all even the great
potentates of Covent Garden and Drury Lane cousin.
You no doubt think my happiness complete. Alas, sir! I was one of the
Most uncomfortable dogs living. No one knows, who has not tried, the
miseries of a manager; but above all, of a country management--no one
can conceive the contentions and quarrels within doors, the oppressions
and vexations from without.
I was pestered with the bloods and loungers of a country town, who
infested my green-room, and played the mischief among my actresses. But
there was no shaking them off. It would have been ruin to affront them;
for, though troublesome friends, they would have been dangerous
enemies. Then there were the village critics and village amateurs, who
were continually tormenting me with advice, and getting into a passion
if I would not take it:--especially the village doctor and the village
attorney; who had both been to London occasionally, and knew what
acting should be.
I had also to manage as arrant a crew of scapegraces as were ever
collected together within the walls of a theatre. I had been obliged to
combine my original troupe with some of the former troupe of the
theatre, who were favorites with the public. Here was a mixture that
produced perpetual ferment. They were all the time either fighting or
frolicking with each other, and I scarcely knew which mood was least
troublesome. If they quarrelled, everything went wrong; and if they
were friends, they were continually playing off some confounded prank
upon each other, or upon me; for I had unhappily acquired among them
the character of an easy, good natured fellow, the worst character that
a manager can possess.
Their waggery at times drove me almost crazy; for there is nothing so
Vexatious as the hackneyed tricks and hoaxes and pleasantries of a
veteran band of theatrical vagabonds. I relished them well enough, it
is true, while I was merely one of the company, but as manager I found
them detestable. They were incessantly bringing some disgrace upon the
theatre by their tavern frolics, and their pranks about the country
town. All my lectures upon the importance of keeping up the dignity of
the profession, and the respectability of the company were in vain. The
villains could not sympathize with the delicate feelings of a man in
station. They even trifled with the seriousness of stage business. I
have had the whole piece interrupted, and a crowded audience of at
least twenty-five pounds
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