From Amateur to Professional.
"I once was a dab at Penny Readings."—Ruddygore.
"What first put it into your head to give entertainments?" is a question I have been asked hundreds of times, and my reply has always been, "I'm sure I do not know." Nor do I know to this day. I used to play the piano very well at the age of twelve. What was considered "very well" for a boy twenty-eight years ago, no doubt would be considered execrable in these days of Hoffmanns and Hegners. I remember, when I played, ladies used to say, "How odd it seems to see a boy playing." It was thought effeminate to play the piano.
Besides playing from music, I also played a good deal by ear, which was considered demoralising, and still is by those who know nothing about it. Playing correctly by ear is a gift that should be encouraged. I was delighted one afternoon recently, when calling upon Mrs. Kendal, the well-known actress, to see her little boy, of about ten or eleven, sit down at the grand piano and play off by ear, perfectly correctly, "Le revenant de la revue" and one of my own songs. It is a gift delightful to the one fortunately endowed with it; and it does not follow that one should not also play correctly from music.
For my own pleasure (I do not know whether it was for other people's), I used to sing the comic songs, "Johnny Sands," "The Cork Leg," and "The Lost Child," to my own pianoforte accompaniment. I was never taught the tunes or words of these songs, but picked them up as children do, and reproduced them at the piano in a fashion of my own.
One delightful consequence of this was, that the number of my invitations to juvenile parties was considerably increased. I added to my stock of songs of course, and so found I was kept up to a late hour—at grown-up parties, too. Though not too young to learn and sing these songs, I was not old enough to always understand their purport.
There was a song, about this time, which was all the rage in London. The tune was heard on every organ and band, in every ballroom and theatre. I bought a penny song-book with the words, which I learned off by heart, and, as usual, picked out my accompaniment on the piano. One evening I launched it before the grown-up people who always turn up at the latter end of a juvenile party, and some of whom generally requested that I should be kept and made to sing to them. My friend Frank Burnand, in his incomparable Happy Thoughts, tells how he was singing a comic song before an unsympathetic audience, and suddenly remembering a verse was not quite proper, backed out of it. In my own case, I had no notion that the verse was risque. I did not even understand it; so out it came with the full force of my penny-whistle voice. I never heard so much laughter in a room before. There was a general request for the song to be encored; but this was just a little too much for the feelings of my fond and hitherto proud mother, who made a dash at me, and shut me and the piano up at the same moment.
There is a period when the voice breaks, but I do not think I ever had a voice to break; at all events, I never remember the time when I ceased singing comic songs.
When half-way through my teens I began to write snatches of songs and illustrations, and received much help and encouragement from my father. He used to take me to the old Gallery of Illustration, to hear the inimitable John Parry; and this infused not only a new life, but a totally different style, into my work. Still in my teens, I used to be asked to the grown-up parties of Mr. Toole, Mr. Charles Millward, Mr. Henry Neville, and Mr. John Hollingshead, the last-named of whom, only the other day, reminded me that I never could be persuaded to sing before supper, excusing myself on the ground that the songs always went so much better after supper. So they did, and so they still do.
At Mr. Hollingshead's I first met Mr. Henry S. Leigh, then a contributor to Fun, and the author of "Carols of Cockayne," "Gillott and Goosequill," &c. He was himself a great admirer of John Parry; and when I became intimate with him, in after years, used to show me how Parry sang "Wanted, a Governess," "The Old Bachelor," "The Dejeuner a la Fourchette," &c., all of which I have myself sung at times, after a fashion. At Hollingshead's (in Colebrook Row), Leigh sang "The Twins," which became an enormously successful song, and he gave me a copy of it. Subsequently, I sang most of Leigh's songs en amateur; and after my appearance as a professional entertainer, he specially wrote "The Seven Ages of Song" and "The Parrot and the Cat" for me.
As a boy, I used, at certain evening parties, to accompany Toole in "A Norrible Tale" and "Bob Simmons," and considered it a high honour. I used to sing some of the songs of Henry J. Byron, a constant visitor to my father's house, and received much encouragement from him; also from John Oxenford, the dramatic critic of The Times; Andrew Halliday; T.W. Robertson, the dramatic author, and scores of others. It will be seen, therefore, that though I commenced on my own account, I was destined to be brought up in an atmosphere of literature and art. But neither my father nor myself was the first representative of the family on the public platform.
Judge Talfourd, the author of Ion, had heard my father recite over and over again, and strongly advised him to take up lecturing and reading as a profession. He followed the popular judge's advice, and gave his first lecture, entitled "Wit and Humour," on the day of my birth, at Reading, his native town. In a speech on the occasion of my coming of age he made use of these felicitous words: "I went down to Reading to make my first appearance in public at my native place, and, on my return, found my eldest son had made his first appearance in private at his native place."
That was forty years ago; but I propose presenting my readers with a copy of a programme, having reference to an uncle, dated twenty-five years before that. The programme is quaintly illustrated with tiny blocks of very primitive engravings, illustrating the characters personated:
BY PERMISSION OF THE WORSHIPFUL THE BAILIFFS.
