KISS HAS SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THEATRICAL MANAGERS.
Meanwhile the gentlemen upstairs were discussing a serious subject.
"I told you about our friend's play," said Kiss to Mr. Lethbridge--"his
undeservedly unsuccessful play, produced a fort-night since at the Star
Theatre. There are lines in it which would make the fortune of a poet,
but these are not poetical days--on the stage. At a certain theatre,
where an eminent brother of the craft, to whom I take off my hat"--he
had no hat to take off, but he went through the necessary action--"has
the ear of the public, and a following which is simply amazing to
contemplate--at that theatre, I grant you, the poetical drama can be
produced with great results; and also at one other temple of the drama,
where a lady, admired and loved by all, reigns as queen; but produced
elsewhere, it is risky, very. It requires, for success, a perfect and
harmonious combination of rare forces, and such a following as I have
spoken of, and these are only to be found in those two theatres. Do you
take?"
"Do I understand you?" said Mr. Lethbridge, deeply interested. "Yes."
"With _such_ actors," continued Kiss, "with _such_ an organization,
with _such_ resources, with _such_ lavish, but not unwise, expenditure,
with _such_ a following, not only the poetical drama, but any kind of
drama, may be staged with assured result. Had Linton's play been
produced _there_, you would see him now all smiles instead of down in
the dumps. I don't say to him 'What is the use?' A man has his
feelings, and a dramatic author has a double share, which makes it bad
for him when the reverse happens. Linton's play was not produced at one
of the theatres I have indicated--more's the pity. But a time may come.
Do you hear me, Linton?"
"I am deeply grateful to you," said Mr. Linton. "You are the best
fellow in the world."
"That is sentiment, mere sentiment," said Kiss, coughing down the
compliment. "We are now talking business, and I am, so to speak,
showing our mutual friend the ropes, and letting him behind the scenes.
Not quite the fairy-land most people imagine. I was engaged for the run
of Linton's play, and as it ran off instead of on, I am now out of an
engagement. Do I blame him? Not a bit of it. He would have as much
reason to blame me. You see, Leth, there are certain rules and certain
fashions in our line which it is as dangerous to violate as in most
lines of business. For instance, would you take a shop on the wrong
side of the road?"
"No," replied Mr. Lethbridge, rather vaguely.
"There are business sides and unbusiness sides. Here, a shop is worth
five hundred pounds a year; across the road it isn't worth fifty. So
with theatres. Here, comedy; here, comic opera; here, melodrama; here,
spectacle; here, Shakespeare and the classic; and so on, and so on.
Risk the unsuitable and you come to grief. That's what we did; for I'm
bound to confess that Linton was largely influenced by my advice in the
matter. I had so firm a belief in the play that I thought it would
score anywhere. It _did_ score at the Star, but it scored the wrong
way, because it was played at the wrong theatre. A knock-down blow!
What then? Why, rise, and at it again!--yes, though you get a dozen
knock-down blows. Nil desperandum: that's my motto. Life's a fight. Are
you waiting for a cue, Linton?"
"You are quite right in your observations," said the poor author, with
a sad smile; "but it is easier for you to rise after a knock-down blow
than it is with me. You are a favourite with the public; they welcome
you the moment you make your appearance. The last time I appeared
before them they howled at me. And it meant so much! It was not only a
case of disappointed ambition and wounded vanity, but there was, at
home----I beg your pardon; I scarcely know what I was about to say."
Mr. Lethbridge thought of the empty platters which Kiss had spoken of,
and he gazed commiseratingly at Mr. Linton.
"Now, wouldn't you suppose," said Kiss, addressing himself to Mr.
Lethbridge, "that Linton was so overwhelmed at his failure that he had
no heart to try again? I am happy to say that is not the case. He has
already got another play ready, a better one than the last, a play that
is bound to hit 'em?"
"I am delighted to hear it," said Mr. Lethbridge, with a bright smile.
"I must come the first night; we'll all come--mother and Fanny and
Phoebe and Bob. I dare say we shall be able to find room in the pit."
"Plenty," observed Mr. Linton, moodily.
"And bring good thick sticks with you," said Kiss, "to help the
applause."
