She is virtuous, though bred behind the scenes: and, whatever
pleasure she may feel in seeing herself applauded on the stage,
she would much rather pass for a modest girl, than for a good
actress.--_Gil Blas_.
"My father," said Eugenia, "was at the head of this company of
strolling players; my mother was a young lady of respectable family,
at a boarding-school. She took a fancy to my father in the character
of 'Rolla'; and, being of course deservedly forsaken by her friends,
became a prima donna. I was the only fruits of this connection, and
the only solace of my mother in her affliction; for she bitterly
repented the rash step she had taken.
"At five years old, my father proposed that I should take the
character of Cupid, in the opera of Telemaque. To this my mother
strongly objected, declaring that I never should go upon the stage;
and this created a disunion which was daily embittered by my father's
unkind treatment both of my mother and myself. I never left her side
for fear of a kick, which I was sure to receive when I had not her
protection. She employed all her spare time in my instruction, and,
notwithstanding the folly she had been guilty of, she was fully
competent to the task.
"When I was seven years old, a relation of my mother died, and
bequeathed fifteen thousand pounds, to be equally divided between her
and her two sisters, securing my mother's portion in such a manner as
to prevent my father having any control over it. As soon as my mother
obtained this information, she quitted my father, who was too prudent
to spend either his time or his money in pursuit of her. Had he
been aware of her sudden change of fortune, he might have acted
differently.
"We arrived in London, took possession of the property, which was all
in the funds; and then, fearing my father might gain information of
her wealth, my mother set off for France, taking me with her. There I
passed the happiest days of my life; my mother spared no pains, and
went to considerable expense in my education. The best masters were
provided for me in singing, dancing, and music; and so much did I
profit by their instruction, that I was very soon considered a pretty
specimen of my countrywomen, and much noticed accordingly.
"From France we went to Italy, where we remained two years, and where
my vocal education was completed. My poor mother lived all this time
on the principal of her fortune, concluding it would last for ever.
At last she was taken ill of a fever, and died. This was about a year
ago, when I was only sixteen. Delirious many days before her death,
she could give me no instructions as to my future conduct, or where
to apply for resources. I happened, however, to know her banker in
London, and wrote to him immediately; in answer, he informed me that a
balance of forty pounds was all that remained in his hands.
"I believe he cheated me, but I could not help it. My spirits were
not depressed at this news; I sold all the furniture; paid the little
debts to the tradespeople, and, with nine pounds in my pocket, took
my place in the diligence, and set off for London, where I arrived
without accident. I read in the newspaper, at the inn, that a
provincial company was in want of a young actress for genteel comedy.
My mother's original passion for the stage had never left her; and,
during our stay in France, we often amused ourselves with _la petite
comédie_, in which I always took a part.
"Without resources, I thought a precarious mode of obtaining a
livelihood was better than a vicious one, and determined to try my
fortune on the stage: so I ordered a hack, and drove to the office
indicated. I felt a degree of comfort, when I discovered that my
father was the advertising manager, although I was certain he would
never recognise me. I was engaged by the agent, the bargain was
approved of, and in a day or two after, was ordered to a country town,
some miles from the metropolis.
"I arrived; my father did not know me, nor did I wish that he should,
as I did not intend to remain long in the company. I short, I aspired
to the London boards; but aware that I wanted practice, without which
it would have been useless to have offered myself, I accepted this
situation without delay, and applied with great assiduity to the
study of my profession. My father, I found, had married again; and
my joining the company added nothing to his domestic harmony, my
stepmother becoming immoderately jealous of me; but I took good care
to keep my own secret, and never exposed myself for one moment to any
suspicion of my character, which hitherto, thank Heaven, has been
pure, though I am exposed to a thousand temptations, and beset by the
actors to become the wife of one, or the mistress of another.
"Among those who proposed the latter, was my honoured father, to whom,
on that account, I was one day on the point of revealing the secret of
my birth, as the only means of saving myself from his importunities.
He was, at last, taken ill, and died, only three months ago, not
before I had completed my engagements, and obtained an increased
salary of one guinea and a half per week. It is my intention to quit
the company at the expiration of my present term, which will take
place in two months, for I am miserable here, although I am quite at a
loss to know what will be my future destination."
