The Sun.
London, England, 1863-04-06 00:00:00

Thz Annual Banquet of Ole Royal General I
Theatrical Fund. .

On Saturday Mr. Charles Dickens presided at the
eighteenth annual banquet of this admirable insti-
tution, which took place at the Freemasons' Hall.
He was supported on the occasion by a company of
over 200, amongst whom we observed Mr. Buck-
stone, Mr. T. P. Cooke, Mr. Alfred Wigan, Captain
Ward, Mr. Sergeant Ballantine, Dr. Canton, Dr.
Hastings, Dr. Day, Messrs. Sterling Coyne, E.
Yates, Creswick, Chippendale, Jerwood, Alderman
Phillips, E. L. Blanchard, Chas. Dickens, jun.,
Chas. Clements, Howe, Hill, Fawcett, &c. About
100 elegantly dressed ladies occupied seats on the
dais at the back of the chairman, and the gallery at
the end of the hall was filled with others equally
attractive.

The musical arrangements, which were under the
management of Mr. Coote, were excellent, and
added much to the evening's entertainment. In
addition to the harpists, Mr. Balsir Chatterton and I
Mr. John Thomas (Pencerdd G walia)—t he vocalists,
who gave their services gratuitously, were Mir
l'oole, Mrs. Howard Paul, Miss Eylea, Miss Julia
Coate, and Miss Edith Wynne (Eos Cymru Pen-
cerddes), Mr. J. W. Fielding, Mr. Donald King,
Mr. J. Shoubridge, Mr. T. Lawler, Mr. J. Coward,
Mr. Walworth, and Mr. Lennard Walker.

