My first Humiliating Experience in Cincinnati is Followed by a Successful Appearance--I Make the Acquaintance of the Enthusiastic Navoni.

It is a deep humiliation to relate my first experience in Cincinnati, but for reasons I set it down.

A friend of mine, who hailed from Cincinnati and who wished to serve me, had said: "One thing I think I can do for you, friend Clara, I can save you the weariness and annoyance of a long search in a strange city for board. My wife and I were never so comfortable in our lives before as we were at the house of a Mrs. Scott. She is a gentlewoman, therefore she never pries, never gossips, never 'just runs in a moment,' when you want to study a 'part.' Her charges are reasonable, the table a little close, perhaps, but the cooking perfect. You and your mother would suit her demands as to regularity of habits, quiet conduct, etc., completely, and going there so early in September you will stand a good chance of securing a room. Try for 'ours'--it was so sunny and bright." And I, delighted at such a prospect, looked upon my letter of introduction as a very valuable doc.u.ment--a sort of character from my last place, and early on Monday morning went forth from my temporarily sheltering hotel to find Mrs. Scott and beg her to take me in on the word of her boarders of a year ago.

I found the house easily, but, modest as was its exterior, its rich interior sent my heart down rapidly--it was going to be away beyond my salary I decided. Yet after a, to me, most bewildering interview, I found myself inspecting the big sunny room, and shrinking at the thought of my rough trunks coming in contact with such a handsome carpet. Mrs. Scott had remarked, casually, that she had put her earnings back on the house, as a pure matter of business, and I was radiant when she named her price for the room, and hastily engaging it, I started out at once to order my trunks taken there and to telegraph mother to come.

As I descended the steps I could not help humming a little tune. A policeman strolled across the street toward me, and I had a hazy notion that he had been there when I went in. As I reached the pavement he stepped up, and holding out to me a handkerchief, palpably his own, asked, while looking at me closely, if it was mine.

I was indignant, and I answered, sharply: "It is not mine--as you very well know!"

He laughed rather sheepishly, and said: "Well, you are not stupid, if you are innocent," then asked: "Are you a stranger here?"

I turned back toward the house I had just left, then paused as I said, angrily: "I have a mind to go back and ask Mrs. Scott to come out with me to protect me from the impertinence of the police!"

"Who?" he asked, with wide-open, wondering eyes, "you will go back to who?"

"To Mrs. Scott," I snapped.

"Why," said he, "there's no Mrs. Scott there."

"No?" I questioned satirically. "No? Well, as I have just engaged board from Mrs. Scott, I venture to differ with you."

"Good Lord, Miss," the man said, "Mrs. William Scott's been dead these nine months or more. That's no place for honest people now. Why--why, we're watchin' the house this moment, hoping to catch that woman's jail-bird son, who has broken jail in Louisville--don't look so white, Miss!"

"But--but," I whispered, "I--I was sent here by a friend--I--I have engaged a room there! Oh, what shall I do?"

"That's all right, Miss," rea.s.suringly answered the policeman, "I'll give up the room for you. You ain't the only one that has come here expecting to find Mrs. Scott in the house. You don't need to go back to the door;"

and the theatre being in full view, in an agony of humiliation and terror, I flung myself into its friendly, just-opened office, where Mr.

Macaulay presently found me shaking like a leaf and almost unable to make plain my experience.

He was furious, and finding my name was mentioned in the letter of introduction to Mrs. Scott, and that "Mrs. Scott" had retained it, he called the policeman and together they went to the house and demanded the letter back. It was given up, but most unwillingly, as the woman, with the superst.i.tion of all gambling people, looked upon it as a luck-breeder, a mascot; and an hour later, by Mr. Macaulay's aid, I had found two wee rooms, whose carpets would welcome my trunks as hiders of holes--rooms that were dull, even dingy, but had nevertheless securely sheltered honest poverty for long years past, and could do as much for years to come.

I mention this unpleasant incident simply to show how utterly unexpected are some of the pitfalls that make dangerous the pathway of honest girlhood. To show, too, that utter ignorance of evil is in itself a danger. The interview that bewildered me would have been, for instance, a danger signal to my mother, who would, too, having seen how the richness of furniture contradicted outside shabbiness, have had her suspicions aroused. I noted that fact, but not knowing of gambling being unlawful and secretly carried on, my observation was of no service to me, as it suggested nothing. Ignorance of the existence of evil may sometimes become the active foe of innocence.

