THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
THE HAYMARKET 
 THEATRE 
 
 SOME RECORDS & REMINISCENCES 
 
 BY 
 
 CYRIL MAUDE 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 RALPH MAUDE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED' 
 
 LONDON 
 GRANT RICHARDS 
 
 48 LEICESTER SQUARE 
 1903 
 
o .vn/iU // 
 
 Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON 6* Co. 
 At the Ballantyne Press 
 
PREFACE 
 
 WE have given this book the sub- title of " Some 
 Records and Reminiscences " for the very excellent 
 reason that it exactly describes it. No attempt has 
 been made to write a serious history, and we have 
 only tried to deal with those periods of the theatre's 
 life that are, in our opinion, interesting or entertaining. 
 If our sins of commission are many, our sins of 
 omission are of far greater number, but in the latter 
 case we have sinned with intention. 
 
 Our debts to authors past and present, and to 
 almost numberless friends, are far too heavy to be 
 repaid by a mere prefatory recital of their names. 
 We would simply beg the reader believe that with- 
 out them we could never have put pen to paper, an 
 undoubted fact which will go far to prove the gratitude 
 we feel so strongly. 
 
 CYRIL MAUDE. 
 RALPH MAUDE. 
 
 HAYMARKET THEATRE, 
 June 1903. 
 
 S73369 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PLATB 
 
 I. The Haymarket Theatre in 1822 . Frontispiece 
 
 II. Listen as " Moll Flaggon " in " The Lord 
 
 of the Manor" To face page 51 
 
 III. The "Little Theatre," and the Theatre 
 
 Royal Haymarket .... 64 
 
 IV. The Interior of the Haymarket Theatre, 
 
 1795 73 
 
 V. Benjamin Webster .... 114 
 
 VI. John Baldwin Buckstone ... 128 
 
 VII. Charles Mathews the Younger . 133 
 
 VIII. John Baldwin Buckstone as "Acres" . 135 
 
 IX. Heads of the Court .... 139 
 
 X. John Baldwin Buckstone as "Tony 
 
 Lumpkin" 144 
 
 XI. John Baldwin Buckstone as " Sir Andrew 
 
 Aguecheek" 150 
 
 XII. John Baldwin Buckstone as " Scrub" . 160 
 
 XIII. Lady Bancroft ,, 166 
 
 XIV. Sir Squire Bancroft .... 174 
 XV. Herbert Beerbohm Tree ... 178 
 
 XVI. Frederick Harrison . . . 190 
 XVII. Miss Winifred Emery (Mrs. Cyril 
 
 Maude) as " Lady Teazle " 204 
 XVIII. Cyril Maude (from the portrait by Daniel 
 
 Wehrschmidt) 226 
 

 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 "At the new Theatre in the Haymarket, between Little Suffolk Street 
 and James Street, which is now completely finished, will be performed a 
 French Comedy as soon as the rest of the actors arrive from Paris, who 
 are duly expected." Extract from Daily Paper, December 15, 1720. 
 
 SUCH was the advertisement, if bald and not far-reach- 
 ing, that heralded the opening of the theatre whose 
 name is only third in interest in the annals of the stage, 
 and is now borne by a playhouse to whose popularity 
 London, fortune be praised, testifies nightly with all 
 its might. The Little Theatre in the Haymarket was 
 built by a carpenter named Potter mainly as a specu- 
 lation, and as the total amount expended by that 
 gentleman on its construction was but 1500, it is not 
 difficult to realise that it was scarcely pretentious. 
 Nor were its charges excessive : for 55. you had the 
 choice of pit or box, for 2s. 6d. ,the gallery was at your 
 service. Were you a buck, an extra fee would let you 
 loll upon the stage, hand upon sword hilt prepared 
 for provocation. For those were stirring times even 
 for pleasure seekers. You did not take your tickets 
 at a library, nor were you electrically conducted to 
 the door, only to be beckoned by a soft-footed servant 
 to a softer stall, to show your taste by glove-muffled 
 
 I A 
 
: THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 handclaps, or the chilly silence that can indeed be 
 felt. Your playgoers of 1720, and many years that 
 followed it, took their pleasure with greater difficulty, 
 and if with considerably less physical comfort, with 
 infinitely greater possibilities of excitement. To-day 
 the majority of us scarcely spend our half guineas at 
 Drury Lane box office in the hope of taking part in a 
 riot, or for the purpose of levelling insult at the head of 
 some disliked performer. Nor am I to believe that 
 Mr. George Alexander takes the Royal Box at His 
 Majesty's Theatre to yell derision at Mr. Tree's clever 
 but inoffensive head. Yet they did all these things 
 in the good old days of the Little Theatre good old 
 days for the public mayhap, but times that no 
 manager would envy now. 
 
 Let me attempt a picture as I have seen it through 
 the spectacles of the records that still remain to us. 
 Suppose it a first night in those dear old days and 
 happily first nights were more frequent then than now, 
 so frequent indeed that there seemed to be little else ! 
 The time is half-an-hour before the rising of the curtain. 
 The better part of the theatre is full of footmen, sent 
 thither to keep their masters' places not the solemn, 
 arms-folded, impeccable, perfect creatures who have 
 their home in Mayfair to-day, but gruff-voiced, ob- 
 trusive braggarts, coarse and loud of mouth, dressed 
 in velvet and silken hose, and " lolling over the boxes 
 with their hats on, playing over their airs, taking snuff 
 and laughing aloud, or holding dialogues with their 
 brethren from one side of the house to the other : 
 the most useless, insolent, corrupted set of people in 
 Great Britain." 
 
 The ancient chronicler was no gentle critic. 
 
 Then as the master strolls in, all velvet and silk 
 and lace and cent, bejewelled and bepowdered, well 
 
 2 
 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 armed and ready for a quarrel, Jeames gives place to 
 him. But Jeames does not leave the theatre. He 
 lays claim to a right to a seat in the upper gallery free 
 of all charge. The manager protests. Heaven help 
 the manager ! Uproar is scarcely the word for 
 Jeames's reply as he literally hacks his way to the 
 seat to which he lays claim. He seated and moder- 
 ately quiet, " ringing up " becomes a possibility, and 
 the play begins, the stage half crowded with bucks in 
 their bravest as gorgeous in their appearance as 
 they are unmannerly in their behaviour, and not only 
 to themselves. They guffaw at a player's slip, and 
 threaten to bring down the house in more senses than 
 one if the piece be not to their liking. And it is 
 scarcely for the unhappy management to interfere. 
 Their swords are as sharp as their wit is brutal, and 
 they are not loth to unsheath. 
 
 So the players, tremulous for more reasons than 
 one, play their parts. But even if the bucks be quiet, 
 and the footmen cease to roar, and the piece jogs 
 peacefully on, they are not yet at the end of their 
 tremors. For there was nothing of the Walkley or 
 the Archer or the Joseph Knight about the critics of 
 the dear old days. They were not content to wait 
 till the engines were getting ready for the Press to 
 express their opinions. Nor, if the piece threatened 
 success, were rival manager or rival player content to 
 bite a silent, jealous lip. If their wit were keen, they 
 would express it to the delight of the people who sat 
 around them ; and if Nature had denied them humour, 
 she seldom forbad them a coarse tongue in those dear 
 old days. Need I add that the player's lot could 
 scarcely have been a happy one ? His faltering 
 speech, hio trembling gait, his possible lapse of memory 
 were not excused on the plea of nervousness as to-day, 
 
 3 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 but became the excuse for a gibe that would surely 
 " dry up " our oldest actor in this year of grace. 
 
 If truth must be told, when the Little Theatre saw 
 its first years of life the actor was scarce a persona grata. 
 He neither opened bazaars nor knelt at the touch of 
 his sovereign's sword. " Threshing," sighed a sym- 
 pathetic critic of the time, " were not more laborious 
 than acting," and acting had few of the sweet com- 
 pensations we poor players enjoy to-day. 12 a week 
 was no mean salary in those times, and a long run was 
 a thing unknown until Fielding produced his celebrated 
 " Pasquin," which ran for fifty nights, and caused far 
 more sensation than Mr.Penley's record with "Charley's 
 Aunt." The amount of study which my poor prede- 
 cessors must have had to undergo in those dear old 
 days, it makes my blood run cold to contemplate. 
 And the manager's lot was little happier. Though 
 he is still the sport of the public, he was much more 
 so in 1720 and for many years that succeeded it. 
 Not only had he a public of terrible difficulty to please, 
 but he could never open his theatre without fear of a 
 riot, or close it without a shudder as to the possibility 
 of never being able to open it again. He was tied 
 down by this restriction or that, and even when the 
 bucks chose to slash his very hangings to bits, he had 
 little or no redress. He was in constant terror of 
 nearly every patron of his house, yet in everlasting 
 fear of losing them all. Indeed he must sometimes 
 have wondered when making some fresh and daring 
 experiment whether he would ever have a theatre at 
 all at the close of the evening's entertainment ! 
 
 Even from Royalty he could seldom expect much, 
 for the King did not hesitate to comment in well-bred 
 tones upon the merits of the play of which he was a 
 witness, and if it bore, what he thought to be, allusions 
 
 4 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 to himself, his condemnation was often forcible. 
 George III., they say, upon a chambermaid in a farce 
 remarking to an old gentleman, " You are villainously 
 old, you are sixty-six, you cannot have the impertinence 
 to think of living above two years," energetically re- 
 marked in a loud-pitched voice, " What d d stuff ! " 
 Possibly it was sound criticism, but it was distinctly 
 disconcerting to players and manager alike. 
 
 Nor did the presence of Royalty necessarily quell 
 the uproars that were so frequent in those times. 
 Once on the occasion of a Royal visit the objectionable 
 footmen took occasion to make themselves specially 
 obnoxious, and to such an extent that the Riot Act had 
 to be read, which proving insufficient, no less than 
 eighteen Jeames's had to be conveyed very much the 
 worse for wear to Newgate Gaol. In those days the 
 manager would advertise the coming of Royalty, and 
 if kings or princes were not available, would announce 
 the advent of some other celebrity of the day, reput- 
 able or very much otherwise. For the fact of the 
 matter was that the manager, even more an object 
 of pity then than now, was often put to sore straits to 
 keep his house open, though his expenses' sheet must 
 have shown a queer total as compared with those 
 of 1903. 
 
 As for the dramatic author, he of the first half of the 
 eighteenth century, at any rate, was a far less modest 
 person than our Pineros, our Barries, and our Marshalls 
 of to-day. Imagine, I beg you, Mr. J. M. Barrie 
 " seated in lofty elevation " on the first night of " The 
 Admirable Crichton," and following with laughter and 
 tears the fortunes of his delightful hero and heroine, 
 pausing only to reprove audibly some player who did 
 not please his creative fancy. That was what Steele 
 did in 1722, and Johnson, if less emotional, loved to 
 
 5 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 make himself no less conspicuous. Nor did the 
 dramatist of those days take his failures with quite 
 the same dignity and complacency that characterise 
 our stage authors of to-day, though more than one of 
 them was often frank enough to admit the justice of 
 the condemnation meted out to him. Fielding on one 
 occasion revived a play of his with a superscription 
 "as it was damned at the Theatre Royal," which 
 would strike one as an original line for an author to 
 take to-day ; but then we have so few author-managers ! 
 The author had a deal to contend against in the old 
 days of the theatre. Criticism took such curious turns 
 in those times. " The critics," said Colley Gibber, 
 " come like hounds to a carcass and are all in full cry, 
 sometimes for an hour together, before the curtain 
 rises to throw it amongst them. They seem to me 
 like the lion whelps in the Tower, who are so boisterously 
 gamesome at their meals that they dash down the 
 bowls of milk brought for their breakfast." The pit 
 was of course the part of the house from which the 
 manager had most to fear, and it was more than once 
 found necessary to conciliate the pittites by a speech 
 from the stage before those worthies would allow the 
 piece to proceed ! In the pit, too, the playgoers with a 
 grievance were wont to station themselves, often armed 
 with missiles of a peculiarly objectionable nature. 
 One night, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, 
 a young gentleman who was madly in love with an 
 actress who would have nothing to do with him, got 
 a prominent place in the pit, and proceeded to give 
 vent to his sorrow and spleen by cat-calls and yells 
 of derision, following up these harmonious sounds with 
 a fire of rotten eggs. It is not surprising to hear that 
 some one sitting by the lovesick swain promptly 
 called him a fool and a bully. A duel was the result. 
 
 6 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 But the rejected lover had even less pluck than manners, 
 for he begged for his life, which was left to him. 
 
 A good story is told of a Parisian critic, who upon 
 the introduction of an asp in " Anthony and Cleopatra " 
 that hissed by some mechanical contrivance, turned to 
 the pit and said, " Gentlemen, I fully share the asp's 
 opinion." How could any piece " go " in the face of 
 such a circumstance as that ? And that, if the records 
 are to be believed, is typical of but quite a mild 
 occurrence ! 
 
 As for the criticisms of the Press of the day, they 
 were indeed as vinegar compared to the sweet water 
 which the player drinks of a morning with his bacon 
 and eggs. To dip into the ancient criticisms is indeed 
 to learn a lesson in the art of writing with a sharp 
 pen. I take one at random from a large collection ; 
 it is collective, so will do duty for many more : " Every 
 charity school would supply a dozen wenches of more 
 decent education, character, more health, youth, 
 beauty and genius than the common run of actresses." 
 That was written in 1733, and was by no means a 
 specially terrible specimen. Another writer of the 
 same period found occasion to say that playhouses 
 were " sad instances of the luxury of the present age." 
 Luxury to whom, forsooth ? Not to the poor manager 
 and players, I dare swear. 
 
 In fact, the more the manager of 1903 dips into the 
 records of those early eighteenth-century years, the 
 more reason must he have to be grateful for the King, 
 the Parliament, the Press, and even the County Council 
 of his present possession. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THIS, I have already said prefatorily, is not to be re- 
 garded as a serious history. I leave to some other 
 pen the duty of faithful record, the classification, and 
 all the other things that go to make up what was once 
 my schoolboy bugbear. But I am reluctant to leave 
 the babyhood of the Little Theatre surely a more 
 chequered weaning were never known ! without a 
 word, the more so in that one or two persons connected 
 with that important period were by no means of little 
 interest. 
 
 So I must perforce hark back to 1720, when on 
 December 29 (some have it September 1723, but I 
 cling to my date) the advertised French actors had 
 made the difficult journey from Paris to London in 
 sufficient numbers to enable them to open with 
 "La Fille a la Morte, or le Badeaut de Paris." 
 These actors described themselves as the " Duke of 
 Montagu's French comedians," but even this high- 
 sounding title does not appear to have given them 
 a long term at the Little Theatre, for the follow- 
 ing year found Aaron Hill its manager, who pro- 
 duced " Henry V." with a company of amateurs. 
 From that performance I can find little or nothing 
 of interest in connection with the theatre until 
 Z723, when some amateurs occupied it and played 
 " The Female Fop," whose author claimed that he 
 wrote it at the somewhat immature age of fifteen, 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 and in a few weeks into the bargain. The fact would 
 have been more remarkable had it succeeded, but it 
 fell an early victim to " frost," and the Little Theatre 
 was given over to concerts and other entertainments 
 till 1726, when Italian Opera, to which the somewhat 
 incongruous feats of rope-dancing and tumbling were 
 added, reigned in their stead. Indeed it was not till 
 1733, when Theophilus Gibber and his brother seceders 
 revolted from Drury Lane and appeared on the boards 
 of the Haymarket, that the history of the theatre may 
 be said to have really begun, though I would not for- 
 bear to mention that between 1723 and 1733 gladiators 
 and backswordsmen shared the honours of the boards 
 with English Operas on the Italian model. 
 
 Theophilus Gibber's era of management, brief though 
 it was, sufficed to bring the Little Theatre into some 
 prominence, a prominence which it never afterwards 
 lost save for very brief periods. Styling his company 
 " The Comedians of His Majesty's Revels," he opened 
 on the 23rd of September with " Love for Love," in 
 which he not only figured himself, but also presented 
 his extraordinary sister, Charlotte Charke, whose 
 history will well bear repetition, so remarkable was it. 
 
 From the time that Charlotte Charke first trod the 
 boards if not the earth she was possessed of an in- 
 sensate longing to appear in nothing but male char- 
 acters, in which it appeared she did indeed excel. But 
 her love of male impersonation would not bear con- 
 finement to the boards, for after quarrelling with her 
 good father, Colley Cibber, she, after a series of en- 
 deavours to earn a livelihood as a strolling player, a 
 grocer, and a proprietor of a puppet-show, assumed the 
 habit of a man as her ordinary attire, and although 
 in turn " super " and ordinary tramp, was so good- 
 looking that an heiress fell in love with her, and nearly 
 
 9 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 died of a broken heart on discovering the true sex of 
 her swain. " Tramping " proved an even harder life 
 than poor Charlotte could stand, so she obtained a 
 situation as a valet, then became a sausage maker, and 
 next a waiter at an inn in Marylebone. Her next 
 venture was a tavern in the Lane, for which her uncle 
 gave her money; but this was a failure, and her brother 
 Theophilus making her an offer, she went back to the 
 Haymarket for a brief spell. From the Little Theatre 
 she went to Russell's puppet-show, where she worked 
 the wires, but here again she made no long stay, and 
 was next to be found in a miserable strolling company 
 making frantic struggles for a bare existence. From 
 strolling player she became author of her own auto- 
 biography, which brought her in enough to open another 
 tavern. But this, too, came to grief, and she was 
 forced to take refuge in a miserable hut, in which she 
 wrote a novel, with a pair of bellows for a desk. 10 
 was all she got for the book, but she was very near her 
 end, and a benefit at the Haymarket, at which she 
 played Marplot in " The Busybody," brought her in 
 enough to live in some sort of comfort until her death 
 the following year (1760). 
 
 Surely no actor or actress of whom we have any 
 record had more extraordinary experiences than this 
 remarkable creature, whose temper was probably her 
 worst enemy. Her early bringing up, more a boy's 
 than a girl's, undoubtedly had something to do with 
 her love of impersonating the male. Among the phases 
 of her career was some time spent in prison for debt, 
 her release being procured by a subscription raised 
 among the lowest prostitutes of Drury Lane ! 
 
 Even worse than the character of the extraordinary 
 Charlotte Charke was that of her brother Theophilus 
 Cibber, whose career ended by his being drowned in 
 
 10 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 a journey from Dover to Calais. As the husband of 
 the famous Mrs. Gibber, she brought upon him the 
 contempt of all decent people, for, not content with 
 selling her to a seducer, he brought an action against 
 that person for 5000. The judge awarded him a ten 
 pound note. " That unhanged villain," Dr. Doran has 
 called him, and he was not far wrong. Luckily for the 
 wife, the temptation to which he deliberately exposed 
 her resulted in her obtaining a " protector," which 
 ensured her some happiness during the years that re- 
 mained to her. Mrs. Gibber, by the way, appears to 
 have found the secret of perpetual youth; for she 
 played the part of a girl of sixteen when she was over 
 fifty, and looked it into the bargain. Indeed it is said 
 that she was quite indignant when it was suggested 
 that sixteen should be changed to twenty- three. 
 She was remarkably like Garrick in face, and was 
 about the only lady of his company who could ever 
 manage him. 
 
 In this production of Theophilus Gibber's at the 
 Little Theatre, the famous Mrs. Pritchard also made 
 her appearance. Much might be written of her; but 
 as this book is strictly confined to the Haymarket 
 Theatre, she deserves no more than a passing mention 
 in this connection. One of the most remarkable features 
 of Mrs. Pritchard's success was the fact that she en- 
 tirely lacked education. They say that of " Macbeth " 
 she had never read more than her own part, in which 
 she made an enormous success ! But knowledge did 
 not seem to be a sine qua non of the period, for the 
 famous Quin was quite surprised when, after having 
 played in Davenant's " Macbeth " for several nights, 
 Garrick informed him that he was going to produce 
 Shakespeare's tragedy. " You don't mean to say 
 we've not been playing Shakespeare all the time ? " 
 
 ii 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 was Quin's astonished remark. Dr. Johnson, with his 
 usual courtesy, called Mrs. Prit chard " the inspired 
 idiot." Perhaps it was almost perfect criticism. 
 
 " The Comedians of His Majesty's Revels " had but 
 a brief time at the Haymarket, for the year after their 
 appearance we find Fielding its manager with a com- 
 pany which he chose to call " The Great Mogul's Com- 
 pany of Comedians." Of this there is nothing to record, 
 nor indeed of the French comedians who followed. 
 
 But 1736 was a year big with fate both for the Hay- 
 market and the English stage in general. Fielding 
 again took the Little Theatre, and this time produced 
 his celebrated satirical comedy " Pasquin," aimed 
 directly at the Government, and to whose record run 
 of fifty nights I have already alluded. " Religion, 
 Law, Government, Priests, Judges, and Ministers," says 
 Gibber, " were all laid down by this herculean satirist." 
 London yelled itself hoarse, but the Government, and 
 Walpole in particular, who had been mercilessly 
 caricatured, did not join in the laugh. Instead they 
 passed the Licensing Act which is still law, so that 
 indirectly to the Little Theatre in the Haymarket does 
 Mr. George Redford enjoy his enviable position of 
 Examiner of Plays. In vain did the then Lord Chester- 
 field in a powerful speech defend the liberty of managers, 
 authors, and players alike ; in vain did he dub the 
 Lord Chamberlain's Office the " new Excise Office " 
 the Bill was passed by a large majority, and the Lord 
 Chamberlain became, as Lord Chesterfield had it, "Chief 
 Gauger, Supervisor, Commissioner, Judge and Jury," 
 characters which he still plays to-day. Indeed, the 
 only difference, so far as the law was concerned, 
 between the manager of the Haymarket in 1737 and 
 Harrison and myself to-day, is the fact that they had 
 no London County Council and we have. But 
 
 12 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 fortune be praised ! we possess no such irate ministers 
 as Robert Walpole, who thrashed an actor for sneer- 
 ing at his Excise Bill. Luckily there exists no such 
 parallel as Mr. Brodrick threatening Robert Marshall 
 with a horsewhip for taunting the War Office with 
 dilatoriness ! 
 
 The public took no particular interest in the passing 
 of the Licensing Act, though they insisted on justice 
 being done to the poor English players. The year 
 after the Bill became law some French actors were 
 given authority to open the Little Theatre, power 
 having been denied to an English company. But 
 authority or no authority, the crowd had it their own 
 way, and the play, " L'Embarras de Richesses," never 
 saw Haymarket light. 
 
 The next feature of importance in the childhood of 
 the Little Theatre, which went through a period of 
 " House Closed " (with very infrequent openings) 
 until 1744, was the appearance in that year of Macklin, 
 who produced " Othello " with a company of amateurs, 
 Foote playing Othello and himself lago. Foote, who 
 has the next chapter of this book to himself, was by 
 all accounts a " frost," as well he might have been ; 
 but Macklin made a success which he repeated after- 
 wards at Drury Lane, whither he went the same year, 
 leaving the Little Theatre to that disreputable gentle- 
 man, Mr. Theophilus Gibber. Gibber had no licence, 
 but he escaped penalty by a clever dodge. He ad- 
 vertised his performance thus : 
 
 " At Gibber's Academy in the Haymarket will be 
 a concert ; afterwards will be an exhibition (gratis) 
 of a rehearsal, in the form of a play, called ' Romeo 
 and Juliet.'" 
 
 This venture, however, was no great success. 
 Foote was Theophilus Gibber's successor, and his 
 
 13 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " Diversions of the Morning " became the rage of the 
 town. He, too, had no licence, and invited the public 
 " to drink a dish of chocolate with him." 
 
 Foote kept the theatre till 1749, when it was very 
 nearly destroyed by a riot. The riot was brought 
 about in this way. An advertisement appeared in 
 the papers as follows : 
 
 " At the new theatre in the Haymarket, to be seen 
 a person who performs the several most surprising 
 things following, viz. ; First, he takes a common walk- 
 ing cane from any of the spectators, and thereon he 
 plays the music of every instrument now in use, and 
 likewise sings to surprising perfection. Secondly, he 
 presents you with a common wine bottle, which any 
 of the spectators may first examine : this bottle is 
 placed on the table in the middle of the stage, and 
 he without any equivocation goes into it in the sight 
 of all the spectators, and sings in it ; during his stay 
 in the bottle any person may handle it, and see 
 plainly that it does not exceed a common tavern 
 bottle. Those on the stage or in the boxes may 
 come in masked habits (if agreeable to them), and 
 the performer (if desired) will inform them who 
 they are. 
 
 Stage, 7/6; Boxes, si ', Pit, 3/ J Gallery, 2/. 
 To begin half-an-hour after six o'clock." 
 
 Needless to say, in face of this entertaining programme 
 an enormous crowd came to the theatre and waited 
 patiently till seven, when, no performer appearing, 
 they proceeded to signify their annoyance in the usual 
 manner of the time. The hubbub produced a person, 
 who promised to return their money if the performer 
 failed to appear, but the audience had evidently lost 
 faith in the management, for upon some one throwing a 
 candle upon the stage a general riot ensued. It was a 
 case of " wigs on the green " with a vengeance. Slash 
 
 14 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 went the curtains, crash went the benches, and bang 
 went the boxes. The curtain was torn to ribbons, 
 the scenery shared a similar fate, and the rioters, not 
 content with their night's work, carried the debris 
 outside with them and made a huge bonfire of it in 
 front of the theatre. The Duke of Cumberland in 
 his effort to escape from the crush lost his diamond- 
 hilted sword, upon which a wag bawled out that "Billy 
 the butcher had lost his knife." The unfortunate 
 manager, who declared in the papers that he had been 
 victimised by an unscrupulous scoundrel, got no re- 
 dress. Some put the hoax down to the authorship 
 of His Grace of Montagu, others to that of Samuel 
 Foote ; but the real originator was never discovered. 
 
 Needless to say, after that night the bottle trick 
 went out of fashion. 
 
 The riot was soon followed by another, at which a 
 considerable amount of blood was shed. The cause 
 was attributable to a French company, of which the 
 British Public would have none, attempting to play 
 at the Little Theatre. Luckily the theatre never suffered 
 by fire, for " fire the house " was a favourite cry of the 
 bullies of the day during a riot, and more than once 
 the attempt was made in other theatres to put the 
 suggestion in force. 
 
 After these riots young Gibber again took the 
 theatre, and made his management notable by the 
 introduction of Mrs. Abington to the stage. So short 
 was this famous lady's connection with the Little 
 Theatre that I can find no excuse for an account of her 
 career. She is more noteworthy as the original Lady 
 Teazle, and as Garrick's pet aversion. " She is below 
 the thought of any honest man or woman," said the 
 mighty Roscius ; " she is as silly as she is false and 
 treacherous." But whether Garrick were right or no, 
 
 15 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 her powers as an actress have never been called in 
 question, and her success as the heroine of " The 
 School for Scandal," is the more remarkable in that 
 she was born of the gutter and raised herself to her 
 high position by sheer talent and energy. 
 
 Gibber was once more succeeded in 1760 by Foote, 
 who was prevented from establishing the house as a 
 regular summer theatre until 1762, the theatre having 
 been previously let till then to a teacher of dancing 
 dogs ! 
 
 But Foote, as I said, has a chapter to himself. 
 
 16 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 SAMUEL FOOTE was born in the same year that the 
 Little Theatre first opened its doors. There was 
 nothing hereditary about his theatrical talent, for his 
 father was a member of Parliament, and his mother 
 was a daughter of Sir Edmund Goodere, Bart,, and a 
 cousin of the Duke of Rutland. Even in his school- 
 days Foote began to show signs of the genius that was 
 in him, and his imitations of every one with whom he 
 came in contact made him immensely popular with his 
 schoolfellows, who never tired of hearing him " take 
 off " his various relations and friends, to say nothing of 
 the masters. His schooltime over, his father sent 
 him to Oxford, where he made more sensation by 
 his extravagance in dress and his caricatures of the 
 venerable authorities, than by brilliance of intellect 
 or studious application. Foote pere was determined 
 to send his son to the Bar ; so from Oxford to the 
 Temple young Samuel went, but he was no greater 
 success at the Law than at the 'Varsity, though the 
 briefless barristers of the time shouted themselves 
 hoarse over his imitations of the legal luminaries of 
 the day. Nor did Samuel Foote show the slightest 
 love for the calling which his good father had chosen 
 for him, and, an opportunity presenting itself, he joined 
 Macklin's company at the Haymarket, and appeared 
 as Othello, a r6le to which he was as much suited as 
 would be Mr. Herbert Campbell to the part of Hamlet. 
 
 17 B 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 In plain words, he was a " frost," which was scarcely 
 surprising. At the same time, the old critics found it 
 hard to say what young Foote's particular line was. 
 Upon Boswell remarking to Dr. Johnson, " He has a 
 singular talent for exhibiting character," Dr. Johnson 
 replied, " Sir, it is not a talent, it is a vice ; it is what 
 others abstain from. It is not comedy which exhibits 
 the character of a species, as that of a miser gathered 
 from many misers ; it is a farce which exhibits in- 
 dividuals. '* 
 
 " Did he think of exhibiting you, sir ? " went on 
 Boswell. 
 
 " Sir," replied Dr. Johnson, " fear restrained him ; 
 he knew I would have broken his bones. I would 
 have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg. I 
 would not have left him a leg to cut off." 
 
 " One Foote a player," was Walpole's contemptuous 
 dismissal of the actor, but he was generally known 
 as " The British Aristophanes," a title which, 
 despite the undoubted wit of his satires, he scarcely 
 deserved. 
 
 " What the deuce then am I fit for ? " exclaimed 
 Foote himself, having failed both in comedy and 
 tragedy. He soon discovered that his role was that 
 of a caricaturist, and he was probably the greatest 
 mimic that has ever lived. Whom he caricatured, or 
 how gross was the caricature, he cared not at all, 
 though he had a wholesome respect for physical force, 
 and Dr. Johnson's threat to break every bone in his 
 body prevented him taking off that eminent, if 
 irascible, personage, who could not help admiring 
 Foote's genius despite his dislike of the man himself. 
 Foote would caricature anything that would make 
 the public laugh and draw them to the Little Theatre. 
 Physical defects, legal or ministerial blunders, re- 
 
 18 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 ligious subjects none came amiss to him, and his lash 
 was never light. But he did not like being hit back, 
 and when Woodward reproduced him on the stage he 
 was very sore about it. He thought nothing, how- 
 ever, of introducing a puppet-show, whose puppets, 
 he declared, would not be " as large as life, not larger, 
 indeed, than Mr. Garrick." But he never had a hit 
 at Barry, out of respect for that gentleman's six-foot 
 of powerful manhood. He was a vain, conceited, 
 extravagant fellow, and managed to run through three 
 fortunes, a fact which he published on the panels of 
 his carriage by the motto " iterum, iterum, iterumque" 
 A good story is told of how when in Scotland he would 
 curl his hair with one-pound notes to show his con- 
 tempt of paper money, which was not in circulation 
 over the border. But when his cook came for orders 
 of a morning Foote would uncurl lock after lock until 
 the good woman had enough money for her day's 
 marketing, a duty which she fulfilled in a sedan-chair ! 
 At his own table in London, when the cloth had been 
 removed, Foote would invariably ask, " Does any one 
 drink port ? " If the answer happened to be " no," 
 he would turn to the servants and bid them " take away 
 the ink." 
 
