Concerning a young Lady from London, who joinsthe Company, and an elderly Admirer who followsin her Train; with an affecting Ceremonyconsequent on their Arrival.
The new piece being a decided hit, was announced for everyevening of performance until further notice, and theevenings when the theatre was closed, were reduced fromthree in the week to two. Nor were these the only tokens ofextraordinary success; for, on the succeeding Saturday, Nicholasreceived, by favour of the indefatigable Mrs Grudden, no less asum than thirty shillings; besides which substantial reward, heenjoyed considerable fame and honour: having a presentationcopy of Mr Curdle’s pamphlet forwarded to the theatre, with thatgentleman’s own autograph (in itself an inestimable treasure) onthe fly-leaf, accompanied with a note, containing manyexpressions of approval, and an unsolicited assurance that MrCurdle would be very happy to read Shakespeare to him for threehours every morning before breakfast during his stay in the town.
‘I’ve got another novelty, Johnson,’ said Mr Crummles onemorning in great glee.
‘What’s that?’ rejoined Nicholas. ‘The pony?’
‘No, no, we never come to the pony till everything else hasfailed,’ said Mr Crummles. ‘I don’t think we shall come to the ponyat all, this season. No, no, not the pony.’
‘A boy phenomenon, perhaps?’ suggested Nicholas.
‘There is only one phenomenon, sir,’ replied Mr Crummlesimpressively, ‘and that’s a girl.’
‘Very true,’ said Nicholas. ‘I beg your pardon. Then I don’tknow what it is, I am sure.’
‘What should you say to a young lady from London?’ inquiredMr Crummles. ‘Miss So-and-so, of the Theatre Royal, DruryLane?’
‘I should say she would look very well in the bills,’ saidNicholas.
‘You’re about right there,’ said Mr Crummles; ‘and if you hadsaid she would look very well upon the stage too, you wouldn’thave been far out. Look here; what do you think of this?’
With this inquiry Mr Crummles unfolded a red poster, and ablue poster, and a yellow poster, at the top of each of which publicnotification was inscribed in enormous characters—‘Firstappearance of the unrivalled Miss Petowker of the Theatre Royal,Drury Lane!’
‘Dear me!’ said Nicholas, ‘I know that lady.’
‘Then you are acquainted with as much talent as was evercompressed into one young person’s body,’ retorted MrCrummles, rolling up the bills again; ‘that is, talent of a certainsort—of a certain sort. “The Blood Drinker,”’ added Mr Crummleswith a prophetic sigh, ‘“The Blood Drinker” will die with that girl;and she’s the only sylph I ever saw, who could stand upon one leg,and play the tambourine on her other knee, like a sylph.’
‘When does she come down?’ asked Nicholas.
‘We expect her today,’ replied Mr Crummles. ‘She is an oldfriend of Mrs Crummles’s. Mrs Crummles saw what she coulddo—always knew it from the first. She taught her, indeed, nearly all she knows. Mrs Crummles was the original Blood Drinker.’
‘Was she, indeed?’
‘Yes. She was obliged to give it up though.’
‘Did it disagree with her?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Not so much with her, as with her audiences,’ replied MrCrummles. ‘Nobody could stand it. It was too tremendous. Youdon’t quite know what Mrs Crummles is yet.’
Nicholas ventured to insinuate that he thought he did.
‘No, no, you don’t,’ said Mr Crummles; ‘you don’t, indeed. Idon’t, and that’s a fact. I don’t think her country will, till she isdead. Some new proof of talent bursts from that astonishingwoman every year of her life. Look at her—mother of sixchildren—three of ’em alive, and all upon the stage!’
‘Extraordinary!’ cried Nicholas.
‘Ah! extraordinary indeed,’ rejoined Mr Crummles, taking acomplacent pinch of snuff, and shaking his head gravely. ‘I pledgeyou my professional word I didn’t even know she could dance, tillher last benefit, and then she played Juliet, and Helen Macgregor,and did the skipping-rope hornpipe between the pieces. The veryfirst time I saw that admirable woman, Johnson,’ said MrCrummles, drawing a little nearer, and speaking in the tone ofconfidential friendship, ‘she stood upon her head on the butt-endof a spear, surrounded with blazing fireworks.’
