Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit?
SHAKSPEARE.
When and where and how we met, we wooed
And made exchange of vows, I’ll tell thee.
IBID.
“It had not been in Mrs. Nesbit’s power to provide adequately for me;
the whole of her income having been derived from a handsome jointure,
which, at her death, reverted to her husband’s heir-at-law. A codicil
to her will conferred on me, as a legacy, the small sum in ready
money which her liberal, though not extravagant style of living,
had left at her banker’s; it also conveyed to me all her library of
books, most of which you now see round you. Utterly unprotected as I
was, thus once again left, and still only eighteen, it was necessary
that I should determine without delay upon the course which, under
these circumstances, I wished to pursue.
“Perhaps it was a natural defect in my character, only elicited by
the situation in which I had been lately placed, that made me shrink
instinctively from returning once more amongst the kind, but rude
and uncivilized companions of my earlier days. Combined with this
dislike to that which was the obvious course for a young girl like me
to pursue, recollections arose continually of Mrs. Nesbit’s evidently
sincere opinion--‘My dear Alice, what an actress you would make!’
which gradually produced an uncontrollable longing to embark in that
precarious profession: the exercise of which, in my unpractised
mind, as yet only associated with the idea of such partial encomiums
and kind criticisms as had hitherto met my ear from the friendly
circle in Mrs. Nesbit’s drawing-room.
“Once having made up my mind, I determined to consult the great
actor, whom I have before mentioned, upon the best manner of putting
my project into execution. He seemed much embarrassed at the nature
of my appeal. It appeared as if it never had occurred to him, from
the sort of society in which he had heard me give specimens of my
abilities, that it was likely I should ever be called upon thus to
exert them professionally.
“He told me, that he should be deficient in candour, if he did not
repeat what he had formerly said, ‘that he thought me eminently
qualified to succeed should I really be determined to try the stage;
but,’ he added, ‘in spite of those brilliant prospects, he could
never dispassionately advise any one so young and unprotected to
take such a step; and if the advice which I sought from him was not
as to the best means of doing that upon which I had already decided,
but that I would consult him as to the expediency of doing so at all,
he would do all in his power to dissuade me, at least at present,
from thinking of such a thing.’ I thanked him sincerely for his
kindness, and expressed no more gratitude than I felt towards him,
but still adhered to my determination, representing to him how little
I knew what else to do with myself, and how sanguine I felt at being
able and willing to surmount all the difficulties and inconveniences
of the first steps of the profession. Seeing me determined, he gave
me letters of introduction and recommendation to some connexions of
his, then in the management of one of the first provincial circuits.
“By them I was, in consequence, most cordially received, and offered
a choice of any character I chose for my _debut_. Long before that
night arrived, I found out how differently my exertions were likely
to be estimated here, and at Mrs. Nesbit’s. There, in the absence of
all competition, praise excited no envy, and captious criticism would
have been avoided as ill-breeding. Here my arrival had disturbed
long-established claims to admiration, and had excited, first dismay,
and then dislike. I had chosen Juliet for my first appearance, a
choice most young ladies have made before me, and probably will do
as long as ‘debutantes’ of eighteen each season succeed one another.
I was not aware of the offence this was likely to give till after
it was all settled; when I found I had displaced a majestic-looking
widow lady, whose name appeared upon the prompter’s books as having
been in undisputed possession of the part for nearly twenty years; a
prescriptive right upon which she rested her claims, perhaps rather
technically than judiciously. Had it been a young girl, like myself,
with whom I interfered, she might have relied upon the anticipation
of my failure, and upon the part then reverting to her; but this lady
felt that her hitherto uninterrupted tenure once broken in upon, it
was not likely it would ever be revived.
“Under her auspices, therefore, was organized a party to cry down my
inexperienced attempts, and, with my eyes thus officiously opened to
my own defects, I felt, as much as they could impress upon me, how
very far from perfect I then was.
“It was all so different to me from the dining-room of Mrs.
Nesbit--the mere walking the stage was a difficulty which I thought
I should never get over, particularly when, at each of the wings, I
always found during my rehearsals, some of my new friends to explain
to me, solely for my good, how ridiculous something which I had done
had been. The contrast between my present mortified feelings and my
previously over-sanguine expectations was so great, that I should
have been completely disheartened, and, perhaps, abandoned the stage
in despair, but for the good-natured encouragement of many others
of the company. All the effect, therefore, which this attempt had
upon me, was to determine me to defer, till we removed to the next
town in the circuit, my first appearance; and in the mean time, to
study hard to acquire technical facilities, and to conquer those
defects, of which I ought to thank my rival for having taken such
pains to make me aware. The play had been announced, and therefore
was not withdrawn, but an apology was made for the non-appearance of
the _debutante_, and my matronly substitute once more “strutted and
fretted” with ill-concealed triumph through the childish sorrows of
Juliet. This exhibition was also a useful preparation for me, as it
taught me many practical tricks to avoid.
