SHAKESPEARE IN NH (continued)

School Dramatic Exhibitions

Let us cast a backward look to the days when school dramatic exhibitions were in vogue, and see what it presented to our view.  It is a winter evening.  The first floor of the school-house is converted for the time being into a theatre, with a crowded audience.  A partition extends across the lower end of the room, one-half the enclosed space answering the purpose of that mystery of mysteries in a theatre, the green room, and the remainder as a stage, with its green curtain.  There is no gas to cast its brilliancy upon bright eyes and fair faces, where bright eyes and fair faces still are seen, (for no visionary had ever dreamed of such a corporation as the Portsmouth Gas Company,) but Tetherly's "dips" in tin candlesticks suspended from the walls supplied the deficiency, and a range of oil lamps furnished the "foot lights" for the stage.  The orchestra, located in the green room, consists of Esido-Victor, from Water street, professor of the tamborine, and another colored gentleman, professor of the violin.  The bell rings, and the curtain rises to scenes from Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream."  As Peter Quince calls over the names of his actors who are to play before the duke, and "Nick Bottom, the weaver" "Francis Flute, the bellows-mender," "Robin Starveling, the tailor," and "Tim Snout the tinker," severally answer, "Here!" the oddity of their names, combined with the ridiculous dresses they have assumed, call forth shouts of laughter from the juveniles, and the humor of the scene is well enjoyed by the audience generally.  Nick Bottom is an especial favorite, and creates much mirth by promising, that if permitted to play the lion, he will so roar that the duke shall say. "Let him roar again!" nor less so, when, on being told that he might frighten the ladies, he replies that he can, at will, "roar as gentle as any sucking dove."  The entrance of Snug, on all-fours, (enveloped in a buffalo skin) as the lion, is the signal for a fresh outbreak of merriment.

Peter Quince, bidding adieu to Athens, retires to the gentlemen's dressing-room in the entry, (under the stairs,) transforms himself, by the aid of a Gilman Blues' uniform into a fine looking soldier, and reappearing, recites with much spirit Campbell's stirring poem of "Hohenlinden."  A blooming young lady then favors the audience with a popular song of the time, "Wreaths for the Chieftain," and is succeeded by a young gentleman, who in the costume of an American sailor, sings one of the war songs of 1812.  A very young gentleman, in a broad frilled ruffle, (his "first appearance on any stage,") then recites, with the most approved accent, the somewhat familiar lines, commencing --

"You'd scarce expect one of my age,
To speak in public on the stage."

School dialogues, of a varied character, intervene, but enveloped as they are in the shadows of the past, they present a confused and misty appearance.  Among other passengers of less note, Queen Zenobia, with a train of attendants, appears in one of them.  The performance concludes with an entire two-act play, entitled the "Military School" very well done, but the special life of the piece is "Old Pipes," a decayed soldier with a crutch and a wooden leg, who, perpetually smoking, perfumes the room--not with tobacco smoke, but the more agreeable odor of pennyroyal.  Exeunt omnes -- the curtain falls.

CONTINUE with Brewster's SCHOOL MEMORIES