EX-THESPIANISM.
For the Table Book.
I am the son of a respectable attorney, who sent me, when very young, to an excellent school, at which I conducted myself much to the satisfaction of my superiors. It was customary for the scholars to enact a play at Christmas, to which the friends of the master were invited. On one of these occasions, when I was now nearly head-boy, I was called upon to perform the part of Charles Surface, in the admirable comedy of the School for Scandal. I studied the character, and played it with great applause, and shortly afterwards left the school, and was sent by my father to Boulogne to finish my education.
There were then at that place a number of English gentlemen, who were endeavouring to establish a company of amateurs. On their request I joined them, and made my first appearance upon a regular stage in the character of Shylock. It was a decided hit! I was received throughout with “unbounded applause,” and the next day was highly gratified by reading “honourable mention” of my performance in the newspapers. I repeated this and other characters several times with undiminished success; but, in the very zenith of my popularity, I was recalled to England by my father, who, having heard of my operations, began to fear (what afterwards proved to be the case) that I should be induced to adopt that as a profession, which I had hitherto considered merely as an amusement.
Soon after my return home my father articled me to himself, but it was impossible for me to forget my success at Boulogne, and my inclination for the stage ripened into a determination to become an actor. I secretly applied to Mr. Sims, of the Harp, who procured me an engagement in a sharing company in the west of England, where I was to do the “low comic business” and “second tragedy.” I spent some of the money that I had saved in buying wigs and a few other stage-requisites, and left my paternal roof with three pounds in my pocket.
My exchequer not being in a state to afford me the luxury of riding, I was compelled to walk the last thirty miles of my journey. Upon my arrival at ——, my first care was to inquire for the theatre, when I was directed to a barn, which had been dignified by that appellation. I was received with all possible civility by the company, which consisted of the manager, his wife, and three gentlemen. I was informed by the manager that Jane Shore was the play for that evening, and that he should expect me to perform the part of Belmont, and also that of Bombastes Furioso in the afterpiece. The wardrobe of the theatre was unable to afford me a dress superior to my own for the part of Belmont, I therefore played that character “accoutred as I was,” viz. in a blue coat, buff waistcoat, striped trowsers, and Wellington’s. The audience was very select, consisting only of ten persons, who seemed totally indifferent to the performance, for they never once, in the course of the evening, gave any indication of pleasure, or the reverse, but witnessed our efforts to amuse with the most provoking apathy. Between the pieces I was much surprised by one of the gentlemen requesting the loan of my hat for a few minutes, as he was about to sing a song, and he assured me that there was no hat in the company, save mine, which was worthy to appear before the audience. At the conclusion of the performance we shared the receipts, which, after deducting the expenses of the house, amounted to one shilling and sixpence each. We continued to act for some time, sharing (three nights a week) from about one shilling and sixpence to two shillings each, which sum did not at all equal my sanguine expectations. Frequently have I performed kings and princes after having breakfasted upon a turnip.
I soon found that this mode of living did not suit me, for I was becoming exceedingly spare. I therefore resolved to quit the company, and return to London. Having informed the manager of my intention, I departed, and arrived in the metropolis with twopence in my pocket. I proceeded to my father’s house, where I was received with kindness, and where I still continue. I have relinquished all my pretensions to the sock, having learned from experience that which it was not in the power of reason to convince me of.
Gilbertus.