ADVERTISEMENTS.

DICKS’ BRITISH DRAMA. ILLUSTRATED.

Comprising the Works of the most celebrated dramatists.

Complete in Twelve Volumes, price One Shilling each; per post, Fourpence extra.

Vol. 1, contains: The Gamester—Jane Shore—The Man of the World—Love in a Village—Pizarro—The Mayor of Garratt—The Road to Ruin—The Inconstant—The Revenge—The Jealous Wife—She Stoops to Conquer—Douglas—The Devil to Pay—The Adopted Child—The Castle Spectre—The Rivals—Midas—The Stranger—Venice Preserved—Guy Mannering—Fatal Curiosity.

Vol. 2, contains: A New Way to Pay Old Debts—The Grecian Daughter—The Miller and his Men—The Honeymoon—The Fair Penitent—The Provoked Husband—A Tale of Mystery—The Wonder—The Castle of Sorento—The School for Scandal—The Iron Chest—George Barnwell—Rob Roy Macgregor—Cato—The Pilot—Isabella; or, the Fatal Marriage—The Lord of the Manor—Arden of Faversham—The Siege of Belgrade.

Vol. 3, contains: Edward the Black Prince—The Critic; or, a Tragedy Rehearsed—Bertram—The Foundling—Brutus; or, the Fall of Tarquin—Giovanni in London—Damon and Pythias—The Beggars’ Opera—The Castle of Andalusia—John Bull—Tancred and Sigismunda—Cymon—Werner—Paul and Virginia—The Three Black Seals—The Thieves of Paris—Braganza—The Lily of the Desert—A Trip to Scarborough.

Vol. 4, contains: Lady Jane Grey—The Gold Mine—Fazio—The Orphan of the Frozen Sea—The Hypocrite—The Curfew—Every Man in his Humour—The Quaker—John Felton—The Turnpike Gate—Prisoner of State—The Duenna—The Roman Father—The Provoked Wife—The Waterman—The Maid of Honour—Evadne—The Merchant of Bruges—Speed the Plough—No Song, no Supper—The Courier of Lyons—Barbarossa.

Vol. 5, contains: Bothwell—The Clandestine Marriage—Alexander the Great—The Padlock—Therese, the Orphan of Geneva—In Quarantine—One o’Clock; or, the Wood Demon—The Robbers of Calabria—All the World’s a Stage—Zara—The Life-Buoy—The Foundling of the Forest—One Snowy Night—The Wheel of Fortune—Pipermans’ Predicaments—The Meadows of St. Gervaise—High Life Below Stairs—The Maid of the Mill—The Dog of Montargis—Rule a Wife, and Have a Wife—The Soldier’s Daughter—Thomas and Sally.

Vol. 6, contains: El Hyder; the Chief of the Ghaut Mountains—The Country Girl—A Bold Stroke for a Wife—The Child of Nature—The Lying Valet—Lionel and Clarissa—Who’s the Dupe—The West Indian—Earl of Warwick—The Panel—Tom Thumb—The Busy-Body—The Wedding-Day—Such Things Are—Under the Earth—Polly Honeycomb—The Duke of Milan—The Miser—Atonement.

Vol. 7, contains: The Belle’s Stratagem—The Farm House—Gustavus Vasa—The First Floor—Deaf and Dumb—The Honest Thieves—The Beaux’ Stratagem—The Tobacconist—The Earl of Essex—The Haunted Tower—The Good-Natured Man—The Citizen—All for Love—The Siege of Damascus—The Follies of a Day—The Liar—The Brothers—Lodoiska—The Heiress—The Dragon of Wantley.

Vol. 8, contains: Tamerlane—Monsieur Tonson—A Bold Stroke for a Husband—Cross Purposes—Father Baptiste—Count of Narbonne—All in the Wrong—The Virgin Unmasked—The Mysterious Husband—The Irish Widow—The Law of Lombardy—Love a-la-Mode—Judge Not—The Way to Keep Him—The Jew—The Recruiting Officer—The Orphan—Bon Ton—Fortune’s Frolic.

