Читать книгу: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 19, No. 533, February 11, 1832», страница 5

ELLISTON AND THE ASS' HEAD

Elliston was, in his day, the Napoleon of Drury-lane, but, like the conqueror at Austerlitz, he suffered his declensions, and the Surrey became to him a St. Helena. However, once an eagle always an eagle; and Robert William was no less aquiline in the day of adversity than in his palmy time of patent prosperity. He was born to carry things with a high hand, and he but fulfilled his destiny. The anecdote which we are about to relate, is one of the ten thousand instances of his lordly bearing. When, the season before last, "no effects" was written over the treasury-door of Covent-garden theatre, it will be remembered that several actors proffered their services gratis, in aid of the then humble, but now arrogant and persecuting establishment. Among these patriots was Mr. T.P. Cooke—(it was just after his promotion to the honorary rank of Admiral of the Blue). The Covent-garden managers jumped at the offer of the actor, who was in due time announced as having, in the true play-bill style, "most generously volunteered his services for six nights!" Cooke was advertised for William; Elliston having "most generously lent [N.B. this was not put in the bill] his musical score of Black-Eyed Susan, together with the identical captains' coats, worn at a hundred-and-fifty court-martials at the Surrey Theatre!" Cooke—the score—the coats, were all accepted, and made the most of by the now prosecuting managers of Covent-garden, who cleared out of the said Cooke, score, and coats, one thousand pounds at half-price on the first six nights of their exhibition. This is a fact; nay, we have lately heard it stated that all the sum was specially banked, to be used in a future war against the minors. Cooke was then engaged for twelve more nights, at ten pounds per night—a hackney-coach bringing him each night, hot from the Surrey stage, where he had previously made bargemen weep, and thrown nursery-maids into convulsions. Well, time drove on, and Cooke drove into the country. Elliston, who was always classical, having a due veneration for that divine "creature," Shakspeare, announced, on the anniversary of the poet's birth-day, a representation of the Stratford Jubilee. The wardrobe was ransacked, the property-man was on the alert; and, after much preparation, every thing was in readiness for the imposing spectacle.—No! There was one thing forgotten—one important "property!" Bottom must be a "feature" in the procession, and there was no ass's head! it would not do for the acting manager to apologize for the absence of the head—no, he could not have the face to do it. A head must be procured! Every one was in doubt and trepidation, when hope sounded in the clarion-like voice of Robert William. "Ben!" exclaimed Elliston, "take pen, ink, and paper, and write as follows!" Ben (Mr. Benjamin Fairbrother, the late manager's most trusty secretary) sat, "all ear" and Elliston, with finger on nether lip, proceeded.—

"My dear Charles,

I am about to represent, 'with entirely new dresses, scenery, and decorations,' the Stratford Jubilee, in honour of the sweet swan of Avon. My scene-painter is the finest artist (except your Grieve) in Europe—my tailor is no less a genius, and I lately raised the salary of my property-man. This will give you some idea of the capabilities of the Surrey Theatre. However, in the hurry of "getting up," we have forgotten one property—every thing is well with us but our Bottom, and he wants a head. As it is too late to manufacture, not but that my property-man is the cleverest in the world (except the property-man of Covent-garden), can you, lend me an ass's head, and believe me, my dear Charles,

Yours ever truly,

ROBERT WILLIAM ELLISTON."

"P.S. I had forgotten to acknowledge the return of the Black-Eyed Susan score, and coats. You were most welcome to them."

The letter was dispatched to Covent-garden Theatre, and in a brief time the bearer returned with the following answer:—

"MY DEAR ROBERT,

It is with the most acute pain that I am compelled to refuse your trifling request. You are aware, my dear Sir, of the unfortunate situation of Covent-garden Theatre; it being at the present moment, with all the 'dresses, scenery, and decorations,' in the Court of Chancery, I cannot exercise that power which my friendship would dictate. I have spoken to Bartley, and he agrees with me (indeed, he always does), that I cannot lend you an ass's head—he is an authority on such a subject—without risking a reprimand from the Lord High Chancellor. Trusting to your generosity, and to your liberal construction of my refusal—and hoping that it will in no way interrupt that mutually cordial friendship that has ever subsisted between us.

