 1810, in the part of Dennis
Bulgruddery, but was engaged only for a season.
So truly
does Addison remark, when he speaks of men mistaking
their own qualities: Many a lawyer makes but an
indifferent figure at the bar, who might have become a
very accomplished waterman, and have shone at the
Temple Stairs, though he could get no business in the
house."
66
Snowden died a victim to dissipation, at his lodgings in
Islington. He was a man of coarse habits and depraved
disposition—a kind of Minotaur, half man and half brute.
Captain Caulfield, the next "Bedlamite," had held a
commission in the first regiment of guards, and was so
successful in the "Pic Nic exhibitions, that Harris
invited him to Covent Garden Theatre, where he appeared
in the character of Hamlet.
""
160
ANECDOTES OF THE "PIC NIC."
The Duke of York was present at Caulfield's first night,
and finding "he would be an actor," permitted the sale
of his commission. At the end of this season, the Captain
proceeded to Bath, where he played Richard III., Sir
Giles Overreach, and some other characters, with equal
success, and would inevitably have made a gallant stand
in his new profession, but for the distinguished part he
played in the Court of King's Bench, where he appeared,
in 1804, as defendant in a case of Crim. Con., being cast
in a new part, namely, that of damages to the amount of
2,000%.
Caulfield now became a prisoner in the custody of the
above court. By nature intended for a man of sense, but
having bartered the fee-simple of his wisdom for the
uncertain tenancy of a wit, he outlived his estate, and
eventually died a beggar.
An attack of another nature, namely, rheumatic gout,
prevented Greville from carrying on these reunions on
the following season. A more fashionable situation had
now been considered absolutely necessary, and the
Hanover Square Rooms were partly engaged for future
operations; but the colonel finally agreed on securing
Joliffe's old house in Little Argyle Street, which was, in
fact, the rise and progress of that establishment, since
known as the "Argyle Rooms."
This being arranged on a still more elegant and
extensive plan than the former building, the "Pic Nics
resumed their entertainments. These proceeded with
great vigour for one or two seasons more, and Greville,
by his interest, obtained finally a license for music,
burlettas, and English operas.
Mr. Fuller, member for Sussex, commonly known as
the eccentric "Jack Fuller," was a constant attendant on
these soirées, and on one occasion his amatory tempera-
ment had nearly brought him in rough collision with a
brother Subscriber, but which was timely prevented by a
somewhat ludicrous incident.
در
During part of this entertainment, Mr. Fuller, who had
for a time been ogling a remarkably handsome woman,
sitting at some distance, and attended by an equally
er
ELLISTON AS MACHEATH."
161
"smart young man,” began now to express himself in very
audible and unequivocal terms of admiration, accompany-
ing the same, by a manner so impatient of restraint, as
not only to attract the lady and her cavaliere servente,
but to engage the attention of the whole assembly.
Irritated at length by the continued behaviour of the
"honourable member," the friend of the lady rose suddenly
up, and was in the act of an hostile advance towards the
offender, when, unfortunately, he capsized a bottle of hot
negus partly over the satin slip of his fair companion, and
partly over his own small clothes, which being com-
posed of an article at that time much in vogue, namely,
nankeen, produced the most ludicrous and distressing
consequences.
The ridiculous is ever irresistible; and though the right
was assuredly on the side of the enraged gentleman, yet
the laugh was unfortunately against him; and Jack Fuller
was consequently brought off the hero of the adventure.
On the 23rd of March, Elliston issued an advertisement,
announcing that the Royal Circus would be opened on
the Easter Monday ensuing, under his direction.
The whole of the interior of the building was refitted
and embellished; additional private boxes were con-
structed, and the ensemble bore the aspect of complete
novelty. The house was opened with a new prelude,
"The Invisible Avengers,
entitled,
a melo-dramatic
spectacle, to which was added a remarkably good pan-
tomime, "Harlequin and The Witch of Ludlam."
""
Elliston's engagement at the Lyceum prevented his
appearing at his own theatre until the 16th of June,
when he made his entrée as Captain Macheath, in a
burletta melodrame, in three parts, founded on
"Beggars' Opera."
the
(C
So absolute was the success of this experiment, that
the burletta was acted for fifty nights, when an adventure
was made of a far more startling character, namely, a
grand ballet of action, with music, &c., founded on the
Macbeth" of Shakspeare! This galimafrée was pro-
duced early in September, and preceded by an entrée,
M
162
MANAGEMENT.
composed in the saccharine of rhyme, by the hands of
Dr. Busby, and introduced by Elliston himself as maître
d'hôtel.
It was a composition mixed with all manner of good
things, from the conserve of Eschylus to the sweetmeats
of Shakspeare. In a literary point of view, the classic
doctor appeared to invoke the spirit of his great departed
namesake, the pedagogue of Dryden and the flagellator
of Prior, by setting in one view the whole inspiration of
man, from the days "When music, heavenly maid, was
young," to the new score of the Royal Circus.
As manager and lessee of the theatre, Elliston felt he
could not, with strict propriety, advertise his name for a
benefit; but with the quick perception of a Father
Joseph, he attained all the advantages of such a measure
by announcing in the bills, "that on the 27th of Septem-
ber, he would address the audience' in acknowledgment
of the kindness of their patronage, and enter on further
explanations respecting his scheme of management."
Never was a word better chosen-it was a management
worthy a seat on the Treasury Bench, for it certainly
filled his exchequer, and at the same time kept the
people in good humour.
The house was filled on the night in question. Ellis-
ton acted Macbeth, and recited Collins's celebrated Ode.
Then came the speech-his thanks were abundant, and
his promises for the future liberal. He designated his
theatre as a "dramatic asylum, open to the burnt-out
actors of Drury," and mingled so many lofty sentiments
with the objects of pleasure, that even his neighbour
Rowland Hill might have mitigated somewhat his se-
verity in respect of playhouses, or extended to friend
Elliston as liberal a boon as to his beloved brother, Wil-
liam Walker, the lecturer.
At the termination of his first season at the Royal Cir-
cus, Elliston entered on a new speculation—one more
theatre -the Manchester; which he opened, with an
!.
excellent company, in December, and an address written
by his "own laureat" (as he styled him), Dr. Busby.
1
163
The Doctor appears to have been no faint shadowing of
his forerunners, Elkanah Settle and Stephen Duck; for,
although never contesting the palm with a Dryden, or
admitted into the boudoir of a Caroline, yet the journals
teemed with his poetry, and theatres were redolent of his
addresses. He affected the Pindaric rather than the
Epic-the "Muse without stays," as the sprightly Tom
Brown designates her, rather than the sterner lady in
whalebone.
A WHIMSEY OF BANNISTER.
But Elliston and Ellistonian affairs were the poet's
principal theme. They contributed to each other's fame
it was a joint policy of renown; and though the great
Edmund Kean might have talked of "his secretary," it
was reserved for princes and our own hero to move under
the irradiation of a Muse.
An incident, humorous in its way, occurred during this
brief campaign, for which we by no means vouch, but
give only on report. Jack Bannister happening to be at
Manchester at the time, though not of the company, by
way
of amusement induced Elliston to advertise him,
under a feigned name, for some small part in a comedy,
announcing at the same time that, between the play and
farce, the same gentleman would "attempt a scene in the
'Children in the Wood,' after the manner of the celebrated
Mr. John Bannister, of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane."
At the conclusion of the play, the curtain again rose
for the imitation. On walks the mimic, in suitable cos-
tume, as perfect a Walter as ever appeared on the boards
of the Haymarket. Bannister here made his bow to
some trifling applause, and then entering on the scene,
which he had selected for the purpose, went through the
whole of it after his own best manner.
>>
But the interruptions were many; for scarcely had he
spoken three lines, when he was saluted by a most dis-
tinct hiss. This was soon followed by a laugh, and pre-
sently cries of, "Off, off! trash! hiss, hiss!
announced to the poor country presumer that he had
entirely failed. In fact, he was most completely damned.
He now ventured to address the audience—but no-they
M
M 2
164
would not hear him ;-they were thoroughly disgusted at
the miserable attempt of imitation.
So much for the joke. Bannister enjoyed the affair
heartily; but the true state of the case being in a very
few days generally made known, Elliston found himself in
no little disgrace with his Manchester friends; in fact, he
only got out of the scrape by a most unqualified apology.
On one of the latter nights of his renting the theatre,
Elliston acted "The Three Singles." The person who was
to have played the part of Renaud was taken suddenly
ill during the very representation of the piece, when
Ward, the leader of the band, laying down his fiddle,
volunteered to finish the character; which being received
by sounds of applause, he jumped on the stage, and went
through the business with admirable art. Owing to his
success on this remarkable occasion, Ward determined to
hang up his fiddle and turn actor. He made several
attempts in other characters, but signally failed in them
all. Renaud, however, stuck to him like a plaster.
This is another instance of that monophlox so remark-
able in poor Desborough in the early part of this history.
Steele, in the "Guardian," has given an amusing account
of one William Peer, an actor who took his degree with
Betterton, Kynaston, and Harris, whose memory has
been preserved to posterity by playing only one part.
The character was that of the actor in "Hamlet." No
one could repeat the lines like him,
ACTORS OF ONE PART.
"For us and for our tragedy,
Here stooping to your clemency,
We beg your hearing patiently.
1
"de-
"His whole action in life," says the essayist,
pended on his speaking these three lines, which he did
better than any man else in the world."
A very similar occurrence to that of Ward took place
at Covent Garden Theatre, not many years since. Braham
was taken ill during the first act of the "Cabinet," when
Woodham, a trumpeter in the orchestra, as an amicus
theatri, took up the part of Orlando, and went through
the music and songs with remarkable effect. He, also, on
ANECDOTE OF MRS. BILLINGTON.
165
this success turned his attention to the stage, but failed
in all future attempts. Providence thus, for a special
purpose, seems to give a momentary inspiration.
Of Mrs. Billington there is an anecdote not to be found
in the "Biographical Dictionary of Music." Soon after
Miss Weichsell (which was her maiden name) had mar-
ried Mr. Billington, she was engaged at the Dublin
Theatre. Mrs. Daly, the manager's wife, had for some
time harboured troublesome suspicions that her husband
had discovered greater happiness in the society of the
accomplished vocalist, than was seemly for an honest man
and the father of a family. In fact, she determined to
watch the parties narrowly; and on one eventful even-
ing, planting herself in a crouching position, just under
the lock of the manager's dressing-room in the theatre,
she testified, through the key-hole, all that her worst
fears had whispered her. Resolving not to disturb the
harmony within, as some enraged women would have
done, Mrs. Daly tripped nimbly off for the purpose of
bringing Mr. Billington himself, to partake the disclo-
sures of the key-hole, and share in the entertainment.
Having, therefore, amused themselves by alternate
bobs at the kaleidoscopic combinations within for some
few minutes, Mr. B. (with as much prudence as Mrs. D.)
conducted himself with equal forbearance, looking for
better satisfaction than any noisy trash about injured
honour, by calling up a score of scene-shifters and super-
numeraries to have a peep also.
Mr. Billington having thus got his legal witnesses toge-
ther (for he appears to have had some knowledge of the
law of evidence), was not long before he commenced his
action-process for process-when the lady protested
that, if the dressing-room affair ever found its way into
any other court, she would never again appear on the
Dublin stage. This resolution was in every way masterly
for the case of the defendant, for Mr. Daly also as posi-
tively declared that, if she refused performing, he would
immediately proceed against her husband for the forfei-
ture of £500, according to her professional agreement
with him, to which Mr. Billington was of course a party.
166
AN IRISH PATRONESS.
The ill-starred plaintiff hereupon found himself in a
cleft-stick. Should his wife refuse to fulfil her engage-
ments, £500 would certainly stand against him; and, as
any damages he might have fondly anticipated from a
jury would not, in all probability, be very-very large,
he abandoned the legal form of attack altogether.
Mr. Billington now made up his mind to call his anta-
gonist to a field of honour; but "No," replied the tacti-
cal manager—“ this will never do. Had you determined
on this course in the first instance, I should have been
bound to permit you to run me through the body; but
as a gentleman and a musician, you ought to know, that
a court of honour will never consent to play second fiddle
to a court of law." And thus ended the affair.
In the time of Sheridan, the actor (father of Richard
Brinsley), a fashion prevailed amongst the élégantes of
Dublin, of benefiting distinguished players, by the lady
patroness attending in person early at the entrance of her
box at the theatre, and receiving her company, as though
in her own drawing-room, who paid their respects to her,
before taking their places in the dress-circle.
In the year 1758 a certain parvenue, being ambitious of
trying her strength amongst the higher grades, was rash
enough to take a patronizing lead for the benefit of some
actor. She issued her cards accordingly, through the
fashionable circles, for a special night, and took her place
early in the theatre, for the general reception. To her
great mortification, however, and no less to that of the
poor player, her levée had but a gloomy appearance.
Seated in solitary grandeur at the ostiary of her box, she
had little interruption to her own meditations, for no
company arrived.
Her nervous state was anything but
delectable. She was ready to expire with vexation, when
the box-keeper advancing with rather an aspect of
encouragement, observed, "Your ladyship's gallery is
excellent!—your ladyship's gallery looks charming!"-
In the course of five minutes more, the man returned,
with still brighter looks,-"your ladyship's pit improves
167
-we don't despair of your ladyship's pit,"-but alas! in
the boxes, not a soul!
PETITION TO THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.
By this time, the curtain was up for the comedy :-
maddened by rage, the lady now took her seat on her
crimson chair of a side box, with the agreeable prospect
of a whole dress circle perfectly unoccupied, some twenty
persons in the pit—but "her ladyship's gallery excellent !"
Her fury was positively volcanic; at the close of the
first act, the box-keeper again advanced, observing,
"Your ladyship's gallery is tremendous-positively
overwhelming—we can't contain them.
"Send them here!" ejaculated the lady, "if there are
five hundred, send them here, into the boxes, and let
the expenses be mine." The “order” was instantly
obeyed, and a body of ragamuffins were admitted, which,
if quantity did ever supply the defection of quality, here
was full satisfaction. The house was now a bumper-the
benefit a good one; the lady patroness satisfied all
demands, but withdrew from this hour as a leader of
fashion.
""
The success of his first season at the Circus now
induced Elliston to attempt an enlargement of its pri-
vileges. The license by which performances had hitherto
been authorized, did not permit dialogue to be introduced,
excepting with an accompaniment of music throughout;
and on the 5th of March (1810) Sir Thomas Turton pre-
sented a petition to the House of Commons, for enabling
the petitioner to exhibit and perform in the said Theatre,
the Royal Circus, all such entertainments of music and
action as are commonly called Pantomimes and Ballets,
together with Operatic or Musical Pieces, accompanied
with Dialogue.
An alteration was suggested in the nature of the
petition, for exempting the proprietor of the Royal Circus
from certain penalties under the law for regulating
dramatic exhibitions. To this Sir Thomas Turton
unadvisedly (as Elliston thought) consented, and thus
changed the power to be granted, from an enabling act, to
one of exemption. This scarcely could have hoped for a
*
168 ELLISTON CORRESPONDS WITH MR. PERCEVAL.
successful issue:-exempting an individual from penalties
incurred by breach of an existing law, could not be
sanctioned by the House of Commons.
On the same month a further statement was made on
the part of Elliston to Mr. Perceval for the above
· privilege. To this, a reply was forwarded on the
following day.
Downing Street, 11th March, 1810.
"Mr. Perceval presents his compliments to Mr. Elliston,
and thanks him for the trouble he has taken in explain-
ing to him the grounds of his application to Parliament.
Mr. Perceval, upon reference to the best means of infor-
mation he could obtain, is satisfied that Mr. Elliston's
request cannot be granted, except upon a ground which
would go to alter the whole principle upon which thea-
trical entertainments are at present regulated within the
metropolis and twenty miles round it.'
""
To any one but Elliston, this would have been conclusive,
but with him it was far otherwise. The rebuff only
occasioned another bound, and the harder the stroke, the
more elevated was his flight. To oppose the very minister
of the crown was a striking fact. Again Elliston assailed
the Treasury Bench. With Downing Street in one
pocket and Drury Lane in the other, it would be
difficult to conceive a more supreme point of human
elevation, than the manager,-except, indeed, that of
the Cham of Tartary, who, having taken his repast,
permits the sovereigns of the earth to sit down to dinner.
But Elliston felt that his injuries were not confined
to a mere rejection of his parliamentary petition, but that
he was suffering encroachment on his own territorial
possessions. In addition to the Olympic and Sans Pareil
licenses, another had been recently granted for a theatre
in Tottenham Court Road. This license had been given
to one Paul, a retired pawnbroker, who having closed hist
duplicate doors in High Street, Marylebone, and sold off all
his unredeemed pledges, had a fancy for turning theatrical
manager. This hallucination had been chiefly promoted
A PAWNBROKER'S WIFE.
169
at the desire of his wife, a lady, who, being persuaded she
possessed the combined talents of Siddons and Mara,
thought that she could multiply her husband's gains by
far more than the paltry percentage he had been ac-
customed to, and raise herself to the distinction of a
leading star.
Paul listened, unfortunately, to these dazzling proposals,
and secured the King's Concert Rooms in Tottenham
Street, which he speedily converted into a tasteful and
well-arranged theatre.
This place, the new proprietor opened on Easter
Monday, with a burletta founded on "Love in a Village,”
which was in fact the old opera itself, scene for scene,
and word for word, with the interruption only of a note
or two, occasionally, on the pianoforte. An old coat
with fresh buttons would have been a less artful experi-
ment.
Mrs. Paul was of course the Rosetta, a part most illad-
vised; for though certainly a beautiful woman, yet was she
far more fitted for a Clytemnestra than a pastoral maiden;
so that, notwithstanding her failure in “Love in a Village,"
she justly acquired the admiration of the whole town.
Poor Paul, from a man of substance, was in a short time
reduced to a slender estate. Compelled to raise supplies.
by a mortgage of his effects, he stood now on the other
side of the very counter where he was once dictator,
having leisure to contemplate his folly, and affording one
more example of the indiscretion of theatrical under-
takings. The doors of Tottenham Street were now for
the first time closed, under a commission of bankruptcy.
Petitions were now laid before the Privy Council, in
respect of a third Theatre.
The following account of the
proceedings was transmitted to Elliston :—
"Sheridan sat at the council board, whose petition
came on after yours. There was one also from the wife
of Tom Sheridan. (Thomas Sheridan was at this time in
Spain, in a declining state of health.) All the petitions.
were in the hands of counsel, excepting Greville's, yours,
Sheridan's, and that of Mrs. Thomas Sheridan. Sheridan's
170
was very declamatory, and certainly produced an effect;
but, I think, yours was as persuasive as any.
Lord
Harrowby perused it with evident attention. The
Attorney-General, who was officially present, gave strong
indications of dislike and hostility to a third theatre, and
shook his head wondrously like Lord Burleigh, or as you
might have fancied the Lord Mayor in Richard the
Third.'
"To your petition Sheridan listened with more gravity
than he is accustomed to exhibit. Graham was present,
and observed, 'You were a pretty fellow to petition the
king, after violating the laws at your Circus; and that if
you were brought before him, he should deem the utmost
penalty under the Vagrant Act applicable to your case.'
The Justice was in a fury. Much was said about the
illegality of your Circus Macbeth,' when Sheridan slily
observed, the greatest violation was to the bard, in your
attempting the impersonation! Adam attended on behalf
of Drury Lane Theatre-he was quite didactic and
pathetic.'
""
THE SURREY THEATRE.
The expenses attending Elliston's petition to the
House of Commons were 1017., and 317. before the Privy
Council.
The Royal Circus having undergone extensive altera-
tions, Elliston commenced his season (1810) on Easter
Monday, under all those flattering prospects of success
which he was fairly entitled to entertain.
The amphi-
theatre, which had hitherto been the arena of equestrian
exercises, was now converted into a commodious "pit
for spectators; stables into saloons; and the mangers
themselves into stalls of far different office-namely,
"choice fruit and lemonade." The empire of the
"Houyhnhnms" was, in fact, entirely at an end. Apollo
and the heavenly Nine appropriated the ceiling amongst
themselves, elevating the thoughts of the spectator from
the dung of Augeas to the azure of Olympus; whilst
Note.-At page 140, line 6, for pole read poll;
""
""
267, line 14, for Vanburgh read Vanbrugh.
347, line 1, for Brockenden read Brockedon.
""
RIVAL COLUMBINES.
171
Bacchus and the laughing Ariadne participated an expan-
sive proscenium, which glittered in the choicest symbols
of intellectual banqueting. To this new house Elliston
gave the name of the "Surrey Theatre."
The entertainments on the opening night commenced
by an address—a poetical rhapsody-the child of Busby,
and the adopted of Elliston.
The "Beggars' Opera" was the principal piece-Mrs.
Garrick (formerly Miss Gray) sustaining the part of
Polly. A warlike melodrame succeeded, in which there
was a vast multitude in arms, and the cremation of the
citadel, though it nearly choked the audience, had no
power in stifling the huzzas of the people.
Early in this season, Miss Sally Booth, so long a
favourite with the public, made her first London appear-
ance on these boards. The "Beaux Stratagem," con-
verted into a burletta, or musical comedy !(), introduced
this lady in the part of Cherry - Elliston himself, of
course, filling that of Archer. This barbarous crotchet
placed upon the drama, under certain restrictive licenses,
was, in this instance, complied with by great skill and
considerable taste. Some delightful melodies were fur-
nished by Mrs. Elliston, whilst the "Musical Catechism,"
between Cherry and Archer, produced a very rapturous
encore; the rubric of the bills always announcing it in
coloured letters.
The success of this dramatic transmutation induced
a second of a similar nature; and some weeks subse-
quently, the "Bold Stroke for a Wife" was as adroitly
invigorated with a decoction of music, and Mesdames
Centlivre and Elliston the joint patentees of the nostrum.
But this course of harmony was now suddenly invaded
by an event which rendered the present season of the
Surrey Theatre one of the most remarkable which had
yet occurred.
"The season of love was no more," and
discord and heart-burnings, equalled only by the memo-
rable O.P. insurrection on the plains of Covent Garden,
in the year preceding, now agitated the extensive terri-
tory of St. George's Fields.
172
(( HORRIDA BELLA!"
On the production of his pantomime, the spirited
manager had engaged, as Columbine, a Miss Giroux, a
sparkling brunette, "of foreign aspect and of tender
years." This young lady made her appearance accord-
ingly, and the Surrey Terpsichore soon kindled a tendre
amongst the " pretty fellows" of Nelson Square and
Melina Place. Elliston, at this period also, had enriched
his company by the services of a Miss Taylor, a lady infe-
rior neither in personal attractions nor graceful accom-
plishments to the magnetic Giroux. She was, perhaps,
more of the Sylphide than the Muse. Giroux might
have been Apollo's chosen-Taylor the beloved of Oberon.
Elliston being desirous of turning this "double cherry
to the best market, and believing the peach-blossom
Taylor would, perhaps, be more than equally attractive
with the olive Giroux, invested her on a certain night
with the diadem of pantomime, and Miss Taylor appeared
for the first time in the part of Columbine.
""
Nelson Square and Melina Place were now in a state
of positive insurrection. This was an usurpation to
which they could not for a moment submit, and they at
once determined to vindicate the rights of the dethroned
queen. On the night in question (that of the fair Tay-
lor) the Girouites assembled in considerable force, and
securing the first rows of the pit, and the most advan-
tageous position in the boxes, prepared themselves for the
coming struggle.
""
The adherents of Taylor were on this night compara-
tively few, for they had been taken by surprise; but no
sooner was the curtain raised for the commencement of
the mystic scene, than a cry of "Giroux! Giroux!'
sufficient to “Tear the cave where echo lies,” resounded
from all quarters of the theatre. This evidence of un-
looked-for hostility soon awakened the Sybarite Taylors
to resistance. Worthy the cause, and the more inspired
by the odds against them, they repelled, with triple force,
this furious onslaught, and the very building was shaken
to its base. The strife was now carried on in downright
earnest. The opposing parties, no longer satisfied by
words, sprang on the benches, and crowded on the para-
173
pets of the boxes, giving the clearest indications that
they were prepared for any result. The belligerents were
in their element, and in his element was Elliston himself;
for in the attitude of a speech he was speedily before
them. But the honeyed words of Ulysses were here of
no avail; still more exasperated were both parties, and
the curtain fell amidst universal confusion.
PROLONGED HOSTILITIES.
On the second night, a fearful renewal of difference
took place. "Taylor" was still in the bills, and the adhe-
rents of Taylor considerably multiplied.
The parties now contended under distinct leaders.
One Thomas Barratt marshalled the array on the side
of the dazzling Taylor, while another, Michael Slater,
not less in heroic beauty, mingled the gallant hearts
which beat for the glory of Giroux. The rising of
the curtain was again the telegraphic notice for the
general onset. The Gs and the Ts went at it, pell-mell.
"O. P." was now completely eclipsed in "G. T." Hats
bore the impress of their favoured initial; and no two
letters of our time-honoured alphabet ever before came
into such awful collision.
Hostilities were thus carried on, night after night,
with equal violence and improving method. On each
succeeding evening, some new device, by one party or the
other, was projected; nay, such was the excitement,
that, bursting the cerements of the very theatre itself, it
invaded the neighbourhood at large. The arrival of either
"The Giroux " or "The Taylor" at the stage-door, was
a signal to their appropriate partisans, who hailed their
own "bright, particular star" as she descended from the
hackney-coach. "Taps" and "spirit shops" were tribu-
tary in the cause. The "House of Call for Painters
had emblazoned The Giroux, and "The Duke's Head"
had been sacrificed to The Taylor. Placards, handbills,
pasquinades, and acrostics were in merry circulation,
while an itinerant song, founded on The Rival Queens,"
collected a roaring auditory around the Obelisk. Amongst
others, we submit a copy of a precious protocol, which
proceeded from the playhouse itself.
(C
""
174
A DANCER'S PROCLAMATION.
"SURREY THEATRE.
"Miss Giroux, deeply deploring the display of a spirit
in this theatre which, however flattering, is by no means
calculated to serve her who is the object of it, presumes
publicly to declare, that she has neither personally nor
otherwise, encouraged any hostility to the professional
pretensions of a young person called Taylor.
Miss Giroux takes the liberty to request that the
enlightened portion of the British public, which does her
the honour to approve her performances, will add to
so proud a distinction the favour of abstaining from all
unseemly contest, nor
'Mix with hired slaves, bravoes, and common stabbers,'
but allow, at once, MIND to triumph over MATTER!
"N.B.-Miss Giroux is not aware, that in this gene-
rous nation it is disreputable to be either a Jew or a
foreigner; but attempts have been made to fix on her
the stigma of both ! Miss Giroux is by no means a Jew,
and has the happiness, moreover, of being born an Eng-
lish young lady."*
But a question will naturally arise, What was the
manager about this while? The truth is, these noctur-
* "When Cuzzoni and Faustina (two celebrated Italian singers)
were in England together, the spirit of rivalry was carried to an
extravagant pitch. It is told by Horace Walpole, that his mother
had them at her house to sing at a concert; she was under the greatest
difficulty how to settle the precedence. Finding also it was impossible
to prevail on the one to sing whilst the other was present, she took
Faustina to a separate part of the house, under pretext of showing her
some curious china, during which time the company obtained a song
from her rival Cuzzoni. A similar device was practised on the other
hand to get Faustina to perform.
"Sir Robert Walpole having taken the part of Faustina, Lady
Walpole countenanced the other; and when Sir Robert was from
home, she invited them both to dinner.
"The Cuzzoni party was headed by the Countess of Pembroke,
whose followers always hooted Faustina.
The contention at the opera
was at first only carried on by hissing on one side and clapping on the
other, but at last proceeded to rattles and other instruments of discord."
-Hogarth's Hist. of Music.
،، BRING ME A CHAIR!"
175
nal revels contributed materially to the health of the
playhouse exchequer.
d;
But now, considering that the moment had arrived
in which, if he did not interfere, some one else would
and being desirous of accomplishing that moral triumph
which had animated Giroux, namely, "Mind over
Matter," he pompously stated that, on a certain night
following, he would himself "give judgment in the case!”
The attitude he assumed for the purpose was consistent
with this judicial language; for, on the ensuing Tuesday,
when presenting himself on the stage for that purpose,
not quite "sober as a judge," he turned towards the
prompter, and with dignity positively superlative, ex-
claimed, Bring me a chair!" And when the prompter
appeared, bearing in a stately arm-chair, into which the
manager sank with the severity of a Wedderburn, it was
perhaps the most powerful stroke of burlesque ever wit-
nessed.
(C
The plenary indulgence which had evidently been the
occupation of the manager, and the dissatisfaction which
the "judgment" was giving to all parties, renewed the
contest, and most wofully augmented the effects. These
scenes being repeated on future nights, the manager was
at length brought to his senses. The mock tribunal gave
place to a court far beyond a joke; the case was removed
from Surrey to Westminster, where, in July, the Attor-
ney-General applied for a rule, &c., against the leaders of
the fray. The two Columbines, in the hands of Sir
Vicary Gibbs and Lord Ellenborough, must have pro-
duced a racy scene, by no means unamusing to the other
gowns in the Court of King's Bench. A trial took place,
when, on conviction of the parties, a public apology ter-
minated the affair.
At this time, Elliston received the following! from
Mr. Warner Phipps :-
(C
Having denied myself to you lately, on one or two
occasions, you may be led to suppose I have some cause
for offence. Such is indeed the case-
176
IMPRESSIVE LETTER FROM PHIPPS.
"Believe me, my friend, you are becoming-have
become, the shameless victim to a passion, which has,
alas! but little more to do in accomplishing your utter
destruction. It will be destruction of a mind naturally
endowed by higher properties than fall commonly to the
share of men;-the abuse of advantages far greater than
many in your profession have been blessed with ;—utter
desolation in the most affectionate bosom that ever beat
for a husband's honour;—and an example to children,
whereby pollution will possess their minds in place of the
seeds of wisdom. You are publicly-you are universally
known as intemperate;—the vice dishonours you as a com-
panion, and puts a brand upon you as a public man.
have not seen you on one occasion, in the clear, manly,
possession of your faculties for the five last interviews I
have had with you; and if you think I now take a violent
liberty with that which is your own affair, you must look
on it as the incision of the knife to the gangrene which
must otherwise destroy you.
I
"As heartily as I have received you as my friend, so
will I distinctly throw you off, if these things are repeated.
This is not the first time that I have used this language;
but I have been willing to believe the wordy confessions
you once made to me, proceeded from a vigorous reso-
lution to amend. I do not wish vexatiously to recall to
your mind the favours you have received from me, by my
advice in your complicated concerns; but in addition to
the difficulties which such concerns must necessarily throw
on one who undertakes their investigation, I will not add
the unthankful perplexity of seeing my labours rendered
abortive, by the madness or stupidity of habitual ebriety.
“Elliston ;—I will not beg the question with a man in
your critical position;-you have not a moment to lose-
your respectability is expiring-your energies declining-
your estate wasting-and your very hopes are themselves
becoming hopeless.
"Of particular circumstances, there is one I would
notice before concluding. You have hinted lately, I
believe, at my carrying some communication or other to
Mrs. Elliston. That is not the case-and I regret it is
177
necessary for me to assure you that it is not so. Mrs. Ellis-
ton has twice called on me under evident distress-great,
very great, mental anxiety. Once she called, after the
day of your opening, and again about three weeks since.
These visits were occasioned by your absence from home
on the whole of the two previous nights, without either
notice or the slightest explanation. Of your distinct
errors, our only conversation was-on that subject, which,
like the daylight, is clear to all.
"I do not trust that I have not wounded you; on the
contrary, I hope I have deeply probed you.
If I am not
of weak resolution myself, you will never again receive
such a letter as this from me; for you either will not
require it, or if you do, it must proceed from some other
hand.
"2nd June, 1811.”
"W. PHIPPS.
SPASMODIC HOLINESS.
The language of this letter produced a deep impression
on the mind of the truant. Elliston was obviously
abashed-crest-fallen. He knew how just the impu-
tations had been, and he felt how sincere and disinterested
was the man who had urged them. At about this very
time, also, Elliston received another of those mysterious
epistolary favours from Invisiblina, alluding, in equally
strong terms, to that same scene of dissipation and riot,
which had formed part of Mr. Phipps's accusation. This,
if not tending to his deeper depression, at least multiplied
his perplexities. The "whereabouts" of this Invisiblina
-the machinery by which she directed her operations-
and the nice accuracy of her intelligence, more and more
bewildered him.
K
He was now suddenly visited by one of those violent
calls of righteousness and reformation, which have more
sincerity at the moment than steadiness of purpose; a
sense of holiness, like love, far too hot to hold; and
Elliston now turned towards Stratford Place, regretting,
perhaps, that the days of mortification were past, for, like
Blaise Pascal, he would at that moment have bound him-
self in an iron girdle, or put on the hair-shirt of a penitent
of La Trappe. Certain it is, he returned to his wife in a
N
178
LOVEGROVE.
temper of contrition as little worthy reliance as his late
engagements had been of imitation. But he returned to
one whose soul was as generous as her affections ardent.
This excellent woman, like the gentle “Amelia,” received
the penitential "Booth" with cheerful forgiveness, while
Warner Ph pps, like the good "Dr. Harrison," looked on,
with the hope that so fair a beginning would be con-
sistently maintained.
Lovegrove, during the few years his health permitted
him to act, made a rapid advance in public favour.
He appeared in the part of Lord Ogleby, in the Drury
Lane company at the Lyceum, on the 3rd of October—a
début highly flattering. In the short space of six years,
Lovegrove established a fame on which popular opinion
was absolutely undivided. No one found any fault with
Lovegrove-a circumstance which is by no means a con-
sequent attendant, even on the most brilliant career of
histrionic art. The chastity of nature was never lost sight
of in the humour of the part, nor the fidelity of character
sacrificed to jocular effects. But with this, Lovegrove
was no tame actor; his colouring was strong, but the
lights and the shadows fell naturally; his impersonations
forcibly characteristic, never caricature. He certainly
would have gained the Harcourt prize in the Dramatic
University.
In private life, Lovegrove was a singular man. Though
by no means an ascetic, he appeared to have but few
associates. With his professional brethren, he had no
intercourse whatever; his place of residence was entirely
unknown; nor had the prompter any other means of
communicating with him on the business of the stage, than
But
by directing his letter to the door of the theatre.
Lovegrove's amiable and obliging manner secured to him
respect, and sufficiently proved that his singularity was
not the result of misanthropy or selfishness; nor was it
amongst the least strange things, that a man so consti-
tuted should have chosen the profession of an actor.
This idiosyncrasy not unnaturally induced some to
believe, that much of the adventure we are about to
179
relate, as told by Lovegrove himself, was the offspring of
his own heated imagination. There is no doubt that
something singular and alarming had taken place (for
Lovegrove was by no means inclined to practical jokes),
which a mind predisposed in the nature we have described
his, might have peopled with additional images.
Lovegrove, on a certain evening, having acted his part,
had quitted the Lyceum early, on his way home, as it is
supposed. At about midnight, just as the curtain had
closed the night's entertainment, the theatre watchman
was startled by a piercing exclamation of "Help! for
God's sake, help!" and Lovegrove himself, covered with
brick-dust and mortar, rushed over the stage, in a state of
frenzy, and pursuing his way into the green-room, dropped,
exhausted, into a chair.
When sufficiently restored to make himself understood,
he gave the following recital :-
"As I was passing the end of Dyott-street, I was
powerfully assailed by two women of gaunt and masculine
appearance, who as instantaneously pinioned me with a
cord, and hurried me down a blind cellar, contiguous to the
spot where I had just been standing. Surprise and terror
totally deprived me of the power of voice.
In this state,
I was forced on through a dank, noisome passage, appa-
rently quite under ground-wet and putrid as a common
sewer. We then reached the foot of a crazy staircase,
where was stationed a ruffian, worthy the wretches in
whose hands I was confined. By the hasty glance I had,
his beard was of a fortnight's growth, his head perfectly
bald, and he wore a long rough drab coat, stained with
all manner of filth. He carried a lantern. I noticed he
had but one hand, an iron hook on the stump of his arm
supplied the other. Not a word passed between the
women and this man. I was thence forcibly pushed up
several flights of stairs, the man leading the way.
"An effort I now made of resistance, when one of the
women grasped me by the throat, blaspheming and
laughing. We were still mounting. We could not have
ascended less than five or six flights of stairs from the
pit of the first cellar. We at length reached a door,
A MYSTERIOUS ADVENTURE.
N 2
180
which the conductor unfastened, whence we passed to the
open roof of the house, and after a few paces, through
another doorway into an attic of an adjoining tenement.
I
shrieked aloud—but the door was slammed to and instanta-
neously locked. The women now relaxed their hold, and
disappeared through a trap at the bottom of the wall, at
a further end of the room. The man now lighted a candle.
I grasped his coat. 'In God's name, explain this!' cried I.
But he resolutely moved on, and stooping through the
aperture, whence the women had departed, I heard the
entrance barred on the other side.
My senses now almost abandoned me.
I again
screamed aloud-but not a sound,-not a footstep did I
otherwise hear. I looked around. In a corner of this
foul apartment was a low bed. I gazed on it with
renewed apprehension, and beheld, stretched therein, a
human form-apparently a female-she breathed heavily,
as though in agony of body. I moved nearer, and dis-
tinctly saw marks of violence on her features. The creature
was dying-evidently expiring of hurts she had received.
A horrid conviction seized me, that I had been brought here
for the purpose of fixing on me evidence of her murder.
(6
"Tell me !' I exclaimed-' who what are you?'
An agonizing groan was my only reply-and a sigh-
'twas the last of life's effort-for I am convinced, at that
moment, the object before me breathed her last. I was
now frantic-frantic with fear, and felt equal to any
exertion. I perceived near me the fragment of some
furniture-perhaps the very weapon which had inflicted
the blow of death-I seized it. The door was locked, but
the fastening a heavy wooden lock—was in some degree
parted from the panel. Into this chink, I thrust violently
the piece of timber. I felt it bite-the lever to bear-
and with the force of desperation, I wrenched it from its
position the door gave way. I rushed along the roof,
over which I had previously been hurried-God only
knows the peril I was then passing-the door of the first
house was unbarred. I descended the staircase—for it
was dark, almost as pitch-and I ran, or rather fell down
several flights.
C
CONTINUATION OF THE STORY.
A GAMING-HOUSE.
181
"I must have reached nearly the bottom of our former
ascent, when the voice and figure of one of the female
demons who had just quitted me, again scared my senses.
I could not mistake the wretch. A fresh act of despera-
tion animated me. I at once retreated-again mounted
a few steps, and found myself at a window. I forced it
open-climbed to the frame-work, and sprang- -God
has preserved me !—and sprang-I knew not whither.
But I fell yet alive-unhurt-into a kind of stable. I
now noticed a faint light on the ground-floor of the con-
tiguous building-one of those dens, it appeared, for
marine stores. Two men were sitting. I rushed forward
-passed them like the wind, and found myself in a
narrow unlit street. I still ran wildly on-windings—
passages-but in what direction, I knew not. Flight,
flight alone possessed me. Danger was at an end, yet I
felt I could still but fly. A recollection of objects now
returned—the way at length became familiar—and I
ran on, till I met you here. What have I not escaped!"
Mysterious as was the narrative, nothing was ever
known further of this adventure. Lovegrove's natural
reserve soon baffled the curiosity of his friends, and after
a few days, the explication was altogether left to the
surmises of those who had listened to the account in the
theatre.
ran,
GUE
The partial eclipse into which the comedian's fair fame
had been thrown by Phipps's letter, being now past,
and the luminary once again in full splendour, we
will forget all causes of the worthy actuary's anger, as
related, and proceed to the more grateful task of recount-
ing an act of generosity, by which our hero will be con-
siderably restored to the favour of the indulgent reader.
a
>
Amongst the various places of Elliston's resort for the
purpose of hazard, was a house in the neighbourhood of
Blackfriars, where he had occasionally met Mr. L
young gentleman of sickly appearance, but who still fol-
lowed up the phantom of play with that excitement
which, for the time, is able to sustain the weakest frame
in all the heated combinations of its pursuit.
182
A PAINFUL INCIDENT IN
At places of this kind, personal acquaintance is gene-
rally no other than that arising from the traffic of the
table, nor does a thought or word transpire which is not
employed on the purpose of rapine.
Mr. L- was at this time about twenty-six years of age.
Disease had already possessed him under that form, which
so frequently mingles the mockery of hope with the most
peremptory fiat of mortal certainty. His manners were
gentle his temper unassailable; and at those brief in-
tervals when the passion of play permitted his mind a
moment's freedom, he exhibited an understanding of no
ordinary quality, and a taste (particularly in the fine arts)
highly cultivated. But the whole occupation of his
flickering existence was the act of passing to and fro, from
his own home to this apartment of despair. Here, in the
evening, he would arrive at about eight o'clock, in a
hackney-coach; and by the same means, at any unknown
hour, quit the house on his return. Here, with the
entire sum of his estate and strength, he was a nightly
visitor, for his other hours were literally a course of ex-
haustion - his daily journey between a moral and a
mortal grave.
With this gentleman Elliston had some-
times conversed, and frequently played.
's
It happened on a certain evening the comedian had
been singularly fortunate-had won a considerable sum,
the greater portion of which the proceeds of Mr. L-
purse. The majority of the company had by this time
departed; indeed, all the habitués of the house, except
Elliston and his companion, who continued their play.
Good fortune still followed our hero, and by two o'clock
he was a winner to the full amount of his adversary's
ready effects, perhaps of his resources. But Mr. L
was calm and unruffled. He paid his money, and handed
over some further acknowledgments.
"You will still play on ?" said Elliston.
"You must
recover some of this to-night."
"No, not to-night," responded Mr. L
Nay-you must take some vengeance of me," con-
tinued the other, "the jade must be wooed; take my
word for it, she'll be fond after pouting,"-saying which,
(6
A GAMBLER'S LIFE.
183
he presented sundry bank-notes to his companion, and
again set the table.
The game was renewed-the stakes higher; and, at
the conclusion of another hour, Elliston was a winner to
a still further extent.
A slight flush, rather of exhaustion than anxiety,
passed over the features of Mr. L and he rose to
depart.
(6
"I do not like this," said Elliston; we must not part
at such odds as these; you shall still have your revenge,
and to-night, too."
L- rebuked him only with a faint smile, adding,
“We're later than usual. Do you hear what a night it
is?"
"As you please; but I have protested you shall have
your revenge.
The cards here are against you; another
place will be more fortunate. You shall have luck
to-night; but not here-not here."
"What do you propose ?" asked L
"Come. I'll show you."
ر
CC
with animation.
The companions now entered a hackney-coach, and,
after a drive of fifteen minutes, were set down in Stratford
Place. Elliston led Mr. L- into an apartment, and
some refreshment being at hand, they partook accordingly.
"I have disappointed you so far," said Elliston; "this
is not quite the gay scene you may have anticipated.
But, courage! your more immediate object is here" (con-
tinued he, shuffling the cards). I never won a guinea in
my own house yet, and I am sure Fortune will not be
inclined to follow me, on such a night as this, after
abandoning her so scurvily in Blackfriars."
was
Come, then, to some further business," replied L—
Down they sat. Luck now blew from a fresh quarter
under the new sky in which they played. L
recovering; a transient, treacherous success, adding
mockery only to the certain course of the infatuated
gamester. Again-again he lost; new loans were ad-
vanced and further acknowledgments handed over to his
opponent. It was now past three o'clock.
"Why, how is this?" said Elliston, with marked gravity,
184
as he deliberately turned up a pile of notes, and spread
the specialties before him-" this is a large amount,
Mr. L- a very considerable sum of money.
must have lost-
You
"
"What is the debt?" demanded the other, im-
patiently.
I am
"True; it must be lessened," replied the comedian, in
a sententious tone. “I think—I am sure, it may.
not quite satisfied.”
"Mr. Elliston," cried his companion, as a sudden flush
spotted his pale cheek, "what am I to think of this
night's transaction-this strange irritation? Though I
know you for a fair dealer, yet let me remind you, that
he who provokes the game does little better than take
advantage of his adversary.”
LOSS UPON LOSS.
""
"Will you for five minutes resume your seat?" said
Elliston, solemnly-" we must not part yet. They say I
am fond of long speeches, but I'll be brief, for our time
is so.
I have told you I am not satisfied. Here"-(con-
tinued he, in the tone of one calmly determined)—“ here,
Mr. L- is the cash; the whole amount of what I
have this night won from you; and now that we may
proceed upon the clearest understanding, I seriously pro-
nounce, no power on earth shall induce me to retain one
fraction of it."
L—— gazed in speechless attention-he knew not the
nature of his own emotions.
"This has been a long sitting," resumed Elliston-"has
broken deeply into our rest, but it shall close to our
comfort to our happiness, if you but permit it. Mr. L—,
you are far from a state of health-perhaps not a long-
lived man; think how little time, therefore, could be
given to reflection, even were the whole amount so devoted.
Do not despise the admonition of even an erring man;
and let not pride, that pitiful illusion, be the last cheat to
leave you barer than poverty. Never" (concluded he,
with great energy), never will I touch again one
farthing of this sum-it is yours, or it consumes this night
before your eyes.
Now for the security I ask—give me
the honour of a man you will never play again.”
((
185
The reply of the young man failed upon his lips, but
the tears rolled down his cheeks, and his frame drooped
by exhaustion.
SCENE CONTINUES.
"Alas! alas!" sighed he, after a labouring pause.
"How am I humbled! In the sense of my own worth-
lessness, and before the generosity of this man, how am I
humbled!"
"Humbled!" cried Elliston, with energy-" humility!
-why, how is this, when I had hoped on both sides for
exultation? Exultation on my part, that I had been able
to achieve a substantial good, and exultation, still greater
on yours, for having secured the moment whilst it yet
remained, to make peace with your own conscience. Will
you give me the word of a man ?"
"Yes; and before God, my witness
"No-no-not that!" interposed Elliston.
"I have
no right to such a bond. Give me but your word—your
word of honour."
""
Such was the generous appeal, and it was not made
in vain; the security which our hero had so warmly
sought, was given with all the impassioned evidence of
sincerity.
Elliston was of a temperament fully to enjoy the delight
which such an adventure was so calculated to produce.
But strange and inconsistent is the nature of man: the
comedian himself still continued to visit Blackfriars as
usual, so that all traces of the past scene were soon lost
in the mazes of the hazard-table.
Such, alas, was our frail hero!—one of those who
appeared to regard righteousness, as a liberal host does
his best wine, using but little of it himself and dividing
his stock for the benefit of his friends.
About three months from the above event, Elliston,
after an absence of two days from home, found the fol-
lowing letter, amongst many others, on his return to
Stratford Place:
"I am dying; from this bed of pain and anguish I can
never rise. I am dying-and God knows how willingly,
but for that, which can alone make death terrible! If to
one almost lost to hope, there can be an interval of quiet,
186
such is the moment I pronounce, Bless you! God bless
you, sir !'
You know why I should say, God bless you!
An hour like mine must be past all hypocrisy. You
would have rescued me from ruin-would have restored
me to that, which all men, ere they die, will discover to
be the only true joy on earth.
"For a time, shame--for it was not virtue, nor common
honesty-shame guarded my steps, and baffled that fiery
passion, with which my neglected boyhood had grown up
familiar. I did not play; avoided, fled all means of play
-all place, all time, in which even danger might lie
disguised. But my mind, so long estranged from
honourable bent, became a void-would not be roused-
'twas steeped 'twas poisoned, sir! The venom had stung
my very soul to death, and I became the helpless, hope-
less, despicable thing-a confessed liar! I returned to
vice-I hurried to destruction-dishonoured that last,
last bond, not to be sued on earth, and in pain, in poverty,
in contempt, and utter desertion, I am fast, fast dying!
But all will perish with me, except my disgrace! Bless
you-bless you, sir! It still comforts me to say so. I
shall die with it on my lips."
CLOSES.
،
Deeply affected, it may be well imagined, was Elliston,
on reading this distressing history. The letter had been
dated three days back, from a street in Westminster,
but without number of the house. Elliston went imme-
diately, with the full determination of discovering the
penitent.
In this he had some difficulty, for he applied at several
lodging-houses without success, and had nearly given up
his pursuit, when he accosted a female in the act of
descending the steps of a house he had previously passed.
It was here Elliston gained all his intelligence-for it was
the house in which poor L had that morning breathed
his last.*
This narrative recalls strikingly an incident in the
* The substance of the incident above was confirmed to the
author by a gentleman connected with an extensive firm in Pater-
noster Row-a connection of L
-a connection of L——'s family, and who saw the young
man frequently in his late illness.
187
career of King, the actor. King played deeply; and on
a certain occasion he borrowed five guineas, being his last
stake, with which he won two thousand pounds. Escaping
from the apartment, he fell on his knees, exclaiming, in
an impassioned manner, "Give me a Bible!" on which he
took his oath never to play again. But the oath he kept
not many months, for King afterwards became a member
of the "Miles" club in St. James's-street, where he lost
everything.
A LITERARY ASSOCIATION.
At the commencement of this year (1811) Elliston had
again broken fresh ground, in an entirely new project—
namely, The establishment of a Literary Association at
Bristol! In pursuance of which, he had purchased, for
the sum of 1,600l., freehold premises in John-street. The
house, which had formerly been an Italian warehouse, or
in other words, a pickle-shop, he now opened for the sale
of Italian anthology and Classical conserves.
The back apartment, which he styled "The Lyceum,"
was accordingly thrown open; to which the whole literary
mind of Bristol was invited. This was well supplied by
evidences of appropriate taste-an Apollo, some Etruscan
vases, Patterson's Roads, reviews, magazines, and a world
of tracts, pamphlets, and newspapers. The front room
was a library, or shop for the sale of "old, choice, and
rare books only." Here were no idle, sickly, pale-backed
bantlings of the Minerva press-nothing of the belle
assemblée of literature whatever. Like Charles Lamb, the
great projector had proclaimed Dryden and Pope as the
last in the empire of letters, and the "choice old books
alone constituted his care. Amongst others, he had
collected "Memoirs of the Duke de Ripperda;" "Sir
Thomas Double at Court; "Enqviries tovching ye
Diursity of Langvages in all parts of the World;""The
Ladies' Perceptor, by a Gentleman of Honour, at
Cambridge;"The most famous, delectable, and pleasant
History of Pirismvs, the renowned Prince of Bohemia ;"
"
""
HANZEBEIA; or, a View of all Religions on the
Earth;" "Scotia Indiculum; or, the Present State of
Scotland, 1680;" "Voyages of J Struys ;"" The Ship of
188
A DILAPIDATED SCHOOLMASTER.
Fooles;" in high Dutch; and piles on piles of "Dramatic
Mysteries;" to these were added a vast variety of shells,
fossils, coins, Indian weapons, and a gong which might
have awakened from their very graves, a whole generation
of Bristol by a single stroke.
Elliston, who never entered with indifference on any
speculation, embarked in the book scheme with more than
common enthusiasm. Repeatedly, as his other duties
would permit, he personally peregrinated in the collection
of antique literature, frequenting innumerable book-stalls,
and rummaging the back parlours and store-closets of all
the good wives he could call to memory. Like the
magician, in "Aladdin," be journeyed from place to place,
crying "New books for old ones;" and by the end of a
month, he had collected poetry, like the Muse herself,
altogether stripped of covering.
At the head of this establishment he placed a man by
the name of Brick, a dilapidated schoolmaster, whose
duty it was to superintend all that the great designer
had brought into operation. Under these arrangements,
the Institution for a time flourished. The old books
accumulated amazingly: but the city of Bristol, alas, was
no genial soil for the empire of letters! The frequenters
of "The Lyceum" fell off-there were few returns of
either persons or profit-the "Ben Jonson Head," over
the door, ceased to be oracular; and our hero began to
think seriously of sending his literary exhumations to
public competition, and taking the current coin in
exchange.
But the time had now arrived, in which he received
intelligence of a decisive blow to the Bristol affair Duns
Scotus, the shattered schoolmaster, had found time, during
the latter two months, for ingratiating himself in the
favour of a rope-maker's daughter, in the neighbourhood
of John-street; a lady of easy manners and the same
quality of virtue. Mr. Brick, like many literary men
before him, was soon illaqueated by the flaxen beauty;
and considering, perhaps, that if he did not find her a
virtuous maiden, he could at least make her an honest
woman, conferred on her the distinction of Mrs. Brick,
66
""
189
the marriage being solemnized within a stone's cast of
"The Lyceum" itself.
Within three days of these espousals, the history was
brought to a conclusion Mr. and Mrs. Brick had
departed on a matrimonial tour, and "The Lyceum"
desecrated by an irruption on the till. The age of reason
was no more, though the schoolmaster was emphatically
abroad, and the Bristol associates returned once more to
their wharfs.
RECORDS OF THE HORSE ACADEMY."
The Royal Circus (or Surrey Theatre) had attained, at
this period, its highest celebrity, and as it may be curious
to remark the rude foundations of this Transtamesin
dynasty, we beg to offer the reader a brief notice. This
theatre was built near the junction of the cross-road, on
St. George's-fields, and opened in the year 1780, by the
elder Dibdin and one Hughes, for the representation of
burlettas and equestrian exercises. A spirited compe-
tition was here, for some time, maintained, with Philip
Astley, proprietor of the Amphitheatre, in the West-
minster-road.
The Circus was burnt down in 1805. The fate of the
Pegasus, which surmounted the building, created as much
interest during the conflagration, as the Apollo of Drury
Lane on the "One dread night " of March, 1809.
The earliest advertisement we offer, is humorous, and
in that bitterness of spirit so peculiar to dramatic
rivalry!
Sept. 1772,
"The celebrated Sobieska Clementina and Mr. Hughes
on Horseback, will end on Monday next, the 4th of
October; until then they will display the whole of their
Performances, which are allowed, by those who know best,
to be the completest of the kind in Europe. Hughes
humbly thanks the Nobility, &c. for the Honour of their
Support, and also acquaints them his Antagonist has
catched a bad cold so near to Westminster-bridge, and
for his Recovery is gone to a warmer Climate, which is
Bath in Somersetshire. He boasts, poor Fellow, no more
190
6
of activity, and is now turned Conjurer, in the character
of Sieur the Great.' Therefore Hughes is unrivalled,
and will perform his surprising Feats accordingly at his
Horse Academy, until the above Day. The Doors to be
opened at Four o'clock, and mounts at Half-past pre-
cisely. H. has a commodious Room, eighty feet long.
"N.B. Sobieska rides on one, two, and three Horses,
being the only one of her Sex that ever performed on one,
two, and three."
RIVALRIES VERY ORIGINAL.
Hughes was a fine, stalworth fellow, who could have
carried an ox away on his shoulders, and eaten him for
supper. The next is equally a curiosity :-
((
"Hughes has the honour to inform the Nobility, &c.
that he has no intention of setting out every Day to
France for three following Seasons, his Ambition being
fully satisfied by the applause he has received from
Foreign Gentlemen who come over the Sea to See him.
Clementina and Miss Huntly ride one, two, and three
Horses at full Speed, and takes Leaps surprising. A
little Lady, only Eight Years old, rides Two Horses at
full gallop, by herself, without the assistance of any one to
hold her on. Enough to put any one in fits to see her.
H. will engage to ride in Twenty Attitudes that never
were before attempted; in particular, he will introduce
his Horse of Knowledge, being the only wise animal in
the Metropolis. A Sailor in full gallop to Portsmouth,
without a bit of Bridle or Saddle. The Maccaroni Tailor
riding to Paris for new Fashions. This being Mr. Pot-
tinger's night, he will speak a Prologue adapted to the
noble art of Riding, and an Epilogue also suited to Extra-
ordinary Leaps.
