_The front benches are occupied by Rustic Youths, who beguile
the tedium of waiting by smoking short clays, and trying to
pull off one another's caps._
_First Youth_ (_examining the decorative Shakspearian panels on the
proscenium._) They three old wimmin be a-pokin' o' that old nipper,
'ooever he be.
[_The "old nipper" in question is, of course, MACBETH._
_Second Youth._ Luk up at that 'un tother side--it's a Gineral's
gho-ast a-frightenin' th' undertaker (_A subject from "Hamlet"_)
They've gi'en over dancin' outside--they'll be beginning soon. (_The
company descend the steps, and pass behind the scenes._) We shall see
proper 'ere, we shall.
[_The Curtain draws up, and reveals a small stage, with an
inclined sheet of glass in a heavy frame in front; behind this
glass is the Cottage Home of MARIA MARTIN._
_Maria_ (_coming out of Cottage, and speaking in an inaudible tone_).
At last--WILLIAM CORDER--to make me his wife--I know not why--strange
misgiving 'as come over me.
[Illustration: "They catch one another's wrists, and walk up and down
together."]
[_She is unfeelingly requested to speak up._
_William Corder_ (_whose villany is suggested at once by his wearing
a heavy silver double watch-chain, with two coins appended, and no
neck-tie--enters left_). Yes, MARIA, as I have promised, I will take
you to London, and make you my wife--but first meet me in disguise
to-night, and in secret, at the Red Barn.
[_MARIA is understood to demur, but finally agrees to the
rendezvous, and retires into the Cottage. Old Mr. MARTIN
comes out in a black frock-coat, and a white waistcoat--he
has no neck-tie either, but the omission, in his case, merely
suggests a virtuous economy. He feebly objects to MARIA
being married in London, but admits that, "Perhaps he has no
right to interfere with WILLIAM's arrangements," and goes
indoors again. WILLIAM retires, and the scene changes to a
'very small street, which is presently invaded by a very large
Comic Countryman, called "TIM," who is engaged to MARIA's
sister NANNY._
_Tim_. They tell I, as how the streets o' Lunnon be paved wi' gold,
and I be goin' 'oop to make ma fortune, I be.
[_NANNY comes in and bribes him to remain by the promise of
"cold pudden with plenty of gravy." Comic business, during
which every reference to "cold pudden" (and there are several)
is received with roars of laughter. WILLIAM CORDER, on
the ingenious plea that he wishes to take some flowers up
to London, borrows a spade and pickaxe from TIM, to whom it
appears he owes ninepence, which he promises--like the villain
he is--to repay "the very next time he sees him in Church."_
_William_ (_going off with a flourish and a Shakspearian couplet_).
My _mind's_ made up. Hence _all_ thoughts _that_ are good!
Crimes _once_ commenced, _Must_. End in--blood! [_Act drop._
_A Female Spect._ They don't seem in no 'urry to come to th' Gho-ast
part, seemin'ly.
_Her Swain._ Ye wudn't have 'em do th' Gho-ast afoor th' Murder, wud
ye?
ACT II.--_The interior of the Red Barn. WILLIAM _discovered
digging MARIA's grave in his shirt-sleeves, and thereby
revealing that his shirt-front is as false as his heart.
He announces that "Nothing can shake him, now, from his
pre-determined purpose," and that "the grave gapes for its
coming victim."_
_Enter MARIA, disguised in a brown bowler hat and a very
tight suit of tweed "dittoes," in which she looks very like
the "Male Impersonator" at a Music-hall. The Audience receive
her with derision and the recommendation to go and get her
hair cut._
_Maria_. Here am I in disguise at the Red Barn. And yet something
seems to whisper to me that danger is near. WILLIAM, where, _where_
are you?
_William_ (_coming out of a corner_). 'Ere, MARIA, 'ere! (_Aside._)
Now to 'url my victim to an early grave! (_Aloud._) 'Ave you obeyed my
instructions and avoided notice?
_Maria_. I have. Whenever I saw anyone approaching, I hid behind a
hedge and ducked in the ditch.
_William_ (_with sombre approval_). That was most discreet on your
part, MARIA. No one saw you come in, and no one will ever see you go
out. Be'old your open grave!
