First performed at the Theatre Royal St. James's,under the management of Mr. F. Matthews, On 26th December, 1862.
Costumes Of The Day.
My dear Mrs. Winkin, how many more pictures are you going to paste upon that screen ?
Oh, not half finished yet!
When are you going to fill up that space in the middle ?
That depends upon circumstances. Ever since we have been lodging in your house, and that's for the last four months, I have been entreating Mr. Winkin to have his portrait taken in a photograph, but he positively and sternly refuses; he says it's unlucky, and nothing on earth should induce him to have it done.
That's it, he doesn't care what money he spends on his Ava-davats and Java-sparrows. Look at the new aviary he's just been making.
To be let down at night. They work by one string, and my husband's very proud of it as his own invention.
Yes, he does it to gratify his own taste, not mine, for he won't accede to my most trifling
request; so naughty too, when it's the fashion for every one to have a carte de visite,
and I do like to be among the first in the fashion.
Oh, he's sure to give in!
Ah, you think so. Oh, you don't know Mr. Winkin ! There! I think I've done a good day's work. Dear me! quite a July morning, and I have nothing to walk out in but a black velvet cloak—I shall be suffocated.
There's no necessity for that, I shall be delighted to lend you my China crape shawl—I am not going out myself.
Oh, thank you!
Don't mention it, I am always delighted to oblige friends—don't distress yourself about the
portrait, when I see Mr. Winkin, I'll try what my influence can do.
Her influence indeed! I like that — a pretty remark for one's landlady. If I did'nt know that Trotty actually worships the ground on which I walk I should be jealous—but she's a widow, and that's quite enough for me. I'm much obliged to her for the advice about the photograph, but I've got a little plan of my own. There's a new foreign artist settled at the corner of the square, and he tells me he can take my husband's likeness without his being aware of it. Now I must slip down this morning to his studio, and arrange how the affair is to be done.
Good gracious me! what is all that noise about {?
My Trotty, what's the matter?
Matter! I've been up a tree—over the chimney pots—down a ladder—scaled a wall tastefully ornamented with glass bottles. By the way, I don't know whether you ever went over a wall tastefully orna —
Never mind that.
Elizabeth!
Yes, much as it will go to my heart to deprive her of the sum of nine pounds sixteen
shillings and eight pence
Oh, she's very honest, and if she's a little stupid —
Little stupid! she's a big stupid—a perfect idiot! This is the third time this week she's let that paroquet out of the cage—my beautiful female paroquet. She flew out of the window just as her cage was being cleaned by Elizabeth. I jumped forward and tried to seize her by the tail.
What, Elizabeth!
No, no, the paroquet. I've got her back again now; however, after this, I'm determined to send her away.
The paroquet ?
No, no, Elizabeth! Now if you'd only look after the birds a little, instead of attending to that rubbish, and oblige your Trotty.
And if you'd only think a little less of your rubbish, and oblige your Lotty.
Rubbish! look at their rich plumage, observe their variegated tails.
Well, examine the noble countenances.
Tails, ma'am, tails!
Well, Mr. Winkin, as you seem to set no value on my company, you may quarrel with yourself—I shall go out.
And I shall stop at home.
Very well, sir !
Confound the photography, my wife's a perfect lunatic on the subject. I hate being done in
any way, and especially in one of those cadaverous-looking pictures. We're always having a row
about it. By the way, I'm rather glad she's gone off in a huff this morning, as I shall now be
able to solve the mystery of that mysterious individual who, for the last three days, has
haunted the exterior of this house. she is the
object of those exaggerated demonstrations ? It may be. Oh ! what a fool I've been, it's all
that paroquet! Ah ! while I have been looking after the comfort of my birds I've forgotten the
peaceful security of my own nest.
Here's the shawl! Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Winkin.
Don't mention it.
Well, you're a lady, for whose opinion I have great respect: as the poet says
But that's neither here nor there, what I was going to say, was —
I've a horrible suspicion on my mind, which has flashed upon me like —
My love, I was merely speaking about a light on the staircase; by the way, Mrs. Montgomery,
I wish you would put a light there, for it really is so dark.
I'll see to it. I've brought the shawl.
This is charming—now I shall go out.
Why, I thought you said
And so you shall, if you'll promise never to scold your Lotty.
Where have I put my gloves?
Coming, my dear, coming! mum.
Oh, they are a funny couple; I'm dying with curiosity to know what it all means.
Present! when I think of the past, the
happy past.