"Tickets (2s.) to be had of Mr. Wheble, bookseller,
Paternoster-row, and at H.'s Riding School. Mounts
half-past four"
Again:
Hughes, with the celebrated Sobieska Clementina,
the famous Miss Huntly, and an astonishing Young
،،
191
Gentleman (son of a Person of Quality) will exhibit at
Blackfriars-road more extraordinary things than ever yet
witnessed, such as leaping over a Horse forty times
without stopping between the Springs.-Leaps the Bar
standing on the Saddle with his Back to the Horse's Tail,
and-Vice Versa, Rides at full speed with his right Foot
on the Saddle and his left Toe in his Mouth, two sur-
prising Feet. Mrs. Hughes takes a fly and fires a Pistol
-rides at full speed standing on Pint Pots-mounts pot
by pot, higher still, to the terror of all who see her. H.
carries a lady at full speed over his head-surprising !
The young gentleman will recite verses of his own making,
and act Mark Antony,' between the leaps."
“Clementina every night—a commodious room for the
nobility.”
We will now take at random, a bill of Philip Astley,
the despised of Hughes and Clementina, but the formidable
rival to the Blackfriars' establishment:-Hughes certainly
had the advantage in orthography.
FURTHER EXAMPLES.
"ASTLEY'S, WESTMINSTER-BRIDGE, this and every evening.
HORSEMANSHIP, by Mr. Astley, Mr. Taylor, Signior
Markutchy, Miss Vangable, and other transcendent per-
formers. This performance will be commenced by a new
MINUET, danced by two Horses, in a most extraordinery
manner.
"A Comical Musical Piece, called THE AWKWARD
RECRUIT.
The Amazing Exhibition of THE DANCING Dogs,
from France and Italy, and other genteel Parts of the
globe, consisting of-1. Two Dogs as Chairmen, carrying
a Monky to a Maskerade. 2. Two dogs disputing
poleticks. 3. A Company of Dogs carrying from a
Vineyard, Baskits of Grapes, and accompanied by a
Savoyard, with a Magic Lanton. 4. A Dog as a Lady of
Quality in her Equipage, attended by others in elegant
liveries. 5. A Dog cobbling. 6. A Dog that walks on
any two of his Legs. 7. Two dogs, as a Tumbler, and his
attendant Clown. 8. A Dog dressed in a Spanish
192
ELLISTON ACTS WITH MUNDEN.
habbit, taking another little dog to a Boarding-school;
with a variety of others too numerus for Insertion. This
Exhibition will conclude with a Variety of Dogs dressed
in militaire, beseeching a Town; one of them represents
a Corporal returning with the Colurs of the Citadel in
his mouth to his General; he halts on three Legs, being
supposed to have received a muskit ball in one of his
four-feet. Two Bull-Dogs; the English Bull-Dog, rather
than quit his hold, suffers himself to be drawn Thirty
Feet high, whilst the Mashine is surrounded with Fire
Works, representing a heavy Discharge of small Arms
and Artilery.”
The season of the winter theatres being brought to a
close, the "
Independents" were not above acquiring new
strength from the national establishment. Holman,
Mathews, Liston, Mrs. Glover, and Jones, had been
engaged. Munden was now added to the Haymarket.
company, and made his appearance in the part of Old
Rapid.
This was the first time Munden and Elliston had been
brought together on the same boards, a concurrence
highly beneficial to the interests of the theatre, and
acceptable to the public. These two accomplished come-
dians soon understood each other, and gave ample
refutation to the absurd notion, that an actor of merit
displays to higher advantage by the side of inferior
pretensions—an idle principle, which may possibly throw
some artificial glare on the plated goods of inferior
manufacture, but is by no means the assay of the solid
bullion. Neither Munden nor Elliston had ever played
with greater individual effects, and each acquired some-
thing in addition to his own worth, by the manner in
which his points were justified by the opposite party.
A piece of practical humour transpired at the com-
mencement of this coalition, which we cannot forbear
inserting.
In his impersonation of Old Rapid (the tailor) Mun-
den invariably made a point, by quizzically unfolding a
new coat on the back of a chair, smoothing it down with
A PRACTICAL JOKE.
193
the pride of a satisfied artisan, and removing the papers,
one by one, which enveloped the bright new buttons.
This characteristic operation always produced a pleasant
response in the audience, and as it was nothing by which
comedy might be ashamed, Munden always made the
most of it.
Elliston, who was confessedly what is called a fair actor,
(never appropriating effects which did not belong to him),
on this evening, however, by one of his strange impulses,
when Munden was engaged at the back of the scene, was
seized by an irresistible envie for the buttons; and found
himself, perhaps before he was aware, in a felonious
assault upon Joe's pet joke, which he utterly annihilated,
by uncasing the buttons to as much laughter in the pit
as had ever been the award of Munden himself.
The dismay, the bitter disappointment to poor Joe, can
scarcely be conceived; his mortification was childish, for
tears came into his eyes. But this scene being over, a
second was acted in the Green Room. Munden rushed
into the apartment, passionately exclaiming, "Where is
he?—where is he?-let me tear him to pieces—who is
he?—what is he?—where does he come from? Bart'l'my
Fair ?—where is the jackanapes, I say!"
Elliston, who, like the trembling Rizzio, had flown to
petticoat protection, crouching behind the ample folds of
Mrs. Glover's white satin, now peeped out his head, which
the irate comedian perceiving, fell on him with the most
grotesque exhibitions of fury imaginable. Seizing him by
the hair, Munden shook his curls, bien poudrés, calling
him "an assassin," "a parricide," and a vast variety of
terms, which did the highest credit to his imagination.
Elliston roared lustily, but as some of the by-standers
considered he had well merited his punishment, and
others were mightily amused with the scene, none came
to his assistance.
About four days from this event, Munden and Elliston
played together in the "Road to Ruin ;" and at the con-
clusion of the third act, Munden again ran into the Green
Room, crying out, "Where is he ?-where is he, I say?
Hid him again, eh?" At the same time peeping in the
0
194
rear of the surrounding ladies, and fantastically raising
the flounces of their attire. "Bobby," cried he, running
up to Elliston-"Bobby, Bobby, I forgive you the buttons;
you have made me to-night-immortalized yourself—I'll
never play with any Harry Dornton but you, Bobby,"
continued he, shaking him, on this occasion, by the hand.
“You've beat 'em all-Holman, Lewis—all of 'em; but,
Bobby," pursued he, in a mock sententious tone, "don't
dash my buttons any more.
""
LORD MAYOR'S SHOW.
A melodramatic piece had been produced at the Surrey
Theatre, for the purpose of exhibiting two magnificent
suits of armour of the 14th century. Marriott, of Fleet
Street, undertook this work, and his estimate was £400.
Sir Claudius Hunter, the Lord Mayor elect, in his sur-
passing perceptions of the ceremonial for the ensuing 9th
of November, made application to Elliston for the loan of
his new armour, to assist in the civic pageant. The
request was acceded to, but accompanied with a provision
that the steel armour could only be permitted in the event
of the atmosphere being free of damp and fog on the day
in question; a condition which, at once, appeared to pre-
clude all hope of the said steel. As to the brass suit,
that was a perfectly unconditional favour, Mr. Kemble
undertaking the personal superintendence of decorating
the helmets with costly plumes.
The 9th of November arrived. Fair was the morning,
and bright the anticipations of the modern Walworth, as
he contemplated the glittering array which would pre-
sently become the gaze and admiration of the world of
London.
"Some wore coat armour, imitating scale,
And next the skin were stubborn shirts of mail;
Some wore a breast-plate, and a light jupon,
Their horses clad in rich caparison ;
One for his legs and knees provided well,
With jambeaux arm'd, and double plates of steel;
This on his helmet wore a lady's glove,
And that a sleeve, embroidered by his love."
Elliston was at this time in the country, and on the
195
following day an account of the previous one was thus
transmitted to him :--
"On the arrival of the cortège at Guildhall, we found
that no accommodation had been arranged for your men,
as Sir Claudius had promised, nor was a crumb of refresh-
ment ordered for either of them. For seven hours they
were kept within Guildhall, where they seem to have
been considered as much removed from the necessities of
the flesh, as Gog and Magog, above their heads. At
length, from the compassion of some persons at table,
Brass-armour was supplied with wine, which being in
bumpers, and passing into an empty stomach, had a very
positive effect on the inner man; and poor Brass-armour
began to reel, at the hazard of his own bones and the
very lives of his surrounding almoners, for he was-
MEN IN ARMOUR.
a thirsty soul,
Who took the challenge and embraced the bowl;
With gusto swilled the wine, nor ceased to draw,
Till he the bottom of the brimmer saw.'
"
"As to Steel-armour, he was far more discreet, refusing
wine without corn, and moved solemnly about, like the
ghost of Hamlet, in the very presence of Claudius him-
self; and looking, doubtless, with anxiety, to the crow-
ing of the cock, when he might render up himself.'
Brass, at length, became so very drunk, that it was
found necessary to attempt his removal; but being,
verily, pot-valiant, he appeared most unequivocally to
declare, Nemo me impune lacessit,' for he placed him-
self in as good an attitude of defence as he could, and
resolutely refused to budge an inch, which, as he was now
totally unable to stand, he might very fairly have avowed.
At length, however, the order of removal was enforced,
and the degraded knight was conveyed to his place of
settlement; Steel brought up the rear, and, like a true
lad of metal, strode to his fallen friend. Marriot was in
attendance until past midnight, when the two half-dead
bodies were released from their imprisonment, and Brass
and Steel carried off to the manufacturer's abode."
o 2
196
LETTER OF MRS. GARRICK.
Mrs. Garrick (the widow of our British Roscius) had
frequently honoured Mrs. Elliston by marks of attention,
and expressed herself interested in the welfare of her
family; and now, in her eighty-eighth year, she would
occasionally drive to Stratford Place, personally to delight
the young Ellistons by some agreeable surprise or well-
timed present. It was at this period a request was made
to her, on the part of Elliston, that she would become
sponsor to one of his children, Lucy ;* to which the fol-
lowing letter was written in reply
“MY DEAR SIR,—I cannot withhold expressing to you
my feelings on the receipt of your letter, the contents of
which have equally distressed and gratified me.
My
regard for Mrs. Elliston, yourself, and family, would at
once have occasioned me pleasure in a proposal to bring
us more nearly connected than we have been; but, my
dear friend, the refusal which I am compelled to send
you, for becoming godmother to your child, arises from a
sense of duty, which I am sure you will respect, and
freely release me from all charge of insincerity in my
professions towards you.
"In the course of the happy days I passed with my
revered, departed husband, comprehending, as you know,
thirty years, the question of baptismal surety occasionally
became a subject of his notice (for he had frequently been
invited to an honour similar to this which I have received
from you), and having strong feelings on the spirit of
this Christian institution, declined that as a distinction
or gratification, which he felt he might not be able to fulfil
as a moral and religious duty. This conviction he duly
impressed on me; and it is, indeed, in compliance with
his own request, I am now led to forego your proposal,
from the knowledge that I am already placed beyond the
possibility—even if God be pleased to spare my life a few
years longer-of acquitting my conscience in the respon-
sibilities I should bring upon it through my consent.
* Lucy Ann Theresa Elliston, born Dec. 21, 1811; died Jan. 28,
1831.
197
،،
Baptism is a holy sacrament of the church of Christ,
which, in the engagements of all parties therein con-
cerned, should be religiously remembered; but I fear,
with one-half the world, the office of sponsor to a Chris-
tian infant is looked upon in no graver light than as a
piece of fashion.
ELLISTON FIGHTS A DUEL.
“Your children will not want the regards of a warm
friend so long as I may be spared; and I trust, my dear
friend, in your proper anxiety in respect of this ordinance
of the Church, you will ever remember the moral well-
being of children must depend materially on the example
of parents, and that God will bless you with His grace to
fulfil this to His express will.
"I am, yours faithfully,
<<
Adelphi, March 21, 1812."
"E. M. GARRICK.
Eva Maria Garrick was born at Vienna, 1725; her
maiden name was Viegel; "Violette" she assumed
whilst in the service of the Empress Maria Theresa.
Violette, on her arrival in England, was bighly patronized
by the Countess of Burlington; as a dancer, she was in
equal favour at the Opera House. On Violette's mar-
riage with David Garrick, the earl presented her with a
portion of £6,000. This fact gave rise to a suspicion that
she was a natural daughter of the earl's—a belief not
altogether abandoned to this day. Mrs. Garrick died in
1822, in ber 98th year. She was placed in the same
vault with her husband in Westminster Abbey.
In September, Elliston was again distinguished by one
of those striking differences of opinion (by which "The
Noble Art of Self-Defence" is characterised) with his
old playmate, De Camp. That Elliston should take a
box in his own theatre was not unreasonable; that De
Camp, his officer, should participate the same, by no
means extraordinary; and that the Surrey should afford
66
a clear stage and no favour" was only fair play. We
beg, therefore, to insert a copy of a letter addressed to the
198
INVISIBLINA'S LETTER.
Morning Chronicle, by Sam Russell, on the 15th of the
same month :—
"SIR,-I perceive by your paper of this morning, that
some goodnatured friend has furnished you with an allu-
sion to a fracas which took place at this theatre a week
ago, between Mr. Elliston and Mr. De Camp, in such
form as grossly to misrepresent the circumstances. As I
have been referred to, I think it right, in justice to Mr.
Elliston and Mr. De Camp, to say that it is true, dissen-
sion did occur in the theatre on the evening of Tuesday,
the 8th, in which some hasty expressions were used on
both sides, and which, for a single moment, did occasion a
slight personal encounter. The éffect of this was a meet-
ing, the next morning, on Dulwich Common, where Mr.
Elliston was accompanied by myself, and Mr. De Camp
by one of his friends. Mr. Elliston and Mr. Camp
exchanged shots, when, on the interposition of Mr. De
Camp's friend and myself, the parties were prevailed on
to shake hands. And thus the matter ended."
On the above subject "Invisiblina " admonishes our
hero. Her spirit appears to have been greatly moved ;
and, in wonted mystery enthroned, she thus pours out the
vials of her wrath :-
"So! you've been fighting-admirable !—that short
antiseptic which many a rake-hell has adopted to sweeten
his offensive reputation. Alas! in sober sadness (a sad-
ness I fear you are but little acquainted with) I view you
in your new character-emulous of your illustrious pre-
decessors, Quin, Ryan, and Walker-a duellist ! The
declaration of the Great Frederick has ever pleased me:
'My subjects may fight if they like it; but unless one of
the parties be killed, I'll hang both.' If such were our
English law, we should have few of these mock heroics
to salve rotten reputations. How easy it is to become a
hero! and you have taken the shortest cut. How will
admiring crowds flock now to Dulwich Common, to view
ANECDOTE OF DUELLING.
199
the spot on which this Paris and Menelaus contended;
then will they say :—
'Can none remember that eventful day-
That ever-glorious, almost fatal fray-
When Vincent's leadless pistol met his eye,
And Surrey Columbines stood laughing by ?
"With what open arms the good people at Chelten-
ham must have received you after this exploit; and how
sunny must be the face of a gentleman who has just
received satisfaction! Pray let us have no more of these
scenes; the town is already laughing at you, from May
Fair to Redriff.
"Your wife will receive this day some brawn; and the
little Christian a token of 'Invisiblina's' regard. Let
the opening of Drury Lane Theatre be your great chance
to come."
There is an anecdote recorded of a son of Macklin,
who, when in India, fell into quarrel with a brother
cadet, the result of which was a hostile meeting. When
Macklin came on the ground, he appeared enveloped
from top to toe in a large great-coat, so that no part of
his figure could be distinguished but his head. On the
parties taking their stand, Macklin, to the surprise of all,
threw aside his extensive wrapper, and appeared in a
perfect state of nature, with the exception of a pair of
yellow slippers. To the inquiries of his antagonist, he
observed, "I am told that most of the wounds which
prove mortal in India arise from some part of the
woollen or linen of a man's dress being forced into the
flesh by the ball, occasioning in that climate a speedy
mortification; to avoid which, I am determined to fight
in the manner you see me."
tr
Now, Mrs. Charke, the eccentric daughter of Colley
Cibber, was guilty of an adventure still more outrageous,
in which (not to alarm the reader) we will at once pre-
mise, that although she appeared without her own attire,
* De Camp.
200
she had very abundantly borrowed that of another per-
son. Mrs. Charke had long lived on unpleasant terms
with her father, by whom she was treated with just seve-
rity for her total disregard of all social duties and com-
mon decorum. Being on one occasion greatly irritated
by the dramatist's refusal to honour her drafts, she
equipped herself after the style of a gentleman of the
road, and hiring a suitable charger, actually waylaid her
father upon Epping Forest, by stopping his chariot, pre-
senting her pistol, and desiring him to deliver. The
affrighted comedian, to save his life, could do no less than
part with his purse. Young man-young man," said
the dramatist, “this is a sorry trade; take heed in time!
"And so I would," replied Charlotte; "but I've a
wicked old hunks of a father, who rolls in money and
mistresses, yet denies me a guinea, and has had the impu-
dence to make so worthy a gentleman as yourself answer
for it." *
66
""
THE NEW DRURY LANE THEATRE.
-
On one of the pantomime nights at the Surrey, in this
season, the harlequin, in jumping through a window, fell
with considerable violence on the other side of the scene,
owing to the neglect of the carpenter in not having
placed the wadded bedding to receive him. The unhappy
pantomimist uttered a tremendous shriek, but was not
materially injured. On Elliston being apprised of the
circumstance, he observed: "Ay, there was much cry,
and little wool.”
By the enterprise and perseverance of Mr. Whitbread,
the new Drury Lane Theatre, in the spring of 1812, was
announced complete. A grand movement was now
making for opening this splendid edifice for dramatic
action, and rehearsing those antique glories by which
the site was still memorable.
Arnold being appointed to the management, Elliston
signed articles with the proprietors for five years' service,
determinable at their option at the end of the third year,
*The above was not quite an original exploit-Doll Cutpurse
robbed the celebrated General Fairfax on Hounslow Heath.
ADDRESSES.
at £30 per week for three nights' performances, and £5
nightly for any extra service.
In August, the committee announced, by advertise-
ment, that the authorship of the poetic Address to be
spoken on the restoration of the theatre, was open to
public competition. This declaration gave rise to the cele-
brated publication of the "Rejected Addresses," one of
the happiest efforts of its precise nature which has ever
perhaps appeared; and likely to enjoy the favour of pos-
terity equally with "the only true and particular com-
position, to which the play-going public were doomed for
nine consecutive nights.
""
(6
201
Upwards of one hundred sealed Addresses were forwarded
to the dread "Sorbonne" of the Drury Committee, of which
"sunt bona, sunt quædam mediocria, sunt mala plura ;”
and not a few of the number, as may well be imagined,
attacted notice after a fashion somewhat different to the
secret promptings of the respective bards; and, like the
tinker's terrier, have owed their preservation to being the
ugliest dogs" in the whole country. Some examples of
the litter we have seen; one or two we beg here to
unkennel. The first doggrel ran after this manner :
"A new theatre in quite a modern style,
Beautifully finish'd-a stupendous pile,
In a short time uprears its lofty crest,
Just like a burnt-out Phoenix from its nest ;
Where loyalty once more shall raise its voice,
All that can make a British heart rejoice.
Here the proud Corsican shall quickly know
The fortune which shall bumble England's foe;
Here shall he find the battles all recast-
Blenheim to Salamanca-July last.
;
To Whitbread thanks, and noble Holland too,
For bringing all this beauteous scene to view
Raising a temple where but yesterday
All was a mass of smoking stones and clay,
Showing so much of industry and skill,
And what the English can do if they will."
This composition was spun to above eighty lines.
will now pull out another cur by the ears :-
202
LORD BYRON.
"Once more we meet you-meet you once again,
Patrons and good old friends, in Drury Lane;
Once more in spite of all the fates can do,
Welcome a British audience-you-you-you!
But, oh! my thoughts are driven to recall
That fearful night, which you remember all,
When furious flames assail'd these hallow'd beams,
And sent their fury in ten thousand streams;
When you, good citizens, with aspect dire,
Shouted through London-' Drury is on fire!'
And pallid consternation held the town,
From the mechanic upwards to the Crown."
Thus we see the same ridiculous and blind affection
which made the ape in the fable produce her young one,
when a decree had been published amongst the beasts,
that the most beautiful offspring should become their
king.
So much for the "ugly dogs," and we really know not
that, amongst the whole pack (100 copies), there was a
single pet, beauty, or real "King Charles" worthy perpe-
tuating the Merry Monarch's patent for old Drury; or,
in other words, a single address deserving the great
occasion; but of this we are quite convinced, that it was
intended from the very first that Lord Byron should be
ultimately fixed on for the part, though Petrarch's crown
had been so ostentatiously declared the inheritance of
"him who was most worthy." Lord Holland managed
this Drury affair—a management more adroit than many
which followed beneath the same roof.
Under what was called an emergency, Lord Byron was
applied to for an address. The following is one of many
letters which the poet wrote to Lord Holland on the sub-
ject :
– Ag
"Sept. 27, 1812.
"I bave just received your very kind letter, and hope
you have met with a second copy, corrected and addressed
to Holland House. As to remarks, I can only say I
will alter and acquiesce in any thing. With regard to
the part which Whitbread wishes to omit, I believe the
Address will go off quicker without it, though, like the
203
agility of the Hottentot, at the expense of its vigour. I
should like Elliston to have it, with your leave.
LETTER FROM LORD HOLLAND.
"As there will probably be an outcry amongst the
rejected, I hope the committee will testify that I sent in
nothing to the congress whatever, with or without name,
as your lordship well knows. All I have to do with it is
with and through you; and though I, of course, wish
to satisfy the audience, I do assure you my first object
is to comply with your request; and in so doing to
show the sense I have of the many obligations you
have conferred upon me.
Yours ever,
"BYRON."
"The Address," by Lord Byron, is well known to
most of our readers. A copy was forthwith forwarded
to Elliston for study; some days subsequent to which
he received the annexed from Lord Holland:
"DEAR SIR,-I have referred to Lord Byron's copy,
and find it agrees with my notions respecting the lines;
and, with great deference to Walker, it should be so.
Would you begin your Hamlet soliloquy with—' Either
to be, or not to be?' There can be no question in
the matter. The fact is, these grammarians hand down
rules from other languages, or from their own theories,
and then endeavour to reduce our English tongue to
their own arbitrary standard, instead of making good
idiomatic writers their rule.
i
"It has occurred to me, that by repeating the 22nd
and 23rd lines a little more rapidly than you did this
morning, you will relieve the passage somewhat of its
solemnity, which, though striking and poetical, might be
felt monotonous.
"But you will judge of this matter better than I can,
and I only make the suggestion for the purpose of show-
ing you how little fault I can find with your recital.
"I am, dear Sir, your humble Servant,
"VASSALL HOLLAND."
204
OPENING OF THE NEW THEATRE.
On the day preceding the opening, the following note.
reached him :—
"DEAR SIR,—I have just received a letter from Lord
Byron, and he is anxious, should it not be too late, that
you should repeat the lines after 'Brinsley cease to write,'
as thus altered :-
'Heirs to their labours, like all high-born heirs,
Vain of our ancestry as well as theirs,
While thus remembrance borrows Banquo's glass,
To claim the sceptred shadows as they pass;
And we the mirror hold, where, imaged, shine
Immortal names, emblazon'd in our line,
Pause, &c.'
"The alteration is so trifling, that although it reaches
you at this late hour, I trust it will not embarrass you.
"Your humble servant,
"VASSALL HOLLAND."
Whitbread had also, at a "late hour," cut out of the
Address the passage which Lord Byron denominated his
"cavalry lines," these being a fling against the horses, at
this time unduly attractive at the rival house, Covent
Garden; and several members of the committee, also
desirous of claiming some little suggestion as their own,
all persecuted poor Elliston with trifling alterations, so
that his embarrassment might have been well forgiven,
had it really taken place. The alteration suggested
through Lord Holland was the form in which the Address
was subsequently published.*
On the 10th of October, the new theatre in Drury
Lane was opened with the tragedy of "Hamlet"-Ham-
let by Elliston-and the "Devil to Pay," preceded by
* Amongst the competitors for the prize Address, we find Wm. T.
Fitzgerald, Ch. Masterman, Mary Russell Mitford, G. F. Busby,
George Lamb, John Taylor, Joseph Hume, H. Jameson, Paul Jodrell,
Horatio Smith, Wm. Linley, Ch. Brinsley Sheridan, J. Edwards (a
sign-painter, who afterwards turned actor), and Wm. Burton (another
painter and glazier), &c.
MRS. BLAND.-ANECDOTE.
205
Lord Byron's occasional Address. The receipts amounted
to £842. 12s., and the sum of the first six nights
£3,541. 14s. ; an average of £580 per night.
A somewhat singular occurrence took place, at the
commencement of this season, in which Mrs. Bland, the
justly admired ballad songstress, bore a principal part.
Mrs. Bland had ordered a hackney-coach to be in readiness
at the stage-door of Drury Lane Theatre, to convey her
home, at the close of the evening's entertainment, at about
midnight. In she got, and the vehicle was forthwith on
its journey. After some considerable time, Mrs. Bland
felt astonishment at the course the horses were making,
being in a contrary direction to her place of residence,
through a variety of streets, and occasionally retracing
the line they had first taken. She pulled the check-string,
but to no purpose-the driver heeded her not.
She now
became alarmed, under the apprehension that the man
was drunk, and some serious accident might ensue. One
or two efforts more she made to arrest the circuitous pro-
gress of her charioteer, but with equal ill-success.
Being now thoroughly terrified, Mrs. Bland let down
the glass, and lustily cried aloud for help. The nature of
her distress, very naturally, raised a variety of surmises
among many who were witnesses to her exclamations, and
sundry "ribald jests" were passed on her lamentations,
by those who fancied our little singer was merely in
company with too lively a companion.
At length, however, the horses were stopped, and on
further examination of the case, it was discovered, that
the poor driver had died upon his box. The man was
still in a crouching posture on the foot-board, but life
perfectly extinct. This event occasioned Mrs. Bland
much disquiet and considerable trouble, as an inquest was
consequently the result, at which it was necessary she
should give evidence.
Mrs. Bland was deservedly a permanent favourite with
the public-the best English ballad-singer on the stage.
Her popularity rested solely on her professional merits,
for we may perhaps be excused in saying, that personal
206
DISAPPOINTED POETS.
attractions had little to do with her success, and whatever
patronage she had, she fairly won.
Mrs. Bland's maiden name was Romanzini. She ap-
peared first, we believe, at Liverpool, about the year, 1789.
She was a Jewess. Miss Romanzini was a great favourite
with the Liverpool people, amongst whom were many
Roman Catholics; and the mother of our vocalist, for the
purpose of persuading the inhabitants of Liverpool that
her daughter was not of Judah, compelled her to sit at
her open window on every Saturday, occupied in needle-
work; and, in addition to this, she was usually sent by
the politic parent, into the public market to buy a pig,
and was compelled to carry it home herself, to give further
confirmation as to this religious point. To such an extent
did the mother employ this sort of evidence, that in the
instance of her daughter taking a benefit, an advertisement
announced that tickets were to be had at Miss Ro-
manzini's residence, and also at a porkbutcher's, near the
market."
Lord Byron's apprehension of "an outcry amongst the
rejected," appears to have been very shrewdly entertained.
An outcry did take place in various directions, expressed
through the public journals, complaining of partiality in
the tribunal of Drury Lane, and accusing the committee
of "
a job," as respected Lord Byron. The clamour thus
raised, attended by much caustic criticism on the address
which had been delivered, produced the following appeal
from the conclave of the Drury committee. We offer a
copy from the very original, in our possession, of the
published letter:-
((
SIR,-It is necessary to correct some mis-statements
respecting the Address spoken at the opening of Drury
Lane Theatre.
“No pecuniary reward was ever offered.
"Lord Byron's prologue was not among those submitted
to the committee before the 10th of September last. It
was not till those so submitted had been examined and
judged unfit by the persons to whom the decision was
،،
PETRONICULUS.”
207
referred, that Lord Byron was requested to furnish the
Address which has been spoken with so much success and
criticised with so much acrimony. Lord Byron entered
into competition with nobody. When requested to write
an address, he undertook that difficult task, and executed
it in a manner gratifying to the managers and, I firmly
believe, satisfactory to the public. The committee
acknowledged considerable merit in some of the rejected
addresses, and have recorded, in a resolution, their favour-
able opinion of two.
“The scheme of competition failed. Recourse was had
to a writer whose poetical reputation stands high, and a
work was produced which, with some imperfections, is
nevertheless remarkable for more novelty, as well as poetry,
than could reasonably have been expected in so hackneyed
a theme.
"These disappointed writers have it, however, still in
their power to adopt the generous example of Dr. Mil-
bourne, recently sanctioned by Dr. Busby's imitation, and
to publish their own compositions. Such an appeal to
the public may possibly reconcile the most fastidious to
the Address which was spoken, and till it has been made,
all censure on the committee for their condemnation of
the works submitted to them, must be founded on con-
jecture only-Carpere vel noli nostra, vel ede tua.
"I am, Sir,
"PETRONICULUS.
""
This letter was stated at the time, to have been drawn
up by a leading member of the committee :-by Lord
Byron himself, there can be little doubt.*
* "Soon after the Rejected Addresses' scene, in 1812, I met
Sheridan. In the course of dinner, he said, 'Lord Byron, did you
know that amongst the writers of addresses was Whitbread himself?
I answered by an inquiry what sort of an address he had made.
Of that,' replied Sheridan, I remember little, except that there
was a phoenix in it.' A phoenix! well, how did he describe it?'
'Like a poulterer,' answered Sheridan, 'it was green and yellow, and
red, and blue-he did not let us off, for a single feather."-Byron's
Letters, 1821.
208
ELLISTON'S COMEDY PARTS.
During this season Elliston played most of his first
comedy parts, and acted throughout with remarkable
spirit and success; amongst them, Benedick-Don Felix
Archer -Young Mirabel Leon Mercutio Don
Alonzo, in Coleridge's play, "The Remorse "— Valentine,
"Love for Love”—and Joseph,
-and Joseph, “School for Scandal,” for
the first time.
CHAPTER II.
PHILIP ASTLEY.
Ir was now that the eccentric Philip Astley, finding
his Olympic Pavilion, in Wych Street, not quite the
profitable concern it had previously been, felt a strong
inclination for its disposal; and well knowing Elliston's
omnivorous appetite for this species of prey, he contrived,
in a circuitous manner (truly characteristic of an amphi-
theatrical), that the intelligence should reach the ears of
our enterprising comedian. Elliston snapped at the bait
presently—“The very thing for me!" cried he—“so near
to Drury! Such a family circle!
Such a family circle! I'll set about it
directly."
Straightway, on the very morning of his information,
Elliston was under the lintel of Hercules' Hall, the seat
of the redoubtable equestrian, and at once made known to
him the nature of his business. "Father Philip," with
well counterfeited surprise, listened to the suitor's pro-
posal; and in the language of a fond parent, replied that,
as he was certainly descending into the vale of years, he
had felt a natural anxiety for seeing his child well settled
before he died, and should not therefore be deaf to any
honourable offer which might be made for the hand of his
little pet;
"for it is verily my own flesh and blood," added
he; an observation well applied, for the pretty Witch
was, in point of fact, the very offspring of Philip's labour,
the theatre having been literally built with his own
bands.
The history is curious.
In 1805, Lord Craven granted a lease to Astley of a
piece of ground in Wych Street, for a term of sixty-one
years, at an annual rent of 100%. On this spot a theatre
P
210
was to be erected, and a sum not less than £2,500 to be
expended, with other covenants.
The spot of ground so granted, was the most unshaped
and unshapable pied-à-terre which can be imagined. In
this space, however, the geometric Amphi-Philip proposed
to describe a circle; for which purpose he collected about
him a variety of workmen from a neighbouring public-
house (which, by-the-bye, happened to be "The Com-
passes"), and immediately set to business.
Some old naval prizes being at this time on sale, Philip
purchased the timber of what he called the " Wheel de
Parrey," which being designed for the exercise of his
horses, had perhaps its apposite accentuation; and with
the masts, yards, and bowsprit of the shattered French-
man, he formed the main props and support of his new
play-house; evidence of which is to this day discernible
in the rear of the boxes of the Olympic theatre. Here
Philip, in his one-horse chaise, which was constructed
closely to fit the rotundity of his person, sat, day after
day, like a prebendary in his stall, giving directions to
his operatives around him, who carried on the process of
the building. The brickwork was very trifling, the limbs
of the Wheel de Parrey being principally pressed into
this new service, clothed in tin and tarpauling, and
bearing tiers of boxes from the identical joints which
once carried tiers of guns.
WYCH-STREET THEATRE.
*
Through favour of her Majesty, Astley obtained a
licence for music, dancing, and equestrian exhibitions.
Thus, in the course of a short time, a tolerable theatre
was erected. The audience part consisted of one tier of
boxes, a pit, which surrounded the ride, at the back of
which a space, denominated a gallery, was parted off by
an iron grating, through which the crowd, like the
untamed animals in Cross's menagerie, caught what they
could, which was little enough. Here was no orchestra,
but a small divided band of musicians occupied the stage-
boxes, on each side of the house, and appeared very like
one royal party fiddling at the other.
On the 18th of March, Philip Astley assigned his
* Destroyed by fire, March 29, 1849.
A HORSE-TAMER.
211
interest to Elliston for £2,800, and an annuity of £20, so
long as he should procure for the new purchaser a renewal
of the licence.
In 1803 Philip Astley bad a riding-school in Paris,
since known as Franconi's. Not being allowed to quit
Paris, he applied to the Minister of the Interior for leave
to go to Piedmont in consequence of ill-health. He
thereupon proceeded leisurely to Frankfort-on-the-Maine,
where he heard of the death of his wife, which made him
the more seriously reflect on his captivity.
He determined now at all hazards to make an effort to
return to his native country, and, embarking on board a
boat on the Maine, he took the first opportunity of pro-
ceeding towards the Rhine, and presently found himself
in the Prussian territory of Westphalia; from thence he
continued his route through the northern countries, and
at length reached the place of his embarkation. While
here, felicitating himself on his near approach to his
home, the news arrived of the disastrous conflagration,
which had destroyed his theatre at Westminster Bridge,
on the 2nd September.
A short time after his arrival, Astley laid the first
stone of a new theatre. In addressing the visitors on
that occasion, he said that the loss was beyond all calcu-
lation, and which was the more felt, being so soon followed
by the seizure of his estates in a neighbouring kingdom,
in consequence of a decree for the confiscation of British
property. In 1814 he returned to Paris, where he died
in his 72nd year, and was buried in the cemetery of Père
la Chaise.
Philip Astley was unquestionably the best horse-tamer
of his time. When in want of a horse he would go to
Smithfield, and, relying on his judgment, purchase three,
four, or five, to his liking. He seldom gave more than
five pounds for each. He cared little for shape, make, or
colour; temper was his only consideration. It was one
of these five-pounders that brought him more than any
other of his whole stud: the horse would take a kettle
off a blazing fire, deliberately set the tea-table, and pre-
pare for company. He would play like a kitten with
P 2
212
ABRAHAM SAUNDERS.
those he knew. There was not a person in the establish-
ment who was not partial to Billy.
Saunders, of Fair notoriety, had been brought up by
old Astley, who had a great regard for him, and occa-
sionally lent him a nag. Saunders on one occasion coaxed
the old gentleman to let him have his favourite Billy for
a few weeks; but being always in difficulties, during this
transaction, the whole stud was unfortunately seized, and
Billy with the rest was sold to the best bidder. Saunders
was now boxed in the Fleet, and all trace of poor Billy
lost. Three years had now passed away, when Crossman
and another of Astley's riders were threading a street at
the east end of London, and the following scene took
place:
“I say, Jack, I'm a Dutchman, if there isn't our Billy."
Vy, vhere?"
"Vy, there, in that 'ere cart."
" Unpossible !"
"I tell you 'tis Billy; and I'll bet you a pair of
boots of it. And I'm a Dutchman, but I'll try him.”
Now, Astley had always taught his horses by signs,
and one was, clicking the nail of the forefinger and
thumb together; this the men no sooner did, than Billy
obeyed the signal, pricked up his ears; capered and
curvetted in token of delight in meeting with old friends.
The men now found the owner at an adjoining public-
bouse, offered to purchase the horse, which he agreed to,
999
for," said he, "he is a monstrous good-tempered creature,
but sometimes he has such odd capers, that we calls him
'Mountebank.' The bargain was struck, and Billy that
night returned to his old quarters, and was received by
his venerable master with tears of joy. The next Monday
night he took the tea-kettle off the fire, and continued
his tricks for some time, and died at a good old age.
Abraham Saunders was almost as great a character as
his master. He was well known to the public as a rider
and showman for nearly three-quarters of a century. He
experienced all the vicissitudes of an itinerant exhibitor;
sometimes in the most prosperous circumstances, but
more frequently in the greatest distress.
cr LITTLE DRURY-LANE THEATRE."
When George the Fourth went to Dublin, Abraham
Saunders was intrusted with the care of the Hanoverian
horses. During his absence, the Royalty Theatre was
burnt down, by which he sustained considerable loss.
But his own troop of horses, fifteen in number, perished
in the Irish seas, the vessel being wrecked in a dreadful
storm.
In his several speculations, poor Abraham was unfor-
tunate; eventually he was reduced to great poverty, and
procured a precarious subsistence by penny exhibitions ;
but even these he was compelled to give up.
He was
brought before a magistrate, at Worship Street Office, for
being the proprietor and director of a penny theatre at
Haggerston; the poor old man (for he had then entered
his 90th year) came to the office in a sort of little box on
wheels, drawn by a Shetland pony, himself inclosed in a
bear-skin dress. He died at his apartments in Mill
Street, Lambeth Walk, being in his 92nd year.
213
Elliston soon collected a company, and on Easter
Monday, 19th of April, 1813, the Olympic Pavilion,
under the title of "Little Drury Lane Theatre," was
opened by him. In the following May the house was
abruptly closed by order of the Lord Chamberlain, as
will be seen hereafter.
Elliston's new acquisitions were but fresh temptations
to his "vaulting ambition." Our truly "Dramatic Na-
poleon" appeared scheming a Confederation of the Stage,
for scarcely had he annexed the Olympic to his sway,
than he was actually in treaty for the Dublin, the Edin-
burgh, and Birmingham theatres !—the last of which he
finally secured.
Mr. Phipps, being at this time in Dublin, writes to
him :-
CC
Jones, the proprietor of the theatre in this city, on
finding you had purchased the Olympic in London, and
* When Wewitzer was appointed manager of the Royalty (1790),
during Palmer's difficulties, he advertised for unemployed actors, and
received letters from seven hundred persons!
214
CONWAY-FARREN-MISS O'NEIL.
hearing-like 'a wholesale dealer'— you were still in
negotiation for playhouses by the gross, requests me to
announce to you that he is willing to part with his interest
in the Crow-street theatre, and that it would be by far
the richest jewel in your managerial coronet. In the
first place, Jones, by virtue of his patenteeship, is deputy-
master of the revels in Dublin, and licenses his own
pieces; a distinction which the dramatic monopoly of
all England would not confer on you in that country.
He believes there is but one man fitted to succeed to his
palmy state-namely, yourself; and were it not that my
advice to you would be to have nothing to do with the
business, I should think so too. His interest in the con-
cern is to the extent of three-fourths, for which he
demands thirty thousand guineas.
"Conway has a good share of popularity here, parti-
cularly amongst the women; and where they go, the men
of Dublin are very apt to be found. His height is six
feet two inches, an evident consciousness of which, gives
him an ungainly inclination of body, which, without dimi-
nishing the outline, disparages his manly presence. In
acting, he is artificial and extravagant.
“Of low comedians, we have a Mr. William Farren,
who has a great flavour of originality. He is already a
good actor; but he has a hardness of style which yet
keeps him in the rear of Munden; and the only term
perhaps which could be used in dissent from Farren would
be, that Munden is better.
"We have also a Miss O'Neil, who bears the greatest
promise. She is most deservedly a high favourite with
the Dublin audience. Her line is tragedy and leading
comedy. Her performance, the other night, of Mrs. Oakley,
was quite first rate. In sensibility, she is indeed for
tenderness formed.' In the affair of the heart, she touches
nearer than Mrs. Siddons; we may, with great truth,
apply to her the language of the poet-
• Poor Monimia mourns,
And Belvidera pours her soul in love.'
I now believe in Thespis and his adventures, for this lady
THE BIRMINGHAM THEATRE.
215
first acted in a stable. Tell it not to the Covent Garden
people, or they will plead it for their horses."
Notwithstanding the inhibition of Phipps, Elliston yet
entered into a long correspondence with Jones on this
subject, which, after a few weeks, was brought to a ter-
mination by Elliston abandoning the scheme altogether.
In the same month Elliston commenced a similar cor-
respondence with Harry Siddons respecting the Edinburgh
theatre. Managers and proprietors appeared unanimous.
on the extraordinary qualifications of Elliston for con-
ducting theatrical affairs, all assuring him he was the only
fit person to be placed at the helm of their adventurous
barks.
Mr. Siddons says—
"A heart-weariness of management could alone induce
me to part with a property so really valuable ; but myself
and wife are of one mind, that a private station, with less
means, would better suit our dispositions—a feeling with
which your active temper may have but little sympathy."
Here was another match broken off; not that the great
dramatic polygamist had any hesitation of throwing him-
self into the arms of a new mistress, as will presently be
seen, but the divorcée of Siddons appeared not so attractive
in his eyes, to risk any of that "heart-weariness" which
had occasioned the repudiation by her "lord Harry."
Within three weeks of the termination of the above
suit, Elliston entered into a new courtship. The Bir-
mingham theatre was to be let, and he became lessee for a
term of five years, with covenants to keep open doors
during twenty weeks in each year, and to act himself at
least twelve nights in each season.
The earliest Birmingham theatre was built in 1740.
During the day, the comedian beat up his volunteers
for the night, scattering his bills, and proclaiming the
merits of his company. In 1751, a party arrived in
the town, calling themselves-"His Majesty's Servants
from the Theatres Royal," and expressed a hope the public
would not expect a drum about the streets, as being
beneath the dignity of a London Company.
The two great London patentees now took alarm.
66 GELERT AND VICTOR."
Elliston had opened his "Little Drury" on Easter, with
burlettas and musical pieces under a licence for the whole
year, which he had safe enough in his pocket, and the
proprietors of Covent-garden and Drury-lane theatres
now memorialized the Chamberlain to the effect that,
when the licence had been originally granted to Philip
Astley, they had been assured by his Lordship that it
should be only for the period during which the Amphi-
theatre at Westminster-bridge was closed, and then only
for equestrian exhibitions. Here certainly had been a
great oversight in the Chamberlain's office; this promise
had doubtless been made, and the patentees had a right
to complain; but it is no less true that Elliston was
officially armed by the power with which he had com-
menced operations, and could not fairly be disseised. He,
however, received notice that, notwithstanding the
statement he had made, the performances must be
discontinued.
216
In the mean time, operations at the Surrey went on
prosperously. A melo-dramatic piece, under the title,
Lewellyn," was produced, in which the chief performers
were two extraordinary dogs. Like the old Lady's pet,
they "could do everything but speak ;" and sure such a
pair was never seen, as Gelert and Victor, in Blackfriars-
road. The poet has said—
66
"Brutes are my present theme, what then?—
I never said they equalled men;"
but in this instance they far surpassed the combined
human force at the Surrey Theatre. Gelert and Victor
were in larger letters in the daily bills, than Giroux and
Taylor of the previous season, and certainly behaved far
better.
The following public announcement was truly
Ellistonian-
"A CARD.-In consequence of the extraordinary ex-
citement into which the public mind has been thrown in
respect of the two dogs, Gelert and Victor, now under
(6
""
JACK TAYLOR.'
217
engagement at the Surrey Theatre, and exhibiting nightly
instances of sagacity-it might almost be said, reasoning
powers-Mr. Elliston offers no objection to respectable
parties visiting the animals between the hours of one and
three of the afternoon. Mr. Elliston requests that
parties who may thus honour his establishment at the
time above stated, will insert their names in a book left
for that purpose, at the stage entrance.”
((
Elliston was acquainted with (and amongst public men,
at this period, who was not?) the eccentric John Taylor,
or "Jack Taylor," or "Sun Taylor," or "Oculist Taylor," or
Taylor the Punster," with sundry other cognomina, all of
which he had well earned by his versatility of fancy and
employment. Of the "Sun" newspaper, Taylor was pro-
prietor and editor, and had consequently ample opportunity
for the indulgence of his wit in stanzas "pastoral, pastoral-
comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical or tragical-
comical."
Taylor was a punster—an inveterate punster-and ex-
tremely fond of the theatre, "a play," either on the stage
or on words. He had a peculiar expression which he
applied to most persons, at random-namely, "He's an
odd man." For example, he would say, "I called yesterday
on So-and-So-he's an odd man. Saw his wife-she's an
odd woman; the young curate was at dinner—clever—
but he's an odd man; saw the new Juliet last night,
nothing remarkable about her—but she's an odd girl."
Going into the Green-room of the Haymarket theatre
on one occasion, he was requested to subscribe a small
sum to a distressed chemist, who had lived in Panton
Street, and had been well known to Colman. "A broken
chemist, is he?" said Taylor. "Well, there's half a crown
for the exhausted receiver."
"On another night," says Colman, "Taylor being behind
the scenes when a part, at a short notice, had been put
into the hands of a certain lady, who was no great
favourite with either actors or visitors, she said, 'Well, if
I must go through it, I'll put a good face on it;' to which
Taylor replied, 'If your acting the part has anything to
218
do with the good face you can put upon it, you'd better
give up the trial altogether.""
JOCULAR LETTER.
On a subsequent occasion, Taylor dining with Colman,
the latter holding up the decanter, which had just been
replenished, observed, "Gad! small bottles these, I
fancy;" to which Taylor answered, "Ay, ay, as a poet,
Colman, you ought to know better than to give us a false
quantity."
Colman having accused him of uttering an old joke,
"Well, well," replied Taylor, "there's nothing new under
the 'Sun." "
Taylor thus writes to our friend :-
"I thank you much for the entertainment you afforded
me on Tuesday last-the first time I had been abroad
since my illness. I fancy I am all the better for your
fire and smoke; it got into my lungs, set me coughing,
and gave me exercise. Your dogs are marvels.
((
But, my good friend, why do you scatter yourself in
this manner? We hear of you in twenty theatres in
half the number of nights. And why do you give the
meridian of your powers to nocturnal revels?
You are
ever dreaming, yet never asleep; in fact you are an odd
man.
"I have read your pamphlet in answer to the memo-
rialists of Covent Garden and Drury Lane, and am bound
to say, you're a clever creature-a polemic of the first
order.
"I thank you for your civilities
civilities; but till the weather
improves I shall not stir out again. Like the poor gen-
tleman, I may say, 'I have seen better days.'
"I wish you would send copies of your catalogues to
Francis Freeling, of the General Post-office; he is a great
purchaser of curious books. Should you not be acquainted
with him, you may say that it was by my desire you sent
them. He is one of the most liberal beings I ever knew ;
but he is an odd man.
Yours ever,
"JOHN TAYLOR."
EDMUND KEAN.
At the usual period for commencing operations at
Drury Lane Theatre, Elliston returned from Birmingham
to London, but did not open his Wych-street establish-
ment until December, and was then compelled to desig-
nate it "The Olympic ;" the title "Little Drury" being
offensive to the great patentees.
<<
219
Miss Tidswell, for many years an actress at Drury
Lane Theatre, having about this time made application
to Elliston for an engagement in favour of her nephew,
Edmund Kean, the following correspondence took place:—
Barnstaple, Oct. 2, 1813.
SIR, I have this moment received your proposals
for the Wych Street Theatre-id est―Little Drury, and
much deplore your letter not finding me.
"The terms Miss Tidswell, by your authority, men-
tioned to me, are the superintending the stage, the whole
of the principal line of business under all denomination of
acting, and an equal division of the house on the night of
my benefit, with three guineas a week for salary.
"I place so firm a reliance on your reputed liberality,
that on the proof of my humble abilities and assiduity
towards the promotion of your interests, you will not be
unmindful of mine; I accept, sir, your present proposal,
simply requesting you will name what time you expect
me in London.
""
"E. KEAN."
It appears, however, that on the 29th of the same
month, Kean addressed a letter to Dr. Drury, requesting
a reply to an application which he had already made to
that gentleman for a situation at Drury Lane Theatre;
saying, at the same time, that he had received offers from
Mr. Elliston for the Wych Street Theatre.
On the 13th of November, Mr. Whitbread wrote to
Dr. Drury, stating that the representations made by Mr.
Pascoe Grenfell respecting Kean's talent were such as to
make it desirous Mr. Arnold should see him on the stage,
and suggested the actor's coming to London for a trial,
the committee paying all his expenses, &c.
220
BITTER CORRESPONDENCE.
In the mean time, on the 11th of November, Kean had
again addressed Elliston, saying, that in the event of his
services being required before the time stipulated, he
should be ready to make his appearance in Wych Street
in ten days.
To this proposal it does not appear Elliston assented.
He awaited only the time first appointed for the arrival
of the country actor. But on the 19th he received the
following, dated Dorchester :-
(6
SIR,-Since I last wrote to you, I have received a
very liberal offer from the proprietors of Drury Lane
Theatre. It gives me unspeakable regret that the propo-
sals did not reach me before I had commenced negotiating
with you; but I hope, sir, you will take a high and
liberal view of the question when I beg to decline the
engagement for Little Drury. Another time I shall be
happy to treat with you.
"I am, Sir, &c.
E. KEAN."
This was verily taking the bull by the horns. Kean
attempted neither to quibble nor fence with the fact, but
confessing his engagement with Elliston, trampled all
obligations at once beneath his feet, pronouncing only,
66
My reason's in my will." Such a line of proceeding
Elliston was but little inclined to take gently, and im-
mediately addressed Kean to that very positive effect. But
Kean was now in Cecil Street, London. He writes,
December 6th:
“SIR,―The fate of my family is in your hands. Are
you determined to crush the object that never injured
you? In one word—are you to receive our imprecations
or our blessings ?
66
Through your means I am deprived of my situation
in Drury Lane Theatre, unless I produce a document
from you that I am not a member of the New Olympic.
How can you reconcile this more than Turkish barba-
rity? If you must display your power, direct it against
221
SETTLEMENT OF THE QUESTION.
one more fortunate than myself. You have become a
thorn in the side of my young fortune. I shall conclude
by simply requesting you to inform me whether I am to
become a member of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, or
again, penniless, hopeless, and despised, am I to be cast
again on the provinces, the rejected of this great city,
which should afford a home to industry of every kind?
With my family at my back will I return, for the walls of
Wych Street I will never enter. In this strong determi-
nation, but with weakened respect for you, Sir, I am
"E. KEAN."
Elliston rejoins, December 8th :—
"To any man with the smallest gift of intellect and
the dimmest sense of honour, it must appear that on the
11th of November, and previous to that time, you deemed
yourself engaged to me, and that subsequently a more
attractive offer having been made, you held it convenient
to consider a pledge as idle as words muttered in a dream.
All my engagements are made and fulfilled with honour
on my part, and I expect an equal punctuality from
others. Yours, &c.
"R. W. ELLISTON."
While this difference was pending, Kean thus addresses
his friend, Manager Lee, of Taunton :—
"MY DEAR LEE,-I am in a damned situation, or,
rather, in no situation at all. Elliston has claimed my
services; but I will never join the toss-pot. The Drury
Lane Committee have decided against me, and have
actually withdrawn my salary. Not all the world, or the
world's ills, shall force me into that feculent hole in Wych
Street. So here am I in London, without friends, with-
out money, and a brand upon me by which I can acquire
neither."
But the Kean and Elliston case, with all its acrimony,
was soon after brought to a settlement. The Wych Street
manager consented to cancel the engagement, on the con-
dition that Kean should compensate H. Wallack with
three pounds per week to take his duties at the Olympic,
222
VIOLINO OBLIGATO !"
and the new hero of Drury entered on his career at a
salary of eight pounds per week, January 26th, 1814.
(6
Elliston possessed, in an eminent degree, the art of
rendering himself mysterious; "and when the fit was on
him," aided by the mystification of the grape, it was indeed
marvellous.
Advancing from his room in the theatre, on a certain
evening, where he had been honouring, peradventure, his
own symposium, and walking mysteriously on the stage,
he inquired for his manager, Russell, at the same time
uttering, with earnestness, "Violino obligato."
Russell, who was perfectly aware of the eccentricities
of Elliston, merely waited for a solution; but Elliston
fixed his eyes on him, and said, with gravity,
"Do you
understand me? Violino obligato."
Russell, affecting to comprehend, sent the call-boy
down to the orchestra for Mr. Mountain, the leader.
In the mean time, Elliston caught sight of the master-
carpenter, and beckoning him to his presence, said, with
an air of profundity, " Violino obligato."
"What is it, sir?" asked the carpenter, touching his
hat. Elliston put his mouth close to the operative's ear,
and muttered, “Violino obligato."
The overture being over, and the curtain about to rise,
the prompter gave the usual word to clear the stage,
when Elliston turned to him with an indescribable look,
and said, "Violino obligato." He then went off at the
side, where Mrs. Edwin was waiting to begin the piece,
and pressing her hand, repeated "Violino obligato."
Presently Mr. Mountain came up, and asked what Mr.
Elliston had to say to him.
"Violino obligato" was the only reply.
Mountain put several questions, in the hope of obtain-
ing a direct answer; but he could not elicit anything
else but “ Violino obligato.”
The leader, who was a good solo-player on the violin,
[Edmund Elliston, born September 17, 1813; godfather,
S. Rundall.]
DEEPER MYSTIFICATION.
223
now concluded that Mr. Elliston wished him to perform
something of the sort; but he thought he would wait
until the manager should be more explicit on the subject.
A new melo-drama was to be produced on the following
Monday, but there had been some difference of opinion as
to its title. Fairbrother, the printer, was in attendance
with the proof of the play-bill, and he was waiting the de-
cision of Mr. Elliston to insert the name of the melo-drama.
"What is to be the title of the new piece, sir?" asked
the printer.
“Violino Obligato,” replied Elliston.
"Sir?" answered the printer.
“Violino Obligato, sir," said Elliston, in his most
imperturbable manner.
The people who were about our hero were well accus-
tomed to his oddities, and knew that when the fit was
over, all would go right again.
At the end of the middle piece, Elliston brushed up his
hair with his hand, and buttoning his coat, passed, the
prompter without saying a word, and walked on the stage
before the curtain with his hat in his hand, and bowing
stiffly to the audience, thus addressed them :-
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I should consider myself
an ineffective caterer for the public, and quite unworthy
your patronage, if I omitted any opportunity in my en-
deavours to amuse you. I therefore most respectfully
inform you that, notwithstanding the extraordinary
attraction of the present novelties, I deem it imperative
to produce on Monday next, an entirely new melo-drama
of powerful incident, the title of which, for cogent reasons
connected with the immediate interests of my property
(this theatre), I must for the present withhold.
"All that I can, at this moment, venture to divulge,
Ladies and Gentlemen, is Violino Obligato."
The manager then made his bow and quitted the stage,
leaving the audience in a state of mystification; he then
determined to go home, and ordered Evans, his messenger,
to get him a coach; while the man had gone out for it,
Elliston wrote a note to his stage manager, in rather
unsteady penmanship:
224
AN UNEXPECTED SHOWER.
"MY DEAR RUSSELL,-Do not omit in the morning to
remind me of ' Violino Obligato.'
"R. W. E."
Evans returned with the hackney-coach.
“Where shall I tell the coachman to drive, sir ?”
Elliston looking out at the window, replied "Violino
Obligato."
On the following morning, when questioned by Russell,
Elliston had not the slightest recollection of the events of
the preceding evening.