 Extravagance in dress was one of his chief foibles, 
 and he was very proud of his descent, of which indeed 
 he had little reason to be ashamed, though his mother's 
 youngest brother, Captain Goodere, strangled his 
 eldest brother on board his own ship in his desire to 
 get hold of the estates. Cooke took Foote one night 
 to a club and introduced him as "Mr. Foote, the nephew 
 of the gentleman who was lately hung in chains for the 
 murder of his brother." 
 
 Foote was seldom " scored off," but on one occasion 
 a Scottish lawyer had decidedly the best of him. Foote 
 
 19 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 having lost a case in Edinburgh, the man of law called 
 on him in London with his bill of costs. On paying 
 it Foote said with a sneer, " I suppose like the rest of 
 you Scotchmen you're going back to Edinburgh the 
 cheapest way possible." 
 
 " Ay, ay, you're right," said the canny lawyer 
 tapping his pocket full of guineas, " I'm going back 
 on foot." The actor didn't like the joke at all. 
 
 But if Foote was scored off more than once, the 
 amount of times in which the actor had the best of the 
 joke was almost without number. He was never ill 
 at ease in whatever company he found himself. One 
 night some one took him into White's and asked him to 
 wait a moment while he wrote a note. Foote stood 
 there looking, so Lord Carmarthen who was present 
 thought, rather embarrassed. His lordship wishing to 
 be civil, but being at the same time extremely shy 
 himself, went up to him, and for want of something 
 better to say, remarked, " Mr. Foote, I think your 
 handkerchief is falling out of your pocket." Foote 
 hurriedly pushed the article back and bowed his thanks. 
 " It is most kind of you, my lord," he said ; " you know 
 the company better than I do." 
 
 But Foote, despite his caustic tongue, was in great 
 request at smart young men's dinner-parties, and took 
 the lead in the conversation, whatever the subject 
 might happen to be. His popularity in this respect is 
 rather surprising, seeing that it is to be believed that 
 he was " very disgusting in his manner of eating, and 
 not cleanly in his person." George Colman the 
 younger says that the end of his nose was always 
 plentifully bestrewed with snuff, but he boasted of 
 being a great judge of wine and cooking, and professed 
 a perfect horror of plain dishes. 
 
 Though he was often threatened with personal 
 
 20 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 violence on account of his bitter wit, he was nearly 
 always ready with the " soft answer." One night at 
 a party some one wanted to get up a quarrel with him 
 on account of his personal satire. " Of course I take 
 all my friends off," v said Foote, " but I use them no 
 worse than myself. I take myself off." " Gad so," 
 said one of the company, " that's a thing I should 
 mightily like to see." Whereupon Foote promptly 
 took up his hat and left the room. On another occa- 
 sion, after his production of " The Nabobs," aimed at 
 Anglo-Indians in particular, a party of irascible gentle- 
 men called at his house with the intention of giving 
 him a good hiding ; but so charmingly did Foote re- 
 ceive them, and so clear was his explanation that the 
 satire was not intended to refer to them, but only to 
 naughty old Anglo-Indians, that instead of thrash- 
 ing him they stayed to dinner and made a big 
 night of it! 
 
 Solemn occasions, old friendships, high rank no- 
 thing was sacred enough to prevent Foote exercising 
 his wit when so minded. On one occasion, upon a man 
 meeting him after the funeral of his old friend Charles 
 Holland, whose father was a baker, he said, " Yes, I've 
 just seen poor Holland shoved into the family oven." 
 On another he invited Sheridan to his theatre, put 
 him in the most prominent place possible, and then, to 
 the great dramatist's intense annoyance, proceeded to 
 caricature him broadly upon the stage to the delight of 
 the audience, who, of course, recognised both the 
 original and the caricature. 
 
 Foote's disposition was intensely jealous, and he never 
 forgave Garrick his great success. Garrick's triumph 
 at Stratford on the occasion of the Shakespeare jubilee 
 brought a sharp retort from Foote upon the inoffensive 
 head of a gentleman who tried to make himself agree- 
 
 21 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 able to the actor by talking to him of the excellence of 
 the performance they had just seen. Foote at first 
 listened in silence, then suddenly asked if Warwick- 
 shire had the honour of being his father as well as 
 Shakespeare's. 
 
 " No, sir," replied the gentleman, "I am from 
 Essex." 
 
 " Ah," replied Foote, remembering that Essex was 
 a county famous for its cattle, " from Essex indeed ! 
 and who drove you ? " 
 
 The Duke of Cumberland also had a somewhat 
 nasty experience of the actor's wit. Going round 
 behind one night to see him before the performance, 
 he said politely, " Here I am, Foote, ready as usual 
 to swallow all your good things." 
 
 " Indeed," was Foote's reply, " then your Royal 
 Highness must have a mighty good digestion, for you 
 never bring any up again." 
 
 When his friend Sir Francis Delaval died Foote 
 burst into tears, but smiled again when they told him 
 that the surgeons were going to examine the baronet's 
 head. " It's useless," he said ; " I've known it for 
 years, and have never been able to find anything what- 
 ever in it." 
 
 No man ever lived who could snub a bore better than 
 Foote. One day while at Bath a pompous old doctor 
 took him aside and confided to him that it was his 
 intention to publish his own poems. " But, sir," he 
 went on, " I have already so many irons in the fire that 
 I really don't know what to do." " Take my advice," 
 said Foote confidentially, " and put your poems where 
 the irons are." One of Foote's company was per- 
 petually humming the same air, and the manager asked 
 him why the deuce he did it. " The fact is, Mr. Foote," 
 said the actor, " it haunts me." " And small wonder," 
 
 22 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 replied Foote, " seeing that you are for ever murder- 
 ing it." 
 
 Despite Foote's ready wit he was extremely sensitive, 
 especially to criticism, and a bad notice was a thing 
 he dreaded and disliked more than anything else. 
 He never forgave Dr. Johnson for saying that he was 
 an infidel " as a dog is an infidel " ; and he begged the 
 Duchess of Kingston to stop the attacks made upon 
 him in the Press, promising to suppress " The Trip to 
 Calais " if she would do so. 
 
 Despite his unconquerable jealousy of Garrick, the 
 great Roscius had much affection for him, and said 
 that he was " a man of wonderful abilities, and the 
 most entertaining companion I have ever known." 
 Garrick was much delighted when Foote put a bust of 
 him in his private room. " Ah, I see," he said, laugh- 
 ing, " you are not afraid to put me close to your gold 
 and bank-notes." " Well, you see, David," was the 
 rejoinder, " you've got no hands." One day when 
 Garrick and Foote were out walking the latter dropped 
 a guinea. " Where the deuce can it have gone to ? " 
 he said after a few minutes' search. " To the devil," 
 suggested Garrick. " Trust you, David," replied 
 Foote, " for making a guinea go farther than any one 
 else." Another day, when Foote and Garrick were 
 out walking together, a sweep rode by on a thorough- 
 bred horse. " There goes Warburton on Shakespeare," 
 cried Foote. 
 
 Perhaps one of his best mots was when Mr. Howard 
 told him that he was going to publish a second edition 
 of "Thoughts and Maxims." "Yes," was Foote's 
 comment, " second thoughts are always best." When 
 Foote was told that the Rockingham Cabinet was ex- 
 hausted, he remarked that it was certainly not the 
 length of its journey that had fatigued it. 
 
 23 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 One night Foote had very much the better of Macklin. 
 The latter declared at his tavern that he had brought 
 his memory to such a pitch of perfection, that he could 
 repeat anything after once hearing it, whereupon Foote 
 promptly handed him Johnson's famous sentence 
 beginning, " So she went into the garden to cut a 
 cabbage leaf to make an apple pie ; and at the same 
 time a great she-bear coming up the street, &c." 
 Macklin " retired hurt," and was never heard to boast 
 of his memory again. 
 
 Macklin was " scored off " by Foote on yet another 
 occasion. A number of people were collected at 
 Macklin's tavern to hear the actor lecture, Foote being 
 among the company. Foote was very noisy, and his 
 interruption annoyed the lecturer considerably. " Can- 
 not you remain silent ! " cried Macklin ; " do you know 
 what I am going to say ? " 
 
 " Gad no," answered Foote, " do you ? " 
 
 Foote's wit could often be brutal as well as rude. 
 One night when Digges made his first appearance in 
 London in " Cato " at the Haymarket under George 
 Colman the elder's management, the actor dressed 
 the part after the manner adopted by Booth when the 
 piece was originally produced, the costume including 
 what was known as a " shape " decorated with gilt 
 leather upon a black ground, with black stockings, 
 black gloves, and a powdered periwig. Digges stalked 
 on in this extraordinary costume, and met with a hearty 
 reception from the audience. Foote, who was in the 
 pit, waited until the applause had died down, and then 
 exclaimed in what was supposed to be an undertone, 
 though every one around could hear it, "A Roman 
 chimney-sweeper on May-day 1 " The pit roared, and 
 poor Digges old stager as he was, for he had been long 
 in the provinces very nearly " dried up " altogether. 
 
 24 
 
THE HAYMARKEr THEATRE 
 
 Foote tried a joke on the Archbishop of Canterbury, 
 who was not to be caught. The actor forwarded a 
 copy of " The Minor " to the Primate (a play so gross 
 and indecent that Irish audiences would have none of 
 it, though it was a big success in England), with the 
 polite request that if His Grace saw anything objection- 
 able in it he would strike it out. But the Archbishop 
 sent it back without a mark, and declared afterwards 
 to a friend that if he had put a pen to the manuscript 
 Foote would straightway have advertised it "as 
 corrected and prepared for the stage by His Grace 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury." And, judging by 
 what history tells us of Foote's character, he probably 
 would. 
 
 It was Foote's inordinate vanity that cost him the 
 loss of a leg. He was staying with Lord Mexborough, 
 among whose other guests was the Duke of York. One 
 night after dinner he openly boasted of his horseman- 
 ship, which was distinctly inferior to his acting. A 
 horse was promised him for the hunt next day, and 
 being too proud to back out of it, he mounted his steed 
 and rode off with the rest. But the moment hounds 
 found, Foote was thrown and broke his leg in two 
 places. The surgeon found amputation necessary, 
 and it must be put down to Foote's credit that he bore 
 his loss with great pluck, declaring soon after the 
 operation that he was really not sorry, for he would be 
 able to caricature the one-legged George Faulkner of 
 Dublin absolutely to the life. 
 
 " Make no allusion to my weakest part," he said to 
 some one who had the bad taste to chaff him about 
 his lost leg ; " did I ever attack your head ? " 
 
 But the loss of his leg brought him great good fortune, 
 and earned for the Little Theatre the new title of 
 Theatre Royal, which it has borne ever since. For 
 
 25 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 the Duke of York was so sorry for poor Foote that he 
 obtained for him the patent of the theatre, together 
 with a licence to open from the I5th of May to the 
 I5th of September. Foote thereupon bought the lease 
 of the new premises, incorporated a house in Little 
 Suffolk Street, removed two shops which were in front 
 in the Haymarket, built a portico, and added a second 
 gallery. Thus improved and enlarged, and with its 
 Royal Patent, the Haymarket literally boomed, and in 
 1768, when Foote produced his " Devil on Two Sticks," 
 he cleared close on 4000, scarcely a penny of which 
 was left by the end of the year. In this piece he cari- 
 catured the President of the College of Physicians, who 
 took the joke so well that he sent Foote his muff, an 
 article that the actor had forgotten as being specially 
 characteristic of the good-natured doctor. 
 
 Foote's wooden leg does not appear to have in- 
 commoded him to any important degree, for he managed 
 to get about the stage with almost as much agility as 
 ever, but it must have been a pathetic sight to see the 
 actor leaning against the wall of his dressing-room 
 while his " dresser " arranged the artificial member to 
 suit the rest of the costume that his master was wearing. 
 Indeed, it would appear that it was only at such times 
 that Foote felt his loss at all keenly, though it un- 
 doubtedly hastened his end. Colman describes how 
 he once visited Foote, and found the leg " standing by 
 his bedside, ready dressed in a handsome silk stocking 
 with a polished shoe and gold buckle awaiting the 
 owner's getting up." It was hardly necessary for 
 Colman to add that "it had a kind of tragi-comical 
 appearance." 
 
 Foote had a stroke of paralysis in 1777, and was 
 advised to get change of air and scene on the Continent, 
 but got no farther than Dover, where he died, with a 
 
 26 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 joke on his lips, on the 2ist of October. He was buried 
 in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Some six months before his death Foote handed over 
 the Little Theatre to the elder Colman for an an- 
 nuity of 1600, but he lived only long enough to get 
 one half-year's dividend, so that Colman got the whole 
 concern for a paltry 800. 
 
 Whatever Foote's personal character may have been 
 and his faults were as numerous as his plays one 
 scarce dare think what the Little Theatre in the Hay- 
 market would have become without him. Not only 
 did he, as a " popularity-monger " as he called him- 
 self bring it into prominence, but he reconstructed it 
 and secured for it the Royal Patent that changed its 
 name to the title it bears to-day. Though his dra- 
 matic zeal was neither of the highest nor the purest, 
 his satires were always crammed full of wit, and they 
 were often funniest when in their worst taste. 
 
 He does not seem to have been an unkind manager, 
 for he gave considerable encouragement to Charles 
 Bannister of the fortunate throat, whose habits o' 
 nights were scarcely conducive to singing at the very 
 early hour at which Foote began his preformances. 
 " I am all right at night," said the unfortunate Charles 
 to his manager, " but neither I nor my voice can get up 
 in the morning." Foote so enjoyed the joke that he 
 gave Bannister every encouragement good nature 
 which led to that actor achieving a big success, though 
 he came a tremendous cropper over the Royalty 
 Theatre just as he was on the highroad to a consider- 
 able fortune. But even in the midst of his greatest 
 difficulties Bannister " would have his little joke." 
 All the world was talking of the death of Sir Theodosius 
 Bought on, who was poisoned by laurel-water. " Don't 
 talk to me of laurel-leaves," said Bannister; " I fear 
 
 27 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 none but a bailiff (bay-leaf)." A story of Bannister's 
 son will also bear repetition : " Jack," said his father 
 one day when the boy had annoyed him, " I'll cut you 
 off with a shilling." " I wish, father," replied his son, 
 " that you'd give it me now." 
 
 John Palmer made his debut at the Haymarket with 
 Charles Bannister, and two more nervous actors prob- 
 ably never trod the boards for the first time. But 
 with experience success came to Palmer too, though, 
 like Bannister, his circumstances were nearly always 
 embarrassing. At one time so hard pressed was he 
 that he had to live in his dressing-room at the theatre, 
 and on another occasion, when having to leave Drury 
 Lane to play a season at the Haymarket, he was con- 
 veyed thither in a cabinet among a cartload of scenery 
 to avoid arrest ! 
 
 One day Palmer was in his garden at Kentish Town 
 when a wasp stung him in the eye so badly that he had 
 to send his excuses to the theatre. The manager went 
 on and apologised for the actor's absence, but the 
 audience would have none of his excuses, and so great 
 was the clamour that there was nothing for it but to 
 make an attempt to fetch Palmer to the theatre despite 
 his accident. Palmer came and went on the stage just 
 as he was. He was greeted with a fire of orange peel 
 and a storm of hisses by the audience, exasperated at 
 being kept waiting. At last they allowed Palmer to 
 speak. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," said he, " I am aware of 
 the odd effect my appearance here may produce after 
 the apology which has been made for my illness, which 
 I thought it hardly possible to describe by communi- 
 cation to the theatre. The fact is, ladies and gentle- 
 men, my illness was all my eye ! " 
 
 Palmer was notoriously unpunctual, his pet excuse 
 
 28 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 being that his wife had been confined, but he made 
 the excuse so often that it was calculated that the good 
 lady became a mother at least once a quarter ! More 
 than once, too, he shammed illness, sometimes not 
 sending his excuses to the theatre until the last moment, 
 and that on a first night. He was once very nearly 
 caught by Sheridan, who called with Kelly to inquire 
 after the actor's health. Luckily Kelly preceded 
 Sheridan up the stairs, and was just in time to tip 
 Palmer the wink and keep Sheridan outside until the 
 truant had rolled himself in a dressing-gown in the 
 simulated agonies of toothache. So well did he act 
 that Sheridan was much impressed, and begged him to 
 take the greatest care of himself. Palmer's father was 
 a bill-sticker. One evening when the actor was 
 strutting about the green-room in a pair of glittering 
 buckles, some one remarked that they looked like real 
 diamonds. " Sir," said the actor, much annoyed, " I 
 never wear anything else but real diamonds . " " Pardon 
 me," was the answer, " I remember when you were 
 nothing but paste." " Why don't you stick him 
 against the wall ? " whispered Bannister. 
 
 He was the most casual of actors. One night he 
 had to speak a prologue, not one word of which he had 
 committed to memory. Luckily there was an uproar 
 among the audience, of which Palmer took immediate 
 advantage. He gesticulated wildly, moved his lips, but 
 spoke not a word. Then when silence was more or 
 less restored he pretended to stop speaking and gazed 
 reproachfully at the audience, who promptly divided 
 themselves into two parties and stormed at one another. 
 In the midst of this fresh row Palmer pretended to 
 finish his prologue, and bowed himself out before the 
 luU came. He was called " Plausible Jack." " Plausible 
 indeed," he said one day. " The only plausible thing 
 
 29 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 I ever did was to persuade a bailiff once to bail me." 
 Palmer fell dead on the stage in the middle of " The 
 Stranger." 
 
 A great favourite in Foote's company, especially with 
 Royalty, was Parsons, who, like Arthur Roberts, loved 
 nothing better than to make the other people on the 
 stage with him laugh by saying some absurd thing in 
 an undertone. Parsons took great liberties with his 
 audiences, no matterwhat their composition. One night 
 George III. commanded a performance of " The Siege 
 of Calais." In this Parsons played the chief carpenter, 
 who after erecting the scaffold for the execution of the 
 patriots, has to say, " So the King is coming. An 
 the King like not my scaffold, I am no true man." 
 But instead of speaking this line Parsons went close 
 to the Royal box and shouted, " An the King were 
 here and did not like my scaffold I would say, Damn 
 him, he has no taste ! " 
 
 It is on record, strange to say, that no one enjoyed 
 this extraordinary sally more than His Majesty himself. 
 
 Four days after Parsons died his wife married their 
 son's tutor, so that she had the somewhat remarkable 
 experience of having two husbands in the house at the 
 same time one dead, the other living. Parsons lived 
 for many years in a tiny house near the Lambeth 
 Asylum, which he called Frog Hall, owing to its being 
 opposite to a stagnant ditch. 
 
 Baddeley, whose Twelfth Night cake, for which he 
 left 100 in the three per cents, in order that it might 
 be " partaken of annually for ever," is still eaten 
 annually at Drury Lane, was another member of 
 Foote's company. Before he went to the Hay- 
 market he is supposed to have had the honour of 
 being Foote's cook. This story is borne out by Foote's 
 remark when Baddeley challenged him to a duel with 
 
 30 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 swords. " Here's a pretty fellow," said the great 
 actor ; "I allow him to take my spit and stick it by 
 his side, and now he wants to stick me with it." 
 
 Shuter, too, played under Foote's management. He 
 was an extremely droll actor, whose chief fault was his 
 excessive love of the bottle. When hissed for his per- 
 formance in " Wife in the Right," he excused himself 
 to the audience on the plea that he had been too ill to 
 attend the rehearsals. " But," he added, " if there 
 be any one here who would like to know whether I was 
 drunk three days before, I acknowledge that I was, and 
 beg pardon for that." No one, not even Shuter himself, 
 knew who his parents were, and he is supposed to have 
 owed his success in life to remembering when a pot-boy 
 at an inn the number of a hackney coach in which a 
 customer had left his pocket-book. So pleased was 
 the customer upon regaining his property that he sent 
 the boy to be properly educated. He loved low com- 
 pany, and thoroughly enjoyed displaying his talents to 
 the denizens of St. Giles. His wit was very ready. 
 One day a friend, seeing him stare vacantly in front of 
 him, asked him if he had bottled his eyes. " Yes," 
 answered Shuter, " and I'm shortly going to cork my 
 eyebrows." At a dinner party one night he sat very 
 silent, to the great disappointment of the company. 
 "Come, Mr. Shuter," said one of the exasperated guests 
 at length, "when are you going to begin to be comical? " 
 " Gad," said Shuter, " I've forgotten my fool's dress. 
 Will you be my substitute while I go and fetch it ? " 
 The guest agreed, whereupon Shuter took up his hat 
 and stick, and left altogether. 
 
 Quick, the original Tony Lumpkin, was George III.'s 
 favourite comedian, and a very popular member of 
 Foote's company. He was a vain little fellow, who 
 believed in no one but himself, and could not bear to 
 
 31 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 hear of any new player acting one of his " creations." 
 Foote he literally loathed. Quick played for thirty- 
 six years, and retired with 10,000 in his pocket. Until 
 the last day of his life he fully believed that had he 
 secured an opportunity of speaking to George III. alone, 
 His Majesty would have made his daughter a maid of 
 honour. The belief arose from an incident which 
 occurred to Miss Quick when of a very tender age. 
 She was walking in the Park with her father when 
 George III. with a military escort passed by. The 
 child, frightened by the noise and the display, tried to 
 escape by the railings, but stuck fast half-way through. 
 The King, hearing the noise of the child's yells, inquired 
 what the matter was. Quick, who by this time had 
 extricated his offspring, explained. " Good girl," said 
 His Majesty, "don't cry, don't cry." And to still 
 further soothe her, added, " Be a good girl, and you 
 shall be a maid of honour when you're old enough." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 WHEN Foote was negotiating the disposal of the patent 
 of the Haymarket Theatre he had no idea that he was 
 dealing with his old friend George Colman, the business 
 being contracted through an agent. "There's a fat- 
 headed felLow of an agent who has been boring me 
 every morning at breakfast with terms from some 
 blockhead who knows nothing about the stage, but 
 whose money burns in his pocket," Foote said to 
 Colman one day, adding that " of course nobody can 
 conduct so peculiar a theatrical business as mine but 
 myself." 
 
 " Playhouse mad, I suppose," replied Colman sym- 
 pathetically. 
 
 "Just so," said Foote ; " and if bleeding will bring 
 him to his senses, he'll find me a devilish good 
 doctor." 
 
 Foote's face when he met Colman a few days after- 
 wards to sign the deed can be better imagined than 
 described ! 
 
 In addition to an agreement to pay Foote 1600 for 
 life, Colman also arranged to pay for his services as an 
 actor, and to give him 500 for the copyright of his 
 unpublished dramatic pieces. The patent allowed him 
 to open the theatre from the i5th of May to the I5th 
 of September. With the theatre Colman also took over 
 the effects, which seem to have been but a sorry lot. 
 Foote's wardrobe, indeed, can scarcely have deserved 
 
 33 c 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 the title, for the stock consisted entirely of a few old 
 coats and waistcoats. For, however careful the English 
 Aristophanes may have been about his own appearance 
 on the stage, the costume of his brother actors troubled 
 him not at all. " So vilely did some of the apparel fit 
 the actors," says George Colman the younger, " that 
 he (Foote) was often obliged to make a joke of the dis- 
 grace, and get a start of the audience if he could, in a 
 laugh against his own tatterdemalions." One unfor- 
 tunate member of the company, who was extremely 
 thin a sort of living skeleton was provided with a 
 coat which would have done honour to the hand- 
 some proportions of my good friend Harry Keble. 
 Foote always addressed this personage during the play 
 as " the Gentleman with the sleeves." Foote's own 
 dresses were always hired, as indeed was the music for 
 the band. 
 
 Foote only played twice under George Colman's 
 management, though the play-bills show that he was 
 advertised several times afterwards. But his health 
 had broken down so utterly that he could muster no 
 more strength to tread the boards, and his death 
 followed shortly afterwards. 
 
 George Colman the elder met with little success 
 on his first attempt to attract the public to the Hay- 
 market. Contrary to the good judgment that he 
 afterwards exercised, he insisted on opening the 
 theatre before Drury Lane and Covent Garden had 
 closed their doors. Having nothing in particular 
 with which to attract the public, empty houses were 
 the rule, and the notice went up a few days after 
 the advertising of the first performance. Ten days 
 or so later, however, Colman reopened again, " show- 
 ing " every night instead of every alternate night, 
 as Foote had done. 
 
 34 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Every one prophesied failure for Colman, but he knew 
 his own business better than they did, and three new 
 stars, whom he introduced to the British public in the 
 persons of the famous Henderson, Edwin, and Miss 
 Farren, soon made the people and the money flow in. 
 Colman had indeed a splendid company. In addition 
 to the three great players I have just mentioned, 
 Palmer and Parsons were also members of his company, 
 as well as the elder Bannister, who was in fine voice, 
 and Digges, whom Foote insulted so grossly on his 
 appearance as Cato. Foote, by the way, watched 
 Colman's success with very jealous eyes. One day 
 not long before his death he came into the theatre 
 when a rehearsal was in progress. " How do you 
 go on ? " he asked. " Pretty well," replied Colman, 
 " but I can't teach one of these fellows to gape 
 as he ought to." " Can't you ? " sneered Foote ; 
 "then read him your last comedy and he'll yawn 
 for a month ! " 
 
 Not long after Colman took the theatre he set about 
 making some exceedingly necessary structural altera- 
 tions. One of the most essential was an approach to 
 the boxes, which in Foote's time were practically flush 
 with the street, so much so that the unfortunate people 
 who sat in them often lost the thread of the plot they 
 were following owing to the disturbing noises of such 
 things as post-horns and news-sellers' voices, to say 
 nothing of the rattle of hackney coaches and other 
 distracting influences. Colman also did not a little in 
 the way of much-needed decoration, for the impro- 
 vident Foote had left the theatre in anything but an 
 elegant condition. 
 
 But, even after the carpenter and decorator had left 
 it, the theatre can scarcely have been a temple of ease 
 and luxury, and a County Council inspector would 
 
 35 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 probably have fallen dead at the sight of it. What 
 would have happened had it been set on fire by the 
 genial young bucks of the day it is scarcely difficult, 
 though it is decidedly unpleasant, to imagine. But 
 Colman had no County Council to put him right, and 
 made no attempt to enlarge his passages, which, his 
 son says, were so narrow that when two stout gentle- 
 men happened to meet in one of them and tried to pass 
 each other there was great danger of their sticking fast. 
 " I often thought," the younger Colman wrote, " during 
 my own possession of the diminutive theatre, it would 
 be better to furnish my side-box customers with a bell 
 to tie round their necks at the pay door of the house, 
 on the same principle as that of providing waggon 
 horses with such tinkling apparatus to give notice of 
 their approach and prevent confusion and jostling in 
 cross lanes." The audience, however, did not seem to 
 mind much, for they could see and hear, which, ap- 
 parently, was more than they could do at the new 
 Drury Lane and Covent Garden, " those covered Salis- 
 bury plains," in which it was suggested that 
 
 " 'Twere better they began 
 On the new invented plan, 
 And with telegraph transmitted us the plot." 
 
 One word more as to these audiences. Like the 
 theatre they had greatly improved, though they were 
 to show at the beginning of the next century by the 
 O. P. Riots that there was a good deal of the old Adam 
 still left in them. But by the time the elder Colman 
 took over the reins of the " Little Theatre " consider- 
 able improvement had taken place in the playgoer's 
 manners. Their comparative banishment from the 
 stage they bore with good temper ; and if they were 
 far more ready to express their opinion (especially their 
 
 36 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 bad opinion) than are the audiences of 1903, they had 
 learned to do so in a more decent manner, and the 
 elder Colman was able to open his theatre night after 
 night without fear of having it half demolished or set 
 alight. The servants, however, still seem to have 
 given trouble, as a letter dated 1737, and published in 
 a contemporary journal, clearly shows. The letter runs: 
 " Theatricus requests the manager of the Theatre Royal 
 in the Haymarket would give orders to the boxkeepers 
 that the servants who are sent to keep places do take 
 off their hats, as their wearing them is an indecency 
 suffered in no theatre out of England." In George III. 
 the drama generally had a good friend and a most 
 appreciative audience, though His Majesty infinitely 
 preferred comedy to tragedy. When Henderson made 
 his appearance at Co vent Garden as the hero of " The 
 Mysterious Husband," George III. was so overcome 
 by the death scene that he turned his back on the stage, 
 exclaiming, " Charlotte, don't look, it's too much to 
 bear." By Royal command the play was never re- 
 peated ! 
 
 The young King of Denmark, however, who married 
 George III.'s sister, and was a great playgoer when in 
 this country, was scarcely so sensitive as his brother-in- 
 law, for he frequently fell fast asleep during the 
 performance. Mrs. Bellamy was so annoyed at his 
 inattention that one night having to speak the line, " O 
 thou false lord ! " she went as close as she could get 
 to the King's box, and literally yelled the words into 
 the Royal ear. Her energy had the effect of rousing 
 His Majesty to some show of attention. 
 
 A distracting feature of the audience of the time 
 was the attention paid to the reigning belles who 
 graced the theatre with their presence, though advan- 
 tage was often taken of the interest they induced to 
 
 37 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 advertise their coming well beforehand. But take it 
 aft in all, a decided improvement had set in as regards 
 the playgoing public, an improvement which continued 
 until it culminated in the almost perfect playgoer of 
 to-day. Let me take this opportunity of offering the 
 thanks I owe him and her. 
 
 Place aux dames. So among George Colman's bright 
 particular stars who brought good fortune to the reno- 
 vated Little Theatre first attention must be paid to 
 Miss Farren, who in less than a score of years after her 
 London debut as Miss Hardcastle in " She Stoops to 
 Conquer " was to become the Countess of Derby, and 
 to retire from the stage at the height of her triumphal 
 career. 
 
 Though not coming of a theatrical stock, Elizabeth 
 Farren caught stage fever from her eccentric and not 
 over fortunate father, who started life as a surgeon, 
 and threw his knife out of the window to manage a 
 strolling company. His little daughter first appeared 
 as Columbine at Wakefield, where she was seen by a 
 Liverpool manager, who, recognising her talent and 
 appreciating her beauty, took her to Cottonopolis and 
 brought her out in his theatre, much to the detriment 
 of the hearts of half the youths in that city. But 
 Elizabeth Farren was too clever and too lovely to stay 
 long in the provinces, and an engagement offered by 
 George Colman the elder led to her first appearance in 
 London at the Haymarket. She became a favourite 
 almost from the day she first curtsied to an audience, 
 and Colman soon found that he had indeed made a 
 good dip in the provincial lucky tub. Miss Farren 
 was a grande dame by nature, and very few actresses 
 have queened it upon the stage to better effect than 
 she. She was tall and slight, with a particularly lovely 
 expression, and her manner of speaking and general 
 
 38 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 refinement were such, that she was soon as great a 
 favourite in society as on the stage. 
 
