Part 13 (1/2)
The book is now usually a missal which the lady employs at her orisons. But it is oftentimes--for so stage-management will have it--the identical volume with which Hamlet had entered reading in an earlier act, and which he describes, upon being interrogated by Polonius, as containing, ”words, words, words!” and ”slanders, sir!”
It was John Kemble's way, we are told, to tear out a leaf from the book at this period of the performance, by way of conveying the ”stronger impression of Hamlet's wildness.” The actor's method of rendering this scene has not been adopted by later representatives of the character. Indeed, a long run of the tragedy, such as happens in these times, would involve serious outlay for stage-books, if so destructive a system were persisted in. Moreover, there is no sort of warrant in the text for tearing a leaf out of the ”satirical rogue's”
work.
The ”book of the play” frequently figures in theatrical anecdote.
Wilkinson relates, that when Reddish made his first essay upon the stage, he inserted a paragraph in the newspaper, informing the public that he was ”a gentleman of easy fortune.” He appeared as Sir John Dorilant, in ”The School for Lovers,” and in the course of his performance threw from him an elegantly-bound book, which he was supposed to have been studying. Observing this, a gentleman in the pit inquired of Macklin, who happened to be present: ”Pray, sir, do you think such conduct natural?” ”Why, no, sir,” Macklin replied gravely, ”not in a Sir John Dorilant, but strictly natural as Mr. Reddish; for, as you know, he has advertised himself as a gentleman of easy fortune.” It has been pointed out, however, that the inaccuracy, fatal to so many anecdotes, affects even this one. The book is thrown away in strict accordance with the stage directions of the play; and it is so treated, not by Sir John Dorilant, but by another character named Belmont.
Macklin administered a similar rebuke, while his comedy of ”The True-born Irishman” was in rehearsal, to an actor personating one of the characters, and acquitting himself very indifferently. Upon his misp.r.o.nouncing the name of Lady Kennegad, Macklin stepped up to him and demanded angrily, ”What trade he was of?” The player replied that he was a gentleman. Macklin rejoined: ”Stick to that, sir! stick to that; for you will never be an actor.”
In Farquhar's comedy of ”The Inconstant,” when Bisarre is first addressed by Mirabel and Duretete, Miss Farren, playing Bisarre, held a book in her hand, which she affected to have been reading before she spoke. Mrs. Jordan, we are told, who afterwards a.s.sumed the character, declined to make use of the stage-book, and dispensed with it altogether. She sat perfectly still, affecting to be lost in thought.
Then, before speaking, she took a pinch of snuff! Half a century ago a heroine who indulged in snuff was deemed no more objectionable than is one of our modern heroes of the stage, who cannot forego cigars or cigarettes.
There is a stage-book to be seen in ”The School for Scandal.” Joseph Surface affects to pore over its pages immediately after he has secreted Lady Teazle behind the screen, and while Sir Peter is on the stairs. ”Ever improving himself,” notes Sir Peter, and then taps the reader on the shoulder. Joseph starts. ”I have been dozing over a stupid book,” he says; and the stage direction bids him ”gape, and throw down the book.” And many volumes are needed in ”The Rivals.”
Miss Languish's maid Lucy returns after having traversed half the town, and visited all the circulating libraries in Bath. She has failed to obtain ”The Reward of Constancy;” ”The Fatal Connexion;”
”The Mistakes of the Heart;” ”The Delicate Mistress, or the Memoirs of Lady Woodford.” But she has secured, as she says, ”taking the books from under her cloak, and from her pockets, 'The Gordian Knot' and 'Peregrine Pickle.' Here are 'The Tears of Sensibility' and 'Humphry Clinker.' This, 'The Memoirs of a Lady of Quality,' written by herself; and here the second volume of 'The Sentimental Journey.'”
LYDIA. Heigh-ho! What are those books by the gla.s.s?
LUCY. The great one is only ”The Whole Duty of Man,” where I press a few blonds, ma'am.
LYDIA. Very well; give me the sal volatile.
LUCY. Is it in a blue cover, ma'am?
LYDIA. My smelling-bottle, you simpleton!
LUCY. Oh, the drops! Here, ma'am.
Presently the approach of Mrs. Malaprop and Sir Anthony Absolute is announced. Cries Lydia: ”Here, my dear Lucy, hide these books. Quick, quick. Fling 'Peregrine Pickle' under the toilet; throw 'Roderick Random' into the closet; put 'The Innocent Adultery' into 'The Whole Duty of Man;' thrust 'Lord Aimworth' under the sofa; cram 'Ovid'
behind the bolster; there, put 'The Man of Feeling' into your pocket--so, so--now lay 'Mrs. Chapone' in sight, and leave 'Fordyce's Sermons' open on the table.”
LUCY. O, burn it, ma'am. The hairdresser has torn away as far as ”Proper Pride.”
LYDIA. Never mind; open at ”Sobriety.” Fling me ”Lord Chesterfield's Letters.” Now for 'em!
It will be perceived that the property-master of the theatre is here required to produce quite a library of stage-books. Does he buy them by the dozen, from the nearest book-stall--out of that trunk full of miscellaneous volumes, boldly labelled, ”All these at fourpence”? And does he then recover them with the bright blue or scarlet that is so dear to him, daubing them here and there with his indispensable Dutch metal? Of course their contents can matter little. Like all the other things of the theatre, they are not what they pretend to be, nor what they would have the audience think them. The ”book of the play” is something of a mystery. Let us take for granted, however, that it is rarely interesting to the reader, that it is not one of those volumes which, when once taken up, cannot again be laid down--which thrill, enchain, and absorb. For otherwise what might happen? When some necessary question of the play had to be considered, the actor, over-occupied with the volume in his hand, fairly tied and bound by its chain of interest, might forget his part--the book might ruin the play. Of course such an accident could not be permitted. The stage-book is bound to be a dull book, however much it may seem to entertain Brutus and Henry, the Stranger and Bisarre, Hamlet and Joseph Surface, Imogen and Lydia Languish. It is in truth, a book for all stage-readers. Now it is a prayer-book--as in the case of Richard III.; and now, in ”The Hunchback,” it is ”Ovid's Art of Love.”
According to the prompt-book of the play, Modus is to enter ”with a neatly-bound book.”
HELEN. What is the book?
MODUS. Tis ”Ovid's Art of Love.”
HELEN. That Ovid was a fool.
MODUS. In what?
HELEN. In that.
To call that thing an art which art is none.
She strikes the book from his hand, and reproves him for reading in the presence of a lady.