1813-14. SEPARATION FROM FATHER. 73 study two characters in Betty's plays, which combination attracted two very full houses. In Dimond's play of 'The Royal Oak' I took the part of William Wyndham, Betty acting King Charles; and in Dr. Franklin's tragedy of the 'Earl of Warwick,' Betty took the Earl, and King Edward IV. was undertaken by myself. It was my first trial of strength with a player of celebrity, and in it I can bear testimony to the very clever acting of my opponent. In the scene where Warwick renders his sword to the king, he displayed an energy and dignity that well entitled him to the fervent applause lavished on him. I did my best with the two subordinate parts, and lost no ground in public estimation by the venture. Its success led to an engagement for its repetition in the ensuing season at Newcastle, for which town my father was to set off early the next morning. Unhappily, under perhaps the excitement of this unexpected stroke of good-fortune, my father's temper this evening was less within control than usual, and very angry and bitter words after we had returned to our lodgings made a severance between us, and we parted for the night with the understanding that in future we were not to occupy the same house. I was left with a portion of the company to act another week in Glasgow, whilst he went to open the Newcastle theatre. The receipts, including my benefit, were very large, and were paid at once into my father's account. My brother and I set out in the second week of January with no very happy feelings. I had no longer a home; and my companion, my early playfellow and friend, could not be indifferent to the heaviness of heart under which I laboured. Our journey was long and tedious; the coaches then, except the mails, generally carried six inside, and we had from Edinburgh our full complement. The snow was falling fast, and had already drifted so high between the Ross Inn and Berwick-on-Tweed, that it had been necessary to cut a passage for carriages for some miles. We did not reach Newcastle until nearly two hours after midnight; and fortunate was it for the theatre and ourselves that we had not delayed our journey, for the next day the mails were stopped; nor for more than six weeks was there any conveyance by carriage between Edinburgh and Newcastle. After some weeks a passage was cut through the snow for the guards to carry the mails on horseback, but for a length of time the communications every way were very irregular. I took up my abode in a small respectable comfortable lodging, and was put upon a salary of three pounds per week. By the intermediation of friends a reconciliation took place with my father, but I continued my separate residence. The theatre had been well attended during Betty's performances, and I have pleasure in recalling the talent he displayed. In Aaron Hill's translation of Voltaire's 'Zaire,' there was a depth of feeling in his latter scenes of Osmyn that held the audience wrapt in breathless attention; and of all the representations I have seen of Sir Edward Mortimer, he came next to Kean (though longo intervallo, for Kean was unapproachable in that character). We met again in the same plays at Glasgow, and he had his full share of popular favour, though not quite satisfied with the measure dealt out to him. The houses were overflowing, and rendered a good harvest to him and the treasury of the theatre. I do not think he studied improvement in his art, and in consequence deteriorated by becoming used-up in the frequent repetition of the same parts. 'King John' was produced by me with much care; the company being very good for a provincial set, it was well acted. Huntley made a very fair country John, whilst Hubert, Salisbury, Pandulf, and Constance were most respectably filled. Falconbridge was a great favourite of mine, and I had drilled the Prince Arthur by frequent rehearsals to cause abundant tears and hysterics in the boxes. The play was repeated several nights, maintaining the course of a very productive season. * My brother had expressed his earnest wish to enter the army, but the cost of a commission, with the expense of his outfit, was beyond my father's means, although the recent tide of good-fortune had put him in funds beyond his usual average. Whatever interest we could make was unavailably tried to procure an ensigncy in a Militia regiment, from which my brother might afterwards volunteer into the line. The only resource left to him was to accept a letter of recommendation from Colonel Birch, R.E., to Sir Thomas * See note on Major Macready at end of this chapter. 1813-14. BROTHER ENTERS ARMY. 75 Graham (afterwards Lord Lynedoch), commanding the British force in the Netherlands, and take his chance as a volunteer. He was accordingly provided with materials for uniform and all necessaries for campaigning, and in his sixteenth year took leave of us to embark at Harwich. It was with a heavy heart I parted from him, a boy in years, though with a strength of mind and purpose that justified my confidence in his bearing himself gallantly through the dangerous and doubtful path before him. He met on board with an officer, Captain Herbert, who showed him great kindness, and, being also on his way to join the army, travelled in company with him. Sir Thomas Graham gave him a very kind reception and appointed him to serve with the 30th Regiment, besides which, though messing with the officers, he carried his musket for three months, when he was gazetted ensign in the same regiment. For many weeks we heard nothing of him, and I remember well the agony of heart with which I read the particulars of the disastrous repulse from Bergen-op-zoom, picturing his lifeless form among the youthful victims of that unfortunate attempt. We heard in the course of some weeks that his regiment was not in the action, and after some trifling affair before a small fort on the Scheldt, the abdication of