The Pit Town Coronet Volume Ii Part 16

Charmington then sat down and wrote a polite note, in which he informed Mr. Breitmann that he desired a short interview with him on a matter of vital importance to them both. A second half-crown was administered to the page boy, and in a few moments the door of the strangers' room was violently flung open, and Mr. Breitmann himself suddenly burst in.

Breitmann never entered a room, he always burst in. The suddenness of his entry startled Charmington considerably; he was still more astonished at the tone in which Breitmann addressed him. That gentleman carried poor Jack's note in his hand.

"What is your vital business, sir? I have no vital business with you."

"My wife wrote to you, Mr. Breitmann, yesterday, asking you to call on her."

This only seemed to exasperate Mr. Breitmann still more.

"I have no business with your wife. I am not a ladies' man. Why should I call on your wife when I have no business? What do you mean by coming here and bullying me because I won't call on your wife?"

"My wife is a very prominent person, Mr. Breitmann."

"I have seen your wife, sir, and if you wish, I will tell you what I think of her."

He hardly gave poor little Charmington time to a.s.sent to this proposition, when he continued, his voice changing from a shout to a scream:

"Sir, your wife is a fool!" Then he proceeded to crack his fingers violently, one after another. "Now, sir," he continued, "I wish you good-morning; my time is fully occupied in my businesses and in protecting my copyrights."

He was about to rush from the room.

"It's about that I wanted to see you," said Jack.

"Have you been infringing my copyrights then?" replied the other in a terrible voice.

"No, I want to buy one," said Charmington.

"Ah," replied Breitmann, in a calmer tone, "then you _have_ business.

Sit down. What do you want to buy?"

"Well, I don't exactly know," replied Charmington.

"Well, tell me how much you want to spend, five thousand--ten thousand?"

And then they went to business. It was explained to Mr. Breitmann that Mrs. Charmington was anxious to purchase one of his new and original dramas, one of those extraordinary combinations of melodramatic impossibility, which however appeal, and not in vain, to the eye and to the heart, which never fail to fill the pockets of their fortunate purchasers, and which have rendered the name of Breitmann a household word.

For thirty years it had been Mr. Breitmann's misfortune to fight incompetency in some shape or other. It had fallen to his lot to manipulate vast armies of theatrical supernumeraries and to teach them to perform the apparently impossible feat of being in two places at once. Mr. Breitmann's struggles with the British super had taught him one great secret: the British super, like the British donkey, never does what he is told until the person in authority over him loses his temper.

So Breitmann, to avoid loss of time, used to begin by losing his temper at once; so terrible were his ebullitions of wrath, that n.o.body ever attempted to argue with him, and he always carried his point. Finding his tactics invariably successful within the walls of the theatre, he adopted them with similar success in ordinary life, and the time he saved was enormous.

His negotiations with Mrs. Charmington, her husband and her solicitor, were over in forty-eight hours; a satisfactory bargain was concluded between them for the purchase of "Ethel's Sacrifice," a melodrama of thrilling interest, originally written as a novel by Robinson. Robinson had submitted the ma.n.u.script to Breitmann, and then for a fortnight the pair had "collaborated." What took place during that dreadful fortnight is only known to the two collaborators. Robinson at its commencement was a bright-eyed young fellow, full of enthusiasm, poetry and romance; at the end of the fortnight all the enthusiasm, poetry and romance had been knocked out of him. "Ethel's Sacrifice" had been altered, tinkered, transposed, cut and filled with comic incidents of the most every-day description, incidents from which the poetic soul of the unhappy Robinson revolted. Then "Ethel's Sacrifice" was gabbled through one summer's evening at a remote provincial theatre, and "Ethel's Sacrifice," by Messrs. Robinson and Breitmann, became a marketable security, duly protected by act of parliament. A nervous invalid left London for prolonged mental rest and change of scene--that was Robinson; his collaborator calmly returned to his multifarious business engagements and the onerous duties of the protection of his innumerable copyrights.

Now Mr. Breitmann not only sold "Ethel's Sacrifice" to the Charmingtons, but he sold them the benefits of his own personal skill in its production. When the bills said that "Ethel's Sacrifice" was produced under the personal supervision of Mr. William Breitmann, the knowing ones jumped at once to the correct conclusion that "Ethel's Sacrifice"

would be a success. Mr. Breitmann had stipulated with Mrs. Charmington that he should not deliver to her the complete drama until she herself was letter-perfect in the t.i.tle _role_.

"You're never perfect, you know," he had said to her, "and you won't be till you've played the thing in the provinces for six months; that's the curse of amateurs, they never are perfect."

"But I'm not an amateur, Mr. Breitmann," the lady had retorted indignantly.

"Pardon me, dear lady," he said, "but you are nothing else. You have played four original parts, specially written for you mind, in the whole of your stage experience; of course you're an amateur, but you are a big success. And," and here he cracked his fingers very slowly, "you are a fine woman, yes, a fine stage presence of a woman," said he appreciatively, as he looked her all over, much as a dealer might look over a horse--a dealer who was selling a horse, not a dealer who was buying one.

Mrs. Charmington fought hard to get hold of the beautiful type-printed copy of "Ethel's Sacrifice," which young Robinson, in elaborate morning costume and a flower in his b.u.t.ton-hole, had read to her so delightfully; but all in vain. Mr. Breitmann kept it carefully locked up in one of the numerous tin boxes which made his rather grim-looking study so much resemble a lawyer's office.

