AN EVENING'S PLEASURE.
A schoolmaster of Greenwich, an apothecary of Plymouth, and a London sheriff's-officer,—"three good fellows and true," were brought before the bench, charged with having "shown off" a little too much in the pit of the Olympic Theatre.
Their situation in the office, when the magistrate took his seat on the bench, was thus:—The sheriff's-officer dead drunk on the floor of the outer passage; the apothecary dead drunk on the benches within the office; and the schoolmaster very drunk, but very sprightly withal, upon his legs before the magisterial table. Then as to their personal condition:—the sheriff's-officer had only half a coat—the entire sinister side having been torn away vertically; and he was moreover so grievously bedaubed with blood about the face, that his features were indistinguishable. The apothecary had his garments entire, but the exterior case of his olfactory apparatus was marvellously swollen and distorted—more like the budding proboscis of an infant elephant, than the nose of a Christian compounder of medicine. The schoolmaster's countenance was like that of his friend, the sheriff's-officer, excessively bloody; and his left eye was closed by a large blue and green tumour—from an orifice in the centre of which the claret flowed continually towards the corner of his mouth, as if in mockery of the bumpers that had brought him before the bench.
As to their achievements, it appeared by the evidence of sundry theatrical prompters, scene-shifters, firemen, constables, and deputy-constables, that they entered the theatre arm in arm, with each a flaming cigar in his mouth. That they had no sooner got within the pit than they began to shout lustily for the music. That the music not answering to their shouts the schoolmaster rushed gallantly forward over the heads of the more un-Corinthian part of the audience—to the infinite detriment of sundry Leghorn and other bonnets—and clearing the barrier of the orchestra, at one audacious leap he dashed into the regions beneath the stage in search of the musicians. That he was thence expelled by the united efforts of supernumeraries attached to the concern; and that, as the said supernumeraries of the concern attempted to get him back over the barrier of the orchestra, the sheriff's-officer and the apothecary scrambled forward to his assistance, and prevented his being so put back with all their might. That a general fight ensued—that many people left the theatre in dismay—that others who were entering refused to complete their entrée—that at length the riotous trio were got over by dint of numbers—that they were carried to this office—and that the manager was positively determined to prosecute!
To all this the schoolmaster was the only one of the three who could say anything in reply; but then he was a host in himself. He, as in duty bound by the nature of his calling, was the "Logic" of the "spree;" but unfortunately his logical powers were mystified with old port and beating, and he could make little or nothing of it. He began his defence with three distinct emissions of the fumes of the old Port above-mentioned, and then told the magistrate how they were all three Devonshire men, and old friends, who had met for an evening's pleasure, after a long and tedious separation—how the apothecary had never been in London in all his life before, and had been let into a secret by that night's adventure—how he himself had taken his tea before he set out from Greenwich to meet the apothecary—how the apothecary dined, and how he did not—how they met with the sheriff's-officer—how they got drunk at the Shades at London Bridge, at the expense of the apothecary—how they got more drunk in Fleet-street, at the expense of himself (the schoolmaster)—and how they got drunk in the superlative degree, "somewhere hereabouts"—how somebody gave them orders for the Olympic—how they went there, and found the pit as silent as the grave—how they called for music, and no music came—how the schoolmaster dashed into the cellar in search of the fiddlers, but couldn't find any—how the folks felt themselves offended at his interference—how a devil of a row ensued—how he might have escaped, but scorned to do so—how they were finally captured—and how they were vastly sorry for all of it.
Lots of conversation ensued upon these premises, and the manager, after two or three private conferences, declared himself satisfied, but the magistrate said he was not. "If poor men," said his worship, "were brought before me, charged with such mischievous absurdities, they would be inevitably sent to prison, unless they could find bail; and I will not suffer others to escape, because they may have certain means of satisfying those they injure."
So the schoolmaster and the sheriff's-officer were held to bail for their appearance at the sessions; and the apothecary was suffered to return to his disconsolate family unscathed, because he had not been quite so obstreperous as his companions.