THE DEBUT OF A DRAMATIST.

Otago Witness, Issue 1974, 19 September 1889, Page 31

THE DEBUT OF A DRAMATIST.

HOW BOUCICAULT WROTE "LONDON ASSURANCE."

I was 18 years of age at that time. lam 67 now. Forty-nine years ago I Ah, me !— where was I ?

Leaning at the open window, contemplating the vista of chimney-pots and disconsolate tiled roofs which spread away to the smoky horizon of Lambetb, oat a lodger in his Bohemian asylum. He wa3 something older than a boy and younger than a man. His slim figure, broad in the shoulders, thin in the flank ; his black hair and grey-blue ejes; his complexion, as fair as that of a girl, indicates the Irish race. The clock of St. Martin's neighbouring church struck 3. "Three o'clock!" he murmured; "the rehearsal most be over by this time. They told me this is the best time to see him. It shall be my last effort."

So saying, he slung himself into a peajacket, snatched his bat, and dived down the four flights of stairs. With ewift steps, half in resolution, half in despair, he crossed the Strand, made his way up Bedford street, along Henrietta street, and into Convent Garden Market. Crossing that metropolitan nuisance, always reeking with rotting vegetable refuse, he sped round the house into the by-street in which was situated the etage door of the old Covent Garden Theatre. It looked like the vestibule of a prison. The etage door-keeper recognised him with a nod, half familiar, half sympathetic. "Is the rehearsal over yet 1 " asked the visitor. " " Oh, yes ; an hour ago." " Will you please take nay name up to Mr Charles Mathews ?"

"It is all right," replied the door keeper, glancing at the card ; "Mr Mathews has been expecting to see you since 2 o'clock." The visitor stood agape. " Did you not get the message 1 " continued the official.

"I?No I " stammered the youth, tingling all over with delight and astonishment ; " when did he send ? "

"An hour ago. Oh ! here is his own man. I say, Williams, take t#is gentleman's name to Mr Mathews, quick. Say Mr Madison Morton is waiting."

Williams had vanished before the young man could gasp out :

"No 1 It is a mistake. My name is Lee Moreton."

" Then why did you not tell me so ? ' growled the porter."

" You never asked me," retorted the boy, who stood for some moments irresolute.

" This way, sir ; take care. The staircase is dark. Allow me to guide you."

"One moment, my dear Morton. Sit down. Not a word until I have finished this seene — just half a page."

At length Charles Mathews lose and, putting aside the manuscript on the mantelpiece, took to poking the fire vigorously. " Well, Morton, I like the part you have written for me immensely."

" I beg your pardon, Mr Mathews," began the youth, timidly.

" Hullo I " exclaimed the comedian, turning round and scanning his visitor with amused wonder ; " who are you ? " "My name is Moreton, and by mistake I have been Bhown to your room. Allow me to explain how it happened," and he did so. Mathews laughed heartily at the blunder, and then, eyeing tbe youth with some curiosity, asked what he wished to see him about.

Young Moreton told him.

Mathews iistened with great patience and good humour ; then he answered that dozens of such works came in weekly, and that hs would get Mr Planche or Mr Bartley to look it up. Mr Moreton had better leave the title of the play, and he (Mathews) would see it was returned to the author. As the manager said this, he walked to the desk in a manner to convey a dismissal. Moreton rose, and, bowing, turned at the door, and said :

" The title is, • A Lover by Proxy.' " "Whatl" cried .Mathews, and returning quickly to the mantelpiece, he took up the manuscript he had been reading. It was the farce in question.

" I see," he said, quietly ; " I see it is by L. Moreton, not by Madison Morton." After a moment's reflection, he continued : v And this is your work ? "

" Yes."

" Sit down. What is your age ? " " I shall be 18 next month," replied the boy, colouring to the roots of his hair, for he now felt and understood the impudence of the intrusion.

"You do not look so old," remarked the comedian. The boy added : "I was born on the 26fch of December 1822."