Please, mum, I've finished all Mr. Winkin's birds; I've sanded the piper, watered the bullfinch, and given two lumps of sugar to the Jarvey's sparrow.
You've fed the other birds? Mr. Winkin's very particular about his Avadavats.
Yes 'm, I've see'd to the have-a-new-hats.
Yes 'm.
To think that I should be reduced to let lodgings; when I think of the happy past.
Nothing but work from morning to night,
What's the matter ?
I thought you was Tibbins.
Apartments to let, yes, sir! second floor thirty shillings a week, and done for in the general way.
Ah! you have lodgers here already.
Yes, sir!
A lady ?
Yes, sir, leastways it's a couple as has this apartment.
Ah, a couple! with her sister, and Miss Mayfair, also.
Don't know, sir.
Don't know ! I mean the lady who lodges here.
She's Mrs. Winkin, she's just gone out along o' Mr. Winkin.
Winkin ! a horrible suspicion seizes me, ten years absence and Mariana false ! but no, it cannot be; there's another lady in this house !
Yes, sir.
Oh, it is, it is! and she is ——
Mrs. Montgomery.
Oh, it isn't, it isn't; but I'll be satisfied!
That! oh, that's Mrs. Winkin as I was telling you of, she's along o' Mr. Winkin.
Along o' Mr. Winkin ! then it's all over. Is this the end of all my dreams ?
This '11 tell you, sir, was it a coffin or spiders ?
I have it.
Yes, sir.
I'll plant the dagger of remorse in her heart; and as for the husband I wouldn't be in his shoes.
Oh, Mariana Mayfair! have I returned for this ? Two days after my landing we met in the
street, she wore that shawl. I was about to rush to her when love whispered that a sudden
surprise might be dangerous, I restrained myself, and thinking to bring about the meeting in
the most delicate manner possible, I first traced her house, and then watched the house for
three days before I could summon up courage to leave this diminutive copy of myself, the
once-loved original,
Missus was out, so I stepped round the corner, and bought an antelope.
carte de visite. Now to retire, soothe
my excited feelings, and then return to see her—see her once again?
Take care o' the staircase, it's very dark. I'll go and ask missus to let me out for half an hour.
There's Mr. Winkin's voice. I'll go out, and with this half-a-crown I'll buy up all the back
numbers of the Dreamer's Companion.
I really must get Mrs. Montgomery to light that staircase. I wonder who that was ; I couldn't
see him, probably some one come to look after the lodgings upstairs. Remarkably uncivil, he
began by nearly kicking me from the top of the stairs to the bottom, and when I remonstrated,
he replied by referring me to the lower regions—not the ground floor, considerably lower. What
a fool I was to suspect my Lotty. I hinted, gently hinted on the road that there was a change
in her manner towards her Trotty; she answered with a gentle smile, "Trotty, pooh!" it was
unanswerable; what could I say to pooh, pooh? and all the answer I can make is
Dear me, Mr. Winkin, where are you going in that excited manner?
To take the change out of a bob !
What do you mean ?
I don't know! I've a great respect for your opinion whenever you agree with me. Now, tell me calmly and dis- passionately—am I loathsome?
Mr. Winkin !
Thank ye—don't turn away. Do I look the sort of person to run away from ?—do you look upon me as a species of gorilla, or a garotter ? Don't say no if you mean yes!
How can you ask such a question ?
Because my feelings have been outraged—because look at that, addressed to my wife ?
Ha ! I fancy I know this hand!
Yes, it's given to another!
"Bob!" Strange!
I should rather say it was, he's been hanging about here for the last three days. I saw him
kissing his hand to my wife—what do you think of that ? You see his letter —what do you think
of that?—and there's his hideous physiognomy —what do you think of that ?
That, ha !
I say, don't do that. Mrs. Flummery Montgomery, rouse yourself, you're heavy !
Oh, Mr. Winkin, it's more than I can bear.
More than you can bear; egad, it's more than I can. Get up, do.
That picture. O, you've broken my heart!
You've very nearly broken my arm.
I'll pity you with the greatest possible pleasure.— What you've got to do with it, I haven't the slightest idea.
Listen. Once upon a time —
Eh !
In the early days of my youth.
Don't trouble your memory, my dear madam.
Before I was what I am—it will not be difficult for you to imagine that I am not what I was—you follow me?
So far perfectly.
Ten years ago I lost my heart.
You seem to do remarkably well without it.
