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________________________________________________________________________________________ The Life of an Actor An Autobiography by H. F. Lloyd, Comedian Late of the Theatre Royal Edinburgh and Glasgow
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CHAPTER ONE INTRODUCTORY AND RETROSPECTIVE
Many persons have been under the impression that I sprang from a theatrical stock. Such however is not the case. Neither my father, mother, nor any of their relatives were ever behind the scenes of a theatre, or ever saw me on the stage. My father was born in Wales; and from some family misunderstanding, ran away from a home of the independence when a mere las. (Sic) Finding his way to London, he there got into business, and there settled down until retiring for good and all to Chertsy. He was the only one either on his own or my Mother's side who had gone into trade. His relatives went into the Army and the Church, and those of my Mother into the Navy. My maternal Grandfather was Captain Gill, whose son became Admiral Thomas Gill, Moreover, three of my uncles were captains in the Navy, one of them, Captain Jeffrey, being the author of the work on Van Diemen's Land, and the discoverer of several islands in that part of the world, some of which he named after the family. My brother George has large properties in Geelong and Hobart Town, and is the Author of "Thirty Years In Tasmania." I have five brothers, all-lucky fellows-independent, except the youngest, a dentist in Calcutta, and two sisters, one married to the son of Dr. Slade, a celebrated London Physician, and the other widow of a Lieutenant Fernel, who was killed in the Indian Mutiny.
Left - Horatio Lloyd from an article in The Bailie, 1876, - Courtesy James Francis. I may add that whatever is stated in the following
chapters can be depended upon as within my knowledge-excepting, of course,
incidents taking place before my time, and which were related to me
by others. And now, good friends, in setting the work, such as it is,
before you, let me commend it-my little offering-my first-to your kindly
care and indulgence. I send it forth to the world a stranger, unknown
and dependent for support on its own unpretending merits. Be charitable
then; take it in, and grant it an occasional smile by way of encouragement.
Should it ever unhappily, on better acquaintance, be deemed unworthy
of your support, be lenient with it, for my sake; and I, as a parent,
promise it shall never do so any more.
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MY BIRTH AND EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. "Good luck! What have we here? Mercy on's, a barne; a very pretty barne! A boy child, I wonder?" - The Winters Tale. "Horatio - or I do forget myself" - Hamlet. I CANNOT begin at an earlier period than that
denoted by the title of this chapter; and moreover, as I cannot from
recollection give an accurate narrative of the stirring events which
occurred on the day that I was born, and for some time thereafter, pray
accept from hearsay what I believe to be true. The date of my introduction
into this piping world was a great day for London; it was a general
holiday. Bow bells were ringing a merry peal- drums roiling- trumpets
blowing- all was bustle and excitement; so I was told. Left - Site of 71 The Strand in 2003 (Note that in several articles on this site Horatio's birth is stated variously as 1805, 1808, 1809 and 1815. The correct date is the 9th of November 1807. I have details of his Christening at St. Sepulchre, Newgate, London on the 25th December 1807 with his brother George Thomas Lloyd which states his date of birth as 1807.) I was a most decide hit. My aunt Mary exclaimed. "He's the most intelligent infant I ever beheld:" nurse declared I was "a duck of a baby, a regular model:" and pa, who had stood gazing on his bright production in silent wonder, mingled with approbation, proudly observed that I "Could not be otherwise than a perfect specimen with such a man for a father." My poor Mother looked lovingly on me as I lay " mewling and puking in the nurse's arms, and predicted that I should be Lord Mayor of London some day or other. She couldn't account for it, but there was something or other that seemed to tell her so." I never have been yet, however, although I have been very near to one on several occasions. Mother said also that I appeared as much elated as the joyous events of the day, as themselves, or the