The CHAIRMAN, on rising after grace was sung,
was received with loud and general applause. He
proposed " The Queen," and announced that her
Majesty had that evening forwarded her 17th con-
tribution of £lOO to the funds of the institution.
The toast was warmly received.
The CHAIRMAN, in proposing the next toast, said
—lt is not the least notable circumstance in the
young lives of the two exalted persons who have
lately engrossed so much general attention, that
as each is the deserving object of the other's free
choice, so their future career must for ever hence-
forth be inseparable from that of a free peo-
ple, deserving to be free. Surely, no old
poet, or painter, or sculptor ever conceived a
more graceful or beautiful marriage procession
than that of the other day, where all ages, all
classes, all conditions of the fruition of hope, or
the disappointment of hope, joined together in one
great, equal, generous enthusiasm in behalf of those
two young people in the flush of life and fortune,
and governed themselves, and governed their tem-
pers, in honour of the interesting scene. (Loud
cheers.) lam sure you will agree with me in say-
ing--Never may that young Prince and Princess,
and the great true-hearted English people, be less
worthy of one another, or less at peace with another,
than they were that day. (Great applause.) I beg
to propose to you to drink their " Royal Highnesses
the Prince and Princess of Wales, and the rest of
the Royal Family."
The toast was responded to most enthusiastically,
after which Miss Eyles sung, amidst repeated rounds
of applause, Mr. Brindley Richards' song, " God
bless the Prince of Wales."
Captain WARD responded to the toast of " The
Army, Navy, and Volunteers."
The CHAIRMAN, in proposing the toast of the
evening, " Prosperity to the Royal General Theatri-
cal Fund," said—Ladies and Gentlemen—With my
present responsibilities impending over me, I hap-
pened the other night, as I sat alone, to be reading
a paper in the Tatter referring to the time when
Mr. Powell's company of performing puppets was
in high vogue with persons of quality. In that
number of the 7atler that brilliant essayist gives a
humorous description of the contest then raging
between two ladies at Bath—Prudentia and Flori-
mel—as to which of them should set the fashion to
the greatest number of imitators. In the course of
this noble struggle Florimel bespoke "Alexander
the Great," to be acted by the players; and Pru-
dentia bespoke " The Creation of the World," to be
acted by the puppets, at the same time darkly put-
ting it round, for the confusion and ridicule of her
rival, that the puppet Eve—who might have been in-
differently modelled—(laughter)—would be found
to be in figure the most like Florimel that ever
was. (Laughter.) Now, what were the missing
charms, what were the defective points, in this
wooden lady's anatomy does not appear, other-
wise I should have the honour of delicately stating
them to the company; but it does appear that his
worship the mayorlinclined to the wooden side of the
question, and that on high moral grounds he greatly
preferred those innocent creatures, the puppets, to
those wicked players. (Laughter.) Now, ladies
and gentlemen, as I have a profound veneration for
mayors and such like—(laughter)—this sentiment
caused me to close the book, and to consider how
much we should gain if there were no managers but
Mr. Powell and actors but the puppets. In the first
place—and on the immense advantage to be reaped
here I have no doubt we shall be all agreed—there
would be no fund, no dinner, no chairman, no
speech. (Laughter and cheers.) Then on Satin.-
days there would be no treasury, although I am
told that that great point has been gained occasion-
ally under the existing system—(laughter)—there
would never be any throwing up parts, there would
never be any colds; there would never be any jea-
lousies or dissensions ; the two ladies might dress for
any length of time in the same rooms, without the
remotest danger of ever coming to words, and the
loftiest tragedian that ever was or will be might
be doubled up with his legs round his neck, and
put away in the same box with the reddest-nosed,
and the most flowered-waistcoated of the comic
countrymen. (Laughter.) Now these I considered
to myself were points to be gained. On the other
hand there would be lost human interests, the
human face, which after all stood for a little,
and though not least, it was the last, that great
amount of comfort, satisfaction, and gratification
which was derived by a well-meaning people from
disparaging those who entertain them. (Laughter.)
Now this last high moral gratification, this cheap,
this complacent self-assertion, I felt could not pos-
sibly be parted with, and, therefore I quickly came
to the conclusion that we must have these wicked
players after all. (Cheers and laughter.) It is an
astonishing thing to me, that within my range of '
observation and experience, it is true that there
should be, and that there really is, in some
of what we call the world this curious
propensity to run up a little score against, so as
to be even with, those who amuse them. Says Port-
man Square, Esq., at breakfast. " That man in the
farce last night made me laugh so much that I hope
there is nothing absolutely wrong about him, but I
think this morning there must be." (Laughter.)
"My dear," says Mr. Baron Hill to Mrs. Baron
"I
was so profoundly affected at the theatre
last night, and I felt it so very Z"difficult to repress
my shouts when the poor mad king listened in vain
for the breathing of his dead daughter that I really
felt it due to myself rather to patronise that gen-
tleman this morning. I feel it a kind
of compensa-
tion to myself to regard him as an extraordinary
man, having no recognised business that can be
found in the Post-office Directory. (Laughter.) I
feel it necessary to put up with him, as it Were, as
a kind of unaccountable creature, who has no conn-
ting-house anywhere ; in fact, to bear with him as
a sort of marvellous child in a Shaksperian go-cart."
(Roars of laughter). Now, ladies and gentlemen,
this is quqe true, in a great or less degree, I think,
of all artists; but it is particularly true of the dra-
matic artist, and it is to me so framed, certainly it
cannot be because he dresses himself up for his part,
for as you all know very well there is an enormous
amount of dressing and making-up going on in high
stations all around us. I never saw a worse maker-
up in the humblest country theatre than I can see
in the House of Commons any night when there is a
message from the Lords. (Laughter.) I assure
you, on my personal veracity, that I have personally
known:a Lord" High Chancellor, at 255. a week, who,
in his wig and robes., looked better than the real
(Prolonged laughter.) I think the secret
article.
cannot lie here ; the truth is, that this little harmless
disposition occupies a little quiet out-of-the-way cor-
ner of our nature, and I think it. a little ungracious
and a little ungenerous, and certainly
inor so than it
is meant to be, and I always, whether public or in
private, on principle determinedly oppose myself to
it, for the reasons I have endeavoured to explain to
you. Although lam now going to urge upon you
the case of and am going to entreat your active
sympathy with this General Theatrical Fund, on this

