My first Humiliating Experience in Cincinnati is Followed by a
Successful Appearance--I Make the Acquaintance of the Enthusiastic
Navoni.
It is a deep humiliation to relate my first experience in Cincinnati, but
for reasons I set it down.
A friend of mine, who hailed from Cincinnati and who wished to serve me,
had said: "One thing I think I can do for you, friend Clara, I can save
you the weariness and annoyance of a long search in a strange city for
board. My wife and I were never so comfortable in our lives before as we
were at the house of a Mrs. Scott. She is a gentlewoman, therefore she
never pries, never gossips, never 'just runs in a moment,' when you want
to study a 'part.' Her charges are reasonable, the table a little close,
perhaps, but the cooking perfect. You and your mother would suit her
demands as to regularity of habits, quiet conduct, etc., completely, and
going there so early in September you will stand a good chance of
securing a room. Try for 'ours'--it was so sunny and bright." And I,
delighted at such a prospect, looked upon my letter of introduction as a
very valuable document--a sort of character from my last place, and early
on Monday morning went forth from my temporarily sheltering hotel to find
Mrs. Scott and beg her to take me in on the word of her boarders of a
year ago.
I found the house easily, but, modest as was its exterior, its rich
interior sent my heart down rapidly--it was going to be away beyond my
salary I decided. Yet after a, to me, most bewildering interview, I found
myself inspecting the big sunny room, and shrinking at the thought of my
rough trunks coming in contact with such a handsome carpet. Mrs. Scott
had remarked, casually, that she had put her earnings back on the house,
as a pure matter of business, and I was radiant when she named her price
for the room, and hastily engaging it, I started out at once to order my
trunks taken there and to telegraph mother to come.
As I descended the steps I could not help humming a little tune. A
policeman strolled across the street toward me, and I had a hazy notion
that he had been there when I went in. As I reached the pavement he
stepped up, and holding out to me a handkerchief, palpably his own,
asked, while looking at me closely, if it was mine.
I was indignant, and I answered, sharply: "It is not mine--as you very
well know!"
He laughed rather sheepishly, and said: "Well, you are not stupid, if you
are innocent," then asked: "Are you a stranger here?"
I turned back toward the house I had just left, then paused as I said,
angrily: "I have a mind to go back and ask Mrs. Scott to come out with me
to protect me from the impertinence of the police!"
"Who?" he asked, with wide-open, wondering eyes, "you will go back to
who?"
"To Mrs. Scott," I snapped.
"Why," said he, "there's no Mrs. Scott there."
"No?" I questioned satirically. "No? Well, as I have just engaged board
from Mrs. Scott, I venture to differ with you."
"Good Lord, Miss," the man said, "Mrs. William Scott's been dead these
nine months or more. That's no place for honest people now. Why--why,
we're watchin' the house this moment, hoping to catch that woman's
jail-bird son, who has broken jail in Louisville--don't look so white,
Miss!"
"But--but," I whispered, "I--I was sent here by a friend--I--I have
engaged a room there! Oh, what shall I do?"
"That's all right, Miss," reassuringly answered the policeman, "I'll give
up the room for you. You ain't the only one that has come here expecting
to find Mrs. Scott in the house. You don't need to go back to the door;"
and the theatre being in full view, in an agony of humiliation and
terror, I flung myself into its friendly, just-opened office, where Mr.
Macaulay presently found me shaking like a leaf and almost unable to make
plain my experience.
He was furious, and finding my name was mentioned in the letter of
introduction to Mrs. Scott, and that "Mrs. Scott" had retained it, he
called the policeman and together they went to the house and demanded the
letter back. It was given up, but most unwillingly, as the woman, with
the superstition of all gambling people, looked upon it as a
luck-breeder, a mascot; and an hour later, by Mr. Macaulay's aid, I had
found two wee rooms, whose carpets would welcome my trunks as hiders of
holes--rooms that were dull, even dingy, but had nevertheless securely
sheltered honest poverty for long years past, and could do as much for
years to come.