No one learned of the unpleasant experience, so I was spared disagreeable comment; and, sending for my mother to join me, I devoted myself to preparations of my opening night.

The meeting with strangers, which I had greatly dreaded, pa.s.sed off so easily, even so pleasantly, as to surprise me. Everyone offered a kind word of greeting, and all the women expressed their sympathy because I had to open in so poorly dressed a part. That troubled _me_ very little, however.

The character was that of a country girl (_Cicely_) in some old comedy, whose name I have forgotten. She wore just one gown--a black and white print, as she was in mourning for her old, farmer father. A rustic wench, a milk-maid come up to "Lun'un-town," she had one speech that was a trial for any woman to have to speak. It was not as brutally expressed as are many of the speeches given to rustics in the old English comedies--but it was the _double-entendre_ that made it coa.r.s.e.

Some of the ladies were speaking with me of the matter, and the "old woman" suggested that I just mumble the words. I said I could not well do that, as it was a part of the princ.i.p.al scene of the play.

"Well," declared another, "I should hang my head and let the house see that I was ashamed of the speech."

I said nothing, but I thought that would be a most inartistic breaking away from the part of the rustic _Cicely_, and a dragging in of scandalized Miss Morris.

The girl was supposed to make the speech through blundering ignorance, she alone not seeing its significance; and to my idea there was but one way to deliver it, and that certainly was not with a hanging head and shamefaced manner, thus showing perfect, if disapproving, knowledge of its double meaning.

When the opening night came a pleasant little thing happened to me. As I entered with straw hat tied under chin and bundle in hand, I received a modest little reception, what would about equal the slight raising of a hat in pa.s.sing a woman in a corridor; but the moment I had spoken the first insignificant speech the house gave me as hearty a greeting as any leading woman could wish for.

I was startled and much confused for a few moments, but very pleased and grateful withal, yet when I came off, Mr. Macaulay's pleasure seemed twice as great as mine, and as I laughingly told him so, he said: "Well, now I'm going to make a confession. Your letters gave me an impression of--of--well, you are entirely unlike your letters--you are smaller, and you look even younger than you really are. There isn't the very faintest suggestion of the actress in your manner, and--and--to be honest, I was a bit frightened over the engagement I had made. Then your having to open in this insignificant part was against you. But they are no fools out _there_, my girl. They have found you out already. Your eyes and voice alone won that welcome, and I'd not be afraid to wager something now that the last curtain falls to-night upon a new favorite."

I was greatly pleased, but those broad lines were still hanging over me, still disturbing me.

At last the scene arrived. I gave the inquiring speech, with its wretched double meaning, clearly and plainly, looking squarely and honestly into the eyes of the person I addressed--the result was described as follows by a morning paper:

"That one speech proved the newcomer an actress of superior quality.

Clearly and simply given, the great guffaw that instantly responded to the _double-entendre_ had scarcely risen, when the girl's perfect honesty, her wide-eyed innocence, so impressed the audience that applause broke from every part of the house. It was the most dramatic moment of the evening, for that outburst was not merely approbation for the actress, it was homage to the woman."

So it came to pa.s.s that Mr. Macaulay's words came true--the curtain fell upon a favorite, by grace of the warm and kindly hearts of the Cincinnatians, who were quick to see merits and ever ready to forgive errors.

The Hebrew citizens, who are enthusiastic and most generous patrons of the theatre, became especially fond of me, so much so indeed that the company christened me "Rebecca," in jesting allusion to their favor, of which I was nevertheless very proud, for better judges of matters theatrical it would be hard to find.

When my mother arrived, we settled down in our little rooms, where my trunks, which had to be opened every day for the nightly change of costume, had to stand one on top of another in order to make room for an old battle-scarred piano that I had hired.

I do not know its maker's name--no one knows--which was well for that person, because his act in constructing such a thing placed him in the criminal cla.s.ses. It seemed to be a cross between a coffin and a billiard-table, and there was just enough left of its rubber cover to make an evil smell in the room.

Had it not been for the generosity of the leader of the orchestra (Mr.

Navoni) I could not have enjoyed the luxury of even a few music lessons, but he saw my willingness to learn--to practise when possible, and loving music rapturously himself, he took a generous delight in helping others to the knowledge he had such a store of. Therefore, for a ridiculously small price, just enough, he said, to properly mark our relations as master and pupil, he introduced me to my notes and lines and ledger-lines, too (confound them!), and accidentals and sharps (which I hated) and flats (which I liked), and I developed a great affection for _c_, because I could always find it, while I hate _a_ to this hour because of the trouble it gave me so long ago.

