AMONG THE AMATEURS.
No. IV.—RETROSPECT.
Scene—A large Room, in which Guests are assembling previous to a Supper in honour of a Great Actor, who is about to leave for a tour to the United States. There has been a magnificent farewell performance, in which the Great Actor has surpassed himself. The public has shown unparalleled enthusiasm; the G. A. has appeared before the Curtain, and in a voice choked with emotion has assured his audience that the one thing that sustains him at this trying moment is the prospect of seeing them all again when he returns.
Time—11.45 P.M. The Room is full of histrionic, literary, and artistic Celebrities, with a few stray Barristers and Doctors, who like to show publicly that in spite of the arduous labours of their professions, they can enjoy a mild dissipation as well as any man. Most of the leading lights of the "Thespian Perambulators," Boldero, Tiffington Spinks, Gushby, Andrew Jarp, and Hall, have come to prove by their presence the sympathy of the Amateur Stage. On the last night but one they had concluded their series of performances at Blankbury. The Chairman of the Banquet is a middle-aged Peer, who is a regular attendant at first nights, and occupies a subordinate office in the Ministry. The Guest of the Evening has not yet arrived. A buzz of conversation fills the air. The Secretary of the Banquet, an actor, is anxiously hurrying about with a list, on which he ticks off names.
The Secretary (to Boldero). So glad all you fellows have been able to come. I've put you pretty well together, as you wished. I wonder where—oh! here he is at last.
Enter Great Actor. The Secretary rushes to him. Hand-shakings and congratulations all round. The G. A. moves up the room to where the Amateurs are standing.
G. A. (shaking hands.) Ah! this is really friendly, Tiffington, really friendly. Were you in front to-night?
Tiffington. Of course we were. We wouldn't have missed it for a thousand pounds. It went first class. I thought your idea of stabbing Alphonso from behind instead of in front, was a genuine inspiration.
G. A. Approbation from Sir Hubert. (Bows and leaves quotation unfinished). But I've always played it like that, I think.
[Supper is announced. The Guests troop in to the supper-room.
Tiffington (to Jarp, as they walk in). He's wrong there. Never did it like that before; and, after all, I'm not sure it is such an improvement. But if you don't praise these fellows they never forgive you.
Jarp. Didn't he say anything about our show at Blankbury? I thought you wrote to him about it.
Tiffington. So I did; wrote specially to tell him how well things had gone off. But you might just as well try to pump wine out of a pillar-box, as expect a word of sympathy or encouragement from a professional. They're all the same.
[They take their seats, Tiffington and Jarp on one side of the table, the other three opposite them. The supper begins.
Friend of the G. A. (on Tiffington's right). Splendid performance, was it not? I never saw him in finer form in my life. It's quite impossible to imagine anything more dignified and pathetic than his death-scene.
Tiffington (dubiously). Hum! Yes. I'm not sure I should do it like that quite. What do you say, Gushby?
Gushby. It's not my idea at all. He spins it out far too long. I should like to see you act that, Tiff.
Tiffington (complacently). Ah, well, so you might if things were managed with common fairness. But (bitterly) you know well enough there's a regular conspiracy against me. (To Friend of G. A.) Now, of course, you've read the notices of our performance of Heads or Tails? Yes. I thought you had. Well, you must have observed, that I don't get more than two lines in any one of them, not a word more than two lines upon my soul, and yet any fool knows that my part was the chief one. But there you are. The beggars daren't abuse me. They know the public won't stand that, so, just to spite me, they try to leave me out. But they're very much mistaken if they think I care. Pooh! I snap my fingers at them and their wretched conspiracy.
[Snaps them, and drinks moodily. The supper proceeds. Conversation everywhere ranges over all kinds of topics,—literature, art, the drama, the political situation, the last Divorce Case. The Amateurs continue to discuss themselves.
Jarp (to Boldero). Did you see that infamous notice in The Moonbeam? Just like that rascal Penfold. He can't help showing his jealousy, because we never asked him to join the Perambulators.
Boldero. Yes. There you have it in a nutshell. I tell you what it is, we shall have to exclude all critics from our show in future.
Tiffington. Ah! that would punish them—and serve them right, too. Are you going to sing to-night, Hall?
Hall (with a sigh of resignation). I suppose I shall have to. I told Batterdown I should be ready, if wanted.
Jarp. Have you got anything new?
Hall. Rather. Something particularly neat, I think. I call it "The Super at Supper." It goes like this:—
[Hums to his friends, who listen with rapt attention, occasionally interchanging glances expressive of enthusiastic admiration.
I once knew a Super, a festive soul,
Who quaffed champagne from a brimming bowl,
And all night long as he quaffed he sang,
"The Dukes may swing, and the Earls go hang,
And the Duchesses, 'drat 'em, may go and be blowed;
They've all been there, and they know the road—
They're slaves, but the Super who sups is free—
Oh! the Super's life is the life for me!
Chorus.
With a hey-diddle-diddle and fiddle-di-dee,
Oh! the supping Super's the man for me!"
Spinks, Boldero, Gushby, Jarp (with enthusiasm). My dear fellow, that's immense.
Hill. Yes, it's not bad. There are six verses, some of them even better than that.
[The Chairman rises to propose the only toast of the evening, "Success to the Great Actor who is about to leave us for a short time." The usual speech—reminiscent, anecdotic, prophetic of tremendous triumphs, mildly humorous, pathetic.
The Chairman (concluding). Therefore I bid you all charge your glasses as full of wine as your hearts are full of sympathy, and join me in wishing success to the Great Man, who is about to cull new laurels in a foreign land.
[Roars of applause. Immense enthusiasm. The Great Actor responds. He is moved to tears. He assures his friends, that wherever he may go his heart will ever turn fondly to them. Great cheering.
Tiffington (puffing his cigar). Not so bad. I always said he could speak better than he could act.
[The supper concludes. Hall has not been asked to sing.
Friend of Great Actor (departing, to Tiffington). It's been a splendid evening, hasn't it?
Tiffington (putting on his coat). Yes. Pretty fair. (To Hall.) Sorry for you, old chap. But the song will keep.
Hall. Keep? Oh, yes, it'll keep. I'll make it red-hot for the lot of 'em, and sing it at Blankbury next year. They won't like that, I rather think.
Jarp. No, by Gad!
[Exeunt omnes.