Running the Gauntlet: A Novel

by Edmund Yates

"Come along, sir," said Laurence: "I'll sit in the silent solitude of the stalls while you are basking in beauty in a box."

"But you'll come up and be introduced, Laurence?"

"Not I. thank you; I'll leave the field clear for you."

"But Sir Charles Mitford would be so glad to renew his old acquaintance with you."

"Would he? Then Sir Charles Mitford must reserve that delight for another occasion. I shall be here after the play, and we can have a further talk if you can descend to mundane matters after your felicity. Now come along." And they strolled out together.

[CHAPTER III.]

AT THE PARTHENIUM.

The Parthenium Theatre at the time I write of was a thing by itself. Since then there have been a score of imitations of it, none of them coming up to the great original, but sufficiently like to have dimmed the halo surrounding the first attempt, and to have left the British public undecided as to whom belonged the laurels due to those who first attempted to transform a wretched, dirty, hot building into an elegant, well-ventilated, comfortable salon. It was at the Parthenium that stalls were first introduced. Up to that time they had been only known at the Opera; and it was the triumph of the true British playgoer,--the man who had seen Jack Bannister, sir, and Munden and Dowton, and all those true performers who have never had any successor, sir,--that he always sat in the front row of the pit, the only place in the house whence the performance could be properly seen. When Mr. Frank Likely undertook the lesseeship of the Parthenium, he thought he saw his way to a very excellent improvement founded on this basis. He hated the true British playgoer with all his heart. In the style of entertainment about to be produced at the Parthenium, he had not the smallest intention of pandering to, or even propitiating, the great historic character; but he had perfect readiness to see that the space immediately behind the orchestra was the most valuable in the theatre; and so he set carpenters at once to work, and uprooted the hard black deal pit-benches, and erected in their stead rows of delicious fauteuils in crimson velvet, broad soft padded-backed lounges with seats which turned upon hinges, and left a space underneath for your hat and coat; charming nests where you could loll at your ease, and see and hear to perfection. The true British playgoer was thus relegated to a dark and dismal space underneath the dress-circle, where he could see little save the parting of the back-hair of the swells in the stalls, and the legs, from the knee downward, and feet of the people on the stage; where the ceiling seemed momentarily descending on him, as on the prisoner in the story of the "Iron Shroud;" and where the knees of the orange-sellers dug him in the back, while their baskets banged him in front. It is needless to say that on the Saturday after the opening of the Parthenium under the new regime, the columns of the Curtain, the Thespian Waggoner, and the Scourge were found brimming over with stinging letters from the true British playgoer, all complaining of his treatment, and all commencing, "By what right, sir, I should like to know." But Mr. Frank Likely cared little enough for this, or for anything else indeed, so long as he could keep up his villa at Roehampton, have his Sunday parties, let his wife dress like a duchess, have two or three carriages, and never be compelled to pay anybody anything. Not to pay was a perfect mania with him. Not that he had not the money. Mr. Humphreys, the treasurer, used to come round about half-past ten with bags of gold and silver, which were duly deposited in Mr. Likely's dressing-room, and thence transferred to his carriage by his dresser, a man whose pound-a-week wages had been due for a month; but if ever he were to ask for a settlement Mr. Likely would look at him with a comic surprise, give a short laugh, say, "He, he! you don't mean it, Evans; I haven't a fourpenny-piece;" and step into the brougham to be bowled away through the summer night to lamb-cutlets and peas and Sillery Mousseux at the Rochampton villa, with a prime cigar on the lawn or under the conservatory afterwards. He took the money, though he never paid any one, and no one knew what became of it; but when he went through the Court the Commissioner complimented him publicly, as he gave him his certificate, and told him in his private room that he, the Commissioner, had experienced such pleasure from Mr. and Mrs. Likely's charming talent, that he, the Commissioner, was really glad it lay in his power to make him, Mr. Likely, some little return.

It is, however, only in his position as lessee of the Parthenium Theatre that we have to do with Mr. Frank Likely, and therein he certainly was admirable. A man of common-sense and education, he saw plainly enough that if he wished to amuse the public, he must show them something with which they were perfectly familiar. They yawned over the rage of Lear, and slept through Belvidera's recital of her woes; the mere fact of Captain Absolute's wearing powder and breeches precluded their taking any interest in his love affairs; but as soon as they were shown people such as they were accustomed to see, doing things which they themselves were accustomed to do, ordinarily dressed, and moving amongst ordinary surroundings, they were delighted, and flocked in crowds to the Parthenium. Mr. Likely gave such an entertainment as suited the taste of his special visitors. The performances commenced at eight with some trifle, during the acting of which the box-doors were perpetually banging, and early visitors to the stalls were carefully stamped upon and ground against by the club-diners steadily pushing their way to their seats. The piece of the evening commenced about nine and lasted till half-past ten; and then there came forty minutes of a brilliant burlesque, with crowds of pretty coryphées, volleys of rattling puns and parodies, crackling allusions to popular topics, and resplendent scenery by Mr. Coverflats, the great scenic artist of the day. When it is recollected that though only two or three of the actors were really first-rate, yet that all were far above the average, being dressed under Mr. Likely's eye, and taught every atom of their "business;" that the theatre was thoroughly elegant, and unlike any other London house in its light-blue-and-gold decorations and airy muslin curtains, and that its foyer and lobbies were happy meeting-grounds for wits and men of fashion,-no wonder that "first-nights" at the Parthenium were looked forward to with special delight.

On the occasion on which Colonel Alsager and Mr. Bertram were about to be present, a more than ordinary amount of curiosity prevailed. For some weeks it had been vaguely rumoured that the new comedy, Tried in the Furnace, about to be produced, was written by Spofforth, that marvellous fellow who combined the author with the man of fashion, who was seen everywhere, at the Premieress's receptions, at the first clubs, always associating with the best people, and who flavoured his novels and his plays in the most piquante manner with reproductions of characters and stories well known in the London world. It was rumoured that in Tried in the Furnace the plot strongly resembled the details of a great scandal in high life, which had formed the plat de résistance of the gossips of the previous season; and it was also said that the hero, an officer in the Guards, would be played by Dacre Pontifex, who at that time had turned all women's heads who went regularly into society, and who, to a handsome face and figure and a thoroughly gentlemanly bearing, seemed to add great natural histrionic genius.