NEW THEATRE, BRIDGNORTH.
For Two Evenings only.
On TUESDAY, the 26th, and Saturday, the 30th July, 1825.
Mr. GROSSMITH, sen., takes this opportunity of laying before the public the following high encomium passed on his son, kindly pointed out to him by a clergyman of Dudley. The numerous and repeated paragraphs which have appeared in all the London and provincial papers cannot have escaped the eye of anyone; but this work will, no doubt, escape the eye of some.
Abstracted from the "New Monthly Magazine," No. 45, July 1st, 1825 (page 299).
"The little Irish boy, Master Burke, betokens a dramatic instinct which can scarcely be mistaken. We saw in the country the other day a child, seven years old, named GROSSMITH, who displayed even a deeper vein of natural humour; actually revelling in the jests he uttered and acted; singing droll songs with the truth of a musician and the vivacity of a comedian; and speaking passages of tragedy with an earnestness and grace as though the dagger and bowl had been his playthings, and poetry his proper language."
Characters in the introduction which Master Grossmith imitates.
(Here come in nine small illustrations of figures.)
Characters in Pecks of Troubles which Master Grossmith personates.
(Here appear seven larger illustrations.)
THE CELEBRATED INFANT ROSCIUS, MASTER GROSSMITH,
From Reading, Berks
(Only seven years and a quarter old),
Intends giving Two Evenings' Amusements, when he feels confident he will meet with that support he has never failed to experience in all the towns he has visited. The Infant Roscius will commence his performance with his
ADVENTURES IN THE READING COACH,
When he will imitate the following characters, namely: a
Frenchman—a Fat Lady—an Affected Lady—a Tipsy Politican—a Stage
Manager—Two Candidates for the Stage—and his own Success.
Master Grossmith will then go through the Humorous and Laughable
Comedy of
PECKS OF TROUBLES;
OR,
The Distress of a French Barber.
(1) MISS DEBORAH GRUNDY
(An Old Maid in Love) MASTER GROSSMITH!
(2) SPINDLESHANKS
(A Dandy Fortune-Hunter) MASTER GROSSMITH!!
(3) MONSIEUR FRIZEUR
(In a Peck of Troubles
about cutting old
Grundy's face—
with a song) … MASTER GROSSMITH!!!
(4) OLD GRUNDY
(In search of the
Frenchman, to give
him a receipt in full
for his carelessness) MASTER GROSSMITH!!!!
(5) BETTY, THE HOUSEMAID
(In love with Corporal
Rattle—with a song,
"Yes, aye, for a
Soldier's Wife I'll
go") … … … MASTER GROSSMITH!!!!!
(6) CORPORAL RATTLE
(As hot as gunpowder;
in love with Betty) MASTER GROSSMITH!!!!!!
(7) TIMOTHY CLODHOPPER
(A servant-of-all-work
to old Grundy, bewailing
his unfortunate love
for Betty, who has run
off with Corporal
Rattle—with the
laughable song of
"The Washing Tub,"
which finishes the
piece … … … MASTER GROSSMITH!!!!!!!
After which, "Betsy Baker," with other Comic Songs.
Part II. will consist of Scenes from the Merchant of Venice, Douglas, Pizarro, Macbeth, Richard III., Rolla, and Hamlet. The Infant Roscius will, on the first night, go through the tent scene of Richard III. The scenes will be changed each night, and he will conclude his performance with a piece (composed in two parts expressly for him) on
THE MUSICAL GLASSES.
The whole of the scenery, wardrobe, and preparations, which are very extensive, with the Grand Diorama, 360 feet in length, will pass through the proscenium during the intervals of Master Grossmith's performance; consisting of views of Italy, &c.
Boxes, 3s.; Pit, 2s.; Gallery, 1s.
Doors to be opened at half-past Seven, and the performance to commence at Eight o'clock. Children under twelve and Schools, half price to Boxes and Pit only. Tickets and Plans for Boxes to be had of Mr. Gitton, Post Office; and at the Theatre, where Master G., and preparations, may be seen from Ten to One o'clock on the days of performance.
(Then appear four more blocks of the boy in private dress, and three
Shaksperian characters.)
———
The above juvenile was Mr. William Grossmith, who, I am pleased to say, is still alive and well. He was the eldest of the male portion of the Grossmith family, and the only one remaining. He does not remember the entertainment with much pride or pleasure, and I do not wonder at it; for the work must have been a terrible strain upon the mind of a child.
I am in possession of several programmes similar to the above: and only the other day some kind stranger sent me a newspaper, dated Wednesday, June 17th, 1829, and called The Bury and Norwich Post, or Suffolk and Norfolk Telegraph, Essex, Cambridge, and Ely Intelligencer. One may well exclaim, "What's in a name?" On glancing through its columns, I find the following:
LINES
ADDRESSED TO MASTER GROSSMITH.
Sure ne'er did Nature so profusely give,
Or such a Roscius till this time e'er live!
