"Now for the dance to open!" cried the captain. These were the last
words I heard him speak.
There came from the redoubt a roll of drums. I saw the muzzles lowered.
I shut my eyes; I heard a most appalling crash of sound, to which
succeeded groans and cries. Then I looked up, amazed to find myself
still living. The redoubt was once more wrapped in smoke. I was
surrounded by the dead and wounded. The captain was extended at my feet;
a ball had carried off his head, and I was covered with his blood. Of
all the company, only six men, except myself, remained erect.
This carnage was succeeded by a kind of stupor. The next instant the
colonel, with his hat on his sword's point, had scaled the parapet with
a cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" The survivors followed him. All that
succeeded is to me a kind of dream. We rushed into the redoubt, I know
not how; we fought hand to hand in the midst of smoke so thick that no
man could perceive his enemy. I found my sabre dripping blood; I heard a
shout of "Victory"; and, in the clearing smoke, I saw the earthworks
piled with dead and dying. The cannons were covered with a heap of
corpses. About two hundred men in the French uniform were standing,
without order, loading their muskets or wiping their bayonets. Eleven
Russian prisoners were with them.
The colonel was lying, bathed in blood, upon a broken cannon. A group of
soldiers crowded round him. I approached them.
"Who is the oldest captain?" he was asking of a sergeant.
The sergeant shrugged his shoulders most expressively.
"Who is the oldest lieutenant?"
"This gentleman, who came last night," replied the sergeant, calmly.
The colonel smiled bitterly.
"Come, sir," he said to me, "you are now in chief command. Fortify the
gorge of the redoubt at once with waggons, for the enemy is out in
force. But General C---- is coming to support you."
[Illustration: "PISH, MY DEAR FELLOW! THE REDOUBT IS TAKEN!"]
"Colonel," I asked him, "are you badly wounded?"
"Pish, my dear fellow! The redoubt is taken!"
_Actors' Dressing Rooms._
The robing apartments of actors are pleasant retreats. Quaint old
prints, autographed portraits and pictures, highly-prized programmes,
letters from celebrities are as numerous as they are interesting, whilst
every actor bids "good luck" cross his threshold by exhibiting his own
particular horse-shoe in a conspicuous corner.
[Illustration: MR. IRVING'S DRESSING-ROOM.]
Where is a more picturesque room than that which Henry Irving enters
nightly? Scarcely a dozen square inches of wall paper is to be
seen--pictures are everywhere. The eminent tragedian has a private
entrance in Burleigh-street, and you may know when the actor is not far
away, for "Fussie," a pet fox-terrier, always heralds his approach.
"Fussie" has his own mat to sit on, and here he waits during the whole
of the performance until after the second act, when he regularly looks
up for his customary biscuit. It was "Fussie" who was lost at
Southampton when Mr. Irving was on his way to America. He turned up,
however, at the Lyceum stage door four days afterwards, and it remains a
mystery to this day as to whether "Fussie" came by road or rail.
Henry Irving's room is a comfortable apartment. The floor is covered
with oilcloth, and a huge rug imparts a cosy appearance. Irving always
uses the same chair to sit in when making up. It has broken down a score
of times, but has been patched up again and again. In fact, the actor
has almost a reverence for anything which is a connecting link with old
associations.
Look at the costumes, for instance, hanging behind a door which leads to
a very unpretentious-looking wash-basin. There hangs the clothing of
_The Master of Ravenswood_. The two Spanish hats with long feathers, the
velvet coat and waistcoat with innumerable buttons, a quaint old crimson
waistcoat, with elaborate silver work. Mr. Irving clings to an old coat
so long as it will cling to him. He makes his clothes old--wears them
during the day. That old beaver hat was worn in "Charles I." and "The
Dead Heart"--now it is the characteristic head-gear of _The Master of
Ravenswood_. The hat worn in the last act did duty ten years ago in "The
Corsican Brothers."
There, just by the long pier glass, is the old fashioned oak
dressing-table, of a pattern associated with the days of King Arthur--in
fact, the table has done duty in "Macbeth" in one of the banqueting
scenes. Handle some of the veritable curiosities on it. The very
looking-glass is tied up with string--it has reflected its owner's face
for fourteen years, and went across the Atlantic with him. The old
pincushion went as well. On a chair are the actor's eye-glasses, which
he always uses when making up. Scissors, nail parers, &c., are about,
whilst the paints lie in a little side cabinet by the looking-glass, and
four diminutive gallipots are conspicuous, filled with the colours
mostly used. A great tin box of crepe hair is also at hand, for Mr.
