THEATRICAL EXPERIENCE.
The Philosopher in a Tableau at the Feet of Beauty — Tableau encored
— Philosopher at the Opera of ‘Don Juan’ — Visits the Water-works
above and the dark expanse below the Stage — Seized by two Devils
on their way up to fetch Juan — Cheated the Devils by springing off
to a beam at an infinite distance, just as his head appeared to the
Audience through the trap-door — The Philosopher writes a Ballet — Its
rehearsal — Its high moral tone — Its rejection on the ground of the
probable combustion of the Opera-house.
I was never particularly devoted to theatrical representations. Tragedy
I disliked, and comedy, which I enjoyed, frequently excited my feelings
more than the dignity of the philosophic character sanctioned. In fact,
I could not stand the reconciliation scenes.
I did, however, occasionally, in one or two rare instances, _assist_
in a tableau. I still remember my delight when personating a dead
body, with my head towards the audience, I lay motionless at the feet
of three angels, entranced by their beauty, and whose charms still
fascinate my imagination, and still retain their wonted power over my
own sex.
We enacted the scene so admirably that our performance was twice
encored. But though thus “thrice slain,” the near proximity of beauty
speedily revived the ‘caput mortuum’ at its feet.
On one occasion having joined a party of friends in their box at the
opera of ‘Don Juan,’ I escaped, by half a second, {252} a marvellous
adventure. Somewhat fatigued with the opera, I went behind the scenes
to look at the mechanism. One of the scene-shifters of whom I had
made an inquiry, found out that I, like himself, was a workman. He
immediately offered to take me all over the theatre, and show me every
part.
〈ADVENTURE AT THE OPERA.〉
We ascended to the roof to examine the ventilation, by which, if
stopped, the spectators, in case of accident or of a row, might be
suffocated. Also, the vast water-tanks by which, in case of fire, they
might be drowned. After long rambling and descending endless steps, I
found myself in a vast dark and apparently boundless area; the flat
wooden roof high above my head was supported by upright timbers, some
having intermediate stages like large dissecting-tables. Here and there
three lamps, rivalling rushlights, made the obscurity more visible, and
the carpentry more incomprehensible.
Suddenly a little bell rang—the signal for my scene-shifting friend
to take his post. He pointed to one of the dismal imitations of a
rushlight, and said: “You see that light; on its left is a door, go
through that, and straight on until you arrive at daylight.” Instantly
my friend became invisible in the surrounding gloom.
My first step when thus suddenly abandoned, was to mount on a
large oblong platform about six feet above the floor. Here I was
philosophically contemplating the surrounding obscure vacuity, in order
that I might fully “comprehend the situation.”
Suddenly a flash of lightning occurred. On looking up, high above my
head I saw an opening as large as the platform on which I stood. All
there was brightness. Whilst I was admiring this new light, and seeking
my way to the upper and outer world, two devils with long forked tails
jumped upon the platform, one at each end. {253}
〈ESCAPE FROM THE DEVILS.〉
“What do you do here?” said Devil No. 1.
Before I could invent a decent excuse, Devil No. 2 exclaimed:
“You must not come with us.”
This was consolatory and reassuring, so I replied—
“Heaven forbid.”
During this colloquy, the table, the philosopher, and the devils, were
all slowly moving upward to the open trap-door of the stage above.
Seeing a beam some feet higher at a moderate distance, I inquired
whether it was fixed and would bear my weight? “Yes,” said Devil No. 1.
“But you cannot reach it at a jump,” added Devil No. 2.
“Trust that to me,” said I, “to get out of your clutches.”
We had now reached the level of the desired beam, though not near
enough for a jump. However, still ascending, we passed it: then
stooping my head and bending my body to avoid the floor of the stage,
which we were fast approaching, I sprang down on the beam of refuge. My
two missionary companions continued their course to the world above in
order to convey the wicked Juan to the realms below. My transit through
the dark, subterranean abyss to my own world above was rapid. I soon
rejoined my companions, who congratulated me on what they represented
as my ‘undeserved escape:’ kindly hoping that I might be equally
fortunate upon some future occasion.
Presence of mind frequently arises from having previously considered a
variety of possible events. I had never contemplated such a situation,
and have often asked myself and others what should have been my
conduct, in case I had not escaped from my satanic companions; but no
satisfactory conclusion has yet presented itself.
〈STALL AT THE OPERA.〉
During one season, I had a stall at the German Opera. {254} One
evening, in the cloister scene by moonlight, in the convent, I observed
that the white bonnet of my companion had a pink tint: so also had the
paper of our books and every white object around us.
This contrast of colour suggested to me the direct use of coloured
lights. The progress of science in producing intense lights by the
oxy-hydrogen blowpipe, and by electricity under its various forms,
enabled me to carry out the idea of producing coloured lights for
theatrical representations. I made many experiments by filling cells
formed by pieces of parallel plate glass with solutions of various
salts of chrome of copper, and of other substances.
The effects were superb. I then devised a dance, in which they might
be splendidly exhibited. This was called the rainbow dance. I proposed
to abolish the foot-lights, and instead of them to substitute four
urns with flowers. These urns would each conceal from the audience an
intense light of one of the following colours: blue, yellow, red, or
any others which might be preferable.
The rays of light would be projected from the vases towards the stage,
and would form four cones of red, blue, yellow, and purple light
passing to its further end.
Four groups, each of fifteen danseuses in pure white, would now enter
on the stage. Each group would assume the colour of the light in which
it was placed. Thus four dances each of a different colour would
commence. Occasionally, a damsel from a group of one colour would
spring into another group, thus resembling a shooting star.