What! Rob bobbed you? I mean Bob robbed you ? The villain!
He stole my affections—I loved him—my family —
Your family! what, a little Montgomery ?
No, my papa and mamma wonldn't hear of the match, and tore us asunder. He went to China.
Did he? I wish to heaven he'd stayed there.
And now the false one has returned, and dared to pay his addresses to —
My wife. It's atrocious. But stop, though the perjured Bob may have an affection for Mrs. Winkin, it doesn't follow that Mrs. Winkin should have a partiality for the perjured Bob.
Yes, but where there's a handsome man in the case —
I am quite aware that I have got the advantage there.
But if you want proof, place this picture on the table, keep your eyes open, and shut —
Shut yourself up where you can witness the conduct of your wife when she sees this picture. After that you'll know the worst.
That's a cheerful prospect.
At any rate, you will be satisfied.
It won't take much to do that. I'm naturally of a very contented disposition.
Here's Mrs. Winkin coming up the street—conceal yourself.
Where?
This screen.
No, she's always pasting there—this cupboard.
No, it's locked. I have it, the chimney.
I can't stand that.
Well, then, in here.
In there ! but I say
She's coming—in, in!
Yet in this case you must stretch a point.
Stretch! in this case I shall have to double myself up like a doormouse.
Hush, it is.
I say!
Yes, it is.
I say, make up your mind one way or the other, it does hurt confoundedly.
She comes at last, be still as a mouse, don't breathe!
That last piece of advice was perfectly unnecessary, as I can't get a breath of air.
I've settled everything to my satisfaction, and left a note for the French artist, Monsieur
Rayon Dusobil, the photographer! he'll be here directly, and as my husband's generally out at
this time, we shall be able to settle about his portrait without his knowing anything at all
about it.
Dear, dear, Robert! quite unchanged.
He must have returned—he's been here. I, who thought he was lost. What a weight this has
taken off my mind.
I thought she'd never get up. What did she say about plot and Bob taking me by surprise? I
fear some horrible treachery—a lot of 'em too! I won't stay here any longer!
Merci!—Vere is de lady?
No one here ! I shall sit.
I am sorry I have kept you waiting.
Now, Monsieur Desoleil, you understand my husband's objection, and comprehend the plot ?
Parfaitement! As to your husband, you may consider it done !
At present I am glad to say he's out.
I think I shall merely want his head.
Dat is simple, but you had better take it all.
It shall suit de carte so much better.
Of course, when everything is ready you can take it off at once.
In a second! He shall know nothing about it. But I must get him to stand still, and then take him unawares.
Den as to the size ?
Oh, about an ordinary cut—the usual thing.
Bien ! dere is plenty of time—we merely want a little preparation to make it sharp.
Then as to the terms?
We shall not quarrel about the price.
You're very good.
I hope to do many more for you, madam, in de course of time.
There, that's settled; and as Bob'll probably be here to dinner, I'd better step down and
order a few things extra—and, dear me, I quite forgot to tell Monsieur Rayon that I want twelve
of mine struck off at once.
Yes, I will see her and insist upon an explanation.
Now for the police ! Hollo! it's Bob !
Don't be violent!
I am perfectly aware you don't know me.
But I do—I may say I have that pleasure. You wrote this.
I did, I own it, concealment's useless—I'll be honest with you.
Don't trouble yourself.
The fact is I love your wife.
I know it.
And you married her!
I was totally ignorant of the circumstance, but I know it now.
And you'll resign your claim ?
My good Bob, I've no hostility to you, you're perfectly welcome— take her, take her with pleasure.
I'll not hear of it, I know a fairer way. For five years I've travelled—the greater part of that time I spent among the Abracachootos. I was always a wanderer.
Yes, I see you are.
Dear me, where was I ?
Among the Abra-ca-cuckoos.
Ah! Well, it's their custom when there's any difference about a squaw —
I beg your pardon—a—
Well, don't bawl so.
Where was I ?
With a squaw.
That's wife in English. Well, the claims to her hand are decided by the lady's choice. Let your wife choose between us—if she takes you, well and good; if she takes me, well and good again. It's much better than fighting.
Oh, no doubt about it 1
Still, if you prefer—
No, no, not in the least—I'll go and fetch her at once.
How will she ever be able to look me in the face ? The husband seems a quiet and sensible man enough. Ha! the rustle of a dress.
Well, Mr. Winkin—Ah ! Robert.
Mariana!
Robert, can you call me by that name ?
