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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #62822 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62822)
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Exits and Entrances, by Eva Moore
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: Exits and Entrances
-
-Author: Eva Moore
-
-Release Date: August 2, 2020 [EBook #62822]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EXITS AND ENTRANCES ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Richard Tonsing, ellinora, and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
-file was produced from images generously made available
-by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
- EXITS AND ENTRANCES
-
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Claude Harris, London, W._ Frontispiece
-]
-
-
-
-
- EXITS AND ENTRANCES
-
-
- BY
- EVA MOORE
-
- _WITH TWENTY ILLUSTRATIONS_
-
- “All the world’s a stage,
- And all the men and women merely players:
- They have their exits and their entrances;
- And one man in his time plays many parts.”
-
- —_As You Like It._
-
-
- LONDON
- CHAPMAN & HALL, LTD
- 1923
-
-
-
-
- PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY
- THE DUNEDIN PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH
-
-
-
-
- TO HARRY
-
- _Whose words head each chapter of what is really his book and mine_
-
- EVA
-
-
- 21 Whiteheads Grove, Chelsea.
- “Apple Porch”, Maidenhead.
-
- July, 1923.
-
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
-
-
-
- CONTENTS
-
-
- CHAPTER PAGE
- I. HOME 1
-
- II. THE START 16
-
- III. WEDDING BELLS 29
-
- IV. PLAYS AND PLAYERS 43
-
- V. MORE PLAYS AND PLAYERS 60
-
- VI. FOR THE DURATION OF THE WAR 74
-
- VII. THE SUFFRAGE 89
-
- VIII. PEOPLE I HAVE MET 101
-
- IX. PERSONALITIES 116
-
- X. STORIES I REMEMBER 131
-
- XI. ROUND AND ABOUT 143
-
- XII. A BUNDLE OF OLD LETTERS 172
-
- XIII. HARRY, THE MAN 187
-
- XIV. HARRY, THE PLAYWRIGHT 200
-
- XV. HARRY, THE ACTOR 215
-
- XVI. AND LAST 228
-
- APPENDICES 241
-
-
-
-
- ILLUSTRATIONS
-
-
- EVA MOORE Frontispiece
-
- FACING PAGE
- Dora in “The Don” 21
-
- Harry, November 19th, 1891 24
-
- Wedding Bells, November 19th, 1891 28
-
- Harry as Howard Bompas in “The Times”, 1891 30
-
- Pepita in “Little Christopher Columbus” 37
-
- Madame de Cocheforet in “Under the Red Robe” 48
-
- Kathie in “Old Heidelberg” 61
-
- Lady Mary Carlyle in “Monsieur Beaucaire” 66
-
- “Mumsie” 71
-
- Miss Van Gorder in “The Bat” 72
-
- Eliza in “Eliza Comes to Stay” 102
-
- Harry as Lord Leadenhall in “The Rocket” 124
-
- Harry as Major-General Sir R. Chichele in “The Princess
- and the Butterfly” 142
-
- Harry as Little Billee in “Trilby” 187
-
- Jill and her Mother 194
-
- Harry as Widgery Blake in “Palace of Puck” 199
-
- Harry as Major Blencoe in “The Tree of Knowledge” 218
-
- Harry as Touchstone in “As You Like It” 222
-
- Apple Porch 237
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER I
- HOME
-
- “And I’ll go away and fight for myself.”
- —_Eliza Comes to Stay._
-
-
-As Mr. Wickfield said to Miss Trotwood—the old question, you know—“What
-is your motive in this?”
-
-I am sure it is excellent to have a motive, and if possible a good
-motive, for doing everything; and so before I begin I want to give my
-motive for attempting to write my memoirs of things and people, past and
-present—and here it is.
-
-Jack, my son, was on tour with his own company of _Eliza Comes to Stay_;
-and Jill, my little daughter, was playing at the St. James’s Theatre,
-her first engagement—and, incidentally, earning more each week than I
-did when I first played “lead” (and I found my own dresses). I thought
-that some day they might like to know how different things were in the
-“old days”; like to read how one worked, and studied, and tried to save;
-might like to know something of the road over which their father and
-mother had travelled; and perhaps gain some idea of the men and women
-who were our contemporaries. Perhaps, if they, my own boy and girl,
-would like to read this, other people’s boys and girls might like to
-read it also: it might at least interest and amuse them.
-
-To me, to try and write it all would be a joy, to “call spirits from the
-vasty deep,” to ring up again the curtain on the small dramas in which I
-had played—and the small comedies too—and to pay some tribute to the
-great men and women I have known. It may all seem to be “my story,” but
-very often I shall only be the string on which are hung the bravery,
-kindness, and goodness of the really great people; not always the most
-successful, but the really great, who have helped to make life what it
-should be, and luckily sometimes really is!
-
-So I determined to begin, and begin at the beginning.
-
-Brighton! when it was Brighton; still retaining some of the glories of
-the long past Regency; with its gay seasons, its mounted police, and—no
-Metropole Hotel; when the only two hotels of any importance were the
-“Bedford” and the still-existing “Old Ship.” The old chain pier,
-standing when we went to bed one evening, and swept away when we got up
-the next morning by a terrific gale. The Aquarium, then a place which
-people really visited and regarded as something of a “sight worth
-seeing”—does anyone go there now, except on a very wet day? The Dome in
-the Pavilion, with its grand orchestral concerts, conducted by the
-famous Mr. Kuhe, whose son is now a musical critic in London. All these
-things belonged to Brighton of the—well, the exact date does not
-matter—but of the time when women did not ride bicycles or drive motor
-cars, because certainly the one, and certainly the other so far as women
-were concerned, did not exist. In those days men rode a high “single
-wheel” bicycle: the higher the wheel, the greater the Knut—only the word
-“Knut” was unknown then!
-
-Those are some of the memories I have of Brighton at the time when we
-were a happy, noisy, large family living in Regency Square; a really
-large family, even as Victorian families went—nine girls and one boy. We
-had no money, but unlimited health and spirits.
-
-My mother!—well, everyone says “Mine was the sweetest mother in the
-world,” but my mother really _was_. She had a most amazing amount of
-character hidden under a most gentle exterior. As pretty as a picture,
-adorable—just “Mother.”
-
-And father—an austere, very good-looking man of uncertain temper; one of
-those tempers which periodically sweep through the house like a tornado.
-Absolutely upright, and deeply respected, but with a stern sense of his
-duties as a parent which we, his children, hardly appreciated.
-
-My first recollection is of trying to climb into my mother’s bed, and
-finding the place that should have been mine occupied by a “new baby.” I
-heard years afterwards that when my mother was told that her tenth child
-and ninth daughter had arrived in the world, she exclaimed: “Thank God
-it’s a girl!” Such a nice feminine thing to say, bless her!
-
-Six of the girls lived to grow up, and we each, as we grew sufficiently
-advanced in years, took turns at the “housekeeping”. I know I did double
-duty, as my sister Jessie distinguished herself by fainting one morning
-when preparing the breakfast, and so was not allowed to do it any more.
-I remember creeping down the stairs in the dark early mornings (when I
-think of “getting breakfast”, it seems to me that we must have lived in
-perpetual winter, the mornings seem to have always been cold and dark,
-never bright and sunny: I suppose the memory of the unpleasant things
-remains longer), going very softly past my father’s room, and putting
-the loathsome porridge—partially cooked the night before—on the gas
-ring, and, having stirred it, creeping upstairs again to dress.
-
-I remember, too, at breakfast how I would watch my father’s face, to see
-by his expression if it was “all right”; the awful moment when, eyeing
-it with disfavour, he would give his verdict: “Lumpy!” The cook for the
-day, after such a verdict, generally left the table in tears.
-
-It must have been before I was old enough to make porridge that I had my
-first sweetheart. His name was Johnnie; he was a small Jew, and we met
-in Regency Square; together we turned somersaults all round the Square,
-and it must have been all very idealistic and pleasant. I remember
-nothing more about him, so apparently our love was short-lived.
-
-Up to the time that my sister Decima was six, my father kept a stick in
-the dining-room; the moral effect of that stick was enormous; should any
-member of the family become unruly (or what my father considered
-unruly), the stick was produced and a sharp rap on the head
-administered.
-
-One day Decima was the culprit, and as my father leant back to reach the
-stick, she exclaimed cheerfully: “You won’t find the old stick, cos I’ve
-hided it.”
-
-She had, too; it was not found for years, when it was discovered in a
-large chest, right at the bottom. It is still a mystery how Decima, who
-was really only a baby at the time, put it there. Looking back, I
-applaud her wisdom, and see the promise of the aptitude for “looking
-ahead” which has made her so successful in the ventures on which she has
-embarked; for the “stick” certainly affected her most. She was a naughty
-child, but very, very pretty. We called her “The Champion”, because she
-would take up the cudgels on behalf of anyone who was “underdog”. I
-loved her devotedly; and, when she was being punished for any special
-piece of naughtiness by being interned in her bedroom, I used to sit
-outside, whispering at intervals, “I’m here, darling”, “It’s all right,
-dear”, and so on.
-
-Yet it was to Decima that I caused a tragedy, and, incidentally, to
-myself as well. She was the proud possessor of a very beautiful wax
-doll; a really beautiful and aristocratic person she was. We always said
-“Grace” before meals (I think everyone did in those days), and one
-morning I was nursing the doll. In an excess of religious fervour, I
-insisted that the wax beauty should say “grace” too. Her body, not being
-adapted to religious exercises, refused to bend with the reverence I
-felt necessary; I pushed her, and cracked off her head on the edge of
-the table. Now, mark how this tragedy recoiled on me! I had a gold
-piece—half a sovereign, I suppose—given to me by some god-parent. It
-lived in a box, wrapped in cotton wool, and I occasionally gazed at it;
-I never dreamt of spending it; it was merely regarded as an emblem of
-untold wealth. Justice, in the person of my father, demanded that, as I
-had broken the doll, my gold piece must be sacrificed to buy her a new
-head. If the incident taught me nothing else, it taught me to extend
-religious tolerance even to wax dolls!
-
-Not only did we hate preparing breakfast, we hated doing the shopping,
-and called it “Sticking up to Reeves, and poking down to Daws”—Reeves
-and Daws being the grocer and laundryman respectively. It was in the
-process of “Sticking up to Reeves”, whose shop was in Kemptown, one
-morning, that Decima stopped to speak to a goat, who immediately ate the
-shopping list out of her hand.
-
-Decima was the only member of the family who succeeded in wearing a
-fringe—openly—before my father. We all _did_ wear fringes, but they were
-pushed back in his presence; Decima never pushed hers back! In those
-days so to adorn one’s forehead was to declare oneself “fast”—an elastic
-term, which was applied to many things which were frowned on by one’s
-elders. That was the “final word”—“_fast!_”
-
-Our great excitement was bathing in the sea, and singing in the church
-choir. We bathed three times a week; it cost 4d. each. Clad in heavy
-serge, with ample skirts, very rough and “scratchy”, we used to emerge
-from the bathing machines. All except Ada, who swam beautifully, and
-made herself a bathing suit of blue bunting with knickers and tunic. My
-father used to row round to the “ladies’ bathing place” in his dinghy,
-and teach us how to swim. As there was no “mixed bathing” then, this
-caused much comment, and was, indeed, considered “hardly nice”. My
-brother Henry was the champion swimmer of the South Coast, and he and
-Ada used to swim together all round the West Pier—this, again, was
-thought to be “going rather far” in more senses than one!
-
-Though I loved Decima so devotedly, we apparently had “scraps”, for I
-can remember once in the bathing machine she flicked me several times
-with a wet towel—I remember, too, how it hurt.
-
-We all sang in the church choir; not all at once; as the elder ones
-left, the younger ones took their places. Boys from the boarding school
-in Montpelier Square used to be brought to church: we exchanged glances,
-and felt desperately wicked. Once (before she sang in the choir) Decima
-took 3d. out of the plate instead of putting 1d. into it.
-
-At that time our pocket-money was 1d. a week, so I presume we were given
-“collection money” for Sunday; this was later increased to 2s. a month,
-when we had to buy our own gloves. Thus my mother’s birthday
-present—always the same: a pot of primulas (on the receipt of which she
-always expressed the greatest surprise)—represented the savings of three
-weeks on the part of Decima and me. It was due to parental interference
-in a love affair that I once, in a burst of reckless extravagance,
-induced Decima to add her savings to mine and spend 5d. in sweets, all
-at one fell swoop.
-
-I was 14, and in love! In love with a boy who came to church, and whose
-name I cannot remember. We met in the street, and stopped to speak.
-Fate, in the person of my father (who always seems to have been casting
-himself for the parts of “Fate”, “Justice”, “Law”, or “Order”) saw us; I
-was ordered into the house, and, seizing my umbrella, my father
-threatened to administer the chastisement which he felt I richly
-deserved for the awful crime of “speaking to a boy”. I escaped the
-chastisement by flying to my room; and it was there, realising that
-“love’s young dream was o’er”, I incited Decima to the aforementioned
-act of criminal extravagance. I know one of the packets she brought back
-contained “hundreds and thousands”; we liked them, you seemed to get
-such a lot for your money!
-
-My life was generally rather blighted at that time, for, in addition to
-this unfortunate love affair, I had to wear black spectacles, owing to
-weak eyes, the result of measles. “A girl” told me, at school, that “a
-boy” had told her I “should be quite pretty if I hadn’t to wear those
-awful glasses.” The tragedy of that “_if_”!
-
-I was then at Miss Pringle’s school, where I don’t think any of us
-learnt very much; not that girls were encouraged to learn much at any
-school in those days. I certainly didn’t. My eyes made reading
-difficult. Then the opportunity for me to earn my own living offered; it
-was seized; and I went to Liverpool. I was to teach gymnastics and
-dancing under Madame Michau.
-
-The original Madame Michau, mother of the lady for whom I was to work,
-had been a celebrity in her day. Years before—many, many years
-before—she had taught dancing in Brighton, where she had been considered
-_the_ person to coach debutantes in the deportment necessary for a
-drawing-room. Her daughter was very energetic, and worked from morning
-to night. She had a very handsome husband, who ostensibly “kept the
-books”, which really meant that he lounged at home while his wife went
-out to work. Not only did she work herself, but she made me work
-too—from eight in the morning until eleven at night; in fact, so far as
-my memory serves me, there was a greater abundance of work than of food.
-I don’t regret any of it in the least; the dancing and gymnastics taught
-me how to “move” in a way that nothing else could have done. It taught
-me, also, how to keep my temper!
-
-Only one thing I really resented; that was, among other duties, I had to
-mend Madame’s husband’s underwear. Even then I am overstating the case;
-I did not mind the mending collectively; what I minded was the mending
-individually—that is, I hated mending his (what are technically known, I
-think, as) _pants_. At the end of a year I “crocked up”—personally I
-wonder that I lasted so long—and came home for a holiday. I was then
-about 15, and I fell in love. Not, this time, with a small boy in the
-Square; not with a big boy; this was a real affair. “He” was at least
-twelve years older than I, very good to look at, and apparently he had
-excellent prospects on the Stock Exchange. My family, so far as I can
-remember, approved, and I was very happy. I forget how long the
-engagement lasted—about a year, I think—and for part of that time I was
-back in Liverpool. I know the engagement ring was pearl and coral. One
-day a stone fell out—so did the engagement. The picture “he” had drawn
-of us living in domestic and suburban bliss at West Norwood—me clad in
-brown velvet and a sealskin coat (apparently irrespective of times or
-seasons) vanished. He “went broke” on the Stock Exchange, and broke off
-the engagement—perhaps so that his love affairs might be in keeping with
-the general wreckage; I don’t know. I remember that I sat in the bedroom
-writing a farewell letter, damp with tears, when the sight of a black
-beetle effectively dried my tears and ended the letter.
-
-I don’t know that this love affair influenced me at all, but I decided I
-was utterly weary of Liverpool. I came back to Brighton, and taught
-dancing there, partly on my own and partly in conjunction with an
-already established dancing class. It was there that I taught a small,
-red-headed boy to do “One, two, three—right; one, two, three—left.” He
-was the naughtiest small boy in the class; I used to think sometimes he
-must be the naughtiest small boy in the world. His name was Winston
-Churchill.
-
-It was not a thrilling life—this teaching children to dance—on the
-contrary, it was remarkably dull, and once your work becomes dull to you
-it is time you found something else to do. I decided that I would. I
-would make a bid for the Stage.
-
-We, or at least my elder sisters, gave theatrical performances at
-home—comedies and operettas—and it was during the production of one of
-these that I met Miss Harriet Young, the well-known amateur pianist, in
-Brighton.
-
-The production was called _Little Golden Hope_, the one and only amateur
-production in which I ever took part. It was written by my
-brother-in-law, Ernest Pertwee, and the music by Madame Guerini, who had
-been a Miss Wilberforce, daughter of Canon Wilberforce. Miss Young used
-to come and play the piano at these productions, and I heard that she
-knew Mrs. Kendal! Mrs. Kendal was staying at Brighton at the time. A
-letter of introduction was given to me by Miss Young, and, accompanied
-by my sister Bertha, I went to see Mrs. Kendal.
-
-No very clear memory of it remains. She was charming; I was paralysed
-with fright. If she gave me any advice about the advisability of taking
-up the stage as a profession, it was “don’t”—so I went back to my
-dancing class.
-
-But hope was not dead! Florrie Toole, who was a pupil of my sister
-Emily, promised me an introduction to her father, and not only to him
-but to Tom Thorne of the Vaudeville Theatre as well. I made up my mind
-to go up to London and see them both. All this was arranged with the
-greatest secrecy, for I knew that my father would set his face sternly
-against “the Stage”. Though we might be allowed to have amateur
-theatricals at home, though we might teach dancing, singing, elocution,
-or indeed anything else, the Stage was something unthought of in the
-minds of parents. However, Fate was on my side. I was out teaching all
-day, and, once the front door had closed behind me in the morning, I was
-not actually expected back until the evening, so I slipped up to London.
-There, at the Vaudeville Theatre, I saw both Tom and Fred Thorne.
-
-In those days there were no play-producing societies—no Play Actors,
-Interlude Players, or Repertory Players—and so new plays were “tried
-out” at matinées. One was then looming on the horizon of the
-Vaudeville—_Partners_—and it was in connection with a possible part in
-this play that my name and address were taken; I was told that I might
-hear from Mr. Thorne “in about a week”, and so, full of hope, I returned
-to Brighton. About a week later I received a letter which told me that I
-had been given a small part in _Partners_, and stating the days on which
-I should have to rehearse in London.
-
-It was then that the question arose, “Should I tell father?” I thought
-it over, long and earnestly, and decided not to. I did not have to
-rehearse every day, and, as I had slipped up to London before, “all
-unbeknownst”, why not again? So, entering on my career of crime, and
-unheeding the words of—I think—the good Doctor Watts, who says “Oh, what
-a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive”, I used to
-come up to rehearsal, leaving my family happy in the belief that I was
-teaching dancing in Brighton!
-
-During rehearsals I heard from Florrie Toole that she had arranged an
-interview for me with her father, who would see me on a certain day, at
-his house at Lowdnes Square. That was a real “red letter day”. For some
-reason, which I forget, I had taken Decima with me, and after the
-rehearsal I was asked if I would like to see the matinée performance of
-_Hearts is Hearts_, which was then playing at the Vaudeville. Would I
-like! I was given a box—a stage box at that—and there Decima and I sat,
-thrilled to the depths of our small souls.
-
-Before this auspicious occasion I had seen three theatrical
-performances, and three only. One had been at the Adelphi, when I saw
-_Harbour Lights_, and the other two at the Brighton Theatre-Royal; from
-the upper circle, or the gallery, I had seen _Faust_, when a really very
-stout lady played “Marguerite”; and the other a pantomime, _Cinderella_,
-when Florence St. John played “Cinders” (and played it most
-delightfully, too) and Charles Rock played “Baron Hardup”. Even these
-two delightful events had been somewhat marred by the fact that father
-insisted that we should “come out before the end, to avoid the crush”—as
-though anyone minded a crush after a theatre, when you went only twice a
-year, and were only 14!
-
-But to return to our stage box at the Vaudeville Theatre. The interview
-with Mr. Toole was fixed for 5.30, but rather than miss a moment of the
-play, we stayed until the very end, and were thus forced to be
-recklessly extravagant and take a hansom to Lowdnes Square. It cost
-eighteen-pence, but we both felt that it was worth it, felt that this
-was indeed _Life_—with a very large capital letter.
-
-I do not think that the interview with the great comedian was
-impressive. Florrie took me in to her father, and said “This is Eva.” He
-said “How are you?” and murmured vague things about “seeing what we can
-do” and—that was all.
-
-The matinée came, I played a little chambermaid. As “Herbert” says in
-_Eliza Comes to Stay_: “The characters bear no relation to life, sir.
-The play opens with the butler and the housemaid dusting the
-drawing-room chairs”—I was the “housemaid”.
-
-I remember the fateful afternoon we first played _Partners_. I was in
-the Green Room—there were such things then—Maud Millet was learning her
-part between all her exits and entrances. During one of my waits, Mr.
-Scot Buest offered me a glass of champagne; I thought that I had plumbed
-the depths of depravity! It was Mr. Buest who later asked me to have
-dinner with him. I did, but felt sure that all London would ring with my
-immorality. What a little prude I must have been!
-
-That afternoon Mr. Toole was in front, and so saw me play. A few days
-later I heard from him; he offered me a part in _The Cricket on the
-Hearth_, which he was going to produce at his own theatre. I was to
-receive “£1 a week, and find your own dresses”. Naturally, I accepted,
-and was then faced with the necessity of telling my father. I took my
-courage in both hands, and broke the news.
-
-The expected tornado swept the house, the storm broke and the thunder of
-my father’s wrath rolled over our heads. My mother was held responsible
-for my wickedness; she was asked to consider what “_her_ child” had
-done; for, be it said, when any of us did anything which met with my
-father’s disapproval, we were always “my mother’s children”; when we met
-with his approval, we were _his_, and apparently his only.
-
-So my mother wept, and my father washed his hands with much invisible
-soap, ordering me never to darken his doors again—“To think that any
-daughter of _his_”, and much more—oh! very much more—to the same effect.
-
-I remained firm; here was my chance waiting for me in the greatest city
-in the world, and I was determined to take it. I left Brighton for
-London—“the world was mine oyster”.
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER II
- THE START
-
- “We ... never stopped in the old days to turn things over in our
- minds, and grow grey over counting the chances of what would or what
- wouldn’t happen. We went slap for everything like the healthy young
- devils we were.”
-
- —_When We Were Twenty-One._
-
-
-And so at Christmas I began to play “The Spirit of Home” in _The Cricket
-on the Hearth_ at Toole’s Theatre, which was a small place, mostly
-underground, beside the Charing Cross Hospital. I was very happy; it was
-all new and exciting, and everyone was very kind to me. Kate Phillips,
-who played “Dot”, had been ill, and her dressing-room—the dressing-room
-provided for the leading lady—was underground; she couldn’t stand it,
-and, as mine was on the roof—or as nearly on the roof as possible—she
-came up to dress with me. It was in Kate Phillips’s (and my)
-dressing-room that I first saw Winifred Emery, who came on to Toole’s
-for tea from the Vaudeville. She was perfectly beautiful, with most
-lovely hands, and oh, so attractive!
-
-In those days, after a matinée, there were only two things to do—either
-stay in the theatre or go out and walk about in the streets. Your rooms
-were generally a long way from the theatre, which meant ’bus riding (and
-every penny had to be considered), and there were no girls’ clubs then.
-No Three Arts Club, Theatrical Girls’ Club, no A.B.C.’s, no Lyons,
-nothing of that kind, so you stayed in the theatre.
-
-Another person who was in the cast was George Shelton, the same George
-Shelton who was in _Peter Pan_ this year—1922—when Jill made her first
-appearance. I can see no difference in him; after all these years he
-looks, and is, just the same. The children who went to see _Peter
-Pan_—so Mr. Lyn Harding assured us—“found Smee lovable”, as I found him
-so many years ago. Only then he wasn’t playing Smee!
-
-The run ended, and I was engaged to play in a first piece by Justin
-Huntly Macarthy, called _The Red Rag_. I have no very clear recollection
-of the part, except that I played the girl who made love to a man “over
-the garden wall,” standing on a flowerpot. It was in this play, _The Red
-Rag_, that Decima asked, after noting that only the “top half” of the
-gentleman appeared over the wall, “As his legs don’t show, does he have
-to wear trousers? Because, if he doesn’t, it must be such a very cheap
-costume.” I had a new dress for the part, which is not really so
-impressive as it sounds, for in those days “Nun’s veiling” (thanks be to
-Heaven!) was 6½d. a yard, and, as in _The Cricket on the Hearth_ I had
-been clad in white Nun’s veiling, so now for _The Red Rag_ I wore a blue
-dress of the same useful material. Of course, I made both of them
-myself.
-
-However, this play marked a “point in my career”—I began to have
-“notices” in the Press. The _Punch_ critic of that date said: “If names
-signify anything, there is a young lady who is likely to remain on the
-stage a very long time—‘Quoth the Raven, _Eva Moore_’.” She has, too—a
-very long time. _The People_ said he should keep his “critical eye on
-me, in fact _both_ his critical eyes.”
-
-At the end of the spring season, Mr. Toole asked me to go on tour for
-the summer and autumn, to play “leading lady”—this was a real leap up
-the ladder—appearing in fifteen plays. I was to receive £3 a week. I
-accepted (of course I accepted!), and took with me twenty-three dresses.
-I remember the number, because in order to buy the necessary materials I
-had to borrow £10 from my brother.
-
-By this time the attitude of my father had changed; he no longer
-regarded me as “lost”, and no longer looked upon the Stage as the last
-step in an immoral life; he was, I think, rather proud of what I had
-done. So far had he relented that, when my sister Jessie decided that
-she too would go on the Stage, there was no opposition. She left home
-without any dramatic scenes, and went into the chorus of _Dorothy_,
-where she understudied Marie Tempest and Ben Davis’s sister-in-law,
-Florence Terry, afterwards playing the latter’s part.
-
-I was staying then off the Strand, near the Old Globe Theatre, sharing
-rooms with the sister of a man—his name does not matter, he has since
-left the Stage for the Church—to whom I later was engaged. When Jessie
-came to London we arranged to have rooms together. One day we mounted a
-’bus at Piccadilly, and found we could go all the way to Hammersmith for
-a penny. We were so struck by the cheapness of the journey that we rode
-the whole length of the pennyworth.
-
-Eventually we found rooms in Abingdon Villas, two furnished rooms for
-18s. a week; we took them and “moved in”.
-
-I must go back here to record what might really have been a very tragic
-business for me. After I had been playing in _The Red Rag_ for about
-five weeks, Mr. Toole was taken ill, and the theatre was closed for over
-a month—“no play, no pay”. Providence had ordained that I should have
-been given the money for a new winter coat; I had the money, and was
-waiting to buy the garment. The coat had to wait; I had to keep a roof
-over my head. I paid it over—in a lump—to the landlady, and knew I was
-safe to have at least a bed in which to sleep until the theatre
-re-opened.
-
-The tour began; we went to Plymouth, Bath, Scarborough, Dublin,
-Edinburgh (where, for the first time, I slept in a “concealed bed”), and
-many other places I have forgotten; but, wherever we went, the audience
-was the same: Toole had only to walk on the stage and they howled with
-laughter. I very seldom spoke to him; in those days I was far too
-frightened to address the “Olympians”; I could only congratulate myself
-on being in the company at all.
-
-Funnily enough, the position I held was originally offered by Toole to
-Violet Vanbrugh; I fancy—in fact, I am pretty sure—that I eventually was
-given it because she wanted “too much money”. She probably asked for £5,
-or even perhaps rose to the dizzy height of demanding £8, while I “went
-for £3” (it sounds like little David Copperfield selling his
-waistcoat!).
-
-I think I enjoyed the tour; it was all new and strange to me. The sea
-journey to Ireland was distinctly an experience. I remember that a
-critic in Cork, a true son of Ireland, said of me in his paper, “Critics
-have been known to become dizzy before such beauty.” How I laughed at
-and enjoyed that notice! It was at Cork that poor dear Florrie Toole was
-taken ill. She had joined us some weeks before, to my great delight, for
-she had always been so very kind to me. It was from Florrie that I
-received a velvet dress, which was one of the most useful articles in my
-wardrobe; it was altered and re-altered, and finally retired from active
-service after having been my “stand-by” in many parts.
-
-During the week we were at Cork, Florrie was ill—not very ill, or so it
-seemed; at any rate, she was able to travel with us to Edinburgh on the
-Sunday. There she became rapidly worse, and it was found that she had
-typhoid fever. We left her in Edinburgh, and heard the following week
-that she was dead. Such a beautiful life cut short! She was so
-brilliant, and so very, very lovable.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by C. Hawkins, Brighton._ To face p. 21
-
- DORA
-
- “The Don”
-]
-
-I shared rooms with Eliza Johnson, a capable but somewhat unrelenting
-elderly lady. She “dragooned” me effectively; young men who showed any
-tendency to gather round stage doors, or gaze at one in the street, were
-sternly discouraged. At Cambridge, I remember, I had a passionate love
-letter from some “undergrad.”, who said he refrained from signing his
-name, as his “trust had been broken before”, but, if I returned his
-affection, would I reply in the “agony” column of the _Times_ to “Fido”!
-I did nothing of the kind, naturally; but so definite were the feelings
-of Eliza Johnson on “things of that kind” that she told me she could
-“not help feeling that I was, in some measure, to blame.”
-
-At Birmingham, on the Friday night, after “treasury,” I left my money in
-my dressing-room, went on the stage, and returned to find the money
-gone! I went to the manager and told him, but he protested that he could
-do nothing. I managed to borrow money to pay for my rooms, and went on
-to the next town very downcast indeed. Three pounds was a lot of money.
-The following week I had a letter from Birmingham, telling how the
-writer, who was employed at the theatre, had stolen the money, but that
-the sight of my distress had so melted his heart that he had decided to
-return it to me intact. The £3 was enclosed. I concluded that it was one
-of the stage hands; it wasn’t, it was Mr. Toole. He had heard of my
-loss, and, in giving me the money, could not resist playing one of those
-practical jokes which he loved!
-
-The tour ended and we came back to London, where Toole was going to put
-on a first piece called _The Broken Sixpence_ before _The Don_. The cast
-included Mary Brough, Charles Lowne, the authoress (Mrs. Thompson)—who
-was a very beautiful woman, but not a strikingly good actress—and, among
-the “wines and spirits,” me.
-
-My dress was the same that I had worn in _The Butler_ (a play we had
-done on tour), or, rather, it was _part_ of the dress, for, as I was
-playing a young girl, with short skirts, I only used the _skirt_ of the
-dress, merely adding a yoke; in addition, I wore a fair wig.
-
-I have it on good authority that I looked “perfectly adorable”, for it
-was in this play, though I did not know it for a long time, that Harry
-Esmond first saw me, and, apparently, approved of me!
-
-Then I began to be ill; too much work, and, looking back, I fancy not
-too much food, and that probably of the wrong kind for a girl who, after
-all, was only about 17, and who had been playing in a different play
-every night for weeks.
-
-I didn’t stop working, though I did feel very ill for some weeks, but
-finally an incident occurred which took the matter out of my hands and
-forced me to take a rest.
-
-I was walking home from the theatre, with my salary and my savings
-(seven pounds, which I had gathered together to pay back to my brother
-for the loan I mentioned before) in my bag. In those days the streets
-were in the state of semi-darkness to which London grew accustomed in
-the war—at any rate, in all but the largest streets; some one, who must
-have known who I was, or at any rate known that I was an actress and
-that Friday night was “pay night”, sprang out of the darkness, struck me
-a heavy blow on the head, snatched my bag, and left me lying senseless.
-
-After that, I gave in—I went home, and was very ill for a long time with
-low fever; not only was I ill, I was hideously depressed. However, I
-went back to Mr. Toole as soon as I was better, and he told me he was
-going to Australia, and asked me to go too. The salary was to be £4 a
-week, and “provide your own clothes”. I declined, though how I had the
-pluck to decline an engagement in those days passes my comprehension.
-However, I did, and Irene Vanbrugh went to Australia in my place—though
-not at my salary; she was more fortunate.
-
-I began to haunt agents’ offices, looking for work, and a dreary
-business it was! At last I was engaged to go to the Shaftesbury to play
-in _The Middleman_ with E. S. Willard, and it was here that I first
-actually met my husband. He was very young, very slim, and looked as
-young as he was; he was, as is the manner of “the powers that be”, cast
-for a villain, and, in order to “look the part”, he had his shoulders
-padded to such an extent that he looked perfectly square. His first
-words in the play were “More brandy!” I don’t think he was a great
-success in the part, though, looking through some old press cuttings, I
-find the following extract from _The Musical World_: “But a Mr. Esmond
-shows, I think, very high promise, together with faults that need to be
-corrected. His attitudes are abominable; his voice and the heart in it
-could hardly be bettered”—and that in spite of the padding!
-
-I think we were at once great friends—at any rate, I know he had to use
-a ring in the play, and I lent him mine. In particular I remember one
-evening, when I was walking down Shaftesbury Avenue with the man to whom
-I was engaged, and we met Harry wearing my ring; I was most disturbed,
-lest my own “young man” should notice. However, we broke the engagement
-soon after—at least I did—and after that it didn’t matter who wore or
-who did not wear my ring. Then Harry, who lived at Empress Gate, used to
-take me home after the theatre; and if he didn’t take me home, he took
-somebody else home, for at that time I think he loved most pretty girls.
-It was a little later that he wrote in his diary: “Had tea with Agnes
-(Agnes Verity); took Eva home; she gave me two tomatoes; nice girl. How
-happy could I be with either!”—which, I think, gives a very fair idea of
-his general attitude at the time.
-
-_The Middleman_ ran well; it was a good play, with a good cast—E. S.
-Willard, Annie Hughes, Maude Millet, and William Mackintosh—the latter a
-really great actor. I understudied Annie Hughes—and played for her. In
-_The Middleman_, Willard wore his hair powdered, to give him the
-necessary look of age, and in one scene I had to comb it. I was most
-anxious to do well in Annie Hughes’s part, and was so zealous that I
-combed all the powder out of his hair at the back, to my own confusion
-and his great dismay.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Elliott & Fry, London, W._ To face p. 24
-
-
- HARRY
-
- November 19th. 1891
-]
-
-At the end of the run of _The Middleman_, I wrote to Mr. (now Sir) A. W.
-Pinero, and asked for an interview. His play, _The Cabinet Minister_,
-was shortly to be produced at the Court Theatre, and I hoped he might
-give me a part. He granted me the interview, and I remember how
-frightened I was. I met him some time ago, and he reminded me of it. He
-told me I struck him as being “such a little thing”. Anyway, he gave me
-a part. This was the first production in which I had played where the
-dresses were provided by the management, and very wonderful dresses they
-were.
-
-It was a great cast—Mrs. John Wood (whose daughter and granddaughter
-were both with us in Canada in 1920), Allen Aynesworth (a very typical
-young “man about town”), Rosina Philippi, Weedon Grossmith, and Arthur
-Cecil.
-
-Mrs. John Wood was a wonderful actress; she got the last ounce out of
-every part she played. Fred Grove says: “When she had finished with a
-part, it was like a well-sucked orange; not a bit of good left in it for
-anyone else.” The first act of _The Cabinet Minister_ was a reception
-after a drawing-room. We all wore trains of “regulation” length; at
-rehearsals Mrs. Wood insisted that we should all have long curtains
-pinned round us, to accustom us to the trains.
-
-Arthur Cecil, who had been in partnership with Mrs. Wood, was a kindly
-old gentleman who always carried a small black bag; it contained a
-supply of sandwiches, in case he should suddenly feel the pangs of
-hunger. “Spy,” of _Vanity Fair_, did a wonderful drawing of him,
-complete with bag.
-
-I remember Rosina Philippi, then as thin as a lamp-post, having a
-terrific row one day with Weedon Grossmith—what about, I cannot
-remember. He was playing “Mr. Lebanon”, a Jew, and “built up” his nose
-to meet the requirements of the part. In the heat of the argument,
-Rosina knocked off his nose; he _was_ so angry. The more angry he got,
-the more she laughed!
-
-I think it was before the run of _The Cabinet Minister_ that I became
-engaged to Harry. I know that during the run Harry was playing at the
-Royalty in _Sweet Nancy_, and was apparently rather vague and casual
-about the duties of an engaged young man. I remember he used often to
-send his best friend to call for me and bring me home from the theatre.
-If he had not been such a very attractive young man himself, one might
-have thought this habit showed a lack of wisdom. He was very attractive,
-but very thin; I found out, to my horror, that he wore nothing under his
-stiff white shirts! Imagine how cold, riding on the top of
-’buses—anyway, it struck me as dreadful, and my first gift to him was a
-complete set of underwear. He protested that it would “tickle”, but I
-know he wore them, with apparently no grave discomfort.
-
-I went to Terry’s to play in _Culprits_—a tragic play so far as I was
-concerned. I really, for the first time, “let myself go” over my
-dresses. I spent £40. (Imagine the months of savings represented by that
-sum!) We rehearsed for five weeks, and the play ran three.
-
-By this time my sister Jessie had gone on tour, first with _Dr. Dee_, by
-Cotsford Dick, later with D’Oyley Carte’s Company. Decima and I were
-sharing rooms which Jessie had taken with me. Decima had been at
-Blackheath at the College of Music, where she had gained a scholarship.
-On her own initiative she came up to the Savoy Theatre, for a voice
-trial, and was promptly engaged for the part of “Casilda” in the
-forthcoming production of _The Gondoliers_. I remember the first night
-of the opera occurred when I was still playing in _The Middleman_. Not
-being in the last act, I was able to go down to the Savoy. I was
-fearfully excited, and filled with pride and joy; it was a great night.
-After the performance, Decima cried bitterly all the way home, so
-convinced was she that her performance could not have been successful.
-It was not until the following morning, when she was able to read the
-notices in the morning papers, that she was reassured and finally
-comforted. Far from ruining her performance, she had made a big success.
-
-During the time we shared rooms we were both taken ill with Russian
-influenza—and very ill we both were. Geraldine Ulmar came to see us, and
-brought, later, Dr. Mayer Collier, who proved “a very present help in
-trouble”. He rose high in his profession, and never ceased to be our
-very good friend, nor failed in his goodness to us all.
-
-On October 31st, 1891, I find the following Press cutting appeared: “Mr.
-Esmond will shortly marry Miss Eva Moore, the younger sister (this, I
-may say, was, and still is, incorrect) of pretty Miss Decima Moore of
-the Savoy”. I was then playing in _The Late Lamented_, a play in which
-Mr. Ackerman May, the well-known agent, played a part. Herbert Standing
-was in the cast, though I remember very little about what he—or, for the
-matter of that, anyone else—played, except that he was supposed to be
-recovering from fever, and appeared with a copper blancmange mould on
-his head, wrapped in a blanket. It would seem that the humour was not of
-a subtle order.
-
-We were married on November 19th, 1891, on the winnings of Harry and
-myself on a race. _We_ backed a horse called “Common,” which ran, I
-imagine, in either the Liverpool Cup or the Manchester November
-Handicap. Where we got the tip from, I don’t know; anyway, it won at 40
-to 1, and we were rich! Adding £50, borrowed from my sister Ada, to our
-winnings, we felt we could face the world, and we did.
-
-The wedding was to be very quiet, but somehow ever so many people
-drifted into the Savoy Chapel on the morning of November 19th, among
-them Edward Terry, who signed the register.
-
-As Harry was “on his way to the altar”, as the Victorian novelists would
-say, his best man, Patrick Rose, discovered that the buttons of his
-morning coat had—to say the least of it—seen better days. The material
-had worn away, leaving the metal foundation showing. He rushed into
-Terry’s Theatre, and covered each button with _black grease paint_!
-
-We both played at our respective theatres in the evening, and certainly
-the best laugh—for that night, at least—was when Harry, in _The Times_,
-said: “I’m sick of ’umbug and deception. I’m a married gentleman! Let
-the world know it; I’m a young married English gentleman”.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Gabell & Co., London, W._ To face p. 28
-
- WEDDING BELLS
-
- November 19th. 1891
-]
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER III
- WEDDING BELLS
-
- “A wedding doesn’t change things much, except that the bride’s
- nearest relations can shut their eyes in peace.”
-
- —_Birds of a Feather._
-
-
-And so we were married.... We had a funny wedding day. Harry, being an
-Irishman, and, like all Irishmen, subject to queer, sudden ways of
-sentiment, insisted that in the afternoon we should call on his eldest
-sister! I cannot remember that he had, up to then, shown any
-overwhelming affection for her, but that afternoon the “Irishman” came
-to the top, and we called on “herself”. We then dined at Simpson’s, and
-went off to our respective theatres to work.
-
-I was rehearsing at the time for a musical play—_The Mountebanks_, by W.
-S. Gilbert. I went to him, rather nervous, and asked if I “might be
-excused the afternoon rehearsal”. He naturally asked “why?”; and
-blushingly, I don’t doubt, I told him “to get married”. He was most
-intrigued at the idea, and said I might be “excused rehearsals” for a
-week.
-
-Three weeks after we were married, Edward Terry sent for Harry to come
-to his dressing-room—and I may say here that Terry’s Theatre only
-possessed three dressing-rooms: one, under the stage, for Edward Terry,
-one for the men of the company, and another for the women—the reason for
-this scarcity being that, when the theatre was built, the dressing-rooms
-were forgotten! I believe the same thing happened when the theatre was
-built at Brixton; if anyone has played at the theatre in question, and
-will remember the extraordinary shapes of the rooms, they will readily
-believe it! But to go back to Terry’s—Harry was sent for, and Edward
-Terry presented him with two books, which he said would be of the
-greatest use to him and me. They were _Dr. Chavasse’s Advice to a
-Mother_ and _Dr. Chavasse’s Advice to a Wife_. I do not know if anyone
-reads _Dr. Chavasse_ in these days, but then he was _the_ authority on
-how to bring up children. Fred Grove assured me that he brought up a
-family on _Dr. Chavasse_.
-
-Anyone who has seen my husband’s “evergreen play,” _Eliza Comes to
-Stay_, may remember the extract from the book—the very book that Edward
-Terry gave to us—which he uses in the play. I give it here; I think it
-is worth quoting:
-
-“Question: Is there any objection, when it is cutting its teeth, to the
-child sucking its thumb?
-
-“Answer: None at all. The thumb is the best gum-stick in the world. It
-is ‘handy’; it is neither too hard nor too soft; there is no danger of
-it being swallowed and thus choking the child.”
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Alfred Ellis, London, W._ To face p. 30
-
- HARRY AS HOWARD BOMPAS
-
- “The Times” 1891
-]
-
-It was during the run of _The Late Lamented_ that I first met Fanny
-Brough, President and one of the founders of the Theatrical Ladies’
-Guild, which has done so much splendid work. She worked with Mrs. Carson
-(wife of the then Editor of _The Stage_), who was the originator of the
-Guild. When the Music Hall Ladies’ Guild began, some years later, they
-ran their organisation on the same lines. Two of the founders, I think I
-am right in saying, of the Musical Hall Ladies’ Guild, were the
-unfortunate Belle Elmore (the Wife of Crippen, who killed her) and Edie
-Karno, the wife of Mr. Fred Karno, of _Mumming Birds_ fame.
-
-Speaking of Fanny Brough reminds me of others of that famous family. Lal
-Brough, who held a kind of informal gathering at his house, with its
-pleasant garden, each Sunday morning. It was a recognised thing to “go
-along to Lal Brough’s” about 10.30 to 11 on Sunday. About 1 everyone
-left for their respective homes, in time for the lunch which was waiting
-there. Looking back, thinking of those Sunday morning gatherings, it
-seems to me that we have become less simple, less easily contented; who
-now wants a party, even of the least formal kind, to begin in the
-morning? We have all turned our days “upside down”—we begin our
-enjoyment when the night is half over, we dance until the (not very)
-small hours, and certainly very very few of us want to meet our friends
-at 11 a.m. They were happy Sundays at Lal Brough’s, but they belong to a
-side of stage social life which is now, unhappily, over and done. They
-belong, as did the host, to “the old order”.
-
-Sydney Brough, Lal Brough’s son, was a person of marvellous coolness and
-resource. I was once playing with him in a special matinée of _A Scrap
-of Paper_, in which he had a big duel scene. While the curtain was down,
-some thoughtful person had cleared the stage of all “unnecessary
-impedimenta”, including the daggers needed for the fight. When Brough
-should have seized them, they were nowhere in sight. Most people would
-have “dried up”—not Sydney Brough. He composed a long speech while he
-looked all over the stage for the missing daggers; he looked
-everywhere—talking all the time—and finally found them—on the top of a
-large cupboard, on the stage!
-
-In 1892 I played in _Our Boys_ with William Farren, who was “a darling”,
-and Davy James—he was very ill at the time, I remember, and very
-“nervy”. May Whitty (now Dame May Webster) and I used to dress above his
-room. We used to laugh immoderately at everything; poor David James used
-to hate the noise we made, and used to send up word to us, “Will you
-young women not laugh so much!” Speaking of May Whitty reminds me that
-one paper said of our respective performances in the play: “If these two
-young ladies _must_ be in the play, they should change parts.”
-
-Cicely Richards was in the cast too; she later played Nerissa in _The
-Merchant of Venice_, with Irving, at Drury Lane, and I took Decima—who,
-be it said, had never read or seen the play—to see it. Her comment,
-looking at Shakespeare’s masterpiece strictly from a “Musical Comedy”
-point of view, was “I don’t think much of the Rosina Brandram part”—the
-said part being “Nerissa,” and Rosina Brandram at that time the heavy
-contralto in the Gilbert and Sullivan operas.
-
-It was in _A Pantomime Rehearsal_ that I first met Ellaline Terriss; we
-were the “two gifted amateurs” who sing a duet. She was as pretty as a
-picture, and as nice as she was pretty. I also sang a song, called “Poor
-Little Fay”, and at the revival “Ma Cherie”, by Paul Rubens, which, I
-think, Edna May sang later on in the music halls. I know she came one
-evening to hear the song, and sat in a box, which made me very nervous.
-She was very quiet and rather shy—at least so I found her when we met.
-
-Charlie Brookfield was in the _Pantomime Rehearsal_, playing the part
-created by Brandon Thomas. He was a most perfectly groomed man, and
-always wore magnificent and huge button-holes, as really smart young men
-did at that time. The bills for these button-holes used to come in, and
-also bills for many other things as well, for he was always in debt; it
-used to cause great excitement as to whether “Charlie” would get safely
-in and out of the theatre without having a writ served on him.
-
-There are hundreds of good stories about Charles Brookfield, some of
-them—well, not to be told here—but I can venture on two, at least. When
-Frank Curzon was engaged to Isabel Jay, someone—one of the pests who
-think the fact that a woman is on the stage gives them a right to insult
-her—sent her a series of insulting letters, or postcards—I forget which.
-Curzon was, naturally, very angry, and stated in the Press that he would
-give £100 reward to find the writer. Brookfield walked into the club one
-day and said, “Frank Curzon in a new rôle, I see.” Someone asked, “What
-rôle?” “Jay’s disinfectant,” replied Brookfield. He was walking down
-Maiden Lane one morning with a friend, and then Maiden Lane was by no
-means the most reputable street in London. “I wonder why they call it
-Maiden Lane?” said his friend. “Oh,” responded Brookfield, “just a piece
-of damned sarcasm on the part of the L.C.C.” At the time when Wyndham
-was playing _David Garrick_, he was sitting one day in the Garrick Club
-under the portrait of the “great little man”. Brookfield came up. “’Pon
-my word,” he began, “it’s perfectly wonderful; you get more like Garrick
-every day.” Wyndham smiled. “Yes,” went on Brookfield, “and less like
-him every night.” When Tree built His Majesty’s, he was very proud of
-the building, and used to love to escort people past the place and hear
-their flattering comments on the beauty of the building. One day he took
-Brookfield. They stopped to gaze on “my beautiful theatre”, and Tree
-waited for the usual praise. After a long pause, Brookfield said:
-“Damned lot of windows to clean.” He could, and did, say very witty, but
-bitter and cutting, things, which sometimes wounded people badly; yet he
-said pathetically to a friend once: “Can’t think why some people dislike
-me so!”
-
-About this time, or perhaps rather earlier (as a matter of fact, I think
-it was in _Culprits_), I met Walter Everard, who, though quite an
-elderly man, did such good work with the Army of Occupation in Cologne;
-he is still, I think, doing work in Germany for the British Army.
-
-In _Man and Woman_ I met the ill-fated couple, Arthur Dacre and Amy
-Roselle. She was the first well-known actress to appear on the music
-halls. She went to the Empire to do recitations. She was much
-interviewed, and much nonsense was talked and written about the moral
-“uplift” such an act would give to the “wicked Empire”—which was just
-what the directors of the Empire, which was not in very good odour at
-the time, wanted. She was a queer, rather aloof woman, who took little
-notice of anyone. He, too, was moody, and always struck me as rather
-unbalanced. They went to Australia later, taking with them a bag of
-English earth. There they found that their popularity had gone, poor
-things! He shot her and then killed himself, leaving the request that
-the English earth might be scattered over them.
-
-Lena Ashwell was in the cast. She was not very happy; for some reason,
-Amy Roselle did not like her, and did nothing to make things smooth for
-her. Lena Ashwell, in those days, was a vague person, which was rather
-extraordinary, as she was a very fine athlete, and the two qualities did
-not seem to go together. She also played in a first piece with Charles
-Fulton. One day her voice gave out, and I offered to “read the part for
-her” (otherwise there could have been no curtain-raiser)—a nasty,
-nerve-racking business; but, funnily enough, I was not nearly so nervous
-as poor Charles Fulton, who literally got “dithery”.
-
-Henry Neville was also in _Man and Woman_. A delightful actor, he is one
-of the Stage’s most courtly gentlemen, one of those rare people whose
-manners are as perfect at ten in the morning as they are at ten at
-night. Writing of Henry Neville reminds me that later he was going to
-appear at a very big matinée for Ellen Terry at Drury Lane, in which
-“all stars” were to appear in the dance in _Much Ado_. Everybody who was
-anybody was to appear—Fred Terry, Neville, my husband, Ben Webster, and
-many more whose names I cannot remember at the moment. At ten each
-morning down they went to rehearse. Edith Craig was producing the dance,
-and put them through their paces. Apparently they were not very
-“bright”, and Edie was very cross. Finally she burst out: “No, _no_,
-_no_—and if you can’t do it any better than that, you shan’t be allowed
-to do it at all!” Evidently after that they really “tried hard”, for
-they certainly were allowed to “do it”, as the programme bears witness.
-
-In a special matinée at the old Gaiety I met Robert Sevier. He had
-written a play called _The Younger Son_, which I heard was his own life
-when he was in Australia. I don’t think it was a great success—at
-anyrate, it was not played again—but Sevier enjoyed the rehearsals
-enormously. After the matinée he asked all the company to dinner at his
-house in Lowdnes Square. His wife, Lady Violet Sevier, was present.
-Sevier enjoyed the dinner, as he had done the rehearsals, but she—well,
-she “bore with us”; there was a frigid kindness about her which made one
-feel that—to put it mildly—she “suffered” our presence, and regarded the
-whole thing as an eccentricity of “Robert’s” (I cannot imagine that she
-ever called him “Bob”, as did the rest of the world).
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Alfred Ellis, London, W._ To face p. 37
-
- PEPITA
-
- “Little Christopher Columbus”
-]
-
-The same year, 1893, I played in _Little Christopher Columbus_. Teddie
-Lonnen was the comedian. May Yohe played “Christopher”, and played it
-very well too; I impersonated her, in the action of the play. We had to
-change clothes, for reasons which were part of the plot. She was not an
-easy person to work with, and she certainly—at that time, at all
-events—did not like me. This play was the only one in which I ever
-rehearsed “foxy”—that is, did not put in the business I was going to
-play eventually. The reason was this: as I gradually “built up” the
-part, putting in bits of “business” during the rehearsals, I used to
-find the next morning that they were “cut”: “That line is ‘out’, Miss
-Moore,” or “Perhaps you’d better not do that, Miss Moore.” So “Miss
-Moore” simply walked through the rehearsals, to the horror of the
-producer. I used to go home and rehearse there. But on the first night I
-“let myself go”, and put into the part all I had rehearsed at home. The
-producer was less unhappy about me after that first night! However, it
-still went on after we had produced. Almost every night the stage
-manager would come to my room: “Miss Moore, a message for you—would you
-run across the stage less noisily, you shake the theatre”; would I stand
-further “up stage”; or would I do this, or that, or the other. Oh! May
-Yohe, you really _were_ rather trying in those days; still, things did
-improve, and eventually she really was very nice to me. It was in
-_Little Christopher Columbus_ that I wore “boy’s clothes”. I thought
-they suited me—in fact, I still think they did—a ballet shirt, coat (and
-not a particularly short coat either) and—breeches. But, behold the
-_Deus ex machina_, in the person of my husband! He came to the dress
-rehearsal, and later we rode home to our little flat in Chelsea on the
-top of a bus, discussing the play. Suddenly, as if struck by a bright
-thought, he turned to me and said: “Don’t you think you’d look awfully
-well in a cloak?” I felt dubious, and said so, but that did not shake
-him. “I do,” he said, and added: “Your legs are much too pretty to show!
-I’ll see about it in the morning.” He did! Early next morning he went up
-and saw Monsieur Alias, the cloak was made and delivered to me at the
-theatre that very evening, and I wore it too. It covered me from head to
-foot; with great difficulty, I managed to show one ankle. But Harry
-approved of it, very warmly indeed.
-
-There is a sequel to that story. Twenty years after, I appeared at a big
-charity matinée at the Chelsea Palace as “Eve”—not Eve of the Garden of
-Eden, but “Eve” of _The Tatler_. I wore a very abbreviated skirt, which
-allowed the display of a good deal of long black boots and silk
-stocking. Ellen Terry had been appearing as the “Spirit of Chelsea”.
-After the performance she stood chatting to Harry and me. “Your legs are
-perfectly charming; why haven’t we seen them before?” I pointed to Harry
-as explanation. She turned to him. “Disgraceful,” she said, adding: “You
-ought to be shot.”
-
-I was engaged to follow Miss Ada Reeve in _The Shop Girl_ at the Gaiety
-Theatre. It was a ghastly experience, as I had, for the few rehearsals
-that were given me, only a piano to supply the music, and my first
-appearance on the stage was my introduction to the band. I had to sing a
-duet with Mr. Seymour Hicks—I think it was “Oh listen to the band”—at
-anyrate, I know a perambulator was used in the song. Mr. Hicks’s one
-idea was to “get pace”, and as I sang he kept up a running commentary of
-remarks to spur me on to fresh efforts. Under his breath—and not always
-under his breath either—he urged me to “keep it up”, to “get on with
-it”, until I felt more like a mental collapse than being bright or
-amusing. This was continued at most of the performances which followed;
-I sang, or tried to sing, accompanied by the band—_and_ Mr. Hicks. Then,
-suddenly—quite suddenly—he changed. The theatre barometer swung from
-“Stormy” to “Set fair”. Even then, I think, I had learnt that such a
-sudden change—either in the barometer or human beings—means that a storm
-is brewing. It was!
-
-I remember saying to Harry, when I got home one evening after this
-change, “I shall be out of the theatre in a fortnight; Seymour Hicks has
-been so extraordinarily pleasant to me—no faults, nothing but praise.”
-What a prophet I was!
-
-As I was going to the dressing-room the next evening, I met Mr. George
-Edwardes on the stairs. He called to me, very loudly, so that everyone
-else could hear, “Oh! I shan’t want you after next Friday!” I protested
-that I had signed for the “run”. I was told that, though I might have
-done so, he had not, and so ... well!
-
-It was before the days when Sydney Valentine fought and died for the
-standard contract, before the days when he had laboured to make the
-Actors’ Association a thing of real use to artists—a _real_ Trades
-Union; so I did not claim my salary “for the run”, but the fact that I
-received a cheque from the management “in settlement of all claims” is
-significant.
-
-Another rather “trying time” was many years later when I appeared “on
-the halls”. Let me say here that I have played the halls since, and
-found everyone—staff, manager, and other artists—very kind; but at that
-time “sketches had been doing badly”, and when the date approached on
-which I was to play at the—no, on second thoughts I won’t give the name
-of the hall—the management asked me either to cancel or postpone the
-date. I refused. I had engaged my company, which included Ernest
-Thesiger, Bassett Roe, and several other excellent artists, for a month,
-and the production had been costly, so I protested that they must either
-“play me or pay me”. They did the latter, in two ways—one in cash, the
-other in rudeness. How I hated that engagement! But even that had its
-bright spot, and I look back and remember the kindness of the “Prime
-Minister of Mirth”, Mr. George Robey, who was appearing at that
-particular hall at the time. He did everything that could be done to
-smooth the way for me.
-
-I seem to have been unlucky with “sketches” at that time. I had a
-one-act comedy—and a very amusing comedy too; my son later used it as a
-curtain-raiser, and I played it at several of the big halls: as the
-Americans say, “It went big.”
-
-I thought I would strike out on my own and see an agent myself, without
-saying anything to anybody. This is what happened. (I should say that
-this is only a few years ago, when I had thought for some time that as
-an actress I was fairly well known.)
-
-I called on the agent in question; he was established in large and most
-comfortable offices in the West End. I was ushered into the Presence! He
-was a very elegant gentleman, rather too stout perhaps. He sat at a
-perfectly enormous desk, swinging about in a swivel chair, and, without
-rising or asking me to sit down (which I promptly did), he opened the
-interview:
-
-“Who are you?” I supplied the information.
-
-“Don’t know you,” he replied. “What d’you want?” I told him, as briefly
-as possible. At the word “sketch” he stopped me, and with a plump hand
-he pounded some letters that lay on his desk. “Sketches,” he repeated
-solemnly, “I can get sketches three-a-penny, and _good_ people to play
-’em. Nothing doing.”
-
-I stood up and walked to the door, then perhaps he remembered that he
-had seen me in a play or something—I don’t know; anyway, he called after
-me, “Here, who did you say you were?” “Still Eva Moore,” I said calmly,
-and made my exit.
-
-All agents may not be like that; I hope they are not; but I fancy he is
-one of the really successful ones. Perhaps their manners are in inverse
-ratio to their bank balances.
-
-Talking of agents, I heard of one who was listening to a patriotic
-ballad being sung at the Empire during the war. A man who was with him
-did not like it, and said, “You know, that kind of stuff doesn’t do any
-good to the Empire”—meaning the British Empire. “No,” was the reply;
-“they don’t go well at the Alhambra, for that matter, either.”
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER IV
- PLAYS AND PLAYERS
-
- “A good deal more work for all of us, my lord.”
-
- —_Love and the Man._
-
-
-The year 1894 found me playing in _The Gay Widow_, the first play in
-which I ever worked with Charles (now, of course, Sir Charles) Hawtrey.
-I do not remember very much about the play except that I wore most
-lovely clothes, and that Lottie Venne played “my mother”.
-
-This year does, however, mark a very important milestone in our
-lives—Harry’s and mine; it was the first time we attempted management on
-our own, and also his first play was produced. We, Harry and I, with G.
-W. Elliott, greatly daring, formed a small syndicate. We took the St.
-James’s Theatre for eight weeks while George Alexander was on tour, and
-presented Harry’s play _Bogey_. (In those days all big London managers
-went on tour for a few months, taking their London company and
-production.)
-
-First, let me say that, whatever the merits or demerits of the play, we
-were unlucky. We struck the greatest heat wave that London had known for
-years; and that, as everyone knows, is not the best recipe in the world
-for sending up the takings at the box office. As for the play, George
-Alexander said—and, I think, perhaps rightly—the “play was killed by its
-title.” It was a play dealing with “spiritualism,” in a limited sense. I
-mean that it was not in any sense a propaganda play; it had, naturally,
-not the finish, or perhaps the charm, of his later work—he would have
-been a poor craftsman if it had been, and a less great artist if the
-years which came after had taught him nothing—but _Bogey_ certainly did
-not deserve the hard things which one critic, Mr. Clement Scott, said of
-it. He wrote one of the most cruel notices which I have ever read, a
-notice beginning “Vaulting Ambition”—which, in itself, is one of the
-bundle of “clichés” which may be used with almost equal justice about
-anything. To say, as Mr. Scott did, that I saved the play again and
-again “by supreme tact” was frankly nonsense. No actress can save a play
-“again and again by supreme tact”; she may, and probably will, do her
-best when she is on the stage, but if she “saves the play” it is due to
-her acting capacity, and not to “tact”—which seems to me to be the
-dealing gracefully with an unexpected situation in a way that is
-essentially “not in the script”.
-
-However, the fact remains that Mr. Clement Scott unmasked the whole of
-his battery of heavy guns against the play and the author, for daring to
-produce it while he was still under fifty years of age; and, after all,
-it was rather “setting out to kill a butterfly with a double-barrelled
-gun”. Still....
-
-The following night another play was produced, at another theatre, and
-on this play (not at all a brilliant achievement) Mr. Clement Scott
-lavished unstinted praise. On the first night of a third play, as he
-went to his stall, the gallery—which was, as usual, filled largely by
-the members of the Gallery First Night Club—greeted him with shouts of
-“_Bogey_”, and continued to do so until, in disgust, he left the stalls.
-After that night, Clement Scott always occupied a box! But the sequel!
-Some days after the production of _Bogey_, the President of the Gallery
-First Night Club called at our little house in Chelsea. I remember his
-call distinctly: our maid was “out”, and I opened the door to him. He
-came to ask Harry to be the guest at the first dinner of the club. It
-was, I think, when that club held its twenty-fifth birthday, that we
-were both asked to be the guests of the club—a compliment we much
-appreciated.
-
-The play _Bogey_ was not a success, but I should like to quote the
-remarks of the dramatic critic of the _Sporting Times_, which seemed,
-and still seem, to me kind and—what is of infinitely greater
-importance—just: “Ambition is not necessarily vaulting, and it is a
-thing to be encouraged and not mercilessly crushed in either a young
-author or a young actor. Nor when the youngster figures in the double
-capacity of author and actor is the crime unpardonable.... This is all
-_apropos_ of an ungenerous attack in a quarter from which generosity
-would have been as graceful as the reverse is graceless.... It was
-remarked to me by a London manager: ‘I don’t know any actor on our stage
-who could play the part better than Esmond does’, and, upon my word! I
-am inclined to agree with him.... _Bogey_ is not a good play ... but it
-has a freshness about it, an originality of idea which is not unlikely
-to prove unattractive to a great many.”
-
-However, Harry Esmond tried again; and the row of plays on a shelf in my
-study is proof that he was only “baffled to fight better”.
-
-In _Bogey_ we had a stage manager, I remember, who should, had the gods
-taken sufficient interest in the destinies of men, have been a maker of
-“props” and a property master. He played a small part, of a “typical
-city man”, and his one ambitious effort towards characterisation was to
-ask if he “might be allowed to carry a fish basket”. He evidently
-thought _all_ city men call at Sweetings before catching their train
-home!
-
-In _The Strange Adventures of Miss Brown_, which was my next engagement,
-I played with Fred Kerr, who wore a toupée. I remember at one place in
-the play, where I had to “embrace him impulsively”, he always said in a
-loud whisper, “_Mind_ my toupée.”
-
-Both Harry and I were in _The Blind Marriage_, at the Criterion. He and
-Arnold Lucy played “twins”, and Harry had to add a large false nose to
-the one with which nature had already very generously provided him. They
-wore dreadful clothes—knickerbockers which were neither breeches nor
-“plus fours” but more like what used to be known as “bloomers”. Herbert
-Waring and Herbert Standing were both in the cast, and on the first
-night the latter was very excited. Waring went on and had a huge
-ovation, while Herbert Standing, in the wings, whispered excitedly,
-“They think it’s me! they think it’s me!”
-
-Herbert Standing was a fine actor, with more than a fair share of good
-looks. He was very popular at Brighton, where he used to appear at
-concerts. I remember he was talking one day to Harry, and told him how
-he had “filled the Dome at Brighton” (which was a vast concert hall).
-Harry murmured, “Wonderful; how did you do it?” “Oh,” said Standing,
-“recited, you know. There were a few other people there—Ben Davis,
-Albani, Sims Reeves,” and so on.
-
-Mr. Standing came to see Harry one day, and was shown into his study,
-which was a small room almost entirely filled with a huge desk. Standing
-began to rail against the fate which ordained that at that moment he had
-no work. “I can do anything, play anything,” he explained, which was
-perfectly true—he was a fine actor! “Listen to this,” and he began to
-recite a most dramatic piece of work, full of emotion and gesture. As he
-spoke, he advanced upon “H. V.”, who kept moving further and further
-away from him. I came into the study, to find Harry cowering against the
-wall, which effectually stopped him “getting away” any further, and
-Standing, now “well away”, brandishing his arms perilously near Harry’s
-nose.
-
-Standing was devoted to his wife, and immensely proud of his family.
-When she died, he was heartbroken. He met some friends one day, who
-expressed their sympathy with him in his loss. “Yes,” said Standing,
-“and what do you think we found under her pillow? _This_”—and he
-produced a photograph of himself, adding mournfully, “but it doesn’t do
-me justice!”
-
-It was in _Under the Red Robe_ that I first actually played with
-Winifred Emery (who used to give most lovely tea parties in her
-dressing-room). Cyril Maude, Holman Clark, Granville Barker, and Annie
-Saker (who were later to make such a number of big successes at the
-Lyceum, under the Brothers Melville’s management) were also in the cast.
-I only met the author, Stanley Weyman, once, but he was very generous to
-all the company and gave us beautiful souvenirs; I still use a silver
-cigarette box, engraved with a cardinal’s hat, which he gave to me. He
-was not one’s preconceived idea of a writer of romantic plays and books;
-as a matter of fact, he was rather like Mr. Bonar Law.
-
-After this run, I went on tour for a short time with J. L. Shine, with
-_An Irish Gentleman_, and at one town—Swansea, I think—he gave a Press
-lunch. All kinds of local pressmen were invited, and, in comparison to
-the one who fell to my lot, the “silent tomb” is “talkative”. Soup,
-fish, joint, all passed, and he never spoke a single word. He was a
-distinctly noticeable person, wearing a cricket cap, morning coat, and
-white flannel trousers. I tried every subject under the sun, with no
-result, until—at last—he spoke. “I ’ave a sort of claim on you
-perfessionals,” he said. I expressed my delight and surprise, and asked
-for details. “Well,” he said, “in the winter I’m an animal impersonator,
-but in the summer I take up literature.” I have always wondered if he
-played the front or hind legs of the “elephant”!
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Gabell & Co., London, S.W._ To face p. 48.
-
- MADAME DE COCHEFORET
-
- “Under the Red Robe”
-]
-
-Soon after I returned to London, my husband’s second play was produced
-by Charles Hawtrey, _One Summer’s Day_—and thereby hangs a tale! Harry
-had sent the play to Hawtrey and, calling a month later, saw it still
-lying—unopened—on his desk. He determined that Hawtrey should hear the
-play, even if he wouldn’t read it himself; Harry would read it to him.
-
-“I’ll call to-morrow and read my play to you,” he said. Hawtrey
-protested he was very busy, “hadn’t a minute”, had scores of plays to
-read, etc. But Harry only added, “To-morrow, at ten, then,” and went.
-The next morning he arrived, and after some difficulty obtained entrance
-to Hawtrey’s room. Again Hawtrey protested—he really had not time to
-hear, he would read the play himself, and so on; but by that time Harry
-had sat down, opened the book, and began to read. At the end of the
-first act, Hawtrey made another valiant effort to escape; he liked it
-very much, and would read the rest that same evening. “You’ll like the
-second act even better,” H. V. said calmly, and went on reading. When
-the third act was finished, Hawtrey really _did_ like it, and promised
-to “put it on” as soon as possible.
-
-“In a fortnight,” suggested the author. Oh! Hawtrey wasn’t sure that he
-could do it as soon as that, and the “summer was coming”, and Harry had
-had one lesson of what a heat wave could do to a play. So he said
-firmly, “The autumn then.” Hawtrey gave up the struggle, and the play
-was put into rehearsal and produced in the autumn. _One Summer’s Day_
-was a great success; it was in this play that Constance Collier played
-her first real part. She had been at the Gaiety in musical comedy,
-where, I remember, she entered carrying a very, very small parcel, about
-the size of a small handkerchief box, and announced “This contains my
-costume for the fancy dress ball!”
-
-Mrs. Calvert played in this production, which reminds me that in the
-picnic scene we used to have “real pie”, which she rather enjoyed. After
-we had been running for some time, the management thought, in the
-interests of economy, they would have a “property pie”—that is, stuffed
-not with meat, but with cotton wool. Mrs. Calvert, all unknowing, took a
-large mouthful, and was nearly choked!
-
-In _One Summer’s Day_ we had a huge tank filled with real water, sunk at
-the back of the stage, and Ernest Hendrie, Henry Kemble, and Mrs.
-Calvert used to make an entrance in a punt—a real punt. One day they all
-sat at one end, with most disastrous consequences; after that, they
-“spread themselves” better.
-
-Henry Kemble was a delightful, dignified person, who spoke in a
-“rolling” and very “rich” voice. He used, occasionally, to dine
-well—perhaps more well than wisely. One night, in the picnic scene, he
-was distinctly “distrait”, and forgot his line. As I knew the play
-backwards, I gave his line. He was very angry. We were all sitting on
-the ground at a picnic. He leant over the cloth and said in a loud
-voice, “You are not everybody, although you are the author’s wife.”
-
-In this play a small boy was needed, and we sought high and low for a
-child to play the “urchin”. A friend told us one day he knew of the
-“very boy”, and promised to send him up for inspection. The following
-morning the “ideal urchin” arrived at the Comedy Theatre. He was a very
-undersized Jew, whose age was, I suppose, anything from 30 to 40, and
-who had not grown since he was about twelve. This rather pathetic little
-man walked on to the stage, and looked round the theatre, his hands in
-his pockets; then he spoke. “Tidy little ’all,” was his verdict—he was
-not engaged!
-
-My next engagement was in _The Sea Flower_. I remember very little about
-it except that I wore a bunch of curls, beautiful curls which Willie
-Clarkson made for me. On the first night, Cosmo Stuart embraced me with
-such fervour that they fell off, and lay on the stage in full view of
-the audience.
-
-Then followed _The Three Musketeers_, a splendid version of that
-wonderful book, by Harry Hamilton, with a magnificent cast. Lewis Waller
-was to have played “D’Artagnan”, which he was already playing on tour;
-Harry was to go to the touring company and play Waller’s part. Then
-there came some hitch. I am not very clear on the point, but I think
-Tree had arranged for a production of the same play, in which Waller was
-engaged to play “Buckingham”, and that Tree or the managers in the
-country would not release him. Anyway, Harry rehearsed the part in
-London. Then Waller managed to get released for a week to come to London
-and play for the first week of the production, while Harry went to the
-provinces. Waller came up to rehearse on the Friday with the London
-company, ready for the opening on Monday. I had lost my voice, and was
-not allowed to speak or leave my room until the Monday, and therefore
-the first time I met D’Artagnan was on the stage at the first night. If
-you will try and imagine how differently Lewis Waller and Harry Esmond
-played the part, you will realise what a nerve-racking business it was.
-For example, in the great “ride speech,” where Harry used to come in
-absolutely weary, speaking as an exhausted man, flinging himself into a
-chair, worn out with his ride and the anxiety attached to it, Waller
-rushed on to the stage, full of vitality, uplifted with the glory of a
-great adventure, and full of victory, leading _me_ to the chair before
-he began to speak. You may imagine that on the first night I felt almost
-lost. I am not trying to imply that one reading was “better” than the
-other; both were quite justified; only, to me, the experience was
-staggering.
-
-Waller was always vigorous, and particularly as D’Artagnan. One night
-when he entered and “bumped” into Porthos, he “bumped” so hard that he
-fell into the orchestra and on to the top of the big drum! Nothing
-daunted, Waller climbed out of the orchestra, by way of the stage box,
-back on to the stage!
-
-The first time I played with Tree was in a special performance of _The
-Dancing Girl_. I played the lame girl, and I remember my chief worry was
-how, being lame, to get down a long flight of stairs in time to stop
-Tree, who played the Duke, from drinking the “fatal draught” of poison.
-
-I was then engaged by Tree to play in _Carnac Sahib_, a play by Henry
-Arthur Jones. It dealt with military life in India. The rehearsals were
-endless, and not without some strain between the author and Tree. Henry
-Arthur Jones used to come to rehearsals straight from his morning ride,
-dressed in riding kit, complete with top boots and whip; Tree didn’t
-like it at all!
-
-The day before the production there was a “call” for “words” at 11 in
-the morning. The only person who did not know their “words” was Tree; he
-never arrived! The dress rehearsal was fixed for 3; we began it at 5,
-and at 6 in the morning were “still at it”.
-
-After the end of one of the acts—the second, I think—there was a long
-wait. This was at 2.30 a.m.! The band played, and for an hour we sang
-and danced on the stage. Then someone suggested that it might be as well
-to find out what had happened to Tree. They went to his dressing-room
-and found him; he had been asleep for an hour! At last we began the
-final act. Tree reclined on a bed of straw, and I fanned him with a palm
-leaf. There was a wait, perhaps three or four seconds, before the
-curtain rose. “Oh God!” said Tree, in the tone of one who has waited for
-years and is weary of everything: “Oh sweet God! I am ready to begin!”
-
-It was soon after, in _Marsac of Gascony_, at Drury Lane Theatre, I made
-my entrance on a horse—a real stage horse; the same one, I think, that
-Irving had used. I may say this is the only time that I had—as you might
-say—known a horse at all intimately. It was a dreadful play: the
-audience rocked with laughter at all the dramatic situations. It was
-short-lived, and I went soon after to Harry’s play, _The Wilderness_,
-which George Alexander produced at the St. James’s Theatre. Aubrey Smith
-appeared in this play, looking very much as he does now, except that his
-moustache was rather longer. Phyllis Dare played one of the children—and
-a very dear child she was; so, too, was her sister Zena, who used to
-call at the theatre to take her home.
-
-There were two children in this play, who had a “fairy ring” in a wood.
-(If anyone does not know what a fairy ring is, they should go into the
-nearest field and find one, for their education has been seriously
-neglected.) To this “ring” the two children used to bring food for the
-fairies, which they used to steal from the family “dustbin”. One of the
-“dainties” was a haddock, and this—a real fish—was carefully prepared by
-the famous Rowland Ward, so that it would be preserved and at the same
-time retain its “real” appearance. A party of people sitting in the
-third row of the stalls wrote a letter of protest to Alexander, saying
-that the “smell from the haddock was unbearable”, and it was high time
-he got a new one!
-
-I remember that during rehearsals George Alexander was very anxious that
-Harry should “cut” one of the lines which he had to speak. In the scene
-in the wood, Sir Harry Milanor (which was the character he played), in
-talking to his elderly uncle, has to exclaim, “Uncle Jo! Look, a
-lizard!” George Alexander protested that the line was unreal, that no
-man would suddenly break off to make such a remark, and therefore he
-wished Harry would either “cut” or alter it. One day, shortly before the
-production, Alexander was walking in Chorley Woods with his wife, who
-was “hearing his lines”. When they reached a bridge, he leant over the
-parapet, still repeating his words. Suddenly he broke off in the middle
-of a sentence to exclaim, “_Look!_ A trout!” “Lizard, Alex.,” his wife
-corrected quietly; and henceforth he never made any objection to the
-line which had previously caused such discussion.
-
-It was when he took _The Wilderness_ on tour that I had what I always
-say was “the best week of my life”. We were not only playing _The
-Wilderness_, but several other plays in which I did not appear, which
-meant that I sometimes had nights on which I was free. There was at that
-time a bad smallpox scare, and when we were in Manchester the whole
-company was vaccinated.
-
-Harry was then going to America to produce a play, and I was taking my
-baby, Jack (from whom I had never been parted before), to stay with his
-grandmother in Brighton, while I went to Ireland. I left Manchester,
-took Jack to Brighton, feeling when I left him (as, I suppose, most
-young mothers feel when they leave their babies for the first time in
-someone else’s care) that I might never see him again, and on the
-Saturday morning I saw Harry off to the States.
-
-I spent the evening with Julia Neilson and Fred Terry, who were playing
-_Sweet Nell of Old Drury_ in Liverpool. They did all they could to cheer
-me—and I needed it! I left them to join the company on the
-landing-stage, to cross to Ireland. And what a crossing it was, too! The
-cargo boat which carried our luggage gave up the attempt to cross, and
-put into the Isle of Man, and the captain of our passenger boat
-seriously thought of doing the same thing. Finally we arrived at
-Belfast, to find the main drain of the town had burst, the town was
-flooded, and the stalls and orchestra at the theatre were several feet
-deep in most unsavoury water! There was no performance that evening—I
-remember we all went to the music hall, by way of a holiday—but the next
-evening we opened at the Dockers’ Theatre, the company which was playing
-there having been “bought out”. So the successes of the St. James’s
-Theatre—light, witty comedies—were played at the _Dockers’ Theatre_,
-where the usual fare was very typical melodrama.
-
-The next day we all began to feel very ill—the vaccination was beginning
-to make itself felt—also I had developed a rash, and, in addition, I
-thought I must have hurt my side, it was so painful. I remember, at the
-hotel, George Alexander came to my door, knocked, and, when I opened it,
-said:
-
-“Are you covered in spots?”
-
-“Yes,” I told him.
-
-“Don’t worry,” he begged; and, tearing open the front of his shirt,
-added: “Look at me!”
-
-He, too, had come out “all of a rash”—due, I suppose, to the
-vaccination. My side got worse, and I had to see a doctor, who said I
-had shingles—a most painful business, which prevented me from sleeping
-and made me feel desperately ill. The climax came on the Saturday night.
-Alexander was not playing, his rash had been too much for him, and his
-doctor advised him not to appear. The understudy played in his stead,
-and, however good an understudy may be—and they are often very good—it
-is always trying to play with someone who is playing the part for the
-first time. At the end of the play, _The Wilderness_, I had a scene with
-my first lover, in which I referred to “my husband”. Some wit in the
-gallery yelled “And where’s the baby, Miss?”. I was ill, I hadn’t slept
-for nights, my husband was on his way to America, I was parted from my
-baby, my sister was in the midst of divorcing her husband—which had
-added to my worries—and this was the last straw! When the play ended, I
-walked off the stage, after the final curtain, blind with tears—so
-blind, indeed, that I fell over a piece of scenery, and hurt myself
-badly. This made me cry more than ever, up to my dressing-room, in my
-dressing-room, and all the way back to the hotel, and, as far as I
-remember, most of the night.
-
-When we reached Dublin, fate smiled upon me. I met Mr. W. H. Bailey
-(afterwards the “Right Hon.”, who did such good work on the Land
-Commission), and he took me to his own doctor—Dr. Little, of Merrion
-Square (may his name be for ever blessed!), who gave me lotions and,
-above all, a sleeping draught, and gradually life became bearable again.
-
-One dreadful day (only twenty-four hours this time, not weeks) was while
-I was playing at the St. James’s in _The Wilderness_. I was driving in a
-dog-cart (this is before the days of motor cars) in Covent Garden, when
-the horse slipped and fell, throwing me out. I picked myself up, saw
-that the horse’s knees were not broken, and walked into the bank at the
-corner of Henrietta Street to ask for a glass of water. I found that,
-not only had I a large bump on my head, but that my skirt was covered
-with blood. Round I went to the Websters’ flat in Bedford Street and
-climbed up five flights of stairs. May Webster found that I had a huge
-gash on my hip, and said the only thing to do was to go to the hospital.
-Down five flights I went, and drove to Charing Cross Hospital. There a
-young doctor decided he would put in “a stitch or two”, and also put a
-bandage on my head. He was a particularly unpleasant young man, I
-remember, and finally I said to him: “Do you know your manners are
-_most_ unpleasant? You don’t suppose people come in here for fun, do
-you?” He was astonished; I don’t think it had ever dawned on him that he
-was “unpleasant”, and I suppose no one had dared to tell him. I only
-hope it did him good, and that he is now a most successful surgeon with
-a beautiful “bedside manner”.
-
-I drove to the theatre, where there was a matinée, with my hat, or
-rather toque, perched on the top of a large bandage, plus a leg that was
-rapidly beginning to stiffen. I got through the performance, and decided
-to stay in the theatre and rest “between the performances”. I was to
-have dinner sent to my dressing-room. Harry thought I had said “someone”
-would see about it; I thought that _he_ said he would see about it; the
-“someone else” thought that we were both seeing about it, and so,
-between them all, I had no dinner at all.
-
-By the end of the evening performance I was really feeling distinctly
-sorry for myself, with my head “opening and shutting” and my leg hurting
-badly. When, at the end of the play, I fell into Alexander’s arms in a
-fond embrace, I just stayed there. He was just helping me to a chair,
-and I had begun to cry weakly, when H. H. Vincent came up, patted me
-firmly—very firmly—on the back, and said: “Come, come, now; don’t give
-way, don’t give way!” This made me angry, so angry that I forgot to go
-on crying.
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER V
- MORE PLAYS AND PLAYERS
-
- “Going to wander—into the past.”
- —_Fools of Nature._
-
-
-When Anthony Hope’s play, _Pilkerton’s Peerage_, was produced, the scene
-was—or so we were told—an exact representation of the Prime Minister’s
-room at 10 Downing Street. One Saturday matinée the King and Queen, then
-Prince and Princess of Wales, came to see the play, and on that
-particular afternoon we, the company, had arranged to celebrate the
-birth of Arthur Bourchier’s daughter—in our own way.
-
-He was playing the Prime Minister, and we had been at considerable pains
-to prepare the stage, so that at every turn he should be confronted with
-articles connected with very young children. For instance, he opened a
-drawer—to find a pair of socks; a dispatch box—to find a baby’s bottle;
-and so on. The King and Queen could see a great deal of the joke from
-the Royal box, and were most interested. In the second act, a tea-time
-scene, Bourchier, on having his cup handed to him, discovered seated in
-his cup a diminutive china doll, and the thing began to get on his
-nerves. He hardly dare touch anything on the stage, for fear of what
-might fall out. In the last act, a most important paper was handed to
-him in the action of the play. He eyed it distrustfully, and you could
-see him decide _not_ to take it, if he could avoid doing so, for fear of
-what might happen. He did everything in his power not to take that
-paper; he avoided it with an ingenuity worthy of a better cause, but
-“the play” was too strong for him, and he finally had to “grasp the
-nettle”. He took it as if he feared it might explode—a pair of small
-pink woollen socks fell out! It was a disgraceful business, but oh! so
-amusing, and we all enjoyed it.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by The Biograph Studio, London, W._ To face p. 61
-
- KATHIE
-
- “Old Heidelberg”
-]
-
-In 1903 Alexander put on that great success, _Old Heidelberg_, at the
-St. James’s. We were rehearsed by a German, who had one idea which he
-always kept well in the foreground of his mind—to make us all shout; and
-the louder we shouted, the better he was satisfied. He was blessed with
-an enormous voice himself—as all Germans, male and female, are—and saw
-no difficulty in “roaring” lines. The whole of the rehearsals were
-punctuated with shouts of “_Louder-r-r-r!_”
-
-In this play Henry Ainley played one of the students—quite a small part.
-I have a picture of him, wearing a student’s cap, and looking so
-delightful! I remember nothing particular which happened during the run,
-except that one evening, when I was hoisted on to the shoulders of the
-“boys”, one of them nearly dropped me into the footlights; and another
-evening, when someone had recommended me to use some special new “make
-up” for my eyes, and I did so, the result being that the stuff ran into
-my eyes and hurt so badly that I had to play practically all the last
-act with my eyes shut! “Kattie”, in this play, has always been one of my
-favourite parts.
-
-Then my husband’s play, _Billy’s Little Love Affair_, was produced, and
-proved very satisfactory from every point of view. Allen Aynesworth,
-Charles Groves, and Florence St. John were in the cast. She was a most
-delightful comedienne, of the “broad comedy school”. A most popular
-woman, always known to all her friends as “Jack”; she died a few years
-ago, very greatly regretted by everyone.
-
-One evening during the run of this play, Allen Aynesworth made an
-entrance, and Charles Groves, who was on the stage, noticed that his
-face was decorated with a large black smudge. Funnily enough, Aynesworth
-noticed that the same “accident” had happened to Groves. Each kept
-saying to the other, “Rub that smudge off your face”, and each thought
-the other was repeating what he said. Thus, when Aynesworth whispered
-“Rub the smudge off your face”, Groves apparently repeated “Rub the
-smudge off your face”! Both became gradually annoyed with the other, and
-when they came off they faced each other, to ask indignantly, in one
-breath, “Why didn’t you do as I told you?”—then discovering the truth
-that they both had smudges.
-
-When this play was to be produced in America, an amusing thing happened.
-The man who was playing the leading part (his Christian name was
-William, but he was usually known as “Billy” by most people), his wife
-was just at that time bringing a divorce suit against him. A wire
-arrived one day for Harry, saying “Title of _Billy’s Little Love Affair_
-must be altered; impossible to use under circumstances”. It was altered
-and called _Imprudence_ instead, thanks to the courtesy of Sir Arthur
-Pinero, who had already used that title.
-
-Then came _Duke of Killiecrankie_, with Grahame Browne, Weedon
-Grossmith, and Marie Illington. She was a dignified lady; a very
-excellent actress, as she is still. Grossmith, who loved to have “little
-jokes” on the stage (and, let me say, _not_ the kind of jokes which
-reduce all the artistes on the stage to a state of helpless imbecility,
-and leave the audience wondering what “Mr. So-and-so has said _now_”),
-one evening at the supper scene held a plate in front of Marie
-Illington, whispering in ecstatic tones, “Pretty pattern, isn’t it?
-Lovely colouring”, and so on—not, perhaps, a very good joke, but quite
-funny at the time. She was furious, and on leaving the stage, said to
-him in freezing tones, “Kindly don’t cover up my face. You’re not the
-_only_ ornament on the stage, you know!”
-
-Then followed a Barrie play—or, rather, two Barrie plays—one,
-_Josephine_, a political satire; the other, _Mrs. Punch_. I recollect
-working like a Trojan to learn an Irish jig, and that is about the
-extent of my memories of the play.
-
-It seems rather remarkable how easily one does forget plays. For the
-time being, they are a very actual part of one’s life; but, once over,
-they are very quickly forgotten, with all the hopes and fears, the
-worries and uncertainties, attached to them. For example, I once played
-the leading part in _The Importance of Being Earnest_, learnt the part
-in twelve hours, and played without a rehearsal. I only “dried up” once
-during the play; I worked at top pressure to learn the part, and now
-(though I will admit it is some years ago) not a single line of the play
-remains in my mind.
-
-In _Lights Out_, one incident certainly does remain very vividly in my
-memory. Charles Fulton had to shoot me at the end of the play. I wasn’t
-too happy about the pistol, and Harry was frankly nervous. He besought
-Fulton to “shoot wide”, so that there might be no danger of the “wad”
-(which was, or should have been, made of tissue paper) hitting me. At
-the dress rehearsal, the wad (which was made of wash-leather), flew out
-and hit me on the arm. I had a bad bruise, but that was all; and I
-remember saying happily to Charles Fulton, “That’s all right; now it
-will never happen again!” However, on the second night, the property
-man, who loaded the pistol, put in, for some reason best known to
-himself, another wad made of wash-leather. The fatal shot was fired: I
-felt a stinging pain in my lip as I fell. When I got up, I found my
-mouth was pouring with blood; the wad had hit me on the mouth and split
-my lip. Fulton turned to me on the stage, preparing to “take his call”,
-saying brightly and happily, “All right to-night, eh, Eva?”
-
-Then he saw what had happened. The curtain went up for the “call” with
-poor Fulton standing with his back to the audience, staring at me. My
-old dresser, Kate, had a cloth wrung out in warm water ready, and I sat
-on the stage mopping my lip. Everyone seemed to forget all about me, the
-entire company gathered round the pistol, and I sat watching H. B.
-Irving and Charles Fulton alternately squinting down the barrel, as if
-some dark secret was contained in it. They went so far as to stick a bit
-of white paper on the fireproof curtain and shoot at it, to see how far
-either way the pistol “threw”. It all struck me as so intensely funny
-that I roared with laughing, which recalled my existence to their
-memory. A doctor was sent for, and I was taken to my dressing-room.
-Meanwhile the car was sent to the Green Room Club to call for Harry, who
-finished early in the play. The chauffeur (who was a very fat youth) met
-Charles Hallard coming out of the club; very nervously he stopped him
-and said, “Oh, sir, will you tell the master the mistress has been
-shot!” Hallard, trying to be very tactful, went into the cardroom, where
-Harry was playing, leant over him, and said in a dignified whisper,
-“It’s all right, don’t worry, Eva’s not _badly_ hurt.” Harry rushed
-round to the theatre, to find poor Fulton walking up and down in great
-distress. He tried to stop Harry to explain “how it happened”; all he
-got was a furious “_Curse_ you, _curse_ you!” from Harry, who was nearly
-beside himself; no doubt picturing me dead.
-
-I asked the doctor to give me “the same thing as he gave the
-prize-fighters”, to stop my lip swelling; and he did; but when I played
-the following night, which I had to do, as my understudy did not know
-the part, I felt that I had enough superfluous face easily to “make
-another”.
-
-I used to do a “fall” in _Lights Out_—which, by the way, I never
-rehearsed—which used to take the make-up off the end of my nose every
-night.
-
-I have played in many costume parts—Powder-and-Patch—which I loved.
-There was “Lady Mary” (the “Lady of the Rose”, as she was called) in the
-famous play, _Monsieur Beaucaire_, when Lewis Waller revived that play.