eighteenth anniversary you shall hear from me
Ivrthing conventional about the
"Poor player
Who struts and frets his hour upon the stage,"
which shall in any way separate him otherwise
than favourably from us, the great community of
poor players, who all of us strut our hours upon this
stage of life. His worth, if he be worth anything
to himself or any other man, is as real to him as
the banker's to him, or the broker's to him, or the
professional man's to him, or the merchant's to him.
His fund is a business fund, and is collected on
sound, business, honourable, independent principles.
It is a fund, as is known already to many here, for
granting annuities to such members as may be dis-
qualified by sickness or infirmity from pursuing
the theatrical profession, and also for extending aid
to the sick, I think, in some cases even when they
are not members, and to the bereaved survivors of
the dead. It is a fund to which the members con-
tribute periodically, according to certain carefully
calculated scales, very often out of very imperfect
and very uncertain earnings. It is a fund which
knows no distinction whatsoever of theatre, an&
knows no grades whatever of acto.s. I have had
the honour of being one of its trustees from the hour
of its first establishment—(cheers)—and I can bear
testimony with the greatest admiration to the ex-
traordinary patience, steadiness, and perseverance
with which those payments are made. (Cheers.)
Therefore it is, as you must observe, ladies and gen-
tlemen, that I occupy a vantage ground of entreat-
ing you to help those who do really and truly help
themselves, who do not come here to-night for a
mere field night and a mere theatrical display, but
who, as it were, rise to the surface once in every
twelve months to assure you of their constancy and
good faith and then burrow down to work again,
many of them surrounded by innumerable obstacles,
many of them working under great difficulties, and,
believe me, with little cheer or encouragement
throughout the whole toiling year, and in obscurity
enough. (Loud cheering.) The chairman then at great
length dwelt on the social influence of the stage,
and concluded an eloquent appeal on behalf of the in.
stitution, which richly merited support. (Cheers.)
The toast was heartily drunk.
Mr. Buckstone, who was received with much
cheering, said—Ladies and Gentlemen—(applause)
If there is any one circumstance that can make our
festival of to-day more successful, more cheerful,
and, I hope, more profitable than any of its seven-
teen predecessors, it is the auspicious fact of the
chair being occupied on this occasion by Mr. Charles
Dickens. To see his face here again, to listen to his
well-known voice once more, most certainly illus-
trates the frequently repeated exclamation, when
long-separated friends have met, " Why, this looks
like old times ;" and so it does, and in one sense
quite refutes the assertion that we cannot recall the
past ; for with his presence and with that of so
many of our old supporters of the General Theatrical
Fund we do recall the past, and that too in the
pleasantest and most genial manner. (Applause.)
It is, however, necessary that I should explain the
chief cause of Mr. Dickens being our chairman to-
night, as to omit that explanation would be unjust
to a higly-gifted gentleman who was to have held
that position this evening. Some months ago it was
decided by the committee of our fund to solicit the
aid of Mr. Wilkie Collins, to which solicitation he
replied in the most prompt and in the kindest man-
ner, but in course of time he was seized with an ill-
ness so serious that he was utterly prostrated. He
wrote to acquaint me of it, though he still hoped to
be here, and said that, "if he could but stand upon
his legs he would keep his promise ;" at last, not
finding his health restored, he was compelled, much
against his will, to declare the impossibility of his
being able to attend. The time for this feast was
approaching, and what to do the directors did not
know. In this emergency we applied to Mr Dickens,
who kindly consented to come to the rescue ; and
happily there he is, and here we are. Though I
must inform you that Mr. Collins, in his last
communication, told me he only looked upon Lis
attendance as deferred, and therefore we still in-
dulge in the hope of seeing him present at some
future time ; while nothing, gentlemen, can give a
greater proof of the good feeling of Mr. Dickens
