No. IV.--RETROSPECT.
SCENE--_A large Room, in which Guests are assembling
previous to a Supper in honour of a Great Actor, who is
about to leave for a tour to the United States. There
has been a magnificent farewell performance, in which
the Great Actor has surpassed himself. The public has
shown unparalleled enthusiasm; the G. A. has appeared
before the Curtain, and in a voice choked with emotion
has assured his audience that the one thing that
sustains him at this trying moment is the prospect of
seeing them all again when he returns._
TIME--11.45 P.M. _The Room is full of histrionic,
literary, and artistic Celebrities, with a few stray
Barristers and Doctors, who like to show publicly that
in spite of the arduous labours of their professions,
they can enjoy a mild dissipation as well as any man.
Most of the leading lights of the "Thespian
Perambulators,"_ BOLDERO, TIFFINGTON SPINKS, GUSHBY,
ANDREW JARP, _and_ HALL, _have come to prove by their
presence the sympathy of the Amateur Stage. On the last
night but one they had concluded their series of
performances at Blankbury. The Chairman of the Banquet
is a middle-aged Peer, who is a regular attendant at
first nights, and occupies a subordinate office in the
Ministry. The Guest of the Evening has not yet arrived.
A buzz of conversation fills the air. The Secretary of
the Banquet, an actor, is anxiously hurrying about with
a list, on which he ticks off names._
_The Secretary_ (_to_ BOLDERO). So glad all you fellows have been able
to come. I've put you pretty well together, as you wished. I wonder
where--oh! here he is at last.
_Enter Great Actor. The Secretary rushes to him.
Hand-shakings and congratulations all round. The G. A.
moves up the room to where the Amateurs are standing._
_G. A._ (_shaking hands._) Ah! this is really friendly, TIFFINGTON,
really friendly. Were you in front to-night?
_Tiffington._ Of course we were. We wouldn't have missed it for a
thousand pounds. It went first class. I thought your idea of stabbing
ALPHONSO from behind instead of in front, was a genuine inspiration.
_G. A._ Approbation from Sir HUBERT. (_Bows and leaves quotation
unfinished_). But I've always played it like that, I think.
[_Supper is announced. The Guests troop in to the
supper-room._
_Tiffington_ (_to_ JARP, _as they walk in_). He's wrong there. Never did
it like that before; and, after all, I'm not sure it is such an
improvement. But if you don't praise these fellows they never forgive
you.
_Jarp._ Didn't he say anything about our show at Blankbury? I thought
you wrote to him about it.
_Tiffington._ So I did; wrote specially to tell him how well things had
gone off. But you might just as well try to pump wine out of a
pillar-box, as expect a word of sympathy or encouragement from a
professional. They're all the same.
[_They take their seats,_ TIFFINGTON _and_ JARP _on one
side of the table, the other three opposite them. The
supper begins._
_Friend of the G. A._ (_on_ TIFFINGTON's _right_). Splendid performance,
was it not? I never saw him in finer form in my life. It's quite
impossible to imagine anything more dignified and pathetic than his
death-scene.
_Tiffington_ (_dubiously_). Hum! Yes. I'm not sure I should do it like
that quite. What do you say, GUSHBY?
_Gushby._ It's not my idea at all. He spins it out far too long. I
should like to see you act that, TIFF.
_Tiffington_ (_complacently_). Ah, well, so you might if things were
managed with common fairness. But (_bitterly_) you know well enough
there's a regular conspiracy against me. (_To Friend of G. A._) Now, of
course, you've read the notices of our performance of _Heads or Tails_?
Yes. I thought you had. Well, you _must_ have observed, that I don't get
more than two lines in any one of them, not a word more than two lines
upon my soul, and yet any fool knows that my part was the chief one. But
there you are. The beggars daren't abuse me. They know the public won't
stand that, so, just to spite me, they try to leave me out. But they're
very much mistaken if they think I care. Pooh! I snap my fingers at them
and their wretched conspiracy.
[_Snaps them, and drinks moodily. The supper proceeds.
Conversation everywhere ranges over all kinds of
topics,--literature, art, the drama, the political
situation, the last Divorce Case. The Amateurs continue
to discuss themselves._
_Jarp_ (_to_ BOLDERO). Did you see that infamous notice in _The
Moonbeam_? Just like that rascal PENFOLD. He can't help showing his
jealousy, because we never asked him to join the Perambulators.
_Boldero._ Yes. There you have it in a nutshell. I tell you what it is,
we shall have to exclude all critics from our show in future.
_Tiffington._ Ah! that would punish them--and serve them right, too. Are
you going to sing to-night, HALL?
_Hall_ (_with a sigh of resignation_). I suppose I shall have to. I told
BATTERDOWN I should be ready, if wanted.
_Jarp._ Have you got anything new?
_Hall._ Rather. Something particularly neat, I think. I call it "_The
Super at Supper_." It goes like this:--
[_Hums to his friends, who listen with rapt attention,
occasionally interchanging glances expressive of
enthusiastic admiration._
I once knew a Super, a festive soul,
Who quaffed champagne from a brimming bowl,
And all night long as he quaffed he sang,
"The Dukes may swing, and the Earls go hang,
And the Duchesses, 'drat 'em, may go and be blowed;
They've all been there, and they know the road--
They're slaves, but the Super who sups is free--
Oh! the Super's life is the life for me!
_Chorus._
With a hey-diddle-diddle and fiddle-di-dee,
Oh! the supping Super's the man for me!"
_Spinks, Boldero, Gushby, Jarp_ (_with enthusiasm_). My dear
fellow, that's immense.
_Hill._ Yes, it's not bad. There are six verses, some of them even
better than that.
[_The Chairman rises to propose the only toast of the
evening, "Success to the Great Actor who is about to
leave us for a short time." The usual
speech--reminiscent, anecdotic, prophetic of tremendous
triumphs, mildly humorous, pathetic._
_The Chairman_ (_concluding_). Therefore I bid you all charge your
glasses as full of wine as your hearts are full of sympathy, and join me
in wishing success to the Great Man, who is about to cull new laurels in
a foreign land.
[_Roars of applause. Immense enthusiasm. The Great Actor
responds. He is moved to tears. He assures his friends,
that wherever he may go his heart will ever turn fondly
to them. Great cheering._
_Tiffington_ (_puffing his cigar_). Not so bad. I always said he could
speak better than he could act.
[_The supper concludes._ HALL _has not been asked to
sing._
_Friend of Great Actor_ (_departing, to_ TIFFINGTON). It's been a
splendid evening, hasn't it?
_Tiffington_ (_putting on his coat_). Yes. Pretty fair. (_To_ HALL.)
Sorry for you, old chap. But the song will keep.
_Hall._ Keep? Oh, yes, it'll keep. I'll make it red-hot for the lot of
'em, and sing it at Blankbury next year. They won't like that, I rather
think.
_Jarp._ No, by Gad!
[_Exeunt omnes._
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