1820. Refusal of Pecuniary Gifts. 163 (which I did most reluctantly) by a personal indignity. Emery, who was present, came up to me when Abbott left the room and took me by the hand, saying, "My dear William, if it had been my own son, I would not have wished you to have done other than you did." The issue was that Abbott applied to Mr. Richard Jones to be his friend on the occasion, who at once told him that he was greatly to blame and in the wrong throughout. The terms of an apology to me were settled between Jones and my friend Lieutenant Twiss of the Royal Engineers, which, repeated by Abbott, called forth from me an expression of regret that I should have suffered myself to be provoked to such an extremity. It had been a practice, as was said, of long standing for the frequenters of the theatres to send, on the performers' benefit nights, presents of more or less value to the artists whom they particularly approved. This custom seemed to me to compromise the actor's independence, and in that belief I had laid it down as a rule not to accept more than the value of the tickets required. I will not contend for the prudence of this determination; with me it was a matter of feeling. I could not consider myself sitting down to table on terms of social equality with a man to whom I had been obliged for the gift of five, ten, or twenty pounds. I may have been too fastidious; but I have never had cause to regret. the line of conduct adopted in this particular. Among others, on the occasion of this benefit, Lord Glengall sent me ten pounds and Colonel Berkeley fifteen, which I returned with letters that elicited from them the admission that it was "impossible to be offended" with me. CHAPTER XIV. 1820-1821-1822.-Country engagements-Dublin-Newcastle-AberdeenMontrose-Dundee-Perth -Future wife-Lancaster — Liverpool-George Meredith-Fifth Covent Garden season-Iachimo-Zanga-Reading MSS. for dramatic authors- Wallace'-Major Cartwright-Progress in public opinion-Vandenhoff- Mirandola '-Engagement of Miss Atkins at Bristol -Partial restoration of Shakespeare's text in Richard III.-John KembleWainwright Damon and Pythias'--Character of Hamlet-Henry IV.Portrait by Jackson-Story of the child saved from fire-Country engagements-Highland tour-Second Covent Garden engagement--Difficulties in the management-Cassius-Othello. THE close of this season found me in a very different position from that in which I had stood at its opening. Engagements from country managers poured in upon me, and filled up the whole term of my vacation before I left London. Through the interest of the Duke of York, the patent of the Dublin Theatre had been given by George IV. to Mr. Henry Harris, who fitted up the rotunda as a temporary theatre (capable of holding about two hundred) until the new one he had to build should be completed. My summer engagements began there, where the performance of 'Virginius' made quite a sensation. It was acted to crowded houses seven nights out of the ten, to which my stay was limited. Sheil reached Dublin from circuit in time to be present at one of the representations. After the play he came and sat down beside me in the green-room, and was silent for some time: at length, "Well, Macready," he began, "what am I to say to you? I really don't know; there is nothing I have seen like it since Mrs. Siddons!" Such an eulogy from such a judge was worth to me the acclamations of a crowded theatre. My route lay onward to Newcastle-on-Tyne, and from a severe hurt in my knee, got by a fall at Dublin, I was obliged to travel in post-chaises and as rapidly as I could bribe the post-boys to go. My old friends there welcomed me with the old cordiality, and, as in Dublin, I continued to reap a rich harvest. From thence to Aberdeen was my point of travel, and, on account of my wounded knee and the necessity of journeying all night, I hired a carriage at Newcastle, setting out after the play on Saturday night. On Saturday_midnight I reached Woodhaven on the shore of the Firth of Tay, where I had to wait two hours for the tide to cross to Dundee. Dressing and breakfasting at Montrose, I reached Aberdeen about noon, where I saw my name announced in the playbills for Richard III. as I passed from my hotel to the theatre. Two young girls were walking up and down the stage, apparently waiting for the business of the morning to begin. One, the manager's daughter was a common-looking person; the other, plainly but neatly dressed, was distinguishable for a peculiar expression of intelligence and sprightly gentleness. She rehearsed with great propriety the part of the Prince of Wales, and was introduced to me by the manager as my Virginia for the next night's play. On the following morning she came an hour before the regular summons to go through the scenes of Virginia and receive my instructions. She was dressed in a closely-fitting tartan frock, which showed off to advantage the perfect symmetry of her sylph-like