"When is it to be played," asked Mr. Lethbridge, laughing at the
suggestion of the big sticks, "and where?"
"Ah," said Kiss, "that's the rub. It is a question not yet decided."
"There are so many managers after it, I suppose?" said Mr. Lethbridge,
innocently. "Look at it from a business point of view; accept the best
offer at the best theatre."
Kiss leant back in his chair, and laughed long and loud. He had a
particularly merry laugh, and the sound was heard in the kitchen.
("That's Mr. Kiss laughing," said Fanny. "The author has said something
funny."
"I hope uncle will remember it," added Phoebe, "and tell us what it is.
How wonderfully an author must talk, and what wonderful minds they must
have! How ever do they think of things?")
"The fact is, Leth," said Kiss, presently, "we have not such a choice
of managers and theatres as you imagine."
"Why, surely," said Mr. Lethbridge, "they are only too ready to jump at
a good play when it is offered them!"
"If I were asked," said Kiss, "who were the worst possible judges of a
manuscript play, I should answer, theatrical managers. As regards
Linton's last effort, which he has at the present moment in his coat
pocket"--(Mr. Lethbridge knew from this remark what the great bulge was
at Mr. Linton's breast, concerning which he had been rather puzzling
himself; every now and then the dramatic author put his hand up to the
pocket which contained his manuscript, to make sure that the precious
documents were safe)--"as regards that," continued Kiss, "there is a
certain obtuseness on the part of managers which has to be overcome
before the new play sees the light. They have read it, and have shaken
their heads at it. Now I pit my judgment against theirs."
"So will I," said Mr. Lethbridge.
"And I say there's money and fame in Linton's last. By-the-way, Linton,
that's not at all a bad title for something--'Linton's Last.' Think of
it."
"At all events," observed the despondent author, with a lame attempt at
a joke, "there would be an end of me after that."
"Not at all, my boy; couldn't spare you. As I said, Leth, the managers,
all but one, shake their heads at Linton's play, and, like asses,
refuse it."
"All but one," said Mr. Lethbridge. "He's a fortunate man, whoever he
is."
"He is not _quite_ blind. Now, Leth, that is the real reason of our
visit to you."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Lethbridge, in great amazement. "I have no
influence, I assure you. I wish I had; I should be only too ready and
willing to use it."
"This one manager," pursued Kiss, "who proves himself to possess some
glimmering of common-sense, is, curiously enough, the manager of the
Star Theatre, where Linton's last piece was produced."
"And he wishes to produce the new one," said Mr. Lethbridge. "That is
very good of him."
"Oh, he knows what he is about, and he is awake to the fact that there
is a certain fortune in the play. But, for all that, he is a downy
bird--a very downy bird. He argues. Says he, 'Your last piece, Linton,
was almost a crusher to me.' At which Linton's heart sinks into his
shoes, and he groans, instead of meeting it lightly as he ought to do.
But that is a matter of temperament. 'I had to close my theatre,' says
the manager of the Star, 'not having another piece ready, and here I am
paying rent for shut doors. It has cost me so much,' mentioning a sum,
which my experience tells me is the actual, multiplied by four. But
that's neither here nor there. The manager of the Star goes on: 'To put
the new piece on will cost so much,' again mentioning a sum multiplied
by four. 'What do you propose to contribute toward it if I make the
venture?' 'I give you my brains,' says Linton; 'that is all I possess.'
'In that case,' says the manager, 'I am afraid it is not to be thought
of. I can't afford to stand the entire risk.' I, being present at the
interview, step in here. I don't intend to apologize to Linton when I
tell you, Leth, that he is not fit to manage his own business. 'You
_did_ produce a play of Linton's,' I say to the manager--it was called
_Boots and Shoes_, Leth; no doubt you remember it--'out of which you
made a pot of money.' 'A small pot,' says the manager of the Star; 'a
very small pot.' 'And,' says I, 'which you bought right out for the
miserable sum of fifty pounds.' 'Well,' says the manager, 'that was the
bargain, made with our eyes open. When I offered fifty pounds for
_Boots and Shoes_ I did it for the purpose of doing Linton a good turn.