public, for I, "actually laughed" when I was born. Nurse said I "only smiled" but mother persisted in it's being a bona-fide laugh; and, as it is considered imprudent to contradict ladies at such times, nurse artfully agreed. "Now , when she com'd to think on't," she said, "for sartin sure it wor a larf; cos as how what brought it home more partiklar to her mind was that at that very moment I did it I nearly slipped through her fingers as she wor a liftin' me out of a pan of warm water. It wor a laugh, sure enough- in fact, a reg'lar roar." My Father quietly suggested that the latter was probably the correct word, as he had a notion that the water in the pan was nearly boiling hot at the time. When the time came that I should have a Christian name formally bestowed upon me, I narrowly escaped being called Ezekeil. My Godfather had actually forwarded that name to the clergyman, when my mother interfered at the very last moment, and so the child was christened as Horatio Frederick. |
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"BARTLEMY FAIR" AND ITS EFFECTS. I cannot now say with certainty what was the
first time that I was taken to a place of amusement; but as the Yankees
say, I rather guess a visit to Bartholomew Fair-called by the Cockneys
"Bartlemy Fair"- is responsible for laying the foundations
of my juvenile transgressions. This once famous gathering, as old stagers
will remember, was held in Old Smithfield Market ground in the month
of September, If I don't mistake. It lasted for over three days, and
it's opening was a very big affair indeed. At twelve O'clock noon, the
Mayor and the Sheriffs in their State carriages and court robes, with
the trumpeters and other officials, came on the scene and drove slowly
round the ground. Having made the circuit a herald proclaimed the Fair
to be opened: after which his Lordship and the Sheriff entered one or
two of the better class of shows, and witnessed a portion of the entertainments.
Upon the retiral of the authorities, the business of amusement commenced
in earnest amid the uproar of drums, trumpets, gongs, bells, and every
conceivable form of instrument calculated to make the most noise and
attract most customers to the various shows. To this greatest gathering
of its kind, then I was taken, for the first time, by my paternal parent
at an early age. I was simply thunderstruck. We first visited the famous
Richardson's show, an immense theatrical booth, with a company of, I
should think, not fewer than 40 in all, men and women, who made an immense
display in costume outside on the "parade." There we saw a
tragedy and a pantomime, with a comic song between, the whole performances
being got over in about half an hour. The name of the tragedy is lost
to me, all I remember being that, at the end, a bad man went below in
red fire, while the ghost of a lady stood behind watching his decent.
But the pantomime! O, the pantomime!
- I was in ecstasies. The clown especially-never shall I forget the
early impression made on me by that clown. We then visited Wombell's,
and saw the man put his head into the lion's mouth; and next we patronised
Adam's Circus, where to my inexpressible delight, there was another
clown. I cared for nothing else; and as we walked homeward from the
Fair, I mentally determined that some day I would be a clown myself.
On our arrival at home I hastened to tell my mother, and to her astonishment,
entered the room turning head over heals at the same time crying- "Here
we are!" I then told her all that I could remember of the grand
sights I had that day seen, a recital which lasted until my bed-time.
On turning in I fell into a restless sleep, for I was riding horses,
dancing on tight-ropes, and playing clowns all through it. On awakening
in the morning, I commenced by tumbling A La Clown on the bed, and,
after dressing, endeavoring to balance myself on my head in the corner.
In short, I began the day standing on my head and finished the day by
nearly breaking it- as you shall hear. Feeling convinced that the tight-rope
walking feat could easily be accomplished, I determined to have a trial
at it. To this end, I procured a clothes' line, one end of which I secured
to the Kitchen table. Then taking a kitchen chair to a distance, I tied
the other end of the line around the top rail, pulled it straight, and
whitened it, as I had seen the clown do with a piece of chalk at the
Circus. Then I bethought me of that most important requisite, the balancing-pole.
