Oliver Bell Bunce

“ ROSE. [With a sigh.] Oh, sir!
CLEVELAND. Miss Elsworth! Rose! Confide in me! I am your friend.
ROSE. [With affected confusion.] I believe you, Major Cleveland. I—I—really, sir—I implore you to believe me—I have nothing to confide.
CLEVELAND. Do not be offended, Miss Elsworth. I have your interest at heart. Pardon me—but Captain Arbald— [ROSE starts and appears agitated.] believes, or at least hopes, that he is acceptable to you. I am very deeply his friend—very deeply yours.
ROSE. It is very pleasant to hear you say so, Major Cleveland. ”

“ ROSE. This is nothing but blind prejudice. It has neither sense nor justice. Hear me. That for which you discard him places him higher in my esteem—shows me how worthy he is of the respect and honour of every true woman. My greatest pride is that he to whom I have pledged my hand wears those colours.
ARMSTRONG. Generous girl!
ELSWORTH. Rose, you pain me inexpressibly!
ROSE. I am not a giddy girl, sir. I'm a woman—old enough to know my own heart, and to decide between right and wrong. Walter, go, and carry with you assurances of my unwavering fidelity.
Enter BRIDGET, hurriedly. ”

“ CLEVELAND. Ah, Miss Elsworth, this assurance gives me the greatest pleasure.
ROSE. Don't hurt the poor fellow though, Major, I beg of you. I should be quite sorry if anything happened to him. He is a good-natured, useful neighbour enough—an unpolished jewel, papa calls him. Ah, Major, our social wants in this community are lamentable enough, when we are obliged to content ourselves with such a poor substitute as you have seen, for all the polish and manner of London circles.
CLEVELAND. Lamentable, indeed, Miss Elsworth!
ROSE. The war brings one boon, at least,—the society of gentlemen. ”

“ They are good soldiers, and fine-looking fellows.
ROSE. For which I thank their tailors.
CLEVELAND. Gay, dashing; brave of heart, and witty of tongue.
ROSE. Then they have been studying the almanac. When I saw them last, they hadn't a grain of wit—not even by scratching.
CLEVELAND. Really, Mr. Elsworth, your daughter has a sharp tongue.
ELSWORTH. It is her humour, sir. Her passes are but play.
CLEVELAND. I'll be sworn her heart is as true as her wit. She is—
ROSE. Rebel, sir, from top to toe!
[Enter ARBALD, MARVIN, and HARRY.]
Ah, gentlemen, my best welcome. ”

“ Captain Armstrong is my father's guest, no less than yourself. Every consideration of delicacy and honour requires you to consider him so.
CLEVELAND. Miss Elsworth, I could wish you not to consider me wrong or cruel in this.
ROSE. I judge, sir, by what I see.
CLEVELAND. You are severe.
ROSE. I am glad you find me so.
CLEVELAND. Will you not say peace?
ROSE. War, Major Cleveland, to the last.
ELSWORTH. Daughter, more courtesy.
ROSE. Oh! father, they may chain and bind our poor country, but they cannot find a way to chain a free woman's free tongue. ”

“ By the way, Miss Elsworth, I believe that there are a couple of gentlemen without, who are old admirers of yours—Captain Arbald and Lieutenant Marvin.
ROSE. Old, Major! You flatter my taste.
CLEVELAND. Why, with beauty I thought the conquest of the morning stale matter by night.
ROSE. Oh, sir, if staleness went to make their age, they would be proverbed instead of Methuselah.
CLEVELAND. They took very much to you.
ROSE. So did the measles, sir.
CLEVELAND. They are desperately enamoured of you—would do any difficult thing—even die for you. ”

“ CLEVELAND. [Scrutinizing WALTER closely.] I'm quite ready, Miss
Elsworth, to laugh at a joke, but really I cannot understand—
ROSE. Why two gentlemen cannot meet under my father's roof, as his guests, and not fall to tearing each other to pieces? Is it the modern way to make war in parlours, instead of the field?
CLEVELAND. Strange, very strange. Your pardon, Captain Fuller, but I cannot help remarking that you closely resemble a description I have received of one Captain Armstrong.
ROSE. Dear me, and who is Captain Armstrong, pray?
CLEVELAND. A rebel, madam. ”

“ ROSE. That's the point of the joke, eh?
CLEVELAND. Come, will you do it?
ROSE. Well—I am doubtful.
CLEVELAND. Only carry it out well, and you shall have fifty pounds.
ROSE. I am convinced, as old intrigues are dull, I want pastime, and would like to earn fifty pounds, and if my chances in other quarters are uninjured, why—
CLEVELAND. You will do it?
ROSE. Will the Captain think it a jest?
CLEVELAND. He thinks there is a plan on foot to introduce your mistress to him for a similar purpose.
ROSE. And when he finds that he has married plain Bridget instead of
Miss Rose—what a rage he will be in! ”

