CHAPTER V.

THE DRAMA IN THOSE DAYS.

1847-1852.

THE number of theatres in London in the present year of grace is, according to that excellent authority on all dramatic matters, the "Era Almanack," thirty-seven; in the year 1847 it was thirteen, including Her Majesty's and Covent Garden, which were both devoted to Italian opera, and the St. James's, where, during the brief season. in which it was open, French plays were performed by French players. In this number I reckon the transpontine Surrey and Victoria, and the suburban Sadler's Wells, but not the far-eastward Pavilion, nor the Grecian and Britannia, which, though in existence, called themselves in those days "Saloons;" indeed, the former was then still known as the Eagle Tavern. The theatres of which I speak were Her Majesty's, Covent Garden, Drury Lane, Haymarket, Lyceum, Princess's, Adelphi, Olympic, St. James's, Sadler's Wells, Marylebone, Surrey, Victoria; and of these, according to my knowledge of them, I propose to speak in detail.

To Her Majesty's I had already been introduced in my school-boy days by the kindly daughter of Mr. Williams, a friend of my mother's and a partner in Cockburn's Bank, at the corner of Whitehall Place, where she kept her bank account. This worthy lady, herself passionately fond of music, imagined every one else must be in a similar condition; but though I was glad enough to accompany her, the chief attractions to me then were the lights and the company; later on, the charms of the ballet asserted their sway.

The opening of the season of '47 at Her Majesty's was

exceptionally dull; the great feud between Mr. Lumley, the lessee, and his conductor, Signor Costa, and principal singers, Madame Grisi and Signor Mario, had been followed by the secession of the best part of the troupe, and the conversion of Covent Garden Theatre into an operahouse, under the management of Messrs. Delafield and Gye. "Bones," boxes, and general admissions were to be had for the asking at Her Majesty's, until the appearance-long heralded and eagerly expected-of Mlle. Jenny Lind, in the early days of May, had an immediate effect in not merely restoring the failing fortunes of the theatre, but brought with it an amount of pecuniary success hitherto unknown.

I do not know how I could have received a hint of the importance of that début, for I certainly was not in any musical circle-I suppose I derived my impression from the general talk; but it is certain that I made up my mind to be present on the night when Mlle. Jenny Lind should make her first bow to the English public, and equally certain that I carried out my intention. Every retainable seat had been retained for weeks; that made no difference to me-even a place in the pit was beyond my small means; but I was young and strong and active, and at a few minutes before noon on Tuesday, the 4th May, I took my place among twenty persons then gathered round the gallery-door of the opera-house in the Haymarket.

The twenty soon swelled into two hundred, into five hundred, into uncountable numbers; and there we stood, swaying hither and thither, joking, chaffing, panting, groaning, until the doors were opened at 7 P.M., and away we went with a rush. I had brought some sandwiches and a pocket-flask with me, and was in good condition luckily; for anything like that crowd I have never experienced. There were women among us, and just as I neared the door I heard a feeble whisper in my ear, "For God's sake, help me! I'm fainting!" I could not move my arms, which were pinioned to my sides, but I turned my head as best I could, and said, "Catch hold of me, and I'll pull you up." The woman-I never saw her face

The

perspiring and exhausted, and followall round me I took off my coat. overture to "Robert le Diable" found shirt-sleeves; but we were clothed and before the opera began.

I heard Mlle. Lind was from the same about a month later, on her first appearand as this performance was attended Eate, I had equal difficulty in getting in. pageant I had ever beheld, and I perthe gorgeous appearance of the Royal -f-caters on the stage below. The perwas unquestionably a failure: the adeatre tried to talk about a "new readeter of the Druidical priestess; but the e none of it; and it was generally alNorma remained untouched.