" You were I " cried Mathews ; " why, that is my|birtbday 1 That is singular. And you tell me you had no assistance in the composition of this play?" " Yes, sir. I know it is full of faults."

"Stop," said Mathews, eyeing him with great fkindness; "tell me what you are and who you are."

"I am alone in London, desolate and penniless. I have clung to the hope of earning some livelihood rather than return to Dublin, to my family, who are not too well blessed with fortune. lam friendless. Perhaps you do not know what that means."

And here my hero broke down like, a schoolboy ; indeed, he was little more. "I wish heartily," said the manager, training away and looking moodily into the fir e, " I wish I could help you, but we are glutted with farces. What we do want nowadays is a good five-act comedy of modern lfe."

Then, after a pause, he resumed : "Well, in any case, let me retain your farce. \ would like my wife, Madame Vestus, to read i 6. Meanwhile, I must put your name on the free list of the theatre, and I hope you will avail yourself of the privilege frequently," With a full heart and a throbbing brain the lad took his leave, but hesitating a moment at the door, he tnrned and said — 11 You have been good and kind to me, Mr Mathewß. I had no claim on your attention or on your sympathy; so I am the more

grateful. Let me confess before Igo that the name Lee Moreton is one I assumed when I appeared as an amateur in private theatricals. My name is Dion Boucicault. It does not matter much, but I don't like to wear any disguise with you.'\

" I see no reason for assuming any name but your own. I think it is the better one the two.

The young man accepted the remark as advice, and from that moncent shook off the silly incognito he had adopted.

Four weeks after this interview, Mr Boucicault presented himself once more at the stage door of the Covent Garden Theatre and requested the porter to send up his name to Mr Mathews, and again he was piloted into the room he remembered so well.

"Ah," said Mathews, who met him heartily, "I was wondering what had become of you. What can Ido for you 1 " The boy hauled a big roll of manuscript from under his coat, and, placing it on the table before the manager, said simply : "There is the five-act comedy you wanted."

"What comedy?" cried Mathews, bewildered.

" Well 1 " replied the lad, " I understood you to say that if you could find in a new five-act comedy a part similar to that I wrote for you in • A Lover by Proxy,' there would be room for the production of such a work."

" Did I say so ? Perhaps*-yes, I think I did."

"Well, there is the comedy! I went home full of that little bit of hope you extended to me, and set to work with all my heart."

"Do you mean to say that you have written a new comedy in five acts since I saw you the other day ? "

" Yes, such as it is. IE you will read it, it will decide my future one way or the other."

" Head it ! " cried Mathews, heartily ; "of course I will. But pray do not build any hopes upon this venture. However, we have a little party next Sunday at our villa at Parson's Green. There will be Planche, John Cooper, Bartley, Madame (Vestiis), and myself, We shall hold court over your offence ! Good-day."

On Monday morning Barbley sent for him to come to his private room at the theatre. The youth hurried there with his heart in his mouth.

" Sit down, my dear boy," said the old comedian, regarding the lad as tenderly as if he had been his own son ; " let me at once lay your anxiety at rest. We read your comedy, and Mr and Mrs Mathews think Very highly of it. The play is undoubtedly very clever — a wonderfwl work for a youth in his teens. Our opinion is not that of the public It is not a verdict. Accept it as an encouragement. Keep your head cool; do not be sanguine."

A few days after this, the comedy was called for reading to the actors in the greenroom of the theatre. The cast included Farren, Bartley, Anderson, Mathews, Harley, Keeley, Madame Vestiis, Mrs Nisbett, and Mrs Humby. They were all there, stars of the first magnitude ; no such group has ever since that time been assembled. At the conclusion Vestris, who sat beside him, rose, and taking him in her arms, said :

"We cannot tell what reception your comedy may meet with, but the public cannot alter our opinion that it is a brilliant play, and that you will be numbered arjj^ngst the dramatists of the period "

The first night— March 4, 1841— came to pass. The name of the author was unknown to the public; so a half- filled house assembled to witness the first performance of "London Assurance."