“ CLEVELAND. Aha! Then it was Captain Armstrong, and not Captain Arbald, to whom you alluded in our interview. I was beginning to suspect the trick.
ROSE. Your shrewdness would have done you more credit if you had detected it before. As it is, I have your signet and your promise to save Captain Armstrong.
CLEVELAND. But the promise referred only to your husband.
ROSE. Captain Armstrong is my betrothed husband.
CLEVELAND. Ay, but at present is a prisoner. You see, madam, I hold the cards.
ROSE. Your pardon, sir, but I have the game.
CLEVELAND. Eh! Is not the Captain in my hands? ”

“ Major Cleveland, will you do me the honour—
CLEVELAND. Sir, I esteem it an honour. Gentlemen, I hope you will all fill in honour of our host. [They gather around, fill, and drink to MR. ELSWORTH.] Fill again, gentlemen, and honour the toast I am going to propose. The ladies! speedy priests and rings.
ROSE. A doubtful compliment, Major Cleveland.
CLEVELAND. Can you think so?
ROSE. Ay, sir; for marriages, though called matches, are mostly sad patch-work.
CLEVELAND. And the unmarried—
ROSE. Oh, they are even worse. Old maids and old bachelors are the tossed about odds and ends of humanity. ”

“ METCALF. You see, sir, I was just about to enter to call on my friend, Mr. Elsworth, to sip an afternoon glass with him, when a big-booted fellow cried out, halt. Now, sir, the idea of asking a man well in both legs to halt, is preposterous. So I said, and walked on as straight as I could, when bang, bum, whiz, came one, two, three bullets scattering after my hide—
CLEVELAND. Have done, sir. [To WALTER.] I am desirous of giving you, sir, every opportunity to disprove your identity with Captain Armstrong. I chance to know that gentleman's handwriting. There is a desk with pen and ink. ”

“ If you speak aloud or attempt to call aid, I will strike you dead. I shall not yield without resistance. If you molest me, blood will be shed.
CLEVELAND. [Drawing a pistol.] I am better armed than you supposed, sir. It would be awkward for any collision to occur in the presence of a lady, and yet I shall not hesitate to do my duty. If you are really Captain Fuller, I shall be very glad to shake hands and drink a glass of wine with you; if Captain Armstrong, you must become my prisoner.
ROSE. [Standing by her chair, trembling.] Gentlemen! Gentlemen! ”

“ Ask yourself if it is an honourable course for me, a proscribed and hunted rebel, to suffer myself to be concealed in your father's house when my discovery would involve him in terrible consequences. I cannot consent to expose him to those consequences. I would rather openly deliver myself into the hands of Major Cleveland.
ROSE. Foolish man! You are ruining all. Walter, for my sake go back again. This is a ridiculous and false sense of honour. ”

“ ROSE. Do they know your person?
ARMSTRONG. From description, probably.
ROSE. We must conceal you, then.
ARMSTRONG. If you've a rat hole into which you can crowd me.
HARRY. I must be ignorant of your movements. I will go and receive them. [Exit.
ARMSTRONG. Whose command is it?
ROSE. Major Cleveland's.
ARMSTRONG. Eh? The man of men who itches to get hold of my insignificant person. He has offered £50 for it.
KATE. [At the window.] Away! They are dismounting at the door.
ROSE. You, Bridget—I can trust you—quick, to the loft with him. ”

“ Ha! Lost! [Aloud.] Oh, Major Cleveland, how opportune. Pray let me make you acquainted with Captain Fuller. A friend of my father's, sir—a neighbour. Captain Fuller, Major Cleveland. Allow me to commend you, gentlemen, to each other's better acquaintance.
CLEVELAND. A rebel officer. This is very extraordinary.
ROSE. Let me see you shake hands, gentlemen, for here, you know, you must be friends. If you like to cut each other's throats elsewhere, so be it; but, of course, you sheathe your swords, and swear peace in the presence of a lady.
CLEVELAND. Miss Elsworth well rebukes us. ”

“ ROSE. I will bear Walter's name when we are publicly married, sir—which now, I trust, will be with your sanction.
ELSWORTH. You have it. You have won a husband, if ever woman did.
LIEUTENANT ELSWORTH. Walter, if you were only more true to the right—
WALTER. Oh, Harry! We will discuss that question yet. I shall make you [In his ear.] a convert; be sure of it.
Enter CAPTAIN ARBALD and KATE.
KATE. Why, the company is breaking up. We missed you all, sadly. Here come the guests.
CLEVELAND. Ah, Arbald, I'm afraid you will have to forego Miss Rose, here—
ARBALD. To pluck a flower no less sweet. ”