Under the various phases of Elliston's character, we
must here exhibit an instance of forbearance and good
nature. Amongst the persons employed at the Olympic
was a scene-painter, who had the misfortune of not being
highly popular with his fellow-labourers in the establish-
ment-in fact, a most disagreeable fellow. One of the
carpenters projected a trick to mortify him, and this was
placing a vessel nearly full of red paint on the upper edge
of his working-room door, as it stood ajar, which, on any
one entering, would consequently be capsized, like "Prone-
descending rain," right over his person. The vessel being
all ready, the next purpose was to induce the said artist
to make his way to the room in question, and receive his
quantum meruit."
66
But by some mismanagement, at the moment, Elliston
himself came by, and having business to transact in the
scenic department, with his usual dignity of action, threw
open the charged door, when the vermilion shower fell
with a precision over his head and shoulders, which almost
threatened suffocation. Consternation filled the minds of
the skulking conspirators-and well it might. As soon
as Elliston could recover his breath, in terrific accents he
commanded that the whole establishment should be sum-
moned before him; this was instantly obeyed. Red and
fiery, like Zamiel himself, he yet sat down with imper-
turbed dignity, when, shaking his gory locks, or rather
the cardinal's hat, with which he had just been invested,
KEAN'S PARENTAGE.
225
he demanded instant explanation of the event, and the
surrender of the offender.
The real culprit now stood forward, and at once con-
fessed himself both the adviser and perpetrator of the
plot, but thoroughly explaining for whom the revenge.
was intended.
(C
((
Ay!" said Elliston-" for Mr.
Upon my honour!" was the reply.
-, say you?"
"Then I forgive you !" rejoined the manager, and off he
marched to incarnadine the Olympic pump with the
evidence of his dishonour.
The publication of the "Memoirs of Edmund Kean,”
and sundry Miscellaneous Recollections connected with
that remarkable actor, having been for years before the
public, render it unnecessary to say much on the subject
in this place; but some few statements therein having
been hazarded respecting Kean's infancy, we will venture
to offer, amongst other probabilities, the evidence of one
who took considerable pains to arrive at the truth.
namely, Mr. Winston.
W
Edmund Kean was born, in all probability, in the year
1788. The question of parentage is altogether "buried
in surmise,” arising rather from contradictory statements
than the absence of information; so that we must be
content to place it amongst those "Mysteries" which
were the parent of his own peculiar art, and, as a de-
scendant of Calus and Terra, receive him at once as a
divinity.
Kean himself, at times, would claim the parentage of
the Duke of Norfolk; a West-India merchant, by the
name of Duncan-and one Edward Kean, in the employ
of a Mr. Wilmot, a builder. Thus, under the names
Howard, Duncan, Kean, and sometimes Clarke (which
latter he assumed from one of his early patronesses), he
variously amused his own imagination, and completely
mystified the fact to others.* But to this he was enti-
tled, as, without doubt, he knew as little about the
*Joseph Trefusis, an actor who appeared soon after the Restora-
226
matter as any unwise child could be supposed; one per-
son, Miss Tidswell, for many years an actress at Drury
Lane Theatre, was understood to be in the secret; but
as her accounts, like those of Kean, were not always
homologous, she has still bequeathed to us as much
doubt on the subject. Miss Tidswell sometimes called
herself his aunt, and Kean sometimes saluted her as
mother. These, however, might have been mere playful
terms, "signifying nothing."
HIS INFANCY.
According to Miss Tidswell's general story, Kean was
the child of Edward Kean, by Nancy Carey, an actress;
and born in Gray's Inn, 1789. Scarcely was he two
years of age, when his mother abandoned him; Miss
Tidswell then generously took him under her protection,
and brought him up in London.
This account the author of " Memoirs," &c., has selected
as the most probable, because it was the more frequently
repeated, but which Messrs. Hughes and Winston (the
former, who knew more about him than any one perhaps,
except Miss Tidswell, and the latter, always a great
dramatic authority) were much inclined to doubt. Their
persuasion was, that our subject was born at Arundel; of
what parentage they wot not; but confidently assert he
was not removed from that town until he was six years
old.
Then it was that he was found under the protection of
Miss Tidswell, who was sojourning with Moses Kean, a
tradesman, who had acquired some notoriety by giving
imitations of the popular actors. Moses was the brother
of young Kean's reputed father, Edward.
Miss Tidswell, who in 1788 had some certain reasons
for a short absence from Drury Lane, certainly took a
maternal interest in the child; and, in 1794, obtained a
place for him in the theatre, where he actually made his
début at the opening of the new building, as one of the red
spirits in Macbeth.
But young Carey was a wild, ungovernable boy-
tion, acquired the greater part of his fame by declaring himself a
natural son of Oliver Cromwell.
EARLY ANECDOTES.
227
frank-hearted, but wayward from his infancy-fre-
quently would he "take to his heels and run from "Aunt
Tid," and was sometimes absent for a whole fortnight
together. On one occasion, after an anxious search, he
was found in a sad pickle, though good spirits, at a public
house in St. George's Field's, collecting a few pence, as
largess for the amusement he had afforded the company
in the "tap," by reciting, tumbling, and singing. His
protectress, at length, procured a little collar to be placed
about his neck, on which was engraved
"This boy
belongs to No. 9, Lisle Street, Leicester Square."—So incor-
rigible was the lad, that "poor Tid" was frequently com-
pelled to shut him up during her absence.
Liston--the incomparable John Liston-in 1800 held
the situation of usher at Archbishop Tenison's School,
St. Martin's. * During a temporary absence of the
master (commonly called "Pownall the Pompous "), the
lads petitioned their viceroy for permission to act a play,
on a certain night in Whitsun week. The drama was
quite original, entitled "Tippoo Saib," and written by one
of the leading boys, who has long since been known to
the world as a dramatic composer. This lad could write,
but, like the great Dryden, could not personate his own
conceptions. Something was to be done in respect of
their chief actor, for the part of Tippoo was first-rate in its
kind, and required an equal genius for its impersonation.
(C
I know a chap, young Carey," said one of the boys,
"who does Cupids and Devils at Drury Lane-a regular
Tippoo all over; he'll come, I warrant you."
On one of his truant days, therefore, application
was made to young Kean, or Carey, for his valuable
assistance. The youth jumped at the proposal; "but I
must give Aunt Tid the slip," said he, "in good time-
must run away-'tis finish weather-I'll be off to my
""
"Ma
* We offer, in proof, the copy of an original document :-"Re-
ceived of the Rev. Dr. Hamilton, this 2nd day of October, 1798, the
sum of Three Pounds Fifteen Shillings, for half a quarter's salary,
due to me on Michaelmas last, for attendance at the Free Grammar
School, in Castle Street, Leicester Square. £3. 15s. - JOHN
LISTON.
Q 2
228
YOUNG ACTORS.-A CONSTERNATION.
old lodgings, the trees in St. James's Park ;" and the
future Richard was as good as his word.
Descending from his rookery at stated times, young
Kean attended the furtive rehearsals-painted a famous
Seringapatam-worked away at the dresses-in fact, was
both the van and flank of the mighty armament. The
night arrived. Liston, the equally truant usher, occupied.
his own chair, as a kind of stage-box; the beadle of the
parish was present; and sundry still minor functionaries
of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields. The business commenced
most prosperously-all were delighted; but the ecstasy
participated by the chief actor and the virgin bard was a
sum of bliss which rarely falls to the children of this
world.
Scarcely had a round of applause subsided into mute.
attention, when a growl, more startling and terrific than
had ever awakened the echoes of Mysore, occasioned the
affrighted party to turn their eyes in one common direc-
tion. Pownall the Pompous, the very aspect of Titus
Oates, had returned unexpectedly to St. Martin's-in-the-
Fields, and was at this moment grinning a ghastly smile
through an iron grating from the staircase, which com-
manded an entire view of the whole scenic effects. All
was immediate consternation. A bull in a crockery
booth, or a tiger springing on travellers in repose, could
scarcely have surpassed this moment of dismay. Down
rushed the infuriate pedagogue, and, armed with his well-
known ferule, commenced laying about him with all the
vigour which an extra glass had inspired, and all the
malice which was so peculiarly his own. Sprawling fell
the beadle over the already prostrate David Baird, while
the Marshal Harris crept like a rabbit into the burrow
of Liston's capacious pocket. Liston, a tithe of whose
comic cast has since won him immortal honours, would
have moved the gravity of a very wretch under the gib-
bet. Tippoo, so prematurely routed, had vaulted on a
fragile book-case, whilst the poet himself bobbed, with
agile evitation, under the reiterating bamboo, like a
Scaramouch at Sadler's Wells.
229
RICHARDSON'S BOOTH.
Some very few years from the above event, the identi-
cal poet alluded to in the foregoing anecdote (who in the
mean time had been converting old novels into new plays,
as an huckster will turn you a worn-out surtout into a
pair of small-clothes), linked with his new-made bride,
was threading his way through the Paphian bowers of
Bartholomew Fair; quitting awhile the austerity of
letters to mingle the vacant laugh of the common herd.
In the act of gazing on the muscular contortions of
two pantomimists, the visitors were standing in front of
Richardson's well-known booth, persuaded that, in the
dignity of their caste, they were secure from vulgar
recognition, and might snatch a peep though the blanket
of this "Mad world, my Masters." The manager of the
company, a brawny north-countryman, in a large green
coat, basket-buttons, and light leathern netherlings, had
thrice announced, by the thunder of his speaking-trum-
pet, "Just going to begin-now's your only time!".
when Arlecchino himself, crouching, low and grotesquely,
placing a hand on each knee, fixed his black, piercing eyes
on the poet and his fair Saccharissa.
Somewhat disconcerted by so special an evidence of
distinction, our visitors were about masking themselves
under cover of the crowd, but our little merryman, with
the agility of a squirrel, slipped down from one of the
blue posts which supported the gigantic Roman capitals,
RICHARDSON'S, and rushing through the open-
mouthed auditory, pursued the fugitive bard, and seizing
him round the neck, in nature's own ecstasy, smothered
him with a thousand tokens of affection. Pale as mar-
ble was the poet, and almost as cold; affected, indeed,
he seemed, with all the properties of stone, save that
of firmness, for he was near sinking on the earth. As
to the lady, a faintness came over her more deathlike
than she had even exhibited ten days before at the
Hymeneal altar; and in a twinkling, a thousand pair of
eyes, which but now had been directed to the elevated
dais of Richardson, were fixed on the unaccountable scene
beneath it.
"What! not recollect me? me!" exclaimed the
230
OFFLEY'S SUPPER-ROOMS.
merry tumbler, "Carey,* your little manager Carey, and
your own Tippoo? -the thrashing we both got, too?
ods whacks!" continued he, good-humouredly rubbing
his shoulders, at which the mob roared again, “I feel it
now."
This was too much. Tippoo, even Hyder himself,
would have cowered under so fierce an attack; and the
poet, covered with shame and confusion, slunk away,
literally like a dog in a fair.
Carey, of Richardson's Booth, became, in due season,
"The Kean" of Drury Lane. The dynasty of Tippoo
was not forgotten; but still more indelibly fixed on the
memory of Kean was this last drama on the soil of
Smithfield. In 1814, the poet and the player again met.
Half fearful of the result, the former made his approaches
to the tragedian; too soon did he discover his fears were
not without foundation. Kean had, in fact, hugged the
opportunity for his revenge, and in the full satisfaction of
his indignant spirit, trampled on the advances of the
playwright with the ferocity of a Timon.
On a certain evening, not very long after his memorable
début at Drury Lane, Kean, accompanied by his old and
faithful ally, Jack Hughes, dropped in, or rather dropped
up, at Offley's premier étage, the cider-room, in Henrietta
Street, Covent Garden. Ensconced in a snug corner of
the apartment, the two friends were enjoying their
"nip," and as the conversation of the room was a right
of common, they felt themselves no trespassers in nipping
also the pasturage.
As it generally happens, in places of this kind, there is
one certain personage who usurps the lead on all topics—
one who would teach Hannibal the art of war; such was
the case at this period at Offley's. This individual was a
Mr. Woolson, or Wason, a red-headed wholesale tobacco-
nist, and a charlatan, "warranted town made." But
Woolson was a man who might have called Junius Brutus
*Woodward and Lee Lewis made their first essay on the stage as
harlequins; and Baddely was brought up in Foote's kitchen.
A SCENE THEREIN.
At
himself a pretender, for Woolson was really a fool.
the court of Offley, however, he had obtained the Cordon
bleu, and had a considerable tail, though there was not a
wag in it.
231
"It is true enough," said he, stirring up the flaming
forest which grew upon his poll, "Dr. Drury brought
him to town [meaning Kean]; he talked with me on the
subject,—in fact, we went together into Dorsetshire to
see him act. I shall never forget Kean's gratitude when
we proposed his appearance at Drury Lane."
once.
Here Kean thrust himself forward like a ferret, gazing
at the head of the speaker in perfect wonderment; and
the “blood-red knight" proceeded :—
“I saw him to-day in Cecil Street,—he is in the very
ecstasy of triumph; but I am afraid my friend has some-
thing yet to learn."
"How ?-what is that?" demanded the whole tail at
"Why, he neglects-his wife," replied the oracle, "a
most kind and amiable woman; and as the poet declares,—
'that one error
Fills him with faults.''
A murmur of applause followed this dramatic scrap,
when Kean, having quickly passed from a ferret into a
tiger, was only withheld by the gripe of Hughes from
The dealer in
springing on the carroty tobacconist.
Virginia still went on :-" This was his," said he, care-
lessly, as he pulled from his pocket a little pebble snuff-
box,-"this was Kean's-a slight token of his obligation
to me, as he was pleased to say. I carry it for his sake.'
"Do you, by the gods!" exclaimed Kean; and darting
from his corner, he snatched the slight token from the
table, and hurled it through the window-glass into the
street.
Consternation seized the tobacconist, as though Cuba
itself had been suddenly swallowed by the sea; but up
rose his tail, like a water-spout, threatening annihilation
to the undaunted little actor, who stood with his arms
folded, like a graven image on a parapet.
232
ILL-STARRED ACTORS.
“Behold! I am Edmund Kean!" exclaimed he, grind-
ing his teeth. "Slanderer!"
The whole West-Indies seemed now in a state of
insurrection.
The company rushed in a body towards
the sturdy tragedian, and verily believing him to be an
impostor, assailed him with cowardly violence, and finally
expelled him the house. Little Hughes came in for his
share of the buffeting; and with a shoe less than he
entered the apartment, accompanied his friend, to finish
the evening and consult future proceedings, at No. 21,
Cecil Street.
To Elliston's personal services at Drury Lane, the
trifling responsibility of two theatrical managements
were now added,—the Surrey and the Olympic.*
* During
the short term these two were simultaneously open, the
actors, who were common to both, played, as the occasion
might demand, either at one, the other, or both, on the
same evening.
،،
Frequently the poor player, after exciting a roar of
merriment in St. George's Fields, had to traverse the
bleak granite of Blackfriars Bridge, to raise another
burst of delight in the auditory of Wych Street. Stealthily
behind some coach, and wofully behind their time, a pair
of half-clad players would make this middle passage in
thunder, lightning, or in rain," Often and often, the
exhausting pores which had been streaming in a Surrey
atmosphere, encountered the treacherous bracing from
the East, or chilled again on the centre arch, to take the
febrifuge prescribed in fresh exertions at St. Clement
Danes. Thus, at the hard brokerage of fifteen shillings a
week, were health, labour, and ceaseless anxiety estimated;
for, in theatrical life, sickness and disease pay the penalty
of dereliction of duty.
* Ryder, the Irish manager, possessed the Crow Street, Smock
Alley, and Capel Street Theatres. He was costly and extravagant in
his house and equipage, and his end was like that of the tavern-
keepers, who spend within the bar what is made in the coffee-room.-
On Ryder's quitting his wife for a single day, she always made him.
take a vow of fidelity, and on his return called on him to swear to the
truth of his obedience.
BARTLEY IN DILEMMA.
We mean not to shoot an arrow at the humanity of
Elliston. On the contrary, we confess he was generally
kind, considerate, and just; but such is the fate-the
hard, humiliating lot of the poor players.
In 1834 (if for a general example we may be pardoned
such anticipation of facts), when Covent Garden and
Drury Lane Theatres were rented by the same lessee,
occurrences yet more remarkable in this way, nightly
took place.
The managerial scheme was to work the
two theatres with a company and a half. The actors
who had performed in the play at one house, were usually
required to bear a part in the farce at the other. Broad
Court and Martlett Buildings, from about half-past nine
at night, to a quarter from ten, exhibited a most extra-
ordinary scene!
(6
233
Actors half attired, with enamelled faces, and loaded
with the paraphernalia of their art, were passing and
repassing, as busy as pismires, whilst the hurried inter-
change of quaint words-" stage waits "music on
""
""
rung up," &c., would have perplexed the stranger with
a thousand surmises. Double-basses, trombones, long
drums, books, and wearing apparel carried on the heads
of figure-dancers, apparently just started from their beds,
might have suggested an event—
"As when, by night and negligence, a fire
Is spied in populous cities.'
On one occasion, Bartley, whose business it was to play
in the Tragedy at Drury Lane, had to begin also the
farce at Covent Garden. The first piece, on this evening,
at the latter house, had been short, and was brought even
earlier than usual to a conclusion. After a lapse of some
ten minutes, the audience became impatient (" unruly,"
as Elliston would have said), and messengers were
accordingly despatched, demanding Bartley's instant
attendance.
Bartley, considering that a per-centage on his tragedy
might more easily be spared than the absence of his
merry face in the farce of "My Neighbour's Wife,”
234
AN EXTRAORDINARY "DOUBLE."
kicked off his buskins at Drury, and running to Covent
Garden, was speedily in his dressing-room, where he in-
stantly began pulling on his peach blossom pantaloons.
But being somewhat agitated by the importunity of the
prompter's boy, and in a considerable state of perspira-
tion, he had more than usual difficulty, so that the panta-
loons gave way in the struggle, presenting a most grace-
less "rent in arrear." However, within another quarter
of an hour, Bartley appeared in his own respectable grey
trousers, and went comfortable through his part.
At the season of Christmas, when the state of alterna-
tion was at its height, the female figure-dancers pattered
from one house to another six times during the evening,
and underwent the operation of dressing and undressing
no less than eight.
In the old times, the Haymarket Theatre was opened
some ten days before the close of the winter houses.
During these ten days, there was but a skeleton company
at the former, until the great patentees gave up their
own flesh and blood, by which it was clothed. Many,
and frequently ridiculous, were the shifts to which this
anatomized body was subject, in the short interval. One
circumstance occurred, which, at the first blush (and
verily it was of a character to raise one), would appear
positively impracticable. It was that of Farley acting an
important part in the play of Covent Garden, and also at
the Haymarket, on the same night; the two plays, be it
remembered, being the first pieces of the entertainments
at both establishments.
At Covent Garden the curtain rose at half-past six
o'clock, and in the Haymarket at seven ; at the former,
Farley was cast into one of Macbeth's witches, and at the
latter, in the part of Sir Philip Modelove, in the comedy
of "A Bold Stroke for a Wife."
Having most emphatically, "with toil and trouble,"
gone through the mystery of the first scene at Covent
Garden, Farley now "hovered through the foul and
murky air," in the direction of the Haymarket, which he
reached in ample time to equip himself for the baronet,
who does not make his scenic appearance until the second
235
act of the play. The act being concluded, Farley, with
due alacrity, returned to his witchery at Covent Garden,
which being perpetrated, he again mounted his broom,
and scud through the air a second time to the Haymarket,
where he re-appeared, in full Protean mastery, Sir Philip
Modelove; for Sir Philip does not make his second entrée
until the fifth act of the drama.
HALF WITCH, HALF BARONET.
The dove-tailing of this remarkable night's performance.
was, in fact, thus accomplished :—A hackney-coach, during
the evening, was in readiness; this was furnished with a
dresser, necessary habiliments, and a pair of candles.
From the stage-door of Covent Garden the "weird
sister" sprang into the jarvey, when the dresser, pulling
up the mahogany blinds, commenced attiring the patient.
comedian for the part of the old beau; this was nearly
accomplished by the time they reached the stage-door in
Suffolk Street, and what little remained afterwards to be
done, was easily effected.
The first act of the comedy being over, in jumped
Farley again with his man "Friday," and commenced the
task of the double transformation. On returning, how-
ever, for his last scene at Covent Garden, the coach, in
making the corner of Hedge Row (now called Whitcomb
Street), came in contact with a post, and, immediately
upsetting, poured its full contents-actor, dresser, candles,
and all the heterogeneous mass-into the highway.
((
Half witch and half baronet, poor Farley was extri-
cated from that door which fortune had thrown upper-
most, and never actor surely made an appearance to more
Next came
general applause.
Friday "that always
unlucky Friday-to renewed, reiterated shouts. As to
the goods which lay scattered around, the mob could
make nothing of them, unless, as it was shrewdly sus-
pected, it being about quarter day, the two wights were a
pair of rascally Frenchmen running off with what they
could pilfer, partly in disguise, and altogether in their
landlord's debt. Notwithstanding this maladroit pro-
ceeding, by prompt assistance, and another coach, “post
tot naufragia tutus," Farley reached Covent Garden
Theatre in time and safety.
236 CHARLES DIGNUM AND THE DUKE OF SUSSEX.
Charles Dignum, the soul of good humour, for eight-and-
twenty years a faithful servant to the Drury proprietary,
was now cashiered by the new committee. Dignum's
father had been a tailor, residing in Little Wild Street.
Charles, having a peculiarly sweet voice, officiated as
acolothist at the Sardinian ambassador's chapel; it was
here Linley heard him, and was so struck by his dulcet
notes that he took him as apprentice.
""
Dignum appeared on the stage in 1784, in the part of
Young Meadows, and soon after, in that of Lord Aimworth,
a character for which, in one particular, he was peculiarly
unfit, as Dignum's form was the most complete "figure
of fun ever witnessed, being perfectly spherical, and,
supported by a pair of misproportioned legs, had the
appearance of an orange poised on two peeled almonds,
and headed by a prize cherry. Strange as it may appear,
Dignum, with this ludicrous figure, was one of Kemble's
"stock lords in all tragedies, his name being affixed to
the Earl of Essex, in "King John," Sir Walter Blunt, in
""
66
Henry the Fourth," Sir Richard Vernon, and the Duke
of Burgundy, in "King Lear," &c. ; it was a stipulation
with Dignum that he should be cast in no part in tragedy
that had not a title of distinction.
Dignum was the first of the vocalists who started that
trading scheme, which has since proved so lucrative and
agreeable to his fraternity-namely, singing for hire at
public dinners. Dignum has been frequently known, at
the Freemasons' Tavern, to eat two dinners, sing half a
dozen songs, drink twice as many bumpers, and be well
paid for the whole miscellaneous duties.
The Duke of Sussex, presiding at a certain public dinner
in the above hall, had been greatly delighted by the efforts
of the vocalists present, and travelling a little out of the
record of prescribed toasts, rose from his chair, and most
graciously begged to propose the health of the corps
musique. It became necessary that one of the party
should acknowledge so gracious a compliment.
Dignum, who had quitted his place some minutes before,
and was in fact absent during the Duke's short address,
now returned, and totally unconscious of what had passed
THE DWARF, SIMON PAAP.
237
in the mean while, rose up, and in rather an altisonant
key, called out for a decanter of water.
This very
naturally occasioned a burst of merriment in the whole
party, who immediately followed it up by the cry, "Dig-
num, Dignum !-speech, speech!" Poor Dignum found
himself in no enviable position; his grotesque figure, the
decanter of water, and his perfect unconsciousness of the
point de l'affaire, all tended to his further confusion. At
length, the matter being explained, Dignum, who had
been some days previously supplied with an extra stanza to
the national anthem, in compliment to the Duke of Sussex,
very adroitly hit on the alternative; and instead of a
speech, which he would have executed badly enough, he
gave in exquisite melody the stanza in question. The
effect was happy.
Vauxhall never possessed a more powerful attraction
than in Dignum. He was, perhaps, the greatest favourite
who ever sang at this popular place of amusement. It
was positively a piece of fashion to know and converse
with Dignum. He died in 1827.
In the spring of the year 1815, Elliston (to whom the
stewardship of London itself would not have appeared
too burdensome), entered into negotiation with Mr. Bar-
rett, proprietor of Vauxhall Gardens, for the purchase of
that property; and which was so nearly concluded, that
a cheque for part payment was actually drawn. But, from
some cause, the treaty, at the latest moment, was broken
off.
He was now seized by a new and equally strange aberra-
tion of fancy. A Mr. Sampœman had just imported to
London, for the purpose of public exhibition, a remarkable
Dutch dwarf, Simon Paap, being only twenty-eight inches
high, and weighing no more than twenty-seven pounds.
Simon Paap was, in some respects, a more curious little
object than "General Tom Thumb," for though not quite
so small, he gave a more amusing impression of a man in
miniature, showing himself "Prime in manhood where
youth ended;" being. in fact, twenty-six years of age,
whilst a marked quizzicalness and extreme self-importance
238
A WONDROUS PIE.
rendered his ensemble highly diverting. He was accoutred
in the style of the old Dutch uniform at the period of the
pensionary De Witt; and, surrounded by papers and
writing material, he verily appeared to bear the states of
Holland on his shoulders. Elliston entered into treaty,
at the consideration of twenty-five guineas a week, for
the liberty of exhibiting the little Dutchman, including
the superintendence of M. Sampœman, a vast, hulky fellow,
whose person bore a striking contrast to his cousin, the
dwarf.
Elliston hired a room in Piccadilly, where Simon
was to give audience to the public, and made a further
engagement with a M. Louis Pyne, a nondescript, with a
long-pointed moustache, like the antennæ of a reptile, to
act as an interpreter between the Londoners and the little
Batavian.
But the speculation turned out a failure. The Dutch
ambassador's levees were but thinly attended; added to
which, Simon Paap gave himself considerable airs, and, on
one occasion, positively refused to appear, as some ladies,
on the previous day, had greatly wounded his dignity by
dancing him in the air, and behaving towards him very
much as
"Glumdalclitch" had treated our own country-
"Gulliver." After about ten days, the agreement
man,
between Elliston and his Dutch friend was cancelled, the
profits of the undertaking being as stunted as the little.
hero himself.
About a century ago, on the occasion of the nuptials of
the Duke of Bavaria, at the court of Wirtemberg, a dwarf
armed cap-a-pie, girt with a sword, and loaded with
martial emblazonry, was concealed in a pie, and the dish
served up at the royal table. A due secrecy had been
"When
preserved, and the coup was highly successful.
the pie was opened, the dwarf began to rise,” and stepping
out of the dish, with the utmost gravity, drew his sword,
and traversing the table sundry times, with great martial
demeanour, retired again to the pie, and was borne off as
he came.
To his other liabilities, Elliston suddenly added, the
Leicester, the Shrewsbury, and the Lynn theatres, con-
(C THE BOHEMIAN !"
239
triving occasionally to play at each of them himself! Like
a bullet in the air, there was no discovering his track
until execution.
The Birmingham exchequer was becoming shakey-a
drunken account, which could hardly keep a balance;
and it was here that Elliston played off many of those
eccentricities by which his memory has been so signalized.
Frequently did he hazard undertakings with the public,
where there was scarcely a probability of keeping his
word; and more than once has it been suspected he had
advertised "stars" for appearance, with which he had
never entered into the slightest consultation.
He re-
sorted to expedients in which the discreditableness was
pardoned in the humour of the conceit, and the offence
escaped in the merriment which followed. Knowing, if
he lost popularity to-day, he could whistle it back to-
morrow, Elliston hesitated at no exploit, however wild,
to fill his building for a single night. In some instances,
the public had their own credulity to blame as much as
the manager's effrontery, for the "Bottle Conjurer of
Foote could not have outstripped some of his vagaries.
""
Of these Fourberies d'Elliston, one of the most remark-
able was the manager's announcement of a "Bohemian, of
unexampled Strength and Stature," who, amongst other
evolutionary feats, would display his facile manipulation
of a huge stone, of near a ton weight, which he was to
handle like a tennis-ball! "The Bohemian was stated
as having been received with favour and distinction in
various Rhenish States, and had actually felled an ox by
a blow of his naked fist, to lighten the ennui of a German
princess.
""
The Bohemian, "Begot of nothing but vain phantasy,"
being, in other words, the offspring of the manager's ima-
gination, might indeed fairly have been denominated a
prodigy. Typical of himself, the "Bohemian” was ad-
vertised in gigantic letters, while sundry portraits, which
had been originally executed for the proprietors of the
"Saracen's Head" inn, London, were placarded about the
town, with the sub-lineation, “THE BOHEMIAN !” in
the place of "Snow Hill."
240
ELLISTON IN HIS ELEMENT.
(C
The Birmingham people, who were beginning to sicken
at tragedy, and had waggishly chalked on the stage-door
of the theatre, "Mangling done here," were wonderfully
revived by this extimulation; the Bohemian, with his fist,
was certainly a hit," and the edifice was as full on the
night of his promised appearance, as though the Emperor
of Austria himself had been expected.
The play, "Pizzaro," had but a poor chance.
"The
Bohemian! The Bohemian!" from the tongues of the
spectators, completely drowned the words of the actors,
which, with considerable foresight, they had only half,
studied for the occasion. Down fell the curtain, and
"The Bohemian!” instantaneously broke out with fresh
violence. The fiddlers struck up "The Battle of Prague,"
and every nerve was now attuned to the pancratic efforts
which had been promised.
At this juncture, Elliston, pale with consternation,
which would have extorted pity from the original Saracen
himself, stepped forward, and, with suppliant palms,
addressed the assembly:
""
"The Bohemian has deceived me!" said he " that I
could have pardoned; but he has deceived my friends-
he has deceived you!"-at which he buried his face in
his handkerchief; but to hide what emotion we will not
hazard a guess.
"The Bohemian, I repeat, has deceived
us-he is not here; a certain smouldering now agitated
the body of spectators. Elliston went on- "And the
man, of whatever name or nation he may be, who violates
his word, commits an offence which-
here an out-
break took place which completely annihilated the rest of
his aphoristic sentence. He then proceeds :—
""
"Anxious for your gratification, I entered into corre-
spondence with the faithless foreigner, who was this day
to have appeared" a yell, which, in another place,
would be denominated ironical cheers.
"The corre-
spondence, ladies and gentlemen, is in my pocket." An
incredulous laugh. "I'll read it to you." Here he pro-
duced a variety of papers resembling letters. ("Read!
read!—No! no !-Imposition!") "Here they are, con-
tinued Elliston, with one of his most cunning looks;
""
241
"does any gentleman present read German ?—if so,
would he honour me by stepping forward?" (A scream
of merriment). "Am I left alone? Then I'll translate
it for you." ("No! no! enough! Go on, Elliston! !")
"I obey; the correspondence shall not be read "- here
he deliberately replaced the bundle in his pocket-" but,
ladies and gentlemen," continued he, with a smile which
could have levelled the Andes, "the stone is here! You
shall see it!" (A volcanic burst). "You shall yet be satis-
fied; you are my patrons, and have a right to demand it.
Shall the stone be produced?" (Cries of "The stone!
the stone!") Here the manager winked his grey eye at
the fiddlers, who again hastily betook themselves to "The
Battle of Prague," when up sprang the curtain, disclosing
a sand-rock, which, for weight and magnitude, would
positively have made "Bohemia nothing!' and bearing a
scroll, "This is the Stone !"
cr
THIS IS THE STONE !"
"Then grasp'd Tydides in his hand a stone,
A bulk immense, which not two men could bear,
As men are now
"}
Good humour, even confidence, seemed restored. Here
was indeed the stone, and imagination did all the rest.
It was during the same brief visit at this town that
Elliston, on a certain morning, was interrupted by a
smartish rap at his chamber-door, and a figure, with
extreme pertness of mien, and that peculiarity of attire
which only a genius has courage to exhibit, presented
himself. His face was white as the poll of a Romford
calf, over which a quantity of black hair perpendicularly
trickled.
"You will pardon me, Mr. Elliston," lisped he,
"this
intrusion; but I have just ventured-I am, in short, an
artist; my name is Charles Martel Tomlinson: I have been
unprecedentedly happy in many portraits during my
sojourn and pardon my application for permission to
give the world a portrait of Mr. Elliston.”
"To paint me!" replied Elliston, throwing himself
back in his chair, with appalling majesty-"to_paint
R
242
A VERY ORIGINAL ARTIST.
me!" repeated he, calling up the dignity of the whole.
acting drama" into his countenance.
(C
"Such is my ambition," continued the youth, with the
valour he had hired for the occasion. "I paint nature in
the extreme! Permit me to lay before you a few speci-
mens of my late successes." Saying which, he produced
from under his arm a tawdry portfolio, and first parting
his black tresses from his tallow visage, disclosed sundry
daubs, which he laid, one by one, on the table.
"This," said he, "is the Rev. Mr. Cole, minister of the
Baptist chapel in- Street; this the lady of Mr.
Knox, the brassfounder, who has published some pretty
specimens, both in prose and verse; this, the likeness of
a child who was found drowned in the Avon-life itself!
Mr. Elliston ;" and on he went chattering, till his ideas
were completely lost, like acquaintances in a crowd.
Elliston, who was at this moment surrounded by
letters on the question of the Drury Lane management,
and being anxious to preserve copies of the same, with
that quick aperçu both of humour and profit, was deter-
mined to turn the young gentleman to some advantage ;
as the prisoner we have heard of at Algiers, who,
being unfit for any kind of noble labour, was com-
manded to squat down, day after day, to hatch young
turkeys.
Turning suddenly on the artist, as he held out the
"Drowned Boy at the extent of his arm,
“Do you
write a good hand?" demanded Elliston.
""
""Tis part of my profession," responded the genius,
with a shallying advance, like one trying the pavement
on a frosty morning; "I consent to teach it at academies."
Ay," replied Elliston, "that young ladies may wrap
up their secrets in triangular billets, like an ounce of
snuff."
..
Here the genius smiled, showed his teeth, and parted
his hair.
"Could I intrust you with the autograph documents of
a distinguished functionary?" again demanded Elliston,
measuring with his eye the slip of humanity which stood
before him. "Here are certain letters which require
243
attention, confidence, and despatch. Here, take my
chair; this is no bagatelle. Sit down, young man ; you
will find writing material in abundance. It is necessary
copies of these letters should be preserved," continued he,
in a most pregnant whisper, "and you shall have the
distinction of transcribing them." Having said which,
Elliston took the genius by the hand, whose countenance
displayed the most grotesque effects of unforeseen plea-
sure and excitement; and placing him at the table, at
once fixed him to work.
A PERPLEXING IMPRISONMENT.
"I am truly flattered," faltered the youth. “I—I am
indeed sensible-
">
"I hope so," impressively interrupted Elliston: "but,
remember, confidence and despatch!" Having uttered
which, and again assuring the puzzled painter it was no
bagatelle, Elliston, with overpowering solemnity, strode
out of the apartment.
Being now left to himself, the artist, it may be con-
cluded, settled to his task.
In about three hours Charles Martel had finished the
most extensive sketch he had ever undertaken; and as it
was now about two o'clock, he began to look with some
anxiety for the comedian's return.
""
Stretching his cramped fingers, and grinning under
the ten thousand "pins and needles which recalled his
right leg from a long sleep, he ventured to hobble up and
down the apartment, while he pleased his imagination by
the variety of styles in which the actor might be painted.
Three o'clock, and no return of Elliston half-past three
-four o'clock, and not the slightest indication of his
approach. The artist became uneasy; for though his
thoughts were full, his stomach was empty.
:
He approached the door, and venturing to lay his hand
on the lock, found, to his dismay, that it was fastened. It
was now nearly five o'clock; his bright prospects began
to put on the nature of dissolving views. Under that all-
potent sense which, it is said, will actually break through
stone walls, the artist pulled courageously at the bell,
when a voice from the other side of the door demanded,
"What do want?"
R 2
244
PERISHING WITH COLD AND HUNGER.
"Want !—want! my good woman-I have wanted
these three hours-to get out."
"Who are you? who are you?”
"Mr. Charles Martel Tomlinson, the artist. Pray, my
good woman, open the door."
((
'Open the door!—lard, lard!
Mr. Elliston has locked
it and put the key in his pocket."
""
(6
Impossible! my good lady: when will he return ?
"It's very uncertain with him always, sir; but I
don't think he'll be home to-night."
"Not to-night !-why, I am exhausted-starving, I
tell you.
""
"I can't a' help you, sir: perhaps you can find some-
thing to do till master comes back."
"To do! why I have done it; and thoroughly ex-
hausted I am, too. For mercy's sake, a sandwich-a cup
of tea!" Here the youth listened for a reply; but, to
his further dismay, heard only the retiring steps of his
unseen visitor as she descended the staircase.
Six o'clock had already struck. The amanuensis wa
positively frantic, and fifteen minutes more had expired.
when a step on the landing without announced the
approach of some one. With a beating at his heart, and
a bitter gnawing beneath it, he listened the bolt was
slipped back, and Elliston himself, with the same solem-
nity in which he had quitted, now stalked into the apart-
ment.
66
Well, sir,” said he, "have you finished the job?
This is no bagatelle.”
"No, sir-indeed," responded the whey-faced youth,
"I had hoped-expected-
",
"Hah! this is admirable!" cried Elliston, approach-
ing the table; "you have fulfilled your trust worthily. I
have not broken in on you prematurely?"
(C
Prematurely! not, indeed, Mr. Elliston,"-here the
artist stroked his eyebrows by his habitual dash of
finger. "Might I now suggest, Mr. Elliston," said he,
"the favour of your fixing some morning for a short-
brief sitting, which"
"One, two, three," repeated Elliston, as he deliberately
245
seemed to count over the executed copies of his cor-
respondence" four, five"
"A sitting-en passant, I might say," continued
Charles Martel-" which should not interfere with your
more
cr
SEWING ON A BUTTON.
""
still continued Elliston.
"This
Seven, eight"
could not have been better accomplished. Why, your
handwriting is very like Sir Benjamin West's."
"I know your engagements are abundant," persevered
the limner, elevating his voice one octave, "but still-
(6
Ten, and one more-ah! here it is-eleven, I declare."
"I was just now venturing to request
""
"One moment, and we will enter fully on the matter,"
again interrupted Elliston, when, opening a side-door, he
passed into another room.
Ten minutes—a quarter of an hour had again elapsed,
and the dissolving views were once more busy before the
mental vision of the famishing academician, when Elliston,
half-dressed, as though preparing for a late dinner, ab-
ruptly re-entered.
""
"Do you think you could sew on a button?" asked he.
“A button, sir ?" repeated the painter.
((
Ay, sew on a button, as adroitly as Mr. Lawrence."
Here Mr. Charles Martel Tomlinson smiled, showed his
teeth, and parted his hair.
“I—I—never tried."
"Then you shall. Hark ye," pursued Elliston, lower-
ing his tone; “I would not have put so much faith in
the President of the Royal Academy as I have this day
reposed in you. This is no bagatelle, Mr. Tomlinson.
Thread-needle-the button; and here the waistcoat.
I'll be painted in that waistcoat;" having uttered which,
he placed the whole tailoring implements before the
offuscated artist, and, gliding into his dressing-room,
once more left his tailor-secretary at work.
The artist now cottoned to his new duty, and in five
minutes this job also was completed.
Elliston reappeared. Taking his waistcoat, "Now, sir,
to business," said he; "to save time, we will walk, and
consult as we proceed."
246 MRS. ALLSOP AND THE (( HEN AND CHICKENS.”
Hastily picking up his specimens, the artist thrust the
"Rev. Gentleman" and the "Drowned Boy" into his
portfolio, and sticking closely to Elliston, who had now
taken up his hat, prepared to follow him. Together they
descended the staircase, and on arriving in the street, a
carriage was in attendance, into which the comedian
silently stepped, with an awe and majesty far surpassing
any of his former exhibitions.
Without deigning a glance at his companion, whom he
left in a state of wonderment on the pavement, Elliston
was in two minutes completely out of sight, and within
twenty, had altogether forgotten that such a being as
Charles Martel Tomlinson was in existence.
Elliston was fond of relating the anecdote, yet always
with the good taste of confessing it was an unfeeling
exhibition of stage-play.
Amongst the heavenly bodies, which at this period
were noticed in the Brummagem hemisphere, was the
luminary Allsop, daughter of Mrs. Jordan.
The lady
certainly possessed dramatic talent, displaying
"the whole manner
And copy of the mother-eyes, nose, lip,
Trick of her smile."
During her sojourn at the above town, Mrs. Allsop
took up her quarters at the "Hen and Chickens," and
at the expiration of three weeks, her "little account"
amounted to £40. Feeling "astonished beyond measure”
at this sum total, for the mere necessaries of a lone
woman, Mrs. Allsop applied to Elliston to tax the bill.
On investigation it appeared the ménage had been ordered
as follows:-Breakfast, composed of a roast chicken (one
perhaps especially picked from the firm), ham, eggs,
boiled mushrooms, honey, and Scotch cake. This was fol-
lowed by a meridian lunch of cold partridge and noyeau,
which two meals constituted the first act of the Lenten
day, before rehearsal at the theatre. At four o'clock
Mrs. Allsop dined—a repast, whereof "the order of the
course" consisted of all delicacies of the season, and ex-
NECESSARIES OF LIFE-A TÊTE-À-TÊTE.
pensive specialties. The hot lobster was charged six
shillings; the cool cucumber, four; the diurnal bottle of
Madeira, ten; and the port wine, seven; fresh straw-
berries and preserved cherries had due consideration.
After the play, Mrs. Allsop supped-supper was her
"favourite meal," for she had more time for its discussion.
Broiled kidneys, grilled bones, and brandy and water,
were deemed sustaining after the excitement of acting;
and on one occasion, Mrs. Allsop having found herself
indisposed, a few extra articles were in requisition.
The "Hen and Chickens" had also occasionally supplied
a coach and horses for jaunts and excursions. Mrs. Allsop's
chamber was daily adorned with exotics of the rarest
quality, amidst which were scattered-
"Violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
On Cytherea's breath;"
247
and at night the wasted actress entertained the blue
devils of indigestion
"On a bed,
On purpose trimmed up for Semiramis."
On a review of these things, Elliston looked rather
gravely at the question of appeal. He sought, however,
an interview with the landlord, with whom, if he did not
raise any demur respecting Mrs. Allsop's debt of 407., he
at least took the opportunity of securing a reciprocation
of patronage for the lady's coming benefit.
It would be unjust perhaps to charge upon Elliston any
participation in these sumptuary offences, from the fact of
being on one occasion the lady's guest,—a friendly tête-à-tête
after their mutual exertions in the "Honeymoon." The
supper service was in all particulars multiplied by two;
one dish actually containing eight lamb chops. Elliston,
never a great eater, was soon satisfied; and although seven-
eighths of the dish fell to the lady's share, he bore a more
gallant part in the Madeira and Punch à la Romaine.
Wine and the witching hour seldom failed in their effects
248
with our hero. The moment was happy, and the parties
were of one mind to prolong it.
With a lady so liberal, it was scarcely possible to ask
too much; and Elliston, who was inclined rather "to
feast on the white wonder of dear Allsop's hand" than
the fricassee chicken., was beginning to carve for himself.
But the lady had been taught better; and some conver-
sation having passed respecting dramatic operations to
come, she rose up, and with considerable stage effect
pronounced, "When you are eligible, Mr. Elliston."
Eligible madam, replied our hero
"2
"Love is
impatient of all stipulations, and makes a footman speak
with the eloquence of Phoebus-eligible !"
"When you are manager of Drury Lane Theatre."
“Of that, madam, I'm resolved. In the mean time,
66
A SOFT ENCOUNTER.
take the security of my affections."
You must first clear off some of the mortgages on
that estate," replied she, laughing; "but may I trust
you?
""
"You may indeed," repeated Elliston, passionately, as
he again seized the hand of the lady.
"Then it were ungrateful, were my confidence in you
less warm. You, sir, may trust me. Will you lend me
ten pounds?"
"Madam !"
"Let us open the account with that. Nay, nay—no
consideration !"
"The consideration, madam, is positively indispensable,"
added he, with a twinkle.
(C
Well, then," said she, laughing at the rich comedy he
threw into his address, you will have more leisure to
reflect, the sooner you advance the money. Recollect,"
added she with great gravity, "my credit has been at a
greater risk in your company at nearly midnight, than a
ten-pound note is likely to be in my pocket. But, look
you-here is your security"-saying which, Mrs. Allsop
produced a letter addressed to her by a gentleman, at
that time highly distinguished in the brilliant world,
announcing that a remittance of cash would be at her
disposal within a few days. This promised despatch
66
249
Mrs. Allsop empowered Elliston to open, after her de-
parture from Birmingham, and thereby repay himself.
On these terms, the ten pounds were served up, with one
more rummer at parting.
JEREMY COLLIER-A PHILIPPIC.
In the year 1820, this lady proceeded to New York, the
American journals stating her to be the grand-daughter
of the King of Britain. On the following year Mrs. Allsop
died in the same city, by incautiously taking an over-
potion of laudanum.
Elliston was subject, during this season at Birmingham,
to furious attacks from the pulpits of certain chapels, very
similar to those of Rowland Hill. Agitation of this kind
certainly does good; Jeremy Collier realized a great deal
of money from his book, in his day, and the playhouses
were constantly full. Yet Collier, it must be confessed,
did not write without some show of justice, recollecting
the tendency of the drama in his time, and that Dryden
was the principal object of his attack. It is curious,
however, to recollect that Sir Richard Steele complains
that one of his plays was nearly damned through its
morality; and a recent essayist has said, "If I am to
hear a sermon, let me have it from the proper place; but
do not spoil my evening's pleasure by giving it from the
stage."
Not content with merely preaching against the fancied
evil tendency of stage plays, the Birmingham orator
assailed our hero in the public streets, and, on one occasion,
even threatened him with violence. Well might he have
been designated the John Knocks of stage reformers.
Amongst other threatening notices forwarded to the
manager of the Birmingham Theatre, the following extract
from Baron Grimm's "Historical Recollections was
enclosed Beaumarchais' opera,
Figaro," had been
advertised for representation, by Elliston.
CC
""
The communication was as follows :—
"M. le Chevalier de Langeac thus speaks:
"I saw yesterday the extravagant novelty of the day,
which, triumphing over the police, profanes the dramas of
250
(
the French. In this impudent play, every actor is a vice!
'Bartholo,' is Avarice; Almaviva, Seduction; his tender
rib, Adultery; 'Doublemain,' Theft; 'Marcelline,' a Fury;
'Basil,' Calumny; 'Fanchette,' Innocence on its way to
Seduction; 'Cherubin,' Libertinism; 'Sason,' Craft; and
as for 'Figaro,' the droll, he so perfectly represents his
patron, that the likeness makes me start; in short, all
the vices of humanity may be seen together, and the pit,
with one assent, calling for the author!"
A VERY CHARACTERISTIC ADDRESS.
Elliston had been acting, during some part of this
season, at the Leicester Theatre, which he rented at £157
per annum; and he now took leave of the audience by
one of the most characteristic of his oratorical displays:—-
we give a fraction :—
“Ladies and gentlemen," said he, "the painful moment
of our separation has arrived. That I have been indul-
gent to you, there is no denying-some say I have spoilt
you. It was in this city, ladies and gentlemen, that that
remarkable character, Cardinal Wolsey, laid down his
glory and his bones. Can I do better than employ his
words in honour of our present illustrious Regent? 'He
is a prince of a most royal carriage, and hath a princely
heart;' to this let me add, God bless him!
"I would remind you that your late worshipful mayor,
Mr. Wilcox, and myself, were schoolfellows. The loss of
him, you yourselves cannot deplore more than I do, and
now 'beyond that bourne from which no traveller returns,'
we have only to hope that he is happy!" (Here the orator
wiped his eyes.) "Ladies and gentlemen, once again I
bid you respectfully-affectionately, farewell!"
Elliston had always a notion that his presence inspired
a certain degree of awe in the minds of his spectators;
in fact, there was often an "afflatus" about him which
positively enforced subjection and respect. It has been
said of the celebrated Le Kain, that a Russian of great
literary renown was so struck by the majesty of his
appearance, that he actually rose from his seat, and bowed
with reverence whenever he appeared on the stage.
251
It was during this short season at Leicester that Ellis-
ton, out of whim rather than necessity, played the part of
Harlequin in a pantomime farce, hastily prepared.
""
THE GREAT PATENTEES IN ARMS.
Deserting wit for broad grimace and jest,
Or showing Terence in a motley vest."
Elliston's impersonation was not merely of agility and
dancing, but fun and humour. In the Italian comedy,
Harlequin is an intellectual buffoon. "In France, Har-
lequin was improved into a wit," says Mr. D'Israeli, “and
even converted into a moralist :" a hint taken by Colman,
who introduced Mathews in the part of speaking Har-
lequin, at the Lyceum.
In March, 1818, the Drury Lane sub-committee, in
conjunction with the proprietors of Covent Garden Theatre,
made another attack on Elliston, but that it might not
appear an argumentum ad se ipsissimum, in their memorial
to the Lord Chamberlain, they made the Sans Pareil a co-
defendant—an establishment at that time too insignificant
for any serious consideration. The object of the memorial-
ists was now not merely to curtail these minor theatres,
but to cut them off entirely. To be expunged, like the
kingdom of the Poles, from the dramatic chart, was a
measure to which Elliston could not quietly submit; and,
like another Thaddeus, be fearlessly vindicated his claims.
This he did by the publication of a very able pamphlet in
reply; and so clear a case did he make out, that with
all the partiality by which the chamberlain was evidently
willing to support the despots, he could not but grant the
obvious justice to the oppressed; and the great potentates.
were consequently defeated.
Elliston soon afterwards resumed operations for his
last season at Birmingham. In his formation of a com-
pany, many curious letters and applications were for-
warded to him by country actors and other ambitious
spirits. We give example in the following :—
[Mary Ann Elliston, born Nov. 10th, 1817.]
252
CURIOUS LETTERS.
(6
SIR,-If you have a vacancy for a lady at the Bir-
mingham Theatre for the heavy or motherly-speaking
persons, I should be glad. I have played the whole of
Mrs. Powell's line in the theatres royal, Cork, Weymouth,
Belfast, &c.; can make myself useful; am well known to
Mr. Bell, proprietor of the Weekly Messenger, and your
most humble servant.
"M. EDWARDS.
"2, Herbert's Passage, Strand.”
"N.B.-My figure is not quite so good for tragedy as I
could wish; but my friends say I am worth my weight
in gold in comedy.”
Another :-
"Circumstances have driven me on the stage; I am
resolved to make the effort-I say effort, because when
we meet you will see I am totally inexperienced in the
art; but I have youth, beauty, talents, and an engaging
manner. I am driven, sir, on the stage-parental
tyranny has done this; and the only revenge I shall
now take is to live by the exercise of those faculties and
advantages by which God has blessed me.
You see my
intentions, and, as to my merits, they must speak for
themselves. I would rather surprise you by showing
you what they are, than disappoint you by talking
much about them.
(C
My name is Sullivan,-I am unmarried; but you
must address to me 'Mrs.,' as I am at present living
with a gentleman, and we think it would be more
respectable; but I shall be 'Miss' in the bills.
"Direct to me at Mr. Brown's, shoemaker, St.
Alban's."
A third !
"SIR,-I have Taken the liberty of addressing you a
Few lines to know if you woud take A young man into
yr Company who can do amost any thing which lays in
my power. I can sing a Good Commic song, and dance
253
a Good hornpipe, and do all the rusticks. I have sing at
the "King's Head" for two years, and Mr. Saunders
knos me well. He can do any thing which lays in my
power. Plese to write quick, and direct for Mr. Steads,
Swines Markit, Leicester. I am,
"W. STEADS."
DISASTERS OF DRURY-LANE THEATRE.
Magg
"SIR, I take the liburty of writing respecting my
daughter Charlotte, who I think will suit you.
6
"She has danced on the Bath and Bristol Theatres for
some time; she now can take parts-Juliana, in ‘The
Honeymoon;' Miss Blandford, in Speed the Plouh;
Emily Tempest, in the Wheel of Fortune,' and many
others; also Columbine and other parts in pantomime;
in respecting dancing she is complete mistress of, and can
sing a little.
"My good friend, the late Mr. Williams, taught her to
speke for near two years; and as she wishes to com out
in the country, I think she would be generally useful to
you; but of course you would wish to see her perform,
which she shall do for three nights for your paying her
expenses up, and if you approve of her, we then can talk
of her salary.
"Direct for me, E. Jones, Music-mistress, at Mr. Bar-
ratt's, bookseller, Old Bond Street, Bath."
The theatrical world is replete with contradictions and
strange anomalies. Within a few weeks of the conten-
tious heat between the greater and lesser stage dynasties,
we find Elliston actually engaged at Drury Lane Theatre,
where he performed for ten nights, in consequence of the
weakening attractions of Kean. The engagement, how-
ever, neither answered the purpose of the committee nor
the comedian, the receipts averaging only £120 nightly,
and Elliston's payment being a share after £225; so that
the sum of Robert William's profits was something like
the contents of Parson Adams's pocket, viz. £0. Os. Od.
The joint efforts of Kean and Elliston were unable to
sustain the tottering fortunes of Drury Lane; and in
(( ROCHESTER," AND ( GIOVANNI IN LONDON.”
May of this year, the company were called together to
meet the Duke of Bedford, the Earl of Essex, Lord Yar-
mouth, Peter Moore, and others of the committee. Mr.
Moore declared that no substance was any longer to be
found under the roof of Drury, and to prevent a crash, it
was proposed that each performer whose salary exceeded
£4 per week should take a reduction by a graduated
per-centage.
254
A scheme like this, at the period of which we are
speaking, was a new and startling proposition. The
performers were amazed; each stared in his neighbour's
face; became mutinous, as the Israelites in the very hour
of deliverance. Lord Yarmouth then told them that
unless the proposal was acceded to, the theatre must
close.
"Then let it close!" cried Dowton, from the crowd;
"my voice is but one amongst many; but I will never
consent to abandon a single farthing. I am myself a
theatrical proprietor, by some of which I lose £40 a
week; but I should blush to call my performers together
on such a question as the present. I will never consent
to this."
((
66
A modification of the resolution was then offered; but
Dowton still persisted. No, no, no,” repeated he; we
will have no compromise, we will have our bond. If you
are in want of money, I will advance you a draft for
£500, on security, and you can then keep afloat a little ;"
but this proposition was, of course, rejected.
The season still lingered on for thirty additional nights,
Kean playing to £87 receipts.
In the course of this summer, the interior of the
Olympic was rebuilt, at an outlay of £2,500. Elliston
now acted here himself, and having collected a good com-
pany, the theatre became a place of fashionable resort. It
opened this season by a new burletta, entitled "Roches-
ter," and "Giovanni in London ;" two of the most popu-
lar pieces of minor theatrical record.
A few evenings previous to the opening, as Elliston
was mounting a staircase in his theatre, he was seized by
SHIFTING SCENERY.
a severe fit; but by timely assistance was soon restored
to his accustomed energies. The newspapers having
announced this attack as apoplexy, and that the manager
still continued in a dangerous state, Elliston addresses a
letter to the Courier, which, being so highly character-
istic, we cannot forbear inserting.
66
255
SIR,-Although I should be reluctant to make un-
necessary stir, respecting my temporary illness, you will,
I trust, excuse my desire to quiet any public alarm which
might arise from the perusal of the paragraphs of yester-
day evening. My attack was not of an apoplectic
description; but mere exhaustion, arising from the un-
remitting attention I have been compelled to give in the
reconstruction of my theatre, which I pledge myself shall
open on Monday next, the 16th, with unrivalled attrac-
tions.
"R. W. ELLISTON.”
At the close of this season, Elliston presented his wife
with a service of plate, for which he paid £400; a gift
far more consistent with his sense of obligation to that
excellent woman than any notion of common prudence
it was perhaps the most useless appendage which could have
been offered, at this moment, to the Ellistonian ménage.