One thing I am sure of, had anyone awakened me suddenly from a deep sleep at that time I would instantly have exclaimed: "One _and_ two _and_ three _and_." Mr. Navoni and his wife had the room directly over ours; of course I knew every loud sound we made must penetrate to his room, and as I could conceive of nothing more maddening than to have to listen to a beginner's _one_, two, three--_one_, two, three, I tried to practise when he was out, which was difficult, as our hours were the same. Then one day, knowing he was composing a march for a special occasion, I closed the piano and determined I would not disturb him with any noise of mine.

Upstairs, then, Mr. Navoni sat, rumpled as to hair, fiery as to eye, with violin on table and pen in hand. He hummed a little, tried one or two bars on the violin, then savagely threw a few notes of ink on to his ruled paper. Then he hummed a little, and seemed to listen, jotted down a note or two, listened attentively, and then burst out: "Do you hear a sound of practice from Miss Morris's room?"

"No, dear," gently replied Mrs. Navoni, "she doesn't want to disturb you at your work, she----"

But a burst of wrath stopped her. Mr. Navoni was clattering down-stairs and pounding on our door: "What does this mean? Get you to that devilish bad piano and do your scales--_scales_, mind you--let the exercises wait till the last! Interrupt me? Love I not music! nothing is sweeter to me than the '_one_, two, three' of the beginner--_if_ the beginner is not a fool--_if_ the beginner counts the '_one_, two, three' correctly! d.a.m.n!

yes, I say _d.a.m.n_! look at the time lost! afraid to disturb me? How the devil am I to compose that march they want with this room still as the dead? Now I go back, and if you don't do those scales, all smooth and even, and the exercises rightly timed, you--well, you know what you'll get! I can hear, even if I am composing. So you get to work, quick now!

before I get back to my table!"

And he tore off again, while, with clammy fingers, I sat down to the wretched old piano, that was showing its teeth at me in a senile grin, and feebly and uncertainly began to wobble up and down the keyboard.

Mrs. Navoni afterward told me that when her husband returned to his work he hummed to himself a few moments, jotted down a few notes, listened to the sound of the rattling old piano, and, smiling and nodding, remarked: "_Now_ I can do something--_one_, two, three--_one_, two, three--that's right. I couldn't compose a bar with her wasting a precious hour down there. She keeps good time, eh, doesn't she? Now I'll give the boys something that will move their feet for them!" and he returned to the march.

The thing which I was to get if I failed to practise correctly was so unusual that I feel I must explain it. Mr. Navoni wore an artificial foot and leg of the c.u.mbrous type then offered to the afflicted, and in the privacy of his own room he used to remove the burdensome thing and lay it on a chair by the couch on which he rested or read or wrote, and when I, down-stairs, made a first mistake in my practice, he growled and kicked viciously with his "for-true" leg, while a second blunder would make him seize his store-leg and pound the floor. Then when I began again he would whack the correct time with it with such emphasis that bits of my ceiling would come rattling down about me and the gas-fixture threatened not to remain a fixture.

Another trick of his was to bring down his violin with him. How my heart sank when I saw it, and, my lesson over, he requested me to play such or such an exercise: "And keep to your own business, and leave my business to me, if you please, Miss. _Now!_"

I was then expected to go over and over that exercise and keep perfect time, while he stood behind me and improvised on the violin, growing more and more distracting every moment, and if that led my attention away from my _one_, two, three, what a crack I got across the top of my ear from his fiddle-bow, and a sharp order to: "Go back--go back! _one_, two, three; _one_, two, three! Cry by and by, but now play! _One_, two, three!"

I should have thought myself a hopeless case, and given up, had I not one morning overheard him boasting to some of the musicians: "That I was a good enough leading woman, he supposed, but it was as a piano pupil that I really counted for something. Why," he cried, "she has the most perfect ear, and such steadiness--a whole band-wagon of instruments turned loose on her wouldn't make her lose time!"

I smiled and felt of my even then burning ear, but still his boast encouraged me to return to my scales, which were wofully interrupted by the necessity I experienced of clawing up with my nails several old keys that were too weak to rise again having once been pressed down.

When Mr. Navoni played, and he came to one of those tired-out ivories, he put a _d.a.m.n_ in the place of the absent note, but for obvious reasons I could not do that. But Mr. Navoni was an earnest, determined, and enthusiastic teacher, and I remember him gratefully and respectfully.