-“Lady Mary” was not a very sympathetic part, but picturesque; and to
-play with Will (as he was lovingly called by all who knew him) was a
-joy. I had a lovely doll, dressed as “Lady Mary”, presented to me, and I
-have her still.
-
-_Sweet Kitty Bellaires_, by Egerton Castle, was another Powder-and-Patch
-part; she was a delight to play, but, alas! that play was not one of
-those that ran as long as it deserved. In one scene, a large four-poster
-bed was required, in which Kitty in her huge crinoline and flowing train
-had to hide herself when she heard the arrival of unwelcome visitors;
-but it was not considered “nice” for a bed to be used, at anyrate in
-that theatre, so after the dress rehearsal the bed was removed, and
-Kitty had to hide behind window curtains.
-
-Shortly after this play, Miss Jill Esmond made her first bow to the
-world; a wee but most amiable baby, all laughter and happiness; in fact,
-during one holiday at Puise, near Dieppe, where we spent a lovely family
-holiday, Jack used to make her laugh so much I quite feared for her.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Alfred Ellis, London, W._ To face p. 66
-
- LADY MARY CARLYLE
-
- “Monsieur Beaucaire”
-]
-
-When I played in Alfred Sutro’s play, _John Glayde’s Honour_, with
-George Alexander, Matheson Lang was playing, what I think I am right in
-saying was his first “lover” part in London, in the same play. My mother
-came to the first night, and watched me play the part of a wife who
-leaves her husband, going away with her lover. Her comment was: “I’m
-sure you were very clever, darling,” as she kissed me; “but I never want
-to see you play that part again.” “Muriel Glayde”, though not really a
-sympathetic character, was intensely interesting, and I loved playing
-her.
-
-Which reminds me of another story of my mother, that I can tell here.
-After my father died, she came to live in London. She was then 73 years
-old. She had been up to town to see the flat which we had taken for her,
-and to make certain arrangements. She was going back to Brighton, and I
-was driving with her to the station, when she said, seriously: “Of
-course, darling, when I come to live in London, I shall not expect to go
-to a theatre every night.” To go to the theatre every night had been her
-custom during her brief visits to me when my father had been alive.
-
-When I played in Mr. Somerset Maugham’s play, _The Explorer_, in 1908, I
-had a narrow escape from what might have been a nasty accident. Mr. A.
-E. George was playing my lover, and in the love scene he used to take
-from me the parasol which I carried and practise “golf strokes” with it
-to cover his (“stage”, not real, be it said) nervousness. One evening
-the parasol and its handle parted company; the handle remained in his
-hand, and the other half flew past my cheek, so near that I could hardly
-believe it had left me untouched, and buried itself in the scenery
-behind me. There was a gasp from the audience, then I laughed, and they
-laughed, and all was well.
-
-That winter I played “Dearest” in Mrs. Hodgson Burnett’s _Little Lord
-Fauntleroy_. “Dearest” is a young widow, and I remember after Harry had
-seen the play his comment was: “Well, it is not given to every man to
-see his wife a widow!”
-
-Earlier in that year I went to Drury Lane to play in _The Marriages of
-Mayfair_, one of those spectacular dramas for which the Lane was so
-famous. Lyn Harding and that delightful actor, Mr. Chevalier, who, alas!
-has lately died, were both in the play. There was one very dangerous—or,
-anyhow, very dangerous-looking—scene. Mr. Chevalier and I had to appear
-in a sledge which was supposed to be coming down the mountain-side. The
-platform—or, rather, the two platforms—on which Mr. Chevalier, myself,
-driver, horse, and sledge had to wait before appearing, was built up as
-high as the upper circle of the theatre. The horse, after a few
-performances, learned to know his cue for appearing, got very excited,
-and took to dancing, much to our alarm. The two platforms used slowly to
-divide, and we could see down to the depths of the theatre, right below
-the stage. Mr. Chevalier and I used to sit with one leg outside the
-sledge, in case it became necessary for us to make a hasty leap. Later,
-a horse that was a less vivid actor was given the rôle, much to our
-comfort. I remember it was suggested that Miss Marie Lloyd should appear
-and play herself, but Miss Lloyd did not fall in with the idea.
-
-I have heard that she did not care for either pantomime, revue, or the
-drama, and did not consider herself suited to it. Which reminds me of a
-story which was told to me about an occasion when Marie Lloyd appeared
-in pantomime. Her great friend, Mrs. Edie Karno, came round after the
-performance, and was asked by the comedienne: “Well, dear, what do you
-think of me in pantomime?”
-
-Edie Karno, who was nothing if not truthful, and who had herself been
-one of the greatest “mime” actresses of the last generation, replied: “I
-don’t think it suits you like your own work.”
-
-“You don’t think I’m very good?” pursued Marie Lloyd.
-
-“Not very, dear,” admitted the other.
-
-“Not very good?” repeated Marie Lloyd. “You’re wrong; as a matter of
-fact, I’m damned rotten in it!”
-
-Speaking of criticism reminds me of a story of the French authoress who
-went to see Sir John Hare rehearse “Napoleon” in her play, _La Belle
-Marseilles_. He did not look as she had expected, and she said, in
-broken English, “Oh! he is too old, he is too little, he is too sick,
-and besides he cannot act.” She had not seen him play in _A Pair of
-Spectacles_.
-
-And again, when I was playing in _The Dangerous Age_, at the beginning
-of the war, a woman sent round a note to me, saying: “I have enjoyed the
-play so much. I can’t see at all, I’ve cried so much.”
-
-When _Looking for Trouble_ was produced in 1910, at the Aldwych, there
-was some litigation over it, and the case came up for arbitration. The
-judge’s decision is (I think I am right in saying) in these cases placed
-in a sealed box. The contesting parties have to pay a fee of (again I
-can only say “I think”) of £100 for the box to be opened. In this case
-neither of them was willing to do this, so the box remained unopened;
-and, as far as I know, the decision remains unknown to this day.
-
-It was while I was rehearsing in _Looking for Trouble_ that the news of
-the loss of the “Titanic” came through. I shall always remember that
-afternoon. I came out, with no idea what had happened, to find the whole
-Strand hushed. There is no other word for it; people quite unknown to
-each other stood talking quietly, and everyone seemed stunned by the
-news of the frightful disaster, which seemed an impossibility.
-
-Then came our first short American tour, and the War. I did a short
-tour, and then “War Work” kept me busy until 1918, when, under the
-management of Mr. J. E. Vedrenne, I went to the Royalty to play in
-Arnold Bennett’s delightful play, _The Title_, with Aubrey Smith. The
-whole ten months I was at the Royalty in this play were sheer happiness.
-I had a management who were considerate in every way; I liked the whole
-company enormously; I had a wonderfully charming part—what could anyone
-want more? _Cæsar’s Wife_ followed at the Royalty, and I stayed there to
-play in it. I remember I had to knit on the stage, and the work I
-managed to get through, in the way of silk sports stockings, etc., was
-very considerable.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Foulsham & Banfield, Ltd., London, W._ To face p. 71
-
- “MUMSIE”
-]
-
-Again under Mr. Vedrenne’s management, I played “Mumsie” in Mr.
-Knoblauch’s play of the same name. _Mumsie_ was a great play. Some day
-it will be revived; some day, when the scars left by the war are
-somewhat healed, we shall be able to watch it without pain; but then the
-war was too near, we still felt it too acutely, the whole play was too
-real, too vivid for the audience to be able to watch it with any degree
-of comfort. _Mumsie_ was short-lived, but I look back on the play with
-great affection. My part was wonderful, and I say, without any undue
-conceit or pride in my own powers, it was my _tour de force_. I worked
-at the part very hard, for I had to acquire a French accent, and, as I
-do not speak French, it was difficult. I had my reward for all my work
-in the satisfaction of knowing that the author liked my work. Perhaps
-the greatest compliment that was paid to my accent was one evening when
-the Baron Emile d’Erlanger came to see me. He poured out what was, I am
-told, a stream of praise in French; and when I explained, as best I
-could, that I had not understood one word, he refused to believe me.
-
-Then came _The Ruined Lady_; again Aubrey Smith and I were together. It
-was during the run of this play that I first met Sir Ernest Shackleton.
-I found him, as I think I have said elsewhere, delightfully unaffected
-and modest. He had a plan that Harry should turn his book, _South_, into
-a film, but the scheme never materialised. Our Canadian tour followed,
-and when I came back I found Mr. Norman McKinnel waiting for me to play
-in Sir Ernest Cochran’s play, _A Matter of Fact_, at the Comedy Theatre,
-a strong part of emotion which I thoroughly enjoyed. This was followed
-by my first white-haired part at the St. James’s, in _The Bat_, the play
-that made everybody who saw it thrill with excitement. This play had a
-long run, and during that time I played in a film, _Flames of Passion_,
-which led to my recent visit to Berlin to play in _Chu Chin Chow_ for
-the same firm.
-
-There, then, is the account of my life, as truthfully as I can record
-it. For I have never kept diaries, and have had to rely on what, I find,
-is not always as reliable as I could wish—my memory. And yet sometimes
-it is too fertile, too ready to remind me, to prompt me to remember
-fresh stories. Now, when I feel that I have finished and made an end,
-other recollections come to me, and I am tempted to begin all over
-again.
-
-I have at least two in my mind now, which I must give you, though they
-have no bearing on what I have been writing. Still, after all, I am not
-attempting to give an accredited autobiography; I am only trying to tell
-things that happened. So here are the stories which refuse to be left
-out, or be put in their proper place in another chapter:
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Camera Study by Florence Vandamon, London._ To face p. 72
-
- MISS VAN GORDER
-
- “The Bat”
-]
-
-
-SIR HERBERT TREE.—One night, during a performance at His Majesty’s, he
-walked on to the stage just as the curtain was going up. Suddenly he
-saw, standing at the far side of the stage, a new member of his company;
-he crossed over to him and asked, “Is it true that you were once with
-Granville Barker?” “Yes,” replied the man, nervously, “it is true.” “Oh,
-my God!” said Tree; then, turning to the stage manager, said, “Ring up.”
-
-
-Again: The day he was to receive his knighthood, a rehearsal was called
-in the afternoon. Everyone knew that Tree was being knighted on that
-day, and much astonishment was expressed. The company assembled on the
-stage, and after a short time Tree appeared in the full glory of his
-ceremonial dress. He looked round at the company, slowly, then said:
-“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen; I don’t think I need detain you any
-longer. Good-bye,” and left the theatre.
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER VI
- FOR THE DURATION OF THE WAR
-
- “Oh, well, I shall explain to ’em that the country’s at war.”
- —_The Law Divine._
-
-
-On August 3rd or 4th, 1914, when war was declared, we were at Apple
-Porch. My sister Decima was with us, and I can remember her sitting in
-the garden drawing up on a piece of paper, headed “H. V. Esmond’s and
-Eva Moore’s Tour,” the details of her scheme for organising women’s
-work, so that it might be used to the best advantage in the coming
-struggle.
-
-We went to London, and by the Saturday following the offices of the
-Women’s Emergency Corps were opened. Gertrude Kingston lent the Little
-Theatre, and it was there the work began. I was playing at the
-Vaudeville Theatre each evening, and working at the Little Theatre all
-day. Women enrolled in thousands; trained women were grouped into their
-proper classes, and untrained women were questioned as to what they
-“could do”. Weekly lists were sent to the War Office, containing full
-particulars as to the numbers of women we could supply for transport,
-cooks, interpreters, and so forth; and each week a letter was received
-in acknowledgment, saying that women “were not needed”. That was in
-1914. Eighteen months later the Corps was found to be the “front door”,
-the place where women could be found to meet any emergency. It would be
-impossible to give one-tenth of the names of the women who worked for
-and with the Corps, women who gave time and money, brain and endurance,
-to the work. The Emergency Corps was the first body of women in this
-country regularly to meet the refugees from Belgium, find them
-hospitality, clothes, and food. It was the first organisation to make a
-definite attempt to supply British toys; it sent women, capable of
-teaching French, to most of the large training camps throughout the
-country. I remember we issued a small book, called _French for Tommies_,
-which was remarkably useful. The Corps sent thousands of blankets to
-Serbia, ran the first ambulances, organised canteens for the troops in
-France, provided cheap meals for workers, and a hundred other things
-which I cannot remember. When the cry for respirators was first raised,
-the Corps took a disused laundry, and supplied them in thousands; they
-were a pattern which was soon superseded, but that was the pattern
-supplied to us at the time.
-
-When I went on tour, I undertook to enrol members in the provinces, and
-met with considerable success; and it was a year later, 1915, at
-Bournemouth, that I met Miss Marie Chisholm and Mrs. Knocker, who had
-been in Belgium with Dr. Munro, and who had the first Ambulance Corps
-out in Belgium and did such fine work in the early days of 1914. They
-were home on leave, to return when it was ended to their
-dressing-station on the Belgian front line. I was very interested in
-their work, and promised to do what I could to help. Through the
-kindness and generosity of the British public, I was able to send them
-money and many useful things. I should like to quote one instance—one of
-many—which shows how the public responded to any appeal. At Birmingham I
-heard from Miss Chisholm that the Belgian “Tommies” were suffering very
-badly from frost-bitten ears; the wind, coming over the inundated fields
-in front of the trenches, cut like a knife. “I would give anything,” she
-wrote, “for a thousand Balaclava helmets.” On the Thursday night, at the
-Birmingham theatre, I made my appeal, and in a week 500 had been sent to
-me, and 1000 followed in less than three weeks’ time. Sandbags, too, I
-was able to send out in thousands, through the interest and kindness of
-those who heard my appeals. It was through the Emergency Corps that I
-really first met them. Miss Chisholm had been my messenger in the very
-early days of the war, and, before I pass on to other matters, I want to
-say a last word about that organisation. It was the parent of
-practically all the other war societies. The Needlework Guilds formed
-their societies on the lines we had used; the various workrooms, in
-which women’s work was carried on, came to us to hear how it was done;
-the W.A.F. and W.A.A.C., and other semi-military organisations, were
-formed long after we had started the Women’s Volunteer Reserve. Much
-concern had been expressed at the bare idea of Women Volunteers; but
-Decima and Mrs. Haverfield stuck to their point, and Mrs. Haverfield
-carried on that branch finely. Nothing but a national necessity could
-have brought women together in such numbers, or spurred them on to work
-in the splendid way they did. The Corps was a “clearing house” for
-women’s work, and when women settled down into their proper spheres of
-usefulness, the Corps, having met the emergency, ceased as an active
-body to exist; but, before it did so, it had justified its existence a
-dozen times over.
-
-Major A. Gordon, who was King’s Messenger to the King of the Belgians,
-proved himself a great friend to the “Women of Pervyse” and myself. It
-was through his efforts that I was able to pay my memorable visit to the
-Belgian trenches in 1918, and later I had the honour of receiving the
-Order de la Reine Elizabeth. All we five sisters worked for the war in
-all different branches at home and abroad, and we all received
-decorations: Decima, the Commander of the British Empire, Medallion de
-Reconnaissance, and Overseas Medals; Bertha, the O.B.E. for home
-service; Emily (Mrs. Pertwee), Le Palm d’Or, for Belgian work; Ada, the
-Allied and Overseas Medals for services with the French and British, in
-both France and Germany, also, through her efforts in endowing a room in
-the British Women’s Hospital for the totally disabled soldier, Star and
-Garter. Speaking of this brings back the memory of the wonderful day at
-Buckingham Palace, when the Committee of the British Women’s Hospital,
-founded by the Actresses’ Franchise League in 1914, were commanded by
-the Queen to present personally to her the £50,000 they had raised for
-that hospital. If I remember rightly, about 23 of us were there. The
-Queen, after the presentation, walked down the line and spoke to each
-one of us with her wonderful gracious manner, and to many referred to
-the pleasure she had received from seeing our various theatrical
-performances. Before the Queen entered the room, we were asked by Sir
-Derek Keppel to form ourselves in alphabetical order, and Lady Wyndham
-(Miss Mary Moore), my sister Decima, Lady Guggisberg, and myself (Mrs.
-H. V. Esmond) all promptly grouped ourselves under the M’s as Moores.
-
-In the spring of 1918, when the Germans were making their last big
-advance, I was able to arrange to pay a flying visit to Belgium, to see
-the dressing-station at Pervyse. We had to pass Fumes, and found it in
-flames. The sight of that town being steadily bombarded, with the houses
-flaming against a brilliant sunset, was one of the most terrible but
-wonderful coloured things I have ever seen. We arrived at the H.Q. of
-the 2nd Division of the Belgian Army, to find the evening strafe in full
-swing. I can see now the Belgian Tommy as I saw him then, quite
-unconcerned by the guns, planting little flowers, Bachelor’s Buttons,
-outside the General’s hut. I wished that I could have shared his
-unconcern; I found the noise simply ear-splitting, and when a
-particularly noisy shell burst, and I asked the General if “it was going
-or coming”, he roared with laughter. I have never felt less amused than
-I did at that moment!
-
-He sent us over to Pervyse in his car, to collect some papers which Mrs.
-Knocker, who was returning to England in a few days, needed. The
-dressing-station was a small and much-shelled house, on the very edge of
-the flooded land which lay between the Belgian trenches and the
-enemy—from the little house you could actually see the German sandbags.
-The dressing-station itself was anything but a “health resort”, and
-there is no question that these two women faced great danger with
-enormous fortitude.
-
-Afterwards we motored to G.H.Q., where the staff were at dinner—or,
-rather tragically for us, where the staff had just _finished_ dinner. I
-have the Menu still, signed by all who were present. It consisted of
-“Poached Eggs and Water Cress”, with Coffee to follow. We did not like
-to say we were “starving for want of food”, and so said we had dined. I
-was very glad to remember that in our car reposed a cooked chicken,
-which had been bought in Dunkirk. We—that is, Miss Chisholm, Mrs.
-Knocker (who had become by then Baroness T’Scerelles), her husband, and
-I—slept at a farmhouse some distance from H.Q. The only tolerably
-pleasant part of the night, which was noisy with the sound of shells,
-was the eating (with our fingers) of the cooked chicken. I do not think
-I have ever been so hungry in my life!
-
-The following day I was taken to the trenches at Ramskeppelle. The men
-were very much astonished to see a woman in mufti. What struck me most
-was the beauty of the day, for the sun was shining, and birds singing,
-yet from behind us came the noise of the 15–inch guns, firing on the
-Germans, and back came the thunder of their replies. The sunshine, the
-birds, the beauty of the day—and war!
-
-I stayed at Boulogne, on the way back, for the night, as the guest of
-Lady Hatfield at the Red Cross Hospital, and then returned home,
-bringing with me the Baroness, who was suffering from shock and the
-awful effects of gas. If it has seemed, or did seem at the time, that
-these two women had perhaps overmuch praise for what they did, I would
-ask you to remember that they worked in that exposed position,
-continually running grave risks, for three and a half years. It was the
-sustained effort that was so wonderful, which demanded our admiration,
-as well as the work which received the grateful thanks of the whole of
-the 2nd and 3rd Divisions of the Belgian Army.
-
-To go back to the theatrical side of things. In 1914, the first week of
-the war, some 200 touring companies were taken “off the road”, and we—my
-husband and I—were advised to cancel our provincial dates at once. This
-we decided not to do, but to “carry on” as we had already arranged. The
-financial side was not very satisfactory, but I must say that the
-managers in the country appreciated our efforts; and, apart from that,
-we had the satisfaction of knowing that we were providing work for, at
-anyrate, a few artists and the staffs in the provincial theatres, at a
-time when work was very, very difficult to obtain.
-
-I look back on those years of the war as a rather confused series of
-emotions and pictures, when one worked, spoke at meetings, played in the
-evening, read the casualty lists, and always “wondered why”; when each
-day seemed to bring the news that some friend had made the supreme
-sacrifice, when each day brought the knowledge that the world was the
-poorer for the loss of many gallant gentlemen. Pictures that
-remain—tragic, humorous, and soul-stirring. The first detachment of men
-I saw leaving for the front! It was about a quarter to twelve; I had
-been playing at Kennington Theatre, and stood waiting for a ’bus at the
-end of Westminster Bridge. As I stood, I heard the sound of marching
-men, “the men who joined in ’14”. Out of the darkness they came, still
-in their civilian clothes, not marching with the precision of trained
-men, but walking as they would have done to their work. Not alone, for
-beside almost each man walked a woman, and often she carried his bundle,
-and he carried—perhaps for the last time—a baby. I wondered if King
-Charles, riding his horse in Trafalgar Square, had seen them pass and
-realised that in them was the same spirit as lived in the Englishmen who
-sent him to the scaffold—that England and the English people might be
-free? Nelson, watching from the top of his column, must have known that
-the spirit that lived in his men at Copenhagen, the Nile, and Trafalgar
-was still there, burning brightly; and His Grace of Cambridge, once
-Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, did he too watch the sons and
-grandsons of the men who fought in the Crimea, going out to face the
-same dangers, the same horrors, as the men he had known? So they passed,
-in silence, for at such times one cannot find words to cry “Good luck”
-or “God bless you”. Out of the darkness they came, and into the darkness
-again they went, in silence—“the men who joined up in ’14”.
-
-And Southampton in the early days! One night men began to march past the
-Star Hotel at six in the evening, and at six the next morning men were
-still marching past, and all the time the sound of singing went with
-them, all night long—“Tipperary”. I wonder what “Tipperary” meant to
-them all; did it mean home, the trenches, or Berlin? Who knows! but they
-never seemed to tire of singing it.
-
-In May, 1915, we went to Ireland, and in Dublin we heard of the loss of
-the “Lusitania”. No one believed it was true. It seemed impossible that
-England’s super-passenger ship could have been sunk almost in sight of
-land.
-
-We reached Cork on the Sunday evening. Charles Frohman was one of the
-missing passengers. Early on the Monday, Harry and I went to Queenstown,
-to try and find his body. The sight we saw in the shed on the Cunard
-quay is beyond description. Lying on the concrete floor, their hands all
-tied with thick pieces of rope, lay nearly a hundred victims of war and
-German civilisation! Men, women, children, and little babies. I shall
-never forget the pathos of the dead children and babies! Dragged into
-the awful machinery of war, the Holy Innocents of the Twentieth Century,
-butchered by the order of a Modern Herod. In one corner lay a little
-girl, about nine years old; her face was covered with a cloth; the
-terrible pathos of her poor little legs, wearing rather bright blue
-stockings, the limp stillness of her! We found poor Mr. Frohman—the man
-who made theatrical destinies, launched great theatrical ventures, who
-had been sought after, made much of, and was loved by all those who knew
-him—lying there alone, although he was surrounded by silent men and
-women. We took him flowers, the only flowers in all that dreadful shed.
-They went with him to America, and later his sister told us they were
-buried with him. Outside in the streets and in the Cunard office were
-men and women, white-faced and dry-eyed: it was all too big for tears:
-tears were dried up by horror. Later in the week the streets from the
-station to quay had on each side of the road a wall of coffins.
-
-I read in the papers accounts of the disaster, of the “wonderful peace
-which was on the faces of the dead”. That peace can only have existed in
-the minds of the writers—I know I did not see it. Horror, fear,
-amazement, and, I think, resentment at being hurled into eternity; but
-peace existed no more in the faces of the dead than it did in my heart.
-I came away from that shed and cursed the German nation. Yet even little
-children had done great things. Lady Allen, from Montreal, was on board
-with her two little girls. I was told by their sister, who was over
-doing Red Cross work, that they stood all three hand in hand, wearing
-life-belts, when a woman friend came up to them; she was without a belt.
-One of the little girls took off her belt, saying as she did so, “You
-take mine, because I have learnt to swim”. Lady Allen and the two
-children, holding hands, jumped into the sea; neither of the children
-was ever seen again alive.
-
-I met an Australian soldier, in a tiny hotel (for every place was full
-to overflowing), who had been on board. He told me that in his boat
-there was a woman who sang steadily for hours to keep up the spirits of
-her companions; she was, he said, “perfectly wonderful”. After they had
-been on the water for five hours, they saw a man on a small raft; they
-had no oars, and neither had he. The Australian jumped overboard, swam
-to him, and towed the raft back to the boat. He did this with three ribs
-broken! The thing which he told me he regretted most was the loss of his
-concertina, which he had saved up for years to buy!
-
-I do not mind admitting that I hated the sea trip back to England; apart
-from my own feelings, I felt that I was in a great measure responsible
-for the rest of our company. We left Dublin with all lights out, and
-went full steam ahead all the time. It was the quickest passage the boat
-had ever made. Immediately on going on board, I collected enough
-life-belts for every woman of the company to have one, piled them on the
-deck, and sat on them!
-
-So the war dragged on, and one did what was possible. It is of no
-interest to record the visits to hospitals, the work, and so forth;
-everyone worked, and worked hard. My feeling was always, when some
-wounded man gave me thanks out of all proportion to what I had been able
-to do, that I should have liked to quote to him words from my husband’s
-play, _Love and the Man_: “I have done so little, and you have done so
-much”. Only the Tommy, being British, would have been very uncomfortable
-if I had said anything of the kind.
-
-Then, at last, came that wonderful morning in November, when, riding on
-the top of a ’bus in Piccadilly, I heard the “maroons”, and saw all the
-pent-up emotion of the British people break loose. They had heard of
-disasters, lost hopes, the death of those they loved best in the world,
-almost in silence, but now—“it was over”, and a people thanked God that
-“England might be Merrie England once again”. I went on to my Committee
-meeting, a meeting for the organisation of a scheme to raise funds for
-St. Dunstan’s Blind Soldiers, and I remember, when it was ended, walking
-up the Haymarket with Forbes Robertson, and noticing the change that had
-come over everything. If we lost our heads a little that day, who can
-blame us? For four years we had, as it were, lived in dark cellars, and
-now, when we came out into the light, it blinded us—we were so
-unaccustomed to “being happy”.
-
-That night Harry was playing at Wyndham’s Theatre in _The Law Divine_.
-He told me that the audience certainly only heard about half of the
-play, owing to the noise in the street outside.
-
-My sister Decima, after having been attached to the French Army in
-January, 1915, ran the Leave Club in Paris, which did such fine work and
-made a home for thousands of British soldiers in 1917; it continued
-there after the Armistice, till 1920. I shall not attempt to describe
-it, as I hope she may one day do so herself. When the Armistice was
-signed, she went at once to Cologne. She was one of the first women to
-get to the city, and began at once to organise a club for the Army of
-Occupation, on the same lines as the one in Paris. Before she left, the
-work of the club had come to an end, owing to the large reduction of the
-Army of Occupation. I went over, and together we did a tour of the
-battlefields. With my sister were her Commandant, Miss Cornwallis, Mrs.
-Carter, whose husband did fine work with the submarines and went down in
-the one he commanded, and Miss Fisher, who was my sister’s chauffeuse in
-Cologne. We took the same route as the Germans had taken into Belgium in
-1914, and travelled over a thousand miles of devastated land. From Ypres
-to Verdun, everywhere the Graves Commission were busy. We saw cemetery
-after cemetery full of little wooden crosses, which Rupert Brooke said
-made “some corner in a foreign field ... forever England”. We saw the
-parties of Annamites who collected the dead from the battlefields; they
-were most repulsive looking, and I was told that they were the only
-people who could be persuaded to do the work. From Fort Fleure, in the
-valley, we saw the little village of wooden huts where they lived, under
-the direction of one British soldier, who lived there with his wife.
-Through all the battle area were dwarfed, distorted trees, twisted into
-almost sinister shapes; and among them moved the blue figures of the
-Annamites from Tonkin, looking for the dead.
-
-It was spring-time, and on Vimy Ridge the cowslips were growing, and at
-Verdun the ground was thick with violets. I gathered bunches and placed
-them on lonely graves. Looking in my note-book, I see under “Verdun” the
-words, “miles of utter desolation”. I shall never forget those miles and
-miles of wasted land, torn and churned up by the guns, the ground still
-scarred by trenches and pitted with shell-holes, here and there a grave
-with a wooden cross, and often a steel helmet on it—a pathetic
-loneliness. I thought what England had escaped: we still had our green
-fields, our wonderful trees; our villages were still standing, and our
-factories still held machinery that was useful and might be worked:
-
- “This fortress built by Nature for herself,
- Against infection and the hand of war;
-
- · · · · ·
-
- This precious stone set in a silver sea.”
-
-England was unchanged. The memory of what I saw there in France made me
-understand why the French people demand reparations from the nation that
-wasted France.
-
-Outside Arras we met an R.A.C. man and asked him to tell us of an hotel
-where we might stay for the night. He told us of one, and we went on our
-way. When we got to the town we could not find the hotel, and asked a
-Tommy near the ruined Cathedral if he could direct us. He offered to
-show us the way, and got on to the step of the car beside Miss
-Cornwallis, who was riding outside. She asked him what part of England
-he came from, and found he came from the same small place in Kent that
-she had lived in all her life. He gave her the additional information:
-“I know you quite well; I’ve driven your father’s cows scores of times!”
-We reached the hotel, which was a kind of large bungalow, with canvas
-walls, run by an Australian—and very well run, too. I went to my room,
-which I was sharing with my sister, and realised that every word which
-was said in the next room could be heard. The next room was occupied by
-the R.A.C. soldier who had directed us to come to the hotel. He was not
-alone, but was saying “Good-bye” to his French sweetheart. Poor girl, he
-was leaving for England the next day, and she wanted very much to come
-with him. It was rather pathetic, and I wished so much the walls had not
-been so thin.
-
-When one thinks now of the “Lights out”, the marching men, the
-ambulances at the stations, the men in khaki, and the air raids, it all
-seems like something that happened hundreds of years ago! Talking of air
-raids reminds me that some time ago I was rehearsing with an American
-producer for an American play. Everyone on the stage had to be in a
-great state of tension, and, to convey his meaning, he said to me:
-“You’re all as if you were waiting for a bomb to drop. Do you understand
-what I mean? Have you ever heard a bomb drop?” I assured him that I had,
-and knew exactly what “it was like”. I thought, too, “What do some of
-you know of England, and England in war time!”
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER VII
- THE SUFFRAGE
-
- “The sex is learning sense.”
- —_Grierson’s Way._
-
-
-I am not going to embark upon a long discussion as to the wrongs and
-rights of the question, I am not going to attempt to write a history of
-the movement; I am only going to try to tell you of some of the
-incidents, the thoughts, and personalities that remain with me.
-
-Why did I become a Suffragist? Because all my life I had been a working
-woman; I had, and still have, a passionate love for England; I believed
-that I ought to be able to have a voice in the government of that
-country; and believed, too, that simply because I was a woman, there
-were certain very vital questions on which my opinion, and the opinion
-of my sister-women, might be of value—questions which affected “us” as
-women, and “us” as mothers.
-
-I did not go to prison; but I had, and have, the deepest respect for the
-women who did. When you look back on the ordeals which women endured,
-and what they suffered, as suffer they did, remember that _no woman_ who
-faced those ordeals or endured those sufferings did it for either
-notoriety, enjoyment, or bravado!
-
-As for the “damage” they did, well, I am content to leave the wisdom of
-such methods to be justified by wiser heads than mine, and to believe,
-as I do firmly, that those methods were only resorted to when the
-leaders believed that all other means had failed. Were we not advised by
-Mr. Hobhouse to abandon a policy of “pinpricks”, and “do as the men had
-done”?
-
-There were many funny incidents connected with the Suffrage Movement,
-and not the least funny was Mr. Austen Chamberlain’s reason why women
-ought not to have the vote: “Because women are women, and men are men.”
-It was Mr. Chamberlain who said that women ought not to mix at all in
-political affairs. My sister Decima wrote to him at once, to ask if by
-that statement he meant that he wished women to discontinue working for
-the Tariff Reform League, and she received a prompt answer “in the
-negative”.
-
-My first public speech was made at the Queen’s Hall. They rang up at
-very short notice to ask if I would “say a few words”. Rather fearful as
-to my powers of oratory, I went. I remember Christabel Pankhurst was in
-the chair. I began to speak, and a small blood vessel broke in my lip. I
-stood there speaking, and between sentences mopping up the small but
-persistent stream of blood. When my own handkerchief was no longer of
-any use, Christabel passed me another. By the time I finished my speech
-a small pile of “gory” looking handkerchiefs lay at my feet, and not a
-woman on the platform had a handkerchief left. It was a horrible
-experience for a “raw hand”.
-
-What a fighter Christabel Pankhurst was! The hall might be in an uproar,
-but it did not daunt Christabel; she spoke, and, if no one listened, she
-went on speaking until they did! She was a brilliant speaker, who never
-let her brilliance get above the heads of her audience, and never let
-them feel she was “talking down to them”. I have never known any woman,
-who was so ready-witted; no one ever “caught her out”.
-
-A man once got up and asked, “Now, Miss Pankhurst, putting all the fun
-of talking in public on one side, don’t you really wish you were a man?”
-Miss Pankhurst gave the question a second’s consideration, looked
-carefully at the speaker, then gave her head that queer little jerk
-which always heralded some unexpected answer—the crowds knew it, and
-used to watch for it. “Don’t you?” was all she said. Another occasion a
-man got up and commenced a long, rambling question as to what would
-happen to “the home” if he got into Parliament and his wife got into
-Parliament too. It took him a long time to say it all, and he drew a
-really very touching picture. “I don’t know your wife, sir,” said
-Christabel; “I’ve never seen her; she might, of course, be returned for
-Parliament; but you—oh! (very soothingly) I don’t think _you_ need
-worry!” Taking the audiences on the whole, they liked her. If there was
-a row that even she could not talk down, it was an extraordinary thing.
-They liked her humour, they liked her doggedness, her pugnacity, and her
-youthful enjoyment of any and every joke, even if one was turned against
-her. The famous Pantechnicon was Christabel’s idea. Everyone has heard
-of it, and it is exactly the same story as the “Wooden Horse of Troy”,
-only “the horse” was a furniture van, the occupants were Suffragists,
-and “Troy” was the sacred precincts of the House of Commons.
-
-Mrs. Pankhurst had all the fighting spirit, but she lacked the quick
-humour of her daughter. She was a wonderful woman, who had worked all
-her life “for women”, and worn herself out bodily—not mentally—in doing
-so. I have seen and heard her often, but never without a sense of deep
-admiration for her brain and her endurance. Those of us who remember
-will recall the placards in those days: “Arrest of Mrs. Pankhurst”,
-followed a fortnight later by “Mrs. Pankhurst Released”—that was after
-hunger striking—then, “Illness of Mrs. Pankhurst”. About three weeks
-later, when she had regained a little of her strength, you saw, “Arrest
-of Mrs. Pankhurst”. (That was under “the Cat and Mouse Act”.) That weary
-round used to go on, until you wondered how human brain, let alone human
-body, could stand it. But stand it she did, and came back again and
-again. I wonder now if all that she suffered, and all that she gained,
-ever enters the minds of the women voters who go to the polling-booths
-on election days?
-
-Not only may they remember Mrs. Pankhurst, there are other figures “that
-remain”—Flora Drummond, Annie Kenny, Mrs. Howe Martin, Lady Constance
-Lytton, and Mrs. Despard. The last was, as Mrs. Nevinson once said, “not
-a woman, but an inspiration”. She was born fifty years too soon; she was
-an old lady when the Suffrage Movement first began to be a real “thing”
-in practical politics. It was a living example of mind over matter that
-made it possible for her to work as she did. She was, I suppose, the
-most picturesque figure in the movement; she looked what she is—an
-aristocrat. You will find her type in the Spanish pictures of Tiapolo. I
-can think of one at the moment which hangs in the Scottish National
-Gallery; Mrs. Despard might have sat for the court lady on the left. Now
-she has become an Irish citizen, and lives outside Dublin, devoting her
-time to trying to alleviate the sufferings of her adopted countrymen.
-That I do not see eye to eye with her aims and methods does not shake my
-belief that those aims and methods are actuated from nothing but rooted
-beliefs. It was Mrs. Despard who said once, during the most strenuous
-part of the Suffrage campaign, “Oh! then ’twas good to be alive, but to
-be young was very heaven!” An idealist, even something of a fanatic, but
-with her eyes fixed on the stars and her heart full of high purpose and
-great faith in her cause—that is Mrs. Despard as I saw, and still see,
-her.
-
-Of the sufferings (and I use the word advisedly) of the women who “dared
-greatly”, I will not write, and for two reasons—first, the fight is
-over, we gained our objective, and removed from the Statute Book the
-clause which classed women with “lunatics”; and, secondly, because if I
-did write, and write truly of the things I know, no one would believe
-me, and I even doubt if anyone could print what I could write, and write
-in all truth. So I leave that side, and ask you to believe that, even if
-we admit (and I reserve my own opinion) that many of the things which
-the Suffragists did were foolish, unnecessary, destructive, even wicked,
-they had punishment meted out to them in not only full measure, but
-“pressed down and running over”; and I can tell you only that the
-courage with which they met that punishment was worthy of the great
-cause for which they fought, whatever their methods—the Emancipation of
-Women.
-
-The Actresses’ Franchise League was formed after the Women’s Social and
-Political Union, and after the Women’s Freedom League. It was “non-party
-and non-political”. Though it did not advocate the extreme measures, it
-did not condemn; its policy was “The aim is everything”. I remember our
-first meeting at the Criterion; Sir Johnston Forbes Robertson took the
-chair and spoke for us. He, like his mother before him, has been a warm
-supporter of anything which will lead to better conditions for women.
-The meeting was a great success, and from that time we, the Actresses’
-Franchise League, took its place with the other franchise societies. I
-remember, in one of the processions which were organised from time to
-time, the Actresses sent a contingent. Cissy Loftus, May Whitty, Lena
-Ashwell, and I were marching four abreast. We all wore white dresses,
-with sprays of pink roses, except Lena Ashwell, who was in mourning. At
-the end of Northumberland Avenue there was a long wait; we were held up
-for some time. A man who was passing looked at us and recognised Lena
-Ashwell. He turned to his friend and said, “See ’er, that third one in
-that line? I’ll tell you ’oo she is; she’s the ‘Bad Girl of the
-Family’!”
-
-I think in most of us the work cultivated a sense of humour, but it was
-certainly due to a lack of that valuable commodity in someone that I was
-asked to hand in my resignation to the A.F.L. My husband wrote a one-act
-play, called _Her Vote_, the story of a “fluffy” young woman who, after
-persuading everyone she meets that it is “their duty” to attend a big
-Suffrage meeting, does not go herself, because her “young man” has taken
-tickets for a fashionable ball. That, roughly, was the story. I played
-the sketch, and it really was very funny. Two days later, at a meeting
-of the League, “someone” got up and stated that they had seen the
-sketch, and that evidently “Eva Moore preferred Kisses to Votes”, and
-suggested that I should be told not to play the sketch again, or resign.
-I resigned; I felt that one could work as well for a cause outside a
-society as in one. I may say that I was asked to go back, which I did,
-still reserving the right to myself to play in _any_ play, without the
-assumption that I was working anti-Suffrage propaganda. That line,
-“Prefers Kisses to Votes”, has always struck me as so very excellent, it
-should be used in a play.
-
-I did, however, call down upon my head a terrible storm, and quite
-innocently. At a time when “forcible feeding” was being resorted to very
-much, two girls, who were Suffragists, were presented at Court. They
-were both of very good social position, and very charming. One of them,
-on being presented to the King, said “Your Majesty, won’t you stop
-forcible feeding?” She was promptly hustled out of the presence, and the
-Press the following day was full of “the insult offered to the King”. It
-may have been, probably was, the wrong time to do it; it was probably
-the wrong way to attempt to do it; but I did feel, and still feel, that
-the girl must have called up every ounce of courage she possessed to say
-what she did. At a meeting next day I ventured to say just what I have
-written here, ending with: “Whatever one may feel about the wisdom or
-the propriety of her action, you must take off your hat to the girl for
-her courage.” Then the storm burst. That evening I found headlines in
-the papers: “Eva Moore takes off her hat to the woman who insulted the
-King”, and so on; it was astonishing. The result was rather dreadful;
-men I had never seen wrote to me, wrote the most abusive, indecent
-letters I have ever read or even dreamed could be written, letters which
-left me gasping that people who could write at all should descend to
-using such epithets and expressions. Had I not already been a
-Suffragist, those letters would have made me one! However, it came to an
-end and I survived, though I admit at the time it distressed me very
-much indeed.
-
-A disagreeable experience was when I was called to give evidence in the
-case of “Pankhurst and Pethick Lawrence _v._ the Crown”. Mrs. Pankhurst
-was alleged to have spoken against the Crown and His Majesty’s
-Government at the Albert Hall meeting, and the Pethick Lawrences, as
-chief organisers of the meeting, were involved. That, so far as my
-memory serves me, was the case. I was to give evidence for Mrs.
-Pankhurst. I was instructed not to answer too quickly, not to answer too
-slowly, and no first night has ever brought such a torture of nerves as
-did that cross-examination at the Old Bailey. I remember very little
-about it all, except the grim air which seemed to brood over everything,
-and the fear that I might “say something wrong”. Sir Rufus Isaacs was
-“for the Crown”, and I was in the witness-box. I remember after some
-time he said, “—and so you suggest so-and-so, Miss Moore?” It was a
-question very like the old story, “Do you still beat your
-wife?”—whichever way you answered, you were wrong. I admit frankly I was
-paralysed with fright; I tried to collect my wits, tried to think of
-some “really telling” answer; no inspiration came. At last I said, with
-what dignity I could muster, “I suggest nothing”, and heard him say the
-most welcome words which, I think, have ever struck my ears, “You may
-stand down!”
-
-And we were told we went through that kind of ordeal because we liked it
-and loved the notoriety! What imagination some people have!
-
-Some day, when we look back from a distance of years, the things will
-fall into their right perspective, and we shall be able to tell stories
-which will fire the imagination of those who hear them; such stories
-will be the Pantechnicon; the story of “Charlie” Marsh, lying hidden on
-the roof of Birmingham Town Hall, followed by three months’
-imprisonment, during the whole of which time she was forcibly fed; the
-story of Lilian Lenton, who hid for two days in the organ loft in Leeds
-Town Hall; the story of Theresa Billington and the Dog Whip, and many
-others. We are still too near them as actual happenings, we still let
-our political opinions, on either side, colour our feelings; but in the
-future we shall see them for what they were: as brave attempts to fight
-whole-heartedly for a great cause.
-
-I think of the great public funeral accorded to Emily Davidson, and
-remember that a martyr is “one who suffers death or grievous loss in
-defence or on behalf _of any belief or cause_”; the worthiness or
-unworthiness of the cause is a question which only the martyr can answer
-to his or her own soul. Emerson says: “A man does not come the length of
-the spirit of martyrdom without some flaming love”, and I believe that
-it was a “flaming love” for their sister-women which was the
-driving-force behind all they did.
-
-I look back, no longer “dreaming dreams”, but seeing “visions”—and the
-visions I see are of women coming from all parts of England, from the
-factories of Lancashire, from Yorkshire, from the hunting-fields, from
-offices, schools, and from every place where women might be found, who
-wanted to see the dawn of the new era, giving up much which made life
-pleasant and easy, braving scorn, ridicule, and often bodily danger, to
-do what they might to “right a wrong”. I like to remember that “I did
-what I could” and was, at anyrate, one of the rank and file in that
-great army.
-
-I go back to August, 1914, and think how all those women put aside their
-political ambitions, even their demand for recognition, and declared a
-truce, so that they might concentrate against a common enemy which
-threatened their country. “I hated war,” one of them said to me,
-speaking of ’14, “I was and always had called myself a pacifist, but,
-when the war came, well, I worked with the rest of us, to help to win
-it.”
-
-The war was over, and at a luncheon given at the Savoy I met Mr. Lloyd
-George. I told him that I had not seen him for a long time, and reminded
-him that the last time was when I came, as a member of a deputation on
-behalf of Women’s Suffrage, to see him at 10 Downing Street. “Yes,” he
-said, “I remember. Well, I always told Christabel Pankhurst you should
-all have the vote, and I kept my word!” After nearly forty years of
-“constitutional methods”, of spade-work and propaganda, and after nearly
-a decade of active work—nearly ten years during which constitutional
-methods were flung to the winds, and the women fought for the franchise
-as “the men had fought”—they won that which they demanded: their
-political freedom—obtained, as all freedom has been obtained, “with a
-great price”, and that “great price” was years of self-sacrifice,
-culminating in the European War.
-
-So political swords were turned to ploughshares, for, as Mrs. Pankhurst
-used to say, “Remember when you have gained the vote your work is only
-beginning”; and the women of England were at last able to say, each one,
-“I am a citizen of no mean city.”
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER VIII
- PEOPLE I HAVE MET
-
- “There is so much in Nature—so many sides.”
- —_Love and the Man._
-
-
-If all these “impressions that remain” seem—what, indeed, they are—very
-disjointed, remember that Life as one lives it is, after all, a “patchy”
-and disjointed business.
-
-
-MRS. JOHN WOOD.—I have spoken elsewhere of Mrs. John Wood, and the
-following incident happened when I was playing under her management at
-the Court Theatre. I came to the theatre by Underground, and one night
-the train stopped and was held up between Kensington and Sloane Square
-Stations. I looked nervously at my watch, and saw the time was rapidly
-approaching when I ought to be in my dressing-room. Still the train
-remained stationary. I began to feel rather desperate, so decided to do
-all I could to “get ready” in the train. I was wearing buttoned boots—I
-undid the buttons; I was wearing a dress with many small buttons down
-the front—I undid them all, keeping my coat buttoned tight to hide the
-state of “undress”. (I remember an unfortunate man who was in the same
-carriage, gazing at me, evidently thinking I was a dangerous lunatic and
-wondering what I should do next.) At last the train moved, and I got out
-and rushed into the theatre, gained my dressing-room, and began to tear
-off my clothes. I did not attempt to “make up”—there was no time; I
-directed all my energies to getting into my stage frock—which, by the
-way, was a dress for a “drawing-room”, with train and feathers all
-complete. The stage manager, who was not blessed with the capacity for
-doing the right thing at the right moment, chose the moment when I was
-struggling into this very elaborate costume to come to the door and to
-begin to expostulate with me for being late. “What has made you so late,
-Miss Moore?”, “Do you know you should have been in the theatre half an
-hour ago?”, “Do you know you’ll be off?”, and so on, until in sheer
-exasperation I called to him (and I do not regret it), “Oh! for Heaven’s
-sake, _go away_, you fool!” He did. He went and told Mrs. John Wood that
-I had been very rude to him, and she sent for me, after the performance,
-to “know why”. I told her the whole story, and as it was unfolded to her
-I saw her lips begin to quiver and her eyes dance with amused
-understanding. When I finished, she gave her verdict. I know she felt
-the discipline of the theatre _must_ be upheld at all costs, but she saw
-the humour of it. “I understand,” she said. “We will say no more about
-it, this time—_but_ it must not happen again!”
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by The Dover Street Studios, Ltd., London, W._ To face p.
- 102
-
- ELIZA
-
- “Eliza Comes to Stay”
-]
-
-
-A MANAGER IN THE SUBURBS.—I had been playing “Eliza”. We had played to
-capacity all the week, at a certain suburban theatre which shall be
-nameless. On the Saturday night the local manager came to me; he was
-very delighted at the “business”, and said so with great enthusiasm. The
-play was “great”, I was “great”, the business was equally “great”. “And
-now,” he concluded “you will have a little something _with me_, to drink
-to your return to this theatre.” I said it was very kind of him, but
-that I really didn’t want the “little something”; but he seemed rather
-hurt, and so I consented. I do not know exactly what nectar I expected
-him to send into my room, but I certainly did not expect a small bottle
-of Guinness’s stout, which was what he _did_ send.
-
-
-SIMONE LE BARGE.—She was playing in London with George Alexander, and
-was present at a very representative theatrical lunch. The thing which
-struck her most, so she told me, was that everyone was married or going
-to be married. There was George Alexander and his wife; Fred Terry and
-his wife; Cyril Maude and his wife; H. B. Irving and his wife; Martin
-Harvey and his wife; Oscar Asche and Sir Herbert Tree, both with their
-wives; Harry and I, and so on. It astonished her! She said, in the tone
-of one who sees “strange things and great mystries”: “Dans la
-France—c’est impossible!”
-
-
-A SCOTCH LANDLADY.—I arrived in Glasgow one Sunday, and I feel rather
-about Glasgow as poor Dan Leno did. “They tell me this is the second
-city of our Empire; when I find a real ‘outsider’, I’m going to back it
-for a place!” However, when I arrived by the night train from the South,
-I found the landlady cleaning the house with the vigour of twenty women.
-I had to sit in her room until my own were cleaned. When finally this
-was accomplished to her satisfaction, I was allowed to take possession.
-I unpacked and took out some sewing, which was a series of small flannel
-garments I was making for Jack, then a baby. She walked into my room,
-and saw what I was doing; she fixed me with a “cold eye”. “Sewin’!” she
-ejaculated. I explained they were for my baby, etc., but the cold eye
-still remained cold. “On the Sawbath!” she said. “Weel, Ah ca’ it
-naething but _impious_,” and with that she walked out and left me alone
-with my “impiety”.
-
-
-DAN LENO.—I have no real right to include Dan Leno. I never met him, but
-my sister Decima did, and someone else who did told me this story, which
-I think is worth repeating. Leno lived at Brixton (I am told that, as
-all good Americans go to Paris when they die, so all good music hall
-artists go to Brixton when they die), and he used on Sunday mornings to
-potter round his garden wearing carpet slippers, an old pair of
-trousers, his waistcoat open, and no collar; quite happy, and enjoying
-it immensely. He went round, on one of these Sunday mornings, to a
-“hostelry” for liquid refreshment, and met there a “swell comedian” who
-knew him. This gentleman, who appeared on the halls dressed rather in
-the manner of Mr. George Lashwood, was faultlessly dressed in a frock
-coat, the regulation dark grey trousers, and looked rather “stagily”
-immaculate. He looked at Dan with disapproval, and proceeded to
-expostulate with him. “Danny, boy, you shouldn’t come out dressed like
-that. After all, you _are_ England’s leading comedian, and—well—you
-ought to make yourself look smart. Let people know _who you are_!” Then,
-with pride, he added: “Look at me, boy; why don’t you do like I do?”
-Leno looked at him gravely. “Like you?” he repeated. “Look like you?—I
-_never_ come out in my ‘props’, old boy.”
-
-
-Mr. Henry Arthur Jones years ago said a thing to Harry that has ever
-lived in my memory. They were discussing acting and plays, and Mr. Jones
-said “A play is as good as it is acted.” That remark sums up the whole
-question. A play can only be seen and valued through the acting; it’s
-the only art that has to be judged through the medium of other
-personalities, and not by the creator. When I once saw a revival of one
-of Harry’s plays, that had not the advantage of his personal
-supervision, I realised how completely true Mr. Jones’s remark was.
-
-
-A SCOTTISH SOLDIER.—It was during the war. I was walking up Regent
-Street, and there I saw him, fresh from France, hung round like a
-Christmas tree, obviously knowing nothing of London, and, being a Scot,
-far too proud to ask his way. I ventured to speak to him, for, as in the
-old days girls suffered from “scarlet” fever, during the war I suffered
-from “khaki” fever. “Do you want to get to a railway station?” I asked.
-“Aye; Paddington.” As it happened, I too was going to Paddington, and I
-said so. “I am going there myself; if you will come with me, I can tell
-you where to find the platform. We will get on the ’bus that comes
-along; I’ll show you the way.” He looked at me, not unkindly, but with
-the scorn of a true Scot for the simplicity of a Southerner who
-underrates the intelligence of the men from “over the Border”. “Ye wull,
-wull ye?” he said. “Aye—well—ye wull _not_. Ah’ve been warrrrned aboot
-lassies like you!” And he walked away with great dignity and
-self-possession.
-
-
-ELLEN TERRY.—I have seen her, as you have seen her—and if by chance you
-have not done so, you have missed one of the things that might well be
-counted “pearls of great price”—on the stage, looking perfectly
-beautiful, with the beauty which did not owe its existence to wonderful
-features or glorious colouring, but to that elusive “something” that the
-limitations of the English language force me to describe as “magnetism”;
-but the most lovely picture I carry in my mental gallery is of her in
-her own house at Chelsea. A letter, signed by all the actresses of Great
-Britain, was to be sent to the Queen concerning a big charity matinée.
-It had been most carefully worded, and a most wonderful copy made. Mrs.
-Kendal had signed it, and I was deputed to take it to Ellen Terry for
-her signature. When I got to her house, she was ill in bed, neuralgia in
-her head, and I was shown into her bedroom. I don’t know if you could
-look beautiful with your head swathed in flannel, suffering tortures
-from neuralgia; I know I couldn’t; but Ellen Terry did. She looked
-rather as she did in _The Merry Wives of Windsor_. If you can imagine
-“Mistress Ford” sitting up in an old four-poster bed, still wearing her
-“wimple”, and looking sufficiently lovely to turn Ford’s head, and
-Falstaff’s head, and everybody else’s head a dozen times—that was Ellen
-Terry as I saw her then. I gave her the letter, this carefully made
-“fair copy”, for her to sign. She read the letter, slowly, pen in hand.
-Some phrase failed to please her, and saying “No, I don’t think that
-will do”, she took her pen, scored through some words, and substituted
-others, handing the letter back to me, with “I think that is better,
-don’t you?” Have you seen her writing? It is rather large, very black,
-very distinct, and very pretty; I did not dare to say that no letter
-could be given to the Queen with corrections—a Queen had made them, and
-it was not for me to remark on what she did. I said I was sure it was an
-improvement, and took my precious letter away for other signatures. What
-happened to the letter eventually, whether another copy was made or
-not—that has all vanished from my mind; but the picture of lovely
-“Mistress Ford” remains.
-
-
-A ’BUS DRIVER.—In the old days I used to walk from the Strand to
-Piccadilly and catch my ’bus there. It saved a penny. One old ’bus
-driver—there were horse ’buses then, of course—used to wait for me. I
-used to climb on to the top of the ’bus, and he used to talk to me, and
-take an enormous interest in “how I was getting on”. Years afterwards I
-was at Paddington, and as I came out of the station I saw, seated on the
-box of a cab, my old friend of the ’bus. He told me he had “got on”, and
-had bought a cab, a four-wheeler; that he had never “lost sight of me”;
-and that he still thought of me, and always should think of me, as “his
-Miss Moore”. Bless his red face! I wonder what he is driving now. Taxis
-and motor ’buses may be very good things in their way, but they lost us
-the “real” ’bus driver and the “real” cab driver.
-
-
-A “TOMMY” FROM THE SECOND LONDON GENERAL HOSPITAL.—I was playing “Eliza”
-at the Brixton Theatre, and on the Saturday the manager, the late Newman
-Maurice, asked a party of wounded boys from the London General Hospital
-to come, as our guests, to the matinée. I, in my turn, asked if they
-would come round to my dressing-room, at the end of the play, for tea
-and cigarettes; they came, and in a terrific state of excitement, too.
-All talking at once, they tried to tell me the reason, and after some
-time I began to understand. One of their number had been
-“shell-shocked”, and so badly that he had lost his speech; he had been
-watching the play that afternoon and suddenly began to laugh, and, a
-second later, to the delight Of his companions, to speak! I have never
-seen such congratulations, such hand-shakings, such genuine delight, as
-was expressed by those boys over their comrade’s recovery. One of the
-boys that afternoon was a mass of bandages; you could not see anything
-of his face and head but two bright eyes, so badly had he been wounded.
-When I went to Canada, two years ago, this man was waiting for me at the
-hotel at Vancouver. He was no longer wrapped in bandages, but he had
-been so certain that I should not know him again that he had brought
-photographs of himself, taken while still in hospital, “complete with
-bandages”, to prove his identity! As a matter of fact—how or why, I
-cannot say—I did remember him at once.
-
-
-GEORGE BERNARD SHAW.—I once rehearsed for a play of his at the Haymarket
-Theatre. I remember he used to sit at rehearsals with his back to the
-footlights, tilting his chair so far on its hind legs that it was only
-by the intervention of heaven that he did not fall into the orchestra.
-There he sat, always wearing kid gloves, firing off short, terse
-comments on the acting, and rousing everybody’s ire to such an extent
-that the fat was in the fire, and finally the production was abandoned,
-after five weeks’ rehearsal! It was produced later, and was a very great
-success, Henry Ainley playing the lead. When Bernard Shaw and Granville
-Barker went into management at the Court Theatre, Harry and I met Shaw
-one day, and Harry asked how the season “had gone”. “Well,” said Bernard
-Shaw, “I’ve lost £7000, and Barker’s lost his other shirt.”
-
-
-MRS. KENDAL.—She came to a reception the other day at Sir Ernest and
-Lady Wilde’s, to which I had taken my little daughter, Jill. “Look,
-Jill,” I said, as she entered the room, “that is Mrs. Kendal.” She
-looked, and her comment is valuable, as showing the impression which
-“The Old General” made on the “new recruit”: “How perfectly beautiful
-she looks.” I lunched with her, not long ago, at her house in Portland
-Place, and I remarked how charming her maids looked. She nodded. “When
-anyone is coming to see me, I always say to my servants, ‘A clean cap, a
-clean apron, look as nice as you can; it is a compliment we owe to the
-visitors who honour this house’.” We sat talking of many things, and
-Mrs. Kendal said reflectively: “Think of all the things we have missed,
-people like you and me, through leading—er—shall we say, ‘well-conducted
-lives’! And, make no mistake, we _have_ missed them!” What an unexpected
-comment on life from Mrs. Kendal! and yet, I suppose, true enough. I
-suppose, as “Eliza” says, one “can be too safe”, and perhaps it might
-be, at all events, an experience to “be in danger for once”.
-
-
-ELLA SHIELDS.—I met her again in Canada. She had come from the States,
-where, in common with many other artists who are assured successes in
-England, she had not had the kindest reception. Canada, on the other
-hand, delighted in her work, and gave her a wonderful ovation wherever
-she went. One day we went out walking together, and she gave me the best
-lesson in “walking” I have ever had. I have never seen anyone who moved
-so well, so easily, and so gracefully. I told her that I wished I could
-walk with her every day, to really learn “how she did it”.
-
-
-ARTHUR BOURCHIER.—When both Harry and I were playing in _Pilkerton’s
-Peerage_, Arthur Bourchier suddenly made a rule that no one was to leave
-their dressing-room until called by the call-boy, immediately before
-their entrance on to the stage. One night the call-boy forgot, and Harry
-was not called, as he should have been. Bourchier came off, and there
-was a bad “wait”. He turned to me and whispered, in an agonised voice,
-“Go on and say _something_”, which I declined to do. At that moment
-Harry rushed on to the stage, and, as he tore past Bourchier, very, very
-angry at missing his “cue”, shook his fist in Bourchier’s face, saying
-fiercely “Damn you!” After his scene he came off, still very angry, and
-went up to Bourchier. The storm burst. “There you are!” Harry said; “you
-see the result of your damned, idiotic rules——”, and much more in the
-same strain. Bourchier, in a soothing voice, said: “It’s all right, it’s
-all right, Harry—_I’ve sacked the call-boy!_”
-
-
-THE GERMAN PRODUCTION OF “OLD HEIDELBERG.”—Before George Alexander
-produced this play, it was done at the old Novelty Theatre by a German
-company, under the direction of Herr Andresson and Herr Berhens.
-Alexander asked me to go and see it, with Mrs. Alexander, which we did.
-I have rarely seen such a badly “dressed” play. The one real attempt to
-show the “glory” of the reigning house of “Sachsen-Karlsburg” was to
-make the footmen wear red plush breeches. The “State apartments” were
-tastefully furnished in the very best period of “Tottenham Court Road”
-mid-Victorian furniture. After the performance was over, Herr Berhens
-came to see us in the box. I did not know quite what to say about the
-production, so I murmured something rather vague about the “back cloth
-looking very fine.” Herr Berhens bowed. “So it should do,” he said, “the
-production cost £25!”
-
-
-RUDGE HARDING.—He is a “bird enthusiast”, and will sit and watch them
-all day long, and half the night too, if they didn’t get tired and go to
-roost. Rudge Harding was coming to stay with us at “Apple Porch”—our
-house in the country, near Maidenhead. Harry met him at the station,
-saying breathlessly, “Thank God you’ve come! We have a _bottle-throated
-windjar_ in the garden; I was so afraid it might get away before you saw
-it!” Harding said he had never heard of the bird (neither, for that
-matter, had anyone else, for Harry had evolved it on his way to the
-station). Needless to say, on arriving at “Apple Porch”, the
-“bottle-throated windjar” could not be located, but Harry had
-“recollected” many quaint and curious habits of the bird. He possessed a
-large three-volume edition of a book on birds—without an index—and for
-three days Rudge Harding searched that book for the valuable additional
-information on the bird which Harry swore it must contain. He might have
-gone on looking for the rest of his visit, if Harry had not tired of the
-game and told him the awful truth!
-
-
-MORLEY HORDER.—He is now a very, very successful architect, and is, I
-believe, doing much of the planning for the re-building of North London.
-He designed “Apple Porch” for us, and when it was in process of being
-built we drove over one day with him to see it. We had then a very early
-type of car, a Clement Talbot, with a tonneau which was really built to
-hold two, but on this occasion held three—and very uncomfortable it
-was—Morley Horder, Phillip Cunningham, and I. Horder, a very quiet,
-rather retiring man, with dark eyes and very straight black hair, said
-not a word the whole journey. Cunningham chatted away, full of vitality
-and good humour. When we finally reached “Apple Porch”, Cunningham got
-out and turned to Morley Horder. “Now then,” he said, “jump out,
-_Chatterbox_!”
-
-
-ERIC LEWIS.—There is no need to speak of his work, for everyone knows
-it, and appreciates the finish and thought which it conveys. He played
-“Montague Jordon” in _Eliza_ for us, for a long time, and has been the
-“only Monty” who ever really fulfilled the author’s idea. Others have
-been funny, clever, amusing, eccentric, and even rather pathetic; Eric
-Lewis was all that, and much more. He is, and always has been, one of
-the kindest of friends, as time has made him one of the oldest.
-
-
-FRED GROVE.—Another of the “ideals” of the evergreen play, _Eliza_. He
-has played “Uncle Alexander” a thousand times and more, each time with
-the same care and attention to detail. He has evolved a “bit of
-business” with a piece of string, which he places carefully on the stage
-before the curtain goes up; never a week has passed, when he has been
-playing the part, but some careful person has picked up that piece of
-string and taken it away, under the impression that they were making the
-stage “tidy”. What a wonderful memory Fred Grove has, too! Ask him for
-any information about stage matters—any date, any cast—and the facts are
-at his finger-tips at once. He has made a very large collection of books
-on the stage, and among them a copy of the poems written by Adah Isaacs
-Menken, the “first female Mazeppa”, who married the famous Benicia Boy,
-a great prize-fighter of his day. The poems were considered so beautiful
-that some of them were attributed to Swinburne, who declared he had
-nothing to do with them beyond giving them his deep admiration. Fred
-Grove is one of the people who never forget my birthday; Sydney Paxton
-is another.
-
-
-CLEMENCE DANE.—My sister Ada knew her first, and it was at her
-suggestion that I went down to see “Diana Courtis” (the name she used
-for the stage) play at Hastings. We were about to produce _Sandy and His
-Eliza_, the title of which was changed later to _Eliza Comes to Stay_. I
-decided she was exactly the type I wanted to play “Vera Lawrence”, the
-actress, and engaged her at once. It was not until she began to write
-that she changed her name from “Diana Courtis” to “Clemence Dane”. I
-remember we were doing a flying matinée, to Southend, and I took Jill,
-then a very tiny girl, with me. All the way there she sat on “Diana
-Courtis’s” knee and listened to wonderful stories, Kipling’s _Just So
-Stories_. When they came to an end, Jill drew a deep breath and said,
-“What wouldn’t I give to be able to tell stories like that!” “Yes,”
-responded the teller of the stories, “and what wouldn’t I give to be
-able to write them!” She designed and drew our poster, which we still
-use, for _Eliza_—Cupid standing outside the green-door, waiting to
-enter. I have a wonderful book, which “Clemence Dane” made for me; all
-the characters in _Eliza_, everyone mentioned, whether they appear or
-not, are drawn as she imagined them. To be naturally as versatile as
-this—actress, artist, and writer—seems to me a dangerous gift from the
-gods, and one which needs strength of character to resist the temptation
-to do many things “too easily” and accomplish nothing great. Clemence
-Dane has three books, and what I shall always regard as a great poem in
-blank verse, to prove that she has resisted the temptation.
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER IX
- PERSONALITIES
-
- “You are surprised that I know such nice people?”
- —_Fools of Nature._
-
-
-The Pageantry of Great People! If I could only make that pageant live
-for you as it does for me! I know it is impossible; it needs greater
-skill than mine to make the men and women live on paper. It is only
-possible for me to recall some small incident which seems typical of the
-individual. In itself, that may be a poor way of drawing mental
-pictures; but it is the only way I can attempt with the smallest hope of
-success. Great people, whether great in art, wit, or greatness of heart,
-demand great skill to depict them, so, having excused myself for my
-inevitable shortcomings, I will set to work. If I fail utterly, I ask
-you to remember it is due to lack of skill, and not lack of
-appreciation. If I seem to recall these “big” people chiefly through
-incidents that seem humorous, it is because I like to remember the
-things which have made me, and others with me, laugh. If the stories do
-not appear very laughable, then you must make allowances again, and
-believe that they “were funny at the time”, perhaps because when they
-happened I was young. We all were young, and the world was a place where
-we laughed easily—because we were happy.
-
-
-SIR HERBERT TREE.—I begin my Pageant with Herbert Tree because he was a
-great figure; he stood for a very definite “something”. You might like
-or dislike him, but you had to admit he was a personality. He certainly
-posed, he undoubtedly postured; but how much was natural and how much
-assumed, I should not like to attempt to decide. There was something
-wonderfully childlike about him; he would suddenly propound most
-extraordinary ideas in the middle of a rehearsal—ideas which we knew,
-and for all I know Tree knew too, were utterly impossible. I remember
-during the rehearsals of _Carnac Sahib_, when we were rehearsing the
-scene in the Nabob’s palace, Tree suddenly struck an attitude in the
-middle of the stage and called for Wigley (who, by the way, he always
-addressed as “Wiggerley”), who was “on the list” as either stage manager
-or assistant stage manager, but whose real work was to listen to Tree
-and to prompt him when necessary—which was very often. Tree called
-“Wiggerley”, and “Wiggerley” duly came. “I’ve got an idea,” said Tree.
-“Wiggerley” expressed delight and pleasure, and waited expectant. “Those
-windows” (pointing to the open windows of the “palace”); “we’ll have a
-pair of large, flopping vultures fly in through those windows. Good, I
-think; very good.” The faithful “Wiggerley” agreed that the idea was
-brilliant, and stated that “it should be seen to at once”. Tree was
-perfectly satisfied. The vultures never appeared, and I have not the
-slightest belief that “Wiggerley” ever looked for any, or indeed ever
-had the smallest intention of doing so.
-
-Tree was very fond of Harry, and used often to ask him to go back to
-supper, after the theatre, when Tree lived in Sloane Street. One evening
-he asked him to “come back to supper”, and Harry, for some reason,
-wanted to come straight home; probably he had a very nice supper of his
-own waiting. Tree persisted. “Oh, come back with me; there’s stewed
-mutton; you know you like stewed mutton”, and finally Harry gave way.
-They drove to Sloane Street, and walked into the dining-room. There was
-on the table a large lace cloth, and—a bunch of violets! That was all.
-Tree went up to the table, lifted the violets and smelt them, an
-expression of heavenly rapture, as of one who hears the songs of angels,
-on his face. He held them out to Harry (who smelt them), saying “Aren’t
-they wonderful?”, then, taking his hand and leading him to the door, he
-added “_Good_-night, good-night.” Harry found himself in the street,
-Tree presumably having gone back either to eat or smell the violets in
-lieu of supper.
-
-When he produced _Much Ado_, playing “Benedick”, he introduced a scene
-between “Dogberry” and “Verges”, and also some extraordinary business
-when Sir Herbert sat under a tree and had oranges dropped on him from
-above. Harry and I went to the first night, and he resented each
-“introduction” more fiercely than the last. He sank lower and lower in
-his stall, plunged in gloom, and praying that Tree would not send for
-him at the end of the play and ask “what he thought of it all”. However,
-Tree _did_, and we found ourselves in the “Royal Room”, which was packed
-with people, Tree holding a reception. I begged Harry to be tactful, and
-Harry had made up his mind not to give Tree the opportunity of speaking
-to him at all, if it could be avoided. Tree saw him and came towards us;
-Harry backed away round the room, Tree following. Round they went, until
-Harry was caught in the corner by the stair. Tree put the fateful
-question, “What do you think of it?” By this time Harry’s “tact” had
-taken wings, and he answered frankly, if rather harshly, “Perfectly
-dreadful!” I fancy Tree must have thought the world had fallen round
-him; he couldn’t believe he was “hearing right”. He persisted, “But my
-scene under the tree?” Back came Harry’s answer, “Awful!” “And the scene
-between Dogberry and Verges?” Again, “Perfectly appalling!” Tree stared
-at him, then there was a long pause. At last Tree spoke: “Yes, perhaps
-you’re right.”
-
-Here is a picture of Tree at a dress rehearsal of, I think, _Nero_.
-Tree, attired in a flowing gold robe, moving about the stage, with what
-was apparently a crown of dahlias on his head. The crown was rather too
-big, and, in the excitement of some discussion about a “lighting
-effect”, it had slipped down over one eye, giving Tree a dissipated
-appearance, not altogether in keeping with his regal character. Lady
-Tree (I don’t think she was “Lady” Tree then) called from the stall:
-“Herbert, may I say one word?” Tree turned and struck an “Aubrey
-Beardsley” attitude; with great dignity he replied, “_No_, you may not”,
-and turned again to his discussion.
-
-A wonderful mixture of innocence and guile, of affectations and genuine
-kindness, of ignorance and knowledge, of limitations and possibilities,
-that was Herbert Tree as I read him. But a great artist, a great
-producer, and a very great figure.
-
-
-WILLIAM TERRISS.—“Breezy Bill Terriss”, the hero of the Adelphi dramas.
-Handsome, lovable, with a tremendous breadth of style in his acting that
-we see too seldom in these days of “restraint”. His “Henry VIII.” to
-Irving’s “Wolsey” was a magnificent piece of acting. There is a story
-told of him, when Irving was rehearsing a play in which there was a
-duel—_The Corsican Brothers_, I think. At the dress rehearsal (“with
-lights” to represent the moon, which lit the fight), Irving called to
-“the man in the moon”: “Keep it on me, on me!” Terriss dropped his
-sword: “Let the moon shine on me a little,” he begged; “Nature is at
-least impartial.” Everyone knows of his tragic death, and his funeral
-was a proof of the affection in which he was held—it was practically a
-“Royal” funeral. When, a few months ago, Marie Lloyd was buried, the
-crowds, the marks of affection, the very real and very deep regret shown
-everywhere, reminded me of another funeral—that of “Breezy Bill
-Terriss”.
-
-
-MARIE LOFTUS.—One of the names which recall the time when there were
-still “giants” on the music hall stage. I don’t mean to imply that
-Variety does not still possess great artists, but there seems to be no
-longer that “personal” feeling, the affection, admiration—I might almost
-say adoration—which was given to the “giants”; and Marie Loftus was “of
-them”. I saw her years ago at the Tivoli, when she came on with a “baby”
-in her arms, playing a “comic-melodrama”. I remember she “threw snow
-over herself”, and finally committed suicide by allowing a small toy
-train to run over her. Perhaps it does not sound amusing, perhaps we
-have all grown too sophisticated; if so, we are losing something—and
-something very well worth keeping. The Second time I saw Marie Loftus
-was at the Chelsea Palace, about two years ago. I saw her do a “Man and
-Woman” act, one half of her dressed as a woman, the other half as a man.
-These “two” people fought together—it was a masterpiece. I shall never
-forget the unstinted praise which it called forth from Harry, who was
-with me. I saw her not long ago, not on the stage; she was then looking
-forward to an operation on her eyes, which she hoped would make it
-possible for her to “work” again. Whether she does so or not, I shall
-always look back on those two evenings—one at the Tivoli, the other many
-years later at Chelsea—as occasions when I saw a very brilliant artist
-at work.
-
-
-SIR HENRY IRVING.—I saw him first when I stayed with Florrie Toole, when
-I first went on the stage, and Irving came to see her father. I do not
-remember anything he said or anything he did, but I do remember the
-impression which the appearance of the two men (and, after all, it was
-more truly an indication of their character than it is of most people)
-made upon me. Toole, short and eminently cheerful—you could not imagine
-him anything but what he was, a natural comedian, with all a comedian’s
-tricks of speech; and Irving, tall, thin, with something of the monastic
-appearance, which stood him in such good stead in “Becket”, dignified,
-and to all but his friends rather aloof. And the one attracted the other
-so that they were unchangeable friends. I have heard that Irving could
-be very bitter, very cruelly sarcastic: I know he could be the most
-truly courteous gentleman who ever stepped, and I will give an instance
-which was one of the finest illustrations of “fine manners” that I ever
-witnessed. A most wonderful luncheon was given at the Savoy to Mr. Joe
-Knight, a critic, on his retirement. The whole of the theatrical
-profession was there, and Irving was in the chair. Harry and I were
-present. He was rather unhappy at the time, because he had been “pilled”
-for the Garrick Club; he felt it very much—much more then than he would
-have done a few years later. He was quite young then, and took it rather
-to heart. After the lunch we went up to speak to Sir Henry, who, as he
-shook hands with Harry, said in a tone half humorous, half sardonic, and
-wholly kindly, “I understand you have been honoured by the Garrick Club
-as I have been”; adding, still more kindly, “only to me it happened
-twice.” If anything could have salved the smart in Harry’s mind it was
-to know he shared the treatment which had been given to Sir Henry
-Irving; that is why I cite this incident as an example of real courtesy.
-
-
-H. B. IRVING.—Often so detached that his very detachment was mistaken
-for rudeness or unkindness; with mannerisms which, to those who did not
-know him, almost blotted out the very genuine goodness of heart which
-lay underneath them. Yet again with a queer lack of knowledge of “who
-people were” and what went on around him, as the following story will
-show. This was told me by a man who knew him well and witnessed the
-incident. “Harry” Irving was playing _Waterloo_ on the variety stage,
-and on the same “bill”, on this particular week, were George Chirgwin
-(the White-Eyed Kaffir) and Marie Lloyd. One evening there was a knock
-at the door of Irving’s dressing-room, and a dresser told him “Miss
-Lloyd would like to speak to you in her dressing-room, please, sir!” “H.
-B.” turned to James Lindsay, who was in the room, and asked blandly,
-“Who is Miss Lloyd, Jimmy? Ought I to answer the summons? I don’t know
-her, do I?” Jimmy explained that Miss Lloyd was certainly accustomed to
-people coming when she sent for them, and that “anyway she was
-distinctly a lady to meet, if the opportunity arose”. Irving went, and
-was away for over half an hour; when he returned he sat down and said
-earnestly, “You were quite right. She _is_ distinctly a lady to know.
-Most amusing. I must meet her again. Her humour is worth hearing,
-perhaps a little—er—but still most amusing.” “But why did she want you
-at all?” Jimmy asked. “Ah!” said Irving, “that is the really amusing
-thing! She didn’t want me! She really wanted a man called _George
-Chirgwin_, who is apparently a friend of hers. The dresser mixed the
-names, poor fool.” The sequel is from Marie Lloyd herself. Someone asked
-her about the incident. “I remember,” she said, “I remember it quite
-well. I sent for Chirgwin, to have a chat, and in walks this other
-fellow. I didn’t know who he was, and he didn’t say who he was; and I’m
-certain he didn’t know me. He sat down and chatted; at least, I chatted;
-he seemed quite happy, so I went on, and presently he wandered out
-again. He seemed a nice, quiet fellow.” Try and read under all that the
-simplicity of two great artists, and you will realise that it is not
-only an amusing incident, but a light on the character of both.
-
-
-LAWRENCE IRVING.—_I think_—no, I am sure—that he would, had he lived,
-have been a very great actor; his performance in _Typhoon_ was one of
-the finest things I have ever seen. He was a man full of enthusiasms. I
-can remember him talking to Harry of Tolstoi, for whom he had a great
-admiration, and being full of excitement about his work. Once he was at
-our house, and Harry and he were arguing about some writer as if the
-fate of the whole world depended upon the decision they came to. Harry
-offered Lawrence a cigar, and had at once poured upon his head a torrent
-of reasoned invective against “smoking” in general and cigars in
-particular. It was “a disgusting and filthy habit”, men who smoked were
-“turning themselves into chimneys”, and so on. The next morning Harry
-was going by the Underground to town, and on the opposite platform saw
-Lawrence Irving _smoking_ a perfectly enormous cigar. Harry, delighted,
-called out, “What about ‘filthy habits’ and ‘chimney pots’ now!” in
-great glee. Lawrence took the cigar from his lips and looked at it
-seriously, as if he wondered how it got there at all. _Then_ he climbed
-down from the platform, over the rails to the other side, where Harry
-stood, simply to give him an explanation, which, he said, he “felt was
-due”. He was smoking “to see how it tasted”!
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Bassano, London, W._ To face p. 124
-
- HARRY AS LORD LEADENHALL
-
- “The Rocket”
-]
-
-
-W. S. GILBERT.—He was Jill’s God-father, and I have a photograph of him,
-which he signed “To Eva, the mother of my (God) child.” And that was
-typical of Gilbert; he could make jokes from early morning to set of
-sun—and did. Once, many years ago, when Decima was playing at the Savoy,
-I had hurt my knee, and for some reason she told Gilbert. I think it was
-because she wanted to be excused a rehearsal so that she might come back
-to be with me “when the doctor came”. Gilbert insisted that I should be
-taken to his own doctor, Walton Hood, and that at once. So, without
-waiting for my own doctor to arrive, off we went to Walton Hood. He
-looked at my knee, tugged at it, something clicked, and he said “Walk
-home”, which I did, putting my foot to the ground for the first time for
-a month. I am sure it is due to W. S. Gilbert that I am not now a
-cripple.
-
-
-SIR CHARLES HAWTREY.—Once upon a time (which is the very best way of
-beginning a story) Charles Hawtrey owed Harry some money—a question of
-royalties, as far as I remember. Harry was “hard up”—in those days we
-were all often “hard up”, and didn’t mind owning it, though I don’t
-suppose we really liked it any better then than we do now—so away went
-“H. V.” to see Charles Hawtrey at the Haymarket. He was shown into his
-room, and the question was discussed. Mr. Hawtrey decided that “of
-course you must have it at once”. He took Harry into an adjoining
-office, where upon a table were numbers of piles of money, all with a
-small label on the top of the pile, each label bearing a name. Hawtrey’s
-hand hovered above the piles of money, and alighted on one. “You shall
-have this one,” he said, and prepared to hand it over to Harry, when a
-voice called from an inner office, “You can’t take that one, sir; that
-belongs to So-and-so.” Again the actor-manager’s hand went wandering
-over the table, and he had just announced “You shall have this one”,
-when the same voice called out the same warning. This went on for
-several minutes, until at last Hawtrey turned to Harry. “They all seem
-to belong to _somebody_,” he said; “but never mind, I’ll go out now and
-_borrow it for you_!” This story might be called “A New Way to Pay Old
-Debts.”
-
-
-ANTHONY HOPE.—I might call him Sir Anthony Hope Hawkins, but I knew him
-first (and shall always think of him) as Anthony Hope. I have met a good
-many brilliant authors, but very few who were as brilliant “out of their
-books” as in them. Anthony Hope is the exception. He used to give the
-most delightful supper parties at his flat in Savoy Mansions, supper
-parties where everyone seemed to shine with the brilliance inspired by
-their host. He—well, he talked as he wrote—polished, clever witticisms.
-Speaking of him reminds me of a holiday Harry and I spent at
-Hazleborough one summer, years ago. We were staying at a bungalow there,
-and soon after we arrived a note was delivered to Harry. It was from
-“The Mayor of Hazleborough”, and stated that he had heard of the arrival
-of the “well-known dramatist, Mr. H. V. Esmond”, and begged that the
-said “Mr. H. V. Esmond” would open the local bazaar, which was to be
-held in a few days’ time. I thought Harry ought to say “Yes”; Harry was
-equally certain that he should say “No”, and added that he had brought
-no suitable clothes with him. A note was finally dispatched to the Royal
-Castle Hotel, from which “the Mayor” had written, to say that “Mr.
-Esmond regretted, etc.” Later we were sitting in the garden. I was still
-maintaining that it had been a mistake to refuse, and Harry equally
-certain that he had done the best thing in refusing, when three heads
-appeared over the fence and three voices chanted in unison, “Ever been
-had?”—Anthony Hope, May and Ben Webster, who had sent the letter, and
-were indeed, combined, “The Mayor of Hazleborough”.
-
-
-MRS. PATRICK CAMPBELL.—Harry knew her much better than I did. They had
-been at the same theatre for a long time, in different plays, and he
-admired her tremendously. He used to say that one of the most beautiful
-pictures he had ever seen was one evening when he went home to her flat,
-somewhere in Victoria, with her husband, Patrick Campbell. It was very
-late, and she had gone to bed, but she got up and came into the
-dining-room in her nightdress. She curled herself up in a large
-armchair, wrapped a skin rug round her, and, with her hair falling loose
-on her shoulders, Harry said she was one of the most lovely things he
-had ever seen in his life. He even railed at Kipling, after this
-incident, for daring to describe any woman as “a rag, and a bone, and a
-hank of hair”. The meeting with Mrs. Campbell that I remember was this:
-A matinée was to be given, Royalty was to be present, and I was asked to
-approach Mrs. Campbell if she would consent to appear. She was then
-playing, I think, at the Haymarket. I went, and Harry went with me. We
-were shown into her dressing-room. For some reason, which neither he nor
-I could ever quite fathom, she did not wish to remember who he was. She
-repeated his name in a vague, rather bored voice: “Mr. Esmond? Esmond?”;
-then, as if struck with a sudden thought, “You write plays, don’t you?”
-Harry, entering into the spirit of it all, said very modestly that he
-“tried to do so”. More inspiration seemed to come to her: “Of
-course—_yes_! _Sisters_—you have had an enormous success with _Sisters_
-in America, haven’t you?” (I should say here that he never wrote a play
-called _Sisters_ in his life.) He smiled and agreed: “Tremendous!” “It
-is _so_ interesting to meet clever people—who write successful plays,”
-she added. The conversation went on along these lines for some time.
-When we left, she said “Good-bye” to me, and turned to Harry with
-“Good-night, Mr.—er—Esmond.” An extraordinary incident, possibly an
-extraordinary woman, but a very great actress.
-
-
-MARIE LLOYD.—I can give two “flashlights” of Marie Lloyd. One, when I
-saw her at the Tivoli, when she wore a striped satin bathing-costume,
-and carried a most diminutive towel; the other, when I saw her at the
-Palladium, and spent one of the most enjoyable thirty minutes of my
-life. Was she vulgar? I suppose so; but it was a “clean” vulgarity,
-which left no nasty taste behind it; it was a happy, healthy vulgarity,
-and when it was over you came home and remembered the artistry which was
-the essential quality of all she said and did. I met her at a charity
-concert I arranged at the Alhambra during the war; I know she came all
-the way from Sheffield to appear. We had an auction sale of butter,
-eggs, pheasants, and so forth. Poor Laurie de Freece was the auctioneer,
-and he was suffering from a very bad throat; his voice was dreadfully
-hoarse. He stuck bravely to his work, and when he got to the pheasants
-Marie Lloyd could bear it no longer. She put her head round the side of
-the “back cloth” and said, “Five pounds, me—Marie Lloyd. I can’t bear to
-hear you going on with that voice; it’s awful.” When Harry died, she
-said to a woman who knew both Marie Lloyd and me, “I did think of
-sending her a wire, and then I thought of writing a letter (Marie Lloyd,
-who never wrote letters if she could avoid doing so!), then somehow—I
-didn’t do either. Will you just say to Eva Moore that you’ve seen me,
-and say, ‘Marie’s very sorry’?” Already she is becoming almost a
-legendary figure; men and women will tell stories of Marie Lloyd long
-after the songs she sang are forgotten. Personally, to me she will
-always rank as one of the world’s great artists, and I like to remember
-that, when I was given the sympathy of so many loving men and women,
-Marie Lloyd too was “very sorry”.
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER X
- STORIES I REMEMBER
-
- “When you know as much of life as I do, you will see a jest in
- everything.”—_Bad Hats._
-
-
-“Tell me a story”—that was what we used to ask, wasn’t it? And when the
-story was told it was of knights, and lovely ladies, and giants who were
-defeated in their wickedness by the prince, and the story ended—as all
-good stories should end—“and they lived happy ever after”.
-
-As we grew older we still wanted stories, but, because we found life
-lacked a good deal of the laughter we had expected to find, we wanted
-stories to make us laugh. I am going to try and tell you “true stories
-that will make you laugh”. If they are new, so much the better; but if
-they are old—well, are you too old yourself to laugh again?
-
-
-Frank Curzon objected, and very rightly, to ladies wearing large hats at
-matinées. He objected so strongly that everyone heard of the fight to
-the death between Frank Curzon and the matinée hat, “The Lady and the
-Law Case”. One day, at a meeting of West End managers, when arrangements
-were being made for some big matinée, Frank Curzon proposed something
-which Herbert Tree opposed. There was some argument on the matter, and
-at last Tree launched his final bolt: “My friend, Frank Curzon,” he
-said, “is evidently talking through his matinée hat.”
-
-
-George Edwardes had a servant who stuttered very badly. He had been with
-Edwardes, “man and boy”, for many years, and at last attended his
-master’s funeral. He was telling the glories of the ceremony to someone,
-and said: “It was a l-l-lovely funeral! S-s-some b-boy sang a s-s-solo;
-he s-ang it b-b-beautifully; I expected any m-m-minute to see the
-G-guvenor sit up and say, ‘G-give him a c-c-contract!’”
-
-
-George Edwardes was once interviewing a lady for the chorus at the
-Gaiety; he asked her, “Do you run straight?” “Yes, Mr. Edwardes,” was
-the reply, “but not very far, or very fast.”
-
-
-He once gave a supper party at the old Waldorf Hotel, which at that time
-was literally overrun with mice. G. P. Huntly was present, and, among
-others, Mr. Blackman, one of George Edwardes’s managers. All dined
-well—and many not wisely. Presently G. P. Huntly saw a mouse on the
-curtain, and the dreadful fear assailed him that perhaps “it wasn’t
-really a mouse—not a real mouse, anyway”. He turned to Mr. Blackman and
-said, “Did you see that?” “See what?” asked the other. Huntly pointed to
-the curtain. “That mouse on the curtain.” By that time the mouse had
-moved, and Blackman replied in the negative. In a minute Huntly asked
-the same question again: “See that mouse?” Blackman (who by this time
-had seen it), to “rag” him, said “No.” Poor Huntly turned very white,
-rose from his seat, and said, “Ah!—Good-night!” and went home.
-
-
-Alfred Lester and Mr. W. H. Berry—at one time, at least—did not “get
-on”. One morning Lester was going to interview Edwardes about something,
-and Edwardes, knowing about this “rift in the theatrical lute”, warned
-Blackman before Lester came, “Now, on no account mention Berry! Let’s
-have a nice, quiet, pleasant interview; keep Berry out of it,” and so
-on. When Alfred Lester came into the room, Edwardes stretched out his
-hand and said cordially, “Well, _Berry_, how are you, my boy? Sit down.”
-
-
-When we were married, W. S. Gilbert gave us a silver tea-set, and later
-a day came when we pooled our worldly wealth and found we had eighteen
-shillings in the whole world—and Gilbert’s tea-set. We debated as to
-whether the tea-set should find a temporary home with “uncle”, but
-decided to wait as long as we could before taking this step. Harry heard
-that a tour was going out from the Gaiety, and thought he would try for
-the “Arthur Roberts” part on tour. (Could anything have been more
-absurd!) He learnt a song, and set out, calling at the Websters’ flat to
-practise the song again. He arrived at the Gaiety, full of hope and—the
-song; was told to begin, opened his mouth, and found he had forgotten
-every note; and so—Arthur Roberts lost a rival, and he came home. Soon
-afterwards George Alexander gave him a contract, and Gilbert’s tea-set
-was saved!
-
-
-A well-known producer of sketches and revues, who is noted more for his
-energy than his education, was once rehearsing a company in which a
-number of young men, chiefly from the Whitechapel High Street, were
-enacting the parts of aristocrats at a garden party. One of them
-advanced to a young woman to “greet her”, which he did like this:
-Raising his hat, he exclaimed: “’Ello, H’Ethel!” A voice came from the
-stalls—the producer: “Good Lord! _That_ isn’t the way that a h’earl
-talks. Let me show you.” He rushed up on to the stage and advanced to
-the young lady, raising his hat and holding his arm at an angle of 45
-degrees. “Ello! H’Ethel!” he began; “what are you a-doin’ ’ere?”; then
-turning to the actor, he said, “There you are! that’s the way to do it!”
-
-
-H. B. Irving was manager at the Savoy Theatre during the air raids. One
-evening, when the news of an air raid came through, he went to warn his
-leading lady. He walked straight into her dressing-room, and found the
-lady absolutely—well, she had reached the _final_ stage of undressing.
-Irving, quite absent-minded as usual, never even saw _how_ she was
-dressed. “Take cover!” he said, and walked out again.
-
-
-During the war I sat on many Committees—we all did, for that matter.
-This particular one was concerned with arranging work for women, work
-which needed “pushing through” quickly, and the secretary was reading
-the suggested scheme. It read something as follows: “It is suggested
-that the women shall work in shifts, etc., etc.” A well-known Peeress,
-who was in the chair, leant forward. “Quite good,” she said, “quite
-good, but I should like some other word substituted for ‘shifts’; it
-really sounds—not _quite_ nice, I think.”
