The sergeant, who was by this time quite reconstructed, agreed to act as Jerry's dresser and general assistant during the performance. The house was rummaged for properties, and the heap piled up behind the screen somewhat puzzled Thompson, who dressed and redressed four or five times before he quite made up his mind which selection would become him best.
Every available chair in the house was brought into the hall, and when the supply in that direction failed, some were fetched in from the neighbouring residences by the obedient "shadows."
The band consisted of a violin and flute, assisted by the sergeant, who operated upon a snare drum, which some lunatic had brought from the attic. As the space was limited, the musicians were stowed away behind the screen, much to the annoyance of Thompson, who could hardly turn when dressing, and their din prevented the sergeant hearing his directions.
Precisely as the hall clock struck nine the band was "taken worse." The overture was rather peculiar. First the "shadow" who played the violin called out, "The Red, White, and Blue," and then proceeded to indulge the company with a "spiral agony," which sounded very much like the Old Hundredth played in jerks. After getting well warmed to his work, he was suddenly stopped by a prolonged roll on the drum, put in by the sergeant, who, thinking the air was becoming "thready," came to his assistance. The flutist now essayed "The last Rose of Summer," delivered note by note in a laboured and painful manner. He also was assisted by the military; and when the latter found "he was going it seriously, and didn't mean to stop," he finished him off with a ran-tan-tan upon the drum, which quite electrified the audience, and a hearty round of applause followed.
When the last sound had died away the sergeant unslung the drum, marched from behind the screen, stood at attention, made the orthodox military salute, and spoke as follows:—
"Ladies and gents, a talented gent will oblige this evening with imitations of actors, giving Macready as Macbeth, Kean as Hamlet, and Creswick as Romeo;" then, with another salute, he faced half-round and gravely marched behind the screen. This speech being considered quite enchanting by the lady portion of the audience, several of whom cried "enkéore," the soldier was prevailed upon to come forward again, which he did in the same automatic manner as before; but being called upon for a third time, he looked over the screen, and said, "Not if I knows it! hold your row," upon which the company quieted down, and awaited the entrance of the hero of the hour.
In order to produce "soft music," Jerry hit upon the novel idea of throwing a blanket over the band, who thus, extinguished, had to feel their way through the intricacies of the well-known minstrel air "Mary Blane." This deadening process was so effectual, that at times the music could not be heard at all, upon which Thompson would call out in a voice quite audible to the spectators, "Come, fiddler; more steam, old man."
Loud was the applause when Macbeth slowly emerged from behind the screen, gliding along as if he ran on wheels. He bowed low, and winking at Mary Ann, proceeded at once to business. His costume defies description, and any one not well posted would have imagined he was personating one of the witches.
The sergeant officiated as ghost, being no less ludicrously got up. Upon his elaborately floured head was tied a tight night-cap, his face was chalked, and his body enveloped in a night-habit, which must have been made for a short, fat woman, as it only reached to his knees, leaving his striped trousers visible, and presenting anything but a spectral appearance. Whenever he blundered, Macbeth prompted him sotto voce, and stage directions, such as—"I say, Stripey, mind your eye, or you'll be off the table," to which the ghost of Banquo would reply, "All right, Jerry, old man; you're werry near the edge yourself," were received by the audience as comic interludes, and as such brought down the house.
In the second representation Thompson appeared in long black cotton hose, borrowed from the cook, an old Zouave jacket, and black cloak. He had on his head a high felt hat, with a brim of the broadest kind, and fastened to the gigantic buckle of this article was a bunch of feathers. His tout ensemble was a kaleidoscopic combination of Beppo, a primitive African, Captain Kidd the pirate, and a Pilgrim Father. We omitted to mention that dangling from his side was the dress sword of Captain Puffeigh, which clanked and got in his way in a most uncomfortable fashion.