I mention this unpleasant incident simply to show how utterly unexpected
are some of the pitfalls that make dangerous the pathway of honest
girlhood. To show, too, that utter ignorance of evil is in itself a
danger. The interview that bewildered me would have been, for instance, a
danger signal to my mother, who would, too, having seen how the richness
of furniture contradicted outside shabbiness, have had her suspicions
aroused. I noted that fact, but not knowing of gambling being unlawful
and secretly carried on, my observation was of no service to me, as it
suggested nothing. Ignorance of the existence of evil may sometimes
become the active foe of innocence.
No one learned of the unpleasant experience, so I was spared
disagreeable comment; and, sending for my mother to join me, I devoted
myself to preparations of my opening night.
The meeting with strangers, which I had greatly dreaded, passed off so
easily, even so pleasantly, as to surprise me. Everyone offered a kind
word of greeting, and all the women expressed their sympathy because I
had to open in so poorly dressed a part. That troubled _me_ very little,
however.
The character was that of a country girl (_Cicely_) in some old comedy,
whose name I have forgotten. She wore just one gown--a black and white
print, as she was in mourning for her old, farmer father. A rustic wench,
a milk-maid come up to "Lun'un-town," she had one speech that was a trial
for any woman to have to speak. It was not as brutally expressed as are
many of the speeches given to rustics in the old English comedies--but it
was the _double-entendre_ that made it coarse.
Some of the ladies were speaking with me of the matter, and the "old
woman" suggested that I just mumble the words. I said I could not well do
that, as it was a part of the principal scene of the play.
"Well," declared another, "I should hang my head and let the house see
that I was ashamed of the speech."
I said nothing, but I thought that would be a most inartistic breaking
away from the part of the rustic _Cicely_, and a dragging in of
scandalized Miss Morris.
The girl was supposed to make the speech through blundering ignorance,
she alone not seeing its significance; and to my idea there was but one
way to deliver it, and that certainly was not with a hanging head and
shamefaced manner, thus showing perfect, if disapproving, knowledge of
its double meaning.
When the opening night came a pleasant little thing happened to me. As I
entered with straw hat tied under chin and bundle in hand, I received a
modest little reception, what would about equal the slight raising of a
hat in passing a woman in a corridor; but the moment I had spoken the
first insignificant speech the house gave me as hearty a greeting as any
leading woman could wish for.
I was startled and much confused for a few moments, but very pleased and
grateful withal, yet when I came off, Mr. Macaulay's pleasure seemed
twice as great as mine, and as I laughingly told him so, he said: "Well,
now I'm going to make a confession. Your letters gave me an impression
of--of--well, you are entirely unlike your letters--you are smaller, and
you look even younger than you really are. There isn't the very faintest
suggestion of the actress in your manner, and--and--to be honest, I was a
bit frightened over the engagement I had made. Then your having to open
in this insignificant part was against you. But they are no fools out
_there_, my girl. They have found you out already. Your eyes and voice
alone won that welcome, and I'd not be afraid to wager something now that
the last curtain falls to-night upon a new favorite."
I was greatly pleased, but those broad lines were still hanging over me,
still disturbing me.
At last the scene arrived. I gave the inquiring speech, with its wretched
double meaning, clearly and plainly, looking squarely and honestly into
the eyes of the person I addressed--the result was described as follows
by a morning paper:
"That one speech proved the newcomer an actress of superior quality.
Clearly and simply given, the great guffaw that instantly responded to
the _double-entendre_ had scarcely risen, when the girl's perfect
honesty, her wide-eyed innocence, so impressed the audience that applause
broke from every part of the house. It was the most dramatic moment of
the evening, for that outburst was not merely approbation for the
actress, it was homage to the woman."
So it came to pass that Mr. Macaulay's words came true--the curtain fell
upon a favorite, by grace of the warm and kindly hearts of the
Cincinnatians, who were quick to see merits and ever ready to forgive
errors.
The Hebrew citizens, who are enthusiastic and most generous patrons of
the theatre, became especially fond of me, so much so indeed that the
company christened me "Rebecca," in jesting allusion to their favor, of
which I was nevertheless very proud, for better judges of matters
theatrical it would be hard to find.