Deem it not flatt'ry, those who have not seen
This little wonder! For full well, I ween,
Had you but view'd, like me, enchanted quite
You'd own his genius, and in praise unite.
Ye who have seen the hero, ye can tell,
Tho' in his praise my numbers fain would swell,
Alas! how feebly does my muse essay
His talents or his merits to portray.
Scarce ten years old; superior strength of mind
Speaks in his "SPEAKING EYES" his sense refin'd:
His manners graceful, unassuming too;
Such sweet simplicity we never knew:
So noble, free, and dignified his mien,
A real Hamlet seems to grace the scene.
When he with mimic art his skill applies,
And Shakspeare's heroes to assume he tries,
So well the child can personate the man,
That twenty years appear in one short span;
Aye, not three minutes does the change require,
To make the maiden young or old, or 'squire.
But Shakspeare most his talents bring to sight:
There may experienc'd actors, with affright,
Think they ne'er more again must tread the stage,
While Grossmith is the Roscius of the age.
He weighs each word, and "suits the action well;"
His rising its meaning oft will tell
Ere yet 'tis utter'd: his expressive face
Conveys the sense with ever-varying grace.
In short, no authors difficult appear
To his superior sense and gifted ear;
His growing talents so conspicuous shine,
He gives a charm to Shakspeare's ev'ry line.
Farewell, sweet child! May virtue guide thy way,
May bliss without alloy be thine each day,
And may'st thou e'er enjoy that peace of mind
Which dwells with virtue and with sense refin'd.
Dowham Market, June 1st, 1829. M. M. C.
And now revenons a nos moutons.
At the close of 1864 I blossomed into a Penny Reader, and I can safely aver that no Penny Reader ever had such an exalted opinion of his own talents as I had of mine. Penny Readings were fast becoming the rage, and were springing up everywhere; and my first public appearance at them was in a schoolroom, in close proximity to Holy Trinity Church, Hawley Road, turning out of the Chalk Farm Road. This was the church I had been in the habit of attending, and in the choir of which I had sometimes sung. There was at Penny Readings no programme in those days. The chairman (always the vicar or the curate) used to call upon those in the audience whom he considered capable.
He flattered me with this distinction; so I took my seat at the piano, and sang a song with a refrain, in which the noisy portion of the audience commenced to join. This was not quite approved of; so for a time I contented myself with recitals from Dickens, Hood, &c., which I cribbed from my father's repertoire.
I soon returned to the comic songs again, but selected those of a milder form, like "He, She, and the Postman," a story without a chorus, and some out of Howard Paul's entertainment.
It was once suggested that we should give the short burlesque on Hamlet to which I have already referred. We arrived with several bags of costumes, which alarmed the vicar, and the performance did not take place. The audience, to our intense satisfaction, expressed its disappointment in an unmistakable manner; so much so, that the chairman announced that it should be played on a future occasion. Meanwhile, he stipulated with me that there should be no costumes. I could not consent to this, and, after a long discussion, we met each other half-way. I was to be permitted to wear a cloak for Hamlet—or, rather, an old black shawl thrown over my shoulders. Horatio and the King were tabooed costumes. The Ghost (T. Bolton) was permitted to adorn himself with a clean tablecloth. My brother, who was only ten years of age, was to double the parts of Ophelia and Gravedigger. In the former, being so young, it was considered no harm for him to wear a muslin body and skirt; while, as the Gravedigger, he was allowed to take off his coat, and appear, for this occasion only, in his shirt-sleeves.
Somehow or other, Leclercq, the original representative of the Queen, could not appear, and I arranged with one of my schoolfellows from the North London Collegiate School to play the part. He had never acted before, and in all probability has never acted since. As he was about seventeen years of age, and looked a veritable young man, with a perceptible moustache, the vicar would not on any account allow him to assume ladies' attire. We eventually decided he should be allowed to throw a plaid shawl round his shoulders.
The eventful evening approached, and, as the intended performance had been whispered about, the rooms were crammed. All went well until the entrance of the Queen, late on in the piece which only played twenty minutes altogether. Ta the horror of the vicar, and to my own surprise, he had, behind the screen, slipped on a servant's cotton frock, and put on what is vulgarly known as a carotty wig. The vicar, who was, as usual, seated on the platform—a very small one, by-the-by,—rose and said in an undertone to me:
"I forbade this."
I replied that it was against my knowledge.
The performance went on, however; for the young man who played the Queen such a stick that he was quite inoffensive, and uttered his words one after the other in the legitimate schoolboy fashion. But quiet people are always the most dangerous, and so it transpired with my young friend. We approached the finale, which, by the way, appears to me to be worth quoting. The characters are all lying on the stage, supposed to be dead.
HAMLET (sitting up)—
What? Everybody dead? Why, that won't do;
For who's to speak the tag? I must—
HORATIO (rising)—
Not you.
You've had your share of talking; so now stow it.
I'll speak the tag—
KING (jumping up)—
&............