Chapter 24

by Charles Dickens

　　Of the Great Bespeak for Miss Snevellicci, and the first Appearanceof Nicholas upon any StageNicholas was up betimes in the morning; but he had scarcely begun todress, notwithstanding, when he heard footsteps ascending thestairs, and was presently saluted by the voices of Mr Folair thepantomimist, and Mr Lenville, the tragedian.'House, house, house!' cried Mr Folair.'What, ho! within there" said Mr Lenville, in a deep voice.'Confound these fellows!' thought Nicholas; 'they have come tobreakfast, I suppose. I'll open the door directly, if you'll waitan instant.'The gentlemen entreated him not to hurry himself; and, to beguilethe interval, had a fencing bout with their walking-sticks on thevery small landing-place: to the unspeakable discomposure of all theother lodgers downstairs.'Here, come in,' said Nicholas, when he had completed his toilet.'In the name of all that's horrible, don't make that noise outside.''An uncommon snug little box this,' said Mr Lenville, stepping intothe front room, and taking his hat off, before he could get in atall. 'Pernicious snug.''For a man at all particular in such matters, it might be a trifletoo snug,' said Nicholas; 'for, although it is, undoubtedly, a greatconvenience to be able to reach anything you want from the ceilingor the floor, or either side of the room, without having to movefrom your chair, still these advantages can only be had in anapartment of the most limited size.''It isn't a bit too confined for a single man,' returned MrLenville. 'That reminds me,--my wife, Mr Johnson,--I hope she'llhave some good part in this piece of yours?''I glanced at the French copy last night,' said Nicholas. 'It looksvery good, I think.''What do you mean to do for me, old fellow?' asked Mr Lenville,poking the struggling fire with his walking-stick, and afterwardswiping it on the skirt of his coat. 'Anything in the gruff andgrumble way?''You turn your wife and child out of doors,' said Nicholas; 'and, ina fit of rage and jealousy, stab your eldest son in the library.''Do I though!' exclaimed Mr Lenville. 'That's very good business.''After which,' said Nicholas, 'you are troubled with remorse tillthe last act, and then you make up your mind to destroy yourself.But, just as you are raising the pistol to your head, a clockstrikes--ten.''I see,' cried Mr Lenville. 'Very good.''You pause,' said Nicholas; 'you recollect to have heard a clockstrike ten in your infancy. The pistol falls from your hand--youare overcome--you burst into tears, and become a virtuous andexemplary character for ever afterwards.''Capital!' said Mr Lenville: 'that's a sure card, a sure card. Getthe curtain down with a touch of nature like that, and it'll be atriumphant success.''Is there anything good for me?' inquired Mr Folair, anxiously.'Let me see,' said Nicholas. 'You play the faithful and attachedservant; you are turned out of doors with the wife and child.''Always coupled with that infernal phenomenon,' sighed Mr Folair;'and we go into poor lodgings, where I won't take any wages, andtalk sentiment, I suppose?''Why--yes,' replied Nicholas: 'that is the course of the piece.''I must have a dance of some kind, you know,' said Mr Folair.'You'll have to introduce one for the phenomenon, so you'd bettermake a pas de deux, and save time.''There's nothing easier than that,' said Mr Lenville, observing thedisturbed looks of the young dramatist.'Upon my word I don't see how it's to be done,' rejoined Nicholas.'Why, isn't it obvious?' reasoned Mr Lenville. 'Gadzooks, who canhelp seeing the way to do it?--you astonish me! You get thedistressed lady, and the little child, and the attached servant,into the poor lodgings, don't you?--Well, look here. The distressedlady sinks into a chair, and buries her face in her pocket-handkerchief. "What makes you weep, mama?" says the child. "Don'tweep, mama, or you'll make me weep too!"--"And me!" says thefavourite servant, rubbing his eyes with his arm. "What can we doto raise your spirits, dear mama?" says the little child. "Ay,what can we do?" says the faithful servant. "Oh, Pierre!" says thedistressed lady; "would that I could shake off these painfulthoughts."--"Try, ma'am, try," says the faithful servant; "rouseyourself, ma'am; be amused."--"I will," says the lady, "I will learnto suffer with fortitude. Do you remember that dance, my honestfriend, which, in happier days, you practised with this sweet angel?It never failed to calm my spirits then. Oh! let me see it onceagain before I die!"--There it is--cue for the band, before I die,--and off they go. That's the regular thing; isn't it, Tommy?''That's it,' replied Mr Folair. 