AN ANNOYED ACTOR.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume XVI, Issue 285, 30 November 1881, Page 4

AN ANNOYED ACTOR.

Among the many funny reminiscences now going the rounds of the chequered career of the late Charles Dillon, none is more amusing than the relation of an occurrence at Middlesborougk, England, eight years ago. Dillon was playing " Macbeth " in the town one Saturday night to a crowded but very noisy house. The witches were not pleasantly received, and the discord increased ateadilv until Dillon found himself absolutely inaudible, even to those on the stage. Then " wrapt in a terrible passion," he strode to the footlights and delivered himself of this amusing oration •. — " Ladies and gentlemen,— l think it is better to say 'ladie3 and gentlemen,' although 1 adopt the latter phrase more from a feeling of courtesy than a belief in its present fitness — it is very seldom that I venture to address an audience. My respect for them is so great. You can understand, then, my hesitation before addressing this enlightened assembly. It has been my misfortune to be an actor almost all my life. During that time I have performed in every important town in the English-speaking world. I have had the honor of appearing before the Blood 3ioyal and many foreign potentates ; before princes and peers, eminent preachers and prime ministers. Strange to say, they have been simple enough to be satisfied with my efforts, sometimes rash enough to applaud ; and, at times, ins cc enough to give a word of praise. Of course, eueh treatment could only come from such paltry specimens of humanity as tbe elite of society, and? others sufficiently unfortunate to be cursed with poetic feelings or intellectual tendencies Tbe result of this has been that I think I can interpret Shakespeare — at least I thought I could. Judging from tonight, however, I fear I have been mistaken. Yet. if I might beg you to listen in silence, perhaps, I might " — At this juncture another row began in tbe gallery. "Whereupon a man with a big voice bawled out — "Shut up, will ya — ! D— d if I con 'ear owt o' this 'ereshakerpeore !" (This expression wbb greeted with loud laughter and guffaws, accompanied by imperative cries of order ! order .') '"I see its impossible," continued Dillon. "I deeply regret that I am unable to entertain you ! The sincerity of my regret is equal to tbe excellence of your behaviour I wi3h I could make the former as apparent to you as the latter is to me. But I fear I can't. I'm quite in despair ! I really don't know what to do ! Be h'eve me, if a clog dacce would please I'd do it — if I could — but I can't. My education hss been neglected. Perhaps you might think that tbe introduction of a comic song in the banquet scene would be an improvement ! IJnbappily Binging is not my forte. If I could keep you quiet by playing tbe rest of Macbeth on my head I'd do it ; but I can't ; the laws of life and gravitation forbid. Since these aida to tragedy are denied me, and my efforts to gain a hearing unavailing, I may as well re tire. Still, before I go, let me tell you this fact — for I am not likely to appear before you again — I have in my time bad all classes for my audience. From the costermonger at\Vhitechapel to the all-fired, iirepiessible Yankee ; from the rough miners of California — who listened to Shakespeare from the rafters of the building with four feet of rainfall in the pit— right down to tbe North American Indians, the Aztecs of Mexico, and the flatbeads of the ."West. I have played before Chinese and Niggers, Boers and Kaffirs, Sandwich Islanders and Patagonias ; before bushrangers and Maoris, with aa occasional kangaroo for variety ; but from what I see to-night, upon my Soul, they were gentlemen compared to you !" Strange to say, as often tbe case with mobs, the first to condemn were the biggest culprits. Tbe heartiest applause came from the 'gods' themselves. During tbe rest of tbe evening the play proceeded in comparative quiet."