"There was a young lady of Russia,Who screamed so, that no one could hush her."
"There was a young lady of Russia,Who screamed so, that no one could hush her."
"There was a young lady of Russia,Who screamed so, that no one could hush her."
"There was a young lady of Russia,
Who screamed so, that no one could hush her."
As it was, it made many people laugh; but on the critics, who could "read between the lines," it left its impression, and gave hope of wondrous things to come. Happily, most of them lived to see them come.It was all a question of training. According to Ellen Terry's own account, Madame Albina de Rhona must have been a very difficult lady to work under, and yet her warm heart prompts her to speak to-day in affectionate terms of her second manageress. In the case of this gifted child the quality of mercy was never strained. Her tasks had to be endured, but she schooled herself to enjoy them, and she tried to love those with whom she worked.
THE BRISTOL STOCK COMPANY
The engagement at the Royalty was only a stopgap, and at its termination the wise Mr. Ben Terry took his daughter "to school," in one of the famous stock companies that then most happily existed in all the large provincial towns. They were indeed "schools"—schools of a very practical order—and in them most of the leading actors of our generation graduated.
Now that they have vanished, the great question among the would-be actors and actresses of to-day (or I should say among those who are in earnest) is "where can we find a true dramatic school?" Alas! too many of them abjure school, and, with the awkwardness (though very little of the timidity) of half-fledged birds, flutter blindly on to the stage, and blunder under the unwonted glare of footlights, to the bewilderment of the theatricalhabituésand the despair of critics, but apparently to the great satisfaction of themselves and their foolishly admiring friends.
I am inclined to think that theatre-lovers who never lived in a large town in the good old stock company days missed one of the joys of life. Theactors and actresses in those companies (I speak from personal experience) were our pride and our delight. Their names were familiar in our mouths and homes as household words. Eagerly we scanned the ever-changing play-bills to see what this or that favourite would do next; anxiously we turned to the newspaper to see if the privileged critic did full justice to them. They were, both on and off the stage, our local heroes, heroines, soul-inspirers, and mirth-provokers. They were familiar figures in our streets, and we loved to meet them. When, according to the custom of those days, the "stars" from London came down to be supported by the stock company, we were so loyal to the friends who delighted us all the year round that we pretended to think little or nothing of the stars. When, in due course, some of them moved on to London, we watched their careers with the deepest interest. In short, between the players and their patrons there existed a personal affection. If they did not know each other "off the stage," the magnetic touch was there, and it meant everything to those on both sides of the curtain. The result was painstaking and sound (if not always great) acting, and well-judged applause from fond and encouraging audiences. Under such conditions, actors who already had their hearts in their vocation, did not care how hard they worked, and constant experience, coupled with true endeavour, perfected them in their art.
But itwashard work! Edward Compton has told me that at the shortest notice he was called upon to study and play within one week important parts in "The Octoroon," "The Old Toll House," "Thirty Years of a Gambler's Life," and "Raby Rattler," and I believe Sir Henry Irving could record even harder experiences.
But the firing of the clay brought out the colours on the porcelain, and the colours lasted. At the time when Ellen Terry was taken to one of these important schools, there was no better stock company in England than that brought together by Mr. J. H. Chute, the enterprising and far-seeing manager of the Theatre Royal, Bristol. Mr. Chute seemed to have a knack of gathering about him most of the promising young artists of the day, and certainly those who learnt their lessons under the roof of his academy did justice to his name.
It is tantalising to think of a West of England stock company (Mr. Chute at that time was responsible for the Bath as well as the Bristol theatre) that, within a very short period, could boast of such a constellation of names as Madge Robertson (Mrs. Kendal), Marie Wilton (Lady Bancroft), Henrietta Hodson (Mrs. Labouchere), Kate Bishop, Kate and Ellen Terry, George Melville, Arthur Stirling, George and William Rignold, W. H. Vernon, David James, Charles Coghlan, Arthur Wood, John Rouse, and J. F. Cathcart.
No wonder that in such a school, and with such schoolmates, Ellen Terry learnt very useful lessons. There was an abundance of work. One-act farces and genuine burlesques were then in vogue, and these, with tragedy or comedy, formed the day's rehearsal and the evening's bill. Every one took part in them, and both for brains and body it was sharp and onerous work. But they were enthusiasts; they were aware of their local popularity; they were ready to tackle anything that came in their way, and so their names were made.
For example, Ellen Terry was cast for a part in a burlesque. She told the stage manager that she could neither sing nor dance. The reply was laconic and decisive: "You've got to do it!" "And I did, in a way," she says; "but it was the best thing that could happen to me, for it took the self-consciousness out of me—and, after a while, I thought it was capital fun, for the Bath and Bristol people were very kind."
But it was not all burlesque. Relief to clever William Brough's "Endymion"—"Perseus and Andromeda; or the Maid and the Monster," and so forth, was found in serious drama, and sometimes in Shakespeare. Kate Terry had preceded her younger sister to Bristol, and speedily established herself as a favourite. Her Portia and Beatrice were already popular performances, and renewed zest was added to them when "Pretty Miss Ellen" was at hand to play Nerissa and Hero.
During this useful engagement Ellen Terry formed an intense admiration for some of her co-mates. She fell in love with the beautiful singing voice of Madge Robertson (it was an open question then whether our Mrs. Kendal of to-day would devote herself to opera or drama), and she is especially warm in her praises of the finished acting of Charles Coghlan. How some of these budding artists crossed each other's paths in later and famous days we shall see in the course of these pages.
