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THE STAGE-STRUCK PEDAGOGUE.

BEING THE TENTH CHAPTER OF "INCIDENTS OF THE ROAD; Or, PASSAGES FROM THE LIFE OF A COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER.

BY JOSEPH ANTHONY, JUN.

He that gives his mind to observe, will meet with many things even in vulgar life worthy of observation.-BACON.

THE commercial-room of the principal hotel in the town of H was one of the best that I was in the habit of visiting during my journeyings in the South of England. Spacious, lofty, and well carpeted, its oak-panelled walls adorned with paintings and engravings, its handsome, massively-framed mirror, and its deep bay windows, with rich red curtains dight, presented to the eye at once a combination of comfort and elegance. Very possible is it, however, to be in very snug quarters, and yet be very dull. Alone, one winter's evening, this was unpleasantly exemplified in myself, whilst located in the quarters I have described, when, after a brief-lived, yellow, sickly sort of November day, night came on, and found me alone and unoccupied. I had finished my letters, spelled the town and country papers over and over again, inspected for the hundredth time the paintings on the wall, and then, drawing a chair up to the fire, sat to cogitate how I might best dispel the ennui which was fast creeping upon me, without books, without companionship, and the prospect of a long dreary evening before me. Whilst in this mood, it occurred to me that the theatre might possibly be open, and although my former visits to the place had given me anything but a favourable impression of the drama as there represented, it was with no little interest that I rang the bell to make the inquiry.

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Any performance to-night at the theatre, waiter?" I inquired, as that functionary entered.

"Yes, sir; and this is the new actor, Mr. Steerer's, first night." [The real name of the debutant I suppress, as Steerer, for aught I know to the contrary, may still belong to the profession.]

"Mr. Who?" I again inquired, on hearing the waiter's words, endeavouring, though vainly, to recal the name to my recollection, even as that of a provincial star.

"Mr. Steerer, sir," he returned; "he is a schoolmaster, and never acted before, and to-night makes his first appearance; but indeed I think they are only gammoning him. Here, sir, is a bill of the play!"

I hastily ran my eye over it, and perceived that the first piece announced for representation was "Charles the Second, or the Merry Monarch;" the part of Rochester by Mr. Steerer, his first appearance on any stage.

"A schoolmaster-gammoning him-first appearance,"—I mentally exclaimed, whilst recalling the waiter's words; "there is novelty, however, to recommend the entertainment;" and finding that the time announced for commencing the performance was near, I set out for that temple of the drama, whose frontage, in the town of H-, is ornamented with busts of Garrick and some of his most eminent contemporaries of the sock and buskin.

At this theatre, I was one night witness to a somewhat ludicrous circumstance, unconnected with the business of the stage, and which, as it now occurs to me-leaving the stage-struck pedagogue awhile-I will here relate.

A great star, from London, was to shine on the occasion to which I allude, for that night only. The house was crowded to an overflow. It was the height of summer, and very-very hot. Every available place was occupied, except one rather small box over the stage, the top of the tier, and which I believe was called the manager's. Soon after the performance had commenced, the attention of the audience was attracted to the box alluded to, by the appearance therein of a somewhat remarkablelooking personage. He wore mustachios, and a profusion of curls hung over his shoulders. His hands glittered with rings, whilst the also sparkling studded bosom of his shirt was crossed by a massive chain, from which was suspended a glittering mounted eye-glass.

The sensation which he created appeared to afford him not a little gratification. Seating himself in the most striking attitude which he could command, with his back to the stage, he raised his eye-glass, and commenced a deliberate survey of the audience, with an air as though their closely packed state in pit, boxes, and gallery, with their pipinghot faces, had been done expressly to elucidate some problem of what amount of heat and pressure their anatomies were capable of sustaining, and which, for his own gratification, he had come to solve; or, as though they had been a collection of some peculiar species of the animal world, so rammed and jammed together, as an exhibition for his especial amusement. He paid not the slightest attention to the performance on the stage, being evidently too much absorbed in his own, and the effect which he produced. He certainly drew more attention than the actors, and of this he seemed to be tolerably well aware, whilst occasionally lowering the glass from his eye, to run his fingers and his rings through his long and glossy locks. A more conceited, over-dressed, piece of human nature I had never seen. With little hesitation in my own mind, I estimated his flashy-looking jewellery as but instances of the genius of the "iron village," and himself to be either a master showman, a quack doctor, or one of those descendants of Israel, itinerant vendors of steel-penshs and penshil cases. Alas, for his vanity, his dignified solus was destined ere long to be interrupted;-interrupted, too, at a time when he, in all probability, was flattering himself that the audience to a man was regarding him as some foreign prince, at least; or some nobleman who, resting in H for the night, had patronised the legitimate drama by taking a box to himself.