'The distressed lady, overpoweredby old recollections, faints at the end of the dance, and you closein with a picture.'Profiting by these and other lessons, which were the result of thepersonal experience of the two actors, Nicholas willingly gave themthe best breakfast he could, and, when he at length got rid of them,applied himself to his task: by no means displeased to find that itwas so much easier than he had at first supposed. He worked veryhard all day, and did not leave his room until the evening, when hewent down to the theatre, whither Smike had repaired before him togo on with another gentleman as a general rebellion.Here all the people were so much changed, that he scarcely knewthem. False hair, false colour, false calves, false muscles--theyhad become different beings. Mr Lenville was a blooming warrior ofmost exquisite proportions; Mr Crummles, his large face shaded by aprofusion of black hair, a Highland outlaw of most majestic bearing;one of the old gentlemen a jailer, and the other a venerablepatriarch; the comic countryman, a fighting-man of great valour,relieved by a touch of humour; each of the Master Crummleses aprince in his own right; and the low-spirited lover, a despondingcaptive. There was a gorgeous banquet ready spread for the thirdact, consisting of two pasteboard vases, one plate of biscuits, ablack bottle, and a vinegar cruet; and, in short, everything was ona scale of the utmost splendour and preparation.Nicholas was standing with his back to the curtain, nowcontemplating the first scene, which was a Gothic archway, about twofeet shorter than Mr Crummles, through which that gentleman was tomake his first entrance, and now listening to a couple of people whowere cracking nuts in the gallery, wondering whether they made thewhole audience, when the manager himself walked familiarly up andaccosted him.'Been in front tonight?' said Mr Crummles.'No,' replied Nicholas, 'not yet. I am going to see the play.''We've had a pretty good Let,' said Mr Crummles. 'Four front placesin the centre, and the whole of the stage-box.''Oh, indeed!' said Nicholas; 'a family, I suppose?''Yes,' replied Mr Crummles, 'yes. It's an affecting thing. Thereare six children, and they never come unless the phenomenon plays.'It would have been difficult for any party, family, or otherwise, tohave visited the theatre on a night when the phenomenon did notplay, inasmuch as she always sustained one, and not uncommonly twoor three, characters, every night; but Nicholas, sympathising withthe feelings of a father, refrained from hinting at this triflingcircumstance, and Mr Crummles continued to talk, uninterrupted byhim.'Six,' said that gentleman; 'pa and ma eight, aunt nine, governessten, grandfather and grandmother twelve. Then, there's the footman,who stands outside, with a bag of oranges and a jug of toast-and-water, and sees the play for nothing through the little pane ofglass in the box-door--it's cheap at a guinea; they gain by taking abox.''I wonder you allow so many,' observed Nicholas.'There's no help for it,' replied Mr Crummles; 'it's always expectedin the country. If there are six children, six people come to holdthem in their laps. A family-box carries double always. Ring inthe orchestra, Grudden!'That useful lady did as she was requested, and shortly afterwardsthe tuning of three fiddles was heard. Which process having beenprotracted as long as it was supposed that the patience of theaudience could possibly bear it, was put a stop to by another jerkof the bell, which, being the signal to begin in earnest, set theorchestra playing a variety of popular airs, with involuntaryvariations.If Nicholas had been astonished at the alteration for the betterwhich the gentlemen displayed, the transformation of the ladies wasstill more extraordinary. When, from a snug corner of the manager'sbox, he beheld Miss Snevellicci in all the glories of white muslinwith a golden hem, and Mrs Crummles in all the dignity of theoutlaw's wife, and Miss Bravassa in all the sweetness of MissSnevellicci's confidential friend, and Miss Belvawney in the whitesilks of a page doing duty everywhere and swearing to live and diein the service of everybody, he could scarcely contain hisadmiration, which testified itself in great applause, and theclosest possible attention to the business of the scene. The plotwas most interesting. It belonged to no particular age, people, orcountry, and was perhaps the more delightful on that account, asnobody's previous information could afford the remotest glimmeringof what would ever come of it. An outlaw had been very successfulin doing something somewhere, and came home, in triumph, to