The good constables, having seen it as they saw it the night before, left the house as quietly as mice, still on tiptoe.

Harry described this performance to me himself.

Jervis had the whole country scoured for him, but unless he had scoured it himself, there was little chance of any one else finding the culprit.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE KNEBWORTH THEATRICAL ENTERTAINMENTS—­SIR EDWARD BULWER—­LYTTON—­CHARLES DICKENS, CHARLES MATHEWS, MACREADY, DOUGLAS JERROLD, AND MANY OTHERS.

Among my pleasantest reminiscences were the partly amateur and partly professional entertainments that took place at the celebrated seat of the distinguished author, Sir Edward Bulwer-Lytton, about the year 185-.

At that time a gentleman of position usually sought to enhance the family dignity by a seat in Parliament.  The most brilliant mediocrity even could not succeed without the patronage of the great families, while the great families were dependent upon those who had the franchise for the seats they coveted.

Forty-shilling freeholders were of some importance in those days; hence these theatrical performances at Knebworth Park, for Sir Edward wanted their suffrages without bribery or corruption.

Those who were the happy possessors of what they called the “frankise” were also distinguished enough, to be invited to the great performances at the candidate’s beautiful estate.

It was a happy thought to give a succession of dramatic entertainments, amongst which “Every Man in his Humour” was one.  Sir Edward knew his constituents and their tastes; it would be better than oratory at some village inn to ask them to the stately hall of Knebworth, and give them one of our fine old English plays.

I have already said that I had made up my mind in my earliest days to go to the Bar or on the Stage, and that love for the histrionic art (sometimes called the footlights) never left me.

For some reason or other I was invited to join the illustrious company which assembled on those eventful evenings, although I was cast for a very humble part in the performance.  Nor is there much to wonder at when I tell you who my colleagues were.

First comes that most distinguished comedian of his day, Charles Mathews.  I had known him for many a year, and liked him the better, if that was possible, the longer I knew him.

Mathews was the leader of the company; next was another illustrious man whose name will live for ever, and who was not only one of the greatest authors of his time, but also the most distinguished of the non-professional actors.  Had he been on the stage, Mathews himself could not have surpassed him.  This was Charles Dickens.

After him comes a great friend of Sir Edward, John Foster, a barrister of Lincoln’s Inn, and author of the “Life of Goldsmith,” as well as editor of the Examiner newspaper.