The original title of the comedy had been " Out of Town," Yestris had changed that. So also in the dramatis persona; of the play, Sir William Dazzle had been changed to Sir Harcourt Courtly, and the name of Dazzle was assumed by Charles Mathews, who played that part. The French method of occupying the stage with only one scene per act was, it is believed, introduced into the English stage on this occasion. But the extravagance of innovation was reached when the author suggested that a carpet should be used in the drawing room.

" What next 1 " murmured John Cooper, the stage manager ; "he will be asking, for real flowers and real sunlight in the garden."

We have had the real flowers since, and the limelight has furnished a very respectable substitute for sunlight.

During the performance the woe-begone author wandered about the corridors of the house, for he had been warned off the stage by Madam^e Vestris, who said his presence would make the actors neivous. So he crept up to a back seat in the upper boxes, and there listened to his play. Oh, how slow it seemed ; how bald. The first act provoked a little laughter here and there, and then he drew a breath. The beautiful stage-setting of the second act elioited the first round cf applause. As the play proceeded, he discovered Mark Lemon, Douglas Jerrold, and Gilbert a Beckett seated together .in the front row of an adjacent box. He crept into the row behind them and tried to overhear their opinions on the piece. When the situation arrived at the end of this act, Jerrold turned to his companions.

"That is fatal," he observed; he has reached his climax too early in the play. Nothing will go after that."

The public had, indeed, greeted the scene with the wild enthusiasm a London audience alone are capable of displaying.

Wellington never awaited the arrival of the Prussians at Waterloo with the pale anxiety that the appearance of Lady Gay Spanker and Dolly in the third act was waited for by that young dramatist. Nisbett came, she spoke, and conquered. She outranked herself. The hunting speech carried the house by storm. Jerrold, Lemon, and a Becket rose in their seats and cheered.

The pit seemed to- boil over. Nothing was heard for several minutes. The author left the house. Up and down Convent Garden Market, back and forth, he paced, not sensible where he directed his steps, until he found himself on Waterloo bridge, seated in a recess, trying to cool his face by pressing it against the wet, atone balustrade. It was raining, but he did not know it. Then there

crept over him a dread that the end of the comedy might change the tide of success. He rose and crept back to the theatre ; the fifth act was on ; there was an ominous silence. Hush 1 who was speaking ? Sir Harcourt : Charles, who is Mr Dazzle ? Charles: Dazzle? Well, I don't exactly know who he is. I say, Dazzle, excuse an impertinent question. Dazzle : Oh, certainly ! Charles : Who are you 7

Dazzle : I have not the slightest idea ! The house shook with peal after peal of laughter at the inimitable manner of Mathews. And every fibre of the young author quivered responsively. In a few moments after this the curtain descended. The actors had responded again and again to the enthusiastic calls and recalls of the public, when a strange uproar commenced — a din amid which it seemed impossible to discern what the audience wanted. In the midst of this the author felt himself seized by someone, who cried :

"Mr Mathews is searching for you, sir, everywhere ; please follow me at once," and presently he found himself behind the scenes, standing at the prompt entrance.

" Come," said Mathews ; " don't you hear the public ? They are calling for you ! "

" For me ?" he stammered; "what for ? " Mathews -caught the boy by the arm; Bartley pushed him forward, and he found himself suddenly in the presence of the audience. He could see nothing but the glare of the footlights ; could hear nothing but the tumult of the multitude. After escaping from this ordeal, he stood amid the crowd of actors in the greenroom, and, looking round upon their beaming faces, he stammered out something very incoherent to each of them. Mathews led him forward to where Madame Vestris and Mrs Nisbett sat.

"There!" cried the comedian; "does their presence not inspire you to speak? What do you say to your heroines ? " The boy looked from one to the'bther and said : " Will you kiss me ? " And they did.

"The boy has recovered his presence of mind," remarked Mathews. That is all I cannot believe it was so long ago.