 She was given the honour of managing the private 
 theatricals at the Duke of Richmond's, where two men 
 promptly fell in love with her in the shape of Fox and 
 the Earl of Derby. Lord Derby's affection was re- 
 turned, but there was a stumbling-block to their 
 marriage in the shape of a living Countess. So Lord 
 Derby and Elizabeth Farren waited for an end which 
 was delayed for many years. 
 
 With what their relationship was during that delay 
 I have nothing to do. Scandal-mongers said one thing, 
 and fervent admirers gave them the lie. Walpole 
 wrote : " Miss Farren is as excellent as Mrs. Oldfield, 
 because she has lived with the best style of men in 
 England," but this was not necessarily a reflection 
 upon her character. Mrs. Inchbald has told a story 
 which, though scandalous, is too good not to be re- 
 peated. One night one of the ladies at the Haymarket, 
 of, I regret to say, extremely bad repute, met with some 
 accident in her dressing-room and sought the shelter of 
 Mrs. Wells's, the latter lady being the mistress of a 
 certain well-known officer of the day. But Mrs. Wells 
 was so shocked at the intrusion of such a disreputable 
 character that she ran to Miss Farren's room for pro- 
 tection. Whereupon Miss Farren flounced out of her 
 apartment, exclaiming, " What would Lord Derby say 
 if I should be seen in such company ? " The degrees of 
 morality are distinctly interesting, 
 
 Se non & vero, e ben trovato. 
 
 But whatever her previous character, Elizabeth 
 Farren became Countess of Derby on the 8th of April 
 1797, exactly six weeks after the death of her prede- 
 cessor to the title. She made her final bow to a 
 
 39 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 theatrical audience on the day preceding the nuptials, 
 playing Lady Teazle with much effect, though she broke 
 down at the lines, " Let me also request, Lady Sneer- 
 well, that you will make my respects to the scandalous 
 college of which you are a member, and inform them 
 that Lady Teazle, licentiate, begs leave to return the 
 diploma they granted her, as she leaves off practice 
 and kills characters no longer," At the end of the 
 piece the future Countess was led forward, while one 
 of the actors addressed the audience thus 
 
 " But, ah ! this night adieu the mournful mien, 
 When Mirth's loved favourite quits the mimic's scene ! 
 Startled Thalia would assent refuse, 
 But Truth and Virtue wooed and won the Muse." 
 
 In taking John Henderson from Bath to make his 
 debut at the Little Theatre in no less a character 
 than that of Shylock, George Colman the elder made 
 yet another fortunate dip in the provincial lucky 
 tub. The engagement was made in the face of 
 Henderson's previous rejection at the hands of two 
 other London managers, and despite a howl of scorn 
 from Garrick, who, jealous actor that he always was, 
 surely never betrayed more jealousy than in the case 
 of the young actor from Bath. From the day that 
 Henderson first made up his mind to tread the boards 
 for a living he was a fervent admirer of the " theatrical 
 monarch," and by constant practice imitated him to 
 perfection. But this accomplishment was no particular 
 help towards getting the engagement at Drury Lane 
 that he coveted so much. However, after some diffi- 
 culty he managed to get a few moments with one 
 Hiffernan, a hanger-on of Garrick's, who immediately 
 asked him to be so good as to " please to stand upon 
 his pins." Henderson got up. " Now," said Hiffer- 
 
 40 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 nan, " we'll soon see whether you'll make an actor." 
 Whereupon he attached an old table-knife to a piece 
 of string, and getting the former level with Henderson's 
 head, let it fall to the ground. This performance over, 
 he proceeded solemnly to measure the length of the 
 string with a two-foot rule. 
 
 Having done this, Hiffernan shook his head sadly : 
 " Young gentleman," he remarked, " I am sorry to 
 mortify you, but go your ways home, set your thought 
 on something else, mind your business, be what you 
 will. For the sock and buskin you won't do you 
 will not do, sir, by an inch and a quarter." 
 
 Discouraged but not deterred from his purpose, 
 Henderson looked for another London engagement, but 
 finding none applied to Garrick again. Garrick made 
 him rehearse, and at the close dismissed him with a 
 wave of his hand. " You have too much wool or 
 worsted in your mouth," he said. " You must get 
 rid of this before you are fit for Drury Lane stage." 
 Henderson, however, was revenged on Garrick for this 
 sally, for upon the great actor hearing that " the player 
 from Bath " could imitate him to the life, he invited 
 him to his house. " Do, my dear sir, let me hear what 
 I am," asked Garrick at dessert. Henderson demurred, 
 but was persuaded. The company were delighted at 
 the imitation and roared with laughter, but Garrick 
 was furious. " Egad," he said, " if that be my voice 
 I have never known it myself ; it is certainly dissimilar 
 to everything I conceived of mine." From that 
 moment Garrick had no good word for Henderson. He 
 declared that he had heard that he " swallowed his 
 part like an eager glutton, and spewed his undigested 
 fragments in the face of the audience." He called his 
 Don John " a comic Cato," and his Hamlet " a mixture 
 of tragedy and comedy, pastoral farce and nonsense." 
 
 41 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 In fact, nothing was bad enough for the man who had 
 so successfully " taken him off." 
 
 But Henderson weathered the storm of Garrick's 
 cruel sarcasm, and attained the object of his desire with 
 his engagement by the elder Colman. The manager 
 insisted upon his making his first appearance as Shy- 
 lock, fearing lest his somewhat awkward, ungainly 
 presence, which would be little noticed in the Jew's 
 cloak, might not otherwise be appreciated by the 
 audience. Henderson was an instantaneous success, 
 and even Macklin approved the performance, though 
 some time before he had told the young actor that he 
 had to unlearn everything he had learned. " And yet, 
 sir," said the modest Henderson, as he thanked the old 
 actor for his words of praise, " I have never had the 
 advantage of seeing you in the character." " Sir, it is 
 not necessary to tell me that," replied Macklin. " I 
 knew you had not, or you would have played it 
 differently." 
 
 Lord Camden wrote to Garrick after the performance 
 to say that " your Birmingham counterfeit has stolen 
 your buskin and runs away with all your applause 
 into the bargain ; but I shall soon see him stripped to 
 the skin and exposed in all his Scotch nakedness. I 
 hope your friend Colman is not privy to the trash we 
 see every day in the papers to put off this clumsy 
 fellow." But the opinion of the general public did not 
 coincide with his lordship's (which was intended to 
 curry favour with Garrick), for Henderson became the 
 darling of the Little Theatre, and was accepted with 
 rapture even in the character of the " handsome hero," 
 which in appearance he certainly was not. What he 
 possessed was that true dramatic fire that all the criti- 
 cism and all the sneers and all the bad luck can never 
 quench. 
 
 42 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 He only played one season at the Little Theatre, but 
 he brought money to the elder Colman's coffers to such 
 good effect that a benefit (which was not bargained for 
 in his agreement) was given him. At the close of the 
 evening the treasurer handed him the bill for " house 
 charges," with Mr. Colman's compliments. It ran 
 thus 
 
 s. d. 
 
 000 
 
 A pretty, tasteful compliment ! 
 
 Henderson, if not really a great actor, deserves the 
 adjective remarkable. He was ungainly of figure, with 
 legs and arms too short for his body ; he had an un- 
 melodious voice and an awkward trick of spreading 
 the palms of his hands outwards, and he had picked 
 up some bad mannerisms on the Bath stage. But 
 his memory was prodigious, and if any one read a 
 passage from some book to him, he could at once 
 repeat it with perfect ease. When cast for a new part, 
 he read the whole play, learned his part, read the piece 
 again, and then never troubled himself any more 
 about it until a fortnight before the production. Con- 
 trary to the usual custom of an actor, he was in the 
 habit of " doing himself extremely well " at dinner on 
 a first night, sitting over his wine until summoned to 
 the theatre. One day a friend persuaded him that 
 this was a mistake, and when a new piece was put on 
 Henderson fed frugally beforehand. The result was a 
 failure, for he is said to have simply " walked through " 
 his part that night. He died at the age of forty. 
 
 In the same company with Henderson and Miss 
 Farren was John Edwin, who from all accounts must 
 have been one of the most humorous actors the Hay- 
 market has ever known. No actor has in all probability 
 
 43 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 got on more intimate terms with his audience than this 
 excellen ^comedian. He never played with his fellow- 
 actors, but cfcvoted his entire attention to the front of 
 the houstt*-r-a method which, though in direct contra- 
 vention *t all theatrical laws, seems to have amused 
 the public immensely. What he said to the audience 
 did not matter to him in the least. He would appear 
 on the stage exceedingly tipsy ; he would forget his 
 words altogether they forgave him everything. 
 
 One night when playing Bowkit in " The Son-in-law," 
 in which Cranky declines to accept him as a son-in-law 
 on account' of his ugliness, Edwin pronounced the word 
 " ugly " in tones of great surprise, and going close 
 to the footlights addressed the audience thus : " Now, 
 I submit to the decision of an enlightened British 
 public, which is the ugliest fellow of the three I, old 
 Cranky, or that gentleman in the first row of the 
 balcony box ? " 
 
 As a matter of fact Edwin was a good-looking fellow, 
 with a naturally comical face an asset by no means 
 to be despised. His byplay appears to have been 
 quite extraordinary, and Henderson relates how when 
 playing Sir Hugh Evans, Edwin kept the house in 
 howls of laughter for several minutes without speaking 
 a word. He was probably the best burletta singer that 
 ever lived, and some one once said that whenever 
 Edwin died O'Keefe, who owed not a little of his suc- 
 cess to the actor's talent, would be damned. Edwin's 
 great failing was his love of brandy. " Had he but 
 imitated the habit that christened him," said Boaden, 
 when writing of his Tipple in " The Flitch of Bacon," 
 " he might long have continued the most diverting 
 creature the modern stage has known." 
 
 Another extremely humorous and clever member of 
 the elder Colman's company was the Bannister of whom 
 
 44 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 I have already given an anecdote. Jack Bannister 
 began his stage career in tragedy under the great 
 Garrick, but after a while he grew tired of serious parts, 
 and declared his desire for comedy. " No, no," said 
 Garrick, " you may humbug the town some time longer 
 as a tragedian, but comedy is a serious thing." How- 
 ever, it was in comedy that Bannister was to make a 
 big success, though it can fairly be said of him that 
 he was bad in nothing. He was just the opposite of 
 Edwin in that he never paid any attention to his 
 audience, and no applause, however loud, ever made 
 him forget for an instant the part he was playing. He 
 was extremely good-looking, and a great favourite with 
 every one. " I was determined to go through life 
 without enemies," he boasted when an old man, " and 
 I have done so," which was perfectly true. In fact 
 it is on record that " Handsome Jack," as he was 
 called, only lost his temper once, and that when a 
 critic slated him for a bad performance when he was 
 really too ill to act. Bannister marked the gentle- 
 man's features. 
 
 Bannister was an intimate friend of the younger 
 Colman, who writes of him with a very real affection. 
 He was singularly fortunate in his married life, and 
 when he retired from the stage he had sufficient means 
 to end his days in comfort. " They say it is my wife 
 who has taken care of my money, and made me com- 
 fortable in my old age," he remarked one day, " and 
 so she has. But I think I deserve a little credit, for 
 I let her ! " From his father he inherited a charming 
 voice and genial manners that made everybody like 
 him. He was fond of good living and did not despise 
 the cup, but it was not often that he looked upon 
 the wine when it was red. One night at Stratford-on- 
 Avon, however, the bottle was sent round once too 
 
 45 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 often for him, and in his alcoholic joy he insisted upon 
 flinging himself upon the bed upon which Shakespeare 
 was supposed to have been born. His raptures were 
 cut short, however, by the discovery that the bard's 
 couch was occupied by two diminutive children, 
 whom he nearly succeeded in smothering ! 
 
 I have left to the last lines of this chapter any ac- 
 count of the career of the elder Colman, not that the 
 story of his life is not full of interest, but that, save 
 as regards his management of the Little Theatre, a 
 detailed account of it has no right place among these 
 records and reminiscences. Long before the elder 
 Colman secured the patent of the Haymarket from 
 Foote he was known to theatrical fame as one of the 
 most brilliant dramatic authors of his day, and the 
 intimate friend of David Garrick a friendship which 
 resulted in, and was broken by, " The Clandestine 
 Marriage," a comedy not unknown to the patrons of 
 the Haymarket Theatre in this year of grace. The 
 elder Colman, too, was at one time part proprietor of 
 Covent Garden Theatre, and it may fairly be said that, 
 though his management of the Little Theatre was both 
 creditable and successful, it formed a less interesting 
 part of his life than the twenty years or so that pre- 
 ceded it. This was no doubt largely due to the fact 
 that he was never quite the same man after the fit that 
 seized him in 1771, though he did much excellent work 
 between that year and 1794, when he died. In 1789, 
 just twelve years after he opened as manager of the 
 Little Theatre, he was seized with paralysis, and soon 
 afterwards his mind became affected, until at last it 
 was found necessary to send him to a home at Padding- 
 ton. His death came as a merciful relief, though his 
 loss was keenly felt by his son George, who had fol- 
 lowed so closely in his footsteps that he was able to 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 manage his father's affairs most skilfully during the 
 trying period that preceded the elder Colman's death. 
 
 George Colman the elder was not originally intended 
 for a theatrical career. On the death of his parents, 
 William Pulteney, afterwards Earl of Bath, who always 
 called him by the nickname of " Coley," took charge 
 of him and sent him to Westminster, where he soon 
 showed what clever stuff he was made of by being at 
 the head of the list of those scholars who were sent 
 to Oxford. At the 'Varsity he began to show his taste 
 for the theatre, much to the distress of Lord Bath, who 
 had decided that the Bar was to be his profession. 
 But like so many before and after him, though he ate 
 his dinners and secured freedom for one or two clients, 
 the wig and gown were not his costume. The success 
 of a satire called " Polly Honey combe," produced by 
 Garrick, was too much for him, and he gave up the 
 writing of opinions for plays, with what success all the 
 world knows. This being anything but a serious 
 treatise, I will give no list of his plays nor comment on 
 his wit, his satire, and his faculty of construction. 
 It is enough to say that more than one of his comedies 
 would play as well to-day as they did in those bygone 
 days of the Little Theatre. 
 
 Colman was the first manager of the Haymarket to 
 form a stock company " to act in all branches of the 
 drama," which, indeed, was a revolution when one 
 thinks of Foote's management, during which " The 
 British Aristophanes " scarcely played anything but 
 his own pieces, and was hardly ever " out of the bill." 
 Tragedy, comedy, burlesque, and what the younger 
 Colman called " fiddle f addle farces," succeeded each 
 other in the programmes, and so well did George 
 Colman cater for the public taste, that he actually 
 played to twenty pounds during the great Riots ! 
 
 47 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE . 
 
 Colman also possessed what I might call a stock 
 dramatist in the person of William O'Keefe, who fitted 
 Edwin and Parsons so excellently with parts, that it 
 would have been difficult to say whether the actors 
 owed more to the author than the author to the players. 
 O'Keefe first came into contact with Colman in 1777 
 by sending the latter an anonymous play, with the 
 request that " should he disapprove of it he would 
 have it left at the bar of the Grecian coffee-house 
 directed to 'A. B.,' and if he liked it well enough to 
 promise he would bring it out, that he should send an 
 answer as above." The next morning on O'Keefe's 
 arrival at the coffee-house he found a friendly letter 
 from Colman promising to produce his play the follow- 
 ing summer, and making an appointment for the next 
 day. The two soon became intimate friends, and 
 O'Keefe's plays became the plats-du-jour of the Hay- 
 market Theatre. O'Keefe also wrote for Covent 
 Garden and Drury Lane. At the former theatre his 
 opera, " The Banditti," was a failure. " It was cut 
 too much," said a sympathetic friend at Colman's 
 house one day. " Yes," replied Colman, " but who 
 was the cutter ? Not the cutter of Colman Street." 
 
 O'Keefe had a very sincere affection for Colman 
 pere et fils, and has spoken of them in his reminiscences 
 as being most kind and liberal. The younger he 
 describes as " a true chip of the old block," and that 
 the description fitted him is, I think, proved in the 
 next chapter, which is all his own. 
 
 Another famous dramatist whom the elder Colman 
 encouraged was Mrs. Inchbald, whose connection with 
 the Haymarket Theatre began with an engagement 
 at the munificent salary of thirty shillings a week. 
 It was not, however, as actress but as dramatist that 
 she was to make her name, and she wrote several 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 pieces for the theatre, beginning with " The Mogul 
 Tale," out of which she netted exactly 100. Her first 
 comedy Colman himself named, calling it "I'll tell you 
 what," for want, apparently, of a better title, though 
 he made excellent play with the name in both the 
 prologue and epilogue with which he honoured it. 
 Besides being a clever and very charming lady, 
 Mrs. Inchbald was remarkable for the fact that her 
 beauty and her talents brought her more proposals 
 per annum than most ladies are honoured with in a 
 lifetime. 
 
 The following, which I found in an old press-cutting 
 book, shows the receipts and expenses during the first 
 year (1777) of the elder Colman's management. The 
 figures are distinctly interesting, and, needless to say, 
 differ considerably from those of the twentieth century. 
 A West-End theatre at 210 a year would be a delight- 
 ful novelty nowadays. I copy the extract just as I 
 found it : 
 
 From Hay market Books 1777. Whole Rec. 
 
 of Season ^8975. 
 
 Foote for his unpublished Pieces 
 six nights performance 
 half a year's annuity . 
 
 $ 
 232 
 800 
 
 
 
 19 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 6 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 Parsons Season .... 
 \ Year's Rent 
 
 101 
 
 105 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 For 3 Houses 
 O'Hara author 
 7 Years Insurance to 1784 
 
 IOO 
 
 200 
 29 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 9 
 
 Licence for Theatre at West Sessions . 3136 
 
 From this same old book I may, perhaps, be per- 
 mitted to reproduce part of the prologue written by 
 the elder Colman on the opening of his manage- 
 
 49 D 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 ment on the I5th of May 1777. It was spoken by 
 Palmer : 
 
 "... While two great warehouses for winter use. 
 Eight months huge Bales of Merchandise produce, 
 Out with the Swallows comes our Summer Bayes 
 To shew his Taffeta and Lutestring Plays ; 
 A choice assortment of light goods prepares, 
 The smallest haberdasher of small wares, 
 In Laputa we're told a grave Projector 
 A mighty schemer, like our new Director 
 Once formed a plan and 'twas a deep one, Sirs, 
 To draw the sunbeams out of cucumbers. 
 So whilst less vent'rous managers retire, 
 Our Salamander thinks to live in Fire. 
 A Playhouse Quidnunc and no Quidnunc's wiser 
 Reading our play-bills in the Advertiser, 
 Cries, ' Hey ! what here ! In the Haymarket a play, 
 To sweat the Publick in the midst of May ? 
 Give me fresh air ! ' Then goes and pouts alone 
 In country lodgings : by the two-mile Stone 
 There sits, and chews the cud of his Disgust, 
 Broil'd in the Sun and blinded by the dust. 
 
 Now with the napkin underneath the chin, 
 
 Unbutton'd Cits their Little Feast begin, 
 
 And plunge full knuckle-deep through thick and thin, 
 
 Throw down Fish, Flesh, Fowl, Pastry, Custard Jelly, 
 
 And make a Salmagundy of their belly. 
 
 * More chian pepper Punch another Rummer, 
 
 So Cool and Pleasant eating in the summer ! ' 
 
 To ancient Geographers it was known 
 
 Mortals could live beneath the Torrid Zone ; 
 
 But we, who toiling underneath the Line, 
 
 Must make our Hay now while the weather's fine. 
 
 Your good old Haymarker, long here employed, 
 
 The sunshine of your smiles who still enjoyed, 
 
 The fields which long he mowed will not forsake, 
 
 Nor quite forego the Scythe, the Fork and Rake, 
 
 But take the Field, even in the hottest day, 
 
 And kindly help us to get in our Hay." 
 
 50 
 
LISTON AS "MOLL FLAGGON " IN "THE LORD 
 OF THE MANOR" 
 
 PLATE II 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 MY excuse for devoting the whole of this chapter to 
 the younger Colman is to be found in the fact that he 
 was most certainly bred, if not born, in the Haymarket 
 Theatre, that his first play was produced there, and 
 that in after years he became first manager on his 
 father's behalf, whose mind had become affected, and 
 afterwards proprietor and manager on his own account. 
 Moreover, quite apart from his long connection with 
 the Haymarket Theatre, George Colman (as I shall 
 hereafter call him) had talent and interest enough in 
 himself to deserve the space allotted to him, the 
 more especially seeing that that space is filled by 
 the pen of one who has humbly followed in his foot- 
 steps more than a century after he first looked after 
 the affairs of the Little Theatre. As for the players 
 that he introduced, I have given up another chapter 
 to them space which they not only demand but 
 deserve, seeing that among those who worked under 
 Colman's management were Charles Mathews, Listen, 
 Elliston, and Young, to mention but the " leading 
 lights." 
 
 " A chip of the old block " the elder Colman called 
 his son in a prologue to the youth's first dramatic 
 essay, and the expression fitted him like a glove. For 
 " a chip of the old block " he most certainly was in 
 more ways than one. Like his father his original 
 destiny was anything but the stage, and like his father 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 early success as a dramatist made the theatre and all 
 that appertained to it his vocation. He followed his 
 father's early footsteps to Westminster and thence to 
 Oxford, and if he was not his counterfeit in form and 
 features, he certainly resembled him closely in char- 
 acter, if one may judge by his own " Random Records " 
 and the other literary souvenirs into which I have 
 dipped. From his father he inherited a remarkable 
 talent for play-writing, and a genius for theatrical 
 management; like him, too, he could drive a good 
 bargain ; and if his readiness to fly into quarrelsome 
 print on the slightest provocation were not hereditary, 
 then I must look again in my dictionary and see what 
 hereditary means. With his father, too, he shared a 
 ready wit, a pen like a razor, a love of good living, a 
 tendency to gout, and a brain that was capable of turn- 
 ing out almost anything in the shape of dramatic 
 literature. That he could write capital autobiography 
 is proved by the account of his own life, which is well 
 worth reading by any one interested in the history of 
 the end of the last century but one. 
 
 As had to be, with a father like his, George Colman 
 began at a very tender age to mix with those theatrical 
 and literary folk who gathered constantly round the 
 family board. As quite a child he was often in the 
 company of the great Samuel Foote, who always 
 greeted him with the apparently unnecessary admoni- 
 tion, " Blow your nose, child ! " and the famous Dr. 
 Johnson was not unknown to him, though that learned 
 gentleman took about as much interest in small chil- 
 dren as in the care of his own personal appearance. 
 The elder Colman was not a little proud of his boy, 
 and was consequently somewhat piqued when on pre- 
 senting him to Dr. Johnson with " This is my son, 
 Dr. Johnson," the great man knitted his brows in wrath 
 
 52 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 and shouted in a voice of thunder, " I see him, sir." 
 But Dr. Johnson has never been accused of good 
 manners. Little Colman was made much of by Gold- 
 smith, and the mighty Garrick initiated him into the 
 sacred mysteries of trap-ball. " He diverted and 
 dazzled me," George Colman says of Roscius, " but 
 he never made me love him." Horace Walpole was 
 another of his earliest acquaintances, so that his entry 
 into the world was literally surrounded by " some- 
 bodies." 
 
 The elder Colman, in his desire to keep his son from 
 the theatre, was scarcely wise in letting him play more 
 than once in private theatricals after he left Oxford, 
 for he undoubtedly gave young George a taste for the 
 footlights a taste which he afterwards attempted to 
 nip in the bud by despatching him to Aberdeen to com- 
 plete his studies, which George did, while at the same 
 time he wrote his first piece, " The Female Dramatist," 
 which was produced anonymously at a benefit in 1782. 
 It was not, however, till 1784 that George Colman took 
 the bull by the horns aad decided upon a theatrical 
 career, in which his father, realising the irresistible 
 force of heredity, encouraged him by writing a^pro- 
 logue to his son's play, " Two to One." 
 
 " To-night, as heralds tell, a virgin muse, 
 An unstained youth, a new adventurer, sues ; 
 Green in his one-and-twenty, scarce of age, 
 Takes his first flight, half fledged, upon the stage. 
 Within this little round, the parent bird 
 Hath warbled oft, oft patiently been heard ; 
 And as he strove to raise his eager throat, 
 Your kind applause made music of his note. 
 But now with beating heart and anxious eye, 
 He sees his venturous youngling strive to fly ; 
 Like Daedalus, a father's fears he brings, 
 A father's hopes, and fain would plume his wings." 
 
 53 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 So wrote the elder Colman, and the result of the 
 evening was to find young George a successful dramatist 
 with a swollen head. 
 
 But he was not yet to settle down to a playwright's 
 life. His father had not given up all hopes of keeping 
 him from the theatre, and off the conceited youth was 
 despatched for a month or two to Paris, whence he was 
 to return to be initiated into the mysteries of the law, 
 much to his disgust. Colman pere had yet another 
 reason for getting rid of the boy, for the young gentle- 
 man looked with considerable favour upon a Miss 
 Catherine Morris, one of his father's company, an 
 affection of which the father did not approve. George 
 Colman, however, was not to be put off by any trip 
 to Paris, and he celebrated his entry into legal circles 
 by marrying the fair Miss Morris at Gretna Green. 
 The wedding was kept secret from his father for four 
 years, and in 1784, the elder Colman giving his sanction, 
 George Colman and Miss Morris were publicly and 
 " properly " made man and wife. 
 
 The year following decided George Colman's future 
 career once and for all. In the autumn his father 
 took a holiday at Margate, where he was seized with a 
 paralytic stroke, which to some extent affected his 
 mind, though he insisted on continuing his old mode 
 of life. But his condition was such that help he had 
 to have, and gradually, without letting his father be 
 aware of the fact, George Colman took a share in the 
 management of the Haymarket Theatre work which 
 was greatly to his taste, and to which, as events proved, 
 he was well adapted. 
 
 It was not till 1792 that the son had to take over 
 his father's work completely. For two years he occu- 
 pied this fiduciary position, and on the death of the 
 elder Colman in 1794 he bought the theatre, lock, 
 
 54 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 stock, and barrel, and set to work to bring it into even 
 greater prominence than it had ever reached before. 
 
 In 1796 he showed the world that his pen was 
 sharper than a serpent's tooth, for I doubt if there be 
 a more cutting or a bitterer piece of writing extant 
 than George Colman's preface to " The Iron Chest," a 
 piece written by him, and produced at Drury Lane with 
 Kemble in the leading part. Kemble was anything 
 but a success, and the piece was badly received. This 
 so enraged Colman that he rushed to his pen and 
 delivered himself of such a torrent of abuse as I hope 
 no dramatist may ever shower upon my offending 
 head. " The most miserable mummer that ever dis- 
 graced the walls of a theatre would not have been a 
 stronger drawback than Mr. Kemble," Colman wrote. 
 " He was not only dull in himself, but the cause of 
 dulness in others. Like the baleful upas of Java, his 
 pestiferous influence infected all around him." Kemble 
 met Colman in the street a few days after the publica- 
 tion of this terrible document. " You're a sad fellow, 
 George," was all the actor said, shaking his head as he 
 passed on. 
 
 But it is an old quarrel, and I will rake up no more 
 of it. Kemble was undoubtedly bad in the part, but 
 he did not deserve the epithets bestowed upon him, 
 and one has reason to believe that Colman was some- 
 what ashamed of his handiwork. At any rate, the 
 preface was partially suppressed in later years and the 
 quarrel patched up. Colman's was indeed a curious 
 character. When his old friend O'Keefe was about to 
 publish his dramatic works he refused permission to 
 print five of them, though it was more than fourteen 
 years since any one of them had been produced. Yet 
 a couple of years afterwards he wrote : "I am eager 
 for an opportunity of doing all in my power on your 
 
 55 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 account who have done so much on mine," and signed 
 himself, " Ever truly yours." 
 
 In 1802 Colman, having heard a good deal of Charles 
 Mathews's worth, wrote to him at York and offered 
 him an engagement at the Haymarket, which Mathews 
 accepted, stipulating for a salary of 10 a week. 
 
 To this Colman agreed, and early in the following 
 year went to York to see his new recruit. Mathews 
 and he soon became fast friends, and Mrs. Mathews 
 was also given an engagement. 
 
 While at York Colman enjoyed the hospitality of 
 Tate Wilkinson, the manager of the theatre. One even- 
 ing Colman asked his host what play was to be given 
 that night. " The School for Scandal," replied Wilkin- 
 son. " Ah, and what sort of Charles have you ? " 
 inquired Colman, ever on the look-out for new talent. 
 Wilkinson pointed to a gentleman of sixty summers 
 with few teeth and many wrinkles : " Mr. Cummins 
 is the Charles," he replied. Colman gave an unnatural 
 smile, and applied himself to his snuff-box, but not 
 wanting to appear surprised went on to question the 
 manager as to the ladies of the theatre. " You are to 
 play ' Paul and Virginia,' I believe ? Tell me who is 
 to be Virginia ? " Wilkinson this time directed his 
 attention to a matron of whom " fat, fair, and forty " 
 would be a polite description. Colman was fairly 
 staggered. " 'Fore Gad, Mathews," he whispered, 
 " yours is a superannuated company." 
 
 In 1805 Colman sold a part of the Haymarket Theatre 
 to Mr. Morris (his brother-in-law), Mr. Winston, and 
 a lawyer called Tahourdin. The sale was scarcely 
 effected before two extremely unpleasant " rows " 
 took place in the theatre which had enjoyed peace for 
 so many years. First of all Elliston accused Mathews 
 of not having done his best in a new comedy called 
 
 56 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " The Village," whereupon Mathews retorted that 
 everybody had done as well if not better than Elliston. 
 An unmentionable word from Elliston, and Mathews 
 let out with his right and knocked his brother actor 
 out. The next row took the shape of a riot. Dowton 
 announced for his benefit Foote's " Tailors," which was 
 so much resented by the Snips that they wrote letters 
 to the theatre threatening to break it up. These 
 threats were disregarded, and Dowton duly appeared, 
 only to be greeted with a huge pair of shears, which 
 might well have finished his earthly as well as his 
 ^theatrical career. They missed him, however, and the 
 actor promptly offered 20 reward for the capture of 
 the offender. Then the riot began. The noise 
 attracted the mob outside, and the Bow Street magis- 
 trate was sent for, but his police were not enough for 
 the crowd, and some dragoons from the Horse Guards 
 had to be requisitioned. These soon cleared the mob, 
 and, while they were busy outside, the police went in 
 and took sixteen agitating tailors into custody. 
 
 With the year 1805 I come to the end of George 
 Colman's life so far as it was connected with the Hay- 
 market Theatre, for the very excellent reason that it 
 would make but tedious reading ; besides, what interest 
 the remaining years contained will be found in the 
 next chapter. The history of the dispute among the 
 partners, the litigation that ensued, the enforced closing 
 of the theatre for an entire season, and the consequent 
 difficulties that arose, I leave to the patient his- 
 torian. They have no place in a random work like 
 this, with no pretentious to detail and no desire other 
 than to amuse. 
 