I have, said I, and pulled out the handle of a long broom. All being
prepared I got the two maid-servants to sit at the other end of the
kitchen as the audience, and witness the performance. I then took off
my jacket, mounted the table, took the pole in hands, amid generous
applause of the "audience," and put my foot on the rope. The
immediate result was that down it went, and |
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SCHOOL DAYS AT "DOTHEBOYS' HALL." "And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchell At about the age of six years I was first sent to a day-school, composed of small girls and boys, and kept by a rheumatic old lady, who was always half asleep or half tipsy. She would call us to her table to go over the A, B, C, but before getting through with the lesson she would be snoring. This was a signal for all to slink quietly away from her, and commence a game of "Blind man's buff" or Honeypots." The noise we made over the game would wake her up suddenly, when she would scream out at the top of her voice- "You imps of Satan, get home-get home! I shall teach no more till the day after to-morrow-I'm going to have two days' rheumatiz. 'Matilda! (to her slavey) two-pennorth of Jackey (gin).'" One week completed my educational career at "Miss Smith's establishment for young ladies and Gentlemen," which I left well grounded in the English alphabet-that is to say, up to the seventh letter thereof. After this I was sent to a first-class "preparatory academy," on leaving which I was placed in Mr Pike's boarding school at Edmonton. On going home from here for the midsummer holidays, I had a serious illness (pleurisy), the only one, I am happy to say, I ever had in my lifetime. I was just then between nine and ten years old, and grew so tall of my age and so weak, that, on my recovering from the illness, I was obliged for some time to be led about by a person on each side supporting me. I continued growing until I was fifteen, when I had attained the enormous height of 5 feet 4 inches, at which I have stuck ever since.
'Dickens
may have been unjust to Dotheboys Hall' |
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EXPERIENCES WITH "MR SQUEERS." But what I consider the most interesting period of my school days has now to be referred to. It was the twelve months or thereabouts, which, after leaving Pike's, I spent at Bowes academy, by Greta Bridge, Durham, immortalised in "Nicholas Nickleby" as "Dotheboys' Hall," Yorkshire, and the headmaster of which was a most worthy and kind-hearted, if somewhat peculiar, gentleman named William Shaw, whom Dickens, to suit his own purposes, chose to pillory as Mr Squeers. I can see him now as plainly as I did then, and can testify to the truth of the outward presentment of the man as described by Dickens, and depicted by his artist in the pages of the novel-allowing, of course, for both being greatly exaggerated. A sharp, thin, upright little man, with a slight scale covering the pupil of one of the eyes. Yes. There he stands with his Wellington boots and short black trousers, not originally cut too short, but from a habit he had of sitting with one knee over the other, and the trousers being tight, they would get "ruck'd" half way up the boots. Then the clean white vest, swallow tailed black coat,white neck tie, silver-mounted spectacles, close cut iron-grey hair, high crowned hat worn slightly at the back of his head-and there you have the man. But what was the school itself like? And how about the poor Smikes?-it may be asked. Well I can answer as to that, and maintain the truth of every word I write. It was a fine large establishment, with every accommodation required. It was in a lovely situation, surrounded by a beautiful garden, the beck running past at the foot of the hill, and the romantic ruin of Bowes Castle within a hundred yards of the house, just outside the garden wall. The interior of the house was kept scrupulously clean, twelve female servants at least being employed. The food was excellent, and as much as you could eat: the boys well clad-shoemakers and tailors on the premises-for be it known that the boys were clothed as well as boarded and educated, and all, if my memory be correct, for some £20 a year. No such thing as a Smike was to be seen here, and there was less punishment for inattention than in any other school I ever attended. "Save in the way of kindness," I never, except once, knew Mr Shaw to lift his hand to a boy the whole time I was there. He would walk around the school room, look over us while writing, and here and there pat a boy on the head, saying "good boy-good boy; you'll be a great man some day, if you pay attention to your lessons." If a lad was ill, he would sit by his bed-side and play the flute-on which he was an adept-for an hour or two together to amuse him. And this was the man whom Dickens transformed into the illiterate tyrannical, brutal pedagogue Squeers! |
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I remember, however, another school, of the type described by Dickens. There, indeed, you might have found many a Smike. Boys in rags, half starved, and otherwise cruelly used, and taught scarcely anything, except haymaking, carting manure, and kindred departments of industry. They were continually running away and almost as regularly caught, brought back, and frightfully punished. Schools like this there were in Yorkshire which deserved all the exposure they got. But, as it so happened that none of them at the time had a headmaster sufficiently outre or striking in appearance to make a good character of, poor William Shaw, who had the misfortune to be peculiar both in person and manners, was transferred from the headship of his own happy establishment and made the Squeers of "Dotheboys Hall," Yorkshire. It broke his heart. A few years ago, when at Barnard castle, my son Arthur and I walked over to Bowes to see the old place. As we passed the church-yard-in the middle of which stood the old ruin-close to the gate, the first thing that caught my eye was a tombstone on which was graven, "Sacred to the memory of William Shaw, &c." His daughter, a very pretty and ladylike girl, married a wealthy farmer, and, at the time we saw it, had the house as a private residence. The old school room at the back, however, she allowed to go to ruin. |
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I am aware that it is an old story now, but I
trust the reader will excuse me devoting the remainder of this chapter
to a few facts bearing on the acquaintanceship of Charles Dickens with
the man who he held up to public contempt and indignation as Squeers.