towards our fund than to tell you that this is the
third time he has occupied the chair, and we all of
us heartily hope that it may not be the last. (Ap-
plause.) It is now my duty, gentlemen, to
proceed to some figures and dry details, and to
tell you what we are, and what we are doing.
We have now 18 annuitants, receiving from £3O to
£9O per annum; of these 18 you will be pleased to
hear that 14 are ladies, while the entire number are
living in comparative comfort on what they are
entitled to, and blessing the day when they first
became subscribers to our fund. During the past
year we have paid to these annuitants no less a sum
than £BO2 10s. ; while after meeting many neces-
sary expenses, which are not set forth in our balance-
sheet, our invested capital after this night is over
will not fall far short of £13,000 ; but, gentlemen,
we are still compelled to be careful and cautions,
and still compelled to call upon your generous aid in
every way in our power, for over and above these
annuitants we shall shortly have five more eligibles
and who will most probably claim their incomes.
(Laughter.) And now, gentlemen, to stimulate yon
to be liberal to-night I have only to inform you that
our good and gracious Queen still remembers the
poor players, and that the 17th munificent donation
of £lOO has been received. (Cheers.) Then is there
not hope for the drama, and hope for its professors,
when a monarch in the midst of such affliction as
she has suffered can send forth her aid to "us
youth," and encourage us to go on and prosper ?
And is there not still further hope, when we look at
the Prince of Wales, and see how often he has visited
the theatres lately? Is there not hope in knowing
that he, like his illustrious and lamented father, is
fond of the drama ? So is our Queen, his much
beloved mother, whom at no distant date we yet
trust and pray to see again amongst us. So was
his great-grandfather, George 111., fond of the play
and to see the Prince like them, and following
their example, is a " joy " for a long time, if not
" for ever." For what, gentlemen, would become
of the noble drama of our country—what would
become of the cheerfulness of the country—if we
had upon the Throne a serious Sovereign ? That
there is a party that would be glad of such a gloomy
period, we well know. But what is that party?—
of what manner of men is it composed ? Why, of
a class of miserable people who would deprive the
hard-working public of fields and fresh air of a
' Sunday, and on that day too would have the
audacity " to rob a poor man of his beer."
(Loud cheers.) And now, gentlemen, there is a
subject upon which I would delicately touch, be-
cause I think the time is coming when what I
would suggest must be done. You all know there
are two large and wealthy dramatic funds—those of
Drury-lane and Covent-garden—possessing between
them nearly £200,000. The members of these
funds and from the position of
the two
are fhaatt r dying
e 8 o n
of them having no longer
t
off,
es
anything to do with the drama—it is not likely
that there will be any more claimants upon their
know a hale and hearty gentleman connected with
, capital. Then what is to become of it ? I certainly
one of the funds who maintains it to be a tontine,
and, as he means to outlive all the rest of the mem-
bers, looks forward to the happy day when he can
pocket the entire •
capital for his own use. But,
gentlemen, if the resources of these two large
funds can be amalgamated with those of the General
Fund, the Dramatic Sick Fund, and, above ail, with
the Dramatic College, what might not be done with
such an amount of money ? The college could be
nobly endowed, its schools established, all annuities
would
abned woffie l red ;
el
esrescuofthe wthwiole t
g,
reoastaftsuinfdy hst,le annui-
tantsshouldpropose their incomes and salaries should be in-
creased one-third beyond si hat they now receive ;
and if this is not done, in a few years the
large capital of the Drury-lane and Covent
garden funds will be lost to the dramatic profes-
sion, and the labours of such a man as David
Garrick, and of the great actors and gentlemen who
established these funds, will have come to an igno-
minious end. (Loud cheers.) But, gentlemen, this
is not the question of the present moment, My vo•
cation this evening is to plead to you in behalf the
fund you have come to serve, and on behalf of mem•
hers of a profession you all admire; for if I could

