Stage Confidences | Page 9

which to
notify old man Davidge of what was going on, as he had a prominent
part in the coming scene, and then we were on the stage.
The play was "The Critic," the scene a burlesque rehearsal of an
old-time melodrama. Our opportunities were great, and Heaven knows
we missed none of them. New York audiences are quick, and in less
than three minutes they knew the actors had taken the bit between their
teeth and were off on a mad race of fun. Everything seemed to "go."
We three knew one another well. Each saw another's idea and caught it,
with the certainty of a boy catching a ball. The audience roared with
laughter; the carpenters and scene-shifters--against the rule of the

theatre--crowded into the entrances with answering laughter; but the
man in the box gave no sign.
Worse and worse we went on. Mr. Daly, white with anger, came behind
the scene, gasping out, "Are they utterly mad?" to the little Frenchman
whom he had made prompter because he could not speak English well
enough to prompt us; who, frantically pulling his hair, cried, "Oui! oui!
zey are all mad--mad like ze dog in ze summer-time!"
Mr. Daly stamped his feet and cleared his throat to attract our attention;
but, trusting to Mr. Matthews's protection, we grinned cheerfully at him
and continued on our downward path. At last we reached the "climax,"
and suddenly I heard Mr. Matthews say, "She's got him--look--I think
she's won!"
I could not help it--I turned my head to see if the "graven image" could
really laugh. Yes, he was moving! his face wore some faint expression;
but--but he was turning slowly to the laughing audience, and the
expression on his face was one of _wonder!_
Matthews groaned aloud, the curtain fell, and Daly was upon us.
Matthews said the cause of the whole business was that man in the box;
while Mr. Daly angrily declared, "The man in the box could have
nothing to do with the affair, since he was deaf and _dumb_, and had
been all his life."
I remember sitting down very hard and very suddenly. I remember that
Davidge, who was an Englishman, "blasted" a good many things under
his breath; and then Mr. Matthews, exclaiming with wonder, told us he
had been playing for years in a farce where this very scene was enacted,
the whole play consisting in the actors' efforts to win the approbation of
a man who was a deaf mute.
So once more a play was found to reflect a situation in real life.
[Illustration: _Charles Matthews_]

_
CHAPTER III
IN CONNECTION WITH "DIVORCE" AND DALY'S_
"Divorce" had just settled down for its long run, when one evening I
received a letter whose weight and bulk made me wonder whether the
envelope contained a "last will and testament" or a "three-act play." On
opening it I found it perfectly correct in appearance, on excellent paper,
in the clearest handwriting, and using the most perfect orthography and
grammar: a gentleman had nevertheless gently, almost tenderly,
reproached me for using the story of his life for the play.
He said he knew Mr. Daly's name was on the bills as author; but as I
was an Ohio woman, he of course understood perfectly that I had
furnished Mr. D. with his story for the play. He explained at great
length that he forgave me because I had not given Mr. Daly his real
name, and also remarked, in rather an aggrieved way, that he had two
children and only one appeared in the play. He also seemed
considerably surprised that Mr. Harkins (who played my husband) did
not wear a large red beard, as every one, he said, knew he had not
shaved for years.
My laughter made its way over the transom, and in a moment my
neighbour was at the dressing-room door, asking for something she did
not need, that she might find out the why and wherefore of the fun; and
when the red beard had started her off, another came for something she
knew I didn't own, and she too fell before the beard; while a third
writhed over the forgiveness extended to me, and exclaimed:--
"Oh, the well-educated idiot, isn't he delicious?"
By and by the letter started to make a tour of the gentlemen's rooms,
and, unlike the rolling-stone that gathered no moss, it gathered laughter
as it moved.
It was only Mr. Daly who astonished me by not laughing. He, instead,
seemed quite gratified that his play had so clearly reflected a real life
story.

In the business world of New York there was known at that time a pair
of brothers; they were in dry-goods. The firm was new, and they were
naturally anxious to extend their trade. The