Napoleon and his retirement to Elba left our troops to enjoy themselves at peace in their quiet quarters. My brother had been living with my father, and on his departure I could not be blind to the state of loneliness in which he would feel himself. After revolving the matter for some time in my mind, I imparted to our friends, the Misses Hedley, my intention of returning to his house, although I felt obliged to predict that I should one day be upbraided by him with seeking my own convenience in the act. These kind friends endeavoured to persuade me that it would not be so; but even if it should be, they were convinced I should derive satisfaction from the intention with which it was done. It may seem, that I judged hardly of my father in this anticipation; I hope not. Of the infirmity of my own temper I have been unhappily but too conscious; it has been the source of most of the misery I have known in life; but when, under strong excitement, his passion took the reins, there was no curb to the violence of his language. Words uttered in an infuriated mood are too often barbed with insult, and, rankling long, can never be entirely forgotten. He had many good qualities, but like other men he had his faults, and was occasionally unscrupulous in the pain he inflicted. To others I believe he would acknowledge my value and join in commendation of me, but to myself he so depreciated my worth, that I did not feel sure of my ability to obtain a common livelihood. He was sensible, I had reason to think, of my motives in rejoining him, and for some time we lived together on the best terms, but my "prophetic soul" was eventually justified in an outburst of his impatience. Like many parents, he would expect me to be better informed on particular subjects than sundry of our acquaintance or friends, but to "know better than your father" was a crime, like parricide to Solon, impossible to be conceived. In the endeavour to state the whole truth and nothing but the truth, it is almost impossible to find characters of unmixed good, or to expect that that portion of humanity with which we may be bound in relationship should form an exception in its infallibility to mankind in general. My dear father had his failings intermingled with many amiable impulses, and probably his position as manager of a theatre may have tended to dilate in him that undue appreciation of his talents which I have noticed conspicuous in many Irishmen. A theatre is like a little kingdom, shut out from intimacy and sympathy with the little world around it, in which the little monarch has his flatterers and courtiers, as sycophantic and subservient as in real courts. Upon his talents, his virtues, and even on his person, he receives the adulatory homage of those he employs; and with such an exalted opinion of himself, as this incense must excite, it cannot be a matter of surprise if he should not always hold the scale of justice with a steady and impartial hand. My father was impatient of opinions in opposition to his own, and as on many subjects I thought differently from him, his displeasure was at times very painfully felt by me. In fact, I was kept too much. in a dependent state, when I ought to have been extending my experience by more direct and unrestrained commerce with the youth of my age and the world about me. A few weeks had elapsed after my brother's departure, when an unsettled account with the Birmingham proprietors, which threatened embarrassment, induced my father to withdraw from 1813-14. COMES OF AGE. 77 the theatre and take up his abode at Carlisle, where he was quite unknown. In the meantime our prosperous career was uninterrupted at Newcastle. A drama had been successfully introduced at Drury Lane, taken from Mrs. Sheridan's pleasing and instructive Eastern story of' Nourjahad,' entitled 'Illusion, or the Fortunes of Nourjahad.' From the original story I added some passages and bestowed all possible pains on its production: Huntley acted the Sultan, and Nourjahad was my character. It was very attractive, followed by the romance of 'Aladdin or the Wonderful Lamp,' in which for several nights I acted Aladdin; and the daily accounts of our receipts sent to my father at Carlisle in his own words "astonished him." It was during the successful run of these pieces, that I had just cause to condemn myself for violent and intemperate resentment of some omission or mistake committed by the prompter, whose name was Skinner. How bitterly have I reproached myself for these escapes of passion! In the course of this winter we read of the appearance and disappearance of Mr. Huddart in the character of Shylock at Drury Lane, and of some other débutants. Soon after another announcement was made of "a Mr. Kean" in the same character. When I heard it, I remembered that it must be the performer I had seen in the ballet of 'Alonzo and Imogene 'in the Birmingham theatre. I thought the committee must be at their wits' end, and indeed there had been so many failures, the theatre was almost in a bankrupt state; but how was I surprised to hear and read of the intelligent and energetic performance of the new actor in Shylock, and further astonished to receive the accounts of his triumphant success in Richard III., which had placed him, as an artist of extraordinary and surprising genius, at the head of his profession, exciting the admiration of the playgoing world. In Othello he confirmed public opinion, which justly recognised in it a masterpiece of tragic power and skill. It was in this year (1814) I attained the age of twenty-one, and my birthday was kept by an entertainment I gave the company in the green-room, followed by a dance on the stage after the audience had left the theatre. In strict candour I ought not to omit the mention of those errors of my youth that might have entailed more serious consequences. At this time I had become entangled in an attachment to a lady some nine years |