Base is the slave that pays.
A number of the settlers having preferred a request to that effect, the whole of the “play actors” of Emu Plains received permission to go with all their paraphernalia to perform a play at a distant part of the Nepean settlement.
Proud was the manager, great was the bustling importance of the Company, and by the first light of the day appointed, the “scenery, machinery, dresses and decorations” of the Emu Theatre having been transferred to a settler’s dray, all were en route to the scene of action — a large barn belonging to the keeper of a very small inn, who had kindly lent the edifice for this purpose; of course, solely for the amusement of his neighbours, without the slightest expectation of prospective advantage to himself. Notwithstanding his disinterested feelings, however, after the corps dramatique had been hard at work for a couple of hours, Boniface, rubbing his hands, came in to the quondam theatre and expressed his admiration in glowing terms of all that he saw, winding up a most flowery speech by enquiring whether it was not a dry job, at the same time hinting obliquely at the excellent qualities of a beverage composed of good rum and peach cider, of both which his stock was immense, adding that as no doubt the performance would amply remunerate the Company, he would not object to supplying the members thereof with refreshment for the day on credit, always providing his account should be liquidated as soon as the play was over.
These terms having been joyfully acceded to by, the thirsty Thespians, a sample of the much-vaunted drink was obtained, and although it was not quite equal to nectar — as the cider was something of the sharpest, and the rum rather peppery — yet to men from Emu Plains it appeared very superior. About noon, too, a servant came, who in the name of her master, the inn keeper enquired if any of the players wanted dinner. Accordingly, all adjourned to the kitchen, where salt beef and pork, abundance of greens, and the unvarying damper awaited their appetites. This sumptuous feast was duly crowned by libations, though sooth to say, the tender care of their host prevented their getting drunk, because the rum, though very pungent and very hot, was also very weak, being, in nautical phrase, only equal to three-water grog, and thus did not disturb the acting powers of even the most weak-headed among the theatricals.
The performances of the evening having closed amid rapturous applause, a good jollification was resolved on. But alas, as Burns has sung,
The best-laid schemes o’ mice and men
Gang aft agley.
All unforeseen difficulty arose; the innkeeper insisted on payment of his bill before any fresh supplies were afforded. On examination of this ingenious document, it appeared each performer owed him one pound two shillings and sixpence for drink, dinner and supper, both of these repasts being charged at three shillings per head, and the remainder made up of pints of rum, gallons of cider, and ditto, ditto . . . almost without end. Now, as is customary in such cases, the debtors could not by any process be brought to believe that they had actually obtained even half the liquor charged against them, and the obdurate creditor vowed most solemnly that he had served the whole of it himself. To add to the mischief, it was found on investigation, that after paying a few trifling claims for nails and other minor incidental expenses, the receipts would but admit of a dividend of thirty shillings to each principal player in the Company and the stipulated wages of the supernumeraries — scene-shifters and others.
Indeed, as each man’s share of the bill was alike, the Company actually owed more than their gross receipts; but on this being explained, the landlord at length agreed to take what the lower rate of performers obtained in full from them, if the others would cash up the amount of his claim on each of these. Further, he said he thought himself and the chief constable might persuade their superintendent to let the Company remain where they were and play again one more night; which he kindly volunteered to do, and in the mean time — always after a settlement — would let the Thespians go on again with a fresh score, on the faith of their next night’s receipts.
This arrangement being at once acceded to, the disinterested landlord received instantly by far the greater portion of the collection made by the theatrical treasurer, and then the Company began again to enjoy themselves, free from the dreadful thoughts of the reckoning, which was thus procrastinated twenty-four hours, at any rate. The next morning, betimes, Manager King called a council of his trusty coadjutors and opened to them a most brilliant device of his own composition, by which he doubted not to astonish the natives in general, and none more so than their kind confiding host in particular, who had been so fluent of his beverage and so cunning with his chalk; this notable plan was to be put into execution at the close of the evening’s amusement and was rapturously acceded to by his fellow-convicts, who deemed it would form a most appropriate finale to the amusements of the night.
They now partook of breakfast; and after a couple of glasses of grog by way of stimulus to repair the ravages made by their last night’s jollificationtion in the sensorium of each, the most eloquent of the performers were dispatched in small parties to make a circuit of the settlers dwelling near, exhibiting in each house a play-bill, to compose which Rashleigh had exhausted nearly all his powers of persuasive oratory, in setting forth the magnitude of that night’s attractions at their temporary theatre, enumerating the various points of allurement quite as grandiloquently as a London manager of a minor theatre, and winding up with the awful annunciation that it was most positively their last exhibition at that place. The ambassadors were also commissioned to explain to the expected guests such reasons good as compelled them to believe the last assertion, namely, that the passes of the histrionic heroes would expire that day.
Rashleigh, backed by a new and youthful recruit, whose beardless face well suited the female parts he sustained, made his rounds, meeting with many promises of attendance and much rude hospitality from all the small settlers round about. This was a period of most universal merriment, indeed, a sort of prescriptive saturnalia in society of that sort every year, but doubly so upon this occasion, when the agriculturists, for the first time in seven years, were blessed with overflowing garners teeming with grain. In every hut, therefore, was then to be found a keg, filled, not with choice Jamaica, but with its fiery prototype from Bengal; and mirth and revelry was the order of both day and night.
Evening drew nigh as they returned to their companions, when the manager announced to our adventurer that all was prepared for the successful dénouement of the preconcerted plot to form the finale of the night; and after each had partaken of a refreshment, it was time to dress for the play.
An early hour had been fixed upon for commencing, because, it being Saturday night, they wished the whole bill of fare, which was rather a long one, should be gone through before midnight. The barn — beg pardon, theatre — was crammed to over-flowing; many, who would not be turned away, were accommodated on the roof; and each new point elicited rapturous bursts of applause. But as soon as every thing was done with, either of the scenery or of the valuable properties, it was slyly and noiselessly withdrawn through an opening, which had been clandestinely contrived in the slabs of the barn; and at last, when the drop-scene fell, Manager King was the only performer left in the house. All the others had followed their paraphernalia, which, as it was removed, had been placed in a dray hired for the purpose, and kept concealed at a short distance, among some swamp oaks in a dell by the riverside, where the whole party now waited with impatience the arrival of their manager.
That eloquent personage, among whose other attributes was a most fluent “gift of the gab”, and who was not at all annoyed at any opportunity of exhibiting his oratory, amused the audience fully a quarter of an hour by his facetious farewells, returning thanks for the distinguished honour of their patronage, etc. Finally, perceiving a movement towards the door on the part of some impatient persons who wished to be at home, Manager King, amid a profusion of bows that would have done honour to a dancingmaster, each too, in accordance with approved theatrical taste, much lower than its predecessor, himself at length withdrew through the aperture before mentioned, carefully closing it after him, and leaving to the landlord, in liquidation of his claim, the drop-scene — which, by the by, was so foully abused by its antiquity that it had long been laid aside as condemned, even at the Emu Theatre — and about a dozen rough, battered tin sconces, with the ends of candle they contained. These were all the available assets they resigned to their creditor in satisfaction of his demand for the previous night’s festivity, their meals that day, and an awful accumulation of lush supplied these runagates by their too confiding host during the last twentyfour hours.
Boniface, who wa............