In return for her confidence, I imparted as much of my history as I
thought it necessary for her to know. I became deeply fascinated--I
forgot Miss Somerville, and answered my father's letter respectfully
and kindly. He informed me that he had procured my name to be entered
on the books of the guard-ship, at Spithead: but, that I might gain
time to loiter by the side of Eugenia, I begged his permission to join
my ship without returning home, alleging as a reason, that delay would
soften down any asperity of feeling occasioned by the late fracas.
This in his answer he agreed to, enclosing a handsome remittance; and
the same post brought a pressing invitation from Mr Somerville to come
to ---- Hall.
My little actress informed me that the company would set out in two
days for the neighbourhood of Portsmouth; and, as I found that they
would be more than a fortnight in travelling, I determined to accept
the invitation, and quit her for the present. I had been more than a
week in her society. At parting, I professed my admiration and love.
Silence and a starting tear were her only acknowledgment. I saw that
she was not displeased; and I left her with joyful anticipations.
But what did I anticipate, as I rolled heedlessly along in the
chaise to ---- Hall? Sensual gratification at the expense of a poor
defenceless orphan, whose future life would be clouded with misery.
I could see my wickedness, and moralise upon it; but the devil was
triumphant within me, and I consoled myself with the vulgar adage,
"Needs must when the devil drives." With this, I dismissed the subject
to think of Emily, whose residence was now in sight.
I arrived at ---- Hall, was kindly received and welcomed by both
father and daughter; but on this visit, I must not dwell. When I
reflect on it, I hate myself and human nature! Could I be trusted? yet
I inspired unbounded confidence. Was I not as vicious as one of my
age could be? Yet I made them believe I was almost perfection. Did I
deserve to be happy? Yet I was so, and more so than I had ever been
before or ever have been since. I was like the serpent in Eden, though
without his vile intentions. Beauty and virtue united to keep my
passions in subjection. When they had nothing to feed on, they
concealed themselves in the inmost recesses of my bosom.
Had I remained always with Emily, I should have been reclaimed; but
when I quitted her, I lost all my good feelings and good resolutions;
not, however, before the bright image of virtue had lighted up in
my bosom a holy flame which has never been entirely extinguished.
Occasionally dimmed, it has afterwards burnt up with renewed
brightness; and, as a beacon-light, has often guided me through perils
that might have overwhelmed me.
Compelled at last to quit this earthly paradise, I told her, at
parting, that I loved her, adored her; and to prove that I was in
earnest, and that she believed me, I obtained a lock of her hair. When
I left ---- Hall, it was my intention to have joined my ship, as I had
agreed with my father; but the temptation to follow up my success with
the fair and unfortunate Eugenia was too strong to be resisted; at
least I thought so, and therefore hardly made an effort to conquer it.
True I did, _pro formâ_, make my appearance on board the guard-ship,
had my name entered on the books, that I might not lose my time of
servitude, and that I might also deceive my father. All this being
duly accomplished, I obtained leave of absence from my first
lieutenant, an old acquaintance, who, in a ship crowded with
supernumerary midshipmen, was but too happy in getting rid of me and
my chest.
I hastened to the rendezvous, and found the company in full activity.
Eugenia, when we parted, expressed a wish that our acquaintance might
not be renewed. She feared for her own character as well as mine, and
very sensibly and feelingly observed that my professional prospects
might be blasted; but, having made up my mind, I had an answer for all
her objections. I presented myself to the manager, and requested to be
admitted into the company.
Having taken this step, Eugenia saw that my attachment was not to be
overcome; that I was willing to make any sacrifice for her. I was
accepted; my salary was fixed at one guinea per week, with seven
shillings extra for playing the flute. I was indebted for my ready
admission into this society to my voice: the manager wanted a first
singer. My talent in this science was much admired. I signed my
agreement the same evening for two months; and, being presented in
due form to my brethren of the buskin, joined the supper-table, where
there was more of abundance than of delicacies. I sat by Eugenia,
whose decided preference for me excited the jealousy of my new
associates. I measured them all with my eye, and calculated that, with
fair play, I was the best man among them.
The play-bills announced the tragedy of "Romeo and Juliet." I was to
be the hero, and four days were allowed me to prepare myself. The
whole of that time was passed in the company of Eugenia, who, while
she gave me unequivocal proofs of attachment, admitted of no freedom.
The day of rehearsal arrived, I was found perfect, and loudly
applauded by the company. Six o'clock came, the curtain rose, and
sixteen tallow candles displayed my person to an audience of about one
hundred people.