From an old friend, who in the days of his youth aspired to be an actor, but, after a short trial, quitted the stage to make his name as journalist and author, I have received the following interesting notes:—
"You ask me, my dear Pemberton," he writes, "to give you my recollections of Ellen Terry in those now, alas! far-off days of my youth, when I was for a brief time connected in a very humble capacity with the Theatre Royal, Bristol. It was in the early sixties (1862, I think) that Ellen and her elder sister, Kate (now Mrs. Arthur Lewis), were engaged by the late James Henry Chute as members of his stock company, Kate playing the juvenile lead and the principal ladies in the classical burlesques, which were then the vogue and quite as attractive as the legitimate drama. The company also included Miss Henrietta Hodson (now Mrs. Labouchere), soubrette and principal boy, the late Charles Coghlan, light comedian, William and George Rignold, John Rouse, Mr. and Mrs. Robertson,and their daughter Madge, the latter only in her early 'teens, and Arthur Wood, 'first low comedian.'
"Ellen Terry was then a girl of about fourteen, of tall figure, with a round, dimpled, laughing, mischievous face, a pair of merry, saucy grey eyes, and an aureole of golden hair, which she wore, in the words of a modern ditty, 'hanging down her back.' Although dwarfed, in a measure, as an actress, by the more experienced skill and the superiorrôlesof her fascinating sister, Ellen soon became a great favourite in Bristol. Her popularity was largely due to her performances in two of the Brough brothers' burlesques—'Endymion' and 'Perseus and Andromeda.' In the former Miss Hodson played Endymion, Kate Terry was Diana, and Ellen, Cupid, and a very arch, piquant sprite, full of movement and laughter, Miss Ellen was.
"She wore a loose short-skirted sort of tunic with a pair of miniature wings, and of course carried the conventional bow and quiver. Some of the more prudish of the Bristol theatre-goers—the same people who had been wont to roar over the vulgar comicalities of Johnny Rouse—were half inclined to be shocked at a scantiness of attire that even Mr. Chute himself was disposed to think (i.e.for the modest early sixties: to-day a Cupidwith a'skirtedtunic' would be considered sadly over-dressed) a 'little daring.'
"But Ellen Terry's charm, her delightful graceand innate refinement, quite disarmed the prudes, and Cupid triumphed in front of the curtain as well as behind it, and lightly shot his darts in all directions. Miss Hodson was at that time a deservedly great favourite, but the Terry sisters unconsciously became the founders of a new cult among local playgoers, and set up an empire of their own; in fact, I am hardly exaggerating if I say that there were among the gilded youth of Bristol two rival factions—the Hodson faction and the Terry faction, whose friendly antagonism was as keen, if not as fatal, as that of the Montagues and the Capulets.
"If my memory serves me right, Ellen was the Dictys of the other burlesque, Miss Hodson and Miss Kate Terry playing the tworôlesof the title. In one of these pieces Arthur Wood had to speak a line in which occurs the phrase, "such a mystery here." He made much nightly capital—for these burlesques had long runs considering they were played by a stock company in a provincial theatre—by emphasising the syllables of 'mystery,' so as to make the sentence sound 'such a Miss Terry here.'
"I was only a general utility actor in that company, and I had to play one of the crowd in 'Perseus and Andromeda,' whose duty it was to be suddenly turned to stone, after the fashion of Lot's wife—only with a more studied artistic pose—at the sight of Medusa's head. In order to givevraisemblanceto the illusion, we of the populace were costumed in aparti-coloured fashion, one half white, the other half of some strong colour, and our faces were made up on one side only with a sort of whitewash. When, at the given signal, we turned round our white sides with the precision of soldiers at drill to the full stream of the limelight, striking simultaneously more or less statuesque attitudes, the situation was, for those days, effective, and nightly brought down the house and evoked a call for the manager. I recollect that before the production, in order to ascertain the effect of the whitewash, one or two of us, true to our profession of 'general utility,' had to put it on at a midnight rehearsal, after we had resumed our ordinary dress. Many years have elapsed since the incident, yet I can still hear the peals of musical laughter with which Ellen Terry greeted our intensely comical appearance, and I can still see the mischief and good-natured ridicule sparkling in her merry eyes.
"If I had to describe her acting in those days, I should say its chief characteristic was a vivacious sauciness. Her voice already had some of the rich sympathetic quality which has since been one of her most distinctive charms. Although only in the first flush of a joyous girlhood, she was yet familiar enough with the stage to be absolutely at home on it, and in such complete touch with her audiences that she could afford to discard the serious spirit altogether, even when the situation demanded a lessfrivolous mood. That she made these little subordinate parts in the burlesques not only dominate the stage at the time, but also caused them to live in the memory all these years, is evidence enough of the compelling force and infection of her irrepressible mirthfulness. At rehearsals, even more than when acting, she was brimful of merriment, taking nothing gravely;—a gay, mercurial child, flitting about hither and thither with ever the same exuberantinsouciance, the same defiant spirit of laughter, as if life and all its possibilities of tangle and tragedy had only a holiday meeting for her. As I look back on those bright and too brief 'salad' days, it seems to me that Ellen Terry might have been regarded as the epitome of that 'golden age' in which people 'fleeted the time carelessly.'
"Mrs. Terry always accompanied her daughters to and from the theatre every night, and watched them from the wings during the whole time they were on the stage. They lodged during the season in Queen Square, then the recognised quarter for theatrical folks. The theatre itself was situated in King Street; I believe it still exists, but its glory, like that of Ichabod, has long since departed. A theatre in Park Row has superseded the famous old house where so many great actors and actresses were trained; and the whole neighbourhood round that building, once throbbing with artistic interest, has become sordid and neglected, and redolent ofship chandlery. But in the old times, outside the little narrow stage-door, crowds of dazzled Lotharios and stage-struck worshippers used to throng to see the 'Terrys' go home after the performance. Mrs. Terry played her part of duenna with uncommon vigilance, and it was little more than a snap-shot vision of three hurrying and well-wrapped up figures that rewarded the admirers for their patience.