"You'll find this quite enough to occupy you for the next three months, my dear," said Breitmann decisively, using the affectionate method of address invariable in the profession.

The part, which was a formidable little volume, was just about twice as long as the Church catechism. To do Mrs. Charmington justice she set to work with a will; she was actually letter-perfect when the play was read to her company for the first time by Mr. Robinson at the Stoke Pogis theatre, where the talented little band of actors that supported Mrs.

Charmington were playing at the time.

"At ten on Monday, if you please, ladies and gentlemen," said Robinson, "we will rehea.r.s.e Acts I., II. and III. Mr. Breitmann will be present."

Everybody was punctual, and Mr. Breitmann _was_ present. For five mortal hours he abused the company individually and collectively; he pervaded the theatre, he shrieked from the lighted rake of gas jets which illuminated the centre of the stage, he objurgated from the author's table, he used the most horrible language when he suddenly appeared in the stalls, he had the presumption to order Mrs. Charmington not to "mince," and he told her that "it wasn't a time for mincing;" he insisted on the minuet in the second act being repeated six times, and then he informed the infuriated stage manager that "it wasn't good enough even for Whitechapel." But the climax was reached at Mrs.

Charmington's great scene with her leading man, at the conclusion of the third act. Ethel (Mrs. Charmington) has to fling herself into the arms of her confiding husband; she proceeded to do so in her usual perfunctory and society manner.

"Good heavens! madam," shrieked the indignant Breitmann, "that won't do.

Stand here," said he in his ferocious voice, "and look at me." He rushed at the leading man, he plunged his face into that gentleman's s.h.i.+rt front, he gripped the gentleman's muscular shoulders with tremendous energy, and his back went up and down with convulsive sobs.

"There, ma'am," he said triumphantly; "try again." She tried again, but Breitmann vociferated all the more.

"It's no good, my dear; you must clutch and nestle. I wouldn't give that," and here he snapped his fingers, "for a woman who can't clutch and nestle; try it with me."

Breitmann took up the position of the leading man. Mrs. Charmington gave one tearful glance at her husband, then she rushed into Breitmann's arms and did her best to clutch and to nestle. But he was not even then satisfied.

"Go home, my dear," he said, "and practise it with your husband."

What a situation for one who has been a queen of society. When Mrs.

Charmington, almost heart-broken, reached her lodgings she informed her husband that it was more than she could bear.

"The idea of the wretch actually teaching me my business before my whole company, and then ordering me to go home and learn to 'clutch and nestle.'"

"Dev'lish sensible idea I think, Julia," said Charmington, who was in love with his wife before all things; "you can't do better than begin at once," and the little man drew himself up to his full height of five foot six and extended his arms like a mechanical doll.

"Don't remind me of my humiliation, Jack; it's too much, too much to bear," and the beauty flung herself into an easy chair and burst into floods of tears.

But Julia Charmington, wise woman that she was, did as she was bid; she clutched and she nestled all that afternoon, and she had her reward. For six whole months she delighted all the great provincial towns and watering-places of the United Kingdom with "Ethel's Sacrifice," and she reaped a golden harvest. When she came to town for the season she scored a decided success, and all the leading Dailies joined in the chorus of adulation. The fair Julia got a good round sum from the photographers for the right to represent her in her four elaborate costumes; the particular triumph of the sun-artist being the representation of her nestling and clutching scene. Even the dramatic critic of the great morning journal went into ecstasies over this.

"Mrs. Charmington," he said, "has made real progress. It has been the fas.h.i.+on to go to see this lady from curiosity, but last night she scored a genuine success in 'Ethel's Sacrifice,' a thrilling melodrama by Messrs. Breitmann and Robinson, which was seen in London for the first time. The house was crowded with the well-known faces so familiar to us at all important _premieres_. In her great scene in the third act, Mrs.

Charmington took every one by surprise. Thoroughly spontaneous and unaffected, quite free from staginess and straining after effect, the audience thoroughly appreciated the genuine burst of feeling of the young wife," and so on, and so on, for a column and a half.

Messrs. Breitmann and Robinson bowed their thanks to an enthusiastic call; and Breitmann, his face wreathed in smiles and cracking his fingers violently, as was his custom, whispered to his collaborator, "She's only a 'mug,' after all, my boy, but I'm proud of her; it's the nestling and clutching that fetched them." And then he went off to the Convivial Cannibals, where he ate an enormous tripe supper, and was more jovial and violent than ever.

CHAPTER XII.

IN ST. JOHN'S WOOD.

Lord Hetton was certainly a long-suffering man. It has been stated that the temper of the mistress of Azalea Lodge was almost diabolical; there was nothing the pair didn't quarrel over. I believe, originally, their quarrels were about nothing at all, the mere disagreements of lovers that are but a renewal of love; the best-tempered and most virtuous have been known to fight even during their honey-moons: but it is a dangerous practice, for use is second nature, and quarrelling, like dram-drinking, grows upon one, and after a while becomes a necessity. I verily believe had the inhabitants of Azalea Lodge not both been members of the cultured cla.s.ses that murder would have been done. But just as they quarrelled, abused each other, and hurt each other's feelings as much as possible, so they were each in the habit after a pitched battle of leaving the field in possession of the victor.