Vol. 9, contains: The Dark Glen of Ballyfoil—The Tailor—The Woodman—Two Strings to Your Bow—Every One has his Fault—Miss in her Teens—The Orphan of China—The Deserter—The Double-Dealer—Appearance is against Them—Oroonoko—The Romp—The Fashionable Lover—The Deuce is in Him—The Merchant Pirate—Mahomet, the Impostor—The Chapter of Accidents—What Next—The Distressed Mother—The Mock Doctor.

Vol. 10, contains: The Bashful Man—The Carmelite—Duplicity—Three Weeks After Marriage—Old Martin’s Trials—The Cheats of Scapin—Abroad and at Home—Animal Magnetism—Lovers’ Vows—My Spouse and I—Know Your Own Mind—The Apprentice—The Bohemians—The Register Office—The Sultan—Love for Love—The Chances—Miller of Mansfield—The Tender Husband—The Guardian.

Vol. 11, contains: The Way of the World—The Benevolent Tar—The School for Wives—She Would and She Would Not—The Contrivances—Who is She?—Which is the Man?—School for Arrogance—The Mogul Tale—Suspicious Husband—Hero and Leander—The Confederacy—The Maid of The Oaks—By Royal Command—The Constant Couple—The Careless Husband—Chrononhotonthologos—Votary of Wealth—Lovers’ Quarrels.

Vol. 12, contains: Grotto on the Stream—Ways and Means—The Juggler—Richard Cœur de Lion—The Poor Gentleman—Comus—The Heir-at-Law—The Polish Jew—The Scapegoat—Rosina—First Love—Deserted Daughter—Love Makes a Man—Better Late than Never—Recruiting Sergeant—Farmer’s Wife—Midnight Hour—Wives as they Were, and Maids as they Are—He’s Much to Blame.

London: J. Dicks, 313, Strand.

[1]

JANE EYRE. A DRAMA, IN FIVE ACTS.

ADAPTED FROM CHARLOTTE BRONTE’S NOVEL, BY JOHN BROUGHAM.

[See page 14.

Dramatis Personæ.

First Performed at Laura Keene’s Varieties, New York, 1856.

CHARACTERS IN THE CHARADE.

[2]

COSTUME.

Rochester.—1st Dress: Riding-coat—high boots—broad hat. 2nd Dress: Gipsy disguise. 3rd Dress: Long gray coat—loose vest.

Ingram.—Elegant evening dress.

Col. Dent.—Evening dress, quaint.

Brocklehurst.—Black dress.

John Downey.—1st Dress: Plain livery, 2nd Dress: Country boy’s dress.

Wood.—Dress of clergyman.

Jane Eyre.—1st Dress: Very plain dark charity-school dress. 2nd Dress: Black silk. 3rd Dress: Wedding-dress. 4th Dress: Plain travelling-dress.

Dowager Lady Ingram.—Elegant evening dress.

Lady Blanche and Mary.—Ditto.

Grace Pool.—1st Dress: Very grotesque chambermaid’s dress. 2nd Dress: Country girl’s dress.

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

Exits and Entrances.—R. means Right; L. Left; D. F. Door in Flat; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; S. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door; L. U. E. Left Upper Entrance; R. U. E. Right Upper Entrance; L. S. E. Left Second Entrance; P. S. Prompt Side; O. P. Opposite Prompt.

Relative Positions.—R. means Right; L. Left; C. Centre; R. C. Right of Centre; L. C. Left of Centre.

R. RC. C. LC. L.

⁂ The Reader is supposed to be on the Stage, facing the Audience.

[3]

ACT I.

SCENE I.—A very plain chamber in Lowood Academy—window practicable, but barred, prison-like. MISS GRYCE and MISS TEMPLE discovered.

Enter MISS SCATCHERD L. H. 2 E.

Miss S. Here’s a fine to do! who do you think is coming here directly?

Miss T. I cannot say, Miss Scatcherd.

Miss S. The veritable Mr. Brocklehurst himself. The generous endower of this most benevolent institution, for the confusion of intellect and suppression of liberty.

Miss T. For shame, Miss Scatcherd; you must not speak so.

Miss S. I’ll say what I think, in spite of anybody. Heaven knows I’m sick enough of this dungeon.

Miss T. So indeed am I. But I must fulfil my destiny.