He was hard up at the time, and I risked the fifty on the off chance.
If I make by one piece I lose by another.' 'Let us come to the point,'
says I, 'about the new piece. You want something contributed toward the
expense of getting it up. How much? Don't open your mouth too wide.'
'Two hundred pounds,' says he; 'not a penny less.' To tell you the
truth, Leth, I thought he was going to ask for more. It isn't a very
large sum, is it?"
"Not to some people," replied Mr. Lethbridge, with a cheerful smile.
"Pleased to hear you say so. There's more to tell. It is not putting
down the two hundred pounds and saying good-bye to it; it will come
back in less than no time. The first profits of the piece will be
devoted to repaying the amount, so that there is really very little
risk, if any. Having stated his conditions the manager of the Star
retires, and we retire also, to consider ways and means. Now I needn't
tell you, Leth, that we can just as easily lay our hands upon two
hundred pounds as we can bring the man in the moon down from the skies.
The question then is--how to raise it? A serious question. We consider
long, and at length a bright idea flashes upon me. I have, in an
indirect way, made the acquaintance of a man who discounts bills. The
acquaintance is slight--very slight; but faint heart, you know, and I
go to him. I will mention his name to you; but it must be done in
confidence--between ourselves."
"Yes," said Mr. Lethbridge.
"His name is Pamflett--Jeremiah Pamflett."
"I know the name of Pamflett," said Mr. Lethbridge. "The father of my
niece Phoebe, who is just now on a visit to us----"
"The dearest, sweetest girl!" said Kiss, in explanation to Mr. Linton.
"Has a housekeeper of that name. Can Mr. Jeremiah Pamflett be a
connexion of hers?"
"It is not unlikely," said Kiss; "to speak the truth, it is quite
likely. But that is not material, is it?"
"No," said Mr. Lethbridge, with a slight pause for consideration; "I
don't think it is. I believe he manages some kind of business for
Phoebe's father."
"For Miser Farebrother? Yes, that is so; but he does business also on
his own account. As I was saying, I go to Mr. Pamflett, and I lay the
case before him; but he says he doesn't see his way to doing a bill for
me and Linton without other names upon it. I run over the names of a
few friends who would be willing to sign it, but Mr. Pamflett still
demurs. It was then that the bright idea flashes upon me; I think of
you. To come to you and ask you to lend us two hundred pounds was, of
course, out of the question."
"I regret to say it would be," said Mr. Lethbridge. "Nothing would give
me greater pleasure if it were in my power."
"I know, and therefore we have not come here with any such idea; but
your name occurring to me while I was talking to Mr. Pamflett, I
naturally mention it. He meets me instantly. He knows all about you and
your family."
"He has never been here," interposed Mr. Lethbridge.
"He spoke most kindly of you, and said he had the greatest respect for
you----"
"To my knowledge," again interposed Mr. Lethbridge, "I have never seen
his face. I shouldn't know him from Adam if he stood before me now."
"Perhaps he knows of you through your niece. However it is, you would
not have been displeased had you heard him speak of you. The upshot of
the affair is that he makes a proposition by which we shall get the two
hundred pounds required to produce Linton's new play. The proposition
is--and bear in mind that Mr. Pamflett made it out of pure kindness,
and out of the respect in which he holds you--that Linton should draw a
bill at six months' date for three hundred pounds, and that you should
accept it. Linton, of course, as drawer, will endorse it, and so will
I. If I hand this bill to Mr. Pamflett to-morrow he will give Linton
his cheque for two hundred pounds, and our friend's fortune is made.
The resources of civilization, my dear Leth, are wonderful. That a mere
scratch of the pen can make a name famous, can make a worthy fellow
happy, can bring joy to the hearts of a good woman and her
children--you will love Mrs. Linton when you know her--can snatch a man
from the depths of despair--now, is it not wonderful to think of? They
will bless you, they will remember you in their prayers--but I will say
no more. It remains with you."
In this speech the actor's art, unconsciously exercised, made itself
felt, and it penetrated the very soul of good Uncle Leth.