The period had now arrived for Elliston's resigning the
Birmingham Theatre into the hands of his landlord; but
this, it appears, he resolutely refused to do. The proprie-
tors having declined taking some of the manager's scenery
at his own valuation, he became highly incensed, and, by
an odd kind of revenge, refused to give up the keys of
the theatre; putting the law thereby completely into the
hands of the other party, and rendering himself liable to
double rent. Prevailed on at last to restore possession,
he determined to remove his scenery to another theatrical
tenement, and this the Leamington; which toy-playhouse
could have lain perdue behind one of the "flats
he was
about carrying away.
A day was appointed for the removal, and at consider-
""
256
(C
able trouble the flapping frameworks of castles and cut-
woods, drawbridges and dungeons, were elevated into an
open van to travel many miles across country. All went
on tolerably well for a time-slowly and surely; but it
was a raw and gusty day," and the canvass being set
top-gallant high in the wind, threatened the safety of the
vessel. Nor were these fears without foundation; for
scarcely had the van proceeded two miles beyond a cer-
tain village, than a sudden squall took right aback the
toppling pile, and fairly swept it from the vehicle into a
neighbouring field. The whole stock appeared so com-
fortably bedded, that the driver made no effort to load his
cart a second time, but drove quietly back to Birmingham
to acquaint his master.
MR. HOWARD PAYNE.
But the excitement of the affair itself being passed
away, Elliston absolutely took no further notice of the
matter; and almost three weeks after the occurrence, a
boon acquaintance of his own was travelling the road,
and beheld the identical ruins peeping from the sedgy
glebe. Elliston, in fact, never removed a stick, till, at
last, "Lord Osmond's Castle" being knocked to pieces
for firewood, was literally brought to the hammer, and
“Blue Beard's tower" quite as literally reduced to ashes.
66
It was during Elliston's last season at Birmingham that
he met Mr. Howard Payne, the "American Roscius,"
with whom formerly he had had some intimacy. Elliston
at this time, greatly pressed by a variety of undertakings,
was advertised for playing the part of Richard III. on a
certain ensuing evening, and was on his way to the
rehearsal, when he encountered his friend Howard Payne,
My dear Payne," said Elliston, "I well know your
readiness in conferring favours, and, in the present
instance, you can oblige me. I am on my way to the
theatre we have a rehearsal-Richard III. A rehearsal
must be had for the sake of my company, who are a little
wild in the play. You know not, my dear fellow, the
whirl in which I am at this moment; country theatres
in a state of insurrection, and no solid loyalty at home.
Oblige me-run to the theatre-go through the rehear-
A BAMBOOZLED ACTOR.
257
sal with my people-you know the business-put them
to their work, and relieve me from this morning's annoy-
ance.”
66
Why, 'tis so long since I played the part," replied
the other, "that really
""
(6
-No man living could have presented himself more
capable of serving me than you-only put 'em right for
Wednesday night. Show them how they flog us at New
York," added he, with one of his slyest twinkles.
After a little further expostulation on the one hand,
and amicable contention on the other, Howard Payne
consented.
On entering the stage, Elliston introduced his friend to
the principals in attendance, and bidding the prompter
immediately call the rehearsal, once again whispered
"New York" into Howard's ear, and vanished.
The manager now took the opportunity of gliding into
the front of the theatre, where, placing himself in an
obscure corner, he noticed all that was in progress on the
stage. Having witnessed the very able manner in which
his friend was conducting the rehearsal in one or two
scenes, he left the house with extreme precipitation, and,
making the best of his way to his printers', set the
compositors immediately to work by striking off two or
three hundred bills, of an extraordinary size, announcing
“The arrival of the Celebrated American Roscius, Mr.
Howard Payne, who would have the honour of appearing,
on Wednesday evening next, in the part of Richard III."
These bills were printed, and nearly posted, in various
parts of the town, before the termination of the said
rehearsal; and when, at about three o'clock, the actors
were retiring from their morning's task, and with them,
of course, Howard Payne himself, their eyes were saluted,
at the corner of almost every street, with the "American
Roscius for Wednesday evening!" Payne was thunder-
struck, and became furious; refusing, of course, to play a
part into which he had been so thoroughly entrapped,
and went directly in search of the tricking manager.
Arriving at Elliston's lodgings, he there learnt that un-
expected business had called the manager suddenly away
S
-258
to Leicester, but that he would certainly be in Birming-
ham again on Wednesday night!
Poor Payne now retraced his way to the theatre,
where, at every step, "The American Roscius," in
Niagara type, assailed his gaze. The actors here gathered
about him, for should Payne still refuse to act, the theatre,
on Wednesday night, would be closed, and all parties
lose a night's salary. Payne, who had but lately arrived
in England, knew that he had the public to conciliate;
and it was now forcibly represented to him that, should
he fail to perform, the Birmingham people would,
naturally enough, suspect Payne of some breach of con-
tract with Elliston, and thus look coldly on him for the
future.
STEPHEN KEMBLE'S MANAGEMENT.
The whole company, therefore, with one common effort,
entreated him to play the part, pleading their own neces-
sities. Their prayers and other considerations finally
prevailed. Payne consented-Wednesday arrived—“ the
American Roscius" was flattered by crowded boxes and
pit—the actor was highly applauded the receipts great
—and Elliston, true to the Wednesday, returned to Bir-
mingham, when all grievances were forgotten in the
triumphant result of Richard III.!
Colman was now solicited by the committee of Drury
Lane Theatre to undertake the management of that
establishment. Increasing debt, decreasing receipts, blasés
actors, and actresses far more engaging than worthy
engagement, brought at length this band of Sybarites to
their senses (if we may venture so much), by inducing
them to apply to our friend George for relief. Colman,
however, declined interference. To the vacant sceptre
Stephen Kemble was then nominated; for the usual chair
being positively too narrow for "Le Gros" majesty, orders
were given for the construction of a new one. This, alas,
was one of the most unfortunate reigns in the dynasty of
Drury. Stephen's undertakings were to bring out a new
piece every fortnight-good, bad, or indifferent; so he
wrote a piece himself; but under which of the three
denominations it fell, we will not pause to determine.
LORD BYRON'S STATEMENT.
259
Disastrous, in fine, was the fortune of the theatre, and
the doors closed full six weeks earlier than usual.
Disgusted with the whole affair, Lord Byron now made
a public statement of the proceedings at Drury Lane,
during the time of his co-operation in the management; of
which we give a copy :
"When I belonged to the Drury Lane Committee, and
was one of the Stage Committee of Management, the
number of plays upon the shelves was about five hundred.
Conceiving that amongst these there must be some of
merit, in person and by proxy, I caused an investigation.
I do not think that of those which I saw, there was one
which could be tolerated.
"Maturin was very kindly recommended to me by
Walter Scott, to whom I had recourse. Maturin sent
his 'Bertram,' and a letter without his address; so that at
first I could give him no answer.
When I at last hit
upon his residence, I sent him a favourable answer, and
something more substantial. His play succeeded, but I
was at that time absent from England. I tried Coleridge,
too, but he had nothing feasible in hand at the time.
Mr. Sotheby obligingly offered all his tragedies; I pledged
myself; and, notwithstanding many squabbles with my
committeed brethren, did get 'Iran' accepted, read, and
the parts distributed. But, lo! in the very heart of the
matter, upon some tepidness on the part of Kean, or
warmth on that of the author, Sotheby withdrew his
play. Sir J. B. Burgess also presented four tragedies.
and a farce, which I handed to the Green-room and Stage
Committee; but they would not do. Then the scenes I
had to go through! The authors and authoresses—the
milliners and the wild Irishmen-the people from Brighton,
from Blackwall, from Chatham, from Cheltenham, from
Dublin, from Dundee,—who came in upon me !—to all of
whom it was proper to give a civil answer, and a hearing,
and, ah me! sometimes a reading.
"Mrs. Glover's father, an Irish dancing-master, of sixty
years, called upon me to request to play 'Archer,' dressed
in silk stockings, on a frosty morning, to show his legs,
S 2
260
(which were certainly good for his age; and very Irish).
Miss Emma Somebody, with a play, entitled the 'Bandit
of Bohemia,' or some such title; Mr. O'Higgins-resident
at Richmond-with an Irish tragedy, in which the
protagonist was chained by the leg to a pillar during the
chief part of the performance. The author was a wild man,
of savage appearances, and the difficulty of not laughing at
him was only to be got over by reflecting on the probable
consequences with such a ruffian.
DRURY-LANE THEATRE TO BE LET.
"As I am really a civil and polite person, and hate
giving pain when it can be avoided, I sent these applicants
up to Douglas Kinnaird, who is a man of business, and
sufficiently ready with a negative; and so left them to settle
with him.
"Players are said to be impracticable people. They are
so; but I managed to steer clear of any disputes with
them, and excepting one debate with the elder Byrne
about Miss Smith's pas de-something (I forget the
technicals), I do not remember any litigation of my own.
I used to protect Miss Smith, because she was like Lady
Jane Harley in the face; and likenesses go a great way
with me indeed. Then the committee-next, the sub-com-
mittee-we were but few, and never agreed. There was
Peter Moore, who contradicted Kinnaird; and Kinnaird,
who contradicted everybody.
"There were two managers, Rae and Dibdin, and our
secretary, Ward. We were all very zealous, and in earnest
to do good service, and so forth. Hobhouse furnished
us with prologues to our revived old English plays, but
was not pleased with us for complimenting him as the
6
Upton of our theatre (Mr. Upton is, or was, the poet
who writes the songs for Astley's), and almost gave up
prologuizing in consequence.-Farewell."
t
In June, 1819, it was agreed unanimously that the
theatre should be let, and the conditions were publicly
made known.
Kean was the first adventurer in the field. From
Harwich, he thus addresses the secretary :—
261
"Put down my name for £100 in the Drury Lane
Theatre subscription list.* I have received the conditions
of the sub-committee, which nothing but madness could
have dictated, or folly induce a man to read a second time.
These are my proposals-I offer £8,000 per annum, for
the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, and its appurtenances,
scenery, dresses, chandeliers, books, &c. &c. In a word,
I shut my doors against all committees, expecting an
immediate surrender of their keys and all privileges in
possession. I select my own officers, my own performers,
my reason's in my will;' and can only be accountable to
the proprietors for payment of the rent, and to the public
for their amusements.
KEAN'S OFFERS BY LETTER.
"This is my offer-if they like it, so if not, farewell.
Read this aloud to the proprietors, and as much in earnest
as I write it.
"E. KEAN."
This was presently followed up by another communi-
cation from the same, dated Leeds.
“SIR,—It was a saying of Aristippus that it is a foolish
thing to eat more than we can digest; the truth of which
I am now proving; for really the printed articles of
agreement between the lessee and the proprietors of
Drury Lane Theatre appear to be so indigestible, that
the more I read, the more I am constipated. They
present a chaos from which my shallow brain-talpâ cæcior,
perhaps can extract nothing. To re-open Drury Lane,
under an experiment so obligatory, would only plunge it
into deeper involvements and more absolute contempt.
“The public has witnessed the mismanagement that has
brought this magnificent theatre to ruin; its restoration
can only be achieved by a popular professional man! I
now stand forward to devote my property, reputation,
and experience, to this great cause-to cleanse the Augean
stable, and raise a new Palmyra.'
"I cross the Atlantic, should the proprietors reject my
* This subscription was for liquidating the debts incurred by the
committee.
262
ELLISTON A CANDIDATE.
proposals, which are these-rent and taxes £10,000 a
year. The committee may pay my watchmen and fire-
men (persons on whom they place so deep a trust) if they
please; but no servant, except my own, shall have ingress
on my property. I shall propose such securities as the
committee cannot think objectionable. Now, sir, every-
thing else I reject in toto. Read this to the committee
with emphasis and discretion. I have seen and know
their errors- -the world has seen and knows them too.
Ex vitio alterius, sapiens emendat suum. Let me hear
from you immediately, that in the one case I may be
making my arrangements for the restoration of Drury's
monarchy, or be preparing for crossing the Atlantic.
"E. KEAN."
Mr. Thomas Dibdin and Mr. Arnold were also com-
petitors for the lesseeship, and, amongst various others,
Robert William Elliston !
Not an hour had elapsed since the publication of the
notice for letting, when Elliston made a visit to his friend
Winston: "Drury Lane Theatre is mine!" cried he
"for it is enough for me that it is to be had—the theatre
is mine." Elliston now sat down with his confederate,
and drew up a code of management, which, for clearness,
foresight, equity, and spirit, might have been considered
a model of theatrical jurisprudence; and which, had he
himself carried out with decent observance, would have
upheld for many years longer the glories of old Drury,
and rendered his individual memory a more honoured
example than it may be our part to transmit it.
Elliston now sent in his proposals-viz., to take the
theatre for fourteen years-to expend £7,000 on the
building during the time-to pay £8,000 rent for the first
year, £9,000 for the second and third, and £10,000 for the
remainder of his term. For security he proposed certain
freehold, copyhold, and leasehold estates, in and about
London, which had cost him £25,000.
Whilst the question was pending, he addressed Mrs.
263
Coutts, to the effect that, in all probability, he would be the
new lessee, and concluded with these words :-
THE ACCEPTED LESSEE.
"I may, Madam, be asked for a further guarantee ; in
that case, dare I flatter myself Mr. Coutts would be my
falls
friend? I hesitate as I ask the question, and my pen
from my hand whilst it traces "R. W. ELLISTON."
To this application the lessee elect received a reply from
Mr. Coutts himself : "That it was impossible for him to
comply, having refused on every similar occasion; that it
was an obligation to which no banker should render
himself answerable; but that his favour and patronage
should not be wanting to the interests of Drury or the
encouragement of the new tenant."
On the 7th of August, Elliston was declared the
accepted candidate, and on that very day he forwarded a
check for £2,000, the amount stipulated to be paid in
advance of rent; which sum was a loan from his uncle
Martyn, of whom we have so long lost sight, but rejoice
again to meet him on so generous an occasion.
PERIOD THE THIRD.
CHAPTER I.
THE GREAT LESSEE!
ELLISTON, now the "Great Lessee," immerged in the
spring tides of accruing consequences-letters, applica-
tions, contracts, appointments, &c. &c.-found yet leisure
for visiting his favourite Leamington, where he had,
some time before, opened a circulating library, in the
name of his sons, William and Henry; the upper apart-
ments of which Mrs. Elliston occasionally occupied as
opportunities might afford her escape from professional
duties in London. Here, also, in his baby-theatre, the
manager felt peculiar pleasure in exhibiting himself. Like
an emperor visiting the obscurest nook in his dominions,
he pleased his imagination in the glowing prospect of the
future, by the strong contrast with the present. Flattered
and caressed, he now played off some of those eccentrici-
ties so peculiar to his disposition.
One morning, en plaisantant, he descended early into
his shop, and looking round with the irresistible humour
of Tangent himself, "It is my cruel fate," said he,
"that
my children will be gentlemen." And, on his two sons
making their appearance, they beheld their father, in an
old dapple grey frock-coat, dusting the books, arranging
the ink-bottles, repiling the quires of "Bath post," and
altering the position of the China mandarins, with the
veriest gravity in the world. One of the first customers
that came in was a short, dirty-faced drab of a maid-
servant, who brought some books to be exchanged; and
nearly at the same moment, a snivelling charity-boy, with
(6
"}

Sachiinib?

265
a large patch of diachylon across his nose, placed himself
at the counter, demanding other articles.
“One at a time,” said Octavian, with petrifying solem-
nity. 'Now, madam?" pursued he, turning to the
((
runt.
THE MANAGER'S PLEASANTRIES.
"Missus a' sent back these here, and wants summut
'orrible."
"The lady's name ?" demanded Elliston.
Wiwian," grunted the girl.
"With a V or a W?" asked Elliston, with the same
solemnity; but the wench only grinned; when up
mounted Sir Edward Mortimer the ladder placed against
his shelves, and withdrawing two wretchedly-torn volumes,
clapped them together, to liberate the dust, and placing
them in the grubby claws of the now half-frightened girl
There," said he, "a work of surpassing terror; and
now, sir [turning to the boy], I will attend to you.
66
The lad, who by this time had nearly pulled the plas-
ter from his visage, owing to the nervous state of agita-
tion into which he had been thrown, could not at the
precise moment recollect his mission; when Elliston re-
peated, with the intonation of a "Merlin,"
“And now,
sir, I will attend to you.”
"Half-a-quire of outsides, and three ha'porth o' mixed
wafers," screamed the urchin, throwing fourpence-half-
penny on the counter.
"Outsides," repeated Elliston to his son William ;
"mixed wafers," said he, in the same tone, to Henry.
(C
""
The young men, convulsed with laughter, instantly
obeyed. Doricourt then demanded the paste-pot. Taking
the brush, he first deliberately dabbed the lad's nose,
thereby replacing the fallen diachylon; and then, seizing
a watering-pot, much to the merriment of a few strangers
who were by this time collected about the shop, began
sprinkling the steps of his library door. Having played
a few further antics, the "Great Lessee" retired to answer
his numerous London correspondents on the stupendous
affairs of Drury Lane.
It was about this time, that the author of the Essays
266
of Elia “met Elliston," as he says,
(C over the counter of
the Leamington library ;" and had it so pleased him, he
might have gone on to relate, after his own agreeable
manner, a slight characteristic trait of a veteran come-
dian, whom he also met here for the first time.
CHARLES LAMB AND MUNDEN.
Charles Lamb, Elliston, and Munden, had driven over
from Leamington to Warwick Castle, in one of the public
carriages, for the purpose of seeing the wonders of Cæsar's
Tower and the memorable relics of Earl “Guy." The party
having gone through the customary discipline imposed by
the old castle housekeeper, and having listened to the
marvels of the giant earl, to the very echo of the stricken
porridge-pot, were now returning to a late refection
at Leamington, when, just as the shandery-dan was
entering the village,
(6
Stay! stay! my dear boys," cries Munden;
" I'll
just step out here. Here lives my dear old friend, Mis-
tress Winifred Watson; so I'll look in on the old lady.
In her eighty-sixth year-her eighty-sixth year, Mr.
Lamb."
On the driver pulling up, out tripped Munden, as
nimbly as gout would permit him, and bidding his friends
an abrupt "Good day," was presently across the road,
when Elliston burst into an immoderate fit of laughter.
Why, what is this?" demanded Lamb.
66
"Oh! you don't know him, my good sir," responded
the other. "Much as you admire our incomparable
Munden, you don't yet know him. Why, he has no
acquaintance here."
"What? no Mistress Winifred Watson ?
"No-no-no!"
"No dear old lady in her eighty-sixth year?"
"A perfect myth," responded Elliston. "Heark'ye, in
five minutes we shall have to settle for the hire of this
jaunting-car and horses, and Joe Munden always keeps
the stage waiting on such occasions."
Elliston, at this time, acted in his pet theatre. It was
here that he told his audience, on taking his leave, that
he had reason to believe it was the gracious intention of
267
his Royal Highness the Prince Regent to confer on him
the honour of knighthood; and when next he should
have the pleasure of playing before them, it would be the
part of Sir John Falstaff, by Sir Robert Elliston!
One of Elliston's principal advisers at this time was
Mr. Beazley, a gentleman whose active and intelligent
qualities in his profession, as architect and dramatic
writer, have gained him considerable renown. Mr.
Beazley's social temperament was also well appreciated
by one who was himself the best company; so that
hours of business were by no means the only time they
discussed together; and few things, either by day or
night, came amiss to the available temper of our modern
Vanburgh.
CORRESPONDENCE WITH KEAN.
Applications for engagements now poured thickly on
the new lessee; and "from the four quarters of the world,
renowned suitors." But the first person to whom he
himself made advances was Edmund Kean.
Kean, having been himself a bidder for Drury Lane
Theatre, was a little soured by disappointment; and cer-
tain old asperities, in re Elliston,' not being yet fined
down, he not only exhibited a disinclination at co-opera-
tion with the new manager, but publicly declared he
would never act under his authority in any establish-
ment whatever; and that, in respect of Drury Lane, he
would rather pay the forfeit of his bond-namely, one
thousand pounds-than enter the house under the pre-
sent lease.
On this, Elliston begged his reconsideration, offering
him many concessions, concluding by saying, "I shall
think it no degradation to perform Cassio to your
Othello."
Kean again writes; but, as with Voltaire, we are fre-
quently puzzled to know whether he is joking or in
earnest. We give his letter before others of earlier date :-
(C
SIR,-I congratulate yourself and the public on your
accession to the diadem of Drury Lane, wearied and dis-
gusted, as all sensible people must have been, with the
stultified dynasty of the last two seasons. The lovers of
268
(
the drama will hail with rapture a minister to their
amusements so transcendent in his art and so mature in
experience as Robert William Elliston. With regard to
myself, I expressed my determination, at the close of the
last season, to leave England. My arrangements are
made, Cras ingens iterabimus æquor,'-I quit the king-
dom! This has not been kept a secret. On my return
I may treat with you; but it will not be consonant with
my feelings to act in any theatre where I have not the
full
appropriation of my own talents. But I shall allow
the field open to my compeers, and heartily wish success
to all aspirants-thus, for the sake of the drama, which
should be immortal. I have prepared Mrs. Kean to
answer any inquiries that may be necessary in my ab-
sence. Richards and Hamlets grow on every hedge.
Grant you may have a good crop. Yours,
MRS. KEAN.
"E. KEAN."
"If I should go by water to the nether world, I shall
certainly relate to our Great Master, you thought it no
degradation to act his Cassio."
The next communication was from Mrs. Kean :-
September 27th, 1819.
“SIR,—A letter arrived from Mr. Kean this morning,
addressed to his solicitor, ordering him to tender the
£1,000 penalty, and receive his client's articles. I take
the liberty, however, of saying Mr. Kean's friends have
prevailed on him to return to his engagement at Drury
Lane. I therefore request a few lines from you, saying
what time you wish to meet him.
"Your humble Servant,
""
"M. KEAN."
Amongst the numerous applications forwarded to the
new manager was the annexed. It is somewhat of a
curiosity-short; but to the point :-
K
269
"SIR, Honesty is the best policy; it is also the
rarest article. Do you want an honest man? In one word,
I am he. I am just returned from the Continent, rather
unwell, and have a painful swelling in my knee, but
quite at your disposal. I will take care of your interests,
put me in what trust you will. Honesty will be more
valuable to you than ability; for without the first, the
latter is dangerous: I am wanting in neither. When
we meet, you will know and value me.
Š
MRS. SIDDONS-HER NOTE.
"ED. ARGLES.
"65, Great Queen Street, Lincoln's-Inn-Fields,
August, 1819.”
Elliston also addresses himself to Mrs. Siddons :-
"MADAM,-I trust I shall not be deemed intrusive in
laying before you a request which, if acceded to, will be
indeed a public congratulation, and to me an earnest of
prosperity. It was on the boards of Drury Lane Theatre,
madam, that the splendour of your genius was first dis-
played and appreciated; and though I trust Providence
has many years of life and happiness in reserve for you,
yet of your professional retirement I may perhaps be
allowed to speak. Might I petition that your last exer-
tions should also be made on the same ground? If I
may indulge the hope that we may yet witness a display
of those talents which have placed you so eminently
above all professors in the dramatic art, I will have the
honour of waiting on you at your own appointment, and
in the mean time beg respectfully to subscribe myself,
"Your humble Servant,
“R. W. ELLISTON."
To this the manager receives reply :
"Mrs. Siddons presents her compliments to Mr. Ellis-
ton, thanking him for his proposal and flattering
expressions. In acting for a special benefit, or obeying
the commands of the Princess Charlotte, Mrs. Siddons
270
had no thought of returning to the stage professionally,
and begs therefore to decline Mr. Elliston's obliging
suggestion."
SIR WALTER SCOTT WRITES TO ELLISTON.
In Elliston's anxiety, respecting actors, he was no less
ambitious in his views of writers. To the first and greatest
of his day, Sir Walter Scott, he forwards a request, and
with it a liberal pecuniary offer, for a five-act play;
leaving the time and subject altogether at the convenience
of his correspondent.
Sir Walter replies in the following manner :-
"DEAR SIR,-I am favoured with your letter, and am
obliged by your opinion of my supposed dramatic talents.
But the time is long gone by that I could, or dared, have
attempted anything for the stage, and I by no means feel
disposed to risk any reputation I have acquired, upon so
slippery and uncertain an adventure. It is not so much
the power of conceiving dramatic character, and putting
its expressions into the language of passion, which ensures
success in the present day, as the art of constructing a
fable, and interesting the spectators in a series of events,
which proceed gradually to a striking conclusion. Now,
if I had in my better days any talent of the former de-
scription, it is much impaired by a course of bad health ;
and of the last and most material requisite to success, I
never possessed a shadow; for I never yet began a poem
upon a preconcerted story, and have often been well-
advanced in composition before I had any idea how I was
to end the work.
"I wish you, my dear sir, every success in your new and
difficult situation, and have the honour to be,
"Very much your faithful Servant,
"WALTER SCOTT.
"Abbotsford, 3rd August, 1819.”
John Howard Payne, of whom we have already spoken,
-known more particularly in this country as the author
BRUTUS" AND SIR WALTER SCOTT.
271
of the tragedy, "Brutus," in which Kean greatly distin-
guished himself-made a tender of his services, either as
manager, actor, or dramatist; proposals which Elliston
deemed expedient to decline. The representation of
Brutus," in the preceding year, had caused much news-
paper interference; the plot, but more particularly the
language, having been liberally, or rather illiberally, taken
from a posthumous play of Cumberland, entitled "The
Sybil."
((
،،
There had been a prevailing report that Sir William
Scott had complained to his brother, Lord Eldon, that
this play contained inflammatory political sentiments, and
ought to be suppressed.
Payne addressed Sir William on the subject, and received.
the following reply:-
66
Sir,-Living upon terms of the most unguarded fami-
liarity with my brother, I certainly did mention to him,
accidentally, what I had heard in several companies, that
the play of 'Brutus' did contain passages calculated to
produce democratic impressions; but I added, that I had
neither seen nor read the play, and therefore could say
nothing about it but what was conveyed to me in common
report. I was not at that time talking to the chancellor,
in his official capacity, or in the way of complaint; but to
my brother, in the idle style of private gossip,—meaning
neither to express any opinion of my own, nor that what
I said should go beyond himself and some other person
who happened to be in the room. I think my brother
said he had heard similar reports of strong passages in
the play the matter dropped entirely, and I am grieved
that any such consequence as you describe should have
resulted from it.
:
"I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,
"WM. SCOTT.
"Grafton Street, 25th January, 1819."
Amongst other writers, application was made to
Mr. Maturin, the author of "Bertram.”
replies:--
He thus
272
MATURIN-HIS PLAYS.
"Within this year I have written two tragedies, four
thick volumes of tales, a volume of sermons, and kept my
engagements with a periodical work, which I hope will
exculpate me from indolence.* I am a writer for bread;
the subsistence of a large family depends on my daily
exertions; 'My poverty, and not my will, consents.'
66
I am willing and anxious to exert my utmost efforts
for the completion of 'Osmyn,' which I conceive is not ill
suited to Kean's peculiar and distinguished powers, and
beg to know if I may draw upon you for the sum you
have so liberally offered for my encouragement. [This
was £50.] Mr. Ward has probably mentioned to you my
wish, that the play should appear under his name, not
mine. The author of two unsuccessful plays† must feel a
dread of encountering an unfavourable prejudication,
which is avoided by concealing his name till the event is
known. With regard to terms, I had £500 for Bertram,
for forty nights; and Mr. Murray, of Albemarle-street,
gave me three hundred and fifty guineas for the
copyright."
((
Osmyn," however, was not acted, owing to Kean's
objections. Elliston subsequently makes an offer to
Maturin for a melo-drame; to which the latter says:-
"Though I am not very sanguine about my own pro-
ductions, I have not the least hesitation in saying, my
romance will be the most effective mixed drama, since the
days of 'Blue Beard,' or 'Timour the Tartar.' With
regard to Mr. Kean, he has conducted himself like what
he is. Putting me out of the question, his respect for you
should at once have determined him to comply with your
wishes, and consult with a writer who did him the honour
to sketch a character for him. I cannot but admire his
sublime condescension in playing in melo-drame, when
his very best acting is in Sir Edward Mortimer-in that
melo-drame, avowed, 'The Iron Chest;' but what could
* Gregorio Leti, the historian, boasted that he had been the author
of a book and father of a child for twenty years in uninterrupted
succession.
+ Fredolpho, and another, unsuccessful at Covent Garden, both by
Maturin.
273
be expected from a person who rejected Osmyn, and plays
Brutus ? I had the satisfaction of seeing him heartily
laughed at in that piece of radical rant, and of hearing
him confoundedly hissed in the 'Roman Actor.””
The next letter (addressed to Mrs. Elliston) is from the
accomplished authoress of "Thaddeus of Warsaw❞— Miss
Jane Porter :-
MISS JANE PORTER.
"Huntercombe, September 30th, 1819.
“DEAR MADAM,-Not having the pleasure of being
personally known to Mr. Elliston, though he favoured me
with his pamphlet through you, I venture to make use of
the same medium, to learn from him whether I may con-
sider the free-admission to Drury Lane Theatre, presented
to me by its sub-committee, as still a privilege under the
proprietorship of Mr. Elliston. The invalid state of my
health did not allow me to make use of my admission,
last season; and I know not that I may be a more free
agent this; but still I am reluctant to relinquish, without
cause, any mark of honour conferred on me by the gentle-
men of the committee, the perpetuity of which Mr. Elliston
might not consider an encroachment on his interests.
"The drama deserts her high station, on which she
was erected by Eschylus of the Greeks and our own
Shakspeare, when she considers herself a mere deviser of
'blameless amusement.' Mr. Garrick had juster notions
on this subject than Dr. Johnson; and it is a matter of
surprise how that great master in morals here saw so
defectively. What school for loyalty, patriotism, and
every noble lesson of public and private conduct, is so
profound, so eloquent, as the page of Shakspeare? What
Englishman can listen to the speeches of heroic patriotism
in his historical plays, and not rise from his seat a better
subject, and a happier man? glorying in his country, and
feeling his own consequence as one of its sons? Some of
the speeches in Henry V.-'Give a very echo to the seat
where Britain's weal is throned!'
"With my best wishes for his prosperity, and that of
the theatre-believe me, dear madam, very sincerely,
much yours,
"JANE PORTER.”
+
274
THE DRURY LANE OPENING FETE.
Amongst other eminent artistes, Miss Kelly was
retained. The words of her engagement we transcribe, as
a specimen of the terms to which managers are frequently
called on to submit:
"For three seasons; with liberty for Miss Kelly to
absent herself during the six weeks in Lent; to have the
exclusive use of her dresses. Salary to be £20 a week,
but to be raised to equal any other actress who may be
engaged. To have the most desirable dressing-room, with
not more than one other lady, of the highest rank and
respectability; the liberty to decline any new part or
character, and also such parts, in old pieces, as she does
not consider adapted to her powers; to enjoy all privileges
and indulgences granted to the most favoured performer;
to be exempted from the condition of the sick clause,
whenever sickness, &c., shall arise out of the exercise of
her profession, or any consequence thereof."
On the 28th she wrote, wondering the preparation of her
articles of engagement should have escaped the manager's
recollection: "At all events you must not forget, that
it is my resolution never to set my foot within the doors of
any theatre till the stipulations for my comfort shall be
delivered to me, with the security of signature and seal;”-
and concluded by desiring the manager not to depend
upon her at rehearsals till her proposed agreement was
settled. Miss Kelly, in spite of her great talent, was
always a bitter bargain with managers.
On the 30th September, about two hundred friends
were specially invited to view the new decorations, &c.,
of Drury Lane Theatre. The house presented a striking
and brilliant effect. The entrance, comprehending the
grand staircase and vestibule, was restored to its primitive
colour. Dixon's inimitable basso-relievo painting was
renewed by his own hand, and all the architectural
features resumed their maiden simplicity and beauty.
The fronts of the boxes were chastely ornamented, and
several new stage scenes were exhibited. A ball and
supper, in the saloon, succeeded; and the morrow's sun
had "reproved their lingering revelry" before the com-
pany dispersed.
275
On the 4th of October, the theatre opened by an
address spoken by Miss Kelly. The play, "Wild Oats,"
with the after-piece of "Lock and Key."*
Old favourites and new candidates were severally
welcomed on their appearance, by a most animated
auditory; and on Elliston's entrance, in the part of
Rover, the acclamations and distinct expressions of good
wishes, confirmed him still a favourite child of the public.
At the close of the play, he of course made a speech-
not the least part of the evening's entertainment; for
Rover was never more successful, nor Franklin more
elated when he first drew down electric fluid from the
clouds.
THE PROFESSIONAL COMPANY.
The receipts on this night amounted to £638. The
season comprised 199 nights, and the sum of the whole
receipts £44,053.
The newspaper and periodical applications for free
admissions were more than usually pressing-one of them
curious enough, which was as follows:
((
SIR, Wishing well to you, and the vast concern you
have undertaken, I am really desirous you should know
Dr. Rose, whose paragraphical capabilities would be
invaluable to you. He is a great card at Covent Garden,
to which theatre he has a nightly admission for himself and
four friends, independent of the privilege always given to
the paper with which he is connected."
In Garrick's time, £50 was yearly remitted by the press
*The following is a list of the establishment :-
Tragedy-Kean, Pope, Holland, Powell, Foote, Thompson, Mrs.
West, Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. Egerton, Mrs. Knight.
Comedy Elliston, Dowton, Munden, Harley, Oxberry, Knight,
Russell, Butler, Gattie, Hamblin, Barnard, Penley, Mordaunt,
Hughes, Meredith, Elliott, Keeley, Mrs. Glover, Miss Kelly, Mrs.
Edwin, Mrs. Mardyn, Mrs. Harlowe, Mrs. Orger.
Opera-Braham, T. Cooke, Thorne, G. Smith, Mackeon, Miss
Carew, Miss Cubitt, Mrs. Bland, Miss Povey, Mrs. Austin.
Artists-Marinari, Andrews and Son, Dixon, &c.
The musical department under the direction of Kelly. Leader,
Smart, &c.
T 2
276
to the manager for the privilege of inserting his adver-
tisements, while in this day, far more than that sum mul-
tiplied into itself is paid by the converse party, and frank
admissions also granted, equal to the demands of a corps
of yeomanry.
MR. PEAKE-HIS HISTORY.
Elliston was enjoined by his lease to pay £400 to
Mr. Peake, as treasurer, for the first season; besides a
considerable sum to his assistant in the same office.
Peake, a few years afterwards, became the victim to a
cruel conspiracy, and was compelled, in consequence, to
absent himself from England. He had been executor
to a near relative, who directed a certain sum of
money to be paid to his daughter, on her attaining the
age of twenty-five years. She married soon after she was
of legal age, and for the purpose of establishing the young
couple in what appeared to be an eligible concern, Peake,
at the earnest solicitation of both parties, transferred to
the husband the entire amount which he held in trust for
his wife. The husband, who turned out to be a mere
adventurer, soon dissipated the property, and, jointly with
his wife, commenced an action against poor Peake for
neglect as trustee, and for the recovery of the original
bequest. Ingratitude, and the inevitable result of the
trial, drove this unfortunate gentleman from his country.
He died at Boulogne in 1829.
Peake was forty years treasurer to Drury Lane Theatre,
to which office he had been appointed by Sheridan.
Such was the drought in the exchequer at times, that it
was considered vexatious in an actor to apply, on two
consecutive weeks, for his salary. In the old, or "Garrick's
Theatre," as it was called, there was no retreat from the
apartment of the perplexed treasurer, under circumstances
of cash clamour; and Peake has often been kept a
prisoner in his own insolvent territory for hours together,
not daring to unbar the door on the rush of his assailants.
But in the new theatre of 1794, matters were ordered
more wisely; the window of the treasury was constructed
to open on the colonnade in Little Russell Street, so that
on blank Saturdays, when there was no money, the
SHERIDAN'S CHARACTERISTIC NOTES.
277
sinecure cashier might make himself equally scarce, and
leave the besiegers to do their worst, on the other side of
the double-locked entrance.
When not under parliamentary protection, Sheridan
constituted the houses of his treasurer and solicitor his
sanctuary, where for weeks together he has remained con-
cealed. At the residence of Peake, he not only took up
his own quarters, but invited his acquaintances to the
same indulgence; it being a kind of joke with him to offer
his friends a dinner at “THE Treasury," where, beyond all
doubt, he was First Lord.
Peake, in his official capacity, had almost daily appli-
cations for money from the Sheridans, father and son.
The father's letters were always for money,-very short ;
and though scarcely legible, yet intelligible enough for
that purpose; and (except when very angry) signed with
his initials only.
"DEAR PEAKE,-Thirty pounds by return of post, and
I am with you in seven hours.
"R. B. S."
“DEAR PEAKE,—Beg, borrow, or steal; but let me
have thirty pounds, and send them by return of post.
Fear nothing, be civil to all claimants. Shut up the
office, and write to me directly.
"R. B. S."
"DEAR PEAKE,-Without fail, and immediately, give
the bearer five guineas to buy hay and corn for my coach-
horses; they have not had a morsel of either since last
night. I shall be with you presently. "R. B. S."
"DEAR PEAKE,-Give Johnston a little money to go
on with-keep as punctual with Kemble as you can-
borrow, and fear not. Put £60 in your pocket, and
come to me directly.
"R. B. S."
Twenty pounds more will not break our backs.
Let
them go by nine in the morning to Hammersley's, to
answer my draft given to-day to the St. Patrick's Society.
"R. B. S."
278
MADAME VESTRIS.
Sheridan was always anxious that no disappointment
should take place respecting his cheque given to St.
Patrick's Charity. Peake was therefore told to have a
person in waiting, who remained at the banker's counter
till the draft was presented, that any money paid in,
might not be appropriated to the over-drawings.
66
Sheridan's indolence was hardly to be credited. In
the affair and duel between Matthews and himself, at
Bath, respecting Miss Linley, through the influence of his
antagonist with certain newspapers, Sheridan's character
was greatly injured by the most gross misrepresentations;
—he was strongly urged by a much-valued friend to reply
to the attacks made upon him almost daily. They are
not yet sufficiently strong," said he, "for me to crush
them; but, from the rapid progress they are making, they
will be very soon." "Then why not," said his friend, "do
that yourself?” "What mean you?" asked Sheridan.
Why, abuse yourself, and then answer it.”
"A happy
thought !—I'll do it." He instantly sat down and wrote
a letter, abusing himself most abundantly.
To his great
delight, this appeared the following day in the paper: it
was now sufficiently strong;" but such was Sheridan's
indolence, he could never find time to make the reply.
66
((
In February, 1820, Madame Vestris made her entrée on
the English stage, at Drury Lane, in the part of Lilla, in
the "Siege of Belgrade;" introduced by Corri. For the
first few nights this accomplished lady did not appear to
make any great impression on the audience, but, before
the end of the season, she acquired that popularity which
she has since maintained undiminished.
Kean also, at this period, made his first appearance in
the character of Coriolanus; and we shall not be accused
of harshness, in declaring it one of the worst pieces of
acting ever witnessed on these classic boards. He had
neither the ideal, the physical or mental qualities for the
impersonation—the indiscretion of the attempt was as
remarkable as the failure was without redemption.
Dowton being invited to join Elliston's standard, thus
writes to him:
DOWTON AND BIG LETTERS.
279
"MY DEAR ELLISTON,-Knowing what your feelings
are respecting this big-letter system, as well as the positive
injury the continuance of it must be to the interest of
the theatre, I am satisfied you will use every endeavour,
for all our sakes, to abandon it. If the little gentleman
has really an article with the old committee, in which it
was stipulated he should be seen in big letters, I should
suggest great A, to be the fittest character. I agree with
you, that you are in honour bound to insult the whole
profession by obeying the articles already entered into by
the committee; but I am sure you yourself will never
be a party to so contemptible an agreement for the
future."*
""
In the beginning of April, Dowton was announced for
the part of Dr. Cantwell, unfortunately in the "Kean
type. On the next morning came the following to the
manager :-
M
“MY DEAR ELLISTON,—I a
-I am sorry you have done this.
You know well what I mean- this cursed quackery;
these big letters !—there is a want of respectability about
it; or rather, a notoriety, which gives one the feeling of
some absconded felon, against whom a Hue and Cry is
made public. Or if there be really any advantage in it,
why should I, or any single individual, take it over the
rest of our brethren? But it has a nasty, disreputable
look, and I have fancied the whole day the finger of the
town pointed at me, as much as to say, 'That is he-
now for the reward!'
Yours, &c., W. DowTON."
((
By a singular coincidence and error of the compositor,
Kean's name, just at this moment, appeared in the bills
*The words in Kean's engagement, dated January, 1818, were,
"And also that his name shall be continued in the bills of perform-
In
ance, in the same manner as it is at present," viz. large letters.
defence of this absurdity, we remember somewhere to have heard of a
lad whose grandmother pronounced him born for an atheist, because
he spelt Jehovah with a small j.
280
in small letters. The tragedian played that evening, but
the next morning an epistle reached Elliston from
Kean's solicitor-Pica versus Brevier-announcing that
the agreement between actor and manager had been
thereby cancelled :
METHOD OF SECURING A BED.
"Then a quarrel arose, some aspersions were cast,
But for decency's sake, we'll not mention what pass'd."
By a ready amende, however, on the part of Elliston, the
offence was forgiven, and Kean was once again declared
CAPITAL in his parts.
Elliston still found time for a trip into the north; and
whilst at Doncaster, during the grand meeting, great
difficulty existed in respect of beds and accommodation
for the numerous visitors. Elliston had to seek his
night's fortune; he had no bed in view-no chance of
repose whatever. This state of things happened to become
a subject of conversation at the house where he was then
a guest, and his friend Mr. H
vauntingly congratu-
lated himself that he had been able to secure a
(6 shake-
down at the "Old Angel." As the party assembled
were likely to sit late, and Elliston felt himself really
fatigued, he retired at an early hour, and making his way,
bag in hand, to the "Angel" in question, boldly de-
manded the apartment which had been engaged for Mr.
H.- -. The landlady, by no means doubting he was the
identical gentleman who had settled for No. 9, at once
admitted him to the sleeping-room, when Elliston desiring,
on no account, he should be disturbed by noisy com.
panions, deliberately locked the door, and as deliberately
went to bed.
""
At about two o'clock in the morning a thundering
knock at the gates of the "Old Angel" announced a
visitor, who, reasonably enough, happened to be Mr. H—,
at that time of the morning, anxious enough to turn in.
The state of ebriety, however, in which he was, and the
precaution which had been given by our hero that he
might not be disturbed by any rake-helly companion, were
quite enough for our hostess of the "Angel" to give the
KEAN PLAYS “LEAR.”
281
fancied intruder an ungentle reception. The upshot was,
after a noisy altercation, in which the real contractor
for the bed in question decidedly got the worst, he was
compelled to retire, and embrace whatever fortune might
turn up for him in the pious streets of Doncaster. By
six o'clock the following morning, Elliston was on his way
to London.
Measures were taken in the season for the revival of
"King Lear" at Drury Lane. Kean had a passionate
desire for playing the part, and in the scenic preparations
was personally busy. Amongst other effects he had a
surpassing notion for the storm. Kean had seen a me-
chanical exhibition in Spring Gardens (the remains of
Loutherburg's "Eidophusicon "), in which very striking
procellous effects had been produced, and which he
fancied very available to his purpose. The proprietor
was introduced at Drury Lane with this object, but he at
once saw the impracticability of the scheme on such an
immense area as the stage of Drury Lane.
The storm,
though given up on these grounds, was presently transferred
to the bosom of the tragedian. To the magnitude and
ruinous expense of the undertaking, Kean was positively
deaf-there was either to be a storm on the stage, or no
peace in the theatre. To meet his wishes, a great part of
the scheme was carried into operation, and admirably
executed by the artists of Drury Lane. The scenic trees
were composed of distinct boughs which undulated in the
wind; each leaf was a separate pendant rustling with the
expressive sound of nature itself. The artists were
greatly extolled.
"Some carve the trunk, and breathing shapes bestow,
Giving the trees more life than where they grow."
The very success of this scene was fatal to the fame of
Kean, in undertaking the part of Lear. The storm
carried away the greater part of the applause on the few
nights "Lear" was represented; and public criticism
pronounced that, amidst all the leaves in the forest, not a
282
SICK ACTORS.
wreath was to be found to crown the brows of the actor.
Lear was one of Kean's failures.*
Elliston was much annoyed by a conspiracy in the
Theatre, in the nature of " a strike" amongst the actors.
This strike took place on the question of "the sick
clause," a privilege which had been lately much abused,
by sick actors not being able to play, whenever whitebait
offered an engagement at Greenwich, or any part in
their stage duty being deemed too heavy for the stomach.
A meeting was convened on the subject, at which Mr.
Calcraft presided; but nothing could be done for poor
Elliston. The "ægrotat" was a stubborn disease, and
there was no cure for it. Actors were armed with
medical certificates under all kinds of indispositions,
so that a clean bill was rarely seen within the walls
of Drury.
Some few weeks after, a melodrame, called "Therese,"
was produced, in which Miss Kelly was the heroine—and
inimitable, indeed, was her acting. On a certain occasion,
"Giovanni" having been advertised for representation,
Madame Vestris is sick, and sure enough there is a medical
certificate to declare it. "Giovanni" is consequently given
up, and "Therese" put up. Within two hours Miss Kelly
is sick, and there is another certificate, equally clear and
satisfactory." Harlequin versus Shakspeare" (a farcical
drama taken from Garrick's Harlequin's Invasion) is the
last substitute for the night's entertainment, when Mun-
den (Joe Snip) has most unaccountably a sudden attack
of gout—he is sick; on which all doubts are removed by
a certificate to the direct fact. We have known a lady
so cruelly affected with this endemic, that she could not
act her part, but, on the very night in question, indulging
her egritude behind the scenes, by contemptuously
criticising her impromptu substitute in the character.
"O si sick omnes!"
Montaigne relates a curious story, which he believes to
* A tree was prepared for "The Royal Oak," at the Haymarket
Theatre, on which every leaf, to the amount of 9,000, was separate.
It cost nearly one hundred pounds: the whole affair was ineffective.
AN IMPUDENT ATTEMPT AT EXTORTION.
283
have read in Appian, of one, who, to escape the pro-
scriptions of the triumviri of Rome, counterfeited having
But
but one eye, by wearing a patch over the other.
when he fancied himself safe, and removed the bandage,
he found he had a little over-acted his part, for he had
lost the sight of that eye altogether, through the in-
cautious application of the plaster.
To those who have a perception of the variety of shifts
by which the cunning ride downily on the shoulders of
the credulous, the annexed letter will be only amusing:
but to those less enlightened in the griveleries of the town,
its publication may be a timely hint. The following im-
pudent attempt at extortion was made on our hero :—
"Mr. and Mrs. Elliston having acquired so much
celebrity, may probably be desirous of that rank in society
they are so well entitled to. Although knighthood was
conferred upon the late Sir William Parson, and has been
upon Sir William Stevenson and Sir George Smart, his
late and present Majesty, notwithstanding their delight
in the drama, have not conferred any honour or distinction
on eminent histrionic professors. Actresses have been
more fortunately circumstanced, and have attained nobility
by marriage. The late king of Spain created the cele-
brated Italian, Signor Carlo Broschi, better known as
Farinelli, a knight of the order of "Calatrava." The late
Sir John Gallini, maître de danse, who married Lady
Elizabeth Bertie, a sister of the late Earl of Abingdon,
was a knight of the "Golden Spur," of which order the
present Lord Clifford is a knight.
"The same rank and dignity may be obtained for
Mr. Elliston in a foreign order, for a thousand guineas, if
that sum be deposited with a banker (who would be
ignorant of the purpose), in order to be paid upon pro-
duction of the diploma of creation, under seal, and the
gold enamelled jewel and ribbon of the illustrious order
of St. ; out of which sum the fees of honour to the
officers of the chancery of the order would be discharged.
Or on payment of one-third of that sum prompt, Mr. E.'s
С. GIOVANNI IN LONDON."
personal engagement would be accepted for the residue.
The dignified object might be obtained in about two
months. Mr. E. would, of course, become Sir R. W. E.,
and Mrs. E. would, consequently, be intitled Lady Elliston,
which rank the elegance of her manners would dignify.
Their chariot and seal would be decorated with the rela-
tive insignia betokening the rank possessed. As it is
customary to announce promotions in the public journals,
that proposed might be inserted without comment, or as
follows: We understand that a foreign prince (or
princess) was so enraptured with the histrionic talents
of Mr. Elliston, that his Serene Highness obtained his
creation as chevalier de l'ordre très illustre de St.
of
which the late immortal hero, Lord Nelson, and other
British nobles and men of rank, were or are knights.
Our favourite, therefore, is now become Sir R. W. E.'
“The writer begs to assure Mr. E. that he is addressed
by a gentleman and man of honour; and that he will, on
a note being addressed to Mr. St. George, care of Mr.
Tyler, stationer, Grafton Street, Fitzroy Square, have the
pleasure of meeting Mr. E., in order to enter into the
preliminary arrangements."
284
In May of this season, the manager produced the most
popular and successful afterpiece of his whole manage-
ment, “Giovanni in London ;" Madame Vestris, the
hero! The nightly half-price receipts for "Giovanni
averaged very nearly one hundred pounds.
""
Elliston, who had at this time on his hands, as appendix
to Drury Lane, the Leamington undertaking, compre-
hending a handsome library, a magnificent ball-room with
two contiguous private houses, a lawsuit respecting this
very building, and a theatre in the same town, entered on
a further speculation-namely, a provincial Vauxhall!
which was to possess all the attractions of our metro-
politan establishment, in a duodecimo form. The pro-
mised work certainly appeared; but, to use the language
of the trade, it fell dead from the press. The singers, the
suppers, the fireworks, all failed. The last desperate
KEAN "PLAYS MANY PARTS."
285
effort was made in the form of a public breakfast; but
this also failed—everything failed, but Elliston's spirits ;
and the Leamington-Vauxhall acres soon suggested to
our minds the lines of Colman-
Promoting still the neighbourhood's increase,
By Ground to let upon a Building Lease.'"'
Kean was now preparing for his trip to America, and
announced his benefit for the 12th of June.
The great
attraction of the evening was a new farce, as it was
called, written by Dibdin, entitled "The Admirable
Crichton," in which Kean impersonated the hero.
By virtue of this gallimaufry, Kean was to act, speak,
sing, dance, fence, give theatrical imitations of various
players, and perform a thousand "tumbling tricks," as
Christopher Sly expresses it. The first act of astonish-
ment was Kean at the pianoforte, on which he accom-
panied himself in an original song, which, by the bye,
Crichton-like, ought to have been of his own composing.
He then exhibited himself in an assaut d'armes with
Mr. O'Shaugnessy, in which, of course, he came off victor,
giving the Irishman his life by a graceful bow. He then
danced a pas de deux with Miss Valancy, in which, on a
clear stage and no favour, he was fairly the conqueror;
for the lady, who was growing fat and scant of breath,
pleaded earnestly in dumb show, against the importunities
for an encore, whilst Kean himself came "crowing to the
pit." An awful pause, however, transpired between the
first and second acts. Mr. Russell then stepped forward,
and explained that Mr. Kean, having sprained his ankle
in the last pirouette, was undergoing the application of a
little spirit, but would resume his extraordinary efforts in
a few minutes.
The scene was presently raised, and discovered Drury's
tragedian, like Cato, seated in a comfortable arm-chair,
from which he gave imitations of sundry actors; and
though, occasionally, we were reminded of Mathews'
story, "Which is the lion and which is the dog?"-
"Either you please, my little gentleman;"-yet all
286
passed off well, inasmuch as the house was crowded to the
ceiling, and nearly £700 received under it.
Escourt was a great "giver of imitations." He was in
the habit of "taking off" Lords Somers, Halifax, Godol-
phin, and others, for the amusement of Sir Godfrey
Kneller. On one occasion, by a hint given him from
Craggs, he mimicked Kneller, in his presence, whereat
the painter, with sudden simplicity, observed, “Nay, nay
-you're out there-that's not myself."
(C
"9
JACK AND THE BEAN STALK.'
The pantomime which Elliston produced in this season,
"Jack and the Bean Stalk," was, perhaps, the most
successful of all his Christmas offerings. Now, it being
the duty of "Jack" to mount this gigantic "stalk," which,
reaching from the stage floor to the very roof of the
theatre, little Miss Povey very properly declined under-
taking. For this feat it was necessary to find a substitute,
as similar to Miss Povey in figure as possible—the sex
immaterial. On one of the rehearsal mornings, Winston,
in passing Bedford Street, Covent Garden, descried near
the coach-stand a lad, acting as waterman's devil, whom
he fancied suited to the purpose, and carried him off
tout-à-coup to the sanctuary of Drury Lane. The diffi-
culty was now got over-the boy was retained,-he said,
he believed his name was Sullivan,—and as Miss Povey's
scandent "double," he nightly appeared.
In February, 1833, Madame Duvernay and M. Paul,
with M. Silvain, as principal dancer from the "Académie
Royale," Paris, appeared at Drury Lane Theatre
M. Silvain being no other than our little "Jack" Sullivan,
the waterman's devil of Bedford Street. M. Silvain was
subsequently principal dancer at the St. James's Theatre,
and became an artist of considerable merit, and a highly
respectable member of society.
George
Elliston had much readiness at repartee.
Robins, coming one morning on the stage of Drury Lane,
after a first appearance of some young actor, observed
to Elliston, "The youth bids fair to rise." "Yes, Mr.
Auctioneer," replied the manager, pointing to other
KEAN'S BUST.
287
members of his company, "but there are other biddings
against him."
On another occasion, some one observed to Elliston
that a certain singer he had produced, without great
success, had still a "fine volume of voice." "True,"
responded Robert William ; "but I wish there were a
few more notes to the publication.”
During the recess, Elliston projected a portico, for the
grand entrance from Brydges Street to his theatre, which,
if carried into effect in conformity with his design, would
have been useful, ornamental, and executed at a reason-
able expense. The difficulties he had to encounter in the
completion of the hideous covered way which now defaces
the elevation of Drury Lane, were innumerable. First,
the parish (for what earthly reason no one can tell)
violently opposed the measure ; the district surveyor
next threw rubbish in the way. Mr. Soane then puzzled
both the question and the district surveyor, and intro-
duced a Mr. Spiller, who perplexed all parties. Between
the latter two, the excrescence now protruding into
Brydges Street from the face of the theatre, was fomented.
Elliston had nothing in the world to do with it—except,
indeed, paying the expenses, which literally amounted to
the enormous sum of £1,050! A foundation was laid
which might have supported a church tower, in which
loads of gold returned to mother earth, but no mine
of wealth opened to poor Elliston. The sum for which
Mr. Hardwick would have contracted to execute Elliston's
first design, was three hundred pounds.
Before Kean's departure for America he presented a
plaster bust of himself to the proprietors of the theatre,
on the condition of its being placed in the principal
Green-room. Some doubts were raised as to the propriety
of introducing the effigy of a living actor amongst the
monumental simulacra of departed greatness; but Kean
had "set his life upon a cast," and the cast was accord-
ingly set upon a bracket.
The ceremony observed on this event was no niggard
288
affair. Russell, supporting the bust in question, led the
way from Kean's dressing-room. The great living tra-
gedian then followed. Elliston was next in succession ;
and the rear was brought up by sundry actors and
gentlemen danglers at the theatre. On the procession.
reaching the Green-room, the bust was placed on its ap-
propriate bracket. Elliston made a speech, and so did
Kean; the former was extremely eloquent; modesty,
perhaps, forbade an equal display on the part of the latter.
An elegant supper on the stage closed the occasion; the
result of which found many ready—at least in their places,
if not in their senses-at the next morning's rehearsal.