“The company removed to a fashionable watering-place, then in full
season, and at length my first appearance was positively fixed. And
here let me do justice to the general kindly feelings of fellowship
which I found to exist amongst the members of a profession, which
by no means creates evil passions, though it may occasionally
concentrate into a strong focus the causes which usually excite their
display. That constant and close collision of pretensions, in which
self-love must receive daily wounds, may naturally have a tendency to
produce that envy and spirit of detraction, from which no society is
free, not even that, where the contests of vanity are for the most
unimportant objects, and between the most independent persons. But
amongst my brethren of the stage, I generally found these feelings as
fleeting as the passing pageant which had excited them; and in all
essentials they might challenge a comparison with any of those whose
own means were most assured, in their eagerness to extend from their
own precarious provision, encouraging sympathy to the efforts of the
inexperienced, and substantial support to the decay of the aged.
“In my own case, the interested attempt to crush a young beginner,
excited in many of the company a strong feeling in my favour; and the
interval which had elapsed had certainly been of considerable service
to me, perhaps not a little in destroying that ill-grounded feeling
of self-confidence, in which the partial panegyrics of friends had
previously nursed me. But the want of this very much increased the
terrors of the awful approaching trial.
“Perhaps the time I had now unassumingly passed amongst them had
predisposed the company in my favour; but during the last day
or two before my attempt, it is impossible to do justice to the
almost paternal interest shown for me by nearly every member, from
the amiable manager himself, down to the apothecary of the night.
Still, nothing could alleviate the overpowering sensation which I
experienced when the anxious moment I so long anticipated actually
arrived. The house was crowded in every part. The cheering welcome
with which I was received upon my first entrance did not dispel my
fears, as I felt that it was only so much advanced in trust that,
by my exertions, I would afterwards repay it. But as the play
proceeded, and I recovered my confidence, the first spontaneous
burst of applause which rang from every part of the house caused a
consciousness of triumph, quite unlike any thing I had ever before
experienced. It proclaimed a mysterious command over the unsuspecting
sympathies of a mixed multitude, which was immeasurably superior to
the finest compliment that had ever gratified my ear in Mrs. Nesbit’s
drawing-room. My success was complete; I may now, without vanity,
refer to it as unparalleled.
“Amongst the most enthusiastic of my supporters was a party of
officers in the stage-box. The period to which I refer was that
during the late war, when the militia was quartered about the
country, the officers of which often contained in their number many
men of rank and fortune; of this party the greater number were
uniform in their acclamations. But even on that night of agitating
triumph I could not help remarking the evident admiration of one
officer, who did not join in the vehement demonstrations of his
companions, but sat in the corner nearest the stage, with his
speaking eyes fixed upon me with an expression which, perhaps,
derived some of its intensity from the strong glare of the foot
lights, which cast a pale hue over the rest of his features.
Overpowered with congratulations on all sides, I retired to rest
after my triumph, and slept soundly, only that in a confused dream
of happiness the one distinct object that presented itself was the
expressive countenance in the stage-box.
“My _debut_ had been so beyond expectation successful, and the
crowded houses every night I played was such an unquestionable
proof of increasing attraction, that the very excess of my triumph
destroyed at once every spirit of rivalry, as it became obvious
that my stay there could not extend beyond the little probationary
practice, and that before many months elapsed I should be on the
metropolitan boards. Even my _ci-devant_ rival, whose term was just
up, accepted a re-engagement, subject to the condition of her
exchanging for the present the girlish white satin of Juliet for the
motherly black velvet of Lady Capulet.
“Still, upon every succeeding night of my appearance, the same young
officer, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied, was always in the
same corner of the stage-box.
“This had continued for some weeks without our ever becoming
acquainted, and thus his admiration appeared purely professional.
The fame I had acquired, and whatever personal attractions I then at
eighteen could boast, caused me, whenever I stirred out, to be much
followed by many of the idlers of the public walks, but never by him;
and the wise regulations of the manager, considering the mixed nature
of the company at a watering-place, put many difficulties in the way
of the intrusion of strangers into the green-room.
“One evening, however, under some pretence or other, two of the
brother officers of my unknown admirer had contrived to introduce
themselves there in a state that evidently showed they had rendered
themselves unfit for any society. But, at the period to which I
refer, it was not so well established, as now I hear it is, that,
to appear drunk, was ‘unbecoming the character of an officer and
a gentleman.’ The most noisy of these made me the object of his
loathsome addresses; the disturbance he created had reached the front
of the house, and my brother actors were endeavouring, by quiet
remonstrances, to induce him to withdraw, when my unknown friend
entered the room, and seizing him by the arm, with an authoritative
movement of the head, motioned him to retire with him.