Miss S. Pshaw! a fig for destiny. I’m resolved when Mr. Brocklehurst does come, to give him a piece of my mind. I’ll say to him——

Enter BROCKLEHURST L. H. 2 E.

Brock. What will you say, my dear Miss Scatcherd?

Miss S. I hope you find yourself quite well to-day, sir.

Brock. Remarkably well, I thank you. Miss Temple, your most obedient. I congratulate you all, ladies, upon the general appearance of your interesting pupils. But—pray be seated—I regret, and believe me, it gives me, as a man and a Christian, inexpressible pain to be obliged to reprove. I regret, I say, to find that the rules of the establishment have been, I would almost say, criminally neglected.

Miss T. I am sure, sir, not of our own——

Brock. Ah—suffer me. How is it, Madame—I address you as superintendent and controllor of this place—how is it that the woollen stockings are not better attended to?

Miss T. Indeed, sir, I——

Brock. Ah—pardon me. I find also, in settling accounts with the housekeeper, that a lunch, consisting of bread and cheese, has twice been served to the girls within the last fortnight. By whose authority was this shameful innovation? May I be permitted to request an answer, direct and unequivocal?

Miss T. I must be responsible for the circumstance, sir; the breakfast was ill prepared, and——

Brock. Allow me. You are aware that my plan in bringing up these girls is, not to accustom them to habits of luxury.

Miss G. There’s no doubt about that——

Brock. Miss Gryce, if you please—but on the contrary, by spare diet and wholesome exercise, to render them hardy, patient, and self-denying, and encourage them to evince fortitude, under temporary privation.

Miss G. Starvation?

Brock. Privation, Miss Gryce. That woman’s deafness is very inconvenient. Oh! madam, when you put bread and cheese, instead of thin water-gruel, into those children’s bodies, you little think how you starve their immortal souls.

Miss G. You are right, sir, the poor things are starved nearly.

Brock. Silence. And now, Madame, I come to the most awful dereliction of all. I observed as I passed through the school that one girl, if not more, had her hair decked in the absurd vanity of curls, absolute cork-screw curls.

Miss T. It is Julia Severn, sir. Her hair curls naturally.

Brock. Naturally! Madame! don’t attempt to hide your negligence under such a paltry plea. What have we to do with nature?

Miss G. Nothing.

Brock. Miss Temple, that girl’s hair must be cut off. I will not have a curl or a top-knot in the school. I want those charges to become the children of grace, not the offshoots of vanity. Where is Jane Eyre?

Miss T. She has retired to her room, sir; her health is failing under the close confinement.

Brock. Impossible! close confinement here? Why she must be out of her senses.

Miss G. Nearly.

Brock. I don’t believe a word of it, it’s nothing but laziness. If she does not attend to her duties to-morrow, she must seek elsewhere for a situation, and they are not to be picked up so easily; and now, ladies, I will take my leave, trusting that the reproof which conscientious feelings alone urge me to make will sink deep within your hearts, and ultimately spring up into the sweet-smelling flower of repentance and amendment. Good day.

[Exit Brocklehurst, L. H. 2 E.

Enter JANE EYRE, L. H.

Jane. Ah, aunt, aunt! you do not, you cannot know the bitter slavery to which your hate has doomed me: eight long years of joyless, hopeless, pitiless imprisonment—life dragged along in one unvarying level, in the very springtime of my youth—with heart and brain astir, and yearning [4]for the love of kindred, full of bright thoughts and glorious impulses, the world and all its chances, changes, forever closed against me—it is terrible. Oh, for freedom! freedom! My heart bounds like an imprisoned bird against its wiry barrier, at the mere thought—freedom—blessed freedom; those only, who lose thee, know thy worth. (Throws open window.) Oh, I have prayed for liberty until my loud cry seemed scattered on the passing wind. I cannot rest—I cannot think—my tortured brain, in wild confusion, whirls. Heaven send me a change, no matter what—a break to this heart-cankering monotony—a change, or I shall go mad.

Enter MISS GRYCE.

Miss G. Perhaps you may have one sooner than you anticipate.

Jane. How! speak! is there such a hope?

Miss G. Brocklehurst has been here, and I took advantage of my slight deafness to give him a few stings.

Jane. Poor girl, his heart is clad in steel, no mortal can reach it; but you hinted at a change; what do you mean?