thesound of shouts and fiddles, to greet his wife--a lady of masculinemind, who talked a good deal about her father's bones, which itseemed were unburied, though whether from a peculiar taste on thepart of the old gentleman himself, or the reprehensible neglect ofhis relations, did not appear. This outlaw's wife was, somehow orother, mixed up with a patriarch, living in a castle a long way off,and this patriarch was the father of several of the characters, buthe didn't exactly know which, and was uncertain whether he hadbrought up the right ones in his castle, or the wrong ones; herather inclined to the latter opinion, and, being uneasy, relievedhis mind with a banquet, during which solemnity somebody in a cloaksaid 'Beware!' which somebody was known by nobody (except theaudience) to be the outlaw himself, who had come there, for reasonsunexplained, but possibly with an eye to the spoons. There was anagreeable little surprise in the way of certain love passagesbetween the desponding captive and Miss Snevellicci, and the comicfighting-man and Miss Bravassa; besides which, Mr Lenville hadseveral very tragic scenes in the dark, while on throat-cuttingexpeditions, which were all baffled by the skill and bravery of thecomic fighting-man (who overheard whatever was said all through thepiece) and the intrepidity of Miss Snevellicci, who adopted tights,and therein repaired to the prison of her captive lover, with asmall basket of refreshments and a dark lantern. At last, it cameout that the patriarch was the man who had treated the bones of theoutlaw's father-in-law with so much disrespect, for which cause andreason the outlaw's wife repaired to his castle to kill him, and sogot into a dark room, where, after a good deal of groping in thedark, everybody got hold of everybody else, and took them forsomebody besides, which occasioned a vast quantity of confusion,with some pistolling, loss of life, and torchlight; after which, thepatriarch came forward, and observing, with a knowing look, that heknew all about his children now, and would tell them when they gotinside, said that there could not be a more appropriate occasion formarrying the young people than that; and therefore he joined theirhands, with the full consent of the indefatigable page, who (beingthe only other person surviving) pointed with his cap into theclouds, and his right hand to the ground; thereby invoking ablessing and giving the cue for the curtain to come down, which itdid, amidst general applause.'What did you think of that?' asked Mr Crummles, when Nicholas wentround to the stage again. Mr Crummles was very red and hot, foryour outlaws are desperate fellows to shout.'I think it was very capital indeed,' replied Nicholas; 'MissSnevellicci in particular was uncommonly good.''She's a genius,' said Mr Crummles; 'quite a genius, that girl. By-the-bye, I've been thinking of bringing out that piece of yours onher bespeak night.''When?' asked Nicholas.'The night of her bespeak. Her benefit night, when her friends andpatrons bespeak the play,' said Mr Crummles.'Oh! I understand,' replied Nicholas.'You see,' said Mr. Crummles, 'it's sure to go, on such anoccasion, and even if it should not work up quite as well as weexpect, why it will be her risk, you know, and not ours.''Yours, you mean,' said Nicholas.'I said mine, didn't I?' returned Mr Crummles. 'Next Monday week.What do you say? You'll have done it, and are sure to be up in thelover's part, long before that time.''I don't know about "long before,"' replied Nicholas; 'but by thattime I think I can undertake to be ready.''Very good,' pursued Mr Crummles, 'then we'll call that settled.Now, I want to ask you something else. There's a little--what shallI call it?--a little canvassing takes place on these occasions.''Among the patrons, I suppose?' said Nicholas.'Among the patrons; and the fact is, that Snevellicci has had somany bespeaks in this place, that she wants an attraction. She hada bespeak when her mother-in-law died, and a bespeak when her uncledied; and Mrs Crummles and myself have had bespeaks on theanniversary of the phenomenon's birthday, and our wedding-day, andoccasions of that description, so that, in fact, there's somedifficulty in getting a good one. Now, won't you help this poorgirl, Mr Johnson?' said Crummles, sitting himself down on a drum,and taking a great pinch of snuff, as he looked him steadily in theface.'How do you mean?' rejoined Nicholas.'Don't you think you could spare half an hour tomorrow morning, tocall with her at the houses of one or two of the principal people?'murmured the manager in a persuasive tone.'Oh dear me,' said Nicholas, with an air of very strong objection,'I shouldn't like to do that.''The infant will accompany her,' said Mr Crummles. 