In the early part of the same evening, a somewhat
ludicrous incident occurred. Winston, observing a stranger
passing off from behind the scenes, demanded of one of
the porters, who and what he was? Oh, sir," said the
man, "it's the person who brought in the lady and child
just now, for Mr. Elliston.”
(6
'Lady and child!" repeated the consterned deputy-
"We can have no lady and child here. Where
manager.
are they?"
"In your room, sir," was the reply, "according to
Mr. Elliston's desire."
A WOMAN AND CHILD.
manager.
((
ઃઃ
Poor Winston began to fancy another of those cases
was now thrown upon his hands, for extricating his asso-
ciate from some thoughtless dilemma. At this moment
Elliston himself was passing the scenes, on which Winston,
approaching him, demanded, what woman he had thought
proper to introduce into his apartment.
"Woman?" repeated Elliston, in amazement.
"Yes, and there's a child, too," whispered the acting-
Then, "'fore gad,'" cried Charles Surface, "I'll have
her out!" and away he crossed to the chamber in
question. In went Elliston, in unaffected ignorance of
the case, when sure enough the woman and child stood,
with unblushing impudence, directly in his path; the
same being a painting which Elliston had picked up
two days before at a sale, supposed to be the portrait of
Mrs. Catherine Philips, the "Matchless Orinda," which he
MISS ANN WILSON.
289
intended to present to Charles Mathews, but had altogether
forgotten the circumstance.
At this time, one of those chronic instances of popular
infirmity took place, which the world is subject to, in the
theatrical part of its organization. Elliston had made
an engagement with Mr. Welsh, to receive his pupil, Miss
Ann Wilson, as principal singer at Drury Lane. The
terms were twenty guineas per night,—a benefit,—twenty
free nightly admissions; and sundry other privileges.
Having made his bed, it was to be bolstered up, and
no sooner was the agreement signed, than Elliston
informed the public that he had engaged a young lady,
whose vocal excellence the musical world had acknow-
ledged beyond all precedent; and that Miss Wilson's
first appearance would take place on Thursday, the 18th
instant, in the character of Mandane.
Miss Wilson's reception was certainly (to use Elliston's
favourite term) unprecedented. Her master presided in
the orchestra at the pianoforte. By his skill, he contrived
that this instrument, like charity itself, should cover a
multitude of sins; for whenever the lady exhibited any
indications of frailty, in stepped the charitable forte, and
administered its remedies copiously.
Miss Wilson was presently the rage; what quassia had
been remotely, and hydropathy is, immediately, so was
Miss Wilson in the meanwhile-namely, a remedy for
every sorrow; a "Wilson's drop," which completely
superseded its vaunted predecessor.
"This
One of Miss Wilson's panegyrists announced
lady combines the force of Grassini, the science of
Billington, the execution of Catalani, and the sweetness
of Stephens !! !”
On one of these nights, Mrs. Siddons was present at
Drury Lane, and sat in Lady Harcourt's box. At the
close of the performance, she was conducted by Elliston
into the Green-room, "Where," says the Morning Post,
"she complimented Miss Wilson in the most flattering
terms that probably were ever addressed to a candidate
U
290
(( was
for theatrical fame. She said: 'I know not which to
admire more, your enchanting voice, or superior acting;
but they form such a combination as surpasses any
previous effort on this or any other stage.' Miss Wilson's
second performance," adds the same authority,
witnessed by Mr. and Mrs. Coutts, in company with
Lord Erskine. When it was concluded, they went into
the Green-room, with Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt, Lord Yar-
mouth, and others, and expressed their high admiration of
her singing. Mr. Coutts, a theatrical amateur for more
than sixty years, assured the fair débutante that she sur-
passed all the Mandanes he had heard during that period.
Lord Erskine and Mrs. Coutts paid her similar com-
pliments. The health of Miss Wilson was then drunk in
sparkling Champagne. A few days after, Miss Wilson
received from Mrs. Coutts a £50 bank-note, with which
she purchased and presented to Mr. Welsh, a handsome
silver tea-pot, sugar-basin, and cream-jug.'
""
Miss Wilson's second character was Rosetta, and Rosetta
was a failure. But illustrious, like the sun in decline; so,
like him at that moment, she appeared to occupy a still
greater space. The fact is, the public were most unwilling
to confess they had been deceived. Miss Wilson next
attempted Clara, in the "Duenna;" but the luminary
was still sinking; and, fierce and fiery as had been her
sudden fame, in the words of her only successful opera, it
had now become but, "mild as the moonbeam."
EXTRAORDINARY SUCCESS.
Miss Wilson received no less than £1218 by her ex-
periment, having sung on fifty-eight occasions. This lady
was born in April, 1803, and was married to her instructor,
Mr. Welsh, June, 1827.
In February, 1821, his Majesty George IV. made hist
first state visit to Drury Lane Theatre, the performances
being "Artaxerxes,
" with Mr. Poole's farce, "Who's
who." The king, accompanied by his royal brothers, the
Dukes of York and Clarence, was punctual to the hour-
a quarter before seven o'clock; but a considerable time
afterwards elapsed before he thought proper to enter his
box. This was the first occasion of his appearing in
291
public since his accession, and the uncertain result of
his reception, was evidently a question of some disquiet
to his Majesty.
FRAILTIES.
The pause which the king had occasioned, was evidently
embarrassing to his whole suite, of which his Majesty
appeared suddenly to become conscious; when, with a
movement, almost partaking of a rush, he advanced to
the front of the royal box. In a moment all doubt was
at an end. The king's reception was enthusiastic and
general. The night passed off with the greatest éclat, and
the few gracious words his Majesty vouchsafed to the
manager, lost nothing in their value with him to whom
they were addressed. The king, in descending, made
some allusion to his sly enemy, the gout. "I have it
myself, your Majesty," responded the manager, with pre-
cipitation; a coincidence in which the king was, without
doubt, greatly interested.
Elliston, about this time, had in anger, dismissed from
his establishment, at a moment's notice, a certain lady-
a very handsome and attractive woman,-for some fancied
or real cause; but of no matter here. On the following
morning, there was a rehearsal at the theatre, and Ellis-
ton proceeded to the Duke of Bedford's box to witness
one of the scenes then in progress on the stage. The
interior of the building, during the morning, as every one
may guess, exhibits but a dim religious light. Elliston
having witnessed the scene, turned now about, and, by
the religious light we have just mentioned, traced the
form of a solitary nun, recumbent on a side ottoman, to
whom his devout spirit would have acted as a ready con-
fessor. "The mask of night was on her face," and he
could not discover her features; but her form was
palpable enough.
The holy friar, intent on the spiritual welfare of the
lone stranger, soon began to unfold himself; and, meeting
with a very frank response to the pressure of his hand, he
improved the moments with that singular savoir which
long habitude and natural temperament had made so
thoroughly his own. The good "Father" no sooner ex-
U 2
292
DEATH OF MRS. ELLISTON.
claimed, "What, my sinning angel, can I do for you?" than
the lady promptly replied, "Restore me in the theatre;
refund my fine, and raise my salary." It is needless to
say, the fair Ursuline turned out to be the very lady
who had lately been angrily discharged; and it is only
in justice to Elliston to declare that he acted as a man of
gallantry and honour.
On the 31st of March, Mrs. Elliston had retired to
rest at an early hour; at about midnight she was sud-
denly seized by a spasmodic attack, and expired within a
quarter of an hour afterwards.
The occasional tribute of respect which we have paid
to this lady in the course of these Memoirs (for there
was no action that she performed that was not entitled to
respect), we feel will still fall short of her claims on the
memory of her numerous friends, as a wife, a mother, and
a member of social life. Towards her husband, Mrs.
Elliston felt and cherished a conjugal affection of the
most intrinsic kind. She was a wife jealous of her hus-
band's honour, anxious for his solid happiness, watchful
of his estate; and, though of a submissive temper, she
possessed all the ability to direct. Her manners and her
person were graceful; she had moral, if not intellectual,
accomplishments; and her gentleness of disposition gave
the last charm to her social character.
As a professor of her art, Mrs. Elliston was highly
respected and patronized, whose example in all depart-
ments of life has since been so amiably studied in her
surviving daughter, Mrs. Wilson.
The remains of Mrs. Elliston were deposited in St.
George's burial-ground, Bayswater. She was forty-six
years of age.
On the day of her funeral a knell was tolled in the
Abbey Church, Bath, in which city her memory was
highly respected, and a similar tribute of respect was
paid to her name in the parish of Leamington.
A few days after the funeral, the following, written on
a deep mourning sheet, was addressed to the widower:
"Do not understand by this letter that 'Invisiblina'
<< MARINO FALIERO."
293
is one at all inclined to fall into the ranks of your nume-
rous correspondents, who may be now presenting you
with condolences at the loss of your best friend—your
inestimable wife. The friend you have lost you can
never hope to supply. It is enough: I will not wring
tears from your eyes by recounting her virtues; but I
would rather wake the sterner part of your nature, and
implore you, by the conviction you must have that you
did not sufficiently value her when living, you will
imitate the example she has bequeathed to you.
What
is now due from you to your family, to your friends,
and society, has become, indeed, a heavy debt, because
you well know, hitherto, how small a part you have
borne in these obligations. In all these instances, she
herself has paid the demands in full, leaving you to the
pleasanter paths (as they are sometimes called) of life; so
that by her death obligations have fallen on you which, if
you neglect, will some day be the bitterest mortal pang
the heart can suffer."
On Saturday, the 21st of April, Lord Byron's tragedy,
"Marino Faliero," was published by Murray, and on
Wednesday, the 25th, the play was represented by Ellis-
ton, in Drury Lane. This extraordinary march, so worthy
of our dramatic Napoleon, was thus accomplished. The
drama, sheet by sheet from the compositor's hands, was
brought from the printing-office to the theatre, and the
whole play, in fact, studied before publication.
On Wednesday (the day of representation), the formal
license came from the Chamberlain's office-so far, so
good; but within half an hour afterwards, a notice
reached Elliston, from the publisher's solicitor, an-
nouncing that the Lord Chancellor had, on application,
granted an injunction against the acting of "Marino
Faliero," and that the play must be immediately withdrawn.
Elliston was now in his element-namely, a perplexity;
and, with his wonted activity in such cases, he sprang
into a hackney-coach, with the view of driving to Hamil-
ton Place, that he might see Lord Eldon himself on the
subject. The tardiness of the driver, however-" so
294
ELLISTON AND LORD ELDON.
"
tortoise-paced to his fleet desires," ill suited his impa-
tience. Out again of the vehicle he jumped, making far
better way on foot to his lordship's residence. He was
there informed that the Chancellor was in his private
room at Lincoln's Inn. To Lincoln's Inn, therefore,
Elliston at once proceeded, where, on arriving, he
learned the Chancellor had just departed. Again was
the manager on his return to Hamilton Place, where he
arrived in very time to catch his lordship by the skirts of
his clothing as he was mounting the steps of his own
door. Here the "defendant at once entered on the
merits of his case, and his lordship declared the court
sitting-Lord Eldon on the upper step and Elliston on
the pavement—the one all patience, the other all anima-
tion. The Chancellor hesitated as to his previous order
-Lord Eldon doubted-and Elliston redoubled the force
of his argument. At length he so far succeeded that the
judge suspended the injunction granted against the act-
ing of the play for that night; but "Mind," observed he,
you appear before me in the morning of to-morrow.
An interview, this, more extraordinary perhaps, than any
recorded in Mr. Twiss's Life of his lordship.
""
66
This sudden new position of the question met with but
little credit in the councils of Albemarle Street, and the
following hand-bill was consequently in immediate circu-
lation:
"The public are respectfully informed that the repre-
sentation of Lord Byron's tragedy, 'The Doge of Venice'
(Marino Faliero), this evening, takes place in defiance of
an injunction of the Lord Chancellor, which was not
applied for until the remonstrance of the publisher, at
the earnest desire of the noble author, had failed in pro-
tecting this drama from its intrusion on the stage, for
which it was never intended."
The play was acted on the night in question, and so far
a triumph had been obtained; but it was one dearly
bought, or perhaps scarcely worth purchasing at all.
The drama was neither fitted for the stage, nor was any
DOUGLAS KINNAIRD'S LETTER.
295
defection of this kind at all supplied by good acting. No
public excitement took place in consequence either of
the author's name or the circumstances of its announce-
ment.
Elliston having imagined that Mr. Douglas Kinnaird
had been partly instrumental in the opposition made to
the production of "Marino Faliero
“Marino Faliero" at Drury Lane, the
latter addresses the manager as follows :-
"DEAR SIR,-I am uncertain whether I correctly dis-
criminate between the serious and the jocular parts of
our conversation last night. I understood you to state
your belief that I had interfered on the subject of Lord
Byron's tragedy in a manner inimical to your interests
and that of Drury Lane.
"As soon as it was publicly known that Lord Byron
had written (but had not then transmitted) his tragedy,
I did, at your request, make application to Mr. Murray,
in the event of his being the publisher, to give you the
preference. To this offer I added such other inducements,
arising out of Lord B.'s former connection with Drury
Lane Theatre, as I thought would have weight with
Mr. Murray, and such as I fancied would influence Lord
Byron himself. Soon after this, the MS. arrived — I
read it, and was decidedly of opinion it was unfit for
successful representation. I told you so; and, if I mis-
take not, I added, at the same time, that Mr. Hobhouse's
impression was different. From that hour, to the day
before yesterday, I have no recollection of being ever
spoken to, or even heard the subject of the representation
of the play mentioned by any person whatever. From
Lord Byron's letters to myself and to Mr. Murray, I knew
that Mr. Murray could not be a party to its being acted;
and I was so satisfied of the unfitness of the play for
representation, that it was with the utmost surprise I
learnt, for the first time, its having been announced
by you, by Mr. Murray's bringing to me your play-bill
the day before yesterday, when he came to obtain my
signature, as Lord Byron's representative to the deed of
296
assignment of the copyright to him. With regard to
Mr. Murray, he announced to me yester-afternoon having
obtained an injunction, but that you would certainly
proceed with the play. I then concurred entirely in his
suggestion, that a public protest should be immediately
made on the behalf of the author, before the experiment
of acting his play was made, as, after its failure, such a
protest would come with an ill grace. But I decidedly
disapprove, and never contemplated Mr. Murray's sending
hand-bills into the theatre. This is all I know of the
matter.
THE QUEEN AT DRURY-LANE THEATRE.
""
On the 14th of May, Queen Caroline, attended by Lord
Hood and two ladies, honoured Drury Lane Theatre by
their presence. By her Majesty's desire, a box was pre-
pared for her, immediately opposite the King's. Soon
after the Queen's arrival, a cry for "God save the King"
was raised, which the orchestra failing to obey, Mr. Wal-
lack was assailed by missiles, in an interesting variety of
form. Elliston was called for, and at length presented
himself.
""
"I am arrived! said he; "speak what is your
wish?" (Cries of "The Queen! the Queen!") "Ay?
responded the manager, with a most comic look of un-
meaningness; "What, my good friends, am I to understand
by 'the Queen?"" "Why, God save the King!"-responded
a voice.
66
""
Satisfactory and clear," observed our hero, with a
winkle "You shall be obeyed."
Accordingly, on the fall of the curtain for the play, the
company of actors-part in their costume of the tragedy,
"Malino Faliero," and part prepared for "Giovanni in
London," a mixture of Demons and Doges, Vixens and
Venetians, made their appearance. Disassociated as were
the characters, the Anthem was equally discordant, and,
after considerable uproar, which the greater part of the
auditory appeared especially to enjoy, the Queen retired
and peace was restored.
Amongst many curious epistolary communications,
297
which, from time to time, were made to Drury Lane
Theatre, under Elliston's lesseeship, the following was
addressed to his stage-manager, Russell :-
EXTRACTS FROM AN OFFERED MELODRAMA.
"DEAR SIR, — I hope you will excuse me for thus
intruding upon your notice. You must know, sir, that I
am a young author-my age eighteen years, and I have
composed a melodrama; and, although late in the season,
I should be obliged to you if you would (if it is worth it)
have it performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.
The following is an extract from it.
* * *
'Yes, 'tis I have murdered her!
Then what am I now ?-An horrid mixture
Of the crimes of man! A monster, blacker
In guilt, than any that hell holds! Why then
This stay? I'll plunge into the infernal
Streams of burning Acheron ! Give me the
Angel's clarion! Let me awake the dead!
But see the black Cocytus in smoky
Circles, rolls its fiery waves!
The dreadful harmonies of woe! Deep groans!
Rattling chains! All!-all! Will not it die
Away? Ah, no, the din increases round!
Ten thousand clanks, in dismal notes, clash mirthful!
Roaring bursts of sighs and groans, strike horror
To my soul? But, lo! the infernal hags
Rush forth, and drag me before their master,
With heads bedeck'd with fiery serpents.'
Hark! hear,
((
If, therefore, sir, you, think, by the above speech, that
the piece is worthy of being performed, I will send it to
you. If you will simply state in the Morning Advertiser
(as I see no other paper), that H. H. is requested to
bring his piece to Mr. R. on- '(naming the time); or
by saying so in the bills of the performance.
"Your humble servant,
"H. IIUNTER."
On the 18th of June, a masque festival was given at
Drury Lane Theatre, in commemoration of the battle of
Waterloo-one of the most striking and dashing efforts of
its kind ever undertaken.
298
A MASQUE FESTIVAL.
A false ceiling was constructed, beautifully painted by
Marinari transparencies, admirably executed, being
portraits of his Majesty, the Dukes of York, Wellington,
and the foreign heroes, who had been distinguished in the
common cause on the plains of the Netherlands. A
moveable orchestra divided the stage from the audience
part of the theatre; the entertainments commencing by
a grand martial concert, assisted by Ambrogetti. A brief
vaudeville followed; at the conclusion of which the bar-
rier was
was removed and Chalon's (C
Magic Recreative
Philosophy" was exhibited. The "French Hercules,"
Grey's Fantoccini, the Polanders, &c. &c., came duly on,
in turn. The Champion, in complete steel, attended by
two heralds, in their tabards, mounted on chargers, and
richly caparisoned; two knights in magnificent armour,
accompanied by a band of king's trumpeters, passed
through a triumphal arch—a fac-simile of the one at that
time in progress at Westminster Hall.
The fête was crowned with success, so far as the public
were concerned. The only one who did not reap his full
reward was the enterprising manager himself; yet his
spirits and manner indicated no less than a triumph.
Neither profit nor reward fell to the share of Elliston,
who, under similar or more distressing circumstances,
always appeared to have put a certain bean into his mouth,
which old travellers speak of as growing in Turkey, which
being sucked, has the quality of purging the memory from
all disagreeable reflections.
A few days after this merry meeting, the messenger of
the theatre announced to Elliston that two gentlemen
were waiting for him in his private room.
The manager
immediately obeyed the summons, and, within a few
minutes, the housekeeper, with looks of terror, rushed
upon the stage, and, in piercing accents, cried out that a
couple of ruffians were murdering her master. The actors
well knowing that this thrilling effect was not pre-
cisely the one looked for, in the piece under rehearsal,
were naturally alarmed; and, on some of them reaching
A BATTLE ROYAL.
299
Elliston's room, Mr. Rodwell, the proprietor of the Adel-
phi Theatre, was observed bleeding profusely from the
forehead, but Elliston apparently unhurt. One O'Callagan,
an Adelphi actor, well fitted to challenge Mount Athos
to combat, was also by, and, with all the characteristic
clearness of his country, exclaimed—
(C
Oh, yes-here we are-and sure we came o'purpose
-you've done it gallantly, Mr. Rodwell, though you've a
little scratch over the sconce, I'm thinking."
It turned out that on Elliston entering the room, Rod-
well inquired whether a note, he then held in his hand,
was the manager's writing, and, on Elliston's assenting,
the intruder struck him across the shoulders with a whip,
which he had brought, according to the Irishman, "for
the purpose." Elliston was not tardy in reply, and with
the prompt impingement of his "night preserver," levelled
his antagonist to the earth. The Milesian O'Callagan, on
the part of the Adelphi invader, now interfered, but
Elliston still continued cock of the walk; and such was
the picture when the terrified rehearsalists entered. The
facetious Tom Brown has said, that a woman who vows
she'll cry out, and a man who threatens to cut your
throat, will neither of them be as good as their words.
The latter portion was certainly proved in this case,-
Rodwell was less than his word; as to the former, we
can offer no opinion on the matter.
The origin of the above fracas appears to have been
this. Elliston wishing to engage Chalons for his grand
masque fête, had gone, with that intent, behind the scenes
of the Adelphi Theatre, of which Rodwell was proprietor.
On the following morning, the Adelphi manager forwarded
a remonstrance to the "Great Lessee -a remonstrance,
more in the rough tones of Ajax, than the mild accents
of Ulysses.
To this Elliston replied
""
“RODWELL,—I have heard of a puddle in a storm, and
a puppy in a passion; at the one I am unmoved, but at
the other, I laugh outright.
"R. W. ELLISTON."
300
MR. MACKAY.
At the July Westminster sessions, the Adelphi de-
fendants, Rodwell and the redoubtable O'Callagan, pleaded
guilty. By the advice of Alley, their counsel, they
apologized to the court for their rupture on the public
peace, and Rodwell making an overture of £20 to the
common cause of the Drury Lane and Covent Garden
Funds, the same was accepted and each and every
party returned to give his own version, publicly, of the
story.
"Thus often at the 'Temple Stairs,' we've seen
Two Tritons of a rough Athletic mien,
Stoutly dispute some quarrel of the flood,
With knuckles bruis'd, and face besmeared with blood;
But at the first appearance of a Fare,
Both quit the fray, and to their oars repair."
Mr. Mackay, an actor of considerable celebrity in his
own city of Edinburgh, arrived about this time in London,
bringing with him letters of recommendation from Sir
Walter Scott.
Mackay's line was low comedy, and his foremost imper-
sonation, Baillie Nicol Jarvie, in Scott's dramatized novel,
"Rob Roy." Mackay made his first Drury appearance
in this character, and on which occasion was received with
much good feeling. For his second character he selected
Dominie Sampson, in which he had acquired almost an
equal fame amongst his countrymen, as in the Baillie.
If Mr. Mackay did not produce that great sensation
which his friends had anticipated, he had, perhaps, the
higher gratification of knowing that though he could not
command success, he had at least deserved it; for there is
no doubt that many points of nationality in his acting,
were lost to the perceptions of his southern auditory, who,
having been accustomed to see their own Liston, in the
identical characters, would fain persuade themselves he
was the better delineator, because he had caused them,
perhaps, to laugh more heartily. Certain it is, the Mac-
kay shoot did not flourish on the Drury stock; the actor,
like his native whisky, was far more relished and under-
stood on its own native soil. The Mackay, “neat as
SIR WALTER SCOTT'S LETTER.
301
imported," did not command a sale, while the Liston,
"prepared for the English market," was again in demand.
The annexed is from Sir Walter Scott, addressed to
Mrs. Coutts, and thence forwarded to Elliston :-
“MY DEAR MRS. COUTTS,-As you are kind enough
to allow me the interest of a cousin, will you permit me
to beg you will countenance with your presence and Mr.
Coutts', the performance of a Scots actor, named Mackay,
who goes up to perform the part of Baillie Nicol Jarvie,
in the play of 'Rob Roy.' He has drawn great audiences
here, and continues to attract whenever he performs the
part, which, indeed, is one of the very best personifications
of national character (Irish Johnstone not excepted) which
I ever saw on any stage. I fear, indeed, the English may
not think it so broadly ludicrous as Liston's playing; but
I hope a good number of Scotch folk will attend, as they
must be (at first at least) the more competent judges of
the nice and well-drawn shades of their own provincial
peculiarities. I intreat your interest with my distin-
guished countryman, Lord Erskine. I am spending two
or three days here with the Lord Chief Commissioner
and Lord Chief Baron, well known to his lordship as
William Adam and Sir Samuel Shepherd, who send their
respects. I beg my own respectful compliments to Mr.
Coutts, and am, with great regard, dear madam,
"Your most respectful, humble servant,
"WALTER SCOTT.
"Blair Adam, 11th June, 1821."
London was
now in a state of excitement at the
approaching ceremony of the coronation of George IV.
The Drury Lane company still retained their designation,
"his Majesty's Servants," under which holding, Elliston
was now desirous they should be recognized, as in ancient
times, and occupy their station at the ensuing pageant.
Every exertion was made to this end, and not without
hopes of success; but the privilege having so long been in
abeyance, the scheme was finally defeated.
302
A CAT AND KITTENS.
As his actors were not permitted to play their parts in
the out-door drama of the King's coronation, Elliston was
determined to bring the coronation itself within his own
edifice, and with his accustomed alacrity, set immediately
to work on this fresh speculation.
Application he now made to Lord Gwydyr, Sir George
Nayler, and other gentlemen especially concerned in the
arrangements; all of whom conceded every facility to
Elliston and his artists, by giving them free access to the
preparations, and allowing drawings and models to be
taken at the will of the parties.
Of these privileges Elliston personally and unremittingly
availed himself; and it was in the course of these "notes
of preparation" that the first indication of that amusing
idiosyncrasy was developed, which, in the after-stages of
the theatrical pageant, gave rise to so many anecdotes
respecting him. Daily interested in all that was in for-
wardness for the inauguration of "King George upon the
throne," and pleased with cajoling his own imagination,
he became, at length, a firm believer in the story he had
so often repeated to his own ears; more firmly accredit-
ing himself a king than many real monarchs have abso-
lutely found themselves. In fact, he began to look not
only on the Drury preparations as movements in his
individual glorification, but all that was going on at
Westminster also; so that his senses positively reeled
under the weight of this potent sirup.
A moral rebuke, quite worthy a place amongst the
myths of ancient sages, transpired just at this moment.
Amongst other things to which Elliston was permitted
access, was an inspection of the coronation robes, which
were at this time deposited at the house of Mr. Myers, in
Conduit Street. The king's grand robe was spread out
on the floor of Mr. M.'s drawing-room, which had been
prepared for the purpose, to the full extent of twenty-five
feet. Elliston was ushered up-stairs for the inspection.
by the master of the house, when, on entering the apart-
ment, they were horror-struck on discovering a cat giving
nourishment to a recent brood of kittens, bound in one
family embrace, and reposing on the downy selvage of the
ELLISTON'S INCONSISTENCIES.
303
robe of royalty, valued at six thousand guineas! A lesson
to human vanity, without doubt; but in this instance
completely lost in the terror of the whole assembled
party.
But now we arrive at a piece of inconsistency which
will be scarcely credited. The king's coronation took
place on the 19th; tickets having been furnished to Ellis-
ton for the Hall, the Abbey, and all objects of interesting
inquiry. On the day after this brilliant event, Braham
entered Drury Lane Theatre, where, meeting with the
"Great Lessee," he asked which newspaper account might
be deemed the most correct history of all the fine doings
of the previous day.
"I have seen no paper," replied Elliston, with a myste-
rious, or rather wool-gathering aspect.
Well! what of the proceedings at the Abbey? You
have made your minutes?"
I was not in the Abbey.”
"Indeed! The ceremony in the Hall, then?”
"I was not there."
"Neither the Abbey nor the Hall?" repeated Braham,
with evident surprise. You gave your whole attention,
then, to the procession?"
"I did not see the procession," answered Elliston, in a
measured tone, as though he were uttering the profoundest
sentiment of Locke himself. "I had some important
business at Walworth," added he, in a tremulous whisper.
The fact is, such had been the unpardonable levity or
indiscretion of Elliston, that after all the bustle and com-
motion, of which we have spoken, every chance had been
thrown away of doing anything in the matter. Elliston
had been indulging one of his truant fancies, and had
absolutely seen nothing. The project of the coronation
at Drury Lane was, for a time, entirely given up, and all
the workmen about to be dismissed, when a letter arrived
from Kean, dated-
—
Liverpool, Coronation-day.
“MY DEAR ELLISTON,-With those feelings which an
Englishman can alone understand, I have touched once.
"(
304
again my native land. I shall be at the stage-door of
Drury at noon, on Monday next. Do you think a few
nights now would be of advantage to you? I am full of
health and ambition, both of which are at your service, or
they will run riot.
"E. KEAN."
A SPECIAL PROCESSION.
This letter was "favoured by a friend," who, on deliver-
ing it to Elliston, suggested to him that it might be
gratifying to Kean, at this period of pageants, if his
entrance into London were marked by some token of
professional respect.
Elliston was not slow in taking this hint. Play-bills
of an enormous size were, in a few hours, posted over
London, announcing Kean's return from America, and
his re-appearance on the ensuing Monday, as Richard III.
An impetus being thus given to the truant and slumber-
ing spirit of the manager, Elliston, on the same sheet,
advertised his "Magnificent representation of the Coro-
nation,” which only the day before had been positively
abandoned.
On the Monday, at about noon, a special courier
announced the progress of Kean towards the door of
Drury Lane, and within a quarter of an hour, the caval-
cade was in sight. Six outriders, in a medley costume of
all nations of the earth that do not go absolutely tattooed,
constituted the vanguard; then came Elliston himself in
solitary grandeur, in his own carriage, drawn by four
greys. The hero of the triumph next-Kean himself,
likewise in his own carriage, supported by Russell and
Hughes in cocked hats, drawn by four blacks. John
Cooper, in the simple majesty of his undecorated form,
followed, drawn also by four skewbald or piebald. A
troop of horsemen formed the flank, composed of bruisers,
jockeys, tavern-keepers, dog-fighters, and other friends of
the drama; and the whole was brought up by the
heterogeneous rabble which the progressive affair had,
from pillar to post, enlisted in its service. Alexander
alighted from his car at the ostiary of Drury Lane Theatre;
escorted by two firemen, in flaming liveries, he entered
the building; and as he disappeared from the street, the
PREPARATION FOR ELLISTON'S CORONATION.”
305
"vast vault of heaven" re-echoed with the shouts of the
wondering multitude.
"Bow Street and Brydges sound with quaint alarms,
Though raw in fields the rude militia swarms;
On seeming arms they make a stout essay,
Then hasten to the tap-the business of the day.”
،،
The same was repeated on Kean's entering the building.
The hero played on this evening Richard III. A supper, in
the theatre, with usual consequences, closed this memo-
rable night.
"Fruges adde, Ceres-et frugibus adde racemos—
Vitibus et vates, vatibus adde diem."
But all was once again bustle, bustle, in pursuance of
the "Coronation." Elliston's energies were strengthened
by the rebound, and night and morning he was indefati-
gable in personal exertions for this mighty purpose. With
the descriptive Morning Herald in his hand (his sole
guide), he gave all directions necessary, and on the first
of August the pageant was produced.
As a piece of theatrical effect, this was perhaps the most
complete ever represented on the English stage. Faithful
in its delineation, gorgeous in its appointments, replete in
its auxiliaries, and profuse in its expenditure, the "Coro-
nation" at once attracted the attention and admiration
of the whole town. Nearly two hundred men, in the
employ of the India Company, were engaged at Drury
Lane on this occasion. Each man was known in the
theatre, by the office or character to which he was
appointed; and, on a certain occasion, one of them being
taken ill, and thereby unable to attend in his place, at
night, thus wrote to the manager :-
"The Lord Chancellor presents his compliments to Mr.
Elliston, and regrets that a sudden attack of the bowels
prevents his fulfilling his duties this evening."
During the unprecedented run of this spectacle, various
amusing characteristic anecdotes were in circulation re-
specting the "Great Lessee." There is no doubt that the
extraordinary success of the piece, the crowded assembly,
X
306
the heated atmosphere, and his own highly rectified tem-
perament, not unfrequently qualified by more material
alcohol, produced the transmutation of his wits, or perhaps
drove him completely out of them. That there were
moments in which he verily believed himself, not the
shadow, but the substance of monarchy, there can be no
question. He felt not, indeed, with Macbeth, that—
AGGRANDIZEMENT OF THE MANAGER.
"To be king
Stands not within the prospect of belief.'
And when, amid the acclamations of hot-pressed Drury,
threading his way through the "upturned wondering eyes'
of all London in the pit, he exclaimed,
"Bless you, my
people! he believed himself no less than "The Lord's
anointed."
""
"A strong conceit is rich-so mortals deem,
If not to be, 'tis glorious yet to seem.”
A coronation medal was now struck by instruction of
the Great Lessee, and specimens were presented, for
several nights, to the first two hundred persons who
entered the theatre.
The Queen died on the 8th of August, and the day
after the memorable funeral, reports were very generally
in circulation, that her Majesty's death had been oc-
casioned by poison, administered to her in a cup of coffee
at Drury Lane Theatre, by the connivance of Elliston.
That the Queen partook neither of coffee nor refresh-
ment of any kind, was no refutation of this wild report.
A portion of the public was determined the bantling
rumour should not be strangled in its birth, and nursed
the imp with unremitting attention. The buz was a
well-flavoured, spicy, piece of sucreries, and highly relished.
"Elliston had poisoned the Queen!" The caquet, like the
quarrel," as Sir Lucius observes, "was a very pretty one
as it stood," and was "not to be spoilt by any explana-
tion." Elliston had poisoned the Queen!
(6
One of the earliest intimations Elliston received of this
act of Queen-murder was from his facetious friend, “Jack
Taylor."
ELLISTON KILLS THE QUEEN.
"Are you aware of a strange report in circulation,
respecting yourself and the Queen? They say,
'That thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
That ere did lift up eye!
307
Are you not content to be yourself nightly crowned, but
you must kill your Queen for pastime? But so runs the
tale, from one end of the town to the other. I have
written a paragraph for to-night, calculated to stop this
absurdity for it is not every absurdity that is amusing.
Yours, JOHN TAYLOR."
cr
See another. A man really in earnest always excites
an interest:
“SIR,—I am in a public way myself, and it is my duty
to let you know all know you. You have poysoned the
queen, and she knows it, and all the world knows it. Her
majesty drank something you put into it, and everybody
knows it. Shame upon you, you traytor !—but you shall
be brought to justice. You know very well that you was
employed by government to do it, and this is the way
how the people who pay taxes are paid. But, as all
knows it, your reward will be different from what you
think of the gallows-and well you deserve it.
"A TRADESMAN.
"I am,
"P.S.-When are you going to pay your ironmonger?
I know something about that, too."
Innumerable were Elliston's anonymous correspondents
on this mortal subject; few offering hope or religious
consolation to the sinner; but most of them consigning
him to that place not to be mentioned to ears polite; and
one of them concluding, by observing that, as he must be
hanged, it would be a good opportunity for Mr. Kean's
taking the theatre! Elliston received also a letter from
"Invisiblina " on this terrific occasion:-
“MY FRIEND,—The report of your having poisoned the
queen was a strange one; but another equally strange, is
Dork
X 2
308
going about-namely, that the report was of your own
raising. I can believe almost any absurdity of you; to
be accused of poisoning a crowned head, is no common
piece of reputation, and will make another glaring patch.
in your harlequin jacket."
These repeated mysterious communications from this
unknown correspondent, as we have had occasion elsewhere
to observe, frequently hurried poor Elliston to a state of
frenzy. The accuracy of her statements puzzled him
exceedingly, whilst the pointed accusations, though having,
perhaps, but a momentary effect, yet touched his con-
science nearer than any reproaches he was elsewhere in
the habit of meeting.
SHIFTS OF STROLLERS.
Elliston was absolutely fond of vagabondizing. We
are not sure that he did not, at times, prefer embarking
in a small theatrical scheme, to the splendour of the
monarchy of spacious Drury.
At the close of his season at Drury Lane, he left London
and opened the Coventry Theatre.
The play was O'Keefe's "Wild Oats," in which Elliston
enacted his favourite part of Rover, and Keeley was Sim.
The absurd shifts occasionally made in country theatres
are scarcely to be credited.
In the first scene of the second act of "Wild Oats," it is
essential that a shower of rain should as distinctly be heard
by the audience, as a shower of applause should catch the
ear of the actor; but as the " drop" came down to finish
the first act, the prompter informed Mr. Elliston that
there was not a drop of water in the house.
True
"Then open a bottle of wine," said Elliston.
genius is never at a loss, and Robert William instantly
sent out to the nearest chandler's shop for a new sheet of
brown paper: how this was to be used we have yet to
detail.
There is an adage-"If you cannot snow white, you
must snow brown," and at the exact moment that the
shower was to be heard, without, Elliston, with prodigious
energy, commenced rubbing the back wall behind the side
scene, with the new sheet of brown paper. This produced
309
a something of a sound; an admixture of scratching and
hissing.
ALARMING ILLNESS.
"Exeunt Sim and Jane. (A shower of rain.) Enter
ROVER hastily."
Upon this, Elliston put the sheet of brown paper into
Keeley's hands, saying, "Rub away, Bob! as much like
water as you can.
Then Rover rushed on the stage, buttoning up his coat
at the collar, and uttering the words of the part :
"Here's a pelting shower and no shelter. Poor Tom's
a-cold. I'm wet through!" (Elliston aside.) "Louder!
louder !-rub the water, Bob !"
""
Keeley rubbed the sheet of paper against the wall to
the uttermost extent of his little arms.
(Aside.) "Quicker, Bob! rain! rain!"
"Hear! nature, hear! If ever you designed to make his
corn-fields fruitful, change thy purpose; that, from the
blighted ear no grain may fall to fat his stubble goose!”
(Aside.) Not a bit like a shower! But, pelt away,
Bob!"
On the 5th December, Elliston, having quitted Drury-
Lane Theatre earlier than usual, was returning home-
ward in his carriage, when he was seized by a sudden
impression that some person was sitting at his elbow,
whispering in his ear. His nerves had been overwrought
for some days by excitement of every description, and the
consequent debility was increased rather than removed
by further stimulants. The present "cup too low was,
in fact, the consequence of the cup too much, for he was
too apt to borrow health, as he had been in the habit of
borrowing money-namely, on usurious interest, and
leaving the question of liquidating the debt to the will of
Providence.
>>
The whisperer in the coach still continued to torment
him. Elliston called to his driver to pull up, and having
jumped out of the vehicle, desired peremptorily the
intruder to descend also. After some short expostula-
tion on the part of his servant, Elliston was induced
310
again to enter the carriage, when the man very judi-
ciously drove him to his friend Dr. Pearson.
((
GIOVANNI IN IRELAND."
Fortunately the doctor was at home, and having suc-
ceeded in quieting the mind of his patient, the lessee,
once again, was on his way to his own house.
It appears, however, that no sooner had he again
placed himself in the vehicle, than the fit returned, and
so powerfully was he impressed with the truth of what he
had asserted, that on his arrival in Stratford Place, can-
dles were brought from the house, that the interior of the
carriage might be thoroughly searched.
Elliston continued for two hours under the alarming
influence of this attack. On reaching his bedroom, he
exclaimed that he was wet to the skin by water pouring
down from the ceiling, and again were the attendants
called together to examine the roof of his chamber. He
was at length persuaded to enter his bed, where he soon
fell asleep, and at ten o'clock on the following morning he
was in his own room at the theatre, as well as ever—a
full hour before other persons engaged in the business of
the day! On his table lay a note of tender regard from
"Invisiblina !"
The great success of the "Coronation" induced the
experiment of another "Superb Spectacle," namely,
"Giovanni in Ireland." This piece, originally projected
by Moncrief, was sent to Mr. James Smith, the Hon. G.
Lamb, and others, for the benefit of their suggestions.
The gallimaufry passed through half a dozen hands; and,
like the knife, which one while had a new handle, and at
another a new blade, its identity at last was entirely
lost; and the result was, by the consent of all parties, a
restoration to its pristine form.
During the time this drama was in rehearsal, the King
made his visit to Ireland, and was present at the "In-
stallation of the Knights of St. Patrick." This coinci-
dence was deemed fortunate. Elliston determined to
embody, in his new piece, a representation of this im-
posing ceremony.
"Giovanni in Ireland" was produced in December.
ELLISTON IN PARIS.
311
The first act gave a representation of the Kilkenny
Theatre, the most complete scenic ensemble ever achieved;
here was an entire theatre, two tiers of boxes, beautifully
decorated and filled with veritable flesh and blood; an
orchestra, musicians, and a pit blooming with the very
flower of Kilkenny. To the Drury Lane spectators the
scene was emphatically, "Veluti in speculum.' Giovanni
was seated in his stage-box, whose counterpart, no doubt,
could have been pointed out in the corresponding place.
of Drury itself. Dandies and flirts contemplated their
own likenesses, whilst the growling critic was face to
face with his second self. But the piece, alas! was a
failure, and unequivocally condemned.
""
In February (1822) Elliston left London for Paris.
His object being the acquisition of foreign novelty for
the current season at Drury Lane. Indulgence-excess
-had materially invaded both his health and estate; the
reparation of both he now suddenly resolved on under-
taking. He "took the pledge," and faithfully kept it, as
though he had bound himself, not by the name, but the
very gospel of Matthew," for two months-" not so
much, not two"-and we again find him but little the
better for this sickly smattering of fortitude.
"
In these matters, Elliston had a most happy knack of
juggling with his conscience; and under some pious fraud,
came off acquitted in the tribunal of his own judgment
sans tache, sans reproche. We remember to have heard of
a traveller in Italy who on his journey fell in with as
good a Catholic as any in the Pope's dominions, but was
yet enjoying plenary indulgence on a general fast. “How
is this?" demanded the Lutheran.
"We have a dispensation to eat what we please when
we are on a journey," was the reply.
Some few weeks, however, afterwards, the same travel-
ler fell in with this holy man at Ferrara, where they
were both sojourning; when on a jour maigre, he again
beheld his friend over a fat capon, a venison pasty, and a
flask of wine.
"Holloa! my friend-how now! I know you have a
312
((
LA BELLE HARRIETTE.”
dispensation when on a journey; but surely you are now
sinning."
((
Nay, not so fast," rejoined the round, fat, oily man
of God," all life is but a journey, and, St. Anthony grant,
I have a good many miles to travel yet!”
"There is a kind of conscience some men keep,
Is like a member that's benumb'd with sleep-
Which, as it gathers blood, and wakes again,
Shoots out, and pricks, and feels as big as ten."
If not advantage, Elliston reaped considerable pleasure
in his journey to Paris. He had been well received and
entertained by Talma, and much fêted both by strangers
and his own countrymen. In March, the lessee returned
to England, and in May his Majesty again visited Drury
Lane Theatre.
Amongst Elliston's many correspondents was a lady,
who, within a short time from the period of which we are
now speaking, became still more celebrated. Wilson
again! "Of the same name; but one of softer nature."
La belle Harriette !
She writes as follows:-
;
"DEAR MR. ELLISTON,-I think you wish me well
but you know I am very poor. The farce of the Deux
Jaloux,' which I send you, you will recollect to have
seen. I have altered it, and adapted it still more to the
English taste. I have cut out the original songs, and sup-
plied their places by my own poetry-impudent enough,
you will say. In one word, the piece is yours for ten
pounds; and I think you will allow I part with my
favours at a price low indeed-new poetry for an
'old
song.' If you accept this, have the civility to enclose
the cash, addressed to me, Mrs. Harriette Rochford,
Post-office, Dublin, or leave it for me in Stratford Place,
and I will send. Mr. C. Kemble has seen the comedy, I
confess, and rejected it for want of tact—a pretty charge,
in faith but he behaved very handsomely respecting the
EXTENSIVE ALTERATIONS AT DRURY LANE.
313
privileges of his theatre. As for you, you owe me some
little kindness; but I do not presume on this.
"H. R."
Scarcely anything succeeded this season at Drury
Lane. Kean brought a play to the theatre, entitled
"Owen, Prince of Powis," in which he acted the principal
part. This drama was but a scrofulous subject, and expired
of the disease on the third night. Kean next attempted
the character of Sir Pertinax Macsycophant, which we
might be inclined to say was about the most miserable
exhibition ever made by a great actor; but, as Dryden
has observed of his rival, D'Urfey, "You don't know my
friend, he'll do worse yet."
After a service of forty years on the boards of Drury,
Miss Tidswell, who, as we have before noticed, was, per-
haps, the only person positively in the secret of Kean's
parentage, took her final benefit at this theatre. Kean
played on this occasion Don Felix, which our readers
may, peradventure, suspect was the "worse yet," which we
have hinted above. Bad, it certainly was; but "benefit”
vagaries are not rigidly to be criticized; and as the actor,
by this attempt, was really paying a debt of gratitude to
his respected protectress, he is so far entitled to our
approbation, and more particularly as he also defrayed
the expenses of the benefit, amounting to nearly one hundred
pounds.
This season, though disastrous to the lessee, did not
find him behind-hand in any of his engagements with the
proprietary of the theatre. At the annual meeting in
August, Elliston was highly complimented by the chairman
for an implicit fulfilment of all his obligations.
Preliminaries having been entered into for very exten-
sive alterations in the theatre, a model of the intended
improvements was sent to the King, and the previous
work of demolition was at once begun.
Within a few days the whole interior of the building
was one chaotic mass of rubbish, the walls being laid bare
to the very back of the boxes. The reconstruction of the
(6 WELCOME TO LEAMINGTON SPA!"
theatre was from the designs of Mr. Beazley, and the
despatch and ability which he exhibited in completion of
the work, was a subject of just encomium. The parapet
of the new boxes was brought forward five feet, contract-
ing the pit, consequently, to the same limits. The entire
ceiling was lowered, bodily, fourteen feet, an operation.
which excited great interest and some apprehension-
the work was, however, most successfully accomplished.
The saloon, to the full extent, was lined with looking-
glass, the pilasters representing Sienna marble. The
cost of the whole amounted to £22,000.
314
During the progress of the work, the "Great Lessee
found opportunity for frequent visits to his beloved
Leamington, the "Petit Trianon" of Drury's monarch.
"You should have seen, sir, how we received the Duke
and Duchess of Gloucester," said Charles Elliston,
addressing his father on a certain morning.
Elliston's eyes glistened, and he said, "Proceed."
William went on: "We were aware, sir, that the
royal couple would arrive on Thursday; so, by the side
of the bowling-green we erected a triumphal arch, with
scaffold poles, flags, and laurels, and Charles painted on a
paper frieze, in large letters,
• WELCOME TO LEAMINGTON SPA.'
Well, then we sent over to the Birmingham Theatre
for the twelve muskets, which I duly loaded. Henry
told the work-people employed on the new buildings,
that the royal family were coming-that they must put
on their Sabbath clothes and welcome the party with
three cheers. He then ran to the girls' Sunday-school,
and informed the mistress that the duchess would fully
expect to see all the girls, also in their best attire, ranged
in a line, with their Bibles in their hands. In the mean-
time, Charles had the seraphine moved from the library
behind the shrubs in the bowling-green, and was ready to
play 'God save the King.'
"Excellent fellows!" said Elliston.
"In due time the travelling carriages came in sight,"
،،
"""
MORE VAGARIES-DUKES AND DUCHESSES. 315
continued William. "I had got my twelve loaded
muskets on the roof of the house, and proceeded to dis-
charge them one by one; the report of the guns brought
every body in Leamington out of doors; the children
scampered from the school, and Henry arranged them on
each side the way; the workmen and labourers assembled ;
I kept firing the salutes, the men huzzaing, which their
royal highnesses acknowledged to be highly complimen-
tary. Presently Colonel Higgins popped his head from
the carriage window, and requested that there might be
no more firing, as it startled the horses. I then loudly
gave the word of command, 'Stop the salute.' It was
very lucky that the Colonel spoke just in time, for I had
discharged all my twelve muskets. Charles now played
the national anthem on the seraphine. The Duke and
Duchess of Gloucester, with great urbanity and con-
descension, bowed."
"Bless their royal hearts," said Elliston with emotion.
"And now," added William, "in the sight of the
august visitors, I threw up two or three pigeons, to give
the notion that the news of the safe arrival of the royal
party was to be conveyed elsewhere-they were our own
pouters."
"Admirable-admirable!" said the delighted father.
"The little girls kept bobbing their best curtseys, and
Henry, going closer to the carriage window, produced an
address, which he had written the previous night, and
which he was about reading, when his royal highness
looked out of the window, and interrupted the sentences.
of the address by saying, 'Ay, ay; very well, very well,
very well!' Colonel Higgins now ordered the postillions
to drive on; and off they went with three cheers from the
workmen."
The little band of Leamingtonians were now engaged
at Coventry, in which they acted four nights out of the
six; but the manager not deeming it expedient to close
his "Spa" bandbox, he was considerably puzzled in his
representation of plays at both places, with one imperfect
company. The Leamington visitors, however, he had
316
long been in the habit of treating just as his humour sug-
gested; and, with his accustomed nonchalance, he adver-
tised "Three Weeks after Marriage," and the "Wags of
Windsor," with only himself, one lady, a couple of
amateur tradesmen, and the doorkeeper's son, to sustain
the several parts.
MR. THOMAS MOORE.
On another night, he acted the "Liar," and literally
played, or rather spoke, the words of every character in
the piece! Miss Godfrey and Grantham were certainly
dressed for the parts, and so, after a fashion, was Papillon;
but the two former being lodging-house keepers in Lea-
mington, and the latter, the aforesaid door-keeper's son,
could not be supposed to know much of the author's text,
and as little perhaps of the plot of the drama. Elliston
enjoined them only to say nothing, an injunction they
obeyed, if we may venture the pun, to the very letter,
whilst our hero repeated the whole dialogue, sending the
dummies off, or beckoning them on, according to their
proper exits and entrances. The tact and cleverness with
which he accomplished all this gained him, beyond doubt,
greater applause than if the piece had been soberly acted.
Elliston returned to London. Mr. Moore writes:-
"MY DEAR SIR,-I have, as usual, a thousand apologies
to make for not sooner answering your letter.
After all,
I had nothing to say, which (though some authors, as well
as orators, seem to think differently) is the best excuse in
the world for not attempting anything.
"I still dream of the stage, but whether the dream
will ever be realized, is a very, very doubtful point. At
all events, just at this moment, other tasks forbid me to
think of it.
"I am happy to find that both you and old Drury are
so stoutly on your legs again. With every wish for a
continuance of your prosperity, I am, dear Elliston,
Very truly yours,
T. MOORE.
(6
"September 5th, 1822."
In September, the ceremony of "striking the scaffold,"
317
at Drury Lane, took place—a strike amongst the work-
men, of a far more amicable nature, than many which may
have passed under our statistic observations.
On this occasion an eccentric party, well suited to the
singularity of the case, assembled on the scaffold, vibra-
ting within five feet of the ceiling and about fifty from
the pit. On this spot a rump steak collation was actually
dressed for a dozen persons-Elliston presiding, and his
architect, Beazley, facing him.
A DINNER ALOFT.
Suspended, like Mahomet's coffin, between heaven and
earth, the undulating scaffolding appeared to produce the
sensation of ebriation, without the pleasure of getting
drunk; but more faithful to the bottle than the prophet,
the present party had too great a respect to the doctrine
of the cause and effect to be so idly convinced, and con-
sequently "availed themselves of the pleasure" of the good
old system.
"It is amazingly cold here," remarked Elliston,
shivering.
"That is easily accounted for: we are near the poles,”
said the incorrigible Beazley.
And, again, the waiters, treading heavily round the
table, put the whole party in motion.
Elliston was evidently nervous; but he endeavoured to
carry it off with a joke, muttering, "This is at present
our board, I should be very sorry if it were our lodging.”
"It is your proper place," said Wallack; "you hold the
highest situation in this theatre.”
Elliston here accidently dropped his carving-knife-it
fell between two scaffold-boards, and went down below-
the knife was snapped.
"There there's a blade in the pit," said Elliston.
"And Handel in the orchestra,” replied Beazley.
"The health of Mr. Elliston" was now proposed, "and
success to him in his adventurous undertaking."
This being drunk with enthusiasm ; Elliston rose to
return thanks; but at the same moment there was a
peculiar jarring on the floor on which they were perched,
which caused the chairman to make an inquiry, what it
meant?
318
THE THEATRE RE-OPENS.
Mr. Grissel, the builder, imagined "that it was only
the Irish labourers, who were beginning to untie the cross
pole to strike the scaffold."
"In that case," remarked Elliston, "the sooner I
return thanks for the honour you have done me, the
better, for I now think it high time to descend.” *
On the 16th of October, the theatre was re-opened,
with an address written by Colman, and spoken by
Terry.
The play was "The School for Scandal," the heir-loom of
this house, and well chosen as an omen of the dramatic
excellence which the theatre made such resolute promises
to realize. Terry played Sir Peter in place of Munden,
who was "sick;" and Elliston, Charles Surface. The
actors as they successively came forward, were received
with plaudits; Dowton was peculiarly welcomed. Ellis-
ton, on his appearance in the chair, as Charles Surface,
was called to the front, and made his bows amidst much
applause and congratulations.
Previous to the commencement of the season, an official
letter was sent to Kean on the subject of his future
services; who makes the following reply:-
"Your treasurer has written to me, by which I find
Mr. Young is engaged for thirty nights to act with me.
Now this is what I call an impudent proceeding. The
throne is mine!-mine! I say no one shall come near
* To commemorate the almost incredible expedition with which
the work had been accomplished, a brass-plate was deposited in the
centre of the pit, bearing the following inscription :-
George IV. King.
Theatre Royal Drury Lane.
The interior of this National Theatre was entirely pulled down and
rebuilt, in the space of fifty-eight days, and re-opened
on the 12th of October, 1822,
by
Robert William Elliston, Esq.
On the day of the opening of Drury Lane Theatre, this season,
Mrs. Garrick died. She was dressed for attending the play, on this
very evening.
319
it; and I will maintain it even at the expense of expa-
triation. To whatever quarter of the globe I may sail,
all shall acknowledge me the first English actor. Nil
ortum tale, fatentes.
"When I come to London, Elliston, I open in Richard
the Third-my second character, Othello, Hamlet--Lear;
and so through my principal cast. If Young is ambitious
to act with me, he must commence with Iago, and when
the whole of my characters is exhausted, we may then
turn our thoughts to Cymbeline' and Venice Pre-
served.' If you think Young will answer your purpose
better than Kean-take him.
"EDMUND KEAN."
KEAN'S LETTERS.
After a few days came the next extraordinary com-
position.
"Rothsay, Isle of Bute, October 28.
"ELLISTON,—I cannot be in London till Monday, the
11th of next month. Advertise me for Richard, on that
night; you must forgive my being jealous of my hard-
earned laurels. Young has many advantages that I have
not-—a commanding figure, sonorous voice, and above all,
lordly connections: I kick all such pests to the devil, for
I hate a lord. I am, therefore, coming to meet an oppo-
sition made up of my own enemies (which, like locusts,
almost darken the sun), Mr. Young's friends, and his very
great abilities—with nothing but humble genius to sup-
port me,—a mere ephemeron, at the command of caprice
–the same breath that nourishes the flame this day, to-
morrow puts it out.-Aut Cæsar aut nullus, is my text.
If I become secondary in any point of view, I shrink into
absolute insignificance.
“I have taken a house in Scotland, for the purpose of
retirement with my family at the termination of my
engagements, and all I ask of you is, to let me go with
my reputation undiminished. As the Covent Garden
hero comes upon my ground the challenger, I have doubt-
less my choice of weapons; he must play Iago before I
act Jaffier. I am told he is wonderfully great in Pierre;
if so, I am beaten. This must not be. I cannot bear it.
320
I see the
I would rather go in chains to Botany Bay.
ashamed to say, I am afraid of the contest.
take the THOUSAND POUNDS, and dismiss me?
"ELLISTON, my dear Elliston, I know you.
deep entangled web you have extended for me; but that
Providence which has guided me through all the perils of
worldly chicanery fights for me now, and will defeat the
plot, though Coutts's Bank flowed into the coffers of my
enemy, and its suite composed of lords and auctioneers.
"Yours, &c.
KEAN ACTS WITH YOUNG.
I am not
Will you
"E. KEAN."
(6
""
On the 27th of November, Kean and Young met on
the boards of Drury Lane in the parts of Othello and
Iago. Whatever attraction these two bodies might
have possessed, they had certainly no cohesion. On
Kean's part the meeting was a distempered, jealous, and
vindictive occurrence; a foiblesse to which the "lordly
mind" of Young was superior, whose only temperamental
display was that of calm indifference.
