John Kemble, according to an anecdote told of him in Tom Moore’s _Diary_, once made a very ludicrous mistake. He was performing one of his most famous parts at some country theatre, and, as is common in some provincial temples of the Drama, a child had been making its presence very pronounced by emitting the shrill noises peculiar to the average infant. At last Kemble could bear the infantine interruptions no longer, and advancing to the front of the stage he assumed his most tragic air and said--“Ladies and gentlemen, unless the play is stopped, the child cannot possibly go on.” Kemble’s audience on that occasion was not like the one in San Francisco in its early days. An opera company was performing in the rowdy city of the “Pacific Slope,” when a child in the auditorium created a great disturbance. The burly gold-seekers, who mainly composed the audience, ordered the players to stop till the child was finished with its entertainment, as an infant’s voice was such a rarity in the Wild West at that time that it awakened pleasant memories of the old home and tugged at the heart-strings of the rough-and-ready miners. This is a genuine instance of the play being stopped and “the child going on.”
TOUCHSTONE (_to Stage Manager_). ’Ow do you expect me to speak my lines correct with all that ’owling and ’ooting and ’issing going on in front?]
[Illustration: ACTING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
The public insist on seeing their stage favourites, even when they are not quite fit. A well-known actress sang “Carmen” from a bath-chair recently. What next?]
A very amusing mistake is laid to the credit of Quin. On one occasion, while he was acting “Judge Balance” in _The Recruiting Officer_, he addressed Mrs. Peg Woffington in these terms--
“Sylvia, what age were you when your dear mother married?”
Peg made no reply to the embarrassing query, so Quin proceeded--
“I ask you what age you were when your mother was born?”
Thus going from bad to worse. The actress fortunately did not lose her presence of mind, and replied--
“I regret I cannot answer your question; but I can tell you how old I was when my mother _died_.”
Amusement is frequently afforded by some member of the audience losing himself in the play, and fancying that the scene before him is a page from real life. When such incidents occur, they form excellent testimonials to the dramatic abilities of the actors. A striking instance of this kind is related in connexion with the late Fanny Kemble. It occurred while she was appearing in Philadelphia as “Juliet.” She had just repeated the lines--