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In the month of June, 1857, we began to rerehearse "Macbeth," at Covent Garden, London, It had been arranged for our company by Mr. Clarke, and translated into most beautiful Italian verse by Giulio Carcano. The renowned Mr. Harris put it on the stage according to English traditions.
She was greatly disappointed at not finding Mr. Gay. She was sure he would have forgiven her escapade; he would have helped her over the two difficulties facing her very little money and no shelter for the night. Of the two the latter was most to be dreaded. "A year ago," she thought, "it wouldn't have mattered very much. The Covent Garden women and men from the country are kind-hearted.
Sterne, alias Yorick, is not dead; but that, on the contrary, he is writing a fifth and sixth, and has carried his plan as far as a fiftieth and sixtieth volume of the book called 'The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy; but they are rather to be attributed to his ghastly ghost, which is said to walk the purlieus of Covent Garden and Drury Lane."
His Grace plainly had some business with us, and I hoped he was coming to force the fighting. The pieces had ceased to rattle on the round mahogany table, and every head in the room seemed turned our way, for the Covent Garden story was well known.
He would put Covent Garden Market on the field of his microscope, and would perhaps write a great deal of nonsense about the unerring "instinct" which taught each costermonger to recognise his own basket or his own donkey-cart; and this, mutatis mutandis, is what we are getting to do as regards our own bodies.
Well he remembered her marvellous appearance last year at Covent Garden in the part of Brunnhilde. He had gone to town for a rejuvenating visit to his dentist, and the tarsomeness of being betwixt and between had been quite forgotten by him when he saw her awake to Siegfried's line on the mountain-top.
. . . On Saturday I went with Sir William and Lady Molesworth to their box in the new Covent Garden opera, which has been opened for the first time this week. There I saw Grisi and Alboni and Tamburini in the "Semiramide." It was a new world of delight to me. Grisi, so statuesque and so graceful, delights the eye, the ear, and the soul.
It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!" We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market.
Then suddenly came from the audience the sound! It was less full, less strong, less intense than it had been at Covent Garden on the night of the first performance of Le Paradis Terrestre. But essentially it was the same sound. Charmian heard it and her lips grew pale.
Presently, however, we saw one, laid for four, at which only one man was sitting. "Hullo!" said Julian, "there's Malim. Let's go and see if we can push into his table. Well, Malim, how are you? Do you know Cloyster?" Mr. Malim had a lofty expression. I should have put him down as a scholarly recluse. His first words upset this view somewhat. "Coming to Covent Garden?" he said, genially. "I am.
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