"I recollect one poor lad who was an assistant in a large drapery establishment in Wine Street, Bristol. He was infatuated with the beautiful Kate Terry, though he had never spoken to her, and probably he never even saw her off the stage. But he left bouquets and other gifts addressed to her at the stage-door, and as there was nothing to indicate who the donor was, or where he lived, she could not send them back. Sometime after this young fellow was arrested for embezzlement. He had taken his employer's money, partly in order to gratify a passion for the theatre, and partly to enable him to buy presents for the divinity whom he worshipped from afar. It was a painful little drama of real life; and I know that no one was more distressed than Miss Terry herself when she read the account of the magisterial proceedings in the paper.
"I could tell you a lot about the 'Old Duke' tavern, the famous theatrical rendezvous of those days; but the 'Terrys,' of course, did not come on in that convivial scene. I am reminded, however, thatone of its regularhabituéswas Charley Adams, the theatre prompter, about whom many diverting stories might be told. Whenever there was a stage wait or anything went wrong, Charley lost his head entirely, and rushed about with 'language' on his lips and tears streaming down his cheeks. On one occasion the stage was kept waiting for George Rignold, the audience began to be impatient, and Charley was distracted. Ellen Terry happened to be standing in the prompt wing, and, rendered desperate by the growing delay, Charley, with forcible if florid eloquence, expressed in the true Bristol vernacular, pushed her on to the stage. 'Go on! go on!' he screamed, making the objective of his imperative mood fairly totter with adjectives. Miss Terry was, however, by no means embarrassed. She quietly took in the situation: her always welcome presence elicited a hearty cheer, and by the time she had crossed the stage and disappeared on the O.P. side, the missing actor had turned up and proceeded to 'smooth out the creases.'
"Poor old Charley was often a butt for Ellen Terry's pleasant banter. He was a rather illiterate man, and made mistakes of speech which were an irresistible theme of ridicule with this mirthful maiden. How she laughed when he spoke of the 'Jorgon's' head, and called the statues 'statties,' and performed other amazing feats of verbal metamorphosis.
"Charley was always at his best in the 'OldDuke' smoking-room with his long clay pipe, after his sixth 'small jug' of eleemosynary beer. Then he was confidential, impressive, sententious, and 'dear boy'd' every one with a friendship which was none the less sincere because its fount was somewhatalcoholic. It is many a year since the earth closed over thee, thou poor, excitable, and sometimes self-indulgent disciple of Thespis, but none who knew thee can ever have any but kindly memories of thy simple undisguised obsequiousness to the 'star,' and thy majestically patronising mien to the super.
"I have used the name Ellen Terry throughout the above notes, but at that time she was always and to every one, 'Nelly.' She was announced as 'Miss Nelly Terry' in the play-bills, and I have an old friendly letter from her, written only a few months after she left Bristol, in which she signs herself 'Nelly.' The handwriting is angular and 'school-missish,' with no indication of the soundness and flexible strength which have since become its characteristics.
"Perhaps I have laid too much stress on the two burlesque parts which have the deepest roots in my memory. 'Miss Nelly' played other parts; she was the 'walking lady' of the company, and I have (rather hazy) recollections of her in a crinolined dress in that fine old melodrama 'The Angel of Midnight; or, The Duel in the Snow'; as a fashionable dame in the glittering but immoral coterie which forms the personalbackground in 'The Marble Heart'; and as theingenuein a once popular comedietta entitled 'The Little Treasure.'
"To say that she then showed unmistakable promise of the pre-eminent position to which she has since attained in English dramatic art would be to exhibit that 'after-the-event' wisdom which is so common a feature of modern prophecy. I will only say that we, the young fellows of that day, thought she was perfection; we toasted her in our necessarily frugal measures; we would gladly have been her hewers of wood and drawers of water. She had personal charm as well as histrionic skill. Her smiles were very sweet, but, alack for all of us, they were mathematically impartial."
These jottings are not only interesting as regards the early career of Kate and Ellen Terry, but they prove my views as to the affection in which the famous old stock companies were held by their devoted provincial patrons. In these days of ephemeral touring troupes such a condition of things is impossible, and really earnest students of the drama starve for lack of nourishment.
On April 2, 1862, the old Bath Theatre of many glorious memories was destroyed by fire; but James Henry Chute was not the man to be dismayed by disaster. Within a year it was rebuilt, and on March 4, 1863, was again ready for its faithful audiences.
As the opening programme is now historic, it is well to reproduce it here:—
NEW THEATRE ROYAL, BATH.First Night.Lessee and Manager,James Henry Chute.Prices—The following scale of prices has been adopted for the opening night—Dress Circle, 5/-; Upper Circle, 3/-; Pit and Amphitheatre (entrance in Beaufort Square), 2/-; Gallery (entrance in St. John's Place), 1/-. No second price.Prices of Admission after the first nightwill be as follows—Dress Circle, 4/-; second price, 2/6. Upper Boxes, 2/-; second price, 1/6. Pit, 1/6; second price, 1/-. Amphitheatre (entrance in St. John's Place), 1/-. Gallery, 6d. Private Boxes, 20/-, 25/-, 30/-.Box Office—The Box Office, under the direction of Mr. Gifford, for a few days will be at Mr H. N. King's Photographic Establishment, 42 Milsom Street, the proprietor having kindly placed his view-room at the service of the manager.Leader of the BandMr T. H. SalmonStage ManagerMr MarshallScenic ArtistMr G. GordonDramatic Prologue—Written expressly for the occasion byG. F. Powell, Esq.The Spirit of the Pastby Miss Henrietta HodsonThe Spirit of the Futureby Miss Ellen Terry (her first appearance here)The Spirit of the Hour (Lord Dundreary)by Mr W. RignoldThe Spirit of the Times (Sensation)by Mr A. WoodThe Spirit of Fashionby Miss Desborough (first appearance here)Fortuneby Miss Elizabeth BurtonComedyby Mr Charles Coghlan (his first appearance)Tragedyby Mr George Yates (his first appearance)Mr Chute (Lessee and Manager)by Himself."God save the Queen."Verse and Chorus by the Company.