Believe me, ever yours,

CHARLES KEMBLE."

"P.S. When I next see you advertised for Rover, I intend to leave myself out of the bill to come and see it."

Of course this letter did not remain long unanswered. Ben was again in requisition, and the following was the result of his labours:—

"DEAR CHARLES,

I regret the situation of Covent-garden Theatre—I also, for your sake, deeply regret that the law does not permit you to send me the 'property' in question. I knew that law alone could prevent you; for were it not for the vigilance of Equity, such is my opinion of the management of Covent-garden, that I am convinced, if left to the dictates of its own judgment, it would be enabled to spare asses' heads, not to the Surrey atone, but to every theatre in Christendom.

Yours ever truly,

ROBERT WILLIAM ELLISTON."

"P.S. My wardrobe-keeper informs me that there are no less than seven buttons missing from the captains' coats. However, I have ordered their places to be instantaneously filled by others."

We entreat our readers not to receive the above as a squib of invention. We will not pledge ourselves that the letters are verbatim from the originals; but the loan of the Surrey music and coats to Covent-garden, with the refusal of Covent-garden's ass's head to the Surrey, is "true as holy writ."

Monthly Magazine.

NOTES OF A READER

THE BOOK OF INSTRUCTION

This is styled by the publisher "The Child's Annual;" we do not think reasonably so, since instruction is suited for all times. It is a tolerably thick volume, and contains the Easies of Grammar, Geography, Arithmetic, Natural History, Punctuation, History, Poetry, Music, and Dancing; with outlines of Agriculture, Anatomy, Architecture, Astronomy, Botany, and other branches of science and knowledge—a Chronology and description of the London public buildings. The contents, to be sure, are multifarious; but the book is we think made of a series of books to be purchased separately. Every page has a coloured cut of a very gay order. Cottages have yellow roofs and pink doors; and shopkeepers are dressed in crimson and orange. Some of the grammatical illustrations are droll: a heavy old fellow, cross-legged, with his hands folded on a stick is myself; Punch is an active verb; a wedding might have illustrated the conjunction; four in hand is a preposition. In punctuation, a child asking what o'clock it is, illustrates a note of interrogation. We could have supplied the editor with the Colon: a little girl who had much difficulty in understanding its use, one day complained that a pain in her stomach was as bad as a colon. The pictures in Geography are not so good as they might have been; and it would have been easy to give correct outlines of animals, since others mislead children. Music made easy is better, as are Steps to Dancing. The Chronology is faulty and ill-adapted for children: what do the little dears want to know of the sale of Cobbett's Register, or Mr. Fletcher and Miss Dick. There are certain things which children should know, and others which they should not hear of. Show them as many of the virtues of mankind as you please: prepare the soil well, and there will be less chance of vicious weeds. Altogether this book merits recommendation. It is nicely bound, as the Guinea Annual folks say, partly in Arabesque.

CHEAP MEDICINE

A publisher who pays much regard to usefulness and economy in reprints has put forth Buchan's Domestic Medicine for something less than a crown, with a supplementary "Cholera Morbus, its history, symptoms, mode of treatment, antidotes,&c." By the way, we have often thought Buchan's book like the Dead Sea: you cannot fall into the latter without some of its water incrusting on you, and you cannot read Buchan without feeling an ache. Its popularity is founded upon the hackneyed adage "the knowledge of a disease is half its cure." People will pore over its sea of calamities till they almost fall into the fire, or get scalded with the water from a kettle, and then turn to the Index, Scalds, page 326: perhaps this is a good plan to test the practical value of a book, as the surgeon scalded two fingers and plunged one into turpentine and the other into spirits of wine to test their respective services in case of a scald.

Here too we may notice a cheap Companion to the Family Medicine Chest, with an alphabetical arrangement of Medicines, their properties, and plain rules for taking them; with the Cholera, of course, as a rider, and cautions respecting suspended animation and poisons. The little shillingsworth is in its fifteenth edition, so that many thousand persons must have taken many million doses by its prescription, and in some cases become their own medicine chests, with this book as their companion.