“ But I have a brother who is an English officer; a husband who is an American one. Be careful, sir, in what way you use my name in connection with this night's work, for, be assured, they will not fail to punish a ribald, a slanderous, or a libertine tongue. Consent to Captain Armstrong's release, and your discomfiture remains a secret; refuse, and with one word, I'll have all our guests upon the spot and a public confession.
CLEVELAND. It's absurd to suppose that I'm to be bound by such figments as you have woven. ”

“ METCALF. I wonder where Bridget is. I'll pop the question before morning.
ELSWORTH. Rose, you have neglected your friends. Let us go in.
ROSE. Our first duty is to the friends before us—
WALTER. To which faction do they adhere—red or blue?
ROSE. True blue and rebel, I'll be sworn—but I will ask them! [Comes forward. To ARMSTRONG.] You see, sir, they respond already. [To the Audience.] Do you approve the Whiggish maid, and sanction her schemes so boldly played? The heart of love is heroic in every age ”

“ In The Galaxy for February, 1868, Bunce ventures to survey "Some of Our Actors" from the standpoint of deploring the pre-Raphaelite realism of the modern school. He scored the attempted "truth" and "fidelity" of Matilda Heron, and, in considering Maggie Mitchell's Fanchon, he bespoke the cause of ideality, as necessary in Fanchon as in Juliet. "Modern comedy acting," he declares, "is usually a bright, brisk touch-and-go affair, suited to modern plays; but to the mellow and artistic style of a former generation, it is as the light claret wines, now so much in use, to crusty old port." ”

“ ROSE ELSWORTH occupied at a small table, stitching. KATE ELSWORTH stretched languidly upon a sofa, with a book in hand. MR. EDWARD ELSWORTH in an easy chair, with newspaper in his lap. Writing materials on table. KATE. Oh, dullness! dullness! I do wish Harry was at home, or Sir William would march some of his troops this way! What's the use of an army in the country, if one can't have a dance once in a while?
ROSE. What, indeed! All I desire is, sister, that they should be [Enter SERVANT with letters for MR. ELSWORTH.] left to the dance! That much they do very well. ”

“ There were very artificial methods, no doubt, among the old actors, but there was also a very consummate knowledge of the art, a great deal of breadth, force and skill, and a finished training, which the new schools do not exhibit. In aiming to be natural, some of our actors seem to have concluded that their profession is not an art. They grow heedless in the delivery of language, weakening or obscuring its meaning, and missing its significance; and in some way lose that rich and mellow colouring that characterized the bygone performers. ”

“ In 1872, he became Editor of Appleton's Journal, and it is to the files of this magazine we must turn to extract his frank reaction to the theatre of his day. He wrote novels, stories, essays, editorials, everything to win him the name of journalist; once he had a publishing house of his own, doing business under the firm name of Bunce & Co. He was always cordial toward every move to further the literary interest of the country, and was among the first to welcome the founding of the Authors Club. ”

“ Nobody in the walks—the marriage not over yet—bless me! I do believe that I am trembling like a refractory scholar with a prospective birching. If it should fail—but it won't, it can't—Rose is a girl to carry anything through.
Re-enter MR. ELSWORTH.
ELSWORTH. Where can Rose be, I wonder! I can't find her anywhere. Everybody inquiring for her—everybody laughing too about the jest upon Armstrong. Ah, these military fellows are such practical jokers—so full of deviltry, to be sure! Who could have thought of such a trick?
METCALF. No civilian, you may be sure, sir. [Aside, looking off.] Eh? ”

“ Bunce wrote well on theatrical matters; he is much more vivid and human than many a better-known critic. Here, for instance, is an impression of the old Park Theatre, New York, in 1846.
"That was the time," he writes in "The Editor's Table" of Appleton's Journal for October, 1880, "when the theatre had a pit, where critics and wiseacres were wont to assemble and utter oracular things about the plays and the performers. ”

“ His better mood was to be met with in his discussion of the players of Ellen Tree's type. Here are his words of censure against the new order:
"If we old files are to be believed, the art of acting is dying out, and the very tradition of the stage disappearing.... Very likely the spirit, which in painting we call pre-Raphaelism, is obtaining its influence on the stage, and that some of the actors are turning out of doors the traditions and formal mannerisms of the schools, and going back to nature and truth for their inspiration.... ”