To render intelligible that which follows, it may be well to mention here, that the box occupied by the mysterious dandy had been offered to me by the box-keeper, when, on my entering the theatre, from the crowded state of the house, there appeared to be but little chance of my obtaining a seat; and I had declined availing myself of the offer, when, in addition to its conspicuousness, as well as having a chandelier immediately beneath, which would render its vicinity none the cooler on that sweltering night, I learned that the entrance to it was by means of a ladder from behind the scenes. This will account for the intrusion on the dignified state of the glittering stranger, when at half-play some three or four plainly-dressed tradesmen of the town were ushered into the same box, presenting a striking contrast to the peacock-like appearance of the gen

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tleman with the flowing locks. The exquisite now found himself obliged, like other people, to compress his anatomy into a smaller compass, an inroad upon his dignity, which was, alas! shortly followed by a still greater. I have already observed, it was the height of summer, and that the theatre that night was as hot as an oven. That it was particularly so in the manager's box in its now crowded state, with the chandelier beneath, became pretty evident, by one of the new comers, soon after his entrance, divesting himself of his cravat, his companions soon following the example. I need scarcely say, that, although respectable, they were not the most polished of the tradesmen of H, belonging to that class who affect, rather than otherwise, a saucy bluntness, what they call a rough and ready straightforwardness, who are particularly partial to things as they used to be, like to be thought upright and downright, and who are much given to use the questionable declaration, "There's no pride about me.'

The reader will not be surprised, therefore, to learn that, without much hesitation, after divesting themselves of their cravats, finding the heat rather increasing than diminishing, the "uprights and downrights" took their coats off also. I never witnessed greater mortification of vanity, which the irritating closeness of the place must have considerably added to, than was now depicted in the countenance of the tightly-braced dandy. He rose from his seat as the curtain ascended for the "School for Scandal," which was played as an afterpiece, purposing, no doubt, to quit his quarters and companionship, with which he was, doubtless, highly disgusted.

The means of retreat, however, had evidently been cut off by the removal of the ladder, and from the place which I occupied, I could see the mustachied one standing at the side of the box where it communicated with the stage behind the wings, and the amazement of the audience may be conceived on hearing the following:

Lady Sneerwell." The paragraphs, you say, Mr. Snake, were all inserted."

Voice behind the scenes, in a rather suppressed tone, " I say I vhont de ladder."

Snake." They were, madam, and

Voice behind the scenes, in a louder key interrupting Snake, “I tell you I musht have de ladder, I vhont to come down.'

Another voice. "Hush, sir, you are disturbing the audience, your conduct is most disgraceful, you must wait to the end of the act.”

Whilst this brief dialogue had been carried on, Lady Sneerwell and Snake had paused and retired up the stage, as well they might, for every eye in the house was turned to the box of the caged exquisite. After this unsuccessful effort at emancipation, the jewelled one turned from the place of communication with the stage, and once more presented his frontispiece, now full of rage and perspiration, to the audience. Most heroically he seemed to struggle with the heat, but anger and mortification seemed to increase the fever of his blood; he was but human nature, and he was evidently roasting. What was to be done? See, he surveys the coatless ones beside him-the vulgar, the canaille-he pauses for some moments is irresolute, but at last 'tis done,-his richly braided coat is off, -but oh lapse of memory, dreadful forgetfulness!-the murky hue of his shirt sleeves speaks too unmistakably of having but little connexion with

the snow-white, glittering studded dickey, so profusely displayed in front. Poor devil, he soon became conscious that the play was not-but that he was now the thing. Every eye was again turned upon him, titters were heard in the boxes, and very unmistakable laughter in the pit. His suffering approached the climax.

The gods singled him out for their especial attention, and roar followed roar, as succeeded each other their rude sallies of wit, in which allusions to Moshes, washerwomen, and price of soap were freely sprinkled. This occurred at the opening of the second scene, when the son of Israel, goaded to desperation, interrupted Sir Peter's soliloquy, by turning again to the entrance of the box, and shouting at the top of his voice for the ladder.

"Cot Almighty, I tell you, I shall be shuffocated," he almost screamed in rage and vexation. Sir Peter paused in his speech to become a spectator with the rest-the whole audience having risen to their feet-of the Jewish exquisite.

