of the character that I had ever witnessed, giving me reason to entertain sanguine hopes of a great success in its performance; but, alas! whether from failure of voice or general deficiency of power, the attempt fell ineffectively upon the audience, and the character was left, as it has been since the days of Quin and Henderson, without an adequate representative. The play was repeated on Monday, May 15th, 1826. Before the curtain rose I was in the green-room, and spoke with Elliston, who complained of being ill, and appeared so, smelling very strongly of ether. As the evening wore on he gave signs of extreme weakness, was frequently inaudible, and several times voices from the front called to him to "speak up." There was not on this occasion even the semblance of an effort at exertion, and in the fifth act he remained silent for some little time, then, in trying to reach the side-scene, reeled round and fell prostrate before the foot-lights. It was a piteous spectacle! A sad contrast to the triumphs of his earlier popularity! The audience generally attributed his fall to intoxication, but without just cause. He was really indisposed, and the remedy from which he sought support was too potent. He was conveyed to his dressing-room almost insensible, and never appeared upon the stage again. The following night was my benefit, when Young, never forgetful of the like courtesies he had received from me, acted Iago to my Othello. The house was well filled, and on the Saturday following I played for the last time in London previous to my departure for America. Leaving London, engagements at Bristol and Bath detained me another week from my cottage-home, whence, after the enjoyment of a short holiday, I proceeded to various country theatres. At Birmingham, now under the management of Mr. Richard Brunton, a truly worthy man, I acted one night with the desire of assisting him in his difficult enterprise. The receipt was £180, on which I reduced my charge to £30, leaving him very grateful and very happy at this unexpected addition to his resources. My plan of visiting the United States this year being now determined on, I went by appointment on the 22nd of July, 1826, to Liverpool, to meet there Mr. Stephen Price, the manager of the Park Theatre, New York, and conclude an agreement with him. 1826. STEPHEN PRICE, OF NEW YORK. 309 startled me with The burly appearance and bluff manners of the American manager did not much prepossess me, nor was I altogether at ease on finding him reluctant to commit to paper the terms of our contract. But I was resolute in refusing to undertake the voyage on a mere verbal engagement; and the conditions, £50 per night, were therefore finally recorded in black and white. This business was no sooner settled than he a piece of intelligence, as yet a secret, which sank like a dead weight on my spirits. He had become the lessee of Drury Lane theatre; Bish, the lottery-office keeper, to whom it had been let, having made over to him his agreement for a lease on very advantageous terms. Among the many injurious measures that weighed upon the theatrical art in our country. this was a signal one, resulting from the mercenary character of the patentee. Objection to a foreigner as director of a national establishment, if qualified by talent and accomplishment for the office, must be considered narrow-minded and illiberal; but Mr. Price had no pretensions to justify his appointment. He was a reckless speculator, his betting-book for Epsom, Ascot, &c., being made up for him by Gully the pugilist, who had amassed a fortune by his ventures on the turf. He was boastful and overbearing, not popular even with his own countrymen; of the dramatic art he could only judge. by the public appreciation; of dramatic literature he knew nothing; of the opportunities of education he had taken little or no advantage; in conversation his only argument was a wager in short he was not a gentleman, and in an evil hour was permitted to preside over the fortunes of the British drama. But the only consideration of those to whom the patents of the Drury Lane and Covent Garden theatres had been entrusted was the amount of interest they could obtain for their shares; the improvement of the public taste, the cultivation of dramatic literature, or the respectability of the audiences being subjects below their liberal and enlightened views. The needful preparations for my departure now engrossed my attention. Having business to transact in London, I took leave of my friends there at a parting dinner at the Piazza coffeehouse, and made arrangements at Denbigh for the care of my little property left behind during my absence. On Monday, August 21st, 1826, Hamlet' was acted at Birmingham, as a farewell performance, to a crowded house, the receipts of which were to be equally divided between the manager and myself. An extract from a letter to my dear wife on this occasion will best relate the disastrous result: "The house was £186 10s. My address, which was not expected, excited a very strong feeling, and was rapturously received. When Brunton came into my room with the account, I deducted with my pencil £26 10s. for him, and divided the remainder with him: £80 for myself, leaving £106 10s. for him, asking him if he was satisfied. He was exceedingly grateful, much more than satisfied.' Well, all this was very pleasant. He was to wait on me at my hotel, Hen and Chickens, the following morning with the cash. But on the following morning the news was brought by Mr. John Reynolds that the theatre had been entered by robbers in the night and £200 taken out of the treasury. Poor Brunton was in a dreadful state, on his own, and also on my account. He is much to be pitied, for these two nights, on which I have acted here, are the only ones that have reached £100 through the whole season. To set his mind in some measure at rest I have this morning written him a note as a receipt in full, releasing him from the debt of £80 in which he imagined