'The moment itwas suggested to me, I gave permission for the infant to go. Therewill not be the smallest impropriety--Miss Snevellicci, sir, is thevery soul of honour. It would be of material service--the gentlemanfrom London--author of the new piece--actor in the new piece--firstappearance on any boards--it would lead to a great bespeak, MrJohnson.''I am very sorry to throw a damp upon the prospects of anybody, andmore especially a lady,' replied Nicholas; 'but really I mustdecidedly object to making one of the canvassing party.''What does Mr Johnson say, Vincent?' inquired a voice close to hisear; and, looking round, he found Mrs Crummles and Miss Snevellicciherself standing behind him.'He has some objection, my dear,' replied Mr Crummles, looking atNicholas.'Objection!' exclaimed Mrs Crummles. 'Can it be possible?''Oh, I hope not!' cried Miss Snevellicci. 'You surely are not socruel--oh, dear meto think of that now, after all one'slooking forward to it!''Mr Johnson will not persist, my dear,' said Mrs Crummles. 'Thinkbetter of him than to suppose it. Gallantry, humanity, all the bestfeelings of his nature, must be enlisted in this interesting cause.''Which moves even a manager,' said Mr Crummles, smiling.'And a manager's wife,' added Mrs Crummles, in her accustomedtragedy tones. 'Come, come, you will relent, I know you will.''It is not in my nature,' said Nicholas, moved by these appeals, 'toresist any entreaty, unless it is to do something positively wrong;and, beyond a feeling of pride, I know nothing which should preventmy doing this. I know nobody here, and nobody knows me. So be itthen. I yield.'Miss Snevellicci was at once overwhelmed with blushes andexpressions of gratitude, of which latter commodity neither Mr norMrs Crummles was by any means sparing. It was arranged thatNicholas should call upon her, at her lodgings, at eleven nextmorning, and soon after they parted: he to return home to hisauthorship: Miss Snevellicci to dress for the after-piece: and thedisinterested manager and his wife to discuss the probable gains ofthe forthcoming bespeak, of which they were to have two-thirds ofthe profits by solemn treaty of agreement.At the stipulated hour next morning, Nicholas repaired to thelodgings of Miss Snevellicci, which were in a place called LombardStreet, at the house of a tailor. A strong smell of ironingpervaded the little passage; and the tailor's daughter, who openedthe door, appeared in that flutter of spirits which is so oftenattendant upon the periodical getting up of a family's linen.'Miss Snevellicci lives here, I believe?' said Nicholas, when thedoor was opened.The tailor's daughter replied in the affirmative.'Will you have the goodness to let her know that Mr Johnson ishere?' said Nicholas.'Oh, if you please, you're to come upstairs,' replied the tailor'sdaughter, with a smile.Nicholas followed the young lady, and was shown into a smallapartment on the first floor, communicating with a back-room; inwhich, as he judged from a certain half-subdued clinking sound, asof cups and saucers, Miss Snevellicci was then taking her breakfastin bed.'You're to wait, if you please,' said the tailor's daughter, after ashort period of absence, during which the clinking in the back-roomhad ceased, and been succeeded by whispering--'She won't be long.'As she spoke, she pulled up the window-blind, and having by thismeans (as she thought) diverted Mr Johnson's attention from the roomto the street, caught up some articles which were airing on thefender, and had very much the appearance of stockings, and dartedoff.As there were not many objects of interest outside the window,Nicholas looked about the room with more curiosity than he mightotherwise have bestowed upon it. On the sofa lay an old guitar,several thumbed pieces of music, and a scattered litter of curl-papers; together with a confused heap of play-bills, and a pair ofsoiled white satin shoes with large blue rosettes. Hanging over theback of a chair was a half-finished muslin apron with little pocketsornamented with red ribbons, such as waiting-women wear on thestage, and (by consequence) are never seen with anywhere else. Inone corner stood the diminutive pair of top-boots in which MissSnevellicci was accustomed to enact the little jockey, and, foldedon a chair hard by, was a small parcel, which bore a very suspiciousresemblance to the companion smalls.But the most interesting object of all was, perhaps, the openscrapbook, displayed in the midst of some theatrical duodecimos thatwere strewn upon the table; and pasted into which