Chapter XXXVI. The Woes and Adventures of an Itinerant Show.

There were eight of us in all—to wit: Leading Lady, Second ditto, Pianist (lady), Violinist (Philiberta), Tenor, Basso, Agent, and myself. What part I took in the Show I am not prepared to tell. For two powerful reasons I prefer to keep it a secret: the first being because I want to, the second because the other page 238male members of that Show are still extant, and are bigger men than I. Truth to tell, I had no intention, when I first joined the company, of going back on it in this style. I am fully conscious of my horrible lack of principle in thus betraying the incidents of our experience, our difficulties, and the divers dodges we were reduced to in extricating ourselves, but of late the corn question—i.e., the struggle for bread and cheese—has become of far more importance to me than any barren system of ethics. I was not always devoid of that sense of honour that is said to exist among all men who band together in one common cause—even the cause of thieving; but principle and need have had a hard fight lately, and principle has gone under, and now, with the immortal Biglow, I must say—

'It ain't by principles nor men
My prudent course is steadied,
I scent which pays the best and then
Wade into it bald-headed.'

I may here observe, en passant, that 'bald-headed' has a literal as well as figurative significance in the present instance. This long time have the bumps and dents on the top of my head, 'in the place where the wool ought to grow,' been revealed in all their nakedness for phrenological study and juvenile derision. Whenever I attend church, or a place of public entertainment, I am haunted painfully by the consciousness that some small boy behind me is literally spoiling for a shy at the shiny apex of my cranium. I remember how often in my own young days my mind beguiled away the tedious sermon-time with calculations as to the number of times out of ten a well-aimed marble from a catapult would strike the nearest bald spot in my vicinity. There is only one situation in which I can imagine baldness an unmitigated blessing to a man—and that is the situation of a prisoner to a tribe of scalping Indians. That is the only position in which I can picture a man feeling heartily joyful over the inefficacy of the restorers, producers, invigorators, and other compounds he has vainly rubbed into himself through fruitless, hairless years.

While we are upon this subject, what theory, I wonder, will page 239account for the fact that baldness affects men in so much larger proportion than it affects women? I, being an evolutionist, incline to the opinion that it is the result of an evolutionary movement of Dame Nature, who, gazing through the dim vistas of the future, foresaw which sex was most likely to get its hair pulled, and at once set about making a merciful but gradual provision accordingly. Yet why the old lady should go back on her own sex in that unfeeling manner—robbing it of one of its best holds in the tug of matrimonial warfare—is like most of her works, a good way beyond my comprehension.

But, as I was saying, before the scientific study of one of life's great phenomena took me off my track somewhat, stress of circumstances overcoming all conscientious scruples in me, drove me to try if I couldn't turn an honest penny by showing up my friends. In short, being between the awkward alternatives of begging and digging, I, like the man in the Bible, don't do either, but take refuge in a line quite as precarious, but rather more respectable, and less laborious,—viz., 'ink-slinging.' And having no other subject to write about with any certainty of being able to stick to facts, I propose to detail the adventures and vicissitudes attending ordinary itinerant show-business in New Zealand; trusting to Providence, or whoever it is that has a care of rogues and vagabonds, to keep these sketches, or the writer of them, safely out of reach of Our Show's other members.

Well, there were eight of us, as I remarked before. And we were each and all suffering direly from that direst of complaints—impecuniosity, a complaint which it is consoling to know, on the principle that 'misery likes company,' has been experienced in all ages by greater as well as lesser souls than ours; and a complaint which, judging from appearances, is not likely to become an extinct malady for a few centuries yet. We had been down on our luck for some time, and we met, or gravitated together, in that odd fashion that I fancy may have had a little to do with the birth of the proverb beginning 'Birds of a feather.'

There was a wistful far-off look in Our Tenor's eyes the first page 240time I saw him, that was sadly suggestive of unpaid bills and prospective writs. 'A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind,' and my heart therefore warmed to Our Tenor at once. This, you will understand, was a perfectly safe process for me, since no amount of calorific action on the part of my heart could possibly result in my loss. Having nothing, it was simply impossible for me to give anything, save sympathy, and Heaven and the world know how cheap and abundant a commodity that is—as cheap, though not perhaps quite such a social drug, as advice. So I suffered my heart to warm to Our Tenor, without let or restraint. How the idea originated among us men to combine our talents and travel I do not quite recollect, unless it were in the knowledge that travel was becoming a stern necessity, since our credit everywhere was stopped. The idea did originate, however, like a blessed inspiration, and found issue in a visit from two of us to the house in which Our Leading Lady held temporary residence. But little persuasion was necessary to make Our L.L. view the project as favourably as we did. In fact, we had reason to believe from remarks let fall by Our Leading Lady's landlady, during our brief visit, that Our L.L. had quite as strong a motive for wishing to get out of town as we had.

'I earns my living by hard work,' was one of the observations that reached our ears from the passage outside the parlourdoor. 'I takes in lodgers and lets my rooms like an honest woman, and when lodgers fails me I takes to the wash-tub and earns my five bob a day honourable. I don't sit in abominable idleness all day long telling lies about remittances from brother-in-laws—yah!—nor havin' shabby pickpocket-lookin' play-actin' chaps comin'to see me for no good. I don't go to spongin' on honest married women as works hard for their bread by the sweat off their brows, and it's time the law looked after them as did do sich meannesses. And it's what the law will do before three days more is gone over my head, else there ain't no more summonses nor magistrates in Christchurch—mark my words.'

'It is very warm indoors this weather,' said Our Leading Lady, glancing with piteous significance towards our hats.