Lind's extraordinary and unequalled sucAmerica, of her quarrel with Mr. Bunn, irtues and social triumphs, there is no in these pages. She had two admirable sweet-voiced Gardoni and the splendid ith two exceptions, the operatic troupe s to his ballet that Mr. Lumley looked ttraction, independently of Jenny Lind. ght; for surely neither before nor since entertainment brought to such a pitch

of perfection. I have seen the famous pas de quatre danced by Taglioni, Cerito, Carlotta Grisi, and Lucille Grahn, the last one of the tallest of women, but extraordinarily graceful. I have seen more than a score of times -for it was my favorite ballet-" Esmeralda," with Carlotta Grisi, bright, audacious, supple, and piquante to a degree, with Perrot—a little, ugly, pock-marked man, but a marvellous pantomimist -as Pierre Gringoire. The witchery of a pas called "La Truandaise," as danced by this couple, is quite inexpressible. Mlle. Plunkett, sister of Madame Doche, the French actress, was also a famous dancer of those days.

This was the first season of the Royal Italian Opera House, into which old Covent Garden Theatre had been metamorphosed, and the rivalry between it and the lyric establishment in the Haymarket was intense. It may be said generally that Her Majesty's was supported by the older, the Royal Italian by the younger, section of operagoers; and I remember it was the fashion of the younger men to wear, in evening dress, black ties, in contrast to the large double - folded white cravats which were de rigueur at the Haymarket house.* What productions were those under Costa's baton, and with the executants whom he had lured from their old allegiance! So long as I live I shall, I suppose, remember my first experience of "Lucrezia Borgia," with Grisi's entrance on the gondola, the sleeping Mario, the "Com' e bello," the trio between these two and Tamburini, Orsini's drinking-song as interpreted by Alboni, and the horror of the finale. What a company! In addition to these, Madame Persiani, Sign

* As I was revising this chapter in proof I received a letter from Captain Dawson Damer, who says: "I have lost an old friend in Hayward. I only heard from him a short time ago; it was in regard to 'white ties.' I asked him when they came into fashion. He replied, 'One night, about 1850 (?), about the very last night of Vauxhall, the elder Miss Berry, aged eighty-five, Horace Walpole's flame, asked me to escort her there, and she suddenly, on entering the Gardens, looked at my white tie, and she said to me, "The last time I was here I came with Beau Brummell, who wore a white neck-cloth for the first time; and it attracted much notice, and there rose an inquiry whether B. B. had taken orders."

or Ronconi, Tagliafico; later on, Formes, whom I recollect as sexton at Mühlheim am Ruhr, not far from Düsseldorf, Madame Dorus Gras, Miss Catherine Hayes, M. Massol, Mlle. Angri, and Mlle. de Méric. The London world went quite mad over the production of "Les Huguenots," almost as mad over the production of “Le Prophète," in which, by-the-way, roller-skating was first introduced.

At Drury Lane, in my boyish days, English opera, composed by Balfe or Wallace and written by Alfred Bunn, had been the great attraction, and often had I listened to Miss Romer's narration of her dream of dwelling in marble halls, Miss Rainforth's charming contralto, Mr. Harrison's reedy tenor, and Mr. Borrani's (né Borrigan) nasal barytone, his songs, "The heart bowed dowd" and "Hear be, gentle Baritada," being favorite subjects of imitation among the musical young men. But at the

time of which I write, Drury Lane was almost wholly given up to the great Jullien, whose promenade concerts were by far the greatest success of their day: a little man, with a pale face and bright, beady eyes, always at night elaborately dressed, with a worked shirt-front and huge white waistcoat and turned-back cuffs. He had been, according to some, a waiter at a café, according to others, a bandsman in a regiment; but all were agreed that he was a charlatan. That was visible to every naked eye in his puffs and programmes, in his posters and advertising vans, in the manner in which he led his musicians-dancing a-tiptoe, softly soothing, with outstretched palm, wildly exciting with whirling baton, driving to fury with maniacal gesticulation, then, spent and exhausted, falling back, panting and breathless, into his gilded chair.

He was a charlatan, I will admit; but as a man-I knew him well-he was kindly, cheery, generous, and loyal, and as a musician he was perhaps the greatest benefactor this country has ever had; for to him, more than to any one else, is to be ascribed the popularizing of music among the English people. To this end he got together a splendid band-which, for numbers and excellence, at that time had never been equalled, and since has never been