The above juvenile was Mr. William Grossmith, who, I am pleased to say, is still alive and well. He was the eldest of the male portion of the Grossmith family, and the only one remaining. He does not remember the entertainment with much pride or pleasure, and I do not wonder at it; for the work must have been a terrible strain upon the mind of a child.
I am in possession of several programmes similar to the above: and only the other day some kind stranger sent me a newspaper, dated Wednesday, June 17th, 1829, and called The Bury and Norwich Post, or Suffolk and Norfolk Telegraph, Essex, Cambridge, and Ely Intelligencer. One may well exclaim, "What's in a name?" On glancing through its columns, I find the following:
LINES
ADDRESSED TO MASTER GROSSMITH.
Sure ne'er did Nature so profusely give,
Or such a Roscius till this time e'er live!
Deem it not flatt'ry, those who have not seen
This little wonder! For full well, I ween,
Had you but view'd, like me, enchanted quite
You'd own his genius, and in praise unite.
Ye who have seen the hero, ye can tell,
Tho' in his praise my numbers fain would swell,
Alas! how feebly does my muse essay
His talents or his merits to portray.
Scarce ten years old; superior strength of mind
Speaks in his "SPEAKING EYES" his sense refin'd:
His manners graceful, unassuming too;
Such sweet simplicity we never knew:
So noble, free, and dignified his mien,
A real Hamlet seems to grace the scene.
When he with mimic art his skill applies,
And Shakspeare's heroes to assume he tries,
So well the child can personate the man,
That twenty years appear in one short span;
Aye, not three minutes does the change require,
To make the maiden young or old, or 'squire.
But Shakspeare most his talents bring to sight:
There may experienc'd actors, with affright,
Think they ne'er more again must tread the stage,
While Grossmith is the Roscius of the age.
He weighs each word, and "suits the action well;"
His rising its meaning oft will tell
Ere yet 'tis utter'd: his expressive face
Conveys the sense with ever-varying grace.
In short, no authors difficult appear
To his superior sense and gifted ear;
His growing talents so conspicuous shine,
He gives a charm to Shakspeare's ev'ry line.
Farewell, sweet child! May virtue guide thy way,
May bliss without alloy be thine each day,
And may'st thou e'er enjoy that peace of mind
Which dwells with virtue and with sense refin'd.
Dowham Market, June 1st, 1829. M. M. C.
And now revenons a nos moutons.
At the close of 1864 I blossomed into a Penny Reader, and I can safely aver that no Penny Reader ever had such an exalted opinion of his own talents as I had of mine. Penny Readings were fast becoming the rage, and were springing up everywhere; and my first public appearance at them was in a schoolroom, in close proximity to Holy Trinity Church, Hawley Road, turning out of the Chalk Farm Road. This was the church I had been in the habit of attending, and in the choir of which I had sometimes sung. There was at Penny Readings no programme in those days. The chairman (always the vicar or the curate) used to call upon those in the audience whom he considered capable.