Some years ago I received from an old school-fellow at Bowes, settled
in London, a letter in which, after recalling many pranks of our school
days, he goes on to say:- Understand I have no recollection of this, as it was long after my
correspondent that I went to Shaw's, and I left before him. I remember
the private theatricals well, but whether Dickens was there in my time,
or was there at all, I cannot say. I remember the boy well from the
description, but not his name. Oddly enough, the writer of the letter
above quoted was the very boy I have referred to as being the one exception
who was chastised by Mr Shaw in my presence. A few years ago, when passing
through Barnard Castle (which is just three miles from Bowes), I myself
heard that Dickens had resided there for some time. The same barber
that shaved me had attended him often. But furthur. In the year 1871 my son Arthur, myself, and one or two others, made a short professional tour in England. Amongst the towns we visited was Sunderland. We put up there at the Palatine Hotel, then kept by a Mr Thompson, and remained for a week. At night, after our entertainment was over, we used to sit in the bar parlour, and there one evening we met an old lady of the name of Ewebank, an aunt of Mrs Thompson. In the course of conversation she informed me that she came from Barnard Castle. I felt rather interested at this, and asked her if she had known a Mr Shaw of Bowes. "Intimately," she replied, "for years." I then inquired if she had ever seen Dickens, the author of "Nicholas Nickleby." "See him," she answered, "why, he lived with us at Barnard Castle for months; my husband kept the King's Head, where he stayed." This was the very little inn that, as I have mentioned, was pointed out to me by the barber, and so I got more anxious to hear all I could from the old lady. Accordingly, I next asked- "Did you know John Browdie?" "Quite well," she said; "his real name was John F---, of Broadiswood, a farmer, and he married a Miss Dent, a cousin of Miss Shaws." In continuing, Mrs Ewebank told me that Dickens walked two or three times a week to Bowes to see Mr Shaw, and often spent the day there; That he was always writing, and was supposed by them to be a commercial traveler. On her asking him once if he had known Mr Shaw long, he replied, "Since I was a boy; but I haven't seen him for some time until lately. I lived in the neighborhood then." After he left the King's Head she never saw or heard of him again; but, when the novel came out, they all said-"that must be the man who was always here, and was so often at Mr Shaw's." |
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In
accordance with the oft- repeated requests of many friends that I should
put into print some recollections of my long career as an actor, I venture
with some misgivings, I confess-to come before the public in a (to me)
entirely new character, namely that of an "author". Before
entering upon my professional experiences, however it may not be out
of place that I should say a word or two about the 
Can
you imagine why such an honour was done me? No? Then I will tell you.
Two great events were taking place at the same time; the first being
no less than the birth of a son and heir to the house of 
me
along with it, whilst the chair, being pulled forward with great force,
struck me heavily on the forhead, cutting it. There I lay, stunned and
bleeding, for some time quite unconscious; and, on recovering my senses,
found my mother and the servants bathing my head. The scar caused by
this occurence remains visible to this day; so you see that on early
impression has left a lasting one. My juvenile mania for acting grew
more furious as I grew older,its development being favored by the fact
that my father having so many "orders" given him for the 