No, but I can call you by another which will bring a blush to your cheek—Mrs. Winkin.
Winkin! I'm not Mrs. Winkin.
Not Mrs. W. ? Perhaps you'll tell me you did not wear my shawl this morning.
Certainly not, I lent it to Mrs. Winkin.
Then I have been deceived: but you live here ?
I do.
Then you have changed your name?
From Mariana Mayfair to Mrs. Montgomery, but not by marriage, soon after you left.
Five years ago.
Being in reduced circumstances, I was forced to take in lodgers, and in order to protect myself, and not disgrace the name of Mayfair, I adopted that of Mrs. Montgomery. Can you blame me ?
Can I blame you ? nonsense!
But that portrait, and the letter?
Were meant for you. From the window I saw the right shawl, but on the wrong back.
Forgive my suspicion.
Nothing to the blissful future. But stay,
Oh, how happy I feel! to think that he is still true. As he says, I need not think of the past now, but only of the time when I shall again change my name and become a Ranger.
I can't see my wife; and the most extraordinary thing is, that I saw Bob going up towards one end of the street as I was coming in at the other. Ah, Mrs. Montgomery, you've seen the worthy Robert ?
Yes, Mr. Winkin, he's just gone to find you. Oh, all your suspicions are unfounded, Robert is my Robert; he came here to see me—that letter was meant for me, he mistook Mrs. Winkin for me, and thence the unpleasantness. What do vou say now ?
I am not in the habit of expressing myself coarsely, but emphatically I say—Walker.
But I answer you, the proof is as easy as possible.
A lady approaches him.
My wife.
It is—they embrace.
They are laughing and talking.
They are walking this way, arm-in-arm. O, the perfidious wretch !
Now then, as you said before, keep your eye open.
But they won't come here.
Here they come; step behind here; convince yourself, and then swoop down upon them like a
hawk.
My dear—dear Robert !
I never expected to see your dear, darling face again !
To think my little Charlotte, whom I left only twenty, should have grown so pretty. I heard the rest of the family —
You and I are the only ones left now!
And I'm sure my husband will be so delighted to see you—my dear pet brother !
And so you, my dear sister, are married ?
By the way, I must apologise to your husband for the trouble I have given him.
O yes, you told me as we were coming; it's a capital joke, and will serve him right for his jealousy.
Jealous! But you are very happy in your married life?
O yes, we never had a word until this morning. I own I was a little suspicious ! You see, our landlady, Mrs. Montgomery —
Mrs. Montgomery?
Somehow he's very fond of consulting her, and lately, I never popped in suddenly but they were always together!
Well, sister, to tell you the truth, I've a secret to
Indeed !
And what's more, I intend to make her Mrs. Ranger, but if I had the slightest suspicion —
O, there's no fear of anything. By the way, before my husband comes back, I'll show you over the garden. Where's my hat?—O, I know, I left it behind the screen—I'll get it!
I'm quite ready.
Oh, Robert, I've got to ask you something. Use all your influence with my husband to get him to have his portrait taken ; I want his carte de visite like yours.
I'll try and persuade him, he seems to be so good-natured that he'd give in to anything.
Oh, but he's only got one hobby—birds. You've no notion of the number of pets we have ; he's
lately built such a magnificent aviary, here it is—only the curtains are down; they go up with
one pull of the string, the effect is exquisite, such a beautiful place, and he intends it for
his love-birds. Look.
The love-birds !
Or your Mariana, Robert!
O, my dear madam, it was no use, he pass my my window, but he would not stop still! I cannot take your husband's head.
Who is this distinguished foreigner ?
Monsieur R. Desoleil, the photographic artist, who was to have taken your portrait, without your knowing it.
Oh then, the head which would be taken away in the cart —
Oui, oui, de carte de visite.
O what a fool I've been! Lotty, if you'll forgive me I'll do anything.
Then have your portrait taken !
By Monsieur, certainly! Robert, we'll be taken in a group. Here's a picture.
We shall be able to follow the fashions—to leave our cartes de visite when we call upon our friends !
Call upon our friends!—allow me to do that.
Mariana ! we'll be married at once !
A wedding ! Didn't I tumble up stairs last night ?
I think of having several photographs—one every night till further notice, and put it in our album. Mrs. Winkin keeps one of these, as everybody does, and if the speaking likeness suits your book, why, look in another evening, and then by a very simple but novel process, you may sit for our Carte de Visite!
Printed by Thomas Scott, Warwick Court, Holborn.