scrapbook werevarious critical notices of Miss Snevellicci's acting, extractedfrom different provincial journals, together with one poetic addressin her honour, commencing--Sing, God of Love, and tell me in what dearthThrice-gifted Snevellicci came on earth,To thrill us with her smile, her tear, her eye,Sing, God of Love, and tell me quickly why.Besides this effusion, there were innumerable complimentaryallusions, also extracted from newspapers, such as--'We observe froman advertisement in another part of our paper of today, that thecharming and highly-talented Miss Snevellicci takes her benefit onWednesday, for which occasion she has put forth a bill of fare thatmight kindle exhilaration in the breast of a misanthrope. In theconfidence that our fellow-townsmen have not lost that highappreciation of public utility and private worth, for which theyhave long been so pre-eminently distinguished, we predict that thischarming actress will be greeted with a bumper.' 'ToCorrespondents.--J.S. is misinformed when he supposes that thehighly-gifted and beautiful Miss Snevellicci, nightly captivatingall hearts at our pretty and commodious little theatre, is not thesame lady to whom the young gentleman of immense fortune, residingwithin a hundred miles of the good city of York, lately madehonourable proposals. We have reason to know that Miss Snevellicciis the lady who was implicated in that mysterious and romanticaffair, and whose conduct on that occasion did no less honour to herhead and heart, than do her histrionic triumphs to her brilliantgenius.' A copious assortment of such paragraphs as these, with longbills of benefits all ending with 'Come Early', in large capitals,formed the principal contents of Miss Snevellicci's scrapbook.Nicholas had read a great many of these scraps, and was absorbed ina circumstantial and melancholy account of the train of events whichhad led to Miss Snevellicci's spraining her ankle by slipping on apiece of orange-peel flung by a monster in human form, (so the papersaid,) upon the stage at Winchester,--when that young lady herself,attired in the coal-scuttle bonnet and walking-dress complete,tripped into the room, with a thousand apologies for having detainedhim so long after the appointed time.'But really,' said Miss Snevellicci, 'my darling Led, who lives withme here, was taken so very ill in the night that I thought she wouldhave expired in my arms.''Such a fate is almost to be envied,' returned Nicholas, 'but I amvery sorry to hear it nevertheless.''What a creature you are to flatter!' said Miss Snevellicci,buttoning her glove in much confusion.'If it be flattery to admire your charms and accomplishments,'rejoined Nicholas, laying his hand upon the scrapbook, 'you havebetter specimens of it here.''Oh you cruel creature, to read such things as those! I'm almostashamed to look you in the face afterwards, positively I am,' saidMiss Snevellicci, seizing the book and putting it away in a closet.'How careless of Led! How could she be so naughty!''I thought you had kindly left it here, on purpose for me to read,'said Nicholas. And really it did seem possible.'I wouldn't have had you see it for the world!' rejoined MissSnevellicci. 'I never was so vexed--never! But she is such acareless thing, there's no trusting her.'The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of thephenomenon, who had discreetly remained in the bedroom up to thismoment, and now presented herself, with much grace and lightness,bearing in her hand a very little green parasol with a broad fringeborder, and no handle. After a few words of course, they salliedinto the street.The phenomenon was rather a troublesome companion, for first theright sandal came down, and then the left, and these mischancesbeing repaired, one leg of the little white trousers was discoveredto be longer than the other; besides these accidents, the greenparasol was dropped down an iron grating, and only fished up againwith great difficulty and by dint of much exertion. However, it wasimpossible to scold her, as she was the manager's daughter, soNicholas took it all in perfect good humour, and walked on, withMiss Snevellicci, arm-in-arm on one side, and the offending infanton the other.The first house to which they bent their steps, was situated in aterrace of respectable appearance. Miss Snevellicci's modestdouble-knock was answered by a foot-boy, who, in reply to herinquiry whether Mrs Curdle was at home, opened his eyes very wide,grinned very much, and said he didn't know, but he'd inquire. Withthis he showed them into a parlour where he kept them waiting, untilthe two women-servants had repaired thither, under false