A THEATRE IN A STABLE

Samoa Times and South Sea Gazette, Issue 47, 24 August 1878, Page 4

A THEATRE IN A STABLE

Under the above title, Mr. B. L Farjoon, the well-kuown novelist, eciitributes to the Era Almanac the following amusing sketch of theatrical entertainments as they were some fifteen years ago in Dunedin:—

A theatre in a stablo! Yes, and a flourishing theatre, too, where the receipts were sometimes over £2OO a night; and this in a city containing certainly not more than 20,000 inhabitants. But then the place was wuderful; and the people, have great opportunities open to them, were as wonderful as tho place. They supported three daily newspapers, the largest of which was the size of the Daily Telegraph—eight double-demy pages. A difficult task wo found it to get sufficient news to fill its columns, but the advertisers came up nobly, and some of the reporters were ingenious.

The name of tho city was Dunedin, the most flourishing of all tho cities in New Zealand. Qold has been discovered in the Province of Otago, of which Dunedin is the capital, and thither flocked hoards of restless spirits, animated by tho hope -of making fortunes in a month—or less. 1 doubt if Dunedin, of Lesser Britain, could not have shown you sights as strange as any you can see in London, of Greater Britain. All the trades of the world were represented in the little place, all the professions, all the grades of life and society, from an earl's son to a chimneysweep. I pledge myself to both the earl's son and tne chimney-sweep for both of them did I know. The ohiinney-sweop once treated me to a bottle of champagne, and I, moro than once, treated tho earls to a glass of English beer. He didn't have enough to pay for it himself! As for jumps up the social ladder, they were numerous enough. I was acquainted with a Scotchman who paid just 5s for his quarter-acro town allotment, and who sold it for just £40,000 ! Would you bo satisfied with suchaprofit ? Well, newspapers, tire brigades, volunteer regiments. benevolent institutions, prisons, hospit us, lunatic assylums, all being set going, do you think we coidd live without our theatre ? Not likely. But where should it be built ? Then, again, how long would it take to build ? It was not to be supposed we were going to wait a month for it. We wanted it as wo wantod everything else—at once. There was no time for shiily-shallying, so at it we went.

Attached to the Provincial, Hotel, tho bare of which were crowded day and night with crowds of eager adventurers, was a horse sale-yard, in the rear of which were stables for the horses. From morn until sunset the auctioneer was pegging away in his box, knocking down horses—you know what I mean —to men about to start for the diggings. Such of the horses as were not sold, and others that arrived for the next day's sale, were housed in tho Btables at tho bottom of the yard, often with other four-footed creatures—sheep, oxen, and once or twice a donkey. It was here that it was derided to run up the Royal Princess' Theatre, and, being decided, the thi g was done. You may contend that it was not stable ooncern, for every evening the theatre was built, and every morning it was taken to pieces. The moment the auctioneer left his rostrum, and the unsold horse 3 wero trotted into their stalls—not theatre stalls, there were nono ; only boxes and pit—at that moment then a number of carpenters and builders made their appearance, with deal planks, and hammers, and nails and screws, and stage, and soenery, and Hies, and boxes of props, and a a greon curtain, and, every other necessary thing, and almost before you oould ory '' Jack Robinson '" tho theatre was enclosed, the stage was fixed, the dressing rooms were ready, tho footlights were arrangod, and future Grarriks, and Rob lons, and Siddons were pulling on their tights and painting their cheeks. Hark! There are the mnsciaus tuning up, and you can hear the jolly laughter of the gold-diggers as they scramble over the branches to tho best seats. In less than no time boxes and pit are filled in every corner; the band has commeuoed the overture from the last popular opera, the theatre is ablaze with light, Jack is shouting to John, and Dick to Harry, the actors and actresses are walking about the veiled stage conning their parts, there is a pleasant buzz all over the house ; the little bell rings, the music ceases, tho buzz is hushed, the green curtain is drawn up, the play Is commenced, to the •delight of the best-humoured and most appreciative audience, that ever assembled within a theatre's walls. Such roars of laughter I Such clapping of hands! Suoh healthy onjoyment of good, bad. and indifferent acting! The actors were in their glory, as wore also the poople who paid their money. One night there were in the stalls outside the theatre a motley collection of animals—horses.sheep, oxen, donkeys, and goats. Also a number of fowls in coops, which a speculator intended to take to the gold diggings on the following morning. " Romeo and Juliet" was being played, and well played. The house was crammed. All engaged were on their mottle. The first aot went oil" well. Then came the balcony scene—

KuMin : Her oycß in hoavon Wonld through tho niry reyiou stroaui so bright That birds would wug, «nd think it wura not night. • Pjioc without: f!oek~a-daodk-400 ! Bono: Son how «ht l»»nu her choek upon br baud! Voice wiiheut Ri-M Roxxo : 0 that I wi>r« fi'glovo upon that hud, That 1 rnijrht touch that thwik.

Voice icilhout: If' li Of I JniET: Ah ine! Romku: She »[»'ak* ! 0 spoak a .rain, brijjlit angel. Voice ailhuut: JLv-haic' htc-hair ! I Roueo (a>ido): Choke that cursed ass I FoiV<? icUAout: Cock-a-doodle-doo ! Romeo : And that fowlfitmd! litre donkeys, horses, sheep, fowls, and every other creature in the stables that | had a voice joined in a chorus so loud and varied that the scene could not pro- , ceed, and the curtain won run down amidst peals of cuel-i-ivc laughter. ' Such interruptions to til ■• pel 1 >■■ '«) •■•■■ •' were not uucoiniiion, and they someti ■>■ occurred at a critical uomeii: —When leading lady was going sentiment..... mad, or the walking gentleman was in his knees making love, or the tragedian was sublimely invoking the gods. Then would the audience hurst int. imerri nmi | then would the tragedian soow , then would the leading lady east iii> hurhShds j ' in despair, as who sliould say - ' Ira iMs powers ! have I descended so low '' But ' on treasury day she was by no raeaus inclined to ourse her star* bee tuse her linos had fallen in a stible. G-w.l s.ilnri sl' were paid, and every pel's >n i: - . the o ) upanv could live and save, i'hen, were they not the gods and goddesses of the : little city \ Were they not feted, stared ; at, followed, courted, treated, dined, wined, cigared, because of the honour and glory attaching to their profession ? They had little to -rumble at. >.'•- sooner was the play over and the audienoe gone, than the army of carpenters and builders again made their appearance, and down came the Royal Princess' Theatre. By one o'clock in the morning all traces oi it were cleared away, and the salcynrd was ready for the next day'a auctioneering. Anion,' the company who playo 1 on the opening night were old Jaok Duno, the low . .median who lately died in Melbourne, and 0. F. Rowe's two brothers, foui and Sandford, good fellows both, j and both .gone t, > join other g > >d fell >ws in the' Hies. 1 can recall many and many a happy night passed in that theatre in a stable, and 111 • only creatures to wii i n it may not have been a delignt «u ■ n animals whose slumbers the musician-, were wont nightly to disturb.