 So, without waiting for permission, I take a big leap 
 over fifteen years and land myself in the middle of the 
 year 1820, when Colman, who had retired from theatrical 
 
 57 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 management two years before, was given the extra- 
 ordinary appointment of Lieutenant of His Majesty's 
 Guard of Yeomen of the Guard by George the Fourth. 
 The only reason for this appointment that I can find 
 is the fact that Colman was a great favourite with 
 Royalty. But he was far from being a courtier. When 
 the theatrical lieutenant first appeared at Court in full 
 " war paint," the King went up to him and said : 
 " George, your uniform is so well made that I don't 
 see the hooks and eyes." " Sire," replied Colman, 
 unhooking his coat, " here are my eyes, where are 
 yours ? " 
 
 Another story of George Colman's relations with 
 Royalty not only shows his utter lack of good manners, 
 but is an astounding example of what Royalty would 
 tolerate in those days. Colman was invited to dine 
 at Carlton House, and on meeting the Duke of York 
 the latter ushered him through the apartments . ' ' What 
 capital lodgings," remarked Colman ; " I have nothing 
 like them in the King's Bench." After dinner Colman 
 sipped his wine with great gusto. " Why, this is 
 wine," he said to his Royal neighbour. A little later 
 he turned again to the Duke and asked " Who that 
 fine-looking fellow at the head of the table was." 
 " Hush, George," said the Duke good-naturedly, " or 
 you'll get into a scrape." " No, no," said Colman in 
 a loud voice, " I came out to enjoy myself ; I want to 
 know who that fine, square-shouldered, magnificent- 
 looking, agreeable fellow is at the head of the table." 
 " Be quiet," returned the Duke, " you know it's the 
 Prince." " Why, then," went on Colman again, raising 
 his voice, " he must be your elder brother ; I declare 
 he don't look half your age. Well I remember the 
 time he sung a good song. If he is the same good 
 fellow to-day, he would not refuse an old playfellow." 
 
 58 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 The Prince was much amused, and promptly complied 
 with Colman's request, the manager meanwhile ap- 
 plauding uproariously. " What a magnificent voice," 
 he said, when the song was over. " Such expression 
 too ! I'll be damned if I don't engage him for my 
 theatre." 
 
 Strange to say the Royalties present do not seem to 
 have been the least offended at this extraordinary 
 behaviour. 
 
 But an excuse for Colman may be found in the 
 probability that he was scarcely sober at the time, for 
 he loved the cup, and suffered time after time from the 
 after effects of his excesses, so that he would often 
 lie in bed more than half the day. " What's the hour?" 
 he asked one day when his servant came to his bed- 
 room to tell him that Theodore Hook had called to 
 see him. " Past three, sir," was the reply. " Damn 
 him," replied Colman ; " does he think I rise with 
 the lark ? Ask him to return at some reasonable 
 hour." 
 
 One polite mot is recorded in connection with Col- 
 man's Royal encontres. " Why, Colman," the Prince 
 Regent said to him one day, " you are older than I 
 am." " Oh no, Sire," was the answer, " I could not 
 take the liberty of coming into the world before your 
 Royal Highness." 
 
 Colman was very proud of his witty sayings, and 
 loved nothing better than to pose as a clever con- 
 versationalist, which, indeed, he could be when he 
 chose. He said a very smart thing one night to Lord 
 Erskine, the ex-Chancellor, with whom he was dining. 
 His lordship was boasting of the fact that he had a 
 thousand sheep on his land. " I perceive then," said 
 Colman, " that your lordship has still an eye to the 
 woolsack." 
 
 59 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 He was very fond of making jokes in the theatre. 
 One night an actor from Newcastle was being tried in 
 a part, in which he had to say 
 
 "Ah, where is my honour, now?" 
 
 He spoke the lines with a fearfully nasal accent. 
 Colman, who was watching at the wings, groaned aloud. 
 " Egad," he muttered, " I wish your honour were back 
 at Newcastle with all my heart." 
 
 Another extremely bad actor had to say 
 
 " I shall weep soon, and then I shall be better." 
 
 "I'm damned if you will," said the enraged Colman, 
 ' even if you cry your eyes out." 
 
 Colman, though he made plenty of money, was 
 seldom in anything but a more or less embarrassed 
 condition. He loved to pose as being an extremely 
 smart person, and tried to live in the style of people 
 who were worth double his income. He was not a 
 little proud of his appearance, and though by no means 
 a giant, loved to chaff people who happened to be 
 shorter than himself. " Come, Mrs. L.," said Liston 
 one night, as they were preparing to leave Colman's 
 house. " Mrs. Ell, indeed," said Colman, " Mrs. Inch, 
 you mean." In addition to a ready wit Colman had 
 a satirical pen, but Mrs. Inchbald had decidedly the 
 best of him when he entered into wordy warfare with 
 that clever lady about a criticism from her pen of one 
 of his plays. 
 
 But if Colman were disliked by many people owing 
 to his quarrelsome nature, he seems to have been very 
 popular with the members of the company. Inside 
 the theatre he dropped any swagger that he might 
 assume when he left it. Not only was he often a real 
 friend to many a struggling young actor, but the 
 
 60 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 budding playwright of promise could always count 
 upon his help and advice. At the Haymarket he 
 formed a kind of theatrical club, which was known as 
 " The Property Club," owing to its being held at the 
 back of the stage among the scenery and properties. 
 The club began at the end of the second act of what- 
 ever piece was being produced, and went on until the 
 curtain fell. The chair was taken by a different member 
 every night, and several well-known litterateurs often 
 occupied it. Ladies were admitted, and very jolly 
 evenings were spent, but the club was broken up by a 
 lady member of the company of unsavoury reputation 
 who was excluded from its meetings, and took her 
 revenge by writing reports of the club's doings for a 
 newspaper. 
 
 There were two things that Colman couldn't stand 
 a man who wouldn't laugh uproariously at his jokes, 
 and a successful rival in the play-writing line, even 
 when the rival's piece was produced at his own theatre. 
 
 " Damn the fellow," he said, when Boaden's " Italian 
 Monk " made a success at the Haymarket, " we shall 
 now be pestered with his plays year after year." Of 
 Sheridan's wit he was fearfully jealous as well he 
 might have been. 
 
 The worst side of Colman's character came out 
 after he was appointed " Examiner of all Plays, 
 Tragedies, Comedies, Operas, Farces, and Interludes, 
 or any other entertainment of the stage of what 
 denomination soever," though at first he seems to have 
 been a more or less genial censor. Not long after 
 he secured the post, an American actor called Hackett 
 had alterations made in Colman's own comedy, " Who 
 wants a Guinea ? " substituting the character of 
 Solomon Swop for the original Solomon Gundy. 
 The play as a matter of course had to go to the 
 
 61 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Examiner. Colman's letter to Hackett's manager is 
 worth producing. 
 
 " SIR, In respect to the alterations made by Mr. Hackett (a 
 most appropriate name on the present occasion), were the 
 established play of any dramatist, except myself, so mutilated, 
 I should express to the Lord Chamberlain the grossness and 
 unfairness of the manager who encouraged such a proceeding ; 
 but as the character of Solomon Gundy was originally a part 
 of my own writing, I shall request his Grace to license 'the 
 rubbish,' as you call those which you have sent me. Your 
 obedient servant, &c. GEORGE COLMAN." 
 
 But this is the only instance I can find of Colman's 
 good-nature as Examiner of Plays. An old friend of 
 his wrote : " His first acts were acts of petty tyranny, 
 and his next those of grasping cupidity," and so they 
 must have been. Though he had been, if anything, 
 inclined to sail as near the wind as possible himself, 
 he became worse than hypercritical when plays were 
 submitted to him for examination. He refused to 
 allow the names of either heaven or hell ; he turned 
 up his eyes in horror at the word " damn," an expletive 
 he was very fond of using ; he refused to allow " O 
 Providence," because he declared the Providence of 
 God was intended ; and he even deleted " demme." 
 He looked not only after the legitimate fees, but he 
 strained the powers of his office to the utmost limit, 
 and demanded a fee. of two guineas apiece on every 
 new song, glee, or even overture sung or played at a 
 benefit performance. One actor was too clever for him, 
 for in order to avoid this hideous exaction he strung 
 together a whole list of songs, recitations, imitations, 
 &c., and sent them to Colman as one piece. They 
 were duly licensed, and the actor saved at least a ten- 
 pound note. Colman even attacked his old friend 
 
 62 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Mathews's entertainment, though most of it was from 
 memory. But Colman failed to get his fee, nor was 
 he successful in an endeavour to squeeze a couple of 
 guineas from every French play performed in London. 
 George Colman died on the I7th of October 1736. 
 The doctor who attended him said it had never fallen 
 to his lot to witness, in the hour of death, " so much 
 serenity of mind, such perfect philosophy, or resigna- 
 tion more complete." He lies buried under the vaults 
 of Kensington Church. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 HAVING at the outset of these records and reminiscences 
 definitely cast aside the historian's cloak, I shall take 
 the privilege of the raconteur and begin this chapter 
 with what should properly come at its end the re- 
 building in 1820 of the Haymarket Theatre, a recon- 
 struction that to all intents and purposes turned it 
 into the handsome structure, externally, over which I 
 have the honour to preside together with my partner 
 to-day. Properly speaking, I suppose this book should 
 have begun just a century later than the year with 
 which I opened, for, as a matter of fact, it was not 
 until 1820 that the Theatre Royal Haymarket, as the 
 British public knows it to-day, became an existing 
 thing. Our present theatre contains neither stone, 
 wood, nor plaster that went to make up the construc- 
 tion of the Little Theatre ; it occupied a different site, 
 though different but a yard or two, I admit ; and is, 
 in a word, an entirely separate thing. Yet, though 
 the Little Theatre and the Theatre Royal Haymarket 
 have no brick and mortar relationship, it is impossible 
 to dissociate them one from another. When the former 
 ceased to be, the latter came quickly into being, and 
 the management merely transferred their power from 
 the dead to the quick. In a word, the essential 
 difference between the Little Theatre and the Theatre 
 Royal Haymarket is to be found in a few feet of 
 valuable London earth, now covered by a restaurant, 
 
 64 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 whose excellent kitchen and cellars often contribute 
 to the maintenance of those who work the Haymarket 
 wires. 
 
 Not that I would have those who do us the honour 
 of patronising our theatre every night think for one 
 moment that the house in which they sit is precisely 
 the same as that which Mr. Nash designed in 1820. 
 It is not. Externally it differs but slightly so slightly 
 that the prints of 1820 might be photographs of 1903 
 but internally, thanks to my friend Sir Squire Ban- 
 croft, to whom our stage owes not a little, it is another 
 theatre altogether. The Theatre Royal Haymarket of 
 1820 had a pit which would throw the pittites of 1903 
 into an ecstasy, for it extended to the very footlights 
 themselves not footlights of electrical brilliance, but 
 flickering and probably malodorous oil-lamps that cast 
 a sickly glare upon the genii who confronted them. 
 As a matter of fact, the Haymarket Theatre of 1820 
 was the only London playhouse that could not boast 
 that luminous novelty of which all the world was talk- 
 ing the much despised and, for theatrical illumina- 
 tion, surpassed gas of our present emergencies. Be- 
 sides its pit, the theatre of 1820 differed from ours of 
 to-day in that its sides were straight and its centre 
 was but very slightly curved. But lest my archi- 
 tectural friends accuse me of error, I quote a con- 
 temporary historian at some length at the risk of being 
 denounced a dullard : 
 
 " In point of architectural beauty," wrote this genial 
 gentleman, to whose counterpart I would willingly 
 assign the puff preliminary, " the Haymarket Theatre 
 is the most elegant in London. The middle doors lead 
 to the boxes, the outer on the right to the box-office, 
 and that on the left to the pit. The gallery entrances 
 are on each side without the portico. The ground- 
 
 65 E 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 rent of this theatre is about five guineas a foot in front, 
 and three guineas for the back part of the premises. 
 The auditory is remarkable for having the sides 
 straight, and the centre very slightly curved ; different 
 in this respect from any other theatre in London. The 
 fronts of the side-boxes, however, project semicircu- 
 larly : all are decorated with gold chequered work on 
 a pink ground, and the insides are a crimson colour. 
 There are two circles of boxes, besides half-tiers parallel 
 with the lower gallery. In the front circle are five 
 private boxes, and in the second tier eight. The house 
 holds upwards of 300. It is, perhaps, one of the most 
 elegant interiors in London, but for convenience of 
 seeing and hearing, the worst contrived, and so small 
 are the hall and lobby of the boxes, that whilst sitting 
 in the dress-circle, the audience are not infrequently 
 annoyed by the sounds of carriages rattling in the street. 
 
 " The prices of admission are : Boxes 55., pit 35., 
 gallery 2s., upper gallery is. Half-price is not taken. 
 The doors open at six, and the performances commence 
 at seven o'clock." 
 
 Any one interested in a comparison between the 
 theatre of 1820 and that of to-day could not have a 
 better picture. A remarkable fact in connection with 
 this difference is that while the prices charged were 
 generally lower than those asked to-day, the theatre 
 held more money than it does now. 
 
 In addition to being " for convenience of seeing and 
 hearing the worst contrived," the Haymarket of 1820 
 apparently deserved the additional blame of being 
 possessed of an exceedingly decrepit lot of scenery. 
 " The Haymarket is behind every other London 
 theatre," wrote my genial historian ; " this has long 
 been a besetting sin of the establishment, and, as the 
 performances require but little, is the more reprehen- 
 
 66 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 sible. A few interiors, two or three streets, and about 
 the same number of country views, would last as stock 
 scenery for several seasons ; but they should not be 
 of barn-like execution." 
 
 And now another twenty years' leap, back to the 
 beginning of the century, to a book that I discovered 
 while rummaging among old Haymarket records old 
 ledgers, old prompt books, old scores, whose paper 
 time had ground to powder. So odd does this book 
 seem to our theatrical eyes that I not only reproduce 
 a page of it, but quote now that I am in quoting 
 mood some extracts from its time-faded pages. It 
 is a quaint old book this, bound in leather whose 
 strength would do honour to a ploughman's boot, and 
 clasped tight with heavy brass a log-book, its best 
 description, in which every detail and every discrepancy 
 seems to have been recorded. The years that it covers 
 are but two or three at the beginning of last century, 
 but it was not until after the theatre was laid low and 
 rebuilt that the keeping of such volumes went out of 
 theatrical fashion. There is something tragi-comical 
 about the old records that I reproduce ; something 
 almost uncanny in the reading of names like those of 
 Mathews, Liston, Ellis ton, Suett, Palmer, and Young, 
 as one turns over the pages. 
 
 The book contains a list of the " Annual Establish- 
 ment " (company), which included such strangers to 
 our present stage as a couple of constables, a working 
 " taylor," two lamp-men, a candle woman, a property 
 woman (we employ men now), a permanent composer, 
 and a barber who was always on the premises ; an 
 " Index to cast of pieces and each night's performance; " 
 *' Nights each performer has played " (kept with 
 scrupulous exactitude), and " Diary of the Business," 
 with the frankest of frank comments by the gentleman, 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 whoever he may have been, to whom the keeping of the 
 book was intrusted. 
 
 The actors and actresses at the beginning of the last 
 century seem, so far as modern eyes can see, casual to 
 quite an extraordinary degree. Over and over again 
 they seem to have ignored performances in which they 
 were supposed to have taken part, without, apparently, 
 offering the slightest excuse to their manager. As to 
 how that gentleman was revenged on those delinquents 
 I have been at a loss to discover. Presumably they 
 were fined, or, as several of them seem to have been 
 merely engaged by the night, it is to be supposed that 
 they forfeited a day's salary of their own free will and 
 accord. At any rate play truant they very often did, 
 as my old " log-book " shows time and time again. 
 Here, on one of its very first pages, I read under the 
 date of the 24th of July 1797 that the performance of 
 " My Grandmother " was " dismissed, as nobody but 
 Mr. C. Kemble, Mrs. Edward, and Miss Andrews 
 attended." Where the rest of the company got to, or 
 why they absented themselves it would sadly tax the 
 resources of the British Museum to discover. When I 
 come to June 1798 I find the candid historian of the 
 Haymarket Theatre informing me that on the 23rd of 
 this month " The New Play of ' The Inquisitor ' went 
 but indifferently ; " while on the 7th of July of the same 
 year it is written that " the new farce (' Throw Physick 
 to the Dogs ') was completely damn'd this evening, the 
 audience not permitting it to be finished." After which 
 confession of failure it is satisfactory to read that " The 
 new play of ' Cambro Britons ' " was well received not 
 many days later. 
 
 Coming to August, 1798, it is touching to read that 
 on the 1 8th there was " No performance at this theatre 
 this evening. N.B. The comedy of the ' Heir at Law/ 
 
 68 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 and the musical entertainment of c The Children in the 
 Wood ' were performed at the Opera House, being for 
 the benefit of the orphan family of the late Mr. Palmer, 
 who died on the stage at Liverpool on Thursday, 
 August 2, while performing the part of The Stranger 
 in the fourth act of the play of that name." 
 
 September, 1798, produced an amusing extract 
 which, I confess, puzzles me not a little. It reads : 
 " N.B. It being so very late this evening before the 
 Farce could be begun, the first scene was omitted." 
 Being ignorant of the farce I may perhaps be excused 
 for wondering how it could possibly be begun at the 
 second act. The audience must, I presume, have been 
 extraordinarily familiar with it. 
 
 Sometimes, apparently, the actors not only played 
 truant but " turned nasty " after their arrival at the 
 theatre. Otherwise how can I account for the following 
 extract : " Mr. Johns tone refusing to perform this 
 evening, the audience were kept waiting full three 
 quarters of an hour before Mr. Trueman could get from 
 Drury Lane Theatre to play the part of Greville. Mrs. 
 Edwards' first scene in ' Fortune's Frolic ' was oblig'd 
 to be omitted in consequence of her not coming in 
 time to the theatre." Thank Heaven, my Hay market 
 colleagues never play me these tricks ! 
 
 Another extract that interests me is dated the 20th 
 of June 1800. It says : " Mr. Emery having made 
 his first appearance in Ezekiel Homespun that char- 
 acter is considered his during the season." The word 
 " creation," apparently, had not the same import it 
 possesses to-day ! 
 
 More than once the " band," as it was known in 
 those days, followed the actors' bad example of not 
 " turning up," but their absence appears to have made 
 no difference to the success of the evening's entertain- 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 ment. At any rate the keeper of the Haymarket 
 log-book seems to have been but little affected by the 
 lack of musical support. Nor does he appear to have 
 been greatly surprised when " Mr. Ledger came too 
 late for his scene in ' Inkle and Yarico,' in consequence 
 of his mistaking the order in which the pieces for the 
 evening were acted." 
 
 Only now and then, indeed, does the historian be- 
 tray emotion. On the I4th of August 1802 I read 
 that " The new ballet of ' Fairies Revels ' was re- 
 ceived with the most unbounded applause," while on 
 the yth of September of the same year my chronicler 
 is betrayed into some wrath by the fact that " Mrs. 
 Mountain absented herself from her business without 
 assigning any cause for such absence, either by letter 
 or message." But generally the log betrays a calm, 
 cold, unemotional nature, in which one may read apathy 
 or sarcasm as one wills. " Miss Stebbins did not come 
 to the theatre this evening to go on as one of the 
 passengers in ' Ways and Means.' ' What a very world 
 of subtle sarcasm may be hidden in that literally icy 
 remark ; and what hard stern fact is shown by the 
 extract : " The new play of the ' Maid of Bristol,' Mr. 
 Boaden the author, was received with tolerable ap- 
 plause." 
 
 Though only a century old, those days of the Hay- 
 market ring a quaint note in our time. It seems strange 
 to picture a theatre lit with candles and oil lamps, the 
 danger of which must have been enormous, only per- 
 mitted to keep open during the summer months of the 
 year, and often compelled to wait until what are, I 
 suppose, now my rivals, chose to close their doors, and 
 consequently send them some actors. By 1820 the 
 days of rioting were over, it is true, the stage had 
 been cleared of interlopers, and the play was more 
 
 70 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 "the thing" than some of the members of the 
 audience who witnessed it. 
 
 But one must not run away with the idea that the 
 rebuilt brand-new Haymarket Theatre of 1820 pre- 
 sented one and the same picture night after night, as it 
 does in this year of grace. Apart from the costumes of 
 actors and audience, and the structural differences, 
 the house presented quite another aspect in many 
 smaller ways. For one thing, the band played in full 
 view of the audience, the conductor on important nights 
 leading on the pianoforte in the centre of his troupe. 
 For another, the attendants who ushered the audience 
 to their seats were not the uniformed gentlemen 
 whose noiseless step and silent beckoning go so well 
 with the soft-seated stalls and the shaded lights of 
 1903, but starch, matronly females who paid for the 
 privilege they enjoyed, and did quite a flourishing 
 trade in " books of the play," and " songs of the 
 evening." These very respectable dames were cer- 
 tainly an improvement on the " orange-girls " of 
 the century before, but I venture to think that we 
 have made still further progression. Apart from the 
 ladies who looked after the front part of the audi- 
 torium, the Haymarket of 1820 also boasted " box- 
 women," who in addition to ushering you into your box 
 tempted you to buy fruit which they carried in baskets 
 on their arms. " Choice fruit and a bill of the play " 
 were offered in shrill tones, while from the gallery 
 came the continual cry, whenever opportunity offered, 
 of " Bottled porter and cider, spruce and ginger beer." 
 The better part of the audience, of course, refreshed, 
 as they refresh now, in the foyers or " saloons ", as 
 they called them in those days, but the " gods " en- 
 joyed the particular privilege of partaking of porter 
 in the seats where they sat. 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Pictures of the horrified faces of metropolitan legis- 
 lative readers rise before me as I write ! 
 
 I need hardly say that a great feature of all the 
 theatres in 1820 was the green-room. To-day it has 
 practically ceased to exist, but in those times it was 
 the great resort of the wits and other celebrities, and 
 admission to it was eagerly sought. Just as we get all 
 our after-dinner stories from the Stock Exchange to- 
 day, so in 1820 did they emanate from the green-rooms 
 of the principal theatres. Even Royalty sought the 
 society of the players between the acts, and laughed at 
 the wit of the " rogues and vagabonds " often more 
 heartily than they did when watching them from 
 their boxes. 
 
 Scenic and other effects were scarcely what we 
 should describe as realistic to-day. In a little volume 
 of the period which devotes a chapter to properties, 
 I find, after two recipes for red and green fire, that 
 " these fires are burnt at the sides and back of the 
 stage behind standards, &c., to produce strong tints. 
 The effects are further heightened by silk shades of 
 the respective colour before the side and footlights of 
 the stage. The beautiful effect of moonlight is thus 
 produced." But if this description appear primitive, 
 it must not be forgotten that by 1820 the theatre had 
 attained to such realism as the introduction of a real 
 live elephant, and " real horses " were a certain draw 
 on the playbills, while if to the attraction of these bipeds 
 were added those of camels, dogs, and water, the people 
 came in their thousands. 
 
 Apropos of large audiences how thankful should we 
 be for the altogether admirable queue system. Though 
 it was only the other day that people still squashed and 
 squeezed one another at the risk of life and limb to get 
 good places in the unreserved parts of the house, there 
 
 72 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 are, I believe, but few parallels to the ghastly accident 
 that occurred at the Haymarket Theatre in the early 
 days of the younger Colman's management. The 
 King and Queen had commanded three pieces, " My 
 Grandmother," "No Song, no Supper," and "The 
 Prize," and so eager to be present were the loyal play- 
 goers of those days that they crowded outside the pit 
 door in extraordinary numbers. The result was a 
 shocking catastrophe. In the rush down the stairs 
 there were stairs down to the pit in those days no less 
 than fifteen lives were lost, and the contemporary ac- 
 counts of the ghastly sight make unpleasant reading. 
 The King and Queen were kept ignorant of the terrible 
 accident until the performance was over. " While 
 they had been laughing to the utmost," says Dr. 
 Doran, " many a tear had been flowing for the dead, 
 many a groan uttered by the wounded who had 
 struggled so frightfully to share in the joyousness of 
 that evening, and the King's own two heralds, York 
 and Somerset, were lying crushed to death among the 
 slain." 
 
 There was, it is scarcely necessary for me to say, far 
 more solemnity and importance attached to Royal 
 visits in those days than in these commonplace times. 
 When State visits were paid great were the prepara- 
 tions made, and most distracting was the presence of 
 the Royalties who sat under canopies of velvet and 
 gold. Few of the audience paid much attention to the 
 play on " royal nights." 
 
 How different from the quiet, unobtrusive visits of 
 our own King and Queen, and our Prince and Princess 
 of Wales nowadays. Their one endeavour is to give as 
 little trouble as possible to those whom they honour 
 with their presence, and so far from distracting the 
 audience from the stage they set the example of ab- 
 
 73 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 solutely perfect playgoing. How much the stage owes 
 to our present Royal family is perhaps only properly 
 appreciated by those whose business is on the boards. 
 If any one wants to know what " a good audience " 
 means, he has only to watch the Royal box. 
 
 74 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 IN dealing with that great company that brought fame 
 and fortune to George Colman the younger and his 
 partners, I am, I confess, much tempted to write at 
 length of one whose name ranks among the highest in 
 all the annals of all the theatres. But Edmund Kean's 
 connection with the Haymarket was comparatively so 
 slight that I have no right to take advantage of it. So 
 far as our theatre was concerned he was, on his first ap- 
 pearance there, but an "extra gentleman" passed over, 
 ignored, unappreciated a prematurely disappointed 
 man. No one in those days took notice of the sad- 
 faced fellow who hung about the Haymarket wings and 
 did his work silently and unobtrusively, with scarce a 
 word to his fellows. Some may have looked upon his 
 careworn face, on which Fate had already stamped 
 hard lines, which want had thinned, and drink had even 
 coarsened. But there was no one to hold him out the 
 hand of sympathy, to give the cheering word of en- 
 couragement, that would have meant so much in those 
 dark days. All he had to live for was hope and the 
 dramatic fire that burned so fiercely that it threatened 
 to consume. For bread he donned the footman's breeches 
 or the ploughman's smock, but he felt, though life had 
 tried its utmost to dissuade him, that the future had 
 fame in store. To his poor, tired, life-weary wife and 
 to his sickly child he would go back and talk of the days 
 to come when he should reign, where he was then doing 
 
 75 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 homage. And the wife would smile the sad smile of 
 abandoned hope, and the weakly child would clap his 
 little thin hands in eager anticipation of the good 
 things to come. And the little, shabby, struggling 
 " extra gentleman " would lie down to rest and dream 
 that he was lord of Old Drury and the world was his 
 servant. 
 
 That was the first Edmund Kean of the Haymarket 
 Theatre. The second was the Edmund Kean whose 
 dreams had come true, the man who had reached the 
 highest rung of the ladder, and in the climb had lost 
 health, strength, and looks had become a dissipated, 
 brandy-sodden shadow. Somehow I feel I must leave 
 the story of Edmund Kean with his first engagement 
 as an " extra gentleman " at the Haymarket Theatre. 
 Mighty actor as he was a very god among players 
 I would rather think of him as the " extra gentleman " 
 with his half-starved home, than as the leader of the 
 stage with his four-horsed coach, his mistress, and his 
 bloated, drink-ruined face. For in the one picture we 
 have the loving wife and child, and in the other a woman 
 to whom all the silks in Spitalfields could not bring 
 back the affection denied to her which was her right, 
 and a son who cursed his father's name as often as in 
 the old days he had mingled it with his prayers, 
 though all that father's promises had been fulfilled. 
 
 No one has better proved the truism that Fame 
 does not always have happiness in her train than 
 Edmund Kean. He stood upon the pinnacle, but he 
 was happier at the base. 
 
 Mathews the elder, as we speak of him to-day, was 
 probably the younger Colman's brightest star in a 
 firmament that suffered from no lack of constellations. 
 It will, I suppose, for ever remain a matter of dispute 
 whether he or Samuel Foote was the greatest mimic 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 the world has ever seen, and far be it from me to act 
 as referee for one moment. At any rate the elder 
 Mathews's mimicry must have been " bad to beat." 
 " There was but one Mathews in the world," wrote 
 Horace Smith, " there can never be another. Mimics, 
 buffoons, jesters, wags, and even admirable comedians 
 we shall never want ; but what are the best of them 
 compared to him ? " He was a tall, thin fellow, so thin 
 that Tate Wilkinson said that " he had never seen 
 anybody so thin to be alive ; " and he was possessed of 
 a face so naturally comical that, though he had the 
 voice and the art to play tragedy, he was so irresistibly 
 comical of feature that as a serious actor the public 
 would have little of him. The best description of 
 his appearance is that given by himself of himself 
 as a child : 
 
 "My nurse informed me that I was a long, thin 
 skewer of a child ; of a restless, fidgety temperament, 
 and by no means regular features quite the contrary. 
 The agreeable twist of my would-be features was 
 occasioned by a species of hysteric fit to which I was 
 subject in infancy, one of which distorted my mouth 
 and eyebrows to such a degree as to render me almost 
 hideous for a time ; though my partial nurse declared 
 4 my eyes made up for all, they were so bright and 
 lively.' Be this as it may, certain it is that after the 
 recovery from the attack, folks laughed the moment 
 they saw me, and said * Bless the little dear ! It's 
 not a beauty, to be sure ; but what a funny face it 
 has.' The ' off-side ' of my mouth, as a coachman 
 would say, took such an affection for my ear that 
 it seemed to make a perpetual struggle to form 
 a closer communication with it, and one eyebrow 
 became fixed as a rusty weathercock, while the other 
 propped up an inch apparently beyond its proper 
 
 77 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 position. The effects remain to this day though 
 moderated." 
 
 No wonder that when there was added to this comic 
 face a talent that has never been excelled, the elder 
 Mathews should have taken the town by storm, and 
 have become a standing dish of which the patrons of 
 the Haymarket could never have too much. In 
 addition to his great gifts as an actor, he had an 
 extraordinary talent for " making up," so much so 
 that he frequently deceived the audience for several 
 minutes, only to be greeted with rapturous applause 
 upon the discovery of his identity. He was a single- 
 minded fellow, whose only fault was a certain shortness 
 of temper that was probably to be accounted for by 
 a naturally delicate constitution. If he put on any 
 " side " at all, it was in respect of his knowledge re- 
 garding matters of art, and more than once he was the 
 victim of unscrupulous dealers who relieved him of a 
 , large part of his salary in exchange for spurious 
 furniture, whose origin, I fear, left little doubt. But 
 unhappy was the man who tried to put the otherwise 
 genial Mathews straight in such matters. Chaff him 
 you could, but not correct his artistic mistakes ! 
 Blind is the only description of the rage that followed 
 such eye-opening. Otherwise he was bonhomie itself, 
 a thorough good fellow who was always welcome at 
 festive gatherings. He was for ever possessed with 
 the idea that humour was demanded of him, off as 
 well as on the stage, but while the theatre drew it 
 out in abundance he was seldom funny as an after- 
 dinner speaker, his wit always giving the impression 
 of being strained. But he was never backward in 
 " showing off " in company, and was probably the 
 most obliging guest in the way of entertainment 
 imaginable. For he was never happy when ignored, 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 and applause was sweet music in his ears in the theatre 
 or out of it. As a practical joker Mathews had but 
 one contemporary equal in the shape of Theodore 
 Hook, who often carried his jokes a trifle too far. 
 This Mathews seldom did. A good story is told of 
 how one night having to travel by coach from 
 Exeter to Plymouth, he was obliged to ride outside in 
 the pouring rain without coat or umbrella. He 
 put up with the discomfort for some time, but at last 
 determined to resort to strategy in order to get a 
 shelter from the wet, and began to whine and fret 
 so like a. child in distress that one of the inside pas- 
 sengers cried out : " Dear me, there is a poor child 
 on the roof in the rain, let's take it in." This sym- 
 pathetic remark was followed by a lady's head and 
 shoulders, who called out to Mathews, half-hidden by 
 the darkness of the night : 
 
 " Give me the poor child, my good woman." 
 