NEW THEATRE ROYAL, BATH.
First Night.
Lessee and Manager,James Henry Chute.
Prices—The following scale of prices has been adopted for the opening night—Dress Circle, 5/-; Upper Circle, 3/-; Pit and Amphitheatre (entrance in Beaufort Square), 2/-; Gallery (entrance in St. John's Place), 1/-. No second price.Prices of Admission after the first nightwill be as follows—Dress Circle, 4/-; second price, 2/6. Upper Boxes, 2/-; second price, 1/6. Pit, 1/6; second price, 1/-. Amphitheatre (entrance in St. John's Place), 1/-. Gallery, 6d. Private Boxes, 20/-, 25/-, 30/-.Box Office—The Box Office, under the direction of Mr. Gifford, for a few days will be at Mr H. N. King's Photographic Establishment, 42 Milsom Street, the proprietor having kindly placed his view-room at the service of the manager.Leader of the BandMr T. H. SalmonStage ManagerMr MarshallScenic ArtistMr G. Gordon
Prices—The following scale of prices has been adopted for the opening night—Dress Circle, 5/-; Upper Circle, 3/-; Pit and Amphitheatre (entrance in Beaufort Square), 2/-; Gallery (entrance in St. John's Place), 1/-. No second price.
Prices of Admission after the first nightwill be as follows—Dress Circle, 4/-; second price, 2/6. Upper Boxes, 2/-; second price, 1/6. Pit, 1/6; second price, 1/-. Amphitheatre (entrance in St. John's Place), 1/-. Gallery, 6d. Private Boxes, 20/-, 25/-, 30/-.
Box Office—The Box Office, under the direction of Mr. Gifford, for a few days will be at Mr H. N. King's Photographic Establishment, 42 Milsom Street, the proprietor having kindly placed his view-room at the service of the manager.
Leader of the BandMr T. H. SalmonStage ManagerMr MarshallScenic ArtistMr G. Gordon
Dramatic Prologue—
Written expressly for the occasion byG. F. Powell, Esq.
The Spirit of the Pastby Miss Henrietta HodsonThe Spirit of the Futureby Miss Ellen Terry (her first appearance here)The Spirit of the Hour (Lord Dundreary)by Mr W. RignoldThe Spirit of the Times (Sensation)by Mr A. WoodThe Spirit of Fashionby Miss Desborough (first appearance here)Fortuneby Miss Elizabeth BurtonComedyby Mr Charles Coghlan (his first appearance)Tragedyby Mr George Yates (his first appearance)Mr Chute (Lessee and Manager)by Himself.
"God save the Queen."
Verse and Chorus by the Company.
To be followed by Shakespeare'sMIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAMAs arranged for representation by Mr Charles Kean, and performed 150 times at the Royal Princess's Theatre. With entirely new Scenery, Costumes, Decorations, Appointments, Mechanical Appliances, and Mendelssohn's music.The Scenery by Mr W. Gordon, Mr George Gordon, Mr Geo. Philips, Mr Horne & Assistants. The Machinery by Mr Harwell. The Costumes by Miss Jarrett and Assistants. The Appointments by Mr Pritchard. The Action and Dances by Miss Powell.Music arranged by Mr J. L. Hatton & Mr Salmon.Theseus (Prince of Athens)Mr George RignoldEgeus (father to Hermia)Mr RobertsonLysander (in love with Hermia)Mr William RignoldDemetrius ( "")Mr Charles CoghlanPhilostrate (Master of Revels to Theseus)Mr BrunelQuince (the Carpenter)Mr Marshall (first appearance these two years)Snug (the Joiner)Mr Douglas GrayBottom (the Weaver)Mr A. WoodFlute (the bellows-mender)Mr H. AndrewsSnout (the Tinker)Mr MarchantStarveling (the Tailor)Mr GibsonHippolyta (Queen of the Amazons)Miss Louisa Thorne(betrothed to Theseus)(first appearance in Bath)Hermia (daughter to Egeus,Miss Elizabeth Burtonin love with Lysander)Helena (in love with Demetrius)Miss DesboroughOberon (King of the Fairies)Miss Henrietta HodsonTitania (Queen of the Fairies)Miss Ellen TerryPuck, or Robin Goodfellow (a Fairy)Master Edmund MarshallFirst Singing FairyMiss M. CruseSecond Singing FairyMiss Madge RobertsonThird Singing FairyMiss F. DouglasFairies who join in a shadow danceMiss Powell & her pupilsPeablossomMiss Ellen SeymourMothMiss E. FraillyCobwebMaster F. MarshallMustard-seedMiss I. Marshall
To be followed by Shakespeare's
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
As arranged for representation by Mr Charles Kean, and performed 150 times at the Royal Princess's Theatre. With entirely new Scenery, Costumes, Decorations, Appointments, Mechanical Appliances, and Mendelssohn's music.The Scenery by Mr W. Gordon, Mr George Gordon, Mr Geo. Philips, Mr Horne & Assistants. The Machinery by Mr Harwell. The Costumes by Miss Jarrett and Assistants. The Appointments by Mr Pritchard. The Action and Dances by Miss Powell.