No one who has not been in the situation can form any idea of the
nervous feeling of a _débutant_ on such an occasion. The troupe, with
the exception of Eugenia, was of a description of persons whom I
despise, and the audience mostly clodhoppers, who could scarcely read
or write; yet I was abashed, and acquitted myself badly, until the
balcony scene, when I became enlivened and invigorated by the presence
and smiles of my mistress. In the art of love-making I was at home,
particularly with the Juliet of that night. I entered at once into the
spirit of the great dramatist, and the curtain dropped amidst thunders
of applause. My name was announced for a repetition of the play, and
I was dragged forward before the curtain, to thank the grocers,
tallow-chandlers, cheesemongers, and ploughmen for the great honour
they had done me. Heavens! how I felt the degradation; but it was too
late.
The natural result of this constant intercourse with Eugenia may
easily be anticipated. I do not attempt to extenuate my fault--it was
inexcusable, and has brought its punishment; but for poor, forlorn
Eugenia I plead; her virtue fell before my importunity and my personal
appearance. She fell a victim to those unhappy circumstances of which
I basely took the advantage.
Two months I had lived with her, as man and wife; I forgot my family,
profession, and even Emily. I was now upon the ship's books; and
though no one knew anything of me, my father was ignorant of my
absence from the ship--everything was sacrificed to Eugenia. I acted
with her, strolled the fields, and vowed volumes of stuff about
constancy. When we played, we filled the house; and some of the more
respectable townspeople offered to introduce us to the London boards,
but this we both declined. We cared for nothing but the society of
each other.
And now that time has cooled the youthful ardour that carried me away
let me do justice to this unfortunate girl. She was the most natural,
unaffected and gifted person I ever met with. Boundless wit,
enchanting liveliness, a strong mind, and self-devotion towards me,
the first, and, I firmly believe, the only object she ever loved; and
her love for me ceased only with her life. Her faults, though not to
be defended, may be palliated and deplored, because they were the
defects of education. Her infant days were passed in scenes of
domestic strife, profligacy, and penury; her maturer years, under
the guidance of a weak mother, were employed in polishing, not
strengthening, the edifice of her understanding, and the external
ornaments only served to accelerate the fall of the fabric, and to
increase the calamity.
Bred up in France, and almost in the fervour of the Revolution,
she had imbibed some of its libertine opinions; among others, that
marriage was a civil contract, and if entered into at all, might be
broken at the pleasure of either party. This idea was strengthened and
confirmed in her by the instances she had seen of matrimonial discord,
particularly in her own family. When two people, who fancied they
loved, had bound themselves by an indissoluble knot, they felt from
that time the irksomeness of restraint, which they would never have
felt if they had possessed the power of separation; and would have
lived happily together if they had not been compelled to do it. "How
long you, my dear Frank," said Eugenia to me one day, "may continue
to love me, I know not; but the moment you cease to love me, it were
better that we parted."
These were certainly the sentiments of an enthusiast; but Eugenia
lived long enough to acknowledge her error, and to bewail its fatal
effects on her peace of mind.
I was awoke from this dream of happiness by a curious incident. I
thought it disastrous at the time, but am now convinced that it was
fraught with good, since it brought me back to my profession, recalled
me to a sense of duty, and showed me the full extent of my disgraceful
situation. My father, it appears, was still ignorant of my absence
from my ship, and had come down, without my knowledge, on a visit to
a friend in the neighbourhood. Hearing of "the interesting young man"
who had acquired so much credit in the character of Apollo, as well as
of Romeo, he was persuaded to see the performance.
I was in the act of singing "Pray Goody," when my eyes suddenly met
those of my papa, who was staring like the head of Gorgon; and though
his gaze did not turn me to stone, it turned me sick. I was stupified,
forgot my part, ran off, and left the manager and the music to make
the best of it. My father, who could hardly believe his eyes, was
convinced when he saw my confusion. I ran into the dressing-room,
where, before I had time to divest myself of Apollo's crown and
petticoat, I was accosted by my enraged parent, and it is quite
impossible for me to describe (taking my costume into consideration)
how very much like a fool I looked.
My father sternly demanded how long I had been thus honourably
employed. This was a question which I had anticipated, and, therefore,
very readily replied "Only two or three days;" that I had left
Portsmouth for what we called "a lark," and I thought it very amusing.