 " No, no," said Mathews, mimicking a woman's 
 voice, " my leetle Adolphe sal not leave his maman." 
 
 " Good gracious," said the sympathetic lady, " it's 
 a barbarous Frenchwoman. She'll kill the poor little 
 thing. Coachman, stop, stop." 
 
 But the rain and the cold had not softened the 
 driver's temper and he surlily refused, whereupon 
 Mathews pretended to get into a passion with the 
 infant, and after a series of supposed yells on the part 
 of the baby and harsh admonitions from the mother, 
 the latter wound up by screaming in half-broken 
 English : 
 
 " Dere den, got-damn, lie in de puddle." 
 
 " Stop, coachman ; murder, murder ! " yelled the 
 inside passengers. " She's killed the child ; stop, 
 stop ! " 
 
 " In a minute or two, ma'am, I mustn't lose time 
 
 79 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 between the stages," grunted the driver, and in a few 
 moments the coach was pulled up at an inn. 
 
 No sooner had the horses come to a standstill than 
 Mathews jumped down and ran to the fire to dry 
 himself. In the meanwhile a search party was 
 organised to look for the missing infant, while the rest 
 of the passengers searched the inn for the murderous 
 mother. So eager was one of the party in the search 
 that he related afterwards how not only had he failed 
 to find the child, but that another gentleman took his 
 place in the coach, which left too soon for him to have 
 time to overtake it ! 
 
 The younger Colman had the highest respect and 
 affection for Mathews, and declared that he was the 
 most just and honourable man he had ever had business 
 dealings with. All agreements between the two were 
 made verbally, and it stands to the credit of both of 
 them that they were never disputed. That Mathews 
 was the mainstay of the Haymarket is proved by 
 George Colman's own letters. In one he literally 
 implored the great comedian to appear at the theatre 
 in a Harlequinade despite the pain he was suffering, 
 from being thrown out of a gig with Terry an accident 
 which not only dislocated his hip, but caused him 
 suffering for the remainder of his life. So loyal was 
 Mathews to his " chief " that, unfit as he was, he 
 nevertheless made his bow as Harlequin, hobbling 
 on to the stage with the aid of a stick. An apology, 
 delivered by his fellow-sufferer Terry, was made for 
 him. It did not lack wit : 
 
 " LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, Before the curtain rises 
 I am requested to say a few words to you on behalf 
 of an invalid. Mr. Mathews still continues to suffer 
 much, very much, from his late severe accident ; but 
 he trusts that his anxiety in coming forward thus early 
 
 80 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 to perform his duty to you, and to fulfil his engage- 
 ment here, will atone for his deficiencies in bodily 
 activity requisite to the character he is about to 
 sustain. A former very celebrated proprietor of this 
 theatre once enjoyed the fullest favours as c a devil 
 on two sticks,' and it is hoped, nay, it cannot be 
 doubted, that you will now extend your utmost in- 
 dulgence to a harlequin upon* one ! " 
 
 One of Mathews's pet disbeliefs was that a fish could 
 be or ever was caught with rod and line. A net he 
 could understand, but he refused to admit that " fishes 
 are such cursed fools as not to know that catgut and 
 wire isn't good for them." In society he could be 
 most entertaining, but he was extraordinarily im- 
 pressed by surroundings, and a dismal room would 
 depress him as much as a bright and pretty one would 
 cheer his spirits. It is doubtful whether he was a 
 happy man few great comedians are, I believe 
 but his melancholy was seldom obtruded on his friends. 
 Only when alone would he give way to depression 
 that he often had no little difficulty in shaking off. 
 As an actor he was probably one of the most con- 
 scientious who have ever lived, and he had an un- 
 tiring capacity for study. In fact, as regards his 
 value to the management of the younger Colman, 
 his reliability came only second to his remarkable 
 genius. 
 
 I have said that his face denied him tragic parts, 
 but the public often shed tears over him when the 
 piece allowed him sentiment, for he had tears in his 
 voice which overcame the humour of his irresistible 
 face. 
 
 Another mighty actor under the younger Colman's 
 management John Liston was also possessed of the 
 successful comedian's pet ambition, to shine as a 
 
 81 F 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 tragedian. But though he played Romeo for his 
 benefit, it would have been for no one else's had he 
 appeared often in the part. Yet he began his stage 
 career as a hero of tragedy, though fame only came 
 to him when he first trod the boards of the Hay- 
 market. The great feature of his acting was his 
 gravity ; he would speak the most humorous lines 
 with a face a yard long, and even when he played 
 tricks with his audience or his fellow-actors, he never 
 forgot to be serious. But he was " fond of his little 
 joke," and when Mathews on being asked by him 
 to play for his benefit excused himself on the ground 
 that he had to act elsewhere and could not " split 
 himself in halves," Liston replied, " I don't know 
 that, for I've often seen you play in two pieces." 
 
 Hook put him up to a practical joke one night, 
 into which Liston was easily able to enter on account 
 of the excellent terms on which he always was with 
 his audience. A young married couple from the 
 country had begged a couple of seats of Hook, who 
 procured them two prominent chairs in the dress- 
 circle. So soon as Liston appeared a roar of laughter 
 went up from the audience. Liston walked to the 
 footlights and gazed upon the house with a reproachful 
 air. " I fail to understand this conduct, ladies and 
 gentlemen," he said in his most solemn tones. " I 
 fail to see what you can find ridiculous in me. Why, 
 
 there's John and his cousin Martha C ," pointing 
 
 at the young couple, " laughing at me too. What 
 business have they to make fun of me ? I'll tell his 
 father and see what he says about it." The audience 
 in a body naturally stared at the unfortunate young 
 couple, who jumped up from their seats and left the 
 house amid roars of laughter, thinking themselves 
 in a madhouse. 
 
 82 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 While Listen was playing at Plymouth a " middie " 
 swaggered into the house flourishing his dirk. " Why 
 don't you attend to the announcement at the bottom 
 of the bills ? " said Liston to the doorkeeper. " Can't 
 you see Children in arms not admitted ? " 
 
 Liston began life as a school teacher, but a taste 
 for amateur theatricals soon led to the abandonment 
 of the lesson-books for the professional footlights. 
 It was not until after he had left the Haymarket that 
 he reached the pinnacle of his fame. At one time, 
 when under Madame Vestris, his salary was one of 
 the highest of any contemporary actor, for he received 
 no less than 150 per week for six consecutive seasons. 
 He was one of the very few actors who have died 
 rich men. " 
 
 The younger Colman pays Liston a fine tribute 
 in his " Random Records " : 
 
 "Liston is exquisite in his line," he says, "and 
 Edwin was equally so. I know not how I can better 
 express my opinion of both than by stating that I 
 admire Liston now as I admired Edwin formerly, and 
 that when Edwin was and Liston is in his element, 
 I have no conception of a greater comic treat than 
 the performance of either." Liston's first perform- 
 ance at the Haymarket was as Sheepface in " The 
 Village Lawyer." 
 
 All the contemporary critics, however, were not so 
 kind to him, for his familiarity with the audience 
 appears to have annoyed them intensely. They 
 described his " gesticular drolleries " as " the result 
 of intoxication by success," and asserted that he vio- 
 lated the rule that Shakespeare declared in " Hamlet " : 
 
 " And let those that play your clowns speak no more 
 than is set down for them." 
 
 That these critics were not far wrong is fairly well 
 
 83 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 proved by the story I have just told, but here is 
 further evidence in the form of another and, I believe, 
 equally authentic anecdote. Listen was playing 
 Lord Grizzle in the burlesque tragedy of " Tom 
 Thumb," in which he had to give a dance that pleased 
 his audience enormously. One night they were especi- 
 ally delighted, and encored him rapturously. He gave 
 the first and second encores, but when a third was 
 shouted for, nothing would induce him to go on again. 
 But the audience would have no denial, and yelled 
 and shouted so loud that it was impossible for the 
 performance to proceed. At last the uproar became 
 so great that Liston had to come forward. 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen," he said curtly, " I regret 
 that I am too fatigued to oblige now." 
 
 The reception of this refusal was rather mixed, 
 and a little later on in the evening a wag in the pit 
 caused a general roar of laughter by shouting out 
 to the actor who was fencing with Liston in the duel 
 scene, " Please, take care. Don't do too much, or 
 you'll fatigue him." 
 
 The next day some one posted up a bulletin in the 
 green-room to the effect that " Lord Grizzle's physician 
 was happy to declare his lordship greatly recovered 
 from his fatigue." Liston was chaffed about it for 
 a long time afterwards, but as a genial critic of the 
 day pointed out, "While he confined his humour 
 within the bounds prescribed by the author, he might 
 fatigue himself, but never his audience." 
 
 Liston like Mathews was lucky in his face. " It 
 is not displeasing," wrote one who had often seen 
 him, " but presents, nevertheless, a most eccentric 
 example of the boldness with which Nature can violate 
 all her own established rules of beauty and proportions. 
 No damsel of romance ever made a greater progress 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 in glory, and in fortune, by her lovely countenance 
 than Mr. Listen has by his grotesque physiognomy." 
 
 He was also possessed of a natural looseness of the 
 hip, which seems to have served him in excellent 
 stead in many parts. Some people even went so 
 far as to say that no one could have ever equalled 
 Listen in certain characters, because they were with- 
 out this peculiar suppleness. 
 
 My wife's grandfather, John Emery, was yet another 
 of the younger Colman's shining lights. He was a 
 born player in more senses than one, for his father 
 and mother were both actors of some celebrity in the 
 provinces. Their original idea was to make a musician 
 of their boy, but in spite of several performances in 
 the orchestra of a Brighton theatre, John Emery 
 kicked over the music stand and leapt upon the stage, 
 to remain there so long as health and strength lasted. 
 A great character actor he was, and his very first part 
 of a decrepit, mumbling old fellow proved it, but he 
 had to go through that best of all theatrical training- 
 schools, the provincial, or " country " theatres, as 
 they were known then, until, after serving a time 
 with Tate Wilkinson of York, who surely was the 
 master of half the great actors of the period, London 
 claimed him, and he came to town to stay. As a rustic, 
 and more especially a Yorkshire* rustic, he has probably 
 never been equalled. People found it hard to believe 
 that the characters of which he made so much required 
 any acting on his part at all. Dress, manners, gait, 
 and accent (acquired in his early youth, which had 
 been spent in the Ridings) were alike perfect. His 
 audiences literally loved him, and he was a favourite 
 from the start. 
 
 There are two reasons why any notice of John 
 Emery to be interesting and amusing must necessarily 
 
 85 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 be comparatively brief the one that he died of natural 
 decay at the early age of forty-five ; the other that 
 his life was, at any rate in comparison with that of 
 many of his contemporaries, blameless. 
 
 " The players most in estimation for the regularity 
 of their private life afford little matter for biography, 
 and show, where proof is wanting, that the profession's 
 not in fault for those eccentricities of conduct which, 
 by the austere and illiberal, are considered necessarily 
 inseparable from a player's life," writes John Gait 
 in his Memoir of John Emery. " In all his domestic 
 relations Mr. Emery has been uniformly spoken of 
 with respect, and in the several duties which apper- 
 tained to his sphere he equalled not merely his friends, 
 but was exemplary in his class, affording another 
 instance that however brilliant in adventure and 
 character the actor may appear on the stage, owing to 
 the variety of parts he performs, there is no obligation 
 imposed upon him to deviate from the proprieties 
 which belong to his station in society." 
 
 Stilted, but how admirably true ! 
 
 In addition to his talents as an actor John Emery 
 was no mean musician, and could use his voice with 
 more than average amateur effect. Moreover, he 
 could write a capital song, and tell a story with excellent 
 effect. His death came about through the rupture of 
 a blood-vessel, and he left behind him a widow and 
 seven children. 
 
 Two of these children are not unconnected with a 
 good story of John Emery, for whose accuracy I can 
 vouch. One evening " Pizarro," in which he played 
 the tender-hearted sentinel, was advertised for per- 
 formance. A considerable audience awaited the rising 
 of the curtain, which was so long delayed that signs 
 and noises indicative of impatience became manifest, 
 
 86 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 and some one was sent before the curtain to apologise 
 and to explain that in consequence of the absence of 
 one of the chief actors a few minutes' more indulgence 
 must be begged. Hardly had this person retired 
 behind the curtain when John Kemble, who was 
 dressed for Rolla, took his place and said : 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, at the request of the 
 principal performers in the play, I am to inform you 
 that the person alluded to is Mr. Emery." 
 
 No sooner, however, had John Kemble made his 
 bow and retired, than up turned Emery in a great- 
 coat with dirty boots and his face streaming with 
 perspiration. He was in such a state of agitation 
 that he could scarcely articulate. 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen," he at last managed to 
 say, " this is the first time I have ever had to appear 
 before you as an apologist. But, ladies, for you I 
 must particularly address, my wife was but an hour 
 since brought to bed, and I ran for the doctor." 
 
 Thunders of applause and yells of " Bravo, Emery ! " 
 greeted this speech, and the actor retired with his hand 
 to his heart to " make up." 
 
 During the piece Emery " got back " on John 
 Kemble. Kemble as Rolla had to say to Emery the 
 sentinel, " Have you a wife ? " 
 
 " I have," was the answer. 
 
 " Children ? " 
 
 " I had two this morning I have three now." 
 
 So delighted was the audience with John Emery's 
 impromptu that Kemble had to retire in confusion. 
 
 This was undoubtedly the only occasion on which 
 my wife's grandfather ever gave his manager trouble, 
 for he was peculiarly conscientious, and prided himself 
 on his punctuality, which was almost proverbial. 
 
 Perhaps his greatest part was that of Tyke in the 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 "School of Reform." Gait says that "It was, if 
 excellence can be spoken of as a fault, too violent. 
 Never was the frenzy of guilt and remorse so truly 
 exhibited. It was a very whirlwind and hurricane 
 of the soul." It is this single character that entitles 
 Emery to the epithet of a " great performer." 
 
 The most magnificent, possibly the best of all the 
 Haymarket company at the beginning of the last 
 century, was Robert William Elliston, who was originally 
 designed for the Church, a profession for which, some 
 of his contemporaries were kind enough to say, he 
 was as well fitted as for that of an actor. But though 
 his guardian wished it, the cassock was not for Elliston. 
 " The drama captivated his youthful fancy, and fond- 
 ness for pleasure inclined him to the gayer pursuits 
 in life." The dramatic spark was kindled by a favour- 
 able reception of his delivery of an oration, and the 
 fire soon burned so briskly that he ran away from St. 
 Paul's school and took coach to Bath. 
 
 Here the necessity of some means of subsistence 
 drove him into a lottery-office, where he worked as a 
 clerk till an engagement turned up at the theatre. 
 From Bath he went to Tate Wilkinson, to whom the 
 Haymarket owes so much, but he met with little 
 success at York, and at last grew weary of the struggle. 
 
 Sick at heart he craved forgiveness of his guardian, 
 who received him back. His next move was to Bath 
 again, to try his theatrical luck once more, and this 
 time he succeeded. He also managed to fall in love 
 with a very smart young lady, " whose public character 
 and private worth are allowed to keep pace with the 
 accomplishments of her person and her mind," as a 
 chronicler of the day had it. This excellent young 
 lady returned Elliston's affection, but, as he was 
 scarcely a parti, stumbling-blocks were placed in the 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 way of their marriage. But married they were 
 determined to be, openly or clandestinely. The 
 young lady's friends compelled them to the latter 
 course, and upon his inamorata going up to London 
 on a visit, young Elliston begged leave of his manager 
 to follow her. Just as he was about to go, however, 
 the young lady returned unexpectedly, and Elliston 
 took the bull by the horns and married her straight 
 away, leaving for London and the Haymarket Theatre 
 immediately after the ceremony. 
 
 Under Colman he became the leading man, and acting- 
 manager into the bargain, and as such he remained 
 till Winston secured a share in the theatre. 
 
 That Elliston was a truly great comedian there 
 seems no reason to doubt not so great perhaps as he 
 himself imagined, for he was a lofty person, with no 
 small idea of his own powers. He was a good-looking 
 man, nearly six feet high, and a thorough stage gentle- 
 man, who made love more eagerly than any actor 
 before him. He always dressed his parts in precisely 
 the same way blue coats, white breeches, and white 
 waistcoats. " I can conceive nothing better than 
 Elliston in gentleman's comedy," Byron has said. 
 His manner was truly magnificent, and the humbler 
 people who played with him stood in no little fear 
 of him. But though he would act on and off the 
 stage, his was a genial nature, with no dislike of the 
 bottle, which generally had the effect of showing him 
 in the pleasantest light. " As the joyousest of once 
 embodied spirits," so Lamb addressed his shade. 
 " Magnificent were thy capriccios on this globe of earth. 
 It irks me to think that, stripped of thy regalia, thou 
 should'st ferry over, a poor forked shade, in crazy 
 Stygian wherry. Methinks I have seen the old boat- 
 man paddling by the weedy wharf, with raucid voice 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 bawling e Sculls, sculls ! ' to which with waving hand 
 and majestic action thou deignest no reply other 
 than in two curt syllables, " No oars, oars ! " 
 
 " I am the same person off the stage as I am on," 
 Elliston said one day, but the confession must not 
 be given the popular interpretation. " Wherever 
 Elliston walked, sate, or stood still, there was the 
 theatre. He carried about with him pit, boxes, and 
 galleries, and set up a portable play-house at corners 
 of streets and in the market-place," says Lamb, who 
 tells some delightful stories of the great actor in his 
 charming essay " Ellis toniana." One of them I must 
 reproduce ; it gives one such a perfect idea of the 
 actor's great manner. 
 
 The scene was the green-room of the Olympic 
 Theatre (of which Elliston became manager after leav- 
 ing Drury Lane) ; the characters, Elliston and " one 
 of those little tawdry things that flirt at the tail of 
 choruses." 
 
 " How dare you, madam," spoke Elliston in a voice 
 of thunder " how dare you withdraw yourself, with- 
 out notice, from your theatrical duties ? " 
 
 " I don't know that, sir, but I will never stand to 
 be hissed." 
 
 Then again spoke Elliston, " gathering up his features 
 into one significant mass of wonder, pity, and ex- 
 post ulatory indignation," 
 
 " They have hissed me" 
 
 Elliston was yet another example of a born comedian 
 with a perpetual desire for tragedy. " Have you 
 heard," he asked Lamb, " how they treat me? they put 
 me in comedy ! " But it is only fair to say that his 
 Hamlet was pronounced better than Kemble's. Of 
 his Falstaff, contemporary critics literally raved, and 
 he seems to have succeeded where so many have 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 failed, of never letting the bibulous knight be anything 
 but the gentleman that he was. 
 
 But I am chiefly concerned with the Elliston of 
 the Haymarket. There he became so great a favourite 
 that when the day came for his benefit the applications 
 for seats were so many that it had to be given at 
 the Opera House. In such numbers did the people 
 swarm into the pit that many were swept past the 
 check-takers in the rush, and their money had to be 
 collected from them after they had taken their seats. 
 When the curtain went up the stage was literally 
 blocked with people. The audience hissed, and shouts 
 of " off " came from all parts of the house. Elliston 
 came forward. 
 
 " Madame Bouti, a foreigner, was permitted to fill 
 her stage with friends," he said ; " I trust this same 
 indulgence may be allowed to a Briton." 
 
 It was ! 
 
 Elliston is said to have netted 600 that night, 
 but Kean's first benefit at Drury Lane brought him 
 in no less than 2000 ! 
 
 A capital story is told of Elliston's youth. He 
 had the manners of a saint, but he was not one, 
 though he was known at school as the " young croco- 
 dile," from his extraordinary command of tears. He 
 had his amours like the rest of them, and among his 
 flames was an inn-keeper's wife at Wapping. One 
 day while paying his court to the lady an alarm was 
 given, and no better place being found in which to 
 hide him, Elliston was packed into a chest. The 
 minutes flew by, and no release coming, the stifled 
 youth turned to lift the lid ; but in vain. Then 
 suddenly there came to him the sound of dripping 
 water and shouts of " Fire." His agony of mind 
 was awful. He struggled in vain to get out, and at 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 last fell back exhausted, only to be released by his 
 inamorata a few moments later, the fire having proved 
 but trifling. 
 
 Describing the scene afterwards to a friend he 
 remarked : "At last I had nothing for it but patience 
 and prayer." 
 
 " Prayer," rebuked the friend, " should have been 
 preceded by repentance." 
 
 " Sir," replied Elliston, " I did not pray directly 
 for myself, but that those who were endeavouring to 
 subdue the fire might be induced to take care of the 
 furniture." 
 
 One night when dining with Lamb the latter 
 apologised for there being only one dish. 
 
 " I too never eat but one dish at dinner," replied 
 Elliston, " reckoning the fish as nothing." 
 
 Lamb, by the way, made a good joke one day at 
 Elliston's expense. They were playing whist, and the 
 essayist noticed that his partner's hands were ex- 
 tremely dirty. " What a hand you would have, 
 Elliston, if dirt were trumps," he remarked. 
 
 Elliston had no wish to be ignored by posterity, and 
 requested Moncrieff to be his biographer. " You will 
 not fail to recollect," he said in his most magnificent 
 tones, " that Garrick could not sing : I can. That 
 Lewis could not act tragedy : I can. That Mossop 
 could not play comedy: I can. That Kean never 
 wrote a drama : I have. Do not forget these things, 
 sir, but in mentioning my name you cannot help asso- 
 ciating with my name all that is memorable in the age 
 in which I flourished." 
 
 When Elliston was manager of Drury Lane he was 
 also lessee of the theatre at Birmingham. Elliston 
 ran down for a night to play there, and found that one 
 of his company was imperfect. He therefore re- 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 preached him in his loftiest manner, whereupon the 
 actor instead of humbly apologising flew into a furious 
 rage and threatened to kick his manager into the pit. 
 
 Instead of instantly dismissing him Elliston inquired 
 the man's name. 
 
 " Mr. , sir," said the stage manager. 
 
 " A great man, sir," replied Elliston, " a very great 
 man. He threatened to kick me, sir, the lessee of 
 Drury Lane ! Such a man as that is wanted in London 
 town. He mustn't waste his energies here." 
 
 And he gave the astonished actor an engagement at 
 Drury Lane on the spot. 
 
 Elliston was a greater success as an actor than 
 manager. Over Drury Lane, the Olympic, and the 
 Surrey he held sway, but he died a poor man, and he 
 acted himself out. But to the last he was majestic, 
 his dying instructions being that his epitaph should be 
 written in Latin. 
 
 It would seem that no other language could ^do justice 
 to his memory. 
 
 Charles Kemble was yet another who gave brilliance 
 to the Haymarket Theatre at the beginning of the last 
 century. A brother of his great brother John, he 
 naturally laboured under the disability that accom- 
 panies the relations of famous actors who choose the 
 stage as a profession, inviting a comparison which, if 
 seldom odious, never lifts him beyond the position of 
 younger brothers. Had he been anybody but a blood 
 relation of the great John he would in all probability 
 have reached the very top of the ladder ; as it was, he 
 had still three rungs to climb. But he was a fine and 
 a finished actor, who lost rather than gained by a 
 name that had already been made famous. He had 
 the natural advantages of an heroic face and a 
 noble air, and his Hamlet must have been a great 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 performance. Yet he had the disadvantage of a weak 
 voice, and was in figure, if we are to believe contempo- 
 rary writers, more clumsy than graceful. With Shake- 
 speare, however, he began and with Shakespeare he 
 ended, and he was Shakespearean to the backbone. 
 In comedy he was unequal ; in fact, throughout his 
 career he either triumphed or failed, though his 
 failures were always magnificent. 
 
 Kemble was the husband of the famous Miss De 
 Camp, a Viennesse by birth, who danced herself from 
 the ballet at the Opera House to the Haymarket, 
 where she soon showed of what good dramatic stuff 
 she was made. Not only had this clever lady a real 
 talent for the stage, but she was a singer of no small 
 merit, and wrote more than one successful play. Her 
 stage career was not a long one, for her figure grew too 
 round and fat for young parts, and she would play no 
 others. But ten years after her retirement she re- 
 turned for one night to the stage to introduce her 
 daughter as Juliet, herself playing Lady Capulet. Her 
 success was the more remarkable in that she had to 
 learn to speak English first and write it afterwards ; 
 but her engagement at the Haymarket was secured not 
 by her talents alone, but also through the advice of the 
 Prince of Wales, who was a great admirer of her clever- 
 ness, and recommended her to the younger Colman. 
 
 Charles Kemble began life as a Post-Office clerk, 
 but threw up his berth a year after he secured it. 
 From the letter-box he went straight to the stage. He 
 was so good an actor by nature that his early life had 
 none of the bitterness that flavoured the beginning 
 of so many of his contemporaries careers. His talent 
 improved with age, and he was a better lover at forty 
 than at thirty. 
 
 One more of Colman's " stars " and I have finished 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 a chapter whose inadequacy may be partly put down 
 to lack of space. No record of the great ones who made 
 the Haymarket of the first year of 1800 the theatre that 
 it was would be complete without mention of Young ; 
 indeed I have to plead the raconteur's lack of method 
 in placing him last among the constellations. 
 
 Charles Mayne Young was yet another of the actors 
 whose birth coincided with the death of Foote. He, 
 too, began life in the City, but the desk was soon ex- 
 changed for the dressing-room, and after a debut at 
 Liverpool under the name of Green, a successful ap- 
 pearance at Manchester, a return to Liverpool, and a 
 triumph at Glasgow, the younger Colman fetched him 
 to the Haymarket, where he made his dbut as Hamlet. 
 Opinions are divided as to his performance, but it is 
 still spoken of as among the great Hamlets since Shake- 
 speare wrote his play. 
 
 " Those who can recollect Young's Hamlet," said 
 Donaldson, " must admit that it has never been 
 equalled." Whether this be flattery or no, there can 
 be no doubt that it was a very fine performance, though 
 probably his greatest part was that of lago, which he 
 played to Kean's Othello a truly wonderful combina- 
 tion. " Every one about me," said Kean, " told me 
 he could not hold a farthing rushlight to me, but he 
 can. He is an actor ; and though I flatter myself that 
 he could not act Othello as I do, yet what chance 
 should I have in lago after him, with his personal 
 advantages and his damned musical voice ? I tell you 
 what, Young is not only an actor such as I did not 
 dream him to have been, but he is a gentleman." 
 
 Leigh Hunt described Young's art as being far above 
 Kean's. Other critics have said the opposite. But, 
 as Messrs. Romeike and Curtis remind me so often, 
 critics are apt to disagree. 
 
 95 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IF the word " star " means merely a player worthy in 
 every respect of recognition even by posterity, then 
 I find that I have not yet done with the Colman firma- 
 ment. No record of those brilliant years which lay 
 between 1794 and 1820, when the Little Theatre 
 was razed to the ground, would be complete without 
 a mention of Suett, Dowton, Munden, and Terry, 
 those actors whose names are less known to-day than 
 their talents deserved* 
 
 Dicky Suett, or " Dicky Gossip " as his familiars 
 called him, was Colman the younger's great low 
 comedian. His early vocation was the choir of St. 
 Paul's Cathedral, where he was known by his fellow- 
 choristers as " cherub Dicky." So far as one can 
 judge by the old records and criticisms, Suett in his 
 own line must have been one of the best comic actors 
 who have ever lived. The Haymarket audiences 
 adored him, and he beamed his love for them per- 
 petually over the footlights ; for he was one of those 
 jovial creatures for whom even posterity has no bad 
 word. A slave of Cupid and a lover of the bottle, 
 he literally smiled his way through life, and where- 
 ever he smiled, laughter invariably greeted him. He 
 had, too, an irresistible laugh of his own, and although 
 no wit, his humour bubbled over. 
 
 " Thousands of hearts yet respond to the chuckling 
 ' Oh La ' " of Dicky Suett, brought back to their re- 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 membrances by the faithful transcript of his friend 
 Mathews' mimicry," wrote Lamb. " He drolled 
 upon the stock of these two syllables richer than the 
 cuckoo." 
 
 Suett was one of those careless, improvident fellows 
 who go through life ignorant of the meaning of the 
 word trouble. In fact the only thing that troubled 
 him was the bottle, which often sent him to bed 
 disturbed by nightmare. He died in Robert Palmer's 
 arms, exclaiming, " Oh ! Oh La, Bobby ! " His friends 
 mourned his loss with very real sorrow, and the stage 
 lost one whom " Shakespeare foresaw when he framed 
 his fools and jesters." In one way Suett was the most 
 conscientious of actors, for when cast for the part of 
 a drunkard he took care that Nature should assist his 
 performance. His breakfast was generally adorned 
 with a bottle of rum and another of brandy, but his 
 habits seem seldom to have interfered with his work, 
 though they probably shortened his life. His legs 
 were the most remarkable part of him. So thin were 
 they, says Lamb, that " a doubt or a scruple must 
 have made him falter, a sigh have pulled him down ; 
 the weight of a frown had staggered him ; a wrinkle 
 made him lose his balance." Of Suett, John Kemble 
 once said to Michael Kelly, " My dear Mick, Pen- 
 ruddock has lost a powerful ally in Suett. Sir, I have 
 acted the part with many Weasels, and good ones 
 too, but none of them could work up my passions 
 to the pitch Suett did. He had a comical, impertinent 
 way of thrusting his head into my face which called 
 forth all my irritable sensations. The effect upon me 
 was irresistible." Suett lies buried in St. Paul's 
 Churchyard. He was among Mrs. Inchbald's many 
 rejected suitors. 
 
 Terry it was who gave the parting benediction to 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 the Little Theatre before the house-breakers set 
 their evil hands upon it. His blessing took the form 
 of a farewell address. Here it is : 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, This night closes the 
 performances at this theatre, which in consequence 
 of the great improvements in this part of the capital 
 is, it seems, to be pulled down. Yet it is not without re- 
 gret that we take our leave of a building which has been 
 honoured with your liberal protection for more than 
 half a century, and which has introduced so many 
 celebrated authors and favourite performers to your 
 flattering approbation and the distinction of your 
 patronage. Ladies and Gentlemen, various unfore- 
 seen circumstances have arisen to depress this property ; 
 and the constant encroachment of the winter theatres 
 upon its season (originally established under a Royal 
 Patent) has so materially injured it as to threaten 
 its very existence, and to reduce the proprietors to 
 the alternative of either seriously submitting to the 
 annihilation of their interests, or assiduously struggling 
 to obtain an independent company. 
 