As arranged for representation by Mr Charles Kean, and performed 150 times at the Royal Princess's Theatre. With entirely new Scenery, Costumes, Decorations, Appointments, Mechanical Appliances, and Mendelssohn's music.
The Scenery by Mr W. Gordon, Mr George Gordon, Mr Geo. Philips, Mr Horne & Assistants. The Machinery by Mr Harwell. The Costumes by Miss Jarrett and Assistants. The Appointments by Mr Pritchard. The Action and Dances by Miss Powell.
Music arranged by Mr J. L. Hatton & Mr Salmon.
Theseus (Prince of Athens)Mr George RignoldEgeus (father to Hermia)Mr RobertsonLysander (in love with Hermia)Mr William RignoldDemetrius ( "")Mr Charles CoghlanPhilostrate (Master of Revels to Theseus)Mr BrunelQuince (the Carpenter)Mr Marshall (first appearance these two years)Snug (the Joiner)Mr Douglas GrayBottom (the Weaver)Mr A. WoodFlute (the bellows-mender)Mr H. AndrewsSnout (the Tinker)Mr MarchantStarveling (the Tailor)Mr GibsonHippolyta (Queen of the Amazons)Miss Louisa Thorne(betrothed to Theseus)(first appearance in Bath)Hermia (daughter to Egeus,Miss Elizabeth Burtonin love with Lysander)Helena (in love with Demetrius)Miss DesboroughOberon (King of the Fairies)Miss Henrietta HodsonTitania (Queen of the Fairies)Miss Ellen TerryPuck, or Robin Goodfellow (a Fairy)Master Edmund MarshallFirst Singing FairyMiss M. CruseSecond Singing FairyMiss Madge RobertsonThird Singing FairyMiss F. DouglasFairies who join in a shadow danceMiss Powell & her pupilsPeablossomMiss Ellen SeymourMothMiss E. FraillyCobwebMaster F. MarshallMustard-seedMiss I. Marshall
Fairies—
Demoiselles Margarets, Montague, Owen, Fanny Marshall, Bullock, Vaughan, Clarke, A. Clarke, Gibson, Marchant, Holmes, Wootton, etc.Other Fairies attending their King and Queen—Misses Seymour, C. Wootten, Goodyer, Frailly, E. Frailly, C. Marchant, F. Marchant, Watts, etc.Characters in Interlude performed by the Clowns—Pyramus, by Bottom; Wall, by Snout; Thisbe, by Flute; Moonshine, by Starveling; Lion, by Snug.Attendants onTheseus & Hippolyta—Huntsman, Esquire, etc.The new Act-Drop by Messrs Grieve and Telbin.To conclude with the new and laughable Farce, by J. Wooler, Esq., called:
Demoiselles Margarets, Montague, Owen, Fanny Marshall, Bullock, Vaughan, Clarke, A. Clarke, Gibson, Marchant, Holmes, Wootton, etc.
Other Fairies attending their King and Queen—
Misses Seymour, C. Wootten, Goodyer, Frailly, E. Frailly, C. Marchant, F. Marchant, Watts, etc.
Characters in Interlude performed by the Clowns—
Pyramus, by Bottom; Wall, by Snout; Thisbe, by Flute; Moonshine, by Starveling; Lion, by Snug.
Attendants onTheseus & Hippolyta—Huntsman, Esquire, etc.
The new Act-Drop by Messrs Grieve and Telbin.
To conclude with the new and laughable Farce, by J. Wooler, Esq., called:
MARRIAGE AT ANY PRICE
Brownjohn BrownMr Marshall(Of the Laburnums)Simon GushingtonMr William RignoldTubsMr GibsonAlickMr WilsonPeter Peppercorn}Jemima Ann}Mr A. WoodCharley Bitt}Kate Gushington}Bob, Tiger}Miss Henrietta HodsonJemima, a Housemaid}Alice, Niece to BrownMiss Madge Robertson.Matilda PeppercornMiss Louisa Thorne
Speaking by the light of to-day, this was indeed a rich cast, and it is interesting to note how Madge Robertson and Ellen Terry—destined to becomethe two greatest actresses of their generation—thus played together in their "'prentice days." No doubt the "singing fairy" of the evening inspired Titania with her admiration for Mrs. Kendal's exquisite voice.
Long after their stock company days, the Terry Sisters held their well-merited and remarkable popularity in Bristol. That distinguished actor, W. H. Vernon, who, as we have seen, graduated as one of Mr. Chute's "young people," has told me how enthusiastically they were received when, with London honours thick upon them, they came to "star" in their old "school," in a piece called "A Sister's Penance," which had been a great success at the Adelphi Theatre. Vernon, who was "Miss Nelly's" lover on that occasion, was immensely struck by her merriment and high spirits at the rehearsal in the morning and (in contrast) her wonderful display of true emotion in the performance of the evening.
In connection with Ellen Terry's next appearance in London, it is curious to note that in the famous Bath programme that preceded it, William Rignold should figure as "Lord Dundreary"—the "Spirit of the Hour"; and that she should be so aptly chosen for "The Spirit of the Future."