[_After some pleading from MARIA, a desperate struggle takes
place--that is, they catch one another's wrists, and walk up
and down together. MARIA calls upon her Mother's spirit,
whereupon a very youthful Angel is seen floating above the
couple._
_The Female S._ (_triumphantly_). Theer now--theer ain't bin no murder
yet, and theer's th' Gho-ast sure enough!
_Swain_ (_who is not going to own that he is mistaken_). That ain't
naw Gho-ast!
_Female S._ What is it, then?
_Swain._ Why, it's the "De-cep-ti-o Vissus," as was wrote up outside.
[_The Guardian Angel vanishes; WILLIAM _gets a spade, and
aims at MARIA, who takes it away, and strikes him; he is
then reduced to the pick-axe, but she wrests this from him
too, and hits him in the face with it. He pulls her coat off,
and her hair down--but she escapes from him a third time--on
which he snatches up a pistol, and fires it._
_William_ (_with unreasonable surprise_). Great Evans! What 'ave I
done? I, am become a _Murderer_! The shot 'as taken effect! See,
she staggers this way! (_Which MARIA does, to die comfortably in
WILLIAM's arms_.) I 'ave slain the only woman who ever truly loved
me; and I know not whether I loved her most while living, or hate her
most now she's dead! (_The Curtain falls, leaving WILLIAM with this
nice point still unsolved, and the Audience profoundly unmoved by the
tragedy, and evidently longing for more of the Comic Countryman._)
ACT III.--_Interior of Old MARTIN's Cottage. He attempts to
forget his anxiety about his daughter--who he fears, with
only too much reason, has come to an untimely end--by going to
sleep in a highly uncomfortable position on a kitchen-chair.
The Murder is re-enacted in a vision, in dumb-show. The form
of MARIA appears in the tweed suit, and urges him to search
for her remains in the Red Barn._
_Old Martin_ (_awaking_). I have 'ad a fearful dream, and I am under
the impression that MARIA has been foully murdered in the Red Barn.
[_He calls the Comic Countryman to help him "to commence
a thorough investigation"--which he does, in a spirit of
rollicking fun befitting the occasion, as the Scene changes to
the Red Barn._
_Old M._ (_finding the spade_). What's this? A spade--and, by its
appearance, it 'as recently been used, for there are marks of blood
upon it! I now begin to be afraid my dream will come true.
[_Roars of laughter when the Comic C. discovers the body, and
implores it to "say summat!" Change of Scene. WILLIAM CORDER
discovered At Home, in a long perspective of pillars and
curtains, ending in a lawn and fountain._
_William_ (_moodily_). 'Tis now exactly twelve months since MARIA
MARTIN was done to death by these 'ands. Since then, I have married a
young, rich, and beautiful wife--and yet I am not 'appy.
[_Enter Old MARTIN, who, by the simple method of changing
his hat and coat, has now become a Bow-street Officer; he puts
questions to WILLIAM, who at once betrays himself, and has
to be searched. As a pair of pistols exactly resembling one
that was left in the Red Barn, are found in his coat-tail
pockets; his guilt is conclusively proved, and he is led away.
The next Scene shows him in the Condemned Cell, resolving to
sleep away his few remaining hours on a kitchen-chair. He has
a vision of MARIA in tweeds, who exhorts him to repent_.
Old MARTIN, _who is now either the Governor of the Gaol or the
Hangman, enters to conduct him to the scaffold, and on the way
he is met--to the joy of the Audience--by the Comic, C.,
who duns him for the ninepence. WILLIAM shakes his head
solemnly, points to the skies, and passes on. The Comic C.
then goes to sleep in a chair and has a vision on his own
account, in which he beholds the apotheosis of MARIA--still
in the suit of dittoes--and piloted by a couple of obviously
overweighted Angels; and also the last moments of WILLIAM
CORDER, who, as he stands under an enlarged "Punch"
gibbet, pronounces the following impressive farewell before
disappearing through a trap._
Ye Youth, be warned by my Despair!
Avoid bad women, false as they are fair. (_This is just a little
hard on poor MARIA by-the-way._)
Be wise in time, if you would shun my fate,
For oh! how wretched is the man who's wise too late!
[_And with this the Drama comes to an end, and the Comic
Countryman begs the Audience to give the performance a good
word to their friends outside._
* * * * *