When my mother arrived, we settled down in our little rooms, where my
trunks, which had to be opened every day for the nightly change of
costume, had to stand one on top of another in order to make room for an
old battle-scarred piano that I had hired.
I do not know its maker's name--no one knows--which was well for that
person, because his act in constructing such a thing placed him in the
criminal classes. It seemed to be a cross between a coffin and a
billiard-table, and there was just enough left of its rubber cover to
make an evil smell in the room.
Had it not been for the generosity of the leader of the orchestra (Mr.
Navoni) I could not have enjoyed the luxury of even a few music lessons,
but he saw my willingness to learn--to practise when possible, and loving
music rapturously himself, he took a generous delight in helping others
to the knowledge he had such a store of. Therefore, for a ridiculously
small price, just enough, he said, to properly mark our relations as
master and pupil, he introduced me to my notes and lines and
ledger-lines, too (confound them!), and accidentals and sharps (which I
hated) and flats (which I liked), and I developed a great affection for
_c_, because I could always find it, while I hate _a_ to this hour
because of the trouble it gave me so long ago.
One thing I am sure of, had anyone awakened me suddenly from a deep sleep
at that time I would instantly have exclaimed: "One _and_ two _and_ three
_and_." Mr. Navoni and his wife had the room directly over ours; of
course I knew every loud sound we made must penetrate to his room, and as
I could conceive of nothing more maddening than to have to listen to a
beginner's _one_, two, three--_one_, two, three, I tried to practise when
he was out, which was difficult, as our hours were the same. Then one
day, knowing he was composing a march for a special occasion, I closed
the piano and determined I would not disturb him with any noise of mine.
Upstairs, then, Mr. Navoni sat, rumpled as to hair, fiery as to eye, with
violin on table and pen in hand. He hummed a little, tried one or two
bars on the violin, then savagely threw a few notes of ink on to his
ruled paper. Then he hummed a little, and seemed to listen, jotted down a
note or two, listened attentively, and then burst out: "Do you hear a
sound of practice from Miss Morris's room?"
"No, dear," gently replied Mrs. Navoni, "she doesn't want to disturb you
at your work, she----"
But a burst of wrath stopped her. Mr. Navoni was clattering down-stairs
and pounding on our door: "What does this mean? Get you to that devilish
bad piano and do your scales--_scales_, mind you--let the exercises wait
till the last! Interrupt me? Love I not music! nothing is sweeter to me
than the '_one_, two, three' of the beginner--_if_ the beginner is not a
fool--_if_ the beginner counts the '_one_, two, three' correctly! Damn!
yes, I say _damn_! look at the time lost! afraid to disturb me? How the
devil am I to compose that march they want with this room still as the
dead? Now I go back, and if you don't do those scales, all smooth and
even, and the exercises rightly timed, you--well, you know what you'll
get! I can hear, even if I am composing. So you get to work, quick now!
before I get back to my table!"
And he tore off again, while, with clammy fingers, I sat down to the
wretched old piano, that was showing its teeth at me in a senile grin,
and feebly and uncertainly began to wobble up and down the keyboard.
Mrs. Navoni afterward told me that when her husband returned to his work
he hummed to himself a few moments, jotted down a few notes, listened to
the sound of the rattling old piano, and, smiling and nodding, remarked:
"_Now_ I can do something--_one_, two, three--_one_, two, three--that's
right. I couldn't compose a bar with her wasting a precious hour down
there. She keeps good time, eh, doesn't she? Now I'll give the boys
something that will move their feet for them!" and he returned to the
march.
The thing which I was to get if I failed to practise correctly was so
unusual that I feel I must explain it. Mr. Navoni wore an artificial foot
and leg of the cumbrous type then offered to the afflicted, and in the
privacy of his own room he used to remove the burdensome thing and lay it
on a chair by the couch on which he rested or read or wrote, and when I,
down-stairs, made a first mistake in my practice, he growled and kicked
viciously with his "for-true" leg, while a second blunder would make him
seize his store-leg and pound the floor. Then when I began again he would
whack the correct time with it with such emphasis that bits of my ceiling
would come rattling down about me and the gas-fixture threatened not to
remain a fixture.