'Very, indeed,' we replied, as we immediately acted upon the hint.

'Most uncommonly sultry, in fact,' we added sotto voce, as the impetus given by the landlady's foot to the closing front-door landed us nearly in the middle of the street.

Our Second Lady was a professional novice, with all the usual professional novice's faith in her own ability. Our projected enterprise suited her perfectly, in that it opened up a prospect of opportunities ranging from loftiest tragic and dramatic art down to cleverest depths of low comedy.

'The Show will be a success,' said Our S.L. excitedly. 'I will make it a success. I can do Juliet in the balcony scene, Lady Macbeth in the sleep-walking scene; I can sing all the Leonora music in the prison scene in Il Trovatore, and I can do Topsy in a song and break-down, and the sailor's hornpipe, or Highland fling in costume.'

'Indeed!' said Our L.L., with a slightly sarcastic drawl. 'It is surprising that so gifted an artiste should be ever out of an engagement.'

'I haven't been half as often out of one as you, anyway,' was the retort, and then ensued a little wordy battle (weapons—sword of sarcasm and tomahawk of candour), in which it would be hard to decide which combatant was worsted.

Our Leading Lady wound up by saying that she detested a boaster, and Our Basso said everybody did; and that set me wondering which boaster we hated most—the one who had good reason for his vaunts, or the one who had not. I think that in the theatrical line the balance of detestation is for the one who has good reason, especially if he be in our own particular field. That fine sentiment about generous emulative admiration being the motive that leads us to try to excel is—well, to put it classically—is all oculus meus, generally speaking. When do we view our fellow-man with such friendly eyes as when he is a step below us on the ladder of life and there is no probability of his ever getting a hoist to our level?

Well, there were frequent repetitions of that first little duet between Our Leading Lady and Our Second ditto, and it needed page 242all the skilful engineering of us superior (?) animals to preserve a fair amount of peace and harmony in the feminine section of Our Show. Our L.L. and Our S.L. would start the hot water operations between them, and Our Pianist took care to keep up the simmer by a well-chosen stinging word or two put in whenever occasion seemed to call.

That pianist of ours was a genius—is yet, I suppose, for I have not heard of her decease. She had a faculty of taking care of No. I, that called forth our highest admiration. She had also a talent for fainting whenever she wished to escape any little unpleasantness, that really made her an object of envy to those whose faces and systems were less splendidly manageable. I have a keen recollection of one instance of a display of this feinting capacity. It was one night when, after the customary division of the proceeds of the entertainment, it was discovered that Our Pianist had had, by mistake, two shares allotted to her instead of one. The error was pointed out to her at once, but, although ordinarily she evinced quite a gifted accuracy in arithmetic, nothing would convince her on this occasion that she had received more than her due. We argued and reckoned until some of us grew black in the face (the individual dividends were too small—the individual needs too great—to admit of anyone's being magnanimous), but it was of no use. My lady held on tenaciously, and finally concluded the discussion in the usual way, and it took two hours and copious brandy-and-water to bring her out of her dead faint. A dead faint, during which one hand hung down in pathetic and graceful limpness, while the other kept a rigid grip of the disputed cash.

This is a long digression, and would be inexcusable did it not contain a great moral lesson, one of the greatest of moral lessons—'Get all you can, and stick to it when you've got it.' A lesson that must result in untold benefit to him who layeth it duly to heart—provided, of course, he keeps out of gaol. When I think of the infinite possibilities of my life, had my parents properly instilled that principle into me; but there! why linger on the 'might have been'? Besides, now I come page 243to think of it, I had no parents. I am an orphan—always was.

For obvious reasons I must refrain from too particular individual description of Our Show. Sufficient to say that Our Basso was tall and portly, as became his voice—(Nature never exhibits such disregard for the eternal fitness of things as when she boxes up a great bass voice in small human compass); that Our Tenor was slender and sentimental; that Our Ladies were, in our unanimous opinion, strikingly lovely in their various styles; and that Our Agent had the face of an angel. I am by no means an enthusiast about masculine beauty as a general thing. I would rather study that of the other sex at any time; but I am open to admit, and prepared even to rave about, the rare perfection of the face of Our Agent. The beauty was of a feminine type; soft outlines, delicate colouring, madonna-like expression; and it wrought upon me and the others of Our Company to the extent of disposing us gently and forgivingly to Our Agent, even when we knew that he was systematically pocketing a third of the receipts that should have been fairly divided among all eight of us, he being in the advantageous position of money-taker at the performances.

Our earliest difficulties were in connection with wardrobe and rehearsals. Of the former, alas! but a scanty portion was preserved from the well-intentioned grasp of the distinguished relative of all needy people—the man who boasts the coat of arms of the ancient House of Lombardy, three spheres d'or on a sable field.

We deemed it wisdom to do our principal rehearsals in the public parks and gardens, and on the pretty banks of the river. Dread of violent interruption, of aspersions upon our fair fame and appearance, made us shrink from attempting any kind of practice at the home of Our Leading Lady, and a vague realization of the possible results of any aggravation of our own land-lady deterred us equally from risking it under her roof. We managed, however, to get two or three musical rehearsals through the good offices of the pianist, who had a friend, who had another friend, who had a piano.

Our Agent, rejoicing in a more substantial reputation and more cash than all the united rest of us, succeeded in getting the office of the local journal to trust us some printing, posters, bills, programmes, etc.; and so in a week from the time that the project was first mooted we were ready to start For the very good reason that deficiency of funds obstructed far travel, we decided to take, for a beginning, the small towns nearest to Christchurch, hoping thus to win the wherewithal to extend operations in a manner better befitting our lofty notions of our own talents.