AT THE HAYMARKET THEATRE
The compiler of the Bath programme was right when he spoke of Lord Dundreary as the "Spirit of the Hour." The phenomenal success of the late E. A. Sothern in this eccentric and most original character, at the Haymarket Theatre, had taken all London (nay, all England) by storm. At the time of which I am writing the name of Dundreary was upon the lips of every one. Men cultivated Dundreary whiskers, and affected Dundreary coats, waistcoats, and trousers; indeed, Sothern had become such a good friend to the tailors that, if he would have accepted them, he might have been furnished, without any mention of payment, with clothes sufficient for a dozen lifetimes. His dressing-room at the Haymarket was crowded with parcels sent by energetic haberdashers, who knew that if by wearing it upon the stage he would set the fashion for a certain sort of necktie, or a particular pattern of shirt-cuff or collar, their fortunes would be half made; and hatters and boot-makers followed in the haberdashers' wake. Dundreary photographs were seen everywhere. "Dundrearyisms," as theycame to be called, were the fashionablemotsof the day; and little books (generally very badly done) dealing with the imaginary doings of Dundreary under every possible condition, and in every quarter of the globe, were in their thousands sold at the street corners. Concerning Dundreary quite three parts of England went more than half mad, and not to know all about him and his deliciously quaint sayings and doings was to argue yourself unknown.
The actor who not only caused but sustained all this excitement must have achieved something far greater than the mere creation of a new type of "stage swell." Dundreary was a study for the philosopher as well as a laughing-stock for the idler, and he thus became popular with all classes of the community.
But in 1863 Sothern was growing tired oftoujoursDundreary. He was a restless as well as an ambitious actor, and he longed for a change. An Englishman by birth and training, all his great successes (including Dundreary) had been won in America, and he wished to show the Haymarket audiences what he could do in other characters. For the time being that fine old actor-manager, J. B. Buckstone, could not hear of his "Lordship" being out of the bill, so Sothern had to content himself with occasional afterpieces.
Among the characters that he fancied was that of Captain Walter Maydenblush in that pretty littleadaptation from the French, "La Joie de la Maison," entitled "The Little Treasure." It is a very effective light comedy part, but the mainstay of the piece is the "joy of the house," the sweet young girl, Gertrude. When the piece was first produced at the Haymarket this part had been played by Blanche Fane, the idol of her day, and it had also been made familiar to playgoers by the ever-fascinating Marie Wilton, now Lady Bancroft. Sothern knew very well that without an attractive Gertrude his Walter Maydenblush would go for nothing. Where was she to be found? Well, as we have seen, Ellen Terry had played the part in Bristol. Her growing fame had reached London, and she was engaged to re-create it at the Haymarket.
Although the piece was a subordinate one, her ordeal was formidable, for she had to challenge comparison with her popular and gifted predecessors in a character that required an abundance of delicacy and finesse.
Her success was instantaneous. In writing of it that outspoken critic and encyclopædia of dramatic lore, Edward Leman Blanchard, said:—
"She is very young, but shows no trace of immaturity either in her style or figure. Tall for her age, of prepossessing appearance, and with expressive features full of vivacity and intelligence, she secured at once the sympathies of her audience, and retained them by the joyous spirit and deep feeling withwhich she imbued the personation. In the girlish playfulness exhibited through the first act Miss Ellen Terry was especially happy, and in characters illustrative of a frank and impulsive temperament the young actress will prove a most desirable addition to the feminine strength of the stage."
And so it was with all the leading critics, they, and delighted audiences, telling her that in a moment her permanent popularity in London was a thing assured.
Of course she had in due course to support Lord Dundreary in "Our American Cousin," a play which, not very good to begin with, had, for the sake of Sothern's superbly droll performance, been whittled down to a mere nothing. With the exception of the characters of Asa Trenchard (and he had been converted into an absurd caricature of an American) and Mary Meredith, the one sympathetic woman of the piece, the other parts were indeed thankless ones, and it seems impossible to think that Ellen Terry, our greatest living Shakespearean actress, was once wasted on the insipidroleof Georgina, the affected girl on whom Dundreary was "spoony." Georgina was simply a foil for the ridiculous fop's unconscious and wonderfully uttered witticisms, and she had little more to do than to keep her countenance while the audiences roared with laughter at Sothern's wild but always coherent absurdities of speech and manner. Under this trying ordeal I have seen many Georginas breakdown and laugh heartily with their "kind friends in front," and I have reason to know that the mischief-loving Sothern, at the risk of missing his own points, often tried to make them do so.
Of the sweet "Spirit of the Future," as this stage lay figure playing with the restless "Spirit of the Hour," Clement Scott has said:—
"When Ellen Terry played Georgina she was a young girl of enchanting loveliness. She was the ideal of every pre-Raphaelite painter, and had hair, as De Musset says, 'comme le blé.' I always sympathised with Dundreary when he, within whispering distance of Ellen Terry's harvest-coloured hair, said: 'It makes a fellow feel awkward when he's talking to the back of a person's head.'"
In the same inexhaustible play she was called upon, a little later on, to enact the prettily limned Mary Meredith. She says she did it "vilely"; but neither critics nor audiences agreed with her.
Sothern, both on and off the stage, and both with men and women, was one of the most popular beings of his day, and it is therefore all the more surprising to hear Ellen Terry say that she could never like him. She admired him, but she could not understand his mania for practical joking. By some this has been thought odd, for it is known that she herself dearly loves a joke. I think I can explain her prejudice. Having begun one of his "sells," as he called them, Sothern did not know when to leave off, and he neverseemed to reflect that it was unkind to practise his pleasantries on nervous young actors.
That he did not mean to be unkind, and that if he felt he had made a mistake or had gone too far he was deeply penitent and anxious to make any atonement in his power, I, who knew him so intimately, can asseverate. But if he saw the chance of a "sell" he could hardly resist temptation, and many of those associated with him on the stage, and who did not understand his bewildering sense of humour, suffered in silence, and were secretly tortured by his odd and incessant pranks. I have no doubt this was poor Ellen Terry's position when she complains that he teased her—made her forget her part, and "look like an idiot." The following anecdote concerning the way in which he treated me (his personal friend!) and a little company of actors and actresses, working their hardest to gain a word of approbation from the great star of the period, will illustrate my meaning.