-
-
-Another Committee—this time for providing work for women who had been
-connected either with art, music, or the drama—all of which, I may say,
-became elastic terms. It was a large Committee—much too large—and it
-consisted of many very well-known and charitably inclined ladies. There
-were—but no, I had better not give you names! The secretary was
-reporting on the case of a woman who had just been admitted to the
-workrooms—an elderly, self-respecting, very good-looking woman, who had
-years before played—and played, I believe, very admirably—in “sketches”,
-but in the days when £3 was considered a very good salary. The report
-finished, the secretary waited for comments. From the end of the table
-came a voice—a very full, rich, deep voice—which belonged to a lady
-swathed in sables, and wearing pearls which would have kept a dozen
-women in comfort for a year.
-
-“And you say this lady has been working for many years?” The secretary
-replied that she had—many years.
-
-“And she was receiving a salary all the time?” The secretary again
-explained that “in those days salaries were very small”.
-
-“And now she wants work in our workrooms?”. A pause, the speaker pulled
-her sables round her, the pearls rattled with her righteous indignation.
-“_Another_ improvident actress!” she said, in the tone of one who has
-plumbed the enormity of human depravity to its very depths.
-
-
-During the war I used sometimes to go to a munition factory and, during
-the dinner-hour, to entertain the “boys and girls”. Such nice “boys and
-girls”, too, who apparently liked me as much as I liked them. I heard a
-story there about their “works motto”, which struck me as rather
-amusing. The owner of the works chose it—“Play for the side”—and had it
-put up in the canteen. When the workers were assembled for dinner, he
-took the opportunity to say a few words on the subject of the motto.
-“Play for the side,” he began, when a voice from the back of the canteen
-was heard: “That’s all right, Guv’nor, but _whose_ side—ours or yours?”
-
-
-Here is a story of Martin Harvey. He was playing _The Breed of the
-Treshams_ in the provinces, and had in the company an actor who played a
-very small part, and who loved to talk in what is known as “rhyming
-slang”. It is a stupid kind of slang which designates “whisky” as “gay
-and frisky”, “gloves” as “turtle doves”. Martin Harvey was going on to
-the stage one evening, and met this actor rushing back to his
-dressing-room. Knowing that he should have been on the stage when the
-curtain went up, Harvey asked “Where are you going?” “It’s all right,”
-replied the man, “I’m just going back to my dressing-room for a second;
-I’ve forgotten my turtle doves.” “Well, be quick about it,” Harvey told
-him; “and please remember in future I don’t like you to keep birds in
-the dressing-rooms!”
-
-
-After the war, a well-known “play-going” society gave a dinner to a
-representative section of the legitimate and variety stages who had done
-work for the soldiers in the war. Mr. George Robey was to respond for
-Variety. I sat opposite to him, with Mr. Harry Tate on my left, and
-almost opposite me, quite close to George Robey, sat Marie Lloyd. She
-was wonderfully dressed, with a marvellous ermine cloak; and it was
-quite evident, from the moment she arrived (which was very late), that
-she was in a very bad temper. (As a matter of fact, I heard later that
-she was upset at the death of an old friend, Mr. Dick Burge.) Mr. Robey
-got up to “respond for Variety”, and really I must admit that his speech
-was very much on the lines of “_I_ have been very glad—er—er—that is,
-_we_ have been very glad”, and so on. I watched Marie Lloyd’s face; it
-got more and more “black” as his speech went on. When he finished, she
-rose and said in that attractive, rather hoarse voice—which was at that
-moment a remarkably cross voice too—“I’m Marie Lloyd; I’ve done my bit
-for the “boys”; I haven’t had _my_ photo in the papers for years; and
-what I want to know is—touching this speech we have just listened
-to—_what’s Marie Lloyd_ and poor old _Ellen Terry_ done?” She leant
-across to Harry Tate, said “Come on, Harry”, and walked from the room.
-Everyone gasped. It was all over in a few seconds, but it left its mark
-on the dinner.
-
-
-When Brookfield took a company to America he lost a good deal of money
-over the venture. On his return he walked into the Green Room Club, and
-met Grossmith (“Old G. G.”), and began to tell him of his losses. “Can’t
-understand it,” said G. G., “you people take thousands of pounds of
-scenery, trainloads of artists, spend money like water, and come back
-and say ‘It hasn’t paid!’ Look at me: I take nothing to America with me
-but a dress suit, come back having made ten thousand pounds!” “Very
-likely,” said Brookfield; “remember everyone doesn’t look as damned
-funny in a dress suit as you do!”
-
-
-Lionel Monckton was in the Green Room Club one evening, having supper.
-Mr. Thomas Weiglin, a well-developed gentleman, walked in, faultlessly
-attired in full evening dress; everyone applauded his entrance. Mr.
-Monckton looked up, and said in a voice of protest, “I have been coming
-to the club in evening dress for forty years, and no one has ever done
-that to me.”
-
-
-Winifred Emery told me this. She and Cyril Maude were on their
-honeymoon. She was lying in bed, wearing a most engaging nightdress, and
-she thought that she was looking very nice. He stood at the end of the
-bed, watching her, and presently walked to her, took a small piece of
-the nightdress in his fingers, saying as he did so, “Don’t you think it
-would be better if it was made of _stronger calico_?”
-
-
-Herbert Tree met Fred Terry in the Garrick Club one day, and said to
-him: “My new production—er—what do you think about my having your
-beautiful daughter, Phyllis, to play the leading lady’s part?”
-
-Fred Terry said he thought it would be very admirable for all concerned,
-and that he approved entirely.
-
-“What handsome remuneration should I have to offer her?” Tree asked. Mr.
-Terry named a sum, which he thought “about right”.
-
-“What;” said Tree; “_what!_” Then came a long pause, and at last Tree
-said in a dreamy voice, “Do you know I can get Marie Lloyd for that?”
-
-
-I was once playing a sketch at a hall in the provinces, where the
-population apparently come to the performance so that they may read
-their evening papers to the accompaniment of music. At the end of the
-week, the manager asked me how “I liked the audience”, and I told him.
-“You’re quite right,” he replied, “but I’ve got a turn coming next week
-that they _will_ appreciate, that they _will_ understand.” I asked what
-the turn was. “Roscoe’s Performing _Pigs_,” he told me.
-
-
-A certain actor tells a story about himself when he first went on the
-stage. He had just sold out of the Army, and felt he was rather
-conferring a favour upon Henry Irving by joining his company at the
-Lyceum. They were rehearsing _Coriolanus_, and someone was wanted to
-“walk on” as a messenger. Irving looked round, and his eye lit upon our
-friend, who was wearing—as smart young men did in those days—a large
-white fluffy tie. “Here you, young man in the white tie,” he said. The
-product of the Army took not the slightest notice. “Here you,” Irving
-repeated; “come here, I want you.” Our friend, with offended dignity on
-every line of his face, advanced and asked, “Did you want _me_?” “Yes,”
-said Irving, “I did.” “Then,” said the budding Thespian, “_my_ name is
-Gordon!” “Oh, is it?” Irving said, affably. “Mine is Irving; how are
-you?” Then, changing his tone, “Now I want you to come on here,
-carrying,” etc., etc.
-
-
-When Barrie’s _Twelve Pound Look_ was at the Coliseum, two “comedy
-sketch artists” were in the stalls. The play went very well—very well
-indeed. One of the comedians turned to the other: “Who wrote this?”
-“Fellow called ‘Barrie’,” was the reply. “Ah!” said the first, “he
-writes our next; he’s good!”
-
-
-While rehearsing a scene in a film production, the producer described to
-the two artistes the Eastern atmosphere he wanted—the warmth, the
-amorous love conveyed in the love scenes. He read the scene, with all
-the usual Eastern language, such as “Rose of Persia”, “O, Light of My
-Desire”, “Look at me with your lovely eyes”, and other such remarks
-which might convey the “kind of acting” which he was trying to get. The
-actor listened to what the producer said in silence, then remarked
-cheerfully, “Yes, yes, I know—‘Shrimps for Tea’.”
-
-
-Decima’s son was very young when the war broke out. He was a “Snotty” at
-Dartmouth, and saw a great deal of active service. After the Battle of
-Jutland he wrote home to us a short description of the fight, saying
-briefly that he had seen this or that ship sunk, adding: “And now to
-turn to something really serious; I owe my laundry thirty shillings, and
-until the bill is paid the blighter refuses to let me have my shirts.
-Could you loan me a couple of quid?”
-
-
-When _Flames of Passion_, the film in which I appeared, was showing at
-the Oxford, a woman I knew went to see it, and was sitting in the
-gallery. Next to her was a flower-woman—one of the real old type,
-complete with shawl and small sailor hat. After a time they began to
-talk to each other. This is the conversation as it was reported to me
-later:
-
-“It’s a good picture, dearie, ain’t it?” asked the “flower-girl”. “Very
-good.”
-
-“I think Eva Moore’s good, don’t you?” “Very good.”
-
-“She’s lorst ’er ’usband lately, pore thing; very ’ard for ’er. Though,
-mind yer, it’s a pleasant change, in one way: most of these ’ere
-actresses only _mislay_ theirs.”
-
-
-Which reminds me of another story. Some time after Harry died, a man I
-knew slightly called to see me. He came in, and began to say how grieved
-he was to hear of Harry’s death, and how much he sympathised with me in
-my loss. This went on for some time, then he said: “But the real thing I
-came to ask was—do you know of a good ‘jobbing’ gardener?”
-
-
-An author once engaged an actor for a part, simply on account of his
-very ugly face and his exceeding bad complexion. At the dress rehearsal
-the author met the actor at the side of the stage, “made up”. “Who are
-you?” he asked. The actor gave his name. “Go and wash all the make-up
-off at once,” said the author; “I only engaged you for your ugly face.”
-
-
-At Henley Regatta, years ago, Jack (about six years old, very fair and
-attractive) was watching the races from a balcony over Hobbs’ boathouse,
-which belonged to kind friends of ours, Mr. and Mrs. Pidgeon, who yearly
-invited us to see the wonderful view. After watching several races, Jack
-turned to our hostess and said, “Please, does the steamer never win?”
-
-It was from their balcony, too, that I saw Mr. Graham White, when he
-flew right down the racecourse in his aeroplane, dipping and touching
-the water like a swallow, to the alarm of the crowds in their boats on
-either side of the course—a never-to-be-forgotten sight.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Alfred Ellis, London, W._ To face p. 142
-
- HARRY AS MAJOR-GENERAL SIR R. CHICHELE
-
- “The Princess and the Butterfly”
-]
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER XI
- ROUND AND ABOUT
-
- “We’ve been to a good many places in the last few months, but we’ve
- had a very pleasant time.”
-
- —_Grierson’s Way._
-
-
-When we first went out to America together, Harry and I, in 1914, it was
-my first visit, though not his; he had been over before to produce
-several of his own plays. We took with us _The Dear Fool_, which was
-played in this country in 1914, and _Eliza Comes to Stay_. Personally, I
-did not enjoy the visit very much; and, to be quite candid, it was not
-the success we could have wished. The critics were not too kind, and,
-though American theatrical criticism may have changed since then, I
-found their articles such an extraordinary mixture of journalese, slang,
-and poker terms as to be almost unintelligible—at all events to my
-British intelligence. These articles may have been very amusing; perhaps
-if I could have read them “on this side”, I might have found them so,
-but in New York I admit the kind of writing—of which I give an example
-here—merely irritated me, as I imagine it must have irritated many other
-English artists: “After the first act there was a universal call for the
-water-boy, yet we all stayed; nobody raised the ante, so we all
-cheerfully drew cards for the second act. Alas, when it was too late, we
-discovered it was a bum deck. I don’t believe there was anything higher
-than a seven spot.” That may be very clever. I can almost believe it is
-very witty; but I still hold that it is not “criticism”.
-
-I give one more example, and also the comment of another American
-newspaper upon the extract from the first journal. The extract concerns
-_The Dear Fool_, and is as follows:—“A pretty severe strain on one’s
-critical hospitality. Betty at best a cackling marionette made of
-sawdust. It is but a meaningless jumble of stock phrases and stock
-situations. Anything more feeble it would be hard to imagine. The ‘Dear
-Fool’ is one of the worst.” Now mark the pæan of thanksgiving which this
-criticism calls forth from another New York journal:—“Not only is this
-(referring to the extract given above) an accurate and intelligent
-account of last night’s play—healthy fearlessness which rarely gets into
-the New York criticisms. Let us have more of this honest and
-straightforward writing about the current drama.”
-
-That is only the worst—may I say “the worst”, not only from “our” point
-of view, but also from the point of view of “criticism”—which I still
-maintain it was not, in any sense of the word. Some weeks ago I read a
-very admirable series of essays by Mr. Agate, and in writing of critics
-he says (and he is one of them) that every critic should be a “Jim
-Hawkins”, looking for treasure. Too often, I can believe, it is a weary
-search; but surely in every play there is something which calls for
-approbation, and which may point to possibilities in the author’s work.
-To find that streak of gold, to incite the author to follow it, and to
-perhaps point out in what manner he may best do so, coupled with a fair
-review of his play as a whole, giving faults as they appear and merits
-where they can be found—that seems to me the justification of criticism.
-
-Another critic wrote with perhaps a less racy pen, but with more
-understanding:—“There was a literary quality in the writing and a
-neatness in the construction which were inviting, and there was a
-mellowness to the story of its middle-aged lovers which had real appeal.
-Over it all was the unmistakable atmosphere of English life. All these
-qualities and the fact that the play was extremely well acted, counted
-strongly in its favour.”
-
-Alan Dale, the critic who was regarded as _the critic_ of America, under
-whose pen actors and managers quaked in their shoes, wrote:—“It has the
-gentle, reluctant English atmosphere of other plays by this
-actor-author, and it is interesting by reason of its lines and its
-characterisation. After all the ‘shockers’ of to-day, with their red and
-lurid types, after the insensate struggle for garish effects and
-horrors, this play gives us a whiff of repose; it is unstagy, its
-characters are real human beings who talk like human beings; if they
-haven’t anything startling to say from the theatrical point of view,
-they are at least human.”
-
-What a good thing it is we don’t all see things through one pair of
-glasses!
-
-But I am wandering from my story of the visit to America. I look back on
-it all now, and remember the series of untoward events and mishaps which
-occurred before our journey began. The week before we left England, a
-cable came from “C. F.” (Charles Frohman) to say that he had altered the
-theatre which was to be the scene of our production. Our theatre had
-been let to a big film company, and we were to be sent to the Garrick. A
-wretched little place it was, too; as the stage manager there said
-frankly: “Only fit for a garage.” As a matter of fact, I believe it now
-is one. Even before we left Liverpool a wave of depression came over me,
-when our ship met with an accident as she was leaving port. The sun—a
-wintry, pale sun—was sinking as we began to move, towed out of the
-river. The order to release was, I suppose, given too soon; on board we
-felt nothing—the only sign that anything was wrong was that we saw
-everyone on the landing-stage running for dear life, like frightened
-rabbits. Then we realised that our big ship was crashing into the
-landing-stage, crushing like matchwood a big dredger which was lying
-alongside, and also the iron gangway. All we felt on board was a slight
-shiver which seemed to run through the ship. We were delayed seven hours
-while the screws were examined. I am not a superstitious mortal, but the
-feeling that all this was a bad omen clung to me—and, be it said, proved
-true.
-
-On board we were a happy party; many of the company had been with us
-before, and so were old friends. Jack and Jill (who was nearing her
-fifth birthday) loved their first experience of travelling a long
-distance; the Esmond family were out to enjoy the trip—and succeeded.
-The entrance to New York harbour filled me with interest. I still
-remember and wonder at those eight or nine tiny tugs, veritable
-cockle-shells they looked, which “nosed” our huge liner into dock. I
-remember, too, the ghastly business of the Customs! I am not a good
-sailor, and the moment I stood on solid earth again it seemed to heave
-up and down, and continued to do so for several days. The hours which we
-spent, waiting for our baggage to be examined, were absolute torture to
-me. Socially, we had a perfect time, kindness and hospitality were shown
-to us in every possible way; but our poor _Eliza_ was abused up hill and
-down dale.
-
-The first night was the most horrible I can remember. The theatre was
-boiling hot, and the hot-water pipes continually went off like great
-guns. I was as cold as ice. After playing _Eliza_ everywhere in England
-to the accompaniment of roars of laughter, the coldness of the reception
-at the Garrick in New York was hard to bear.
-
-For some reason, it was said that _Eliza_ was copied from a play then in
-New York—_Peg o’ My Heart_—and which was an enormous success. It was
-stated, with almost unnecessary frankness, that for us to have presented
-_Eliza_ in New York was an impertinence. Naturally there was not a word
-of truth in the statement; as a matter of fact, _Eliza_ had been written
-some years before _Peg_, and there had been a suggestion (which had not
-materialised) that it should have been produced in America soon after it
-was written. We made no reply to these unjust and utterly untrue
-statements and suggestions; it would have been useless; but I am glad
-now to take this opportunity of referring to them. _Eliza_ had been the
-cause of trouble before: it is a long story, but one which I think is
-worth recording here, and at this particular point.
-
-When we produced _Eliza_ at the Criterion, Miss Mabel Hackney came to
-see it, bringing with her Miss Simmons, the authoress of a play called
-_Clothes and The Woman_. This play had been sent to me to read some time
-before, and, having been very busy, I had not done so at once. Miss
-Simmons wrote to me, asking if I would return it, to which I replied
-that I should be glad to keep it for a little longer, so that I might
-read it. In all, I suppose the play was in my house for three months. At
-the end of that time the MS. was returned to Miss Simmons, with a letter
-in which I stated that I liked the play very much, “up to a point”, but
-that at the moment I was not producing anything. I read dozens of plays
-in the course of a year, and, having returned it, dismissed the matter
-from my mind. _Eliza_, as I have said, was produced, and a performance
-witnessed by Miss Simmons, who at once, without approaching Harry or
-myself, sent a letter to the Authors’ Society, demanding that they
-should apply for the immediate withdrawal of Harry’s play, on the
-grounds that it was plagiarism of her comedy, _Clothes and The Woman_.
-Harry, on receipt of the letter from the Authors’ Society, at once
-communicated with Miss Dickens, that efficient lady who has typed so
-many of his plays. Miss Dickens was able to prove conclusively to the
-Authors’ Society that _Eliza Comes to Stay_ had been typed by her at
-least two and a half years before _Clothes and The Woman_ had been sent
-to me by Miss Simmons. The Society was satisfied, and laid the facts
-before Miss Simmons, who, I regret to say, did not feel it necessary to
-offer an apology to Harry for the injustice she had done him.
-
-To use an old joke, which I find the critics are still willing to use
-whenever _Eliza_ is performed, “she” did _not_ come to stay in New York,
-and we put on _The Dear Fool_. This play was as warmly praised as
-_Eliza_ had been slated, and we both scored a great personal success. We
-later renamed the play, as Harry discovered that the title, _The Dear
-Fool_, means in America a kind of “silly ass”, which was not at all what
-he intended to convey. In consequence, he called it _The Dangerous Age_,
-and under that title it was produced in London.
-
-I am reminded here of a story which Harry told me once when he came home
-after a trip to America. He had been to see Maud Adams and William
-Feversham playing _Romeo and Juliet_. Miss Adams, so he was told,
-believed that the love between Romeo and Juliet was strictly platonic,
-and would therefore have no bed in the famous bedroom scene. The two
-lovers were discovered, as the curtain rose, seated on a sofa reading a
-book of poems. Harry, in telling me of the play, said he was certain
-that the book was _Dr. Chavasse’s Advice to a Wife_, a book which is
-well known in this country to all families—at least those of the last
-generation.
-
-Our visit to America ended, and we went for three weeks to Canada before
-returning home to begin our own season at the Vaudeville Theatre in
-London.
-
-Our next visit to Canada was in 1920, when we took with us _Eliza_—be it
-said, “by special request”—and _The Law Divine_. To tell one half of the
-kindness we received at the hands of the Canadian people would fill a
-huge book alone, and I must content myself with saying that it was
-nothing short of “wonderful”—quite, quite wonderful. Everywhere we went,
-people were anxious to do everything possible to make our visit
-pleasant, and how well they succeeded!
-
-The Trans-Canada Company, with which we went, had formed a splendid
-idea, and one which I hope will meet with the success it deserves; this
-is, to bring from London, British plays with British players, and to
-visit, as far as is possible, every town in Canada, so that the people
-of Canada may be in touch with the Mother Country in her ideas and
-ideals, and so cement the affection between the two countries which has
-been so splendidly aroused by the Great War. We were delighted to be
-pioneers, or one of the sections of the pioneers, of the scheme; but in
-the smaller towns we found that the inhabitants had so long been
-accustomed to American farces (and “bedroom” farces at that) or the
-lightest of musical comedies, that an English comedy, spoken by English
-people with English voices, was almost Greek to them. As someone said to
-me one day, “Your accent is so difficult to understand”, and one could
-see that was true, for in the opening scene of _The Law Divine_, which
-should be played quickly, we had to decrease the pace to let the
-audiences get used to our voices. This only applied to the smaller
-places; in the larger towns the audiences loved the plays; the English
-home setting, the sailor and the Tommy, in _The Law Divine_, won all
-hearts, and the simplicity and directness of the acting astonished those
-of the audiences who had never seen a London production.
-
-On arriving at Quebec, we were rushed off by a night train to Montreal,
-in order that we might be present at a big luncheon party, given by Lord
-and Lady Shaughnessy, to welcome us to Canada. There we met many people
-who became our warm friends, Sir Frederick and Lady Taylor, Mrs.
-Drummond (who is so well known in the amateur dramatic world), Mrs.
-Henry Joseph—to mention only a few of the friends we made in Canada.
-
-That week we started our tour at Halifax (Nova Scotia), and visited 48
-towns in four months, travelling right through Canada to Victoria, B.C.
-It was all tremendously interesting, and the hospitality we received was
-boundless—luncheons, dinners, suppers, given both by private friends and
-numerous clubs, such as the Canadian Women’s Club, The Daughters of the
-Empire, the Men’s Canadian Club, the Rotary, the Kyannias, and the
-various dramatic clubs.
-
-At Toronto we were asked to speak in the new theatre at Hart Hall, the
-beautiful college that has been built on the lines of an Oxford College,
-and given by Deane Massey, Esq. This was the first time that a woman had
-been asked to speak there, and I believe some little anxiety was felt as
-to “what I should say”, but my subject was a safe one. I dealt with
-“Women’s Work during the War, and the Work for Her to do in the Future”.
-Harry, on this occasion, spoke of “The Drama”. It was an effort—a very
-real effort—as he hated and was really frightened of public speaking. On
-such occasions he usually recited, and used to make a tremendous effect
-with that great poem, _The Defence of Lucknow_. When I say “a tremendous
-effect”, I do not mean only from a dramatic point of view, but from the
-point of view that it was “Empire work”.
-
-I remember at Edmonton, Alberta—the city that is built farthest north of
-Canada—we were invited to lunch at the big college. There in the big
-hall we met the students, and sat down with some four hundred men of all
-ages from 18 to 40—students who, I was interested to learn, were all
-learning Spanish as well as German in their course. In the middle of the
-hall hung a huge Union Jack, and under it Harry stood reciting _The
-Defence of Lucknow_ to four hundred spellbound men and boys. I shall
-never forget the rousing cheers which went up from those who had
-listened to him when he ceased speaking. Professor Carr was the head of
-the College, and both he and his wife were charming to us. There we met
-Mr. Evans, who has done so much for the city. He and his wife gave a
-hockey match for us and the members of our company, which resulted in
-Harry “coming down” very hard on his gold cigarette case and squashing
-it quite flat.
-
-At Winnipeg—“The Golden Gate to the West”, I believe it is called—we met
-more delightful people, among them the Hon. “Bob” Rogers, as he is
-called. At the Barracks, where “Princess Pat.’s Own” were quartered, I
-met many men who had been friends of Decima’s in France during the war.
-It was here that I saw what, up to that time, I had only read of—a real
-dog-sledge. It was a bitter day, with a howling wind off the prairies,
-and at least 29 degrees below zero. Suddenly I saw dashing up the main
-street nine dogs, dragging what looked to me like a small boat.
-Forgetting the biting wind, I stopped to watch. “The boat” stopped, and
-all the dogs lay down instantly in the snow, all looking as if they were
-grinning, and wagging their tails with vigour. Then a man got out of
-“the boat”, and lifted out a dog with a strap attached to it; this he
-harnessed to the rest of the team, stopping only to cuff one of the
-resting dogs, which had taken the opportunity to eat some snow. The man
-got back into the sledge, and they were off again at full tilt. I loved
-the sight, so strange and picturesque—so strange to English eyes, and
-yet enacted for me by some unknown man, who was yet “part and parcel” of
-the Empire, even as I was.
-
-I never got over my feeling of depression when I looked at the prairies.
-Perhaps I saw them at a bad time, covered with snow—endless flat snow,
-which seemed limitless, seemed to stretch away to infinity. The only
-time I ever saw any beauty which brought joy in them, was one day when
-we had to leave Moose Jaw. We had a long journey to our next town, and
-left at three in the morning. I remember that through the night some of
-the company played bridge, the ever-cheerful Florrie Lumley, of course,
-being one of the players. I went to bed, to snatch what sleep I could
-after two performances. The morning was the most amazing sunrise I have
-ever seen; the sky full of rich mauves and pinks, melting into blues and
-yellows, over the vast expanse of flat ground, is something which I
-could never hope to describe. I only know that I felt more than repaid
-for my early rising by the joy, the wonderful colour, the beauty, and
-the happiness which that sunrise gave to me.
-
-Again I seem to see Calgary, with its crowd of men of all nationalities;
-here a cowboy in full kit, with rattlesnake stirrups; there an Indian,
-incongruous with his hair in plaits and yet wearing European clothes,
-his squaw with him; a Japanese; even an Indian wearing a turban—all
-making a wonderful picture of East and West. And then, in the midst of
-all this cosmopolitan crowd, the huge hotel with all the most modern
-comforts—for all the C.P.R. Hotels are wonderful. It was from the roof
-garden of this hotel at Calgary that I had my first sight of the
-Rockies—and, oh! the joy of the Rockies. To me all those days of long
-journeys, the fatigues, the distress were nothing, were forgotten, in
-the joy of the sight of the mountains, the delight of feeling that one
-was actually “in” such beauty, and that the joy of looking at them would
-go on for days.
-
-We stayed to play at two little towns in the mountains. Kamloops, one of
-them, made us laugh—as, indeed, did many of our experiences. Fortunately
-our company was a happy one, all being ready to make light of
-difficulties. On this occasion we had to dress for the performance under
-most uncomfortable conditions, for the theatre at Kamloops is just a
-“frame” or wood hall. Rooms—of sorts—are provided for the artists; for
-instance, Harry’s room was built on the ground, no floor boarding, just
-bare earth—and the temperature at 40 degrees below zero; no heating was
-provided except in one room. The lighting, too, left much to be desired;
-we all had about two very tiny electric lights to dress by, and, just
-before the curtain went up, a knock came to the door, and the request
-was made for “the electric-light globes, as they were wanted for the
-footlights”. When we did ring up, the seven or eight globes which were
-to assist the public to see us clearly were all backed by yellow
-posters, on which was printed “Cyril Maude as ‘Grumpy’”. If we had not
-all laughed so immoderately, I think the sight, facing us all through
-our performance, might have made us “Grumpy”.
-
-At Vancouver we were very gay. Our visit was all too short, and
-accordingly many different societies joined forces, and by this means we
-succeeded in meeting as many people as possible in the short time we
-were able to spend in the city. I think I have never felt more nervous
-in my life than I did at the luncheon given to us by the Canadian Men’s
-Club at the vast Vancouver Hotel, the largest hotel I have ever seen.
-About five hundred men were present, and I was the only woman. My
-entrance was almost a royal one; I was led by the President of the Club
-down a big flight of stairs into the hall; all the men rose to their
-feet and gave us a tremendous reception; I found myself, half tearfully,
-saying, “Oh, thank you, thank you so much.” It was a wonderful feeling,
-to be so far away from home, and yet to find such a lovely welcome from
-people who were not only glad to see you, but told you so. Miss M.
-Stewart, the daughter of Mrs. and General Stewart, who did such great
-work in France, laughingly constituted herself my chauffeuse, and drove
-me everywhere. I look forward to seeing Vancouver again one day.
-
-At Medicine Hat we played only one night, and, as I was walking down the
-main street, a frail little woman came up to me and asked, “Are you Eva
-Moore?” When I answered her, she said “I’m your cousin.” She had come
-countless miles from her prairie farm, which she ran with her son, to
-see me play. I had never seen her before; had not known, even, that I
-had a cousin in that part of the world!
-
-It was at Revelstoke, again in the Rockies—a place that had once been
-very flourishing, but owing to vast forest fires had almost ceased to be
-a working town—that I had an amusing experience. At every theatre _God
-Save the King_ had always been played at the end of each performance.
-Here, to my astonishment, not a note was played. I asked the reason, and
-was told that the gentleman who played the piano—the only instrument in
-the orchestra—was a German. I was furious, and, knowing that the
-following week the famous “Dumbells” were coming with their latest
-revue, _Biff Bang_, I wrote to the Major who was their manager, telling
-him what had happened, and asking him to see that the matter was put
-right. I knew I was safe in making the request, as the “Dumbells”, who
-had won all hearts on their tour through Canada, were all ex-Service
-men, all men who had served in the trenches. I also wrote to the
-Canadian Women’s Club, who had presented me with a bouquet, and to the
-manager of the theatre. All this had to be done very quickly, as we were
-only a few hours in the place. I never heard anything in reply until, by
-good fortune, the week we said “Good-bye” to Canada the “Dumbells” came
-to Montreal and I went to see them play, and after the performance went
-round to speak to the actors. It was then that their manager told me
-that, on receiving my letter, which was awaiting him, he had at once
-sent round to the stage to tell “the boys” that _God Save the King_
-would be sung twice before the play started and twice after the
-performance. He said, “Of course, the boys thought I was mad, but they
-did as I asked.” He went on to tell me that after the performance he
-went on to the stage and read them my letter, which was greeted with
-cheers. The next morning he went out and met the chief townsman, the
-butcher, who remarked how disgraceful it was that, though we called
-ourselves British, we had not had the Anthem played at the end of our
-performance. The Major again produced my letter and read it to him,
-asking that he would make its contents known in the town, which he
-promised to do. I hope he did, for it impressed me very much everywhere
-to see the staff of the theatres standing, hat in hand, while the Anthem
-was played, and I should hate any Canadian to think that we were less
-loyal than they.
-
-Going west through the Rockies, we missed seeing the first part, as the
-train went through that section at night; but coming back, by staying
-one night at a town, we were able to do the whole of the journey by
-day—and this Harry and I determined to do. During the night more snow
-had fallen, and we woke to a spotless, glistening world of white; the
-eighteen inches of snow which had fallen during the night, on the top of
-what had already fallen during the long winter, made the country look
-beautiful. As we sledged to the wee station, right in the midst of vast
-white mountains, under a sky of sapphire blue, the ground seemed to be
-set with millions of diamonds. I shall never forget that day; it gave me
-the most wonderful joy. Later I sat on a chair outside the observation
-car, drinking in the beauty, until my feet became so cold that the pain
-was real agony, and I could bear it no longer. I went inside to thaw
-them on the hot-water pipes, sitting even then with my face glued to the
-window, so that nothing of the beauty might escape me. I did this all
-day. Harry did at last persuade me to lunch, but the moment it was over
-I went back to my chair. Later, as the sun went down, a huge moon, like
-a harvest moon, rose with its cold, clear light, picking out fresh
-peaks, showing up snow-covered mountains in a new light. I refused to
-move, and Harry had to dine alone, while I froze outwardly, but inwardly
-was all glowing with excitement at the beauty and joy of what I saw. Now
-I can close my eyes and think that I see it all again: the canvas tents
-where the men working on the C.P.R. live; the pathetic, lonely little
-graves; the Indians; the squaws on the frozen rivers, sitting by holes
-in the ice, fishing; then Kicking Horse Valley, the climb from Field,
-that marvellous engineering feat when the train goes twice through the
-mountain in a figure-eight to enable it to mount the height. You lose
-all sense of direction as you go up and up, for one moment you see the
-moon on one side of the train, a moment later you see her on the other.
-I am not sure that this part of the journey is not the best, and yet I
-don’t know; it is hard to say.
-
-The Great Divide! All my life I had read and heard of it, and now at
-last I saw it. We got out at Banff and sledged to the hotel, where we
-stayed the night; next morning we wandered about until it was time to
-get the train. Perhaps we had seen too much beauty, seen too many
-wonders, and had become capricious, but I found Banff disappointing; the
-ice-run and the ice-castle seemed poor and out of place in their vast
-surroundings. The last stage of our journey was through the Park, where
-we saw herds of buffaloes, peacefully browsing in the snow, and an elk,
-too. We saw also the “Three Sisters” Canmore, and bade adieu to the snow
-mountains. I hope it’s only adieu. I have books of photographs which
-were taken there; one photograph is of the inveterate “punster”, Fred
-Grove, who was in Canada at the time, with Sir John Martin Harvey’s
-Company. He had it taken standing under a poster of _Eliza_, in which he
-had played “Uncle Alexander” so many times. On the back of it he wrote
-“Fred Grove at Regina—how he wishes he could re-jine ’er.”
-
-Another picture illustrates what was a curious coincidence. Harry and I
-were taken standing under a poster of _The Law Divine_. There had been a
-heavy snowstorm, and the whole of the poster was obliterated except the
-two letters, “D ... V”. Soon after, Harry was taken ill at Saskatoon
-with pneumonia. I had to go on with the company, and play every evening
-a comedy! knowing that any moment might bring me the news I dreaded.
-But, “D.V.”—and I say it with all reverence—Harry pulled through, and
-joined us in time to return to England.
-
-He was an amazing patient. Left there alone, very, very ill, his
-wonderful sense of humour never failed him. I remember one evening a
-wire came through for me, from Harry. It was a quotation over which we
-had often laughed, written by the late Poet Laureate, Alfred Austin, at
-the time when King Edward lay ill with appendicitis. It ran:
-
- “Across the wires the hurried message came—
- He is no better, he is much the same.”
-
-With us in the company was Nigel Bruce, who regards a Test Match as one
-of the really important things of life, and who would, I believe,
-infinitely rather “play for England” in one of the Test Matches than be
-Prime Minister. One evening Harry wired to me:
-
-“England lost both Test Matches. Get Willie (Nigel Bruce) oxygen.”
-
-Both these wires were sent when he was very, very ill, when the majority
-of us would have been too much concerned over the probability of leaving
-the world to wish in the least to be amusing. I have, too, a packet of
-letters which he wrote to me. Written in pencil, and often the writing
-indicating great physical weakness, but still the fun is there in every
-one of them. Here are some extracts from his letters at that time:
-
-“Holy Pigs, I am getting so fed up with this business.... Mrs. —— sent a
-note that if I wanted some cheery society would I ring her up, and the
-doctor would let her see me. I shall tell her my back is too sore!
-Cheerio to everybody. There’s a lot of fun to be got out of life.”
-
-“... This goes to Toronto. I shall not do much there, I’m afraid.
-However, it might have been worse (his illness), and it’s given me a
-nice pair of mutton-chop whiskers anyhow. There is a wonderful monotony
-about these white walls, day in, day out; one needs the patience of Job
-not to throw the soap-dish at the Crucifix sometimes.... I daresay I may
-write a fairy play, and, as Jowett says in one of his letters to Mrs.
-Asquith, ‘the pursuit of literature requires boundless leisure’.... I
-don’t think I am a very good patient; there are moments when I seethe
-with impotent rage against everything and everybody, which is all very
-foolish; so I have a cup of orange-water, and try and keep my nails
-clean.... Play all the bridge you can, that you may be the expert at our
-week-end parties, and support the family at the gaming-table.”
-
-The following is written when he was very ill, for he writes at the
-bottom, as a kind of postscript, “This took ages to write.” In this
-letter he enclosed a small tract, which I gave to “Florrie Lumley”, as
-he suggests. This is the letter:
-
-“Another night and day wiped off—they all count. Love to everybody.
-Nobody is allowed to see me yet, but, to-day being Sunday, a nice old
-man pushed the latest news of Jesus through a crack in the door while he
-thought I was asleep. Perhaps it will do that worldly Florrie Lumley a
-bit of good.”
-
-In another letter he says: “There is a devil in the next room that has
-done nothing but groan at the top of his voice all day; if I could get
-at him with a hat-pin, I’d give him something to groan for.”
-
-The following must have been the first letter he wrote after the worst
-time was over, for he begins: “No more death-struggles, my dear. But I
-am still on my back, and it takes two of the nurses to move me. I can
-see telegraph poles out of the corner of my eye, if I squint; and the
-dawn rolls up each morning. People are very kind, and my room is full of
-daffodils—they remind me of little children playing. Bless you!”
-
-So the tour which began so brightly, with us both speaking at huge
-meetings of the Empire League, with us both enjoying the wonderful new
-scenes, the trip through the Rockies (for which alone it would have been
-worth visiting Canada), with us both laughing at the discomforts of the
-theatres and some of the queer little hotels at which we had to stay,
-ended with Harry just able to join us before we sailed. Still, he did
-sail back to England with us.
-
-I was full of thanksgiving, not only for his recovery, but for the care
-and love that Dr. Lynch, who had had charge of his case, had given him.
-It was his care that had pulled Harry out of danger; both he and Mrs.
-Lynch had been so wonderful to him, and treated him as though he were an
-old friend and not as a chance visitor to their town; no one could have
-done more than they had done for Harry. Curiously enough, I found out
-later that Dr. Walker, who had been called in to give a second opinion
-on Harry’s case, had lived, during the war, close to “Apple Porch”, our
-house at Maidenhead. He had been at Lady Astor’s, and had attended the
-Canadian soldiers who were so badly gassed.
-
-I am reminded of so many holidays and small travels we took together—to
-the sea, to Switzerland, to Ireland, Scotland: holidays which stand out
-as lovely pictures, as days which were crowded with laughter and
-sunshine. Were there days when the rain poured down, and the skies were
-not blue?... I have forgotten them.
-
-I remember one holiday in Scotland, when every evening we used to play
-bridge, the minister—who, as he expressed it, “just loved a game o’
-cairds”—joining us. One Saturday evening he came, and declined to play
-because the next day was the “Sawbath”, and he did not think it right.
-He explained this at some length, and then turned to me with a smile:
-“I’ll just sit by your side, Mrs. Esmond,” he said, “and advise ye.”
-During that same visit we had with us two dogs—one a real Scotch
-terrier, the other—just a dog. As a matter of fact, he was the famous
-“Australian Linger” to which Harry was so devoted, and which has been
-mentioned elsewhere. One Sunday we all set out for the Kirk, to hear our
-“minister” friend preach, first locking both dogs in a shed near the
-hotel. We arrived at the Kirk—Ada (my sister, who has always been with
-Harry and myself in our joys, helping us in our troubles and often with
-heavy work, just a tower of strength and understanding); Charles
-Maitland Hallard, in the full glory of the kilt; and Harry and I. During
-the service we heard a noise at the door, and one of the party went to
-investigate. There were our two dogs, guarded by the minister’s own
-Aberdeen, lying with their three noses pressed against the crack of the
-door, waiting for the service to end. The Aberdeen, with a proper
-knowledge of what is right and proper during divine service, had
-evidently prevented our two dogs from entering. We found, on returning
-to the hotel, that they had gnawed a large hole in the door of the shed
-in which they had been locked, thus making their escape. It was on that
-particular Sunday that poor Charles Hallard had his knees so badly
-bitten by a horse-fly—or, from their appearance, a host of
-horse-flies—that the kilt could not be worn again during the holiday.
-
-As I write this, my boxes are still standing waiting to be unpacked, for
-I have just returned from Berlin, where I have spent the past ten weeks.
-Berlin! What a city! Wonderful, wonderful trees everywhere; a city which
-one feels is almost too big, too vast! The enormous buildings, the
-colossal statues, it seems a city built not for men and women but for
-giants. Gradually you realise that the wide streets, sometimes with four
-avenues of trees, have a definite purpose; that the city was so planned
-that the air might reach all who lived within its boundaries. The
-Tiergarten, which is a joy to behold, until you reach the Sesarsalle,
-which ruins the beauty with its endless and often ugly statues. Houses,
-big and beautifully kept, with real lace curtains, spotlessly clean, in
-almost every window; the whole city planted out with a wealth of
-flowers, roses by the million, cactus plants, lilac and syringa. Every
-spare piece of ground planted and laid out to perfection. When I came
-back to England, and on my way home passed Buckingham Palace, I was
-struck with the beds laid out there. The three or four hundred geraniums
-seemed so poor and inadequate after the streets of Berlin! I wondered
-why some of the money spent on street decoration could not have been
-paid in “reparation”; for the Germans it would mean fewer flowers, less
-beauty in their streets, but something towards the payment of their just
-debts.
-
-Numberless theatres, some very beautiful, others glaringly hideous both
-in design and colouring. All places of amusement—theatres, picture
-palaces, concerts, and dance-rooms—are literally packed out at every
-performance. The interest in music is wonderful, no matter if the
-performance is operetta, opera, or concert; it is an amazing sight to
-see the audience surge up to the platform at the end of a performance
-and storm it, offering applause and congratulation to the artist or
-artists. After Act 1 at the theatre, the audience rise as one man, and
-pour out into the vestibule, where they walk round and round, eating
-heartily of dark-brown bread sandwiches, drinking beer or wine which
-they buy from the buffet. To one unaccustomed to the country, it is an
-amusing sight and rather astonishing, but it is a wise practice, as most
-entertainments begin as early as 7 p.m., and the latest hour for a
-performance to begin is 7.30.
-
-I, personally, saw no lack of anything. The hotels are full, not only
-with people who are staying in them, but with casual visitors who come
-in for 5 o’clock tea; this begins at 3, and continues until about 8
-o’clock. The dining-rooms are never closed, and meals seem to go on all
-day long. “Men with corrugated backs to their necks”, as Sir Philip
-Gibbs so aptly describes them, sit for hours partaking of sugar cakes,
-ices, and liquors.
-
-Only once during my stay did I see the slightest hint of poverty, and
-that was where some wooden houses had been built outside the city during
-the war for poor people with families. Here the children were of the
-real gypsy type, played round us as we worked (for I was playing in a
-film), rolling and tumbling in the sand.
-
-I was taken over The Schloss by a soldier who had served under
-Hindenburg, and done much fighting in the infantry and later as a
-gunner. He described vividly to me the Riots, when the Palace was
-stormed by the sailors, who took possession and lived a life of riotous
-enjoyment there for a short time, dancing each evening on the wonderful
-floor of the ballroom where so many crowned heads had gathered in other
-days. The sailors were finally turned out after forty-eight hours’ heavy
-fighting. The man who was my guide told me that the rioters managed
-their firing badly, as they fired from both sides of the Palace, thus
-wounding many of their own men. He told me also that many soldiers held
-the belief that the riots had been permitted by the authorities in order
-to draw attention from the Staff, as the feeling at the time against the
-Army was so strong. I can only give this as his own opinion, and cannot
-vouch for its correctness.
-
-One drenching day I visited Potsdam, which seemed to me a perfectly
-hideous place, both inside and out, so ornate that it hurt. The
-much-vaunted Mussel Hall, a large room entirely covered with shells,
-seemed to me ghastly and a place in which no one could bear to remain
-for long. The one perfect room was the Kabinet, delightful in
-colour-scheme and construction. The Theatre, a small, beautifully
-designed place with a delightful stage, seats about four hundred people,
-and it was here that the Kaiser witnessed the performance of his own
-works.
-
-On an April day in June, with sunshine, heavy rain, and lovely clouds, I
-took a long motor drive down the famous track, which is twenty miles
-long, with fir trees on either side, past a great lake and many big
-houses with perfectly kept gardens, to Sans Souci. Perfect, with its
-lovely Kolonade in a semi-circle, and the Palace which looks down and up
-a grassy slope to a ruin on the summit, surrounded by trees. The ruin is
-an artificial one, copied from one in Rome, but the effect is quite
-charming. I saw the narrow Gallerie, the cedar-and-gold writing-room,
-which is round in formation, its door concealed by a bookcase, where
-Fredrick Rex used to sit and write, looking out on to a pergola which is
-French in design. The reception-room with its perfect green walls and
-rose-covered furniture—each room seemed more delightful than the last.
-Lovelier still, the garden, with its six wonderful terraces leading down
-to the large pond filled with goldfish, many of which are so old that
-they have become quite white; in the centre of the pond a fountain,
-which when playing throws a jet as high as the flagstaff, six terraces
-up. The whole place gave me a feeling of poetry and romance, quite
-different to anything I had experienced in Berlin. I visited the church
-where the two coffins of Fredrick the Great and Fredrick Rex lie side by
-side, covered with flags. The church is a small but impressive building,
-but spoilt by a huge Iron Cross on one wall, which is made of wood and
-almost entirely covered with nails: a similar idea to the Hindenburg
-statue (no longer to be seen) into which people knocked nails, paying
-money to be allowed to do so.
-
-My guide on this occasion was an ex-soldier who was decorated with the
-Iron Cross. He told me many interesting facts. He had been in the Crown
-Prince’s regiment—the King’s Hussars—first on the Western Front, and
-later at Verdun. He told me that the Crown Prince never left
-headquarters, nor led his regiment; that this was always done by General
-Gneiseuan, who refused to allow his name to appear as having led the
-troops, as he considered it an insult to the Prince. He said that at
-Verdun in 1917 no less than 366 men were shot dead on the field for
-refusing to advance.
-
-I listened often to remarks made about the Kaiser by the men who had
-been his subjects, and never once did I hear one word of pity for him,
-one word of regret at his downfall. The fact that so many valuable
-articles, plate, jewels, pictures, were sent by him to Holland is a
-bitter pill to his people. So valuable were many of the articles that,
-had he allowed them to be sold, the proceeds might have paid off a
-considerable amount of the reparation debt. It seemed to me that any
-love which his people once had for William Hohenzollern was dead.
-
-My mind went back to the time when my own country mourned the loss of a
-King, a King who had enjoyed as much lifetime as is given to many men,
-and who was deposed only by that strongest of all monarchs—Death. I saw
-the picture of the Great Hall at Westminster, with the crowds waiting to
-pay their last tribute to King Edward VII. I remembered how I stood,
-with many others, on the steps at the entrance, and, looking down into
-the hall, saw a solid, slowly moving mass of people, the representatives
-of a mourning nation. There in the centre stood the coffin, with the
-signs of temporal power laid upon it, and at each corner a soldier with
-bowed head, each representing one of Britain’s Colonies. Above the
-coffin, showing in the pale light of the candles, was a canopy, a cloud
-which floated over it. The breath of all the hundreds who had passed had
-gathered and hung there: the very life of his people had gone to make a
-canopy for the King. I thought how in the hall where the English people
-had won so much of their liberty, Edward the Seventh had held a last
-audience with his subjects; how he had lain there that everyone who
-wished might find him, for the last time, waiting for his people. For
-“the deposing of a rightful King” I had seen a nation mourn, mourning
-with a personal sorrow; and here in Germany I listened to the men who
-had been subjects of “The Peacock of the World”, and who for his
-passing, his degradation, his loss, had not one word of pity or regret.
-
-The German people? I left Germany wondering, and even hoping. The
-breaking of the military party, the downfall of the house of
-Hohenzollern, with its brood of decadent, idle, pleasure-loving princes
-and the “Tinsel and Cardboard King” may mean ultimate salvation for the
-German people. Not perhaps in my lifetime, but in the wonderful
-“someday” when all the world will be wiser and happier than it is now. A
-country where the very waiters can discuss music, literature, and
-poetry; a country of beautiful towns, green trees, and great
-manufactures; a country where, because of the heights to which one
-realises it _might_ have climbed, its fall is all the greater and more
-dreadful.
-
-Not the least interesting feature of my visit has been the closer
-contact with the director of the film, and his wife—Mr. Herbert Wilcox,
-a short man with a great dignity and immense charm. He was one of the
-gallant youngsters of 1914, who joined up as a Tommy and later did great
-work in the Flying Corps. Through Mr. Wilcox I have had my first
-intimate knowledge of film direction, and it has filled me with great
-respect for that branch of the theatrical profession, which, because it
-is still comparatively new, is less well-known and understood.
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER XII
- A BUNDLE OF OLD LETTERS
-
- “Wait till you read the letter.”
- —_Eliza Comes to Stay._
-
-
-To explain why I include this chapter at all, I want to give you the
-scene as it happened in my study in Whiteheads Grove. I think that will
-be a better explanation than if I were to tell you my ideas on letters
-and letter-writing, however fully and completely I might do so.
-
-It was one of those days when the desire to explore drawers and boxes,
-the top shelves of cupboards, and brown paper parcels, comes over one;
-that desire came over me, and I began. I did not get on very fast—one
-never does—and the first obstacle was a parcel marked “Letters,
-Private”. I untied the string, and began to read them; that was the end
-of my exploring for the day, for as I read I went back to the times when
-those letters were written and turned over in my mind the happenings
-which had caused them ever to be written. I saw the writers, and heard
-their voices. So the afternoon went past very quickly, for when ghosts
-come to visit you they demand your whole attention, and will not be
-dismissed quickly, will not be told, as one can tell ordinary people, “I
-am so busy to-day, will you come and see me some other time?”; they
-demand attention, and you find most of them too dear to deny it to them.
-
-Besides, does anyone ever really lose their fondness for letters? I
-write, I think, more than most people; sometimes I seem to spend my life
-writing letters, but—I still look forward to “to-morrow morning’s post”,
-and I think I always shall.
-
-As I read these old letters, written to me and to Harry during the past
-twenty years, I found myself laying aside first this one, and then that
-one, because they seemed amusing, or very kind, or especially indicative
-of the character of the writer. When the afternoon was over, my heap of
-letters had grown, and I had determined to make them into a parcel again
-and give them to whoever cared to read them as “A Bundle of Old
-Letters”.
-
-Listen to this one: I do not know why it was written, or when, except
-that it is headed “February 1st”—but it takes me back to the days of
-“The Gent., the Genius, and the Young Greek God”—the days when Harry
-Esmond, Charles Hallard, and Gerald du Maurier went holiday-making
-together:
-
- MY DEAR HARRY,
-
- Expressing one’s thoughts in any way is a form of conceit, surely,
- isn’t it? If you speak them, or write them, you expect others to
- listen—therefore you must consider what _you_ think of importance.
- Authors must all be of a conceit that is abnormal, and preachers,
- and—Good God—Poets!
-
- Some people would rather not listen to the commonplace thoughts of
- others—for these there should just be a “news sheet”, giving
- generally what is taking place, with no garnishings and comments and
- “what we think”, etc.—for silent men like “Tug” Wilson, engineers,
- scientists, and equilibrists. Nowadays (do you agree with me?) too
- much expression is given to “feelings”, and little feeble feelings
- at that. There is no loud roar of a lion, no sweet song of a
- nightingale, and no great hush either—it is all sparrows, and a
- banging door. Everything is “tuppence”. You never read: “Death of
- A——”; it is always “Tragic Death”, “Splendid Death”, “Comic Death”;
- why not “Death”?
-
- Love to you all.
-
- GERALD.
-
-Here is a letter dated “June 30th, 1898”; it is headed New York, and
-begins:
-
- MY DEAR ESMOND,
-
- I accept your play. I suppose even a manager may give way to his
- feelings sometimes, and I am going to do it now. I cannot express to
- you sufficiently how much I like the play. If it meets with the same
- impressions on an audience as it has with me, we will both have a
- fine thing. However, independent of all that, in these times when a
- manager is compelled, regretfully, to refuse so many plays, it is a
- gratification to be able to say “I will accept and am glad of it”.
-
- Yours truly,
- CHARLES FROHMAN.
-
-That was a glimpse of the Charles Frohman (“C.F.”, as he was always
-called), whom Harry knew and loved.
-
-
-This is a letter that Harry must have written out as a rough draft, for
-there are alterations and “cuts” in it. I cannot remember why or to whom
-it was written, but I am sure he wrote it very seriously, and chuckled
-over it after it was finished:
-
- “If authors in engaging artists for plays allowed themselves to be
- biassed by the private life of each artist, I fear many theatres
- would close and many deserving people would starve. If Miss Smith,
- Jones, or Robinson suits the requirements of a play, it is not my
- business, or the manager’s, to enquire whether or no she murdered
- her mother. Is she the right person for the play?—that’s all one can
- consider.” There the letter—or, rather, the draft—ends; I do not
- know who the lady was—but I hope she made a great success.
-
-I wonder why I have this next letter? Someone sent it to me, I suppose,
-with that great kindness some people show in “passing on” the really
-nice things that are sometimes said of one. And why not? If only
-everyone would forget the unkind things they hear, and only treasure and
-repeat the kind ones—well, the world would be a happier place for
-everyone. This letter is dated “May 19th, 1901”, so I feel I may be
-allowed to quote from it without being accused of undue conceit, because
-it is “so many years ago”:
-
- “You are right, and I think it is only fair to the ‘new lead’ to say
- so—Eva Moore is a revelation—and that delicious natural laugh, which
- is of all Nature’s inventions about the hardest to reproduce at
- will. I suspect that Alexander has discovered what we all want so
- much—the new ‘Madge Kendal’.” If there is one thing for which I have
- always striven, it is a natural laugh, and I like to think that I
- had attained it twenty-two years ago; I like to think I still retain
- it!
-
-Here is a letter, in large, black writing, but such charming writing it
-is! Full of vigour, full of humour too. I do not know when it was
-written; the only date is “June 22”. It runs:
-
- Let there be no mistake about this little matter.
-
- We _do_ want to come, and we _are_ coming,
- _To You_
- on
- Thursday, 1 July, 4 o’clock.
- _Question_: Until ——?
- _Answer_: We go away.
-
- ELLEN TERRY.
-
-That letter brings another memory with it. Perhaps it was the time when
-she stayed “until she went away”, but I remember Ellen Terry in my
-garden, going up to my mother, who was seated there, and saying, “How
-are you, Mrs. Moore? My name is Ellen Terry.” The simplicity and beauty
-of that Great Lady is something to remember always.
-
-The next letter in my packet is very short, and its brevity and the fact
-that it is “very much to the point” appeals to me. It was written after
-seeing _The Law Divine_:
-
- MY DEAR HARRY ESMOND,
-
- Do you mind my saying your Play will live long after you—or I? That
- is the one thought I brought away with me.
-
- Yours with his Hat off,
- FRED WRIGHT.
-
- 28/3/19.
-
-Here is another, and again undated, except for “Feb. 19th”:
-
- DEAR MR. ESMOND,
-
- Only a line to say how tremendously I enjoyed the play this
- afternoon. Why won’t you write me a play like that? I want to play
- “a mother”!!
-
- Kindest regards,
- Yours sincerely,
- GLADYS COOPER.
-
-What a contrast to another letter, from one of the worst actors I have
-ever seen, who begins by telling “My Dear Esmond” that he wants a play
-written for him, and proceeds to describe for six sheets of notepaper
-_how_ the play is to be written and how the climax is to be reached; he
-ends with the words, “remember I want at least _one great moment of
-passion_”. I cannot remember that Harry ever embarked on this play,
-which, with its one “great moment” only insisted on, might not have held
-an audience for two and a half hours! Harry’s answer was, “My Dear X.,
-God is in His Heaven.”
-
-This letter interests me for many reasons; the writer herself had an
-arresting personality, and this letter, with its clarity of style, its
-beautifully clear and artistic writing, writing which never ceases for a
-single word to depict character and sensitive feeling, the sentiment
-bravely speaking what the writer felt, and yet never deteriorating into
-nothing but carping criticism; all these things go to give a very true
-idea of the writer:
-
- DEAR MR. ESMOND,
-
- I followed every word and scene of your play with the deepest
- interest. I found it quite terrible. It would be absurd to say that
- such stories ought not to receive illustration on the stage. But I
- do say that, when they are presented, they should be told in the
- Shakespearean and not in the Ibsen manner. One requires poetry and
- music and every softening aid for tragedies so dismal, otherwise the
- whole thing is a nightmare. I am not older than you are, but I have
- had a great deal of sorrow, and I have been forced to see the
- squalid side of every ideal. Yet I thought you were unjust even to
- the worst in human nature. I know you won’t mind my saying this,
- because I have such an admiration for your great talents. There are
- so few dramatists in Europe that, where one recognises unusual
- ability, one may be pardoned for wishing to see it displayed to the
- highest advantage. Life, as it is, is quite “strong” enough; if you
- show it as it is _not_, it becomes inartistically weak from excess
- of horrors.—Then follows some criticism of the acting, ending with
- the words, “Its (the play’s) balance was so good, and it never
- halted or drooped. You have got the real gift.” The letter is signed
- “Yours sincerely, Pearl Mary-Teresa Craigie” (whom the world knew
- better as “John Oliver Hobbes”).
-
-On a large sheet of very excellent paper, and somewhere near the bottom
-of the sheet, is written:
-
- DEAR ESMOND,
-
- Thanks very much for Grierson. I am devouring him—gloom and all—with
- great gusto.
-
- Sincerely yours,
- MAX BEERBOHM.
-
-This next letter must have been written concerning _Grierson’s Way_, and
-is in the queer irregular handwriting of William Archer, the great
-critic. He says: “Of course Messieurs of the Old Guard in criticism die,
-but never surrender. Never mind! You have scored a big victory, and I
-congratulate you with all my heart. The mantle of ‘Clemmy’ (Clement
-Scott) has certainly descended upon the _Telegraph_ gentleman.”
-
-The next item in my bundle is a photograph of the “Weekly Box Office
-Statement” of the Knickerbocker Theatre, New York, and at the bottom is
-printed “This theatre’s largest week’s business at regular prices”. The
-“attraction” was “Mr. N. C. Goodwin and Miss Maxine Elliott”, and the
-play was _When We Were Twenty-One_.
-
-Letters here from Maxine Elliott! Black, rather wild writing, straggling
-over the pages, written with a soft, thick pen, and very “decided” ink.
-This one was written soon after Jill was born. Maxine Elliott is her
-godmother, hence the enquiries:
-
- DEAR HARRY ESMOND,
-
- What is Miss Esmond’s Christian name? You didn’t tell me, and I have
- a little souvenir for her that I want to get marked. How proud you
- and Eva must be, and how secret you were! I almost believe you
- bought her at the Lowther Arcade! (once the Home of dolls).
-
-Another letter from her begins: “Dear Harry Esmond,—Philadelphia the
-_frigid_, Philadelphia the _unappreciative_, has received us well, even
-at this inauspicious time to open, and I am full of hope and confidence
-in New York.”
-
-Here is a third from the same source; this, I think, was written when
-Harry first agreed to write a play for her, which when completed was
-called _Under the Greenwood Tree_:
-
- I am longing to hear the new play, and full of excitement over it,
- and what an _angel_ you are to write it for me! I sail April 4th,
- and that means London—Blessed London—about the 11th.... I am doing
- the biggest business of my life this year, which is the only
- satisfaction to be derived from this laborious, monotonous,
- treadmill sort of grind that it is in this country of vast distances
- (America). I shall retire (ha! ha!) after we finish with the big
- play you are writing for me, you nice Harry Esmond!
-
- My best love to you all.
-
- Yours very sincerely,
- MAXINE ELLIOTT GOODWIN.
-
-Letters from busy men and women, how much they mean! Not the formal
-typewritten affair, but written with their own hands, and meaning
-moments snatched from the rush of work that they always have before
-them. This one from Mr. Robert Courtneidge, for instance, written from
-his office to Harry after _The Law Divine_ was produced. And the
-sidelight that it gives to the character of the man who wrote it!
-Listen:
-
- MY DEAR ESMOND,
-
- I saw _The Law Divine_ yesterday, and enjoyed it more than I can
- express. It is a delightful play—admirably acted. It was quite a
- treat to me, who am not given to the theatre spirit nowadays. I
- didn’t go round to see you, for I’m as backward as a novice, and I
- tremble at “going behind” where I have no business.
-
- Kindest regards,
-
- Yours truly,
- ROBERT COURTNEIDGE.
-
- P.S.—And I remember Miss Illington playing juvenile parts in
- Edinburgh—dear, dear! She was a braw young lassie then, but a
- delightful actress.
-
-That is the Robert Courtneidge I have met; with a twinkle in his shrewd,
-kindly eyes, and that more than a touch of his country’s humour always
-ready to appear—when rehearsals are over. He is one of the people who
-remain young, despite the fact that at a rehearsal he has been known to
-put on his hat and, shaking his head, say sadly, “I’m an old man, I
-can’t stand it”, and so walk away. Underneath it all, though actors may
-turn pale and actresses may shed tears in the dark recesses of the
-prompt corner, there is always the twinkle in Robert Courtneidge’s
-eye—if you look for it!
-
-
-I should not wish to praise myself; I should never wish to be an
-egotist, even though this is an account of “My Life”; and that is why I
-have included in my bundle of letters only a few that have been written
-to me, but mostly those which were written to Harry. Here is one,
-however, which appealed to me then, and does still, as “high praise”. It
-is from a Frenchwoman—and is, therefore, “praise from Sir Hubert
-Stanley”—for it refers to the performance of _Mumsie_, by Edward
-Knoblauch—that dear, human, though unsuccessful play for which I had so
-much love:
-
- I could see working in you all the feelings of a Frenchwoman. You
- are a great artist. You give me intense pleasure. I wish to thank
- you very much.
-
- Very sincerely yours,
- MARGUERITE ARNOLD BENNETT.
-
-This letter was written after Harry played “Touchstone”, when he was so
-severely criticised by some for his conception of the part:
-
- MY DEAR ESMOND,
-
- Touchstone, Touchstone, Touchstone at last! A creation, a triumph, a
- delight; wit, fantasy, irony—that hint of the Great God Pan behind
- the motley—all unite to make the Touchstone I have always longed for
- but have only now seen for the first time.
-
- Sincerely yours,
- JUSTIN HUNTLY MCCARTHY.
-
-Here is a letter which Harry wrote to me. He was arranging for a theatre
-at the time, though what theatre I cannot remember. He evidently feels
-that he has been successful in an absolutely business-like way—probably
-because he never was, and if he had made a fair “deal” over anything it
-was due entirely to the honesty of his associates and not to his own
-capacity, for, as I have said elsewhere, he was never “one of the
-children of this world”:
-
-“Your poor husband,” he writes, “has been having a devil of a time. The
-evolving, the planning, the diplomacy, the craft!—but we rehearse
-Monday, and open in ten days. Jill had a lovely time in the garden
-to-day, as happy as a bumble bee. I think I’ve had the dreariest week
-I’ve ever had in my life, but all’s well that ends well.” Evidently all
-the “craft” had been taking all the colour out of life for him!
-
-When he died, I had so many wonderful letters from all our friends, and
-not only friends who were personally known to me, but dear people who
-wrote to me from all over the world, offering their sympathy and love;
-offerings of sympathy from their Majesties the King and Queen—one of
-those signal proofs of their kindly thought in and for their subjects
-which have helped to make them so dearly loved by the Empire; from men
-and women who had worked with us, who had known Harry as an actor, as a
-man, or as both; from people who had never known him, but loved him for
-his written and spoken word; from people who had known me, and wished to
-send me their loving help at such a time. Among these many letters there
-is one from Sir Johnston Forbes Robertson, a letter full of regret at
-Harry’s death, and of kind and cheering thoughts for me; it gives a
-picture of Harry, riding a bicycle past Buckingham Palace one morning.
-The night before Forbes Robertson had played in a new production, and
-the critics in some of the papers had not been too kind. The letter
-recalls how Harry, riding past Forbes Robertson that morning, called out
-cheerily, “Never mind what they say, _you were fine_.” The writer adds,
-“Wasn’t it just like him?” One of those happy pictures of Harry which
-did so much to bring rays of happiness to me at that time.
-
-Not the least beautiful was one which consisted only of a single line,
-the letter of the best type of Englishman, the man who “cannot talk”,
-but whose very affection renders him dumb. It was just this: “Eva, dear,
-I am so sorry for you”—and so said everything that a kind heart could
-say.
-
-
-The pleasant memories that many of those letters recalled! As Charles
-Hawtrey wrote, “I look back on _One Summer’s Day_ as nearly the
-happiest, if not quite the happiest, of my stage life, and it is one of
-the ‘memories’ that seem to dwell in the minds of many of my audiences.”
-
-
-The gift that some people have of putting so much into a few lines, all
-the tragedy of a lifetime in a few words! One dear woman wrote to me,
-she having lost her much-loved husband about a year previously: “I have
-such pleasant memories of him (Harry); always so kind and charming to me
-in the early days; and, since then, both of us with both of you—and now
-only you and me.”
-
-
-And they gave me a great deal, those letters; and here is one which
-expresses all I want to say—a letter from Miss Sybil Thorndike—and so I
-give you her words, as an expression of what I feel and what I felt
-then: “Doesn’t it seem strange that out of a big personal grief comes
-sometimes a wonderful recognition of warmth that’s in the hearts of
-outsiders?”
-
-
-So I finish my “Bundle of Letters”, tie up the parcel, and put them
-away—for I cannot bring myself to destroy them. They are part of one’s
-life; they came as an unexpected joy, or as something looked for
-anxiously; they came, bringing praise, good news, sympathy, and kindly
-thoughts. Letter-writing as an art may be lost; but I still say, with a
-feeling which has always something of a child’s expectancy and hope:
-“There is always to-morrow morning’s post.”
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Turner & Drinkwater, Hull._ To face p. 187
-
- HARRY AS LITTLE BILLEE
-
- “Trilby”
-]
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER XIII
- HARRY, THE MAN
-
- “The dearest, bravest, truest chap that ever stepped in shoe
- leather.”—_When We Were Twenty-One._
-
- “He’s such an odd sort of chap, always doing such rum things.”—_The
- Wilderness._
-
-
-If I was asked to describe Harry in one word, the one I should
-instinctively use would be “_Youth_”; youth with its happy joy in the
-simple things of life, youth with its hope and ambition, youth with its
-intolerance, feeling disappointment and unkindness so deeply, and yet
-with its tears so quickly dried by the laughter that was never very far
-away. That was Harry Esmond, who found the world a giant playroom full
-of toys of which he never tired.
-
-An Irishman, with the true Irishman’s imagination, living so much in
-dreams that dreams became more real than reality. He saw everything in
-pictures, vividly and full of life. It would seem that the ideas, which
-were born in dreams, became the living things of reality. Once, I
-remember, when he told Charles Hallard, very excitedly, that something
-he said or did was “foul”, poor Charles protested, “My God! and in the
-morning he’ll believe it’s true!” We all laughed, Harry with the rest,
-but I realise how very truly he had judged Harry’s character. Not that
-he believed it in this particular instance, but, through life, what he
-said on impulse to-day became conviction to-morrow.
-
-And with all his imagination his love of the fantastic went hand in
-hand. As little children love to play games in which there is a certain
-element of “fear”, so Harry loved the fantastic which bordered on
-terror.
-
-I can see him, seated at dinner at Whiteheads Grove, arguing on the
-comparative merits of William Morris and Tennyson—he, and those who
-listened to him, utterly oblivious of the fact that the dinner was
-rapidly growing cold. To point his argument, he began to quote the
-_Idylls of the King_—Arthur’s return:
-
- “And as he climbed the castle stair, _a thing_ fell at his feet,
- And cried ‘I am thy fool, and I shall never make thee smile again’.”
-
-I shall never forget the horror he put into the words “a thing fell at
-his feet”, and how the whole tragedy was unrolled in two lines of verse.
-
-Once, too, someone asked him to tell some spiritualistic experience, or
-some story he had heard from someone who had “seen a spirit”. “Tell us
-about it,” they asked. Harry, loving the terror which he felt the story
-would bring, answered in almost a whisper, “No, no, I daren’t; it
-_terrifies_ me!”, and promptly went on to tell the whole story, enjoying
-the horror of it all, as children love a ghost story.
-
-The very people he knew were either, in his eyes, wonderful compounds of
-every virtue or there was “no health in them”. He would meet some
-individual who, in the first five minutes of their acquaintance, would
-say or do something which appealed to him: that person became for ever
-“a splendid chap”; while, on the other hand, some harmless individual
-who struck a “wrong note” (probably quite unwittingly) was referred to
-for months as “a terrible fellow”.
-
-The name he took for the stage—Harry Vernon Esmond—was a tribute to
-romance and imagination. He was young—young in years, I mean—and he
-loved a wonderful lady, to whom he never addressed a single word. She
-was Harriet Vernon, who, attired as Gainsborough’s “Duchess of
-Devonshire”, used to thrill the hearts of the young men of the day every
-evening at the Tivoli, the Old Oxford, and other Temples of Variety.
-Harry, with others, worshipped at the shrine of Harriet Vernon. He never
-spoke to her; I doubt if he ever wanted to: it was simply the adoration
-of a very young man for a beautiful woman, whose life to him was wrapped
-in wonderful mystery. Night after night he watched her, and, when he
-took up the stage as a career, he, being a nineteenth century knight and
-so unable to “bind her gage about his helm”, openly avowed his
-admiration and allegiance by taking her name, and so became Harry Vernon
-Esmond.
-
-Foolish? Ridiculous? I don’t think so; and it was rather typical of
-Harry’s feelings with regard to women all his life. He loved beautiful
-women as he loved the beautiful pictures, the beautiful books, and
-beautiful places of the world. Women, individually, he might—and often
-did—dislike; but women as women, _en masse_, he idealised. In all his
-plays he never drew a woman who was wholly unkind or entirely worthless.
-He might set out to draw a vampire, a heartless creature without any
-moral sense; but before the end of the play, the fact that she was a
-woman would be too strong for him, and in one sentence—perhaps only half
-a dozen words—he would make you feel that “she so easily might have been
-different, had fate been kinder”.
-
-Perhaps you remember “Vera Lawrence” in _Eliza Comes to Stay_. She is
-mercenary, heartless, and throws over Sandy so that she may marry his
-rich uncle; but Harry Esmond could not give her to the world as nothing
-more than that—she was a woman, and a beautiful woman. Listen to the
-extenuating clause. She is showing Sandy a new umbrella, and says, “It
-isn’t meant for rain; once it was opened to the rain it would never go
-back and be slim and elegant again. Oh! Sandy, they opened me to the
-rain too soon!” That is the echo of some half-forgotten tragedy which
-had made Vera Lawrence what she was, instead of the woman “she might
-have been”.
-
-He began to write when he was very young, and I have a manuscript at
-home of his first play, entitled _Geraldine, or Victor Cupid_. It is a
-rather highly coloured work, which has never been inflicted on the
-public, written in an exercise-book when he was fourteen.
-
-He used to recite, too, when he was a very small boy, and a man who knew
-him then described him as “a tiresome little boy who _would_ recite long
-poems to which no one wanted to listen”. The tragedy of the prophet
-without honour!
-
-We were very young when we married, and it was perhaps due to that fact
-that Harry was really a very casual lover. I have told elsewhere how his
-friend was sent to escort me home from the theatre, and there were many
-other instances which I could quote. After our marriage he changed
-entirely; he was the most perfect lover any woman ever had, and his
-letters to me, written when he was on tour and in America, are as
-beautiful, as full of tenderness and imagery, as anything he ever wrote.
-
-We married with Hope as a banking account, and lived in a little studio
-flat in Chelsea. In the flat below us (and this is “by the way”, and has
-nothing to do with Harry as I am trying to depict him to you) lived
-another young married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Shortt. He became, as all the
-world knows, the “Right Hon.”, and I wonder if he held as harsh views on
-the subject of Women’s Suffrage then as he did later.
-
-It was not for some time that Harry realised that he could write. He
-loved acting passionately, and in his plays you will find all the fire
-and life which he put into his spoken work. It was perhaps to him, as it
-has been to many, something of a disadvantage that he could do two
-things well, for it divided his powers, and he was torn between his
-desire to act and his desire to create characters which others should
-portray. Acting was his first love, and the knowledge that he had the
-power to write, and write well, came to him slowly; I think perhaps he
-almost distrusted it, as a possible menace to his career as an actor.
-
-They were good days in the little flat, they were indeed “the brave days
-when we were twenty-one”. Troubles came and we shouldered them, hardly
-feeling their weight. The small happenings, which then were almost
-tragedies we were able soon after to look back upon as comedies, because
-we were young, and happy, and very much in love with each other. The
-dreadful day came when Harry, who wanted a new bicycle very badly, went
-to the bank and asked for an advance of eight pounds, which was refused
-by the manager—the day when our worldly wealth was represented by
-eighteen shillings, and two pounds in the bank (which we dare not touch,
-for it would have “closed our account”). Then Cissie Graham (now Mrs.
-Allen) played the part of the Good Fairy and saved us, though she does
-not know it. She offered me a special week at Bristol. In the nick of
-time I was engaged to play in Justin Huntly McCarthy’s _Highwayman_, and
-soon after Harry went to George Alexander on contract; and so fate
-smiled on us again!
-
-Then came his _first play_—a one-act curtain-raiser called _Rest_. I
-suppose all young authors are excited when the first child of their
-brain is given to the world. I have never seen Harry so excited over any
-play as he was over _Rest_. It was played at a matinée for Mr. Henry
-Dana, who was with Sir Herbert Tree for so long, and died not long ago,
-to the deep regret of all who knew him.
-
-When I speak of Harry’s excitement over this play, I do not want you to
-think that excitement was unusual with him. He was often roused to a
-great pitch of excitement by the small, pleasant things of life, because
-he loved them. He was the embodiment of Rupert Brooke’s “Great Lover”:
-for him “books and his food and summer rain” never ceased to bring joy
-and delight. To be blasé or bored were things unknown to him. No man
-ever needed less the Celestial Surgeon to “stab his spirit wide awake”!
-His joy in the lovely, small things of life was as keen at fifty as it
-had been at fifteen.
-
-Once, after great difficulty, I persuaded him to go for a holiday on the
-Continent—for he hated to go far away from his own roof-tree. I always
-remember the effect the first sight of the Swiss mountains had on him.
-Do you remember the story of the great Victorian poet who, travelling to
-Switzerland with his friend, was reading _The Channings_?—how, when his
-friend touched him on the arm and said, “Look, the Alps”, he replied,
-without raising his eyes from his book, “Hush, Harry is going to be
-confirmed”! This is how differently the sight affected Harry: He had
-been sitting in the corner of the carriage, dreaming dreams; at last I
-saw the snow-covered Alps. “Look, Harry,” I said, “the mountains!” He
-woke from his dreams and looked out; there was a long silence, which I
-broke to ask if they impressed him very much. All his reply was, “Hush!
-don’t speak!”
-
-Three things never ceased to make an appeal to him—old people, young
-children, and animals. I shall never forget his beautiful courtesy to my
-mother, and in fact to anyone who was old and needed care. Children all
-loved him, and his relations with his own children were wonderful. Our
-first baby, Lynette, died when she was only a few days old, and Harry’s
-first experience of having a child was really when Decima’s little boy
-Bill came to live with us. When later Jack, and still later Jill, were
-born, the three were to all intents and purposes one family. Harry was
-never too busy or too tired to tell them wonderful stories—stories which
-were continued from night to night, year by year. He used to tell the
-most exciting adventures of imaginary people, always leaving them in the
-very middle of some terrible predicament, from which he would extricate
-them the next evening. I can remember him coming down one evening, after
-telling one of these adventures to Jill, with a frown of very real worry
-on his forehead, and rumpling his hair in distress, saying, as he did
-so, “I’ve left them on the edge of a precipice, and God only knows how
-I’m going to save them to-morrow night!”—“them” being the characters in
-the story.
-
-His dogs! In Harry’s eyes, none of them could really do wrong. One I
-remember, a great Harlequin china-eyed Dane. She was a huge beast, and
-suffered from the delusion that she was a “lap dog”, and as Harry was
-the only person who existed in the world, so far as she was concerned,
-so his was the only lap on which she ever wished to sit. At those
-moments he was totally extinguished under the mass of dog.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Miss Compton Collier, London, N.W.6._ To face p. 194
-
- JILL AND HER MOTHER
-]
-
-But his best-loved dog was “Buggins”, who was an animal of doubtful
-ancestry, called out of courtesy by Harry an “Australian Linger”. He
-originally belonged to the Philip Cunninghams, and Harry, calling there
-one day and finding Buggins in deep disgrace for some misdemeanour,
-decided that our flat would be the ideal home for the dog. From that
-moment, until he died from eating another dog’s meal as well as his own
-(for, be it said frankly, Buggins was greedy), his life was as gorgeous
-as Harry could make it. He had a state funeral and lies at “Apple
-Porch”—the place which he, as well as his master, loved so dearly.
-
-I wish I could tell you adequately of Harry’s humour, but the things he
-said were funny because he said them and because of the way in which he
-said them. Put down in black and white, they seem nothing, they might
-even seem rather pointless; but the memory of Bill sitting with his
-mouth open, ready to laugh at “Pop’s” jokes, and never waiting in vain,
-the memory of the roars of laughter which were the accompaniment of
-every meal—that has lasted while the jokes themselves are forgotten.
-
-The jokes are forgotten, and the laughter remains! That is how Harry
-lives always for us, who knew and loved him; that is how he lives for
-Bill, and Jack, and Jill: as the finest playmate they ever had; the man
-who, though he might treat life as a jest, was desperately serious over
-games and the things of “make-believe”; who might laugh at the faults
-which the world thinks grave, and was grave over the faults at which the
-world too often laughs.
-
-And the sound of his laughter, and of the children laughing with him,
-brings me to the last picture; brings me to a scene in which Harry,
-though he did not appear, was the most actual personality in the memory.
-It was in the restaurant of the Gare du Nord in Paris, in the April of
-1922. It was a perfect spring day, the sun was shining, birds were
-singing, all the trees were full of budding leaf and flowers. We had
-given his “body to the pleasant earth”; not, I felt, sleeping there
-alone, for France had become the resting-place of so many Englishmen who
-had been young, and brave, and beautiful. We had come back to Paris from
-St. Germain, the children and I. The restaurant was empty, and anyone
-entering would never have imagined from where we had come and what had
-been our errand that morning. The children spoke all the time of Harry,
-and spoke of him with laughter and smiles. It was “Do you remember what
-Pops said?”, and “What a joke it was that day when Pops did this, that,
-or the other”, until I realised that, though he had finished his work
-here, he would always live for the children and for me in the “laughter
-that remained”.
-
-Graves are kept as green with laughter as with tears; but in our minds
-there is no feeling of “graves” or death, only the joy of looking back
-on the sunny days, which had been more full of sunshine because the
-figure which stood in the midst of the sunlight had been Harry.
-
-Harry would have hated, almost resented, another illness, with all the
-attendant weariness; would have dreaded a repetition of all he went
-through in Canada. He, who loved to live every moment of his life to the
-full, always felt that “to pass out quickly” was the only way to hope to
-die. His wish was fulfilled when he died so suddenly in Paris. And yet,
-though he had loved his friends, loved his work, and loved, too, the
-public life which was the outcome of it, he loved best of all the quiet
-of his home; there, within its four walls, he would have, had it been
-possible, done all his work, and had all his friends gather round him.
-
-A last token of the love which those friends bore him is being made to
-him now by “His Fellow-Craftsmen”; it is a bronze medallion, made by the
-sculptor, Mr. Albert Toft, and will be placed where Harry’s body lies,
-at the Cemetery at St. Germain-en-Laye. The beautiful thought originated
-with Mr. Cyril Harcourt and Mr. Dion Clayton Calthrop, and many who
-loved Harry have joined hands with them. As I write, a letter has just
-come to me from Mr. Harcourt, saying: “It is done, and we think
-beautifully. The face and hand, with the cigarette smoke curling up, are
-wonderful.” I can fancy that Harry sees it too, and says in that
-beautiful voice of his, full of all the tones and music I know so well:
-
- “And I, in some far planet, past the skies,
- I shall look down and smile;
- Knowing in death I have not lost my friends,
- But only found in death their lasting love.”
-
-Of his wonderful charm it is almost impossible to write, and yet it was
-essentially part of him, and a feature of his personality. Whatever his
-faults may have been—and he had them, as have all of us—it was his
-wonderful charm which made them so easy to forgive. As Fred Grove used
-to say of him:
-
- “Though to the faults of mortals he may fall,
- Look in his eyes, and you forget them all.”
-
-His friends know, as I do, his generosity; that keen anxiety to help,
-either by money or kindness, anyone who was unfortunate. Harry never
-waited to wonder if his help was wise or judicious; a man or woman was
-poor, underfed, or unhappy, that was enough for him, and any help he
-could give was at once forthcoming, and given with such unfeigned
-pleasure at being able to help that I am convinced many of those who
-asked him for money went away feeling they had conferred a favour on
-Harry Esmond by borrowing his money.
-
-On his work, both as a writer and an actor, I shall try to touch later.
-I have tried here to give you the man as I knew him: A boy with the soul
-of a poet; a man who always in his heart of hearts believed that most
-men were brave, and, unless life had been unkind, all women good; who
-evolved a philosophy which, though it may not have been very deep, was
-always gay; to whom life was full of small excitements, wonderful
-adventures, and splendid friends; who remained, after thirty years of
-married life, still a very perfect lover; and who understood his
-children and was their most loved playmate, because he never ceased
-himself to be a child; complex, as all artistic natures must be, and
-sometimes, if he seemed too ready to sacrifice the real to the
-imaginary, it was because the imaginary to him seemed so much more
-“worth while”.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by The Dover Street Studios, London, W._ To face p. 199
-
- HARRY AS WIDGERY BLAKE
-
- “Palace of Puck”
-]
-
-Perhaps the best summing-up of Harry that can be given is to quote
-Henley’s lines on Robert Louis Stevenson:
-
- “A streak of Ariel, a hint of Puck,
- Of Hamlet most of all, and something of
- The Shorter Catechist.”
-
-There, then, is the picture I have tried to make for you: Harry elated
-over the success of a play; Harry cast down over some unkind cut, grave
-for a moment, with his gravity turned to smiles at some happy thought
-which suddenly struck him; our hopes and fears; our good and bad times
-together; and over all, drowning all other sounds, comes the noise of
-Harry’s laughter and that of three happy children laughing with him.
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER XIV
- HARRY, THE PLAYWRIGHT
-
- “He used to write of life as it ought to be.”
- —_The Law Divine._
-
-
-The last thing I wish to give you is a list of his plays, with the
-comment that they were a success or the reverse, adding what eminent
-critics said of them. I want only to tell you how he wrote his plays,
-and try to make you understand why he wrote as he did. If I quote what
-critics said of his work, it will not be because in this or that extract
-I find undiluted praise, but because that critic has—or, at least, so it
-seems to me—found truth.
-
-Harry’s first play I have still; it is written in an exercise-book, and
-is called _Geraldine, or Victor Cupid, or Love’s Victory_. It is a
-highly coloured piece of work, which has never been inflicted upon the
-public; written, I imagine, when he was about twelve years old.
-
-Not until we had been married for some years did Harry realise that he
-could write plays; he was passionately fond of acting, and wished to
-take up nothing that might interfere with his profession, but gradually
-the knowledge came to him that he could create characters on paper as
-well as on the stage.
-
-He made his plays long before he wrote them; I mean he thought the whole
-play out in its entirety, lived for weeks with the characters in his
-mind, came to know them intimately and to be absolutely at home with
-them, before he began actually to write the play in black and white.
-
-I have known him to write the last act first, simply because he had
-planned the play so entirely before he put pen to paper. Often when at
-“Apple Porch” he would write for an hour, then go out on the golf
-course, knock a ball about for two or three holes, then return to his
-desk, and pick up the scene just where he had left it.
-
-_Grierson’s Way_ he wrote straight off in three weeks; there is hardly
-an alteration in the manuscript. He was intensely happy when writing;
-talked very little about his work, as a rule, but lived in two
-worlds—his friends in the play, and his family. He thought sad and
-gloomy plays were a mistake, and should not be written, or, if written,
-whatever the subject, the author “should be able to let in the sunshine
-somewhere”. He never wrote another _Grierson’s Way_.
-
-_The Wilderness_ was written under most difficult circumstances. Jack
-was three months old, he was frightfully ill for weeks, and I was up
-night after night nursing him. Harry used to sit in the study at the end
-of the passage, writing, writing, coming in now and again to see how we
-were getting on. Later, when Jack was better, Harry took a table and put
-it up in the loft over a wee stable we had, where the car was kept;
-there, daily, he and his big dog Diana, which George Alexander had given
-him, used to climb up the ladder that was flat up against the wall, and
-do his writing. The going up was all right, but the coming down was the
-difficulty. Harry put a heap of straw on the ground, and, after he had
-got half-way down the ladder, Diana used to put her fore paws on his
-shoulders, then Harry would drag her till her hind legs got to the edge
-of the trap-door, when she would drop on Harry, and together they would
-fall on to the straw; this went on for weeks.
-
-His first play to be produced in London, with the exception of a one-act
-play called _Rest_, was _Bogey_; and here I must quote the _Standard_
-critic, who wrote of the play: “A fairy tale, if you will, but a fairy
-tale which deals with the passions of men and women.” That was so very
-true of so many of Harry’s plays; they were “fairy tales”, because that
-was how he saw life—as a wonderful fairy tale, with an ending that was
-intended to be happy, and, if it failed to be, was so because mortals
-had meddled with the story and spoiled it. A playwright should “hold the
-mirror up to Nature”, but the result must depend upon what he sees in
-the mirror; if he sees stories which have the gold and glitter of
-romance, then, in writing his play, which contains both, he is only
-depicting truly what he has seen.
-
-_Bogey_ was not the success that it might have been, but it was
-sufficient to prove finally to its writer that he had the power to
-write, a power which only needed developing. It lacked the concise
-beauty of his later work; he had not then learnt his craft; but, as many
-of the critics testified, it was the work of “a dramatist, a writer of
-plays, born, if as yet not fully made”.
-
-He began to write other plays, and gradually, if you read them, you will
-find how he advances in his knowledge of words. He would seek for hours
-for the right word. He used to say that a word which was not exactly the
-one he wanted, and for which he was seeking, hurt him like a discord on
-the piano. From the actor’s point of view, Harry was generous; that is
-to say, every part he wrote was “worth playing”, and every part had a
-line which would appeal to the audience and stamp the actor on their
-minds, no matter how small the part might be. For example, in the first
-act of _Eliza_ (a play for which Harry had no very great affection), the
-carman who brings in the rocking-horse has two lines to say, and two
-only, but one of them will gain a laugh from the audience, and lifts the
-part from being nothing but a “one-line part”.
-
-Another point of his writing is that almost all the characters, where it
-is possible, have to depict a full range of emotions. Fun and pathos are
-in almost every part, every part is worthy of study, for by giving the
-time and thought to it the actor can come to realise the character in
-full, because behind the actual written word lies so much that may be
-found if it is sought for. That is due, I think, to the fact that Harry
-could, if necessary, have written the whole life of every character,
-because before he began to write he lived with them, as it were, for
-weeks.
-
-In his plays—or, rather, in every act of his plays—you will find a great
-sense of completeness, not only in the actual “curtains” themselves, but
-in the construction of the act. As he says in _The Wilderness_, which
-George Alexander produced at the St. James’s Theatre, “the wheel has
-come full circle”. Take the second act of that particular play, which
-begins with Sir Harry Milanor bringing his uncle to the place in the
-woods where he, Sir Harry, played as a child. He begins to create an
-atmosphere of fairyland; he tells of how he stormed the pass, fought the
-elephants, killed the giants, and so won his kingdom. Then come the two
-children, who bring with them food for the fairies, and Sir Harry and
-his old uncle creep away. As the act goes on, mundane things come into
-the scene, but the curtain falls with the children again in the fairy
-ring, looking for the food which they brought the “good people”; it has
-gone, and the curtain falls with the children stating firmly, “I knowed
-they was hungry”. So, perhaps subconsciously, you wait for the next act
-with the spirit of fairyland and all that it means still with you. You
-have your belief in the good, simple, unquestioned things of life
-established, which is the author’s way of setting for his next scene.
-
-Again, in the second act of _Eliza_, Monty Jordan sits reading plays for
-Vera Lawrence, whom Sandy is going to marry, and find her a theatre and
-a play to make her name, for she is an actress. You see Vera Lawrence as
-the centre of Sandy’s world; even his best friend is dragged in to work
-for her. So at the end of the act you find Vera Lawrence, her hair
-falling round her shoulders, to prove to Eliza that it is not a wig,
-while the latter stands nonplussed and dismayed. Vera is the “top note”
-all through the act, at the end as at the beginning; so your mind,
-holding the picture of the triumphant Vera, feels the same surprise as
-does Lady Pennybroke when in Act 3 Eliza enters, looking no longer a
-“sight, sticking in at the front and out at the back”, but quite
-charming, ready to conquer not only Monty Jordan, but Sandy Verrall. Act
-2 has made the audience not only laugh at Eliza for what she is, but
-makes them contrast her with Vera, and realise how unlikely it is that
-she can ever enter successfully into the lists for Sandy’s affections,
-as she does eventually.
-
-I suppose all playwrights have their favourite methods of gaining mental
-effects, and the “full circle” was one of Harry’s. He loved to have what
-are known as “good curtains”—that is, he loved a scene or act to end on
-a very high, strong note. Time after time you will find the act ends
-with some short sentence, but which is really the concentration of a
-long speech, so written that in a few words you get all the energy and
-determination, or all the pathos and tragedy, that a speech of many
-lines might have made less vivid.
-
-For example, take the last act of _Love and the Man_ (played by Forbes
-Robertson and Miss Kate Rorke), when Wagoneur comes to ask Lord
-Gaudminster if he may see his wife (who lies dead upstairs) and whom
-Wagoneur has loved.
-
-“You won’t let me see her?” he asks, and Gaudminster answer simply “No.”