read the secrets of your hearts, I know I could point
out many here who at some time or other of their
lives have had a fancy for the stage, and have looked

upon it as an arena where they could have shone
with peculiar brilliancy ; and I have also no doubt

that there are many amongst you who, if you have
not had this fancy, have at least had a turn for dra-
matic writing, and, perhaps, some of you at this
day may have by you a tragedy, in five acts, or at
least a farce in one, but written many years ago.
(Cheers and laughter.) I know when I was not 17

years of age I wrote a tragedy myself, all in blank
verse, and which I had the temerity to send to the
great tragedian of that day, the illustrious Edmund

Kean—(cheers)—whose opinion was that my sub-
ject was too repulsive for representation; but shortly

after, on becoming an actor myself in a barn at
Hastings, this tragedian was lodging at a cottage

on the roast for the purpose of studying a new part;
he recognised the young tragic poet, and as my

benefit was announced at that time, he called at the
theatre, took two box tickets of me, and gave me
two guineas for them. And, gentlemen, when I
plead o❑ behalf of membera of the stage, and of the
theatre, I am pleading on behalf of an institution
which you have often been told is an instructor.

But, gentlemen, it is not only an instructor, it not

only elevates the mind, exposes folly, and cultivates
the fancy, but it is a physician, as I can show you
by an anecdote. Eighteen years ago, when our first
festival was given, Mr. Charles Dickens was our
chairman, as he is now. It took place on a Monday
in Passion Week. I was at Dumfries on the pre-
vious Saturday, and playing at the theatre there
on that evening. The house was well filled, par-
ticularly the dress boxes, but the occupants of
that part of the house, instead of being
listless and inattentive as they sometimes
are in London theatres, were uproarious
in their laughter and loud in their applause ; every
joke or humorous passage was taken by them with
immense expressions of delight, and the play
" went off," as it is termed, triumphantly. At the
end of it I remarked to the manager what an excel-
lent audience it had been, and how every joke was
understood and appreciated, but particularly by the
parties in the dress boxes ; they laughed louder
than any other persons in the theatre. " Yes," re-
plied the manager, " they did enjoy themselves
amazingly. Do you know what they all are ?"
" No," I answered. " Well, sir," said he, " they
are all mad people. (Loud laughter.) It is the sys-
tem of our doctor at the lunatic asylum here to
amuse his patients in every way in his power, and
he had pretty well all the seats in the dress circle,
and brought them all here to entertain them; and
afterwards the doctor informed me how much his
party had been delighted, and how he was sure
their coming to the play would do them a great
deal of good." (Loud laughter.) Gentlemen, seeing
the ladies still seated by themselves, and cruelly
parted from our sides, I must tell you it is yet an
undecided point whether in future they shall not sit
down and dine with us, but as I have promised to
be chairman next Ash-Wednesday at another dra-
matic fund dinner, where ladies do sit down, I shall
have an opportunity of observing how the system
works; and if I find it very comfortable, as I am
certain I shall, I intend to recommend the directors
of our fund to do the same thing, and then you can
bring your wives and sweethearts, and by your
liberal donations prove to them what noble and
generous hearts you have given or can bestow upon
them. (Laughter.) And now, gentlemen, I have
told you what we do with our money ; you
have seen, or can see, our balance-sheet ; you
can be convinced that every penny we receive
and expend is put down, and that our ac-
counts are kept in a clear, honest, and straight-
forward way ; and that so far from the actor being,
as is vulgarly supposed by some people, an impro-
vident and careless person, you will fled him to
be, in matters of business, a very good match
for many of our City gentlemen. Therefore,
knowing what we are—knowing the object for
which we have met to-night, I am convinced,
when our polite stewards stand at your elbows with
their little scraps of paper for you to fill up, you
will largely and freely " post the cole." (Loud and
continued cheering.)
The CHAIRMAN proposed " The Drama," coupling
with it the name of Mr. Alfred Wigan, who ac-
knowledged the compliment.
" The Health of the Chairman" was proposed by
Mr. Edmund Yates, to which Mr. Dickens replied
in a very humorous address, during which he pro-
posed" The Ladies," and advocated the desirability
of their taking places with the gentlemen at din-
ners, instead of occupying a position—as they did
that evening—not at all complimentary to them or
to the occasion.