‘You astonish me!’ said Nicholas.
‘SHE astonished ME!’ returned Mr Crummles, with a veryserious countenance. ‘Such grace, coupled with such dignity! Iadored her from that moment!’
The arrival of the gifted subject of these remarks put an abrupttermination to Mr Crummles’s eulogium. Almost immediately afterwards, Master Percy Crummles entered with a letter, whichhad arrived by the General Post, and was directed to his graciousmother; at sight of the superscription whereof, Mrs Crummlesexclaimed, ‘From Henrietta Petowker, I do declare!’ and instantlybecame absorbed in the contents.
‘Is it—?’ inquired Mr Crummles, hesitating.
‘Oh, yes, it’s all right,’ replied Mrs Crummles, anticipating thequestion. ‘What an excellent thing for her, to be sure!’
‘It’s the best thing altogether, that I ever heard of, I think,’ saidMr Crummles; and then Mr Crummles, Mrs Crummles, andMaster Percy Crummles, all fell to laughing violently. Nicholas leftthem to enjoy their mirth together, and walked to his lodgings;wondering very much what mystery connected with MissPetowker could provoke such merriment, and pondering stillmore on the extreme surprise with which that lady would regardhis sudden enlistment in a profession of which she was such adistinguished and brilliant ornament.
But, in this latter respect he was mistaken; for—whether MrVincent Crummles had paved the way, or Miss Petowker hadsome special reason for treating him with even more than herusual amiability—their meeting at the theatre next day was morelike that of two dear friends who had been inseparable frominfancy, than a recognition passing between a lady and gentlemanwho had only met some half-dozen times, and then by merechance. Nay, Miss Petowker even whispered that she had whollydropped the Kenwigses in her conversations with the manager’sfamily, and had represented herself as having encountered MrJohnson in the very first and most fashionable circles; and onNicholas receiving this intelligence with unfeigned surprise, she added, with a sweet glance, that she had a claim on his goodnature now, and might tax it before long.
Nicholas had the honour of playing in a slight piece with MissPetowker that night, and could not but observe that the warmth ofher reception was mainly attributable to a most perseveringumbrella in the upper boxes; he saw, too, that the enchantingactress cast many sweet looks towards the quarter whence thesesounds proceeded; and that every time she did so, the umbrellabroke out afresh. Once, he thought that a peculiarly shaped hat inthe same corner was not wholly unknown to him; but, beingoccupied with his share of the stage business, he bestowed nogreat attention upon this circumstance, and it had quite vanishedfrom his memory by the time he reached home.
He had just sat down to supper with Smike, when one of thepeople of the house came outside the door, and announced that agentleman below stairs wished to speak to Mr Johnson.
‘Well, if he does, you must tell him to come up; that’s all Iknow,’ replied Nicholas. ‘One of our hungry brethren, I suppose,Smike.’
His fellow-lodger looked at the cold meat in silent calculation ofthe quantity that would be left for dinner next day, and put back aslice he had cut for himself, in order that the visitor’sencroachments might be less formidable in their effects.
‘It is not anybody who has been here before,’ said Nicholas, ‘forhe is tumbling up every stair. Come in, come in. In the name ofwonder! Mr Lillyvick?’
It was, indeed, the collector of water-rates who, regardingNicholas with a fixed look and immovable countenance, shookhands with most portentous solemnity, and sat himself down in a seat by the chimney-corner.
‘Why, when did you come here?’ asked Nicholas.
‘This morning, sir,’ replied Mr Lillyvick.
‘Oh! I see; then you were at the theatre tonight, and it was yourumb—’
‘This umbrella,’ said Mr Lillyvick, producing a fat green cottonone with a battered ferrule. ‘What did you think of thatperformance?’
‘So far as I could judge, being on the stage,’ replied Nicholas, ‘Ithought it very agreeable.’
‘Agreeable!’ cried the collector. ‘I mean to say, sir, that it wasdelicious.’