Another trick of his was to bring down his violin with him. How my heart
sank when I saw it, and, my lesson over, he requested me to play such or
such an exercise: "And keep to your own business, and leave my business
to me, if you please, Miss. _Now!_"
I was then expected to go over and over that exercise and keep perfect
time, while he stood behind me and improvised on the violin, growing more
and more distracting every moment, and if that led my attention away from
my _one_, two, three, what a crack I got across the top of my ear from
his fiddle-bow, and a sharp order to: "Go back--go back! _one_, two,
three; _one_, two, three! Cry by and by, but now play! _One_, two,
three!"
I should have thought myself a hopeless case, and given up, had I not one
morning overheard him boasting to some of the musicians: "That I was a
good enough leading woman, he supposed, but it was as a piano pupil that
I really counted for something. Why," he cried, "she has the most perfect
ear, and such steadiness--a whole band-wagon of instruments turned loose
on her wouldn't make her lose time!"
I smiled and felt of my even then burning ear, but still his boast
encouraged me to return to my scales, which were wofully interrupted by
the necessity I experienced of clawing up with my nails several old keys
that were too weak to rise again having once been pressed down.
When Mr. Navoni played, and he came to one of those tired-out ivories, he
put a _damn_ in the place of the absent note, but for obvious reasons I
could not do that. But Mr. Navoni was an earnest, determined, and
enthusiastic teacher, and I remember him gratefully and respectfully.
The widow of the boarding-house differs from the widow of the Testament
in that the boarding-house widow's cruse of oil seems always "just out,"
and her meal at a like low ebb. Neither my mother nor myself were used to
luxuries; we expected little, and, truth to tell, we got it. To say we
were nearly always hungry would be putting things quite mildly, but we
were _together_! and so 'twas better to feel a bit "gone" under the belt
than to be filled to repletion and live apart.
I worked hard at all times, and five nights out of seven I had to study
till far on toward morning. The Saturday brought me a double performance,
and left me a wreck; thus I thought I had a right to a bit of a treat on
Sunday; and I can see the important air mother unconsciously assumed as
she went forth on her secret errand--secret that no offence might be
given to the economical landlady.
When the matinee was over I brought home my personal offering for our
next day's comfort and pleasure--a copy of an illustrated weekly paper
and five cents' worth of candy, always something hard that would last us
long while we read. Thus on Saturday night, on the sill of the back
window, there stood a small can of oysters, while in the top drawer
rested a box marked handkerchiefs, but which held crackers, beside it a
folded paper, and on top of that the wee package of candy.
I had a membership at the library on the corner, so we had books, too,
thank heaven! I have always been a fairly regular church-goer; in
Cincinnati the limitations of my wardrobe would have made me conspicuous.
I had but one street dress in the world, and constant wear in rain or
shine made it a very shabby affair. In novels the heroine who has but one
gown is always so exquisitely gloved and shod, and her veil and neck-wear
are so immaculately fresh, that no one notices the worn dress; but in
real life it's just the gloves and shoes and veils and ruffles that cost
the most money, yet their absence stamps you ill-bred in the eyes of
other women. Therefore I knew the inside of but one church in Cincinnati,
"Christ's Episcopal," and only knew that in the spring, when I had
fluttered forth in new gown and gloves and things; so Sundays were given
over to a late breakfast, a little reading in the Bible, a good long
reading of secular matter, sweetened by candy, a calm acceptance (that
was puzzling to the Navonis) of a shadowy dinner, a short walk if weather
permitted, then, oh, then! a locked door, a small tea-pot, a tiny
saucepan (we had not the bliss of owning a chafing-dish), and presently
we sat enjoying, to the last spoonful, a hot and delicious stew, a pot of
tea, that brought to mind many stories and made old jokes dance forth
with renewed youth, and kept us loitering over our small banquet in a
quite disgraceful way. Then back to our novels again till bed-time, and
next day, all fresh and rested, I began my "one _and_ two _and_ three
_and_" before breakfast, and thus won approval from Navoni and started a
new week's work under fair auspices.