-Wagoneur turns and, half-blind with grief, gropes his way from the room.
-That is all! But could a speech of many pages be more eloquent?
-
-Again, the last lines of the second act of _The Dangerous Age_ (played
-by Harry and myself). Jack lies hurt, perhaps dying, after an accident;
-Bill, his brother, sits with Egbert Inglefield waiting for news. His
-mother, Betty Dunbar, has gone to London to say good-bye to her lover.
-Egbert Inglefield, who also loves her, knows this, though of course
-Bill, her son, does not. Bill comes to Egbert and says, “Oh, Eggy, I
-feel rotten”; Egbert, knowing that all his hopes are falling in ruins,
-says “So do I, old man!” Very simple, but the tragedy of his answer
-touches you far more than a noble speech would do at that particular
-juncture.
-
-With regard to the plays themselves, and again I do not want to give a
-long list of them, but only to touch one or two which seems to me
-particularly typical of the writer’s philosophy. I remember that after
-his death one paper spoke of him as the “gay philosopher”, and I should
-seek long before I found a better phrase in which to express his
-outlook. His own attitude was “valiant in velvet, light in ragged luck”,
-and so he drew his men and women. They may suffer, and you suffer with
-them; but it is healthy pain, which looks towards the east for the
-sunshine of to-morrow which will bring alleviation. There is no feeling
-in your mind, as you watch them, that “things can never be better”, that
-misfortune is inevitable; except in _Grierson’s Way_, which was one of
-his earlier works, when the critics were still waiting for “him to grow
-old, and sensible, and happy”, as one of them said after the production
-of _My Lady Virtue_, which Arthur Bourchier, Violet Vanbrugh, and myself
-played at the Garrick.
-
-He calls certainly 75 per cent. of his plays “Comedies”, but they are
-comedies which touch very often on tragedy. And in a sense he was right
-in so calling them, for comedy, properly speaking, is a comment on the
-imperfections of human nature, which causes amusement to those who
-understand men and manners. So most of his plays are comedies, though
-some of them rely on tragic incidents for their story.
-
-I have spoken before of Harry’s fondness for the “redeeming feature” in
-even his worst characters, and how few really bad people he ever tried
-to draw! I think as he wrote, or earlier still, when he began to think
-about his characters, he acquired a certain affection for them, which
-made him wish to make them something less than the villains he had at
-first intended. Added to that, his dislike of unpleasant things, and you
-get some idea of why he wrote the type of plays he did. Even Mr. Clement
-Scott, who disliked his first play, _Bogey_, so intensely, wrote of him
-later: “Believe me, his two last plays, _When We Were Twenty-One_ and
-_The Wilderness_, will be English classics when all the mock Ibsenism
-and sham exercise in society salacity are buried in the dust of
-oblivion.” So he gave the world what I think are not only beautiful
-plays, but essentially kindly plays.
-
-_Eliza Comes to Stay_ he never liked very much; he thought it below the
-level of the rest of his work; and though this evergreen play has
-certainly been a very valuable property, yet I think Harry would have
-been better pleased by the same success of one of his other plays. Yet
-Eliza is lovable, even before she becomes “the new me”, even when she is
-still dressed to look “dreadfully respectable”. And what a part it is,
-too! what is called “an actress-proof” part—which means, in the
-vernacular of the stage, “it will play itself”; so it may, but what a
-difference when it is played—well, as it can be played by anyone who
-will take the trouble to study Eliza, and then, by the grace of God, is
-able to give her to the audience as, not a freak, but a very human,
-affectionate girl, standing rather breathless on the threshold of a
-world she does not know.
-
-Perhaps his favourite play was _The Dangerous Age_, which we first
-played in America, where the audiences liked it enormously, and which,
-when we brought it to London, was not a great success. There is no
-character to which Harry has been more kind than to Betty Dunbar; she
-does ugly things, but you are never allowed to feel they have really
-touched her; she remains, after her indiscretions, still the same
-delightful and charming person; you are made to feel that the agony
-which she suffers, when she waits to hear if her little son will live or
-die, has wiped out all her foolishness—to give it no harsher name.
-
-It was during a performance of this play that a young man turned to a
-friend who sat with him, and said “I can’t watch it; it’s terrible to
-see a woman’s soul stripped naked”; and a story he told later is of
-value here, because I think it gauges so correctly Harry’s attitude
-towards women. This man had been a sailor, and, talking over the play
-with a friend later, he took exception to his remark that “Betty Dunbar
-was a pretty worthless woman”, and to account for his defence of the
-character he told this story:—“I was once doing a Western Ocean trip, on
-a tramp steamer, in November. We struck a bad gale, and the Atlantic
-rollers stripped her of everything. Next morning I stood with the
-skipper on deck. There she was, rolling about, not rising to the
-rollers, but just lying there—down and out. I said to the skipper, ‘She
-looks what she is—a slut.’ He turned on me sharply and said, ‘Don’t you
-ever say that about a ship or a woman. If some man hadn’t scamped his
-job, and not done his best, she wouldn’t be looking as she does this
-morning’.” I think that was Harry’s feeling about women like his heroine
-in _The Dangerous Age_—that it was probably the fault of a very definite
-“someone” that they had not made a greater success of life.
-
-He loved to write of children, and wrote of them with almost singular
-understanding and reality. The children in _The Wilderness_, the two
-boys in _The Dangerous Age_, the “Tommy” and the Midshipman in _The Law
-Divine_, the small caddie in _A Kiss or Two_, are all real children,
-full of humour and wonderful high spirits, who never—as do so many
-“stage children”—become tedious or boring.
-
-_A Kiss or Two_ was produced at the London Pavilion—a legitimate venture
-which followed years of variety. It was a charming play, and one speech
-from it—the legend—is one of the most delightful things Harry ever
-wrote. The character was an Irish soldier, Captain Patrick Delaney, and
-was played by Harry. I give part of it here:
-
-“It’s a legend I’m tellin’ ye, an’ all true legends begin with ‘My Dear
-and My Judy.’ Well, My Dear and My Judy, one fine day Mother Nature,
-havin’ nothin’ better to do, she made a man. You know what a man is?
-That’s all right then—well, she made a man, and this mighty fine piece
-of work tickled her to death, it did, and so she went to bed devilish
-pleased with herself, had a beautiful dream, woke up next morning, went
-one better than the day before—she made a woman. Ye can’t say you know
-what a woman is, for she’s a mystery to the lot of us. Well, she made a
-woman, and then she sat down and looked at the pair of them, and the
-pair of them looked at each other, and mighty uneasy they felt,
-wondering what the devil it was all about. At last, after them two had
-been looking at each other till the perspiration was breaking out upon
-their foreheads, Mother Nature breaks the awful silence, and pointing to
-the woman, who was standing all of a quiver, with her eyes lookin’
-anywhere except at the man, yet seein’ him all the time, Mother Nature
-pointin’ to the woman, say to the man, ‘That sweet lookin’ thing’s all
-yours,’ says she. ‘I can’t believe it,’ says the man with a gulp. Then
-Mother Nature, pointing to the man, who was looking at the woman as if
-there was nothin’ else in the wide, wide world worth looking at which
-there wasn’t—Mother Nature, pointing to the man, says to the woman, ‘An’
-that fine looking thing’s all yours,’ says she. ‘Sure I know it,’ says
-the woman, bold as brass, and the fat was in the fire. But that’s only
-the beginning: it’s now that the trouble comes. At last, when everything
-had settled into its proper place between these two, the man came home
-one day and couldn’t find his collar stud. ‘Where’s that woman?’ says
-he. ‘Out walkin’ with another man,’ says they. ‘That won’t do at all,’
-says he. ‘How’ll you stop it?’ says they. ‘I’ll make a law,’ says he,
-and that’s where the trouble began.... He sent for all the stuffy old
-men of his acquaintance, and they had a meeting by candle-light in the
-Old Town Hall. And he up an’ spoke to them: ‘Now all you gentlemen,’
-says he, ‘have been casting sheep’s eyes at the girls. I’ve been
-watchin’ you at it the times I haven’t been busy doin’ it myself,’ says
-he. ‘Them girls have been casting them same sheep’s eyes back at you
-with interest,’ says he. ‘Can’t help it,’ says the old men. ‘It’s
-Nature,’ says they. ‘Nature is it?’ says he, ‘then there’s too much of
-this Nature about,’ says he, ‘and I’m goin’ to stop it.’ With that his
-eloquence carried the meeting, and they started in to make laws. Oh,
-them laws that they made, sure they forgot all about the days of their
-youth, when their blood was warm, and the sunshine was singin’ in their
-hearts. They just sat there on them cold stones in that old Town Hall,
-chilled to the marrow, and made them laws to stop love-making. And while
-they were at it, there came a tap at the door, and they all gave a jump
-which showed you they were doin’ something they were ashamed of. ‘What’s
-that?’ says they, and they all looked round and then there came another
-little tap, and the door slowly opened, and there in the sunlight stood
-a beautiful young woman, lookin’ in at them, her eyes all agog with
-wonder. ‘What the divil are you doin’?’ says she. ‘None of your
-business,’ says they. ‘True for you,’ says she. An’ she took them at
-their word, and slammed the door, an’ she’s been slamming the door on
-them same laws ever since!”
-
-I have given that speech fully, because it seems to me to be so very
-much the spirit in which Harry wrote and to show so well his attitude
-towards life—fantastic, ideal, almost but not quite a fairy tale.
-
-You will find it, too, in _The Law Divine_ (which Harry played at
-Wyndham’s Theatre for so long with Miss Jessie Winter), when Edie tells
-her son about her honeymoon, when she says: “Ordinary people! We were
-the children of the moon, we were the spirits of sea mist and soft night
-air—Dads said we were.” The whole scene is full of that imagery which
-was so much part of the writer’s mental composition.
-
-In _Bad Hats_, which play he renamed, having first called it _The Rotten
-Brigade_, and which at the production was called _Birds of a Feather_,
-he wrote another of those plays which, though called by the author “a
-comedy”, had all the elements of a tragedy. Harry intended to write
-another First Act, making the First Act the Second, in order that the
-existing circumstances would be more easy for the audience to grasp. It
-was, and is, a great play, and Jacob Ussher is one of the finest
-character-studies he ever created.
-
-I should have liked to have dealt more fully with many of his
-less-well-known plays; with _One Summer’s Day_, which Charles Hawtrey
-produced, and which was the first emotional part he had ever played, and
-of which I am asked so often, “When are you going to revive it?”; with
-_Grierson’s Way_, which caused so much comment when it was produced;
-with _The Sentimentalist_, with its wonderful first act, the play being
-the story of a man’s life, which was praised for its beauty and
-imagination by some, while others asked, “What’s it all about?”
-
-Harry was accused of writing “sugary” plays, sentimental plays, plays
-which were thin, and the like; but, in answer to these accusations, I
-can only quote two critics and give my own opinion afterwards. One of
-them says: “This is what they call pinchbeck sentiment. I don’t know. It
-convinced me, and that was quite enough. This is the kind of human story
-that has elicited the art of a Frederic Robson, a Johnnie Toole, and a
-Henry Irving in England.” And the other: “Do you know what personal
-charm is? It is the effect produced by a man or a woman who enters a
-room, makes a few graceful remarks, says a few words very much to the
-point in an agreeable voice, and suddenly creates an atmosphere which
-wins everybody around. Mr. Esmond as a playwright possesses it.” And my
-own opinion, which is that, if Harry wrote of charming, simple, loving,
-and lovable people, it was because that was how he found his fellow-men;
-that his characters who go through three acts lightly, bravely, and
-gallantly, are just as real as the characters in those rather depressing
-plays which are hailed as “slices of life”—and much more entertaining.
-
-He filled his plays with beautiful things about life, because he
-honestly thought life itself was beautiful; he made his men and women
-“straight” and with decent impulses, because he was convinced that was
-how God made real people; and he gave his plays, or nearly all of them,
-“happy endings”, because he thought that “those who were good shall be
-happy”. That was how Harry “held the mirror up to Nature”, and how he
-tried to do what no artist can do more than succeed in doing:
-
- “Draw the thing as he sees it.”
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER XV
- HARRY, THE ACTOR
-
- “There comes a time in every man’s life when his own judgment is of
- greater use to him than other people’s.”
-
- —_When We Were Twenty-One._
-
- “I have been lectured a good deal during my career.”
-
- —_Fools of Nature._
-
-
-No man in his time played more parts than Harry. To begin with, he
-started very young, started off from the bosom of a family which had no
-knowledge of the stage. So innocent were they of the life on which he
-was embarking, that his mother, hearing that he had joined a company of
-touring actors, asked, in all seriousness, “What time is the caravan
-calling for you, my dear?”
-
-He started his career with a salary of ten shillings a week, and played
-anything and everything that was offered. He used to tell the story of
-“how he played a wave”—lying underneath a very dusty floor cloth,
-“billowing up and down”—and a nasty, stuffy business it must have been,
-too! Imagine the horror of the modern young actor, touring the
-provinces, if he were asked to lie on the stage and give an
-impersonation of that element which Britain is popularly reputed to
-rule!
-
-One of his first real parts—and I doubt if it was even a speaking
-part—was that of a waiter who had to carry on a basket of refreshments
-for the guests at a picnic. Harry was determined to make the part “stand
-out”. He took the script back to his rooms—rooms, did I say? Room, a
-combined room, at probably eight shillings a week—and thought over it
-very earnestly. Inspiration came to him—he would make the waiter a very
-lame man with an elaborate limp; and at rehearsal next day he entered
-limping. Mr. Fernandez, the producer, shouted from the stalls, “Here,
-here, my boy, what _are_ you doing?”, and added very seriously, “never
-fool with a part, take your work seriously. Take it from him, give it to
-somebody else!” That was the result of Harry’s first attempt at
-characterisation. You must remember that at this time he was about 15 or
-16, very slight and boyish-looking, and he went round the provinces
-playing heavy villains in _The Stranglers of Paris_, _The Corsican
-Brothers_, _Uriah Heep_, _Oliver Twist_, etc. Think of a boy of that age
-portraying “Bill Sykes”! However, he stuck to the provinces for some
-time, like many another actor who won his spurs in London after a long
-and perhaps rather dreary apprenticeship; though I cannot believe that
-Harry ever found any acting dreary, he loved it too well.
-
-When at last he came to London it was to appear in _The Panel Picture_,
-in which he made an amazing success in the part of a boy who was shot on
-the stage and had a big death scene; and then the round of playing old
-men began. I have told how, when I first met him, he was playing the
-part of a villain, and so padded as to be almost unrecognisable. When,
-many years later, he went to George Alexander, it was to play “Cayley
-Drummle”, the old man in _The Second Mrs. Tanqueray_, and it took George
-Alexander a long time to believe that Harry could make a success of a
-part which was suited to his years. This, in spite of the fact that he
-had already played the boy in _Sweet Nancy_, when Clement Scott (who
-disliked his first play so heartily) lifted his hands to the skies and
-“thanked Heaven for this perfect actor!” When George Alexander produced
-_Much Ado_, I remember he sent for Harry and asked him tentatively if he
-thought he could play “Claudio”. Harry was delighted at the prospect,
-and I remember, too, his disappointment when he was finally cast for
-“Verges”. Later came Henry Arthur Jones’s _Masqueraders_, when at last
-his chance came; he played a young man, and won not only the heart of
-George Alexander, but the heart of the public, by his performance.
-
-I hesitate to use the word “genius”; but my excuse, if one is needed,
-must be that others used it before in referring to Harry. In the old
-days, when we all used to go holiday-making together, when Harry, Gerald
-du Maurier, and Charles Hallard were almost inseparable companions, they
-were known as “The Gent., The Genius, and The Young Greek God”—one of
-those happy phrases, coined under sunny skies, which, under all the fun
-that prompts them, have a sub-stratum of truth. The phrase has lived,
-for only a year ago Gerald du Maurier wrote to me, saying, “And when we
-meet, I will be the Young Greek God again, and we will talk of the
-Genius—bless him!” So I use the word in connection with Harry as an
-actor, and will only modify it by adding that he had one handicap—he was
-too versatile. As a young man he could play old men, and play them well,
-even brilliantly. As an older man he could still play young men, who
-were indeed young, not creatures born of grease paint and wigs, whose
-only attempt at being young came from affected movements and smart
-clothes.
-
-His character-studies were real people, not bundles of eccentricities,
-with amazing and repulsive tricks; they were real old people, treated,
-where it was demanded, with humour, but a humour which was from the
-heart and spoke to the heart, and not only apparent to the eye of the
-beholder. His young men were charming, virile, and obviously enjoying
-life. He could play devout lovers, rakes (and what delightful rakes,
-too, they were!), old men, and mad men, and play them all with more than
-a touch of genius. There you had his handicap: from the very fact of the
-excellence of all he did, he was never allowed to specialise. He never
-became definitely associated with any special type of part. It never
-became a case of “No one can play that except Harry Esmond”, for there
-was probably a part in almost every play which Harry Esmond could have
-played, and played with charm and distinction.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Alfred Ellis, London, W._ To face p. 218
-
- HARRY AS MAJOR BLENCOE
-
- “The Tree of Knowledge”
-]
-
-Consider for a moment some of the parts which he played, and consider
-the variety of them. There is “Little Billee”, a part which I find many
-people remember best; “Kean”, the mad musician, in _Grierson’s Way_;
-“D’Artagnan” in _The Three Musketeers_; “Sir Benjamin Backbite” in _The
-School for Scandal_; “Touchstone” in _As You Like It_; old “Jacob
-Ussher” in _Birds of a Feather_; and various characters in _Dear
-Brutus_, _The Times_, _Lights Out_, _Chance_, _The Idol_. They were all
-parts which were as different as could well be imagined, and every one
-worthy of notice, and played with sympathy and great understanding.
-
-When the Royal Performance of _Trilby_ was given, as far as possible it
-was attempted to present the original cast. Harry was asked to play the
-“young and tender Little Billee”. At first he refused, saying that he
-was too old, but finally he was persuaded to appear. Phyllis Neilson
-Terry was to play “Trilby”, and I remember hearing of her dismay when
-she was told who was to be “Billee”. She remembered seeing Harry in the
-part when she “was a little girl”! At the dress rehearsal her fears
-vanished. She came up to me and told me what she had feared. “But now,”
-she said, “well, just look at him; he’s straight from the nursery; my
-husband says I’m baby-snatching.”
-
-Swing the pendulum to the other side, and recall his “Jacob Ussher” in
-his own play, _Birds of a Feather_—the old Jew, the modern Shylock, who
-sees himself bereft of the only thing he loves in life, his daughter.
-Ussher is no more ashamed of the way in which he has made his money than
-Shylock was, but he, with all his pride of race, is very definitely
-ashamed that his daughter should wish to marry such a poor “aristocratic
-fish” as “Rupert Herringham”. How the part includes every note in the
-scale of the emotions; how Ussher alternates between the over-indulgent
-father and the martinet who rules his women exactly as his forefathers
-did; how he bullies and cajoles; how he uses persuasion and force; how
-he raves, rails, and finally weeps; and who, when Harry played him, wept
-not as an Englishman, but as a Jew who sees, in the ruin of his
-daughter, the destruction of the Temple and the Holy City by those who
-“know not the Law and the Prophets”. After seeing the play, a Jew told
-him that the only disappointment, the only thing which seemed “unreal”,
-was to find Harry seated in his dressing-room “talking English and not
-Hebrew”; and yet a critic said of this performance that “as far as
-characterisation is concerned, Ussher might have been a Gentile”. Let
-that critic see to it that he knows well the sons of Jacob, and then let
-him recall the performance at the Globe Theatre, with Harry Esmond as
-“one of them”.
-
-I have told you how he came to play “D’Artagnan” in the _Musketeers_, in
-the place of Lewis Waller, and I remember the doubts which were
-expressed everywhere as to whether Harry was sufficiently robust and
-virile to play the part of the Gascon soldier of fortune. How Harry,
-realising that so far as personal appearance went he was as unlike the
-traditional hero of Dumas’ romance as well could be imagined, set to
-work to give such a reading that his slimness, his boyishness, his
-delicate air of romance, might be changed from handicaps to assets.
-Lewis Waller was probably more the man Dumas had in his mind; he was
-outwardly the typical mercenary fire-eater with a love of adventure, and
-a great-hearted courage behind it all; Harry Esmond was more like the
-conventional “Athos”, but he made you feel that here was the “soldier in
-spite of himself”; here was the son of Gascony who might so easily have
-been made a courtier or even a priest, but for the love of adventure,
-the romance, the high-spirited courage, which had driven him out to join
-the King’s Musketeers at any cost. Speaking of this part reminds me that
-during the run of the play Harry allowed his hair to grow, so that he
-did not need to wear a full wig. He was riding down the King’s Road one
-morning on his bicycle, when two small boys caught sight of him. “’Ere,
-Bill,” shouted one, “’ere’s a poet.” The other gazed at Harry, and
-returned with scorn, “Garn wiv yer, that ain’t a poet, that’s a bloomin’
-b——dy _poem_.”
-
-When Lewis Waller produced _Romeo and Juliet_, Harry was cast for
-“Mercutio”, a part which called for all the gaiety, all the youth, all
-the gallantry which he knew so well how to portray. I find that one
-critic said of his performance that “it had that touch of mystery which
-Mr. Esmond has given before, a touch of aloofness, indefinably appealing
-and tragic”, which seems to me to sum up the performance admirably. I
-find, too, another critic who says “he cannot interpret that
-youthfulness which springs from the joy of living”—“the joy of living”,
-which was an integral part of the man all his life!
-
-Speaking of “Mercutio” brings me to another Shakespearean part which
-Harry played—that of “Touchstone”. And here again he committed the crime
-of playing “Touchstone” as he felt he should be played, not as custom,
-convention, and tradition dictated. The first intimation that he was
-outraging the feelings of these three old gods came at rehearsal, when
-on the exit “bag and baggage, scrip and scrippage” the producer told him
-“Here you exit, dancing. You know what I mean: ‘the light fantastic
-toe’.” Harry did know, and he did not see why the exit demanded that
-particular method. He asked “Why?” “Why?” repeated the producer, Mr. H.
-H. Vernon; “why? Well, because it is always made like that.” Again Harry
-asked “Yes, but why? what’s the reason?” “_Reason_,” repeated Mr.
-Vernon, “I don’t know any _reason_; it’s _always done like that_.” “Give
-me a reason,” Harry begged, “and if it’s a good one, I’ll think it
-over”; but no reason was forthcoming, except the reiteration that “it
-had always been done so, etc.” Now, to Harry, “Touchstone” was a
-“jester”, not a “clown”, and he believed that when Shakespeare so
-designated him it was used in the sense of “one who clowns or jests”; he
-saw no reason to make “Touchstone” anything but a “clown” in name, for
-he held that his words prove him to be the cleverest man in the play,
-and that he is the forerunner of “Jack Point”, “Grimaldi”, and even poor
-dear pathetic Dan Leno and Charlie Chaplin—the great comedians who make
-you laugh with the tears never very far from your eyes, because they are
-so tragically funny; the comedians whose comedy is ever very nearly
-tragedy, and who, when they cease to convulse their audiences, look out
-at the world with eyes that have in them no mirth, but a great sadness,
-which springs from knowledge that they “are paid to be funny”; that
-feeling which makes W. S. Gilbert’s “Point” sing:
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Gabell & Co., London, W._ To face p. 222
-
- HARRY AS TOUCHSTONE
-
- “As You Like It”
-]
-
- “Though your wife ran away
- With a soldier that day,
- And took with her your trifle of money—
- Bless your heart, they don’t mind,
- They’re exceedingly kind;
- They don’t blame you so long as you’re funny.”
-
-That is the cry of your jester all the world over, and that was the
-feeling which existed in Harry’s mind when he depicted “Touchstone” as a
-rather sardonic, melancholy person, with a great brain, the only use for
-which he can find is to make people laugh.
-
-I will take only two instances to justify his idea of “Touchstone”. The
-first: Are the words
-
- “The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do
- foolishly”
-
-those of a “clown” or “a fool” in the ordinary sense?
-
-Take also “Corin’s” words:
-
- “You have too courtly a wit for me, I’ll rest.”
-
-He is frankly puzzled by the Jester’s humour. Yet “Corin” is a typical
-shepherd of the times, and an English shepherd (for all we meet him in
-the Forest of Arden): as such, he was used to the jokes and witticisms
-of the ordinary clown; he had “roared his ribs out” at them at the
-village fairs. This “Touchstone” is no ordinary clown, and “Corin” finds
-his humour makes a demand upon the head; he is more than “funny”, he is
-the Court wit. Read the conversation which has gone before, and you will
-find that this is indeed “The Court Jester”, and a courtier before he
-was a jester—a man accustomed to sharpen his wits upon those of the men
-he met at Courts. And so Harry gave him—a wise man, a disappointed,
-cynical man, but a man who could afford to value the wit of those around
-him at its proper worth—less than his own.
-
-When Sir Herbert Tree revived _The School for Scandal_, Harry played
-“Sir Benjamin Backbite”. Harry, Who loved sincerity, and truth, and
-simplicity, played the affected fop of the period, with his cane, his
-lace handkerchief, his fur muff, his bouquet, and his general air of
-affectation, and played him so that to watch and listen to it was a
-sheer delight.
-
-These are but a few of his parts—the parts which, when he played them,
-were both praised and blamed. I want to touch on his method of playing,
-and call to your memory some of the features which characterised it. He
-was always sincere; he might, and did (as in _Eliza_), get bored with a
-part, but he was too good an actor, too proud of his work, ever to let
-it appear to an audience.
-
-His voice was wonderful; he could put more tenderness, without the least
-touch of sentimentality, into his words than anyone I ever heard. To
-hear Harry say “My dear”, as he did in _The Dangerous Age_ and again in
-_The Law Divine_, was to hear all the essence of love-making, with all
-the love in the world behind it, put into two words.
-
-His gesture was superb; he was not, as so many actors are, apparently
-afraid of using a big sweeping movement; he (perhaps it was the Irishman
-in him) was never afraid that a big gesture would look ridiculous. He
-knew that anything, whether tone of voice or gesture or movement is very
-rarely ridiculous if it is prompted by real feeling. He knew that the
-real justification for anything an actor may do on the stage is “because
-I _feel_ it”, not “because I think it will look effective”. As a
-producer—and he was one of the best producers I have ever seen—he got
-the very last ounce out of his company because he always, when asked
-“What do you want me to do here?”, answered “What do you feel you _want_
-to do?” He “nursed” his company, and watched them grow strong under his
-care.
-
-All his movements were good. He could use his feet in a way that, if
-anyone had tried to copy, would have looked ridiculous. He had a little
-rapid trick of shifting from one foot to the other, when he was worried
-or uncertain, which I have never seen attempted by anyone else. He did
-it in the last act of _Twenty-One_, when the girl he loves is trying to
-get him to propose to her; he used it again in _A Kiss or Two_, and it
-gave you the keynote to the man’s mental attitude as much as his spoken
-words. In this latter play, during his telling of the “Legend”, which I
-have quoted in another chapter, he used that sweeping gesture of his arm
-of which I have spoken. Seated in a chair, leaning forward, carried away
-by the story he tells, he comes to the words, “and there in the sunlight
-stood a beautiful young woman”. Out went his arm, his eyes following it,
-the fingers outspread to take in the whole of the picture, until, when
-he looked behind him, looked to where his arm and hand pointed, you
-might almost have seen her, “her eyes all agog with laughter”.
-
-He was curiously affected by the parts he played; I mean he actually
-became very much the man he depicted on the stage. When he played old
-men, he would come home in the evening still very much “in the part”,
-inclined to walk slowly and move rather stiffly. When he played young
-men—such as “Captain Pat Delaney”, for example—he was gallant, walked
-buoyantly, and very evidently was thoroughly in love with life. I have
-known him at such times, when we were out together, raise his hat to any
-girl we met who was young and pretty—not because he wanted to speak to
-her, certainly not because he knew her, but simply because he loved
-pretty girls, and wanted an excuse to smile at them, all from the pure
-joy of being alive.
-
-So there is Harry Esmond, the actor, as I knew him—enjoying his work,
-never letting it sink to anything less than a profession of which he was
-very proud. He chose the Stage because he loved it, and he loved it as
-long as he lived. He studied each part with a kind of concentrated
-interest, and played them as he believed them to be meant to be played.
-I think for everything he did he could have given a definite and
-sufficient reason, and so believed in what he did. “He hath the letter,
-observe his construction of it”; and if his construction was new or
-strange, unconventional or untraditional, it was so because that was how
-Harry Esmond was convinced it should be.
-
-His position as an actor was something of the attitude of “How happy I
-could be with either, were t’other dear charmer away”. He loved all his
-work, whether character-studies, gallant soldiers, or tender lovers;
-they all claimed the best that was in him, and, as the best was “very
-good”, it became not what he could play, but what he could _not_ play.
-So I review them mentally, the parts that Harry played, and wonder if he
-had been less gifted, if he had not had in his composition that very big
-streak of genius, whether he might not perhaps have been one of the
-names which will be handed down to posterity as “the world’s greatest
-actors”. Then I ask myself in which direction should he have
-concentrated, and which of the big parts that he played would I have
-been willing to have missed. Which? I cannot decide. “D’Artagnan”,
-“Touchstone”, “Sandy”, “Kean”, “Jacob Ussher”, “Mercutio”, even that
-really poor part “Little Billee”, were all so good that I am glad he
-played them. I think, too, that the success of them all came from a
-great understanding as well as great observation, and that was why “one
-man in his time” played so many parts, and played them all with more
-than ordinary distinction and feeling.
-
-
-
-
- CHAPTER XVI
- AND LAST
-
- “Hush! Come away!”—_The Wilderness._.sp 2
-
-
-So I come to the end, so far as one can come to the end of recollections
-and memories, for each one brings with it many others; they crowd in
-upon me as I write, and I have to be very firm with myself and shut the
-door in the face of many.
-
-I have tried to tell you some of the incidents which have amused and
-interested me; I have tried to make you see men and women as I have seen
-them; and have tried to make you walk with me down “life’s busy street”.
-I have tried to pay the tribute of affection and regard to the various
-“Cæsars” I have known, and if in this book any names are missing—names
-of men and women who have been, and are, my very dear and good friends—I
-can only tell them that they are not missing in my heart.
-
-I look back over the years that are past, look back to the time when I
-first came to London, and looked on “leading ladies” and “leading men”
-as giants who walked the earth, when I used to wonder if I could ever
-hope to be one of them; and then, it seemed with wonderful swiftness,
-the years flew past and, behold! I was a leading lady myself. That is
-one of the wonderful tricks life plays for our mystification: the
-far-off hope of “some day” becomes the realisation of “to-day”.
-
-To-day, as I sit writing this, I can look out on the garden of “Apple
-Porch”—the house that Harry and I almost built together; the garden
-which we turned, and changed, and planted, to make it what it has
-become, “our ideal garden”. And in that garden ghosts walk for me—not
-“bogeys”, but kindly spirits of men and women who lived and laughed with
-us as friends; not that in life all of them walked in this garden of
-ours, but because now they come to join the procession which moves
-there. With them are many who are still with me, and whose companionship
-still helps to make life very happy. They join the others, and walk in
-my garden, to remind me of the times we have laughed together, and to
-assure me that life in the future still has good things for me.
-
-For, make no mistake, youth is very wonderful, youth is very beautiful,
-but it passes and leaves behind, if you will only try to cultivate it,
-something which can never pass away: that is the youth that is not a
-question of years, but of humanity and a young heart. If you can still
-feel the delight of the first primrose, if you can still feel your heart
-leap at the sight of the leaves throwing off their winter coats and
-showing the first vivid green of the spring; if you can stand in the
-glory of a sunny day in March and thank God for His annual proof of the
-Resurrection, the re-birth of what all through the winter had seemed
-dead and is “now alive again”—then you are one of those whom the gods
-love; you will die young, for you can never grow old.
-
-So, in my garden, the procession of ever-young people passes.
-
-Over in that far corner is Herbert Lindon, sitting at an easel, painting
-a picture of the house. “A plain man, my masters”, but the kindliest of
-friends, with the most helpful nature in the world. Behind him stands
-Forbes Robertson, with his beautiful face, his wonderful voice, and his
-courtly manners. Had he lived five hundred years ago, he would have
-ridden out, dressed in shining armour, to fight for the Right against
-the Wrongs of the World; but, dressed in the clothes of 1923, he is
-still a knight, the instinctive supporter of the weak against the
-strong, the good against the evil.
-
-Lawrence Kellie passes my window, a cigar in his mouth, and pauses a
-moment to tell me that he is going in to play some of his own
-compositions, to my great delight. On the golf links, outside the
-garden, I can see Charles Frohman, looking like a kindly “brownie”; he
-is flying a huge kite, so big that he might be in danger of flying after
-the kite, were it not for two small boys, Jack and Bill, who are holding
-fast to his legs.
-
-Arthur Collins, very spruce and dapper, passes with E. S. Willard; they
-tell me they are going to persuade Frohman to leave his kite-flying and
-come in to play poker with them and Fred Terry.
-
-Fred Terry stops outside the window for a talk with me, and reminds me
-of the winter he came to stay with us here, when Harry would insist upon
-his going out, in a biting east wind, to see “the beauty of the night”!
-I ask him if he remembers the Bank Holiday when he was with us, when
-Harry had to go back to a rehearsal of some approaching production? How
-he (Fred) was taken ill with a bad heart attack, and that, rather than
-let me see how he was suffering, for fear the sight should frighten me,
-he shut himself up in a room and refused to let me enter. Fred Terry,
-large and genial, wearing eye-glasses, moves away, and I see him stop to
-speak to Lottie Venne, who on very high heels, looking like a very
-alert, very “wide awake” bird, is coming towards us, her heels tapping
-on the stones of the path.
-
-That gentle-looking woman over there is Marion Terry, and with her Lena
-Ashwell, talking, I am certain, of some plan or scheme which she is
-preparing to “carry through” with her extraordinary capacity and
-originality.
-
-You see that squarely built man yonder, who looks—what he is—a sailor?
-That is Ernest Shackleton. He comes over to me, bringing his book with
-him. He shows me the title—one word, _South_—and asks if I think Harry
-will consider making it into a film-play. I tell him that the day
-England publicly mourned his loss in St. Paul’s Cathedral, during the
-service a sudden ray of sunlight came through one of the painted windows
-and struck the wall, just under the dome; how I followed it with my
-eyes, and saw that it fell on the words “The glory of his works endureth
-forever”. I think he smiles a little, and says, as Englishmen do when
-praised for what they have done, “Oh, I didn’t do anything very great or
-glorious.”
-
-Here is a man who, too, has done great things. An explorer also, but he
-has explored the depths of humanity; he has seen just how far his
-fellow-men and women can fall, and yet he still retains his faith in
-“the good that is in the worst of us”. It is W. T. Waddy, the
-Metropolitan magistrate. Burns’s prayer that we should “deal gently with
-your brother man, still gentler sister woman” has no application to Mr.
-Waddy; he “keeps the faith” that believes that fundamentally humanity is
-good, and each day in his work he testifies to it. I remind him that it
-was his father, Judge Waddy, who first escorted me to the House of
-Commons.
-
-Over there is “Billy” Congreave, who gained the Victoria Cross and made
-the Great Sacrifice in the war. With him, telling his battles over
-again, is Dr. Leahy. He left his leg at the Marne, but that did not
-prevent him enjoying, as he does still, a round or two with the gloves.
-I should think he “enjoys” it more than his opponent, for “Micky” Leahy
-is an enormous man. He appears to be the last man in the world likely to
-possess, as he does, wonderful gifts of healing.
-
-Who is that woman laughing at some joke made by the man walking with
-her? She is Dame May Whitty, and the man is Sir Alfred Fripp. You see
-him at his very best when surrounded by his wife and ’a large family of
-very healthy children. She, Dame Whitty, is a friend of thirty years,
-and her affection and goodness to me have never altered.
-
-The woman who has just joined them is Susanne Sheldon. I parody the
-saying, “better twenty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay” when
-speaking of Suzanne, and say “better one day of Susanne than a month of
-the people who lack her understanding and great heart.” Some day go to
-the Children’s Hospital in Great Ormond Street, and hear of the work she
-has done there; they will tell you more than I can, for she does not
-talk of all she does.
-
-The lame man, who looks so fierce, is Sydney Valentine. He looks fierce,
-and rather as though he had more brain than heart. His looks belie his
-nature. He leans on his stick by my window, and we talk of the early
-days of the Actors’ Association. I remind him of the splendid fight he
-made to gain the Standard Contract for the acting profession. I ask him,
-“Do you remember the Lyric Theatre meeting?”, and I add some hard things
-about the people who attacked him there. He smiles, and reminds me of
-our own Suffrage motto (and how he used to hate the Suffrage Movement,
-too!), “The aim is everything”, and adds “After all, we won our battle,
-didn’t we?”
-
-J. L. Toole, coming up, hears the last sentence, and asks, “Battle, what
-battle?” Just as I am about to answer, he pops a “bullseye” into my
-mouth, as he used to years ago when I was playing with him on the stage.
-Toole laughs, and I laugh with him; but our laughter is checked by a
-tall man, with a heavy moustache, who, with a melancholy face, is
-filling a pipe from a tobacco-pouch like a sack—and not a very small
-sack, either! He brings an air of tragedy with him, and I ask, “What is
-the matter, Aubrey?”
-
-It is Aubrey Smith, the “Round the Corner Smith” who took the first
-English cricket eleven to South Africa, and still, when his work on the
-stage allows him, will rush away to Lords or the Oval to watch a match.
-“Haven’t you heard?” he asks; and adds, “Dreadful, dreadful; I don’t
-know what England’s coming to.” “What _has_ happened?” I ask again. He
-looks at me sadly and tells me—“England has lost the _Test Match_!” He
-wanders away, and a few minutes later I hear him laughing—a laugh which
-matches him for size. He is probably telling the woman he is talking to
-(Elizabeth Fagan) of the new pig-styes he has built at West Drayton.
-
-There is Marie Tempest, and how fascinating she is! She has the
-cleverest tongue and the most sparkling humour of any woman I know. The
-woman near her is Julia Neilson, a dream of loveliness, and with a
-nature as lovely as her face. There, too, are Lady Martin Harvey and
-Lady Tree—Lady Tree, whom I first understood when I met her under
-circumstances which were very difficult for us both; and who showed me
-then what “manner of woman” she is, so that ever since I have loved and
-admired her. And Nell Harvey, who can face the rough patches of life
-with equanimity, and who can “walk with kings” without losing that
-“common touch” which gives her the breadth of vision, the tolerance, and
-kindness which have made her ever ready to give help to those who need
-it.
-
-This man coming towards me, his hands clasped behind him, who looks as
-if he were meditating deeply, is Sir Charles Wyndham. When he was
-playing in London, and Harry was a very young actor in the provinces,
-and had heard of but had never seen Charles Wyndham, one paper said it
-was “a pity that Mr. Esmond has tried to give such a slavish imitation
-of the great actor”. He stands for a moment to ask me if I remember the
-evening he came to see _The Dangerous Age_, and repeats again his
-admiration and praise of the play. I tell him that I remember, also, how
-after the play he sat in Harry’s dressing-room for an hour and a half,
-delighting both of us with his stories of the stage, “past and present”.
-
-He passes on, and you see him stop to speak to Anthony Hope, that
-delightful man who possesses a manner of joyous cynicism of which one
-never tires. George Alexander has joined them, perhaps speaking of the
-success of _The Prisoner of Zenda_. You notice his beautiful white hair.
-Once, in _The Wilderness_, he had to darken it, and as in the play he
-had to lay his head on my shoulder, my dress was gradually marked with
-the stain he used for his hair.
-
-I stand and reach out to shake the hand of Lewis Waller, and ask him if
-he is still “putting square pegs into round holes”. He asks, in his
-beautiful voice that was the salvation of so many really poor plays,
-what I mean. I remind him of a play, many years ago, when Harry
-remonstrated with him and said that some of the parts in the production
-were played so badly, adding “Why _do_ you engage such people? they are
-not, and never will be, actors”; and how Lewis Waller replied, “I know,
-I know, Harry, but I would sooner have round pegs in square holes than
-not have people round me who love me.” Dear Will! He moves away,
-speaking to this person and that person, and giving to each one
-something of his very gentle and infinitely lovable personality.
-
-That beautiful woman, surely “God’s most wonderful handiwork”, to whom
-Will is speaking now, is Maxine Elliott; she is Jill’s God-mother,
-another of the lovely women whose faces are only the mirrors of the
-natures which lie beneath.
-
-The sound of the piano reaches me, and I look to see if Lawrence Kellie
-is still playing, and have to look twice before I can believe that it is
-not he who sits playing, but Raymond Rose, who is so wonderfully like
-him. Perhaps he is at work composing, not this time for His Majesty’s
-Theatre, but, like Henry Purcell, for “that blessed place where only his
-music can be excelled”.
-
-Then the gate at the end of the garden opens, and, carrying a bag of
-golf clubs, and clad in an old coat and equally old trousers which seem
-to be “draped” round his ankles, comes Harry. He comes up to the window,
-full of the joy of life and never-ending youth; leaning his arms on the
-window-sill, he looks at the men and women in the garden, and smiles.
-
-“Our friends,” I tell him.
-
-And he repeats after me, “Yes, our friends.” After a moment he goes on,
-thoughtfully: “I used to tell you that ‘Friendship was a question of
-streets’; I think I was wrong: it’s something more than that.” And, as
-if to prove his words, we both see Malcolm Watson walking in the garden,
-the kindly Scot, who never fails anyone, a real friend of countless
-years.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photograph by Miss Compton Collier, London, N.W.6._ To face p. 237
-
- APPLE PORCH
-]
-
-“I think it is—something more than that,” I answer.
-
-As we talk, the sun suddenly blazes out, filling all the garden with
-light; Harry stretches out his hand, smiling, and says: “Sunshine! Let’s
-go out!”
-
- * * * * *
-
-So the dream ends, but the garden and the sunshine remain; and not only
-the garden and the sunshine, but the knowledge that “these are my
-friends”; that these men and women have known and, I think, loved me, as
-I have known and loved them; and the fact that they have been and are,
-many of them, still in my life, making the world a finer and cleaner
-place in which to live.
-
-That is how I should wish to look back on life: not always easy, or
-smooth, or always happy, but with so much that has been worth while, so
-much that has been gay and splendid.
-
-Gradually everything falls into its right perspective; things which
-seemed so important, so tragic, so difficult “at the time”—why, now one
-can almost look back and laugh. Not everything: the things which were
-rooted in beliefs and convictions do not shrink with the years; and I am
-glad, and even a little proud, that I lived through the time which held
-the Boer War, the Suffrage Campaign, and the Greatest World Struggle
-that the world has ever seen—please God, the Last Great War of All!
-
-My work, my own work, it has been hard—there have been difficult times,
-when lack of understanding made work less of a joy than it should have
-been—but, looking at it all as a whole, and not as a series of detached
-memories, it has been very good to do, and I have been very happy in
-doing it. It has kept my brain working, and, I think, kept my heart
-young; and never once since the front door of my father’s house closed
-behind me, and I left home in that storm of parental wrath, have I
-regretted that I chose the Stage as a profession.
-
-I have tried to tell you something of what the years have brought, with
-no real thought except that it was a joy to me to remember it all. I
-have not tried to “point a moral or adorn a tale”, but simply to tell my
-story as it happened. Yet there is surely a moral—or, at least, some
-lesson—which has been learnt in all the years of work and play. I think
-it is this: Let God’s sunlight into your lives, live in the sunlight,
-and let it keep you young. For youth is the thing which makes life
-really worth living, youth which means the enjoyment of small things,
-youth which means warm affections, and which means also the absence of
-doubting and distrusting which, if you allow it, will take so much of
-the glorious colour out of life’s pictures.
-
-So, in Harry’s words, I would end all I have tried to tell you by
-saying:
-
- “Sunshine! Let’s go out!”
-
-
- FINIS
-
-
-
-
- APPENDICES
-
-
- APPENDIX I
- PARTS PLAYED BY EVA MOORE
-
- 1887
-
- “Varney” _Proposals_
- “Spirit of Home” (Dot) _The Cricket on the Hearth_
-
- 1888
-
- “Alice” _A Red Rag_
- “Alice Marshall” _The Butler_
- “Dora” _The Don_
- —— _The Spittalfields Weaver_
- —— _Toole in the Pig Skin_
- —— _Ici on Parle Française_
- —— _Birthplace of Podgers_
- —— _Artful Cards_
- —— _Paul Pry_
-
- 1889
-
- “Kitty” _A Broken Sixpence_
- “Felicia Umfraville” _The Middleman_
- “Alice Jolliffe” _The Home Feud_
- “Nancy” _The Middleman_
- “Diana” _Pedigree_
-
- 1890
-
- “Countess of Drumdurris” _The Cabinet Minister_
-
- 1891
-
- “Gwendoline Fanlight” _Culprits_
- “Mrs. Richard Webb” _The Late Lamented_
- “Nita” _The Mountebanks_
-
- 1892
-
- “Matilde” _A Scrap of Paper_
- “Violet Melrose” _Our Boys_
-
- 1893
-
- “Miss Violet” _A Pantomime Rehearsal_
- “Amanda P. Warren” _Allendale_
- “Mrs. Delafield” _Man and Woman_
- “Lettice” _Time will Tell_
- “Winifred Chester” _The Younger Son_
- “Pepita” _Little Christopher Columbus_
-
- 1894
-
- “Nellie Dudley” _The Gay Widow_
- “Lead” _The Shop Girl_
- *†“Fairy Buttonshaw” _Bogey_
-
- 1895
-
- “Angela Brightwell” _The Strange Adventures of Miss
- Brown_
- “Nelly Jedbury” _Jedbury, Jun._
- “Dora” _The Wanderer from Venus_
-
- 1896
-
- “Molly Dyson” _Major Raymond_
- *†“Margaret” _In and Out of a Punt_
- †“Miss Savile” _A Blind Marriage_
- “Madam de Cocheforet” _Under the Red Robe_
-
- 1897
-
- “Mistress Golding” _The Alchemist_
- “Elladeen Dunrayne” _An Irish Gentleman_
- *††“Maysie” _One Summer’s Day_
-
- 1898
-
- “April” _The Sea Flower_
- “Angela Goodwin” _Tommy Dodd_
- †“Gabrielle de Chalius” _The Three Musketeers_
-
- 1899
-
- “Sybil Crake” _The Dancing Girl_
- “Ellice Ford” _Carnac Sahib_
- “Lucie Manette” _The Only Way_
- “Christina” _Ibb and Christina_
- “Louise” _Marsac of Gascony_
-
- 1901
-
- “Kate Duewent” _A Fools’ Paradise_
- *“Mabel Vaughan” _The Wilderness_
- —— _The Importance of Being Earnest_
-
- 1902
- “Lady Hetty Wrey” _Pilkerton’s Peerage_
- *“Lady Ernstone” _My Lady Virtue_
-
- 1903
-
- “Kathie” _Old Heidelberg_
- *“Miss Wilhelmina Marr” _Billy’s Little Love Affair_
- “Lady Henrietta Addison” _The Duke of Killiecrankie_
-
- 1904
-
- “Lady Mary Carlyle” _Monsieur Beaucaire_
-
- 1905
-
- †“Klara Volkhardt” _Lights Out_
-
- 1906
-
- “Judy” _Punch_
- “Miss Blarney” _Josephine_
-
- 1907
-
- “Muriel Glayde” _John Glayde’s Honour_
- “Sweet Kitty Bellaires” _Sweet Kitty Bellaires_
-
- 1908
-
- “Mrs. Crowley” _The Explorer_
- “Dorothy Gore” _The Marriages of Mayfair_
- “Mrs. Errol” (Dearest) _Little Lord Fauntleroy_
- “Lady Joan Meredith” _The House of Bondage_
-
- 1909
-
- “Kathie” (revival) _Old Heidelberg_
- “Hon. Mrs. Bayle” _The Best People_
- “Hon. Mrs. Rivers” _The House Opposite_
-
- 1910
-
- “Gay Birch” _Company for George_
-
- 1911
-
- “Christine” _A Woman’s Wit_
-
- 1912
-
- “Kate Bellingham” _Looking for Trouble_
- *†“Eliza” _Eliza Comes to Stay_
- *†“Betty” _The Dangerous Age_
-
- 1913
-
- *†“Eliza” _Eliza Comes to Stay_
- *†“Betty” _The Dangerous Age_
-
- 1914
-
- *†“Eliza” _Eliza Comes to Stay_
- *†“Betty” _The Dangerous Age_
-
- 1915
-
- *†“Phyllis” _When We Were Twenty-One_
-
- 1918
-
- “Mrs. Culver” _The Title_
- “Mrs. Etheridge” _Cæsar’s Wife_
-
- 1920
-
- “Mumsie” _Mumsie_
-
- 1921
-
- “Lady Marlow” _A Matter of Fact_
- *†“Edie La Bas” _The Law Divine_
-
- 1922
-
- “Miss Van Gorder” _The Bat_
-
- 1923
-
- “Mary Westlake” _Mary, Mary Quite Contrary_
-
- All those marked * were plays written by my husband.
-
- All those marked † we played together.
-
-
- APPENDIX II
- SOME PARTS PLAYED BY H. V. ESMOND
-
-
- “Lord John” _The Scorpion_
- “Harold Lee” _Rachel_
- —— _Frou Frou_
- “Gibson” _Ticket of Leave_
- “Horace Holmcroft” _New Magdalen_
- “Eglantine Roseleaf” _Turn Him Out_
- “Feversham” _Take Back the Heart_
- “Theodore Lamb” _Glimpse of Paradise_
- “Capt. Damerel” _The Lord Harry_
- “Jack” _Ruth’s Romance_
- “The Marquis de Presles” _The Two Orphans_
- “Megor” _Nana_
- “George Talboys” _Lady Audrey’s Secret_
- “Philip” _Eve’s Temptation_
- “Bill Sykes” _Oliver Twist_
- “Uriah Heep” _Little Emily_
- “Ishmael, the Wolf” _Flower of the Forest_
- “Tulkinghorn” _Poor Joe_
- “Charles Torrens” _Serious Family_
- “Mr. Lynx” _Happy Pair_
- “Mr. Debbles” _Good for Nothing_
- “Rafael de Mayal” _The Marquesa_
- “Capt. Kirby” _Dick Venables_
- “Fillipo” _Fennel_
- “Paddington Grun” _If I Had a Thousand a Year_
- “Harold Wingard” _Daughters_
- “Fred Fanshaw” _Weak Woman_
- “Harry Stanley” _Paul Pry_
- “John” _In Chancery_
- *“Pierre” _Rest_
- “Frank Bilton” _Churchwarden_
- “Weston Carr” _Flight_
- “Plantagent Watts” _Great Unpaid_
- “Phil Summers” _Dregs_
- “Eric” _Too Happy by Half_
- “Reggie” _The Rise of Dick Halward_
- * †“Hugh” _In and Out of a Punt_
- “Dolly” _A Blind Marriage_
- “Le Barrier” _The Storm_
- “Cayley Drummle” _The Second Mrs. Tanqueray_
- “Touchstone” _As You Like It_
- “Major-General Sir R. Chichele” _The Princess and the Butterfly_
- “Verges” _Much Ado About Nothing_
- “Capt. Theobald Kerger” _The Conquerors_
- “Vivian Seauvefere” _The Ambassador_
- “Fritz von Tarbenhelm” _Rupert of Hentzau_
- “D’Artagnan” _The Three Musketeers_
- “Major Blencoe” _The Tree of Knowledge_
- —— _The Debt of Honour_
- “Charles II.” _His Majesty’s Servant_
- “Mercutio” _Romeo and Juliet_
- “Augustus III.” _Hawthorne, U.S.A._
- “Corporal Helbig” _Lights Out_
- “Louis IV.” _Bond of Ninon_
- “Widgery Blake” _Palace of Puck_
- “Mr. Whitly” _The Education of Elizabeth_
- “Sir Benjamin Backbite” _The School for Scandal_
- “Little Billee” _Trilby_
- “Viscount Bolingbroke” _Mr. Jarvis_
- *“Philip Kean” _Grierson’s Way_
- “Sir Francis Leverson” _East Lynne_
- “Alfred Meynard” _The Corsican Brothers_
- “Chaucer” _Vice Versa_
- “Robert de Belfort” _The Grip of Iron_
- “Adrian Fiore” _The Panel Picture_
- “Capt. Julian Chandler” _The Middleman_
- “Algernon Grey” _Sweet Nancy_
- “Graham Maxwell” _The Pharisee_
- “Edward Pendlecoop” _Culprits_
- “Lord Leadenhall” _The Rocket_
- “Howard Bombas” _The Times_
- “Cis Farrington” _The Magistrate_
- “Eddie Remon” _The Masqueraders_
- “George Round” _Guy Domville_
- “Willie Hasselwood” _The Triumph of the Philistines_
- [1]“Uncle Archie Buttonshaw” _Bogey_
- “Earl of Addisworth” _Pilkerton’s Peerage_
- “Cyril Ryves” _Chance, The Idol_
- “Hon. Sandy Verrall” _Eliza Comes to Stay_
- “Jack Le Bas” _The Law Divine_
- “Adam Haggarth” _In Days of Old_
- —— _Barton Mystery_
- “Sir Egbert Ingelfield” _The Dangerous Age_
- “Jacob Ussher” _Birds of a Feather_
-
-Footnote 1:
-
- Parts in his own plays.
-
-
- APPENDIX III
- PLAYS WRITTEN BY H. V. ESMOND
-
- *_When We Were Twenty-One_
- *_Under the Greenwood Tree_
- *_Billy’s Little Love Affair_
- *_One Summer’s Day_
- *_Grierson’s Way_
- *_My Lady Virtue_
- *_The Divided Way_
- *_The Wilderness_
- *_Bogey_
- *_The Sentimentalist_
- *_Eliza Comes to Stay_
- *_The Dangerous Age_
- *_The O’Grindles_
- *_A Kiss or Two_
- _Clorinda’s Career_
- *_My Lady’s Lord_
- *_A Young Man’s Fancy_
- _The Tug of War_
- *_The Forelock of Time_
- *_Love and the Man_
- *_The Law Divine_
- *_Birds of a Feather_
- *_Leoni_
- *_Cupboard Love_
-
-
- SHORT PLAYS
-
- *_In and Out of a Punt_
- *_Her Vote_
- *_Rest_
- _A Woman in Chains_
- *_Island of Dreams_
-
- Those marked * have been produced either in England or America.
-
-
-
-
- INDEX
-
-
- Actors’ Association, 40, 233.
-
- Actresses’ Franchise League, 77, 94, 95.
-
- Adams, Maude, 149.
-
- Adelphi Theatre, The, 13.
-
- Ainley, Henry, 61, 109.
-
- Albani, Madame, 47.
-
- Aldwych Theatre, The, 70.
-
- Alexander, Sir George, 43, 44, 54–57, 59, 61, 66, 103, 134, 192, 202,
- 216, 235.
-
- Alexander, Lady, 111.
-
- Alhambra, The, 129.
-
- Allen, Lady, 83, 84.
-
- Ambulance Corps, The, 75.
-
- America, 55, 57, 62, 83, 138, 143, 145–147, 149, 150, 181.
-
- Andresson, Herr, 111.
-
- Apple Porch, 74, 112, 163, 201, 229.
-
- Archer, William, 179.
-
- Army of Occupation, The, 34, 86.
-
- Asche, Oscar, 103.
-
- Ashwell, Lena, 85, 94, 95, 231.
-
- Asquith, Mrs. H. H., 161.
-
- Astor, M.P., The Rt. Hon. Viscountess, 163.
-
- _As You Like It_, 219.
-
- Austin, Alfred, 160.
-
- Australia, 23, 35, 36, 84.
-
- Authors’ Society, The, 148, 149.
-
- Aynesworth, Allen, 25, 62.
-
-
- _Bad Hats_, 212.
-
- Bailey, Rt. Hon. W. H., 57.
-
- Barker, Granville, 48, 73, 109.
-
- Barrie, Bart., Sir James, 63, 140.
-
- _Bat, The_, 72.
-
- Beardsley, Aubrey, 120.
-
- Beerbohm, Max, 179.
-
- Belgium, 75.
-
- _Belle Marseille, La_, 69.
-
- Bennett, Arnold, 70.
-
- Bennett, Marguerite Arnold, 182.
-
- Berhens, Herr, 111, 112.
-
- Berlin, 164, 165.
-
- Berry, W. H., 133.
-
- _Biff Bang_, 156.
-
- Billington, Theresa, 98.
-
- _Billy’s Little Love Affair_, 62, 63.
-
- _Birds of a Feather_, 212, 219.
-
- _Blind Marriage, The_, 46.
-
- _Bogey_, 43–46, 202, 207.
-
- Bourchier, Arthur, 60, 110, 111, 206.
-
- Brandram, Rosina, 32.
-
- _Breed of the Treshams, The_, 136.
-
- Brighton, 2, 3, 9–12, 15, 17, 47, 55, 67.
-
- British Army, The, 34.
-
- _Broken Sixpence, The_, 21.
-
- Brooke, Rupert, 86, 193.
-
- Brookfield, Charles, 83, 34.
-
- Brough, Fanny, 30, 31.
-
- Brough, Lal, 31.
-
- Brough, Mary, 21.
-
- Brough, Sydney, 31, 32.
-
- Browne, Graham, 63.
-
- Bruce, Nigel, 160.
-
- Buest, Scot, 14.
-
- Burge, Dick, 137.
-
- Burnett, Mrs. Hodgson, 68.
-
- _Butler, The_, 22.
-
-
- _Cabinet Minister, The_, 24–26.
-
- _Cæsar’s Wife_, 70.
-
- Calthrop, Dion Clayton, 197.
-
- Calvert, Mrs., 50.
-
- Campbell, Mrs. Patrick, 128, 129.
-
- Canada, 150, 151.
-
- _Carnac Sahib_, 53, 117.
-
- Carr, Professor, 152.
-
- Carson, Mrs., 31.
-
- Carte D’Oyley, 26.
-
- Carter, Mrs., 86.
-
- Castle, Egerton, 66.
-
- Cecil, Arthur, 25.
-
- Chamberlain, Austen, 90.
-
- _Chance_, 219.
-
- _Channings, The_, 193.
-
- Chaplin, Charlie, 222.
-
- Chelsea Palace, The, 121.
-
- Chevalier, Albert, 68.
-
- Chirgwin, George, 123, 124.
-
- Chisholm, Miss Marie, 75, 76, 79.
-
- _Chu Chin Chow_, 72.
-
- Churchill, M.P., The Right Hon. Winston Spencer, 10.
-
- _Cinderella_, 13
-
- Clark, Holman, 48.
-
- Clarkson, Willie, 51.
-
- _Clothes and the Woman_, 148, 149.
-
- Cochrane, Sir Ernest, 72.
-
- Collier, Constance, 50.
-
- Collier, Dr. Mayer, 27.
-
- Collins, Sir Arthur, 230.
-
- Comedy Theatre, The, 51, 72.
-
- Cooper, Gladys, 177.
-
- Copperfield, David, 20.
-
- _Coriolanus_, 140.
-
- Cornwallis, Miss, 86, 87.
-
- _Corsican Brothers, The_, 120, 216.
-
- Courtneidge, Robert, 181, 182.
-
- Court Theatre, The, 24, 101, 109.
-
- Craig, Edith, 36.
-
- Craigie, Pearl Mary-Teresa, 179.
-
- _Cricket on the Hearth, The_, 14, 16, 17.
-
- Criterion Theatre, The, 46, 148.
-
- _Culprits_, The, 26, 34.
-
- Cunningham, Philip, 113, 195.
-
- Curzon, Frank, 33, 131.
-
-
- Dacre, Arthur, 35.
-
- Dale, Alan, 145.
-
- Dana, Henry, 192.
-
- _Dancing Girl, The_, 52.
-
- Dane, Clemence, 114, 115.
-
- _Dangerous Age, The_, 69, 149, 206, 208, 209, 224, 235.
-
- Dare, Phyllis, 54.
-
- Dare, Zena, 54.
-
- Daughters of the Empire, The, 151
-
- _David Garrick_, 34.
-
- Davidson, Emily, 98.
-
- Davis, Ben, 18, 47.
-
- _Dear Brutus_, 219.
-
- _Dear Fool, The_, 143, 144, 149.
-
- _Defence of Lucknow, The_, 152.
-
- d’Erlanger, Baron Emile, 71.
-
- de Freece, Sir Laurie, 129.
-
- Despard, Mrs., 93.
-
- Dick, Cotsford, 26.
-
- Dickens, Miss Ethel, 148.
-
- Dockers’ Theatre, The, 56.
-
- _Dr. Chavasse’s Advice to a Mother_, 30.
-
- _Dr. Chavasse’s Advice to a Wife_, 30, 149.
-
- _Dr. Dee_, 26.
-
- _Dorothy_, 18.
-
- Drummond, Mrs., 151.
-
- Drummond, Flora, 92.
-
- Drury Lane Theatre, The, 32, 36, 53, 68.
-
- Dublin, 19, 57, 82, 84, 93.
-
- _Duke of Killiecrankie, The_, 63.
-
- Dumas, Alexandre, 220, 221.
-
- du Maurier, Sir Gerald, 173, 174, 17, 218.
-
- “Dumbells, The,” 156, 157.
-
-
- Edinburgh, 19, 20, 181.
-
- Edward VII., 169, 170.
-
- Edwardes, George, 39, 132, 133.
-
- _Eliza Comes to Stay_, 1, 14, 30, 102, 108, 113–115, 143, 147–150, 159,
- 190, 203–205, 207, 224.
-
- Elliott, G. W., 43.
-
- Elliott, Maxine, 180, 181, 236.
-
- Elmore, Belle (Mrs. Crippen), 31.
-
- Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 98.
-
- Emery, Winifred, 16, 48, 103, 138, 139.
-
- Empire League, The, 162.
-
- Empire Theatre, The, 35, 42.
-
- Esmond, H. V. _Passim_.
-
- Esmond, Jack, 1, 142, 146, 194, 201, 230.
-
- Esmond, Jill, 1, 17, 66, 109, 114, 125, 146, 180, 183, 195, 236.
-
- Evans of Edmonton, Mr., 152.
-
- Everard, Walter, 34.
-
- _Explorer, The_, 67.
-
-
- Fagan, Elizabeth, 234.
-
- Farren, William, 32.
-
- _Faust_, 13.
-
- Feversham, William, 149.
-
- Fisher, Miss, 86.
-
- _Flames of Passion_, 72, 141.
-
- Frederick the Great, 168.
-
- _French for Tommies_, 75.
-
- Fripp, Sir Alfred, 232.
-
- Frohman, Charles, 82, 83, 146, 174, 175, 230.
-
- Fulton, Charles, 85, 64, 65.
-
-
- Gaiety Theatre, The, 38, 50, 132, 133.
-
- Gainsborough, Thomas, 189.
-
- Gallery First Night Club, The, 45.
-
- Garrick Club, The, 34, 122, 139.
-
- Garrick Theatre, The, 146.
-
- _Gay Widow, The_, 43.
-
- George, A. E., 67.
-
- George, M.P., The Rt. Hon. David Lloyd, 99.
-
- _Geraldine, or Victor Cupid_, 190, 200.
-
- Germany 34.
-
- Gibbs, Sir Philip, 166.
-
- Gilbert, W. S., 29, 125, 133, 134, 223.
-
- Gilbert and Sullivan Operas, 32.
-
- Globe Theatre, The, 220.
-
- Gneiseuan, General, 168.
-
- _Gondoliers, The_, 27.
-
- Goodwin, Maxine Elliott, 180, 181, 236.
-
- Goodwin, N. C., 180.
-
- Gordon, Major A., 77.
-
- Graham, Cissie (Mrs. Allen), 192.
-
- Green Room Club, The, 65, 138.
-
- Grierson’s Way, 179, 201, 206, 213, 219.
-
- Grossmith, George, 138.
-
- Grossmith, Weedon, 25, 63.
-
- Grove, Fred, 25, 30, 113, 114, 159, 160, 198.
-
- Groves, Charles, 62.
-
- Guerini, Madame, 11.
-
- Guggisberg, Lady, 78.
-
-
- Hackney, Mabel, 148.
-
- Hallard, Charles Maitland, 65, 164, 173, 187, 217.
-
- Hamilton, Harry, 51.
-
- _Harbour Lights_, 13.
-
- Harcourt, Cyril, 197.
-
- Harding, Lyn, 17, 68.
-
- Harding, Rudge, 112.
-
- Hare, Sir John, 69.
-
- Harvey, Sir John Martin, 103, 136, 137, 159.
-
- Harvey, Lady Martin, 103, 234.
-
- Hatfield, Lady, 80.
-
- Haverfield, Mrs., 76, 77.
-
- Hawkins, Sir Anthony Hope, 60, 126, 127, 235.
-
- Hawtrey, Sir Charles, 43, 49, 126, 185, 213.
-
- Haymarket Theatre, The, 109, 126, 128.
-
- _Hearts is Hearts_, 13.
-
- Hendrie, Ernest, 50.
-
- Henley, W. E., 199.
-
- _Her Vote_, 95.
-
- Hicks, Seymour, 39.
-
- _Highwayman, The_, 192.
-
- Hindenburg, Field Marshal Von, 166, 168.
-
- His Majesty’s Theatre, 34, 72, 236.
-
- Hobbes, John Oliver, 179.
-
- Hobhouse, M.P., Rt. Hon. Henry, 90.
-
- Hood, Dr. Walton, 125.
-
- Horder, Morley, 112, 113.
-
- House of Commons, The, 92.
-
- Hughes, Annie, 24.
-
- Huntly, G. P., 132.
-
-
- _Idylls of the King_, 188.
-
- Illington, Marie, 63, 181.
-
- _Importance of Being Earnest, The_, 64.
-
- _Imprudence_, 63.
-
- India, 53.
-
- Interlude Players, The, 12.
-
- Ireland, 20, 55, 56, 82.
-
- _Irish Gentleman, An_, 48.
-
- Irving, Sir Henry, 32, 120, 122, 140, 213.
-
- Irving, H. B., 65, 103, 123, 124, 134.
-
- Irving, Lawrence, 124, 125.
-
- Isaacs, Sir Rufus, 97.
-
- Isle of Man, The, 56.
-
-
- James, David, 32.
-
- Jay, Isabel, 33.
-
- _John Glayde’s Honour_, 66.
-
- Johnson, Eliza, 20, 21.
-
- Jones, Henry Arthur, 53, 105, 217.
-
- Joseph, Mrs. Henry, 151.
-
- _Josephine_, 63.
-
- Jowett, Professor Benjamin, 161.
-
- _Just So Stories_, 114.
-
-
- Karno, Edie, 31, 69.
-
- Karno, Fred, 31.
-
- Kellie, Lawrence, 230, 236.
-
- Kemble, Henry, 50.
-
- Kendal, Mrs., 11, 106, 109, 110 176.
-
- Kennington Theatre, The, 81.
-
- Kenny, Annie, 92.
-
- Keppel, Sir David, 78.
-
- Kerr, Fred, 46.
-
- Kingston, Gertrude, 74.
-
- Kipling, Rudyard, 114, 128.
-
- _Kiss or Two, A_, 209, 225.
-
- Knight, Joe, 122.
-
- Knoblauch, Edward, 71, 182.
-
- Knocker, Mrs. (Baroness T’Scerelles), 75, 78, 79.
-
-
- Lang, Matheson, 67.
-
- Lashwood, George, 104.
-
- _Late Lamented, The_, 27, 30.
-
- Law, M.P., the Rt. Hon. Bonar, 48.
-
- _Law, Divine, The_, 85, 150, 151, 160, 177, 181, 209, 212, 224.
-
- Lawrence, Mr. and Mrs. Pethick, 97.
-
- Leahy, Dr. M., 232.
-
- Leave Club, The, 85.
-
- Le Barge, Simone, 103.
-
- Leno, Dan, 103–105, 222.
-
- Lenton, Lilian, 98.
-
- Lester, Alfred, 153.
-
- Lewis, Eric, 113.
-
- _Lights Out_, 64, 66, 219.
-
- Lindon, Herbert, 230.
-
- Lindsay, James, 123.
-
- Little, Dr., 57.
-
- _Little Christopher Columbus_, 36, 37.
-
- _Little Golden Hope_, 11.
-
- Little Theatre, The, 74.
-
- Liverpool, 8, 10, 56, 146.
-
- Lloyd, Marie, 69, 120, 123, 124, 129, 130, 139.
-
- Loftus, Cissy, 94.
-
- Loftus, Marie, 120, 121.
-
- London, 12, 14, 18, 22, 74, 151, 180.
-
- London County Council, The, 34.
-
- Lonnen, Teddie, 37.
-
- _Looking for Trouble_, 70.
-
- _Love and the Man_, 84, 205.
-
- Lowne, Charles M., 21.
-
- Lucy, Arnold, 46.
-
- Lumley, Florrie, 154, 162.
-
- Lyceum Theatre, The, 48, 140.
-
- Lynch, Dr. and Mrs., 163.
-
- Lyric Theatre, The, 233.
-
- Lytton, Lady Constance, 93.
-
-
- Macarthy, Justin Huntly, 17, 183, 192.
-
- McKinnel, Norman, 72.
-
- Mackintosh, William, 24.
-
- _Man and Woman_, 34, 35.
-
- _Marriages of Mayfair, The_, 68.
-
- _Marsac of Gascony_, 53.
-
- Marsh, “Charlie,” 98.
-
- Martin, Mrs. Howe, 92.
-
- _Masqueraders, The_, 217.
-
- Massey, Deane, 151.
-
- _Matter of Fact, A_, 72.
-
- Maude, Cyril, 48, 103, 138, 139, 155.
-
- Maugham, Somerset, 67.
-
- Maurice, Newman, 108.
-
- May, Ackerman, 27.
-
- May, Edna, 33.
-
- Melville Brothers, The, 48.
-
- Menken, Adah Isaacs, 114.
-
- _Merchant of Venice, The_, 32.
-
- _Merry Wines of Windsor, The_, 107.
-
- Michau, Madame, 8, 9.
-
- _Middleman, The_, 23, 24, 27.
-
- Millet, Maude, 14, 24.
-
- Monckton, Lionel, 138.
-
- _Monsieur Beaucaire_, 66.
-
- Moore, Ada, 6, 7, 28, 77, 114, 164.
-
- Moore, Bertha, 11, 77.
-
- Moore, Decima, 4–8, 13, 17, 26, 27, 32, 74–78, 85, 90, 104, 125, 141,
- 153.
-
- Moore, Edward Henry, 3, 4:, 6–8, 11–13, 15, 67.
-
- Moore, Mrs. E. H., 3, 7, 14, 15, 67.
-
- Moore, Emily (Mrs. Pertwee), 11, 77.
-
- Moore, Eva, _Passim_.
-
- Moore, Henry, 7, 18, 22.
-
- Moore, Jessie, 3, 18, 26.
-
- Morris, William, 188.
-
- _Mountebanks, The_, 29.
-
- _Mrs. Punch_, 63.
-
- _Much Ado About Nothing_, 36, 118, 217.
-
- _Mumming Birds_, 31.
-
- _Mumsie_, 71, 182.
-
- Munro, Dr., 75.
-
- Music, The Royal College of, 26.
-
- Music Hall Ladies’ Guild, The, 31.
-
- _Musical World, The_, 23.
-
- _My Lady Virtue_, 206.
-
-
- Needlework Guild, The, 76.
-
- Neilson, Julia, 56, 234.
-
- Neilson-Terry, Phyllis, 56, 139, 219.
-
- _Nero_, 119.
-
- Neville, Henry, 35, 36.
-
- Nevinson, Mrs., 93.
-
- New York, 143, 144, 147, 149, 174, 179, 180.
-
- Novelty Theatre, The, 111.
-
-
- Old Bailey, The, 97.
-
- _Old Heidelberg_, 61, 111.
-
- Old Oxford, The, 109.
-
- _Oliver Twist_, 216.
-
- _One Summer’s Day_, 32.
-
- Oxford Theatre, The, 189.
-
-
- _Pair of Spectacles, A_, 69.
-
- Palladium, The, 129.
-
- _Panel Picture, The_, 216.
-
- Pankhurst, Mrs., 92, 97, 100.
-
- Pankhurst, Christabel, 90–92, 99.
-
- _Pantomime Rehearsal, A_, 83.
-
- _Partners_, 12, 14.
-
- Pavilion, The, 209.
-
- Paxton, Sydney, 114.
-
- _Peg o’ My Heart_, 147.
-
- _People, The_, 18.
-
- Pertwee, Ernest, 11.
-
- _Peter Pan_, 17.
-
- Philippi, Rosina, 25, 26.
-
- Phillips, Kate, 16.
-
- Pidgeon, Mr. and Mrs., 142.
-
- Pinero, Sir Arthur W., 24, 63.
-
- _Pilkerton’s Peerage_, 60, 110.
-
- Play Actors, The, 12.
-
- Press, The, 18, 33, 48, 96.
-
- Pringle, Miss, 8.
-
- _Prisoner of Zenda, The_, 235.
-
- _Punch_, 18.
-
- Purcell, Henry, 236.
-
-
- Queenstown, 82.
-
-
- _Red Rag, The_, 17, 19.
-
- Reeve, Ada, 38.
-
- Repertory Players, The, 12.
-
- _Rest_, 192, 202.
-
- Rex, Frederick, 168.
-
- Richards, Cicely, 32.
-
- Roberts, Arthur, 134.
-
- Robertson, Sir Johnston Forbes, 85, 94, 184, 205, 230.
-
- Robey, George, 40, 137.
-
- Robson, Frederick, 213.
-
- Rock, Charles, 13.
-
- Roe, Bassett, 40.
-
- Rogers, The Hon. “Bob”, 153.
-
- _Romeo and Juliet_, 149, 221.
-
- Rorke, Kate, 205.
-
- Roscoe’s Performing Pigs, 139.
-
- Rose, Patrick, 28.
-
- Rose, Raymond, 236.
-
- Roselle, Amy, 35.
-
- _Rotten Brigade, The_, 212.
-
- Royalty Theatre, The, 26, 70.
-
- Rubens, Paul, 33.
-
- _Ruined Lady, The_, 71.
-
-
- St. James’s Theatre, 1, 43, 54, 56, 58, 61, 72, 204.
-
- St. John, Florence, 13, 62.
-
- Saker, Annie, 48.
-
- Savoy Theatre, The, 27, 125, 134.
-
- _School for Scandal, The_, 219, 224.
-
- Scott, Clement, 44, 45, 179, 207, 217.
-
- Scottish National Gallery, 93.
-
- _Scrap of Paper, A_, 31.
-
- _Sea Flower, The_, 51.
-
- _Second Mrs. Tanqueray, The_, 217.
-
- _Sentimentalist, The_, 213.
-
- Serbia, 75.
-
- Sevier, Robert, 36.
-
- Sevier, Lady Violet, 36.
-
- Shackleton, Sir Ernest, 71, 231.
-
- Shaftesbury Theatre, The, 23.
-
- Shakespeare, William, 32, 222.
-
- Shaughnessy, Lord and Lady, 151.
-
- Shaw, George Bernard, 109.
-
- Sheldon, Susanne, 233.
-
- Shelton, George, 17.
-
- Shields, Ella, 110.
-
- Shine, J. L., 48.
-
- _Shop Girl, The_, 38.
-
- Shortt, The Rt. Hon. Edward and Mrs., 191.
-
- Simmons, Miss, 148, 149.
-
- Sims, George R., 47.
-
- _Sisters_, 128, 129.
-
- Smith, Aubrey, 54, 70, 71, 234.
-
- _South_, 71, 231.
-
- _Sporting Times, The_, 45.
-
- “Spy”, 25.
-
- _Stage, The_, 31.
-
- _Standard, The_, 202.
-
- Standing, Herbert, 27, 46–48.
-
- Stanley, Sir Hubert, 182.
-
- Stevenson, Robert Louis, 199.
-
- Steward, Miss M., 156.
-
- _Strange Adventures of Miss Brown, The_, 46.
-
- _Stranglers of Paris, The_, 216.
-
- Stuart, Cosmo, 51.
-
- Suffrage Movement, The, 90, 93, 233.
-
- Sutro, Alfred, 66.
-
- _Sweet Kitty Bellaires_, 66.
-
- _Sweet Nancy_, 26, 217.
-
- _Sweet Nell of Old Drury_, 56.
-
- Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 114.
-
-
- Tariff Reform League, The, 90.
-
- Tate, Harry, 137, 138.
-
- _Tatler, The_, 38.
-
- Taylor, Sir Frederick and Lady, 151.
-
- Tempest, Marie, 18, 234.
-
- Tennyson, Alfred, Lord, 188.
-
- Terriss, Ellaline, 33.
-
- Terriss, William, 120.
-
- Terry, Edward, 28, 29, 30.
-
- Terry, Ellen, 36, 38, 106, 107, 138, 176.
-
- Terry, Florence, 18.
-
- Terry, Fred, 36, 56, 103, 139, 230, 231.
-
- Terry, Marion, 231.
-
- Terry’s Theatre, 26, 28–30.
-
- Theatrical Girls’ Club, 17.
-
- Theatrical Ladies’ Guild, 30.
-
- Thesiger, Ernest, 40.
-
- Thomas, Brandon, 33.
-
- Thompson, Mrs., 22.
-
- Thorndike, Sybil, 185.
-
- Thorne, Fred, 12.
-
- Thorne, Tom, 11, 12.
-
- Three Arts Club, 17.
-
- _Three Musketeers, The_, 51, 219, 220.
-
- Tiapolo, 93.
-
- _Times, The_, 21, 28.
-
- _Times, The_ (Play), 219.
-
- _Title, The_, 70.
-
- Tivoli Theatre, The, 121, 129, 189.
-
- Toft, Albert, 197.
-
- Tolstoi, Count Leo, 124.
-
- Toole, Florrie, 11, 12, 14, 20, 121.
-
- Toole, J. L., 13, 14, 16, 18, 19, 21, 23, 121–123, 233.
-
- Trans-Canadian Company, The, 150.
-
- Tree, Sir Herbert Beerbohm, 34, 51–53, 72, 73, 103, 117–120, 132, 139,
- 192, 224.
-
- Tree, Lady, 119, 234.
-
- _Trilby_, 219.
-
- _Twelve Pound Look_, 140.
-
- _Typhoon_, 124.
-
-
- Ulmar, Geraldine, 27.
-
- _Under the Greenwood Tree_, 180.
-
- _Under the Red Robe_, 48.
-
- _Uriah Heep_, 216.
-
-
- Valentine, Sydney, 39, 233.
-
- Vancouver, 109, 155.
-
- Vanbrugh, Irene, 23.
-
- Vanbrugh, Violet, 19, 207.
-
- _Vanity Fair_, 25.
-
- Vaudeville Theatre, The, 11–13, 16, 150.
-
- Vedrenne, J. E., 70, 71.
-
- Venne, Lottie, 43, 231.
-
- Verity, Agnes, 24.
-
- Vernon, Harriet, 189.
-
- Vernon, H. H., 222.
-
- Vincent, H. H., 59.
-
-
- Waddy, Judge, 232.
-
- Waddy, W. T., 232.
-
- Walker, Dr., 163.
-
- Waller, Lewis, 51, 52, 66, 220, 221, 235, 236.
-
- Ward, Rowland, 54.
-
- Waring, Herbert, 46.
-
- War Office, 74.
-
- _Waterloo_, 123.
-
- Watson, Malcolm, 237.
-
- Watts, Dr., 12.
-
- Webster, Ben, 36, 58, 127.
-
- Webster, Dame May (May Whitty), 32, 58, 94, 127, 232.
-
- Weiglin, Thomas, 138.
-
- Weyman, Stanley, 48.
-
- _When We Were Twenty-One_, 180, 207, 225.
-
- White, Claude Grahame, 142.
-
- Wilberforce, Canon, 11.
-
- Wilberforce, Miss, 11.
-
- Wilcox, Herbert, 170, 171.
-
- Wilde, Sir Ernest and Lady, 109.
-
- _Wilderness, The_, 54, 55, 57, 58, 201, 204, 207, 209, 235.
-
- Willard, E. S., 23, 24, 230.
-
- William Hohenzollern of Germany, 169, 170.
-
- Winter, Miss Jessie, 212.
-
- Women’s Air Force, 76.
-
- Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps., 76.
-
- Women’s Emergency Corps, 74–77.
-
- Women’s Freedom League, 94.
-
- Women’s Social and Political Union, 94.
-
- Women’s Volunteer Reserve, 76.
-
- Wood, Mrs. John, 25, 101, 102.
-
- Wright, Fred, 177.
-
- Wyndham, Sir Charles, 34, 235.
-
- Wyndham, Lady (Miss Mary Moore), 78.
-
- Wyndham’s Theatre, 85, 212.
-
-
- Yohe, May, 37.
-
- Young, Miss Harriet, 11.
-
- _Younger Son, The_, 36.
-
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
-
-
-
- _From CHAPMAN & HALL’S AUTUMN LIST_
-
-
- GENERAL LITERATURE
-
-
- BY INTERVENTION OF PROVIDENCE
-
-By _STEPHEN McKENNA_. _7s. 6d. net._
-
- No one will be surprised that, when Mr. Stephen McKenna sets out to
- follow an old trail, he finds it a necessity of his artistic
- temperament to diverge into bye-paths. Last winter, finding London
- an uninspiring city of refuge, he set sail for the Bahamas. The
- result of his sojourn there is one of the most personal, the most
- individual books of this generation. It is not fiction though it
- contains stories; not a travel book though it talks of travel; not
- autobiography though written in the first person. It is a sort of
- literary confessional of a singularly attractive and communicative
- intellect.
-
-
- TOGETHER
-
-By _NORMAN DOUGLAS_. _12s. 6d. net._ With a special hand-made paper
-edition limited to 250 signed copies at £2 2s. net.
-
- It is difficult at this late day to say anything new of Norman
- Douglas. His reputation as one of the most original writers of this
- generation is solidly established. A vast number of travel books is
- published every year, but there is to be found in none of them that
- quality of personal flavour that is the chief charm and
- characteristic of Mr. Douglas’s writing. His new book, “Together,”
- is as delightful as “Alone,” and it has the added attraction of
- being a piece of continuous narrative.
-
-
- LANDSCAPE PAINTING. Vol. I. From Giotto to Turner.
-
-By _C. LEWIS HIND_. _25s. net._
-
- Mr. Hind is the author of many volumes, but he has always looked
- forward to the writing of this particular book as one of the chief
- events of his career. Wherever he has gone, to the Shires of
- England, the States of America, to Italy or the provinces of France,
- he has always sought material for this volume. The book will be
- profusely illustrated.
-
-
- THE SECRET OF WOMAN
-
-By _HELEN JEROME_. _7s. 6d. net._
-
- During the war men and women rushed recklessly into marriage. Now in
- the hour of post-war disillusion they are seeking to diagnose the
- symptoms of their troubles. Never before has there been such a
- demand for sane, clear-thinking books on the sex question; for books
- that are addressed not to the neurotic, nor the thin-blooded, nor
- the over-sexed; but to healthy-minded, healthy-bodied men and women
- who honestly desire to make each other happy. Such a book is Helen
- Jerome’s “The Secret of Woman.” It deals exhaustively, though
- lightly and wittily, with the relationships of men and women. Here
- are some of the chapter headings: “Wherein men are superior,”
- “Woman’s attitude to male beauty,” “Are women liars?” “Does woman
- know passion?”
-
-
- ROBERT BURNS: His Life and Genius.
-
-By _ANDREW DAKERS_. _10s. 6d. net._
-
- In spite of the assumed lack of sympathy between their rival
- interests, there are a great many publishers who are also authors.
- But to the best of our knowledge, the first literary agent to write
- books as well as sell them is Andrew Dakers, one of the youngest and
- most enterprising members of his profession. His critical and
- biographical study of Burns develops a new and distinctly
- provocative interpretation of Burns’s private life.
-
-
- EXITS AND ENTRANCES
-
-By _EVA MOORE_. _15s. net._
-
- A light, witty, merry volume of reminiscence by one of the most
- fascinating and popular actresses the stage has ever known.
-
-
- SPARKS FROM THE FIRE: a Volume of Essays.
-
-By _GILBERT THOMAS_. _6s. net._
-
- The career of Gilbert Thomas as an essayist and a poet has been for
- a long time followed with attention by those who value taste and
- scholarship. His new book is certain of a warm welcome.
-
- NEW FICTION AT 7S. 6D. NET.
-
-
- ONE OF THE GUILTY
-
-By _W. L. GEORGE_, Author of “A Bed of Roses,” “The Stiff Lip,” “The
-Confession of Ursula Trent.”
-
- “One of the Guilty” is a romantic story, a novel of action; it is a
- study of the primitive human instincts that underlie the veneer of
- education and environment. In “The Confession of Ursula Trent” Mr.
- George told how a well-bred girl of county family became, through
- circumstances and influence, a demi-mondaine. In “One of the Guilty”
- he shows how a public schoolboy can become a criminal. Never before
- has the life of a thief, of a successful thief, been presented so
- graphically, so dramatically, so intimately. Every detail of the
- methods and implements of modern burglary is described, and yet
- throughout one’s sympathies, one’s affections, are with the thief;
- one hopes, in spite of oneself, that he will win through.
-
- “One of the Guilty” is not, in the accepted sense of the word, a sex
- novel. But it is as much a love story as it is an adventure story,
- and in no other novel, perhaps, has W. L. George written more
- tender, more beautiful, more passionate love scenes that he has in
- this book.
-
-
- GOOD HUNTING
-
-By _NORMAN DAVEY_.
-
- Norman Davey, the author of “The Pilgrim of a Smile,” is not one of
- those novelists who believe that it is necessary to produce a new
- book every autumn. Indeed, two years have passed since the
- successful appearance of “Guinea Girl,” his romance of Monte Carlo.
- His new novel, “Good Hunting,” is, as was “The Pilgrim of a Smile,”
- a series of stories grouped about one man; a fashionable and popular
- young man whom a number of girls endeavour to ensnare into marriage,
- and it is dedicated to the 1,337,208 superfluous women (last
- census)!
-
-
- SMOKE RINGS
-
-By _G. B. STERN_, Author of “The Room,” “The Back Seat,” etc.
-
- A first collection of short stories by one of the most brilliant of
- our younger novelists.
-
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
-
-
-
- TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
-
-
- 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
- 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.
- 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
-
-
-
-
-
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-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Exits and Entrances, by Eva Moore
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: Exits and Entrances
-
-Author: Eva Moore
-
-Release Date: August 2, 2020 [EBook #62822]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EXITS AND ENTRANCES ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Richard Tonsing, ellinora, and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
-file was produced from images generously made available
-by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-
-<div class='tnotes covernote'>
-
-<p class='c000'><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b></p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class='section ph1'>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c001'>
- <div>EXITS AND ENTRANCES</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<div id='Frontispiece' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_frontis.jpg' alt='Eva Moore' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Claude Harris, London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>Frontispiece</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='titlepage'>
-
-<div>
- <h1 class='c002'>EXITS AND ENTRANCES</h1>
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
- <div><span class='small'>BY</span></div>
- <div><span class='xlarge'>EVA MOORE</span></div>
- <div class='c004'><em>WITH TWENTY ILLUSTRATIONS</em></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line in12'>“All the world’s a stage,</div>
- <div class='line'>And all the men and women merely players:</div>
- <div class='line'>They have their exits and their entrances;</div>
- <div class='line'>And one man in his time plays many parts.”</div>
- </div>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line in28'>—<cite>As You Like It.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
- <div>LONDON</div>
- <div><span class='large'>CHAPMAN &amp; HALL, LTD</span></div>
- <div>1923</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c001'>
- <div><span class='small'>PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY</span></div>
- <div><span class='small'>THE DUNEDIN PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH</span></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c001'>
- <div><span class='sc'>To Harry</span></div>
- <div class='c004'><em>Whose words head each chapter of what is really his book and mine</em></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='c006'><span class='sc'>Eva</span></div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>21 Whiteheads Grove, Chelsea.</div>
- <div class='line'>“Apple Porch”, Maidenhead.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>July, 1923.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='pbb'>
- <hr class='pb c004' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_vii'>vii</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CONTENTS</h2>
-</div>
-
-<table class='table0' summary='CONTENTS'>
-<colgroup>
-<col width='10%' />
-<col width='84%' />
-<col width='5%' />
-</colgroup>
- <tr>
- <th class='c008'><span class='small'>CHAPTER</span></th>
- <th class='c009'>&nbsp;</th>
- <th class='c010'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>I.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Home</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>II.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Start</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_16'>16</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>III.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Wedding Bells</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_29'>29</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>IV.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Plays and Players</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_43'>43</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>V.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>More Plays and Players</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_60'>60</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>VI.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>For the Duration of the War</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_74'>74</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>VII.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Suffrage</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_89'>89</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>VIII.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>People I have Met</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_101'>101</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>IX.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Personalities</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_116'>116</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>X.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Stories I Remember</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_131'>131</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>XI.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Round and About</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_143'>143</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>XII.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Bundle of Old Letters</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_172'>172</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>XIII.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Harry, the Man</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_187'>187</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>XIV.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Harry, the Playwright</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_200'>200</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>XV.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Harry, the Actor</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_215'>215</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>XVI.</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>And Last</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_228'>228</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c008'>&nbsp;</td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Appendices</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_241'>241</a></td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_viii'>viii</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
-</div>
-
-<table class='table0' summary='ILLUSTRATIONS'>
-<colgroup>
-<col width='82%' />
-<col width='17%' />
-</colgroup>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Eva Moore</span></td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#Frontispiece'>Frontispiece</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <th class='c009'></th>
- <th class='c010'><span class='small'>FACING PAGE</span></th>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Dora in “The Don”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_021'>21</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Harry, November 19th, 1891</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_024'>24</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Wedding Bells, November 19th, 1891</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_028'>28</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Harry as Howard Bompas in “The Times”, 1891</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_030'>30</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Pepita in “Little Christopher Columbus”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_037'>37</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Madame de Cocheforet in “Under the Red Robe”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_048'>48</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Kathie in “Old Heidelberg”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_061'>61</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Lady Mary Carlyle in “Monsieur Beaucaire”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_066'>66</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mumsie”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_071'>71</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Miss Van Gorder in “The Bat”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_072'>72</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Eliza in “Eliza Comes to Stay”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_102'>102</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Harry as Lord Leadenhall in “The Rocket”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_124'>124</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Harry as Major-General Sir R. Chichele in “The Princess and the Butterfly”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_142'>142</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Harry as Little Billee in “Trilby”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_187'>187</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Jill and her Mother</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_194'>194</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Harry as Widgery Blake in “Palace of Puck”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_199'>199</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Harry as Major Blencoe in “The Tree of Knowledge”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_218'>218</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Harry as Touchstone in “As You Like It”</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_222'>222</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>Apple Porch</td>
- <td class='c010'><a href='#i_237'>237</a></td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER I<br /> <span class='large'>HOME</span></h2>
-</div>
-<div class='lg-container-b c011'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“And I’ll go away and fight for myself.”</div>
- <div class='line in20'>—<cite>Eliza Comes to Stay.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>As Mr. Wickfield said to Miss Trotwood—the
-old question, you know—“What is your
-motive in this?”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I am sure it is excellent to have a motive, and if
-possible a good motive, for doing everything; and
-so before I begin I want to give my motive for
-attempting to write my memoirs of things and
-people, past and present—and here it is.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Jack, my son, was on tour with his own company
-of <cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite>; and Jill, my little daughter,
-was playing at the St. James’s Theatre, her first
-engagement—and, incidentally, earning more each
-week than I did when I first played “lead” (and
-I found my own dresses). I thought that some day
-they might like to know how different things were
-in the “old days”; like to read how one worked,
-and studied, and tried to save; might like to know
-something of the road over which their father and
-mother had travelled; and perhaps gain some idea
-of the men and women who were our contemporaries.