In the days of many years ago he accepted a comedietta from my pen wildly called (Sothern gave it its title) "My Wife's Father's Sister," and the little piece was produced at the Theatre Royal, Brighton. He was anxious that I should be present at its first night, but I was unable to join him until its second representation. I was to be his guest, but when I entered his room at the Grand Hotel he seemed amazed and discomforted to see me.
"What on earth bringsyouhere?" he exclaimed."Why, to see you and my piece," I replied. "Then you didn't get my telegram last night?" he inquired. I told him that I had received no telegram and should be glad to know its purport. "Well," he said, in a vexed tone of voice, "I wired to beg you as a personal favour to me not to come to Brighton, but as youarehere, we'll say no more about it."
Of course this did not satisfy me, and on being very hard pressed, he reluctantly told me that my poor little play had been a dead failure, and that he had telegraphed to me to stay away because he wanted to spare me humiliation.
"But," I said, in an agony of disappointment, "the newspapers speak well of it!"
"Yes," replied Sothern, "the critics here are good friends of mine, and I persuaded them that it was a sorry task to break a butterfly on a wheel. It was impossible for me at a moment's notice to get another after-piece ready to put in its place, but to-night 'My Wife's Father's Sister' will be played for the second and last time. Don't shirk seeing it, it will be a useful, if painful, lesson to you, and at supper to-night we'll try and find out where the fatal kink in it lies, for, as you know, I felt certain that it was going to be a hit."
In spite of my friend's kindness, sympathy, and unbounded hospitality, I, crushed with mortification, spent a wretched afternoon, and in the early evening (Sothern, who was to play Dundreary, had preceded me) I wended my sad way to the theatre. On my walk I met a mutual friend.
Ellen Terry's country retreat at Tenterden, KentSMALLHYTHE FARM.Ellen Terry's country retreat at Tenterden, Kent.[To face page 80.
SMALLHYTHE FARM.Ellen Terry's country retreat at Tenterden, Kent.[To face page 80.
SMALLHYTHE FARM.
Ellen Terry's country retreat at Tenterden, Kent.[To face page 80.
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"Well, how did the piece go last night?" he asked. "I was sorry I couldn't be there to see."
Miserably I told him my bitter news, and how the play had failed.
"Then I believe it was Sothern's fault," he said. "He was half mad on practical jokes last night, and one of the actors has told me how he declared thatyouwere in front, that you are a most exacting and irritable author, and that you were intensely annoyed at the grossly vulgar way in which, according to your reported views, your work was interpreted. One by one the actors and actresses had from his lips their dose of what they supposed, andstillsuppose, to beyourharsh criticism. 'Abominable!' 'Atrocious!' and 'Actionable' were among the mildest expressions you were said to have used, and the poor people became so nervous that they hardly knew what they were doing. At the end of the performance Sothern told them collectively that you had left the theatre 'a shattered and prematurely old man.'"
When I crept into an obscure corner of a private box that night, expecting to witness the complete failure of a number of nerveless artists to galvanise a dead play into life, I was very angry with Sothern. I felt that I had been "butchered" to make a "Roman Holiday," and I did not like the sensation.But, to my bewilderment, the comedietta went capitally, and applause of the right sort followed the fall of the curtain. At supper, Sothern, with that marvellous diamond-like sparkle in his speaking blue-grey eye which his friends so well remember, "gave away" the greater part of the story. That delighted and delightful familiar twinkle was sufficient to tell me the truth. "Oh!" I cried, "you have 'sold' me! I believe the piece went as welllastnight as it didto-night!"
"Much better," he replied calmly. "I sent you no telegram, but I could not resist the sell. Now light a cigar and be happy."
And I was happy until, in the early hours of the morning, Sothern said, "By the way, I wonder how your supper party is getting on?"
"My supper party?" I asked. "What do you mean?"
"Oh," he replied, as he lighted another cigar, "now I think of it, I forgot to tell you that I mentioned to the performers in 'My Wife's Father's Sister' that you were so delighted with their marked improvement on the second night of the production that you wished to welcome them at a little supper you had ordered at the 'Old Ship.'"
And I heard the next day that the poor "sold" people went and waited and came supperless away. And then I sneaked out of Brighton, leaving "My Wife's Father's Sister" behind me.
I have never seen her since. This is only an example of Sothern's constant and, it must be owned, often exasperating practices. It was wonderful that some of his escapades were so easily forgiven, but those who narrowly watched his marvellous dexterity in keeping up the deceptions of his rapid invention, causing one practical joke to overtake another like sea waves; those who could understand his infectious vitality and quick sense of humour, were, even when they chanced to be the wrathful objects of his extravagancies, lost in admiration for his peculiar genius.
In some way his temperament must have resembled that of the great David Garrick, whom he so often impersonated on the stage.
Of the English Roscius it has been said that he was always acting, whether upon the stage, in his own house, in the houses of his friends, and even in the streets.
He would suddenly stop in the middle of a public thoroughfare, and look up at the sky as if he saw something remarkable, until a crowd gathered about him, and then he would turn away with the wild stare of insanity. He could not sit down to have his hair dressed without terrifying the barber by making his face assume every shade of expression, from the deepest tragic gloom to the vacancy of idiotcy.
His enemies ascribed these feats to a restless egotism that must always be conspicuous, but mightthey not rather have arisen from the over-exuberant animal spirits of "the cheerfulest man of his age"?
Such, in a great measure, was Sothern's nature, and it is not to be wondered at if it sometimes jarred upon those who had to act with him, and who were desirous to do justice to themselves. I cannot suppose that his "My Wife's Father's Sister's" victims loved him any more than they did the innocent writer of these lines, or than Ellen Terry seems to have done.