pretences,to see the play-actors; and having compared notes with them in thepassage, and joined in a vast quantity of whispering and giggling,he at length went upstairs with Miss Snevellicci's name.Now, Mrs Curdle was supposed, by those who were best informed onsuch points, to possess quite the London taste in matters relatingto literature and the drama; and as to Mr Curdle, he had written apamphlet of sixty-four pages, post octavo, on the character of theNurse's deceased husband in Romeo and Juliet, with an inquirywhether he really had been a 'merry man' in his lifetime, or whetherit was merely his widow's affectionate partiality that induced herso to report him. He had likewise proved, that by altering thereceived mode of punctuation, any one of Shakespeare's plays couldbe made quite different, and the sense completely changed; it isneedless to say, therefore, that he was a great critic, and a veryprofound and most original thinker.'Well, Miss Snevellicci,' said Mrs Curdle, entering the parlour,'and how do you do?'Miss Snevellicci made a graceful obeisance, and hoped Mrs Curdle waswell, as also Mr Curdle, who at the same time appeared. Mrs Curdlewas dressed in a morning wrapper, with a little cap stuck upon thetop of her head. Mr Curdle wore a loose robe on his back, and hisright forefinger on his forehead after the portraits of Sterne, towhom somebody or other had once said he bore a striking resemblance.'I venture to call, for the purpose of asking whether you would putyour name to my bespeak, ma'am,' said Miss Snevellicci, producingdocuments.'Oh! I really don't know what to say,' replied Mrs Curdle. 'It'snot as if the theatre was in its high and palmy days--you needn'tstand, Miss Snevellicci--the drama is gone, perfectly gone.''As an exquisite embodiment of the poet's visions, and a realisationof human intellectuality, gilding with refulgent light our dreamymoments, and laying open a new and magic world before the mentaleye, the drama is gone, perfectly gone,' said Mr Curdle.'What man is there, now living, who can present before us all thosechanging and prismatic colours with which the character of Hamlet isinvested?' exclaimed Mrs Curdle.'What man indeed--upon the stage,' said Mr Curdle, with a smallreservation in favour of himself. 'Hamlet! Pooh! ridiculous!Hamlet is gone, perfectly gone.'Quite overcome by these dismal reflections, Mr and Mrs Curdlesighed, and sat for some short time without speaking. At length,the lady, turning to Miss Snevellicci, inquired what play sheproposed to have.'Quite a new one,' said Miss Snevellicci, 'of which this gentlemanis the author, and in which he plays; being his first appearance onany stage. Mr Johnson is the gentleman's name.''I hope you have preserved the unities, sir?' said Mr Curdle.'The original piece is a French one,' said Nicholas. 'There isabundance of incident, sprightly dialogue, strongly-markedcharacters--''--All unavailing without a strict observance of the unities, sir,'returned Mr Curdle. 'The unities of the drama, before everything.''Might I ask you,' said Nicholas, hesitating between the respect heought to assume, and his love of the whimsical, 'might I ask youwhat the unities are?'Mr Curdle coughed and considered. 'The unities, sir,' he said, 'area completeness--a kind of universal dovetailedness with regard toplace and time--a sort of a general oneness, if I may be allowed touse so strong an expression. I take those to be the dramaticunities, so far as I have been enabled to bestow attention uponthem, and I have read much upon the subject, and thought much. Ifind, running through the performances of this child,' said MrCurdle, turning to the phenomenon, 'a unity of feeling, a breadth, alight and shade, a warmth of colouring, a tone, a harmony, a glow,an artistical development of original conceptions, which I look for,in vain, among older performers--I don't know whether I make myselfunderstood?''Perfectly,' replied Nicholas.'Just so,' said Mr Curdle, pulling up his neckcloth. 