figure. Just developing into womanhood, her age would have been guessed more, but she had not quite reached fifteen. She might have been Virginia. The beauty of her face was more in its expression than in feature, though no want of loveliness was there. Her rehearsals greatly pleased me, her acting being so much in earnest. There was a native grace in her deportment and every movement, and never were innocence and sensibility more sweetly personified than in her mild look and speaking eyes streaming with unbidden tears. I soon learned her little history; she was the support of her family, and was the same little girl whom I had rebuked some years before for supposed inattention at the Glasgow Theatre. My engagement with Mr. Ryder was for three weeks, divided between the towns of Aberdeen, Montrose, Dundee, and Perth; and as the same plays were repeated by the same performers my oppor 1820. Future Wife. 165 tunities of conversation with this interesting creature were very frequent, which as they occurred, I grew less and less desirous of avoiding. Her strong good sense and unaffected warmth of feeling received additional charms from the perfect artlessness with which she ventured her opinions. The interest with which I regarded her I persuaded myself was that of an older friend, and partook of a paternal character. All the advice my experience could give her in her professional studies she gratefully accepted and skilfully applied, showing an aptness for improvement that increased the partiality she had awakened in me. I could have wished that one so purely minded and so naturally gifted had been placed in some other walk of life; but all that might be in my power for her adt vancement I resolved to do. On the last night of my engagemenat Perth I sent for her into my room, and presenting her with the handsomest shawl I could procure in Perth, I bade her farewell, desiring her, if at any time my influence or aid in any way could serve her, to apply to me without hesitation, and assuring her she might rely on always finding a ready friend in me. As I gazed upon her innocent face beaming with grateful smiles, the wish was in my heart that her public career might expose her to no immodest advances to disturb the serenity or sully the purity of her unspotted mind. My way lay far away from her, but her image accompanied me in my southward journey, and I may say, indeed never after left me. At Lancaster I acted two nights, reaching Liverpool in good time for my fortnight's engagement. My early arrival allowed me to be present at a public dinner given in aid of the Liverpool Theatrical Fund, at which the mayor, Sir J. Tobin, presided. To this as to all the other provincial theatrical funds I subscribed my £10; but I should have acted more wisely in keeping my money in my pocket. A very considerable sum was accumulated in the course of a few years, which was, unjustly and dishonestly in my opinion, as a manifest diversion from the purpose of the endowment, divided amongst the few remaining members of the fund. If no legitimate claimants for relief were left, it ought to have been transferred to some other similar charity, or the different contributions returned to their subscribers. The fortnight at Liverpool realised for me a handsome sum, though my plays were very indifferently mounted. The 'sweet Virginia' is thus depicted in the beautiful lines of Knowles: "I know not whether in the state of girlhood Or womanhood to call her. 'Twixt the two But she was represented in Liverpool by a lady of considerable talent in maternal characters, looking quite old enough to have been the mother of Virginius. These inappropriate assumptions call to remembrance the old player who complained of his manager's "cruelty" in superseding him in the character of the youthful George Barnwell, after he had successfully acted it for upwards of fifty years. The part of Lucius, who brings to Virginius the tidings of the horrible outrage on his child, was entrusted to a Mr. Cartlitch, whose deeply comical tragedy convulsed the audience with laughter, and the actors at rehearsal were scarcely less amused when Mr. Bass. as Icilius replied to the playful question of Virginius, "Do you wait for me to lead Virginia in, or will you do it?" "Whichever you please, sir." Notwithstanding, the houses were very good, and I returned to London for my fifth Covent Garden season, set up in funds, and with cheering onward prospects. My first savings went on a long and not uninteresting venture. One of the brothers of a Birmingham family, with whom in early life we had lived in close intimacy, was making preparations for a voyage to Van Diemen's land. With several children, a second wife, who soon added largely to their number, and what amount of money he could scrape together from the sale of a heavily encumbered estate, he looked the future boldly in the face; but by the outlay he had been obliged to make was straitened for the small sum