MY FIRST PLAY—MARRIAGE OF THE DUKE OF CLARENCE—DEPARTURE FOR SHEERNESS
A subject of such deep and vital interest, to a mind so dramatically
constituted as mine, demands a separate chapter. My brother Charles came
home for the holidays, from Charterhouse, just in time to celebrate the
fourth anniversary of Cavendish’s birthday, and this we proposed to do
on a scale of unprecedented magnificence. For we entertained the
astounding idea of writing and performing a Tragedy, in which the
company, though consisting only of three persons, were to enact seven
characters, the principal _rôle_ being undertaken by the authoress, as
well as the stage management, decorations, costumes, properties and
business.
The plot was of a most thrilling and sensational character, for the
better understanding of which I subjoin a Bill of the Play—not as it
was, but as it ought to have been.
BY EXPRESS COMMAND AND UNDER THE ESPECIAL PATRONAGE
OF THE
COMMISSIONER OF THE DOCKYARD
WILL BE
_Performed for the first time on the 12th May 18—_
THE ROMANTIC AND TRAGICAL DRAMA
OF
“THE KING AND THE USURPER”
_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ_
CAVENDISH, │_King of Little │CAVENDISH
│ Britain, a │BOYLE.
│ Crusader, a Hero │
│ and a Lover._, │
OSMAN, │_An Ex-Slave, a │CHARLES
│ Rebel, and a │BOYLE.
│ Usurper,_ │
THEODORE, │_The Brother-in-Arms│MARY BOYLE.
│ and Confidant of │
│ the King_, │
SELIM │_Confidant of │MARY BOYLE.
│ Osman_, │
HIGH PRIEST, │ │CHARLES
│ │BOYLE.
IRENE, │_A Converted Slave, │MARY BOYLE.
│ betrothed to the │
│ King_, │
ZAYDAH, │_Her Countrywoman │CHARLES
│ and Confidante_ │BOYLE.
LOCALITY.—_The Capital of Little Britain._
PERIOD.—_Any time during the Crusades and in the very Dark Ages._
The name of Little Britain was given out of compliment to the tender
years of its monarch, and had no special geographical significance. The
curtain drew up on a scene in the palace, where Zaydah announces to her
mistress that Osman, the would-be usurper of the throne, desires an
audience in the absence of the King, he being deeply smitten with the
charms of his lovely fellow-countrywoman. The idea is revolting to the
mind of the beautiful Irene. She will not listen for one moment to one
word from the lips of this monster of ingratitude, who, not content with
endeavouring to supplant his master on the throne, would now attempt to
do so in the affections of his beloved. But the rebel is not to be so
easily dismissed, and with what a burst of virtuous indignation is he
received by the Prima Donna, in whose lofty breast love for one man and
hatred for another are now waging war! The words forbidding Osman to
lift her hand to his lips—lest it should not be “worth her King’s
acceptance” when soiled by his barbarous touch—were given in manner
worthy of Mrs Siddons, and fairly brought down the house; while the
swift transitions of dress and character would have done honour to Mr
Irving’s _Lyons Mail_, had that eminent actor lived at the time. You had
scarcely lost sight of the turban, trousers, and scimitar of the rebel,
when your eyes were riveted by the charming _confidante_, Zaydah, like
her lovely mistress, a convert to the Christian faith—for the play it
may be seen had a decidedly religious as well as moral tendency.
[Sidenote: I APPEAR AS A SOLDIER]
A tender love-scene had no sooner passed between His Sacred Majesty and
his betrothed wife, than he was to be seen in earnest conversation with
his friend and brother-in-arms, the noble Theodore. In the character of
this gallant soldier, Mary was universally allowed to show a masculine
vigour and a warlike deportment scarcely to be expected from an actress,
however talented. I can well remember how the pride of wearing a hat of
unequivocally modern aspect, and flourishing a naked sword, much bigger
than myself, made the moment of my appearance as Theodore one of the
proudest of my life! In a drama of this nature, virtue was of course
triumphant, vice and ingratitude defeated. A terrible scene ensued, in
which Osman appeared on the stage flying before an unseen enemy, a
victim to remorse, disappointed love and ambition, and commenced, before
the audience, to commit that suicide which was supposed to be completed
behind the scenes, whither he had repaired to change his dress. Here was
our sister Caroline, who, not sharing to the full our dramatic
enthusiasm, had refused to appear on the stage, but nevertheless “had
kindly consented” (after the fashion of Mr Sims Reeves) to take the part
of the “Insurrection,” in which character she was much admired in her
spasmodic performance on the kettledrum.
The last scene was the Celebration of the Nuptials of King Cavendish and
the lovely Irene, their hands being joined by a religious functionary of
a most venerable aspect, a snow-white beard descending to his girdle,
but of somewhat equivocal denomination. If any fault should be found
with an inexperienced though talented author, in respect of calling the
minister who performed the marriage ceremony a high priest, and dressing
him in Judaical rather than Christian vestments, she would offer as an
excuse the observation which a lady, famous for her lisp, once made when
speaking of the late Lord Lytton: “We mutht make allowantheth for the
ecthentrithiteh of geniuth.”
