ON the following day, at the table d’hôte of the Queen’s Hotel, I was not a little surprised to meet Herr Bandman and Miss Beaudet. My surprise became still greater when he informed me that he had come expressly to Kandy to give the good people of that city a “Shakespearian treat”—Hamlet!!—in the large room of the Town Hall, under the most distinguished patronage of His Excellency the Governor, and the noble guests of His Excellency, who were His Highness the Duke of Mecklemburgh, his Grace the Duke of Portland, and——your humble servant!
When I enquired from Bandman whom he had to assist him in his play, he coolly replied—
“Well, you see, I cannot travel with a company; it would not pay. I trust to what I can pick up on my way. Of course, MY Hamlet is unsurpassed, and Miss Beaudet is THE Ophelia par excellence.”
This, I must say, did not prepossess me for the great Shakespearian treat promised. However, the Governor having purposely advanced his usual dinner hour, we proceeded with all vice-regal pomp and escort to the Town Hall, which, of course, in accordance with the liberal amount of billing the wily tragedian made of the distinguished patronage, was crammed to suffocation, though the seats were £1 1s and 10s 6d.
Shall I ever forget that night? The proscenium, a raised platform at the end of the hall; the curtain, several strips of sacking rudely sewn together; the orchestra, a poor, invalided piano, evidently suffering from some dreadful inner complaint, and even in that sad condition tortured by a most indifferent amateur. When the curtain rose—I might say when “the rag was hoisted up”—the scene displayed a further supply of the same material, which some native artist had very late that day attempted to distemper with some very doubtful colouring.
Herr Bandman, gorgeously dressed in black velvet covered with shiny jet ornaments, and most irreproachably got up to represent the demented Prince of Denmark, came to the few smoky lamps intended as footlights and made an apologetic speech, conveying to the audience that owing to disappointments and difficulties he was placed in a most awkward predicament. In fact, as he said, “he had heard how very difficult it had proved for former theatrical managers to play ‘Hamlet’ without the Prince of Denmark, but in this instance he could and would give us the Prince of Denmark, but was unable to produce any other characters of ‘Hamlet’ except Ophelia; and that if we would be content with an hour’s ‘scraps’ from ‘Hamlet,’ he and Miss Beaudet would endeavour to fill the gap by the substitution of a screaming farce—‘The Happy Pair’—in which only two characters were needed.” I must confess that after all we had no reason to complain. The rendering of the two Shakespearian parts were admirably done, and “The Happy Pair” well worthy of a more appreciative audience, considering that except in our party, I doubt if one in ten could follow the dialogue. I need not say that Herr Bandman did not attempt a second representation. He made a good haul on that night. The following morning he discovered that the tropical temperature did not agree with him, and that he had made tracks for some other locality, better provided with Shakespearian performers.