The pantomime for this season, entitled “
Gog and
Magog," the composition of Mr. T. Dibdin, was unfortu-
nately condemned on the third night; and on the 6th of
January, an entirely new harlequinade, under the name of
the "Golden Axe," was produced, with considerable suc-
cess; an achievement scarcely credible when we recollect
the old language of "underlining" at Christmas, viz.,
"On the 26th will be presented the new, grand panto-
mime, which has been in rehearsal ever since the sum-
mer !"*
A new period had now commenced in the dramatic
annals, by which the stage acquired a brilliancy in
decline, which will render it as memorable in its pecu-
liar feature as in its pristine days of intrinsic glory.
* Yet there is nothing which may not be surpassed. Our readers
may remember, it has been said, that Sir J. Throgmorton actually sat
down to dinner, dressed in a coat which had, that very morning, been
wool on the sheep's back.
MR. TALFOURD'S CRITIQUE.
321
Stanfield and Roberts had already given to the scene
some beautiful specimens of dramatic painting; but it
was now that the public witnessed evidences of art of
which they had hitherto no conception. The masterly
delineations and exquisite effects of these two artists
became deservedly the admiration of the whole town, and
placed them at once in the road to the highest profes-
sional honours.*
*
The following critique, en passant, of performances,
appeared in a number of the New Monthly Magazine,
written by Mr. Talfourd :—
"It would be ungrateful not particularly to notice the
dramatic exertions of the enterprising manager.
His
Tag (in 'The Spoiled Child') was highly fantastical-in
his happiest style of farcical whim. His Walter, in the
'Children in the Wood,' on the other hand, was an
admirable representation of rough honesty and manly
sorrow; nothing could be happier than his valorous reso-
lution, springing naturally; or the mingled humour and
feeling of his triumph over the assassin-or his efforts to
appear composed when the fate of the children was doubt-
ful—or the broken accents of joy when he folded them in
his arms.
C
'In Wild Oats' and 'The Dramatist' he has played
as vivaciously and as whimsically as ever; the gentle
stroller, who goes about rejoicing to catch that pleasure
which is spread through the earth to be caught in stray
gifts by whoever will find,' and the enthusiastic play-
* Hogarth painted a camp-scene for the private theatre of Dr.
Woodley, Dean of Winchester. Richards, the secretary to the Royal
Academy, was many years principal scene-painter to Covent Garden
Theatre; his coadjutors were Messrs. Bowles and Carver. Michael
Angelo Rooker was chief scene-painter to Colman's theatre, in the
Haymarket. Walmsey, French, and the younger Catton, were also
scene-painters. Hodges, the pupil of Wilson, was appointed scene-
painter to the Italian Opera House, held at the Pantheon, after the
fire of the old King's Theatre, in the Haymarket. Signor Ho-
vosielsky, the architect, who rebuilt this theatre, was also scene-
painter to the new and splendid stage; and De Loutherbourg,
the greatest of the corps, was scene-painter to Drury Lane Theatre,
during the management of Garrick.-Somerset House Gazette.
Y
322
ELLISTON AT CROYDON.
‘
wright, seem, indeed, to touch answering chords within
his own bosom; he is evidently born to none of this
world's common business, but to his own imperial art:
the stage to him a kingdom is.' In the arrangement of
grotesque farces, of gloriously fleeting melo-drames, and
of majestic tragedies, he is in his right place, and fitly
exercises the pleasant est of this world's diguities.
"Let not the public desert him, who loves him even as
a personal friend! Let him not on this his greatest
enterprise, the keeping alive antique revels in old Drury,
utterly fail! There Garrick spread the electrical sym-
pathy from heart to heart in days of yore; there Siddons
first came sweeping by '-tragedy's divine priestess ;
there Kemble first waved his majestic hand, and walked
with the triumphant step of a Roman senator; there
Jordan restored the world-wearied heart to its joyous
spring-time, by a cordial laugh-it will be an undying
disgrace to our age if this spot, sacred to old joy, be
deserted and silent."
In January, 1823, Elliston was seized by a fit of
epilepsy as he was passing the threshold of the theatre.
He remained in a state of insensibility for many hours,
and it was not until the following day Dr. Pearson per-
mitted him to be removed to Stratford Place.
On the last of the same month, another fit seized him;
but of a far different character. Barnard, "Poor Bar-
nard," as he was familiarly called—an actor in the Drury
Lane company, essayed a benefit at the Croydon Theatre,
on which occasion the Drury manager volunteered his
services. Elliston had taken up his quarters at the
"Crown Inn," and the accommodations at the theatre
not being quite so perfect as he could have wished, he
equipped himself at his hostel for the part he was to play
at night. The approach to the theatre was by a rough
and dirty lane-six o'clock was at hand, and no convey-
ance readily to be obtained—it rained, moreover, at this
precise moment, a pelting shower. Elliston, dressed for
Belcour, was presently to appear on the stage. Throw-
ing over his shoulders a thick blanket, he summoned the

Lile
A HUMOROUS ADVENTURE.
323
ostler to his presence, who being a pretty steady fellow,
appeared well to answer the intended purpose. Jumping
on the man's shoulders, and binding his Witney coverlid
tightly round him, Elliston turned his beast of burden
into the lane, and holding an umbrella over the two
heads, commenced his journey towards the stage-door of
the playhouse.
The grotesque exhibition of our hero on the ostler's
shoulders—his silk stockings peeping from beneath the
dirty blanket, and his head surmounted by a huge
cocked hat, could not fail to excite all the native merri-
ment of a few surrounding chaw-bacons who were loiter-
ing about the place. In fact, the horse-laugh soon
mounted to a startling halloo, and many were the case-
ments and cottage-doors which now flew open at the
unaccustomed sounds which broke on the ears of the
inmates. But Elliston felt that he was in for it, and no
doubt would have gone through his martyrdom with a
fortitude which would have entitled him to a place, not
only amongst the acts, but the "monuments too; yet
Joe, not having quite the patience of his master, became
sensibly indignant at such outrageous jeering, and deli-
berately flopping down our hero in the mud, scampered
after the ringleader of the rioters, threatening the most
summary vengeance.
""
Poor Belcour was now verily up to his ankles in mud,
and the moisture having sucked off one of his shoes in his
attempt at escape, the result might have been fatal
indeed to the "West Indian," had he not been rescued by
one more humane than his fellows, and carried away a
second time towards the theatre, where he was at last
safely deposited.
Buoyant, active, and dauntless as was the temperament
of Elliston, he was subject, nevertheless, to moments of
depression; but there was an eccentricity attending even
these, not less remarkable, perhaps, than his exuberant
vagaries. The Easter piece at Drury Lane, "The
Chinese Sorcerer," was in rehearsal. It was Saturday—
everything went wrong; machinery, scenery, actors, all
Y 2
324
(C THE CHINESE SORCERER.'
were at fault. In the evening, another rehearsal was
appointed, when, to the surprise of his stage-manager
and prompter, on walked Elliston to the stage, equipped
in admirable character for a journey. Approaching the
latter officer (Wilmot), Elliston whispered him in an
earnest manner :-
"Business of the greatest importance calls me from
London to-night; I must travel one hundred miles be-
fore I sleep ;" having said which, he marched as myste-
riously out of the theatre as he had entered it.
The rehearsal went on this evening as well and plea-
santly as it had before gone harshly and disastrously-all
of which our nocturnal traveller was secretly apprised of
-when, on the Monday morning, he again walked on the
stage in the precise travelling costume, and approaching
Wilmot, after the same fashion as before, whispered
him-
"I've done it—the business is settled.”
The fact is, Elliston, so far from journeying a hundred
miles, had not been as many yards from the theatre
during his vagary; and, as to sleep, in the language of
old Jarvis, in the play, "his nights had nothing to do
with sleep."
A somewhat curious incident arose out of this Easter
piece. The production, in its literary character, was but
a dull and pointless affair; the actors, however, by a
little infusion of their own mother wit, contrived to raise
an occasional laugh, and some evidences of applause. But
the author, far from seeing the secret of this partial
approbation, was extremely indignant that his dialogue
should be so invaded by clowns, whose duty it was to
66
say no more than what was set down for them," and
caused a notice to be fixed up in the Green-room, that
it was expected every actor should keep implicitly to the
text. The mandate was obeyed; but so dull and heavy
was the next night's representation of the “Chinese
Sorcerer," that the public nearly condemned it to that
place which is said to be the Sorcerer's own element.
The author's "notice was now withdrawn, the actors
were permitted to "gag" again (according to the thea-
99
DR. KITCHINER.
325
trical term), and the "Chinese Sorcerer" had a protracted
existence of twenty nights.
Elliston was now subject to further annoyances by the
increasing irritability of Kean on the "Young grievance."
Young was advertised for Hamlet, and Kean was furious
-Young was called on to play Macbeth, and Kean was
like a chained lion. By the letter of some clause in his
agreement with Elliston, Kean was actually vested with
the power of altering the announcement of plays which
the manager might have advertised for certain night's
representation. Of this power Kean availed himself, and
the "sixes and sevens" into which he threw the affairs of
Drury, may be well imagined.
Both Young and Kean had their partisans. Thus was
it with Quin, who, when he found Garrick admired by
the town, said that he (Garrick) was a new religion, and
as Whitfield was followed for a time, people would return
to church again.
Amongst other annoyances, Elliston was also a party
(plaintiff) in an action about to be tried in the Court of
Common Pleas --Himself v. Webster-the defendant
having deserted Drury Lane for Birmingham. Many of
the actors were served with "subpoenas," and were con-
sequently in attendance at Westminster, expecting the
cause to be called on. A new piece being at this time
on the eve of representation at the theatre, several of the
scenes were actually rehearsed in the passages, lobbies,
and waiting-rooms of Westminster Hall.
Doctor Kitchiner, in his good-nature, imagined that he
had found the means to settle the disputes of Drury
Lane, Covent Garden, Haymarket, and the English Opera
House.
Doubtless, the worthy Kitchiner, who at that period
was preparing an enlarged edition of his capital work on
cookery, thought that, with the aid of his magazine of
taste, he might be enabled to amalgamate the overpower-
ing grandiloquence of Robert William Elliston with the
easy and good-humoured nonchalance of Henry Harris,
326
the subtle and persevering calculations of Samuel James
Arnold with the positive plans of David Morris. This
was no easy task; but the Doctor imagined, if he could
get them together, and let them simmer gently, not to
boil over, carefully taking off any scum that might
arise, that there should not be any disagreeable flavour,
stirring gently, and gradually adding wine at discretion,
that he should effect his desired object. He invited,
therefore, the conflicting parties to dinner, and, by way of
settling the differences comfortably, he did not ask any
one else to meet them.
A MAL-À-PROPOS DINNER.
When the managers met in the Doctor's drawing-room,
their common surprise may be imagined. Harris was
somewhat embarrassed on encountering Arnold, but they
both had tact enough to understand Kitchiner's well-
meant mistake; but when Elliston arrived, and saw the
party, he assumed some exceedingly magnificent airs,
quite worthy of the lessee of a principal patent theatre.
Arnold at once adverted to the oddity of the belligerents
meeting in that manner, and begged to propose, under the
circumstances, there should be a distinct avoidance of all
conversation on theatrical affairs. This was immediately
agreed to, much to the mortification of Doctor Kitchiner,
who had predetermined that all animosities should be
settled that night, at his hospitable board.
It is erroneously supposed that Kitchiner conducted
the affairs of his table in a superb style; on the contrary
—he would give soup, fish, poultry, roasts, vegetables, a
pudding and tart-all dressed as accurately as it was
possible to put them on the table; but he did not trouble
his party with what are called "made dishes the
relays of plates, knives, and forks, were at once placed
before each guest; the candles were affixed in low flat
candlesticks, that every one might see what was in his
plate. The Doctor himself usually kept his own
individual tankard of malt underneath his chair. When
the cloth was withdrawn, Kitchiner, who was loyal to
the chine, invariably volunteered to sing
"God save
the King," which he executed with graces peculiarly his
own.
""
66
A FRENCH GENTLEMAN."
327
The wine circulated briskly; theatrical managers,
generally speaking, are not abstemious, and the Doctor's
port was, according to his received notions of that which
he considered correct, always able-bodied. "You drink
wine," said he; "to exhilarate you and the most potent
draught better accomplishes this purpose if your
object is to get drunk, the sooner you are
so the
better."
The Doctor endeavoured occasionally to introduce the
subject of the theatrical disputes; but Harris and Arnold
immediately changed the conversation at the very
moment Elliston was about to reply at full length, with
becoming importance; and thus all hostile allusions were
avoided, until, at a later period of the evening, a certain
tipsiness having crossed Elliston's brain, he saw his patent
dignity, double. He suddenly arose, and walking majes-
tically between Harris and Arnold, placed a hand on
each of their shoulders, and sententiously pronounced,
“Harris-Arnold! I will crush you !—the plough shall
pass over your possessions, and in twelve months you will
be forgotten!”
One morning a tap at the door of Elliston's private
room, in the theatre, announced a stranger, and the mes-
senger introduced a "French gentleman," desirous of an
interview with the manager.
"A French gentleman!" responded Elliston—“ pray
admit him," which he had scarcely uttered, when a little
deformed being—a kind of apode (for neither feet nor
legs were discernible), but with arms almost measuring
the body's length, vaulted into the apartment, and,
making two entire somersaults, sprang first on the writing-
desk and thence to the roof of a neighbouring book-case ;
from which situation he sat grinning at the bewildered
manager. Elliston, who had lately been subject to a little
mental wandering, began to suspect the state of his own
senses; but when he perceived his trusty doorkeeper in
even greater consternation than himself, he was con-
vinced the scene before him was no illusion; and,
drawing himself up in that air of majesty so peculiar to
328
him, demanded to what purpose he was indebted for the
visit of so distinguished a foreigner?
A squeak in the key of Polichinello, and another
pirouette from the summit of the book-case, were all the
reply the interrogation received; when Elliston was
not long in discovering his visitor was a candidate for
dramatic honours, This person was a M. Gouffe, the
celebrated baboon; one who had shaken off his humanity,
in which he had hitherto starved, and taken up the beast
for a livelihood:
JOHN HARLEY.
"Simia quam similis, turpissima bestia nobis !"
But Elliston being unwilling the prophecy should be yet.
fulfilled, when the stage should be reduced to a degrada-
tion far more ignoble than its earliest origin, was by no
means inclined to treat the little wretch with caresses,
but to serve him as the father did his atheistical son, who,
declaring his religious opinion to be that he "should die
like a dog,"
Then, by my honour, you shall live like
one”—and so cudgelled him down stairs. To evade this,
however, in the present instance, the little imp, after one
or two further evidences of luxation at will, made his
final pirouette; fully convinced that "one good turn de-
serves another," and so sprang out of the room as nimbly
as he had entered it.
•
66
Harley returned about this time to his duties at Drury
Lane Theatre, having been absent on a provincial tour.
He had the luck of adventure wherever he went, and the
"Harleian Miscellanies" were always in request.
Harley had just arrived from Dover, where "the
business" had been unprofitable to the actors, and disas-
trous enough to the local manager.
On a certain "non-play" morning, one of the actors, in
his stroll (to all intents and purposes a "walking gentle-
man") on the London road, was accosted by the Dover
carrier, pursuing his way into the town, who, pulling up
his horse, demanded if young Doricourt had a mind to
purchase a pair of nankeen small-clothes?
A PAIR OF NANKEEN SMALL-CLOTHES.
329
"A pair of nankeen small-clothes!" repeated the actor,
in a merry vein.
"Ay, master," responded the carrier, untying a brown
paper parcel; "they will just fit you-you're but a lean
'un-and shall have 'em for half a crown.
""
The actor, not a little amused by the rencontre, was
strongly tempted by the offer; for the small-clothes in
question were of the best light-comedy fashion, and per-
fectly new; the only hesitation he had to the purchase
being, that he was possessed but of five shillings in the
world.
Having, however, turned the articles in and out sundry
times by the road-side, and compared the dimensions
with his own length of limb, it was arranged, that if the
nankeens fitted, the half-crown should be forthcoming.
For this purpose, the chapman retired to a neighbouring
field, where, behind a bay-rick, the habiliments were duly
tried by the strolling gentleman.
The "light comedies" fitted admirably, and with an
alacrity which quite startled the vendor, the half-crown
was paid down, when away he went, not without some
regret that he had not demanded three shillings for the
purchase. No sooner, however, was the carrier once
more on his journey, than a brother Thespian, passing
the same road, happened to spy our hero in his new attire,
and demanded the history of his smart summer gear.
(C
"All in good time, my fine fellow," was the reply; “but
for the present," continued he, you shall remain here
and dine with me."
"Dine with you!" repeated the other, in a tone of
astonishment.
"Yes-a roast fowl, bacon, and a bottle of as good
port as my friend 'Double-chalk' can supply us.”
Without waiting for a reply, young Doricourt mounted
the stairs of the "Black Lion," and having summoned up
the landlord, ordered the dinner immediately to be cooked,
and the wine to be decanted with special care.
The stranger looked on with astonishment, which had
almost amounted to apprehension that his brother actor
had suddenly lost the only estate by which he lived,
330
ANECDOTES.
namely his wits. In due time, dinner was supplied-
the fowl, the bacon, the port—all excellent, or at least
highly relished by the two companions, whose gala days
had scarcely exceeded a dipping in the pan.
Our invited guest now looked still more anxiously for
some explanation, but young Doricourt only pulled up his
small-clothes and called for another bottle of port.
By this time the consternation of his friend was at its
height. What was to be the result he could not guess,
and the only consolation he felt, was that the affair was
wholly his friend's look-out.
The second bottle being now pretty well discussed, the
invited guest gave sundry side-long glances at the door;
for a timely escape was positively the question which now
occupied his thoughts.
"A tolerable house this," cried the entertainer, care-
lessly, "for a road-side inn; and now let us have up
'Doublechalk,' for we must pay the bill."
Ag
"We !" responded his friend, aghast, "as Heaven's my
judge, I'm not worth a shilling!
The comical look of dismay, with which he uttered
these words, was verily too much for the gravity of our
nankeen hero, who burst out into an immoderate fit of
laughter. He then began to relate the history of the
small-clothes, which the reader is already acquainted with,
and concluded by saying, "I was no sooner equipped,
than, on stooping, I felt something extremely hard and
uncomfortable about the right knee, when, loosening the
lining, out fell
""
""
"What?
“A couple of guineas, my fine fellow! and you and I
are as much entitled to them as any one else in the
world."
“Doublechalk" now made his appearance; one of the
pieces was speedily changed into paler coin, and off
went the two comedians, as happy a pair as any in the
county.
Arriving one evening at Colchester Harley proceeded
to the coffee-room of the inn, where, having supped, he
.. TO BED TO BED!"
331
requested to be shown to his bed-room. It was now
about a quarter to eleven o'clock.
"The chambermaid directly, sir," responded the waiter,
as he placed a rummer of Hollands-and-water before our
son of Mirth, into which he flung a spoon, which he had
just taken from the empty tumbler of some departed
guest.
Appetite having already been taken away, without
hunger being satisfied, Harley stirred his poison, and with
a calmness which would have become Socrates himself,
tasted the liquor. Having waited some twenty minutes
longer, our traveller again rang the bell.
،،
My bed-room," exclaimed Harley, in a more peremp-
tory tone than was his custom.
"The chambermaid directly, sir," again replied the
attendant, placing the Ipswich Gazette before his guest,
and away he ran.
Harley turned patiently to the "County News;" but
the yolk of egg, together with sundry beer-stains, inter-
rupting the progress of his studies, he threw down the
sheet, not without certain misgivings of the pair he was
about to turn into. Another twenty minutes had
elapsed.
This is not to be endured," cried the angry comedian,
and he rang the bell with violence. “The chambermaid,
waiter !—your inattention is unpardonable."
(C
Directly, sir," responded the slipshod serving-man, as
he handed to our friend a thick octavo-" Patterson's
Roads"-with but one cover.
"My road is to bed-bed, I say!" vociferated Harley;
but the waiter was off again.
Ten minutes more had elapsed, during which Harley,
with his hands thrust into his pockets, had been pacing
the coffee-room, in strides which might presently have
brought him into a neighbouring county, when, seizing
"Patterson's Roads," he hurled it violently on the ground,
and off flew the other cover.
"Chambermaid-chambermaid !" roared Harley, when
in came the " Boots."
"Send the waiter, you rascal."
332
(C
Directly, sir," replied the man, when, stooping down,
he placed the boot-jack at the comedian's feet.
A KNIGHT SCENE.
Here our friend lost all patience, and kicking over the
" Boots," as he was curled up, like a woodlouse, Harley
again rushed to the bell, and pulled it with a violence
which actually did him good.
The waiter again appeared.
"Well, sir," demanded Harley, attempting calmness.
and dignity," when am I to see my chamber ?"
"Why, sir," responded the man, in an apologetic and
confidential tone of humility, "Long Tom, the guard, is
just getting up-the mail will be here in ten minutes-
and Tom's bed directly at your service !”
Poor Harley could hear no more; the bill was called
for, wherein, if there had been any deficiency of supplies,
it was amply made up by the charges; and, having once
more put on his great coat, was ready to start with
Long Tom" on the first stage to London.
66
Knight was remarkable for extreme formality of word
and action—but he was shrewd and cunning. On the
occasion of his benefit, he had obtained the assistance both
of Kean and Young, on certain pecuniary terms.
On the morning after, Knight waited on Kean with
twenty guineas in his hand, but with a set and formal
speech in his mouth, by which he promised himself no
slight advantage. The words he delivered with true
emphasis and discretion, in which every term of adula-
tion was employed. Knight then tendered his twenty
guineas, which the o'erweened tragedian refused accepting.
Away trotted the delighted Knight with the identical
guineas and speech, to make the identical experiment
with Young. Having delivered his address as blandly
and as impressively as before, he began languidly to count
down his money-
-a mere matter of form, as he deemed-
but perceiving Young inclined to consider "Knight
service not quite as a dead letter, but was really about
to draw the tender into the vortex of his pocket, the
agitated comedian, in faltering accents, announced that
""
333
Mr. Kean had refused—refused, he repeated — a similar
amount, only two hours before.
"And that is precisely our contract in this theatre,
Mr. Knight," responded the tragedian; "Mr. Kean has
here the choice of parts, and what he refuses, I have
undertaken to accept; he has had his election in the pre-
sent case, and I am compelled to take your money."
MR. BUNN.
The annual meeting of the proprietors took place in
July. The chairman, Mr. Calcraft, said it was impossible
to withhold his warm commendation from Mr. Elliston,
for the great punctuality which had been observed in the
discharge of his contract; for not only had he paid the
rental stipulated, to the last farthing, but he had actually
trebled the sum which he had undertaken to lay out in
the improvement and embellishment of the house; the
sum agreed upon was £6,000, he had spent upwards of
£18,000.
These and the previous encomiums so justly bestowed
on the lessee, should be borne in the recollection of the
reader, when he arrives at the summer of 1826.
<<
For the season 1823-4, Bunn was engaged at Drury
Lane Theatre, as stage-director; but quitted it before the
time of his agreement had expired. As director, he was
scarcely long enough in the theatre to display the full
extent of his powers of management, but as conductor,”
a more powerful one to the electric fluid of Robert
William's temperament could not have been selected.
After sundry scenes of experimental philosophy, the
bodies separated.
Reynolds, the dramatic writer, was also engaged for
this season at Drury Lane. When asked by Boaden why he
had given that establishment the preference-"Because,"
said he, "at Covent Garden there are four madmen;
whilst at Drury Lane there is but one!"
On the 1st of October, the season commenced, with a
sketch, entitled "Stella Leatherlungs," for the purpose of
introducing the versatility of Miss Clara Fisher. The
334
MACREADY ACTS
"VIRGINIUS.
""
author's name was for a time concealed, and well had it
been for his reputation had the disclosure never been made;
for the affair was altogether unworthy George Colman,
and was rendered still more discreditable to him, as he
had only a short time before disclaimed all intention of
writing for "the precocious little lady." It will be curious.
to observe the nightly family free admissions stipulated
for, during Miss Clara Fisher's engagement :-" Mr. John
Fisher, Mr. Charles Fisher, Miss Jane Fisher, Miss Ca-
roline Fisher, Miss Amelia Fisher, Miss Clara Fisher,
Mrs. Fisher, and Mr. Fisher, and three double orders for
those nights on which Miss Clara Fisher performs." Alas,
poor manager !
In October, Macready made his first appearance at
Drury Lane Theatre, in the character of Virginius. His
reception was highly flattering, and throughout the whole.
of his engagement his attraction was greatly beneficial to
the treasury. "Caius Gracchus," a play by Sheridan
Knowles, written expressly for Macready's powers, was
also produced in this season; but its acting duration was
but seven nights.
"The Cataract of the Ganges," a successful melo-drame,
was a considerable half-price attraction of this season-
the horses "drawing," and the cataract causing the "over-
flow." This seems not to have been the first attempt of
the kind at Drury Lane. Garrick, in an epilogue, writes,
"And thirsty Islington laments in vain,
Half her New River rolled to Drury Lane."
Kean's unfortunate intimacy with the lady of Alderman
Cox, having become "the common chat of gossips when
they meet," her lord and husband felt that it had become
necessary he also should know something about the
matter for strange is it that in affairs of this kind, the
person most deeply interested is the last to be enlight-
ened. On the 7th of April, 1824, the day fixed for the
annual dinner at the Freemasons' Hall, in aid of the
Drury Lane Theatrical Fund, Kean, as “Master,” was
waiting the arrival of the chairman, the Duke of Clarence,
335
in the appointed committee-room,—when Alderman Cox
presented himself at the entrance, and with suitable vio-
Îence demanded instant admission to the presence of his
wrong-doer. The tragedian being apprised of what was
going on, drew from under his coat a pistol; for it is not
to be supposed that the busy world had kept him in
ignorance of the threats of the Alderman. The whole party
was of course thrown into great consternation; when for-
tunately the gentlemen of the committee, with Elliston
of the number, actively interposed to avert mischief,
and fairly carried off the enraged city functionary, thereby
preventing further interruption. The Alderman had,
however, acquitted himself well in the part it was neces-
sary for him to act, and recollecting perhaps that Cæsar,
Pompey, and Antony had been pretty well in a similar
predicament, he now retired-perhaps to peruse the old
dramatists, in which he would also discover how old a
story it is for a London alderman to be so abused.
KEAN'S FLIGHT TO BRIGHTON.
Not long after the above event, Kean having been
absent from the theatre for several days, on alleged illness,
a messenger was despatched to Clarges Street, to learn the
true state of his health, when he was informed that Mr.
Kean had quitted London, having left no address nor any
indication of his place of retirement. No sooner, however,
had the commissioner turned from the house, than the
actor's trusty door-keeper communicated with his master,
who was at this very time at the Regent Hotel, Brighton ;
a fact which Elliston soon after discovering, addressed a
letter to him accordingly. This letter was returned to
Elliston by the next post under cover, from the equally
trusty landlord of the "Regent," announcing that Mr.
Kean had certainly been his inmate, but had set sail from
Newhaven two days before for Dieppe.
A friend of the Drury lessee was now deputed to start
for Brighton, and ascertain more particularly the move-
ments of the wayward tragedian; Kean having been
publicly announced to act on the following week, at Drury
Laue, with Macready.
On the arrival of this confidential friend at Brighton,
336
he had an interview with mine host of the "Regent," but
could gain no additional particulars respecting the fit-
ting meteor, than that he was probably at Dieppe, where
he had intended to remain quiet, during a few weeks, for
the restoration of his health. At this moment, confused
sounds of merriment, evidently of a high convivial cha-
racter, assailed the ears of our suspicious interrogator, and
from certain accents, which he more distinctly caught, he
felt convinced he had discovered the roysterer, and that
Kean was at this very moment in the house. Judiciously
keeping these "thick-coming fancies" to himself, our wily
emissary appeared satisfied, observing only that, as he
could gain no further intelligence of Mr. Kean, he was
anxious to return to London by that night's mail.
↓ The tactician now quitted the house, but felt something
more was to be done, before he took verily his departure
from this invigorating watering-place. Within a short
time he found an agent, and having instructed him in the
part he was to play, the man was forthwith put into
action.
It was arranged that this person should go to the
Regent declare himself to the landlord, both by
manner and words, thoroughly in the secret of Kean's
being still in Brighton-to affect extreme caution, and to
beg a note, which was of course prepared, should be put
instantly into his hands.
(C
AN AWKWARD DISCOVERY.
""
"Double-score was now completely outwitted— the
look of roguish freemasonry which the man assumed on
reaching the hotel, was at once responded to by the fra-
ternal ken of our host, who, first treating the messenger
to a mug of his best beer, received the note, and, with
a confidential whisper, declared the little document should
be delivered within five minutes. The note in question
enclosed a card with these words-
>>
“Mr. Elliston, with friendly inquiries after the health
of Mr. Kean !"
On the second day from this event, Elliston received
the following letter, dated Brighton :
AN ANGRY CORRESPONDENCE.
"ELLISTON,-I hate a trickster: you have employed
unworthy means to disturb me in my solitude. This was
neither manly nor open. It was necessary I should have
repose-my health has suffered materially. You have
pursued me by a trick, and I should deign you no reply;
but I am here, Sir, under the direction of Sir Anthony
Carlisle, and will not stir from this place until I have
gone through all the routine of medicine and sea-bathing
prescribed for me by that great man.
The medical gen-
tlemen of Brighton declare also I need repose—' Kean
must have repose.' If I am pursued, either by tricks or
openly, I shall retire to 'La belle France,' for some weeks.
"I leave you in no distress-you have Macready!
Macready, Elliston ! why should you be anxious
about poor Kean? Yet, a breath-a breath, I say, of
Kean shall confound a generation of Youngs and
Macreadys.
"E. KEAN."
“ I am,
337
Thus the "Young fever" had been succeeded by the
"Macready jaundice;" and as the day approached for
Kean's appearance in the part of Hastings, he still pro-
nounced that he wanted repose, and was unequal to
professional exertion. Kean did not return to Drury
Lane this season.
No actor on record had ever acquired so brilliant a
fame, with so few complete successes, as Edmund Kean.
His pedestal was narrow, but it was of the purest gold.
In the characters of Richard III., Shylock, Othello, and
Sir Giles Overreach, he was unsurpassed; and those who
had witnessed his acting in these instances, in his best
day, may be assured they had seen the highest achieve-
ments of histrionic art.
But there is no doubt that now his health was ma-
terially invaded; and although in certain few old parts,
to which we have alluded, and fragments of others, his
extraordinary genius seemed to lose but little by this
defect of physical power, yet the sweetness of his lower
tones was altogether gone, and his level speaking had
become hoarse and inharmonious.
Z
*
I
338
JOSEPH SHEPHERD MUNDEN.
In May, Munden took his farewell benefit at Drury
Lane, in the parts of Sir Robert Bramble and Dosy.
Joseph Shepherd Munden was the son of a poulterer
in Brook's Market, Holborn, where he was born in 1758.
He made his first appearance at Covent Garden, on
the 2nd of December, 1790, in Sir Francis Gripe and
Jemmy Jumps. Quick was a great favourite in Sir
Francis Gripe; and Jemmy Jumps was a part in which
the sprightly Edwin was considered to be unrivalled.
Munden's attempt, therefore, was a bold one—but he
succeeded. Prejudice, however, was so strong, that he
did not make at first, great way; the friends of both Quick
and Edwin being busily in arms against him.
Towards the latter end of his second season, it was
intimated to Munden that his services would be dispensed
with at its close. "The Road to Ruin was at that time
in preparation. Quick had rehearsed Old Dornton more
than a dozen times, but by no means affecting the part,
he begged to be relieved from it altogether. Harris had
no opinion of the comedy itself, and carelessly gave to
Munden the part of Old Dornton, and Quick took Silky,
which the former had previously rehearsed. With but
four days' study, Munden was ready; from that moment,
he was completely established, and re-engaged at an
increased salary.
>"
Sir Robert Bramble, in the "Poor Gentleman," and
Dosy, in "Past Ten o'Clock," were the parts which this
celebrated actor selected for his farewell benefit; and it
was announced that, in the course of the evening, “Mr.
Munden would attempt to take leave of his friends and the
public." The audience were exceedingly numerous, and
manifested, throughout, their warm sentiments of regard
for one of the most highly-gifted comedians that ever trod
the stage.
Munden played on this interesting night with his
wonted feeling and energy, but the excitement of the
occasion, and a little fermented indulgence, completely
overcame him, before he was functus officio with the
audience. At the conclusion of the play, he approached
the lamps for the purpose of delivering an address—a
HISTORY OF A MINIATURE.
339
poetical "vale," written expressly by Mr. Talfourd.
Poor Munden faltered very early, both in metre and
matter; when, deliberately pulling out his spectacles, he
commenced reading a production, the spirit of which was
the spontaneous outpourings of gratitude and affection.
This little maladroit proceeding somewhat perplexed the
sentiment of the night; but as the "veteran comedian
made his final bow, there was not a single person of
taste or intelligence present, who did not feel the stage
had that night lost one of the most brilliant comedians
that had ever adorned it.
""
Munden's eccentricities, and his tendency to parsimony,
are well known. The following is a little amusing trait
of his besetting foiblesse.
Not very many years before his retirement, Munden
fancied himself in love; the object of his sly passion
being a country actress. The rûle of a lover on the stage
of life is always, more or less, an expensive part to play
-a feature as unpalatable to our friend, Joe Munden,
as to any perhaps who had stepped forward in the
character. Amongst other things, he announced to his
mistress that he was anxious to possess her likeness,
in the form of a miniature, and requested she would make
him happy by giving the limner a sitting.
But the history of the portrait was this: Munden had
had in his possession, time out of mind, a little old
miniature of some obsolete relation of his own, in the
costume of the year '45. This miniature was liberated
from its thin wiry frame, and put into the hands of a
young friend, an artist,-"just to alter the features,” as
poor Joe observed, to resemble the lady who would sit
to him. This order was given with great secrecy, and
duly executed.
The article being now replaced in its fragile frame,
and brushed up a bit, with the finger of an old
glove, Munden carries it, in topping ecstasy, to his lady-
love.
"See!" cried he, "here it is! and what a likeness!
My friend is a genius, I assure you-only one sitting!
and see how perfect!—what a likeness! The old
z 2
340
DUCROW AND HIS HORSES.
costume," added he, cunningly, "is more picturesque than
the silly attire of the present day, so I have had you
painted as one of the beauties of the court of George the
Second." Munden died in February, 1832.
His Majesty having ordered his own box to be pre-
pared for the royal strangers, "The King and Queen of
the Sandwich Islands," the illustrious Indians made their
appearance at the theatre in June. The serious parts of
the night's entertainments seemed particularly to excite
their risible nerves, whereas the broad farce elongated
their visages to every indication of woe. The affair, there-
fore, to them was just as "broad as it was long ;" so that,
true to the nature of our antipodes, they had their day
and night precisely at opposite seasons to our own.
A new piece, entitled the "Enchanted Courser."
written by Croly, was at this time in rehearsal at Drury
Lane, for which Elliston had engaged Ducrow's stud of
horses. On the day appointed for rehearsal, the truly
magnificent stud in question was in readiness on the
stage; but no Ducrow! Elliston was, naturally enough,
chagrined at this disappointment, as nothing could be
done with the horses in the absence of their master.
Elliston now despatched a note to the truant equestrian,
begging his instant attendance, and within an hour
Ducrow was at the theatre.
(6
What, Mr. Ducrow, is the meaning of this?" de-
manded the angry lessee.
"Anan! Mis t'Elliston " was the only reply.
Why, sir, have you not been here to your engage-
ment?"
66
،،
'Gagement, Mis t'Elliston-I have no 'gagement—
there's the osses-punctual creatures."
Elliston at once saw he had been jockeyed. The New-
market Club would have given the verdict against him.
He had the bow of Ulysses, but the arm of the mighty
archer was wanting; for the stud of horses was
about as useless, without the aid of Ducrow himself, as
a conjurer's dog away from his keeper. "The Enchanted
MR. THOMAS WOOLER.
""
341
Courser was emphatically at a stand; and Ducrow
finally engaged to superintend the rehearsals.
Amongst Elliston's numerous correspondents appears
Mr. Thomas Wooler, whose inquisitive mind, not merely
directed to the political and social interests of his coun-
trymen, makes an occasional excursion into the fields of
literature and art. We give an example of his eccentric
trip into the territories of Drury Lane.
"SIR, I hold myself so greatly indebted to Old Drury,
and indeed yourself, for so much past pleasure, that I
cannot refrain from offering you a hint, which I fancy
may be useful to you. To be brief-you have engaged
these horses! There is a class of persons, once on horse-
back, will ride to the devil; of that exigent denomina-
tion, I believe you are not one yet you may find your-
self a good way on this gloomy journey, unless you take
timely advice.
Your new piece of sorcery, which was certainly not
devised by a conjurer, will greatly injure the reputation
these four-footed actors have acquired in another place;
and out of respect to their abilities, now they are at
Drury Lane, they should appear in consistent characters.
What think you of mounting Shakspeare's heroes, as the
bard himself would rejoice they should be? Why not
allow the wand of Ducrow to aid the representation of
his dramas as well as the pencil of Stanfield? 'Saddle
white Surrey' in good earnest-and, as from 'The Surrey'
you once banished these animals, and have taken them
up at Drury Lane, think of doing them justice.
I fancy
your giving up the circle' in St. George's Fields, and
bringing your stable into a Theatre Royal, a little incon-
sistent; but no matter, it is done, and reminds me of a
friend of mine who swept away his poultry-yard from his
suitable villa at Fulham, and yet kept cocks and hens it.
Fleet Street.
"But to return. Instead of niggardly furnishing
Richard and Richmond with armies that do not muster
the force of a sergeant's guard, give them an efficient.
342
force of horse and foot. Your two-legged actors would
be in arms against this project; but disregard their jea-
lousy, and remember that four to two, are two to one in
your favour. Richard should march to the field in the
full panoply of all your cavalry, and not trudge like a
poor pedlar, whom no one would dream of 'interrupting
in his expedition.' He might impressively dismount in
compliment to the ladies; and when in the field he
cries My kingdom for a horse,' the audience might
fairly deem such a price only a fair offer for the recovery
of so noble an animal. The audience would wish Hotspur
to manage his 'roan' as well as his lady, and though
amongst your spectators there might be, perhaps, a 'grey
mare,' yet she would be content that Hotspur should be
the 'better horse' for her night's amusement.
"Think of the thunders which would echo from the
vaulted roof of Drury, when 'Falstaff' should attempt to
mount his cob! for surely he must have ridden, or we
should find him even to this day on his road to Coventry.
"There may be some hypercritics who would tell you
there were no horses north of the Tweed in the days of
Macbeth,' because Shakspeare has fallen into some
anachronisms about guns and so forth. But you must be
above all this. Let them ride their own hobbies; but
for you, you must mount your horses; and give me leave,
sir, to say, there is no one who would become the eques-
trian order better than yourself; and if, in your beloved
red letters, you would only advertise yourself, 'This pre-
sent evening, Mr. Elliston on horseback,' the whole world
would cry, When next he rides, may I be there to see !'
"Believe me, with sincere regard, your Friend,
"THOMAS J. WOOLER."
6
HIS REMARKABLE EPISTLE.
Some sharp personalities passing about this time be-
tween Elliston and certain members of the committee,
that body consulted their solicitor, whether their
tenant, not having paid the sum of £2,000 in advance, on
the 1st of July, had not forfeited his lease. They were
soon satisfied that he had; and a notice of ejectment was
actually in forwardness, when Elliston sent in his cheque
AWFUL THREATENINGS.
343
for the money, and nothing more was, for the present,
heard of legal interference.
A furious fanatic now assailed our hero by means of
anonymous communications, threatening destruction to his
theatre, and overthrow to his whole company of sinners,
somewhat in the language of the letter to Lord Monteagle
in the time of our first Stuart, "you shall receive a terri-
ble blow, and yet not see who hurts you."
Repetitions of these threats, though in a feigned hand,
yet evidently executed by the same person, induced
Elliston to apply for advice to his friend Sir Richard
Birnie. Persons were employed to watch the delivery of
letters at the stage-door; for some of these were conveyed
through private means, yet no discovery of the emis-
sary took place. Destruction to the theatre was
threatened by fire, unless the doors were closed against
dramatic exhibitions, and anathemas poured upon the
head of the ill-starred manager, which, at this stage of his
increasing mental infirmity, had visible effect on his
whole personal demeanour.
From all we can collect, the Glasgow Theatre was set
on fire by a party of enthusiasts, and the greater part of
the building consumed, about the year 1760. This took
place on the night before the arrival of two celebrated
actresses, Mrs. George Anne Bellamy and Miss Wordley,
who were to have performed on the ensuing evening. A
Methodist preacher, who had held forth in that city, told
his auditors that he had dreamed he was in the infernal
regions at a grand entertainment, where all the domestic
devils were in attendance, and that Lucifer gave for a
toast, "Long Life below, to Mr. M- who had sold the
?
The poor enthu-
being themselves
ground on which to build the theatre.
siasts hearing this godly information,
inflamed, ran off to communicate a great part of their
disease to the playhouse, and actually set it on fire.
Towards the end of June, Elliston offered terms to
Madame Catalani, for her brief services.
The engage-
ment was concluded, and the speculation, on the whole,
344
MADAME CATALANI
turned out profitable to the manager. On the strength of
this first experiment, a second was entered into between
the parties, and this, on the other hand, was as disastrous
to the exchequer of the lessee, as mortifying to the self-
esteem of the vocalist.
The plan of engagement was a sharing scheme, between
manager and performer, after a certain sum had been
received at the doors; and, on one occasion, Madame
Catalani's dividend amounted to something less than ten
pounds.
In pursuance of the lady's request, the nightly receipt
was regularly enclosed on the following morning, and
carried to her residence in Pall Mall. The sum of £9. 6s.
was of course so enclosed, but not sealed, and the mes-
senger, as usual, was despatched with the money.
Arriving in Pall Mall, the emissary announced the
ignoble amount to Catalani's footman, who was either so
ashamed of it, or fearing he might be charged with em-
bezzlement, actually refused to carry it to his mistress.
The messenger was therefore compelled himself to proceed
up stairs, and produced his money accordingly. Madame
Catalani happened, at this moment, to be surrounded by
a little circle of visitors, before whom the account stated
was produced. This maladroit proceeding so thoroughly
disconcerted her, that she sang no more at Drury Lane
Theatre.
We submit the literal copy of a card, which was inva-
riably transcribed for Madame Catalani, whenever she
was called on to sing in "God save the King."

Oh Lord avar God
Arais schaeter
Is enemis and
Mece them fol
Confond tear
Politekse frosstre
Their nevise trix
On George avar hopes
We fix God save the
Kin.
345
The ill success attending Madame Catalani's second
engagement, brought the season somewhat abruptly to a
termination.* Like Scipio or Lælius, Elliston now sought
retirement from the field of strife, and at his favourite
Leamington breathed some moments of repose. At this
place the Irish bard addresses the manager of Drury :-
LADY MORGAN.
Bowood, Sunday Evening.
“MY DEAR SIR,—I am most flattered and gratified to
find that you mean to promote my 'Fire-worshippers' to
the boards of Drury, and only trust that they will not
bring another conflagration in their train.
"Gheber is pronounced, as you supposed, with the G
hard. I shall most certainly run up for a peep.
"Yours very truly,
((
"THOMAS MOORE."
Elliston having formed an acquaintance with Sir Charles
Morgan, now made application to him, that he would use
his influence with his lady to induce her to write a play
for Drury Lane. In consequence of which, the manager
receives the annexed:-
'Dublin, 25th Oct., 1824,-35, Kildare Street.
"DEAR SIR,-I am extremely flattered by your con-
fidence in my talent, and regret that my own pursuits
and principles of authorship do not lie in a way which you
(I have no doubt) would render available to us both. In
now addressing you, therefore, on the subject of dramatic
authorship, I do it on behalf of my sister Lady Clarke.
"A few years back, Lady Clarke brought out a comedy
in the Dublin Theatre, called 'The Irish woman;' but, not-
withstanding its unbounded success here, she withdrew it
(in utter disgust at the conduct of the then proprietor of
the theatre, Mr. Jones), after the ninth night! She has
*After a concert given by this lady, at Liverpool, one of their
papers said, "Such was the torrent of sound she emitted at one
moment, that the glass globules pendent from the centre chandelier
were powerfully agitated, and struck against each other!!! "'
346
since reduced it to a short musical piece, in three acts,
with some excellent characteristic songs. It at present
lies in her desk, but I believe she means to give it to Mr.
Abbott.
LACONIC NOTES.
"She is now occupied on a musical farce; her talent
for comic song writing is very considerable; and here (in
private society) very celebrated. As she is an excellent
musician, she has hitherto adapted the music herself to
all she writes and sings; and the airs are generally old
and popular Irish melodies.
"You will confer a particular favour on me by letting
me know if you feel disposed to treat with Lady Clarke
for the musical farce on which she is now occupied. I
have made it a point with her that you shall have the
refusal of her first attempt for the London stage. I am
fully aware she could not fall into better hands.
“I am, dear Sir, very truly yours, &c.
With the following short, laconic correspondence, we
conclude the present chapter:—
“MY DEAR SIR,--Will you have the gooodness to state
explicitly whether I am to understand you hold yourself
engaged at Drury Lane Theatre, for the ensuing season?
It has become necessary I should be informed within four-
and-twenty hours.
Yours, R. W. ELLISTON.”
"T. R. D. L., July 22nd, 1824."
"C
"SYDNEY MORGAN."
REPLY:-
"69, Baker Street, July 24th.
"MY DEAR SIR,-Your note of the 22nd I have only
this day received; and as you limit my answer to four-
and-twenty hours, I presume your necessities are supplied.
Yours, JOHN BRAHAM."
66
CHAPTER II.
"DER
FREISCHUTZ."
IN the spring of 1824, Mr. Brockenden, the artist,
who had recently returned from the continent, brought
with him a copy of Weber's opera of "Der Freischutz,”
which he proffered to his friend, the Drury Lane manager.
The musical score was immediately placed in the hands
of the director of the establishment, when, after some
deliberation, the piece was declared unfit for the stage,
and totally abandoned. Arnold having procured a copy
of the same, produced it at his theatre, which he de-
signated in his bills "An eccentric vehicle for music and
scenic effect." Der Freischutz" succeeded greatly, aud
made that season the most profitable he ever had. The
opera was acted forty-three nights. Covent Garden
brought it forward at the commencement of the following
season with good results, and it was there repeated fifty
nights. It was left, however, to Drury Lane to justify
the full claims of this celebrated opera.
When "Der Freischutz" was originally produced by
Arnold, Mr. Bennett sustained the part of Caspar, but
being unable to sing, the music incidental to the character
was sung by Mr. Phillips, who was at that time a member
of the chorus. This imperfect arrangement was also
adopted at Covent Garden Theatre, the part of Caspar
being played by the same Mr. Bennett. To any one who
may have witnessed the opera, as subsequently repre-
sented at Drury Lane Theatre, the above substitution
must appear highly detrimental to stage illusion ; and
such, indeed, was the case.
Elliston, though late in the field, was determined to be
the greatest, and produced this opera with its entire
music, as arranged and composed by Weber himself.
Horn was the Caspar, the best that has ever attempted
348
the part; T. Cooke quitted his seat in the orchestra to
play Adolph, which exactly suited his powers; and Mr.
Mountain was engaged to lead the band.
One great
feature in this opera was O. Smith's Zamiel, which he
dressed with striking effect; the almost imperceptible
movement by which he covered his victim, and the
manner in which he disappeared, greatly added to the
illusion of the scene; but the incantation scene far ex-
ceeded anything that had been witnessed on the stage.
The gradual increase of terrific objects in various direc-
tions, and the horrific abruption, in which two gigantic
figures (admirably conceived by Stanfield) rose to the
whole height of the stage, formed a phantasma never
surpassed in the history of dramatic mechanism.
..
THE GLASS-BLOWERS."
•
Novelty ever found considerable favour with Elliston
in his scheme of management; but eccentricity was
absolutely german to his being.
For the pantomime of this season, "the Great Lessee
had engaged a troop of glass-blowers, who were to pass,
in procession, over the stage, in some particular scene,
as they have been witnessed a thousand times in the
streets of London. What effect this was to produce,
beyond the mere transporting a dull and dreary party of
clubbists from their accustomed ground, no one could
imagine, unless indeed the failure of the enterprise, which
was obvious enough to every one.
99
The glass-blowers, with their lenses, chandelier-drops,
salt-cellars, spun feathers, salad-bowls, glass eyes, ink-
stands, and (what was indeed a fresh phenomenon to the
Drury manager) empty wine-decanters, made their transit.
from O.P. to P.S., on the first and only night of that
year's harlequinade; after which, like meteors, they were
seen no more.
This vitreous enterprise, in fact, was smashed. Elliston
now dismissed his prismatic friends; but they, insisting
on their engagement-namely, for the whole run of the
pantomime, refused to take their discharge. A consider-
able altercation now ensued between the parties, the
glassmen, blowing "like furnace," threatened immediate
A DELICATE QUESTION.
349
destruction to the manager's chandeliers; but recollect-
ing, that “they who live in glass houses should not throw
stones," removed their complaint to the sitting magistrate
at Bow Street.
The van-guard blower, who carried a glass-spun
barrister's wig on a pole, was selected to open the case,
which he did with considerable ability; the gentleman
who poised the salt-cellars followed on the same side, and
a case, which we might fairly call "splendidior vitro,"
was made out against the manager. Elliston, as usual,
relied upon his speech; but, though not of the glass party,
he was as easily seen through; for the worthy magis-
trate, considering his defence altogether in the light of
The affair was,
an evasion, gave judgment against him.
however, compromised, and the glassmen, true to the
motto, "frangus non flectes," retired peacefully to their own
homes.
But the horizon of Elliston was becoming hourly more
gloomy. Disaster alone was the fortune of the Olympic
Theatre. Tenant after tenant failed; no money reached
the thirsty exchequer of the still buoyant comedian ; and
before February, it became necessary for Elliston to sell
some property which he held at Vauxhall; ground-
rents to the amount, of £60 per annum and also sundry
leasehold houses in that neighbourhood.
In January, 1825, Kean was announced for the part
of Richard III. at Drury Lane; three days previous to
which Sir Richard Birnie came to the theatre, by the
directions of Mr. Secretary Peel, and represented to
Elliston the ill-judgment and indelicacy of the dramatic
measures, as Kean's trial in the Court of King's Bench
(Cox versus Kean) had so recently taken place.
Elliston deemed it prudent to take the hint, and
immediately started off for Croydon, where Kean was
sojourning, for the purpose of discussing the matter with
him. The manager was told the tragedian was reposing,
but would see him. Elliston then proceeded up stairs,
and opening the door of an apartment, discovered Kean,
sitting on a couch, with a cigar in his mouth, and a glass
÷
350
of brandy and water before him. At the further end of
the apartment stood a "broom-girl," in picturesque attire,
who had just concluded one of her characteristic melodies,
accompanied by an itinerant tumbler, who was in the act
of vaulting over the chairs and tables for the tragedian's
amusement.
Elliston we believe might have been startled—as to
blushing, we apprehend those days had long passed away
—and, entering at once on his purpose, proposed some
brief postponement of the tragedy; but Kean would listen
to no suggestion of the kind ;—he declared himself ready
for war, and on the 24th would meet his enemies on that
ground, which, by the assent of all England, was his own!
"In the mean time,” added he, "observe how quietly I am
living here."
At about four o'clock, on the day in question, Kean
arrived at the theatre, where a dinner had been prepared,
according to his directions, for himself and two friends;
but an intemperate indulgence on the previous night ren-
dered him unfit to preside at his entertainment; so that
his two friends sat down without him. As the hour of
seven approached, immense crowds were collected about
the doors of the theatre. Many, of the lowest rabble,
who had no means- whatever might have been their
desire of getting into the house, hoped, at least, to
hear something; and in the failure of any disturbance
within, appeared not at all disinclined to try the experi-
ment without.
TUMULT ON KEAN'S REAPPEARANCE.
Prepared for war, as he had expressed it, Kean pre-
sented himself to his audience, when a shout, inter-
mingled with innumerable epithets of reproach, broke
over him, which, to do justice to his valour, he sustained
with a firmness worthy the cause of action. No cast of
character had won him half the clamour of this "cast in
damages;" and when, in the language of Glo'ster, he
repeated,
"Now do I fear I've done some strange offence,
That looks disgracious in the city's eye,"
the tumult might verily have "torn the cave where echo
DOUGLAS KINNAIRD'S PROTEST.
351
lies," for it was beyond description. Kean had, of course,
the support of his friends, but the "Pitites," in cowardly
security of numbers, still assailed him in scandalous
epithets and upbraidings, which he met with temper and
fortitude. At one moment called on for explanation,
and at another cried down when attempting to speak,
the actor might indeed have declared, the "British
public” had lost their old claim to the title of "generous.”
These scenes having been repeated for some further
nights, Mr. Douglas Kinnaird addresses Elliston:-
"MY DEAR SIR,-As you have done me the honour to
consult me once or twice lately about the most advisable
course to be pursued in regard to Mr. Kean, I take the
liberty of offering you my opinion :-Mr. Kean is lost if
you again permit him to be thrust upon the stage, and to
make speeches. I entreated Mr. Calcraft, last night, to
urge upon you that, if Mr. Kean answered the partial
and unmeaning call for him, he should only announce the
play, and disappear. It is sending him forth to fight a
shadow. He has no opponent. There is no accuser
no specific charge; but there is an irresponsible persecu-
tor-viz. a portion of the press. He must retire, or bear
it like a man--patience, and he will overcome it. But he
must not make speeches. What he said last night was
much more objectionable than what he uttered the second
night, which was ill-judged enough.
"Yours, very truly, DOUGLAS KINNAIRD."
"Pall Mall East, February 4th, 1825."
Regardless of the homely counsels of his friend Lee,
and the wise admonitions of Hughes, Kean was frequently
answerable for flights and vagaries of which the subject
of these Memoirs himself might have been downright
envious; amongst which, the following was a theatrical
gossip of the moment.
After playing Richard III. on a certain night, Kean
was seized with the sudden resolution of going over to
Streatham-an experimental project, as he humorously
352
ANCIENT ROISTERERS.
said, to recover what he had lost by the exhaustion of
acting. Descending from his vehicle, with his compa-
nion, at a road-side public-house, in the district of
Brixton, he found himself in the midst of a party of
drovers, who had been partaking pretty freely of strong
ale and “early purl;" it being now about one o'clock in
the morning. A dispute having arisen between one of
the drovers and a gentleman, who, by the ribbon he wore
across his breast, was evidently a rat-catcher, respecting
the sale and delivery of a pair of short boots, our enter-
prising tragedian took part in the controversy. Kean,
who was always liberal with his purse, having paid the
reckoning for the beer, commenced adjudicating the
knotty point in question. The crafty drover, perceiving
the verdict to go against him, uttered aloud something
highly disrespectful to the dignity of the judge, on which
Kean, with the arm and "fiat" of Rhadamanthus him-
self, thrust the nose of the offending drover on the rim
of the ale-measure. The pint-mug hint was quite suffi-
cient; for the driver of cattle, smarting under the pain
of collision with the pewter, sprang from the cask of
herrings on which he was sitting, and leaving the rat-
catcher to bag the boots, aimed a most angry blow at the
head of our sometime pet of Drury. Kean, ever gene-
rous in his disputes as liberal with his gold, accepted the
ordeal, and, declaring for fair play, set to work with all
the vigour he could command.
Ten years earlier, he might have been the better man
of the two; but, alas! poor Kean was quickly beaten ;
and though he had generously paid the tapster's score for
the whole party, yet it was evident to his friend who had
accompanied him, he would have been rifled of what yet
remained in his pockets, had he not been taken care of.
