Walking or driving, it was not long before the whole party reached the
Park. The first half-hour was occupied in strolling about the grounds
between two showers to make up their minds where the theatre should be.
Several admirable spots were discovered, but no decision could be
reached until every one came together again in the large drawing-room.
Acting out of doors seemed a very imprudent scheme to some of the
elders, but there was a strong body of optimists who held to the idea;
and, as they were warmly supported by Sir John, a pastoral play it was
to be.
“We had a pastoral play at Oxford last term, in Worcester Gardens,”
said Walter Carey. “We played ‘Comus.’”
“‘Comus’?” called out Sir John. “What’s ‘Comus’?”
“‘Comus’ is a masque,” replied Walter.
“The very thing,” proclaimed Sir John. “There will be some fun about
that! We will play ‘Comus.’ How many parts are there?”
Walter Carey was very willing for it to be “Comus.” He thought he could
play the leading rôle better than the man who had the part at Oxford,
and at least would like the opportunity to try. Sir John’s expectation
of something funny might be inconvenient, but something to please him
could no doubt be managed in the rout.
No one had anything to urge against “Comus,” and for the same reason
could say nothing in its favour. Excepting Walter, Margaret and Henry
Whitaker, no one knew anything about it. However, Sir John’s enthusiasm
for the unknown carried the company along with him, and “Comus” was
unanimously chosen for the play.
The next thing was to decide the parts, and for this a copy of the play
was desirable. It was feared by Sir John that Walter would have the
only copy in the neighbourhood.
“Not at all, sir,” replied Walter. “Surely there is a Milton in your
library.”
“Milton!” said Sir John, his enthusiasm rather dashed. “I did not know
it was by Milton. I thought he only wrote long poems about the Garden
of Eden?”
“Not at all, sir,” again replied Walter. “He wrote some plays and
political pamphlets as well--quite a secular writer in his way.”
This reassured Sir John, and Margaret, who had made more use of the
Park library than anyone else had ever done, offered to fetch the
volume of Milton containing “Comus,” and returned with a book no more
dusty than might be expected considering it had been undisturbed for we
know not how many years.
“You had better take the part you did before, Walter; it will save you
the trouble of learning a new one,” said Sir John.
Walter blushed and hesitated, and then admitted that he had been the
Lady at Oxford and would prefer some other part.
“Mr. Carey had better be Comus,” said Margaret. “It is by far the
longest part, and he must already be familiar with the whole play, so
could learn it easily.”
Walter was grateful for this suggestion, and every one else was willing
that he should have a long part to learn.
“Excellent,” said Sir John. “And you had better be stage-manager too,
and put us all in the way of it. For, except for charades, I have never
done anything of the sort. Just give me a part in which I can make some
noise and get a few laughs out of the audience, and you can divide all
the long speeches between you.”
It was necessary to get the opinions of the rest of the party before
going further. Miss Steele liked acting excessively, but never could
remember her words. Lady Middleton stipulated only that there should be
parts for William and dear little Annamaria, and of course for John, as
they would be inconsolable if they were not included. Henry Whitaker
looked urgent, hoping he would not be left out, but said nothing, and
the young ladies all thought one of the others should be the heroine.
Edward Ferrars was applied to, but said he did not think acting suited
to the dignity of the cloth, and Mr. Atherton replied that he would
like to be employed as prompter. Elinor Ferrars said decisively that
she wished to be one of the audience.
Walter found himself expected to allot parts to five ladies, five
children counting his own little sisters, Sir John, Henry and himself,
and to give pleasure to all of them in doing so. It was an anxious
half-hour for the young man, but he came through it with creditable
success, though his opening words were not auspicious. He had to
announce that there were only two parts for the ladies, the Lady and
Sabrina. He began by suggesting that Margaret should be the Lady.
Miss Steele bridled, but the two Miss Careys and Miss Whitaker united
in acclaiming this choice, though Isabella Carey’s face lengthened
and Miss Whitaker appeared surprised. Margaret, however, would not
consent. If Mr. Walter Carey was to be Comus, it would be best that one
of his sisters should be the Lady. They would have many opportunities
for rehearsal, and both parts were so long that much study together
would be necessary. Margaret thought that Isabella should be the Lady.
She had a singing voice, and the song was of importance. It was clear
that no one else could be so suitable for the part. Miss Carey was well
content to have it so, and her modest objections were soon talked down,
the more easily as she really thought herself well suited to the part.
There were now four young ladies, and the part of Sabrina among them.
Walter’s hesitation was excusable, but again Margaret came to his help.
“I have been thinking,” she said, “that the parts of the Brothers could
very well be taken by ladies. Some long mantle worn thrown over the
shoulder would make a handsome appearance, and be a suitable dress,
and they were both represented as very young. The line, ‘As smooth as
Hebe’s their unrazor’d lips,’ seems to fit very well.”
There was general laughter and a brightening of eyes and renewed hope
among the ladies, though poor Henry Whitaker looked as though his
last chance were gone. Walter quickly decided that his younger sister
and Miss Whitaker, who were both taller than Margaret, should be the
Brothers, unless Miss Steele----?
But Miss Steele was horrified at the idea. She to take a man’s part
indeed! Not for the world would she be so bold! No, Sabrina would do
very well for her!
There was a silence. Walter was again in a dilemma. This time it was
Henry who gave help.
“Sabrina has got to sing. I know, because we did ‘Comus’ at school last
half. Can you sing, Miss Steele?”
Miss Steele could not, but suggested that some one might sing behind
the scenes for her. There was again silence, interrupted by a cough
from Sir John, which reminded Walter that a part had to be found for
him.
“What would you like, Sir John? Will you be Comus?” he asked with an
heroic effort. “Or would you like to lead the rout? I think Henry must
be the attendant Spirit. It is a long part, and he knows the play.”
Henry’s anxious look changed to one of bashful happiness. Sir John had
an easy method of coming to a decision.
“Which has most to say--Comus or the rout fellow?” he asked.
“Well, actually Comus has a considerable number of lines to say--some
hundred--but of course we shall have to cut the whole thing down
somewhat. Still, Comus has undoubtedly got a good deal to say. The
leader of the rout has--well, he must make as much noise as possible
and dance about. It is a very active part.”
“I never could learn poetry. I will lead the rout,” Sir John decided
to the general satisfaction, and he added a grace to his decision
by asking Miss Nancy to lead the rout with him, as she did not like
learning poetry either, and was so fond of dancing.
Miss Steele reddened and hesitated, but Miss Carey’s suggestion that
the members of the rout should all be very gaily clad, in contrast to
the rest of the company, who must be in white or sad colouring, decided
the point. Miss Steele would be a prominent figure in the rout, and the
part of Sabrina was left for Margaret, who could sing and did not mind
wearing plain white.
The children, three Middletons and two Careys, were to be inferior
members of the rout, and all was now happily arranged except the music.
At first it was thought that the music must come from within doors, but
Penelope Carey luckily remembered that her sisters’ governess could
play the harp reasonably well, and was a very good sort of girl. It was
decided that she should be established behind some shrub and contribute
all the music necessary.