 " The preparations for a new theatre are in a forward 
 state, and the proprietors confidently trust that by 
 next season they shall be able to welcome their kind 
 patrons in a theatre more commodious and worthy 
 of their countenance and protection. 
 
 " And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, the proprietors 
 beg you to accept their most grateful acknowledg- 
 ments for your liberal support, and to assure you 
 that it will be their unremitting study to merit your 
 favour and ensure a continuance of your protec- 
 tion. All the performers, Ladies and Gentlemen, 
 desire to unite their grateful thanks for your distin- 
 guished approbation, and we all most cordially bid 
 you farewell." 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Mr. Terry's career is, I admit, more particularly 
 interesting to me in that he made his debut on the 
 London stage at the Haymarket Theatre in the 
 character of Lord Ogleby. According to the con- 
 temporary critics, he had a peculiar genius for por- 
 traying old men, and his success in " The Clandestine 
 Marriage " was instantaneous. Terry was originally 
 intended for an architect, but stage fever soon got 
 hold of him, and he had his early training in stage- 
 craft in the country. After leaving the Haymarket 
 he played at Covent Garden under Elliston, until in 
 <c825 he bought the Adelphi in partnership with Mr. 
 Yates. Good luck attended this venture for the first 
 two seasons, but Fortune soon proved herself fickle 
 and the theatre was closed, Mr. Terry having to com- 
 pound with his creditors. The worries attendant on 
 his management seriously affected Terry's health, 
 and his memory grew so imperfect that he was obliged 
 to retire from the stage altogether. 
 
 Terry seems to have been a clever, agreeable, honour- 
 able fellow, with few of those vices that are nearly 
 always the companions of anecdotes. His pet weak- 
 ness was an imitation of Scott, whose great admirer 
 he was. He imitated his frown to perfection, and 
 reproduced his voice and accent so well that, though 
 born in Bath, he was often taken for a Scotchman. 
 
 A good story is told of Terry and Hook. One day, 
 when this clever couple were out walking together, 
 they came to a house which emitted so temptingly 
 the smell of dinner that it brought them to a full stop. 
 " I envy the diners," said Terry, as a delicious whiff 
 of roast venison was wafted to his hungry nostrils. 
 Hook laughed, and made him a bet that he, at any rate, 
 would dine with the company, adding that if Terry 
 would call for him at ten o'clock he would give him 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 a faithful account of what happened. Terry, in- 
 credulous, agreed, and Hook knocked and walked 
 in. He was immediately taken to the drawing-room, 
 and at once set himself to please the company, a 
 task in which he succeeded so well that by the time 
 the host noticed the unbidden guest he had become 
 such a general favourite that his offer to retire, and 
 his apologies for having made a mistake, were ignored, 
 and he was begged to remain and dine. After dinner, 
 Hook, whose jokes had kept the guests in roars of 
 laughter throughout the meal, sat himself down at 
 the piano and began one of his extempore songs. 
 
 As he was singing the clock struck ten, and in 
 walked Terry, punctual to the minute. Whereupon 
 Hook burst out 
 
 " I am very much pleased with your fare, 
 Your cellar's as prime as your cook ; 
 My friend's Mr. Terry, the player, 
 And I'm Mr. Theodore Hook." 
 
 Munden was another of those low comedians whose 
 faces formed no small part of their fortune. The son 
 of a poulterer, he tried his hand as apothecary's 
 assistant and attorney's clerk before he took to the 
 stage. Unlike the other low comedians of his day, 
 his chief amusement was the theatre. His grimaces 
 were absolutely irresistible, and the audiences of the 
 day literally yelled at him. One night, when playing 
 Obadiah in " The Committee," the audience fouiid 
 him funnier than ever. Obadiah has to be plied 
 with liquor by Teague, and Munden made such ex- 
 traordinary faces over the draught that the whole 
 house, including the actors on the stage and at the 
 wings, shrieked with laughter. The scene over, Munden 
 went off the stage, and no sooner was he hidden from 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 the sight of the audience than he began to bellow 
 like a bull. " Bring me a stomach pump ! " he 
 roared, holding his sides. " Pm a dead man ; I've 
 been poisoned. Lamp oil, lamp oil, every drop of it ! " 
 
 And lamp oil it proved to be. The property man 
 had mistaken the bottle for one filled with sherry 
 and water ! 
 
 Munden was asked afterwards why on earth he 
 had allowed the whole contents of the bottle to be 
 poured down his throat when he could so easily have 
 shown that something was the matter. 
 
 " My dear sir," he replied, " there was such a glorious 
 roar at the first face I made upon swallowing it that I 
 hadn't the heart to spoil the scene by interrupting 
 the effect ! " 
 
 I need not add that Munden was a conscientious 
 actor. 
 
 But Munden was a less conscientious creditor. 
 Every time he took a benefit he persuaded Moncrieff 
 to write a comic song for him. When the author 
 delivered it Munden would pat him on the back and 
 assure him that he was a lad after his own soul. " I 
 knew O'Keefe, sir, and George Colman, sir, and every 
 one of them, sir, in the best days, but by the Lord 
 Harry, sir, none of them could write me a song like 
 you, sir." 
 
 Moncrieff grew weary of this unsubstantial reward, 
 and at last suggested something pecuniary by way 
 of recompense. Whereupon Munden suddenly re- 
 membered a very pressing engagement, and dis- 
 appeared ! 
 
 Charles Lamb was one of Munden's greatest admirers. 
 " When you think he has exhausted his battery of 
 looks in unaccountable warfare with your gravity, 
 suddenly he sprouts out an entirely new set of features 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 like Hydra. He is not one, but legion ; not so much 
 a comedian, as a company ! If his name could be 
 multiplied like his countenance, it would fill a play- 
 bill. He, and he alone, literally makes faces. I 
 should not be surprised to see him some day put out 
 the head of a river-horse, or come forth a pewit, or 
 lapwing some feathered metamorphosis." 
 
 The best compliment Munden ever had paid him 
 came from a gentleman at Brighton, who, having 
 witnessed his Old Philpot in " The Citizen," congratu- 
 lated him on his father's talent ! 
 
 Dowton was another of the Haymarket's low come- 
 dians, but of a more refined model than Munden, to 
 whom he paid the compliment of being jealous of 
 him. He was the son of a grocer, and nephew of a 
 baker, but neither sugar nor bread could keep him 
 from the footlights, and, unlike the majority of his 
 contemporaries, he found the path to success com- 
 paratively smooth. His chief failing was an extreme 
 shortness of temper, but it stood him in good stead 
 when he played the parts of irritable old gentlemen, 
 in which he was natural in more senses than one. 
 
 It was Michael Kelly who discovered him at the 
 Tunbridge Wells Theatre. " We were all delighted 
 with Dowton's performance, particularly the Jew, 
 which was a very fine specimen of natural acting," 
 wrote Kelly. " I was so struck with it, that I called 
 out to a gentleman with whom I was acquainted, 
 who was sitting within three boxes of our party 
 ' This is fine acting ; this, I'll answer for it, will do.' ' 
 Dowton heard the remark on the stage. 
 
 Sheridan thought a good deal of Dowton's acting, 
 and once declared that "If he ever wrote a comedy, 
 the two performers for whom he should take most 
 pains would be Dowton and Jack Johnstone." It 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 was Dowton, it will be remembered, who indirectly 
 brought about the riot at the Haymarket by insisting 
 upon playing " The Tailor " for his benefit. 
 
 Chief among the female ornaments of the Hay- 
 market Theatre in the early part of the last century 
 was Mrs. Glover, who was born of the theatre, and 
 made her first appearance at the extremely tender 
 age of five. It can almost be said that she was a 
 " star " from the very first ; at any rate, George 
 Frederick Cooke thought so much of the baby-actress 
 that he played Glumdalca to her Tom Thumb, and 
 in the love scene put the diminutive " Miss Betterton," 
 as she was then, on the palm of his hand, to the intense 
 delight of the audience. Once grown up she came 
 to London and scored triumphantly in tragedy, but 
 though she played Hamlet only to gain the approval 
 of Kean, and scored success after success at Drury 
 Lane and Covent Garden, it is by her performances 
 at the Haymarket that she is best known to posterity. 
 Her Mrs. Malaprop, Mrs. Candour, and Mrs. Heidel- 
 burg must have been perfect performances, which 
 were unhindered by her stoutness. Mrs. Glover was 
 possessed of one of the most remarkable memories 
 of any actors or actresses who ever lived, and in this 
 respect must have run Henderson very close. One 
 night in the Haymarket green-room the conversation 
 turned upon the drama of days gone by ; whereupon 
 Mrs. Glover, to prove a point in the argument, stood 
 up and repeated scene after scene of the tragedy of 
 " Percy," though she had neither read nor seen the 
 play for thirty years. The story may sound tall, 
 but there seems good evidence of its truth. 
 
 In addition to her theatrical talents, Mrs. Glover 
 bore the best of reputations for her virtue and her 
 kindly heart. To the last she kept her good looks, 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 and Leslie's description of her as " monstrously fat " 
 was more unkind than true. Throughout her very 
 long career she only disappointed her audience twice 
 a record in the history of the stage, I should imagine. 
 Moreover, so far as I can discover, no contemporary, 
 not even a contemporary Pressman, spoke ill of her, 
 and pens were not so generous then as they are to-day. 
 
 With Mrs. Glover I come to an end of my list of 
 those who shed radiance upon the Little Theatre at 
 the beginning of the last century. Not that for one 
 moment do I attempt to assume that this list is a 
 perfect one. There are many omissions I know. 
 The names of Johnston, of Fawcett, of Wewitzer 
 to mention but three that I have left out will at 
 once leap to the memory. But being confined within 
 the printer's space limits I have no room for all, and 
 have selected but those who have left the biggest 
 reputations and the best anecdotes behind them. 
 There will be room for them all when the real history 
 of the Haymarket comes to be written, though I envy 
 no man the task who chases all the players of the 
 Haymarket from that summer theatre as it was then 
 to the winter theatres, and from them back to the 
 Haymarket again. The records of the theatre are a 
 Chinese puzzle more difficult than that devised by 
 any Celestial. 
 
 Over the years that elapsed between the opening 
 of the new Theatre Royal Haymarket and the day 
 when Benjamin Webster became its manager I must 
 pass with greater speed than has hitherto marked my 
 progression, my excuse being that after the brilliant 
 period of Colman's management interest in the story 
 of the Haymarket slackens until we come to the 
 'thirties to the days made glorious by the names 
 of Macready, Webster, Tyrone Power, and last, but 
 
 104 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 not least, Buckstone, who was afterwards to take 
 Webster's place as manager. 
 
 The new Haymarket first opened its doors to the 
 public on July 4, 1821, with " The Rivals," a new 
 operetta called " Paul and Virginia ; or, Love in the 
 Vineyard," and an address by Mr. Terry, who was as 
 felicitous at the christening of the new theatre as he 
 had been impressive at the funeral of the old, the last 
 vestiges of whose remains were rapidly disappearing. 
 
 Luck soon came to the new playhouse, for in 1825 
 it secured what was at that date a record run with 
 " Paul Pry," which played for 114 nights, Listen 
 - being the chief attraction of an excellent cast which 
 included William Farren and Madame Vestris. The 
 year 1822 had seen the debut of Miss Paton, afterwards 
 Mrs. Wood, who made her first bow in the character 
 of Susanna in " The Marriage of Figaro," and sang 
 herself straightway into the affections of her audience. 
 Mrs. Wood was a remarkable person, for she began life 
 by composing several pieces of music at the age of five, 
 and was one of those rare examples of an infant prodigy 
 and more especially of the feminine gender who 
 ever attain to success after they have passed their 
 teens. So soon as she had reached the age of eight 
 her father gave several concerts for her, but a few 
 years later he had the good sense to withdraw her 
 from the platform and give her a chance of completing 
 an education that until then had scarcely been ad- 
 vanced. 
 
 But I had almost forgotten one of the most interest- 
 ing of all stage figures Madame Vestris, the half 
 Italian, half English lady, who within twenty years of 
 her first appearance on the London boards was earning 
 the salary of a Prime Minister. Madame Vestris's father 
 was a brother of the great Bartolozzi, and her mother 
 
 105 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 was a native of Liverpool. When Eliza Lucy, as the 
 great actress was christened, was but twelve years 
 old her father died, leaving his widow and child with 
 scarce a penny. Her education completed, Eliza Lucy 
 obtained an engagement at the famous San Carlo 
 theatre of Naples, where she was much admired for 
 her beauty and her handsome figure. From Naples 
 she went to nearly every capital in Europe by turn 
 and eventually reached London, where all she could 
 get in the way of an engagement was a season as 
 chorus girl at the King's Theatre. This over, she went 
 back to the Continent, only to return to England to 
 play at the French Theatre in St. James's Square. 
 During this season she met and fell in love with M. 
 Armond Vestris, the principal dancer at the Italian 
 Opera. They were married in 1818, and Madame 
 Vestris retired from the stage for some time, to return 
 to it as the leading character in "II Ratto di Proserpina." 
 Her husband died soon after, and in 1822 the great 
 Elliston engaged her for Drury Lane, where her Don 
 Giovanni and Captain Macheath took the town by 
 storm. Between this engagement and her first season 
 at the Haymarket was a provincial tour. 
 
 The Haymarket management paid her 40 per night, 
 or 240 a week a sum which sounds almost incredible 
 in these days, when 100 is by no means a common 
 salary for a leading lady. Madame Vestris married 
 Charles Mathews en secondes noces. As an actress it 
 is difficult to place her. Some critics have raved about 
 her ; others have declared her performances to have 
 been hugely overrated. But there was no doubt about 
 her popularity, and she had English playgoers at her 
 feet. America did not think so much of her ; in fact 
 her American tour was a " frost," though some de- 
 clared this failure to have been caused by reports as to 
 
 106 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 her private character previous to her second marriage. 
 Her return caused an absolute sensation throughout 
 the country. People stood aghast at the very idea of 
 the Yankees daring to spurn their favourite, and a 
 wag of the period declared that unless the popular 
 excitement showed signs of cooling war between Eng- 
 land and America would undoubtedly result. 
 
 So far as one can judge, however, the sole reason 
 why America would have little or none of Madame 
 Vestris was that they thought her an overrated actress. 
 In her early days she may have deserved the fatuous 
 praises showered upon her, but by the time she set 
 sail across the herring-pond she was no longer in her 
 prime. Nor was it only in America that the Vestris failed 
 to find favour with the critics. Her visit to Edinburgh 
 in the 'twenties produced a very cutting notice from 
 one of the leading prints. " In a very inferior line 
 of parts she is graceful and clever, and this is all the 
 praise to which we deem her entitled. She has not 
 made a great impression in Edinburgh, and the general 
 opinion is that she is but a second-rate actress. In 
 one word, she knows how to do a smart thing, but she 
 has little or no conception of aught beyond." So ran 
 the Scotch critic's opinion, which was probably nearer 
 the mark than many of the criticisms over the border. 
 
 Her return to the English stage after her American 
 visit brought her one of the most magnificent receptions 
 with which an actress has ever been favoured. Hun- 
 dreds of people had to be content with a glimpse of 
 the Vestris arriving at or leaving the theatre, for seats 
 were at a premium. She made her entrance to the 
 tune of " Home, sweet Home," and the audience 
 worshipped their idol more madly than ever. Flowers 
 were showered upon her, and at the end of the evening 
 she was called over and over again. 
 
 107 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 But I have wandered too far from the Haymarket. 
 There, at any rate, Madame Vestris had no fear of 
 failure, and she was probably at her best when at the 
 new Theatre Royal. Her " drawing " powers were 
 proved by her colossal salary ; but one wonders how 
 the management can have seen results in the way of 
 profits at the end of each week, though it must be 
 remembered that the Haymarket of those days held 
 considerably more money than in this year of grace, 
 the alterations made by Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft 
 having considerably diminished the holding capacity, 
 while at the same time making the Haymarket what 
 it is we flatter ourselves the most comfortable 
 theatre in London. 
 
 Madame Vestris's salary, by the way, is one of the 
 largest ever paid to a player in the whole history of 
 the stage; but Edmund Kean, I believe, broke the record 
 when, in 1829, he received no less than 50 per night, 
 his first benefit bringing him in the huge sum of 2000. 
 In this connection, however, it must be remembered 
 that those were the days of comparatively few theatres, 
 and, despite the limited Press, enormous popular inte- 
 rest in all that appertained to the stage. It is quite 
 a mistake to suppose that because all the thousand 
 and one papers of the day publish dramatic columns 
 and personal paragraphs without number about us 
 poor players, the interest taken in the actor and all 
 his ways is as great as in the years gone by. The 
 paragraph has removed that veil of mystery that 
 covered the Footes, the Keans, the Macreadys, and, 
 above all, the stages of the years that are passed. The 
 British public of to-day knows how the trick is done. 
 They like to see the cards shuffled, but the sleight of 
 hand awes them no more. They no longer wonder 
 how the rabbit came into the top-hat, nor gaze open- 
 
 108 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 mouthed at the disappearing lady. The Press, eager 
 for our good (or is it hungry for copy ?), has given us 
 away, with the result that with all our popularity 
 we have lost half our interest. We are no longer 
 rogues or vagabonds, but respectable, ordinary every- 
 day folk, who paint our faces and simulate characters 
 that do not belong to us, instead of earning our living 
 in the traffic of cheese, or the dissection of domestic 
 carcases. We even go to church, and are not all be- 
 lievers in the necessity of wife-beating for the attain- 
 ment of conjugal felicity. And how can a great 
 British public be expected to take absorbing interest in 
 a man who hands round the plate or makes a mustard- 
 bath for his cold-stricken spouse ? 
 
 But digression, I am assured, is even more dangerous 
 for an author than respectability for a poor player. 
 
 Madame Vestris was well supported on her appear- 
 ance in " Paul Pry." Of Listen's genius I have already 
 written, and William Farren was one of the best char- 
 acter-actors the stage has ever known. It seems hard 
 to realise that the William Farren of 1825 " old 
 Farren," as he is best known was the father of the 
 William Farren of 1903, that most perfect of Sir Peter 
 Teazles, who has more than proved the doctrine of 
 heredity in half the theatres of London town. 
 
 The William Farren of 1825 is perhaps best described 
 in the words of Leigh Hunt, who wrote : 
 
 "He is a young man who plays old parts, whom 
 great art assists in disguising his voice, his shape and 
 his features, affecting in the full vigour of life the 
 decrepitude and powerless passions and vanities of 
 age, and succeeding in proportion as he is unlike 
 himself, and as he reverses all his own hearty and 
 pleasurable sympathies. His success in this way is 
 undoubtedly curious, and when, as in Lord Ogleby, he 
 
 109 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 engrafts on this assumption of age and decay singular 
 delicacy of manner, and aristocratic vivacity and pride 
 with the appearance of physical weakness, the por- 
 traiture which he gives is no less agreeable than 
 singular." " One of the most finished actors by whom 
 the stage has been adorned during the present century," 
 Henry Morley has called him, and the criticism was 
 probably not exaggerated. His great part was Lord 
 Ogleby in " The Clandestine Marriage." The last time 
 he appeared in the character was in 1851 at the Hay- 
 market, when he said good-bye to the theatre sur- 
 rounded by nearly all the leading actors and actresses 
 of the English stage. Curiously enough, William Farren 
 made his first appearance in London as Sir Peter 
 Teazle, the character in which his son has so often de- 
 lighted us. 
 
 The years that followed the successful run of " Paul 
 Pry " are only remarkable for the appearance of some 
 well-known actors, and are conspicuous by the absence 
 of novelty and exciting incident. But before I come 
 to Webster's management I must give a few lines to 
 one or two who helped Madame Vestris, Listen, " Old " 
 Farren, and Mrs. Glover to keep the lamp of the 
 Haymarket burning brightly. 
 
 Vandenhoff was one of the most interesting of the 
 actors who played under Mr. Morris's management. 
 He was the son of a gentleman, who was much loved 
 by the ladies of Salisbury for his skill in preparing 
 those concoctions that turn raven tresses into golden 
 sunbeams, and make silky black those objectionable 
 carrot locks that are the glory of neither man nor 
 woman. Vandenhoff pere was a strict Roman Catholic, 
 and destined his son to the priesthood, but an inborn 
 longing for tragedy compelled him to the stage, on 
 which he first appeared at the age of eighteen in his 
 
 no 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 native town. From Salisbury he went to Liverpool, 
 and at Liverpool and Manchester he was for many 
 years the tragic attraction. But the London magnet 
 drew him to town, which he hoped to take by storm 
 by ingeniously compounding the styles of Kemble, 
 Kean, Macready, and Young. This mixture, how- 
 ever, had little drawing power, and his manager did 
 his best to get rid of him. But Vandenhoff had an 
 agreement, and limpet-like he stuck to it, until it died 
 a natural death. Then back to Liverpool he went, 
 there to find another tragedian, by name Slater, reign- 
 ing in his stead. Vandenhoff, however, was not to be 
 ousted, and the rivalry of the two tragedians was taken 
 up with much warmth by the good people of Liverpool. 
 " The theatre," I quote from a contemporary print, 
 " immediately became the arena of discordant noises 
 and ruffianly bruising matches, and the boxes, pit, 
 and gallery were nightly adorned with flaming 
 placards exhibited by the partisans of each would-be 
 mimic monarch, the contents of which was as dis- 
 graceful to the drama as to common-sense. Nor was 
 this spirit of opposition confined to the theatre alone, 
 for, ' Vandenhoff for ever and the good old cause ' ; 
 * Slater for ever, and no Catholic/ disgusted the eyes 
 of the passengers who could read it chalked upon every 
 street wall and dirty alley of that extensive and 
 populous town. The end of all this scene of fire and 
 fury was that the pupil of Ignatius was safely reseated 
 in the tragic chair, which the man of genius lacking tact 
 was forced to vacate for the cell of a madhouse, where, 
 melancholy and broken-hearted, he shortly died and 
 was forgotten ! " 
 
 In his prime Vandenhoff was distinctly an actor to 
 be reckoned with. His Coriolanus was, from all 
 accounts, a distinguished performance, and his Richard 
 
 in 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 has been sealed with the approval of the critics. Ex- 
 ceptionable is the only adjective to apply to his private 
 character, and education having taught him to be a 
 gentleman, he never forgot the lesson. He was 
 possessed of that dogged pluck that has success in its 
 train, and he literally made the London public appre- 
 ciate him. 
 
 In addition to Madame Vestris and Mrs. Glover, 
 the Haymarket of those days had two sound actresses 
 in the persons of Mrs. Waylett and Mrs. Honey. 
 
 Mrs. Waylett was one of the best chambermaids the 
 stage, or at any rate the Haymarket, has ever known. 
 She had mischief in her eyes, and tripped about the 
 stage in so light-hearted a fashion that she was on 
 good terms with her audience from her first perform- 
 ance. She acquired a passion for the stage at an 
 extremely early age, and her father, a Bath trades- 
 man, had the good sense to encourage a natural 
 bent. 
 
 Another pert romp of an actress was Mrs. Honey 
 (ne'e Laura Bell), who buzzed about the stage so gaily 
 that she soon became known as the honey " bee." 
 She was remarkable for her voluble tongue, which 
 produced an impromptu from the scene-painter of 
 Sadler's Wells. He wrote : 
 
 " O Laura Bell ! O Laura Bell ! 
 
 Confound your noisy chatter ; 
 
 Your little tongue does surely tell 
 
 No Belle's without a clapper." 
 
 Mrs. Honey shone least at the Haymarket, where she 
 appears to have been completely lost. Her husband 
 was drowned by the upsetting of a pleasure-boat near 
 Battersea Bridge, and her amours subsequent to his 
 death kept the hungry gossips satisfied for many a day. 
 
 112 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Another notable engagement during the year that 
 immediately preceded Webster's management was that 
 of Ellen Tree, who was afterwards to become the wife 
 of Charles Kean and to play several times with her 
 husband at the Haymarket. She was an unequal 
 actress, who was a far better comedian than tragedian, 
 though her Lady Teazle seems to have ranked among 
 the least of her achievements. A native of the South 
 of Ireland, she had all the Irish charm, and her appear- 
 ance was much in her favour. Her success at the 
 Haymarket in the days before her marriage was con- 
 siderable, both she and Vandenhoff receiving high 
 praise for their performances in Serjeant Talfourd's 
 " Ion." 
 
 Of the rest of the great players under Mr. Morris's 
 management I have already written. They include 
 Liston, Charles Kemble, Elliston, and Mrs. Glover, who 
 made the theatrical sensation of 1833 by appearing 
 as Falstaff, for which a contemporary critic was rude 
 enough to say that she required but little " make up." 
 Buckstone was another famous member of Mr. Morris's 
 company, as was Benjamin Webster, but they have 
 chapters to themselves. 
 
 113 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 I CONFESS to a "first night" feeling as I draw 
 nearer " modern times." Hitherto, with scarce an 
 exception, I have dealt with those who flourished 
 when no living man can remember them, and my in- 
 accuracies have been cloaked by the mist of time. 
 But on arrival at the year 1837, when Benjamin 
 Webster took command of the Theatre Royal Hay- 
 market, I find myself confronted by the names of 
 players whose performances my comparatively tender 
 forty years make it impossible for me to have wit- 
 nessed, yet whose acting is still a recollection to more 
 than one greybeard whose heavy critical hand I al- 
 ready feel. Moreover, I have no mean players to deal 
 with. Macready, the younger Mathews, Helen 
 Faucit, Tyrone Power, Benjamin Wrench, Mrs. Fitz- 
 william, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean, Samuel Phelps, 
 Madame Celeste, and Mrs. Stirling were among the 
 players who brought honour to the Haymarket under 
 Webster ; while Lord Lytton, Sheridan Knowles, and 
 Douglas Jerrold are numbered among the dramatists 
 whom the manager encouraged, and who repaid him 
 by giving him success after success. But with 
 Webster I leave biography behind me, confining my- 
 self to an .anecdote here and there. 
 
 Webster's introduction to the stage augured ill for 
 his future success. At the age of nineteen he was 
 foolish enough to become the husband of a widow 
 
 114 
 
BENJAMIN WEBSTER AT THE AGE OF SEVENTY-THREE 
 
 PLATE V 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 with a ready-made family and, presumably, little or 
 nothing to bless herself with. Webster having no 
 means at all, his early married days were scarcely 
 rosy. From town to town he tramped with con- 
 siderably less than the proverbial half-crown in his 
 pocket, only to meet with refusal after refusal. At 
 last he came across Mr. Beverley, who was going 
 to open the Croydon Theatre for a short season. His 
 first application was for the onerous post of " extra 
 gentleman." 
 
 " Full," was Mr. Beverley's reply. 
 
 " Little business and utility ? " 
 
 "Full," replied Mr. Beverley. 
 
 " Harlequin ? " 
 
 "Don't like male dancers, their legs don't draw," 
 said Mr. Beverley. 
 
 "Orchestra?" 
 
 "What's your instrument ? " 
 
 " Violin, tenor, violoncello, double bass, and double 
 drums." "By Nero," swore Mr. Beverley, "let's 
 have a taste of your quality on the violin." Webster 
 complied, with the result that he was engaged as 
 leader at a salary of one guinea per week. 
 
 "Had a storm of gold fallen on me" I quote 
 Webster's own words "it could not have delighted 
 Semele more than me. I felt myself plucked out of 
 the slough of despond. I had others to support, 
 board myself, and to get out of debt. I resolved to 
 walk to Croydon, ten miles every day to rehearsal 
 and back to Shoreditch on twopence a day one 
 pennyworth of oatmeal, and one pennyworth of milk 
 and I did it for six weeks, Sundays excepted, when 
 I indulged in the luxury of a shin of beef and ox-cheek. 
 The gentlemen in the gallery pelted the orchestra 
 with mutton pies. At first indignation was upper- 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 most, but on reflection we made a virtue of necessity, 
 and collecting the fragments of the not very light 
 pastry ate them under the stage, and, whatever they 
 were made of, considered them ambrosia. At the end 
 of the sixth week I had so pleased Mr. Beverley and 
 his son Harry that I was asked to give a specimen of 
 my terpsichorean abilities in a sailor's hornpipe. I 
 essayed the task, buoyed up with hope, dashed on the 
 stage, got through the double shuffle, the toes and 
 heels, though feeling faint ; but at last, despite every 
 effort, I broke down through sheer exhaustion, con- 
 sequent upon a near approach to starvation, and the 
 curtain dropped on me and my hopes, and I burst 
 into an agony of tears. However, this mourning was 
 soon turned into joy, for Mr. Beverley behaved like a 
 father to me, and engaged me as walking-gentleman 
 for his London theatre, where I made my first ap- 
 pearance as Henry Morland in "The Heir-at-Law," 
 which, to avoid legal proceedings, he called "The 
 Lord's Warming Pan." 
 
 The Haymarket owes Webster much. He it was 
 who was the first to light it with the then precious 
 gas, and he enlarged the proscenium by eleven feet. 
 Moreover, it was Webster who secured for the Hay- 
 market a licence to keep open the entire year. From 
 the earliest days of his management he displayed a 
 liberality that gave no little encouragement to the 
 drama of the day. At the close of the season which 
 ended on the I5th of January 1841 Webster made a 
 speech, a passage in which is worth noting : 
 
 " It is with some degree of pride that through your 
 kind encouragement I am enabled to state to you 
 that at the 'Little Theatre' in the Haymarket, 
 besides several well approved farces, three original 
 five-act plays have been produced and supported by 
 
 116 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 the biggest available talent in the country, and that 
 after paying upwards of 9000 to auxiliary talent, 
 nearly 2000 to dramatic authors, and 252 nights' 
 salary to every person regularly engaged at this 
 establishment, I shall wind up the season's account 
 with a very considerable profit. For the future, 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, I beg to inform you that 
 that high-minded and liberal nobleman, the present 
 Lord Chamberlain, having taken into his consideration 
 the strict devotion of this theatre to the interests of the 
 legitimate drama, has kindly granted a special licence 
 of two months in addition to the present season." 
 
 Lord Lytton's "Money" was Webster's chief pro- 
 duction during his management of the Haymarket. 
 He also produced Westland Marston's " Heart of 
 the World" and " Strathmore," Sheridan Knowles's 
 "Love Chase," and Douglas Jerrold's "Time Works 
 Wonders." 
 