Richard Tarleton, of earlier days, had similar whims
for adventure. With Master George Peel and others, he
delighted in disturbing our snoring forefathers. These
boon companions would get royally drunk with loose lords.
and hen-pecked husbånds, and scour the city.
Charles Horn had introduced, this season, to Drury
Lane, a youth of considerable musical abilities, particu-
353
larly as a violin-player-a wild, ungovernable lad, but a
special favourite with all his acquaintance. Within a
very few years, he became one of our most successful and
accomplished composers, and whose vocal attainments
have justly gained for him the highest place in public
favour. This youth is the present Mr. Balfe—we cannot
forbear inserting one of his juvenile applications to the
theatre:-
HARLEY—A YOUNGSTER.
Monday.
“Master Balfe requests it as a favour that Mr. Elliston
will send him his discharge to-night, as he does not intend
to trouble the theatre again. If Mr. Elliston wishes to
know the reason, it is because Master Balfe will not play
until his week's salary is paid; if Mr. Elliston will send
him his discharge, in writing, Master Balfe will thank
him, and, if, not, Master Balfe, being under age, begs
leave to let Mr. Elliston know he will not, until forced,
go again into the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.”
Harley, the agreeable Harley, now took his benefit;
and numerous friends were assembled on this occasion.
CC
Dowton, 1805, first recommended him to his manager
at Rochester, Bony Long, a great character, who had five
fingers and a thumb on each hand. Bony said he could
not engage an untried actor ; But," added he, "Jerrold
has a company at Cranbrook-he wants a stripling of your
description, and I will recommend you." Jerrold writes,
"I can give you fifteen shillings a week, if you have a
tolerable wardrobe, and a benefit on the York plan,
sharing after five pounds. (Five pounds would have been
a crowded house.) I shall expect you, next Tuesday, to
open in Alonzo, in Pizarro.' Harley jumped at the
offer—but he in fact appeared in Sir Charles Cropland.
The farce was the "Citizen "-Quilldrive, by Mr. Jones;
which Jerrold requested Harley to play; "for, between
you and me,” said he, "our company is rather thin, and
there is no such person as 'Mr. Jones; the part is only
four or five lines; but I will give a point that will get
you great applause, and make your benefit." There had
> ""
C
2 A
354
been a great deal of rain at Cranbrook, and the place
nearly deluged ; the water was carried off by very small
apertures, called there, gulley-holes. Harley was remark-
ably thin; Jerrold's joke was—“I am so thin, that I fear,
if the rain continues, I shall disappear through some of
the gulley-holes." This point succeeded wonderfully as to
applause, but not a jot towards the benefit.
RALPH WEWITZER.
So few were the members of the company, that in the
"Honey Moon" Harley played Jaques, Lampedo, and
Lopez, which he contrived to accomplish by the assistance
of several wigs and cloaks. In "John Bull" he played
Dan, John Burr, and Sir Francis Rochdale; another
actor, Peregrine and Tom Shuffleton; and Mrs. Jerrold
played Mrs. Brulgruddery and Frank Rochdale; repre-
senting the latter in a pair of very loose nankeen trowsers
and a very tight short jacket, which constituted, in fact,
the chief humour of the evening. The whole company
consisted of four white males, three females, and a negro.
Early in January, Wewitzer, the last metropolitan
contemporary, we believe, of Garrick, expired suddenly,
being found dead in his bed at his lodgings in Wild Pas-
sage, Drury Lane.
He had entered his seventy-seventh
year.
Wewitzer had the character of a wit; and the term
"Wewitzer's last" almost passed into a proverb. He
was the author of a farce called the "Rake's Progress."
Sheridan had so good an opinion of the piece, that he
purchased it for £60, and the money was actually paid.
Wewitzer also produced a successful pantomime at the
Haymarket. He dabbled a little in poetry; published a
jest-book, and a dramatic chronology, and had it in con-
templation, being an excellent French scholar, to benefit
the world by a work on the idiom of that language.
As an actor, Wewitzer's merits were limited; but in
the parts of Jews and foreigners he pre-eminently ex-
celled. His Canton and Moses were of the very first
order of dramatic art.
Though in the receipt of £80 a year, for the last five
years of his life, he was always poor, and for ever borrow-
AN APPOINTMENT WITH SHERIDAN.
355
He usually
ing trifling sums, generally half a crown.
favoured his friend with a very small note-" Please lend
me half a crown." Wewitzer never forfeited his word,
for the conclusion of his notes generally ran, "but I shall
never pay you."
Two of his sisters were on the stage; one became Lady
Trelawny-for many years she lived in Ireland, and was
residing there at the time of her brother's death, then
upwards of seventy years of age.
The other sister mar-
ried a Mr. Lane, and lived in retirement. Wewitzer, for
many years, had no intercourse with either of these
sisters.
The presence of Wewitzer was necessary, on a certain
occasion, at the house of Mr. Peake, where Sheridan had
appointed to meet John Kemble, at eight o'clock in the
evening, to transact some Drury business. Kemble was
pretty punctual to his time. To occupy the interim,
however, between this and the arrival of Sheridan, Peake
produced his best Cognac, hot water, and double-refined
sugar.
(6
Conversation, of course, ensued; Peake and Wewitzer
listened to the distinguished guest with the liveliest
interest and satisfaction. The brandy was of the
finest flavour, and met equal justice with the objects of
attention. After some time Kemble, with remarkable
quietude of manner, demanded what was the hour.
Half-past five," responded Peake, with similar compo-
sure; on which Kemble, rising quietly from his chair,
walked towards the window, and deliberately unfastening
the shutters, let in the warm saffron rays of morning,
and, gazing into the street with quiet unconcern, ex-
claimed, “Well, Mr. Peake, I don't think Mr. Sheridan
will be here to-night."
We submit a short correspondence between the
manager of Drury Lane and Braham on the question
of an oratorio engagement. Our readers may, perhaps,
feel some interest in knowing the terms at which leading
vocalists negotiated their services :-
2 A 2
356
JOHN ASHLEY.
Southampton, Feb. 9th, 1825.
“MY DEAR SIR,-I think thirty guineas per night a
very moderate remuneration for your humble servant,
which would amount to 360 for the oratorio season.
However, as I wish really to be of service to you, I will
say 300 guineas certain, and shall expect the additional
sixty according to circumstances. Ashley paid me £500.
I remain, dear Elliston, yours, &c.
"JOHN BRAHAM.”
"(
"T. R. D. L., February 26th, 1825.
“MY DEAR SIR,—I am glad that we are to meet again;
and your 300 guineas in cash shall be at your disposal;
as for profits, the expenditure will be so great there is
but little hope; however, if it come, it will be welcome
to us both.
"Yours most truly,
"R. W. ELLISTON."
John Ashley, who conducted the oratorios at Covent
Garden Theatre in earlier days, was a laborious and per-
severing man, and so careful of his gains, that he not
only secured his gold under double lock and key, but
kept the very hiding-place itself a secret from every
member of his family. He would shift his hoards from
place to place, as frequently as Oliver Cromwell changed
his sleeping apartment; so that, about every third night,
his bags and boxes were treated with a fresh lodging.
“Fast bind fast find,' a proverb never stale to thiiity
mind."
The keys of his money-chest had more harmony for
him than the keys of the harpsichord; and these he never
permitted out of his sight, or, at least, his feeling, for he
constantly carried them in his clenched hand, or, if in his
pocket, still within the grasp of his fingers.
It was during the performance of one of these orato-
rios at Covent Garden Theatre that John Ashley was
suddenly seized by a fit of epilepsy, and fell, as though
1
1
""
357
<< THE PRINCESS OF CUMBERLAND.'
stricken with death, in the Green-room of the theatre.
The patient, however, was so far restored as to regain
consciousness of things around him, when, earnestly
clasping the hand of his friend, who bent over him, he
exclaimed, "In the name of Heaven, tell me what sort
of house it is."
Elliston received a letter, bearing the royal arms, from
a lady who had rendered herself conspicuous for several
preceding years. The note has reference to some trans-
action with the theatre :—
“The Princess of Cumberland presents her compliments
to Mr. Elliston, and informs him that she has received
her opera of 'Human Nature,' but that the other, ‘Half
an Hour Too Late,' has not been returned. Her highness
is informed that it has been used; both operas were deli-
vered to Mr. Elliston in one envelope. The Princess Olive
requests the favour of an explanation of these matters.
"Rules of the King's Bench, April 7th, 1825."
In December, 1809, Olivia Wilmot Serres advertised
the publication of her "Miscellaneous Works" at the price
of one guinea. Six years afterwards a letter appeared
in the Champion, signed Olivia Wilmot Serres, 8, Queen
Square, in which she stated, with plausible reasons, that
her uncle, Dr. Wilmot, was the author of "Junius ;" and
a few months afterwards, numerous documents appeared
in the public papers for the purpose of proving that she
was the legitimate child of the Duke of Cumberland, who
had married privately Miss Olive Wilmot. These docu-
ments were signed by George III., and witnessed by Lord
Chatham, Lord Warwick, and others; and the Duke of
Kent, when she grew up, appointed her (his cousin) to the
care of his daughter; all parties were bound to secrecy
during the life of George III., the Duke having married
another lady two years after, and therefore was guilty of
bigamy. George III., by will, left Olive £15,000. She
published these documents under the expectation of
obtaining the money from Government.
358
HER SINGULAR STATEMENTS.
Olivia was constantly before the public in some way or
the other; at last, she got in debt, was arrested, and
taken to a sponging-house.
The princess was removed thence to the Fleet Prison
in her own carriage, the servants wearing the royal
livery. The rules being prepared, she went into lodg-
ings at a hosier's shop, the corner of Fleet Market. From
the one pair of stairs window she frequently addressed
the crowds which assembled to gaze on a princess, and
it was with some trouble the landlord got rid of the
nuisance.
In 1823, her case was brought before the House of
Commons. Mr. Peel treated the matter with ridicule,
and proved, as he said, that the whole of the documents
were forgeries.
One of her stories, whether true or false, might have
been ascertained, Lord Harcourt being then alive, and
never contradicting it.
"Before I knew my royal birth, a circumstance intro-
duced me to the knowledge of his late Majesty, in 1804.
As I was, early one morning, making a drawing of the
castle at Windsor, the King asked me, among other ques-
tions, my maiden name, which I informed his Majesty
was Olive Wilmot. He appeared to be greatly agitated.
A few days afterwards, the Earl of Harcourt paid me a
visit, and presented me with £1,000 from the King, say-
ing I was to have further sums by applying to himself,
&c. &c. This £1,000 was in hundred-pound notes, and
Lord Harcourt took them out of a remarkable snuff-box,
which his lordship told me was a great curiosity, being
one of the smallest oil-paintings that Morland, the cele
brated artist, had ever executed; the subject was a York-
shire landscape and figures. By his late Majesty's con-
scientious and gracious donation, it is evident that when
he learnt my name, he knew me to be his injured niece.
"I have the certificate of my royal parent's marriage,
and my baptism as the daughter of Henry Frederick
Guelph, Duke of Cumberland, and Olive, his wife, bear-
ing the signature of a virtuous clergyman of the Church
of England; a certificate afterwards corroborated by
66
359
Lords Chatham, Ashburton, and Warwick; and I was
fully christened in 1821, at St. Mary's, Islington, accord-
ing to the rank of my royal parent."
""
""
THE YOUNG ROSCIUS.
Elliston had now sundry interviews with Mr. Betty,
the celebrated English "Roscius," with the view of an
engagement being entered into for the services of that
gentleman, for a few nights at Drury Lane Theatre.
These meetings, avowedly on points of business, so fre-
quently—indeed, so invariably-terminating in the good
fellowship of a supper and the flowing bowl, nothing was
ever settled on the theatrical measure; the parties
usually separating on fixing some future day for business,
which day terminated after the same manner as all
preceding. "We've done nothing to-night," said the
manager ; “but, on Thursday next, we will finally settle.”
Chedron's Hotel was generally the spot of the "belle
alliance ”—suppers were more discussed than plays, and
far more bottles opened than theatrical engagements; in
fact, the original object was ultimately completely lost
sight of by both parties, till they parted for the last
time, on better terms of cordiality, perhaps, than might
have been the result of any professional connection.
Mr. Betty was born in 1791, and was in his fourteenth
year when he first appeared at Covent Garden Theatre.
The engagement of Master Betty, the "Young Roscius,"
occasioned a great schism between the Drury Lane and
Covent Garden proprietors; each had their agents, who
followed him to various places where he was acting. A
very voluminous correspondence took place between prin-
cipals and agents, and, at last, the arbitration was left to
the Rev. Bate Dudley, whose decision was, “that they each
had an equal claim;" the “Roscius was therefore to
play six nights at each theatre, alternately, at fifty
guineas a night; a clear benefit at the end of every six
nights; Master Betty to commence at Covent Garden.
He appeared in Achmet, in "Barbarossa.”
""
The average of the first twenty-four performances was
£609 per night. After completing his engagements of
twelve nights at each theatre, a fresh one was made in
360
the Drury Lane proprietary, at one hundred guineas a
night. He played during the season fifty-seven nights ;
the sum total of receipts amounted to £32,416, and the
average £586 per night. The following statements will
be found remarkable :-
GEORGE IV. AT DRURY LANE.
Master Betty received for 57 nights' acting
Also four free benefits, each exceeding £500..
£4,725
2,000
£6,725
Kean played 68 nights during his first season; the
receipt was..
£32,902
32,416
Baster Betty acted 57 nights
ditto
Kean's average nightly receipt was £484; Betty's, £586.
The 2nd of May was fixed for the second royal visit to
the theatre, and the monarch of Drury Lane was pre-
pared to give a fraternal welcome to George the Fourth.
The king had held a drawing-room at Buckingham
Palace on the morning of this day, and a few untoward
events, added to the fatigue consequent on the ceremony,
found his Majesty not in the most serene temper of mind
on his return to Carlton House.
The coarse behaviour of the London mob, which had
followed the royal cortège from the Palace to Pall Mall, a
few hours before, had hardly passed from the memory of our
gracious Sovereign. By the King's desire, however, the cap-
tain of the escort, Lord William Lennox, rode immediately
abreast the window of the royal carriage; an arrange-
ment wisely made, for, on the morning, as the august
party were passing the entrance to the stable-yard, a
missile was projected at the King's person, which struck
the captain of the escort a pretty palpable hit.
The gal-
lant captain, however, shook his plumes, and all was well
again.
The rush into the theatre was tremendous. Consider-
able uproar, from various parts of the house, ensued, on
disputed seats and packed benches, which, just as the
King entered his box, being at spring-tide, his Majesty
felt impressed was chiefly directed towards his own per-
REMARKABLE SCENE BEHIND THE CURTAIN.
361
son. The Lord Chamberlain at once perceived the King's
feeling, and instantly requested his vice-official, the Mar-
quess Graham, to descend, and at once see the manager,
that the uproar might be appeased by explanation. Lord
Graham now hastened to the stage, where, meeting Ellis-
ton in full costume, and totally forgetting he was accost-
ing a crowned head, exclaimed :—
"Mr. Elliston, this is disgraceful! You should have
prevented this excess. The King is vexed, and will
never again come to Drury Lane.”
This speech, addressed as it was with considerable
acrimony to Elliston, surrounded by many distinguished
strangers and followers of the court, besides troops of his
own subjects, very sensibly nettled him. He replied with
equal warmth, but ten times greater dignity; when, at
that moment, espying Lord William Lennox, he added-
"Now, my Lord Graham, I have a friend ;
wounded honour I shall place in the hands of Lord
William ;" which having said, he sweepingly led the way
across the stage into his own private room; the captain of
the guard following.
my
This private room, the temple of "Mars, Bacchus,
Apollo," and the Cytherean queen, exhibited, at this
moment, striking symbols of the various deities, which
rendered the apartment a complete Pantheon. Lord
William, en cuirass; Elliston "with his sword by his
side;" full bottles and empty bottles-the long-necked
Champagne and the rush-covered Curaçoa-plays, poetry,
and the "London Gazette”. fans, tippets, and hand-
kerchiefs "of the smallest spiders' web," formed such a
confusion of effects, tending far more, at this moment, to
"puzzle the will," than to offer a calm occasion for the
consideration of a most pregnant question.
Elliston now entered glandiloquently into the nature of
his grievance; but his friend soon perceiving that, though
the vice-chamberlain might have wounded the dignity of
the manager, Moet had clearly disordered his wits; he gave
him, therefore, certain advice, which produced the following.
"You are right, my lord. The deputy has affronted
me, and a deputy shall reply to it. My stage-manager
The othe
362 A NOCTURNAL VISIT AT THE HORSE GUARDS.
shall take up the question in its present shape. I shall
meet no one but the Lord Chamberlain himself. My
lord, a glass of Madeira ?"
Here Elliston rang the bell, and on an attendant enter-
ing, exclaimed, "Draw a bottle of Don Pedro's Madeira.
We will drink, if you please, 'The British Army.'
(6
By all means," replied Lord William ; "and let us
add, the fair owner of this little plaything," taking up
carelessly a small ivory fan. On this piece of gallantry,
the conversation took a turn, so abrupt and of so contrary
a nature to the great question at issue, that we should
only interrupt our main narrative by repeating it.
"""
•
The curtain had fallen on the night's entertainment-
the King had returned to Carlton House-the escort to
the Horse Guards; and it being now one o'clock of the
following morning, the captain had doffed his leathern
pantaloons and huge jack-boots, preparing himself for
repose, when a sharp knock was heard at his chamber
door.
"Who's there?" interrogated the captain, not a little
disinclined to intrusion at such an hour.
،،
"One of his Majesty's secretaries of state, my lord, on
urgent business," replied the serjeant.
"What can it mean?" murmured the Horse Guardsman.
"I know not, my lord, but he said it was on business
'vital' I think was the word. The gentleman has
been to-day at court, and is now in the sitting-room."
To the sitting-room Lord William immediately pro-
ceeded, when he beheld, seated in an arm-chair, no less a
personage than the monarch of Drury Lane King
William Elliston! in the same court gear in which he
had a few hours before attended the monarchy of Great
Britain; but, a little damaged.
“I have taken the liberty," observed Elliston, in a
manner even more impressive than his usual delivery,
during your lordship's delay, of ordering a weak glass of
brandy and water from the Canteen.”
((
Here the manager paused to sip his mixture My
lord, we must go out this very morning—I am steady to
my purpose," added he, reeling actually in his chair.
HOSTILE PREPARATIONS.
363
Lord William now perceived that a confused recollection
of Lord Graham's affront had brought Elliston, drunk as
-a lord from the Theatre to the Horse Guards; there to
renew the story, and pass the remainder of a quiet
evening.
Lord William now pursued the same policy he had
taken in the manager's room; namely, representing that
it was utterly impossible the Monarch of Drury Lane
could go out with any Deputy whatever; and that, if he
did, so far from his honour being vindicated, it would be
more deeply involved.
To this Elliston listened as to a perfectly new propo-
sition, and fixing his eyes steadily on Lord William, during
a very lengthened pause—at last said—
<<
(6
But, my lord there is one question yet—”
"Name it, by all means."
Might I suggest one more tumbler of brandy and
water?"
Lord William gave assent for a replenish of the glass,
which the Canteen man, having an eye to business, pre-
sently supplied.
Elliston having liberally tasted of this "refresher,"
committed himself to the confidence of another pause,
after which he said-
"And now, my lord, I would beg to ask, in which of
the Royal Parks do you propose the meeting?"
((
Windsor, by all means," replied the captain,-" and
what will be still more fitting, you shall fight under
'Herne's Oak,' and so make Shakspeare himself one of
the party."
Elliston gazed for a moment, perfectly overcome by the
sublimity of the proposition, and then, with a very far-
gone' impressement of manner, exclaimed—
"Herne's Oak! admirable! my lord-and my Lord
Graham shall remember the words of Master Page, 'There
be many who do fear to walk by this Herne's Oak !'
when up he rose,
>>
"Can I assist you, Elliston?" asked Lord William,
offering him his cocked hat, and disentangling his sword
from his silken legs.
364
LORD GRAHAM'S APOLOGY.
66
66
By no means," replied Elliston; "but-but your man
is a long time about this tumbler of brandy and water."
Nay, nay," cried Lord William, again laughing, "you
forget-you have already despatched it; and really, as it
is very late
""
"True, true!" interrupted Elliston, drawing out his
watch, and looking at the reverse side of it;
66 we must
be going-Lord Graham will be punctual-hair triggers,
my lord—and my hand is steady as iron.'
""
"Hush! Do you know what day this is?-Sunday
morning."
"Then," said Elliston, "your man is the more reprehen-
sible in his delay of mixing this brandy and water."
After some further difficulty, the manager was placed
in the hackney-coach. "You'll follow, my lord?" said
he, in a confidential whisper.
"Certainly."
(C
Then, I am content. To Shooter's Hill!" exclaimed
the manager to the coachman-and off he drove.
The next morning, or rather that very morning, by ten
o'clock, Robert William Elliston, in full possession of his
energies, and far more alive to business than many about
him, was at his writing-table in that private room, in
which, ten hours before, he had toasted the fair owner of
the ivory fan.
In the course of the morning the following letter reached
him:
"Chamberlain's Office, 3d May.
"SIR,-I regret to have heard that you felt hurt at
some expression I used towards you, last evening.
This was far from my intention, my only object being to
induce you to take some means which would remedy the
disorder in the pit of the Theatre; as well as the annoy-
ance which it was to his Majesty, and the rest of the
audience. I feel sorry that you should have misconceived
me so as to suppose I would intentionally have said
anything disagreeable to you.
"I remain, Sir, your obedient,
"GRAHAM."
،،
">
WILLIAM TELL AND THE REHEARSAL.
365
In this month, Sheridan Knowles's drama, "William
Tell," was acted at Drury Lane Theatre, for the first time.
Its success was unqualified, and Macready's impersonation
of the hero, a most effective and masterly piece of dramatic
art. The history, however, of this play, immediately
preceding the night in question, is rather curious. The
fifth act was in rehearsal, on the morning previous to
representation, when Macready abruptly quitted the
theatre, declaring the play was not in a state for acting,
and that he consequently should not play the part. The
consternation of the manager may be imagined. A mes-
senger, with a letter from Elliston, was despatched to
Macready, at his residence, Hampstead Heath, but he
returned with the forbidding reply, that Mr. Macready
still positively refused to play on the ensuing evening.
On the following morning, Elliston received the an-
nexed letter, which, in justice to Macready's friendliness.
we beg to insert :
"MY DEAR SIR,-Your note was delivered to me in
bed, last night, and I was obliged, in consequence, to
return a verbal answer. I can only repeat my deep
regret, that you should be inconvenienced ;—were I now
in health and strength, I know I should long since have
been induced to yield to your necessities.
(6
'I certainly said, more than once, that you might
almost rest secure of me for Wednesday, 11th; but at
that time Mr. Knowles himself had engaged to stay in
town and assist me, which he has not done, but left me
entirely to my own resources. As to neglecting re-
hearsals, I cannot really divine to what you refer, unless
to my quitting the stage yesterday, when you asked a
gentleman there to arrange the last scene of the play.
I now understand you do not wish me to play the part at
all, if not to-night. If you will give me back my
strength and health, I will do it. I am truly, truly sorry
that I cannot; and since my engagement must be of
little or no value to you without a novelty, I do not desire
to take your money, or occupy your nights, unless I fully
answer your demands on my exertions.
366
SUCCESS OF THE TRAGEDY.
66
say,
Unprepared and imperfect as we are, I am OBLIGED to
I cannot (although I would if I could) play it to-
night. In declaring this, to show you that I wish only
justice, I also state that I will, without a murmur,
abandon my engagement, and even my benefit night, the
only chance I look to for meeting the expenses of my
coming and staying here, rather than that you should,
for one moment, impute to me selfish or sinister
motives.
"I am, with every good wish, my dear Sir,
"Yours very truly,
"WILLIAM CHARLES MACREADY.”
was
(C
But the production of the play for the 11th was still
a vital question with the lessee; one effort more
resolved on, and Elliston determined on going himself to
Hampstead. Journeying with this intent," he met
Macready on his road to town, when they directed their
steps to Drury Lane-Macready here still refused to
comply. George Robins was eloquent, and backed his
hopes by a bet, that Macready would yet assent.
Calcraft, on the other hand, was buried in despair.
Efforts were yet stirring until five o'clock; but in vain.
At length, however, Calcraft, in most impressive lan-
guage, begged the trial of the play, as a personal favour,
pleading the serious exigencies of the establishment.
Macready yielded-the play was acted-and no drama
on a first representation had ever been more triumphant !
Terry, in July, purchased, in conjunction with Yates,
the Adelphi Theatre, and withdrew himself, consequently,
from Drury Lane Theatre. He showed Elliston a letter,
which he had received from Sir Walter Scott, enclosing
£500, an intended legacy to his godson, Walter Scott
Terry, which he now advanced to the father to assist him
in his new purchase-Alas, poor young Walter was never
benefited by a single penny-the whole being swallowed
up in Terry's failure.
SCENE ON THE TUNBRIDGE ROAD.
367
On a certain occasion, at the close of this season,
Elliston and Beazley met, as fellow-travellers, on the
outside of the Hastings coach; there was also a third
person, a precise-looking stranger, who sat by them.
After travelling several stages together, in the merriest
humour imaginable, the coach arrived at Riverhead, the
place of Beazley's destination. Here he alighted, and,
noticing the atmosphere to give pretty positive indications.
of a storm, observed to Elliston, in the most confidential
terms, as he was descending, that, in the event of rough
weather, he was at liberty to use his great coat, which
lay on the roof of the coach, on condition he would bring
it safely to London at a stated time. The offer was
extremely opportune, and so accepted. The friends shook
hands; Beazley struck off into a new direction, and the
coach proceeded towards Tunbridge.
Within ten minutes, surely enough, the windows of
the heavens were opened, and a pitiless rain came down.
Elliston, of course, seized the coat, and had already thrust
his right arm into it, when the prim stranger started up,
and, with a most grotesque look of dismay, exclaimed,
Hollo, sir!—that's my coat!"
(6
"Your coat, sir?" responded Elliston, forcing the
other arm with greater resolution into its appropriate
sleeve—“ your coat, sir? I hold this property under an
assignment of my friend, who has just quitted us.”
"Your friend, sir? I know nothing of your friend,
and as little of you. I only know that's my coat, and I
must have it.” Here the rain poured down still more
furiously; and in vain the disseised claimant protected
himself, by buttoning up the scanty black jacket which
he already had on, and covering his kersey pantaloons
with a shattered cotton handkerchief, figured by the signs
of the Zodiac, of which Aquarius was uppermost—“ Sir,
I'm wet through already, and must have it-must—must
-I tell you."
"My friend-if you take this coat, I shall be wet through
also;" emphatically observed Elliston, "and there is no
occasion for both of us to suffer by one shower of rain.”
The fact is, by this time, Elliston clearly perceiving
368
he had been made a subject of Beazley's mauvaise
plaisanterie, hugged himself still closer under the folds of
his most ample wrapper.
“D—n it, sir,” cried the traveller, "I'm a quiet man ;
but this is enough to make a Quaker strangle his grand-
mother. Sir, I must have my coat-my coat, sir.”
The rain still appeared to increase, and the manager
still closer hugged himself.
66
Sir, sir, but you shall hear of this!"-roared the
stranger, who perhaps had never been in so thorough a
passion before in his whole life-" whoever you are, sir.
Here, coachman-stop! stop, I say !"
(6
Stop, just in the middle of the town, sir, in ten
minutes," said the driver, without turning his head.
The coach no sooner stopped than down sprang the
stranger in the kerseys, which positively clove to his
bones tighter than his own skin, and, in a fury not to be
described, commenced a headlong appeal to the coach-
man. The driver, who was himself a bit of a wag, soon
discovered, by our hero's style of justification, that some
wicked game had been at work, and was about advising
a division of the property between the two claimants, by
tearing the surtout into two equal parts, when Elliston
magnanimously said-
OUTSIDE PASSENGERS.
"No; this quiet gentleman and myself have both set
up a claim to the garment in question, and the worthy
judge, like another Solomon, would recommend a sever-
ance of the limbs. To that I am not a consenting
party. Listen, then," continued he, unbuttoning the
coat, and deliberately preparing to put it off, as the rain
had by this time considerably abated. "Listen! I have
enjoyed the services of this coat for seven miles, and will
now make a new assignment of it to my friend here for
the remainder of his days.”
"But I am going no further!" screamed the appellant.
"Nor I,” replied Elliston, who now walked into the
inn-yard to order a chaise for a cross-road.
It was at the request of the committee of Drury Lane
that Elliston had set off for the purpose of seeing a
369
certain actor, who was then engaged at the Wells
theatre.
(6
""
JOHN SOBIESKI.
The play was "Richard III.," the actor in question
sustaining the principal character. That it was a wild-
goose chase may be readily believed, for disapprobation
was soon manifested in very palpable hisses, and by the
end of the third act, the endemic pervaded the whole
audience. The acting certainly was bad, but the ill-
nature of the audience, a far greater scandal of the
two. Suddenly the poor persecuted player, dropping his
character, advanced to the front of the stage, and thus
addressed his judges
"Ladies and Gentlemen,- Mr. Kean is playing this
part in London at a salary of £30 per night: I receive
but 15s. a week; and if it isn't good enough for the
money, may the Lord above give you a better humanity."
This well-timed reproof, delivered with much point and
feeling, won instantly all hearts to his favour.
It is un-
necessary, however, to state, the charm did not extend to
the manager of Drury Lane.
The "iron tongue of midnight" had tolled twelve as
Elliston was stepping into his carriage from the stage-
door of Drury Lane Theatre, when a stranger suddenly
sprang forward from an obscure corner of the hall, and,
presenting his card, demanded an instant audience from
the fleeting manager.
"I am, Mr. Elliston," said the stranger, "the author of
a tragedy, enclosed many months ago to this theatre, by
the title, 'John Sobieski.' I have called, sir, fourteen
times at this door, and-
""
"Is it in a blue cover?" demanded Elliston, with
much vivacity.
"The very same."
"Then just step into my carriage, and we will talk the
matter over."
The author having obeyed, Elliston followed, and with
great deliberation threw himself back on his seat, and the
vehicle moved on. The imprisoned author naturally
2 B
370
looked to this opportunity for talking the matter over,
but to his great mortification, the manager uttered not a
word. Within twenty minutes the carriage drew up in
Hadlow Street, at the residence of James Wallack, when
Elliston, with much solemnity of manner, begged to be ex-
cused for a short time, as he had some important business
to transact with his friend at the house in question. The
dramatist, though a little astonished, had no choice but
consent, and out stepped the manager, leaving John So-
bieski tenant of the vehicle. The fact was, Elliston had
engaged to sup with Wallack, and had arrived, true to
his appointment, for that agreeable purpose. Not a syl-
lable now passed between the two friends respecting John
Sobieski in the coach, and, in the course of ten minutes,
Elliston had altogether forgotten he had ever heard of
such a being.
A PERPLEXED AUTHOR.
Wallack's supper, as may be well believed, was liberal
enough, and, at about three o'clock in the morning, Ellis-
ton, having dipped into more tumblers of brandy and
water than plays, was about taking his departure, after
the best manner he was able. Appearing now to have
some little recollection of John Sobieski, who still remain-
ed in the carriage, Elliston desired his coachman to de-
scend, and making him take an inside seat vis-à-vis to the
patient Pole, he mounted the box, and gathering up the
reins, drove off.
What passed during their sinuous course between
"John " the Coachman and "John" the Pole, has never
been ascertained, but in due time the party reached
Elliston's stables, when the galliard manager descending,
with the same air of gravity with which he had mounted,
deliberately walked to his own home, leaving his man and
the author to settle between them all that remained to be
said on (C John Sobieski" in the blue cover.
Before noon, however, of that very day, Elliston en-
closed the missing tragedy, with a very penitent letter,
and a free-admission to Drury Lane for the season, to the
enraged dramatist.
"Authors spring up like mushrooms," observed Mr.
Calcraft, on hearing Elliston had refused this play.
A THEATRICAL "D'EON."
371
tr
"They do," replied the great lessee; "but if they were
only half as good, I should like them better."
The Manager receives the following strange announce-
ment from a "stricken" youth, dated from Devonport:
،،
SIR,-I have at length summoned fortitude, and
address you. My resolution is to tempt my stars on the
stage; this, many have hazarded before me; some with
success, others with failure. My experiment, therefore, is
no new story. The course, Mr. Elliston, was your own.
"My age is not quite eighteen years. I am slightly
built, and not fully developed; but my style of acting is
the bold-the impressive-the stately and the grand.
In one word, the disguise I hint at will be my sex: I am
a fair youth, and desire to try the part of Meg Merrilies.
Should I succeed, I would then proceed to Elvira and
Lady Macbeth. History shall record me the 'D'Eon' of
the stage. When of age, I shall come into possession of
considerable property; I then quit the stage, and bid you
farewell. My trustees and yourself shall be alone pos-
sessed of the secret. Should you entertain my proposal,
on which many minor points still remain for discussion,
direct a letter, 'C. M.,' to be left at No. 9, a stationer's,
Newington Butts, nearly opposite the church."
It is needless to say, the "Chevalier" had no response
from the manager.
Within a week from the date of the
above, Elliston received a brief note from the impatient
"false one," censuring his neglect, and demanding an im-
mediate answer. The answer, however, not forthcoming,
nothing further was heard of the Chevalier. The above
was supposed to be an ébat of Theodore Hook.
The failure of a drama which had been produced at
Drury Lane, under the title "Five Minutes too Late,"
and brought out with very considerable expense, was a
serious blow to the subject of these Memoirs. The piece
was produced with the view of giving a representation of
the coronation of the King of France; written by George
Colman. Although aided by the masterly productions of
Stanfield, who actually went to Rheims to make his ne-
2 B 2
372
>>
(( INVISIBLINA AGAIN.
cessary sketches, and many incidental exertions, involving
an extensive outlay, the result of "Five Minutes too
Late,” was a melancholy event to the struggling manager.
The prosperity of Elliston was now clearly gone; his
resources fast failing, and his health materially invaded;
but he was still not without hope; and there were mo-
ments (alas ! nocturnal) when, under the influence of his
old treacherous friend, the distiller, he yet resolved “with
a light heart to begin the world anew.”
Certain it is, a very novel determination occupied him
for several weeks, and this was a trip to America,
whereby he calculated on reaping considerable profit, and
by his absence silencing, in a great measure, popular abuse,
which, at this period of his history, was heaped un-
sparingly upon him.
He now sent for his eldest son, William, whom he had
recently placed at the university, to take the management
of the theatre, and Mr. Calcraft attended a meeting of
the committee, to make arrangements for Elliston's de-
parture.
For some unexplained cause,
cause, the Atlantic
project was finally abandoned.
A very considerable time had passed away, and Elliston
had heard nothing of "Invisiblina," when a letter reached
him, from his mysterious monitress:
"I ne'er shall stay my prose or lay-
My caution ne'er shall end,
Until I hear you're fairly clear,
Of your base city friend.
While both you quaff—he has the laugh—
You pocket all the care,
The silversmith is Falsehood's myth,
And plated as his ware.
"You nightly meet-you pay the treat-
But that is not the worst,
He gains his end upon his friend,
A usurer accurst.
For silver stand, your note of hand
You give, as ready quit-
While he has due your I. O. U.,
And serves you with a writ."'*
* These hints of "Invisiblina" apply to a disreputable silversmith
with whom Elliston had become, unfortunately, familiar.
LETTER FROM TALMA.
373
Elliston having presented to Talma, in the summer,
a beautiful Roman stage sword;-received the follow-
ing handsome acknowledgment from the French trage-
dian:-
"MY DEAR MR. ELLISTON, I am informed by the
newspapers that you were not in a very good state of
health; however, I keenly wish that this letter may find
you in better spirits. I return you my most hearty
thanks for the valuable token of your friendship and tes-
timony of your kind remembrance. How do you go on
with your theatrical affairs? Has your 'French Corona-
tion' filled up your cash-box? I hope, for the good I
wish you, that the English copy has attracted a greater
influx of gazers than the French original. We have been
accustomed to so many extraordinary things in France,
that we take very little notice of those kind of shows;
but if we, like you, are not permitted to expose to public
gaiety, upon our theatres, mock-priests and all the eccle-
siastical hierarchy, we have, in reward, the immense
advantage to possess them in reality, and all the congre-
gation of the Jesuits over the bargain.
"The newspapers tell us that Macready and Kean have
left you to hunt after fortune in America-is not it a
great loss for you? I see that you have been much per-
plexed by the amorous adventure of the latter. The
public were, indeed, very unjust towards him; for, on the
stage, he was but the representative of Richard or of
Hamlet. They had nothing to do with Mr. Kean, the
private gentleman, seducer or seduced. They had a right
to judge of his capacities on the stage, and not of his
wrong-doing in the chamber. His life in the vulgar
world had no relation with his life in the poetical world.
The stage and a court of justice are quite distinct things;
but, my dear sir, in England, as in France, the Public by
a secret impulse of envy, delight often in putting down
the idol they have once erected; they are like those
capricious savages who flog their gods when they imagine
they have some cause of complaint against them. As,
with regard to Miss Foote, it seems that public opinion
374
has taken another course; but it is not surprising;
opinion upon the actions of those who lead a public life
often forms itself at random; it is a kind of lottery-
hazard makes the losers and the gainers-however, it
seems that our old French gallantry has passed over to
England, and mastered even your stern judges; they have
sided with the fair sex and taken the part of beauty. So
much to their credit! God bless you, my dear Elliston,
and let me tell you, like the doctor in our Molière, Salus,
honor, et argentum atque bonum appetitum !
"Your ever well-wisher and friend,
"TALMA."
ANOTHER ATTACK OF ILLNESS.
In apparent health, Elliston had attended the general
meeting of Drury Lane proprietors in July 1825; his
energies were at their accustomed pitch, and his mind
displayed that usual quick perception and ability to busi-
ness for which, from a youth, he had been remarkable.
In August, not quite a fortnight from the above meeting,
only then in his fifty-first year, Elliston had become, as
though by the retributive visitation of the slighted deity
Prudence, a helpless, decrepit, tottering old man! Awful,
as remarkable, was this sudden change. From his erect
position he had sunk, like the yielding foundations of a
stately pile-the proportions of the fabric were lost, and
he seemed yet to survive only at the will of chance. But
Dr. Pearson had had much experience in his patient. He
persisted that his patient would yet live, and rally; for
it was now confidently reported his dissolution was at hand.
Within a few days Elliston was so far recovered from
this extraordinary attack as to be able to take a short
drive in his carriage; and, in the same month, while
returning from one of these brief excursions, he was
arrested by a Jew, residing in Hemming's Row, for £50
—a sum which had remained still unpaid, of an enormous
amount, which the manager had inconsiderately given
for a few suits of clothes, which had been used in the
unfortunate "Five Minutes too Late."
On the following week, he was at liberty to be removed,
on board a steamer, for the purpose of going to Ramsgate;
ELLISTON'S REVERSES.
375
-a power of attorney was in consequence executed,
empowering his eldest son, William Gore Elliston, to act
for him in the affairs of the theatre. The language of the
medical certificate, under which the power was granted, is
rather curious:
"I do hereby certify that Robert William Elliston,
Esq., is at this time labouring under inability in the use
of his hands, so as to deprive him of the power of writing
the letters of his own language, or of any other language;
but that he is in a perfectly sound state of mind, and, of
course, competent to transact any business requiring the
faculties of reason.
"GEORGE PEARSON, M.D., Physician.
George Street, Hanover Square,
(4
August 15th, 1825."
Kenny was now appointed young Elliston's adviser;
and had the official been equal to his duty, the Elliston
interest in Drury Lane Theatre might, for a time, have
been kept together. Kenny received a salary of £7 per
week; he attended the theatre but rarely, and produced
two unsuccessful pieces.
In September, 1825, Drury Lane Theatre again opened,
this being the sixth season of Elliston's term.
The lessee returned from Ramsgate, considerably
improved in health; but still unrestored to the use of
his hands. He had the mortification of discovering his
affairs, which had become "Fine by degrees, and beauti-
fully less,” in a still deeper state of embarrassment than
when he quitted London. This the committee having
foreseen, called together a meeting of their body, and the
result of their deliberations compelled their lessee to
retire for a time within the sanctuary of the rules of the
King's Bench Prison.
The expenses at this time at Drury Lane and Covent
Garden Theatres greatly exceeded £200 per night. Iu
1765, those of Drury Lane were less than £70. The com-
pany consisted of about 160 performers. Garrick was at
the head of the company, with a salary per night of
376
£2. 15s. 6d.; Yates and his wife at £3. 6s. 8d. ; Palmer
and his wife, £2; King, £1. 6s. 8d.; Parsons, the same ;
Mrs. Cibber, £2. 10s.; Mrs. Pritchard, £2. 6s. 8d.; Mrs.
Clive, £1. 15s.; Miss Pope, 13s. 4d.; Signor Guistinelli
(chief singer), £1. 3s. 4d.; Grimaldi and his wife (chief
dancers), £1.
To St. George's Fields, that territory of his early fame,
-the soil which he had actually rendered famous, the
"Great Lessee" of Drury Lane now withdrew. But in
his obscure spot, Temple Place, he was neither forgotten
nor neglected by the friends his good fellowship had
once acquired; so that, like William Oldys, there was
some danger of his becoming positively enamoured of his
retreat. Nor were there wanting others who, having still
faith in the prosperity of his days to come, collected
around him through more worldly considerations. Though
still labouring under infirmity, yet his stout heart and
natural temperament sustained him buoyant over his
almost unfathomable perplexities, and enabled him to
view, with an unruffled spirit, some scandalous attempts
to blacken his reputation and irritate his creditors.
In consequence of these, Mr. Robins, in a published
letter, observes :—
A PRISONER !
،،
...It is not for me to give publicity to what may be
Mr. Elliston's available property; but I can boldly assert,
without fear of contradiction, that one-fourth of the
amount stated by the Times, and very considerably less
than the sum expended on the improvement of the
theatre, would clear Mr. Elliston from every pecuniary
difficulty; consequently, his debts have this extent-no
more.'
"The statement, 'That a creditor present refused to
sign the letter of licence, and added, that it was precipi-
tate in me to propose it,' is entirely without foundation.
There were assembled creditors to the amount of
£12,000 and upwards; and I should do injustice to the
kind feeling that actuated them all, were I to deny myself
the gratification of stating that there was not a dissen-
tient voice."
377
Elliston, as we have observed, was not left to sour at
"man's ingratitude" in St. George's Fields; and when
visited here by "troops of friends," he would waggishly
observe, “In the situation in which I now am, there are
no followers allowed." His little tea-parties, notwith-
standing, became positively a fashion, at least, a point of
attraction; on which occasion that gentle sex, willing to
participate adversity with those they regarded, were by
no means strangers. In fact, Elliston's tea-parties in St.
George's Fields were as spirituels as Foote's in the Hay-
market, and as many
good things" both said and
acted. We doubt whether the tea-table of Garrick and
Mrs. Woffington, with Dr. Johnson for their guest, could
have been more sparkling. One lady presents him with
a bouquet of her own culling, another with a woollen
comforter of her own working, and a third some conserves
of her own curing; and for conclusion,
THE DRURY LANE BEEF-STEAK CLUB.
((
"To make the worst, the monarch did no more
Than all the Ptolemys had done before."
In January, 1826, the Drury Lane Beef-steak Club
was established. This, the youngest of many descendants
of the first-born bearing this name, at whose christening
Garrick himself stood sponsor, was by no means a sprig
unworthy the family stock. The object of the Drury
Club of 1826 was to bring together, at the social board,
artists connected with all departments of the drama, at
stated periods; where the flow of soul might be of the
richest vintage, but the board itself moderate and limited.
The dinner was literally beef-steak fare, and at half-past
four o'clock punctually served up, so that the actors who
might on the same evening be required on the stage,
would have ample time and opportunity for partaking
the good cheer without interruption to their professional
obligations.
One of the chief characteristics of this club was their
place of meeting. This was in a small apartment expressly
constructed within the large area of the painting-room,
boxed in by thin partitions, painted and decorated by
Marinari, emblazoned by appropriate symbols and illus-
378
trated by pointed sentences.
The " Leges Convivales
were placed in a conspicuous part of the room. Here
were no drones; the " fruges consumere nati" had here
but little chance for admission, though, be it well advised,
the beef-steaks themselves were excellent, and as
thoroughly enjoyed. Discord and contention were per-
fectly unknown, unless, indeed, that intellectual strife in
which the hits are sometimes hard, and the sense of them
smarting; but, like those by Telephus, the inflicter him-
self administered a cure, in the perfect good humour by
which he stanched the wound. The steaks were dressed
within sight and hearing of the seated guests, and the
cook, in the true spirit of freemasonry, himself a member,
was first-rate in his own department, and equally jealous
of his privilege. This "painted chamber," hallowed as
that at Westminster, resounded again with the common
congratulations of friends at half-past four, and re-echoed
the alternate bon-mots as they fell, like hail-stones, from
all points of the compass; or, rather, each member, like
the princess in fairy land, opened not his mouth but out
dropped some flower of fancy, some spiritual exotic, by
which the whole conservatory was fragrant.
Here might
Darwin have imagined a fresh "Botanic Garden," and
conceived new fancies in luxurious rhyme. Here might
Goldsmith have indulged in a new Retaliation," and
poured out his pleasant satire in characteristic touches.
66
MEMBERS OF THE CLUB.
19
Here, also, were commingled the wondrous sultanism
of Elliston, the melody of Braham, the smart repartee of
Cooke, the sprightliness of Wallack, the humour of John-
stone, the fun of Harley, the "franking" of Calcraft, the
bisticcio of Beazley, the anecdote of Lamb, the versatility
of Mathews, the sententiousness of Arnold, the falsetto
of Kelly, the old school of Pope, the sly flings of Peake,
the roar of Robins, the dry rubs of Dunn, and the
amusing simplicity of Linley. Here the members sat,
with their silver gridirons dangling from their buttons ;
not the only “orders," perhaps, then admitted into the
theatre, whilst the company itself composed a "free list
far more choice and beneficial than that which nightly
دو
CONSTERNATION IN OXFORD STREET.
379
crowded the narrow side-entrance to the entertainments
at Drury. The vocal course of the banquet was generally
served with Kelly's "Woodpecker," Jack Johnstone's
"First of August," and Billy Linley's "Woodman." Yet
"all that's bright must fade," and the "Drury Lane Beef-
steak Club," though in great vigour for the few years in
which it flourished, at length dwindled to a shade, and
lives now but only in tradition.*
We have, from time to time, found it necessary to
turn our attention to the mysterious "Invisiblina.” Her
repeated letters ;-her undoubted regard for the well-
being of our hero;-and her accurate information in
respect of all his movements, greatly disturbed him.
This state of things still continued, and although years
had passed away since the date of her first epistolary
favour, yet an equal mystery still hung over the ma-
chinery by which she worked and the region of her
habitation.
On a certain afternoon, Elliston, by some strange
chance, being actually at home, a person rang at the
street-door bell, and on a female servant appearing, placed
a letter in her hands, addressed to her master, and imme-
diately, at a brisk pace, made the best of his way into
Oxford Street. Elliston, at that moment, was passing
through his hall; he had caught a glimpse of the fleeting
emissary, and having cast his eye on the superscription of
the packet, at once perceived the nature of the corre-
spondence.
Without waiting the delivery of his hat, he sprang
* Of the original Beef-steak Club (to which we have elsewhere
alluded), Mrs. Woffington was a member, and president, and the only
woman admitted to the society. During its time, the Kit-Cat also
flourished. This club took its name from Christopher Cat, who sold
mutton pies, and it was held in Shire Lane, Fleet Street. About
forty noblemen and gentlemen of the first rank composed this cele-
brated fraternity. The verses for their toasting-glasses were written
by Garth, and the portraits of all its members painted by Kneller.
Jacob Tonson was their "Billy Dunn" (secretary), and built a
gallery at his house at Barn Elms, for the reception of the pictures,
and where the club occasionally held its meetings.
380
into the street, with all the alacrity he could command,
and taking the direction of the letter-bearer in question,
in two minutes had turned the corner of Stratford Place,
into the stirring thoroughfare of Oxford Street. Here
he paused for a moment, and again took to his heels,
in the line of Cumberland Gate. His pace and aspect,
naturally enough, excited the stare and astonishment of
the crowd; when at the corner of Duke Street, with an
exclamation of triumph, he seized a person roughly by
the arm, and, in the half-intelligible accents which his
breathless state permitted, cried :
"Ay! now, now, I have you !-have you at last !———
you shall evade me no longer—no longer!'
""
THE MOB THICKENS.
The man thus so unceremoniously handled and wildly
accosted, turned with a look of dismay, for which a
painter would have given the ransom of a king. The
gazers thickened. "Why-why-what's this?" demanded
the terrified détenu.
"No-no, no longer!" repeated Elliston, acquiring a
little strength. "Where is she? what is she? Tell me !
I must be satisfied."
The surrounding people, as little understanding the
meaning of this address as the poor prisoner himself, were
presently divided on two questions; one party looking on
Elliston as a maniac, and another quite as satisfied the
prisoner was a pickpocket.
"Take him to the watch-house, sir," cried one. "I
knows him; 'tisn't the first time."
"Has the gentleman no attendant-no keeper?"
questioned a second, who took up the other surmise in
respect of Elliston's wits.
"Will you satisfy me on Invisiblina?'" demanded
Elliston, with the fury of Octavian himself.
"Release me, madman!" vociferated the other. The
mob now shouted again.
At this period of our history the street police were
not in operation; but one or two persons more sensible
than the mass of idlers around, suspecting some unhappy
misunderstanding between the parties, interfered, and by
their management, Elliston and his fast friend were
“ROVER AGAIN.
hurried within the doors of a neighbouring public-
house.
""
381
The scene being now shifted to the back parlour of the
"Wheatsheaf," this eccentric drama proceeded. The
passionate excitement of Elliston had a little abated, but
the indignation of the unfortunate stranger was consi-
derably increased. Again he violently appealed, and
angrily demanded the reason of this extraordinary usage,
when Elliston, becoming somewhat intelligible, and the
nature of the case being partly explained, it turned out
(as the reader may guess) that the bewildered manager
had laid his hands on the wrong person; the one present,
being a decent tradesman on his way home to his five
o'clock tea and toast, and the real emissary of "Invi-
siblina," by this time, in receipt of his half-crown reward
for his meritorious punctuality.
S
In April, Elliston was so far recovered, that he once
again made his obeisance before a crowded audience under
the old roof, Drury Lane Theatre. Rover was again
himself. He had wisely chosen this part for his reap-
pearance, in which he had always given the most lively
satisfaction, by a varied display of his rich comic powers;
and on this occasion, with the exception of a little rigidity
of muscular action, he appeared to recuperate the very
days of his early celebrity. The duration of Elliston's
late confinement, under the double lock of law and physic,
had not been unwisely employed. If we cannot, in sooth,
repeat-
"Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books,
Ease and alternate labour, useful life,
Progressive virtue and approving Heaven,"
we can, with confidence, declare that his time of estrange-
ment from the turmoil of Drury Lane Theatre was
occupied in a way creditable to his good resolutions. He
had studied diligently in this interim, the character of
Falstaff; had read the best critiques on former actors in
the part, and brought to his aid the most earnest appli-
cation of his own natural perceptions. His object was
382
not merely to play the part of Falstaff, but to give
،، one
laurel more" which should be worthy of his early days,
and honourable in his decline.
(C
ELLISTON ACTS FALSTAFF.
""
The 11th of May was the day advertised for his ap-
pearance in "The First Part of Henry IV.," and, at the
last rehearsal, on the boards of the theatre, a private
party of friends was assembled to witness his reading,
and conceptions of the several scenes.
Not less encouraged by the friends around him, than
animated by the project he had undertaken, Elliston
went through the rehearsal of the part in a masterly and
striking manner, delighting and astonishing all around
him.
""
“What will he do at night? was now the universal
inquiry-which, while some asked themselves with senti-
ments of secure exultation, others repeated with most
unwilling foreboding. A great house was expected, for
Elliston and his friends were fully persuaded the eyes of
Europe were fixed on the event of the 11th of May at
Drury Lane.
The auditory, however, was not numerous,
but of a character, flattering to the comedian, being com-
posed of the oldest play-goers and true lovers of the
drama. Elliston played his part, and played it well.
His rich, oily, vein of humour was copiously poured out
in his delineation of the cozening knight, and his pointed
delivery of his whimseys, in soliloquy, rendered the per-
formance, if not unequalled, yet assuredly striking. The
truth must be told :-The keen edge of that spirit, which
he was unable strenuously to wield, yet glittered through
the worn scabbard of his mortal frame, and would not be
drawn. His acting on this night we cannot say was
unequalled, for it had been greatly surpassed by the
memorable rehearsal of which we have spoken.
The annual dinner, in aid of the Drury Lane Thea-
trical Fund, having taken place, Elliston, who had been
announced for his second appearance in the part of
Falstaff, on the following evening, prepared for the com-
pletion of his efforts. Beyond doubt, considerable interest
had been excited in the dramatic circles by this novel
undertaking, and a report of the famous rehearsal having,
THE LAST NIGHT AT DRURY.
383
by this time, become a topic of theatrical gossip, a nume-
rous party was assembled on the occasion.
Elliston, though labouring under extreme debility, re-
solutely avoided his old restaurant and its usurious effects,
wine. He ate little, for, alas, he could do no more, and
a single glass of Madeira was the only appui to the
night's enterprise ! His energies were fully and suc-
cessfully displayed in the two first acts of the tragedy, so
fully, that he unfortunately drew on the whole amount,
while expenditure was still necessary. As he proceeded
he weakened, and gave most distinct signs of inadequate
strength even to sustain the struggle. The fifth act had
commenced, and in his scene with the Prince of Wales,
as he was approaching the orchestra, he fell bodily on the
stage, through utter exhaustion. This was the last night
that Elliston ever appeared on the boards of Drury Lane
Theatre!
We have never attempted to justify Elliston's irregu-
larities, or to veil his errors, but the general report of his
ebriety on this occasion was totally without foundation.
False, however, as it was, he had only to thank the repu-
tation he had acquired, for the insinuations in question ;
as some characters may lay to their account, not to be
believed though they do speak the truth. The "John
Bull," in noticing this event, tartly observed, that
"Elliston fell off in the fourth act, and fell down in the
fifth." As monarch of Drury, Elliston, farewell!
"Who ventured all his fortunes at a cast,
And fought, like Hannibal, to fall at last."
Two days after the above event, as Elliston was musing
-perhaps occupying himself in vain regrets-the usual
hall porter tapped at his door panel and announced a
stranger. Before the manager had power either to deny
himself or permit an interview, the said stranger was in
his presence.
Elliston looked with some little astonish-
ment, for verily the intruder was of a habit to excite it.
He was a tall man, with long, black, but scanty hair.
His shirt-collar was of very large dimensions, one side of
which positively covered his cheek, and the other, beaten
384
MR. GORDON.
down, lay over a loose, wry-tied neckcloth. He wore a
green coat, and waistcoat of the same colour, both of which
were liberally adorned by gilt basket-buttons; a pair of
grey tight pantaloons and high shoes, completed his
costume.
"Mr. Elliston!" cried he, abruptly seating himself,
whilst he thrust out his legs from the chair, and plunged
his hands into his two capacious pockets-" Mr. Elliston,
have I the pleasure of beholding you-of speaking to you?
My name, sir, is Gordon.”
The manager replied, with a look which seemed to say,
"I see no just cause or impediment to the contrary."
The stranger proceeded-
((
My name is Gordon, Mr. Elliston. I have gazed on
you-wondered at you—thought of you, for many and
many a day; but this is the first of my happiness in
knowing you. My name is Gordon.'