So fell the curtain on three first appearances, amidst the deafening and
enthusiastic applause of an audience composed of very different
ingredients; for the Admiral was there and his family, the clergyman and
doctor with their wives, the Officer in Command of the garrison, and
many other members of the highest importance and standing in the
dockyard, as well as minor officials, warders, boat’s crew, and domestic
servants, etc.
The whole community rang with the praises of the manner in which the
great Dramatic Entertainment had been carried out. Indeed I never can
forget the pride with which we listened to the verdict of the
head-gardener, who was a man of culture (in every sense I emphasize the
word), when he assured us that the latter part of the play was the
finest thing he had ever seen in all his life. The tailor (a convict)
who made the gentlemen’s costumes, also participated in the success, and
I remember the delight with which my mother heard, on the day following
the representation, how little Cavendish had thanked the _costumier_
most graciously for making the royal robes so well. Let me pause to say
they were indeed gorgeous, being constructed out of some old scarlet
moreen curtains, bound with yellow cotton ferret, the kingly cap
surmounted by a splendid brass ornament, which had fallen off one of the
old chairs. “I wish I was really a king,” said the little four-year-old
monarch to the convict, “and then I would set you free at once.”
[Sidenote: WELCOME TO THE DUKE]
Before taking leave of our life at Sheerness, I must mention that my
father and mother were appointed to meet and welcome the Duke and
Duchess of Clarence, when the Duchess first came to England as a bride.
I am not sure where the meeting took place, but I have a vague idea that
it must have been at Gravesend, and that my parents went there in the
yacht, called the _Chatham_, which was always at the Commissioner’s
disposal, and in which we often went to London, a voyage of exquisite
delight to us children. At all events, I know that Queen Adelaide always
said that my mother was her first English friend, while the Duke of
Clarence had already shown great favour to my father, and had stood
godfather to my poor little lost sister. The last incident that I can
remember at Sheerness is being taken to the Ramparts, to see the flags
of all the ships stationed in the harbour hoisted half-mast high, in
consequence of the death of King George III. I have but a dim
recollection of the circumstances of our departure, but I know it cost
Cavendish and myself bitter tears to part from our humble friends, the
boat’s crew, the warders, and the convicts, all of whom participated in
our regret.
[Sidenote: SOMERSET HOUSE]
Thus it will be seen I have lived in the reigns of four sovereigns, and
without myself having been attached to a Court, I have seen much at
different times of a Court life, as both my father and mother, my eldest
brother and sister, were all members of royal households. Moreover, our
lines fell in royal residences. My mother in her capacity of bed-chamber
woman to Queen Charlotte, had a small set of apartments apportioned to
her in the intervals of waiting (and even after the Queen’s death) in St
James’ Palace; and she subsequently became the occupant of an excellent
suite of rooms in the Palace of Hampton Court. Again, my father who—on
leaving the dockyard of Sheerness had an appointment at the Navy
Board—came into possession of a very good house attached to that office,
in Somerset House, which, likewise, comes under the category of royal
residences, or at least did so at one time. In the days of which I am
now speaking, there were no buildings on the opposite side of Wellington
Street, or, at all events, not sufficient to obstruct the pretty view of
the river as far as Westminster Abbey from our windows. Here, as at
Sheerness, we children enjoyed great privileges. The terrace overhanging
the Thames was a pleasant and favourite resort, and there was always a
boat at the disposal of the governess and the schoolroom, and two
boatmen of our own, successors in our regard to the Sheerness crew. One
of them in particular, an intelligent little hunchback, won our esteem,
although he, shortly after our arrival, obtained the name of “Danny
Man,” from his unworthy prototype in the celebrated novel of the
“Collegians,” a book which made so much noise at the time of its
publication.
It was our great delight to go by water on Sunday afternoon to
Westminster Abbey, and there is no doubt we occasionally cut a grand
figure on the river; for when my father went out he had a splendid
barge, rowed by boatmen clad entirely in scarlet, with black jockey
caps, such as in those picturesque old days formed part of that
beautiful river procession in honour of the Lord Mayor, on the 9th of
November, over the disappearance of which pageant I have often mourned.
We occasionally had picnics, and went down to Greenwich or elsewhere in
our splendid barge; and I well remember one day when I had the honour
(for so it appeared to me) of dancing a reel with one of our scarlet
boatmen and a blue jacket, a regular salt, who was one of the family.
Whilst we are on river topics, I cannot refrain from recalling an
incident which amused every one very much including the royal personage
who figures in it. One day at Hampton Court when the City barge came
down, we went to see her as she arrived in front of the water-gallery at
the end of the terrace in the royal gardens. Here the Duchess of
Clarence was to embark for luncheon, and, when the feast was ready,
naturally walked first towards the companion, which was narrow and did
not admit of two abreast. Suddenly, quick as a flash of lightning, came
the Lady Mayoress, and, brushing past her royal guest, exclaimed: “Beg
pardon, your Royal Highness, I take precedence here.”
And no doubt she had the _pas_, for the Lady Mayoress is queen of the
river to within a certain distance of Temple Bar; but the good lady
little knew of how much merriment she was the occasion.
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