 Douglas Jerrold, by the way, was the first editor 
 of Lloyds News. He made the usual application 
 to be put on the " free list," but Webster made 
 it a rule never to grant the favour until a paper had 
 been twelve months in existence. At the end of 
 twelve months, therefore, Jerrold applied again. 
 " My dear Jerrold," replied Webster, " you've abused 
 me steadily for twelve months ; I think you'd better 
 go on ! " 
 
 Another author to whom he accorded his patronage 
 was Serjeant Talfourd, the author of "Ion." One 
 night when Talfourd was in the Haymarket green- 
 room a lady remarked that she had heard a rumour 
 to the effect that he was at work on a new play. 
 "What," exclaimed Douglas Jerrold, "more * Ions' 
 in the fire ! " 
 
 Why, possessed as he was of so much talent, 
 
 117 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Webster should have offered a prize of 500 for the 
 best comedy submitted to him, passes my compre- 
 hension, just as it has puzzled many a writer before 
 me. That the experiment was a failure is not 
 surprising. The comedy selected by the judges, who 
 consisted of actors and dramatists, was Mrs. Gore's 
 " Quid pro Quo, or the Day of the Dupes." Mrs. 
 Gore was the fashionable novelist of the day, and her 
 comedy was chosen from among nearly one hundred 
 plays submitted for judgment. The audience would 
 have none of it, and the authoress took her beating 
 badly, declaring that it was her sex that brought 
 about the opposition of rival dramatic critics. So 
 far as I have been able to discover there was no 
 ground for this accusation ; in fact one has only 
 to read the prize comedy to appreciate the true 
 reasons for its non-success. 
 
 Quite apart from his skill as manager of the 
 Haymarket, Benjamin Webster was a great actor 
 an actor of almost infinite variety. His Tartuffe 
 was a great performance ; his Triplet probably the 
 best the stage has seen. Mrs. Kendal's father after 
 witnessing his performance in " The Queensberry 
 Fete" declared that his god had been destroyed. 
 The " god " was John Emery's performance of the 
 same part. He did not suffer from that fatality a 
 " personality " : he could adapt himself to practically 
 whatever character he chose to study. His most 
 brilliant moments were at the old Adelphi, to which 
 he brought fame, just as he had more than continued 
 the prestige gained by the Haymarket under Messrs. 
 Morris and Coleman. 
 
 Webster's first year of management was made 
 noteworthy by the de"but of Samuel Phelps and 
 the appearance of Madame Celeste the Madame 
 
 118 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Celeste who was afterwards to make the old Adelphi 
 glorious by her Miriam in the " Green Bushes " or 
 the "Ever Green Bushes" as it might safely be 
 called and was to join her Haymarket manager as 
 joint lessee and manager of the Adelphi in a few years' 
 time. Another noteworthy engagement in Webster's 
 early days was that of Tyrone Power, one of the 
 best portrayers of Irish character that the stage 
 has ever seen, and an actor whose talents were so 
 much thought of that even Webster found it worth 
 his while to pay him a salary of 150 a week. 
 Curiously enough though his brogue was faultless 
 and he seemed Irish to the backbone Tyrone Power 
 hailed from Wales, Glamorganshire being the county 
 of his birth and David Powell his actual name. His 
 first appearances on the boards were marked by a 
 strong Welsh accent, which was scarcely conducive 
 to success in certain parts, so David looked about 
 him for a cure. In the company with him was a 
 "rale Oirish jintleman," who for the very low price 
 of a few drops of the " crathur " undertook to 
 remove the undesirable accent in a few lessons. 
 David worked hard with his bibulous tutor, but 
 with the result that in losing the Welsh twang he 
 acquired a rich Irish brogue, to which was added a 
 sprinkling of Newcastle burr. 
 
 With this acquirement he appeared as Romeo 
 to empty boxes and it was not until he was 
 persuaded much against his will to play Paddy 
 O'Halloran in a farce by Rodwell that he made the 
 success that accompanied him to the end of his life. 
 
 Poor Power met with a tragic end just four years 
 after the opening of the Haymarket under Webster. 
 He was returning from New York, on the President, 
 after a successful American tour, but was never 
 
 119 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 destined to see England again, for in the terrific gale 
 that raged at the beginning of March 1841 the ship 
 went down with all hands. 
 
 I believe it to be a fact that Power's life would 
 have been saved had it not been that he dearly loved 
 a lord. He had arranged to return to England by 
 another boat, but upon some one telling him that a 
 peer was crossing in the President, he instantly 
 changed his passage to that ship. Webster, who 
 was a great admirer of Power's, said that he was the 
 most instantaneous London success he had ever 
 known. To mark his appreciation of Power's talent 
 he presented him with two double tickets for the 
 upper-boxes, but only one was ever used and that 
 Power gave to his landlady. 
 
 Tyrone Power's very last appearances in London 
 were made at the Haymarket for his benefit on the 
 ist of August 1840, when he appeared as Sir Patrick 
 O'Plenipo in " The Irish Ambassador " and Tim More 
 in " The Irish Lion." 
 
 Mrs. Fitzwilliam, who was another of Webster's 
 early engagements, had made her theatrical debut at 
 the Haymarket at the early age of fourteen. She 
 was born of theatrical parents, and her success was 
 not long in the coming. Fame was brought to her 
 by the part of Madge Wildfire which she " created " 
 at the Surrey. Her greatest theatrical feat was an 
 appearance under Bond's management at the Adelphi 
 in a monologue called " Mrs. Wiggins," in which she, 
 wholly unsupported, sustained no less than seven 
 different characters, and played the violin, the harp, 
 and the piano ! She gave the same entertainment in 
 Dublin, and Irishmen to a man voted her a prodigy. 
 Mrs. Fitzwilliam was a great favourite at the Hay- 
 market, and she shared with Power the honours of 
 
 120 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " The Irish Lion." Few more versatile actresses can 
 ever have faced the footlights. 
 
 Benjamin Wrench, another of Webster's excellent 
 company, was originally intended for the church, as a 
 living, in the gift of the Bishop of Norwich, had been 
 bequeathed to Benjamin Wrench so long as that 
 name remained in the family, out of respect to the 
 memory of Sir Benjamin Wrench, Bart., the actor's 
 grandfather. One of Wrench's earliest appearances 
 was made at York under the management of the 
 eccentric Tate Wilkinson. On the first night at the 
 end of the piece Wilkinson, who was never prodigal 
 of compliment, came hobbling into Wrench's dressing- 
 room. " I have come, sir," said he, " to tell you that 
 you have a good deal of roast beef about you ! " 
 
 This reminds me of another story of a more modern 
 manager. He had sent out a provincial company 
 with a fairly well-known young man as the " star." 
 The company arrived at one of the northern cities, 
 but, despite the starring of the juvenile and the 
 reputation brought by the play from London, empty 
 houses ruled. One night, when the young actor was 
 waiting in his dressing-room in a state of abject de- 
 spondency, who should stroll in, to his horror, but the 
 great London manager ! The youthful Roscius stood 
 tremblingly awaiting an outburst of wrath, too 
 nervous even to bid his manager good-day. But to 
 his astonishment the manager himself kept silence, 
 gazing sorrowfully at the young actor for some 
 moments. At last the spell was broken. The 
 manager strolled over to the fireplace, lit a cigar, 
 put his hands into his pockets, and warmed himself 
 luxuriously. 
 
 " You're a blooming magnet, I don't think," he said 
 at last. And that was the only comment he made. 
 
 121 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Tate Wilkinson's criticism of Wrench was excellent, 
 and he soon showed of what good roast beef he was 
 made. He was one of the soundest of sound 
 comedians, with a versatility shared by few of his 
 day. 
 
 It was the year following Webster's dbut as 
 manager of the Haymarket Theatre that saw the 
 appearance of the mighty Macready, who during his 
 engagement at the Haymarket appeared as the hero 
 of Lord Lytton's "Sea Captain" and "Money," 
 and of Serjeant Talfourd's "Glencoe" and "The 
 Athenian Captive." Webster paid Macready a salary 
 of over 4000 per season, but there is good reason to 
 believe that he lost nothing by his contract. 
 
 As it is but thirty years since Macready passed 
 away I have no excuse for telling over again the 
 story of his life. All who are interested in the career 
 of us poor players know that he was, like Wrench and 
 many another before them, originally intended for the 
 church. Familiar too must be the anecdote attached 
 to his first performance how Mrs. Siddons, when on 
 a " starring " tour in the North, being dissatisfied with 
 her leading gentleman, begged the elder Macready to 
 let his son take his place, and how the Queen of 
 Tragedy overruled the father's objections, and so 
 started William Charles on a career that was to reach 
 the topmost heights of fame. Possibly though, an 
 anecdote of Macready's grande maniere , which I came 
 across in an old actor's note-book, may not deserve 
 the "chestnut" condemnation. 
 
 While Macready was at Bath he was dubbed with 
 the nickname of " Haughty Mac " on account of the 
 enormous dignity with which he invested himself. 
 One day the veteran Dowton arrived at the theatre, 
 and going behind the scenes caught sight of Macready 
 
 122 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 giving his daily instructions. The old actor went up 
 to his manager and held out his hand, but to his 
 intense astonishment was waved back by a tre- 
 mendous sweep of the tragedian's arm. 
 
 " Mister Dowton, sir. What would my people think 
 of such familiarity ! " 
 
 When Edmund Kean and Macready played in the 
 same pieces at Drury Lane the rivalry between the 
 two was intense, and it was usual to consult them in 
 the course of the evening as to what they would 
 appear in next. One night when the prompter was 
 sent to ask Mr. Macready what he would play with 
 Mr. Kean, the great tragedian frowned upon him till 
 he blushed. 
 
 " 'Fore Gad, sir," he roared, " how should I know 
 what the man would like to play ? " 
 
 The prompter retired to seek the desired informa- 
 tion from Mr. Kean. 
 
 "D n it, sir," said Mr. Kean sharply, "how the 
 h 1 should I know what the fellow can play ? " 
 
 In Macready's early days under Elliston's manage- 
 ment he met with a nasty rebuff. Coming into the 
 green room dressed as Rob Roy he asked, " Pray, Mr. 
 Elliston, when do we act Shakespeare ? " 
 
 " When ? " repeated Elliston ; " when you can ! " 
 
 When Macready was in America he rehearsed 
 Hamlet with a Guildenstern who would come too 
 close. Macready remonstrated, but with no effect. 
 At last the actor came so close that Macready said, 
 "What, sir, you would not shake hands with Hamlet, 
 would you ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Guildenstern, " I do with my 
 own President." 
 
 Curiously enough, more than one writer on the stage 
 has fallen into the error of putting the Haymarket 
 
 123 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Theatre down as the scene of Macready's farewell. 
 As a matter of fact it was at Drury Lane that he said 
 good-bye. On the morning of the great day Macready 
 wrote in his diary : " My first thought when I awoke 
 was that that day was to be the close of my pro- 
 fessional life. I meditated on it, and not one thin 
 line of regret intermingled with the placid satisfaction 
 accompanying my performance of every act needfully 
 preparative to the coming event." Yet the papers of 
 the day tell us that he spoke "feelingly and fer- 
 vently " to the audience. His address wound up with 
 an explanation of his reason for retirement : 
 
 " Because I would not willingly abate one jot of 
 your esteem, I retire with the belief of yet unfailing 
 powers, rather than linger on the scene to set in con- 
 trast the feeble style of age with the more vigorous 
 exertions of better years." 
 
 Those who can still remember Macready before his 
 retirement say that one of the most remarkable ex- 
 periences they ever had was to hear him read a part. 
 However dull and pointless the lines might have 
 seemed before, the moment Macready spoke them 
 they held a new meaning. Many an actor of those 
 days, disgusted at first with a new role allotted to him, 
 was overjoyed, after Macready had read his lines, at 
 having been given such an excellent part. 
 
 So conscientious an actor was Macready that during 
 the hours of performance he was always the character 
 he happened to be playing off as well as on the 
 stage. The moment he quitted the stage he went 
 straight to his dressing-room to await the next call. 
 He would never see a visitor between the acts, and 
 gave the strictest orders that no letters or messages, 
 however urgent, were to be brought to him during 
 the performance. 
 
 124 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Another of Webster's earliest supporters who re- 
 mained until the end of the management and eventu- 
 ally became manager himself was Mr. John Baldwin 
 Buckstone, to whom two chapters are devoted else- 
 where. But a story of " Bucky " while a member of 
 Webster's company must be told here. There was 
 nothing that Bucky liked better than to go to a race- 
 meeting when opportunity offered, and no race he 
 enjoyed more than the Derby. So one Derby day, 
 being only wanted that night for the last farce, he 
 determined on an expedition to Epsom with a jolly 
 party of friends. All went well until the time came 
 for the journey home, when the crowd was so great 
 that the carriage containing " Bucky " and his friends 
 got blocked, with the result that he arrived in London 
 after the theatre had closed. On going to bed he 
 found a call for rehearsal the next morning. When 
 he got to the theatre no one, to his intense astonish- 
 ment, referred to his absence the night before. At 
 last his curiosity was so piqued that he asked a fellow- 
 member of the company to come out and have a 
 drink. Once inside a neighbouring tavern Buckstone 
 asked : 
 
 " How did you get on last night ? What did you 
 play ? " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Stickland was taken ill, and the farce had 
 to be changed," was the answer. 
 
 Buckstone had never been missed at all. 
 
 This story reminds me of an incident that occurred 
 to Harrison and myself not long ago. 
 
 Major Baden-Powell, " B.P.'s " brother, who was 
 quartered at Aldershot at the time, was to play one 
 afternoon in an amateur performance in aid of the 
 widows and orphans of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade. 
 Everyone else was ready to begin, but the Major was 
 
 125 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 nowhere to be found. The curtain was kept down, 
 the band went on playing still, no Major! At last a 
 young officer came up and said : 
 
 " Mr. Maude, the last I saw of Major Baden 
 Powell this morning before I left Aldershot was in a 
 balloon about 2000 feet above the earth." 
 
 The consternation of the other amateurs may be 
 imagined, and I began to be fearful of a tragic ending 
 to the afternoon, when in rushed the Major breathless 
 and full of apology. 
 
 Benjamin Webster was distinctly popular with 
 his company. He seems to have been a most good- 
 natured manager, always ready with a joke. One of 
 the less well-known members of his company, Harry 
 Widdicombe, had a very easy season one year, for 
 he was not given a part the whole time until the 
 very last night of all. It so happened that on the 
 morning of the last day Widdicombe took it into his 
 head to go to Gravesend, where he had such a capital 
 time, that he missed the boat and could not get to 
 London at all that night. 
 
 "Well, I'm hanged, Harry," said Webster next 
 morning to the truant, " I've paid you ten months' 
 salary and never used you, and the only time you 
 were wanted you didn't turn up ! " 
 
 Even in Webster's time the actor had not quite 
 given up the habit of addressing the audience. One 
 night during the middle of a piece a gentleman in 
 the dress circle got up and began to put on his coat. 
 
 " I beg pardon, sir," called one of the company 
 from the stage, " but the piece is not over yet." 
 
 "Much obliged to you for the information, sir," 
 returned the gentleman, giving his coat a final tug, 
 " but I've had quite enough of it." 
 
 Webster was very superstitious. One day when 
 
 126 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 he and Macready had met to sign an agreement he 
 suddenly remembered it was Friday, and begged to 
 be excused putting his name to the paper until the 
 next day. Macready readily agreed, declaring that 
 nothing on earth would induce him either to sign on 
 that unlucky day. 
 
 A particularly interesting fact in connection with 
 Webster's management of the Haymarket is that his 
 was the first company to go on tour. Whenever the 
 theatre closed, the members of the company went 
 off in a body and rented a small provincial theatre 
 for five nights at a time (they never played on 
 Saturdays) , all sharing equally. Any one who happened 
 to be " out of the bill " made himself useful in front 
 of the house, and no one objected to playing small 
 parts or insisted on " fat " ones. It was quite a 
 mutual benefit society, and each member often 
 netted quite a nice little sum. It was then that the 
 foundations of the old stock companies first came to 
 be undermined, though they received a ruder shock 
 when in later years Buckstone took his company on 
 tour. 
 
 But these early provincial tours were not always 
 successful. On one occasion they arrived on a Satur- 
 day at a small town in the Midlands exceedingly 
 short of cash. They were met by the local manager, 
 who assured them that business would be excellent, 
 and relying on this prospect proceeded to enjoy their 
 Sunday with the money that remained to them. 
 But on the Monday the manager called on them 
 with consternation written all over his face. The 
 local magistrates had refused permission for the 
 theatre to be opened. They petitioned, but all in 
 vain, and the advent of the magistrates' final refusal 
 coincided with the arrival of the landlady's bill, and 
 
 127 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 the emphatic statement on the part of that worthy 
 that not another morsel of food should they touch 
 until the bill was paid. The woman was as good as 
 her word, and the unfortunate company underwent 
 the agonies of Tantalus at the sound of clattering 
 knifes and forks and the sight of passing pastry- 
 cooks and butchers, to say nothing of the savoury 
 smell of dinners that greeted them on every hand. 
 At last when evening came the landlord arrived with 
 beer, bread, and cheese, but warned them that on 
 the morrow he should take them before a magistrate. 
 Visions of prison-cells reduced them to desperation. 
 A plan of flight was formed by Buckstone, and in 
 the middle of the night the actors and actresses, 
 with their spare clothing and properties disposed as 
 best could be managed about their persons, silently 
 climbed out of the window, looking like nothing more 
 than a series of fat men and women from a penny 
 gaff. The moment they reached the street off they 
 ran, never stopping till they reached a cornfield some 
 two miles off! From this they made their way to 
 the neighbouring town, little the worse for an ad- 
 venture that might have ended most disastrously. 
 
 Webster's management was literally a series of 
 brilliant engagements. Macready, Farren, Power, 
 Buckstone, Phelps, Madame Celeste, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Charles Mathews, and Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean 
 what an array of names ! No wonder that the theatre 
 flourished and took a leading place among the houses 
 of the metropolis ! 
 
 By the time Charles Kean reached the Haymarket 
 stage he had improved enormously in his methods. 
 His earliest efforts were disappointing, and the glamour 
 of his father's mighty name had caused the critics to 
 put him under the microscope. But if ever a son 
 
 128 
 
JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTON'E 
 
 PLATE VI 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 inherited gifts from a father, Charles Kean's talents 
 came from his sire. Not that one can believe for one 
 moment that he ever betrayed the genius of the 
 mighty Edmund, though some of the critics have 
 compared his Hamlet with Macready's, to the latter's 
 disadvantage. His father's mad extravagance, that 
 reduced the family to penury, drove Charles Kean to 
 the theatre. Much as his father wanted him to ac- 
 cept a proffered cadetship the son felt he could not 
 desert his poor mother, destitute of money and the 
 love that was her right. So he determined to try his 
 luck as an actor. His first appearance was made at 
 the Haymarket in a subordinate part, but before he 
 had been long upon the boards the powers of Old 
 Drury offered him an important engagement on the 
 strength of his father's name. He was a failure. 
 " He spoke as though he had a cold or was pressing 
 his finger to his nose," one writer said. Another was 
 good enough to say that his principal fault is " want of 
 keeping. Mr. Kean's voice is weak, his figure puerile 
 as' may be expected from his youth, but his counte- 
 nance has the power of expressing strong passions. 
 What improvement time and experience and study 
 may produce, it is hard to surmise." 
 
 But Charles Kean was not of the stuff that bad 
 notices drive to desperation. He knew that he had a 
 great name to live up to, and he had the good sense 
 to realise his want of training. So he set himself to 
 work. Step by step he climbed, slowly, laboriously, 
 with many heartaches, but with the vision of his 
 poor ill-used mother ever before him and the warning 
 afforded by the terrible career of his once mighty 
 father, whose powers grew weaker as the son's grew 
 stronger, and who was so soon to pass away. Father 
 and son played together several times at Glasgow, 
 
 129 I 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Cork, and Dublin. Their first appearance together was 
 at the Glasgow theatre, where they played Brutus 
 and Titus in Howard Payne's tragedy. " We're 
 doing the trick, Charlie," whispered the elder Kean 
 as the audience burst into a roar of applause after 
 an impassioned speech. And from that day Charles 
 Kean began to "do the trick " with more effect, 
 though it was not until after his last appearance with 
 his father that the public realised that he was an 
 actor to be reckoned with. 
 
 The awful story of that last appearance has been 
 told so often that I have no right to repeat it. It 
 was probably the most pathetic scene the stage has 
 ever presented. The father, a mere wreck, kept up 
 by bumpers of brandy, so weak that he was doubtful 
 if he could even kneel, the son playing his best and 
 all the time keeping an eye on his father in case he 
 should stagger and fall. And then, just as the mighty 
 Edmund, pulling himself together for one great effort, 
 had uttered Othello's "Farewell" with some of his 
 old energy, he collapsed in his boy's arms, whispering, 
 " I am dying, Charlie ; speak to them for me." 
 ' t Charles Kean finished the season at Covent Garden, 
 but this engagement was not renewed. The next 
 offer came from Drury Lane but it was only 15 a 
 week, and he refused it. He determined to go back 
 to the provinces. 
 
 " I will only come back when I can command my 
 own terms of 50 per night," he said to the treasurer 
 of Drury Lane. "Then say good-bye to London 
 Town for ever," replied that gentleman, " for the days 
 of such salaries are past and gone." The treasurer, 
 however, was wrong, for five years later Kean drove in 
 his carriage and pair to Drury Lane with a contract 
 in his pocket for 50 per night. Charles Kean first 
 
 130 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 appeared under Webster in 1840, and two years after- 
 wards married Miss Ellen Tree, to whom I have 
 already alluded. Not long after this marriage they 
 appeared together at the Haymarket. By this time 
 Kean's method had greatly improved. As the old 
 critic had said, " he wanted keeping." His wife and 
 he can scarcely be said to have "starred" at the 
 Haymarket, though they were the chief members of a 
 very strong company. 
 
 Charles Kean was the first of the great actors to 
 travel far afield in pursuit of his profession. He 
 played in practically every part of the world that 
 England had painted red, toured in America more 
 than once, and even acted in Amsterdam. He was a 
 man of high character, a true friend, and in many 
 ways the very opposite of his brilliant father, the sad 
 warning of whose misspent life he had taken well to 
 heart. 
 
 Charles Mathews had not long been made bankrupt 
 when Webster engaged him and Madame Vestris at 
 the Haymarket. His speculation at Covent Garden 
 had been as unfortunate as it was bold, and his 
 creditors had an unpleasantly tight grip upon him. 
 Still misfortune does not seem to have affected his 
 acting, for he had not played two seasons under 
 Webster before he made one of the greatest suc- 
 cesses of his brilliant theatrical career as Sir Charles 
 Coldstream in " Used Up." 
 
 Webster had failed to please the public with Mrs. 
 Gore's prize comedy "Quid pro Quo," from playing 
 in which both Mr. and Mrs. Charles Mathews had 
 prudently begged to be excused. 
 
 Sir Charles Coldstream, as played by Charles 
 Mathews, must have been one of the most perfect 
 pictures of the heavy, lackadaisical English dandy 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 that our stage had ever seen. So much did Mathews 
 identify himself with the part that he ended by 
 claiming the play as his own property a claim to 
 which Mr. Webster objected. The lawyers were 
 nearly called in, but on Webster, to give weight to 
 his objection, essaying the part himself, he found 
 himself so unfitted for it that he went no further in 
 the matter. 
 
 Mathews left Webster in 1844, and did not return 
 to the Haymarket until Buckstone took over the 
 management. His next appearance and last, so 
 far as this theatre was concerned, was in 1858, 
 when he and his second wife opened in "London 
 Assurance." 
 
 Charles Mathews, himself an extraordinarily quick 
 study, and an actor who scarcely ever forgot a part, 
 was intolerant of the needs of those whose memories 
 were poor. At one time, after he had been absent from 
 the theatre for close upon two years, "The Game of 
 Speculation " was put up for performance. The 
 company asked for the parts. 
 
 " Parts ! " exclaimed Mathews in intense surprise. 
 " Parts ! Surely you can't want parts ? Why, you 
 played in it the last time I was here! " 
 
 On another occasion, during Sothern's engagement, 
 Mathews came into the green-room where a notice 
 was put up to the effect that " no lady or gentleman 
 must ask permission to be absent from rehearsals 
 during Mr. Sothern's engagement." 
 
 "Were it my engagement," said Mathews, "I 
 would have a notice put up to the effect that no lady 
 or gentleman must ask permission for a rehearsal at 
 all while I am in the theatre ! " 
 
 The old man in Mathews's companies always had 
 an extremely bad time of it. When on tour the 
 
 132 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS THE YOUNGER 
 
 PLATE VII 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 stage manager would often come up to Mathews 
 with much hesitation and a very long face. 
 
 " I'm very sorry," he would falter. " I know," 
 Mathews would interrupt ; " you mean that your old 
 man has run away." 
 
 Rogers was Mathews' s old man at the Haymarket. 
 When the great comedian left the theatre he shook 
 hands heartily with him and wished him good-bye 
 and God-speed. 
 
 "Good-bye, Mr. Mathews," returned the still 
 sensitive Rogers, " and to quote from * Rob Roy,' 
 the best wish McGregor can give his friend is that 
 he may never see him any more." 
 
 One night when Charles Mathews and his wife 
 were " stars " at the Haymarket the curtain came 
 down to the faintest of faint applause. But Mrs. 
 Mathews was determined to take the call despite 
 the chilling welcome, and turned to Mr. Braid, who 
 was acting with her, begging him to lead her on. 
 But he refused on the ground that the applause was 
 insufficient. 
 
 " Mrs. Mathews," he said, " I was at Drury Lane 
 Theatre the other night, and at the end of the third 
 act Mr. Phelps received such a call as to his honour 
 he refused. But, parcelled out, it would last the 
 stars of the Haymarket Theatre twelve months ! " 
 
 Those who can still remember the younger Mathews 
 describe him as a genial, kindly soul who always put 
 the best face upon things even when his troubles were 
 at their worst. He would often joke about his mis- 
 fortunes, and seldom gave way to melancholy, though 
 he was sometimes in so tight a fix that the fellow- 
 members of his company had to " spy out the land " 
 at the back and front of the Haymarket to see if any 
 suspicious-looking characters were loitering about 
 
 133 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 before he could go home. One night he invited the 
 members of the Haymarket company to dinner at his 
 house at Fulham. 
 
 " Eat, drink, and be merry," he said with a laugh 
 as they sat down to dinner. "You're not sitting 
 down on any tradesman's body. It's all paid for ! " 
 
 134 
 
JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE AS "ACRES" 
 
 PLATE VIII 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 MR. JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE, the " Bucky " of his 
 intimates, whose management of theHaymarket Theatre 
 is, perhaps, the most famous of them all, was born on 
 the i8th of September 1802, and began the first 
 part of his early career in a solicitor's office. He 
 was by no means averse to the study of the law, and 
 his love for it would in all probability have continued 
 had it not been for his discovery of some old plays on 
 a shelf in his employer's office, which he devoured with 
 such eagerness that it was not long before he made an 
 attempt at the drama on his own account. It is said 
 that by the time he had reached the age of seventeen 
 he had written no less than two tragedies and one 
 comedy ; at any rate, there was no doubt that he had 
 caught stage-fever badly. His first appearance was 
 at the Peckham Theatre, his second at the Union 
 Theatre in Catherine Street, where he played lago to 
 Richard Young's Othello ; but it was not long before 
 he discovered comedy to be his forte. Tired of 
 amateur performances, and having had more than one 
 quarrel with his relatives owing to the irregularity 
 with which he pursued his profession, he took the 
 opportunity of their being at chapel one Sunday 
 morning to make a bolt of it. As a strolling player 
 he learned the bitter lesson of stage experience, and 
 his vicissitudes were distinctly damping to the 
 dramatic ardour with which he had been fired at the 
 
 135 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 start ; but an engagement being offered to him at the 
 Surrey Theatre, he decided to stick to the boards, and 
 made his first London appearance and success as 
 Peter Smirk in a comedietta called " The Armistice." 
 From the Surrey he went to the Coburg, and thence 
 to Sadler's Wells, the Adelphi, Drury Lane, and the 
 Haymarket, with which he was afterwards to become 
 so very closely identified. 
 
 Buckstone's connection with the Haymarket began 
 in 1837, when he was engaged by Webster as one of 
 his leading comedians, and from that day until the year 
 1877 with one or two short intervals his career was 
 bound up with the theatre. Needless to say, it 
 would be impossible to tell at full length the whole 
 story of Buckstone's management, let alone his con- 
 nection with the Haymarket Theatre. To many still 
 living it seems only the other day that " Bucky " was 
 at the head of affairs, the leading spirit of a theatre 
 to which he brought added fame and glory ; in which 
 he produced a succession of brilliant plays, and for 
 which he engaged what was literally a firmament of 
 stars. Indeed, were it not that from the outset of 
 this book I have determined to make none but a 
 random attempt at telling the Haymarket story, I 
 should have been appalled by the list of names with 
 which " Bucky 's " management confronted me. Let 
 me, however, make my apologies to those great actors 
 and actresses who played under the Buckstone 
 management for the utter inadequacy of these 
 Buckstone records. My one hope is that a story 
 here and there may be found new; my excuse 
 for sins of omission the genuine one lack of space. 
 A volume, and a capital volume too, might well be 
 devoted to the days when "Bucky" reigned at the 
 Haymarket. 
 
 136 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " Bucky," as all those who are interested in such 
 matters know, took over the Haymarket Theatre at 
 the close of Webster's management, that excellent 
 actor having turned his attentions to what was then 
 the new Adelphi. It was at Mrs. Morris's, the pro- 
 prietress, own suggestion that Buckstone turned his 
 thoughts towards management. He was eager to 
 have a theatre of his own, but, like many another, 
 lack of sufficient money barred the way to the realisa- 
 tion of his hopes. 
 
 "Mrs. Morris wants me to take the theatre," he 
 said one day to his friend Sam Geness, upon whom 
 he was making a call, " but I don't see how I can, I 
 haven't got the capital." 
 
 " Take the theatre," promptly replied Geness, " and 
 I'll find the capital." And that was how Buckstone 
 became manager of the Theatre Royal Haymarket. 
 
 His capital acquired, Buckstone went off to arrange 
 terms with Mrs. Morris. They soon came to an agree- 
 ment, and having talked over the question of repairs, 
 &c., Buckstone rose to take his leave. 
 
 " Good-bye, Mr. Buckstone," said Mrs. Morris ; 
 " good-bye. There's nothing more I can do for you, is 
 there ? " 
 
 "No," laughed Buckstone, "except to knock the 
 odd 500 a year off the rent." 
 
 "With pleasure," replied Mrs. Morris, to Buckstone's 
 intense surprise and delight. 
 
 Buckstone, I have been told, was particularly fond 
 of telling this story of how he got his rent reduced. 
 
 Buckstone's first season lasted for over five years, 
 and is, I believe, the longest on record. But they 
 worked hard indeed in those days, for when the theatre 
 closed on the Saturday the company nearly always 
 opened at Manchester the following Monday, and at 
 
 137 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 the close of the tour, which ended on a Saturday at 
 Birmingham, they were always back at work at the 
 Haymarket on the Monday after. The first years of 
 Buckstone's regime were remarkable for the famous 
 troupe of Spanish dancers headed by Pera Nena, whom 
 he introduced, and the appearance of Miss Amy 
 Sedgwick, who made a big hit in Tom Taylor's 
 " Unequal Match." One night Miss Sedgwick com- 
 plained of feeling unwell, and told " Bucky " at the 
 end of the performance that she would be unable to 
 play the next night, apologising for having to force 
 the manager to alter the bill. 
 
 ic But I shan't," said " Bucky." 
 
