_MR. BARLOW, with MASTERS SANDFORD and MERTON, at the QUEEN'S THEATRE,
to see "The Last Days of Pompeii."_
_Tommy._ Pray, Sir, what and where was Pompeii?
_Mr. Barlow._ It was, my dear TOMMY, a Roman municipality, full of
eligible villas, pleasantly situated in the immediate neighbourhood of
Mount Vesuvius, and within easy reach of the sea. It was "a place to
spend a happy day," and "there and back" from Naples formed one of the
chief excursions, at a very moderate rate, for the middle classes of
Neapolis.
They had just commenced this instructive and entertaining conversation,
when the curtain rising discovered to their eager eyes as artistic and
effective a scene (with the exception of stationary painted groups,
whose fixed attitude strangely contrasted with the movement of the
actors in front of them) as it had hitherto been their lot to behold.
As the play went on, HARRY requested permission of MR. BARLOW to ask a
question.
_Harry._ Did you not tell us, Sir, that the "e" in Pompeii was long?
_Mr. Barlow._ Indeed, HARRY, I did.
_Harry._ And did you not also tell us that one of the purposes of a
theatrical exhibition, such as this is, is the advancement of education
among all sorts and conditions of people?
_Mr. Barlow._ You are again correct, and truly I begin to perceive the
drift of your remark. Therefore let me tell you that had any Eton boy
said Pomp[ue]ii, instead of Pomp[=e]ii, he would speedily have been
taught the force of an _argumentum_ addressed, as was one of HORACE'S
Odes, _ad puerum_.
_Harry._ Surely too, Sir, a diphthong is long; so that the name
_Apoecides_ should not be rendered Appy-cides, as if the name were an
unaspirated pronunciation of _H_appy Cides.
To this MR. BARLOW replied that doubtless these honest folks had cogent
reasons for their mode of pronunciation, with which he advised HARRY to
become acquainted, before taking upon himself to pronounce an
unmitigated condemnation of them.
"You will now perceive, TOMMY," said MR. BARLOW, during the performance
of the Third Scene of the First Act, "that the crafty _Arbaces_ is
anxious to entice the sentimental young gentleman, _Appy Cides_, to
partake of the repast with him."
_Harry._ But, Sir, surely the young man's objection to accept the
invitation of the Egyptian, must arise from a sense of politeness on his
part, which, as there is nothing edible on the table, I fancy, except
one plate of fruit, will not permit him to deprive _Arbaces_ of even a
portion of a dessert that has, evidently, been only ordered for one.
_Mr. Barlow._ Indeed, HARRY, I think you are right, and had _Arbaces_
thought of it, I am certain he would willingly have extended his
hospitality to a bag of nuts or some cakes of gingerbread. But you must
remember that _Appy Cides_, or, as he seems to me, _Un-'appy Cides_, is
only the pupil of _Arbaces_, and does not appear at his tutor's table
until dessert-time.
_Tommy._ If I were there I would go and eat everything, and then I would
dance with one of the young ladies.
_Mr. Barlow._ I am sorry, TOMMY, that you are of that mind; and at
another time--for I perceive that the good people in the pit, by their
repeated cries of hush, and by the direction of their attention towards
us, wish rather to hear the dialogue on the stage than my discourse,
which is, after all, of a personal and private character--at another
time, I was about to say, I will read to you an instructive story on
greediness, entitled _Chares and the Convulsive Tailor_.
TOMMY looked on at the piece very sulkily for some time, being, indeed,
intent upon the antique cups and goblets and upon the plate of luscious
fruit which he had already noticed. But on seeing that neither _Arbaces_
nor the sentimental young gentleman partook of anything that was
provided for them, he began to have high opinion of their breeding, and
before the scene was finished was heartily sorry for his error, and
applauded all he saw and heard with increasing rapture and delight.
_Mr. Barlow._ You may, indeed, evince your gratitude to these worthy
people, since they have done all in their power to entertain and
instruct us. And, indeed, where all is done so vastly well, I know not
what to commend most, whether the sonorous voice and dignified
scoundrelism of that twice-crushed Priest of Isis, the iniquitous and
unprincipled _Arbaces_, played by the remarkably upright and
conscientious actor, MR. RYDER; or whether the gentle pleadings of the
blind _Nydia_--MISS HODSON is the young lady's name, my dear TOMMY, and
I have no doubt she saw and appreciated your boyish enthusiasm--or the
bearing of MR. RIGNOLD throughout a remarkably difficult and most trying
part. But, HARRY, what is your opinion?