'That is mydefinition of the unities of the drama.'Mrs Curdle had sat listening to this lucid explanation with greatcomplacency. It being finished, she inquired what Mr Curdlethought, about putting down their names.'I don't know, my dear; upon my word I don't know,' said Mr Curdle.'If we do, it must be distinctly understood that we do not pledgeourselves to the quality of the performances. Let it go forth tothe world, that we do not give them the sanction of our names, butthat we confer the distinction merely upon Miss Snevellicci. Thatbeing clearly stated, I take it to be, as it were, a duty, that weshould extend our patronage to a degraded stage, even for the sakeof the associations with which it is entwined. Have you got two-and-sixpence for half-a-crown, Miss Snevellicci?' said Mr Curdle,turning over four of those pieces of money.Miss Snevellicci felt in all the corners of the pink reticule, butthere was nothing in any of them. Nicholas murmured a jest abouthis being an author, and thought it best not to go through the formof feeling in his own pockets at all.'Let me see,' said Mr Curdle; 'twice four's eight--four shillingsa-piece to the boxes, Miss Snevellicci, is exceedingly dear in thepresent state of the drama--three half-crowns is seven-and-six; weshall not differ about sixpence, I suppose? Sixpence will not partus, Miss Snevellicci?'Poor Miss Snevellicci took the three half-crowns, with many smilesand bends, and Mrs Curdle, adding several supplementary directionsrelative to keeping the places for them, and dusting the seat, andsending two clean bills as soon as they came out, rang the bell, asa signal for breaking up the conference.'Odd people those,' said Nicholas, when they got clear of the house.'I assure you,' said Miss Snevellicci, taking his arm, 'that I thinkmyself very lucky they did not owe all the money instead of beingsixpence short. Now, if you were to succeed, they would give peopleto understand that they had always patronised you; and if you wereto fail, they would have been quite certain of that from the verybeginning.'At the next house they visited, they were in great glory; for,there, resided the six children who were so enraptured with thepublic actions of the phenomenon, and who, being called down fromthe nursery to be treated with a private view of that young lady,proceeded to poke their fingers into her eyes, and tread upon hertoes, and show her many other little attentions peculiar to theirtime of life.'I shall certainly persuade Mr Borum to take a private box,' saidthe lady of the house, after a most gracious reception. 'I shallonly take two of the children, and will make up the rest of theparty, of gentlemen--your admirers, Miss Snevellicci. Augustus, younaughty boy, leave the little girl alone.'This was addressed to a young gentleman who was pinching thephenomenon behind, apparently with a view of ascertaining whethershe was real.'I am sure you must be very tired,' said the mama, turning to MissSnevellicci. 'I cannot think of allowing you to go, without firsttaking a glass of wine. Fie, Charlotte, I am ashamed of you! MissLane, my dear, pray see to the children.'Miss Lane was the governess, and this entreaty was renderednecessary by the abrupt behaviour of the youngest Miss Borum, who,having filched the phenomenon's little green parasol, was nowcarrying it bodily off, while the distracted infant lookedhelplessly on.'I am sure, where you ever learnt to act as you do,' said good-natured Mrs Borum, turning again to Miss Snevellicci, 'I cannotunderstand (Emma, don't stare so); laughing in one piece, and cryingin the next, and so natural in all--oh, dear!''I am very happy to hear you express so favourable an opinion,' saidMiss Snevellicci. 'It's quite delightful to think you like it.''Like it!' cried Mrs Borum. 'Who can help liking it? I would go tothe play, twice a week if I could: I dote upon it--only you're tooaffecting sometimes. You do put me in such a state--into such fitsof crying! Goodness gracious me, Miss Lane, how can you let themtorment that poor child so!'The phenomenon was really in a fair way of being torn limb fromlimb; for two strong little boys, one holding on by each of herhands, were dragging her in different directions as a trial ofstrength. However, Miss Lane (who had herself been too muchoccupied in contemplating the grown-up actors, to pay the necessaryattention to these proceedings) rescued the unhappy infant at thisjuncture, who, being recruited with a glass of wine, was shortlyafterwards taken away by her friends, after sustaining no moreserious damage than a flattening of the pink gauze bonnet, and arather extensive creasing of the white frock and trousers.It was a trying morning; for there were a great many calls to make,and everybody wanted a different thing. Some wanted tragedies, andothers comedies; some objected to dancing; some wanted scarcelyanything else. Some thought the comic singer decidedly low, andothers hoped he would have more to do than he usually had. Somepeople wouldn't promise to go, because other people wouldn't promiseto go; and other people wouldn't go at all, because other peoplewent. At length, and by little and little, omitting something inthis place, and adding something in that, Miss Snevellicci pledgedherself to a bill of fare which was comprehensive enough, if