""
The manager still held silence.
Mr. Gordon went on: “Any man but you, Mr.
Elliston, might think my address strange; but you are a
strange man yourself, and must not be surprised, if, now
and then, you meet with a subject of as eccentric a fancy
as your own. But my name is Gordon."
Still was the manager mute.
"Mr. Elliston," continued the other, in a more tempe-
rate key, "you have for some-for many years, been
acknowledged the first comedian of the age.
You are
now at the head of a great theatrical concern, which I
grieve to believe is no longer a flourishing speculation.
Would a sum of money be useful to you?"
"Sir!" responded Elliston, with a look of inquiry.
"Would a sum of money, I say, be useful to you?
My name is Gordon."
"To say that a sum of money would not be useful, to
one having such responsibilities as mine," responded
Elliston, "would be at least to assert an improbability——
but why this question?"
"Because my name is Gordon."
Elliston, not at once perceiving the logical inference,
was again silent.
MUNIFICENT OFFERS.
385
"Would ten thousand pounds be useful to you?"
""
"Ten thousand pounds !
((
Ay, Mr. Elliston !-ten thousand pounds; and you
shall have them. You know my name-Gordon.”
The manager was now pretty well convinced that the
term eccentricity was the mildest which might fairly be
applied to the interrogator before him.
How now!" rejoined the other, starting from his
chair—“I have known you, sir, these twenty years-have
witnessed your merits, and now learn your necessities;
don't stick at fifteen thousand," added he, in an impressive
whisper.
“The munificence of your offer, Mr. Gordon—”
(6
Ay, my name is Gordon," interrupted the stranger
as he seized the manager eagerly by the hand—“My
name is Gordon. Harkye! I will exact but one
promise from you at this moment: breakfast with me
to-morrow morning-to-morrow morning, ten o'clock, Mr.
Elliston-at Ibbotson's Hotel ?"
The manager hesitated.
""
"Come! continued Mr. Gordon-" this promise,
absolutely I must have-Ibbotson's Hotel, ten o'clock."
"I will, sir,”—responded Elliston-"I will wait on
you by this appointment."
They were now passing together, towards the hall,
when Mr. Gordon demanded, who and what the person
might be, who was just then standing near to them?
"The prompter to this establishment, Mr. Wilmot,”
responded the manager.
On hearing which, the visitor made a rush towards the
worthy official, into whose hands he suddenly thrust ten
sovereigns, and assuring him his name was Gordon,"
without another word hastily quitted the theatre.
Wilmot, very properly being desirous of immediately
abandoning his claim to the ten sovereigns, delivered
them into Elliston's hands, the latter being now resolved
to be faithful to his appointment, the next morning, at
Ibbotson's Hotel.
(6
At five minutes before the hour appointed, Elliston
was in Vere Street, and demanding to be shown by the
2 c
386
IBBOTSON'S HOTEL IN AN UPROAR.
waiter to Mr. Gordon's apartment, up he went, and, on
entering the room, perceived the breakfast-table suitably
arranged for two persons; but Mr. Gordon was not visible.
In about five minutes his ears were saluted by a kind
of triumphal shout, and presently Mr. Gordon himself
abruptly entered from an inner room, apparently just
from his bed, for he was literally in his night attire; in
each hand he held bank-bills to a considerable amount,
which he now sported in the wind.
G
a
Here they are! - here they are, Mr. Elliston !
small dividend only at present; but don't stick at twenty
thousand!" exclaiming which, he scattered the money in
various parts of the room.
The malady of Mr. Gordon seemed rather to have
gathered strength since the occurrence of the day before.
His manner was more wild, and the unattired state in
which he appeared, still added to the manager's dilemma.
But Mr. Gordon went on after the manner of yesterday ;
tossing the notes; repeating his own name; and assuring
the manager of his permanent friendship.
Elliston was now in downright alarm, and rang the
bell with some violence. As the door opened, 'The
trembling notes ascend the sky.'
The master of the house was called-the waifs and
estrays were collected together and confided to his custody.
The ten pounds, which had been so strangely forced on
Wilmot, were also given up; and Mr. Gordon having in
the interim taken flight into his inner apartment, Ellis-
ton made the best of his way from Ibbotson's Hotel.
On inquiry, it appeared that the present wild exhibi-
tion was by no means the first that Mr. Gordon had
displayed. His connexions were of the highest respecta-
bility, and his means considerable; but, when under the
influence of mental attacks, he would make these profusive
offers, at the suggestion of the moment. Without doubt,
he had often encountered less scrupulous friends than the
manager of Drury Lane Theatre.
A general meeting of the committee was now sum-
moned on the affairs of Drury Lane Theatre, and the
387
circumstances of the lessee; two days previously to which,
Mr. Calcraft called on Elliston, advising him to announce
his intention of withdrawing from the theatre, on the
grounds of ill health and increasing infirmity; but this,
Elliston rejected with extreme acrimony. In May, the
meeting took place, and the result was a demand that
Elliston should pay up his arrears, amounting to £5,500,
within three days. Such were the terms !—such, the con-
sideration granted to a man, who, on the statements of
this very committee, had laid out nearly £30,000 in
rebuilding, improving, and decorating their property
-to one who, as lessee, had paid £66,000 rent out of
£71,000.*
MEETING OF THE COMMITTEE.
At the expiration of the three days, Elliston attended
the adjourned meeting. He offered proposals from a
committee of his creditors, who were ready to give security
for the amount still owing; but the committee of Drury
Lane would accept nothing "but their bond."
The Napoleon of Drury would now have abdicated in
favour of his son; but the allied powers of the committee
* Elliston erected the portico in Brydges Street, which must
be admitted was a necessary appendage to the theatre,
whatever may be said of its deficiency in grace.
It was
completed under the sole direction and design of Sir John
Soane, and cost Elliston
He rebuilt the whole of the interior of the theatre, from the
bare walls, which he was bound to do at the expense of
£6,000; the contract was made for £7,000. The re-
building of the theatre and improving the stage amounted
to ..
The saloon he lined with looking-glass, at the expense of ..
Deduct the sum he was compelled to lay out
£1,050
21,000
1,000
23.050
6,000
17,054
5,500
From that take his deficiency of rent
And the theatre will be indebted to Elliston
£11,550
Elliston paid the committee, during his seven years' lesseeship,
upwards of sixty-six thousand pounds.
2 c 2
388
A FELLOW SINNER.
were too powerfully in arms to listen to any treaty in
favour of the family of the dethroned monarch, and thus
received the affairs of the theatre under their own pro-
tection. But of this committee, we fear, it could not be
said, as of Peter the Great, that tyranny and usurpation
were forgotten in the virtue and vigour of their govern-
ment. Injustice to the lessee was followed by incompe-
tency to their own business.
The habit of Elliston, at this period of his career, was
to return to Stratford Place, at about three o'clock A.M.,
after vespers; and too frequently in that state of percep-
tion to which all things in life are matters of indiffer-
ence.
At the offing of Stratford Place he had frequently
encountered a little, fat, pudgy man, who appeared to
entertain the same indifference to external things as
himself. In plain English, our hero and the little fat
unknown had met many times, about the same spot, and
under a similar contempt for sobriety. Each was to the
other a perfect stranger; but a kind of saturnalian free-
masonry seemed to exist between them-and though they
never exchanged a word, yet they as perfectly understood
one another as though they had conversed together all
their lives, and had never lived apart.
As near three of the morning as might be, occasion
after occasion, Elliston drunk, had met the little stranger
drunk; the sympathetic chord was struck as they passed
each other, and they parted, until about the same hour of
the following day; but, as we have just observed, with
not the interchange of one syllable.
After, however, some months of this spiritual acquaint-
ance, they, on a certain morning, met as usual-the same
spot-the same common state. The little man made an
abrupt halt, and gazing on Elliston with a steadiness by
which drunkenness is sometimes invested, marched
solemnly up to him, and clasping him by the arm, ex-
claimed "My friend my friend this can't last for
ever!"—which having said, without
or comment, he staggered off.
waiting for reply
•
389
In November, Elliston's trustees, to whom he had
made over his entire property, effected a sale on the
premises, Stratford Place. The two magnificent suits of
armour, which might have "stood against the world,"
were knocked down for one hundred pounds.
On the 10th of December, Robert William Elliston, of
the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and Leamington, dealer
and chapman, appeared in the character of bankrupt.
"Non minus est virtus quam quærere, parta tueri.”
ONCE AGAIN AT THE SURREY.
">
The fallen "Great Lessee now sought refuge at
Leamington Priors, where, in his moments of depression,
he would fain, like Wolsey himself, have laid down his
bones in quiet; but, his thoughts being yet of the earth
earthy, he noticed an advertisement in the Times news-
paper, headed, "To be let, the Surrey Theatre.
In an
instant he felt he had tasted of "the enchanted herb
which did renew old son," and with the activity of
five-and-thirty started for the metropolis. Not a moment
was lost in pursuance of his object. Interviews were
speedily obtained with the Surrey proprietors, or their
representatives; and with a few hundred pounds advanced
by some attached friends, sur le champ, on the old
ground, St. George's Fields,—the Assyrian fallen to the
Arab, but still a warrior,-behold Robert William once
again installed in the principality of the Surrey Theatre.
Elliston not having at this precise time received his
certificate, the lease was made out in the name of his son,
Charles Robert. In the meantime, differences having
taken place between our hero and West, the lessor, the
latter refused to transfer the lease according to promise,
when the certificate was signed in June, 1828.
""
On taking possession, a second time, of the Surrey
Theatre, the company which Elliston was enabled to col-
lect was extremely good. He refitted the interior of the
house, and effected considerable improvements in all
departments of the building. The scenery he found in a
very dilapidated state, on which exigency he engaged Mr.
Marshall, a young artist, who had been a pupil of Mari-
390
nari, and had practised in the painting-room of Drury
Lane Theatre with those accomplished masters, Stanfield.
and Roberts. Marshall was a young man of considerable
genius, to which he added industry and attention; so
that within a very few years he was enabled to take a
lead in his profession.*
MASTER BURKE.
A numerous audience witnessed the opening of this
theatre, on Whit-Monday, 1827. Elliston appeared in
the fantastic, triune character of the Singles, and his
public greeting, on this night, was as warm and enthu-
siastic as on any previous event of his dramatic life. At
the close of the piece he stepped forward to make his
speech; a circumstance which his friends as fully expected
as any part of the night's entertainment which had been
advertised in the bills, and a treat which he seldom nig-
gardly bestowed; like fleecy clothing, it was never out of
season-salutary at all temperatures; for whether ap-
plause or disapprobation, Elliston's speech was always a
case in point.
It was at this time, under Elliston's management at
the Surrey, that the singularly clever boy, Master
Burke, made his first public appearance. His attraction
at the Surrey was considerable. Elliston had engaged
the lad at a salary of £600 per annum, with the view of
taking him a provincial tour during the time the theatre
might be closed; a project which was never carried into
effect, the health of Elliston again declining, before the
termination of the boy's first Blackfriars' season.
66
Young Burke, when first introduced to Elliston, was
extremely small of his age,—and on his father observing
to the manager, he was a very acute lad.
Why, yes,
replied Elliston, fixing his eyes on the little figure-
"if brevity be the soul of wit, he is indeed so."
* The whole scenic department at Covent Garden Theatre, under
the reign of Macready, was intrusted to the hands of Mr. Marshall.
At the revival of "Henry the Fifth,
Henry the Fifth," Marshall greatly distinguished
himself by his masterly view of "Old Southampton by Moonlight,'
and also by the last scene in that play. To the patronage of Elliston
at the time alluded to above, Marshall owes a great portion of his
early success.
391
Managers of theatres, as we have frequently said, have
a most extensive corresponding train, comprehending
mysterious friends, and secret enemies; urging advice
or seeking redress. Amongst the various letters Elliston
received at this period of his career, we cannot forbear
inserting the following :-
THE SWEEPS.
"August 10th, 1827.
SIR-I really must beg to call your attention to a
most abominable nuisance which exists in your house, and
which is in a great measure the cause of the minor
theatres not holding the rank they should amongst play-
houses. I mean the admission of sweeps into the theatre,
in the very dress in which they climb chimneys. This
not only incommodes ladies and gentlemen, by the ob-
noxious odour arising from their attire, but these sweeps
take up twice the room of other people, because the
ladies, in particular, object to their clothes being soiled by
such unpleasant neighbours. I have, with my wife, been
much in the habit of visiting the Surrey Theatre, and, on
three occasions, we have been annoyed by these sweeps.
People will not go, sir, where sweeps are; and you will
find, sooner or later, these gentlemen will have the whole
theatre to themselves, unless an alteration be made. I
own, at some theatres, the managers are too particular in
dress-those days are passed, and the public have a right
to go to theatrical entertainments in their morning cos-
tumes, but this ought not to include the sweeps. It is
not a week ago since a lady in a nice white gown, sat
down on the very spot which a nasty sweep had just
quitted, and, when she got up, the sight was most hor-
rible-for she was a very heavy lady and had laughed,
shaking her sides a good deal during the performance ;
but it was no laughing matter to her when she got up to
go home. I hope I have said quite enough, and am your
"WELL-WISHER.”
Success having attended Elliston and his Surrey under-
taking, during the course of many weeks, and fortune
appearing really in earnest once again to inscribe him in
392
ADVENTURE AT A COACHMAKER'S.
her good books, the soul of our hero (for a hero he must
be to the end) expanded with his new opening prospects.
One morning, after a rehearsal of "Who wants a Guinea?"
(for comedies were cut down into two acts, like men-of-
war into frigates), Elliston, with a right ducal air, or,
what was more pregnant, his own appropriate manner,
advancing to his stage manager, said-" West, I wish you
to accompany me to Great Queen Street."
66
Certainly; but on what business, sir?"
"You shall see-step into my calash-it is at the door."
West readily obeyed, and within three minutes the com-
panions were on their passage. Having reached Queen
Street, the vehicle stopped at Birch's the coachmaker,
when Elliston, stepping out, beckoned West to follow.
By this time Mr. Birch himself had advanced to meet the
comedian.
CC
'My carriage, Mr. Birch? was Elliston's prompt
inquiry.
"Here—here it is—and nothing, I believe, left undone;"
saying which, Birch opened the door of an elegant landau,
deposited in his shop, for the purpose of displaying all
its appointments. Elliston and his companion, having
gazed on this work of art for a few minutes in silent
admiration, the comedian, with an air of humour which
would baffle all power of description said, "West, step in
with me," and at the same time entering the laudau,
deposited himself comfortably in a corner. "Perfect!-
admirable !”—continued he, " and how easy!"
"A positive feather-bed,” replied West.
"It is, as you say, West, a feather-bed," continued
Elliston, dancing the springs with the whole weight of his
body. Birch, you'll step in too?"
(C If you wish it, certainly," replied the smiling coach-
maker, and Birch immediately took his seat opposite his
two visitors.
،،
(C
"Now close the door," cried Elliston to one of the
workmen in attendance, we shan't want you any more.
I really never travelled in so easy a carriage in my life,"
continued the manager, addressing rather himself than
his companions-"not the slightest jolt; and the stuffing
AN ECCENTRIC DRIVE.
393
of these squabs is positively the mould of the human
form-admirable-delightful indeed!" and he once again
commenced testing the springs. Birch considering by
this time he had been imprisoned long enough, looked
imploringly from the window for one of his workmen,
when Elliston, turning slily to his faithful stage-manager,
whispered, "Make the most of it, my good fellow; it is
probably the last ride we shall ever have in the landau-
don't go, West." By this time Birch had contrived, by
passing his arm from the window, to open the door him-
self, and was in the act of stepping out, when West
observed that, as it was necessary for him to call on a
colourman in Holborn, he would take the opportunity of
descending likewise. "Well advised," said Elliston; and
off went the highly amused stage-manager.
Birch, happy in his release, took advantage of the
moment to attend the demands of some more profitable
customer, and West pursued his way to the tradesman's
habitation in Holborn. In about three-quarters of an
hour, the business being transacted, the deputy-manager
returned to Queen Street, when, immediately making
inquiries for Mr. Elliston, was told, to his great surprise,
that he had left the house, a full half-hour before.
"Im-
possible!" said West; "gone, you say;
which way ?" At
this moment, a prolonged and very audible snore, pro-
ceeding from the interior of the new landau, occasioned
West to turn in that direction, and advancing to the
window of the carriage, beheld Elliston in as fast a sleep
as ever harassed and fatigued mortal had enjoyed.
Still further amused at the eccentricity of the Surrey
potentate, West now proceeded to rouse his master,
when Elliston, thus suddenly awakened, and seeing his
deputy at the door, exclaimed-"Ah, West, I'm glad
you're at home! I've just driven over to you, for I wish
to see you of all things; but, just step in, will you?"
"No, no, not again," replied West, laughing. "Come,
sir, we had better return;" saying which, he commenced
handing the Surrey manager from his comfortable position,
who being now fully brought to his senses, stepped out
with the same air of majesty with which he had entered.
→
394
The two now took their departure-not a word was
interchanged for a considerable time; when, about the
centre arch of Westminster Bridge, Elliston turned sud-
denly about, and said, "West, I'm satisfied; but 'tis our
last drive."
(6
BLACK-EYED SUSAN.'
True, indeed, were Elliston's words, for the landau was
never removed from the premises of Birch. The carriage
had been ordered prior to Elliston's baukruptcy, when he
was still manager of Drury Lane Theatre.
Elliston having obtained his certificate, quitted his
temporary lodgings adjoining the theatre, and entered on
an excellent family-house in Great Surrey Street, Black-
friars Road, which he furnished in a consistent and com-
plete style. Here he was enabled once more to call his
friends around him-old friends who had travelled with
him much of the journey of life-who had witnessed his
rise, had done honour to his fairly-acquired fame, but who
had never been sparing of their censure when his actions
too frequently provoked their just expression. Amongst
these were Major Wathen, Mr. Durrant, and Mr. Winston,
in whom our hero never could have been without the
best advice and the most friendly consideration.
""
Elliston now played out his best and strongest card
which fortune appeared to have dealt to him, in this his
last mortal rubber of the Thespian game. "Black-eyed
Susan was the honour in his hand, which, sustained by
the winning trump (T. P. Cooke), occasioned him to rise,
at the conclusion of the season, a considerable gainer. This
drama, however, for the first half-dozen nights, though
much applauded, did not give promise of the extraordi-
nary success which subsequently attended it. On the
second week of its representation, the piece rose like a
rocket into the sky of public favour, and became, from
that time, a blaze of popular admiration. The receipts
now averaged £500 per week, out of which £150 clear
fell on the profit side of the manager. Cooke's salary was
sixty pounds per week, and half a clear benefit in every
sixth week of the representation.
395
Elliston's eldest son being at this time on the eve of de-
parture for Hobart Town, with the view of settling in
the country as agriculturist, the father fixed a day for
assembling, at his house in Great Surrey Street, many of
his old and esteemed friends to honour the occasion, and
receive in return their best wishes for his child's pros-
perity.
As this event was to be considered not only a parting
dinner between those concerned, but also a bouse-warming,
(as, on the same day we mourn a royal demise and hail a
kingly accession,) the sentiment which might arise from
the first, was expected to find some relief from the boon
good fellowship of the latter. But this, at least, was
beyond all doubt, Elliston had determined equally to dis-
tinguish himself in two characters which he had so volun-
tarily undertaken.
A PARTING ENTERTAINMENT.
The banquet (for it was no less) had been ordered at
much pains and expense.
The table exhibited a little
excusable display, in being ornamented by finery, which
might have been in more fit positions than on a dining-
table—it was all, however, good of its kind. The exhi-
bition might have reminded us of Hugh Kelly, who was
accused by Dr. Johnson of a great ostentation of the
little plate he possessed, and that, on a certain occasion,
an interval between the spoons and pepper-caster was
actually supplied by a pair of silver spurs.
The two dining-rooms were thrown into one, and a
separate table in each, Elliston himself presiding at the
upper and his son William at the lower. Each guest had
his appointed place, and every plate, contained some
motto or conceit happily appropriate to the double occa-
sion. The dinner itself passed off with that cumbrous
solemnity which generally attends great events. The
buckram of state stood obstinately out from the more
natural mould of frank fellowship; but the cloth being
removed, Elliston exclaimed, "Are the singers arrived?”
They are here, sir," was the reply.
(C
Blewitt then rose from the table, and receiving four or
five of the Surinam choristers at the door of the banquet-
ing-room, the party moved to the pianoforte; when an
396
WINE-SPEECHES AND SONGS.
ode, expressly written for the occasion, and set to music
by Blewitt himself, was sung by the whole band. The
folds of the buckram were greatly crushed by this move-
ment, and the natural man began to portray the best
features of its humanity.
With an overflowing cup, and in the gestation of a
speech, Elliston was most verily in his element.
He rose
to address the assembly on the chief purpose of the day;
-he spoke with much truth on the uncertainty of life,
and the still greater miscalculations of human hopes;
alluded to his own career, not without some well-timed
terms of self-reproach, and finally called on his friends to
second the parent's benisons in respect of the youthful
adventurer, who was about to quit them- perhaps for
ever. Nature by this time had prevailed over the mock
heroic, and the language of parental affection never fell more
feelingly from a father's lips than at this moment. His
speech invoked the tribute of a tear from those around
him the only water poured out on this memorable occa-
sion. The challenge was accepted by all hearts, and
"Huzza! long life and prosperity!" sped the parting
guest.
The bottle now went about as briskly as a country-
dance after a stately minuet.
It was "Sir Roger de
Coverley" all round. Blewitt and the singers were
again at the orchestra, and some admirable songs suc-
ceeded. Elliston was again on his legs. In a kind of
prose improvise, he had some epigrammatic application for
each guest at table, in which the wit of the moment was
his first-perhaps his only, consideration; for some of his
hits, though no malice prepense, were a little hard, and it
was as much as he could effect, in the latter part of the
evening, to apply successfully the vulnerary of soft words,
and heal the wounded spirit of one of his guests, whom
he had downright offended.
Wine and the song, with scarce an intermission for
breathing, brought up the close of the entertainment;
and, in consideration of the long voyage the young man
was about to make, the guests were by this time, so far
his companions, as to be more than half over that element
WEBER'S OPERA "SYLVANA."
which was to sustain him to the shores of New Holland.
The parting was indeed final between parent and child:
they never met again.
397
an
The earliest musical production of the late Carl Maria Von
Weber was performed, for the first time in this country,
at the Surrey Theatre. It is entitled " Sylvana"
opera consisting of three acts, which is attractive more
for the merit of the music, and the fame of the composer,
than on account of any striking novelty or interest in the
plot.
The story, which is not very clearly developed in the
piece, comprises little more than the incident of a young
lady, who, after having led a strange and solitary life in
a forest, by the unaccountable interposition of a hermit,
is restored to her parents, persons of noble birth, and to
her lover, who has conceived an attachment for her,
although in her woodland life she affects to be dumb.
This and many other incoherent parts of the piece are
forgotten in the rich variety and splendour of the musical
composition with which they are associated. The music
of "Sylvana," compared with that of "Der Frieschutz,"
approaches more the Italian style, although there are
occasional passages resembling "Der Frieschutz" and
"Oberon."
The forte of Weber, however, was in the extremes of
his country's music, belonging to what may be denomi-
nated caricatura; at least, it was in the expression of
passions and incidents, supposed to be least fitted for
musical subjects, that he established his reputation.
There is the same originality and vigour-the same dis-
play of natural and highly-cultivated genius-the same
abundance of gay, brilliant, and sparkling combinations.
in "Sylvana," which mark and distinguish the produc-
tions of Weber, so popular and familiar in this country.
The performers acquitted themselves with much zeal,
and in some instances with great ability. The singing
of Miss Graddon was extremely good; but her soprano
voice and feminine appearance were inappropriate to the
martial sounds and sentiments which, as a cavalier, she
398
had to utter. The part was manifestly intended for
a powerful tenor voice, nor could Miss Graddon
reconcile us to a transmutation which nature and pro-
priety do not sanction. This lady seemed actually dis-
posed to abdicate her own sex, as she had already usurped
the character of Captain Macheath, and had gone through
almost all the male parts of our principal operas.
Mr.
Philipps played the part of Albert—a knight and a lover
-and, both by his acting and singing, greatly contributed
to the favourable reception of the opera; his musical
skill rendered him fully competent to the music of
Weber; and his execution of many brilliant passages
was much applauded. Mrs. Fitzwilliam played the part
of Sylvana, and sustained it most creditably.
THE SHILLING ORDERS.”
((
In January, of this year, Mr. T. Dibdin had opened
Sadler's Wells, for a winter season, and introduced a new
plan which answered his purpose, but did incalculable
injury to theatrical property. He issued what he deno-
minated a renter's ticket, to admit two to the boxes on
paying two shillings each—the then price of admission to
the boxes, being four shillings; "thus bad begun, but
worse remained behind."
Shortly after, the shop-windows exhibited regular
printed tickets, to be had, like kisses, for asking, and which
admitted two to the boxes or pit-" this order will only
be admitted by each person paying ONE SHILLING, nor
admitted to the boxes unless such person be suitably
attired—the admission to private boxes, two shillings and
sixpence each.” This was the origin of the shilling order
system which has done such injury to the theatres; every
manager but Elliston felt compelled to adopt it; and he,
finding his receipts so much diminished, had nearly fallen
into the plan but his regard for the stage and its pro-
fessors, prevailed-and though he at first lost consider-
ably by his determination, ultimately he profited by it.
So sensible were his company of his spirited and dis-
interested conduct, that the principal performers of his
establishment entered into a subscription for a piece of
plate to present to their manager, as a mark of their
399
regard for resisting a system so derogatory to the re-
spectability of the profession. This was a handsome
silver cup, presented to him on Saturday, the 7th of
March, 1829.
A BRITISH TAR AT THE SURREY.
When Elliston, for this second time in 1828, became
lessee of the Surrey Theatre, he had to pay down, before
he could take possession, £870; that sum having been
borrowed, he now returned the same amongst those
friends who had so handsomely come forward in the time
of need. He had furnished his house at a cost of not
less than £500; fitted out his son for Hobart Town,
at a very considerable expense, and also had some
heavy family demands to defray; and last, though not
least, he kept a hospitable table. Notwithstanding these
drafts upon his purse, at the beginning of 1830 he had
placed £2,000 in the Three per Čents.
On one evening, pending the representation of a very
serious piece, a sailor, elevated, in every sense of the
word, frequently interrupted the progress of the play,
and annoyed the audience by exclamations of dissatisfac-
tion and sundry noises peculiar to gentlemen of the sea.
At length Elliston appeared on the stage
(C
May I know the cause of this unseemly clamour?'
asked he.
""
(Voice from the gallery)." It's this here sailor what
makes the row."
"A British sailor!-the glory of our country's annals!
-the safeguard of our homes and families! What is it
he asks?"
Rule Britannia!" roared the tar.
"You shall have it!" emphatically pronounced the
manager. Of what ship, comrade?”
"The Haggermemnon," again roared our son of Nep-
tune.
CC
"Ladies and Gentlemen," continued the manager,
advancing a few steps forward with imperturbable assu-
rance, on Monday next, a nautical, national, allegorical
sketch will be represented at this theatre, entitled, The
400
MORE SPEECHES.
British Flag!' in which the whole strength of the com-
pany will be employed. The music expressly composed
by Mr. Blewitt. Give 'em 'Rule Britannia,' concluded
he, with a nod to the musicians. 'Bring your compa-
nions here on Monday," cried Elliston, with a wink at
the sailor, which having done, he strode off the stage.
"Rule Britannia was immediately sung
by the
whole strength of the company," and the play was
resumed. As to the nautical sketch, it is needless to say
this was the momentary suggestion of the manager's un-
tiring fancy.
""
<<
(6
535
On another evening, too many persons having been
admitted to the gallery occasioned much altercation, and
totally prevented the performers from being heard.
Elliston came forward, as usual, and thus addressed the
audience :-
"Ladies and Gentlemen,—I take the liberty of ad-
dressing you.
It is of rare occurrence that I deem it
necessary to place myself in juxta-position with you.
(Noise in the gallery.) When I said juxta-position, I
meant vis-à-vis. (Increased noise in the gallery.) When
I uttered the words vis-à-vis, I meant contactability. Now
let me tell you that vis-à-vis (it is a French term) and
contactability (which is a truly English term) very nearly
assimilate to each other. (The disturbance above re-
doubled.) Gentlemen !—Gentlemen! I am really ashamed
of your conduct. It is unlike a Surrey audience. Are
you aware that I have in this establishment most effi-
cient peace-officers at my immediate disposal? Peace-
officers, Gentlemen, mean persons necessary in time of
war.
"One word more," said he, returning; "if that tall
gentleman, in the carpenter's cap, will sit down [pointing
to the pit], the little girl behind him, in red ribbons (you
my love, I mean), will be able to see the entertainment."
This oration produced the desired effect, and Elliston,
after bowing most respectfully, as he always did when he
had made an impudent speech, retired to spend his after-
noon.
PIERCE EGAN.
401
This was whim, and so let it pass; but, as an example
of real dignity towards an audience, it is related that
Dufresne, a French actor, speaking on the stage in a low
tone of voice, a person in the pit cried out "Louder !"
when Dufresne, with an air imperial, observed—“ And
you, sir, not so loud."
The notorious Pierce Egan having introduced himself,
by letter, to the Surrey manager at the early part of the
season, transmitted to him proposals, in various shapes,
for furnishing the theatre with dramatic pieces. The
variety of his epistolary style was even more remarkable
than that of his proposals. Sometimes he wrote with the
air of a dashing blade—at others in the burlesque heroic
—and occasionally in the terms of a jolly tar. This Pro-
tean diction was, doubtless, employed to have its due
effect with the manager, who might naturally, after so
many examples of versatile humour, be duly sensible of
the available quality of Pierce Egan's fancy and intellec-
tual resources. But whether, like an over-eager witness
in our courts of law, the author of "Life in London "
proved too much; or whether, from a positive want of
perception on the part of the manager, of his correspond-
ent's dramatic qualities, is not sufficiently clear; but true
it is, Elliston lent no favourable attention to his applica-
tions; and when at last Egan forwarded to the manager
a direct specimen of his quality in the shape of a “Comic
Sketch," all doubt was at an end by Elliston, under his
own sign manual, requesting that all further correspond-
ence might be stayed; for the manager was perfectly
persuaded that his friend Egan was not precisely an
author who, like Sophocles, would have been acquitted at
court by merely reading one of his own plays. But
Egan, no doubt, felt all the pangs of a slighted poet,
exclaiming―
"That the vast universal fool, the town,
Should cry up Labeo's stuff, and cry me down!
We believe, however, there is some degree of merit in
everything. It has been said that Sternhold and Hop-
2 D
402
kins had eight lines which Pope absolutely envied. But,
beyond all question, "Tom and Jerry" enjoyed most
extraordinary success; no one can rob Mr. Egan of that
-and as to poets, "Pan was a god, and Apollo was no
more."
A KANGAROO.
Many, innumerable, were the young Labeos who now
spread out their early essays before the setting sun of our
great theatrical manager; some of whom have since risen
to renown; and many a Bavius and Mævius, who are
known only by plagiarism to this day-
"Whose brains, like ivy, cannot mount at all,
But by adhering to some neighbouring wall.'
On a certain morning of this season, a gentleman
waited on Elliston, at his house in Great Surrey Street,
for the purpose of soliciting an engagement at his theatre.
The applicant was a man of ungainly and loose appearance,
but there was something in his manner of address that
greatly tickled the manager, and he was not inclined
to dismiss his applicant hastily, though he had com-
pletely made up his mind to have nothing to do with
him as an actor.
After listening for some time to the candidate's pre-
tensions to the art of acting, and hearing a long list of
managers with whom he had been triumphantly con-
nected, Elliston stopped him, and in a grotesque manner
said-
66
Ay-now, sir, I recollect you well,-it was at that
place you played a kangaroo."
""
"A kangaroo !'
((
Ay, a kangaroo; and admirably you did it.”
(6
Sir, believe me, I never acted a kangaroo; I never
could have acted a kangaroo."
(6
"You do yourself injustice," continued Elliston, calmly,
'your versatility is great, and your parts have been
numerous; but you cannot have forgotten the kan-
garoo ?
""
"Forgotten! Mr. Elliston - a kangaroo! Why, sir,
do you say I ever acted a kangaroo?" demanded the
other, with a thoughtful air.
403
Norwich was
ELLISTON'S ALARMING STATE OF HEALTH.
"I never was more pleased in my life.
the place; you have acted at Norwich ?"
"Yes, sir-many, many, many times. I remember,
about the period of the battle of Waterloo, we got up
"The Death of Captain Cook -
>
""
"Ay, I knew you had played a kangaroo.
"But are you sure, sir, it was I-I who played the
kangaroo ?"
66
Striking things always make a lasting impression
with me; and your kangaroo I remember as though the
event were of yesterday. Let's see," continued Elliston,
jumping up, and making a grotesque twist of the body—
"it was somewhat after this mauner in which you did it
—no, no-not quite so, either. I can't exactly make the
movement, but it was
""
"Hold! hold! Mr. Elliston," cried the other, spring-
ing to the middle of the room, and instantly throwing
himself into a strange attitude, as he balanced himself on
one leg—“ the kangaroo makes its advances in this
manner."
(C
Ay, ay! I knew you had played the kangaroo," ex-
claimed Elliston; "and when I get up an Australian
spectacle, I'll send for you."
The frame of Elliston had now exhibited fearful evi-
dences of decay. A career of labour and excitement—
success and disappointments—an inherent sense of indul-
gence attendant upon them all; but more particularly
the day of reckoning with his old usurer, Alcohol,
which had evidently arrived, now made common cause
in their demands on Nature's resources; and Elliston
was as bankrupt in health, as, two years before, he had
been in estate. But the flattering chances of the former
were gone for ever. His frame was shattered in every
bolt and seam. The elasticity of limb was no more, and
a kind of plantigrade step of caution, denoted the tho-
rough disorganized condition of the animal machine; yet,
it still held together, and the "piece of work" languidly
performed its office. But repose, which had never made
part with his temperament, was not even courted at the
2 D 2
404 A SEAT IN PARLIAMENT A SECOND MARRIAGE.
parting hour of his strength so that he still went bor-
rowing on, as long as the old usurer would lend, paying
the enormous interest of days for the paltry loan of an
hour's enjoyment which wine afforded.
It was at this very period that this most eccentric
and extraordinary man contemplated two of the greatest
projects of his life; visionary and wild as they were, he
yet followed them up for a time, with an ardour which
puzzled all physiological inquiry, as it excited more and
more disinterested regrets—a second marriage was the
one, and a seat in parliament the other!
His senatorial dream was a vision of no mean character.
Neither as the tool of a party, nor as the nominee of a
patron, did he look for his appearance on the stage of St.
Stephen's; but with the proceeds of "Black-eyed Susan,"
and the richer sum of his personal endowments, he pur-
posed canvassing some western borough, and was actually
in correspondence with parliamentary agents on the
question. Surrey, certainly, he had twice represented,
and was still a sitting member; and had the franchise
been extended at this time to the metropolitan boroughs,
we are not quite clear how far his exertions might have
led him towards success. The senatorial project, however,
expired in the cradle of its birth-namely, the back-
parlour of our hero in Blackfriars Road.
But the deuterogamy, of far graver consideration, was
much nearer its consummation. The history is not a
little curious. The lady in question was the eldest of
three antique spinsters, who, in the days of Miss Flem-
ming, had been in the ranks of Mrs. Elliston's youthful
patronesses. Apparently eternal as the Parse themselves,
they were still venerated in their domain, at Bath, over
which city they had so long presided; and had actually
fixed the destiny of Elliston's first marriage. Whether
out of gratitude for the happiness he had so long enjoyed
with his late partner, or whether to propitiate these
divinities for events yet to come, is uncertain; but true it
is, Elliston's devotion was renewed at this venerable
shrine, and, mortal as he was, presumed to offer his
earthly alliance to no less than Atropos herself. To drop
405
all metaphor, circumstances having led to a renewal of
the acquaintance between Elliston and these three sisters,
in a moment of strange miscalculation, he made a proposal
of marriage with the eldest, and which proposal was
actually accepted. Now, these three ladies had never
known an hour's separation. They had lived in the
closest sisterhood :
Corporibus junctis spiritus unus erat."
، ،
THE SPELL BROKEN.
Their united means yielded them an income equal to their
best desires, but not superfluities. Elliston, in contem-
plating a marriage with one-third of the sisterhood, had
fondly meditated, at least two-thirds of the profits,
together with a total dismemberment of this knot of
virgins. Time, however, having so thoroughly cemented
the state of sisterhood, the bride elect had no more dreamt
of being called upon to tear these family bonds asunder,
than, six months before, she had ever dreamt of any other
ties on this side of the grave; but Elliston now having
come to closer explanation respecting the future establish-
ment, the awful truth broke like a thunder-clap over the
Bath tea-table, and positively sent the three sisters into
one fit of hysterics. Separate!" they, one and all,
exclaimed, throwing themselves into each other's embrace,
which would positively have been a study for Canova
himself "Separate !-what Heaven has united, let no
man tear asunder-separate!" Here, amidst the pauses
of renewed hysterics, the common vow was plighted never
to seal such a bond.
66
What the Fates had resolved admitted of no appeal.
The deed of federalism was fatal to the contract of mar-
riage; for no sooner was the determination of the three
confederate maidens forwarded to our attendant swain,
than Elliston, who felt he could only love but one, was
little inclined to marry three. The treaty thereupon
was incontinently brought to an end, and Elliston, once
again, sought refuge in the green-room of the Surrey
Theatre.
Wife and borough had now vanished from before his
vision, and in a short time he was about as cool, under
406
the double disappointment, as a certain Spaniard, who,
having had one eye struck out at tennis, in a few days after
lost the other by a similar accident; on which he calmly
put on his hat, saying-" Good night, gentlemen," and
quietly departed.
CURIOUS HISTORY OF A SURREY ACTOR.
Elliston had been playing Pangloss, in Colman's comedy
of "The Heir at Law." The part of Dick Dowlas, was
assigned to Mr. Elliston, jun., who had made a promising
début, a few evenings before, as Robin, in the musical
entertainment of "No Song no Supper." His conception
of the character was correct, and his whole performance
received with very warm applause. At the conclusion
of the comedy, the original epilogue was spoken by the
characters, and the new pantomime of the "Golden Goose,"
which was well conceived, filled the house to the very
roof.
Amongst other untried actors, Elliston, after some
deliberation, engaged a young man, chiefly as a singer,
but, in point of fact, to do anything (a duty, for the most
part, assigned to those who can do nothing) at a small
salary. The youth was an agreeable, well-spoken lad,
who, on being questioned respecting his former employ-
ments, &c., carefully avoided the subject, and was particu-
larly anxions to conceal his family name, on embracing the
profession of the stage. Elliston was a little curious on
the matter, as the youth was strikingly prepossessing.
He played small parts decently, sang tolerably well, and
was extremely attentive to business. But this conceal-
ment of his patronymic was a somewhat unusual manœuvre,
for it eventually turned out, that the lad's honoured father
was one of those gentlemen who perambulate the streets,
offering an unhappy bullfinch in exchange for an old coat;
vending compositions, at corners of bye-places, for taking
out stains from wearing apparel, and haranguing the mob
on the virtue thereof; or, at other times, whistling
through a tin tube in imitation of the skylark.
Elliston, who had verily been impressed the youth was
at least the son of a baronet or some country member of
AFFECTIONATE LETTER OF ELLISTON TO HIS CHILDREN. 407
parliament, was not a little amused with the discovery.
The double policy of concealing the family name, while it
suppressed a discreditable origin and at the same time
led the stranger to believe it was highly distinguished,
was a bit of tact which greatly recommended the young
artist-introduced him to better parts, and added a crown
at least to his weekly salary. The young man, however,
remained not many weeks at the Surrey. He turned
tobacconist, and took a house in Lambeth, the back par-
lour of which, he opened as a singing-room. His new
auditory were now betrayed into the old illusion, and the
vocal tobacconist was again looked on as a nobleman in
disguise.
It is related, that when Lamash was acting in Edin-
burgh, he desired his wife to represent abroad that she
was the daughter of an Irish peer, and to go to the Lady
Elphinstone with the same story. The experiment suc-
ceeded wonderfully.
Lamash and his wife were, in con-
sequence, highly patronized, and their benefit was abun-
dantly productive.
The following parental and affectionate letter, was
addressed by Elliston to Charles and Jane, on the subject
of his daughter Lucy's illness, which terminated fatally
within ten days afterwards. This young lady was in her
Elliston felt
twentieth year at the period of her death.
deeply and keenly this affliction; and the unaffected
declarations of his letter were fulfilled to the very utmost;
for nothing was left undone on his own part, to comfort
and relieve his child.
"84, Great Surrey Street, January 20, 1831.
"MY DEAR CHILDREN,— I should welcome any hope
that was at all reasonable, with the most lively satisfac-
tion; but I fear to indulge an expectation of Lucy's
recovery. Be that, however,
Be that, however, as Providence may dictate;
we must do our duty while there is any spark of anima-
tion remaining. I hope my dear Lucy is sensible that
there is nothing in my power to give, which she
not
may
command; pray assure her of my love, and say how much
408
I am gratified to find that she feels happy under our
care.
FAMILY MATTERS.
"It is impossible to express the obligations I owe to
Doctor Macgowan-he appears to have acted in the two-
fold capacity of friend and physician. I have felt almost
a vanity in showing his benevolent epistles to my friends.
"I have inclosed twenty sovereigns, and I recommend
you to pay, weekly, for your lodgings, and defray all your
general expenses, so that you may have nothing to appre-
hend but the more particular demands attendant upon the
sick-chamber.
"I am fully sensible of your desire to ease me of any
unnecessary expense; but I must not hear of Jane's
directing her attention to professional pursuits while her
sister remains in this uncertain state.
"I was in hopes my recent illness would not have
reached your knowledge. I have, however, the pleasure.
to add that I am recovered, and having just completed
all my intended exports for William, my mind is, in one
respect, greatly relieved.
"I distribute your accounts of the invalid, as they
arrive, to the family; and I need not tell you, that they
are equally interested with myself in your constant intel-
ligence of Lucy's afflicting disorder; indeed, every one,
who ever knew her, feels most anxious for reports as they
reach me.
"Fail not to call upon me for any other additions to
her comfort, and be assured I am fully sensible of the very
excellent care, attention, and unwearied affection which
you are so cheerfully exercising in the service, and for the
advantage of your sister.
"From your affectionate father,
"To Charles and Jane Ellistone,
&c. &c. &c."
R. W. ELLISTON.
Like one having escaped shipwreck, our hero now hung
up his votive tablets on his widowed walls, in Blackfriars
Road, and began sententiously to congratulate himself,
and to rehearse the virtues of her, whose place he could
409
never have hoped adequately to supply. Elliston's animal
constitution was of that extraordinary texture, that the
slightest relache of exertions or abuse, met with that
generous rebound, which might have taught our infatu-
ated friend what a rich inheritance he was wasting, under
the name of enjoyment. Care and abstinence, for a brief
term, had produced cheering and wonderful effects. No
hermit-not even "Hilarion” himself had been, for three
whole weeks, half so holy; so that, about the middle of
December, like a good bird, though often beaten, he re-
turned crowing to the fight, and made his reappearance in
the part of Shera, before a crowded theatre. The order
no orders,” at night.
،،
of the day being
His acting was admirable. The very lees of his days
were clear: at this precise moment Elliston was still the
first comedian living:
ELLISTON'S EXTRAORDINARY CONSTITUTION.
"And better gleanings thy cropt soil can boast,
Than the crab vintage of the neighbouring coast ;
This difference still the judging world shall see,
Thou copiest Homer, and they copy thee."
Strange, but not more so than true, he played on this
night with greater effect, and felt more equal to his labours
than he had found himself for some few preceding years;
and so great was the applause and congratulations he re-
ceived, that he came forward, after his old habit, and
treated his friends with a speech, which nearly occupied
the time of a modern farce, but was considerably more
entertaining. He said it was bold for so young a man as
himself to offer any observations to an audience of the
high character which he saw before him, but he should be
ungrateful, as a débutant, if he did not make some ac-
knowledgments for the encouragement he had received.
That he had appeared on that night as the immediate de-
scendant of an old actor, one Mr. Elliston, who had for
many years enjoyed the favour of the public, but had, a
few weeks before, judiciously-
"Walk'd sober off, before a sprightlier age
Came tittering on, to thrust him from the stage."
410
The above humorous allusion to his late infirmity and
present restoration, was, of course, pleasantly received.
In conclusion he said, that, in July, he should have the
honour of appearing in an entirely new character. Alas!
it was in July he expired.
Frail, inconsistent man!—and yet frailer than humanity
itself, Robert William Elliston! The triumph of absti-
nence was celebrated by excess. Thoughtless conviviality
closed all these flattering scenes; and though perhaps less
than riot, yet for this moment, greater than madness.
LAST EFFORTS.
"When, prodigal of life, in one rash night,
He lavish'd more than might support three days."
Elliston was now fast and visibly sinking. His fine
natural constitution, which had long been labouring, like
a trim vessel in the elemental strife, was too evidently
giving way on every side, and each succeeding shock told
with the awful certainty of speedy dissolution. In aspect,
as well as body, he exhibited a very wreck. His limbs
had become almost cumbrous appendages to his frame,
which human nature had at length resigned to the brief
custody of human art. His features had lost all indica-
tion of intelligence or expression, and his mind, doubt-
lessly visited by bitter retrospect and unavailing regrets,
could yield him but sorry consolation.
So extraordinary was Elliston's constitution, that he
still bore up against this rapid decay. Within a very few
weeks of his death, a relative, by marriage, whose pro-
fessional duties brought him into the neighbourhood of
Great Surrey Street periodically, and who regularly passed
an hour with our invalid on those occasions, when about
taking leave one evening, was desired by Elliston to
remain till some other visitors had departed, having
something particular to communicate to him; he then
told him in a very emphatic tone, that the night before
he had had a mysterious and solemn warning, and was
quite convinced that his last moments were at hand. “I
am," said he, "prepared for the event, and should it come
in the immediate way of the strange warning I have
received, I shall die contented." He dwelt much on the
THE DEATH OF ELLISTON.
1
anonymous letters he had from time to time received
from "Invisiblina." This appeared greatly to affect his
spirits, and particularly that he had failed, in all his
efforts, to discover the writer; two of these letters he
read with the greatest earnestness and excitement, and
then destroyed them.
But Elliston once, once again rallied, and on the 24th
of June, 1831, came forward in Sheva, a part he selected
as the least fatiguing; but to all present, it was the effort
of a dying man; it was with difficulty he struggled
through the character. The afterpiece was the 221st
representation of "Black-eyed Susan.' The following
day the bills stated his next appearance would be on the
28th, in Megrim.
In minor theatres, the bills for the following day are
printed before the performances of the immediate night
are concluded; otherwise, from the state in which Ellis-
ton left the theatre, he would not have been announced
for any future appearance. The day after, it was stated
that a severe cold and hoarseness prevented his acting.
He never appeared again !
On Tuesday, the 5th of July, he rang up the servants
at a very early hour, and, by seven in the morning, was on
his road to Norwood, to visit his married daughter, and
returned to his house to breakfast. The next morning he
started for as early a ride, but had not proceeded far,
when he was taken ill, and compelled to return: he had
not entered his house many minutes, before he was visited
with an apoplectic fit, from which he never recovered.
He had appointed the following morning for the execu-
tion of a power of attorney, to sell stock for the use of
the theatre, which, at that precise time, had not its usual
success. The power was executed on Thursday morning,
but so imperfectly, the Bank would not allow the
transfer. The whole of Thursday he was unceasingly
talking in a low and confused tone, calling upon his friends
and blessing them in the most placid and resigned man-
ner. It was impossible to ascertain whether he did or
did not, during that period, fully retain his recollection.
On Friday, the 8th of July, at half-past six in the
411
""
412
ELLISTON.
morning, this very extraordinary and misguided man
breathed his last, having but a few months before com-
pleted only his 56th year.
،،
Joyousest of once embodied spirits!" Thus died
Robert William Elliston-thus passed from the mortal
scene one of the most accomplished masters in his pecu-
liar art, who, in the exercise of it, could play with our
feelings at his humour, and touch our sympathies as one
running over the keys of a harpsichord; thus perished
one of the most charming companions, "by the hand of
Nature "one of the readiest apprehension in all things
of affinity with the traffic of human life; of unwearied
perseverance, and fearless energy.
This, of its kind, although to the full measure of praise,
is still only of its kind. Fain would we, at this moment,
as the curtain slowly descends on the mortal history of
our hero, improve the quality of our applause, and pro-
nounce him a man as worthy of imitation as he was an
actor deserving of renown. As a member of society, the
memory of Elliston must suffer, for he lived in disregard
and violation of the great
"social contract and as to
the claims which good order might have on the citizen-
ship of the world, they were to him little better than
objects of contempt.
"2
Respectably born, and of near consanguinity with those
elevated by their virtues and intellectual acquirements—
by them protected and encouraged; of good education,
which his own act alone interrupted in its course to the
highest; favoured and caressed; united to a woman of
no ordinary mind, and of most extraordinary goodness;
blessed with children dutiful and affectionate; courted by
the great, and flattered by the multitude; prosperous in
the accumulation of his own estate, and fortunate by
the accession of contingent advantages, Elliston, it
is not too much to say, had a chance thrown into his.
hands of leaving behind him a nobler name than that of
a brilliant player or a boon companion.
The profession of an actor we believe to be a state of
temptation. We believe this to be the case, and many
All my
413
have sunk under the baneful influence; but many, also,
to their honour, have baffled the subtle foe-many, with
but half the armour of defence with which our frail com-
batant was clothed. Emphatic are the words of Addison :
"A man of talents, but void of prudence, is a Polypheme;
strong, but blind." Strong was he, beyond doubt; but
his blindness, almost without example.
RETROSPECT.
As a good husband we cannot record the hero of the
preceding pages. Sudden displays of sentiment or passion
are no substitute for the consistent exercise of marital
duty. In acts of kindness and gallantry, no husband
ever showed himself more to advantage than Elliston, for
he could still play the lover in the days of wedlock: often
would he delight to surprise his wife with some tasteful
attention of presents and projects for her gratification;
yet these were but fleeting impulses, in which vanity
(we will not say ostentation) bore an equal part with
affection. But the grace of to-day was dishonoured in
the shame of the morrow. Elliston, we believe, never
turned away from a single pleasure to satisfy his wife's
repose, nor did he give up the pursuit, though her peace
were the inevitable price he must pay for its attainment.
Pleasure, pleasure!—that improba siren,—was the deity
he worshipped; and thus, one of those "desirous of being
more happy than any man can be, was less happy than
most men are.
""
"The life of a player," says a modern writer, "which is
not marked by some prominent vice or distress, has
generally but little worth recording." The sentiment is
certainly a strange one; and we lament to have taken so
much of these sorry grounds as a claim on public attention.
We hope, however, in the foregoing pages, we have offered
something better than a plea of this description; and we
must confess, in treating on the fair qualities of our hero,
and more particularly his professional deserts, that we
have materially failed in doing him justice. If we have
made the evil to live after him, the good should not be
interred with his bones; and we must beg, in justice to
414
his memory, to remind our readers, that there were
some deliberate acts of generosity on the part of Elliston,
which might have added lustre to the brightest character,
-witness the instance of his generosity to the poor old
player at Bath, and more particularly his conduct in the
case of the unfortunate Mr. L- -, as recorded in the
early pages of this volume.
In his worldly undertakings, Elliston was punctual
and faithful. On the rebuilding of Drury Lane Theatre,
he liberally and voluntarily expended an enormous sum
of money, and was rewarded, if not by ingratitude, at
least, with meanness and unnecessary severity on the part
of the committee. He was faithful in the discharge of
his obligations to all persons concerned under his various
managements; and though some may have "lost money
by him" (as the phrase is), yet was it owing to circum-
stances by which upright men have been overtaken. His
energy and activity were truly wonderful. Of this he was
indeed an example worthy imitation; and his practical
talents were of that high order, by which fortune might
have been defied, and success insured. There were, in
fact, moments of his life, in which he might have asked,
"Quæ regio in terris nostri non plena laboris ? "'
REFLECTIONS.
As a comedian, Elliston was, perhaps, never excelled,
and it may be, he will be never equalled. Of this we have
endeavoured so particularly to speak in various parts of
this history, that it will be unncessary here to renew the
question. Of Felix, Aranza, Rover, Rapid, Sheva, Bel-
cour, Charles Surface, Leon, Tangent, Wilding, Dowlas,
Dornton, Valentine, Lothario, Absolute, &c. &c., and last,
the celebrated rehearsal of Falstaff, we have spoken in
their proper places. In the romantic drama, Elliston, at
an early period of his life was greatly attractive : his
Octavian, and Sir Edward Mortimer—the peculiar cir-
cumstances, too, under which he played this latter cha-
racter-would alone have entitled him to the name of an
accomplished actor.
FUNERAL.
415
In the "business" of the stage, Elliston was always
popular. He was, what is called a "fair actor,”—never
appropriating the scenic effects of others, but always
playing in such a manner as might bring into best opera-
tion the professional merits of those around him. This
fact, and a total absence of jealousy towards rising actors,
rendered him always popular with his brethren. One
thing further we may be permitted to observe (for with
those at all acquainted with theatrical life, it will doubt-
less be a claim of commendation): Elliston never was
guilty of the coarse and ungentlemanly act (to say the
least of it) of common swearing. No one ever heard an
oath pass his lips; and though he lived in too great neg-
lect of religious observances, no man was readier to
respect those of better example than himself, and he was
the very last to treat with levity any question of a sacred
nature.
We may, in fine, term him as a kind of dramatic Alci-
biades; great versatility, eccentric enterprise, strange
inconsistencies, with a fervent devotion to the public
duties to which fortune had called him, constituted him
in his time, if not an exemplary general, at least a
brilliant soldier.
On Friday the 15th of July, the remains of this
celebrated Comedian, were removed for interment, from
Great Surrey Street, Blackfriars, to St. John's Church,
Waterloo Road.
The funeral was a walking one, in compliance with the
will of the deceased. Of relatives and family connections,
the following were present:-
Mr. Henry Twistleton Elliston; Mr. Charles Robert
Elliston : Messrs. Wilson, Torre, Rundall, Winston,
Beazley, &c. &c.
The body was deposited in a Vault of the Church, and
the service performed by the Rev. Dr. Barratt.
416
TABLET.
In August, 1833, a marble tablet was placed on the
south side of the Altar of the Church, bearing the following
inscription, composed by Mr. Nicholas Torre, Son-in-law
of the deceased :-
Haud procul ab hoc loco sepultus est
ROBERTUS GULIELMUS ELLISTON,
cujus memoriæ sacrum liberi sui superstites,
amicis etiam quibusdam opem afferentibus,
hoc marmor ponendum curaverunt.
Natus est septimo die Aprilis, MDCCLXXIV.
Obiit octavo die Julii, MDCCCXXXI.
t
Dum pia Melpomene, nato pereunte, querelas
Fundit, et ante alias orba Thalia gemit,
Non minus in lachrymas fidi solvuntur amici,
Non minus egregii pignora chara tori.
Thespica comodum Londini pulpita morent,
Gaudia diffugiunt, deliciæque tacent.
Of which classic memorial we subjoin the genial notice
of one who well appreciated the rare talents of the actor
and pleasant eccentricities of the man,-we mean the
testimony of Charles Lamb.
“Great wert thou in thy life, Robert William Elliston !
and not lessened in thy death, if report speak truly, which
says that thou didst direct that thy mortal remains should
repose under no inscription but one of pure Latinity.
For thee the Pauline Muses weep! In elegies that shall
silence this rude prose, they shall celebrate thy praise!"
PRINTED BY COX AND WYMAN, GREAT QUEEN STREET.
x
}
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