"It does not enter my mind," said Mr. Lethbridge to Kiss, "that you
would deceive me----"
"I would cut my right hand off first."
"And therefore you will forgive me when I ask you if there is really no
risk?"
"I give you my word and honour, Leth," said Kiss, very seriously, "as a
man, and, what is more, as a judge of plays, that there is not the
slightest risk. Is my opinion, as an actor and an honourable man, of
any value?"
"Of the highest value!"
"There is not an atom of risk. Linton has his play in his pocket: he
shall read it to you--or, rather, _I_ will read it to you--before we
leave you to-night. Linton is an execrable reader of his own works. He
is so nervous and fidgety and _un_dramatic that he misses every point.
If ever I feel inclined to punch his head it is when he is reading his
manuscript to the company in the green-room. Many a good play has been
rejected because of this incapacity; many a bad play has been accepted
because of the fervour and the magnetism of the author, who, carried
away himself (frequently by inordinate vanity), has carried away a
theatrical manager, and actors too sometimes, and warped their
judgment. _I_ will read Linton's play fairly, so that you will be able
to form a proper estimate of it. Just consider, Leth: the bill is not
due for six months. In three or four weeks at the furthest Linton's
piece will be produced. The manager of the Star Theatre would like to
rush it on sooner, but I shall insist upon a proper number of
rehearsals. I shall stage-manage it myself, and that should be a
guarantee. Two weeks after the production of the piece I shall have the
pleasure--I beg Linton's pardon: _he_ will have the pleasure--of
handing you the sum of three hundred pounds in a new suit of clothes.
Not the money thus clothed, but the happy author. That will be four
months before the money is to be paid to Mr. Jeremiah Pamflett. You can
keep it and use it for those four months if you wish."
"I shall pay it at once," said Mr. Lethbridge, "and get back the bill."
"Then you will do it?"
"I will do it," said Mr. Lethbridge: "and I wish Mr. Linton every
success."
"Linton, old chap," exclaimed Kiss, "your fortune's made!"
Mr. Linton raised his eyes. The tears were brimming over in them, and
running down his face.
"How can I thank you?" he said to Mr. Lethbridge. "When everything
looked so dark, and when I did not know which way to turn----" He could
not go on.
"There's a silver lining to every cloud," said Kiss, "and if it can be
seen anywhere in this wilderness city it can be seen here, in my friend
Leth's house. I call a blessing upon it. When you crossed this
threshold you dropped on your feet. But I told you how it would be.
Now, Leth, perhaps you would like to hear that, hearing I was out of an
engagement, the manager of the Eden Theatre offered me terms, but I
have such faith in Linton's new piece that I refused and kept myself
open for it."
"I am perfectly satisfied," said Mr. Lethbridge.
"We can settle the affair at once, if you like," said Kiss.
"Certainly, at once," assented Mr. Lethbridge.
"I brought the bill with me, and here it is on stamped paper."
He produced it, and Mr. Lethbridge, reading it through, accepted it,
making it payable at the bank in which he had for so long a time held a
position of trust.
"Aunt Leth sent me to tell you," said Phoebe, popping in her head,
"that tea is ready."
"Thank you, Phoebe," said Mr. Lethbridge; "come in. I want to introduce
Mr. Linton to you."
How little did the bright and beautiful girl suspect that within the
last few moments an awful and tragic thread had been woven into her
life!
She entered the room, and looked timidly at the poor author.
"Not a word for me?" said Kiss.
"Yes, Mr. Kiss," said Phoebe, giving him her hand.
"Mr. Linton--Phoebe," said her uncle Leth, encircling her waist with
his arm. "This is my niece, Mr. Linton, whom I love as a daughter."
"Mr. Pamflett was speaking of you yesterday," said Mr. Linton.
"Mr. Pamflett!" exclaimed Phoebe, shrinking at the name.
"Yes. He said you were the most lovely girl in all London, and that
there was no service you could call upon him to render which he would
not cheerfully perform."
"I scarcely know him, sir," murmured Phoebe.
"Let us go in to tea," said Mr. Lethbridge, "or mother will be
impatient. A terrible tyrant, Mr. Linton; a terrible tyrant!"