Mr Lillyvick bent forward to pronounce the last word withgreater emphasis; and having done so, drew himself up, andfrowned and nodded a great many times.
‘I say, delicious,’ repeated Mr Lillyvick. ‘Absorbing, fairy-like,toomultuous,’ and again Mr Lillyvick drew himself up, and againhe frowned and nodded.
‘Ah!’ said Nicholas, a little surprised at these symptoms ofecstatic approbation. ‘Yes—she is a clever girl.’
‘She is a divinity,’ returned Mr Lillyvick, giving a collector’sdouble knock on the ground with the umbrella before-mentioned.
‘I have known divine actresses before now, sir, I used to collect—atleast I used to call for—and very often call for—the water-rate atthe house of a divine actress, who lived in my beat for upwards offour year but never—no, never, sir of all divine creatures,actresses or no actresses, did I see a diviner one than is HenriettaPetowker.’
Nicholas had much ado to prevent himself from laughing; not trusting himself to speak, he merely nodded in accordance withMr Lillyvick’s nods, and remained silent.
‘Let me speak a word with you in private,’ said Mr Lillyvick.
Nicholas looked good-humouredly at Smike, who, taking thehint, disappeared.
‘A bachelor is a miserable wretch, sir,’ said Mr Lillyvick.
‘Is he?’ asked Nicholas.
‘He is,’ rejoined the collector. ‘I have lived in the world for nighsixty year, and I ought to know what it is.’
‘You ought to know, certainly,’ thought Nicholas; ‘but whetheryou do or not, is another question.’
‘If a bachelor happens to have saved a little matter of money,’
said Mr Lillyvick, ‘his sisters and brothers, and nephews andnieces, look to that money, and not to him; even if, by being apublic character, he is the head of the family, or, as it may be, themain from which all the other little branches are turned on, theystill wish him dead all the while, and get low-spirited every timethey see him looking in good health, because they want to comeinto his little property. You see that?’
‘Oh yes,’ replied Nicholas: ‘it’s very true, no doubt.’
‘The great reason for not being married,’ resumed Mr Lillyvick,‘is the expense; that’s what’s kept me off, or else—Lord!’ said MrLillyvick, snapping his fingers, ‘I might have had fifty women.’
‘Fine women?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Fine women, sir!’ replied the collector; ‘ay! not so fine asHenrietta Petowker, for she is an uncommon specimen, but suchwomen as don’t fall into every man’s way, I can tell you. Nowsuppose a man can get a fortune in a wife instead of with her—eh?’
‘Why, then, he’s a lucky fellow,’ replied Nicholas.
‘That’s what I say,’ retorted the collector, patting himbenignantly on the side of the head with his umbrella; ‘just what Isay. Henrietta Petowker, the talented Henrietta Petowker has afortune in herself, and I am going to—’
‘To make her Mrs Lillyvick?’ suggested Nicholas.
‘No, sir, not to make her Mrs Lillyvick,’ replied the collector.
‘Actresses, sir, always keep their maiden names—that’s theregular thing—but I’m going to marry her; and the day aftertomorrow, too.’
‘I congratulate you, sir,’ said Nicholas.
‘Thank you, sir,’ replied the collector, buttoning his waistcoat. ‘Ishall draw her salary, of course, and I hope after all that it’s nearlyas cheap to keep two as it is to keep one; that’s a consolation.’
‘Surely you don’t want any consolation at such a moment?’
observed Nicholas.
‘No,’ replied Mr Lillyvick, shaking his head nervously: ‘no—ofcourse not.’
‘But how come you both here, if you’re going to be married, MrLillyvick?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Why, that’s what I came to explain to you,’ replied the collectorof water-rate. ‘The fact is, we have thought it best to keep it secretfrom the family.’
‘Family!’ said Nicholas. ‘What family?’
‘The Kenwigses of course,’ rejoined Mr Lillyvick. ‘If my nieceand the children had known a word about it before I came away,they’d have gone into fits at my feet, and never have come out of’em till I took an oath not to marry anybody—or they’d have gotout a commission of lunacy, or some dreadful thing,’ said the collector, quite trembling as he spoke.