himself engaged to me. The money is a severe loss, but I can bear it, and I thank God I can. To further reimburse poor Brunton, who would otherwise be unable to meet the salaries of his actors on Saturday, I have engaged to act Virginius here to-morrow evening. The boxes are I understand already all taken. I shall not receive a shilling for either night: it would not be right that I should—and you would be much prouder that your husband should be right than rich, would you not? I shall be at Cheltenham on Friday you will I hope see me on Tuesday evening. Did you leave Denbigh, our ponies, and the hills with a heavy heart?" On August 24th, 1826, as I had promised, I acted Virginius to a very full house, the receipt of which was £170 10s., a sum that lightened considerably the instant pressure on poor unfortunate Brunton. The letter which he sent me on the "Theatre Royal, Birmingham, 23rd August, 1826. "MY DEAR SIR,-If in the agitated state of my mind, occasioned by the variety of circumstances which have occurred, I should feel myself unable to reply to the unparalleled generosity and kindness which you have so generally manifested towards me, but more particularly in your note of this morning, you, I am sure, will excuse it. Of this, however, be assured, that your kindness shall ever live in the most grateful feelings of my heart, and it shall be my greatest pride through every action of my life to merit the high and enviable appellation you have been pleased to bestow on me, 'your friend.' "RICHARD BRUNTON. "To W. C. Macready, Esq., Hen and Chickens Hotel.” "Theatre Royal, Birmingham, August 24th, 1826. DEAR SIR,-Your truly liberal and disinterested conduct towards the head of the establishment of which we are members has excited in us all .. 1826. A TESTIMONIAL. 311 morning of the 23rd is inserted below, with those which passed between Mr. Brunton's company and myself. My wife and sister left our cottage at Denbigh on the 24th, and awaited my arrival at Liverpool. One night's performance at Bristol on Monday, 28th, and one at Liverpool on Wednesday, 30th, closed my professional engagements for this year in England before audiences that received my parting acknowledgments with the warmest tokens of personal interest. The kind attentions of my so warm a feeling of admiration and esteem, that we are desirous, before you quit your native land, of offering you our cordial thanks for your generosity, in which we all indirectly participate, and our best wishes for your health, prosperity, and safe return. We honour the motives which have induced you to act as you have done on the present occasion, and we feel grateful to you, not only for this individual instance of your kindness, but for supporting by your example, both in public and private life, the respectability of a profession which has been too much degraded by many who ought to have sustained its credit and character. We regret that the British stage should lose you, even for a short period, but earnestly hope your talents will be as justly appreciated, and even more liberally rewarded in the New World than they have been in Britain, and that you will shortly return with a large increase of fame and fortune. Accept the humble tribute of our entire esteem, which we respectfully offer, and in bidding you farewell permit us to subscribe ourselves, Dear sir, "Hen and Chickens Hotel, August 25th, 1826. "MY DEAR SIR, --I return you and the ladies and gentlemen of the Birmingham theatre my heartfelt acknowledgments for the kind and flattering letter which you put into my hand last night. If I did not feel honoured and gratified by expressions so full of regard I must be insensible indeed. But you old school-fellow, John Shaw Leigh, previous to our embarkation are not to be forgotten. The Canada, Captain Rogers, a vessel of 600 tons, one of the largest and swiftest of the line. then running between New York and Liverpool, was our ship, and Friday, September 1st, the day appointed for its departure; but whether to humour the superstition of seamen, or from some other cause, we did not start till Saturday. Our passage was a rough one, but, before the application of steam, was considered a good one, being made in twentysix days, during most of which we were confined to our berths by the tempestuous weather, so that there was little opportunity for observation, one day only differing from another in the degree of rolling and tossing that we had to endure from the time we passed Cape Clear to our reaching the Narrows, the entrance to the beautiful bay of New York. Captain Rogers was a noble specimen of an American seaman; he had been sailing-master of Commodore Decatur. Our fellow-passengers were, with the exception of two British officers, commercial men, and not particularly interesting. Our chief acquaintance was Captain Lang of the 71st. He came down to my state-room (as the little closet in which I lay was called) one morning, to ask me if I had ever seen the manœuvre of wearing a ship, and begged me to come up, as they were preparing for the work. It was blowing very hard, and I had no great curiosity in respect to the operation; but I would not seem to undervalue his courtesy, and made the best of my way to the deck, where, holding fast by the companion, I saw our craft, that appeared in port of a conspicuous size, now tossed like a little cork in the deep trough of the sea, which was, in sea-phrase, running mountains high. overrate an act of ordinary good feeling. A far greater sacrifice than any I can have made would be more than compensated by your liberal estimation of it. I am therefore the more indebted to you, and through my life I shall treasure this friendly testimony of your approbation. From my heart I wish you generally and individually every success, and again thanking you most sincerely, and bidding you farewell, "I am, dear sir, "Yours and the ladies and gentlemen, most obliged, &c., "W. C. MACREADY. To B. P. Bellamy, Esq., Theatre Royal, Birmingham." |