After a time, the coloured lights would expand laterally and overlap
each other, thus producing all the colours of the rainbow. In the mean
time the sixty damsels in pure white forming one vast ellipse, would
dance round, each in turn {255} assuming, as it passed through them,
all the prismatic colours.
I had mentioned these experiments and ideas to a few of my friends,
one of whom spoke of it to Mr. Lumley, the lessee of the Italian Opera
House. He thought it promised well, and ultimately I made a series of
experiments in the great concert-room.
Ropes were stretched across the room, on which were hung in innumerable
forms large sheets of patent net. The various folds and bendings
displayed the lights under endless modifications. Some brilliant
greens, some fiery reds, blues of the brightest hue. Another of these
was an almost perfect resemblance of the dead purple powdery coating of
the finest grapes.
〈THE PHILOSOPHER WRITES A BALLET.〉
Things being thus prepared, I had a consultation with the eminent
_chef-de-ballet_ as to the kind of dance and the nature of the steps to
be adapted to these gorgeous colours. Thus having invented the “Rainbow
Dance” I became still more ambitious, and even thought of writing a
story to introduce it, and to give it a moral character. Hence arose
the beautiful ballet of ‘Alethes and Iris.’
〈ALETHES AND IRIS.〉
Alethes, a priest of the Sun, surrounded by every luxury that earth
can lay at the feet of its god, feels, like all before him, that the
most glorious life is sad without a companion to sympathize with
his feelings and share in his enjoyments. He makes, therefore, a
magnificent sacrifice to the god of this visible creation, and prays
for the gratification of his solitary desire.
Apart from all the inferior orders of his class, in the midst of clouds
of incense, the high priest himself becomes entranced.
He beholds in a vision a distant and lonely spot of bright {256}
light. Advancing towards him, it assumes a circular form, having
a small yellow centre surrounded by a deep blue confined within a
brilliant red circle.
Retaining its shape, but slowly enlarging in size, it becomes
a circular rainbow, out of which emerges a form of beauty more
resplendent than mortal eyes might bear. Approaching the Book of Fate,
which lies closed upon a golden pedestal in this the deepest and most
sacred portion of the Temple of the Sun, she opens it and inscribes in
purple symbols these mystic signs.
· · · · · · · ·
· · · · · · ·
· · · · · · · ·
· · · · · · ·
Then waving her graceful arm over the entranced high priest, she
re-enters the aërial circle: it closes and retires.
Alethes, recovering from the magic spells his powerful art had wrought,
rushes to the Book of Fate, opens, and reads the revelation it unfolds.
Through ocean’s depths to southern ice-fields roam,
Through solid strata seek earth’s central fire,
Cull from each wondrous field, each distant home,
An offering meet for her thy soul’s desire.
This gives rise to a series of moving and most instructive dioramas, in
which the travels of Alethes are depicted.
1. A representation of all the inhabitants of the ocean, comprising
big fishes, lobsters, and various crustacea, mollusca, coralines, &c.
2. A view of the antarctic regions,—a continent of ice with an active
volcano and a river of boiling water, supplied by geysers cutting
their way through cliffs of blue ice.
3. A diorama representing the animals whose various {257} remains are
contained in each successive layer of the earth’s crust. In the lower
portions symptoms of increasing heat show themselves until the centre
is reached, which contains a liquid transparent sea, consisting of
some fluid at a white heat, which, however, is filled up with little
infinitesimal eels, all of one sort, wriggling eternally.
〈HIGH MORAL VIEW.〉
This would have produced a magnificent spectacle considered merely as
a show, but the moralist might, if he pleased, have discovered in it a
profound philosophy.
The ennui and lassitude felt by the priest of the Sun arose from the
want of occupation for his powerful mind. The remedy proposed in the
ballet was—look into all the works of creation.
The central ocean of frying eels was added to assist the teaching of
those ministers who prefer the doctrine of the eternity of bodily
torments.[38]
[38] An ancestor of mine, Dr. Burthogge, a great friend of John
Locke, wrote, I regret to say it, a book to prove the eternity of
torments; so I felt it a kind of hereditary duty to give him a
lift. The arguments, such as they are, of my wealthy and therefore
revered ancestor are contained in a work whose title is “Causa
Dei; or, an Apology for God,” wherein the perpetuity of infernal
torments is evinced, and Divine justice (that notwithstanding)
defended. By Richard Burthogge, M.D. London: Imprinted at the
Three Daggers, Fleet Street, 1675.
The learned Tobias Swinden, M.A., late rector of Cuxton, in his
“Enquiry into the Nature and Place of Hell,” 2nd edition, 1727,
has discovered that its locality is in the Sun. The accurate map
he gives of that luminary renders it highly probable that the red
flames so well observed and photographed by Mr. De La Rue during a
recent total eclipse have a _real_ existence.
The night proposed for the experiment of the dance at length arrived.
Two fire-engines duly prepared were placed on the stage under the care
of a portion of the fire brigade.
About a dozen danseuses in their white dresses danced and attitudinized
in the rays of powerful oxy-hydrogen {258} blowpipes. The various
brilliant hues of coloured light had an admirable effect on the lovely
fire-flies, especially as they flitted across from one region of
coloured light to another.
〈COMBUSTION THE ENEMY OF GENIUS.〉
A few days after I called on Mr. Lumley, to inquire what conclusion he
had arrived at. He expressed great admiration at the brilliancy of the
colours and the effect of the Rainbow Dance, but much feared the danger
of fire. I tried to reassure him; and to show that I apprehended no
danger from fire, added, that I should myself be present every night.
Mr. Lumley remarked that if the house were burnt his customers would
also be burnt with it. This certainly was a valid objection, for though
he could have insured the building, he could not have insured his
audience.
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