‘To be sure,’ said Nicholas. ‘Yes; they would have been jealous,no doubt.’
‘To prevent which,’ said Mr Lillyvick, ‘Henrietta Petowker (itwas settled between us) should come down here to her friends, theCrummleses, under pretence of this engagement, and I should godown to Guildford the day before, and join her on the coach there,which I did, and we came down from Guildford yesterdaytogether. Now, for fear you should be writing to Mr Noggs, andmight say anything about us, we have thought it best to let youinto the secret. We shall be married from the Crummleses’
lodgings, and shall be delighted to see you—either before churchor at breakfast-time, which you like. It won’t be expensive, youknow,’ said the collector, highly anxious to prevent anymisunderstanding on this point; ‘just muffins and coffee, withperhaps a shrimp or something of that sort for a relish, you know.’
‘Yes, yes, I understand,’ replied Nicholas. ‘Oh, I shall be mosthappy to come; it will give me the greatest pleasure. Where’s thelady stopping—with Mrs Crummles?’
‘Why, no,’ said the collector; ‘they couldn’t very well dispose ofher at night, and so she is staying with an acquaintance of hers,and another young lady; they both belong to the theatre.’
‘Miss Snevellicci, I suppose?’ said Nicholas.
‘Yes, that’s the name.’
‘And they’ll be bridesmaids, I presume?’ said Nicholas.
‘Why,’ said the collector, with a rueful face, ‘they will have fourbridesmaids; I’m afraid they’ll make it rather theatrical.’
‘Oh no, not at all,’ replied Nicholas, with an awkward attempt toconvert a laugh into a cough. ‘Who may the four be? Miss Snevellicci of course—Miss Ledrook—’
‘The—the phenomenon,’ groaned the collector.
‘Ha, ha!’ cried Nicholas. ‘I beg your pardon, I don’t know whatI’m laughing at—yes, that’ll be very pretty—the phenomenon—who else?’
‘Some young woman or other,’ replied the collector, rising;‘some other friend of Henrietta Petowker’s. Well, you’ll be carefulnot to say anything about it, will you?’
‘You may safely depend upon me,’ replied Nicholas. ‘Won’t youtake anything to eat or drink?’
‘No,’ said the collector; ‘I haven’t any appetite. I should think itwas a very pleasant life, the married one, eh?’
‘I have not the least doubt of it,’ rejoined Nicholas.
‘Yes,’ said the collector; ‘certainly. Oh yes. No doubt. Goodnight.’
With these words, Mr Lillyvick, whose manner had exhibitedthrough the whole of this interview a most extraordinarycompound of precipitation, hesitation, confidence and doubt,fondness, misgiving, meanness, and self-importance, turned hisback upon the room, and left Nicholas to enjoy a laugh by himselfif he felt so disposed.
Without stopping to inquire whether the intervening dayappeared to Nicholas to consist of the usual number of hours ofthe ordinary length, it may be remarked that, to the parties moredirectly interested in the forthcoming ceremony, it passed withgreat rapidity, insomuch that when Miss Petowker awoke on thesucceeding morning in the chamber of Miss Snevellicci, shedeclared that nothing should ever persuade her that that reallywas the day which was to behold a change in her condition.
‘I never will believe it,’ said Miss Petowker; ‘I cannot really. It’sof no use talking, I never can make up my mind to go through withsuch a trial!’
On hearing this, Miss Snevellicci and Miss Ledrook, who knewperfectly well that their fair friend’s mind had been made up forthree or four years, at any period of which time she would havecheerfully undergone the desperate trial now approaching if shecould have found any eligible gentleman disposed for the venture,began to preach comfort and firmness, and to say how very proudshe ought to feel that it was in her power to confer lasting bliss ona deserving object, and how necessary it was for the happiness ofmankind in general that women should possess fortitude andresignation on such occasions; and that although for their partsthey held true happiness to consist in a single life, which theywould not willingly exchange—no, not for any worldlyconsideration—still (thank God), if ever the time should come, theyhoped they knew their duty too well to repine, but would therather submit with meekness and humility of spirit to a fate forwhich Providence had clearly designed them with a view to thecontentment and reward of their fellow-creatures.