Some other toasts followed, and the company se-
parated about eleven o'clock.
The SECRETARY announced the subscription for
the evening to be £376 4s.
The dinner, provided by the proprietors of the
Freemasons' Tavern, was highly creditable to the
management. It was elegant and abundant, and
the wines of the choicest collection. Messrs.
Elkington and Co.'s endeavours to give satisfaction
were highly successful.

PROPOSED USE OF HUMAN GAS.

(From Allen's _lndian Mail.)

We remember reading that a gallant officer of the stud
Department made the discovery that Bursatie in horses was
no more than an accumulation of kunkur. A lively genius
at once suggested that the Grand Trunk Road should, en
the score of economy, be mettled with the animals past cure.
Another, on learning that man was pronounced by an emi-
nent professor to be nothing, after all, but a little gas and a
certain number of buckets of water, proposed the watering
of our " thundie surruk" accordingly. We now learn that
an eccentric philosopher at Bombay proposes the lighting of
his city by gas manufactured from dead Hindoos. Here is
his proposal, as addressed to the Times of India:—" My
plan would be to erect a blast furnace in the neighbourhood
of the proposed gum orks. In the furnace would be erected,
say 12 retorts, in the interior of each of which should be a
gridiron to slide on bearers fixed in the interior of the re-
tort. On the completion of the funeral ceremonies in an
adjoining apartment built for the purpose the corpse would
be brought to the mouth of the retort (the door of which
would be thrown open), the grating drawn out, the dead body
placed thereon, the door closed again, and in 10 minutes all
that would remain would be a handful of ashes, which could
either be placed in a sepulchral urn or swept into the ash-
pit, at the option of the friends of the deceased. Is our ope-
ration faulty Yes,' say our chemical critics ; ' for you still
liberate the gases of the bodies to poison our atmosphere, as
at present. Is this your boasted plan ?' Stay, friend ; not so
fast in drawing conclusions. I have not shown you an educt
pipe fitted to each retort which conducts the carbon-loaded
gas into the purifier, from whence to be conducted into a
gasometer I It is said that many of the poorer classes of
Hindoos are unable, from their poverty, to purchase wood
fuel, now become so expensive, for cremative purposes.
Keeping this in view, I wish to make my plan a self-paying
one, and this could only be effected by selling the gas thus
collected for illuminative purposes. Estimated profits of this
plan :---The number of native dead subjects to a cinerary
process in the island of Bombay is about 25 per day. Each
body, it is estimated, would yield 200 cubic ft. of gas—many
would yield much more. Now 6 re. per 1,000 cubic feet
would be a moderate charge ; therefore, in a monetary
point of view merely, the scheme would pay. Fastidious
people may be shocked and startled at the scheme ; but on
what reasonable grounds ? Is a man of mark, whose
whole life has been devoted to the enlightenment of his
fellow countrymen, to be quenched from our sight for ever
by the fell stroke of death, and leave not a scintillating
ray behind ? Forbid it economy and common sense. Does
it cost nothing, think you, to clothe the ribs with rich store
of carbon. that it should be afterwards wasted in the desert
air—the very marrow of our complaint? Would it not
create a sweetly mournful feeling in our breasts to see that,
although our friend be dead yet meteor-like, as in life, he
was shedding an effulgent ray to dispel the darkness, be
fore seeking the glowing galaxy of light in the other
world ? The first Napoleon bade his his chemists make
nitre from the hoses o ofhe Parisian dead. Is it so ange,
dead ? Patriotic Englishmen
bodies to the desecting-table. May not we expect a cor-
responding that I should prpose to mhakaevegaswilolefd ththeeir Hindoodead
ep nn nngd
India
patriotismev er
abandonfor thethe
objectionable
lishde
Positing their dead in the earth, I, Curtius like, am ready
to leap the gulf of prejudice into the gasometer I That is, it
Shoc
I'm alive at the time of the change.
No.,
.that's
abull—l
mean if I'm dead. Is it not more honourable to shine as a
gaslight than to stop the mouth of a bunghole as vulgar
clay ?—TOM CRINGLE.—Bombay, Feb

Importing Tea 'without colour on :he leaf pre-
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