OTTO HEGNER.
Of the class of prodigies represented by Mr. and Mrs. Stratton (“Tom Thumb” and Lavinia Warren), “Major” Stevens, “Commodore” Nutt, “Blind Tom,” “Japanese Tommy,” and the “Two-headed Nightingale,” all of whom were publicly exhibited in their childhood here, it is hardly necessary to speak. They were certainly Infant Phenomena, but neither as infants nor as phenomena do they come within the proper scope of the present chapter; and they occupy the same position in regard to the drama that the armless youth who cuts paper pictures with his toes occupies in regard to pictorial art.
In no case is the Infant Phenomenon upon the stage—thespian, terpsichorean, harmonical, gymnastic, or abnormal—to be encouraged or admired. How much of a nuisance the average prodigy is to his audiences all habitual theatre-goers can tell; how much of a nuisance he is to his fellow-players Nicholas Nickleby has effectively shown; and what a bitter burden he is likely to become to himself, his own experience—if he lives to have experience—will certainly prove. Loved by the gods—of the gallery—the Phenomenon (happily for the Phenomenon, perhaps, certainly happily for his profession) dies, as a rule, young.
He does not educate the masses; he does not advance art; he does nothing which it is the high aim of the legitimate actor to do; he does not even amuse. He merely displays precocity that is likely to sap his very life; he probably supports a family at an age when he needs all of the protection and support that can be given him; and, if he does not meet a premature death, he rarely, very rarely, fulfils anything like the promise of his youth.
The career of Master Betty, the “Infant Roscius,” of the early part of this century, and unquestionably the most remarkable and successful Phenomenon in the whole history of the stage, is ample proof of this. Born in England, in 1791, he made his theatrical début in Dublin in 1803, and he at once sprang into a popularity, there and wherever he appeared, which seemed to know no limits.
The excitement he created was marvellous. People were crushed in their efforts to enter the theatres in which he played. The receipts at the box-offices were considered fabulous in those days. His own fortune was made in a single season. Lords and ladies, and peers of the realm, were among his enthusiastic admirers. Royal dukes were proud to call him friend, and the Prince of Wales entertained him regally at Carlton House. He was pronounced greater than Garrick himself in Garrick’s own parts; he was petted and praised, and almost idolized, by an entire country; and even Parliament itself, on a motion made by Mr. Pitt, adjourned to see the “Infant Roscius” play Hamlet at Drury Lane; than which no higher compliment could have been paid by England to mortal man!