Death at the Beggar's Opera Read Online Free PDF Page A

his best profile to the audience as he brokenly sang the words of his farewell to the world.
    For no reason John, who considered Jasper a conceited popinjay, was intensely moved by them and felt his throat constrict. The actor had succeeded in convincing him that, arrogant poser though he might be, he really was staring death in the face and was consequently filled with grief. And this emotion persisted to haunt the Apothecary throughout the scene in which Macheath bade farewell to his friends and his two sweethearts. Then came the last of Mr Garrick’s spectacular effects. The Condemned Hold was rolled outwards and backwards and vanished, whilst wheeled forward, amidst tumultuous applause, came a wooden gallows. This consisted of a box-like shape into which had been built a staircase with a platform above it. Standing on this platform was a post with a noose attached, looking very sinister as its dark outline reared against the lights. There was an audible shudder from the audience. Macheath was to be hanged in full view, it would seem.
    In the original production the actual execution had been omitted, probably because of the difficulty of staging such a thing. The condemned highwayman had simply marched out to suffer his fate, then had reappeared triumphantly as the cry of ‘Reprieve’ had gone up. But tonight the onlookers were to get their money’s worth. Every head craned forward as Macheath cried, ‘Tell the Sheriff’s officers I am ready,’ and mounted the wooden steps, accompanied by two gaolers, Lockit, and a priest, to where the hangman awaited him on the platform above, a black mask concealing his face.
    Mr Garrick was not stinting with the crowd either. Every character in the piece, including Mrs Peachum, who had not reappeared after the first act, stood at the foot of the gallows to watch the hero die. The actors playing the Player and the Beggar entered surreptitiously from the wings, for it was on their command that the reprieve was called. Then, dramatically, there was a roll of drums from the orchestra. Jasper Harcross, in true heroic style, refused to have his eyes bandaged by the hangman and stood unflinchingly while the rope was put about his neck. Then he stepped forward as the drums continued to roll. Just for a moment the actor appeared frozen in time, or so it seemed to John, and then there was the sickening sound of splintering wood. With a sudden rush, the rope extended to its full length as Jasper Harcross crashed through the planking of the platform and dropped into the centre of the wooden box, his feet kicking wildly. In the terrified and terrible silence that followed, the Apothecary could have sworn he heard the sound of his breaking neck.
    Pandemonium broke out. Half the audience, particularly those furthest away, took this dramatic turn of events to be Mr Garrick’s ultimate and greatest theatrical effect and applauded wildly. This encouraged some in the stage boxes, who had seen what had happened distinctly and yet still could not comprehend it, to do likewise. Then, above the cheers, rose the sound of a thin high scream as the masked woman in the box opposite the Comte’s got to her feet then swooned, her limp body falling to the floor like a broken toy.
    Almost without knowing what he was doing, John rose from his chair and vaulted over the loge’s parapet onto the stage. Rushing to the wooden contraption inside which Jasper Harcross was hanging, his head and shoulders still visible, swaying slackly from side to side, the Apothecary shouted, ‘Lower him down! For God’s sake lower him down! There might still be a chance.’ Then looking up at the high stage box from which a white-faced David Garrick was staring downwards in horror, John added, ‘You must order the curtains closed, Sir. This event is not for public display.’
    Another voice cut in, that of the actor playing the hangman. He had whipped off his mask, beneath which the poor fellow had blanched the colour of chalk.