The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1895-02-10

actor. s
What's your name. my dear? SaIlie,
eh? Bless my heart. It's a good job
we don't require to put that in the bills,
or IL we did we should have to alter IT.
Maud. or Gwendoline, or Violet, or Jen-
ME, or Marie would do. but never Sal
lie. The British public has its preju-
dices in these matters, and / am sure
could not stand that. Sarah! Oh, yes,
sarah might pass, but you must be a
very important woman. with an eccen-
trio kind of genius, to carry off any
thing so common. Tomorrow at IL, and
bring your shoes, and if you know your
steps we will put you in as a page in
the procession as a reward. All. here's
the governor.
l was thinking that / can remember
only n Sallie in the profession. and
she was in our ballet down north ten
or eleven years ago. We had a terrible
time of it to get nough girls for the
dances, for they didn't teach stage work
much there, and a manage never
dreamt of engaging a dozen smart girls
from London. 1t was the usual kind OF
crowd you find in the second-rate pro-
v1ncial shows Wigs and shoes, govern
or, are the weak points of the country
pantomimes. They spoil the ship for the
haporth of tar. Oh. yes; / know you
provide wigs here. and even a second
nand wig is better on the stage than q
natural head of hair any evening. It
was an awkward lot I had to pull to-
gether somehow. and they scrambled
about like so many grampuses.
so we fooled along with it and made
the best show we could, and on boxing
night there was a roaring house. the
gods whistling and screaming and the
pit drinking bottled beer and eating
oranges, with an occasional row when
somebody was detected smoking a clay
pipe surreptitiously in the stalls. 1t
was a wretched stage. and nobody had
ever thought of providing the old-faSh-
Toned guard for the dancers whe
they came on. That would have been
an original cost too heavy for the man
agement, and the dressing rooms were
more like pig stys than apartments for
human beings.
The overture went with a bang. No
cornet solos. or adagios, or moderatos,
or any nonsense of that kind. Comic
songs strung together, and nothing but
them. governor, SO that the gallery
could whistle throughout, from the first
bar to the last. The book was a hash
of other books. done by the manager
himself to save the f5 he would have
had to pay an outsider. They didn't
care much about the words then. any
more than they do now, provided that
the tOp-boot business and the acrobats
Tor the palace scene and the low CONS.
were all there. A useful set of people,
though, and one Of them I remember in
particular at the West End afterward,
keeping a brougham, and with litho-
graphs of himself wearing a fur-top
overcoat in the public house windows.
If 1 had not been a man with a per-
feet of temper, which, you
know, is very necessary in my depart
ment, / declare I should have rushed
on and ~strangled that local lot before
they had been at it ten minutes. The
ignorance. the imbecility. the idiotic
irregularities of those gawky girls I have
seen equaled. The mistress
mademoiselle somebody-not daring to
cry for fear of spelling her makeup
before going on for her pas seul. used
language L should never have believed
a lady born in was capable
of employing. And the worst offender
of the crew-a stupid, understood,
freckled bit of a thing, with sandy hair.
who was the Sallie I spoke of-would
have upset an archbishop at an amateur
performance. Not a glimmer of the
ghost of an idea had that child what to
do. Her hands, her arms, her feet might
just as well have been divorced from
her body for the use they were to her
in that dance. The minute they came
off-and she was by q long way the
most incompetent of the settle French
lady from Peckham gave her the length
of her tongue, and it was the longest
tongue | ever saw or heard, too.
I can see the poor little beggar now
standing in the wings just behind the
prompt chair, with one of the girls put
ting a thick, old red shawl over her
and the boss telling her to draw her
nights money next day and never come
near the theater again. | can see this
other girl-almost as great a sinner her.
self-trying to comfort her and check
her tears. and advise her to never
mind" All, yes; women are spiteful
and Jealous if one is doing a bit better
tina another; yet experience teaches me,
governor, that if trouble comes the
spite and the jealousy disappear. and
the genuine heart shows out. I can
hear the sobs of this poor little weaver's
girl, trembling at her sudden disgrace.
and perhaps thinking how the six or
seven shillings she expected to AXE
home from the treasury had vanished
like a summer dream.
Ours isn't exactly an ideal profession,
governor, in working hours. You know
that, and some of these pantomime
girls would try a saint. They nearly
settle me occasionally. But l did feel
sorry for Sal1ie, and L was thinking
whether 1 couldn't manag to smooth
over the difficulty and run her in for
a small part-say, an on the
princess, although she was so uncom-
monty plain 1 was afraid of it. Made
moiselle had bounded on. and the gal
lery did not take to her kindly-not
that it ever does to YOU professional
dancer on a boxing night. The OrcheS-
ira was mixed in the music, and, what
with her temper upset and the giggling
of the gods and the muddle she got
into with the band playing out of time,
she was jumping about the stage like a
mad woman.
The Giant was just whispering to me
that he could not possibly get out Of
the door in the kitchen scene, and
wanted to know what he had better do,
when I heard a terrific scream. and a
fearful roar from the audience. I can't
say i possess any presence Of mind,
governors; and the minute 1 realized
tha Mademoiselle had fallen down
against the footlights and her dress was
on fire / stood like a man thunderstruck,
with a sickening feeling creeping over
me. That woman would AVE been done
for in a few econds. for there was no
body else on, and it was almost impossi-
BILE for any one of the band to Chamber
up for fear of getting aiight himself.
1t seems like a dream at this distance
of time, but the freshness of the remem-
brance will never desert me. The
%freckled, sobbing girl with the sandy
hair was on the stage like a lash Of
lightning.
She had got her enemy down, with
the thick red shawl pulled tightly
around the burning skirt, and there she
stuck to her like a leech. In half a
minute the carpenter dashed in with a
blanket, and Mademoiselle, hysteri6al,
Hut ayfinOuiChad was 20 rriad nff n,,<