‘I might feel it was a great blow,’ said Miss Snevellicci, ‘to breakup old associations and what-do-you-callems of that kind, but Iwould submit, my dear, I would indeed.’
‘So would I,’ said Miss Ledrook; ‘I would rather court the yokethan shun it. I have broken hearts before now, and I’m very sorryfor it: for it’s a terrible thing to reflect upon.’
‘It is indeed,’ said Miss Snevellicci. ‘Now Led, my dear, we mustpositively get her ready, or we shall be too late, we shall indeed.’
This pious reasoning, and perhaps the fear of being too late, supported the bride through the ceremony of robing, after which,strong tea and brandy were administered in alternate doses as ameans of strengthening her feeble limbs and causing her to walksteadier.
‘How do you feel now, my love?’ inquired Miss Snevellicci.
‘Oh Lillyvick!’ cried the bride. ‘If you knew what I amundergoing for you!’
‘Of course he knows it, love, and will never forget it,’ said MissLedrook.
‘Do you think he won’t?’ cried Miss Petowker, really showinggreat capability for the stage. ‘Oh, do you think he won’t? Do youthink Lillyvick will always remember it—always, always, always?’
There is no knowing in what this burst of feeling might haveended, if Miss Snevellicci had not at that moment proclaimed thearrival of the fly, which so astounded the bride that she shook offdivers alarming symptoms which were coming on very strong, andrunning to the glass adjusted her dress, and calmly declared thatshe was ready for the sacrifice.
She was accordingly supported into the coach, and there ‘keptup’ (as Miss Snevellicci said) with perpetual sniffs of sal volatileand sips of brandy and other gentle stimulants, until they reachedthe manager’s door, which was already opened by the two MasterCrummleses, who wore white cockades, and were decorated withthe choicest and most resplendent waistcoats in the theatricalwardrobe. By the combined exertions of these young gentlemenand the bridesmaids, assisted by the coachman, Miss Petowkerwas at length supported in a condition of much exhaustion to thefirst floor, where she no sooner encountered the youthfulbridegroom than she fainted with great decorum.
‘Henrietta Petowker!’ said the collector; ‘cheer up, my lovelyone.’
Miss Petowker grasped the collector’s hand, but emotionchoked her utterance.
‘Is the sight of me so dreadful, Henrietta Petowker?’ said thecollector.
‘Oh no, no, no,’ rejoined the bride; ‘but all the friends—thedarling friends—of my youthful days—to leave them all—it is sucha shock!’
With such expressions of sorrow, Miss Petowker went on toenumerate the dear friends of her youthful days one by one, and tocall upon such of them as were present to come and embrace her.
This done, she remembered that Mrs Crummles had been morethan a mother to her, and after that, that Mr Crummles had beenmore than a father to her, and after that, that the MasterCrummleses and Miss Ninetta Crummles had been more thanbrothers and sisters to her. These various remembrances beingeach accompanied with a series of hugs, occupied a long time, andthey were obliged to drive to church very fast, for fear they shouldbe too late.
The procession consisted of two flys; in the first of which wereMiss Bravassa (the fourth bridesmaid), Mrs Crummles, thecollector, and Mr Folair, who had been chosen as his second onthe occasion. In the other were the bride, Mr Crummles, MissSnevellicci, Miss Ledrook, and the phenomenon. The costumeswere beautiful. The bridesmaids were quite covered with artificialflowers, and the phenomenon, in particular, was rendered almostinvisible by the portable arbour in which she was enshrined. MissLedrook, who was of a romantic turn, wore in her breast the miniature of some field-officer unknown, which she hadpurchased, a great bargain, not very long before; the other ladiesdisplayed several dazzling articles of imitative jewellery, almostequal to real, and Mrs Crummles came out in a stern and gloomymajesty, which attracted the admiration of all beholders.
But, perhaps the appearance of Mr Crummles was morestriking and appropriate than that of any member of the party.
