University of Virginia Library

THE HUNCHBACK.

During the last rehearsal of the play of the Hunchback,
Mr. Knowles, who personally superintended
the stage-directions, was frequently annoyed by the
remarks of the actors. Some of them very much
doubted the success of the piece. Charles Kemble
thought the part of Sir Thomas Clifford unworthy
of his talents; he consented, however, to perform
it, for his daughter's sake. This nettled Knowles,
who would not listen to a single suggestion.

“Give me another entrance and exit speech,”
said Kemble.

“I can add nothing more,” replied Knowles.

“You can't?” exclaimed the actor.

“No!” rejoined the dramatist.

“Give me a few words here,” said the first.

“Not a line,” said Knowles, “except it be one to
hang yourself with.”

Here the parties turned from each other, and the
business of the stage went on for a few moments
longer, when it was again interrupted by Kemble:

“Beg your pardon, Mr. Knowles; but this part
absolutely requires an addition: a slight alteration
would render the play far more effective. You must
make another speech for Sir Thomas.”

Knowles coloured, and, turning abruptly to “the
patrician of the stage,” gave vent to his feelings in
these terms:—

“Mr. Kemble, brains are not shingles, sir; and—”

“And what, sir?” said Kemble.

“And if they were,” rejoined the author, “I am
no carpenter!”

Kemble smiled at the oddity of the expression,
and Knowles left the theatre in a huff.

“At night, the bickerings of the morning were
forgotten—the house was crowded with the beauty,
fashion and taste of the English metropolis—the
play was applauded and cheered throughout—and
the curtain fell amid the most animated applause
ever heard within the walls of a theatre. First
the author (who, in consequence of the indisposition

of one of the actors, performed the Hunchback,)
was called for and made his bow; he was
received with loud and hearty cheers—then the fair
debutante, Miss Fanny Kemble, who had made a
deep impression in the character of Julia: the pit
arose and testified their approbation, and the waving
of handkerchiefs was universal throughout the boxes
—and next came Mr. Charles Kemble, who announced
the play for repetition, amid most deafening
acclamations; and the parties retired, covered with
laurels.

“Well,” said Knowles, when they were out of
publick view, “what alteration can you suggest
now, Mr. Kemble?”

“Nothing in the text,” said Kemble; “but I think
the cast of the piece might be improved.”

“Ah, there,” said Knowles, “I allow you to be a
better judge than myself; any suggestion of yours
is worth attending to—what is it?”

“Why, sir,” said Kemble, intending to hit poor
Knowles in a sensitive part, “I think if Master
Walter were in any other hands but your own, the
play would go off better!”

Knowles looked confused, and was evidently hurt
at the remark; but he immediately rallied his spirits
and asked Kemble what fault he had to find with
his performance.

“Why, sir,” said Kemble, “you are imperfect

in the words; and, from this circumstance, it appears
that you do not give the true meaning of the
author.”

This retort, strange to say, restored good feeling
between the parties; mutual concessions were exchanged,
and the next day all London was loud in
praise of the Hunchback!