-Perhaps, if they, my own boy and girl, would like
-to read this, other people’s boys and girls might like
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>to read it also: it might at least interest and amuse
-them.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>To me, to try and write it all would be a joy, to
-“call spirits from the vasty deep,” to ring up again
-the curtain on the small dramas in which I had
-played—and the small comedies too—and to pay
-some tribute to the great men and women I have
-known. It may all seem to be “my story,” but
-very often I shall only be the string on which are
-hung the bravery, kindness, and goodness of the
-really great people; not always the most successful,
-but the really great, who have helped to make life
-what it should be, and luckily sometimes really is!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>So I determined to begin, and begin at the
-beginning.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Brighton! when it was Brighton; still retaining
-some of the glories of the long past Regency; with
-its gay seasons, its mounted police, and—no Metropole
-Hotel; when the only two hotels of any importance
-were the “Bedford” and the still-existing
-“Old Ship.” The old chain pier, standing when we
-went to bed one evening, and swept away when we
-got up the next morning by a terrific gale. The
-Aquarium, then a place which people really visited
-and regarded as something of a “sight worth seeing”—does
-anyone go there now, except on a very
-wet day? The Dome in the Pavilion, with its grand
-orchestral concerts, conducted by the famous Mr.
-Kuhe, whose son is now a musical critic in London.
-All these things belonged to Brighton of the—well,
-the exact date does not matter—but of the time when
-women did not ride bicycles or drive motor cars,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>because certainly the one, and certainly the other so
-far as women were concerned, did not exist. In those
-days men rode a high “single wheel” bicycle: the
-higher the wheel, the greater the Knut—only the
-word “Knut” was unknown then!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Those are some of the memories I have of Brighton
-at the time when we were a happy, noisy, large family
-living in Regency Square; a really large family, even
-as Victorian families went—nine girls and one boy.
-We had no money, but unlimited health and spirits.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>My mother!—well, everyone says “Mine was the
-sweetest mother in the world,” but my mother really
-<em>was</em>. She had a most amazing amount of character
-hidden under a most gentle exterior. As pretty as a
-picture, adorable—just “Mother.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>And father—an austere, very good-looking man of
-uncertain temper; one of those tempers which periodically
-sweep through the house like a tornado.
-Absolutely upright, and deeply respected, but with
-a stern sense of his duties as a parent which we, his
-children, hardly appreciated.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>My first recollection is of trying to climb into my
-mother’s bed, and finding the place that should have
-been mine occupied by a “new baby.” I heard years
-afterwards that when my mother was told that her
-tenth child and ninth daughter had arrived in the
-world, she exclaimed: “Thank God it’s a girl!”
-Such a nice feminine thing to say, bless her!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Six of the girls lived to grow up, and we each, as
-we grew sufficiently advanced in years, took turns at
-the “housekeeping”. I know I did double duty, as
-my sister Jessie distinguished herself by fainting one
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>morning when preparing the breakfast, and so was
-not allowed to do it any more. I remember creeping
-down the stairs in the dark early mornings (when I
-think of “getting breakfast”, it seems to me that
-we must have lived in perpetual winter, the mornings
-seem to have always been cold and dark, never bright
-and sunny: I suppose the memory of the unpleasant
-things remains longer), going very softly past my
-father’s room, and putting the loathsome porridge—partially
-cooked the night before—on the gas ring,
-and, having stirred it, creeping upstairs again to dress.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I remember, too, at breakfast how I would watch
-my father’s face, to see by his expression if it was
-“all right”; the awful moment when, eyeing
-it with disfavour, he would give his verdict:
-“Lumpy!” The cook for the day, after such a
-verdict, generally left the table in tears.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It must have been before I was old enough to make
-porridge that I had my first sweetheart. His name
-was Johnnie; he was a small Jew, and we met in
-Regency Square; together we turned somersaults all
-round the Square, and it must have been all very
-idealistic and pleasant. I remember nothing more
-about him, so apparently our love was short-lived.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Up to the time that my sister Decima was six, my
-father kept a stick in the dining-room; the moral
-effect of that stick was enormous; should any member
-of the family become unruly (or what my father
-considered unruly), the stick was produced and a
-sharp rap on the head administered.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>One day Decima was the culprit, and as my father
-leant back to reach the stick, she exclaimed cheerfully:
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>“You won’t find the old stick, cos I’ve hided
-it.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>She had, too; it was not found for years, when it
-was discovered in a large chest, right at the bottom.
-It is still a mystery how Decima, who was really only
-a baby at the time, put it there. Looking back, I
-applaud her wisdom, and see the promise of the aptitude
-for “looking ahead” which has made her so
-successful in the ventures on which she has embarked;
-for the “stick” certainly affected her most. She
-was a naughty child, but very, very pretty. We
-called her “The Champion”, because she would take
-up the cudgels on behalf of anyone who was “underdog”.
-I loved her devotedly; and, when she was
-being punished for any special piece of naughtiness
-by being interned in her bedroom, I used to sit outside,
-whispering at intervals, “I’m here, darling”,
-“It’s all right, dear”, and so on.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Yet it was to Decima that I caused a tragedy, and,
-incidentally, to myself as well. She was the proud
-possessor of a very beautiful wax doll; a really beautiful
-and aristocratic person she was. We always said
-“Grace” before meals (I think everyone did in those
-days), and one morning I was nursing the doll. In
-an excess of religious fervour, I insisted that the
-wax beauty should say “grace” too. Her body,
-not being adapted to religious exercises, refused to
-bend with the reverence I felt necessary; I pushed
-her, and cracked off her head on the edge of the table.
-Now, mark how this tragedy recoiled on me! I had
-a gold piece—half a sovereign, I suppose—given to
-me by some god-parent. It lived in a box, wrapped
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>in cotton wool, and I occasionally gazed at it; I never
-dreamt of spending it; it was merely regarded as an
-emblem of untold wealth. Justice, in the person of
-my father, demanded that, as I had broken the doll,
-my gold piece must be sacrificed to buy her a new
-head. If the incident taught me nothing else, it
-taught me to extend religious tolerance even to wax
-dolls!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Not only did we hate preparing breakfast, we hated
-doing the shopping, and called it “Sticking up to
-Reeves, and poking down to Daws”—Reeves and
-Daws being the grocer and laundryman respectively.
-It was in the process of “Sticking up to Reeves”,
-whose shop was in Kemptown, one morning, that
-Decima stopped to speak to a goat, who immediately
-ate the shopping list out of her hand.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Decima was the only member of the family who
-succeeded in wearing a fringe—openly—before my
-father. We all <em>did</em> wear fringes, but they were
-pushed back in his presence; Decima never pushed
-hers back! In those days so to adorn one’s forehead
-was to declare oneself “fast”—an elastic term,
-which was applied to many things which were frowned
-on by one’s elders. That was the “final word”—“<em>fast!</em>”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Our great excitement was bathing in the sea, and
-singing in the church choir. We bathed three times
-a week; it cost 4d. each. Clad in heavy serge, with
-ample skirts, very rough and “scratchy”, we used
-to emerge from the bathing machines. All except
-Ada, who swam beautifully, and made herself a bathing
-suit of blue bunting with knickers and tunic. My
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>father used to row round to the “ladies’ bathing
-place” in his dinghy, and teach us how to swim. As
-there was no “mixed bathing” then, this caused
-much comment, and was, indeed, considered “hardly
-nice”. My brother Henry was the champion
-swimmer of the South Coast, and he and Ada used
-to swim together all round the West Pier—this,
-again, was thought to be “going rather far” in more
-senses than one!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Though I loved Decima so devotedly, we apparently
-had “scraps”, for I can remember once in the
-bathing machine she flicked me several times with a
-wet towel—I remember, too, how it hurt.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>We all sang in the church choir; not all at once;
-as the elder ones left, the younger ones took their
-places. Boys from the boarding school in Montpelier
-Square used to be brought to church: we exchanged
-glances, and felt desperately wicked. Once (before
-she sang in the choir) Decima took 3d. out of the
-plate instead of putting 1d. into it.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>At that time our pocket-money was 1d. a week, so
-I presume we were given “collection money” for
-Sunday; this was later increased to 2s. a month,
-when we had to buy our own gloves. Thus my
-mother’s birthday present—always the same: a pot
-of primulas (on the receipt of which she always expressed
-the greatest surprise)—represented the savings
-of three weeks on the part of Decima and me.
-It was due to parental interference in a love affair
-that I once, in a burst of reckless extravagance,
-induced Decima to add her savings to mine and spend
-5d. in sweets, all at one fell swoop.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>I was 14, and in love! In love with a boy who
-came to church, and whose name I cannot remember.
-We met in the street, and stopped to speak. Fate,
-in the person of my father (who always seems to have
-been casting himself for the parts of “Fate”,
-“Justice”, “Law”, or “Order”) saw us; I was
-ordered into the house, and, seizing my umbrella, my
-father threatened to administer the chastisement
-which he felt I richly deserved for the awful crime of
-“speaking to a boy”. I escaped the chastisement
-by flying to my room; and it was there, realising
-that “love’s young dream was o’er”, I incited
-Decima to the aforementioned act of criminal extravagance.
-I know one of the packets she brought
-back contained “hundreds and thousands”; we
-liked them, you seemed to get such a lot for your
-money!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>My life was generally rather blighted at that time,
-for, in addition to this unfortunate love affair, I had
-to wear black spectacles, owing to weak eyes, the
-result of measles. “A girl” told me, at school, that
-“a boy” had told her I “should be quite pretty if
-I hadn’t to wear those awful glasses.” The tragedy
-of that “<em>if</em>”!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I was then at Miss Pringle’s school, where I don’t
-think any of us learnt very much; not that girls were
-encouraged to learn much at any school in those days.
-I certainly didn’t. My eyes made reading difficult.
-Then the opportunity for me to earn my own living
-offered; it was seized; and I went to Liverpool. I
-was to teach gymnastics and dancing under Madame
-Michau.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>The original Madame Michau, mother of the lady
-for whom I was to work, had been a celebrity in her
-day. Years before—many, many years before—she
-had taught dancing in Brighton, where she had been
-considered <em>the</em> person to coach debutantes in the
-deportment necessary for a drawing-room. Her
-daughter was very energetic, and worked from morning
-to night. She had a very handsome husband, who
-ostensibly “kept the books”, which really meant
-that he lounged at home while his wife went out to
-work. Not only did she work herself, but she made
-me work too—from eight in the morning until eleven
-at night; in fact, so far as my memory serves me,
-there was a greater abundance of work than of food.
-I don’t regret any of it in the least; the dancing
-and gymnastics taught me how to “move” in a way
-that nothing else could have done. It taught me,
-also, how to keep my temper!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Only one thing I really resented; that was, among
-other duties, I had to mend Madame’s husband’s
-underwear. Even then I am overstating the case;
-I did not mind the mending collectively; what I
-minded was the mending individually—that is, I hated
-mending his (what are technically known, I think, as)
-<em>pants</em>. At the end of a year I “crocked up”—personally
-I wonder that I lasted so long—and came
-home for a holiday. I was then about 15, and I fell
-in love. Not, this time, with a small boy in the
-Square; not with a big boy; this was a real affair.
-“He” was at least twelve years older than I, very
-good to look at, and apparently he had excellent
-prospects on the Stock Exchange. My family, so far
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>as I can remember, approved, and I was very happy.
-I forget how long the engagement lasted—about a
-year, I think—and for part of that time I was back
-in Liverpool. I know the engagement ring was pearl
-and coral. One day a stone fell out—so did the
-engagement. The picture “he” had drawn of us
-living in domestic and suburban bliss at West Norwood—me
-clad in brown velvet and a sealskin coat
-(apparently irrespective of times or seasons) vanished.
-He “went broke” on the Stock Exchange, and
-broke off the engagement—perhaps so that his love
-affairs might be in keeping with the general wreckage;
-I don’t know. I remember that I sat in the
-bedroom writing a farewell letter, damp with tears,
-when the sight of a black beetle effectively dried my
-tears and ended the letter.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I don’t know that this love affair influenced me at
-all, but I decided I was utterly weary of Liverpool.
-I came back to Brighton, and taught dancing there,
-partly on my own and partly in conjunction with an
-already established dancing class. It was there that
-I taught a small, red-headed boy to do “One, two,
-three—right; one, two, three—left.” He was the
-naughtiest small boy in the class; I used to think
-sometimes he must be the naughtiest small boy in
-the world. His name was Winston Churchill.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was not a thrilling life—this teaching children
-to dance—on the contrary, it was remarkably dull,
-and once your work becomes dull to you it is time
-you found something else to do. I decided that I
-would. I would make a bid for the Stage.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>We, or at least my elder sisters, gave theatrical
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>performances at home—comedies and operettas—and
-it was during the production of one of these that
-I met Miss Harriet Young, the well-known amateur
-pianist, in Brighton.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The production was called <cite>Little Golden Hope</cite>,
-the one and only amateur production in which I ever
-took part. It was written by my brother-in-law,
-Ernest Pertwee, and the music by Madame Guerini,
-who had been a Miss Wilberforce, daughter of Canon
-Wilberforce. Miss Young used to come and play the
-piano at these productions, and I heard that she knew
-Mrs. Kendal! Mrs. Kendal was staying at Brighton
-at the time. A letter of introduction was given to
-me by Miss Young, and, accompanied by my sister
-Bertha, I went to see Mrs. Kendal.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>No very clear memory of it remains. She was
-charming; I was paralysed with fright. If she gave
-me any advice about the advisability of taking up the
-stage as a profession, it was “don’t”—so I went
-back to my dancing class.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>But hope was not dead! Florrie Toole, who was
-a pupil of my sister Emily, promised me an introduction
-to her father, and not only to him but to Tom
-Thorne of the Vaudeville Theatre as well. I made
-up my mind to go up to London and see them both.
-All this was arranged with the greatest secrecy, for I
-knew that my father would set his face sternly against
-“the Stage”. Though we might be allowed to have
-amateur theatricals at home, though we might teach
-dancing, singing, elocution, or indeed anything else,
-the Stage was something unthought of in the minds
-of parents. However, Fate was on my side. I was
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>out teaching all day, and, once the front door had
-closed behind me in the morning, I was not actually
-expected back until the evening, so I slipped up to
-London. There, at the Vaudeville Theatre, I saw
-both Tom and Fred Thorne.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In those days there were no play-producing
-societies—no Play Actors, Interlude Players, or
-Repertory Players—and so new plays were “tried
-out” at matinées. One was then looming on the
-horizon of the Vaudeville—<cite>Partners</cite>—and it was in
-connection with a possible part in this play that my
-name and address were taken; I was told that I
-might hear from Mr. Thorne “in about a week”,
-and so, full of hope, I returned to Brighton. About
-a week later I received a letter which told me that I
-had been given a small part in <cite>Partners</cite>, and stating
-the days on which I should have to rehearse in
-London.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was then that the question arose, “Should I tell
-father?” I thought it over, long and earnestly, and
-decided not to. I did not have to rehearse every day,
-and, as I had slipped up to London before, “all unbeknownst”,
-why not again? So, entering on my
-career of crime, and unheeding the words of—I think—the
-good Doctor Watts, who says “Oh, what a
-tangled web we weave when first we practise to
-deceive”, I used to come up to rehearsal, leaving my
-family happy in the belief that I was teaching dancing
-in Brighton!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>During rehearsals I heard from Florrie Toole that
-she had arranged an interview for me with her father,
-who would see me on a certain day, at his house at
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>Lowdnes Square. That was a real “red letter day”.
-For some reason, which I forget, I had taken Decima
-with me, and after the rehearsal I was asked if I
-would like to see the matinée performance of <cite>Hearts
-is Hearts</cite>, which was then playing at the Vaudeville.
-Would I like! I was given a box—a stage box at
-that—and there Decima and I sat, thrilled to the
-depths of our small souls.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Before this auspicious occasion I had seen three
-theatrical performances, and three only. One had
-been at the Adelphi, when I saw <cite>Harbour Lights</cite>,
-and the other two at the Brighton Theatre-Royal;
-from the upper circle, or the gallery, I had seen <cite>Faust</cite>,
-when a really very stout lady played “Marguerite”;
-and the other a pantomime, <cite>Cinderella</cite>, when Florence
-St. John played “Cinders” (and played it most
-delightfully, too) and Charles Rock played “Baron
-Hardup”. Even these two delightful events had
-been somewhat marred by the fact that father insisted
-that we should “come out before the end, to avoid
-the crush”—as though anyone minded a crush after
-a theatre, when you went only twice a year, and were
-only 14!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>But to return to our stage box at the Vaudeville
-Theatre. The interview with Mr. Toole was fixed
-for 5.30, but rather than miss a moment of the play,
-we stayed until the very end, and were thus forced
-to be recklessly extravagant and take a hansom to
-Lowdnes Square. It cost eighteen-pence, but we
-both felt that it was worth it, felt that this was indeed
-<em>Life</em>—with a very large capital letter.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I do not think that the interview with the great
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>comedian was impressive. Florrie took me in to her
-father, and said “This is Eva.” He said “How
-are you?” and murmured vague things about “seeing
-what we can do” and—that was all.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The matinée came, I played a little chambermaid.
-As “Herbert” says in <cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite>: “The
-characters bear no relation to life, sir. The play
-opens with the butler and the housemaid dusting the
-drawing-room chairs”—I was the “housemaid”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I remember the fateful afternoon we first played
-<cite>Partners</cite>. I was in the Green Room—there were such
-things then—Maud Millet was learning her part between
-all her exits and entrances. During one of
-my waits, Mr. Scot Buest offered me a glass of champagne;
-I thought that I had plumbed the depths of
-depravity! It was Mr. Buest who later asked me to
-have dinner with him. I did, but felt sure that all
-London would ring with my immorality. What a
-little prude I must have been!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>That afternoon Mr. Toole was in front, and so saw
-me play. A few days later I heard from him; he
-offered me a part in <cite>The Cricket on the Hearth</cite>,
-which he was going to produce at his own theatre.
-I was to receive “£1 a week, and find your own
-dresses”. Naturally, I accepted, and was then faced
-with the necessity of telling my father. I took my
-courage in both hands, and broke the news.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The expected tornado swept the house, the storm
-broke and the thunder of my father’s wrath rolled
-over our heads. My mother was held responsible for
-my wickedness; she was asked to consider what “<em>her</em>
-child” had done; for, be it said, when any of us did
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>anything which met with my father’s disapproval, we
-were always “my mother’s children”; when we met
-with his approval, we were <em>his</em>, and apparently his
-only.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>So my mother wept, and my father washed his
-hands with much invisible soap, ordering me never to
-darken his doors again—“To think that any daughter
-of <em>his</em>”, and much more—oh! very much more—to
-the same effect.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I remained firm; here was my chance waiting for
-me in the greatest city in the world, and I was determined
-to take it. I left Brighton for London—“the
-world was mine oyster”.</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER II<br /> <span class='large'>THE START</span></h2>
-</div>
-<p class='c014'>“We&nbsp;... never stopped in the old days to turn things
-over in our minds, and grow grey over counting the chances
-of what would or what wouldn’t happen. We went slap for
-everything like the healthy young devils we were.”</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>—<cite>When We Were Twenty-One.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>And so at Christmas I began to play “The
-Spirit of Home” in <cite>The Cricket on the
-Hearth</cite> at Toole’s Theatre, which was a
-small place, mostly underground, beside the Charing
-Cross Hospital. I was very happy; it was all new
-and exciting, and everyone was very kind to me.
-Kate Phillips, who played “Dot”, had been ill, and
-her dressing-room—the dressing-room provided for
-the leading lady—was underground; she couldn’t
-stand it, and, as mine was on the roof—or as nearly
-on the roof as possible—she came up to dress with
-me. It was in Kate Phillips’s (and my) dressing-room
-that I first saw Winifred Emery, who came on to
-Toole’s for tea from the Vaudeville. She was perfectly
-beautiful, with most lovely hands, and oh, so
-attractive!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In those days, after a matinée, there were only two
-things to do—either stay in the theatre or go out and
-walk about in the streets. Your rooms were generally
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>a long way from the theatre, which meant ’bus riding
-(and every penny had to be considered), and there
-were no girls’ clubs then. No Three Arts Club,
-Theatrical Girls’ Club, no A.B.C.’s, no Lyons,
-nothing of that kind, so you stayed in the theatre.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Another person who was in the cast was George
-Shelton, the same George Shelton who was in <cite>Peter
-Pan</cite> this year—1922—when Jill made her first appearance.
-I can see no difference in him; after all
-these years he looks, and is, just the same. The
-children who went to see <cite>Peter Pan</cite>—so Mr. Lyn
-Harding assured us—“found Smee lovable”, as I
-found him so many years ago. Only then he wasn’t
-playing Smee!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The run ended, and I was engaged to play in a
-first piece by Justin Huntly Macarthy, called <cite>The
-Red Rag</cite>. I have no very clear recollection of the
-part, except that I played the girl who made love to
-a man “over the garden wall,” standing on a flowerpot.
-It was in this play, <cite>The Red Rag</cite>, that Decima
-asked, after noting that only the “top half” of the
-gentleman appeared over the wall, “As his legs don’t
-show, does he have to wear trousers? Because, if he
-doesn’t, it must be such a very cheap costume.” I
-had a new dress for the part, which is not really so
-impressive as it sounds, for in those days “Nun’s
-veiling” (thanks be to Heaven!) was 6½d. a yard,
-and, as in <cite>The Cricket on the Hearth</cite> I had been clad
-in white Nun’s veiling, so now for <cite>The Red Rag</cite> I
-wore a blue dress of the same useful material. Of
-course, I made both of them myself.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>However, this play marked a “point in my career”—I
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>began to have “notices” in the Press. The
-<cite>Punch</cite> critic of that date said: “If names signify
-anything, there is a young lady who is likely to remain
-on the stage a very long time—‘Quoth the
-Raven, <em>Eva Moore</em>’.” She has, too—a very long
-time. <cite>The People</cite> said he should keep his “critical
-eye on me, in fact <em>both</em> his critical eyes.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>At the end of the spring season, Mr. Toole asked
-me to go on tour for the summer and autumn, to
-play “leading lady”—this was a real leap up the
-ladder—appearing in fifteen plays. I was to receive
-£3 a week. I accepted (of course I accepted!),
-and took with me twenty-three dresses. I remember
-the number, because in order to buy the
-necessary materials I had to borrow £10 from my
-brother.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>By this time the attitude of my father had changed;
-he no longer regarded me as “lost”, and no longer
-looked upon the Stage as the last step in an immoral
-life; he was, I think, rather proud of what I had
-done. So far had he relented that, when my sister
-Jessie decided that she too would go on the Stage,
-there was no opposition. She left home without any
-dramatic scenes, and went into the chorus of <cite>Dorothy</cite>,
-where she understudied Marie Tempest and Ben
-Davis’s sister-in-law, Florence Terry, afterwards
-playing the latter’s part.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I was staying then off the Strand, near the Old
-Globe Theatre, sharing rooms with the sister of a man—his
-name does not matter, he has since left the Stage
-for the Church—to whom I later was engaged.
-When Jessie came to London we arranged to have
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>rooms together. One day we mounted a ’bus at
-Piccadilly, and found we could go all the way to
-Hammersmith for a penny. We were so struck by
-the cheapness of the journey that we rode the whole
-length of the pennyworth.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Eventually we found rooms in Abingdon Villas,
-two furnished rooms for 18s. a week; we took them
-and “moved in”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I must go back here to record what might really
-have been a very tragic business for me. After I had
-been playing in <cite>The Red Rag</cite> for about five weeks,
-Mr. Toole was taken ill, and the theatre was closed
-for over a month—“no play, no pay”. Providence
-had ordained that I should have been given the money
-for a new winter coat; I had the money, and was
-waiting to buy the garment. The coat had to wait;
-I had to keep a roof over my head. I paid it over—in
-a lump—to the landlady, and knew I was safe to
-have at least a bed in which to sleep until the theatre
-re-opened.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The tour began; we went to Plymouth, Bath,
-Scarborough, Dublin, Edinburgh (where, for the first
-time, I slept in a “concealed bed”), and many other
-places I have forgotten; but, wherever we went, the
-audience was the same: Toole had only to walk on
-the stage and they howled with laughter. I very
-seldom spoke to him; in those days I was far too
-frightened to address the “Olympians”; I could
-only congratulate myself on being in the company at
-all.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Funnily enough, the position I held was originally
-offered by Toole to Violet Vanbrugh; I fancy—in
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>fact, I am pretty sure—that I eventually was given
-it because she wanted “too much money”. She
-probably asked for £5, or even perhaps rose to the
-dizzy height of demanding £8, while I “went for
-£3” (it sounds like little David Copperfield selling
-his waistcoat!).</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I think I enjoyed the tour; it was all new and
-strange to me. The sea journey to Ireland was distinctly
-an experience. I remember that a critic in
-Cork, a true son of Ireland, said of me in his paper,
-“Critics have been known to become dizzy before
-such beauty.” How I laughed at and enjoyed that
-notice! It was at Cork that poor dear Florrie Toole
-was taken ill. She had joined us some weeks before,
-to my great delight, for she had always been so very
-kind to me. It was from Florrie that I received a
-velvet dress, which was one of the most useful articles
-in my wardrobe; it was altered and re-altered, and
-finally retired from active service after having been
-my “stand-by” in many parts.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>During the week we were at Cork, Florrie was ill—not
-very ill, or so it seemed; at any rate, she was
-able to travel with us to Edinburgh on the Sunday.
-There she became rapidly worse, and it was found
-that she had typhoid fever. We left her in Edinburgh,
-and heard the following week that she was
-dead. Such a beautiful life cut short! She was so
-brilliant, and so very, very lovable.</p>
-
-<div id='i_021' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_021_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by C. Hawkins, Brighton.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_21'>21</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Dora</span><br /><br />“The Don”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>I shared rooms with Eliza Johnson, a capable but
-somewhat unrelenting elderly lady. She “dragooned”
-me effectively; young men who showed
-any tendency to gather round stage doors, or gaze at
-one in the street, were sternly discouraged. At Cambridge,
-I remember, I had a passionate love letter
-from some “undergrad.”, who said he refrained
-from signing his name, as his “trust had been broken
-before”, but, if I returned his affection, would I
-reply in the “agony” column of the <cite>Times</cite> to
-“Fido”! I did nothing of the kind, naturally; but
-so definite were the feelings of Eliza Johnson on
-“things of that kind” that she told me she could
-“not help feeling that I was, in some measure, to
-blame.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>At Birmingham, on the Friday night, after
-“treasury,” I left my money in my dressing-room,
-went on the stage, and returned to find the money
-gone! I went to the manager and told him, but he
-protested that he could do nothing. I managed to
-borrow money to pay for my rooms, and went on to
-the next town very downcast indeed. Three pounds
-was a lot of money. The following week I had a
-letter from Birmingham, telling how the writer, who
-was employed at the theatre, had stolen the money,
-but that the sight of my distress had so melted his
-heart that he had decided to return it to me intact.
-The £3 was enclosed. I concluded that it was one
-of the stage hands; it wasn’t, it was Mr. Toole. He
-had heard of my loss, and, in giving me the money,
-could not resist playing one of those practical jokes
-which he loved!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The tour ended and we came back to London,
-where Toole was going to put on a first piece called
-<cite>The Broken Sixpence</cite> before <cite>The Don</cite>. The cast
-included Mary Brough, Charles Lowne, the authoress
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>(Mrs. Thompson)—who was a very beautiful woman,
-but not a strikingly good actress—and, among the
-“wines and spirits,” me.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>My dress was the same that I had worn in <cite>The
-Butler</cite> (a play we had done on tour), or, rather, it
-was <em>part</em> of the dress, for, as I was playing a young
-girl, with short skirts, I only used the <em>skirt</em> of the
-dress, merely adding a yoke; in addition, I wore a
-fair wig.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I have it on good authority that I looked “perfectly
-adorable”, for it was in this play, though I did not
-know it for a long time, that Harry Esmond first saw
-me, and, apparently, approved of me!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then I began to be ill; too much work, and, looking
-back, I fancy not too much food, and that probably
-of the wrong kind for a girl who, after all, was
-only about 17, and who had been playing in a
-different play every night for weeks.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I didn’t stop working, though I did feel very ill
-for some weeks, but finally an incident occurred
-which took the matter out of my hands and forced
-me to take a rest.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I was walking home from the theatre, with my
-salary and my savings (seven pounds, which I had
-gathered together to pay back to my brother for the
-loan I mentioned before) in my bag. In those days
-the streets were in the state of semi-darkness to which
-London grew accustomed in the war—at any rate, in
-all but the largest streets; some one, who must have
-known who I was, or at any rate known that I was
-an actress and that Friday night was “pay night”,
-sprang out of the darkness, struck me a heavy blow
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>on the head, snatched my bag, and left me lying
-senseless.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>After that, I gave in—I went home, and was very
-ill for a long time with low fever; not only was I ill,
-I was hideously depressed. However, I went back to
-Mr. Toole as soon as I was better, and he told me he
-was going to Australia, and asked me to go too. The
-salary was to be £4 a week, and “provide your own
-clothes”. I declined, though how I had the pluck
-to decline an engagement in those days passes my
-comprehension. However, I did, and Irene Vanbrugh
-went to Australia in my place—though not at
-my salary; she was more fortunate.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I began to haunt agents’ offices, looking for work,
-and a dreary business it was! At last I was engaged
-to go to the Shaftesbury to play in <cite>The Middleman</cite>
-with E. S. Willard, and it was here that I first actually
-met my husband. He was very young, very
-slim, and looked as young as he was; he was, as is the
-manner of “the powers that be”, cast for a villain,
-and, in order to “look the part”, he had his shoulders
-padded to such an extent that he looked perfectly
-square. His first words in the play were “More
-brandy!” I don’t think he was a great success in
-the part, though, looking through some old press
-cuttings, I find the following extract from <cite>The
-Musical World</cite>: “But a Mr. Esmond shows, I think,
-very high promise, together with faults that need to
-be corrected. His attitudes are abominable; his
-voice and the heart in it could hardly be bettered”—and
-that in spite of the padding!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I think we were at once great friends—at any rate,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>I know he had to use a ring in the play, and I lent
-him mine. In particular I remember one evening,
-when I was walking down Shaftesbury Avenue with
-the man to whom I was engaged, and we met Harry
-wearing my ring; I was most disturbed, lest my own
-“young man” should notice. However, we broke
-the engagement soon after—at least I did—and after
-that it didn’t matter who wore or who did not wear
-my ring. Then Harry, who lived at Empress Gate,
-used to take me home after the theatre; and if he
-didn’t take me home, he took somebody else home,
-for at that time I think he loved most pretty girls.
-It was a little later that he wrote in his diary: “Had
-tea with Agnes (Agnes Verity); took Eva home;
-she gave me two tomatoes; nice girl. How happy
-could I be with either!”—which, I think, gives a
-very fair idea of his general attitude at the time.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><cite>The Middleman</cite> ran well; it was a good play, with
-a good cast—E. S. Willard, Annie Hughes, Maude
-Millet, and William Mackintosh—the latter a really
-great actor. I understudied Annie Hughes—and
-played for her. In <cite>The Middleman</cite>, Willard wore
-his hair powdered, to give him the necessary look of
-age, and in one scene I had to comb it. I was most
-anxious to do well in Annie Hughes’s part, and was
-so zealous that I combed all the powder out of his
-hair at the back, to my own confusion and his great
-dismay.</p>
-
-<div id='i_024' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_024_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Elliott &amp; Fry, London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_24'>24</a></span><br /><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Harry</span><br /><br />November 19th. 1891</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>At the end of the run of <cite>The Middleman</cite>, I wrote
-to Mr. (now Sir) A. W. Pinero, and asked for an
-interview. His play, <cite>The Cabinet Minister</cite>, was
-shortly to be produced at the Court Theatre, and I
-hoped he might give me a part. He granted me the
-interview, and I remember how frightened I was.
-I met him some time ago, and he reminded me of it.
-He told me I struck him as being “such a little
-thing”. Anyway, he gave me a part. This was the
-first production in which I had played where the
-dresses were provided by the management, and very
-wonderful dresses they were.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was a great cast—Mrs. John Wood (whose
-daughter and granddaughter were both with us in
-Canada in 1920), Allen Aynesworth (a very typical
-young “man about town”), Rosina Philippi,
-Weedon Grossmith, and Arthur Cecil.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Mrs. John Wood was a wonderful actress; she got
-the last ounce out of every part she played. Fred
-Grove says: “When she had finished with a part, it
-was like a well-sucked orange; not a bit of good left
-in it for anyone else.” The first act of <cite>The Cabinet
-Minister</cite> was a reception after a drawing-room. We
-all wore trains of “regulation” length; at rehearsals
-Mrs. Wood insisted that we should all have long curtains
-pinned round us, to accustom us to the trains.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Arthur Cecil, who had been in partnership with
-Mrs. Wood, was a kindly old gentleman who always
-carried a small black bag; it contained a supply of
-sandwiches, in case he should suddenly feel the pangs
-of hunger. “Spy,” of <cite>Vanity Fair</cite>, did a wonderful
-drawing of him, complete with bag.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I remember Rosina Philippi, then as thin as a
-lamp-post, having a terrific row one day with Weedon
-Grossmith—what about, I cannot remember. He
-was playing “Mr. Lebanon”, a Jew, and “built
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>up” his nose to meet the requirements of the part.
-In the heat of the argument, Rosina knocked off his
-nose; he <em>was</em> so angry. The more angry he got, the
-more she laughed!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I think it was before the run of <cite>The Cabinet
-Minister</cite> that I became engaged to Harry. I know
-that during the run Harry was playing at the Royalty
-in <cite>Sweet Nancy</cite>, and was apparently rather vague
-and casual about the duties of an engaged young man.
-I remember he used often to send his best friend to
-call for me and bring me home from the theatre. If
-he had not been such a very attractive young man
-himself, one might have thought this habit showed a
-lack of wisdom. He was very attractive, but very
-thin; I found out, to my horror, that he wore nothing
-under his stiff white shirts! Imagine how cold, riding
-on the top of ’buses—anyway, it struck me as dreadful,
-and my first gift to him was a complete set of
-underwear. He protested that it would “tickle”,
-but I know he wore them, with apparently no grave
-discomfort.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I went to Terry’s to play in <cite>Culprits</cite>—a tragic play
-so far as I was concerned. I really, for the first time,
-“let myself go” over my dresses. I spent £40.
-(Imagine the months of savings represented by that
-sum!) We rehearsed for five weeks, and the play
-ran three.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>By this time my sister Jessie had gone on tour, first
-with <cite>Dr. Dee</cite>, by Cotsford Dick, later with D’Oyley
-Carte’s Company. Decima and I were sharing rooms
-which Jessie had taken with me. Decima had been
-at Blackheath at the College of Music, where she had
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>gained a scholarship. On her own initiative she came
-up to the Savoy Theatre, for a voice trial, and was
-promptly engaged for the part of “Casilda” in the
-forthcoming production of <cite>The Gondoliers</cite>. I remember
-the first night of the opera occurred when I
-was still playing in <cite>The Middleman</cite>. Not being in
-the last act, I was able to go down to the Savoy. I
-was fearfully excited, and filled with pride and joy;
-it was a great night. After the performance, Decima
-cried bitterly all the way home, so convinced was she
-that her performance could not have been successful.
-It was not until the following morning, when she
-was able to read the notices in the morning papers,
-that she was reassured and finally comforted. Far
-from ruining her performance, she had made a big
-success.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>During the time we shared rooms we were both taken
-ill with Russian influenza—and very ill we both were.
-Geraldine Ulmar came to see us, and brought, later,
-Dr. Mayer Collier, who proved “a very present help
-in trouble”. He rose high in his profession, and
-never ceased to be our very good friend, nor failed
-in his goodness to us all.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>On October 31st, 1891, I find the following Press
-cutting appeared: “Mr. Esmond will shortly marry
-Miss Eva Moore, the younger sister (this, I may say,
-was, and still is, incorrect) of pretty Miss Decima
-Moore of the Savoy”. I was then playing in <cite>The
-Late Lamented</cite>, a play in which Mr. Ackerman
-May, the well-known agent, played a part. Herbert
-Standing was in the cast, though I remember very
-little about what he—or, for the matter of that, anyone
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>else—played, except that he was supposed to be
-recovering from fever, and appeared with a copper
-blancmange mould on his head, wrapped in a blanket.
-It would seem that the humour was not of a subtle
-order.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>We were married on November 19th, 1891, on the
-winnings of Harry and myself on a race. <em>We</em> backed
-a horse called “Common,” which ran, I imagine,
-in either the Liverpool Cup or the Manchester
-November Handicap. Where we got the tip from,
-I don’t know; anyway, it won at 40 to 1, and we
-were rich! Adding £50, borrowed from my sister
-Ada, to our winnings, we felt we could face the world,
-and we did.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The wedding was to be very quiet, but somehow
-ever so many people drifted into the Savoy Chapel
-on the morning of November 19th, among them
-Edward Terry, who signed the register.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>As Harry was “on his way to the altar”, as the
-Victorian novelists would say, his best man, Patrick
-Rose, discovered that the buttons of his morning coat
-had—to say the least of it—seen better days. The
-material had worn away, leaving the metal foundation
-showing. He rushed into Terry’s Theatre, and
-covered each button with <em>black grease paint</em>!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>We both played at our respective theatres in the
-evening, and certainly the best laugh—for that night,
-at least—was when Harry, in <cite>The Times</cite>, said:
-“I’m sick of ’umbug and deception. I’m a married
-gentleman! Let the world know it; I’m a young
-married English gentleman”.</p>
-
-<div id='i_028' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_028_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Gabell &amp; Co., London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_28'>28</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Wedding Bells</span><br /><br />November 19th. 1891</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER III<br /> <span class='large'>WEDDING BELLS</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c014'>“A wedding doesn’t change things much, except that the
-bride’s nearest relations can shut their eyes in peace.”</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>—<cite>Birds of a Feather.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>And so we were married.... We had a
-funny wedding day. Harry, being an Irishman,
-and, like all Irishmen, subject to
-queer, sudden ways of sentiment, insisted that in the
-afternoon we should call on his eldest sister! I cannot
-remember that he had, up to then, shown any
-overwhelming affection for her, but that afternoon
-the “Irishman” came to the top, and we called on
-“herself”. We then dined at Simpson’s, and went
-off to our respective theatres to work.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I was rehearsing at the time for a musical play—<cite>The
-Mountebanks</cite>, by W. S. Gilbert. I went to
-him, rather nervous, and asked if I “might be excused
-the afternoon rehearsal”. He naturally asked
-“why?”; and blushingly, I don’t doubt, I told
-him “to get married”. He was most intrigued at
-the idea, and said I might be “excused rehearsals”
-for a week.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Three weeks after we were married, Edward Terry
-sent for Harry to come to his dressing-room—and I
-may say here that Terry’s Theatre only possessed
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>three dressing-rooms: one, under the stage, for
-Edward Terry, one for the men of the company, and
-another for the women—the reason for this scarcity
-being that, when the theatre was built, the dressing-rooms
-were forgotten! I believe the same thing happened
-when the theatre was built at Brixton; if anyone
-has played at the theatre in question, and will
-remember the extraordinary shapes of the rooms, they
-will readily believe it! But to go back to Terry’s—Harry
-was sent for, and Edward Terry presented him
-with two books, which he said would be of the greatest
-use to him and me. They were <cite>Dr. Chavasse’s Advice
-to a Mother</cite> and <cite>Dr. Chavasse’s Advice to a Wife</cite>.
-I do not know if anyone reads <cite>Dr. Chavasse</cite> in these
-days, but then he was <em>the</em> authority on how to bring
-up children. Fred Grove assured me that he brought
-up a family on <cite>Dr. Chavasse</cite>.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Anyone who has seen my husband’s “evergreen
-play,” <cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite>, may remember the extract
-from the book—the very book that Edward
-Terry gave to us—which he uses in the play. I give
-it here; I think it is worth quoting:</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Question: Is there any objection, when it is
-cutting its teeth, to the child sucking its thumb?</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Answer: None at all. The thumb is the best
-gum-stick in the world. It is ‘handy’; it is neither
-too hard nor too soft; there is no danger of it being
-swallowed and thus choking the child.”</p>
-
-<div id='i_030' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_030_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Alfred Ellis, London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_30'>30</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Harry as Howard Bompas</span><br /><br />“The Times” 1891</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>It was during the run of <cite>The Late Lamented</cite> that
-I first met Fanny Brough, President and one of the
-founders of the Theatrical Ladies’ Guild, which has
-done so much splendid work. She worked with Mrs.
-Carson (wife of the then Editor of <cite>The Stage</cite>), who
-was the originator of the Guild. When the Music
-Hall Ladies’ Guild began, some years later, they
-ran their organisation on the same lines. Two of the
-founders, I think I am right in saying, of the Musical
-Hall Ladies’ Guild, were the unfortunate Belle
-Elmore (the Wife of Crippen, who killed her) and
-Edie Karno, the wife of Mr. Fred Karno, of <cite>Mumming
-Birds</cite> fame.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Speaking of Fanny Brough reminds me of others
-of that famous family. Lal Brough, who held a kind
-of informal gathering at his house, with its pleasant
-garden, each Sunday morning. It was a recognised
-thing to “go along to Lal Brough’s” about 10.30
-to 11 on Sunday. About 1 everyone left for their
-respective homes, in time for the lunch which was
-waiting there. Looking back, thinking of those
-Sunday morning gatherings, it seems to me that we
-have become less simple, less easily contented; who
-now wants a party, even of the least formal kind, to
-begin in the morning? We have all turned our days
-“upside down”—we begin our enjoyment when the
-night is half over, we dance until the (not very) small
-hours, and certainly very very few of us want to meet
-our friends at 11 a.m. They were happy Sundays at
-Lal Brough’s, but they belong to a side of stage social
-life which is now, unhappily, over and done. They
-belong, as did the host, to “the old order”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Sydney Brough, Lal Brough’s son, was a person
-of marvellous coolness and resource. I was once playing
-with him in a special matinée of <cite>A Scrap of
-Paper</cite>, in which he had a big duel scene. While the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>curtain was down, some thoughtful person had cleared
-the stage of all “unnecessary impedimenta”, including
-the daggers needed for the fight. When
-Brough should have seized them, they were nowhere
-in sight. Most people would have “dried up”—not
-Sydney Brough. He composed a long speech
-while he looked all over the stage for the missing
-daggers; he looked everywhere—talking all the time—and
-finally found them—on the top of a large cupboard,
-on the stage!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In 1892 I played in <cite>Our Boys</cite> with William Farren,
-who was “a darling”, and Davy James—he was
-very ill at the time, I remember, and very “nervy”.
-May Whitty (now Dame May Webster) and I used
-to dress above his room. We used to laugh immoderately
-at everything; poor David James used to hate
-the noise we made, and used to send up word to us,
-“Will you young women not laugh so much!”
-Speaking of May Whitty reminds me that one paper
-said of our respective performances in the play: “If
-these two young ladies <em>must</em> be in the play, they
-should change parts.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Cicely Richards was in the cast too; she later
-played Nerissa in <cite>The Merchant of Venice</cite>, with
-Irving, at Drury Lane, and I took Decima—who, be
-it said, had never read or seen the play—to see it.
-Her comment, looking at Shakespeare’s masterpiece
-strictly from a “Musical Comedy” point of view,
-was “I don’t think much of the Rosina Brandram
-part”—the said part being “Nerissa,” and Rosina
-Brandram at that time the heavy contralto in the
-Gilbert and Sullivan operas.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>It was in <cite>A Pantomime Rehearsal</cite> that I first met
-Ellaline Terriss; we were the “two gifted amateurs”
-who sing a duet. She was as pretty as a picture, and
-as nice as she was pretty. I also sang a song, called
-“Poor Little Fay”, and at the revival “Ma
-Cherie”, by Paul Rubens, which, I think, Edna
-May sang later on in the music halls. I know she
-came one evening to hear the song, and sat in a box,
-which made me very nervous. She was very quiet
-and rather shy—at least so I found her when we met.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Charlie Brookfield was in the <cite>Pantomime Rehearsal</cite>,
-playing the part created by Brandon Thomas.
-He was a most perfectly groomed man, and always
-wore magnificent and huge button-holes, as really
-smart young men did at that time. The bills for
-these button-holes used to come in, and also bills for
-many other things as well, for he was always in debt;
-it used to cause great excitement as to whether
-“Charlie” would get safely in and out of the theatre
-without having a writ served on him.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>There are hundreds of good stories about Charles
-Brookfield, some of them—well, not to be told here—but
-I can venture on two, at least. When Frank
-Curzon was engaged to Isabel Jay, someone—one of
-the pests who think the fact that a woman is on the
-stage gives them a right to insult her—sent her a
-series of insulting letters, or postcards—I forget
-which. Curzon was, naturally, very angry, and
-stated in the Press that he would give £100 reward
-to find the writer. Brookfield walked into the club
-one day and said, “Frank Curzon in a new rôle, I
-see.” Someone asked, “What rôle?” “Jay’s disinfectant,”
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>replied Brookfield. He was walking
-down Maiden Lane one morning with a friend, and
-then Maiden Lane was by no means the most reputable
-street in London. “I wonder why they call it
-Maiden Lane?” said his friend. “Oh,” responded
-Brookfield, “just a piece of damned sarcasm on the
-part of the L.C.C.” At the time when Wyndham
-was playing <cite>David Garrick</cite>, he was sitting one day in
-the Garrick Club under the portrait of the “great
-little man”. Brookfield came up. “’Pon my
-word,” he began, “it’s perfectly wonderful; you
-get more like Garrick every day.” Wyndham
-smiled. “Yes,” went on Brookfield, “and less like
-him every night.” When Tree built His Majesty’s,
-he was very proud of the building, and used to love
-to escort people past the place and hear their flattering
-comments on the beauty of the building. One
-day he took Brookfield. They stopped to gaze on
-“my beautiful theatre”, and Tree waited for the
-usual praise. After a long pause, Brookfield said:
-“Damned lot of windows to clean.” He could, and
-did, say very witty, but bitter and cutting, things,
-which sometimes wounded people badly; yet he said
-pathetically to a friend once: “Can’t think why
-some people dislike me so!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>About this time, or perhaps rather earlier (as a
-matter of fact, I think it was in <cite>Culprits</cite>), I met
-Walter Everard, who, though quite an elderly man,
-did such good work with the Army of Occupation in
-Cologne; he is still, I think, doing work in Germany
-for the British Army.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In <cite>Man and Woman</cite> I met the ill-fated couple,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>Arthur Dacre and Amy Roselle. She was the first
-well-known actress to appear on the music halls. She
-went to the Empire to do recitations. She was much
-interviewed, and much nonsense was talked and
-written about the moral “uplift” such an act would
-give to the “wicked Empire”—which was just what
-the directors of the Empire, which was not in very
-good odour at the time, wanted. She was a queer,
-rather aloof woman, who took little notice of anyone.
-He, too, was moody, and always struck me as rather
-unbalanced. They went to Australia later, taking
-with them a bag of English earth. There they found
-that their popularity had gone, poor things! He shot
-her and then killed himself, leaving the request that
-the English earth might be scattered over them.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Lena Ashwell was in the cast. She was not very
-happy; for some reason, Amy Roselle did not like
-her, and did nothing to make things smooth for her.
-Lena Ashwell, in those days, was a vague person,
-which was rather extraordinary, as she was a very fine
-athlete, and the two qualities did not seem to go
-together. She also played in a first piece with Charles
-Fulton. One day her voice gave out, and I offered to
-“read the part for her” (otherwise there could have
-been no curtain-raiser)—a nasty, nerve-racking business;
-but, funnily enough, I was not nearly so nervous
-as poor Charles Fulton, who literally got
-“dithery”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Henry Neville was also in <cite>Man and Woman</cite>.
-A delightful actor, he is one of the Stage’s most
-courtly gentlemen, one of those rare people whose
-manners are as perfect at ten in the morning as they
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>are at ten at night. Writing of Henry Neville reminds
-me that later he was going to appear at a very
-big matinée for Ellen Terry at Drury Lane, in which
-“all stars” were to appear in the dance in <cite>Much
-Ado</cite>. Everybody who was anybody was to appear—Fred
-Terry, Neville, my husband, Ben Webster, and
-many more whose names I cannot remember at the
-moment. At ten each morning down they went to
-rehearse. Edith Craig was producing the dance, and
-put them through their paces. Apparently they were
-not very “bright”, and Edie was very cross. Finally
-she burst out: “No, <em>no</em>, <em>no</em>—and if you can’t do it
-any better than that, you shan’t be allowed to do it
-at all!” Evidently after that they really “tried
-hard”, for they certainly were allowed to “do it”,
-as the programme bears witness.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In a special matinée at the old Gaiety I met Robert
-Sevier. He had written a play called <cite>The Younger
-Son</cite>, which I heard was his own life when he was in
-Australia. I don’t think it was a great success—at
-anyrate, it was not played again—but Sevier enjoyed
-the rehearsals enormously. After the matinée he
-asked all the company to dinner at his house in
-Lowdnes Square. His wife, Lady Violet Sevier, was
-present. Sevier enjoyed the dinner, as he had done
-the rehearsals, but she—well, she “bore with us”;
-there was a frigid kindness about her which made one
-feel that—to put it mildly—she “suffered” our presence,
-and regarded the whole thing as an eccentricity
-of “Robert’s” (I cannot imagine that she ever called
-him “Bob”, as did the rest of the world).</p>
-
-<div id='i_037' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_037_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Alfred Ellis, London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_37'>37</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Pepita</span><br /><br />“Little Christopher Columbus”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>The same year, 1893, I played in <cite>Little Christopher
-Columbus</cite>. Teddie Lonnen was the comedian. May
-Yohe played “Christopher”, and played it very well
-too; I impersonated her, in the action of the play.
-We had to change clothes, for reasons which were
-part of the plot. She was not an easy person to work
-with, and she certainly—at that time, at all events—did
-not like me. This play was the only one in which
-I ever rehearsed “foxy”—that is, did not put in
-the business I was going to play eventually. The
-reason was this: as I gradually “built up” the part,
-putting in bits of “business” during the rehearsals,
-I used to find the next morning that they were
-“cut”: “That line is ‘out’, Miss Moore,” or
-“Perhaps you’d better not do that, Miss Moore.”
-So “Miss Moore” simply walked through the rehearsals,
-to the horror of the producer. I used to go
-home and rehearse there. But on the first night I
-“let myself go”, and put into the part all I had
-rehearsed at home. The producer was less unhappy
-about me after that first night! However, it still
-went on after we had produced. Almost every night
-the stage manager would come to my room: “Miss
-Moore, a message for you—would you run across the
-stage less noisily, you shake the theatre”; would I
-stand further “up stage”; or would I do this, or
-that, or the other. Oh! May Yohe, you really <em>were</em>
-rather trying in those days; still, things did improve,
-and eventually she really was very nice to me. It
-was in <cite>Little Christopher Columbus</cite> that I wore
-“boy’s clothes”. I thought they suited me—in
-fact, I still think they did—a ballet shirt, coat (and
-not a particularly short coat either) and—breeches.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>But, behold the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Deus ex machina</span></i>, in the person of my
-husband! He came to the dress rehearsal, and later
-we rode home to our little flat in Chelsea on the top
-of a bus, discussing the play. Suddenly, as if struck
-by a bright thought, he turned to me and said:
-“Don’t you think you’d look awfully well in a
-cloak?” I felt dubious, and said so, but that did
-not shake him. “I do,” he said, and added: “Your
-legs are much too pretty to show! I’ll see about it
-in the morning.” He did! Early next morning he
-went up and saw Monsieur Alias, the cloak was made
-and delivered to me at the theatre that very evening,
-and I wore it too. It covered me from head to foot;
-with great difficulty, I managed to show one
-ankle. But Harry approved of it, very warmly
-indeed.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>There is a sequel to that story. Twenty years after,
-I appeared at a big charity matinée at the Chelsea
-Palace as “Eve”—not Eve of the Garden of Eden,
-but “Eve” of <cite>The Tatler</cite>. I wore a very abbreviated
-skirt, which allowed the display of a good deal of long
-black boots and silk stocking. Ellen Terry had been
-appearing as the “Spirit of Chelsea”. After the
-performance she stood chatting to Harry and me.
-“Your legs are perfectly charming; why haven’t we
-seen them before?” I pointed to Harry as explanation.
-She turned to him. “Disgraceful,” she said,
-adding: “You ought to be shot.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I was engaged to follow Miss Ada Reeve in <cite>The
-Shop Girl</cite> at the Gaiety Theatre. It was a ghastly
-experience, as I had, for the few rehearsals that were
-given me, only a piano to supply the music, and my
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>first appearance on the stage was my introduction to
-the band. I had to sing a duet with Mr. Seymour
-Hicks—I think it was “Oh listen to the band”—at
-anyrate, I know a perambulator was used in the song.
-Mr. Hicks’s one idea was to “get pace”, and as I
-sang he kept up a running commentary of remarks
-to spur me on to fresh efforts. Under his breath—and
-not always under his breath either—he urged me
-to “keep it up”, to “get on with it”, until I felt
-more like a mental collapse than being bright or
-amusing. This was continued at most of the performances
-which followed; I sang, or tried to sing,
-accompanied by the band—<em>and</em> Mr. Hicks. Then,
-suddenly—quite suddenly—he changed. The theatre
-barometer swung from “Stormy” to “Set fair”.
-Even then, I think, I had learnt that such a sudden
-change—either in the barometer or human beings—means
-that a storm is brewing. It was!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I remember saying to Harry, when I got home one
-evening after this change, “I shall be out of the
-theatre in a fortnight; Seymour Hicks has been so
-extraordinarily pleasant to me—no faults, nothing
-but praise.” What a prophet I was!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>As I was going to the dressing-room the next
-evening, I met Mr. George Edwardes on the stairs.
-He called to me, very loudly, so that everyone else
-could hear, “Oh! I shan’t want you after next
-Friday!” I protested that I had signed for the
-“run”. I was told that, though I might have done
-so, he had not, and so&nbsp;... well!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was before the days when Sydney Valentine
-fought and died for the standard contract, before the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>days when he had laboured to make the Actors’
-Association a thing of real use to artists—a <em>real</em>
-Trades Union; so I did not claim my salary “for
-the run”, but the fact that I received a cheque from
-the management “in settlement of all claims” is
-significant.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Another rather “trying time” was many years
-later when I appeared “on the halls”. Let me say
-here that I have played the halls since, and found
-everyone—staff, manager, and other artists—very
-kind; but at that time “sketches had been doing
-badly”, and when the date approached on which I
-was to play at the—no, on second thoughts I won’t
-give the name of the hall—the management asked me
-either to cancel or postpone the date. I refused. I
-had engaged my company, which included Ernest
-Thesiger, Bassett Roe, and several other excellent
-artists, for a month, and the production had been
-costly, so I protested that they must either “play
-me or pay me”. They did the latter, in two ways—one
-in cash, the other in rudeness. How I hated that
-engagement! But even that had its bright spot, and
-I look back and remember the kindness of the
-“Prime Minister of Mirth”, Mr. George Robey,
-who was appearing at that particular hall at the time.
-He did everything that could be done to smooth the
-way for me.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I seem to have been unlucky with “sketches” at
-that time. I had a one-act comedy—and a very
-amusing comedy too; my son later used it as a
-curtain-raiser, and I played it at several of the big
-halls: as the Americans say, “It went big.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>I thought I would strike out on my own and see
-an agent myself, without saying anything to anybody.
-This is what happened. (I should say that this is only
-a few years ago, when I had thought for some time
-that as an actress I was fairly well known.)</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I called on the agent in question; he was established
-in large and most comfortable offices in the
-West End. I was ushered into the Presence! He
-was a very elegant gentleman, rather too stout perhaps.
-He sat at a perfectly enormous desk, swinging
-about in a swivel chair, and, without rising or
-asking me to sit down (which I promptly did), he
-opened the interview:</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Who are you?” I supplied the information.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Don’t know you,” he replied. “What d’you
-want?” I told him, as briefly as possible. At the
-word “sketch” he stopped me, and with a plump
-hand he pounded some letters that lay on his desk.
-“Sketches,” he repeated solemnly, “I can get
-sketches three-a-penny, and <em>good</em> people to play ’em.
-Nothing doing.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I stood up and walked to the door, then perhaps
-he remembered that he had seen me in a play or
-something—I don’t know; anyway, he called
-after me, “Here, who did you say you were?”
-“Still Eva Moore,” I said calmly, and made my
-exit.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>All agents may not be like that; I hope they are
-not; but I fancy he is one of the really successful
-ones. Perhaps their manners are in inverse ratio to
-their bank balances.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Talking of agents, I heard of one who was listening
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>to a patriotic ballad being sung at the Empire during
-the war. A man who was with him did not like it,
-and said, “You know, that kind of stuff doesn’t do
-any good to the Empire”—meaning the British
-Empire. “No,” was the reply; “they don’t go
-well at the Alhambra, for that matter, either.”</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER IV<br /> <span class='large'>PLAYS AND PLAYERS</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c014'>“A good deal more work for all of us, my lord.”</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>—<cite>Love and the Man.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>The year 1894 found me playing in <cite>The Gay
-Widow</cite>, the first play in which I ever worked
-with Charles (now, of course, Sir Charles)
-Hawtrey. I do not remember very much about the
-play except that I wore most lovely clothes, and that
-Lottie Venne played “my mother”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>This year does, however, mark a very important
-milestone in our lives—Harry’s and mine; it was the
-first time we attempted management on our own,
-and also his first play was produced. We, Harry and
-I, with G. W. Elliott, greatly daring, formed a small
-syndicate. We took the St. James’s Theatre for
-eight weeks while George Alexander was on tour,
-and presented Harry’s play <cite>Bogey</cite>. (In those days
-all big London managers went on tour for a few
-months, taking their London company and production.)</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>First, let me say that, whatever the merits or demerits
-of the play, we were unlucky. We struck the
-greatest heat wave that London had known for years;
-and that, as everyone knows, is not the best recipe in
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>the world for sending up the takings at the box office.
-As for the play, George Alexander said—and, I
-think, perhaps rightly—the “play was killed by its
-title.” It was a play dealing with “spiritualism,” in
-a limited sense. I mean that it was not in any sense
-a propaganda play; it had, naturally, not the finish,
-or perhaps the charm, of his later work—he would
-have been a poor craftsman if it had been, and a less
-great artist if the years which came after had taught
-him nothing—but <cite>Bogey</cite> certainly did not deserve
-the hard things which one critic, Mr. Clement Scott,
-said of it. He wrote one of the most cruel notices
-which I have ever read, a notice beginning “Vaulting
-Ambition”—which, in itself, is one of the bundle
-of “clichés” which may be used with almost equal
-justice about anything. To say, as Mr. Scott did,
-that I saved the play again and again “by supreme
-tact” was frankly nonsense. No actress can save a
-play “again and again by supreme tact”; she may,
-and probably will, do her best when she is on the
-stage, but if she “saves the play” it is due to her
-acting capacity, and not to “tact”—which seems to
-me to be the dealing gracefully with an unexpected
-situation in a way that is essentially “not in the
-script”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>However, the fact remains that Mr. Clement Scott
-unmasked the whole of his battery of heavy guns
-against the play and the author, for daring to produce
-it while he was still under fifty years of age; and,
-after all, it was rather “setting out to kill a butterfly
-with a double-barrelled gun”. Still....</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The following night another play was produced, at
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>another theatre, and on this play (not at all a brilliant
-achievement) Mr. Clement Scott lavished unstinted
-praise. On the first night of a third play, as he went
-to his stall, the gallery—which was, as usual, filled
-largely by the members of the Gallery First Night
-Club—greeted him with shouts of “<cite>Bogey</cite>”, and
-continued to do so until, in disgust, he left the stalls.
-After that night, Clement Scott always occupied a
-box! But the sequel! Some days after the production
-of <cite>Bogey</cite>, the President of the Gallery First
-Night Club called at our little house in Chelsea. I
-remember his call distinctly: our maid was “out”,
-and I opened the door to him. He came to ask Harry
-to be the guest at the first dinner of the club. It was,
-I think, when that club held its twenty-fifth birthday,
-that we were both asked to be the guests of the club—a
-compliment we much appreciated.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The play <cite>Bogey</cite> was not a success, but I should
-like to quote the remarks of the dramatic critic of the
-<cite>Sporting Times</cite>, which seemed, and still seem, to me
-kind and—what is of infinitely greater importance—just:
-“Ambition is not necessarily vaulting, and it
-is a thing to be encouraged and not mercilessly
-crushed in either a young author or a young actor.
-Nor when the youngster figures in the double capacity
-of author and actor is the crime unpardonable....
-This is all <em>apropos</em> of an ungenerous attack in a
-quarter from which generosity would have been as
-graceful as the reverse is graceless.... It was remarked
-to me by a London manager: ‘I don’t know
-any actor on our stage who could play the part better
-than Esmond does’, and, upon my word! I am inclined
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>to agree with him.... <cite>Bogey</cite> is not a good
-play&nbsp;... but it has a freshness about it, an originality
-of idea which is not unlikely to prove unattractive
-to a great many.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>However, Harry Esmond tried again; and the
-row of plays on a shelf in my study is proof that he
-was only “baffled to fight better”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In <cite>Bogey</cite> we had a stage manager, I remember,
-who should, had the gods taken sufficient interest in
-the destinies of men, have been a maker of “props”
-and a property master. He played a small part, of a
-“typical city man”, and his one ambitious effort
-towards characterisation was to ask if he “might be
-allowed to carry a fish basket”. He evidently
-thought <em>all</em> city men call at Sweetings before catching
-their train home!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In <cite>The Strange Adventures of Miss Brown</cite>, which
-was my next engagement, I played with Fred Kerr,
-who wore a toupée. I remember at one place in
-the play, where I had to “embrace him impulsively”,
-he always said in a loud whisper, “<em>Mind</em>
-my toupée.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Both Harry and I were in <cite>The Blind Marriage</cite>, at
-the Criterion. He and Arnold Lucy played
-“twins”, and Harry had to add a large false nose to
-the one with which nature had already very generously
-provided him. They wore dreadful clothes—knickerbockers
-which were neither breeches nor “plus
-fours” but more like what used to be known as
-“bloomers”. Herbert Waring and Herbert Standing
-were both in the cast, and on the first night the
-latter was very excited. Waring went on and had a
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>huge ovation, while Herbert Standing, in the wings,
-whispered excitedly, “They think it’s me! they
-think it’s me!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Herbert Standing was a fine actor, with more than
-a fair share of good looks. He was very popular at
-Brighton, where he used to appear at concerts. I
-remember he was talking one day to Harry, and told
-him how he had “filled the Dome at Brighton”
-(which was a vast concert hall). Harry murmured,
-“Wonderful; how did you do it?” “Oh,” said
-Standing, “recited, you know. There were a few
-other people there—Ben Davis, Albani, Sims
-Reeves,” and so on.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Mr. Standing came to see Harry one day, and was
-shown into his study, which was a small room almost
-entirely filled with a huge desk. Standing began to
-rail against the fate which ordained that at that
-moment he had no work. “I can do anything, play
-anything,” he explained, which was perfectly true—he
-was a fine actor! “Listen to this,” and he began
-to recite a most dramatic piece of work, full of emotion
-and gesture. As he spoke, he advanced upon
-“H. V.”, who kept moving further and further
-away from him. I came into the study, to find Harry
-cowering against the wall, which effectually stopped
-him “getting away” any further, and Standing,
-now “well away”, brandishing his arms perilously
-near Harry’s nose.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Standing was devoted to his wife, and immensely
-proud of his family. When she died, he was heartbroken.
-He met some friends one day, who expressed
-their sympathy with him in his loss. “Yes,”
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>said Standing, “and what do you think we found
-under her pillow? <em>This</em>”—and he produced a photograph
-of himself, adding mournfully, “but it doesn’t
-do me justice!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was in <cite>Under the Red Robe</cite> that I first actually
-played with Winifred Emery (who used to give most
-lovely tea parties in her dressing-room). Cyril
-Maude, Holman Clark, Granville Barker, and Annie
-Saker (who were later to make such a number of big
-successes at the Lyceum, under the Brothers Melville’s
-management) were also in the cast. I only met
-the author, Stanley Weyman, once, but he was very
-generous to all the company and gave us beautiful
-souvenirs; I still use a silver cigarette box, engraved
-with a cardinal’s hat, which he gave to me. He was
-not one’s preconceived idea of a writer of romantic
-plays and books; as a matter of fact, he was rather
-like Mr. Bonar Law.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>After this run, I went on tour for a short time with
-J. L. Shine, with <cite>An Irish Gentleman</cite>, and at one
-town—Swansea, I think—he gave a Press lunch. All
-kinds of local pressmen were invited, and, in comparison
-to the one who fell to my lot, the “silent tomb”
-is “talkative”. Soup, fish, joint, all passed, and he
-never spoke a single word. He was a distinctly noticeable
-person, wearing a cricket cap, morning coat, and
-white flannel trousers. I tried every subject under
-the sun, with no result, until—at last—he spoke. “I
-’ave a sort of claim on you perfessionals,” he said.
-I expressed my delight and surprise, and asked for
-details. “Well,” he said, “in the winter I’m an
-animal impersonator, but in the summer I take up
-literature.” I have always wondered if he played the
-front or hind legs of the “elephant”!</p>
-
-<div id='i_048' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_048_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><i>Photograph by Gabell &amp; Co., London, S.W.</i></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>.</span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Madame de Cocheforet</span><br /><br />“Under the Red Robe”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>Soon after I returned to London, my husband’s
-second play was produced by Charles Hawtrey, <cite>One
-Summer’s Day</cite>—and thereby hangs a tale! Harry
-had sent the play to Hawtrey and, calling a month
-later, saw it still lying—unopened—on his desk. He
-determined that Hawtrey should hear the play, even
-if he wouldn’t read it himself; Harry would read it
-to him.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“I’ll call to-morrow and read my play to you,” he
-said. Hawtrey protested he was very busy, “hadn’t
-a minute”, had scores of plays to read, etc. But
-Harry only added, “To-morrow, at ten, then,” and
-went. The next morning he arrived, and after some
-difficulty obtained entrance to Hawtrey’s room.
-Again Hawtrey protested—he really had not time to
-hear, he would read the play himself, and so on; but
-by that time Harry had sat down, opened the book,
-and began to read. At the end of the first act, Hawtrey
-made another valiant effort to escape; he liked
-it very much, and would read the rest that same
-evening. “You’ll like the second act even better,”
-H. V. said calmly, and went on reading. When the
-third act was finished, Hawtrey really <em>did</em> like it, and
-promised to “put it on” as soon as possible.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“In a fortnight,” suggested the author. Oh!
-Hawtrey wasn’t sure that he could do it as soon as
-that, and the “summer was coming”, and Harry
-had had one lesson of what a heat wave could do to
-a play. So he said firmly, “The autumn then.”
-Hawtrey gave up the struggle, and the play was put
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>into rehearsal and produced in the autumn. <cite>One
-Summer’s Day</cite> was a great success; it was in this
-play that Constance Collier played her first real part.
-She had been at the Gaiety in musical comedy, where,
-I remember, she entered carrying a very, very small
-parcel, about the size of a small handkerchief box,
-and announced “This contains my costume for the
-fancy dress ball!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Mrs. Calvert played in this production, which reminds
-me that in the picnic scene we used to have
-“real pie”, which she rather enjoyed. After we had
-been running for some time, the management
-thought, in the interests of economy, they would
-have a “property pie”—that is, stuffed not with
-meat, but with cotton wool. Mrs. Calvert, all unknowing,
-took a large mouthful, and was nearly
-choked!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In <cite>One Summer’s Day</cite> we had a huge tank filled
-with real water, sunk at the back of the stage, and
-Ernest Hendrie, Henry Kemble, and Mrs. Calvert
-used to make an entrance in a punt—a real punt. One
-day they all sat at one end, with most disastrous consequences;
-after that, they “spread themselves”
-better.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Henry Kemble was a delightful, dignified person,
-who spoke in a “rolling” and very “rich” voice.
-He used, occasionally, to dine well—perhaps more
-well than wisely. One night, in the picnic scene, he
-was distinctly “distrait”, and forgot his line. As I
-knew the play backwards, I gave his line. He was
-very angry. We were all sitting on the ground at a
-picnic. He leant over the cloth and said in a loud
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>voice, “You are not everybody, although you are the
-author’s wife.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In this play a small boy was needed, and we sought
-high and low for a child to play the “urchin”. A
-friend told us one day he knew of the “very boy”,
-and promised to send him up for inspection. The
-following morning the “ideal urchin” arrived at the
-Comedy Theatre. He was a very undersized Jew,
-whose age was, I suppose, anything from 30 to 40,
-and who had not grown since he was about twelve.
-This rather pathetic little man walked on to the stage,
-and looked round the theatre, his hands in his
-pockets; then he spoke. “Tidy little ’all,” was his
-verdict—he was not engaged!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>My next engagement was in <cite>The Sea Flower</cite>. I
-remember very little about it except that I wore a
-bunch of curls, beautiful curls which Willie Clarkson
-made for me. On the first night, Cosmo Stuart
-embraced me with such fervour that they fell off, and
-lay on the stage in full view of the audience.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then followed <cite>The Three Musketeers</cite>, a splendid
-version of that wonderful book, by Harry Hamilton,
-with a magnificent cast. Lewis Waller was to have
-played “D’Artagnan”, which he was already playing
-on tour; Harry was to go to the touring company
-and play Waller’s part. Then there came some hitch.
-I am not very clear on the point, but I think Tree
-had arranged for a production of the same play, in
-which Waller was engaged to play “Buckingham”,
-and that Tree or the managers in the country would
-not release him. Anyway, Harry rehearsed the part
-in London. Then Waller managed to get released
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>for a week to come to London and play for the first
-week of the production, while Harry went to the
-provinces. Waller came up to rehearse on the
-Friday with the London company, ready for the
-opening on Monday. I had lost my voice, and was
-not allowed to speak or leave my room until the
-Monday, and therefore the first time I met D’Artagnan
-was on the stage at the first night. If you will
-try and imagine how differently Lewis Waller and
-Harry Esmond played the part, you will realise what
-a nerve-racking business it was. For example, in the
-great “ride speech,” where Harry used to come in
-absolutely weary, speaking as an exhausted man,
-flinging himself into a chair, worn out with his ride
-and the anxiety attached to it, Waller rushed on to
-the stage, full of vitality, uplifted with the glory of
-a great adventure, and full of victory, leading <em>me</em> to
-the chair before he began to speak. You may imagine
-that on the first night I felt almost lost. I am not
-trying to imply that one reading was “better” than
-the other; both were quite justified; only, to me,
-the experience was staggering.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Waller was always vigorous, and particularly as
-D’Artagnan. One night when he entered and
-“bumped” into Porthos, he “bumped” so hard
-that he fell into the orchestra and on to the top of
-the big drum! Nothing daunted, Waller climbed
-out of the orchestra, by way of the stage box, back
-on to the stage!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The first time I played with Tree was in a special
-performance of <cite>The Dancing Girl</cite>. I played the
-lame girl, and I remember my chief worry was how,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>being lame, to get down a long flight of stairs in time
-to stop Tree, who played the Duke, from drinking
-the “fatal draught” of poison.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I was then engaged by Tree to play in <cite>Carnac
-Sahib</cite>, a play by Henry Arthur Jones. It dealt with
-military life in India. The rehearsals were endless,
-and not without some strain between the author and
-Tree. Henry Arthur Jones used to come to rehearsals
-straight from his morning ride, dressed in riding
-kit, complete with top boots and whip; Tree didn’t
-like it at all!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The day before the production there was a “call”
-for “words” at 11 in the morning. The only person
-who did not know their “words” was Tree; he
-never arrived! The dress rehearsal was fixed for 3;
-we began it at 5, and at 6 in the morning were “still
-at it”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>After the end of one of the acts—the second, I
-think—there was a long wait. This was at 2.30 a.m.!
-The band played, and for an hour we sang and danced
-on the stage. Then someone suggested that it might
-be as well to find out what had happened to Tree.
-They went to his dressing-room and found him; he
-had been asleep for an hour! At last we began the
-final act. Tree reclined on a bed of straw, and I
-fanned him with a palm leaf. There was a wait,
-perhaps three or four seconds, before the curtain rose.
-“Oh God!” said Tree, in the tone of one who has
-waited for years and is weary of everything: “Oh
-sweet God! I am ready to begin!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was soon after, in <cite>Marsac of Gascony</cite>, at Drury
-Lane Theatre, I made my entrance on a horse—a real
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>stage horse; the same one, I think, that Irving had
-used. I may say this is the only time that I had—as
-you might say—known a horse at all intimately. It
-was a dreadful play: the audience rocked with
-laughter at all the dramatic situations. It was short-lived,
-and I went soon after to Harry’s play, <cite>The
-Wilderness</cite>, which George Alexander produced at
-the St. James’s Theatre. Aubrey Smith appeared
-in this play, looking very much as he does now, except
-that his moustache was rather longer. Phyllis Dare
-played one of the children—and a very dear child she
-was; so, too, was her sister Zena, who used to call
-at the theatre to take her home.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>There were two children in this play, who had a
-“fairy ring” in a wood. (If anyone does not know
-what a fairy ring is, they should go into the nearest
-field and find one, for their education has been seriously
-neglected.) To this “ring” the two children
-used to bring food for the fairies, which they used to
-steal from the family “dustbin”. One of the
-“dainties” was a haddock, and this—a real fish—was
-carefully prepared by the famous Rowland Ward,
-so that it would be preserved and at the same time
-retain its “real” appearance. A party of people
-sitting in the third row of the stalls wrote a letter
-of protest to Alexander, saying that the “smell from
-the haddock was unbearable”, and it was high time
-he got a new one!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I remember that during rehearsals George Alexander
-was very anxious that Harry should “cut”
-one of the lines which he had to speak. In the scene
-in the wood, Sir Harry Milanor (which was the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>character he played), in talking to his elderly uncle,
-has to exclaim, “Uncle Jo! Look, a lizard!”
-George Alexander protested that the line was unreal,
-that no man would suddenly break off to make such
-a remark, and therefore he wished Harry would either
-“cut” or alter it. One day, shortly before the production,
-Alexander was walking in Chorley Woods
-with his wife, who was “hearing his lines”. When
-they reached a bridge, he leant over the parapet, still
-repeating his words. Suddenly he broke off in the
-middle of a sentence to exclaim, “<em>Look!</em> A trout!”
-“Lizard, Alex.,” his wife corrected quietly; and
-henceforth he never made any objection to the line
-which had previously caused such discussion.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was when he took <cite>The Wilderness</cite> on tour that
-I had what I always say was “the best week of my
-life”. We were not only playing <cite>The Wilderness</cite>,
-but several other plays in which I did not appear,
-which meant that I sometimes had nights on which
-I was free. There was at that time a bad smallpox
-scare, and when we were in Manchester the whole
-company was vaccinated.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Harry was then going to America to produce a
-play, and I was taking my baby, Jack (from whom
-I had never been parted before), to stay with his
-grandmother in Brighton, while I went to Ireland.
-I left Manchester, took Jack to Brighton, feeling
-when I left him (as, I suppose, most young mothers
-feel when they leave their babies for the first time
-in someone else’s care) that I might never see him
-again, and on the Saturday morning I saw Harry off
-to the States.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>I spent the evening with Julia Neilson and Fred
-Terry, who were playing <cite>Sweet Nell of Old Drury</cite>
-in Liverpool. They did all they could to cheer me—and
-I needed it! I left them to join the company
-on the landing-stage, to cross to Ireland. And what
-a crossing it was, too! The cargo boat which carried
-our luggage gave up the attempt to cross, and put
-into the Isle of Man, and the captain of our passenger
-boat seriously thought of doing the same thing.
-Finally we arrived at Belfast, to find the main drain
-of the town had burst, the town was flooded, and the
-stalls and orchestra at the theatre were several feet
-deep in most unsavoury water! There was no performance
-that evening—I remember we all went to
-the music hall, by way of a holiday—but the next
-evening we opened at the Dockers’ Theatre, the company
-which was playing there having been “bought
-out”. So the successes of the St. James’s Theatre—light,
-witty comedies—were played at the <em>Dockers’
-Theatre</em>, where the usual fare was very typical melodrama.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The next day we all began to feel very ill—the
-vaccination was beginning to make itself felt—also
-I had developed a rash, and, in addition, I thought
-I must have hurt my side, it was so painful.
-I remember, at the hotel, George Alexander
-came to my door, knocked, and, when I opened
-it, said:</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Are you covered in spots?”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Yes,” I told him.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Don’t worry,” he begged; and, tearing open
-the front of his shirt, added: “Look at me!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>He, too, had come out “all of a rash”—due, I
-suppose, to the vaccination. My side got worse, and
-I had to see a doctor, who said I had shingles—a most
-painful business, which prevented me from sleeping
-and made me feel desperately ill. The climax came
-on the Saturday night. Alexander was not playing,
-his rash had been too much for him, and his doctor
-advised him not to appear. The understudy played
-in his stead, and, however good an understudy may
-be—and they are often very good—it is always trying
-to play with someone who is playing the part for the
-first time. At the end of the play, <cite>The Wilderness</cite>,
-I had a scene with my first lover, in which I referred
-to “my husband”. Some wit in the gallery yelled
-“And where’s the baby, Miss?”. I was ill, I hadn’t
-slept for nights, my husband was on his way to
-America, I was parted from my baby, my sister was
-in the midst of divorcing her husband—which had
-added to my worries—and this was the last straw!
-When the play ended, I walked off the stage, after
-the final curtain, blind with tears—so blind, indeed,
-that I fell over a piece of scenery, and hurt myself
-badly. This made me cry more than ever, up to
-my dressing-room, in my dressing-room, and all the
-way back to the hotel, and, as far as I remember,
-most of the night.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When we reached Dublin, fate smiled upon me.
-I met Mr. W. H. Bailey (afterwards the “Right
-Hon.”, who did such good work on the Land Commission),
-and he took me to his own doctor—Dr.
-Little, of Merrion Square (may his name be for ever
-blessed!), who gave me lotions and, above all, a
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>sleeping draught, and gradually life became bearable
-again.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>One dreadful day (only twenty-four hours this
-time, not weeks) was while I was playing at the St.
-James’s in <cite>The Wilderness</cite>. I was driving in a dog-cart
-(this is before the days of motor cars) in Covent
-Garden, when the horse slipped and fell, throwing me
-out. I picked myself up, saw that the horse’s knees
-were not broken, and walked into the bank at the
-corner of Henrietta Street to ask for a glass of
-water. I found that, not only had I a large bump on
-my head, but that my skirt was covered with blood.
-Round I went to the Websters’ flat in Bedford Street
-and climbed up five flights of stairs. May Webster
-found that I had a huge gash on my hip, and said the
-only thing to do was to go to the hospital. Down
-five flights I went, and drove to Charing Cross Hospital.
-There a young doctor decided he would put in
-“a stitch or two”, and also put a bandage on my
-head. He was a particularly unpleasant young man,
-I remember, and finally I said to him: “Do you
-know your manners are <em>most</em> unpleasant? You don’t
-suppose people come in here for fun, do you?” He
-was astonished; I don’t think it had ever dawned on
-him that he was “unpleasant”, and I suppose no
-one had dared to tell him. I only hope it did him
-good, and that he is now a most successful surgeon
-with a beautiful “bedside manner”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I drove to the theatre, where there was a matinée,
-with my hat, or rather toque, perched on the top of
-a large bandage, plus a leg that was rapidly beginning
-to stiffen. I got through the performance, and decided
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>to stay in the theatre and rest “between the
-performances”. I was to have dinner sent to my
-dressing-room. Harry thought I had said “someone”
-would see about it; I thought that <em>he</em> said he
-would see about it; the “someone else” thought
-that we were both seeing about it, and so, between
-them all, I had no dinner at all.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>By the end of the evening performance I was really
-feeling distinctly sorry for myself, with my head
-“opening and shutting” and my leg hurting badly.
-When, at the end of the play, I fell into Alexander’s
-arms in a fond embrace, I just stayed there. He
-was just helping me to a chair, and I had begun to
-cry weakly, when H. H. Vincent came up, patted
-me firmly—very firmly—on the back, and said:
-“Come, come, now; don’t give way, don’t give
-way!” This made me angry, so angry that I forgot
-to go on crying.</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER V<br /> <span class='large'>MORE PLAYS AND PLAYERS</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c011'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“Going to wander—into the past.”</div>
- <div class='line in22'>—<cite>Fools of Nature.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>When Anthony Hope’s play, <cite>Pilkerton’s
-Peerage</cite>, was produced, the scene was—or
-so we were told—an exact representation
-of the Prime Minister’s room at 10 Downing
-Street. One Saturday matinée the King and Queen,
-then Prince and Princess of Wales, came to see the
-play, and on that particular afternoon we, the company,
-had arranged to celebrate the birth of Arthur
-Bourchier’s daughter—in our own way.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He was playing the Prime Minister, and we had
-been at considerable pains to prepare the stage, so that
-at every turn he should be confronted with articles
-connected with very young children. For instance, he
-opened a drawer—to find a pair of socks; a dispatch
-box—to find a baby’s bottle; and so on. The King and
-Queen could see a great deal of the joke from the
-Royal box, and were most interested. In the second
-act, a tea-time scene, Bourchier, on having his cup
-handed to him, discovered seated in his cup a
-diminutive china doll, and the thing began to get on
-his nerves. He hardly dare touch anything on the
-stage, for fear of what might fall out. In the last act,
-a most important paper was handed to him in the
-action of the play. He eyed it distrustfully, and you
-could see him decide <em>not</em> to take it, if he could avoid
-doing so, for fear of what might happen. He did
-everything in his power not to take that paper; he
-avoided it with an ingenuity worthy of a better cause,
-but “the play” was too strong for him, and he
-finally had to “grasp the nettle”. He took it as if
-he feared it might explode—a pair of small pink
-woollen socks fell out! It was a disgraceful business,
-but oh! so amusing, and we all enjoyed it.</p>
-
-<div id='i_061' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_061_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by The Biograph Studio, London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_61'>61</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Kathie</span><br /><br />“Old Heidelberg”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>In 1903 Alexander put on that great success, <cite>Old
-Heidelberg</cite>, at the St. James’s. We were rehearsed
-by a German, who had one idea which he always
-kept well in the foreground of his mind—to make us
-all shout; and the louder we shouted, the better he
-was satisfied. He was blessed with an enormous voice
-himself—as all Germans, male and female, are—and
-saw no difficulty in “roaring” lines. The whole of
-the rehearsals were punctuated with shouts of
-“<em>Louder-r-r-r!</em>”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In this play Henry Ainley played one of the
-students—quite a small part. I have a picture of him,
-wearing a student’s cap, and looking so delightful!
-I remember nothing particular which happened during
-the run, except that one evening, when I was
-hoisted on to the shoulders of the “boys”, one of
-them nearly dropped me into the footlights; and
-another evening, when someone had recommended
-me to use some special new “make up” for my eyes,
-and I did so, the result being that the stuff ran into
-my eyes and hurt so badly that I had to play practically
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>all the last act with my eyes shut! “Kattie”,
-in this play, has always been one of my favourite
-parts.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then my husband’s play, <cite>Billy’s Little Love
-Affair</cite>, was produced, and proved very satisfactory
-from every point of view. Allen Aynesworth,
-Charles Groves, and Florence St. John were in the
-cast. She was a most delightful comedienne, of the
-“broad comedy school”. A most popular woman,
-always known to all her friends as “Jack”; she died
-a few years ago, very greatly regretted by everyone.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>One evening during the run of this play, Allen
-Aynesworth made an entrance, and Charles Groves,
-who was on the stage, noticed that his face was
-decorated with a large black smudge. Funnily
-enough, Aynesworth noticed that the same “accident”
-had happened to Groves. Each kept saying
-to the other, “Rub that smudge off your face”,
-and each thought the other was repeating what he
-said. Thus, when Aynesworth whispered “Rub the
-smudge off your face”, Groves apparently repeated
-“Rub the smudge off your face”! Both became
-gradually annoyed with the other, and when they
-came off they faced each other, to ask indignantly,
-in one breath, “Why didn’t you do as I told you?”—then
-discovering the truth that they both had
-smudges.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When this play was to be produced in America,
-an amusing thing happened. The man who was playing
-the leading part (his Christian name was William,
-but he was usually known as “Billy” by most
-people), his wife was just at that time bringing a
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>divorce suit against him. A wire arrived one day for
-Harry, saying “Title of <cite>Billy’s Little Love Affair</cite>
-must be altered; impossible to use under circumstances”.
-It was altered and called <cite>Imprudence</cite>
-instead, thanks to the courtesy of Sir Arthur Pinero,
-who had already used that title.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then came <cite>Duke of Killiecrankie</cite>, with Grahame
-Browne, Weedon Grossmith, and Marie Illington.
-She was a dignified lady; a very excellent actress, as
-she is still. Grossmith, who loved to have “little
-jokes” on the stage (and, let me say, <em>not</em> the kind
-of jokes which reduce all the artistes on the stage to
-a state of helpless imbecility, and leave the audience
-wondering what “Mr. So-and-so has said <em>now</em>”),
-one evening at the supper scene held a plate in front
-of Marie Illington, whispering in ecstatic tones,
-“Pretty pattern, isn’t it? Lovely colouring”, and
-so on—not, perhaps, a very good joke, but quite
-funny at the time. She was furious, and on leaving
-the stage, said to him in freezing tones, “Kindly
-don’t cover up my face. You’re not the <em>only</em> ornament
-on the stage, you know!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then followed a Barrie play—or, rather, two
-Barrie plays—one, <cite>Josephine</cite>, a political satire; the
-other, <cite>Mrs. Punch</cite>. I recollect working like a Trojan
-to learn an Irish jig, and that is about the extent of
-my memories of the play.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It seems rather remarkable how easily one does
-forget plays. For the time being, they are a very
-actual part of one’s life; but, once over, they are
-very quickly forgotten, with all the hopes and fears,
-the worries and uncertainties, attached to them. For
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>example, I once played the leading part in <cite>The Importance
-of Being Earnest</cite>, learnt the part in twelve
-hours, and played without a rehearsal. I only “dried
-up” once during the play; I worked at top pressure
-to learn the part, and now (though I will admit it is
-some years ago) not a single line of the play remains
-in my mind.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In <cite>Lights Out</cite>, one incident certainly does remain
-very vividly in my memory. Charles Fulton had to
-shoot me at the end of the play. I wasn’t too happy
-about the pistol, and Harry was frankly nervous. He
-besought Fulton to “shoot wide”, so that there
-might be no danger of the “wad” (which was, or
-should have been, made of tissue paper) hitting me.
-At the dress rehearsal, the wad (which was made of
-wash-leather), flew out and hit me on the arm. I had
-a bad bruise, but that was all; and I remember saying
-happily to Charles Fulton, “That’s all right;
-now it will never happen again!” However, on the
-second night, the property man, who loaded the
-pistol, put in, for some reason best known to himself,
-another wad made of wash-leather. The fatal shot
-was fired: I felt a stinging pain in my lip as I fell.
-When I got up, I found my mouth was pouring with
-blood; the wad had hit me on the mouth and split
-my lip. Fulton turned to me on the stage, preparing
-to “take his call”, saying brightly and happily,
-“All right to-night, eh, Eva?”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then he saw what had happened. The curtain went
-up for the “call” with poor Fulton standing with his
-back to the audience, staring at me. My old dresser,
-Kate, had a cloth wrung out in warm water ready,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>and I sat on the stage mopping my lip. Everyone
-seemed to forget all about me, the entire company
-gathered round the pistol, and I sat watching H. B.