The ladder was brought by the direction of the manager, whose not very gentle anathemas, plentifully showered, were heard amidst the uproar, and he of the rings, the mustachios, and the eye-glass, disappeared from the box, erst the scene of his glory, amidst shouts of laughter from all parts of the house, mingled with sundry pieces of information from the celestials, relative to the residences of various Moll Maloneys and Sally Dobbses, and other euphonious named washerwomen of their acquaintance. I never beheld such an exhibition of well-deserved mortified vanity; and may here observe, that some months afterwards I recognised this worthy swaggering through the streets of Leamington, when my inquiries elicited that he was neither more nor less than a professor in the science of "Corn Extraction."

And now let us return to the schoolmaster.

His announced début had evidently created a sensation in H. I could scarcely obtain a seat in the boxes, whilst the pit and gallery were densely crowded. There was a tolerable sprinkling of the gentry of the town and neighbourhood present, and many of the principal tradesmen with their families. I noticed that the conversation seemed generally to turn upon the "first appearance," whilst the humour expressed in most of the countenances around me, during their interchange of remarks on the subject, seemed to indicate an expectation of something laughable in the performance about to take place, rather than a histrionic display of merit. Observations which, from my position amongst them, I could not fail to hear, such as "great pity," "not at all," "great vanity," "half cracked,” and the like, pretty plainly indicated the animus that had filled the house.

Amidst a hubbub of voices, the overture, by an orchestra of four, was "done," the bell rang, the curtain rose, and breathless silence awaited the moment of the aspirant's advent.

Many amusing first appearances have I witnessed, some of them scarcely credible displays of weaknesses in histrionic essays on the part of those who, in every other respect, were sensible enough. I remember being present at a private friendly exhibition of one would-be actor-a clever, shrewd fellow in business, and yet, who had been so befooled as to believe that he was destined to eclipse all other tragic luminaries of the day. Two of his originally conceived new points in "Richard," sug

gested by those who amused themselves with his weakness, I will describe. One was to imitate the barking of a canine after the line, "The dogs bark at me as I halt by them;" the other was, to throw himself with his back against the wall, extending his arms, with drawn sword thereon, as though he were crucified, remaining for a moment thus stationary, after the line, "Our bruised arms hung up for monuments." This may appear too ridiculous to be true, or too great a display of weakness for any but a positive fool to have been guilty of. In this, a fool he undoubtedly was; but there are many who will read this sketch to whom the circumstances will be familiar, and who can add their testimony, that in every other respect, he was a very sensible fellow, and a particularly first-rate man of business. I may I may add, also, that this stage-struck gentleman was so much in earnest, that he willingly opened his purse-strings to get on the boards of Old Drury with the view of trying his voice, which trial he made I know to be a fact, for the best of all reasons, that I was myself present. It is hardly requisite to add that this took place during the day, and that only to a chosen few. He had famous lungs; we tried all parts of the house, and, as far as strength of voice went, were one and all conscientiously prepared to back him against anything.

Another private exhibition of the kind to which I was invited, was a reading of "Hamlet" by another stage-struck worthy, who had the misfortune, also, to be afflicted with a terrible lisp. Some of his real friends had done all they could to check the mania; it was, however, in vain; whilst others, for their amusement, flattered and led him on; and, as is usually the case, the vanity of the aspirant induced him to attribute to envy those suggestions which proceeded from good nature. A compromise was at length come to between the two parties, they who had been amusing themselves at the aspirant's expense, agreeing to have one grand night, when all should be present, and by administering a ducking to the lisping Hamlet to end the farce. Accordingly, when the next exhibition took place, at a preconcerted signal, whilst the lisper of Shakspeare was in the midst of a soliloquy, the lights of the room in which the reading took place were extinguished, and Hamlet, rolled in a blanket, was carried, kicking and bellowing, to a pump, where, under a cataract of water, he promised to torture Denmark's prince no more.

Another I saw essay the part of "Othello," with a regular company, in a small country theatre. He was of course announced as "a young gentleman of the town, his first appearance on any stage." Perhaps a more ludicrous, unrehearsed stage effect than was during that début exhibited, was never before seen. The amateur, who from the commencement was sweating like a bull, the perspiration, in drops like large black peas, rolling down his cheeks, leaving them striped like a zebra's hide, came forward at an early stage of the performance, and, to the great amazement of the audience, in a whining, lugubrious tone of voice complained that "Iago was making fun of him." No comedy could be richer.

Of all histrionic attempts, however, that I have seen, none equal that of the stage-struck pedagogue, the subject of this paper. "Bravo, Steerer!" resounded from all parts of the house when he appeared, and so determined and general was the applause, that for some moments he was kept bowing and smiling, and smiling and bowing again, whilst pointing his digits to his heart in the most expressive manner he could command. Amidst the