This gentleman, who personated the bride’s father, had, inpursuance of a happy and original conception, ‘made up’ for thepart by arraying himself in a theatrical wig, of a style and patterncommonly known as a brown George, and moreover assuming asnuff-coloured suit, of the previous century, with grey silkstockings, and buckles to his shoes. The better to support hisassumed character he had determined to be greatly overcome,and, consequently, when they entered the church, the sobs of theaffectionate parent were so heart-rending that the pew-openersuggested the propriety of his retiring to the vestry, andcomforting himself with a glass of water before the ceremonybegan.
The procession up the aisle was beautiful. The bride, with thefour bridesmaids, forming a group previously arranged andrehearsed; the collector, followed by his second, imitating his walkand gestures to the indescribable amusement of some theatricalfriends in the gallery; Mr Crummles, with an infirm and feeblegait; Mrs Crummles advancing with that stage walk, whichconsists of a stride and a stop alternately—it was the completestthing ever witnessed. The ceremony was very quickly disposed of,and all parties present having signed the register (for whichpurpose, when it came to his turn, Mr Crummles carefully wiped and put on an immense pair of spectacles), they went back tobreakfast in high spirits. And here they found Nicholas awaitingtheir arrival.
‘Now then,’ said Crummles, who had been assisting MrsGrudden in the preparations, which were on a more extensivescale than was quite agreeable to the collector. ‘Breakfast,breakfast.’
No second invitation was required. The company crowded andsqueezed themselves at the table as well as they could, and fell to,immediately: Miss Petowker blushing very much when anybodywas looking, and eating very much when anybody was NOTlooking; and Mr Lillyvick going to work as though with the coolresolve, that since the good things must be paid for by him, hewould leave as little as possible for the Crummleses to eat upafterwards.
‘It’s very soon done, sir, isn’t it?’ inquired Mr Folair of thecollector, leaning over the table to address him.
‘What is soon done, sir?’ returned Mr Lillyvick.
‘The tying up—the fixing oneself with a wife,’ replied Mr Folair.
‘It don’t take long, does it?’
‘No, sir,’ replied Mr Lillyvick, colouring. ‘It does not take long.
And what then, sir?’
‘Oh! nothing,’ said the actor. ‘It don’t take a man long to hanghimself, either, eh? ha, ha!’
Mr Lillyvick laid down his knife and fork, and looked round thetable with indignant astonishment.
‘To hang himself!’ repeated Mr Lillyvick.
A profound silence came upon all, for Mr Lillyvick wasdignified beyond expression.
‘To hang himself!’ cried Mr Lillyvick again. ‘Is any parallelattempted to be drawn in this company between matrimony andhanging?’
‘The noose, you know,’ said Mr Folair, a little crest-fallen.
‘The noose, sir?’ retorted Mr Lillyvick. ‘Does any man dare tospeak to me of a noose, and Henrietta Pe—’
‘Lillyvick,’ suggested Mr Crummles.
‘—And Henrietta Lillyvick in the same breath?’ said thecollector. ‘In this house, in the presence of Mr and Mrs Crummles,who have brought up a talented and virtuous family, to beblessings and phenomenons, and what not, are we to hear talk ofnooses?’
‘Folair,’ said Mr Crummles, deeming it a matter of decency tobe affected by this allusion to himself and partner, ‘I’m astonishedat you.’
‘What are you going on in this way at me for?’ urged theunfortunate actor. ‘What have I done?’
‘Done, sir!’ cried Mr Lillyvick, ‘aimed a blow at the wholeframework of society—’
‘And the best and tenderest feelings,’ added Crummles,relapsing into the old man.
‘And the highest and most estimable of social ties,’ said thecollector. ‘Noose! As if one was caught, trapped into the marriedstate, pinned by the leg, instead of going into it of one’s ownaccord and glorying in the act!’
‘I didn’t mean to make it out, that you were caught and trapped,and pinned by the leg,’ replied the actor. ‘I’m sorry for it; I can’tsay any more.’
‘So you ought to be, sir,’ returned Mr Lillyvick; ‘and I am glad to hear that you have enough of feeling left to be so.’