-Irving and Charles Fulton alternately squinting
-down the barrel, as if some dark secret was contained
-in it. They went so far as to stick a bit of white
-paper on the fireproof curtain and shoot at it, to see
-how far either way the pistol “threw”. It all struck
-me as so intensely funny that I roared with laughing,
-which recalled my existence to their memory. A
-doctor was sent for, and I was taken to my dressing-room.
-Meanwhile the car was sent to the Green
-Room Club to call for Harry, who finished early in
-the play. The chauffeur (who was a very fat youth)
-met Charles Hallard coming out of the club; very
-nervously he stopped him and said, “Oh, sir, will
-you tell the master the mistress has been shot!”
-Hallard, trying to be very tactful, went into the cardroom,
-where Harry was playing, leant over him, and
-said in a dignified whisper, “It’s all right, don’t
-worry, Eva’s not <em>badly</em> hurt.” Harry rushed round
-to the theatre, to find poor Fulton walking up and
-down in great distress. He tried to stop Harry to
-explain “how it happened”; all he got was a furious
-“<em>Curse</em> you, <em>curse</em> you!” from Harry, who was
-nearly beside himself; no doubt picturing me dead.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I asked the doctor to give me “the same thing as
-he gave the prize-fighters”, to stop my lip swelling;
-and he did; but when I played the following night,
-which I had to do, as my understudy did not know
-the part, I felt that I had enough superfluous face
-easily to “make another”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>I used to do a “fall” in <cite>Lights Out</cite>—which, by
-the way, I never rehearsed—which used to take the
-make-up off the end of my nose every night.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I have played in many costume parts—Powder-and-Patch—which
-I loved. There was “Lady
-Mary” (the “Lady of the Rose”, as she was called)
-in the famous play, <cite>Monsieur Beaucaire</cite>, when Lewis
-Waller revived that play. “Lady Mary” was not
-a very sympathetic part, but picturesque; and to
-play with Will (as he was lovingly called by all who
-knew him) was a joy. I had a lovely doll, dressed
-as “Lady Mary”, presented to me, and I have her
-still.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><cite>Sweet Kitty Bellaires</cite>, by Egerton Castle, was
-another Powder-and-Patch part; she was a delight
-to play, but, alas! that play was not one of those that
-ran as long as it deserved. In one scene, a large four-poster
-bed was required, in which Kitty in her huge
-crinoline and flowing train had to hide herself when
-she heard the arrival of unwelcome visitors; but it
-was not considered “nice” for a bed to be used, at
-anyrate in that theatre, so after the dress rehearsal
-the bed was removed, and Kitty had to hide behind
-window curtains.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Shortly after this play, Miss Jill Esmond made her
-first bow to the world; a wee but most amiable baby,
-all laughter and happiness; in fact, during one holiday
-at Puise, near Dieppe, where we spent a lovely
-family holiday, Jack used to make her laugh so much
-I quite feared for her.</p>
-
-<div id='i_066' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_066_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Alfred Ellis, London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_66'>66</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Lady Mary Carlyle</span><br /><br />“Monsieur Beaucaire”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>When I played in Alfred Sutro’s play, <cite>John
-Glayde’s Honour</cite>, with George Alexander, Matheson
-Lang was playing, what I think I am right in saying
-was his first “lover” part in London, in the same
-play. My mother came to the first night, and
-watched me play the part of a wife who leaves her
-husband, going away with her lover. Her comment
-was: “I’m sure you were very clever, darling,” as
-she kissed me; “but I never want to see you play
-that part again.” “Muriel Glayde”, though not
-really a sympathetic character, was intensely interesting,
-and I loved playing her.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Which reminds me of another story of my mother,
-that I can tell here. After my father died, she came
-to live in London. She was then 73 years old. She
-had been up to town to see the flat which we had
-taken for her, and to make certain arrangements.
-She was going back to Brighton, and I was driving
-with her to the station, when she said, seriously:
-“Of course, darling, when I come to live in London,
-I shall not expect to go to a theatre every night.”
-To go to the theatre every night had been her custom
-during her brief visits to me when my father had been
-alive.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When I played in Mr. Somerset Maugham’s play,
-<cite>The Explorer</cite>, in 1908, I had a narrow escape from
-what might have been a nasty accident. Mr. A. E.
-George was playing my lover, and in the love scene
-he used to take from me the parasol which I carried
-and practise “golf strokes” with it to cover his
-(“stage”, not real, be it said) nervousness. One
-evening the parasol and its handle parted company;
-the handle remained in his hand, and the other half
-flew past my cheek, so near that I could hardly believe
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>it had left me untouched, and buried itself in the
-scenery behind me. There was a gasp from the audience,
-then I laughed, and they laughed, and all was
-well.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>That winter I played “Dearest” in Mrs. Hodgson
-Burnett’s <cite>Little Lord Fauntleroy</cite>. “Dearest”
-is a young widow, and I remember after Harry
-had seen the play his comment was: “Well,
-it is not given to every man to see his wife a
-widow!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Earlier in that year I went to Drury Lane to play
-in <cite>The Marriages of Mayfair</cite>, one of those spectacular
-dramas for which the Lane was so famous. Lyn
-Harding and that delightful actor, Mr. Chevalier,
-who, alas! has lately died, were both in the play.
-There was one very dangerous—or, anyhow, very
-dangerous-looking—scene. Mr. Chevalier and I had
-to appear in a sledge which was supposed to be coming
-down the mountain-side. The platform—or,
-rather, the two platforms—on which Mr. Chevalier,
-myself, driver, horse, and sledge had to wait before
-appearing, was built up as high as the upper circle of
-the theatre. The horse, after a few performances,
-learned to know his cue for appearing, got very excited,
-and took to dancing, much to our alarm. The
-two platforms used slowly to divide, and we could
-see down to the depths of the theatre, right below the
-stage. Mr. Chevalier and I used to sit with one leg
-outside the sledge, in case it became necessary for us
-to make a hasty leap. Later, a horse that was a
-less vivid actor was given the rôle, much to our comfort.
-I remember it was suggested that Miss Marie
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>Lloyd should appear and play herself, but Miss Lloyd
-did not fall in with the idea.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I have heard that she did not care for either pantomime,
-revue, or the drama, and did not consider herself
-suited to it. Which reminds me of a story which
-was told to me about an occasion when Marie Lloyd
-appeared in pantomime. Her great friend, Mrs.
-Edie Karno, came round after the performance, and
-was asked by the comedienne: “Well, dear, what
-do you think of me in pantomime?”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Edie Karno, who was nothing if not truthful, and
-who had herself been one of the greatest “mime”
-actresses of the last generation, replied: “I don’t
-think it suits you like your own work.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“You don’t think I’m very good?” pursued
-Marie Lloyd.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Not very, dear,” admitted the other.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Not very good?” repeated Marie Lloyd.
-“You’re wrong; as a matter of fact, I’m damned
-rotten in it!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Speaking of criticism reminds me of a story of the
-French authoress who went to see Sir John Hare
-rehearse “Napoleon” in her play, <cite><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">La Belle Marseilles</span></cite>.
-He did not look as she had expected, and she
-said, in broken English, “Oh! he is too old, he is
-too little, he is too sick, and besides he cannot act.”
-She had not seen him play in <cite>A Pair of Spectacles</cite>.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>And again, when I was playing in <cite>The Dangerous
-Age</cite>, at the beginning of the war, a woman sent
-round a note to me, saying: “I have enjoyed the
-play so much. I can’t see at all, I’ve cried so
-much.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>When <cite>Looking for Trouble</cite> was produced in 1910,
-at the Aldwych, there was some litigation over it, and
-the case came up for arbitration. The judge’s decision
-is (I think I am right in saying) in these cases
-placed in a sealed box. The contesting parties have
-to pay a fee of (again I can only say “I think”) of
-£100 for the box to be opened. In this case neither
-of them was willing to do this, so the box remained
-unopened; and, as far as I know, the decision remains
-unknown to this day.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was while I was rehearsing in <cite>Looking for
-Trouble</cite> that the news of the loss of the “Titanic”
-came through. I shall always remember that afternoon.
-I came out, with no idea what had happened,
-to find the whole Strand hushed. There is no other
-word for it; people quite unknown to each other stood
-talking quietly, and everyone seemed stunned by the
-news of the frightful disaster, which seemed an
-impossibility.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then came our first short American tour, and the
-War. I did a short tour, and then “War Work”
-kept me busy until 1918, when, under the management
-of Mr. J. E. Vedrenne, I went to the Royalty
-to play in Arnold Bennett’s delightful play, <cite>The
-Title</cite>, with Aubrey Smith. The whole ten months
-I was at the Royalty in this play were sheer happiness.
-I had a management who were considerate in
-every way; I liked the whole company enormously;
-I had a wonderfully charming part—what could anyone
-want more? <cite>Cæsar’s Wife</cite> followed at the
-Royalty, and I stayed there to play in it. I remember
-I had to knit on the stage, and the work I
-managed to get through, in the way of silk sports
-stockings, etc., was very considerable.</p>
-
-<div id='i_071' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_071_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Foulsham &amp; Banfield, Ltd., London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_71'>71</a></span><br /><br />“<span class='sc'>Mumsie</span>”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>Again under Mr. Vedrenne’s management, I
-played “Mumsie” in Mr. Knoblauch’s play of the
-same name. <cite>Mumsie</cite> was a great play. Some day
-it will be revived; some day, when the scars left by
-the war are somewhat healed, we shall be able to
-watch it without pain; but then the war was too
-near, we still felt it too acutely, the whole play was
-too real, too vivid for the audience to be able to watch
-it with any degree of comfort. <cite>Mumsie</cite> was short-lived,
-but I look back on the play with great affection.
-My part was wonderful, and I say, without any
-undue conceit or pride in my own powers, it was my
-<em>tour de force</em>. I worked at the part very hard, for
-I had to acquire a French accent, and, as I do not
-speak French, it was difficult. I had my reward for
-all my work in the satisfaction of knowing that the
-author liked my work. Perhaps the greatest compliment
-that was paid to my accent was one evening
-when the Baron Emile d’Erlanger came to see me.
-He poured out what was, I am told, a stream of
-praise in French; and when I explained, as best I
-could, that I had not understood one word, he refused
-to believe me.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then came <cite>The Ruined Lady</cite>; again Aubrey
-Smith and I were together. It was during the run
-of this play that I first met Sir Ernest Shackleton. I
-found him, as I think I have said elsewhere, delightfully
-unaffected and modest. He had a plan that
-Harry should turn his book, <cite>South</cite>, into a film, but
-the scheme never materialised. Our Canadian tour
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>followed, and when I came back I found Mr. Norman
-McKinnel waiting for me to play in Sir Ernest Cochran’s
-play, <cite>A Matter of Fact</cite>, at the Comedy Theatre,
-a strong part of emotion which I thoroughly enjoyed.
-This was followed by my first white-haired part at
-the St. James’s, in <cite>The Bat</cite>, the play that made
-everybody who saw it thrill with excitement. This
-play had a long run, and during that time I played
-in a film, <cite>Flames of Passion</cite>, which led to my recent
-visit to Berlin to play in <cite>Chu Chin Chow</cite> for the same
-firm.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>There, then, is the account of my life, as truthfully
-as I can record it. For I have never kept diaries,
-and have had to rely on what, I find, is not always as
-reliable as I could wish—my memory. And yet
-sometimes it is too fertile, too ready to remind me,
-to prompt me to remember fresh stories. Now, when
-I feel that I have finished and made an end, other
-recollections come to me, and I am tempted to begin
-all over again.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I have at least two in my mind now, which I must
-give you, though they have no bearing on what I
-have been writing. Still, after all, I am not attempting
-to give an accredited autobiography; I am only
-trying to tell things that happened. So here are the
-stories which refuse to be left out, or be put in their
-proper place in another chapter:</p>
-
-<div id='i_072' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_072_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><cite>Camera Study by Florence Vandamon, London.</cite></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_72'>72</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Miss Van Gorder</span><br /><br />“The Bat”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span><span class='sc'>Sir Herbert Tree.</span>—One night, during a performance
-at His Majesty’s, he walked on to the stage
-just as the curtain was going up. Suddenly he saw,
-standing at the far side of the stage, a new member
-of his company; he crossed over to him and asked,
-“Is it true that you were once with Granville
-Barker?” “Yes,” replied the man, nervously, “it
-is true.” “Oh, my God!” said Tree; then, turning
-to the stage manager, said, “Ring up.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Again: The day he was to receive his knighthood,
-a rehearsal was called in the afternoon. Everyone
-knew that Tree was being knighted on that day, and
-much astonishment was expressed. The company
-assembled on the stage, and after a short time Tree
-appeared in the full glory of his ceremonial dress.
-He looked round at the company, slowly, then said:
-“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen; I don’t think
-I need detain you any longer. Good-bye,” and left
-the theatre.</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER VI<br /> <span class='large'>FOR THE DURATION OF THE WAR</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c011'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“Oh, well, I shall explain to ’em that the country’s at war.”</div>
- <div class='line in40'>—<cite>The Law Divine.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>On August 3rd or 4th, 1914, when war was
-declared, we were at Apple Porch. My
-sister Decima was with us, and I can remember
-her sitting in the garden drawing up on a piece
-of paper, headed “H. V. Esmond’s and Eva Moore’s
-Tour,” the details of her scheme for organising
-women’s work, so that it might be used to the best
-advantage in the coming struggle.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>We went to London, and by the Saturday following
-the offices of the Women’s Emergency Corps
-were opened. Gertrude Kingston lent the Little
-Theatre, and it was there the work began. I was
-playing at the Vaudeville Theatre each evening, and
-working at the Little Theatre all day. Women enrolled
-in thousands; trained women were grouped
-into their proper classes, and untrained women were
-questioned as to what they “could do”. Weekly
-lists were sent to the War Office, containing full particulars
-as to the numbers of women we could supply
-for transport, cooks, interpreters, and so forth; and
-each week a letter was received in acknowledgment,
-saying that women “were not needed”. That was
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>in 1914. Eighteen months later the Corps was found
-to be the “front door”, the place where women
-could be found to meet any emergency. It would
-be impossible to give one-tenth of the names of the
-women who worked for and with the Corps, women
-who gave time and money, brain and endurance, to
-the work. The Emergency Corps was the first body
-of women in this country regularly to meet the refugees
-from Belgium, find them hospitality, clothes,
-and food. It was the first organisation to make a
-definite attempt to supply British toys; it sent
-women, capable of teaching French, to most of the
-large training camps throughout the country. I remember
-we issued a small book, called <cite>French for
-Tommies</cite>, which was remarkably useful. The Corps
-sent thousands of blankets to Serbia, ran the first
-ambulances, organised canteens for the troops in
-France, provided cheap meals for workers, and a
-hundred other things which I cannot remember.
-When the cry for respirators was first raised, the
-Corps took a disused laundry, and supplied them in
-thousands; they were a pattern which was soon
-superseded, but that was the pattern supplied to us
-at the time.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When I went on tour, I undertook to enrol members
-in the provinces, and met with considerable
-success; and it was a year later, 1915, at Bournemouth,
-that I met Miss Marie Chisholm and Mrs.
-Knocker, who had been in Belgium with Dr. Munro,
-and who had the first Ambulance Corps out in Belgium
-and did such fine work in the early days of 1914.
-They were home on leave, to return when it was ended
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>to their dressing-station on the Belgian front line.
-I was very interested in their work, and promised to
-do what I could to help. Through the kindness and
-generosity of the British public, I was able to send
-them money and many useful things. I should like
-to quote one instance—one of many—which shows
-how the public responded to any appeal. At Birmingham
-I heard from Miss Chisholm that the
-Belgian “Tommies” were suffering very badly
-from frost-bitten ears; the wind, coming over the
-inundated fields in front of the trenches, cut like a
-knife. “I would give anything,” she wrote, “for
-a thousand Balaclava helmets.” On the Thursday
-night, at the Birmingham theatre, I made my appeal,
-and in a week 500 had been sent to me, and 1000
-followed in less than three weeks’ time. Sandbags,
-too, I was able to send out in thousands, through the
-interest and kindness of those who heard my appeals.
-It was through the Emergency Corps that I really
-first met them. Miss Chisholm had been my messenger
-in the very early days of the war, and, before
-I pass on to other matters, I want to say a last word
-about that organisation. It was the parent of practically
-all the other war societies. The Needlework
-Guilds formed their societies on the lines we had
-used; the various workrooms, in which women’s
-work was carried on, came to us to hear how it was
-done; the W.A.F. and W.A.A.C., and other semi-military
-organisations, were formed long after we had
-started the Women’s Volunteer Reserve. Much
-concern had been expressed at the bare idea of
-Women Volunteers; but Decima and Mrs. Haverfield
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>stuck to their point, and Mrs. Haverfield carried
-on that branch finely. Nothing but a national necessity
-could have brought women together in such
-numbers, or spurred them on to work in the splendid
-way they did. The Corps was a “clearing house”
-for women’s work, and when women settled down
-into their proper spheres of usefulness, the Corps,
-having met the emergency, ceased as an active body
-to exist; but, before it did so, it had justified its
-existence a dozen times over.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Major A. Gordon, who was King’s Messenger to
-the King of the Belgians, proved himself a great friend
-to the “Women of Pervyse” and myself. It was
-through his efforts that I was able to pay my memorable
-visit to the Belgian trenches in 1918, and later
-I had the honour of receiving the Order de la Reine
-Elizabeth. All we five sisters worked for the war
-in all different branches at home and abroad, and we
-all received decorations: Decima, the Commander
-of the British Empire, Medallion de Reconnaissance,
-and Overseas Medals; Bertha, the O.B.E. for home
-service; Emily (Mrs. Pertwee), Le Palm d’Or, for
-Belgian work; Ada, the Allied and Overseas Medals
-for services with the French and British, in both
-France and Germany, also, through her efforts in
-endowing a room in the British Women’s Hospital
-for the totally disabled soldier, Star and Garter.
-Speaking of this brings back the memory of the
-wonderful day at Buckingham Palace, when the
-Committee of the British Women’s Hospital,
-founded by the Actresses’ Franchise League in 1914,
-were commanded by the Queen to present personally
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>to her the £50,000 they had raised for that hospital.
-If I remember rightly, about 23 of us were there.
-The Queen, after the presentation, walked down the
-line and spoke to each one of us with her wonderful
-gracious manner, and to many referred to the pleasure
-she had received from seeing our various theatrical
-performances. Before the Queen entered the room,
-we were asked by Sir Derek Keppel to form ourselves
-in alphabetical order, and Lady Wyndham
-(Miss Mary Moore), my sister Decima, Lady Guggisberg,
-and myself (Mrs. H. V. Esmond) all promptly
-grouped ourselves under the M’s as Moores.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In the spring of 1918, when the Germans were
-making their last big advance, I was able to arrange
-to pay a flying visit to Belgium, to see the dressing-station
-at Pervyse. We had to pass Fumes, and
-found it in flames. The sight of that town being
-steadily bombarded, with the houses flaming against
-a brilliant sunset, was one of the most terrible but
-wonderful coloured things I have ever seen. We
-arrived at the H.Q. of the 2nd Division of the Belgian
-Army, to find the evening strafe in full swing. I can
-see now the Belgian Tommy as I saw him then, quite
-unconcerned by the guns, planting little flowers,
-Bachelor’s Buttons, outside the General’s hut. I
-wished that I could have shared his unconcern;
-I found the noise simply ear-splitting, and when a
-particularly noisy shell burst, and I asked the General
-if “it was going or coming”, he roared with
-laughter. I have never felt less amused than I did at
-that moment!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He sent us over to Pervyse in his car, to collect
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>some papers which Mrs. Knocker, who was returning
-to England in a few days, needed. The dressing-station
-was a small and much-shelled house, on the
-very edge of the flooded land which lay between the
-Belgian trenches and the enemy—from the little
-house you could actually see the German sandbags.
-The dressing-station itself was anything but a
-“health resort”, and there is no question that these
-two women faced great danger with enormous fortitude.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Afterwards we motored to G.H.Q., where the
-staff were at dinner—or, rather tragically for us,
-where the staff had just <em>finished</em> dinner. I have the
-Menu still, signed by all who were present. It consisted
-of “Poached Eggs and Water Cress”, with
-Coffee to follow. We did not like to say we were
-“starving for want of food”, and so said we had
-dined. I was very glad to remember that in our car
-reposed a cooked chicken, which had been bought in
-Dunkirk. We—that is, Miss Chisholm, Mrs.
-Knocker (who had become by then Baroness
-T’Scerelles), her husband, and I—slept at a farmhouse
-some distance from H.Q. The only tolerably
-pleasant part of the night, which was noisy with the
-sound of shells, was the eating (with our fingers) of
-the cooked chicken. I do not think I have ever been
-so hungry in my life!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The following day I was taken to the trenches at
-Ramskeppelle. The men were very much astonished
-to see a woman in mufti. What struck me most was
-the beauty of the day, for the sun was shining, and
-birds singing, yet from behind us came the noise of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>the 15–inch guns, firing on the Germans, and back
-came the thunder of their replies. The sunshine, the
-birds, the beauty of the day—and war!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I stayed at Boulogne, on the way back, for the
-night, as the guest of Lady Hatfield at the Red Cross
-Hospital, and then returned home, bringing with me
-the Baroness, who was suffering from shock and the
-awful effects of gas. If it has seemed, or did seem
-at the time, that these two women had perhaps overmuch
-praise for what they did, I would ask you to
-remember that they worked in that exposed position,
-continually running grave risks, for three and a half
-years. It was the sustained effort that was so wonderful,
-which demanded our admiration, as well as
-the work which received the grateful thanks of the
-whole of the 2nd and 3rd Divisions of the Belgian
-Army.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>To go back to the theatrical side of things. In
-1914, the first week of the war, some 200 touring
-companies were taken “off the road”, and we—my
-husband and I—were advised to cancel our provincial
-dates at once. This we decided not to do, but to
-“carry on” as we had already arranged. The financial
-side was not very satisfactory, but I must say that
-the managers in the country appreciated our efforts;
-and, apart from that, we had the satisfaction of
-knowing that we were providing work for, at anyrate,
-a few artists and the staffs in the provincial
-theatres, at a time when work was very, very difficult
-to obtain.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I look back on those years of the war as a rather
-confused series of emotions and pictures, when one
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>worked, spoke at meetings, played in the evening,
-read the casualty lists, and always “wondered
-why”; when each day seemed to bring the news that
-some friend had made the supreme sacrifice, when
-each day brought the knowledge that the world was
-the poorer for the loss of many gallant gentlemen.
-Pictures that remain—tragic, humorous, and soul-stirring.
-The first detachment of men I saw leaving
-for the front! It was about a quarter to twelve; I
-had been playing at Kennington Theatre, and stood
-waiting for a ’bus at the end of Westminster Bridge.
-As I stood, I heard the sound of marching men, “the
-men who joined in ’14”. Out of the darkness they
-came, still in their civilian clothes, not marching with
-the precision of trained men, but walking as they
-would have done to their work. Not alone, for beside
-almost each man walked a woman, and often she
-carried his bundle, and he carried—perhaps for the
-last time—a baby. I wondered if King Charles,
-riding his horse in Trafalgar Square, had seen them
-pass and realised that in them was the same spirit as
-lived in the Englishmen who sent him to the scaffold—that
-England and the English people might be
-free? Nelson, watching from the top of his column,
-must have known that the spirit that lived in his men
-at Copenhagen, the Nile, and Trafalgar was still
-there, burning brightly; and His Grace of Cambridge,
-once Commander-in-Chief of the British
-Army, did he too watch the sons and grandsons of
-the men who fought in the Crimea, going out to face
-the same dangers, the same horrors, as the men he
-had known? So they passed, in silence, for at such
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>times one cannot find words to cry “Good luck” or
-“God bless you”. Out of the darkness they came,
-and into the darkness again they went, in silence—“the
-men who joined up in ’14”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>And Southampton in the early days! One night
-men began to march past the Star Hotel at six in
-the evening, and at six the next morning men were
-still marching past, and all the time the sound of
-singing went with them, all night long—“Tipperary”.
-I wonder what “Tipperary” meant to
-them all; did it mean home, the trenches, or
-Berlin? Who knows! but they never seemed to tire
-of singing it.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In May, 1915, we went to Ireland, and in Dublin
-we heard of the loss of the “Lusitania”. No one
-believed it was true. It seemed impossible that
-England’s super-passenger ship could have been sunk
-almost in sight of land.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>We reached Cork on the Sunday evening. Charles
-Frohman was one of the missing passengers. Early
-on the Monday, Harry and I went to Queenstown, to
-try and find his body. The sight we saw in the shed
-on the Cunard quay is beyond description. Lying
-on the concrete floor, their hands all tied with thick
-pieces of rope, lay nearly a hundred victims of war
-and German civilisation! Men, women, children,
-and little babies. I shall never forget the pathos of
-the dead children and babies! Dragged into the
-awful machinery of war, the Holy Innocents of the
-Twentieth Century, butchered by the order of a
-Modern Herod. In one corner lay a little girl, about
-nine years old; her face was covered with a cloth;
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>the terrible pathos of her poor little legs, wearing
-rather bright blue stockings, the limp stillness of her!
-We found poor Mr. Frohman—the man who made
-theatrical destinies, launched great theatrical ventures,
-who had been sought after, made much of, and
-was loved by all those who knew him—lying there
-alone, although he was surrounded by silent men and
-women. We took him flowers, the only flowers in
-all that dreadful shed. They went with him to
-America, and later his sister told us they were buried
-with him. Outside in the streets and in the Cunard
-office were men and women, white-faced and dry-eyed:
-it was all too big for tears: tears were dried
-up by horror. Later in the week the streets from
-the station to quay had on each side of the road a
-wall of coffins.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I read in the papers accounts of the disaster, of the
-“wonderful peace which was on the faces of the
-dead”. That peace can only have existed in the
-minds of the writers—I know I did not see it. Horror,
-fear, amazement, and, I think, resentment at being
-hurled into eternity; but peace existed no more in
-the faces of the dead than it did in my heart. I came
-away from that shed and cursed the German nation.
-Yet even little children had done great things. Lady
-Allen, from Montreal, was on board with her two
-little girls. I was told by their sister, who was over
-doing Red Cross work, that they stood all three hand
-in hand, wearing life-belts, when a woman friend
-came up to them; she was without a belt. One of
-the little girls took off her belt, saying as she did so,
-“You take mine, because I have learnt to swim”.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>Lady Allen and the two children, holding hands,
-jumped into the sea; neither of the children was ever
-seen again alive.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I met an Australian soldier, in a tiny hotel (for
-every place was full to overflowing), who had been on
-board. He told me that in his boat there was a
-woman who sang steadily for hours to keep up the
-spirits of her companions; she was, he said, “perfectly
-wonderful”. After they had been on the
-water for five hours, they saw a man on a small raft;
-they had no oars, and neither had he. The Australian
-jumped overboard, swam to him, and towed the raft
-back to the boat. He did this with three ribs broken!
-The thing which he told me he regretted most was
-the loss of his concertina, which he had saved up for
-years to buy!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I do not mind admitting that I hated the sea trip
-back to England; apart from my own feelings, I felt
-that I was in a great measure responsible for the rest
-of our company. We left Dublin with all lights out,
-and went full steam ahead all the time. It was the
-quickest passage the boat had ever made. Immediately
-on going on board, I collected enough life-belts
-for every woman of the company to have one, piled
-them on the deck, and sat on them!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>So the war dragged on, and one did what was
-possible. It is of no interest to record the visits to
-hospitals, the work, and so forth; everyone worked,
-and worked hard. My feeling was always, when some
-wounded man gave me thanks out of all proportion
-to what I had been able to do, that I should have liked
-to quote to him words from my husband’s play, <cite>Love
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>and the Man</cite>: “I have done so little, and you have
-done so much”. Only the Tommy, being British,
-would have been very uncomfortable if I had said
-anything of the kind.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then, at last, came that wonderful morning in
-November, when, riding on the top of a ’bus in Piccadilly,
-I heard the “maroons”, and saw all the pent-up
-emotion of the British people break loose. They
-had heard of disasters, lost hopes, the death of those
-they loved best in the world, almost in silence, but
-now—“it was over”, and a people thanked God that
-“England might be Merrie England once again”.
-I went on to my Committee meeting, a meeting for
-the organisation of a scheme to raise funds for St.
-Dunstan’s Blind Soldiers, and I remember, when it
-was ended, walking up the Haymarket with Forbes
-Robertson, and noticing the change that had come
-over everything. If we lost our heads a little that
-day, who can blame us? For four years we had, as it
-were, lived in dark cellars, and now, when we came
-out into the light, it blinded us—we were so unaccustomed
-to “being happy”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>That night Harry was playing at Wyndham’s
-Theatre in <cite>The Law Divine</cite>. He told me that the
-audience certainly only heard about half of the play,
-owing to the noise in the street outside.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>My sister Decima, after having been attached to
-the French Army in January, 1915, ran the Leave
-Club in Paris, which did such fine work and made a
-home for thousands of British soldiers in 1917; it
-continued there after the Armistice, till 1920. I shall
-not attempt to describe it, as I hope she may one day
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>do so herself. When the Armistice was signed, she
-went at once to Cologne. She was one of the first
-women to get to the city, and began at once to
-organise a club for the Army of Occupation, on the
-same lines as the one in Paris. Before she left, the
-work of the club had come to an end, owing to the
-large reduction of the Army of Occupation. I went
-over, and together we did a tour of the battlefields.
-With my sister were her Commandant, Miss Cornwallis,
-Mrs. Carter, whose husband did fine work
-with the submarines and went down in the one he
-commanded, and Miss Fisher, who was my sister’s
-chauffeuse in Cologne. We took the same route as
-the Germans had taken into Belgium in 1914, and
-travelled over a thousand miles of devastated land.
-From Ypres to Verdun, everywhere the Graves Commission
-were busy. We saw cemetery after cemetery
-full of little wooden crosses, which Rupert Brooke
-said made “some corner in a foreign field&nbsp;... forever
-England”. We saw the parties of Annamites
-who collected the dead from the battlefields; they
-were most repulsive looking, and I was told that they
-were the only people who could be persuaded to do
-the work. From Fort Fleure, in the valley, we saw
-the little village of wooden huts where they lived, under
-the direction of one British soldier, who lived there
-with his wife. Through all the battle area were
-dwarfed, distorted trees, twisted into almost sinister
-shapes; and among them moved the blue figures of
-the Annamites from Tonkin, looking for the dead.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was spring-time, and on Vimy Ridge the cowslips
-were growing, and at Verdun the ground was
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>thick with violets. I gathered bunches and placed
-them on lonely graves. Looking in my note-book,
-I see under “Verdun” the words, “miles of utter
-desolation”. I shall never forget those miles and
-miles of wasted land, torn and churned up by the
-guns, the ground still scarred by trenches and pitted
-with shell-holes, here and there a grave with a wooden
-cross, and often a steel helmet on it—a pathetic loneliness.
-I thought what England had escaped: we still
-had our green fields, our wonderful trees; our villages
-were still standing, and our factories still held
-machinery that was useful and might be worked:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“This fortress built by Nature for herself,</div>
- <div class='line'>Against infection and the hand of war;</div>
- </div>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>       ·       ·       ·       ·       ·</div>
- </div>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>This precious stone set in a silver sea.”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c017'>England was unchanged. The memory of what I
-saw there in France made me understand why the
-French people demand reparations from the nation
-that wasted France.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Outside Arras we met an R.A.C. man and asked
-him to tell us of an hotel where we might stay for the
-night. He told us of one, and we went on our way.
-When we got to the town we could not find the hotel,
-and asked a Tommy near the ruined Cathedral if he
-could direct us. He offered to show us the way, and
-got on to the step of the car beside Miss Cornwallis,
-who was riding outside. She asked him what part of
-England he came from, and found he came from the
-same small place in Kent that she had lived in all her
-life. He gave her the additional information: “I
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>know you quite well; I’ve driven your father’s cows
-scores of times!” We reached the hotel, which was
-a kind of large bungalow, with canvas walls, run by
-an Australian—and very well run, too. I went to
-my room, which I was sharing with my sister, and
-realised that every word which was said in the next
-room could be heard. The next room was occupied
-by the R.A.C. soldier who had directed us to come
-to the hotel. He was not alone, but was saying
-“Good-bye” to his French sweetheart. Poor girl,
-he was leaving for England the next day, and she
-wanted very much to come with him. It was rather
-pathetic, and I wished so much the walls had not been
-so thin.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When one thinks now of the “Lights out”, the
-marching men, the ambulances at the stations, the
-men in khaki, and the air raids, it all seems like something
-that happened hundreds of years ago! Talking
-of air raids reminds me that some time ago I was
-rehearsing with an American producer for an American
-play. Everyone on the stage had to be in a great
-state of tension, and, to convey his meaning, he said
-to me: “You’re all as if you were waiting for a
-bomb to drop. Do you understand what I mean?
-Have you ever heard a bomb drop?” I assured him
-that I had, and knew exactly what “it was like”.
-I thought, too, “What do some of you know of
-England, and England in war time!”</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER VII<br /> <span class='large'>THE SUFFRAGE</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c011'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“The sex is learning sense.”</div>
- <div class='line in20'>—<cite>Grierson’s Way.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>I am not going to embark upon a long discussion
-as to the wrongs and rights of the question,
-I am not going to attempt to write a history of
-the movement; I am only going to try to tell you
-of some of the incidents, the thoughts, and personalities
-that remain with me.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Why did I become a Suffragist? Because all my
-life I had been a working woman; I had, and still
-have, a passionate love for England; I believed that
-I ought to be able to have a voice in the government
-of that country; and believed, too, that simply because
-I was a woman, there were certain very vital
-questions on which my opinion, and the opinion of
-my sister-women, might be of value—questions
-which affected “us” as women, and “us” as
-mothers.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I did not go to prison; but I had, and have, the
-deepest respect for the women who did. When you
-look back on the ordeals which women endured, and
-what they suffered, as suffer they did, remember that
-<em>no woman</em> who faced those ordeals or endured those
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>sufferings did it for either notoriety, enjoyment, or
-bravado!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>As for the “damage” they did, well, I am content
-to leave the wisdom of such methods to be justified
-by wiser heads than mine, and to believe, as I do
-firmly, that those methods were only resorted to
-when the leaders believed that all other means had
-failed. Were we not advised by Mr. Hobhouse to
-abandon a policy of “pinpricks”, and “do as the
-men had done”?</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>There were many funny incidents connected with
-the Suffrage Movement, and not the least funny was
-Mr. Austen Chamberlain’s reason why women ought
-not to have the vote: “Because women are women,
-and men are men.” It was Mr. Chamberlain who
-said that women ought not to mix at all in political
-affairs. My sister Decima wrote to him at once, to
-ask if by that statement he meant that he wished
-women to discontinue working for the Tariff Reform
-League, and she received a prompt answer “in the
-negative”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>My first public speech was made at the Queen’s
-Hall. They rang up at very short notice to ask if I
-would “say a few words”. Rather fearful as to my
-powers of oratory, I went. I remember Christabel
-Pankhurst was in the chair. I began to speak, and
-a small blood vessel broke in my lip. I stood there
-speaking, and between sentences mopping up the
-small but persistent stream of blood. When my own
-handkerchief was no longer of any use, Christabel
-passed me another. By the time I finished my speech
-a small pile of “gory” looking handkerchiefs lay at
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>my feet, and not a woman on the platform had a
-handkerchief left. It was a horrible experience for
-a “raw hand”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>What a fighter Christabel Pankhurst was! The
-hall might be in an uproar, but it did not daunt
-Christabel; she spoke, and, if no one listened, she
-went on speaking until they did! She was a brilliant
-speaker, who never let her brilliance get above the
-heads of her audience, and never let them feel she was
-“talking down to them”. I have never known any
-woman, who was so ready-witted; no one ever
-“caught her out”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>A man once got up and asked, “Now, Miss Pankhurst,
-putting all the fun of talking in public on one
-side, don’t you really wish you were a man?” Miss
-Pankhurst gave the question a second’s consideration,
-looked carefully at the speaker, then gave her
-head that queer little jerk which always heralded some
-unexpected answer—the crowds knew it, and used
-to watch for it. “Don’t you?” was all she said.
-Another occasion a man got up and commenced a
-long, rambling question as to what would happen to
-“the home” if he got into Parliament and his wife
-got into Parliament too. It took him a long time to
-say it all, and he drew a really very touching picture.
-“I don’t know your wife, sir,” said Christabel;
-“I’ve never seen her; she might, of course, be returned
-for Parliament; but you—oh! (very soothingly)
-I don’t think <em>you</em> need worry!” Taking the
-audiences on the whole, they liked her. If there was
-a row that even she could not talk down, it was an
-extraordinary thing. They liked her humour, they
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>liked her doggedness, her pugnacity, and her youthful
-enjoyment of any and every joke, even if one was
-turned against her. The famous Pantechnicon was
-Christabel’s idea. Everyone has heard of it, and it is
-exactly the same story as the “Wooden Horse of
-Troy”, only “the horse” was a furniture van, the
-occupants were Suffragists, and “Troy” was the
-sacred precincts of the House of Commons.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Mrs. Pankhurst had all the fighting spirit, but she
-lacked the quick humour of her daughter. She was
-a wonderful woman, who had worked all her life “for
-women”, and worn herself out bodily—not mentally—in
-doing so. I have seen and heard her often, but
-never without a sense of deep admiration for her
-brain and her endurance. Those of us who remember
-will recall the placards in those days: “Arrest of
-Mrs. Pankhurst”, followed a fortnight later by
-“Mrs. Pankhurst Released”—that was after hunger
-striking—then, “Illness of Mrs. Pankhurst”.
-About three weeks later, when she had regained a
-little of her strength, you saw, “Arrest of Mrs.
-Pankhurst”. (That was under “the Cat and Mouse
-Act”.) That weary round used to go on, until you
-wondered how human brain, let alone human body,
-could stand it. But stand it she did, and came back
-again and again. I wonder now if all that she
-suffered, and all that she gained, ever enters the minds
-of the women voters who go to the polling-booths on
-election days?</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Not only may they remember Mrs. Pankhurst,
-there are other figures “that remain”—Flora Drummond,
-Annie Kenny, Mrs. Howe Martin, Lady
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>Constance Lytton, and Mrs. Despard. The last was,
-as Mrs. Nevinson once said, “not a woman, but an
-inspiration”. She was born fifty years too soon;
-she was an old lady when the Suffrage Movement
-first began to be a real “thing” in practical politics.
-It was a living example of mind over matter that
-made it possible for her to work as she did. She was,
-I suppose, the most picturesque figure in the movement;
-she looked what she is—an aristocrat. You
-will find her type in the Spanish pictures of Tiapolo.
-I can think of one at the moment which hangs in the
-Scottish National Gallery; Mrs. Despard might have
-sat for the court lady on the left. Now she has
-become an Irish citizen, and lives outside Dublin,
-devoting her time to trying to alleviate the sufferings
-of her adopted countrymen. That I do not see eye
-to eye with her aims and methods does not shake my
-belief that those aims and methods are actuated from
-nothing but rooted beliefs. It was Mrs. Despard
-who said once, during the most strenuous part of the
-Suffrage campaign, “Oh! then ’twas good to be
-alive, but to be young was very heaven!” An
-idealist, even something of a fanatic, but with
-her eyes fixed on the stars and her heart full
-of high purpose and great faith in her cause—that
-is Mrs. Despard as I saw, and still see,
-her.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Of the sufferings (and I use the word advisedly) of
-the women who “dared greatly”, I will not write,
-and for two reasons—first, the fight is over, we gained
-our objective, and removed from the Statute Book the
-clause which classed women with “lunatics”; and,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>secondly, because if I did write, and write truly of
-the things I know, no one would believe me, and I
-even doubt if anyone could print what I could write,
-and write in all truth. So I leave that side, and ask
-you to believe that, even if we admit (and I reserve
-my own opinion) that many of the things which the
-Suffragists did were foolish, unnecessary, destructive,
-even wicked, they had punishment meted out to them
-in not only full measure, but “pressed down and
-running over”; and I can tell you only that the
-courage with which they met that punishment was
-worthy of the great cause for which they fought,
-whatever their methods—the Emancipation of
-Women.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The Actresses’ Franchise League was formed after
-the Women’s Social and Political Union, and after
-the Women’s Freedom League. It was “non-party
-and non-political”. Though it did not advocate the
-extreme measures, it did not condemn; its policy
-was “The aim is everything”. I remember our first
-meeting at the Criterion; Sir Johnston Forbes
-Robertson took the chair and spoke for us. He, like
-his mother before him, has been a warm supporter
-of anything which will lead to better conditions for
-women. The meeting was a great success, and from
-that time we, the Actresses’ Franchise League, took
-its place with the other franchise societies. I remember,
-in one of the processions which were organised
-from time to time, the Actresses sent a contingent.
-Cissy Loftus, May Whitty, Lena Ashwell, and I
-were marching four abreast. We all wore white
-dresses, with sprays of pink roses, except Lena Ashwell,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>who was in mourning. At the end of Northumberland
-Avenue there was a long wait; we were
-held up for some time. A man who was passing
-looked at us and recognised Lena Ashwell. He
-turned to his friend and said, “See ’er, that third
-one in that line? I’ll tell you ’oo she is; she’s the
-‘Bad Girl of the Family’!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I think in most of us the work cultivated a sense of
-humour, but it was certainly due to a lack of that
-valuable commodity in someone that I was asked to
-hand in my resignation to the A.F.L. My husband
-wrote a one-act play, called <cite>Her Vote</cite>, the story of
-a “fluffy” young woman who, after persuading
-everyone she meets that it is “their duty” to attend
-a big Suffrage meeting, does not go herself, because
-her “young man” has taken tickets for a
-fashionable ball. That, roughly, was the story. I
-played the sketch, and it really was very funny. Two
-days later, at a meeting of the League, “someone”
-got up and stated that they had seen the sketch, and
-that evidently “Eva Moore preferred Kisses to
-Votes”, and suggested that I should be told not to
-play the sketch again, or resign. I resigned; I felt
-that one could work as well for a cause outside a
-society as in one. I may say that I was asked to go
-back, which I did, still reserving the right to myself
-to play in <em>any</em> play, without the assumption that
-I was working anti-Suffrage propaganda. That
-line, “Prefers Kisses to Votes”, has always struck
-me as so very excellent, it should be used in a
-play.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I did, however, call down upon my head a terrible
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>storm, and quite innocently. At a time when
-“forcible feeding” was being resorted to very much,
-two girls, who were Suffragists, were presented at
-Court. They were both of very good social position,
-and very charming. One of them, on being presented
-to the King, said “Your Majesty, won’t you
-stop forcible feeding?” She was promptly hustled
-out of the presence, and the Press the following day
-was full of “the insult offered to the King”. It may
-have been, probably was, the wrong time to do it;
-it was probably the wrong way to attempt to do it;
-but I did feel, and still feel, that the girl must have
-called up every ounce of courage she possessed to say
-what she did. At a meeting next day I ventured to
-say just what I have written here, ending with:
-“Whatever one may feel about the wisdom or the
-propriety of her action, you must take off your hat to
-the girl for her courage.” Then the storm burst.
-That evening I found headlines in the papers: “Eva
-Moore takes off her hat to the woman who insulted
-the King”, and so on; it was astonishing. The
-result was rather dreadful; men I had never seen
-wrote to me, wrote the most abusive, indecent letters
-I have ever read or even dreamed could be written,
-letters which left me gasping that people who could
-write at all should descend to using such epithets
-and expressions. Had I not already been a
-Suffragist, those letters would have made me one!
-However, it came to an end and I survived, though
-I admit at the time it distressed me very much
-indeed.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>A disagreeable experience was when I was called
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>to give evidence in the case of “Pankhurst and
-Pethick Lawrence <em>v.</em> the Crown”. Mrs. Pankhurst
-was alleged to have spoken against the Crown and His
-Majesty’s Government at the Albert Hall meeting,
-and the Pethick Lawrences, as chief organisers of the
-meeting, were involved. That, so far as my memory
-serves me, was the case. I was to give evidence for
-Mrs. Pankhurst. I was instructed not to answer too
-quickly, not to answer too slowly, and no first night
-has ever brought such a torture of nerves as did that
-cross-examination at the Old Bailey. I remember
-very little about it all, except the grim air which
-seemed to brood over everything, and the fear that I
-might “say something wrong”. Sir Rufus Isaacs
-was “for the Crown”, and I was in the witness-box.
-I remember after some time he said, “—and so you
-suggest so-and-so, Miss Moore?” It was a question
-very like the old story, “Do you still beat your
-wife?”—whichever way you answered, you were
-wrong. I admit frankly I was paralysed with fright;
-I tried to collect my wits, tried to think of some
-“really telling” answer; no inspiration came. At
-last I said, with what dignity I could muster, “I
-suggest nothing”, and heard him say the most welcome
-words which, I think, have ever struck my ears,
-“You may stand down!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>And we were told we went through that kind of
-ordeal because we liked it and loved the notoriety!
-What imagination some people have!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Some day, when we look back from a distance of
-years, the things will fall into their right perspective,
-and we shall be able to tell stories which will fire the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>imagination of those who hear them; such stories
-will be the Pantechnicon; the story of “Charlie”
-Marsh, lying hidden on the roof of Birmingham
-Town Hall, followed by three months’ imprisonment,
-during the whole of which time she was forcibly fed;
-the story of Lilian Lenton, who hid for two days in
-the organ loft in Leeds Town Hall; the story of
-Theresa Billington and the Dog Whip, and many
-others. We are still too near them as actual happenings,
-we still let our political opinions, on either side,
-colour our feelings; but in the future we shall see
-them for what they were: as brave attempts to fight
-whole-heartedly for a great cause.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I think of the great public funeral accorded to
-Emily Davidson, and remember that a martyr is
-“one who suffers death or grievous loss in defence or
-on behalf <em>of any belief or cause</em>”; the worthiness
-or unworthiness of the cause is a question which
-only the martyr can answer to his or her own soul.
-Emerson says: “A man does not come the length of
-the spirit of martyrdom without some flaming love”,
-and I believe that it was a “flaming love” for their
-sister-women which was the driving-force behind all
-they did.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I look back, no longer “dreaming dreams”, but
-seeing “visions”—and the visions I see are of
-women coming from all parts of England, from the
-factories of Lancashire, from Yorkshire, from the
-hunting-fields, from offices, schools, and from every
-place where women might be found, who wanted to
-see the dawn of the new era, giving up much which
-made life pleasant and easy, braving scorn, ridicule,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>and often bodily danger, to do what they might to
-“right a wrong”. I like to remember that “I did
-what I could” and was, at anyrate, one of the rank
-and file in that great army.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I go back to August, 1914, and think how all those
-women put aside their political ambitions, even their
-demand for recognition, and declared a truce, so that
-they might concentrate against a common enemy
-which threatened their country. “I hated war,”
-one of them said to me, speaking of ’14, “I was and
-always had called myself a pacifist, but, when the
-war came, well, I worked with the rest of us, to help
-to win it.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The war was over, and at a luncheon given at the
-Savoy I met Mr. Lloyd George. I told him that I
-had not seen him for a long time, and reminded him
-that the last time was when I came, as a member of
-a deputation on behalf of Women’s Suffrage, to see
-him at 10 Downing Street. “Yes,” he said, “I remember.
-Well, I always told Christabel Pankhurst
-you should all have the vote, and I kept my
-word!” After nearly forty years of “constitutional
-methods”, of spade-work and propaganda, and after
-nearly a decade of active work—nearly ten years
-during which constitutional methods were flung to
-the winds, and the women fought for the franchise
-as “the men had fought”—they won that which
-they demanded: their political freedom—obtained,
-as all freedom has been obtained, “with a
-great price”, and that “great price” was years
-of self-sacrifice, culminating in the European
-War.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>So political swords were turned to ploughshares,
-for, as Mrs. Pankhurst used to say, “Remember
-when you have gained the vote your work is only
-beginning”; and the women of England were at
-last able to say, each one, “I am a citizen of no
-mean city.”</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER VIII<br /> <span class='large'>PEOPLE I HAVE MET</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c011'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“There is so much in Nature—so many sides.”</div>
- <div class='line in28'>—<cite>Love and the Man.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>If all these “impressions that remain” seem—what,
-indeed, they are—very disjointed, remember
-that Life as one lives it is, after all, a
-“patchy” and disjointed business.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Mrs. John Wood.</span>—I have spoken elsewhere of
-Mrs. John Wood, and the following incident happened
-when I was playing under her management at
-the Court Theatre. I came to the theatre by Underground,
-and one night the train stopped and was held
-up between Kensington and Sloane Square Stations.
-I looked nervously at my watch, and saw the time
-was rapidly approaching when I ought to be in my
-dressing-room. Still the train remained stationary.
-I began to feel rather desperate, so decided to do all
-I could to “get ready” in the train. I was wearing
-buttoned boots—I undid the buttons; I was wearing
-a dress with many small buttons down the front—I
-undid them all, keeping my coat buttoned tight to
-hide the state of “undress”. (I remember an unfortunate
-man who was in the same carriage, gazing
-at me, evidently thinking I was a dangerous lunatic
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>and wondering what I should do next.) At last the
-train moved, and I got out and rushed into the
-theatre, gained my dressing-room, and began to tear
-off my clothes. I did not attempt to “make up”—there
-was no time; I directed all my energies to getting
-into my stage frock—which, by the way, was
-a dress for a “drawing-room”, with train and
-feathers all complete. The stage manager, who was
-not blessed with the capacity for doing the right thing
-at the right moment, chose the moment when I was
-struggling into this very elaborate costume to come
-to the door and to begin to expostulate with me for
-being late. “What has made you so late, Miss
-Moore?”, “Do you know you should have been in
-the theatre half an hour ago?”, “Do you know
-you’ll be off?”, and so on, until in sheer exasperation
-I called to him (and I do not regret it), “Oh!
-for Heaven’s sake, <em>go away</em>, you fool!” He did.
-He went and told Mrs. John Wood that I had been
-very rude to him, and she sent for me, after the performance,
-to “know why”. I told her the whole
-story, and as it was unfolded to her I saw her lips
-begin to quiver and her eyes dance with amused
-understanding. When I finished, she gave her verdict.
-I know she felt the discipline of the theatre
-<em>must</em> be upheld at all costs, but she saw the humour
-of it. “I understand,” she said. “We will say no
-more about it, this time—<em>but</em> it must not happen
-again!”</p>
-
-<div id='i_102' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_102_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by The Dover Street Studios, Ltd., London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_102'>102</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Eliza</span><br /><br />“Eliza Comes to Stay”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span><span class='sc'>A Manager in the Suburbs.</span>—I had been playing
-“Eliza”. We had played to capacity all the week,
-at a certain suburban theatre which shall be nameless.
-On the Saturday night the local manager came to
-me; he was very delighted at the “business”, and
-said so with great enthusiasm. The play was
-“great”, I was “great”, the business was equally
-“great”. “And now,” he concluded “you will
-have a little something <em>with me</em>, to drink to your
-return to this theatre.” I said it was very kind of
-him, but that I really didn’t want the “little something”;
-but he seemed rather hurt, and so I consented.
-I do not know exactly what nectar I expected
-him to send into my room, but I certainly
-did not expect a small bottle of Guinness’s stout,
-which was what he <em>did</em> send.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Simone le Barge.</span>—She was playing in London
-with George Alexander, and was present at a very
-representative theatrical lunch. The thing which
-struck her most, so she told me, was that everyone
-was married or going to be married. There was
-George Alexander and his wife; Fred Terry and his
-wife; Cyril Maude and his wife; H. B. Irving and
-his wife; Martin Harvey and his wife; Oscar Asche
-and Sir Herbert Tree, both with their wives; Harry
-and I, and so on. It astonished her! She said, in the
-tone of one who sees “strange things and great mystries”:
-“Dans la France—c’est impossible!”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>A Scotch Landlady.</span>—I arrived in Glasgow one
-Sunday, and I feel rather about Glasgow as poor Dan
-Leno did. “They tell me this is the second city of
-our Empire; when I find a real ‘outsider’, I’m
-going to back it for a place!” However, when I
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>arrived by the night train from the South, I found
-the landlady cleaning the house with the vigour of
-twenty women. I had to sit in her room until my
-own were cleaned. When finally this was accomplished
-to her satisfaction, I was allowed to take possession.
-I unpacked and took out some sewing,
-which was a series of small flannel garments I was
-making for Jack, then a baby. She walked into my
-room, and saw what I was doing; she fixed me with
-a “cold eye”. “Sewin’!” she ejaculated. I explained
-they were for my baby, etc., but the cold eye
-still remained cold. “On the Sawbath!” she said.
-“Weel, Ah ca’ it naething but <em>impious</em>,” and with
-that she walked out and left me alone with my
-“impiety”.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Dan Leno.</span>—I have no real right to include Dan
-Leno. I never met him, but my sister Decima did,
-and someone else who did told me this story, which
-I think is worth repeating. Leno lived at Brixton
-(I am told that, as all good Americans go to Paris
-when they die, so all good music hall artists go to
-Brixton when they die), and he used on Sunday
-mornings to potter round his garden wearing carpet
-slippers, an old pair of trousers, his waistcoat open,
-and no collar; quite happy, and enjoying it immensely.
-He went round, on one of these Sunday
-mornings, to a “hostelry” for liquid refreshment,
-and met there a “swell comedian” who knew him.
-This gentleman, who appeared on the halls dressed
-rather in the manner of Mr. George Lashwood, was
-faultlessly dressed in a frock coat, the regulation dark
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>grey trousers, and looked rather “stagily” immaculate.
-He looked at Dan with disapproval, and proceeded
-to expostulate with him. “Danny, boy, you
-shouldn’t come out dressed like that. After all, you
-<em>are</em> England’s leading comedian, and—well—you
-ought to make yourself look smart. Let people know
-<em>who you are</em>!” Then, with pride, he added:
-“Look at me, boy; why don’t you do like I do?”
-Leno looked at him gravely. “Like you?” he repeated.
-“Look like you?—I <em>never</em> come out in my
-‘props’, old boy.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Mr. Henry Arthur Jones years ago said a thing to
-Harry that has ever lived in my memory. They were
-discussing acting and plays, and Mr. Jones said “A
-play is as good as it is acted.” That remark sums up
-the whole question. A play can only be seen and valued
-through the acting; it’s the only art that has to be
-judged through the medium of other personalities,
-and not by the creator. When I once saw a revival
-of one of Harry’s plays, that had not the advantage
-of his personal supervision, I realised how completely
-true Mr. Jones’s remark was.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>A Scottish Soldier.</span>—It was during the war. I
-was walking up Regent Street, and there I saw him,
-fresh from France, hung round like a Christmas tree,
-obviously knowing nothing of London, and, being a
-Scot, far too proud to ask his way. I ventured to
-speak to him, for, as in the old days girls suffered
-from “scarlet” fever, during the war I suffered from
-“khaki” fever. “Do you want to get to a railway
-station?” I asked. “Aye; Paddington.” As it
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>happened, I too was going to Paddington, and I said
-so. “I am going there myself; if you will come with
-me, I can tell you where to find the platform. We
-will get on the ’bus that comes along; I’ll show you
-the way.” He looked at me, not unkindly, but with
-the scorn of a true Scot for the simplicity of a
-Southerner who underrates the intelligence of the
-men from “over the Border”. “Ye wull, wull
-ye?” he said. “Aye—well—ye wull <em>not</em>. Ah’ve
-been warrrrned aboot lassies like you!” And he
-walked away with great dignity and self-possession.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Ellen Terry.</span>—I have seen her, as you have seen
-her—and if by chance you have not done so, you have
-missed one of the things that might well be counted
-“pearls of great price”—on the stage, looking perfectly
-beautiful, with the beauty which did not owe
-its existence to wonderful features or glorious colouring,
-but to that elusive “something” that the limitations
-of the English language force me to describe
-as “magnetism”; but the most lovely picture I
-carry in my mental gallery is of her in her own house
-at Chelsea. A letter, signed by all the actresses of
-Great Britain, was to be sent to the Queen concerning
-a big charity matinée. It had been most carefully
-worded, and a most wonderful copy made. Mrs.
-Kendal had signed it, and I was deputed to take it
-to Ellen Terry for her signature. When I got to
-her house, she was ill in bed, neuralgia in her head,
-and I was shown into her bedroom. I don’t know
-if you could look beautiful with your head swathed
-in flannel, suffering tortures from neuralgia; I know
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>I couldn’t; but Ellen Terry did. She looked rather
-as she did in <cite>The Merry Wives of Windsor</cite>. If you can
-imagine “Mistress Ford” sitting up in an old four-poster
-bed, still wearing her “wimple”, and looking
-sufficiently lovely to turn Ford’s head, and Falstaff’s
-head, and everybody else’s head a dozen times—that
-was Ellen Terry as I saw her then. I gave her the
-letter, this carefully made “fair copy”, for her to sign.
-She read the letter, slowly, pen in hand. Some phrase
-failed to please her, and saying “No, I don’t think
-that will do”, she took her pen, scored through some
-words, and substituted others, handing the letter back
-to me, with “I think that is better, don’t you?”
-Have you seen her writing? It is rather large, very
-black, very distinct, and very pretty; I did not dare
-to say that no letter could be given to the Queen with
-corrections—a Queen had made them, and it was not
-for me to remark on what she did. I said I was sure
-it was an improvement, and took my precious letter
-away for other signatures. What happened to the
-letter eventually, whether another copy was made or
-not—that has all vanished from my mind; but the
-picture of lovely “Mistress Ford” remains.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>A ’Bus Driver.</span>—In the old days I used to walk
-from the Strand to Piccadilly and catch my ’bus there.
-It saved a penny. One old ’bus driver—there were
-horse ’buses then, of course—used to wait for me. I
-used to climb on to the top of the ’bus, and he used
-to talk to me, and take an enormous interest in “how
-I was getting on”. Years afterwards I was at Paddington,
-and as I came out of the station I saw, seated
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>on the box of a cab, my old friend of the ’bus. He
-told me he had “got on”, and had bought a cab,
-a four-wheeler; that he had never “lost sight of
-me”; and that he still thought of me, and always
-should think of me, as “his Miss Moore”. Bless his
-red face! I wonder what he is driving now. Taxis
-and motor ’buses may be very good things in their
-way, but they lost us the “real” ’bus driver and
-the “real” cab driver.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>A “Tommy” from the Second London General
-Hospital.</span>—I was playing “Eliza” at the Brixton
-Theatre, and on the Saturday the manager, the late
-Newman Maurice, asked a party of wounded boys
-from the London General Hospital to come, as our
-guests, to the matinée. I, in my turn, asked if they
-would come round to my dressing-room, at the end
-of the play, for tea and cigarettes; they came, and
-in a terrific state of excitement, too. All talking at
-once, they tried to tell me the reason, and after some
-time I began to understand. One of their number
-had been “shell-shocked”, and so badly that he had
-lost his speech; he had been watching the play that
-afternoon and suddenly began to laugh, and, a second
-later, to the delight Of his companions, to speak! I
-have never seen such congratulations, such hand-shakings,
-such genuine delight, as was expressed by
-those boys over their comrade’s recovery. One of the
-boys that afternoon was a mass of bandages; you
-could not see anything of his face and head but two
-bright eyes, so badly had he been wounded. When I
-went to Canada, two years ago, this man was waiting
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>for me at the hotel at Vancouver. He was no longer
-wrapped in bandages, but he had been so certain that
-I should not know him again that he had brought
-photographs of himself, taken while still in hospital,
-“complete with bandages”, to prove his identity!
-As a matter of fact—how or why, I cannot say—I did
-remember him at once.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>George Bernard Shaw.</span>—I once rehearsed for a
-play of his at the Haymarket Theatre. I remember
-he used to sit at rehearsals with his back to the footlights,
-tilting his chair so far on its hind legs that it
-was only by the intervention of heaven that he did
-not fall into the orchestra. There he sat, always
-wearing kid gloves, firing off short, terse comments
-on the acting, and rousing everybody’s ire to such an
-extent that the fat was in the fire, and finally the
-production was abandoned, after five weeks’ rehearsal!
-It was produced later, and was a very great
-success, Henry Ainley playing the lead. When Bernard
-Shaw and Granville Barker went into management
-at the Court Theatre, Harry and I met Shaw
-one day, and Harry asked how the season “had
-gone”. “Well,” said Bernard Shaw, “I’ve lost
-£7000, and Barker’s lost his other shirt.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Kendal.</span>—She came to a reception the other
-day at Sir Ernest and Lady Wilde’s, to which I had
-taken my little daughter, Jill. “Look, Jill,” I said,
-as she entered the room, “that is Mrs. Kendal.”
-She looked, and her comment is valuable, as showing
-the impression which “The Old General” made on
-the “new recruit”: “How perfectly beautiful she
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>looks.” I lunched with her, not long ago, at her
-house in Portland Place, and I remarked how charming
-her maids looked. She nodded. “When anyone
-is coming to see me, I always say to my servants,
-‘A clean cap, a clean apron, look as nice as you can;
-it is a compliment we owe to the visitors who honour
-this house’.” We sat talking of many things, and
-Mrs. Kendal said reflectively: “Think of all the
-things we have missed, people like you and me,
-through leading—er—shall we say, ‘well-conducted
-lives’! And, make no mistake, we <em>have</em> missed
-them!” What an unexpected comment on life from
-Mrs. Kendal! and yet, I suppose, true enough.
-I suppose, as “Eliza” says, one “can be too safe”,
-and perhaps it might be, at all events, an experience
-to “be in danger for once”.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Ella Shields.</span>—I met her again in Canada. She
-had come from the States, where, in common with
-many other artists who are assured successes in England,
-she had not had the kindest reception. Canada,
-on the other hand, delighted in her work, and gave
-her a wonderful ovation wherever she went. One day
-we went out walking together, and she gave me the
-best lesson in “walking” I have ever had. I have
-never seen anyone who moved so well, so easily, and
-so gracefully. I told her that I wished I could walk
-with her every day, to really learn “how she did it”.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Arthur Bourchier.</span>—When both Harry and I
-were playing in <cite>Pilkerton’s Peerage</cite>, Arthur Bourchier
-suddenly made a rule that no one was to leave
-their dressing-room until called by the call-boy, immediately
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>before their entrance on to the stage. One
-night the call-boy forgot, and Harry was not called,
-as he should have been. Bourchier came off, and
-there was a bad “wait”. He turned to me and
-whispered, in an agonised voice, “Go on and say
-<em>something</em>”, which I declined to do. At that
-moment Harry rushed on to the stage, and, as he
-tore past Bourchier, very, very angry at missing his
-“cue”, shook his fist in Bourchier’s face, saying
-fiercely “Damn you!” After his scene he came off,
-still very angry, and went up to Bourchier. The
-storm burst. “There you are!” Harry said; “you
-see the result of your damned, idiotic rules——”,
-and much more in the same strain. Bourchier, in a
-soothing voice, said: “It’s all right, it’s all right,
-Harry—<cite>I’ve sacked the call-boy!</cite>”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>The German Production of “Old Heidelberg.”</span>—Before
-George Alexander produced this
-play, it was done at the old Novelty Theatre by a
-German company, under the direction of Herr
-Andresson and Herr Berhens. Alexander asked me
-to go and see it, with Mrs. Alexander, which we did.
-I have rarely seen such a badly “dressed” play. The
-one real attempt to show the “glory” of the reigning
-house of “Sachsen-Karlsburg” was to make the
-footmen wear red plush breeches. The “State
-apartments” were tastefully furnished in the very
-best period of “Tottenham Court Road” mid-Victorian
-furniture. After the performance was
-over, Herr Berhens came to see us in the box. I did
-not know quite what to say about the production, so
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>I murmured something rather vague about the “back
-cloth looking very fine.” Herr Berhens bowed.
-“So it should do,” he said, “the production cost
-£25!”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Rudge Harding.</span>—He is a “bird enthusiast”,
-and will sit and watch them all day long, and half the
-night too, if they didn’t get tired and go to roost.
-Rudge Harding was coming to stay with us at
-“Apple Porch”—our house in the country, near
-Maidenhead. Harry met him at the station, saying
-breathlessly, “Thank God you’ve come! We have
-a <em>bottle-throated windjar</em> in the garden; I was so
-afraid it might get away before you saw it!” Harding
-said he had never heard of the bird (neither, for
-that matter, had anyone else, for Harry had evolved
-it on his way to the station). Needless to say, on
-arriving at “Apple Porch”, the “bottle-throated
-windjar” could not be located, but Harry had “recollected”
-many quaint and curious habits of the
-bird. He possessed a large three-volume edition of
-a book on birds—without an index—and for three
-days Rudge Harding searched that book for the
-valuable additional information on the bird which
-Harry swore it must contain. He might have gone
-on looking for the rest of his visit, if Harry had not
-tired of the game and told him the awful truth!</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Morley Horder.</span>—He is now a very, very successful
-architect, and is, I believe, doing much of the
-planning for the re-building of North London. He
-designed “Apple Porch” for us, and when it was
-in process of being built we drove over one day with
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>him to see it. We had then a very early type of car,
-a Clement Talbot, with a tonneau which was really
-built to hold two, but on this occasion held three—and
-very uncomfortable it was—Morley Horder,
-Phillip Cunningham, and I. Horder, a very quiet,
-rather retiring man, with dark eyes and very straight
-black hair, said not a word the whole journey. Cunningham
-chatted away, full of vitality and good
-humour. When we finally reached “Apple Porch”,
-Cunningham got out and turned to Morley Horder.
-“Now then,” he said, “jump out, <em>Chatterbox</em>!”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Eric Lewis.</span>—There is no need to speak of his
-work, for everyone knows it, and appreciates the
-finish and thought which it conveys. He played
-“Montague Jordon” in <cite>Eliza</cite> for us, for a long time,
-and has been the “only Monty” who ever really
-fulfilled the author’s idea. Others have been funny,
-clever, amusing, eccentric, and even rather pathetic;
-Eric Lewis was all that, and much more. He is, and
-always has been, one of the kindest of friends, as time
-has made him one of the oldest.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Fred Grove.</span>—Another of the “ideals” of the
-evergreen play, <cite>Eliza</cite>. He has played “Uncle
-Alexander” a thousand times and more, each time
-with the same care and attention to detail. He has
-evolved a “bit of business” with a piece of string,
-which he places carefully on the stage before the curtain
-goes up; never a week has passed, when he has
-been playing the part, but some careful person has
-picked up that piece of string and taken it away,
-under the impression that they were making the stage
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>“tidy”. What a wonderful memory Fred Grove
-has, too! Ask him for any information about stage
-matters—any date, any cast—and the facts are at his
-finger-tips at once. He has made a very large collection
-of books on the stage, and among them a copy
-of the poems written by Adah Isaacs Menken, the
-“first female Mazeppa”, who married the famous
-Benicia Boy, a great prize-fighter of his day. The
-poems were considered so beautiful that some of them
-were attributed to Swinburne, who declared he had
-nothing to do with them beyond giving them his
-deep admiration. Fred Grove is one of the people
-who never forget my birthday; Sydney Paxton is
-another.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Clemence Dane.</span>—My sister Ada knew her first,
-and it was at her suggestion that I went down to see
-“Diana Courtis” (the name she used for the stage)
-play at Hastings. We were about to produce <cite>Sandy
-and His Eliza</cite>, the title of which was changed later
-to <cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite>. I decided she was exactly
-the type I wanted to play “Vera Lawrence”, the
-actress, and engaged her at once. It was not until
-she began to write that she changed her name from
-“Diana Courtis” to “Clemence Dane”. I remember
-we were doing a flying matinée, to Southend,
-and I took Jill, then a very tiny girl, with me.
-All the way there she sat on “Diana Courtis’s” knee
-and listened to wonderful stories, Kipling’s <cite>Just So
-Stories</cite>. When they came to an end, Jill drew a
-deep breath and said, “What wouldn’t I give to be
-able to tell stories like that!” “Yes,” responded
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>the teller of the stories, “and what wouldn’t I give
-to be able to write them!” She designed and drew
-our poster, which we still use, for <cite>Eliza</cite>—Cupid
-standing outside the green-door, waiting to enter.
-I have a wonderful book, which “Clemence Dane”
-made for me; all the characters in <cite>Eliza</cite>, everyone
-mentioned, whether they appear or not, are drawn
-as she imagined them. To be naturally as versatile
-as this—actress, artist, and writer—seems to me a
-dangerous gift from the gods, and one which needs
-strength of character to resist the temptation to do
-many things “too easily” and accomplish nothing
-great. Clemence Dane has three books, and what I
-shall always regard as a great poem in blank verse,
-to prove that she has resisted the temptation.</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER IX<br /> <span class='large'>PERSONALITIES</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c011'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“You are surprised that I know such nice people?”</div>
- <div class='line in32'>—<cite>Fools of Nature.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>The Pageantry of Great People! If I could
-only make that pageant live for you as it
-does for me! I know it is impossible; it
-needs greater skill than mine to make the men and
-women live on paper. It is only possible for me to
-recall some small incident which seems typical of the
-individual. In itself, that may be a poor way of
-drawing mental pictures; but it is the only way I
-can attempt with the smallest hope of success. Great
-people, whether great in art, wit, or greatness of
-heart, demand great skill to depict them, so, having
-excused myself for my inevitable shortcomings, I will
-set to work. If I fail utterly, I ask you to remember
-it is due to lack of skill, and not lack of appreciation.
-If I seem to recall these “big” people chiefly through
-incidents that seem humorous, it is because I like to
-remember the things which have made me, and others
-with me, laugh. If the stories do not appear very
-laughable, then you must make allowances again, and
-believe that they “were funny at the time”, perhaps
-because when they happened I was young. We all
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>were young, and the world was a place where we
-laughed easily—because we were happy.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Sir Herbert Tree.</span>—I begin my Pageant with
-Herbert Tree because he was a great figure; he stood
-for a very definite “something”. You might like
-or dislike him, but you had to admit he was a personality.
-He certainly posed, he undoubtedly postured;
-but how much was natural and how much
-assumed, I should not like to attempt to decide.
-There was something wonderfully childlike about
-him; he would suddenly propound most extraordinary
-ideas in the middle of a rehearsal—ideas
-which we knew, and for all I know Tree knew too,
-were utterly impossible. I remember during the
-rehearsals of <cite>Carnac Sahib</cite>, when we were rehearsing
-the scene in the Nabob’s palace, Tree suddenly struck
-an attitude in the middle of the stage and called for
-Wigley (who, by the way, he always addressed as
-“Wiggerley”), who was “on the list” as either
-stage manager or assistant stage manager, but whose
-real work was to listen to Tree and to prompt him
-when necessary—which was very often. Tree called
-“Wiggerley”, and “Wiggerley” duly came.
-“I’ve got an idea,” said Tree. “Wiggerley” expressed
-delight and pleasure, and waited expectant.
-“Those windows” (pointing to the open windows
-of the “palace”); “we’ll have a pair of large,
-flopping vultures fly in through those windows.
-Good, I think; very good.” The faithful “Wiggerley”
-agreed that the idea was brilliant, and
-stated that “it should be seen to at once”. Tree
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>was perfectly satisfied. The vultures never appeared,
-and I have not the slightest belief that “Wiggerley”
-ever looked for any, or indeed ever had the smallest
-intention of doing so.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Tree was very fond of Harry, and used often to
-ask him to go back to supper, after the theatre, when
-Tree lived in Sloane Street. One evening he asked
-him to “come back to supper”, and Harry, for some
-reason, wanted to come straight home; probably he
-had a very nice supper of his own waiting. Tree persisted.
-“Oh, come back with me; there’s stewed
-mutton; you know you like stewed mutton”, and
-finally Harry gave way. They drove to Sloane
-Street, and walked into the dining-room. There was
-on the table a large lace cloth, and—a bunch of
-violets! That was all. Tree went up to the table,
-lifted the violets and smelt them, an expression of
-heavenly rapture, as of one who hears the songs of
-angels, on his face. He held them out to Harry (who
-smelt them), saying “Aren’t they wonderful?”,
-then, taking his hand and leading him to the door,
-he added “<em>Good</em>-night, good-night.” Harry found
-himself in the street, Tree presumably having gone
-back either to eat or smell the violets in lieu of supper.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When he produced <cite>Much Ado</cite>, playing “Benedick”,
-he introduced a scene between “Dogberry”
-and “Verges”, and also some extraordinary business
-when Sir Herbert sat under a tree and had oranges
-dropped on him from above. Harry and I went to
-the first night, and he resented each “introduction”
-more fiercely than the last. He sank lower and lower
-in his stall, plunged in gloom, and praying that Tree
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>would not send for him at the end of the play and ask
-“what he thought of it all”. However, Tree <em>did</em>,
-and we found ourselves in the “Royal Room”,
-which was packed with people, Tree holding a reception.
-I begged Harry to be tactful, and Harry had
-made up his mind not to give Tree the opportunity
-of speaking to him at all, if it could be avoided. Tree
-saw him and came towards us; Harry backed away
-round the room, Tree following. Round they went,
-until Harry was caught in the corner by the stair.
-Tree put the fateful question, “What do you think
-of it?” By this time Harry’s “tact” had taken
-wings, and he answered frankly, if rather harshly,
-“Perfectly dreadful!” I fancy Tree must have
-thought the world had fallen round him; he couldn’t
-believe he was “hearing right”. He persisted, “But
-my scene under the tree?” Back came Harry’s
-answer, “Awful!” “And the scene between Dogberry
-and Verges?” Again, “Perfectly appalling!”
-Tree stared at him, then there was a long
-pause. At last Tree spoke: “Yes, perhaps you’re
-right.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Here is a picture of Tree at a dress rehearsal of,
-I think, <cite>Nero</cite>. Tree, attired in a flowing gold robe,
-moving about the stage, with what was apparently a
-crown of dahlias on his head. The crown was rather
-too big, and, in the excitement of some discussion
-about a “lighting effect”, it had slipped down over
-one eye, giving Tree a dissipated appearance, not
-altogether in keeping with his regal character. Lady
-Tree (I don’t think she was “Lady” Tree then)
-called from the stall: “Herbert, may I say one
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>word?” Tree turned and struck an “Aubrey
-Beardsley” attitude; with great dignity he replied,
-“<em>No</em>, you may not”, and turned again to his discussion.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>A wonderful mixture of innocence and guile, of
-affectations and genuine kindness, of ignorance and
-knowledge, of limitations and possibilities, that was
-Herbert Tree as I read him. But a great artist, a
-great producer, and a very great figure.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>William Terriss.</span>—“Breezy Bill Terriss”, the
-hero of the Adelphi dramas. Handsome, lovable,
-with a tremendous breadth of style in his acting that
-we see too seldom in these days of “restraint”. His
-“Henry VIII.” to Irving’s “Wolsey” was a magnificent
-piece of acting. There is a story told of him,
-when Irving was rehearsing a play in which there was
-a duel—<cite>The Corsican Brothers</cite>, I think. At the dress
-rehearsal (“with lights” to represent the moon,
-which lit the fight), Irving called to “the man in the
-moon”: “Keep it on me, on me!” Terriss dropped
-his sword: “Let the moon shine on me a little,”
-he begged; “Nature is at least impartial.” Everyone
-knows of his tragic death, and his funeral was a
-proof of the affection in which he was held—it was
-practically a “Royal” funeral. When, a few
-months ago, Marie Lloyd was buried, the crowds,
-the marks of affection, the very real and very deep
-regret shown everywhere, reminded me of another
-funeral—that of “Breezy Bill Terriss”.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Marie Loftus.</span>—One of the names which recall
-the time when there were still “giants” on the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>music hall stage. I don’t mean to imply that Variety
-does not still possess great artists, but there seems
-to be no longer that “personal” feeling, the affection,
-admiration—I might almost say adoration—which
-was given to the “giants”; and Marie Loftus
-was “of them”. I saw her years ago at the Tivoli,
-when she came on with a “baby” in her arms, playing
-a “comic-melodrama”. I remember she
-“threw snow over herself”, and finally committed
-suicide by allowing a small toy train to run over her.
-Perhaps it does not sound amusing, perhaps we have
-all grown too sophisticated; if so, we are losing
-something—and something very well worth keeping.
-The Second time I saw Marie Loftus was at the
-Chelsea Palace, about two years ago. I saw her do
-a “Man and Woman” act, one half of her dressed
-as a woman, the other half as a man. These “two”
-people fought together—it was a masterpiece. I shall
-never forget the unstinted praise which it called forth
-from Harry, who was with me. I saw her not long
-ago, not on the stage; she was then looking forward
-to an operation on her eyes, which she hoped would
-make it possible for her to “work” again. Whether
-she does so or not, I shall always look back on those
-two evenings—one at the Tivoli, the other many
-years later at Chelsea—as occasions when I saw a very
-brilliant artist at work.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Sir Henry Irving.</span>—I saw him first when I stayed
-with Florrie Toole, when I first went on the stage,
-and Irving came to see her father. I do not remember
-anything he said or anything he did, but I do
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>remember the impression which the appearance of
-the two men (and, after all, it was more truly an
-indication of their character than it is of most people)
-made upon me. Toole, short and eminently cheerful—you
-could not imagine him anything but what he
-was, a natural comedian, with all a comedian’s tricks
-of speech; and Irving, tall, thin, with something of
-the monastic appearance, which stood him in such
-good stead in “Becket”, dignified, and to all but his
-friends rather aloof. And the one attracted the other
-so that they were unchangeable friends. I have
-heard that Irving could be very bitter, very cruelly
-sarcastic: I know he could be the most truly courteous
-gentleman who ever stepped, and I will give an
-instance which was one of the finest illustrations of
-“fine manners” that I ever witnessed. A most
-wonderful luncheon was given at the Savoy to Mr.
-Joe Knight, a critic, on his retirement. The whole
-of the theatrical profession was there, and Irving was
-in the chair. Harry and I were present. He was
-rather unhappy at the time, because he had been
-“pilled” for the Garrick Club; he felt it very much—much
-more then than he would have done a few years
-later. He was quite young then, and took it rather
-to heart. After the lunch we went up to speak to
-Sir Henry, who, as he shook hands with Harry, said
-in a tone half humorous, half sardonic, and wholly
-kindly, “I understand you have been honoured by
-the Garrick Club as I have been”; adding, still
-more kindly, “only to me it happened twice.” If
-anything could have salved the smart in Harry’s mind
-it was to know he shared the treatment which had
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>been given to Sir Henry Irving; that is why I cite
-this incident as an example of real courtesy.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>H. B. Irving.</span>—Often so detached that his very
-detachment was mistaken for rudeness or unkindness;
-with mannerisms which, to those who did not
-know him, almost blotted out the very genuine goodness
-of heart which lay underneath them. Yet again
-with a queer lack of knowledge of “who people
-were” and what went on around him, as the following
-story will show. This was told me by a man who
-knew him well and witnessed the incident. “Harry”
-Irving was playing <cite>Waterloo</cite> on the variety stage,
-and on the same “bill”, on this particular week,
-were George Chirgwin (the White-Eyed Kaffir) and
-Marie Lloyd. One evening there was a knock at the
-door of Irving’s dressing-room, and a dresser told him
-“Miss Lloyd would like to speak to you in her
-dressing-room, please, sir!” “H. B.” turned to
-James Lindsay, who was in the room, and asked
-blandly, “Who is Miss Lloyd, Jimmy? Ought I
-to answer the summons? I don’t know her, do I?”
-Jimmy explained that Miss Lloyd was certainly accustomed
-to people coming when she sent for them, and
-that “anyway she was distinctly a lady to meet, if
-the opportunity arose”. Irving went, and was away
-for over half an hour; when he returned he sat down
-and said earnestly, “You were quite right. She <em>is</em>
-distinctly a lady to know. Most amusing. I must
-meet her again. Her humour is worth hearing, perhaps
-a little—er—but still most amusing.” “But
-why did she want you at all?” Jimmy asked.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>“Ah!” said Irving, “that is the really amusing
-thing! She didn’t want me! She really wanted a
-man called <em>George Chirgwin</em>, who is apparently a
-friend of hers. The dresser mixed the names, poor
-fool.” The sequel is from Marie Lloyd herself.
-Someone asked her about the incident. “I remember,”
-she said, “I remember it quite well. I sent
-for Chirgwin, to have a chat, and in walks this other
-fellow. I didn’t know who he was, and he didn’t say
-who he was; and I’m certain he didn’t know me.
-He sat down and chatted; at least, I chatted; he
-seemed quite happy, so I went on, and presently he
-wandered out again. He seemed a nice, quiet
-fellow.” Try and read under all that the simplicity
-of two great artists, and you will realise that it is not
-only an amusing incident, but a light on the character
-of both.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Lawrence Irving.</span>—<cite>I think</cite>—no, I am sure—that
-he would, had he lived, have been a very great actor;
-his performance in <cite>Typhoon</cite> was one of the finest
-things I have ever seen. He was a man full of enthusiasms.
-I can remember him talking to Harry
-of Tolstoi, for whom he had a great admiration, and
-being full of excitement about his work. Once he
-was at our house, and Harry and he were arguing
-about some writer as if the fate of the whole world
-depended upon the decision they came to. Harry
-offered Lawrence a cigar, and had at once poured
-upon his head a torrent of reasoned invective against
-“smoking” in general and cigars in particular. It
-was “a disgusting and filthy habit”, men who
-smoked were “turning themselves into chimneys”,
-and so on. The next morning Harry was going by
-the Underground to town, and on the opposite platform
-saw Lawrence Irving <em>smoking</em> a perfectly enormous
-cigar. Harry, delighted, called out, “What
-about ‘filthy habits’ and ‘chimney pots’ now!”
-in great glee. Lawrence took the cigar from his lips
-and looked at it seriously, as if he wondered how it
-got there at all. <em>Then</em> he climbed down from the
-platform, over the rails to the other side, where Harry
-stood, simply to give him an explanation, which, he
-said, he “felt was due”. He was smoking “to see
-how it tasted”!</p>
-
-<div id='i_124' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_124_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Bassano, London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_124'>124</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Harry as Lord Leadenhall</span><br /><br />“The Rocket”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span><span class='sc'>W. S. Gilbert.</span>—He was Jill’s God-father, and
-I have a photograph of him, which he signed “To
-Eva, the mother of my (God) child.” And that was
-typical of Gilbert; he could make jokes from early
-morning to set of sun—and did. Once, many years
-ago, when Decima was playing at the Savoy, I had
-hurt my knee, and for some reason she told Gilbert.
-I think it was because she wanted to be excused a
-rehearsal so that she might come back to be with me
-“when the doctor came”. Gilbert insisted that I
-should be taken to his own doctor, Walton Hood,
-and that at once. So, without waiting for my own
-doctor to arrive, off we went to Walton Hood. He
-looked at my knee, tugged at it, something clicked,
-and he said “Walk home”, which I did, putting my
-foot to the ground for the first time for a month.
-I am sure it is due to W. S. Gilbert that I am not
-now a cripple.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span><span class='sc'>Sir Charles Hawtrey.</span>—Once upon a time
-(which is the very best way of beginning a story)
-Charles Hawtrey owed Harry some money—a question
-of royalties, as far as I remember. Harry was
-“hard up”—in those days we were all often “hard
-up”, and didn’t mind owning it, though I don’t
-suppose we really liked it any better then than we do
-now—so away went “H. V.” to see Charles Hawtrey
-at the Haymarket. He was shown into his
-room, and the question was discussed. Mr. Hawtrey
-decided that “of course you must have it at once”.
-He took Harry into an adjoining office, where upon
-a table were numbers of piles of money, all with a
-small label on the top of the pile, each label bearing
-a name. Hawtrey’s hand hovered above the piles of
-money, and alighted on one. “You shall have this
-one,” he said, and prepared to hand it over to Harry,
-when a voice called from an inner office, “You can’t
-take that one, sir; that belongs to So-and-so.”
-Again the actor-manager’s hand went wandering
-over the table, and he had just announced “You shall
-have this one”, when the same voice called out the
-same warning. This went on for several minutes,
-until at last Hawtrey turned to Harry. “They all
-seem to belong to <em>somebody</em>,” he said; “but never
-mind, I’ll go out now and <em>borrow it for you</em>!” This
-story might be called “A New Way to Pay Old
-Debts.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Anthony Hope.</span>—I might call him Sir Anthony
-Hope Hawkins, but I knew him first (and shall
-always think of him) as Anthony Hope. I have
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>met a good many brilliant authors, but very few who
-were as brilliant “out of their books” as in them.
-Anthony Hope is the exception. He used to give
-the most delightful supper parties at his flat in Savoy
-Mansions, supper parties where everyone seemed to
-shine with the brilliance inspired by their host. He—well,
-he talked as he wrote—polished, clever witticisms.
-Speaking of him reminds me of a holiday
-Harry and I spent at Hazleborough one summer,
-years ago. We were staying at a bungalow there,
-and soon after we arrived a note was delivered to
-Harry. It was from “The Mayor of Hazleborough”,
-and stated that he had heard of the
-arrival of the “well-known dramatist, Mr. H. V.
-Esmond”, and begged that the said “Mr. H. V.
-Esmond” would open the local bazaar, which was to
-be held in a few days’ time. I thought Harry ought
-to say “Yes”; Harry was equally certain that he
-should say “No”, and added that he had brought
-no suitable clothes with him. A note was finally dispatched
-to the Royal Castle Hotel, from which “the
-Mayor” had written, to say that “Mr. Esmond
-regretted, etc.” Later we were sitting in the garden.
-I was still maintaining that it had been a mistake to
-refuse, and Harry equally certain that he had done
-the best thing in refusing, when three heads appeared
-over the fence and three voices chanted in unison,
-“Ever been had?”—Anthony Hope, May and Ben
-Webster, who had sent the letter, and were indeed,
-combined, “The Mayor of Hazleborough”.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span><span class='sc'>Mrs. Patrick Campbell.</span>—Harry knew her much
-better than I did. They had been at the same theatre
-for a long time, in different plays, and he admired
-her tremendously. He used to say that one of the
-most beautiful pictures he had ever seen was one
-evening when he went home to her flat, somewhere
-in Victoria, with her husband, Patrick Campbell. It
-was very late, and she had gone to bed, but she got
-up and came into the dining-room in her nightdress.
-She curled herself up in a large armchair, wrapped a
-skin rug round her, and, with her hair falling loose
-on her shoulders, Harry said she was one of the most
-lovely things he had ever seen in his life. He even
-railed at Kipling, after this incident, for daring to
-describe any woman as “a rag, and a bone, and a
-hank of hair”. The meeting with Mrs. Campbell
-that I remember was this: A matinée was to be
-given, Royalty was to be present, and I was asked to
-approach Mrs. Campbell if she would consent to
-appear. She was then playing, I think, at the Haymarket.
-I went, and Harry went with me. We
-were shown into her dressing-room. For some
-reason, which neither he nor I could ever quite
-fathom, she did not wish to remember who he was.
-She repeated his name in a vague, rather bored voice:
-“Mr. Esmond? Esmond?”; then, as if struck
-with a sudden thought, “You write plays, don’t
-you?” Harry, entering into the spirit of it all, said
-very modestly that he “tried to do so”. More inspiration
-seemed to come to her: “Of course—<em>yes</em>!
-<cite>Sisters</cite>—you have had an enormous success with
-<cite>Sisters</cite> in America, haven’t you?” (I should say
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>here that he never wrote a play called <cite>Sisters</cite> in his
-life.) He smiled and agreed: “Tremendous!”
-“It is <em>so</em> interesting to meet clever people—who
-write successful plays,” she added. The conversation
-went on along these lines for some time. When we
-left, she said “Good-bye” to me, and turned to
-Harry with “Good-night, Mr.—er—Esmond.”
-An extraordinary incident, possibly an extraordinary
-woman, but a very great actress.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Marie Lloyd.</span>—I can give two “flashlights” of
-Marie Lloyd. One, when I saw her at the Tivoli,
-when she wore a striped satin bathing-costume, and
-carried a most diminutive towel; the other, when I
-saw her at the Palladium, and spent one of the most
-enjoyable thirty minutes of my life. Was she vulgar?
-I suppose so; but it was a “clean” vulgarity, which
-left no nasty taste behind it; it was a happy, healthy
-vulgarity, and when it was over you came home and
-remembered the artistry which was the essential
-quality of all she said and did. I met her at a charity
-concert I arranged at the Alhambra during the war;
-I know she came all the way from Sheffield to appear.
-We had an auction sale of butter, eggs,
-pheasants, and so forth. Poor Laurie de Freece was
-the auctioneer, and he was suffering from a very bad
-throat; his voice was dreadfully hoarse. He stuck
-bravely to his work, and when he got to the pheasants
-Marie Lloyd could bear it no longer. She put her
-head round the side of the “back cloth” and said,
-“Five pounds, me—Marie Lloyd. I can’t bear to
-hear you going on with that voice; it’s awful.”
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>When Harry died, she said to a woman who knew
-both Marie Lloyd and me, “I did think of sending
-her a wire, and then I thought of writing a letter
-(Marie Lloyd, who never wrote letters if she could
-avoid doing so!), then somehow—I didn’t do either.