"Very amusing, indeed, sir," said my father; "and pray, may I venture
to inquire, without the fear of having a lie told me, how long this
'lark,' as you call it, is to continue?"
"Oh, to-morrow," said I, "my leave expires, and then I must return to
my ship."
"Allow me the honour of keeping your company," said my father; "and I
shall beg your captain to impose some little restraint as to time and
distance on your future excursions."
Then rising in his tone, he added, "I am ashamed of you, sir; the son
of a gentleman is not likely to reap any advantage from the society of
strolling vagabonds and prostitutes. I had reason to think, by
your last letters from Portsmouth, that you were very differently
employed."
To this very sensible and parental reproof I answered, with a demure
and innocent countenance (for I soon regained my presence of mind)
that I did not think there had been any harm in doing that which most
of the officers of the navy did at one time or another (an assertion,
by-the-by, much too general); that we often got up plays on board of
ship, and that I wanted to practise.
"Practise, then with your equals," said my father, "not in company
with rogues and street-walkers."
I felt that the latter name was meant for Eugenia, and was very
indignant; but fortunately kept all my anger within board, and,
knowing I was "all in the wrong," allowed my father to fire away
without returning a shot. He concluded his lecture by commanding me to
call upon him the next morning, at ten o'clock, and left me to change
my dress, and to regain my good humour. I need not add that I did not
return to the stage that night, but left the manager to make his peace
with the audience in any way he thought proper.
When I informed Eugenia of the evening's adventure, she was
inconsolable: to comfort her, I offered to give up my family and
my profession, and live with her. At these words, Eugenia suddenly
recollected herself. "Frank," said she, "all that has happened is
right. We are both wrong. I felt that I was too happy, and shut my
eyes to the danger I dared not face. Your father is a man of sense;
his object is to reclaim you from inevitable ruin. As for me, if he
knew of our connection, he could only despise me. He sees his son
living with strolling players; and it is his duty to cut the chain, no
matter by what means. You have an honourable and distinguished career
marked out for you; I will never be an obstacle to your father's just
ambition or your prosperity. I did hope for a happier destiny; but
love blinded my eyes: I am now undeceived. If your father cannot
respect me, he shall at least admire the resolution of the unhappy
Eugenia. I have tenderly loved you, my dearest Frank, and never have
loved any other, nor ever shall; but part we must: Heaven only knows
for how long a time. I am ready to make every sacrifice to your fame
and character--the only proof I can give of my unbounded love for
you."
I embraced her as she uttered these words; and we spent a great part
of the night in making preparations for my departure, arrangements for
our future correspondence, and, if possible, for our future meetings.
I left her early on the following morning; and with a heavy, I had
almost said, a broken heart, appeared before my father. He was, no
doubt, aware of my attachment and the violence of my passions, and
prudently endeavoured to soothe them. He received me affectionately,
did not renew the subject of the preceding night, and we became very
good friends.
In tearing myself away from Eugenia, I found the truth of the French
adage, "_Ce n'est que la première pas qui coûte_;" my heart grew
lighter as I increased my distance from her. My father, to detach my
mind still more from the unfortunate subject, spoke much of family
affairs, of my brother and sisters, and lastly named Mr Somerville and
Emily: here he touched on the right chord. The remembrance of Emily
revived the expiring embers of virtue; and the recollection of the
pure and perfect mistress of ---- Hall, for a time, dismissed the
unhappy Eugenia from my mind. I told my father that I would engage
never to disgrace him or myself any more, if he would promise not to
name my late folly to Mr Somerville or his daughter.
"That," said my father, "I promise most readily; and with the greater
pleasure, since I see, in your request, the strongest proof of the
sense of your error."
This conversation passed on our road to Portsmouth, where we had
no sooner arrived than my father, who was acquainted with the
port-admiral, left me at the "George," while he crossed the street to
call on him. The result of this interview was that I should be sent
out immediately in some sea-going ship with a "tight captain."
There was one of this description just about to sail for Basque Roads;
and, at the admiral's particular request, I was received on board as a
supernumerary, there being no vacancies in the ship. My father, who by
this time was wide awake to all my wiles, saw me on board; and then
flattering himself that I was in safe custody, took his leave and
returned to the shore. I very soon found that I was under an embargo,
and was not on any account to be allowed leave of absence.
This was pretty nearly what I expected; but I had my own resources.
I had now learned to laugh at trifles, and I cared little about this
decided step which his prudence induced him to take.