To Tell The Truth, I Suspect That I Was Not Shown Fair Play, And That
There Was Management At The Bottom; For Without Vanity, I Think I Was A
Better Actor Than He.
As I had not embarked in the vagabond line
through ambition, I did not repine at lack of preferment; but I was
grieved to find that a vagrant life was not without its cares and
anxieties, and that jealousies, intrigues, and mad ambition were to be
found even among vagabonds.
Indeed, as I become more familiar with my situation, and the delusions
of fancy began to fade away, I discovered that my associates were not
the happy careless creatures I had at first imagined them. They were
jealous of each other's talents; they quarrelled about parts, the same
as the actors on the grand theatres; they quarrelled about dresses; and
there was one robe of yellow silk, trimmed with red, and a head-dress
of three rumpled ostrich feathers, which were continually setting the
ladies of the company by the ears. Even those who had attained the
highest honors were not more happy than the rest; for Mr. Flimsey
himself, our first tragedian, and apparently a jovial, good-humored
fellow, confessed to me one day, in the fullness of his heart, that he
was a miserable man. He had a brother-in-law, a relative by marriage,
though not by blood, who was manager of a theatre in a small country
town. And this same brother, ("a little more than kin, but less than
kind,") looked down upon him, and treated him with contumely, because
forsooth he was but a strolling player. I tried to console him with the
thoughts of the vast applause he daily received, but it was all in
vain. He declared that it gave him no delight, and that he should never
be a happy man until the name of Flimsey rivalled the name of Crimp.
How little do those before the scenes know of what passes behind; how
little can they judge, from the countenances of actors, of what is
passing in their hearts. I have known two lovers quarrel like cats
behind the scenes, who were, the moment after, ready to fly into each
other's embraces. And I have dreaded, when our Belvidera was to take
her farewell kiss of her Jaffier, lest she should bite a piece out of
his cheek. Our tragedian was a rough joker off the stage; our prime
clown the most peevish mortal living. The latter used to go about
snapping and snarling, with a broad laugh painted on his countenance;
and I can assure you that, whatever may be said of the gravity of a
monkey, or the melancholy of a gibed cat, there is no more melancholy
creature in existence than a mountebank off duty.
The only thing in which all parties agreed was to backbite the manager,
and cabal against his regulations. This, however, I have since
discovered to be a common trait of human nature, and to take place in
all communities. It would seem to be the main business of man to repine
at government. In all situations of life into which I have looked, I
have found mankind divided into two grand parties; - those who ride and
those who are ridden. The great struggle of life seems to be which
shall keep in the saddle. This, it appears to me, is the fundamental
principle of politics, whether in great or little life. However, I do
not mean to moralize; but one cannot always sink the philosopher.
Well, then, to return to myself. It was determined, as I said, that I
was not fit for tragedy, and unluckily, as my study was bad, having a
very poor memory, I was pronounced unfit for comedy also: besides, the
line of young gentlemen was already engrossed by an actor with whom I
could not pretend to enter into competition, he having filled it for
almost half a century. I came down again therefore to pantomime. In
consequence, however, of the good offices of the manager's lady, who
had taken a liking to me, I was promoted from the part of the satyr to
that of the lover; and with my face patched and painted, a huge cravat
of paper, a steeple-crowned hat, and dangling, long-skirted, sky-blue
coat, was metamorphosed into the lover of Columbine. My part did not
call for much of the tender and sentimental. I had merely to pursue the
fugitive fair one; to have a door now and then slammed in my face; to
run my head occasionally against a post; to tumble and roll about with
Pantaloon and the clown; and to endure the hearty thwacks of
Harlequin's wooden sword.
As ill luck would have it, my poetical temperament began to ferment
within me, and to work out new troubles. The inflammatory air of a
great metropolis added to the rural scenes in which the fairs were
held; such as Greenwich Park; Epping Forest; and the lovely valley of
the West End, had a powerful effect upon me. While in Greenwich Park I
was witness to the old holiday games of running down hill; and kissing
in the ring; and then the firmament of blooming faces and blue eyes
that would be turned towards me as I was playing antics on the stage;
all these set my young blood, and my poetical vein, in full flow. In
short, I played my character to the life, and became desperately
enamored of Columbine. She was a trim, well-made, tempting girl, with a
rougish, dimpling face, and fine chestnut hair clustering all about it.
The moment I got fairly smitten, there was an end to all playing. I was
such a creature of fancy and feeling that I could not put on a
pretended, when I was powerfully affected by a real emotion. I could
not sport with a fiction that came so near to the fact. I became too
natural in my acting to succeed.
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