_Harry._ Why, Sir, I am very little judge of these matters, but I
protest that I feel mightily indebted to those clever gentlemen, MASTERS
GORDON and HARFORD (I had well-nigh slipt into the error of saying
MASTERS MERTON and SANDFORD) for the scenery which has so admirably
served to illustrate this play. I am sorry that _Appy Cides_ was killed,
as, having become a Christian, there would, I am sure, have been every
opportunity open to him as an estimable young curate of evangelical
proclivities.
_Tommy_ (_during the cleverly arranged Amphitheatre Scene, Act IV._) I
am glad to see, Sir, that in this scene where we have so much to admire,
the tumblers----
_Mr. Barlow._ These, my dear TOMMY, represent the gladiators. And you
must remember that on the stage, where every combat has to be carefully
arranged both as to the number and fashion of the blows given and
received, and as to who shall be, and who shall not be the conqueror,
the contest of two determined champions, or rather of two champions
whose course has been previously determined, cannot fail to be of a most
thrilling and exciting character.
_Tommy._ O, Sir! they have given orders to let the Lion loose. O, Sir!
the Lion is coming!
_Harry._ I do not believe that all these fine gentlemen and ladies would
remain so still if there were, indeed, a Lion approaching.
_Mr. Barlow._ The Lion, my dear TOMMY, is a native of both India and
Africa. When they are hungry, they kill every animal they meet, and will
even devour little boys----
Here poor TOMMY'S trepidation was increased to such an extent that he
would have quitted his seat and the theatre, but for the sudden entry of
the traitor _Calenus_, whose charge of murder brought against his
master, the wily _Arbaces_, instantly distracted everyone's thoughts
from the coming of the expected monster.
Both MR. BARLOW and HARRY were loud in their praises of the dramatist
who had contrived to arouse in the breasts of the spectators such
emotions of fear, by the absence of the Lion, as could scarcely have
been equalled by his formidable presence.
"Indeed," said MR. BARLOW, "on reflection, I am led to consider the
chiefest part in this piece to be the Lion's share in it. He is spoken
of at the commencement of the play, he is often alluded to throughout,
and the bare mention of his name sensibly electrifies the spectators on
and off the stage. From the very first we are incited to expect his
appearance. He has not to roar to make himself dreaded. He has not even
to be present, either on or off, the scene.
_Harry._ This device is, in my humble judgement, worthy of high
commendation in the play-wright, who has thus evinced his reverence for
the words of the immortal WILLIAM, and whose plan is in cordial
agreement with _Bottom's_ opinion on this very matter, which, my dear
TOMMY, as you are as yet unacquainted with the works of SHAKSPEARE, I
will repeat to you. "_Masters_," says _Bottom_, "_You ought to consider
with yourselves, to bring in a lion among ladies is a most dreadful
thing, for there is not a more fearful wild fowl than your lion,
living_."
TOMMY was so forcibly struck by this adroit application of a famous
passage from the plays of SHAKSPEARE, that he determined, on the first
opportunity to read all these dramas through from beginning to end. And
having already set himself to the study of astronomy and mechanics,
solely in order to make himself as proficient in the art of applicable
illustrations as was his friend HARRY MERTON, TOMMY now found that he
had at least one hour of the day fully occupied.
On their return from the theatre MR. BARLOW, ever anxious for the
improvement of both his young friends, commenced reading to them the
story of _The Magistrate and the Elephant_; but, seeing that both his
young friends were fast asleep in their chairs, he lit his
chamber-candle and retired for the night.
On entering his room somewhat suddenly, a pair of boots, artfully placed
so as to rest on the door, which had been standing ajar, descended on
his head; and the next instant, on his taking one step forward, he came
in contact with a stout string, so skilfully fastened, as not only to
throw him sharply on the floor, but, being cunningly connected with the
fire-irons and the washing-stand, it brought down these articles also
with a great crash and much confusion. Before he could arise from his
painful position, TOMMY and HARRY had rushed up-stairs to render to
their revered preceptor what assistance was in their power. Being
questioned as to the hand they had had in this strange affair, MASTER
TOMMY, with becoming modesty, acknowledged that it was he who had
devised the scheme. "And," said he, "I protest I think it is no
inadequate representation of what must have been the consequence in
several houses during the Eruption of Mount Vesuvius in the _Last Days
of Pompeii_."
So saying, both the boys withdrew themselves rapidly from their beloved
tutor's apartment, and locked themselves into their own rooms. Soon
after this, they were all in a sound slumber, which lasted until a late
hour on the following morning.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A QUESTION FOR THE SHIRES.
"NOW, DEAR, WHICH DO YOU PREFER FOR THE 'TOPS'?--THE DEEPER SHADE, OR
VERY PALEST PINK?"]
* * * * *