of £200, which I had the satisfaction of lending him. His career was one of continual crosses, against all of which he most manfully held up. He was cheated by the person entrusted with his funds for the purchase of sheep; was kept out of his grant of land for more than six years, obtaining it at last only by parliamentary influence-engaging the interference of the Colonial Secretary: his ship, which he fitted out for the South Sea whale fishery, was wrecked; and, finally, he had to witness the total destruction by fire of the wooden warehouse he had built for the stowage of all his goods, furniture, and implements-in fact, his entire stock. Even then his constancy did not desert him; under the pressure of manifold ills his spirit never gave way. On hearing of this last disaster I wrote to him in terms of condolence, and with the acquittal of his debt to me. But resolutely and courageously he continued to bear up, until he paid off, principal and interest, every farthing he owed, and, dying, left an excellent fortune, and a name, George Meredith, that is an honour to his descendants. Such a man's history is worth a record as a great example of industry and endurance. The beginning of this season gave repetitions of the characters of the last-Virginius, Henri Quatre, Rob Roy, &c. The first new ones ordered by the management were Iachimo in Cymbeline' (October 18th, 1820), and Zanga in Dr. Young's Revenge.' Divided between the two I made little impression in either. In Zanga, October 31st, my earnestness kept the audience in interested attention though the first four acts, and in the triumphant exultation over the fallen Alonzo in the fifth the enthusiasm of the house was raised to a very high pitch, from which point I suddenly and most 1820. Walker's Play of 'Wallace. 167 unaccountably sank down into comparative tameness, and the curtain fell to very moderate applause. In discussing the night's event with Talfourd, Wallace, Procter, and some other friends, at one of our customary and very agreeable symposia-at which pasha-ed lobsters, champagne-punch, and lively talk prolonged the pleasure of the evening's triumph, or cheered the gloom of defeatit was a subject of general surprise, how I could have suffered a success so near its perfect achievement to slip from my grasp; but of the fact there could be no doubt that the result was a failure. I perceived my error when too late, lamenting the neglected opportunity. To Iachimo I gave no prominence; but in subsequent years I entered with glowing ardour into the wanton mischief of the dissolute, crafty Italian. The reception of 'Virginius' had brought on me a great increase of applications from authors to read their MSS., a task which was accepted by me as an appropriate and positive duty pertaining to my position, and which, although engrossing much time and attention, was most conscientiously discharged by me to the very end of my public career. It had its compensations to balance the discontent and hostility which sometimes my adverse judgments unwillingly provoked. One instance was singularly curious. A youth who, as bead of the town boys, had finished with credit his term at Westminster School, was desired by his father to apply himself to mathematics. Either from presumed incapacity or aversion to the study, he peremptorily refused, and his father as peremptorily refused to make him any allowance to go to the University. In this exigency he set about writing a play, and procured an introduction to me from my relative, Captain Birch, with the request that I would read it, as it was his sole dependence. In my judgment it was, with some effective dramatic situations, a very clever schoolboy production, but little more. I pressed on him the necessity of greater care and more force in the language, and suggested alterations which, when made, failing to satisfy me, I endeavoured to dissuade him from reliance on it. But the case was a desperate one, and he was so urgent in requesting the presentation of his MS. to Mr. Harris that I could no longer resist his entreaties, although with no expectation of the play's acceptance. To my great surprise and very great gratification Mr. Harris did accept, and, put at once into rehearsal, it was produced November 14th under its title of 'Wallace,' and went through sixteen representations to well-filled houses with very considerable applause. It gave Mr. Walker the means of keeping his terms at Oxford, where he took his degree, supporting himself through his college course by his dramatic writings, and indebted to his own industry and perseverance alone for this important step in life. His acknowledgments were made to me in the dedication of his play. To the interest I took in its production I owed the acquaintance of Major Cartwright, who, as a stickler for Parliamentary Reform, was regarded by his Tory opponents as a monster unfit for human society, and, for mischief and malignity, to be classed with |