-Will you just say to Eva Moore that you’ve seen me,
-and say, ‘Marie’s very sorry’?” Already she is
-becoming almost a legendary figure; men and
-women will tell stories of Marie Lloyd long after the
-songs she sang are forgotten. Personally, to me she
-will always rank as one of the world’s great artists,
-and I like to remember that, when I was given the
-sympathy of so many loving men and women, Marie
-Lloyd too was “very sorry”.</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER X<br /> <span class='large'>STORIES I REMEMBER</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c014'>“When you know as much of life as I do, you will see a jest
-in everything.”—<cite>Bad Hats.</cite></p>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>“Tell me a story”—that was what we
-used to ask, wasn’t it? And when the
-story was told it was of knights, and lovely
-ladies, and giants who were defeated in their wickedness
-by the prince, and the story ended—as all good
-stories should end—“and they lived happy ever
-after”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>As we grew older we still wanted stories, but, because
-we found life lacked a good deal of the laughter
-we had expected to find, we wanted stories to make
-us laugh. I am going to try and tell you “true
-stories that will make you laugh”. If they are new,
-so much the better; but if they are old—well, are
-you too old yourself to laugh again?</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Frank Curzon objected, and very rightly, to ladies
-wearing large hats at matinées. He objected so
-strongly that everyone heard of the fight to the death
-between Frank Curzon and the matinée hat, “The
-Lady and the Law Case”. One day, at a meeting of
-West End managers, when arrangements were being
-made for some big matinée, Frank Curzon proposed
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>something which Herbert Tree opposed. There was
-some argument on the matter, and at last Tree
-launched his final bolt: “My friend, Frank Curzon,”
-he said, “is evidently talking through his
-matinée hat.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>George Edwardes had a servant who stuttered very
-badly. He had been with Edwardes, “man and
-boy”, for many years, and at last attended his
-master’s funeral. He was telling the glories of the
-ceremony to someone, and said: “It was a l-l-lovely
-funeral! S-s-some b-boy sang a s-s-solo; he s-ang it
-b-b-beautifully; I expected any m-m-minute to
-see the G-guvenor sit up and say, ‘G-give him a
-c-c-contract!’”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>George Edwardes was once interviewing a lady for
-the chorus at the Gaiety; he asked her, “Do you run
-straight?” “Yes, Mr. Edwardes,” was the reply,
-“but not very far, or very fast.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>He once gave a supper party at the old Waldorf
-Hotel, which at that time was literally overrun with
-mice. G. P. Huntly was present, and, among
-others, Mr. Blackman, one of George Edwardes’s
-managers. All dined well—and many not wisely.
-Presently G. P. Huntly saw a mouse on the curtain,
-and the dreadful fear assailed him that perhaps “it
-wasn’t really a mouse—not a real mouse, anyway”.
-He turned to Mr. Blackman and said, “Did you see
-that?” “See what?” asked the other. Huntly
-pointed to the curtain. “That mouse on the curtain.”
-By that time the mouse had moved, and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>Blackman replied in the negative. In a minute
-Huntly asked the same question again: “See that
-mouse?” Blackman (who by this time had seen it),
-to “rag” him, said “No.” Poor Huntly turned
-very white, rose from his seat, and said, “Ah!—Good-night!”
-and went home.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Alfred Lester and Mr. W. H. Berry—at one time,
-at least—did not “get on”. One morning Lester
-was going to interview Edwardes about something,
-and Edwardes, knowing about this “rift in the
-theatrical lute”, warned Blackman before Lester
-came, “Now, on no account mention Berry! Let’s
-have a nice, quiet, pleasant interview; keep Berry
-out of it,” and so on. When Alfred Lester came
-into the room, Edwardes stretched out his hand and
-said cordially, “Well, <em>Berry</em>, how are you, my boy?
-Sit down.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>When we were married, W. S. Gilbert gave us a
-silver tea-set, and later a day came when we pooled
-our worldly wealth and found we had eighteen
-shillings in the whole world—and Gilbert’s tea-set.
-We debated as to whether the tea-set should find a
-temporary home with “uncle”, but decided to wait
-as long as we could before taking this step. Harry
-heard that a tour was going out from the Gaiety, and
-thought he would try for the “Arthur Roberts”
-part on tour. (Could anything have been more
-absurd!) He learnt a song, and set out, calling at
-the Websters’ flat to practise the song again. He
-arrived at the Gaiety, full of hope and—the song;
-was told to begin, opened his mouth, and found he
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>had forgotten every note; and so—Arthur Roberts
-lost a rival, and he came home. Soon afterwards
-George Alexander gave him a contract, and Gilbert’s
-tea-set was saved!</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>A well-known producer of sketches and revues,
-who is noted more for his energy than his education,
-was once rehearsing a company in which a number of
-young men, chiefly from the Whitechapel High
-Street, were enacting the parts of aristocrats at a
-garden party. One of them advanced to a young
-woman to “greet her”, which he did like this:
-Raising his hat, he exclaimed: “’Ello, H’Ethel!”
-A voice came from the stalls—the producer: “Good
-Lord! <em>That</em> isn’t the way that a h’earl talks. Let
-me show you.” He rushed up on to the stage and
-advanced to the young lady, raising his hat and holding
-his arm at an angle of 45 degrees. “Ello!
-H’Ethel!” he began; “what are you a-doin’
-’ere?”; then turning to the actor, he said, “There
-you are! that’s the way to do it!”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>H. B. Irving was manager at the Savoy Theatre
-during the air raids. One evening, when the news
-of an air raid came through, he went to warn his
-leading lady. He walked straight into her dressing-room,
-and found the lady absolutely—well, she had
-reached the <em>final</em> stage of undressing. Irving, quite
-absent-minded as usual, never even saw <em>how</em> she was
-dressed. “Take cover!” he said, and walked out
-again.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>During the war I sat on many Committees—we all
-did, for that matter. This particular one was concerned
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>with arranging work for women, work which
-needed “pushing through” quickly, and the secretary
-was reading the suggested scheme. It read
-something as follows: “It is suggested that the
-women shall work in shifts, etc., etc.” A well-known
-Peeress, who was in the chair, leant forward.
-“Quite good,” she said, “quite good, but I should
-like some other word substituted for ‘shifts’; it really
-sounds—not <em>quite</em> nice, I think.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Another Committee—this time for providing work
-for women who had been connected either with art,
-music, or the drama—all of which, I may say, became
-elastic terms. It was a large Committee—much too
-large—and it consisted of many very well-known and
-charitably inclined ladies. There were—but no, I
-had better not give you names! The secretary was
-reporting on the case of a woman who had just been
-admitted to the workrooms—an elderly, self-respecting,
-very good-looking woman, who had years before
-played—and played, I believe, very admirably—in
-“sketches”, but in the days when £3 was considered
-a very good salary. The report finished, the secretary
-waited for comments. From the end of the
-table came a voice—a very full, rich, deep voice—which
-belonged to a lady swathed in sables, and
-wearing pearls which would have kept a dozen women
-in comfort for a year.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“And you say this lady has been working for
-many years?” The secretary replied that she had—many
-years.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“And she was receiving a salary all the time?”
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>The secretary again explained that “in those days
-salaries were very small”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“And now she wants work in our workrooms?”.
-A pause, the speaker pulled her sables round her,
-the pearls rattled with her righteous indignation.
-“<em>Another</em> improvident actress!” she said, in the
-tone of one who has plumbed the enormity of human
-depravity to its very depths.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>During the war I used sometimes to go to a munition
-factory and, during the dinner-hour, to entertain
-the “boys and girls”. Such nice “boys and girls”,
-too, who apparently liked me as much as I liked them.
-I heard a story there about their “works motto”,
-which struck me as rather amusing. The owner of
-the works chose it—“Play for the side”—and had
-it put up in the canteen. When the workers were
-assembled for dinner, he took the opportunity to say
-a few words on the subject of the motto. “Play for
-the side,” he began, when a voice from the back of
-the canteen was heard: “That’s all right, Guv’nor,
-but <em>whose</em> side—ours or yours?”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Here is a story of Martin Harvey. He was playing
-<cite>The Breed of the Treshams</cite> in the provinces, and had
-in the company an actor who played a very small
-part, and who loved to talk in what is known as
-“rhyming slang”. It is a stupid kind of slang which
-designates “whisky” as “gay and frisky”,
-“gloves” as “turtle doves”. Martin Harvey was
-going on to the stage one evening, and met this actor
-rushing back to his dressing-room. Knowing that
-he should have been on the stage when the curtain
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>went up, Harvey asked “Where are you going?”
-“It’s all right,” replied the man, “I’m just going
-back to my dressing-room for a second; I’ve forgotten
-my turtle doves.” “Well, be quick about
-it,” Harvey told him; “and please remember in
-future I don’t like you to keep birds in the dressing-rooms!”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>After the war, a well-known “play-going”
-society gave a dinner to a representative section of
-the legitimate and variety stages who had done work
-for the soldiers in the war. Mr. George Robey was
-to respond for Variety. I sat opposite to him, with
-Mr. Harry Tate on my left, and almost opposite me,
-quite close to George Robey, sat Marie Lloyd. She
-was wonderfully dressed, with a marvellous ermine
-cloak; and it was quite evident, from the moment
-she arrived (which was very late), that she was in a
-very bad temper. (As a matter of fact, I heard later
-that she was upset at the death of an old friend, Mr.
-Dick Burge.) Mr. Robey got up to “respond for
-Variety”, and really I must admit that his speech
-was very much on the lines of “<em>I</em> have been very
-glad—er—er—that is, <em>we</em> have been very glad”, and
-so on. I watched Marie Lloyd’s face; it got more
-and more “black” as his speech went on. When he
-finished, she rose and said in that attractive, rather
-hoarse voice—which was at that moment a remarkably
-cross voice too—“I’m Marie Lloyd; I’ve done
-my bit for the “boys”; I haven’t had <em>my</em> photo in
-the papers for years; and what I want to know is—touching
-this speech we have just listened to—<em>what’s
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>Marie Lloyd</em> and poor old <em>Ellen Terry</em> done?” She
-leant across to Harry Tate, said “Come on, Harry”,
-and walked from the room. Everyone gasped. It
-was all over in a few seconds, but it left its mark on
-the dinner.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>When Brookfield took a company to America he
-lost a good deal of money over the venture. On his
-return he walked into the Green Room Club, and
-met Grossmith (“Old G. G.”), and began to tell
-him of his losses. “Can’t understand it,” said G. G.,
-“you people take thousands of pounds of scenery,
-trainloads of artists, spend money like water, and
-come back and say ‘It hasn’t paid!’ Look at me:
-I take nothing to America with me but a dress suit,
-come back having made ten thousand pounds!”
-“Very likely,” said Brookfield; “remember everyone
-doesn’t look as damned funny in a dress suit as
-you do!”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Lionel Monckton was in the Green Room Club
-one evening, having supper. Mr. Thomas Weiglin,
-a well-developed gentleman, walked in, faultlessly
-attired in full evening dress; everyone applauded his
-entrance. Mr. Monckton looked up, and said in a
-voice of protest, “I have been coming to the club
-in evening dress for forty years, and no one has ever
-done that to me.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Winifred Emery told me this. She and Cyril
-Maude were on their honeymoon. She was lying in
-bed, wearing a most engaging nightdress, and she
-thought that she was looking very nice. He stood
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>at the end of the bed, watching her, and presently
-walked to her, took a small piece of the nightdress
-in his fingers, saying as he did so, “Don’t you think
-it would be better if it was made of <em>stronger calico</em>?”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Herbert Tree met Fred Terry in the Garrick Club
-one day, and said to him: “My new production—er—what
-do you think about my having your beautiful
-daughter, Phyllis, to play the leading lady’s
-part?”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Fred Terry said he thought it would be very admirable
-for all concerned, and that he approved entirely.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“What handsome remuneration should I have to
-offer her?” Tree asked. Mr. Terry named a sum,
-which he thought “about right”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“What;” said Tree; “<em>what!</em>” Then came a
-long pause, and at last Tree said in a dreamy voice,
-“Do you know I can get Marie Lloyd for that?”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>I was once playing a sketch at a hall in the provinces,
-where the population apparently come to the
-performance so that they may read their evening
-papers to the accompaniment of music. At the end
-of the week, the manager asked me how “I liked the
-audience”, and I told him. “You’re quite right,”
-he replied, “but I’ve got a turn coming next week
-that they <em>will</em> appreciate, that they <em>will</em> understand.”
-I asked what the turn was. “Roscoe’s Performing
-<em>Pigs</em>,” he told me.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>A certain actor tells a story about himself when he
-first went on the stage. He had just sold out of the
-Army, and felt he was rather conferring a favour
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>upon Henry Irving by joining his company at the
-Lyceum. They were rehearsing <cite>Coriolanus</cite>, and
-someone was wanted to “walk on” as a messenger.
-Irving looked round, and his eye lit upon our friend,
-who was wearing—as smart young men did in those
-days—a large white fluffy tie. “Here you, young
-man in the white tie,” he said. The product of the
-Army took not the slightest notice. “Here you,”
-Irving repeated; “come here, I want you.” Our
-friend, with offended dignity on every line of his face,
-advanced and asked, “Did you want <em>me</em>?” “Yes,”
-said Irving, “I did.” “Then,” said the budding
-Thespian, “<em>my</em> name is Gordon!” “Oh, is it?”
-Irving said, affably. “Mine is Irving; how are
-you?” Then, changing his tone, “Now I want you
-to come on here, carrying,” etc., etc.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>When Barrie’s <cite>Twelve Pound Look</cite> was at the
-Coliseum, two “comedy sketch artists” were in the
-stalls. The play went very well—very well indeed.
-One of the comedians turned to the other: “Who
-wrote this?” “Fellow called ‘Barrie’,” was the
-reply. “Ah!” said the first, “he writes our next;
-he’s good!”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>While rehearsing a scene in a film production, the
-producer described to the two artistes the Eastern
-atmosphere he wanted—the warmth, the amorous
-love conveyed in the love scenes. He read the scene,
-with all the usual Eastern language, such as “Rose
-of Persia”, “O, Light of My Desire”, “Look at
-me with your lovely eyes”, and other such remarks
-which might convey the “kind of acting” which he
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>was trying to get. The actor listened to what the
-producer said in silence, then remarked cheerfully,
-“Yes, yes, I know—‘Shrimps for Tea’.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Decima’s son was very young when the war broke
-out. He was a “Snotty” at Dartmouth, and saw
-a great deal of active service. After the Battle of
-Jutland he wrote home to us a short description of
-the fight, saying briefly that he had seen this or that
-ship sunk, adding: “And now to turn to something
-really serious; I owe my laundry thirty shillings, and
-until the bill is paid the blighter refuses to let me have
-my shirts. Could you loan me a couple of quid?”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>When <cite>Flames of Passion</cite>, the film in which I
-appeared, was showing at the Oxford, a woman I
-knew went to see it, and was sitting in the gallery.
-Next to her was a flower-woman—one of the real old
-type, complete with shawl and small sailor hat. After
-a time they began to talk to each other. This is the
-conversation as it was reported to me later:</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“It’s a good picture, dearie, ain’t it?” asked the
-“flower-girl”. “Very good.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“I think Eva Moore’s good, don’t you?” “Very
-good.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“She’s lorst ’er ’usband lately, pore thing; very
-’ard for ’er. Though, mind yer, it’s a pleasant
-change, in one way: most of these ’ere actresses only
-<em>mislay</em> theirs.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>Which reminds me of another story. Some time
-after Harry died, a man I knew slightly called to see
-me. He came in, and began to say how grieved he
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>was to hear of Harry’s death, and how much he sympathised
-with me in my loss. This went on for some
-time, then he said: “But the real thing I came to
-ask was—do you know of a good ‘jobbing’ gardener?”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>An author once engaged an actor for a part, simply
-on account of his very ugly face and his exceeding bad
-complexion. At the dress rehearsal the author met
-the actor at the side of the stage, “made up”.
-“Who are you?” he asked. The actor gave his
-name. “Go and wash all the make-up off at once,”
-said the author; “I only engaged you for your ugly
-face.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>At Henley Regatta, years ago, Jack (about six
-years old, very fair and attractive) was watching the
-races from a balcony over Hobbs’ boathouse, which
-belonged to kind friends of ours, Mr. and Mrs.
-Pidgeon, who yearly invited us to see the wonderful
-view. After watching several races, Jack turned to
-our hostess and said, “Please, does the steamer never
-win?”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was from their balcony, too, that I saw Mr.
-Graham White, when he flew right down the racecourse
-in his aeroplane, dipping and touching the
-water like a swallow, to the alarm of the crowds in
-their boats on either side of the course—a never-to-be-forgotten
-sight.</p>
-
-<div id='i_142' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_142_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Alfred Ellis, London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_142'>142</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Harry as Major-General Sir R. Chichele</span><br /><br />“The Princess and the Butterfly”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER XI<br /> <span class='large'>ROUND AND ABOUT</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c014'>“We’ve been to a good many places in the last few months,
-but we’ve had a very pleasant time.”</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>—<cite>Grierson’s Way.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>When we first went out to America
-together, Harry and I, in 1914, it was my
-first visit, though not his; he had been
-over before to produce several of his own plays. We
-took with us <cite>The Dear Fool</cite>, which was played in
-this country in 1914, and <cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite>. Personally,
-I did not enjoy the visit very much; and, to
-be quite candid, it was not the success we could have
-wished. The critics were not too kind, and, though
-American theatrical criticism may have changed since
-then, I found their articles such an extraordinary
-mixture of journalese, slang, and poker terms as to
-be almost unintelligible—at all events to my British
-intelligence. These articles may have been very
-amusing; perhaps if I could have read them “on this
-side”, I might have found them so, but in New York
-I admit the kind of writing—of which I give an
-example here—merely irritated me, as I imagine it
-must have irritated many other English artists:
-“After the first act there was a universal call for the
-water-boy, yet we all stayed; nobody raised the ante,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>so we all cheerfully drew cards for the second act.
-Alas, when it was too late, we discovered it was a
-bum deck. I don’t believe there was anything higher
-than a seven spot.” That may be very clever. I can
-almost believe it is very witty; but I still hold that it
-is not “criticism”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I give one more example, and also the comment
-of another American newspaper upon the extract
-from the first journal. The extract concerns <cite>The
-Dear Fool</cite>, and is as follows:—“A pretty severe
-strain on one’s critical hospitality. Betty at best a
-cackling marionette made of sawdust. It is but a
-meaningless jumble of stock phrases and stock situations.
-Anything more feeble it would be hard to
-imagine. The ‘Dear Fool’ is one of the worst.”
-Now mark the pæan of thanksgiving which this criticism
-calls forth from another New York journal:—“Not
-only is this (referring to the extract given
-above) an accurate and intelligent account of last
-night’s play—healthy fearlessness which rarely gets
-into the New York criticisms. Let us have more of
-this honest and straightforward writing about the
-current drama.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>That is only the worst—may I say “the worst”,
-not only from “our” point of view, but also from
-the point of view of “criticism”—which I still
-maintain it was not, in any sense of the word. Some
-weeks ago I read a very admirable series of essays by
-Mr. Agate, and in writing of critics he says (and he is
-one of them) that every critic should be a “Jim
-Hawkins”, looking for treasure. Too often, I can
-believe, it is a weary search; but surely in every play
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>there is something which calls for approbation, and
-which may point to possibilities in the author’s work.
-To find that streak of gold, to incite the author to
-follow it, and to perhaps point out in what manner
-he may best do so, coupled with a fair review of his
-play as a whole, giving faults as they appear and
-merits where they can be found—that seems to me
-the justification of criticism.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Another critic wrote with perhaps a less racy pen,
-but with more understanding:—“There was a
-literary quality in the writing and a neatness in the
-construction which were inviting, and there was a
-mellowness to the story of its middle-aged lovers
-which had real appeal. Over it all was the unmistakable
-atmosphere of English life. All these qualities
-and the fact that the play was extremely well acted,
-counted strongly in its favour.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Alan Dale, the critic who was regarded as <em>the critic</em>
-of America, under whose pen actors and managers
-quaked in their shoes, wrote:—“It has the gentle,
-reluctant English atmosphere of other plays by this
-actor-author, and it is interesting by reason of its lines
-and its characterisation. After all the ‘shockers’ of
-to-day, with their red and lurid types, after the insensate
-struggle for garish effects and horrors, this
-play gives us a whiff of repose; it is unstagy, its
-characters are real human beings who talk like human
-beings; if they haven’t anything startling to say
-from the theatrical point of view, they are at least
-human.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>What a good thing it is we don’t all see things
-through one pair of glasses!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>But I am wandering from my story of the visit to
-America. I look back on it all now, and remember
-the series of untoward events and mishaps which
-occurred before our journey began. The week before
-we left England, a cable came from “C. F.” (Charles
-Frohman) to say that he had altered the theatre
-which was to be the scene of our production. Our
-theatre had been let to a big film company, and we
-were to be sent to the Garrick. A wretched little
-place it was, too; as the stage manager there said
-frankly: “Only fit for a garage.” As a matter of
-fact, I believe it now is one. Even before we left
-Liverpool a wave of depression came over me, when
-our ship met with an accident as she was leaving port.
-The sun—a wintry, pale sun—was sinking as we
-began to move, towed out of the river. The order to
-release was, I suppose, given too soon; on board we
-felt nothing—the only sign that anything was wrong
-was that we saw everyone on the landing-stage running
-for dear life, like frightened rabbits. Then we
-realised that our big ship was crashing into the
-landing-stage, crushing like matchwood a big dredger
-which was lying alongside, and also the iron gangway.
-All we felt on board was a slight shiver which seemed
-to run through the ship. We were delayed seven
-hours while the screws were examined. I am not a
-superstitious mortal, but the feeling that all this was
-a bad omen clung to me—and, be it said, proved true.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>On board we were a happy party; many of the
-company had been with us before, and so were old
-friends. Jack and Jill (who was nearing her fifth
-birthday) loved their first experience of travelling a
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>long distance; the Esmond family were out to enjoy
-the trip—and succeeded. The entrance to New
-York harbour filled me with interest. I still remember
-and wonder at those eight or nine tiny tugs, veritable
-cockle-shells they looked, which “nosed” our
-huge liner into dock. I remember, too, the ghastly
-business of the Customs! I am not a good sailor,
-and the moment I stood on solid earth again it seemed
-to heave up and down, and continued to do so for
-several days. The hours which we spent, waiting for
-our baggage to be examined, were absolute torture
-to me. Socially, we had a perfect time, kindness and
-hospitality were shown to us in every possible way;
-but our poor <cite>Eliza</cite> was abused up hill and down dale.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The first night was the most horrible I can remember.
-The theatre was boiling hot, and the hot-water
-pipes continually went off like great guns. I was as
-cold as ice. After playing <cite>Eliza</cite> everywhere in England
-to the accompaniment of roars of laughter, the
-coldness of the reception at the Garrick in New York
-was hard to bear.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>For some reason, it was said that <cite>Eliza</cite> was copied
-from a play then in New York—<cite>Peg o’ My Heart</cite>—and
-which was an enormous success. It was stated,
-with almost unnecessary frankness, that for us to have
-presented <cite>Eliza</cite> in New York was an impertinence.
-Naturally there was not a word of truth in the statement;
-as a matter of fact, <cite>Eliza</cite> had been written
-some years before <cite>Peg</cite>, and there had been a suggestion
-(which had not materialised) that it should have
-been produced in America soon after it was written.
-We made no reply to these unjust and utterly untrue
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>statements and suggestions; it would have been useless;
-but I am glad now to take this opportunity of
-referring to them. <cite>Eliza</cite> had been the cause of
-trouble before: it is a long story, but one which I
-think is worth recording here, and at this particular
-point.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When we produced <cite>Eliza</cite> at the Criterion, Miss
-Mabel Hackney came to see it, bringing with her
-Miss Simmons, the authoress of a play called <cite>Clothes
-and The Woman</cite>. This play had been sent to me
-to read some time before, and, having been very
-busy, I had not done so at once. Miss Simmons
-wrote to me, asking if I would return it, to which I
-replied that I should be glad to keep it for a little
-longer, so that I might read it. In all, I suppose
-the play was in my house for three months. At the
-end of that time the MS. was returned to Miss Simmons,
-with a letter in which I stated that I liked the
-play very much, “up to a point”, but that at the
-moment I was not producing anything. I read
-dozens of plays in the course of a year, and, having
-returned it, dismissed the matter from my mind.
-<cite>Eliza</cite>, as I have said, was produced, and a performance
-witnessed by Miss Simmons, who at once,
-without approaching Harry or myself, sent a letter
-to the Authors’ Society, demanding that they should
-apply for the immediate withdrawal of Harry’s play,
-on the grounds that it was plagiarism of her comedy,
-<cite>Clothes and The Woman</cite>. Harry, on receipt of the
-letter from the Authors’ Society, at once communicated
-with Miss Dickens, that efficient lady who has
-typed so many of his plays. Miss Dickens was able
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>to prove conclusively to the Authors’ Society that
-<cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite> had been typed by her at least
-two and a half years before <cite>Clothes and The Woman</cite>
-had been sent to me by Miss Simmons. The Society
-was satisfied, and laid the facts before Miss Simmons,
-who, I regret to say, did not feel it necessary to offer
-an apology to Harry for the injustice she had done
-him.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>To use an old joke, which I find the critics are still
-willing to use whenever <cite>Eliza</cite> is performed, “she”
-did <em>not</em> come to stay in New York, and we put on
-<cite>The Dear Fool</cite>. This play was as warmly praised as
-<cite>Eliza</cite> had been slated, and we both scored a great
-personal success. We later renamed the play, as
-Harry discovered that the title, <cite>The Dear Fool</cite>,
-means in America a kind of “silly ass”, which was
-not at all what he intended to convey. In consequence,
-he called it <cite>The Dangerous Age</cite>, and under
-that title it was produced in London.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I am reminded here of a story which Harry told
-me once when he came home after a trip to America.
-He had been to see Maud Adams and William
-Feversham playing <cite>Romeo and Juliet</cite>. Miss Adams,
-so he was told, believed that the love between Romeo
-and Juliet was strictly platonic, and would therefore
-have no bed in the famous bedroom scene. The two
-lovers were discovered, as the curtain rose, seated on
-a sofa reading a book of poems. Harry, in telling me
-of the play, said he was certain that the book was
-<cite>Dr. Chavasse’s Advice to a Wife</cite>, a book which is
-well known in this country to all families—at least
-those of the last generation.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>Our visit to America ended, and we went for three
-weeks to Canada before returning home to begin our
-own season at the Vaudeville Theatre in London.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Our next visit to Canada was in 1920, when we
-took with us <cite>Eliza</cite>—be it said, “by special request”—and
-<cite>The Law Divine</cite>. To tell one half of the kindness
-we received at the hands of the Canadian people
-would fill a huge book alone, and I must content
-myself with saying that it was nothing short of
-“wonderful”—quite, quite wonderful. Everywhere
-we went, people were anxious to do everything possible
-to make our visit pleasant, and how well they
-succeeded!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The Trans-Canada Company, with which we went,
-had formed a splendid idea, and one which I hope
-will meet with the success it deserves; this is, to
-bring from London, British plays with British
-players, and to visit, as far as is possible, every town
-in Canada, so that the people of Canada may be in
-touch with the Mother Country in her ideas and
-ideals, and so cement the affection between the two
-countries which has been so splendidly aroused by
-the Great War. We were delighted to be pioneers,
-or one of the sections of the pioneers, of the scheme;
-but in the smaller towns we found that the inhabitants
-had so long been accustomed to American farces (and
-“bedroom” farces at that) or the lightest of musical
-comedies, that an English comedy, spoken by English
-people with English voices, was almost Greek
-to them. As someone said to me one day, “Your
-accent is so difficult to understand”, and one could
-see that was true, for in the opening scene of <cite>The
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>Law Divine</cite>, which should be played quickly, we had
-to decrease the pace to let the audiences get used to
-our voices. This only applied to the smaller places;
-in the larger towns the audiences loved the plays; the
-English home setting, the sailor and the Tommy, in
-<cite>The Law Divine</cite>, won all hearts, and the simplicity
-and directness of the acting astonished those of the
-audiences who had never seen a London production.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>On arriving at Quebec, we were rushed off by a
-night train to Montreal, in order that we might be
-present at a big luncheon party, given by Lord and
-Lady Shaughnessy, to welcome us to Canada. There
-we met many people who became our warm friends,
-Sir Frederick and Lady Taylor, Mrs. Drummond
-(who is so well known in the amateur dramatic world),
-Mrs. Henry Joseph—to mention only a few of the
-friends we made in Canada.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>That week we started our tour at Halifax (Nova
-Scotia), and visited 48 towns in four months, travelling
-right through Canada to Victoria, B.C. It was
-all tremendously interesting, and the hospitality we
-received was boundless—luncheons, dinners, suppers,
-given both by private friends and numerous clubs,
-such as the Canadian Women’s Club, The Daughters
-of the Empire, the Men’s Canadian Club, the
-Rotary, the Kyannias, and the various dramatic clubs.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>At Toronto we were asked to speak in the new
-theatre at Hart Hall, the beautiful college that has
-been built on the lines of an Oxford College, and
-given by Deane Massey, Esq. This was the first
-time that a woman had been asked to speak there,
-and I believe some little anxiety was felt as to “what
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>I should say”, but my subject was a safe one. I
-dealt with “Women’s Work during the War, and
-the Work for Her to do in the Future”. Harry, on
-this occasion, spoke of “The Drama”. It was an
-effort—a very real effort—as he hated and was really
-frightened of public speaking. On such occasions he
-usually recited, and used to make a tremendous effect
-with that great poem, <cite>The Defence of Lucknow</cite>.
-When I say “a tremendous effect”, I do not mean
-only from a dramatic point of view, but from the
-point of view that it was “Empire work”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I remember at Edmonton, Alberta—the city that
-is built farthest north of Canada—we were invited to
-lunch at the big college. There in the big hall we
-met the students, and sat down with some four
-hundred men of all ages from 18 to 40—students who,
-I was interested to learn, were all learning Spanish
-as well as German in their course. In the middle of
-the hall hung a huge Union Jack, and under it Harry
-stood reciting <cite>The Defence of Lucknow</cite> to four hundred
-spellbound men and boys. I shall never forget
-the rousing cheers which went up from those who had
-listened to him when he ceased speaking. Professor
-Carr was the head of the College, and both he and his
-wife were charming to us. There we met Mr. Evans,
-who has done so much for the city. He and his wife
-gave a hockey match for us and the members of our
-company, which resulted in Harry “coming down”
-very hard on his gold cigarette case and squashing it
-quite flat.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>At Winnipeg—“The Golden Gate to the West”,
-I believe it is called—we met more delightful people,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>among them the Hon. “Bob” Rogers, as he is
-called. At the Barracks, where “Princess Pat.’s
-Own” were quartered, I met many men who had
-been friends of Decima’s in France during the war.
-It was here that I saw what, up to that time, I had
-only read of—a real dog-sledge. It was a bitter day,
-with a howling wind off the prairies, and at least
-29 degrees below zero. Suddenly I saw dashing up
-the main street nine dogs, dragging what looked to
-me like a small boat. Forgetting the biting wind, I
-stopped to watch. “The boat” stopped, and all the
-dogs lay down instantly in the snow, all looking as
-if they were grinning, and wagging their tails with
-vigour. Then a man got out of “the boat”, and
-lifted out a dog with a strap attached to it; this he
-harnessed to the rest of the team, stopping only to
-cuff one of the resting dogs, which had taken the
-opportunity to eat some snow. The man got back
-into the sledge, and they were off again at full tilt.
-I loved the sight, so strange and picturesque—so
-strange to English eyes, and yet enacted for me by
-some unknown man, who was yet “part and parcel”
-of the Empire, even as I was.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I never got over my feeling of depression when I
-looked at the prairies. Perhaps I saw them at a bad
-time, covered with snow—endless flat snow, which
-seemed limitless, seemed to stretch away to infinity.
-The only time I ever saw any beauty which brought
-joy in them, was one day when we had to leave Moose
-Jaw. We had a long journey to our next town, and
-left at three in the morning. I remember that
-through the night some of the company played
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>bridge, the ever-cheerful Florrie Lumley, of course,
-being one of the players. I went to bed, to snatch
-what sleep I could after two performances. The
-morning was the most amazing sunrise I have ever
-seen; the sky full of rich mauves and pinks, melting
-into blues and yellows, over the vast expanse of flat
-ground, is something which I could never hope to
-describe. I only know that I felt more than repaid
-for my early rising by the joy, the wonderful colour,
-the beauty, and the happiness which that sunrise gave
-to me.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Again I seem to see Calgary, with its crowd of men
-of all nationalities; here a cowboy in full kit, with
-rattlesnake stirrups; there an Indian, incongruous
-with his hair in plaits and yet wearing European
-clothes, his squaw with him; a Japanese; even an
-Indian wearing a turban—all making a wonderful
-picture of East and West. And then, in the midst
-of all this cosmopolitan crowd, the huge hotel with
-all the most modern comforts—for all the C.P.R.
-Hotels are wonderful. It was from the roof garden
-of this hotel at Calgary that I had my first sight of
-the Rockies—and, oh! the joy of the Rockies. To
-me all those days of long journeys, the fatigues, the
-distress were nothing, were forgotten, in the joy of
-the sight of the mountains, the delight of feeling that
-one was actually “in” such beauty, and that the
-joy of looking at them would go on for days.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>We stayed to play at two little towns in the mountains.
-Kamloops, one of them, made us laugh—as,
-indeed, did many of our experiences. Fortunately
-our company was a happy one, all being ready to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>make light of difficulties. On this occasion we had
-to dress for the performance under most uncomfortable
-conditions, for the theatre at Kamloops is just
-a “frame” or wood hall. Rooms—of sorts—are
-provided for the artists; for instance, Harry’s room
-was built on the ground, no floor boarding, just bare
-earth—and the temperature at 40 degrees below
-zero; no heating was provided except in one room.
-The lighting, too, left much to be desired; we all
-had about two very tiny electric lights to dress by,
-and, just before the curtain went up, a knock came
-to the door, and the request was made for “the
-electric-light globes, as they were wanted for the
-footlights”. When we did ring up, the seven or
-eight globes which were to assist the public to see us
-clearly were all backed by yellow posters, on which
-was printed “Cyril Maude as ‘Grumpy’”. If we
-had not all laughed so immoderately, I think the
-sight, facing us all through our performance, might
-have made us “Grumpy”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>At Vancouver we were very gay. Our visit was
-all too short, and accordingly many different societies
-joined forces, and by this means we succeeded in
-meeting as many people as possible in the short time
-we were able to spend in the city. I think I have
-never felt more nervous in my life than I did at the
-luncheon given to us by the Canadian Men’s Club
-at the vast Vancouver Hotel, the largest hotel I have
-ever seen. About five hundred men were present, and
-I was the only woman. My entrance was almost a
-royal one; I was led by the President of the Club
-down a big flight of stairs into the hall; all the men
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>rose to their feet and gave us a tremendous reception;
-I found myself, half tearfully, saying, “Oh, thank
-you, thank you so much.” It was a wonderful
-feeling, to be so far away from home, and yet to find
-such a lovely welcome from people who were not only
-glad to see you, but told you so. Miss M. Stewart,
-the daughter of Mrs. and General Stewart, who did
-such great work in France, laughingly constituted
-herself my chauffeuse, and drove me everywhere.
-I look forward to seeing Vancouver again one day.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>At Medicine Hat we played only one night, and,
-as I was walking down the main street, a frail little
-woman came up to me and asked, “Are you Eva
-Moore?” When I answered her, she said “I’m
-your cousin.” She had come countless miles from
-her prairie farm, which she ran with her son, to see
-me play. I had never seen her before; had not
-known, even, that I had a cousin in that part of the
-world!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was at Revelstoke, again in the Rockies—a place
-that had once been very flourishing, but owing to vast
-forest fires had almost ceased to be a working town—that
-I had an amusing experience. At every theatre
-<cite>God Save the King</cite> had always been played at the
-end of each performance. Here, to my astonishment,
-not a note was played. I asked the reason, and was
-told that the gentleman who played the piano—the
-only instrument in the orchestra—was a German.
-I was furious, and, knowing that the following week
-the famous “Dumbells” were coming with their
-latest revue, <cite>Biff Bang</cite>, I wrote to the Major who
-was their manager, telling him what had happened,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>and asking him to see that the matter was put right.
-I knew I was safe in making the request, as the
-“Dumbells”, who had won all hearts on their tour
-through Canada, were all ex-Service men, all men
-who had served in the trenches. I also wrote to the
-Canadian Women’s Club, who had presented me
-with a bouquet, and to the manager of the theatre.
-All this had to be done very quickly, as we were only
-a few hours in the place. I never heard anything in
-reply until, by good fortune, the week we said
-“Good-bye” to Canada the “Dumbells” came to
-Montreal and I went to see them play, and after the
-performance went round to speak to the actors. It
-was then that their manager told me that, on receiving
-my letter, which was awaiting him, he had at
-once sent round to the stage to tell “the boys” that
-<cite>God Save the King</cite> would be sung twice before the
-play started and twice after the performance. He
-said, “Of course, the boys thought I was mad, but
-they did as I asked.” He went on to tell me that
-after the performance he went on to the stage and
-read them my letter, which was greeted with cheers.
-The next morning he went out and met the chief
-townsman, the butcher, who remarked how disgraceful
-it was that, though we called ourselves British,
-we had not had the Anthem played at the end of our
-performance. The Major again produced my letter
-and read it to him, asking that he would make its
-contents known in the town, which he promised to
-do. I hope he did, for it impressed me very much
-everywhere to see the staff of the theatres standing,
-hat in hand, while the Anthem was played, and I
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>should hate any Canadian to think that we were less
-loyal than they.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Going west through the Rockies, we missed seeing
-the first part, as the train went through that section
-at night; but coming back, by staying one night at
-a town, we were able to do the whole of the journey
-by day—and this Harry and I determined to do.
-During the night more snow had fallen, and we woke
-to a spotless, glistening world of white; the eighteen
-inches of snow which had fallen during the night, on
-the top of what had already fallen during the long
-winter, made the country look beautiful. As we
-sledged to the wee station, right in the midst of vast
-white mountains, under a sky of sapphire blue, the
-ground seemed to be set with millions of diamonds.
-I shall never forget that day; it gave me the most
-wonderful joy. Later I sat on a chair outside the
-observation car, drinking in the beauty, until my
-feet became so cold that the pain was real agony, and
-I could bear it no longer. I went inside to thaw them
-on the hot-water pipes, sitting even then with my
-face glued to the window, so that nothing of the
-beauty might escape me. I did this all day. Harry
-did at last persuade me to lunch, but the moment it
-was over I went back to my chair. Later, as the sun
-went down, a huge moon, like a harvest moon, rose
-with its cold, clear light, picking out fresh peaks,
-showing up snow-covered mountains in a new light.
-I refused to move, and Harry had to dine alone,
-while I froze outwardly, but inwardly was all glowing
-with excitement at the beauty and joy of what I saw.
-Now I can close my eyes and think that I see it all
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>again: the canvas tents where the men working on
-the C.P.R. live; the pathetic, lonely little graves;
-the Indians; the squaws on the frozen rivers, sitting
-by holes in the ice, fishing; then Kicking Horse
-Valley, the climb from Field, that marvellous
-engineering feat when the train goes twice through
-the mountain in a figure-eight to enable it to mount
-the height. You lose all sense of direction as you go
-up and up, for one moment you see the moon on
-one side of the train, a moment later you see her on
-the other. I am not sure that this part of the journey
-is not the best, and yet I don’t know; it is hard to
-say.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The Great Divide! All my life I had read and
-heard of it, and now at last I saw it. We got out at
-Banff and sledged to the hotel, where we stayed the
-night; next morning we wandered about until it was
-time to get the train. Perhaps we had seen too much
-beauty, seen too many wonders, and had become
-capricious, but I found Banff disappointing; the ice-run
-and the ice-castle seemed poor and out of place
-in their vast surroundings. The last stage of our
-journey was through the Park, where we saw herds
-of buffaloes, peacefully browsing in the snow, and an
-elk, too. We saw also the “Three Sisters” Canmore,
-and bade adieu to the snow mountains. I hope it’s
-only adieu. I have books of photographs which were
-taken there; one photograph is of the inveterate
-“punster”, Fred Grove, who was in Canada at the
-time, with Sir John Martin Harvey’s Company. He
-had it taken standing under a poster of <cite>Eliza</cite>, in
-which he had played “Uncle Alexander” so many
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>times. On the back of it he wrote “Fred Grove at
-Regina—how he wishes he could re-jine ’er.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Another picture illustrates what was a curious
-coincidence. Harry and I were taken standing under
-a poster of <cite>The Law Divine</cite>. There had been a heavy
-snowstorm, and the whole of the poster was obliterated
-except the two letters, “D&nbsp;... V”. Soon
-after, Harry was taken ill at Saskatoon with pneumonia.
-I had to go on with the company, and play
-every evening a comedy! knowing that any moment
-might bring me the news I dreaded. But, “D.V.”—and
-I say it with all reverence—Harry pulled
-through, and joined us in time to return to England.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He was an amazing patient. Left there alone,
-very, very ill, his wonderful sense of humour never
-failed him. I remember one evening a wire came
-through for me, from Harry. It was a quotation
-over which we had often laughed, written by the late
-Poet Laureate, Alfred Austin, at the time when
-King Edward lay ill with appendicitis. It ran:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“Across the wires the hurried message came—</div>
- <div class='line in2'>He is no better, he is much the same.”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c017'>With us in the company was Nigel Bruce, who
-regards a Test Match as one of the really important
-things of life, and who would, I believe, infinitely
-rather “play for England” in one of the Test
-Matches than be Prime Minister. One evening
-Harry wired to me:</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“England lost both Test Matches. Get Willie
-(Nigel Bruce) oxygen.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Both these wires were sent when he was very, very
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>ill, when the majority of us would have been too much
-concerned over the probability of leaving the world
-to wish in the least to be amusing. I have, too, a
-packet of letters which he wrote to me. Written in
-pencil, and often the writing indicating great physical
-weakness, but still the fun is there in every one of
-them. Here are some extracts from his letters at
-that time:</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Holy Pigs, I am getting so fed up with this
-business.... Mrs. —— sent a note that if I wanted
-some cheery society would I ring her up, and the
-doctor would let her see me. I shall tell her my back
-is too sore! Cheerio to everybody. There’s a lot of
-fun to be got out of life.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“... This goes to Toronto. I shall not do much
-there, I’m afraid. However, it might have been
-worse (his illness), and it’s given me a nice pair of
-mutton-chop whiskers anyhow. There is a wonderful
-monotony about these white walls, day in, day
-out; one needs the patience of Job not to throw the
-soap-dish at the Crucifix sometimes.... I daresay
-I may write a fairy play, and, as Jowett says in one
-of his letters to Mrs. Asquith, ‘the pursuit of literature
-requires boundless leisure’.... I don’t think
-I am a very good patient; there are moments when
-I seethe with impotent rage against everything and
-everybody, which is all very foolish; so I have a cup
-of orange-water, and try and keep my nails clean....
-Play all the bridge you can, that you may be
-the expert at our week-end parties, and support the
-family at the gaming-table.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The following is written when he was very ill, for
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>he writes at the bottom, as a kind of postscript,
-“This took ages to write.” In this letter he
-enclosed a small tract, which I gave to “Florrie
-Lumley”, as he suggests. This is the letter:</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Another night and day wiped off—they all count.
-Love to everybody. Nobody is allowed to see me
-yet, but, to-day being Sunday, a nice old man pushed
-the latest news of Jesus through a crack in the door
-while he thought I was asleep. Perhaps it will do
-that worldly Florrie Lumley a bit of good.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In another letter he says: “There is a devil in the
-next room that has done nothing but groan at the
-top of his voice all day; if I could get at him with
-a hat-pin, I’d give him something to groan for.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The following must have been the first letter he
-wrote after the worst time was over, for he begins:
-“No more death-struggles, my dear. But I am still
-on my back, and it takes two of the nurses to move
-me. I can see telegraph poles out of the corner of
-my eye, if I squint; and the dawn rolls up each
-morning. People are very kind, and my room is full
-of daffodils—they remind me of little children
-playing. Bless you!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>So the tour which began so brightly, with us both
-speaking at huge meetings of the Empire League,
-with us both enjoying the wonderful new scenes, the
-trip through the Rockies (for which alone it would
-have been worth visiting Canada), with us both
-laughing at the discomforts of the theatres and some
-of the queer little hotels at which we had to stay,
-ended with Harry just able to join us before we sailed.
-Still, he did sail back to England with us.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>I was full of thanksgiving, not only for his recovery,
-but for the care and love that Dr. Lynch, who had
-had charge of his case, had given him. It was his
-care that had pulled Harry out of danger; both he
-and Mrs. Lynch had been so wonderful to him, and
-treated him as though he were an old friend and not
-as a chance visitor to their town; no one could have
-done more than they had done for Harry. Curiously
-enough, I found out later that Dr. Walker, who had
-been called in to give a second opinion on Harry’s
-case, had lived, during the war, close to “Apple
-Porch”, our house at Maidenhead. He had been
-at Lady Astor’s, and had attended the Canadian
-soldiers who were so badly gassed.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I am reminded of so many holidays and small
-travels we took together—to the sea, to Switzerland,
-to Ireland, Scotland: holidays which stand out as
-lovely pictures, as days which were crowded with
-laughter and sunshine. Were there days when the
-rain poured down, and the skies were not blue?...
-I have forgotten them.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I remember one holiday in Scotland, when every
-evening we used to play bridge, the minister—who,
-as he expressed it, “just loved a game o’ cairds”—joining
-us. One Saturday evening he came, and
-declined to play because the next day was the “Sawbath”,
-and he did not think it right. He explained
-this at some length, and then turned to me with a
-smile: “I’ll just sit by your side, Mrs. Esmond,”
-he said, “and advise ye.” During that same visit
-we had with us two dogs—one a real Scotch terrier,
-the other—just a dog. As a matter of fact, he was
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>the famous “Australian Linger” to which Harry
-was so devoted, and which has been mentioned elsewhere.
-One Sunday we all set out for the Kirk, to
-hear our “minister” friend preach, first locking both
-dogs in a shed near the hotel. We arrived at the
-Kirk—Ada (my sister, who has always been with
-Harry and myself in our joys, helping us in our
-troubles and often with heavy work, just a tower of
-strength and understanding); Charles Maitland
-Hallard, in the full glory of the kilt; and Harry and
-I. During the service we heard a noise at the door,
-and one of the party went to investigate. There were
-our two dogs, guarded by the minister’s own Aberdeen,
-lying with their three noses pressed against
-the crack of the door, waiting for the service to end.
-The Aberdeen, with a proper knowledge of what is
-right and proper during divine service, had evidently
-prevented our two dogs from entering. We found,
-on returning to the hotel, that they had gnawed a
-large hole in the door of the shed in which they had
-been locked, thus making their escape. It was on
-that particular Sunday that poor Charles Hallard
-had his knees so badly bitten by a horse-fly—or,
-from their appearance, a host of horse-flies—that
-the kilt could not be worn again during the
-holiday.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>As I write this, my boxes are still standing waiting
-to be unpacked, for I have just returned from Berlin,
-where I have spent the past ten weeks. Berlin!
-What a city! Wonderful, wonderful trees everywhere;
-a city which one feels is almost too big, too
-vast! The enormous buildings, the colossal statues,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>it seems a city built not for men and women but for
-giants. Gradually you realise that the wide streets,
-sometimes with four avenues of trees, have a definite
-purpose; that the city was so planned that the air
-might reach all who lived within its boundaries. The
-Tiergarten, which is a joy to behold, until you reach
-the Sesarsalle, which ruins the beauty with its endless
-and often ugly statues. Houses, big and beautifully
-kept, with real lace curtains, spotlessly clean, in
-almost every window; the whole city planted out
-with a wealth of flowers, roses by the million, cactus
-plants, lilac and syringa. Every spare piece of ground
-planted and laid out to perfection. When I came
-back to England, and on my way home passed
-Buckingham Palace, I was struck with the beds laid
-out there. The three or four hundred geraniums
-seemed so poor and inadequate after the streets of
-Berlin! I wondered why some of the money spent
-on street decoration could not have been paid in
-“reparation”; for the Germans it would mean fewer
-flowers, less beauty in their streets, but something
-towards the payment of their just debts.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Numberless theatres, some very beautiful, others
-glaringly hideous both in design and colouring. All
-places of amusement—theatres, picture palaces, concerts,
-and dance-rooms—are literally packed out at
-every performance. The interest in music is wonderful,
-no matter if the performance is operetta, opera,
-or concert; it is an amazing sight to see the audience
-surge up to the platform at the end of a performance
-and storm it, offering applause and congratulation to
-the artist or artists. After Act 1 at the theatre, the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>audience rise as one man, and pour out into the vestibule,
-where they walk round and round, eating
-heartily of dark-brown bread sandwiches, drinking
-beer or wine which they buy from the buffet. To one
-unaccustomed to the country, it is an amusing sight
-and rather astonishing, but it is a wise practice,
-as most entertainments begin as early as 7 p.m.,
-and the latest hour for a performance to begin
-is 7.30.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I, personally, saw no lack of anything. The
-hotels are full, not only with people who are staying
-in them, but with casual visitors who come in for
-5 o’clock tea; this begins at 3, and continues until
-about 8 o’clock. The dining-rooms are never closed,
-and meals seem to go on all day long. “Men with
-corrugated backs to their necks”, as Sir Philip
-Gibbs so aptly describes them, sit for hours partaking
-of sugar cakes, ices, and liquors.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Only once during my stay did I see the slightest
-hint of poverty, and that was where some wooden
-houses had been built outside the city during the war
-for poor people with families. Here the children
-were of the real gypsy type, played round us as we
-worked (for I was playing in a film), rolling and
-tumbling in the sand.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I was taken over The Schloss by a soldier who had
-served under Hindenburg, and done much fighting
-in the infantry and later as a gunner. He described
-vividly to me the Riots, when the Palace was stormed
-by the sailors, who took possession and lived a life of
-riotous enjoyment there for a short time, dancing
-each evening on the wonderful floor of the ballroom
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>where so many crowned heads had gathered in other
-days. The sailors were finally turned out after forty-eight
-hours’ heavy fighting. The man who was my
-guide told me that the rioters managed their firing
-badly, as they fired from both sides of the Palace,
-thus wounding many of their own men. He told
-me also that many soldiers held the belief that the
-riots had been permitted by the authorities in order
-to draw attention from the Staff, as the feeling at
-the time against the Army was so strong. I can only
-give this as his own opinion, and cannot vouch for
-its correctness.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>One drenching day I visited Potsdam, which
-seemed to me a perfectly hideous place, both inside
-and out, so ornate that it hurt. The much-vaunted
-Mussel Hall, a large room entirely covered with shells,
-seemed to me ghastly and a place in which no one
-could bear to remain for long. The one perfect room
-was the Kabinet, delightful in colour-scheme and
-construction. The Theatre, a small, beautifully
-designed place with a delightful stage, seats about
-four hundred people, and it was here that the Kaiser
-witnessed the performance of his own works.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>On an April day in June, with sunshine, heavy
-rain, and lovely clouds, I took a long motor drive
-down the famous track, which is twenty miles long,
-with fir trees on either side, past a great lake and
-many big houses with perfectly kept gardens, to
-Sans Souci. Perfect, with its lovely Kolonade in a
-semi-circle, and the Palace which looks down and up
-a grassy slope to a ruin on the summit, surrounded
-by trees. The ruin is an artificial one, copied from
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>one in Rome, but the effect is quite charming. I
-saw the narrow Gallerie, the cedar-and-gold writing-room,
-which is round in formation, its door concealed
-by a bookcase, where Fredrick Rex used to sit and
-write, looking out on to a pergola which is French
-in design. The reception-room with its perfect green
-walls and rose-covered furniture—each room seemed
-more delightful than the last. Lovelier still, the
-garden, with its six wonderful terraces leading down
-to the large pond filled with goldfish, many of which
-are so old that they have become quite white; in the
-centre of the pond a fountain, which when playing
-throws a jet as high as the flagstaff, six terraces up.
-The whole place gave me a feeling of poetry and
-romance, quite different to anything I had experienced
-in Berlin. I visited the church where the two
-coffins of Fredrick the Great and Fredrick Rex lie
-side by side, covered with flags. The church is a
-small but impressive building, but spoilt by a huge
-Iron Cross on one wall, which is made of wood and
-almost entirely covered with nails: a similar idea to
-the Hindenburg statue (no longer to be seen) into
-which people knocked nails, paying money to be
-allowed to do so.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>My guide on this occasion was an ex-soldier who
-was decorated with the Iron Cross. He told me
-many interesting facts. He had been in the Crown
-Prince’s regiment—the King’s Hussars—first on
-the Western Front, and later at Verdun. He told
-me that the Crown Prince never left headquarters,
-nor led his regiment; that this was always done by
-General Gneiseuan, who refused to allow his name to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>appear as having led the troops, as he considered it
-an insult to the Prince. He said that at Verdun in
-1917 no less than 366 men were shot dead on the
-field for refusing to advance.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I listened often to remarks made about the Kaiser
-by the men who had been his subjects, and never once
-did I hear one word of pity for him, one word of
-regret at his downfall. The fact that so many valuable
-articles, plate, jewels, pictures, were sent by him
-to Holland is a bitter pill to his people. So valuable
-were many of the articles that, had he allowed them
-to be sold, the proceeds might have paid off a considerable
-amount of the reparation debt. It seemed
-to me that any love which his people once had for
-William Hohenzollern was dead.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>My mind went back to the time when my own
-country mourned the loss of a King, a King who had
-enjoyed as much lifetime as is given to many men,
-and who was deposed only by that strongest of all
-monarchs—Death. I saw the picture of the Great
-Hall at Westminster, with the crowds waiting to pay
-their last tribute to King Edward VII. I remembered
-how I stood, with many others, on the steps at
-the entrance, and, looking down into the hall, saw a
-solid, slowly moving mass of people, the representatives
-of a mourning nation. There in the centre stood
-the coffin, with the signs of temporal power laid upon
-it, and at each corner a soldier with bowed head, each
-representing one of Britain’s Colonies. Above the
-coffin, showing in the pale light of the candles, was
-a canopy, a cloud which floated over it. The breath
-of all the hundreds who had passed had gathered and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>hung there: the very life of his people had gone to
-make a canopy for the King. I thought how in the
-hall where the English people had won so much of
-their liberty, Edward the Seventh had held a last
-audience with his subjects; how he had lain there
-that everyone who wished might find him, for the last
-time, waiting for his people. For “the deposing of
-a rightful King” I had seen a nation mourn,
-mourning with a personal sorrow; and here in Germany
-I listened to the men who had been subjects
-of “The Peacock of the World”, and who for his
-passing, his degradation, his loss, had not one word
-of pity or regret.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The German people? I left Germany wondering,
-and even hoping. The breaking of the military
-party, the downfall of the house of Hohenzollern, with
-its brood of decadent, idle, pleasure-loving princes
-and the “Tinsel and Cardboard King” may mean
-ultimate salvation for the German people. Not perhaps
-in my lifetime, but in the wonderful “someday”
-when all the world will be wiser and happier
-than it is now. A country where the very waiters
-can discuss music, literature, and poetry; a country
-of beautiful towns, green trees, and great manufactures;
-a country where, because of the heights to
-which one realises it <em>might</em> have climbed, its fall is all
-the greater and more dreadful.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Not the least interesting feature of my visit has
-been the closer contact with the director of the film,
-and his wife—Mr. Herbert Wilcox, a short man
-with a great dignity and immense charm. He was
-one of the gallant youngsters of 1914, who joined up
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>as a Tommy and later did great work in the Flying
-Corps. Through Mr. Wilcox I have had my first
-intimate knowledge of film direction, and it has filled
-me with great respect for that branch of the theatrical
-profession, which, because it is still comparatively
-new, is less well-known and understood.</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER XII<br /> <span class='large'>A BUNDLE OF OLD LETTERS</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c011'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“Wait till you read the letter.”</div>
- <div class='line in20'>—<cite>Eliza Comes to Stay.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>To explain why I include this chapter at all,
-I want to give you the scene as it happened
-in my study in Whiteheads Grove. I think
-that will be a better explanation than if I were to tell
-you my ideas on letters and letter-writing, however
-fully and completely I might do so.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was one of those days when the desire to explore
-drawers and boxes, the top shelves of cupboards, and
-brown paper parcels, comes over one; that desire
-came over me, and I began. I did not get on very
-fast—one never does—and the first obstacle was a
-parcel marked “Letters, Private”. I untied the
-string, and began to read them; that was the end of
-my exploring for the day, for as I read I went back
-to the times when those letters were written and
-turned over in my mind the happenings which had
-caused them ever to be written. I saw the writers,
-and heard their voices. So the afternoon went past
-very quickly, for when ghosts come to visit you they
-demand your whole attention, and will not be dismissed
-quickly, will not be told, as one can tell
-ordinary people, “I am so busy to-day, will you
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>come and see me some other time?”; they demand
-attention, and you find most of them too dear to deny
-it to them.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Besides, does anyone ever really lose their fondness
-for letters? I write, I think, more than most people;
-sometimes I seem to spend my life writing letters,
-but—I still look forward to “to-morrow morning’s
-post”, and I think I always shall.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>As I read these old letters, written to me and to
-Harry during the past twenty years, I found myself
-laying aside first this one, and then that one, because
-they seemed amusing, or very kind, or especially
-indicative of the character of the writer. When the
-afternoon was over, my heap of letters had grown,
-and I had determined to make them into a parcel
-again and give them to whoever cared to read them
-as “A Bundle of Old Letters”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Listen to this one: I do not know why it was
-written, or when, except that it is headed “February
-1st”—but it takes me back to the days of “The
-Gent., the Genius, and the Young Greek God”—the
-days when Harry Esmond, Charles Hallard, and
-Gerald du Maurier went holiday-making together:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'><span class='sc'>My Dear Harry</span>,</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>Expressing one’s thoughts in any way is a
-form of conceit, surely, isn’t it? If you speak them,
-or write them, you expect others to listen—therefore
-you must consider what <em>you</em> think of importance.
-Authors must all be of a conceit that is abnormal,
-and preachers, and—Good God—Poets!</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>Some people would rather not listen to the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>commonplace thoughts of others—for these there
-should just be a “news sheet”, giving generally
-what is taking place, with no garnishings and comments
-and “what we think”, etc.—for silent men
-like “Tug” Wilson, engineers, scientists, and equilibrists.
-Nowadays (do you agree with me?) too
-much expression is given to “feelings”, and little
-feeble feelings at that. There is no loud roar of a
-lion, no sweet song of a nightingale, and no great
-hush either—it is all sparrows, and a banging door.
-Everything is “tuppence”. You never read:
-“Death of A——”; it is always “Tragic Death”,
-“Splendid Death”, “Comic Death”; why not
-“Death”?</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>Love to you all.</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Gerald.</span></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'>Here is a letter dated “June 30th, 1898”; it is
-headed New York, and begins:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'><span class='sc'>My Dear Esmond</span>,</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c018'>I accept your play. I suppose even a
-manager may give way to his feelings sometimes, and
-I am going to do it now. I cannot express to you
-sufficiently how much I like the play. If it meets
-with the same impressions on an audience as it has
-with me, we will both have a fine thing. However,
-independent of all that, in these times when a
-manager is compelled, regretfully, to refuse so many
-plays, it is a gratification to be able to say “I will
-accept and am glad of it”.</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>Yours truly,</div>
- <div class='line in8'><span class='sc'>Charles Frohman</span>.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>That was a glimpse of the Charles Frohman (“C.F.”,
-as he was always called), whom Harry knew and
-loved.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>This is a letter that Harry must have written out
-as a rough draft, for there are alterations and “cuts”
-in it. I cannot remember why or to whom it was
-written, but I am sure he wrote it very seriously, and
-chuckled over it after it was finished:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>“If authors in engaging artists for plays allowed
-themselves to be biassed by the private life of each
-artist, I fear many theatres would close and many
-deserving people would starve. If Miss Smith, Jones,
-or Robinson suits the requirements of a play, it is not
-my business, or the manager’s, to enquire whether
-or no she murdered her mother. Is she the right
-person for the play?—that’s all one can consider.”
-There the letter—or, rather, the draft—ends; I do
-not know who the lady was—but I hope she made
-a great success.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I wonder why I have this next letter? Someone
-sent it to me, I suppose, with that great kindness
-some people show in “passing on” the really nice
-things that are sometimes said of one. And why not?
-If only everyone would forget the unkind things they
-hear, and only treasure and repeat the kind ones—well,
-the world would be a happier place for everyone.
-This letter is dated “May 19th, 1901”, so I feel I
-may be allowed to quote from it without being
-accused of undue conceit, because it is “so many
-years ago”:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>“You are right, and I think it is only fair to the
-‘new lead’ to say so—Eva Moore is a revelation—and
-that delicious natural laugh, which is of all
-Nature’s inventions about the hardest to reproduce
-at will. I suspect that Alexander has discovered what
-we all want so much—the new ‘Madge Kendal’.”
-If there is one thing for which I have always striven,
-it is a natural laugh, and I like to think that I had
-attained it twenty-two years ago; I like to think I
-still retain it!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Here is a letter, in large, black writing, but such
-charming writing it is! Full of vigour, full of humour
-too. I do not know when it was written; the only
-date is “June 22”. It runs:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>Let there be no mistake about this little matter.</div>
- </div>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>We <em>do</em> want to come, and we <em>are</em> coming,</div>
- <div class='line'><em>To You</em></div>
- <div class='line'>on</div>
- <div class='line'>Thursday, 1 July, 4 o’clock.</div>
- <div class='line'><em>Question</em>: Until ——?</div>
- <div class='line'><em>Answer</em>: We go away.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='c006'><span class='sc'>Ellen Terry.</span></div>
-
-<p class='c013'>That letter brings another memory with it. Perhaps
-it was the time when she stayed “until she went
-away”, but I remember Ellen Terry in my garden,
-going up to my mother, who was seated there, and
-saying, “How are you, Mrs. Moore? My name
-is Ellen Terry.” The simplicity and beauty of that
-Great Lady is something to remember always.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>The next letter in my packet is very short, and its
-brevity and the fact that it is “very much to the
-point” appeals to me. It was written after seeing
-<cite>The Law Divine</cite>:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'><span class='sc'>My Dear Harry Esmond</span>,</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>Do you mind my saying your Play will live
-long after you—or I? That is the one thought I
-brought away with me.</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>Yours with his Hat off,</div>
- <div class='line in20'><span class='sc'>Fred Wright</span>.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>28/3/19.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'>Here is another, and again undated, except for
-“Feb. 19th”:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'><span class='sc'>Dear Mr. Esmond</span>,</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>Only a line to say how tremendously I
-enjoyed the play this afternoon. Why won’t you
-write me a play like that? I want to play “a
-mother”!!</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>Kindest regards,</div>
- <div class='line in16'>Yours sincerely,</div>
- <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>Gladys Cooper</span>.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'>What a contrast to another letter, from one of
-the worst actors I have ever seen, who begins by
-telling “My Dear Esmond” that he wants a play
-written for him, and proceeds to describe for six
-sheets of notepaper <em>how</em> the play is to be written and
-how the climax is to be reached; he ends with the
-words, “remember I want at least <em>one great
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>moment of passion</em>”. I cannot remember that
-Harry ever embarked on this play, which, with its
-one “great moment” only insisted on, might not
-have held an audience for two and a half hours!
-Harry’s answer was, “My Dear X., God is in His
-Heaven.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>This letter interests me for many reasons; the
-writer herself had an arresting personality, and this
-letter, with its clarity of style, its beautifully clear
-and artistic writing, writing which never ceases for
-a single word to depict character and sensitive feeling,
-the sentiment bravely speaking what the writer felt,
-and yet never deteriorating into nothing but carping
-criticism; all these things go to give a very true idea
-of the writer:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'><span class='sc'>Dear Mr. Esmond</span>,</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>I followed every word and scene of your
-play with the deepest interest. I found it quite terrible.
-It would be absurd to say that such stories
-ought not to receive illustration on the stage. But
-I do say that, when they are presented, they should
-be told in the Shakespearean and not in the Ibsen
-manner. One requires poetry and music and every
-softening aid for tragedies so dismal, otherwise the
-whole thing is a nightmare. I am not older than
-you are, but I have had a great deal of sorrow, and
-I have been forced to see the squalid side of every
-ideal. Yet I thought you were unjust even to the
-worst in human nature. I know you won’t mind
-my saying this, because I have such an admiration
-for your great talents. There are so few dramatists in
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>Europe that, where one recognises unusual ability,
-one may be pardoned for wishing to see it displayed
-to the highest advantage. Life, as it is, is quite
-“strong” enough; if you show it as it is <em>not</em>, it
-becomes inartistically weak from excess of horrors.—Then
-follows some criticism of the acting, ending
-with the words, “Its (the play’s) balance was so
-good, and it never halted or drooped. You have got
-the real gift.” The letter is signed “Yours sincerely,
-Pearl Mary-Teresa Craigie” (whom the world knew
-better as “John Oliver Hobbes”).</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>On a large sheet of very excellent paper, and
-somewhere near the bottom of the sheet, is written:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'><span class='sc'>Dear Esmond</span>,</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>Thanks very much for Grierson. I am
-devouring him—gloom and all—with great gusto.</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>Sincerely yours,</div>
- <div class='line in16'><span class='sc'>Max Beerbohm</span>.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'>This next letter must have been written concerning
-<cite>Grierson’s Way</cite>, and is in the queer irregular handwriting
-of William Archer, the great critic. He
-says: “Of course Messieurs of the Old Guard in
-criticism die, but never surrender. Never mind!
-You have scored a big victory, and I congratulate
-you with all my heart. The mantle of ‘Clemmy’
-(Clement Scott) has certainly descended upon the
-<cite>Telegraph</cite> gentleman.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The next item in my bundle is a photograph of the
-“Weekly Box Office Statement” of the Knickerbocker
-Theatre, New York, and at the bottom is
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>printed “This theatre’s largest week’s business at
-regular prices”. The “attraction” was “Mr. N.
-C. Goodwin and Miss Maxine Elliott”, and the play
-was <cite>When We Were Twenty-One</cite>.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Letters here from Maxine Elliott! Black, rather
-wild writing, straggling over the pages, written with
-a soft, thick pen, and very “decided” ink. This
-one was written soon after Jill was born. Maxine
-Elliott is her godmother, hence the enquiries:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'><span class='sc'>Dear Harry Esmond</span>,</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>What is Miss Esmond’s Christian name?
-You didn’t tell me, and I have a little souvenir for
-her that I want to get marked. How proud you
-and Eva must be, and how secret you were! I almost
-believe you bought her at the Lowther Arcade! (once
-the Home of dolls).</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Another letter from her begins: “Dear Harry
-Esmond,—Philadelphia the <em>frigid</em>, Philadelphia the
-<em>unappreciative</em>, has received us well, even at this
-inauspicious time to open, and I am full of hope and
-confidence in New York.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Here is a third from the same source; this, I think,
-was written when Harry first agreed to write a play
-for her, which when completed was called <cite>Under the
-Greenwood Tree</cite>:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>I am longing to hear the new play, and full of
-excitement over it, and what an <em>angel</em> you are to
-write it for me! I sail April 4th, and that means
-London—Blessed London—about the 11th.... I
-am doing the biggest business of my life this year,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>which is the only satisfaction to be derived from this
-laborious, monotonous, treadmill sort of grind that
-it is in this country of vast distances (America).
-I shall retire (ha! ha!) after we finish with the big
-play you are writing for me, you nice Harry Esmond!</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>My best love to you all.</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>Yours very sincerely,</div>
- <div class='line in6'><span class='sc'>Maxine Elliott Goodwin</span>.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'>Letters from busy men and women, how much
-they mean! Not the formal typewritten affair, but
-written with their own hands, and meaning moments
-snatched from the rush of work that they always have
-before them. This one from Mr. Robert Courtneidge,
-for instance, written from his office to Harry
-after <cite>The Law Divine</cite> was produced. And the sidelight
-that it gives to the character of the man who
-wrote it! Listen:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'><span class='sc'>My Dear Esmond</span>,</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>I saw <cite>The Law Divine</cite> yesterday, and
-enjoyed it more than I can express. It is a delightful
-play—admirably acted. It was quite a treat to
-me, who am not given to the theatre spirit nowadays.
-I didn’t go round to see you, for I’m as backward
-as a novice, and I tremble at “going behind” where
-I have no business.</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>Kindest regards,</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>Yours truly,</div>
- <div class='line in6'><span class='sc'>Robert Courtneidge</span>.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c018'>P.S.—And I remember Miss Illington playing
-juvenile parts in Edinburgh—dear, dear! She was a
-braw young lassie then, but a delightful actress.</p>
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>That is the Robert Courtneidge I have met; with
-a twinkle in his shrewd, kindly eyes, and that more
-than a touch of his country’s humour always ready
-to appear—when rehearsals are over. He is one of
-the people who remain young, despite the fact that
-at a rehearsal he has been known to put on his hat
-and, shaking his head, say sadly, “I’m an old man,
-I can’t stand it”, and so walk away. Underneath
-it all, though actors may turn pale and actresses may
-shed tears in the dark recesses of the prompt corner,
-there is always the twinkle in Robert Courtneidge’s
-eye—if you look for it!</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>I should not wish to praise myself; I should never
-wish to be an egotist, even though this is an account
-of “My Life”; and that is why I have included in
-my bundle of letters only a few that have been written
-to me, but mostly those which were written to Harry.
-Here is one, however, which appealed to me then,
-and does still, as “high praise”. It is from a
-Frenchwoman—and is, therefore, “praise from Sir
-Hubert Stanley”—for it refers to the performance
-of <cite>Mumsie</cite>, by Edward Knoblauch—that dear,
-human, though unsuccessful play for which I had so
-much love:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>I could see working in you all the feelings of a
-Frenchwoman. You are a great artist. You give
-me intense pleasure. I wish to thank you very much.</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>Very sincerely yours,</div>
- <div class='line in2'><span class='sc'>Marguerite Arnold Bennett</span>.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>This letter was written after Harry played
-“Touchstone”, when he was so severely criticised by
-some for his conception of the part:</p>
-
-<p class='c018'><span class='sc'>My Dear Esmond</span>,</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>Touchstone, Touchstone, Touchstone at last!
-A creation, a triumph, a delight; wit, fantasy, irony—that
-hint of the Great God Pan behind the motley—all
-unite to make the Touchstone I have always
-longed for but have only now seen for the first time.</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>Sincerely yours,</div>
- <div class='line in2'><span class='sc'>Justin Huntly McCarthy</span>.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'>Here is a letter which Harry wrote to me. He
-was arranging for a theatre at the time, though what
-theatre I cannot remember. He evidently feels that
-he has been successful in an absolutely business-like
-way—probably because he never was, and if he had
-made a fair “deal” over anything it was due entirely
-to the honesty of his associates and not to his own
-capacity, for, as I have said elsewhere, he was never
-“one of the children of this world”:</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Your poor husband,” he writes, “has been
-having a devil of a time. The evolving, the planning,
-the diplomacy, the craft!—but we rehearse
-Monday, and open in ten days. Jill had a lovely time
-in the garden to-day, as happy as a bumble bee. I
-think I’ve had the dreariest week I’ve ever had in my
-life, but all’s well that ends well.”
-Evidently all the “craft” had been taking all the
-colour out of life for him!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>When he died, I had so many wonderful letters
-from all our friends, and not only friends who were
-personally known to me, but dear people who wrote
-to me from all over the world, offering their sympathy
-and love; offerings of sympathy from their Majesties
-the King and Queen—one of those signal proofs of
-their kindly thought in and for their subjects which
-have helped to make them so dearly loved by the
-Empire; from men and women who had worked
-with us, who had known Harry as an actor, as a man,
-or as both; from people who had never known him,
-but loved him for his written and spoken word; from
-people who had known me, and wished to send me
-their loving help at such a time. Among these many
-letters there is one from Sir Johnston Forbes Robertson,
-a letter full of regret at Harry’s death, and of
-kind and cheering thoughts for me; it gives a picture
-of Harry, riding a bicycle past Buckingham Palace
-one morning. The night before Forbes Robertson
-had played in a new production, and the critics in
-some of the papers had not been too kind. The
-letter recalls how Harry, riding past Forbes Robertson
-that morning, called out cheerily, “Never mind
-what they say, <em>you were fine</em>.” The writer adds,
-“Wasn’t it just like him?” One of those happy
-pictures of Harry which did so much to bring rays of
-happiness to me at that time.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Not the least beautiful was one which consisted
-only of a single line, the letter of the best type of
-Englishman, the man who “cannot talk”, but whose
-very affection renders him dumb. It was just this:
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>“Eva, dear, I am so sorry for you”—and so said
-everything that a kind heart could say.</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>The pleasant memories that many of those letters
-recalled! As Charles Hawtrey wrote, “I look back
-on <cite>One Summer’s Day</cite> as nearly the happiest, if not
-quite the happiest, of my stage life, and it is one of
-the ‘memories’ that seem to dwell in the minds of
-many of my audiences.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>The gift that some people have of putting so much
-into a few lines, all the tragedy of a lifetime in a few
-words! One dear woman wrote to me, she having
-lost her much-loved husband about a year previously:
-“I have such pleasant memories of him (Harry);
-always so kind and charming to me in the early days;
-and, since then, both of us with both of you—and now
-only you and me.”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>And they gave me a great deal, those letters; and
-here is one which expresses all I want to say—a letter
-from Miss Sybil Thorndike—and so I give you her
-words, as an expression of what I feel and what I
-felt then: “Doesn’t it seem strange that out of a
-big personal grief comes sometimes a wonderful
-recognition of warmth that’s in the hearts of outsiders?”</p>
-
-<p class='c016'>So I finish my “Bundle of Letters”, tie up the
-parcel, and put them away—for I cannot bring
-myself to destroy them. They are part of one’s life;
-they came as an unexpected joy, or as something
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>looked for anxiously; they came, bringing praise,
-good news, sympathy, and kindly thoughts. Letter-writing
-as an art may be lost; but I still say, with
-a feeling which has always something of a child’s
-expectancy and hope: “There is always to-morrow
-morning’s post.”</p>
-
-<div id='i_187' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_187_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Turner &amp; Drinkwater, Hull.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_187'>187</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Harry as Little Billee</span><br /><br />“Trilby”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER XIII<br /> <span class='large'>HARRY, THE MAN</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c014'>“The dearest, bravest, truest chap that ever stepped in shoe
-leather.”—<cite>When We Were Twenty-One.</cite></p>
-
-<p class='c018'>“He’s such an odd sort of chap, always doing such rum
-things.”—<cite>The Wilderness.</cite></p>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>If I was asked to describe Harry in one word,
-the one I should instinctively use would be
-“<em>Youth</em>”; youth with its happy joy in the
-simple things of life, youth with its hope and ambition,
-youth with its intolerance, feeling disappointment
-and unkindness so deeply, and yet with its tears
-so quickly dried by the laughter that was never very
-far away. That was Harry Esmond, who found the
-world a giant playroom full of toys of which he never
-tired.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>An Irishman, with the true Irishman’s imagination,
-living so much in dreams that dreams became
-more real than reality. He saw everything in pictures,
-vividly and full of life. It would seem that
-the ideas, which were born in dreams, became the
-living things of reality. Once, I remember, when
-he told Charles Hallard, very excitedly, that something
-he said or did was “foul”, poor Charles protested,
-“My God! and in the morning he’ll believe
-it’s true!” We all laughed, Harry with the rest,
-but I realise how very truly he had judged Harry’s
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>character. Not that he believed it in this particular
-instance, but, through life, what he said on impulse
-to-day became conviction to-morrow.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>And with all his imagination his love of the fantastic
-went hand in hand. As little children love to
-play games in which there is a certain element of
-“fear”, so Harry loved the fantastic which bordered
-on terror.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I can see him, seated at dinner at Whiteheads
-Grove, arguing on the comparative merits of William
-Morris and Tennyson—he, and those who listened
-to him, utterly oblivious of the fact that the dinner
-was rapidly growing cold. To point his argument,
-he began to quote the <cite>Idylls of the King</cite>—Arthur’s
-return:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“And as he climbed the castle stair, <em>a thing</em> fell at his feet,</div>
- <div class='line'>And cried ‘I am thy fool, and I shall never make thee smile again’.”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c017'>I shall never forget the horror he put into the words
-“a thing fell at his feet”, and how the whole tragedy
-was unrolled in two lines of verse.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Once, too, someone asked him to tell some
-spiritualistic experience, or some story he had heard
-from someone who had “seen a spirit”. “Tell us
-about it,” they asked. Harry, loving the terror
-which he felt the story would bring, answered in
-almost a whisper, “No, no, I daren’t; it <em>terrifies</em>
-me!”, and promptly went on to tell the whole story,
-enjoying the horror of it all, as children love a ghost
-story.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>The very people he knew were either, in his eyes,
-wonderful compounds of every virtue or there was
-“no health in them”. He would meet some individual
-who, in the first five minutes of their acquaintance,
-would say or do something which appealed to
-him: that person became for ever “a splendid
-chap”; while, on the other hand, some harmless
-individual who struck a “wrong note” (probably
-quite unwittingly) was referred to for months as “a
-terrible fellow”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The name he took for the stage—Harry Vernon
-Esmond—was a tribute to romance and imagination.
-He was young—young in years, I mean—and he
-loved a wonderful lady, to whom he never addressed
-a single word. She was Harriet Vernon, who, attired
-as Gainsborough’s “Duchess of Devonshire”, used
-to thrill the hearts of the young men of the day every
-evening at the Tivoli, the Old Oxford, and other
-Temples of Variety. Harry, with others, worshipped
-at the shrine of Harriet Vernon. He never spoke to
-her; I doubt if he ever wanted to: it was simply
-the adoration of a very young man for a beautiful
-woman, whose life to him was wrapped in wonderful
-mystery. Night after night he watched her, and,
-when he took up the stage as a career, he, being a
-nineteenth century knight and so unable to “bind
-her gage about his helm”, openly avowed his admiration
-and allegiance by taking her name, and so
-became Harry Vernon Esmond.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Foolish? Ridiculous? I don’t think so; and it
-was rather typical of Harry’s feelings with regard to
-women all his life. He loved beautiful women as he
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>loved the beautiful pictures, the beautiful books, and
-beautiful places of the world. Women, individually,
-he might—and often did—dislike; but women as
-women, <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en masse</span></i>, he idealised. In all his plays he
-never drew a woman who was wholly unkind or
-entirely worthless. He might set out to draw a
-vampire, a heartless creature without any moral
-sense; but before the end of the play, the fact that
-she was a woman would be too strong for him, and
-in one sentence—perhaps only half a dozen words—he
-would make you feel that “she so easily might
-have been different, had fate been kinder”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Perhaps you remember “Vera Lawrence” in
-<cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite>. She is mercenary, heartless,
-and throws over Sandy so that she may marry his rich
-uncle; but Harry Esmond could not give her to the
-world as nothing more than that—she was a woman,
-and a beautiful woman. Listen to the extenuating
-clause. She is showing Sandy a new umbrella, and
-says, “It isn’t meant for rain; once it was opened
-to the rain it would never go back and be slim and
-elegant again. Oh! Sandy, they opened me to the
-rain too soon!” That is the echo of some half-forgotten
-tragedy which had made Vera Lawrence
-what she was, instead of the woman “she might
-have been”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He began to write when he was very young, and
-I have a manuscript at home of his first play, entitled
-<cite>Geraldine, or Victor Cupid</cite>. It is a rather highly
-coloured work, which has never been inflicted on the
-public, written in an exercise-book when he was
-fourteen.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>He used to recite, too, when he was a very small
-boy, and a man who knew him then described him as
-“a tiresome little boy who <em>would</em> recite long poems
-to which no one wanted to listen”. The tragedy of
-the prophet without honour!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>We were very young when we married, and it was
-perhaps due to that fact that Harry was really a very
-casual lover. I have told elsewhere how his friend
-was sent to escort me home from the theatre, and
-there were many other instances which I could quote.
-After our marriage he changed entirely; he was the
-most perfect lover any woman ever had, and his letters
-to me, written when he was on tour and in America,
-are as beautiful, as full of tenderness and imagery,
-as anything he ever wrote.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>We married with Hope as a banking account, and
-lived in a little studio flat in Chelsea. In the flat
-below us (and this is “by the way”, and has nothing
-to do with Harry as I am trying to depict him to
-you) lived another young married couple, Mr. and
-Mrs. Shortt. He became, as all the world knows,
-the “Right Hon.”, and I wonder if he held as harsh
-views on the subject of Women’s Suffrage then as
-he did later.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was not for some time that Harry realised that
-he could write. He loved acting passionately, and
-in his plays you will find all the fire and life which he
-put into his spoken work. It was perhaps to him,
-as it has been to many, something of a disadvantage
-that he could do two things well, for it divided his
-powers, and he was torn between his desire to act
-and his desire to create characters which others should
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>portray. Acting was his first love, and the knowledge
-that he had the power to write, and write well, came
-to him slowly; I think perhaps he almost distrusted
-it, as a possible menace to his career as an
-actor.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>They were good days in the little flat, they were
-indeed “the brave days when we were twenty-one”.
-Troubles came and we shouldered them, hardly feeling
-their weight. The small happenings, which then
-were almost tragedies we were able soon after to
-look back upon as comedies, because we were young,
-and happy, and very much in love with each other.
-The dreadful day came when Harry, who wanted a
-new bicycle very badly, went to the bank and asked
-for an advance of eight pounds, which was refused
-by the manager—the day when our worldly wealth
-was represented by eighteen shillings, and two pounds
-in the bank (which we dare not touch, for it would
-have “closed our account”). Then Cissie Graham
-(now Mrs. Allen) played the part of the Good Fairy
-and saved us, though she does not know it. She
-offered me a special week at Bristol. In the nick of
-time I was engaged to play in Justin Huntly
-McCarthy’s <cite>Highwayman</cite>, and soon after Harry
-went to George Alexander on contract; and so fate
-smiled on us again!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then came his <em>first play</em>—a one-act curtain-raiser
-called <cite>Rest</cite>. I suppose all young authors are excited
-when the first child of their brain is given to the world.
-I have never seen Harry so excited over any play as
-he was over <cite>Rest</cite>. It was played at a matinée for
-Mr. Henry Dana, who was with Sir Herbert Tree
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>for so long, and died not long ago, to the deep regret
-of all who knew him.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When I speak of Harry’s excitement over this play,
-I do not want you to think that excitement was
-unusual with him. He was often roused to a great
-pitch of excitement by the small, pleasant things of
-life, because he loved them. He was the embodiment
-of Rupert Brooke’s “Great Lover”: for him
-“books and his food and summer rain” never ceased
-to bring joy and delight. To be blasé or bored were
-things unknown to him. No man ever needed less
-the Celestial Surgeon to “stab his spirit wide
-awake”! His joy in the lovely, small things of life
-was as keen at fifty as it had been at fifteen.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Once, after great difficulty, I persuaded him to go
-for a holiday on the Continent—for he hated to go
-far away from his own roof-tree. I always remember
-the effect the first sight of the Swiss mountains
-had on him. Do you remember the story of the
-great Victorian poet who, travelling to Switzerland
-with his friend, was reading <cite>The Channings</cite>?—how,
-when his friend touched him on the arm and said,
-“Look, the Alps”, he replied, without raising his
-eyes from his book, “Hush, Harry is going to be
-confirmed”! This is how differently the sight
-affected Harry: He had been sitting in the corner
-of the carriage, dreaming dreams; at last I saw the
-snow-covered Alps. “Look, Harry,” I said, “the
-mountains!” He woke from his dreams and looked
-out; there was a long silence, which I broke to ask
-if they impressed him very much. All his reply was,
-“Hush! don’t speak!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>Three things never ceased to make an appeal to
-him—old people, young children, and animals. I
-shall never forget his beautiful courtesy to my mother,
-and in fact to anyone who was old and needed care.
-Children all loved him, and his relations with his own
-children were wonderful. Our first baby, Lynette,
-died when she was only a few days old, and Harry’s
-first experience of having a child was really when
-Decima’s little boy Bill came to live with us. When
-later Jack, and still later Jill, were born, the three
-were to all intents and purposes one family. Harry
-was never too busy or too tired to tell them wonderful
-stories—stories which were continued from night to
-night, year by year. He used to tell the most exciting
-adventures of imaginary people, always leaving
-them in the very middle of some terrible predicament,
-from which he would extricate them the next evening.
-I can remember him coming down one evening, after
-telling one of these adventures to Jill, with a frown
-of very real worry on his forehead, and rumpling his
-hair in distress, saying, as he did so, “I’ve left them
-on the edge of a precipice, and God only knows how
-I’m going to save them to-morrow night!”—“them”
-being the characters in the story.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>His dogs! In Harry’s eyes, none of them could
-really do wrong. One I remember, a great Harlequin
-china-eyed Dane. She was a huge beast, and suffered
-from the delusion that she was a “lap dog”, and as
-Harry was the only person who existed in the world,
-so far as she was concerned, so his was the only lap
-on which she ever wished to sit. At those moments
-he was totally extinguished under the mass of dog.</p>
-
-<div id='i_194' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_194_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Miss Compton Collier, London, N.W.6.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_194'>194</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Jill and her Mother</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>But his best-loved dog was “Buggins”, who was
-an animal of doubtful ancestry, called out of courtesy
-by Harry an “Australian Linger”. He originally
-belonged to the Philip Cunninghams, and Harry,
-calling there one day and finding Buggins in deep
-disgrace for some misdemeanour, decided that our
-flat would be the ideal home for the dog. From that
-moment, until he died from eating another dog’s
-meal as well as his own (for, be it said frankly,
-Buggins was greedy), his life was as gorgeous as
-Harry could make it. He had a state funeral and lies
-at “Apple Porch”—the place which he, as well as
-his master, loved so dearly.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I wish I could tell you adequately of Harry’s
-humour, but the things he said were funny because
-he said them and because of the way in which he said
-them. Put down in black and white, they seem
-nothing, they might even seem rather pointless; but
-the memory of Bill sitting with his mouth open,
-ready to laugh at “Pop’s” jokes, and never waiting
-in vain, the memory of the roars of laughter which
-were the accompaniment of every meal—that has
-lasted while the jokes themselves are forgotten.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The jokes are forgotten, and the laughter remains!
-That is how Harry lives always for us, who knew and
-loved him; that is how he lives for Bill, and Jack,
-and Jill: as the finest playmate they ever had; the
-man who, though he might treat life as a jest, was
-desperately serious over games and the things of
-“make-believe”; who might laugh at the faults
-which the world thinks grave, and was grave over the
-faults at which the world too often laughs.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>And the sound of his laughter, and of the children
-laughing with him, brings me to the last picture;
-brings me to a scene in which Harry, though he did
-not appear, was the most actual personality in the
-memory. It was in the restaurant of the Gare du
-Nord in Paris, in the April of 1922. It was a perfect
-spring day, the sun was shining, birds were singing,
-all the trees were full of budding leaf and flowers.
-We had given his “body to the pleasant earth”;
-not, I felt, sleeping there alone, for France had become
-the resting-place of so many Englishmen who
-had been young, and brave, and beautiful. We had
-come back to Paris from St. Germain, the children
-and I. The restaurant was empty, and anyone entering
-would never have imagined from where we had
-come and what had been our errand that morning.
-The children spoke all the time of Harry, and spoke
-of him with laughter and smiles. It was “Do you
-remember what Pops said?”, and “What a joke it
-was that day when Pops did this, that, or the other”,
-until I realised that, though he had finished his work
-here, he would always live for the children and for
-me in the “laughter that remained”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Graves are kept as green with laughter as with
-tears; but in our minds there is no feeling of
-“graves” or death, only the joy of looking back on
-the sunny days, which had been more full of sunshine
-because the figure which stood in the midst of the
-sunlight had been Harry.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Harry would have hated, almost resented, another
-illness, with all the attendant weariness; would have
-dreaded a repetition of all he went through in Canada.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>He, who loved to live every moment of his life to the
-full, always felt that “to pass out quickly” was the
-only way to hope to die. His wish was fulfilled when
-he died so suddenly in Paris. And yet, though he
-had loved his friends, loved his work, and loved, too,
-the public life which was the outcome of it, he loved
-best of all the quiet of his home; there, within its
-four walls, he would have, had it been possible, done
-all his work, and had all his friends gather round him.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>A last token of the love which those friends bore
-him is being made to him now by “His Fellow-Craftsmen”;
-it is a bronze medallion, made by the
-sculptor, Mr. Albert Toft, and will be placed where
-Harry’s body lies, at the Cemetery at St. Germain-en-Laye.