“The offender seemed awed for the moment, and did as he was desired.
Being called at that moment to the wing, I overheard, at the distance
of a few paces from me, the continuance of their conference.
“‘What d----d nonsense,’ said the offender, ‘why, she’s only an
actress.’
“‘If you had any of your senses left,’ retorted the other, in an
impassioned tone which went to my heart, ‘you would see that there
could be no reason that a person who, by the display of every grace,
and the exercise of consummate talent, commands the sympathies of the
most refined, should, on that very account, tolerate the disgusting
approaches of such a beast as you have made of yourself.’
“‘A very fine sermon for a soldier; so, amen! and I shall go back to
my beauty.’
“‘Hold!’ said my defender, stopping him, ‘I am most serious--if you
will listen to my advice, so much the better; but I am determined by
foul means, if I cannot by fair, to prevent your returning.’
“A short scuffle, and but a short one, ensued; for my defender,
though much the slighter of the two, was perfectly steady, an
advantage of which the other had deprived himself, and, seizing his
athletic antagonist by the nape of the neck, with one push he sent
him from the top of the stairs to the bottom.
“Persons, in the state in which he then was, are said not to be
easily hurt, or else I should have thought he must have been killed;
however, he rose without injury, and departed, very angry, and
determined to take ulterior measures.
“Just at the moment this occurred, I was obliged to appear upon
the stage, which I did in a state of agitation that was afterwards
remarked upon. The consequence of this altercation was a meeting
between the two officers; my champion received a ball through his
right arm; but his antagonist, from his conduct in the whole brawl,
suffered, like Cassio, such a wound in his reputation, that his
brother officers visited his fault with the same punishment as
Othello did that of his lieutenant, and compelled him to quit the
regiment.
“That all this could not occur in a small gossiping watering-place,
without being recounted in a thousand different ways, and not all
to my advantage, you may well imagine;--though when I say _you_ may
well imagine, I forget my poor dear child, that, up to this moment,
you are happily ignorant how peculiarly prone that ever-changing
compound, called the world, is to decry any one who has previously
excited its admiration. Many stories that were then circulated
never wounded my ears; but they had been widely diffused: for one
morning, some days after this had happened, I was sitting in my
room with my fellow-lodger, an excellent elderly lady, the DUENNA on
the stage, but off it the Lady Bountiful of our company, with whom
I had arranged to keep house, as a sort of protectress to my youth,
when the maid brought in a card with the name of Captain Somers,
who begged to be admitted. The publicity which had been given to
the late affair, had, of course, made me acquainted with the name
of my declared defender and previously unknown admirer. Gratitude,
of course, required that I should admit him. He looked dangerously
interesting, with the arm which had been wounded in a black sling
over his uniform, and his countenance still showing traces of his
late confinement. He appeared embarrassed at first, as he apologized
for his intrusion, which he said was to hope I would excuse any
unpleasant construction which might be put upon his unauthorised
interference in my behalf, which, he said, had arisen unintentionally
out of the circumstances of the case: that he felt at the time he
could not do otherwise; but that he much regretted the publicity of
the whole affair. I could not do less than thank him most warmly for
his generous interposition to save me from insult; and I, in my turn,
felt embarrassed in doing so: an awkwardness which was not diminished
by my fellow lodger taking advantage of that opportunity to rise and
leave the room.
“If Captain Somers and I then were lovers, we were not perfect in
our parts, for the conversation was by no means easy or animated,
now we were left alone; indeed it was many weeks before he spoke of
love, and so imperceptibly did we arrive at that point, that when
he first pleaded his passion, so far from falling strangely on my
ears, it seemed to me as if he had never previously spoken on any
other subject. But where is the woman who requires to be told she
is beloved? and how much more precious are the moments, when that
consciousness is derived from any other source than that of the
tongue?
“The innocent intercourse which from this time subsisted between us,
so far from detracting from my profession, gave me an additional
stimulus to exertion. Somers was an accomplished critic; and no
indifferent praise, however unqualified, is half so sweet as
little improving suggestions softly hinted by an admiring lover.
Yet ignorant as I then was of the world, and wrapped up in my own
day-dreams of love and fame, I had my misgivings that Somers’s was
not an unmingled happiness; indeed, sometimes it was with pain I
beheld the occasional fits of despondency to which he seemed subject,
without my being able to divine the cause. During all this time
he never mentioned his family, and I knew nothing of it beyond the
reports amongst the company, to which I listened little, and did not
attach much credit. Months passed over, and the time arrived when
we were to remove to our next quarters, a large seaport town in the
south, whilst the ****shire militia were to continue in their present
station.”