Miss G. In the first place, he says you are not sick, that it’s nothing but laziness.

Jane. The hypocrite! the false-tongued hypocrite! Go on.

Miss G. And that unless you attend to your duties, you’ll have to go.

Jane. Where?

Miss G. Anywhere,—out into the road; he’d do it.

Jane. He would—I know he would. What shall I do? Oh, pity me, for I need pity much. Homeless, friendless, and an orphan; what is to become of me?

Miss G. Why don’t you try and get something to do?

Jane. Have I not done so? Have I not, in the faint hope of, at least, changing my servitude, advertised for the situation of a governess? I have served here for eight years, and I would fain serve elsewhere; I know it would but be an exchange of prisons, but even that variety would be a boon. A new place in a new house, with new faces, it does not sound as sweet as liberty, excitement, enjoyment; but alas! they are all equally hollow and flattering, and to me it is a mere waste of words to utter them.

Miss G. Don’t grieve so terribly; who knows what this letter may contain?

Jane. (Starting up.) For me! Gryce! (Fiercely.)

Miss G. What! don’t look at me so awfully.

Jane. You are one who would see the fire laid to the stake before you would produce the wretch’s pardon.

Miss G. I was afraid it might contain bad news.

Jane. There is no bad news for me, the slightest change becomes an incident; a drop of water in the endless desert of my existence is as a mighty river. (Reads.) Oh kind, benignant Providence, my prayers are heard at last! Listen. (Reads.) “If J. E. is in a condition to give satisfactory reference as to character and capacity”—(that they must not, dare not refuse me,) “a situation can be offered to her where there is but one pupil, a little girl, under ten years of age, and where the salary——” Oh, I care not for that. “Apply to Mrs. Fairfax, Thornfield.”

Miss G. Thornfield, why it’s not more than two hours’ walk from here.

Jane. My heart is full, and forces from my eyes the unaccustomed tears. Years—long years of suffering misery are forgotten in this one moment of delight. Now my aspiring thought will have fit element to work within; high hopes and wild imaginings are crowding through my brain. I feel as though I were revelling in dream-land, and as with a lightning flash, the rocky barrier is rent that kept me from communion with my kind. Oh, world! oh, bright and glorious world! thy doors are opened to me at last!

[Exit, R. H.

SCENE II.—Drawing-room, elegantly furnished, in Mr. Rochester’s House.—The DOWAGER LADY INGRAM, LADY BLANCHE INGRAM, LADY MARY INGRAM, MRS. DENT, LORD INGRAM, COLONEL DENT, and FREDERICK LYNN, discovered.

Dow. What an extraordinary creature that Rochester is! what can possibly detain him so long, away? If it were any other person, I should certainly feel annoyed at the host’s absence.

Lord Ing. For my part, chère mama, I think it’s all the better; he is such a half-savage, whole-riddle of a fellow, one can never feel at home with him.

Col. Dent. Yes; and so long as he leaves such glorious wine to be drank, noble horses to be ridden, and splendid game to pop at, what the deuce is it to us?

Lord Ing. He certainly is a most eccentric animal.

Blan. I love eccentricity.

Lord Ing. Especially when said eccentricity is mated with enormous riches, and both look sideways towards you: if I were in your place I should love it prodigiously.

Dow. Now, Ingram, don’t be so impertinent; poor Blanche is absolutely blushing.

Lord Ing. What Arcadian simplicity! For Heaven’s sake, Blanche, let me see it. Natural colour upon a fashionable cheek—preposterous!

Col. Dent. Decidedly out of place.

Lord Ing. Vulgar in the extreme!

Col. Dent. Absurd!

Lord Ing. And utterly dairymaidish.

Blan. Brother, you have no heart.

Lord Ing. Haven’t I, by Jove! ask Dent.

Col. Dent. Don’t ask me: I never saw any indication of the article, except you held it in your hand when you were playing écarte.

Lord Ing. And by Jupiter, it’s the only way you’ll ever see mine, unless associated with diamonds. By the bye, your heart, sister, has the benefit of such brilliant companionship.

Dow. Ingram, I command you to be silent on that subject; the establishment of a daughter is not so frivolous a matter as you may imagine.