-The beautiful thought originated with
-Mr. Cyril Harcourt and Mr. Dion Clayton Calthrop,
-and many who loved Harry have joined hands with
-them. As I write, a letter has just come to me from
-Mr. Harcourt, saying: “It is done, and we think
-beautifully. The face and hand, with the cigarette
-smoke curling up, are wonderful.” I can fancy that
-Harry sees it too, and says in that beautiful voice of
-his, full of all the tones and music I know so well:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“And I, in some far planet, past the skies,</div>
- <div class='line'>I shall look down and smile;</div>
- <div class='line'>Knowing in death I have not lost my friends,</div>
- <div class='line'>But only found in death their lasting love.”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'>Of his wonderful charm it is almost impossible to
-write, and yet it was essentially part of him, and a
-feature of his personality. Whatever his faults may
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>have been—and he had them, as have all of us—it
-was his wonderful charm which made them so easy
-to forgive. As Fred Grove used to say of him:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“Though to the faults of mortals he may fall,</div>
- <div class='line'>Look in his eyes, and you forget them all.”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'>His friends know, as I do, his generosity; that
-keen anxiety to help, either by money or kindness,
-anyone who was unfortunate. Harry never waited
-to wonder if his help was wise or judicious; a man
-or woman was poor, underfed, or unhappy, that was
-enough for him, and any help he could give was at
-once forthcoming, and given with such unfeigned
-pleasure at being able to help that I am convinced
-many of those who asked him for money went away
-feeling they had conferred a favour on Harry Esmond
-by borrowing his money.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>On his work, both as a writer and an actor, I shall
-try to touch later. I have tried here to give you the
-man as I knew him: A boy with the soul of a poet;
-a man who always in his heart of hearts believed that
-most men were brave, and, unless life had been unkind,
-all women good; who evolved a philosophy
-which, though it may not have been very deep, was
-always gay; to whom life was full of small excitements,
-wonderful adventures, and splendid friends;
-who remained, after thirty years of married life, still
-a very perfect lover; and who understood his children
-and was their most loved playmate, because he never
-ceased himself to be a child; complex, as all artistic
-natures must be, and sometimes, if he seemed too
-ready to sacrifice the real to the imaginary, it was
-because the imaginary to him seemed so much more
-“worth while”.</p>
-
-<div id='i_199' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_199_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by The Dover Street Studios, London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_199'>199</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Harry as Widgery Blake</span><br /><br />“Palace of Puck”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>Perhaps the best summing-up of Harry that can
-be given is to quote Henley’s lines on Robert Louis
-Stevenson:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“A streak of Ariel, a hint of Puck,</div>
- <div class='line'>Of Hamlet most of all, and something of</div>
- <div class='line'>The Shorter Catechist.”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c017'>There, then, is the picture I have tried to make for
-you: Harry elated over the success of a play; Harry
-cast down over some unkind cut, grave for a moment,
-with his gravity turned to smiles at some happy
-thought which suddenly struck him; our hopes and
-fears; our good and bad times together; and over
-all, drowning all other sounds, comes the noise of
-Harry’s laughter and that of three happy children
-laughing with him.</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER XIV<br /> <span class='large'>HARRY, THE PLAYWRIGHT</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c011'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“He used to write of life as it ought to be.”</div>
- <div class='line in32'>—<cite>The Law Divine.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>The last thing I wish to give you is a list of
-his plays, with the comment that they were
-a success or the reverse, adding what eminent
-critics said of them. I want only to tell you how
-he wrote his plays, and try to make you understand
-why he wrote as he did. If I quote what critics said
-of his work, it will not be because in this or that
-extract I find undiluted praise, but because that critic
-has—or, at least, so it seems to me—found truth.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Harry’s first play I have still; it is written in an
-exercise-book, and is called <cite>Geraldine, or Victor
-Cupid, or Love’s Victory</cite>. It is a highly coloured
-piece of work, which has never been inflicted upon
-the public; written, I imagine, when he was about
-twelve years old.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Not until we had been married for some years did
-Harry realise that he could write plays; he was
-passionately fond of acting, and wished to take up
-nothing that might interfere with his profession, but
-gradually the knowledge came to him that he could
-create characters on paper as well as on the stage.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>He made his plays long before he wrote them;
-I mean he thought the whole play out in its entirety,
-lived for weeks with the characters in his mind, came
-to know them intimately and to be absolutely at
-home with them, before he began actually to write
-the play in black and white.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I have known him to write the last act first, simply
-because he had planned the play so entirely before
-he put pen to paper. Often when at “Apple
-Porch” he would write for an hour, then go out on
-the golf course, knock a ball about for two or three
-holes, then return to his desk, and pick up the scene
-just where he had left it.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><cite>Grierson’s Way</cite> he wrote straight off in three
-weeks; there is hardly an alteration in the manuscript.
-He was intensely happy when writing;
-talked very little about his work, as a rule, but lived
-in two worlds—his friends in the play, and his family.
-He thought sad and gloomy plays were a mistake,
-and should not be written, or, if written, whatever
-the subject, the author “should be able to let in the
-sunshine somewhere”. He never wrote another
-<cite>Grierson’s Way</cite>.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><cite>The Wilderness</cite> was written under most difficult
-circumstances. Jack was three months old, he was
-frightfully ill for weeks, and I was up night after
-night nursing him. Harry used to sit in the study
-at the end of the passage, writing, writing, coming
-in now and again to see how we were getting on.
-Later, when Jack was better, Harry took a table and
-put it up in the loft over a wee stable we had, where the
-car was kept; there, daily, he and his big dog Diana,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>which George Alexander had given him, used to
-climb up the ladder that was flat up against the wall,
-and do his writing. The going up was all right, but
-the coming down was the difficulty. Harry put a
-heap of straw on the ground, and, after he had got
-half-way down the ladder, Diana used to put her
-fore paws on his shoulders, then Harry would drag
-her till her hind legs got to the edge of the trap-door,
-when she would drop on Harry, and together they
-would fall on to the straw; this went on for weeks.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>His first play to be produced in London, with the
-exception of a one-act play called <cite>Rest</cite>, was <cite>Bogey</cite>;
-and here I must quote the <cite>Standard</cite> critic, who wrote
-of the play: “A fairy tale, if you will, but a fairy
-tale which deals with the passions of men and
-women.” That was so very true of so many of
-Harry’s plays; they were “fairy tales”, because
-that was how he saw life—as a wonderful fairy tale,
-with an ending that was intended to be happy, and,
-if it failed to be, was so because mortals had meddled
-with the story and spoiled it. A playwright should
-“hold the mirror up to Nature”, but the result must
-depend upon what he sees in the mirror; if he sees
-stories which have the gold and glitter of romance,
-then, in writing his play, which contains both, he is
-only depicting truly what he has seen.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><cite>Bogey</cite> was not the success that it might have been,
-but it was sufficient to prove finally to its writer that
-he had the power to write, a power which only needed
-developing. It lacked the concise beauty of his later
-work; he had not then learnt his craft; but, as many
-of the critics testified, it was the work of “a dramatist,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>a writer of plays, born, if as yet not fully made”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He began to write other plays, and gradually, if
-you read them, you will find how he advances in his
-knowledge of words. He would seek for hours for
-the right word. He used to say that a word which
-was not exactly the one he wanted, and for which
-he was seeking, hurt him like a discord on the piano.
-From the actor’s point of view, Harry was generous;
-that is to say, every part he wrote was “worth playing”,
-and every part had a line which would appeal
-to the audience and stamp the actor on their minds,
-no matter how small the part might be. For example,
-in the first act of <cite>Eliza</cite> (a play for which Harry had
-no very great affection), the carman who brings in
-the rocking-horse has two lines to say, and two only,
-but one of them will gain a laugh from the audience,
-and lifts the part from being nothing but a “one-line
-part”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Another point of his writing is that almost all the
-characters, where it is possible, have to depict a full
-range of emotions. Fun and pathos are in almost
-every part, every part is worthy of study, for by
-giving the time and thought to it the actor can come
-to realise the character in full, because behind the
-actual written word lies so much that may be found
-if it is sought for. That is due, I think, to the fact
-that Harry could, if necessary, have written the
-whole life of every character, because before he began
-to write he lived with them, as it were, for weeks.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In his plays—or, rather, in every act of his plays—you
-will find a great sense of completeness, not only
-in the actual “curtains” themselves, but in the construction
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>of the act. As he says in <cite>The Wilderness</cite>,
-which George Alexander produced at the St. James’s
-Theatre, “the wheel has come full circle”. Take
-the second act of that particular play, which begins
-with Sir Harry Milanor bringing his uncle to the
-place in the woods where he, Sir Harry, played as a
-child. He begins to create an atmosphere of fairyland;
-he tells of how he stormed the pass, fought
-the elephants, killed the giants, and so won his kingdom.
-Then come the two children, who bring with
-them food for the fairies, and Sir Harry and his old
-uncle creep away. As the act goes on, mundane
-things come into the scene, but the curtain falls with
-the children again in the fairy ring, looking for the
-food which they brought the “good people”; it
-has gone, and the curtain falls with the children
-stating firmly, “I knowed they was hungry”. So,
-perhaps subconsciously, you wait for the next act
-with the spirit of fairyland and all that it means still
-with you. You have your belief in the good, simple,
-unquestioned things of life established, which is the
-author’s way of setting for his next scene.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Again, in the second act of <cite>Eliza</cite>, Monty Jordan
-sits reading plays for Vera Lawrence, whom Sandy
-is going to marry, and find her a theatre and a play
-to make her name, for she is an actress. You see
-Vera Lawrence as the centre of Sandy’s world; even
-his best friend is dragged in to work for her. So at
-the end of the act you find Vera Lawrence, her hair
-falling round her shoulders, to prove to Eliza that it
-is not a wig, while the latter stands nonplussed and
-dismayed. Vera is the “top note” all through the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>act, at the end as at the beginning; so your mind,
-holding the picture of the triumphant Vera, feels the
-same surprise as does Lady Pennybroke when in
-Act 3 Eliza enters, looking no longer a “sight, sticking
-in at the front and out at the back”, but quite
-charming, ready to conquer not only Monty Jordan,
-but Sandy Verrall. Act 2 has made the audience
-not only laugh at Eliza for what she is, but makes
-them contrast her with Vera, and realise how unlikely
-it is that she can ever enter successfully into
-the lists for Sandy’s affections, as she does eventually.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I suppose all playwrights have their favourite
-methods of gaining mental effects, and the “full
-circle” was one of Harry’s. He loved to have what
-are known as “good curtains”—that is, he loved a
-scene or act to end on a very high, strong note. Time
-after time you will find the act ends with some short
-sentence, but which is really the concentration of a
-long speech, so written that in a few words you get
-all the energy and determination, or all the pathos
-and tragedy, that a speech of many lines might have
-made less vivid.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>For example, take the last act of <cite>Love and the
-Man</cite> (played by Forbes Robertson and Miss Kate
-Rorke), when Wagoneur comes to ask Lord Gaudminster
-if he may see his wife (who lies dead upstairs)
-and whom Wagoneur has loved.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“You won’t let me see her?” he asks, and Gaudminster
-answer simply “No.” Wagoneur turns
-and, half-blind with grief, gropes his way from the
-room. That is all! But could a speech of many
-pages be more eloquent?</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>Again, the last lines of the second act of <cite>The
-Dangerous Age</cite> (played by Harry and myself). Jack
-lies hurt, perhaps dying, after an accident; Bill, his
-brother, sits with Egbert Inglefield waiting for news.
-His mother, Betty Dunbar, has gone to London to
-say good-bye to her lover. Egbert Inglefield, who
-also loves her, knows this, though of course Bill, her
-son, does not. Bill comes to Egbert and says, “Oh,
-Eggy, I feel rotten”; Egbert, knowing that all his
-hopes are falling in ruins, says “So do I, old man!”
-Very simple, but the tragedy of his answer touches
-you far more than a noble speech would do at that
-particular juncture.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>With regard to the plays themselves, and again I
-do not want to give a long list of them, but only to
-touch one or two which seems to me particularly
-typical of the writer’s philosophy. I remember that
-after his death one paper spoke of him as the “gay
-philosopher”, and I should seek long before I found
-a better phrase in which to express his outlook. His
-own attitude was “valiant in velvet, light in ragged
-luck”, and so he drew his men and women. They
-may suffer, and you suffer with them; but it is
-healthy pain, which looks towards the east for the
-sunshine of to-morrow which will bring alleviation.
-There is no feeling in your mind, as you watch them,
-that “things can never be better”, that misfortune
-is inevitable; except in <cite>Grierson’s Way</cite>, which was
-one of his earlier works, when the critics were still
-waiting for “him to grow old, and sensible, and
-happy”, as one of them said after the production
-of <cite>My Lady Virtue</cite>, which Arthur Bourchier,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>Violet Vanbrugh, and myself played at the
-Garrick.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He calls certainly 75 per cent. of his plays
-“Comedies”, but they are comedies which touch
-very often on tragedy. And in a sense he was right
-in so calling them, for comedy, properly speaking, is
-a comment on the imperfections of human nature,
-which causes amusement to those who understand
-men and manners. So most of his plays are comedies,
-though some of them rely on tragic incidents for their
-story.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I have spoken before of Harry’s fondness for the
-“redeeming feature” in even his worst characters,
-and how few really bad people he ever tried to draw!
-I think as he wrote, or earlier still, when he began
-to think about his characters, he acquired a certain
-affection for them, which made him wish to make
-them something less than the villains he had at first
-intended. Added to that, his dislike of unpleasant
-things, and you get some idea of why he wrote the
-type of plays he did. Even Mr. Clement Scott, who
-disliked his first play, <cite>Bogey</cite>, so intensely, wrote of
-him later: “Believe me, his two last plays, <cite>When
-We Were Twenty-One</cite> and <cite>The Wilderness</cite>, will be
-English classics when all the mock Ibsenism and
-sham exercise in society salacity are buried in the
-dust of oblivion.” So he gave the world what I think
-are not only beautiful plays, but essentially kindly
-plays.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite> he never liked very much; he
-thought it below the level of the rest of his work;
-and though this evergreen play has certainly been a
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>very valuable property, yet I think Harry would
-have been better pleased by the same success of one
-of his other plays. Yet Eliza is lovable, even before
-she becomes “the new me”, even when she is still
-dressed to look “dreadfully respectable”. And what
-a part it is, too! what is called “an actress-proof”
-part—which means, in the vernacular of the stage,
-“it will play itself”; so it may, but what a difference
-when it is played—well, as it can be played by anyone
-who will take the trouble to study Eliza, and then,
-by the grace of God, is able to give her to the audience
-as, not a freak, but a very human, affectionate
-girl, standing rather breathless on the threshold of a
-world she does not know.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Perhaps his favourite play was <cite>The Dangerous
-Age</cite>, which we first played in America, where the
-audiences liked it enormously, and which, when we
-brought it to London, was not a great success. There
-is no character to which Harry has been more kind
-than to Betty Dunbar; she does ugly things, but
-you are never allowed to feel they have really touched
-her; she remains, after her indiscretions, still the
-same delightful and charming person; you are made
-to feel that the agony which she suffers, when she
-waits to hear if her little son will live or die, has wiped
-out all her foolishness—to give it no harsher name.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was during a performance of this play that a
-young man turned to a friend who sat with him, and
-said “I can’t watch it; it’s terrible to see a woman’s
-soul stripped naked”; and a story he told later is of
-value here, because I think it gauges so correctly
-Harry’s attitude towards women. This man had
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>been a sailor, and, talking over the play with a friend
-later, he took exception to his remark that “Betty
-Dunbar was a pretty worthless woman”, and to
-account for his defence of the character he told this
-story:—“I was once doing a Western Ocean trip,
-on a tramp steamer, in November. We struck a bad
-gale, and the Atlantic rollers stripped her of everything.
-Next morning I stood with the skipper on
-deck. There she was, rolling about, not rising to the
-rollers, but just lying there—down and out. I said
-to the skipper, ‘She looks what she is—a slut.’ He
-turned on me sharply and said, ‘Don’t you ever say
-that about a ship or a woman. If some man hadn’t
-scamped his job, and not done his best, she wouldn’t
-be looking as she does this morning’.” I think that
-was Harry’s feeling about women like his heroine in
-<cite>The Dangerous Age</cite>—that it was probably the fault
-of a very definite “someone” that they had not
-made a greater success of life.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He loved to write of children, and wrote of them
-with almost singular understanding and reality. The
-children in <cite>The Wilderness</cite>, the two boys in <cite>The
-Dangerous Age</cite>, the “Tommy” and the Midshipman
-in <cite>The Law Divine</cite>, the small caddie in <cite>A Kiss
-or Two</cite>, are all real children, full of humour and
-wonderful high spirits, who never—as do so many
-“stage children”—become tedious or boring.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><cite>A Kiss or Two</cite> was produced at the London
-Pavilion—a legitimate venture which followed years
-of variety. It was a charming play, and one speech
-from it—the legend—is one of the most delightful
-things Harry ever wrote. The character was an Irish
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>soldier, Captain Patrick Delaney, and was played by
-Harry. I give part of it here:</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“It’s a legend I’m tellin’ ye, an’ all true legends
-begin with ‘My Dear and My Judy.’ Well, My
-Dear and My Judy, one fine day Mother Nature,
-havin’ nothin’ better to do, she made a man. You
-know what a man is? That’s all right then—well,
-she made a man, and this mighty fine piece of work
-tickled her to death, it did, and so she went to bed
-devilish pleased with herself, had a beautiful dream,
-woke up next morning, went one better than the day
-before—she made a woman. Ye can’t say you know
-what a woman is, for she’s a mystery to the lot of us.
-Well, she made a woman, and then she sat down and
-looked at the pair of them, and the pair of them looked
-at each other, and mighty uneasy they felt, wondering
-what the devil it was all about. At last, after them
-two had been looking at each other till the perspiration
-was breaking out upon their foreheads, Mother
-Nature breaks the awful silence, and pointing to the
-woman, who was standing all of a quiver, with her
-eyes lookin’ anywhere except at the man, yet seein’
-him all the time, Mother Nature pointin’ to the
-woman, say to the man, ‘That sweet lookin’ thing’s
-all yours,’ says she. ‘I can’t believe it,’ says the
-man with a gulp. Then Mother Nature, pointing
-to the man, who was looking at the woman as if there
-was nothin’ else in the wide, wide world worth looking
-at which there wasn’t—Mother Nature, pointing to
-the man, says to the woman, ‘An’ that fine looking
-thing’s all yours,’ says she. ‘Sure I know it,’ says
-the woman, bold as brass, and the fat was in the fire.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>But that’s only the beginning: it’s now that the
-trouble comes. At last, when everything had settled
-into its proper place between these two, the man came
-home one day and couldn’t find his collar stud.
-‘Where’s that woman?’ says he. ‘Out walkin’ with
-another man,’ says they. ‘That won’t do at all,’
-says he. ‘How’ll you stop it?’ says they. ‘I’ll
-make a law,’ says he, and that’s where the trouble
-began.... He sent for all the stuffy old men of his
-acquaintance, and they had a meeting by candle-light
-in the Old Town Hall. And he up an’ spoke to
-them: ‘Now all you gentlemen,’ says he, ‘have
-been casting sheep’s eyes at the girls. I’ve been
-watchin’ you at it the times I haven’t been busy
-doin’ it myself,’ says he. ‘Them girls have been
-casting them same sheep’s eyes back at you with
-interest,’ says he. ‘Can’t help it,’ says the old men.
-‘It’s Nature,’ says they. ‘Nature is it?’ says he,
-‘then there’s too much of this Nature about,’ says
-he, ‘and I’m goin’ to stop it.’ With that his eloquence
-carried the meeting, and they started in to
-make laws. Oh, them laws that they made, sure they
-forgot all about the days of their youth, when their
-blood was warm, and the sunshine was singin’ in
-their hearts. They just sat there on them cold stones
-in that old Town Hall, chilled to the marrow, and
-made them laws to stop love-making. And while
-they were at it, there came a tap at the door, and they
-all gave a jump which showed you they were doin’
-something they were ashamed of. ‘What’s that?’
-says they, and they all looked round and then there
-came another little tap, and the door slowly opened,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>and there in the sunlight stood a beautiful young
-woman, lookin’ in at them, her eyes all agog with
-wonder. ‘What the divil are you doin’?’ says she.
-‘None of your business,’ says they. ‘True for you,’
-says she. An’ she took them at their word, and
-slammed the door, an’ she’s been slamming the door
-on them same laws ever since!”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I have given that speech fully, because it seems to
-me to be so very much the spirit in which Harry
-wrote and to show so well his attitude towards
-life—fantastic, ideal, almost but not quite a fairy
-tale.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>You will find it, too, in <cite>The Law Divine</cite> (which
-Harry played at Wyndham’s Theatre for so long with
-Miss Jessie Winter), when Edie tells her son about
-her honeymoon, when she says: “Ordinary people!
-We were the children of the moon, we were the
-spirits of sea mist and soft night air—Dads said we
-were.” The whole scene is full of that imagery
-which was so much part of the writer’s mental
-composition.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>In <cite>Bad Hats</cite>, which play he renamed, having first
-called it <cite>The Rotten Brigade</cite>, and which at the production
-was called <cite>Birds of a Feather</cite>, he wrote
-another of those plays which, though called by the
-author “a comedy”, had all the elements of a
-tragedy. Harry intended to write another First Act,
-making the First Act the Second, in order that the
-existing circumstances would be more easy for the
-audience to grasp. It was, and is, a great play, and
-Jacob Ussher is one of the finest character-studies he
-ever created.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>I should have liked to have dealt more fully with
-many of his less-well-known plays; with <cite>One Summer’s
-Day</cite>, which Charles Hawtrey produced, and
-which was the first emotional part he had ever played,
-and of which I am asked so often, “When are you
-going to revive it?”; with <cite>Grierson’s Way</cite>, which
-caused so much comment when it was produced; with
-<cite>The Sentimentalist</cite>, with its wonderful first act, the
-play being the story of a man’s life, which was praised
-for its beauty and imagination by some, while others
-asked, “What’s it all about?”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Harry was accused of writing “sugary” plays,
-sentimental plays, plays which were thin, and the
-like; but, in answer to these accusations, I can only
-quote two critics and give my own opinion afterwards.
-One of them says: “This is what they call
-pinchbeck sentiment. I don’t know. It convinced
-me, and that was quite enough. This is the kind of
-human story that has elicited the art of a Frederic
-Robson, a Johnnie Toole, and a Henry Irving in
-England.” And the other: “Do you know what
-personal charm is? It is the effect produced by a man
-or a woman who enters a room, makes a few graceful
-remarks, says a few words very much to the point in
-an agreeable voice, and suddenly creates an atmosphere
-which wins everybody around. Mr. Esmond
-as a playwright possesses it.” And my own opinion,
-which is that, if Harry wrote of charming, simple,
-loving, and lovable people, it was because that was
-how he found his fellow-men; that his characters who
-go through three acts lightly, bravely, and gallantly,
-are just as real as the characters in those rather depressing
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>plays which are hailed as “slices of life”—and
-much more entertaining.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He filled his plays with beautiful things about life,
-because he honestly thought life itself was beautiful;
-he made his men and women “straight” and with
-decent impulses, because he was convinced that was
-how God made real people; and he gave his plays, or
-nearly all of them, “happy endings”, because he
-thought that “those who were good shall be happy”.
-That was how Harry “held the mirror up to
-Nature”, and how he tried to do what no artist can
-do more than succeed in doing:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“Draw the thing as he sees it.”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER XV<br /> <span class='large'>HARRY, THE ACTOR</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c014'>“There comes a time in every man’s life when his own
-judgment is of greater use to him than other people’s.”</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>—<cite>When We Were Twenty-One.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c018'>“I have been lectured a good deal during my career.”</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>—<cite>Fools of Nature.</cite></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>No man in his time played more parts than
-Harry. To begin with, he started very
-young, started off from the bosom of a
-family which had no knowledge of the stage. So
-innocent were they of the life on which he was
-embarking, that his mother, hearing that he had
-joined a company of touring actors, asked, in all
-seriousness, “What time is the caravan calling for
-you, my dear?”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He started his career with a salary of ten shillings
-a week, and played anything and everything that
-was offered. He used to tell the story of “how he
-played a wave”—lying underneath a very dusty
-floor cloth, “billowing up and down”—and a nasty,
-stuffy business it must have been, too! Imagine the
-horror of the modern young actor, touring the provinces,
-if he were asked to lie on the stage and give
-an impersonation of that element which Britain is
-popularly reputed to rule!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>One of his first real parts—and I doubt if it was
-even a speaking part—was that of a waiter who had
-to carry on a basket of refreshments for the guests
-at a picnic. Harry was determined to make the part
-“stand out”. He took the script back to his rooms—rooms,
-did I say? Room, a combined room, at
-probably eight shillings a week—and thought over it
-very earnestly. Inspiration came to him—he would
-make the waiter a very lame man with an elaborate
-limp; and at rehearsal next day he entered limping.
-Mr. Fernandez, the producer, shouted from the
-stalls, “Here, here, my boy, what <em>are</em> you doing?”,
-and added very seriously, “never fool with a part,
-take your work seriously. Take it from him, give it
-to somebody else!” That was the result of Harry’s
-first attempt at characterisation. You must remember
-that at this time he was about 15 or 16, very
-slight and boyish-looking, and he went round the
-provinces playing heavy villains in <cite>The Stranglers
-of Paris</cite>, <cite>The Corsican Brothers</cite>, <cite>Uriah Heep</cite>, <cite>Oliver
-Twist</cite>, etc. Think of a boy of that age portraying
-“Bill Sykes”! However, he stuck to the provinces
-for some time, like many another actor who won his
-spurs in London after a long and perhaps rather
-dreary apprenticeship; though I cannot believe that
-Harry ever found any acting dreary, he loved it too
-well.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When at last he came to London it was to appear
-in <cite>The Panel Picture</cite>, in which he made an amazing
-success in the part of a boy who was shot on the stage
-and had a big death scene; and then the round of
-playing old men began. I have told how, when I
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>first met him, he was playing the part of a villain,
-and so padded as to be almost unrecognisable.
-When, many years later, he went to George Alexander,
-it was to play “Cayley Drummle”, the old
-man in <cite>The Second Mrs. Tanqueray</cite>, and it took
-George Alexander a long time to believe that Harry
-could make a success of a part which was suited to
-his years. This, in spite of the fact that he had already
-played the boy in <cite>Sweet Nancy</cite>, when Clement Scott
-(who disliked his first play so heartily) lifted his hands
-to the skies and “thanked Heaven for this perfect
-actor!” When George Alexander produced <cite>Much
-Ado</cite>, I remember he sent for Harry and asked him
-tentatively if he thought he could play “Claudio”.
-Harry was delighted at the prospect, and I remember,
-too, his disappointment when he was finally cast for
-“Verges”. Later came Henry Arthur Jones’s
-<cite>Masqueraders</cite>, when at last his chance came; he
-played a young man, and won not only the heart of
-George Alexander, but the heart of the public, by
-his performance.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I hesitate to use the word “genius”; but my
-excuse, if one is needed, must be that others used it
-before in referring to Harry. In the old days, when
-we all used to go holiday-making together, when
-Harry, Gerald du Maurier, and Charles Hallard
-were almost inseparable companions, they were
-known as “The Gent., The Genius, and The Young
-Greek God”—one of those happy phrases, coined
-under sunny skies, which, under all the fun that
-prompts them, have a sub-stratum of truth. The
-phrase has lived, for only a year ago Gerald du
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>Maurier wrote to me, saying, “And when we meet,
-I will be the Young Greek God again, and we will
-talk of the Genius—bless him!” So I use the word
-in connection with Harry as an actor, and will only
-modify it by adding that he had one handicap—he
-was too versatile. As a young man he could play old
-men, and play them well, even brilliantly. As an
-older man he could still play young men, who were
-indeed young, not creatures born of grease paint and
-wigs, whose only attempt at being young came from
-affected movements and smart clothes.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>His character-studies were real people, not bundles
-of eccentricities, with amazing and repulsive tricks;
-they were real old people, treated, where it was demanded,
-with humour, but a humour which was from
-the heart and spoke to the heart, and not only apparent
-to the eye of the beholder. His young men were
-charming, virile, and obviously enjoying life. He
-could play devout lovers, rakes (and what delightful
-rakes, too, they were!), old men, and mad men, and
-play them all with more than a touch of genius.
-There you had his handicap: from the very fact of
-the excellence of all he did, he was never allowed to
-specialise. He never became definitely associated
-with any special type of part. It never became a case
-of “No one can play that except Harry Esmond”,
-for there was probably a part in almost every play
-which Harry Esmond could have played, and played
-with charm and distinction.</p>
-
-<div id='i_218' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_218_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Alfred Ellis, London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_218'>218</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Harry as Major Blencoe</span><br /><br />“The Tree of Knowledge”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>Consider for a moment some of the parts which he
-played, and consider the variety of them. There is
-“Little Billee”, a part which I find many people
-remember best; “Kean”, the mad musician, in
-<cite>Grierson’s Way</cite>; “D’Artagnan” in <cite>The Three
-Musketeers</cite>; “Sir Benjamin Backbite” in <cite>The
-School for Scandal</cite>; “Touchstone” in <cite>As You Like
-It</cite>; old “Jacob Ussher” in <cite>Birds of a Feather</cite>; and
-various characters in <cite>Dear Brutus</cite>, <cite>The Times</cite>,
-<cite>Lights Out</cite>, <cite>Chance</cite>, <cite>The Idol</cite>. They were all parts
-which were as different as could well be imagined,
-and every one worthy of notice, and played with
-sympathy and great understanding.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When the Royal Performance of <cite>Trilby</cite> was given,
-as far as possible it was attempted to present the
-original cast. Harry was asked to play the “young
-and tender Little Billee”. At first he refused,
-saying that he was too old, but finally he was persuaded
-to appear. Phyllis Neilson Terry was to play
-“Trilby”, and I remember hearing of her dismay
-when she was told who was to be “Billee”. She
-remembered seeing Harry in the part when she “was
-a little girl”! At the dress rehearsal her fears
-vanished. She came up to me and told me what she
-had feared. “But now,” she said, “well, just look
-at him; he’s straight from the nursery; my husband
-says I’m baby-snatching.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Swing the pendulum to the other side, and recall
-his “Jacob Ussher” in his own play, <cite>Birds of a
-Feather</cite>—the old Jew, the modern Shylock, who sees
-himself bereft of the only thing he loves in life, his
-daughter. Ussher is no more ashamed of the way in
-which he has made his money than Shylock was, but
-he, with all his pride of race, is very definitely
-ashamed that his daughter should wish to marry such
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>a poor “aristocratic fish” as “Rupert Herringham”.
-How the part includes every note in the
-scale of the emotions; how Ussher alternates between
-the over-indulgent father and the martinet who rules
-his women exactly as his forefathers did; how he
-bullies and cajoles; how he uses persuasion and
-force; how he raves, rails, and finally weeps; and
-who, when Harry played him, wept not as an
-Englishman, but as a Jew who sees, in the ruin of
-his daughter, the destruction of the Temple and the
-Holy City by those who “know not the Law and
-the Prophets”. After seeing the play, a Jew told
-him that the only disappointment, the only thing
-which seemed “unreal”, was to find Harry seated
-in his dressing-room “talking English and not
-Hebrew”; and yet a critic said of this performance
-that “as far as characterisation is concerned, Ussher
-might have been a Gentile”. Let that critic see to
-it that he knows well the sons of Jacob, and then let
-him recall the performance at the Globe Theatre,
-with Harry Esmond as “one of them”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I have told you how he came to play “D’Artagnan”
-in the <cite>Musketeers</cite>, in the place of Lewis
-Waller, and I remember the doubts which were
-expressed everywhere as to whether Harry was sufficiently
-robust and virile to play the part of the Gascon
-soldier of fortune. How Harry, realising that so far
-as personal appearance went he was as unlike the
-traditional hero of Dumas’ romance as well could be
-imagined, set to work to give such a reading that his
-slimness, his boyishness, his delicate air of romance,
-might be changed from handicaps to assets. Lewis
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>Waller was probably more the man Dumas had in
-his mind; he was outwardly the typical mercenary
-fire-eater with a love of adventure, and a great-hearted
-courage behind it all; Harry Esmond was
-more like the conventional “Athos”, but he made
-you feel that here was the “soldier in spite of himself”;
-here was the son of Gascony who might so
-easily have been made a courtier or even a priest, but
-for the love of adventure, the romance, the high-spirited
-courage, which had driven him out to join
-the King’s Musketeers at any cost. Speaking of this
-part reminds me that during the run of the play
-Harry allowed his hair to grow, so that he did not
-need to wear a full wig. He was riding down the
-King’s Road one morning on his bicycle, when two
-small boys caught sight of him. “’Ere, Bill,”
-shouted one, “’ere’s a poet.” The other gazed at
-Harry, and returned with scorn, “Garn wiv yer, that
-ain’t a poet, that’s a bloomin’ b——dy <em>poem</em>.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When Lewis Waller produced <cite>Romeo and Juliet</cite>,
-Harry was cast for “Mercutio”, a part which called
-for all the gaiety, all the youth, all the gallantry
-which he knew so well how to portray. I find that
-one critic said of his performance that “it had that
-touch of mystery which Mr. Esmond has given before,
-a touch of aloofness, indefinably appealing and
-tragic”, which seems to me to sum up the performance
-admirably. I find, too, another critic who says
-“he cannot interpret that youthfulness which springs
-from the joy of living”—“the joy of living”, which
-was an integral part of the man all his life!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Speaking of “Mercutio” brings me to another
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>Shakespearean part which Harry played—that of
-“Touchstone”. And here again he committed the
-crime of playing “Touchstone” as he felt he should
-be played, not as custom, convention, and tradition
-dictated. The first intimation that he was outraging
-the feelings of these three old gods came at rehearsal,
-when on the exit “bag and baggage, scrip and
-scrippage” the producer told him “Here you exit,
-dancing. You know what I mean: ‘the light fantastic
-toe’.” Harry did know, and he did not see
-why the exit demanded that particular method. He
-asked “Why?” “Why?” repeated the producer,
-Mr. H. H. Vernon; “why? Well, because it is
-always made like that.” Again Harry asked “Yes,
-but why? what’s the reason?” “<em>Reason</em>,” repeated
-Mr. Vernon, “I don’t know any <em>reason</em>; it’s <em>always
-done like that</em>.” “Give me a reason,” Harry
-begged, “and if it’s a good one, I’ll think it over”;
-but no reason was forthcoming, except the reiteration
-that “it had always been done so, etc.” Now, to
-Harry, “Touchstone” was a “jester”, not a
-“clown”, and he believed that when Shakespeare so
-designated him it was used in the sense of “one who
-clowns or jests”; he saw no reason to make “Touchstone”
-anything but a “clown” in name, for he
-held that his words prove him to be the cleverest man
-in the play, and that he is the forerunner of “Jack
-Point”, “Grimaldi”, and even poor dear pathetic
-Dan Leno and Charlie Chaplin—the great comedians
-who make you laugh with the tears never very far
-from your eyes, because they are so tragically funny;
-the comedians whose comedy is ever very nearly
-tragedy, and who, when they cease to convulse their
-audiences, look out at the world with eyes that have
-in them no mirth, but a great sadness, which springs
-from knowledge that they “are paid to be funny”;
-that feeling which makes W. S. Gilbert’s “Point”
-sing:</p>
-
-<div id='i_222' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_222_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Gabell &amp; Co., London, W.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_222'>222</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Harry as Touchstone</span><br /><br />“As You Like It”</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line in4'><span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>“Though your wife ran away</div>
- <div class='line in4'>With a soldier that day,</div>
- <div class='line'>And took with her your trifle of money—</div>
- <div class='line in4'>Bless your heart, they don’t mind,</div>
- <div class='line in4'>They’re exceedingly kind;</div>
- <div class='line'>They don’t blame you so long as you’re funny.”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c017'>That is the cry of your jester all the world over, and
-that was the feeling which existed in Harry’s mind
-when he depicted “Touchstone” as a rather sardonic,
-melancholy person, with a great brain, the
-only use for which he can find is to make people laugh.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I will take only two instances to justify his idea
-of “Touchstone”. The first: Are the words</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c017'>those of a “clown” or “a fool” in the ordinary
-sense?</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Take also “Corin’s” words:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“You have too courtly a wit for me, I’ll rest.”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c017'>He is frankly puzzled by the Jester’s humour. Yet
-“Corin” is a typical shepherd of the times, and an
-English shepherd (for all we meet him in the Forest
-of Arden): as such, he was used to the jokes and
-witticisms of the ordinary clown; he had “roared his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>ribs out” at them at the village fairs. This “Touchstone”
-is no ordinary clown, and “Corin” finds his
-humour makes a demand upon the head; he is more
-than “funny”, he is the Court wit. Read the conversation
-which has gone before, and you will find
-that this is indeed “The Court Jester”, and a
-courtier before he was a jester—a man accustomed
-to sharpen his wits upon those of the men he met at
-Courts. And so Harry gave him—a wise man, a
-disappointed, cynical man, but a man who could
-afford to value the wit of those around him at its
-proper worth—less than his own.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>When Sir Herbert Tree revived <cite>The School for
-Scandal</cite>, Harry played “Sir Benjamin Backbite”.
-Harry, Who loved sincerity, and truth, and simplicity,
-played the affected fop of the period, with his cane,
-his lace handkerchief, his fur muff, his bouquet, and
-his general air of affectation, and played him so that
-to watch and listen to it was a sheer delight.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>These are but a few of his parts—the parts which,
-when he played them, were both praised and blamed.
-I want to touch on his method of playing, and call to
-your memory some of the features which characterised
-it. He was always sincere; he might, and did (as in
-<cite>Eliza</cite>), get bored with a part, but he was too good an
-actor, too proud of his work, ever to let it appear to
-an audience.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>His voice was wonderful; he could put more
-tenderness, without the least touch of sentimentality,
-into his words than anyone I ever heard. To hear
-Harry say “My dear”, as he did in <cite>The Dangerous
-Age</cite> and again in <cite>The Law Divine</cite>, was to hear all
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>the essence of love-making, with all the love in the
-world behind it, put into two words.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>His gesture was superb; he was not, as so many
-actors are, apparently afraid of using a big sweeping
-movement; he (perhaps it was the Irishman in him)
-was never afraid that a big gesture would look ridiculous.
-He knew that anything, whether tone of voice
-or gesture or movement is very rarely ridiculous if it
-is prompted by real feeling. He knew that the real
-justification for anything an actor may do on the
-stage is “because I <em>feel</em> it”, not “because I think
-it will look effective”. As a producer—and he was
-one of the best producers I have ever seen—he got
-the very last ounce out of his company because he
-always, when asked “What do you want me to do
-here?”, answered “What do you feel you <em>want</em> to
-do?” He “nursed” his company, and watched
-them grow strong under his care.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>All his movements were good. He could use his
-feet in a way that, if anyone had tried to copy, would
-have looked ridiculous. He had a little rapid trick
-of shifting from one foot to the other, when he was
-worried or uncertain, which I have never seen attempted
-by anyone else. He did it in the last act
-of <cite>Twenty-One</cite>, when the girl he loves is trying to
-get him to propose to her; he used it again in <cite>A Kiss
-or Two</cite>, and it gave you the keynote to the man’s
-mental attitude as much as his spoken words. In this
-latter play, during his telling of the “Legend”,
-which I have quoted in another chapter, he used that
-sweeping gesture of his arm of which I have spoken.
-Seated in a chair, leaning forward, carried away by
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>the story he tells, he comes to the words, “and there
-in the sunlight stood a beautiful young woman”.
-Out went his arm, his eyes following it, the fingers
-outspread to take in the whole of the picture, until,
-when he looked behind him, looked to where his arm
-and hand pointed, you might almost have seen her,
-“her eyes all agog with laughter”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He was curiously affected by the parts he played;
-I mean he actually became very much the man he
-depicted on the stage. When he played old men, he
-would come home in the evening still very much “in
-the part”, inclined to walk slowly and move rather
-stiffly. When he played young men—such as
-“Captain Pat Delaney”, for example—he was
-gallant, walked buoyantly, and very evidently was
-thoroughly in love with life. I have known him at
-such times, when we were out together, raise his hat
-to any girl we met who was young and pretty—not
-because he wanted to speak to her, certainly not
-because he knew her, but simply because he loved
-pretty girls, and wanted an excuse to smile at them,
-all from the pure joy of being alive.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>So there is Harry Esmond, the actor, as I knew
-him—enjoying his work, never letting it sink to anything
-less than a profession of which he was very
-proud. He chose the Stage because he loved it, and
-he loved it as long as he lived. He studied each part
-with a kind of concentrated interest, and played them
-as he believed them to be meant to be played. I think
-for everything he did he could have given a definite
-and sufficient reason, and so believed in what he did.
-“He hath the letter, observe his construction of it”;
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>and if his construction was new or strange, unconventional
-or untraditional, it was so because that was
-how Harry Esmond was convinced it should be.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>His position as an actor was something of the attitude
-of “How happy I could be with either, were
-t’other dear charmer away”. He loved all his work,
-whether character-studies, gallant soldiers, or tender
-lovers; they all claimed the best that was in him, and,
-as the best was “very good”, it became not what
-he could play, but what he could <em>not</em> play. So I
-review them mentally, the parts that Harry played,
-and wonder if he had been less gifted, if he had not
-had in his composition that very big streak of genius,
-whether he might not perhaps have been one of the
-names which will be handed down to posterity as
-“the world’s greatest actors”. Then I ask myself
-in which direction should he have concentrated, and
-which of the big parts that he played would I have
-been willing to have missed. Which? I cannot
-decide. “D’Artagnan”, “Touchstone”, “Sandy”,
-“Kean”, “Jacob Ussher”, “Mercutio”, even
-that really poor part “Little Billee”, were all so
-good that I am glad he played them. I think, too,
-that the success of them all came from a great understanding
-as well as great observation, and that was
-why “one man in his time” played so many
-parts, and played them all with more than ordinary
-distinction and feeling.</p>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>CHAPTER XVI<br /> <span class='large'>AND LAST</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
- <div>“Hush! Come away!”—<cite>The Wilderness.</cite>.sp 2</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>So I come to the end, so far as one can come to
-the end of recollections and memories, for each
-one brings with it many others; they crowd
-in upon me as I write, and I have to be very firm with
-myself and shut the door in the face of many.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I have tried to tell you some of the incidents which
-have amused and interested me; I have tried to make
-you see men and women as I have seen them; and
-have tried to make you walk with me down “life’s
-busy street”. I have tried to pay the tribute of
-affection and regard to the various “Cæsars” I have
-known, and if in this book any names are missing—names
-of men and women who have been, and are,
-my very dear and good friends—I can only tell them
-that they are not missing in my heart.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I look back over the years that are past, look
-back to the time when I first came to London, and
-looked on “leading ladies” and “leading men” as
-giants who walked the earth, when I used to wonder
-if I could ever hope to be one of them; and then,
-it seemed with wonderful swiftness, the years flew
-past and, behold! I was a leading lady myself. That
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>is one of the wonderful tricks life plays for our
-mystification: the far-off hope of “some day”
-becomes the realisation of “to-day”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>To-day, as I sit writing this, I can look out on
-the garden of “Apple Porch”—the house that Harry
-and I almost built together; the garden which we
-turned, and changed, and planted, to make it what
-it has become, “our ideal garden”. And in that
-garden ghosts walk for me—not “bogeys”, but
-kindly spirits of men and women who lived and
-laughed with us as friends; not that in life all of
-them walked in this garden of ours, but because now
-they come to join the procession which moves there.
-With them are many who are still with me, and whose
-companionship still helps to make life very happy.
-They join the others, and walk in my garden, to
-remind me of the times we have laughed together,
-and to assure me that life in the future still has good
-things for me.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>For, make no mistake, youth is very wonderful,
-youth is very beautiful, but it passes and leaves
-behind, if you will only try to cultivate it, something
-which can never pass away: that is the youth that
-is not a question of years, but of humanity and a
-young heart. If you can still feel the delight of the
-first primrose, if you can still feel your heart leap at
-the sight of the leaves throwing off their winter coats
-and showing the first vivid green of the spring; if
-you can stand in the glory of a sunny day in March
-and thank God for His annual proof of the Resurrection,
-the re-birth of what all through the winter had
-seemed dead and is “now alive again”—then you
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>are one of those whom the gods love; you will die
-young, for you can never grow old.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>So, in my garden, the procession of ever-young
-people passes.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Over in that far corner is Herbert Lindon, sitting
-at an easel, painting a picture of the house. “A plain
-man, my masters”, but the kindliest of friends, with
-the most helpful nature in the world. Behind him
-stands Forbes Robertson, with his beautiful face, his
-wonderful voice, and his courtly manners. Had he
-lived five hundred years ago, he would have ridden
-out, dressed in shining armour, to fight for the Right
-against the Wrongs of the World; but, dressed in
-the clothes of 1923, he is still a knight, the instinctive
-supporter of the weak against the strong, the good
-against the evil.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Lawrence Kellie passes my window, a cigar in his
-mouth, and pauses a moment to tell me that he is
-going in to play some of his own compositions, to
-my great delight. On the golf links, outside the
-garden, I can see Charles Frohman, looking like a
-kindly “brownie”; he is flying a huge kite, so big
-that he might be in danger of flying after the kite,
-were it not for two small boys, Jack and Bill, who
-are holding fast to his legs.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Arthur Collins, very spruce and dapper, passes
-with E. S. Willard; they tell me they are going to
-persuade Frohman to leave his kite-flying and come
-in to play poker with them and Fred Terry.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Fred Terry stops outside the window for a talk
-with me, and reminds me of the winter he came to
-stay with us here, when Harry would insist upon his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>going out, in a biting east wind, to see “the beauty
-of the night”! I ask him if he remembers the Bank
-Holiday when he was with us, when Harry had to
-go back to a rehearsal of some approaching production?
-How he (Fred) was taken ill with a bad
-heart attack, and that, rather than let me see how he
-was suffering, for fear the sight should frighten me,
-he shut himself up in a room and refused to let me
-enter. Fred Terry, large and genial, wearing eye-glasses,
-moves away, and I see him stop to speak to
-Lottie Venne, who on very high heels, looking like
-a very alert, very “wide awake” bird, is coming
-towards us, her heels tapping on the stones of the
-path.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>That gentle-looking woman over there is Marion
-Terry, and with her Lena Ashwell, talking, I am
-certain, of some plan or scheme which she is preparing
-to “carry through” with her extraordinary capacity
-and originality.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>You see that squarely built man yonder, who looks—what
-he is—a sailor? That is Ernest Shackleton.
-He comes over to me, bringing his book with him.
-He shows me the title—one word, <cite>South</cite>—and asks
-if I think Harry will consider making it into a film-play.
-I tell him that the day England publicly
-mourned his loss in St. Paul’s Cathedral, during the
-service a sudden ray of sunlight came through one of
-the painted windows and struck the wall, just under
-the dome; how I followed it with my eyes, and saw
-that it fell on the words “The glory of his works
-endureth forever”. I think he smiles a little, and
-says, as Englishmen do when praised for what they
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>have done, “Oh, I didn’t do anything very great or
-glorious.”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Here is a man who, too, has done great things.
-An explorer also, but he has explored the depths of
-humanity; he has seen just how far his fellow-men
-and women can fall, and yet he still retains his faith
-in “the good that is in the worst of us”. It is
-W. T. Waddy, the Metropolitan magistrate.
-Burns’s prayer that we should “deal gently with
-your brother man, still gentler sister woman” has
-no application to Mr. Waddy; he “keeps the faith”
-that believes that fundamentally humanity is good,
-and each day in his work he testifies to it. I remind
-him that it was his father, Judge Waddy, who first
-escorted me to the House of Commons.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Over there is “Billy” Congreave, who gained the
-Victoria Cross and made the Great Sacrifice in the
-war. With him, telling his battles over again, is
-Dr. Leahy. He left his leg at the Marne, but that
-did not prevent him enjoying, as he does still, a round
-or two with the gloves. I should think he “enjoys”
-it more than his opponent, for “Micky” Leahy is
-an enormous man. He appears to be the last man
-in the world likely to possess, as he does, wonderful
-gifts of healing.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Who is that woman laughing at some joke made
-by the man walking with her? She is Dame May
-Whitty, and the man is Sir Alfred Fripp. You see
-him at his very best when surrounded by his wife and
-’a large family of very healthy children. She, Dame
-Whitty, is a friend of thirty years, and her affection
-and goodness to me have never altered.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>The woman who has just joined them is Susanne
-Sheldon. I parody the saying, “better twenty years
-of Europe than a cycle of Cathay” when speaking
-of Suzanne, and say “better one day of Susanne than
-a month of the people who lack her understanding
-and great heart.” Some day go to the Children’s
-Hospital in Great Ormond Street, and hear of the
-work she has done there; they will tell you more than
-I can, for she does not talk of all she does.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The lame man, who looks so fierce, is Sydney
-Valentine. He looks fierce, and rather as though he
-had more brain than heart. His looks belie his
-nature. He leans on his stick by my window, and
-we talk of the early days of the Actors’ Association.
-I remind him of the splendid fight he made to gain
-the Standard Contract for the acting profession. I
-ask him, “Do you remember the Lyric Theatre
-meeting?”, and I add some hard things about the
-people who attacked him there. He smiles, and
-reminds me of our own Suffrage motto (and how he
-used to hate the Suffrage Movement, too!), “The
-aim is everything”, and adds “After all, we won
-our battle, didn’t we?”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>J. L. Toole, coming up, hears the last sentence,
-and asks, “Battle, what battle?” Just as I am
-about to answer, he pops a “bullseye” into my
-mouth, as he used to years ago when I was playing
-with him on the stage. Toole laughs, and I laugh
-with him; but our laughter is checked by a tall man,
-with a heavy moustache, who, with a melancholy face,
-is filling a pipe from a tobacco-pouch like a sack—and
-not a very small sack, either! He brings an air of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>tragedy with him, and I ask, “What is the matter,
-Aubrey?”</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>It is Aubrey Smith, the “Round the Corner
-Smith” who took the first English cricket eleven to
-South Africa, and still, when his work on the stage
-allows him, will rush away to Lords or the Oval to
-watch a match. “Haven’t you heard?” he asks;
-and adds, “Dreadful, dreadful; I don’t know what
-England’s coming to.” “What <em>has</em> happened?”
-I ask again. He looks at me sadly and tells me—“England
-has lost the <cite>Test Match</cite>!” He wanders
-away, and a few minutes later I hear him laughing—a
-laugh which matches him for size. He is probably
-telling the woman he is talking to (Elizabeth Fagan)
-of the new pig-styes he has built at West Drayton.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>There is Marie Tempest, and how fascinating she
-is! She has the cleverest tongue and the most sparkling
-humour of any woman I know. The woman
-near her is Julia Neilson, a dream of loveliness, and
-with a nature as lovely as her face. There, too, are
-Lady Martin Harvey and Lady Tree—Lady Tree,
-whom I first understood when I met her under
-circumstances which were very difficult for us both;
-and who showed me then what “manner of woman”
-she is, so that ever since I have loved and admired her.
-And Nell Harvey, who can face the rough patches of
-life with equanimity, and who can “walk with
-kings” without losing that “common touch” which
-gives her the breadth of vision, the tolerance, and
-kindness which have made her ever ready to give help
-to those who need it.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>This man coming towards me, his hands clasped
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>behind him, who looks as if he were meditating
-deeply, is Sir Charles Wyndham. When he was
-playing in London, and Harry was a very young
-actor in the provinces, and had heard of but had
-never seen Charles Wyndham, one paper said it was
-“a pity that Mr. Esmond has tried to give such a
-slavish imitation of the great actor”. He stands for
-a moment to ask me if I remember the evening he
-came to see <cite>The Dangerous Age</cite>, and repeats again
-his admiration and praise of the play. I tell him that
-I remember, also, how after the play he sat in Harry’s
-dressing-room for an hour and a half, delighting both
-of us with his stories of the stage, “past and present”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>He passes on, and you see him stop to speak to
-Anthony Hope, that delightful man who possesses a
-manner of joyous cynicism of which one never tires.
-George Alexander has joined them, perhaps speaking
-of the success of <cite>The Prisoner of Zenda</cite>. You notice
-his beautiful white hair. Once, in <cite>The Wilderness</cite>,
-he had to darken it, and as in the play he had to lay
-his head on my shoulder, my dress was gradually
-marked with the stain he used for his hair.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I stand and reach out to shake the hand of Lewis
-Waller, and ask him if he is still “putting square
-pegs into round holes”. He asks, in his beautiful
-voice that was the salvation of so many really poor
-plays, what I mean. I remind him of a play, many
-years ago, when Harry remonstrated with him and
-said that some of the parts in the production were
-played so badly, adding “Why <em>do</em> you engage such
-people? they are not, and never will be, actors”;
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>and how Lewis Waller replied, “I know, I know,
-Harry, but I would sooner have round pegs in square
-holes than not have people round me who love me.”
-Dear Will! He moves away, speaking to this person
-and that person, and giving to each one something
-of his very gentle and infinitely lovable personality.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>That beautiful woman, surely “God’s most wonderful
-handiwork”, to whom Will is speaking now,
-is Maxine Elliott; she is Jill’s God-mother, another
-of the lovely women whose faces are only the mirrors
-of the natures which lie beneath.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>The sound of the piano reaches me, and I look to
-see if Lawrence Kellie is still playing, and have to
-look twice before I can believe that it is not he who
-sits playing, but Raymond Rose, who is so wonderfully
-like him. Perhaps he is at work composing, not
-this time for His Majesty’s Theatre, but, like Henry
-Purcell, for “that blessed place where only his music
-can be excelled”.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Then the gate at the end of the garden opens, and,
-carrying a bag of golf clubs, and clad in an old coat
-and equally old trousers which seem to be “draped”
-round his ankles, comes Harry. He comes up to the
-window, full of the joy of life and never-ending youth;
-leaning his arms on the window-sill, he looks at the
-men and women in the garden, and smiles.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>“Our friends,” I tell him.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>And he repeats after me, “Yes, our friends.”
-After a moment he goes on, thoughtfully: “I used
-to tell you that ‘Friendship was a question of
-streets’; I think I was wrong: it’s something more
-than that.” And, as if to prove his words, we both
-see Malcolm Watson walking in the garden, the
-kindly Scot, who never fails anyone, a real friend of
-countless years.</p>
-
-<div id='i_237' class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_237_fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><span class='left'><em>Photograph by Miss Compton Collier, London, N.W.6.</em></span> <span class='right'>To face p. <a href='#Page_237'>237</a></span><br /><br /><span class='sc'>Apple Porch</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>“I think it is—something more than that,”
-I answer.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>As we talk, the sun suddenly blazes out, filling all
-the garden with light; Harry stretches out his hand,
-smiling, and says: “Sunshine! Let’s go out!”</p>
-
-<hr class='c019' />
-
-<p class='c013'>So the dream ends, but the garden and the sunshine
-remain; and not only the garden and the sunshine,
-but the knowledge that “these are my friends”;
-that these men and women have known and, I think,
-loved me, as I have known and loved them; and the
-fact that they have been and are, many of them,
-still in my life, making the world a finer and cleaner
-place in which to live.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>That is how I should wish to look back on life:
-not always easy, or smooth, or always happy, but
-with so much that has been worth while, so much
-that has been gay and splendid.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>Gradually everything falls into its right perspective;
-things which seemed so important, so tragic,
-so difficult “at the time”—why, now one can almost
-look back and laugh. Not everything: the things
-which were rooted in beliefs and convictions do not
-shrink with the years; and I am glad, and even a
-little proud, that I lived through the time which held
-the Boer War, the Suffrage Campaign, and the
-Greatest World Struggle that the world has ever
-seen—please God, the Last Great War of All!</p>
-
-<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>My work, my own work, it has been hard—there
-have been difficult times, when lack of understanding
-made work less of a joy than it should have been—but,
-looking at it all as a whole, and not as a series of
-detached memories, it has been very good to do, and
-I have been very happy in doing it. It has kept my
-brain working, and, I think, kept my heart young;
-and never once since the front door of my father’s
-house closed behind me, and I left home in that
-storm of parental wrath, have I regretted that I chose
-the Stage as a profession.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>I have tried to tell you something of what the years
-have brought, with no real thought except that it was
-a joy to me to remember it all. I have not tried to
-“point a moral or adorn a tale”, but simply to tell
-my story as it happened. Yet there is surely a moral—or,
-at least, some lesson—which has been learnt in
-all the years of work and play. I think it is this:
-Let God’s sunlight into your lives, live in the sunlight,
-and let it keep you young. For youth is the
-thing which makes life really worth living, youth
-which means the enjoyment of small things,
-youth which means warm affections, and which
-means also the absence of doubting and distrusting
-which, if you allow it, will take so much of the
-glorious colour out of life’s pictures.</p>
-
-<p class='c013'>So, in Harry’s words, I would end all I have tried
-to tell you by saying:</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c005'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>“Sunshine! Let’s go out!”</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
- <div><span class='small'>FINIS</span></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <h2 class='c007'>APPENDICES</h2>
-</div>
-
-<div>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>
- <h3 class='c020'>APPENDIX I<br /> PARTS PLAYED BY EVA MOORE</h3>
-</div>
-
-<table class='table1' summary='PARTS PLAYED BY EVA MOORE'>
-<colgroup>
-<col width='50%' />
-<col width='50%' />
-</colgroup>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1887</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Varney”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Proposals</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Spirit of Home” (Dot)</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Cricket on the Hearth</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1888</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Alice”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>A Red Rag</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Alice Marshall”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Butler</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Dora”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Don</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>——</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Spittalfields Weaver</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>——</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Toole in the Pig Skin</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>——</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ici on Parle Française</span></cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>——</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Birthplace of Podgers</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>——</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Artful Cards</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>——</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Paul Pry</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1889</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Kitty”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>A Broken Sixpence</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Felicia Umfraville”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Middleman</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Alice Jolliffe”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Home Feud</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Nancy”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Middleman</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Diana”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Pedigree</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1890</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Countess of Drumdurris”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Cabinet Minister</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1891</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Gwendoline Fanlight”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Culprits</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mrs. Richard Webb”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Late Lamented</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Nita”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Mountebanks</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1892</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Matilde”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>A Scrap of Paper</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Violet Melrose”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Our Boys</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'><span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>1893</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Miss Violet”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>A Pantomime Rehearsal</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Amanda P. Warren”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Allendale</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mrs. Delafield”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Man and Woman</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Lettice”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Time will Tell</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Winifred Chester”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Younger Son</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Pepita”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Little Christopher Columbus</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1894</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Nellie Dudley”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Gay Widow</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Lead”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Shop Girl</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*†“Fairy Buttonshaw”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Bogey</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1895</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Angela Brightwell”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Strange Adventures of Miss Brown</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Nelly Jedbury”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Jedbury, Jun.</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Dora”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Wanderer from Venus</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1896</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Molly Dyson”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Major Raymond</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*†“Margaret”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>In and Out of a Punt</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>†“Miss Savile”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>A Blind Marriage</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Madam de Cocheforet”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Under the Red Robe</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1897</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mistress Golding”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Alchemist</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Elladeen Dunrayne”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>An Irish Gentleman</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*††“Maysie”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>One Summer’s Day</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1898</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“April”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Sea Flower</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Angela Goodwin”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Tommy Dodd</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>†“Gabrielle de Chalius”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Three Musketeers</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'><span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>1899</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Sybil Crake”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Dancing Girl</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Ellice Ford”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Carnac Sahib</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Lucie Manette”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Only Way</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Christina”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Ibb and Christina</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Louise”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Marsac of Gascony</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1901</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Kate Duewent”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>A Fools’ Paradise</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*“Mabel Vaughan”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Wilderness</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>——</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Importance of Being Earnest</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1902</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Lady Hetty Wrey”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Pilkerton’s Peerage</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*“Lady Ernstone”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>My Lady Virtue</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1903</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Kathie”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Old Heidelberg</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*“Miss Wilhelmina Marr”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Billy’s Little Love Affair</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Lady Henrietta Addison”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Duke of Killiecrankie</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1904</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Lady Mary Carlyle”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Monsieur Beaucaire</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1905</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>†“Klara Volkhardt”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Lights Out</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1906</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Judy”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Punch</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Miss Blarney”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Josephine</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1907</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Muriel Glayde”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>John Glayde’s Honour</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Sweet Kitty Bellaires”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Sweet Kitty Bellaires</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1908</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mrs. Crowley”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Explorer</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Dorothy Gore”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Marriages of Mayfair</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mrs. Errol” (Dearest)</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Little Lord Fauntleroy</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Lady Joan Meredith”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The House of Bondage</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'><span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>1909</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Kathie” (revival)</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Old Heidelberg</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Hon. Mrs. Bayle”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Best People</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Hon. Mrs. Rivers”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The House Opposite</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1910</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Gay Birch”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Company for George</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1911</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Christine”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>A Woman’s Wit</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1912</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Kate Bellingham”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Looking for Trouble</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*†“Eliza”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*†“Betty”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Dangerous Age</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1913</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*†“Eliza”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*†“Betty”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Dangerous Age</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1914</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*†“Eliza”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*†“Betty”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Dangerous Age</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1915</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*†“Phyllis”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>When We Were Twenty-One</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1918</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mrs. Culver”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Title</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mrs. Etheridge”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Cæsar’s Wife</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1920</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mumsie”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Mumsie</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1921</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Lady Marlow”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>A Matter of Fact</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*†“Edie La Bas”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Law Divine</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1922</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Miss Van Gorder”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Bat</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>1923</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mary Westlake”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Mary, Mary Quite Contrary</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>All those marked * were plays written by my husband.</td></tr>
- <tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
- <tr><td class='c021' colspan='2'>All those marked † we played together.</td></tr>
-</table>
-
-<div>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>
- <h3 class='c023'>APPENDIX II<br /> SOME PARTS PLAYED BY H. V. ESMOND</h3>
-</div>
-
-<table class='table0' summary='SOME PARTS PLAYED BY H. V. ESMOND'>
-<colgroup>
-<col width='50%' />
-<col width='50%' />
-</colgroup>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Lord John”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Scorpion</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Harold Lee”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Rachel</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>——</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Frou Frou</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Gibson”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Ticket of Leave</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Horace Holmcroft”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>New Magdalen</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Eglantine Roseleaf”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Turn Him Out</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Feversham”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Take Back the Heart</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Theodore Lamb”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Glimpse of Paradise</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Capt. Damerel”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Lord Harry</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Jack”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Ruth’s Romance</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“The Marquis de Presles”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Two Orphans</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Megor”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Nana</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“George Talboys”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Lady Audrey’s Secret</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Philip”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Eve’s Temptation</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Bill Sykes”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Oliver Twist</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Uriah Heep”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Little Emily</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Ishmael, the Wolf”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Flower of the Forest</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Tulkinghorn”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Poor Joe</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Charles Torrens”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Serious Family</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mr. Lynx”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Happy Pair</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mr. Debbles”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Good for Nothing</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Rafael de Mayal”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Marquesa</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Capt. Kirby”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Dick Venables</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Fillipo”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Fennel</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Paddington Grun”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>If I Had a Thousand a Year</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Harold Wingard”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Daughters</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Fred Fanshaw”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Weak Woman</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Harry Stanley”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Paul Pry</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>“John”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>In Chancery</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*“Pierre”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Rest</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Frank Bilton”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Churchwarden</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Weston Carr”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Flight</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Plantagent Watts”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Great Unpaid</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Phil Summers”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Dregs</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Eric”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Too Happy by Half</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Reggie”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Rise of Dick Halward</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>* †“Hugh”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>In and Out of a Punt</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Dolly”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>A Blind Marriage</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Le Barrier”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Storm</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Cayley Drummle”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Second Mrs. Tanqueray</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Touchstone”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>As You Like It</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Major-General Sir R. Chichele”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Princess and the Butterfly</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Verges”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Much Ado About Nothing</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Capt. Theobald Kerger”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Conquerors</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Vivian Seauvefere”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Ambassador</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Fritz von Tarbenhelm”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Rupert of Hentzau</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“D’Artagnan”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Three Musketeers</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Major Blencoe”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Tree of Knowledge</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>——</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Debt of Honour</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Charles II.”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>His Majesty’s Servant</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mercutio”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Romeo and Juliet</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Augustus III.”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Hawthorne, U.S.A.</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Corporal Helbig”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Lights Out</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Louis IV.”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Bond of Ninon</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Widgery Blake”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Palace of Puck</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Mr. Whitly”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Education of Elizabeth</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Sir Benjamin Backbite”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The School for Scandal</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Little Billee”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Trilby</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Viscount Bolingbroke”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Mr. Jarvis</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>*“Philip Kean”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Grierson’s Way</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Sir Francis Leverson”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>East Lynne</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Alfred Meynard”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Corsican Brothers</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Chaucer”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Vice Versa</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>“Robert de Belfort”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Grip of Iron</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Adrian Fiore”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Panel Picture</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Capt. Julian Chandler”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Middleman</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Algernon Grey”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Sweet Nancy</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Graham Maxwell”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Pharisee</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Edward Pendlecoop”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Culprits</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Lord Leadenhall”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Rocket</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Howard Bombas”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Times</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Cis Farrington”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Magistrate</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Eddie Remon”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Masqueraders</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“George Round”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Guy Domville</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Willie Hasselwood”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Triumph of the Philistines</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'><a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c024'><sup>[1]</sup></a>“Uncle Archie Buttonshaw”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Bogey</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Earl of Addisworth”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Pilkerton’s Peerage</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Cyril Ryves”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Chance, The Idol</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Hon. Sandy Verrall”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Jack Le Bas”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Law Divine</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Adam Haggarth”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>In Days of Old</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>——</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Barton Mystery</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Sir Egbert Ingelfield”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>The Dangerous Age</cite></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c009'>“Jacob Ussher”</td>
- <td class='c022'><cite>Birds of a Feather</cite></td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<div class='footnote' id='f1'>
-<p class='c013'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. Parts in his own plays.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>
- <h3 class='c023'>APPENDIX III<br /> PLAYS WRITTEN BY H. V. ESMOND</h3>
-</div>
-<ul class='index c005'>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>When We Were Twenty-One</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Under the Greenwood Tree</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Billy’s Little Love Affair</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>One Summer’s Day</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Grierson’s Way</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>My Lady Virtue</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>The Divided Way</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>The Wilderness</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Bogey</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>The Sentimentalist</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>The Dangerous Age</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>The O’Grindles</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>A Kiss or Two</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Clorinda’s Career</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>My Lady’s Lord</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>A Young Man’s Fancy</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>The Tug of War</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>The Forelock of Time</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Love and the Man</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>The Law Divine</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Birds of a Feather</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Leoni</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Cupboard Love</cite></li>
-</ul>
-<h4 class='c020'>SHORT PLAYS</h4>
-<ul class='index c005'>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>In and Out of a Punt</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Her Vote</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Rest</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>A Woman in Chains</cite></li>
- <li class='c025'>*<cite>Island of Dreams</cite></li>
-</ul>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c015'>
- <div>Those marked * have been produced either in England or America.</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>
- <h2 class='c007'>INDEX</h2>
-</div>
-
-<ul class='index c003'>
- <li class='c025'><span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>Actors’ Association, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Actresses’ Franchise League, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_95'>95</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Adams, Maude, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Adelphi Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Ainley, Henry, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Albani, Madame, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Aldwych Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Alexander, Sir George, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>–57, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Alexander, Lady, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Alhambra, The, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Allen, Lady, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_84'>84</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Ambulance Corps, The, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>America, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>–147, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Andresson, Herr, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Apple Porch, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_229'>229</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Archer, William, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Army of Occupation, The, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Asche, Oscar, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Ashwell, Lena, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_95'>95</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Asquith, Mrs. H. H., <a href='#Page_161'>161</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Astor, M.P., The Rt. Hon. Viscountess, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>As You Like It</cite>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Austin, Alfred, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Australia, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_84'>84</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Authors’ Society, The, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Aynesworth, Allen, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'><cite>Bad Hats</cite>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Bailey, Rt. Hon. W. H., <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Barker, Granville, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Barrie, Bart., Sir James, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Bat, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Beardsley, Aubrey, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Beerbohm, Max, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Belgium, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Belle Marseille, La</cite>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Bennett, Arnold, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Bennett, Marguerite Arnold, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Berhens, Herr, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Berlin, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Berry, W. H., <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Biff Bang</cite>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Billington, Theresa, <a href='#Page_98'>98</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Billy’s Little Love Affair</cite>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Birds of a Feather</cite>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Blind Marriage, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Bogey</cite>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>–46, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Bourchier, Arthur, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Brandram, Rosina, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Breed of the Treshams, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Brighton, <a href='#Page_2'>2</a>, <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>, <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>–12, <a href='#Page_15'>15</a>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>British Army, The, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Broken Sixpence, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Brooke, Rupert, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Brookfield, Charles, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Brough, Fanny, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Brough, Lal, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Brough, Mary, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Brough, Sydney, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Browne, Graham, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Bruce, Nigel, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Buest, Scot, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Burge, Dick, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Burnett, Mrs. Hodgson, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Butler, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'><cite>Cabinet Minister, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>–26.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Cæsar’s Wife</cite>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Calthrop, Dion Clayton, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Calvert, Mrs., <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Campbell, Mrs. Patrick, <a href='#Page_128'>128</a>, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Canada, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Carnac Sahib</cite>, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Carr, Professor, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Carson, Mrs., <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Carte D’Oyley, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Carter, Mrs., <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Castle, Egerton, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Cecil, Arthur, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Chamberlain, Austen, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Chance</cite>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Channings, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Chaplin, Charlie, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Chelsea Palace, The, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Chevalier, Albert, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Chirgwin, George, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Chisholm, Miss Marie, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Chu Chin Chow</cite>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Churchill, M.P., The Right Hon. Winston Spencer, <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Cinderella</cite>, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a></li>
- <li class='c025'>Clark, Holman, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Clarkson, Willie, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Clothes and the Woman</cite>, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Cochrane, Sir Ernest, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Collier, Constance, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Collier, Dr. Mayer, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Collins, Sir Arthur, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Comedy Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Cooper, Gladys, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Copperfield, David, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Coriolanus</cite>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Cornwallis, Miss, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Corsican Brothers, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Courtneidge, Robert, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Court Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_101'>101</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Craig, Edith, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Craigie, Pearl Mary-Teresa, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Cricket on the Hearth, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Criterion Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Culprits</cite>, The, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Cunningham, Philip, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Curzon, Frank, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Dacre, Arthur, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Dale, Alan, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Dana, Henry, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Dancing Girl, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Dane, Clemence, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Dangerous Age, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>, <a href='#Page_208'>208</a>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Dare, Phyllis, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Dare, Zena, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Daughters of the Empire, The, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a></li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>David Garrick</cite>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Davidson, Emily, <a href='#Page_98'>98</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Davis, Ben, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Dear Brutus</cite>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Dear Fool, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Defence of Lucknow, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>d’Erlanger, Baron Emile, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>de Freece, Sir Laurie, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Despard, Mrs., <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Dick, Cotsford, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Dickens, Miss Ethel, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Dockers’ Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Dr. Chavasse’s Advice to a Mother</cite>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Dr. Chavasse’s Advice to a Wife</cite>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Dr. Dee</cite>, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Dorothy</cite>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Drummond, Mrs., <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Drummond, Flora, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Drury Lane Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Dublin, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>, <a href='#Page_84'>84</a>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Duke of Killiecrankie, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Dumas, Alexandre, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>du Maurier, Sir Gerald, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a>, <a href='#Page_174'>174</a>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_218'>218</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>“Dumbells, The,” <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Edinburgh, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Edward VII., <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Edwardes, George, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Eliza Comes to Stay</cite>, <a href='#Page_1'>1</a>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_102'>102</a>, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>–115, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>–150, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>, <a href='#Page_203'>203</a>–205, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Elliott, G. W., <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Elliott, Maxine, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Elmore, Belle (Mrs. Crippen), <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Emerson, Ralph Waldo, <a href='#Page_98'>98</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Emery, Winifred, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Empire League, The, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Empire Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Esmond, H. V. <cite>Passim</cite>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Esmond, Jack, <a href='#Page_1'>1</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>, <a href='#Page_194'>194</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Esmond, Jill, <a href='#Page_1'>1</a>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_183'>183</a>, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Evans of Edmonton, Mr., <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Everard, Walter, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Explorer, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Fagan, Elizabeth, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Farren, William, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Faust</cite>, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Feversham, William, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Fisher, Miss, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Flames of Passion</cite>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Frederick the Great, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>French for Tommies</cite>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Fripp, Sir Alfred, <a href='#Page_232'>232</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Frohman, Charles, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>, <a href='#Page_174'>174</a>, <a href='#Page_175'>175</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Fulton, Charles, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Gaiety Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Gainsborough, Thomas, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Gallery First Night Club, The, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Garrick Club, The, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_122'>122</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Garrick Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Gay Widow, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>George, A. E., <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>George, M.P., The Rt. Hon. David Lloyd, <a href='#Page_99'>99</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Geraldine, or Victor Cupid</cite>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>, <a href='#Page_200'>200</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Germany 34.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Gibbs, Sir Philip, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Gilbert, W. S., <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_223'>223</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Gilbert and Sullivan Operas, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Globe Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Gneiseuan, General, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Gondoliers, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>Goodwin, Maxine Elliott, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Goodwin, N. C., <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Gordon, Major A., <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Graham, Cissie (Mrs. Allen), <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Green Room Club, The, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Grierson’s Way, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Grossmith, George, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Grossmith, Weedon, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Grove, Fred, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Groves, Charles, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Guerini, Madame, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Guggisberg, Lady, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Hackney, Mabel, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hallard, Charles Maitland, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a>, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a>, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hamilton, Harry, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Harbour Lights</cite>, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Harcourt, Cyril, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Harding, Lyn, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Harding, Rudge, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hare, Sir John, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Harvey, Sir John Martin, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Harvey, Lady Martin, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hatfield, Lady, <a href='#Page_80'>80</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Haverfield, Mrs., <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hawkins, Sir Anthony Hope, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hawtrey, Sir Charles, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_49'>49</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_185'>185</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Haymarket Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_128'>128</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Hearts is Hearts</cite>, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hendrie, Ernest, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Henley, W. E., <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Her Vote</cite>, <a href='#Page_95'>95</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hicks, Seymour, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Highwayman, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hindenburg, Field Marshal Von, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>His Majesty’s Theatre, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hobbes, John Oliver, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hobhouse, M.P., Rt. Hon. Henry, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hood, Dr. Walton, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Horder, Morley, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>House of Commons, The, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Hughes, Annie, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Huntly, G. P., <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'><cite>Idylls of the King</cite>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Illington, Marie, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Importance of Being Earnest, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Imprudence</cite>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>India, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Interlude Players, The, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Ireland, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Irish Gentleman, An</cite>, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Irving, Sir Henry, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_122'>122</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Irving, H. B., <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Irving, Lawrence, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Isaacs, Sir Rufus, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Isle of Man, The, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>James, David, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Jay, Isabel, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>John Glayde’s Honour</cite>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Johnson, Eliza, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Jones, Henry Arthur, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a>, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Joseph, Mrs. Henry, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Josephine</cite>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Jowett, Professor Benjamin, <a href='#Page_161'>161</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Just So Stories</cite>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'><span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>Karno, Edie, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Karno, Fred, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Kellie, Lawrence, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Kemble, Henry, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Kendal, Mrs., <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a> 176.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Kennington Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_81'>81</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Kenny, Annie, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Keppel, Sir David, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Kerr, Fred, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Kingston, Gertrude, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Kipling, Rudyard, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_128'>128</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Kiss or Two, A</cite>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Knight, Joe, <a href='#Page_122'>122</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Knoblauch, Edward, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Knocker, Mrs. (Baroness T’Scerelles), <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Lang, Matheson, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lashwood, George, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Late Lamented, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Law, M.P., the Rt. Hon. Bonar, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Law, Divine, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lawrence, Mr. and Mrs. Pethick, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Leahy, Dr. M., <a href='#Page_232'>232</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Leave Club, The, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Le Barge, Simone, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Leno, Dan, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>–105, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lenton, Lilian, <a href='#Page_98'>98</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lester, Alfred, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lewis, Eric, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Lights Out</cite>, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lindon, Herbert, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lindsay, James, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Little, Dr., <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Little Christopher Columbus</cite>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Little Golden Hope</cite>, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Little Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Liverpool, <a href='#Page_8'>8</a>, <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lloyd, Marie, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>, 120, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>, <a href='#Page_130'>130</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Loftus, Cissy, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Loftus, Marie, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>London, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>London County Council, The, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lonnen, Teddie, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Looking for Trouble</cite>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Love and the Man</cite>, <a href='#Page_84'>84</a>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lowne, Charles M., <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lucy, Arnold, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lumley, Florrie, <a href='#Page_154'>154</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lyceum Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lynch, Dr. and Mrs., <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lyric Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Lytton, Lady Constance, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Macarthy, Justin Huntly, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_183'>183</a>, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>McKinnel, Norman, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Mackintosh, William, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Man and Woman</cite>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Marriages of Mayfair, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Marsac of Gascony</cite>, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Marsh, “Charlie,” <a href='#Page_98'>98</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Martin, Mrs. Howe, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Masqueraders, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Massey, Deane, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Matter of Fact, A</cite>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Maude, Cyril, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Maugham, Somerset, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Maurice, Newman, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>May, Ackerman, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>May, Edna, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>Melville Brothers, The, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Menken, Adah Isaacs, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Merchant of Venice, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Merry Wines of Windsor, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_107'>107</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Michau, Madame, <a href='#Page_8'>8</a>, <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Middleman, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Millet, Maude, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Monckton, Lionel, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Monsieur Beaucaire</cite>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Moore, Ada, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>, <a href='#Page_7'>7</a>, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Moore, Bertha, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Moore, Decima, <a href='#Page_4'>4</a>–8, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>–78, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Moore, Edward Henry, <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>, <a href='#Page_4'>4</a>:, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>–8, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>–13, <a href='#Page_15'>15</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Moore, Mrs. E. H., <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>, <a href='#Page_7'>7</a>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_15'>15</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Moore, Emily (Mrs. Pertwee), <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Moore, Eva, <cite>Passim</cite>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Moore, Henry, <a href='#Page_7'>7</a>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Moore, Jessie, <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Morris, William, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Mountebanks, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Mrs. Punch</cite>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Much Ado About Nothing</cite>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Mumming Birds</cite>, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Mumsie</cite>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Munro, Dr., <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Music, The Royal College of, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Music Hall Ladies’ Guild, The, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Musical World, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>My Lady Virtue</cite>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Needlework Guild, The, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Neilson, Julia, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Neilson-Terry, Phyllis, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Nero</cite>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Neville, Henry, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Nevinson, Mrs., <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>New York, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>, <a href='#Page_174'>174</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Novelty Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Old Bailey, The, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Old Heidelberg</cite>, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Old Oxford, The, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Oliver Twist</cite>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>One Summer’s Day</cite>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Oxford Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'><cite>Pair of Spectacles, A</cite>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Palladium, The, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Panel Picture, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Pankhurst, Mrs., <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_100'>100</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Pankhurst, Christabel, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>–92, <a href='#Page_99'>99</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Pantomime Rehearsal, A</cite>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Partners</cite>, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Pavilion, The, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Paxton, Sydney, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Peg o’ My Heart</cite>, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>People, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Pertwee, Ernest, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Peter Pan</cite>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Philippi, Rosina, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Phillips, Kate, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Pidgeon, Mr. and Mrs., <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Pinero, Sir Arthur W., <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Pilkerton’s Peerage</cite>, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Play Actors, The, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Press, The, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>, <a href='#Page_96'>96</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Pringle, Miss, <a href='#Page_8'>8</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Prisoner of Zenda, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Punch</cite>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Purcell, Henry, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'><span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>Queenstown, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'><cite>Red Rag, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Reeve, Ada, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Repertory Players, The, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Rest</cite>, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Rex, Frederick, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Richards, Cicely, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Roberts, Arthur, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Robertson, Sir Johnston Forbes, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_184'>184</a>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Robey, George, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Robson, Frederick, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Rock, Charles, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Roe, Bassett, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Rogers, The Hon. “Bob”, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Romeo and Juliet</cite>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Rorke, Kate, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Roscoe’s Performing Pigs, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Rose, Patrick, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Rose, Raymond, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Roselle, Amy, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Rotten Brigade, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Royalty Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Rubens, Paul, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Ruined Lady, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>St. James’s Theatre, <a href='#Page_1'>1</a>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>St. John, Florence, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Saker, Annie, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Savoy Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>School for Scandal, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Scott, Clement, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Scottish National Gallery, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Scrap of Paper, A</cite>, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Sea Flower, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Second Mrs. Tanqueray, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Sentimentalist, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Serbia, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Sevier, Robert, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Sevier, Lady Violet, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Shackleton, Sir Ernest, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Shaftesbury Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Shakespeare, William, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Shaughnessy, Lord and Lady, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Shaw, George Bernard, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Sheldon, Susanne, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Shelton, George, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Shields, Ella, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Shine, J. L., <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Shop Girl, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Shortt, The Rt. Hon. Edward and Mrs., <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Simmons, Miss, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Sims, George R., <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Sisters</cite>, <a href='#Page_128'>128</a>, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Smith, Aubrey, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>South</cite>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Sporting Times, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>“Spy”, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Stage, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Standard, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Standing, Herbert, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>–48.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Stanley, Sir Hubert, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Stevenson, Robert Louis, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Steward, Miss M., <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Strange Adventures of Miss Brown, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Stranglers of Paris, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Stuart, Cosmo, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Suffrage Movement, The, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Sutro, Alfred, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Sweet Kitty Bellaires</cite>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Sweet Nancy</cite>, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Sweet Nell of Old Drury</cite>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Swinburne, Algernon Charles, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'><span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>Tariff Reform League, The, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Tate, Harry, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Tatler, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Taylor, Sir Frederick and Lady, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Tempest, Marie, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Tennyson, Alfred, Lord, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Terriss, Ellaline, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Terriss, William, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Terry, Edward, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Terry, Ellen, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a>, <a href='#Page_107'>107</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_176'>176</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Terry, Florence, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Terry, Fred, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Terry, Marion, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Terry’s Theatre, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>–30.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Theatrical Girls’ Club, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Theatrical Ladies’ Guild, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Thesiger, Ernest, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Thomas, Brandon, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Thompson, Mrs., <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Thorndike, Sybil, <a href='#Page_185'>185</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Thorne, Fred, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Thorne, Tom, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Three Arts Club, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Three Musketeers, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Tiapolo, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Times, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Times, The</cite> (Play), <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Title, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Tivoli Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Toft, Albert, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Tolstoi, Count Leo, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Toole, Florrie, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Toole, J. L., <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>–123, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Trans-Canadian Company, The, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Tree, Sir Herbert Beerbohm, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>–53, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>–120, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Tree, Lady, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Trilby</cite>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Twelve Pound Look</cite>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Typhoon</cite>, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Ulmar, Geraldine, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Under the Greenwood Tree</cite>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Under the Red Robe</cite>, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Uriah Heep</cite>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Valentine, Sydney, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Vancouver, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Vanbrugh, Irene, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Vanbrugh, Violet, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Vanity Fair</cite>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Vaudeville Theatre, The, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>–13, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Vedrenne, J. E., <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Venne, Lottie, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Verity, Agnes, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Vernon, Harriet, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Vernon, H. H., <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Vincent, H. H., <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Waddy, Judge, <a href='#Page_232'>232</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Waddy, W. T., <a href='#Page_232'>232</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Walker, Dr., <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Waller, Lewis, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Ward, Rowland, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Waring, Herbert, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>War Office, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Waterloo</cite>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Watson, Malcolm, <a href='#Page_237'>237</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Watts, Dr., <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Webster, Ben, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>Webster, Dame May (May Whitty), <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>, <a href='#Page_232'>232</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Weiglin, Thomas, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Weyman, Stanley, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>When We Were Twenty-One</cite>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>White, Claude Grahame, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Wilberforce, Canon, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Wilberforce, Miss, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Wilcox, Herbert, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Wilde, Sir Ernest and Lady, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Wilderness, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Willard, E. S., <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>William Hohenzollern of Germany, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Winter, Miss Jessie, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Women’s Air Force, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps., <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Women’s Emergency Corps, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>–77.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Women’s Freedom League, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Women’s Social and Political Union, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Women’s Volunteer Reserve, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Wood, Mrs. John, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_101'>101</a>, <a href='#Page_102'>102</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Wright, Fred, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Wyndham, Sir Charles, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Wyndham, Lady (Miss Mary Moore), <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Wyndham’s Theatre, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>.</li>
- <li class='c003'>Yohe, May, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'>Young, Miss Harriet, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>.</li>
- <li class='c025'><cite>Younger Son, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>.</li>
-</ul>
-<div class='pbb'>
- <hr class='pb c004' />
-</div>
-
-<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span></div>
-<div class='section ph2'>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c001'>
- <div><em>From CHAPMAN &amp; HALL’S AUTUMN LIST</em></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
- <div><span class='sc'>General Literature</span></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='ph3'>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>BY INTERVENTION OF PROVIDENCE</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>By <em>STEPHEN McKENNA</em>. <em>7s. 6d. net.</em></p>
-
-<p class='c026'>No one will be surprised that, when Mr. Stephen McKenna sets
-out to follow an old trail, he finds it a necessity of his
-artistic temperament to diverge into bye-paths. Last winter,
-finding London an uninspiring city of refuge, he set sail for
-the Bahamas. The result of his sojourn there is one of the
-most personal, the most individual books of this generation.
-It is not fiction though it contains stories; not a travel book
-though it talks of travel; not autobiography though written in
-the first person. It is a sort of literary confessional of a
-singularly attractive and communicative intellect.</p>
-
-<div class='ph3'>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>TOGETHER</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>By <em>NORMAN DOUGLAS</em>. <em>12s. 6d. net.</em> With a
-special hand-made paper edition limited to 250
-signed copies at £2 2s. net.</p>
-
-<p class='c026'>It is difficult at this late day to say anything new of Norman
-Douglas. His reputation as one of the most original writers
-of this generation is solidly established. A vast number of
-travel books is published every year, but there is to be found
-in none of them that quality of personal flavour that is the
-chief charm and characteristic of Mr. Douglas’s writing. His
-new book, “Together,” is as delightful as “Alone,” and it
-has the added attraction of being a piece of continuous
-narrative.</p>
-
-<div class='ph3'>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>LANDSCAPE PAINTING. Vol. I. From Giotto to Turner.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>By <em>C. LEWIS HIND</em>. <em>25s. net.</em></p>
-
-<p class='c026'>Mr. Hind is the author of many volumes, but he has
-always looked forward to the writing of this particular book
-as one of the chief events of his career. Wherever he has gone,
-to the Shires of England, the States of America, to Italy or
-the provinces of France, he has always sought material for
-this volume. The book will be profusely illustrated.</p>
-
-<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span></div>
-<div class='ph3'>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>THE SECRET OF WOMAN</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>By <em>HELEN JEROME</em>. <em>7s. 6d. net.</em></p>
-
-<p class='c026'>During the war men and women rushed recklessly into
-marriage. Now in the hour of post-war disillusion they are
-seeking to diagnose the symptoms of their troubles. Never
-before has there been such a demand for sane, clear-thinking
-books on the sex question; for books that are addressed not
-to the neurotic, nor the thin-blooded, nor the over-sexed; but
-to healthy-minded, healthy-bodied men and women who
-honestly desire to make each other happy. Such a book is Helen
-Jerome’s “The Secret of Woman.” It deals exhaustively,
-though lightly and wittily, with the relationships of men and
-women. Here are some of the chapter headings: “Wherein
-men are superior,” “Woman’s attitude to male beauty,” “Are
-women liars?” “Does woman know passion?”</p>
-
-<div class='ph3'>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>ROBERT BURNS: His Life and Genius.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>By <em>ANDREW DAKERS</em>. <em>10s. 6d. net.</em></p>
-
-<p class='c026'>In spite of the assumed lack of sympathy between their rival
-interests, there are a great many publishers who are also
-authors. But to the best of our knowledge, the first literary
-agent to write books as well as sell them is Andrew Dakers,
-one of the youngest and most enterprising members of his
-profession. His critical and biographical study of Burns
-develops a new and distinctly provocative interpretation of
-Burns’s private life.</p>
-
-<div class='ph3'>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>EXITS AND ENTRANCES</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>By <em>EVA MOORE</em>. <em>15s. net.</em></p>
-
-<p class='c026'>A light, witty, merry volume of reminiscence by one of the
-most fascinating and popular actresses the stage has ever
-known.</p>
-
-<div class='ph3'>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>SPARKS FROM THE FIRE: a Volume of Essays.</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>By <em>GILBERT THOMAS</em>. <em>6s. net.</em></p>
-
-<p class='c026'>The career of Gilbert Thomas as an essayist and a poet has
-been for a long time followed with attention by those who
-value taste and scholarship. His new book is certain of a
-warm welcome.</p>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
- <div class='nf-center'>
- <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span><span class='sc'>New Fiction at 7s. 6d. Net.</span></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='ph3'>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>ONE OF THE GUILTY</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>By <em>W. L. GEORGE</em>, Author of “A Bed of
-Roses,” “The Stiff Lip,” “The Confession of
-Ursula Trent.”</p>
-
-<p class='c026'>“One of the Guilty” is a romantic story, a novel of action;
-it is a study of the primitive human instincts that underlie
-the veneer of education and environment. In “The Confession
-of Ursula Trent” Mr. George told how a well-bred girl of
-county family became, through circumstances and influence,
-a demi-mondaine. In “One of the Guilty” he shows how a
-public schoolboy can become a criminal. Never before has
-the life of a thief, of a successful thief, been presented so
-graphically, so dramatically, so intimately. Every detail of
-the methods and implements of modern burglary is described,
-and yet throughout one’s sympathies, one’s affections, are
-with the thief; one hopes, in spite of oneself, that he will
-win through.</p>
-
-<p class='c026'>“One of the Guilty” is not, in the accepted sense of the
-word, a sex novel. But it is as much a love story as it is an
-adventure story, and in no other novel, perhaps, has W. L.
-George written more tender, more beautiful, more passionate
-love scenes that he has in this book.</p>
-
-<div class='ph3'>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>GOOD HUNTING</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>By <em>NORMAN DAVEY</em>.</p>
-
-<p class='c026'>Norman Davey, the author of “The Pilgrim of a Smile,” is
-not one of those novelists who believe that it is necessary to produce
-a new book every autumn. Indeed, two years have passed
-since the successful appearance of “Guinea Girl,” his romance
-of Monte Carlo. His new novel, “Good Hunting,” is, as was
-“The Pilgrim of a Smile,” a series of stories grouped about
-one man; a fashionable and popular young man whom a number
-of girls endeavour to ensnare into marriage, and it is dedicated
-to the 1,337,208 superfluous women (last census)!</p>
-
-<div class='ph3'>
-
-<div class='lg-container-l c003'>
- <div class='linegroup'>
- <div class='group'>
- <div class='line'>SMOKE RINGS</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>By <em>G. B. STERN</em>, Author of “The Room,”
-“The Back Seat,” etc.</p>
-
-<p class='c026'>A first collection of short stories by one of the most brilliant
-of our younger novelists.</p>
-
-<div class='pbb'>
- <hr class='pb c004' />
-</div>
-<div class='tnotes'>
-
-<div class='section ph2'>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c001'>
- <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
- <ol class='ol_1 c003'>
- <li>Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
-
- </li>
- <li>Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.
- </li>
- </ol>
-
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
-End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Exits and Entrances, by Eva Moore
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