it hadno other merit (it included among other trifles, four pieces, diverssongs, a few combats, and several dances); and they returned home,pretty well exhausted with the business of the day.Nicholas worked away at the piece, which was speedily put intorehearsal, and then worked away at his own part, which he studiedwith great perseverance and acted--as the whole company said--toperfection. And at length the great day arrived. The crier wassent round, in the morning, to proclaim the entertainments with thesound of bell in all the thoroughfares; and extra bills of threefeet long by nine inches wide, were dispersed in all directions,flung down all the areas, thrust under all the knockers, anddeveloped in all the shops. They were placarded on all the wallstoo, though not with complete success, for an illiterate personhaving undertaken this office during the indisposition of theregular bill-sticker, a part were posted sideways, and the remainderupside down.At half-past five, there was a rush of four people to the gallery-door; at a quarter before six, there were at least a dozen; at sixo'clock the kicks were terrific; and when the elder Master Crummlesopened the door, he was obliged to run behind it for his life.Fifteen shillings were taken by Mrs Grudden in the first tenminutes.Behind the scenes, the same unwonted excitement prevailed. MissSnevellicci was in such a perspiration that the paint would scarcelystay on her face. Mrs Crummles was so nervous that she could hardlyremember her part. Miss Bravassa's ringlets came out of curl withthe heat and anxiety; even Mr Crummles himself kept peeping throughthe hole in the curtain, and running back, every now and then, toannounce that another man had come into the pit.At last, the orchestra left off, and the curtain rose upon the newpiece. The first scene, in which there was nobody particular,passed off calmly enough, but when Miss Snevellicci went on in thesecond, accompanied by the phenomenon as child, what a roar ofapplause broke out! The people in the Borum box rose as one man,waving their hats and handkerchiefs, and uttering shouts of 'Bravo!'Mrs Borum and the governess cast wreaths upon the stage, of which,some fluttered into the lamps, and one crowned the temples of a fatgentleman in the pit, who, looking eagerly towards the scene,remained unconscious of the honour; the tailor and his family kickedat the panels of the upper boxes till they threatened to come outaltogether; the very ginger-beer boy remained transfixed in thecentre of the house; a young officer, supposed to entertain apassion for Miss Snevellicci, stuck his glass in his eye as thoughto hide a tear. Again and again Miss Snevellicci curtseyed lowerand lower, and again and again the applause came down, louder andlouder. At length, when the phenomenon picked up one of the smokingwreaths and put it on, sideways, over Miss Snevellicci's eye, itreached its climax, and the play proceeded.But when Nicholas came on for his crack scene with Mrs Crummles,what a clapping of hands there was! When Mrs Crummles (who was hisunworthy mother), sneered, and called him 'presumptuous boy,' and hedefied her, what a tumult of applause came on! When he quarrelledwith the other gentleman about the young lady, and producing a caseof pistols, said, that if he was a gentleman, he would fight him inthat drawing-room, until the furniture was sprinkled with the bloodof one, if not of two--how boxes, pit, and gallery, joined in onemost vigorous cheer! When he called his mother names, because shewouldn't give up the young lady's property, and she relenting,caused him to relent likewise, and fall down on one knee and ask herblessing, how the ladies in the audience sobbed! When he was hidbehind the curtain in the dark, and the wicked relation poked asharp sword in every direction, save where his legs were plainlyvisible, what a thrill of anxious fear ran through the house! Hisair, his figure, his walk, his look, everything he said or did, wasthe subject of commendation. There was a round of applause everytime he spoke. And when, at last, in the pump-and-tub scene, MrsGrudden lighted the blue fire, and all the unemployed members of thecompany came in, and tumbled down in various directions--not becausethat had anything to do with the plot, but in order to finish offwith a tableau--the audience (who had by this time increasedconsiderably) gave vent to such a shout of enthusiasm as had notbeen heard in those walls for many and many a day.In short, the success both of new piece and new actor was complete,and when Miss Snevellicci was called for at the end of the play,Nicholas led her on, and divided the applause.