Irving makes all his own moustaches. He gums a little hair on where
needed and then works in colour to get the effect.
The wicker hand-basket is interesting. The dresser carries this to "the
wings" when the actor needs a rapid change of "make-up." It has three
compartments, holding a glass of water, powder puff, saucer containing
fuller's earth, cold cream, hare's foot, lip salve, rouge, and a
remarkably old comb and brush. Here is a striking collection of rings; a
great emerald--only a "stage" gem, alas!--is worn in "Louis XI." and
"Richelieu," whilst here is one worn as _Doricourt_ in the "Belle's
Stratagem," the space where the stone ought to be being ingeniously
filled up with blue sealing wax. These long pear-shaped pearl earrings
are worn as _Charles I._, such as all gay cavaliers were wont to wear.
You can handle the quaint old bull's-eye lantern which tradition says
Eugene Aram carried on the night of the murder--for it is on the table.
A piece of wick still remains and grease is visible--not as the morbid
Aram left it, but as last used. The lantern itself is of stamped metal.
The glass on either side is there, though that through which the light
was seen in the centre has long since left. It is a highly interesting
relic.
[Illustration: EUGENE ARAM'S LANTERN.]
Be careful not to step into a big flower-pot saucer just close by, where
"Fussie" drinks; mind not to overturn what looks like a magnified
pepper-box near the fireplace, but which, after all, only contains the
dust which is "peppered" on to the actor's long boots, to make them look
travel-stained and worn. Then walk round the room and admire the
treasures.
There is a little gift sent from Denmark. In a neat oak frame is a
picture of Elsinore, sprays of leaves from "Ophelia's brook," and a
number of tiny stones and pebbles from "Hamlet's Grave." Here again is
Kean, by Sir Thomas Lawrence, a small "Maclise," a sketch by Charles
Matthews, Fechter--who used to dress in this very room himself--as _The
Master of Ravenswood_, Ellen Terry as _Ophelia_, Sara Bernhardt, and
John L. Toole. Variety is found in a pair of horseshoes, one of which
Mr. Irving carried with him to America.
Over the crimson plush mantel-board is "Garrick in the Green-room," and
on either side a pair of ancient coloured prints of the one and only
Joey Grimaldi, one of which represents him "as he appeared when he took
his farewell benefit at Drury Lane Theatre on June 27, 1828," with pan
and soap in his lap, arrayed in highly coloured garments, wonderfully
made, and wearing a remarkably broad smile on his face. But to mention
every one of Mr. Irving's treasures would be impossible.
The play over, he is in walking costume, cigar alight, and away in less
than a quarter of an hour--"Fussie" with him, following faithfully in
his steps.
* * * * *
Mr. Toole's room is exactly what everybody imagines it to be--cosy and
homely, like its genial occupant. The casual passer-by over the iron
grating in King William-street little thinks that he is throwing a
momentary shadow over the very corner where Toole's washstand, soap and
towel find a convenient lodging.
How simple everything is! The little table in the centre where Toole
sits down and religiously "drops a line," during the time he is not
wanted in the piece, to all those unknown "young friends" who would
tempt good fortune on the stage; the sofa covered with flowered
cretonne; and in close proximity to the fireplace a ricketty arm-chair
in brown leather. The springs are broken, but what matter? That chair is
Toole's, sir, and Royalty has occupied it many a time. Yes, nothing
could be more simple than our own comedian's dressing-room. It is just a
cosy parlour, and with Toole in the chair by the fire-side one would be
loth to leave it.
[Illustration: MR. TOOLE'S DRESSING-ROOM.]
The mantel-board has a clock in the centre, an ornament or two, and a
bust of the occupant in his younger days. In a corner is the veritable
umbrella used in _Paul Pry_. What a priceless collection of theatrical
reminiscences meet the eye everywhere! There is a portrait group of a
company of young actors who appeared in the original production of
"Dearer than Life," at the New Queen's Theatre, Long-acre--Henry Irving,
Charles Wyndham, John Clayton, Lionel Brough, John L. Toole, and Miss
Henrietta Hodson, who afterwards became Mrs. Labouchere. A tolerably
good cast! And here are portraits of a few actors taken years ago at
Ryde, Isle of Wight, showing W. Creswick in a great Inverness cape,
Benjamin Webster, S. Phelps, Paul Bedford, and a rising young actor who
had only recently made his appearance--J. L. Toole by name.
Near a capital character sketch of Henry J. Byron, by Alfred Bryan, is
an old playbill in a black ebony frame. This was the programme for one
night:--
THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET.
MERCHANT OF VENICE.
The Drama in 3 Acts:
MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.
* * * * *