Lord Ing. I know, amiable maternity and hearts have nothing whatever to do with it.

Dow. Nothing in the world!

Lord Ing. But goes to the purchaser, like the fixtures in leasing a house.

Dow. Precisely: I wonder if it was Rochester who came in the carriage a short time since. Dent, oblige me by touching the bell. (Dent rings.) Blanche, my love, brighten your eyes with a little of this bouquet. (Gives small phial.) If it should be Rochester, don’t let him find us moping.

[5]

Enter JOHN, L. H.

John. That’s a bright lot, the old tabby and the young kittens; the characters of all their female acquaintance are just like so many mice to them. Oh! what delight it is to seize hold of them one by one, and purr, and scratch, and worry.

Dow. John!

John. Yes, my lady, Mouser. (Aside.)

Dow. Was that Mr. Rochester who arrived just now.

John. No, my lady. Now I’ll tease her a bit; she won’t like to ask me who it is, I know she’ll have to, though.

Dow. Not Mr. Rochester?

John. No, my lady.

Dow. More friends, I presume?

John. No, my lady.

Dow. I certainly heard a carriage stop.

John. Yes, my lady.

Dow. I thought I couldn’t be mistaken.

John. No, my lady.

Dow. A stranger?

John. Yes, my lady.

Dow. Indeed—a gentleman?

John. No, my lady.

Dow. A lady?

John. No, my lady.

Dow. Neither a gentleman or a lady? how stupid you are. Who can it be?

John. Only the new governess, my lady.

Dow. Governess! pshaw! how very provoking!

Lord Ing. Frightful waste of sympathy, eh, Dent?

Col. Dent. Excruciating, my lord.

Lord Ing. All about some poor devil of a teacher. Do you recollect, Blanche, how we used to quiz your round of governesses?

Blan. Oh, yes, Theodore; what fun we used to have with them. Mary was always too sleepy to join in our plots.

Dow. Now, my darling pets, don’t mention governesses; the very word makes me nervous.

Blan. And do you remember, Theodore, how we used to persecute your tutor?

Lord Ing. Yes, the poor, pale-faced wretch; he was positively ignorant of the commonest rudiments of education—didn’t know a terrier from a bull-dog, and never saw a badger in the whole course of his life.

Col. Dent. The Hottentot!

Lord Ing. (To Blanche.) I say, Blanche, wouldn’t it be a prime lark to have up this new governess, and see what she’s like.

Blan. Famous, Theodore! I do love to see them blush and tremble when they first find themselves in an aristocratic element. Ma won’t like it, though.

Lord Ing. That don’t signify, we shall have better fun. John!

John. My lord.

Lord Ing. Bring some liqueur, and trot out the new governess.

John. Yes, my lord.

[Exit, L. H.

Lord Ing. I say, Dent, I’ve just been laying the train for a grand explosion of fun.

Col. Dent. What, sacking the cellar?

Lord Ing. No. I’m going to introduce a lamb amongst those old Dowager Lionnesses. My dear, so you have a prejudice against governesses.

Dow. Don’t mention the horrid name, or I shall certainly faint.

Enter JOHN, L. H.

John. The new governess. (Dowager screams.)

Lord Ing. Bravo, John; consider yourself a sovereign richer for that.

Enter JANE, L. H.—Recoils timidly at first, but rapidly collects herself.

Lord Ing. Dent, you ruffian, is not that a master stroke of comedy? See the poor timid fawn! How she shrinks from those high-blooded gruffins!

Jane. (Advancing firmly.) I am either constrained to apologize for the ignorance of a servant, or I am obliged to suffer for his malice. It was not of my own will that I intruded here, for I was not aware there was so distinguished an assembly.

Lord Ing. Dem good, by Jupiter! Eh, Dent?

Col. Dent. Admirable!

Jane. You will excuse me if I retire.

Lord Ing. Oh, dem it, no; ’twould be ending the comedy in first scene. Don’t tear yourself away.

Jane. Am I to understand that I was sent for?

Lord Ing. Yes, certainly. I did myself that honour.

Jane. Indeed! that makes an essential difference. It allows me at least the condition of equality. John, will you oblige me with a seat? (John places seat.) Request Mrs. Fairfax, the housekeeper, to send for me here, if my services are required.