The quarrel appearing to terminate with this reply, MrsLillyvick considered that the fittest occasion (the attention of thecompany being no longer distracted) to burst into tears, andrequire the assistance of all four bridesmaids, which wasimmediately rendered, though not without some confusion, for theroom being small and the table-cloth long, a whole detachment ofplates were swept off the board at the very first move. Regardlessof this circumstance, however, Mrs Lillyvick refused to becomforted until the belligerents had passed their words that thedispute should be carried no further, which, after a sufficient showof reluctance, they did, and from that time Mr Folair sat in moodysilence, contenting himself with pinching Nicholas’s leg whenanything was said, and so expressing his contempt both for thespeaker and the sentiments to which he gave utterance.
There were a great number of speeches made; some byNicholas, and some by Crummles, and some by the collector; twoby the Master Crummleses in returning thanks for themselves,and one by the phenomenon on behalf of the bridesmaids, atwhich Mrs Crummles shed tears. There was some singing, too,from Miss Ledrook and Miss Bravassa, and very likely there mighthave been more, if the fly-driver, who stopped to drive the happypair to the spot where they proposed to take steamboat to Ryde,had not sent in a peremptory message intimating, that if theydidn’t come directly he should infallibly demand eighteen-penceover and above his agreement.
This desperate threat effectually broke up the party. After amost pathetic leave-taking, Mr Lillyvick and his bride departed forRyde, where they were to spend the next two days in profound retirement, and whither they were accompanied by the infant,who had been appointed travelling bridesmaid on Mr Lillyvick’sexpress stipulation: as the steamboat people, deceived by her size,would (he had previously ascertained) transport her at half-price.
As there was no performance that night, Mr Crummlesdeclared his intention of keeping it up till everything to drink wasdisposed of; but Nicholas having to play Romeo for the first timeon the ensuing evening, contrived to slip away in the midst of atemporary confusion, occasioned by the unexpected developmentof strong symptoms of inebriety in the conduct of Mrs Grudden.
To this act of desertion he was led, not only by his owninclinations, but by his anxiety on account of Smike, who, havingto sustain the character of the Apothecary, had been as yet whollyunable to get any more of the part into his head than the generalidea that he was very hungry, which—perhaps from oldrecollections—he had acquired with great aptitude.
‘I don’t know what’s to be done, Smike,’ said Nicholas, layingdown the book. ‘I am afraid you can’t learn it, my poor fellow.’
‘I am afraid not,’ said Smike, shaking his head. ‘I think if you—but that would give you so much trouble.’
‘What?’ inquired Nicholas. ‘Never mind me.’
‘I think,’ said Smike, ‘if you were to keep saying it to me in littlebits, over and over again, I should be able to recollect it fromhearing you.’
‘Do you think so?’ exclaimed Nicholas. ‘Well said. Let us seewho tires first. Not I, Smike, trust me. Now then. Who calls soloud?”
‘“Who calls so loud?”’ said Smike.
‘“Who calls so loud?”’ repeated Nicholas.
‘“Who calls so loud?”’ cried Smike.
Thus they continued to ask each other who called so loud, overand over again; and when Smike had that by heart Nicholas wentto another sentence, and then to two at a time, and then to three,and so on, until at midnight poor Smike found to his unspeakablejoy that he really began to remember something about the text.
Early in the morning they went to it again, and Smike,rendered more confident by the progress he had already made, goton faster and with better heart. As soon as he began to acquire thewords pretty freely, Nicholas showed him how he must come inwith both hands spread out upon his stomach, and how he mustoccasionally rub it, in compliance with the established form bywhich people on the stage always denote that they want somethingto eat. After the morning’s rehearsal they went to work again, nordid they stop, except for a hasty dinner, until it was time to repairto the theatre at night.
Never had master a more anxious, humble, docile pupil. Neverhad pupil a more patient, unwearying, considerate, kind-heartedmaster.
As soon as they were dressed, and at every interval when hewas not upon the stage, Nicholas renewed his instructions. Theyprospered well. The Romeo was received with hearty plaudits andunbounded favour, and Smike was pronounced unanimously,alike by audience and actors, the very prince and prodigy ofApothecaries.
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