Such things are to be understood, but I cannot mention Edward Askew Sothern without recording the fact that to his intimate friends he was ever the most consistent, affectionate, and generous of men. At the hospitable table of Henry Irving I once met the famous American tragedian, the late John M'Cullough. Turning to me in the course of the evening, he said: "I am told you are a close friend of Ned Sothern's;" and when I answered "Yes," he said, as if it were a matter of course, "Then you love him."
And that of all men who really knew him well was true.
But if in Sothern Ellen Terry chanced to find an uncongenial fellow-actor, in another member of the Haymarket Company she made a friend, destined to play with her in some of her greatest subsequent triumphs. This was that grand old actor, Henry Howe, "dear old Mr. Howe," as she calls him, who was a staunch member of the once celebrated band of Haymarket comedians for forty years.
Howe played the part of father to "the little treasure"; his kindly, winsome ways at once won her sympathy, and in the now forgotten play no scene was more successful than that in which the supposed parent and child, moved by the pathos of each other's acting, united in genuine tears.
Macready aptly described Charles Kemble as a first-rate actor of second-rate parts, and the same somewhat lukewarm praise may be attributed to Henry Howe; but he was an actor who lent distinction to his profession, and his honoured memory should surely be kept green.
It is odd to think of an actor being a Quaker, and yet throughout his long life Howe was a loyal member of the Society of Friends. It was the impression made upon him, when he was a mere boy, by the soul-inspiring acting of Edmund Kean as King Lear, that gave him a passion for the stage. With a cousin of his own age he contrived to take stolen pleasure in the gallery of Drury Lane Theatre, and on his way home, half-choked with enthusiasm and emotion, he said to his comrade, "I am going to be an actor." His family and friends did their utmost to dissuade him from this rash step, but fate willed that it should be taken, and the stage-struck lad became one of the most accomplished and self-respecting of the actors of his day.
Although he never paraded it, I think he was always influenced by his simple religious faith. Iwell remember how, in the kindest of ways, he would warn the young fellows of those Sothern-Haymarket days against keeping late (and possibly loose) hours in London after curtain-fall. I can hear him now telling us of his long midnight walks to his beloved country home atIsleworth(beyond Brentford!), and of his active morning work in his garden on those days on which rehearsals did not call him to town. "And at such times," he would say, with a good-humoured shake of his head, "some of you are lying in bed trying to cure carefully manufactured head-aches."
Years afterwards he became a notable member of the Lyceum Company, and served until his death under the banner of Henry Irving. During this period, and when with his chief and comrades he was fulfilling a fortnight's engagement in Birmingham, my good old friend, when on a visit to my house, made me his confidant in a little personal trouble. It was this. During the two weeks of his stay in the city he had only been called upon to act twice, and then only in small parts.
I naturally thought that he felt hurt at apparent neglect, and I tried to say a few consolatory words to him. "Oh, it isn'tthat!" said the fine old gentleman, "I've no feeling onthatscore; but the fact is, I am being paid a very handsome salary, and doing next to nothing for it. As things are, I know I am not earning it. I must speak to Irving aboutit, and tell him either my stipend must be reduced, or I must go." Shortly afterwards I saw him again. His fine face was radiant with smiles and his spirits were buoyant. He had had his interview with Irving, and the upshot of it was that no alteration could be made in his emolument, that he would be called upon to act whenever the repertory contained a part that could be suitably allotted to him, and that his "chief" would regard it as a great personal sorrow if his distinguished name did not figure as a member of his company.
Thus did the most tactful and generous of managers make a time-honoured servant of the public easy in his pocket, and supremely happy in the retention of hisamour propre.
Frequenters of the Lyceum will remember how, even in the smallest of parts, Henry Howe was always sure of a hearty reception.
This is only one amongst a thousand of the acts of tender consideration and unstinted liberality shown by Henry Irving towards those who have acted for and with him.
But besides "little treasures," Georginas, and Mary Merediths, there were other opportunities for Ellen Terry at the Haymarket. She had the sympathy and encouragement of such sterling actors as Henry Compton and William Farren, the Chippendales, and the always kindly and attentive Walter Gordon, a gentleman who, on his retirement from thestage, resumed his own name, and was well known as William Aylmer Gowing.
She played Julia in "The Rivals" to the Faulkland of Howe, the Sir Anthony Absolute of Chippendale, the Captain Absolute of William Farren, the Bob Acres of Buckstone, and the Mrs. Malaprop of Mrs. Chippendale. In "Much Ado about Nothing" she appeared as Hero to the Beatrice of Louisa Angell, and when that lady appeared as Letitia Hardy in "The Belle's Stratagem," Ellen Terry was the Lady Touchwood. Let it not be forgotten that her own bewitching Letitia was destined to be one of the most attractive of her comedy impersonations at the Lyceum.
Thanks to Sothern, I was in those days quite at home at the Haymarket Theatre, and in "Walter Gordon" I found a true friend and adviser when, later on, I tried to write on things theatrical. He did much admirable work with his own pen, and was full of good stories of famous actors and actresses with whom he had played. I remember how he told me of an ephemeral entertainment by Sterling Coyne, entitled "Buckstone at Home," in which Ellen Terry, being then in a frolicsome mood, made an unexpected effect and sensation. In this wild production she had to appear as Britannia, and she was surrounded by the Knights of the Round Table. These stalwarts were supposed to be unable to remove a certain "property" stone, concerning which there was muchsuperstition to the effect that it was so heavy that mortal could not stir it. The situation was meant to be taken seriously, but the light-hearted Britannia—possibly annoyed with the absurdity of the production and the poverty of her part in it, came forward, took the mock boulder in her hands, "played ball" with the flimsy thing, at the same time gleefully crying out—"Why, a child could toss it!"