 " But how on earth can you play ' The Lady of 
 Lyons ' without a Pauline ? " asked the somewhat 
 nettled Miss Sedgwick. 
 
 " I don't mean to," replied " Bucky " ; " I've got two 
 or three young ladies who are dying to play Pauline, 
 and they'd be very good too, I think." 
 
 It is on record that on the following night Miss 
 Amy Sedgwick duly made her appearance. All traces 
 of illness had vanished as if by magic. 
 
 Miss Sedgwick, by the way, was at one time the 
 fiancee of a young actor whom she was very anxious 
 for " Bucky " to engage for a leading part in a new play. 
 
 " Impossible," said " Bucky " ; " the critics say he's 
 atrocious." 
 
 " Oh, do they ? " replied Miss Sedgwick ; " then I 
 won't marry him." 
 
 And she didn't. 
 
 The story of Buckstone's firmness with Miss Sedg- 
 wick must not lead the reader to suppose that he 
 was a stern manager. On the contrary, he was 
 geniality and good-nature itself. 
 
 Mr. Weathersby, who played with him for years 
 
 138 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 and years, has told me that he looks back upon the 
 happy time at the Haymarket as one perpetual 
 holiday. No one, Mr. Weathersby has often said to me, 
 could have been kinder than " Bucky," and the com- 
 pany was more like a big happy family than anything 
 else. A great feature of the life behind the scenes 
 was the Court, which so far as I can find was a sort 
 of continuation of Coleman's " Property Club." At 
 any rate, Club would probably be its best designation, 
 and a very jolly club it must have been. At it, 
 mock trials were held, the sentences taking the shape 
 of fines of bottles of whisky and brandy, and some- 
 times, for very gross offences, of dinners. Guests were 
 invited to the Court, and many a famous personage 
 of the time took part in its good-natured fun. 
 When it actually originated I have been unable to 
 discover, but it started long before Buckstone came 
 into management, and only ended, I believe, with his 
 retirement. Buckstone was the Lord Chief, a position 
 which did not prevent his being sentenced and fined 
 on more than one occasion. As a matter of fact, I 
 believe that not a single prisoner was ever brought 
 before that Court who was not found guilty a 
 method of jurisdiction which had one advantage at 
 any rate, in that it kept the club continually supplied 
 with liquid refreshment. 
 
 The sins for which the members of the Court stood 
 their trial were many and varied. Here is a specimen : 
 
 One night Compton had to play in the first farce 
 and the last, but not in the comedy, which was the 
 piece de resistance ; so having done the first part of 
 his night's work he bethought himself of a comfort- 
 able neighbouring tavern, and sallied out to have a 
 smoke. The comedy over, and the time having 
 arrived for the last farce, " Shocking Events," to 
 
 139 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 begin, it was suddenly discovered that Compton was 
 not in the theatre, but, as he had dressed for the 
 farce before going out, it was decided to go on with 
 the piece. They began, but when it was time for 
 Compton to appear it was found that he was still 
 absent, and some one had to go on and announce 
 that the curtain would have to fall as Mr. Compton 
 was not in the theatre. No sooner, however, 
 had they got the curtain down than Compton re- 
 turned and the piece was finished. It appeared 
 afterwards that he had been in the cafe next door 
 but one to the theatre, where the call-boy had 
 eventually discovered him having a quiet chat with 
 Buckstone. It had never entered his head that the 
 mere fact of Buckstone being there showed that the 
 comedy was not over. 
 
 Compton was tried, promptly found guilty, and 
 fined two bottles of whisky. The next night the 
 Lord Chief Justice Buckstone was brought before the 
 Court, tried as an accessory for keeping one of his 
 actors talking when he ought to have been on the 
 stage, and fined one bottle of the wine of Scotland. 
 
 On one occasion, when Compton was cast for one 
 of the chief characters in Bayley Bernard's " Evil 
 Genius" an old postman he went down in the 
 morning to Epsom, it being Derby Day. On the 
 course he met Mark Lemon and some other literary 
 friends, with whom he made so merry that he ended 
 by missing his train back to town. 
 
 Compton was not wanted until the end of the first 
 act, so that it was not till then that his absence was 
 noticed. When it was, a hurried consultation was 
 held behind the scenes, and Buckstone decided that 
 somehow or other he would finish the act, which he 
 succeeded in doing. But at the end of the act there 
 
 140 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 was still no Compton ; so Mr. Weathersby, who was 
 playing a servant, suggested that he should take the 
 letters on the stage, and by saying, " Old Jones told 
 me this, that, and the other," fill up the gap caused by 
 Compton's absence. This idea was agreed upon 
 and the piece was got though without any one going 
 on for Compton's part, though it must have sadly 
 puzzled an old gentleman in the stalls who had 
 possessed himself of a book of the play. When 
 Compton at last put in an appearance at the stage- 
 door he asked the doorkeeper how they got on 
 without him. 
 
 " Oh, all right," was the reply. 
 
 " But what did you play ? " 
 
 "The 4 Evil Genius.'" 
 
 " Who played my part ? " 
 
 " No one." 
 
 " Was there any apology to the audience ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " How d d humiliating ! " 
 
 Another night when Compton was in the last piece 
 on the programme he forgot all about it and went 
 home to bed. Scarcely had he got settled between 
 the sheets than he was aroused by a frantic call-boy 
 sent to summon him to the theatre. Luckily his 
 rooms were at 16 Charing Cross, quite close to the 
 theatre, so that he was able to get back and go on 
 the stage in time to take his cue. He appeared, 
 however, in his street clothes, and of course without 
 any make-up. 
 
 Compton, by the way, had a dresser who had in- 
 convenient knee-caps which were invariably put out 
 on first nights and other important occasions. As a 
 result Compton was " put out " into the bargain. 
 
 On the first night of Planch's " Anthony and 
 
 141 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Cleopatra" Compton was "put out" in another way. 
 He had to wear very long earrings, one of which got 
 entangled in some way in his beard, which it pulled 
 all askew. The audience screamed with delight. 
 
 " I've been d d funny to-night," Compton re- 
 marked as he came off the stage. 
 
 Compton, though an actor, had all the appearance 
 of a Dissenting minister. So strong was the resem- 
 blance that one night when he was invited to a 
 dinner at which several clergymen were present a 
 bishop got up, turned to him, and asked if "our 
 brother " would be good enough to say grace. 
 
 Compton was much confused, but could find no 
 excuse for not complying. 
 
 " O Lord," he said in his most solemn tones " 
 Lord, open Thou our lips that our mouths may show 
 forth Thy praise." 
 
 This reminds me of the story of a famous general 
 who was talking to the colonel of a certain body of 
 Colonials in the late war. 
 
 " Your men are indeed a fine brave set of fellows," 
 said the general; "but I wish that they could be 
 induced to abandon that vile habit of using bad 
 language." 
 
 " Oh Hell," was the colonel's reply, as he turned 
 away much bored. 
 
 But I must return to Buckstone. 
 
 During the whole time that " Bucky " was manager 
 of the Haymarket Theatre he never gave one single 
 free admission to the stalls, though if business were 
 slack his friends were welcome to the other parts of 
 the house. But for the stalls there was absolutely 
 no free list at any time. Even Sothern, when at the 
 height of his success, had to pay for a stall for a 
 friend, and the other actors had to buy theirs too. 
 
 142 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " Bucky " had a poor opinion of the critics. " What 
 do they know about it ? " he would say with a shrug 
 of his shoulders if any one referred to a notice. The 
 stalls were barred to those gentlemen as well, though 
 they were made free of the other parts of the house. 
 
 When business was bad every actor member of the 
 company was accorded the privilege of writing a 
 limited number of admissions, and some of the smaller 
 salaried members used to have what were called 
 " ticket nights " in other words, they were given a 
 certain number of tickets to sell, and received half the 
 amount of whatever tickets they disposed of. One of 
 the members of the company managed to secure no 
 less than four ticket nights to himself and three for 
 his wife and his two children, who were also con- 
 nected with the theatre in some sort of way. One 
 night this good gentleman went over to the Waterloo 
 Tavern opposite the theatre to get a drink. He 
 was carrying a favourite poodle in his arms. The 
 manager, so soon as he approached the theatre, be- 
 came greatly excited : 
 
 " Take that dog away at once," he shouted ; " take 
 him away, I won't have him here." 
 
 "Why, what's the matter?" said the actor with 
 with much surprise; " he won't bite." 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied the landlord, " but he might 
 take a benefit !" 
 
 It was in 1861 that Edwin Booth first made his 
 bow to a London audience at the Haymarket Theatre. 
 His first part was that of Sir Charles Overreach, but 
 he afterwards played Shylock, Richelieu, and Richard 
 the Third. 
 
 As a matter of fact he brought no particular grist 
 to Buckstone's mill. 
 
 Buckstone's production of Richard III., by the 
 143 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 way, must have been ludicrous in the extreme. 
 Having no armour in the Haymarket wardrobe he 
 borrowed some from Mr. Batty of Astley's Theatre. 
 When the armour arrived at the Haymarket it was 
 found to be in an extremely dirty condition, and it 
 took two property men a fortnight to polish it up 
 and get it into anything like decent order. Every- 
 thing went well with the play until the fifth act, in 
 which the armour is worn. In this Mr. Howe had to 
 exclaim, raising his right arm : 
 
 " Thus far do we march " 
 
 He delivered the lines with much emphasis, but on 
 endeavouring to lower his arm, found that the armour 
 had stuck, and that nothing would move it, so that 
 he had to play the rest of the scene with his arm 
 and sword held high in the air. The rest of the 
 characters also suffered from Mr. Batty's armour. 
 One of them walked for all the world as if he had a 
 stiff leg, and the visor of another slipped down and 
 caught his ear in such a manner that he had to play 
 with his head all on one side. He endeavoured to 
 put it right by rubbing his head against one of the 
 side wings, but without any good result ! Altogether, 
 the exhibition was about as ludicrous as any ever seen 
 on the stage. One of the supers was highly indignant. 
 
 " If this armour dodge goes on much longer," he 
 declared, " I shall retire from the profession." 
 
 The performances at the Haymarket Theatre under 
 Buckstone's regime were nearly always of abnormal 
 length. The curtain generally rose at seven o'clock, 
 and seldom fell till well after midnight, indeed often 
 not until one o'clock. At nine o'clock people were 
 admitted for half-price, so that those who arrived at 
 that hour had a very good entertainment offered 
 
 144 
 
JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE AS "TONY LUMPKIN " 
 
 I'I.ATK X 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 them at an exceedingly low charge. Many were the 
 celebrities who availed themselves of this half-price 
 system to snatch an hour or two's relaxation from the 
 cares of office or the din of political strife. Mr. 
 Gladstone was a very frequent attender, and the 
 second Duke of Wellington often sat near him in the 
 upper boxes. " Bucky " eventually abolished the 
 half-price system, which has now, I believe, vanished 
 from nearly all the theatres in the country. 
 
 " Bucky " was perpetually being pestered for 
 " paper." One afternoon a man came up to him, 
 claimed his acquaintance, and begged the favour of a 
 couple of seats. Business being bad " Bucky " readily 
 gave them, scribbling the admission on a card. 
 
 " By the way,' 1 remarked the stranger after thank- 
 ing him, " we haven't seen any of your plays lately, 
 Mr. Buckstone. Let us hope that you are writing a 
 new piece." 
 
 " Not I," replied Buckstone ; " I'm too busy writing 
 orders." 
 
 Another adventure of " Bucky 's " with a stranger 
 was also funny. " Bucky " was crossing the Hay- 
 market late one night when he noticed a man in a 
 very evident state of intoxication vainly endeavour- 
 ing to embrace one of the pillars which support the 
 portico of the theatre. 
 
 " How dare you, sir!" exclaimed " Bucky," going up 
 to him "how dare you defile this temple of classic 
 comedy ! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Go 
 home, sir ; go home at once." 
 
 The bibulous stranger turned a lack-lustre eye on 
 his adviser and steadied himself with some difficulty 
 against a pillar. 
 
 " Go home yourself," he hiccoughed, " you d d 
 bad imitation of Buckstone ! " 
 
 145 K 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 " BUCKY " was a particular favourite with her late 
 Majesty, Queen Victoria, and though, as all the 
 world knows, the Queen never honoured the theatre 
 with her presence after the death of the Prince 
 Consort, she retained her box at the Haymarket 
 Theatre so long as Mr. Buckstone held the reins of 
 management. It is on record that her Majesty went 
 to the Haymarket no less than five times to see 
 " Bucky's " performance of Mr. Golightly in Madison 
 Morton's " Lend Me Five Shillings," and the late Lord 
 Alfred Paget once told a theatrical friend that the 
 late Queen Victoria would frequently regale Prince 
 Albert with an excellent imitation of the great 
 comedian in that particular character. 
 
 In the days of her late Majesty's visits to the 
 Haymarket Theatre far more ceremony was observed 
 in the reception of Royalty than is the custom in 
 this year of grace. The Royal entrance in those 
 days was through the door of Buckstone's London 
 house, adjoining the back of the theatre in Suffolk 
 Street. A passage led to another door opening on to 
 the anteroom of the Royal Box. At the street door 
 waited the manager, bearing in either hand a massive 
 silver candlestick with which to light the Royal party 
 to their box, conducting them with much ceremony 
 through the passage until the door of the anteroom 
 was reached. One windy night " Bucky " was seated 
 
 146 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 in his office awaiting the arrival of the Royal party, 
 with the two as yet unlighted candles on a table by 
 his side. Suddenly there came the loud double knock 
 that usually heralded the advent of her late Majesty. 
 It took but a second to light the two candles, and 
 picking them up " Bucky " took his stand at the 
 Royal entrance. The door was opened with a flourish 
 only to reveal the portly presence of the laundress 
 bearing a large basket containing the week's washing ! 
 The good lady was hurriedly bidden to take her 
 burden to the stage door, and " Bucky " once more 
 resumed his seat. Presently there came the sound of 
 wheels and another loud impetuous double knock. 
 Bucky again took up his position, the door was 
 thrown open, and her Majesty stood upon the 
 threshold. At the same moment a gust of wind ex- 
 tinguished the candles, which so flustered Mr. Buck- 
 stone that he ejaculated : 
 
 " There, just look at that now ! " 
 
 The Queen, laughing heartily, was conducted to 
 her box by the much-embarrassed manager bearing 
 the candles, whose only effect was to leave a trail 
 of white and extremely odoriferous smoke behind 
 them. 
 
 At the close of the performance, when her Majesty 
 was leaving the theatre, " Bucky " had to be again on 
 duty to conduct her back to her carriage. As may be 
 imagined, the actor often had a great rush to wash his 
 make-up off and change into his dress clothes in time 
 to act as her Majesty's escort. One night when the 
 late Queen Victoria and the late Empress Frederick 
 (she was then of course the Princess Royal) stayed 
 until the end in order to see " Bucky " in " Lend Me 
 Five Shillings," it was all the actor could do to change 
 his things and make himself presentable in time to 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 conduct her Majesty to her carriage. In his hurry 
 the soap got into his eyes, and made them water to 
 such an extent that he had to enter the Royal presence 
 with an handkerchief pressed against his smarting 
 eyes. The Queen stopped a moment to congratulate 
 the manager on the excellence of his performance. 
 " Bucky," who was rather deaf, entirely mistaking her 
 Majesty's remark, replied : 
 
 "No, it's soap, your Majesty; soap! " 
 
 The last that " Bucky " saw of the Royal party that 
 night was the Princess Royal with her face pressed 
 close to the window of the carriage, laughingly holding 
 her handkerchief to one of her eyes as she waved the 
 manager a farewell. 
 
 Upon " Bucky's " deafness hangs many a good story. 
 On one occasion the Queen commanded him to play 
 at Windsor Castle. He duly arrived some time before 
 the hour of the performance, and having seen that all 
 the evening's arrangements were complete, went for 
 a stroll in the grounds. The immediate vicinity of 
 Windsor Castle, as most of the world knows, is ex- 
 tremely pretty, and " Bucky," who was a great lover of 
 nature in all its forms, became absorbed in the study 
 of the many plants and flowers. So absorbed indeed 
 did he become that he entirely forgot the time until 
 reminded by the Lord Chamberlain, who rushed breath- 
 lessly up to him. 
 
 " Mr. Buckstone," panted the court official, " you're 
 very late. Do you know that they've played the 
 overture three times ? " 
 
 " Dear me, dear me," exclaimed " Bucky " much per- 
 turbed, " I thought it was an organ playing in the 
 grounds." 
 
 One night when the late Queen Victoria had com- 
 manded her box, " Bucky" stood at the door with a 
 
 148 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 candlestick in either hand to usher in the Royal 
 party, which included the late Prince Consort, among 
 other members of the Royal Family. It so happened 
 that "Bucky " was a little "off colour" that night, 
 and quite forgetting the two steps at the end of the 
 passages fell head over heels, candlestick and all, 
 exclaiming in tones of great distress : 
 
 " Oh Lord, ma'am, just look at that ! " 
 
 Luckily " Bucky " did himself no serious damage, 
 but the performance had to be postponed at least five 
 minutes to allow the Queen and the Prince Consort to 
 have their laugh out. 
 
 " Bucky's " deafness, by the way, was not so great 
 that he could not hear his fellow-actors while on the 
 stage, but he had considerable difficulty in hearing his 
 cues while standing at the wings, and in consequence 
 made an arrangement with the prompter by which 
 that gentleman was to warn him with a tap on the 
 shoulder when the exact moment had arrived for him 
 to make his entrance. The late Lord Alfred Paget 
 was one of " Bucky's " oldest admirers and friends, 
 and would often go round between the acts to have a 
 chat with the comedian in his dressing-room. 
 
 One night when Lord Alfred was in front he went 
 round as usual between the acts to have a talk with 
 the manager. Failing to find him in his dressing-room 
 he went behind the scenes and discovered " Bucky " 
 sitting at the wings awaiting the prompter's warning 
 to go on at the end of a love-scene between Sothern 
 and the leading lady. Lord Alfred crept up behind 
 him, and, thinking to take him by surprise, tapped him 
 on the shoulder. " Bucky," mistaking Lord Alfred's 
 tap for the prompter's signal, jumped up, and walked 
 on the stage, to the amazement and confusion of 
 Sothern and the leading lady, who stared at him in 
 
 149 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 much embarrassment, being quite at a loss as to how 
 to proceed. 
 
 Buckstone, however, grasped the situation in a 
 second, and winking hard at the lady, exclaimed with 
 a chuckle as he made a rapid exit : 
 
 "Aha, I saw you!" 
 
 A roar of laughter followed the actor's exit, and the 
 stage lovers had to finish their scene in the best way 
 they could. 
 
 Another night some one else came to see Buckstone, 
 and this time, too, found him at the wings and greeted 
 him with a tap on the shoulder. " Bucky " again mis- 
 took the tap for the prompter's warning and went on 
 straight away. " The sailors are here," he said, and 
 then stopped dead at the sight of Sothern's scowling 
 face. Grasping the situation he promptly went off 
 again, exclaiming : 
 
 "At least I thought they were ; I'll go and see ! " 
 
 " Bucky's " deafness increased with age, and when 
 the management of the theatre came into the hands 
 of Sothern and J. S. Clarke, the American comedian, he 
 was very hard of hearing indeed. Charles Warner was 
 a member of the company at the time, and had a scene 
 with Buckstone in the " Overland Route." Thinking to 
 please him, and make his cues heard, Warner began in 
 a ridiculously loud voice, and getting quite close to 
 " Bucky's " ear, spoke his words as through an ear- 
 trumpet, which must have had a most absurd effect 
 and been especially annoying to Buckstone. At the 
 end of the act " Bucky " sent for Warner and said : 
 
 " I say, young man, for God's sake don't shout in 
 my ear like a roaring bull ! I may be deaf, but I don't 
 want you to go on the housetop and tell all the world 
 about it. I have played the part a few hundred 
 times : you haven't. It doesn't matter what you say, 
 
 150 
 
JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE AS 
 "SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK" 
 
 PLATE XI 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 I shall go on with my part ; and, please, remember I 
 am not deaf on the stage ! " 
 
 Charles Warner, by the way, must have been a larky 
 young fellow in the old Haymarket days. At one 
 time, when the company were playing Buckstone's 
 " Married Life," he was cast for Lynx, and when the 
 curtain rose and discovered the actors seated round 
 the table at dessert Warner was at the side of the table 
 passing the dishes. In those days the prompter had 
 a little box in front of the stage, as they still have in 
 French theatres. The prompter was sitting with his 
 chin on a line with the stage facing Warner. An un- 
 controllable impulse of devilment seized the actor. 
 Picking up an orange, with his hand under the table, 
 he aimed straight at the prompter's head and hit him 
 bang in the eye. The audience must have been some- 
 what astonished to hear a mysterious voice cry out 
 " Damme, I'm blinded ! " The effect was ludicrous 
 in the extreme, for the actors roared with laughter and 
 could scarcely finish the scene. Warner was severely 
 reprimanded and threatened with dismissal. 
 
 Sothern was fond of playing practical jokes. When 
 Buckstone's deafness became so acute that he could 
 only tell when another actor had stopped speaking by 
 his lips ceasing to move, the famous Lord Dundreary 
 often used to keep on moving his lips without saying 
 a word. The result was that " Bucky," thinking that 
 Sothern was still talking, remained silent as well. 
 
 Sothern's success as Lord Dundreary in " The 
 American Cousin " was one of the most remarkable in 
 the annals of all the theatres. Success indeed is 
 scarcely the word for it, it was a furore, and Buckstone 
 must have made a small fortune at the time, though 
 money was seldom of much use to him, for he never 
 had a penny to bless himself with, though where all 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 his money went to puzzled not a few. When Sothern 
 was first engaged at the Haymarket he was paid by a 
 share of the profits, but as " An American Cousin " 
 was practically a failure at first the actor was not best 
 pleased with the arrangement, and asked Buckstone to 
 give him a fixed salary instead, to which the manager 
 agreed. A little later, however, Sothern was very 
 sorry he had asked for any alteration in the arrange- 
 ment, for the house was literally packed every night. 
 He went to Buckstone and asked him to change back 
 to the sharing agreement. 
 
 " No, no," replied " Bucky " ; " when we were doing 
 bad business you wanted a fixed salary, and now 
 that we're filling the house you want a share. I 
 don't see why I should do it." 
 
 Sothern was not best pleased, but his ruffled feel- 
 ings were soothed at the end of the year by a present 
 from Buckstone of 1000. 
 
 Buckstone, by the way, however badly things 
 might be going with him, always paid up on treasury 
 day. One of his younger actors, who had had con- 
 siderable experience of bogus managers elsewhere, 
 and had got into the habit of regarding his chances 
 of a weekly wage as being highly speculative, was 
 much astonished on coming to the Haymarket to find 
 his salary paid regularly every week. 
 
 " I don't like this theatre," he said one night in 
 the green-room. " I shall leave it ; there's no excite- 
 ment about it ! " 
 
 Talking of the old green-room reminds me that 
 Buckstone made it a fixed rule that no one should go 
 into it unless in evening dress or stage costume. He 
 would never even enter it himself in ordinary clothes. 
 The rule was strictly observed. 
 
 " Bucky " had a little bit of the dandy about him. 
 
 152 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 One day, when he was playing Chrysos, he sent his 
 wig to be dressed, and at the same time ordered a 
 moustache for a part in a new one-act play which he 
 was producing. The day following the order the wig 
 was returned, and Clarkson came to the theatre to see 
 if all was right. 
 
 To the perruquier's astonishment he was met with 
 a torrent of abuse for not having sent the moustache, 
 though " Bucky " admitted that he was pleased with 
 the improvement in the wig. 
 
 Clarkson had pinned the moustache to the bald 
 part of the wig. 
 
 No one was fonder of his " little joke," on or 
 off the stage, than Buckstone. When playing Mr. 
 Golightly in " Lend Me Five Shillings " he had to 
 order a supper, which consisted for the most part of 
 kidneys. One night when the late Queen Victoria 
 was present Buckstone ordered the supper as usual 
 and made his exit. On his return he found that 
 Rogers, who was playing the old man's part as usual, 
 had picked up the plate and was smelling the con- 
 tents. Buckstone walked up to him and flicked him 
 on the nose, exclaiming : 
 
 " How dare you, sir ? How dare you smell my 
 kidneys ? " 
 
 I have it on the authority of Mr. William Farren 
 that the whole audience laughed consumedly. 
 
 " Lend Me Five Shillings " concluded by Buckstone 
 appealing to the audience to lend him five shillings. 
 That same night he approached the Royal Box beg- 
 ging a loan. Her late Majesty's fancy was immensely 
 tickled, though whether she complied with the re- 
 quest deponent sayeth not ! 
 
 Old Rogers, by the way, who was a member of the 
 Haymarket company for so many years, and was 
 
 153 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 invariably cast for the old man, was extremely fond 
 of gardening, a taste which he shared with the late 
 Mr. Howe. Rogers had a peculiar "up and down" 
 sort of voice. One day some one met him and in- 
 quired after his health. 
 
 " Thank you," replied Rogers, " my heart's all 
 right, and my liver's all right, but my early peas are 
 very backward." 
 
 In response to a request for any interesting anec- 
 dotes that he might have of the Haymarket Theatre, 
 my friend Mr. Edward Rose has sent me the follow- 
 ing, which, as it deals with the Buckstone management, 
 has its proper place here : 
 
 " My theatrical recollections very nearly begin at 
 the Haymarket, and it has been my good fortune to 
 be connected with the famous old theatre as play- 
 goer, play-actor, and play-writer, so that it is the 
 more discreditable that my recollections of it worthy 
 of preservation are so very few. Their scantiness 
 comes partly, perhaps, from a curious horror of look- 
 ing back at the past. I, at least, shall never publish 
 any volume of reminiscences, much though I enjoy 
 other people's autobiographies. 
 
 " I started play going with a brace of pantomimes, 
 which number I claimed as my proper perquisite for 
 several years after. One was ' John Gilpin ' at the 
 Adelphi, of which I recollect nothing at all except 
 that the harlequinade then a very important part of 
 the evening's entertainment was kept in the bill 
 after the run of the pantomime itself was over, and 
 that I begged hard, but fruitlessly, to be allowed to 
 see it again. 
 
 " The Haymarket pantomime was ' Undine.' Al- 
 most every theatre in those days had its pantomime 
 at Christmas as a matter of course, with the regular 
 
 154 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 comedians of the company taking part in the ' open- 
 ing,' which was a fairy story in verse, carefully 
 written and acted ; and one result of this multiplicity 
 of pantomimes was that their authors were of necessity 
 not tied down to the four or five themes that nowa- 
 days do duty till they are threadbare. 
 
 " I saw ' Undine ' as a matter of course from the 
 pit the wonderful Haymarket pit, which gave you 
 the best seats in London for three shillings : better 
 than the stalls, whose three or four rows were too 
 near the stage and the distressing orchestra of those 
 times. Thackeray always went to the pit, always 
 was entirely happy, and always stayed to the end. I 
 have never forgotten a story his old friend Edward 
 FitzGerald told me of a visit either to the Haymarket 
 or the Olympic, when, towards the end of a wretched 
 burlesque, FitzGerald began to feel bored, and was 
 about to propose that they should go. But at that 
 moment Thackeray stretched out his huge arms and 
 said, ' My God, how I am enjoying myself ! ' (Note 
 that according to FitzGerald, Thackeray's exclama- 
 tions generally began with ' My God.') 
 
 " In spite of, perhaps partly because of, this undue 
 cheapness of the pit the Haymarket in the latter 
 years of Buckstone went through one or more of those 
 periods of depression from which no theatre escapes. 
 And the main reason of this was, in all probability, 
 the age of the manager not so much because it 
 affected his own acting, but because it was reflected 
 in the corresponding age of a great part of his 
 company. The two really successful periods of his 
 later days were those in which Sothern gave his youth 
 and vigour to David Garrick and Dundreary, and 
 Mr. and Mrs. Kendal made their early fame in Mr. 
 Gilbert's fairy plays. 
 
 155 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " Not that the actresses at the Haymarket were, as 
 a rule, too old or too unattractive ; but for a time 
 the men, taken as a body, were singularly solid and 
 singularly stodgy. This danger, at least, the modern 
 system of practically changing the company for each 
 play avoids ; but I am speaking of the time when the 
 late Henry Howe played his one engagement at the 
 Haymarket, which lasted forty years. There is only 
 one way in which one can realise what a play looked 
 like when it was acted by Buckstone, Compton, 
 Chippendale, Howe, Rodgers, Braid, little Clark, 
 Walter Gordon, and the rest ; and that is to drop 
 into the Theatre Frangais on an unlucky night. That 
 theatre is, to my thinking, the most splendid and 
 valuable institution in the world of art ; but to see 
 ' Misanthrope ' acted there, as I saw it about two 
 years ago, is almost enough to make one forget Mounet 
 Sully. Three stumpy little gentlemen of mature age, 
 who had learned nothing and forgotten nothing 
 except some portions of their parts for at least a 
 generation stood elbow to elbow facing the footlights 
 and solemnly and pointlessly repeated the airy lines 
 which Moliere has given to the Golden youth of the 
 Court of Louis. 
 
 " At its worst, the Haymarket was something like 
 this. In thirty years I have not succeeded in for- 
 getting a performance of the earlier version of 
 Bayard's ' Marie a la Campagne,' from which Mr. 
 Burnand's memorable ( Colonel ' was afterwards 
 adapted. It was then called ' The Serious Family,' 
 and fully deserved its title. 
 
 "Still there was excellent and memorable work 
 done in ' Pygmalion and Galatea,' and the ' Palace of 
 Truth,' and the ever delightful ' New Men and Old 
 Acres,' whose heroine was played with wonderful 
 
 156 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 cleverness and charm by Mrs. Kendal, then called 
 Miss Madge Robertson. In the fairy plays I remember 
 most the beginning of a reform due no doubt to Mr. 
 W. S. Gilbert himself in the atrocious system of 
 speaking verse which obtained a generation ago on 
 the English stage, and, curiously enough, to an almost 
 equal extent on the French. I never, of course, saw 
 Macready, but his lieutenants who survived him, and 
 the whole of their school, made it their object to 
 speak verse as if it were prose by way of being natural. 
 And crossing the Channel it was odd to hear men 
 like Got and Vaubant, of the Comedie Fransaise, 
 falling into precisely the errors of the Ryders and 
 Sullivans here. One could not but think how much 
 trouble it would have saved the poet if he had 
 only been told that the first care of the interpreters 
 would be to turn the skilful rhythm into clumsy prose. 
 But with a stage-manager who knew himself how to 
 ' sing and build the lofty rhyme ' a change began. I 
 shall never forget the delight of hearing, quite thirty 
 years ago, Miss Caroline Hill's natural and right reading 
 of her graceful lines in ' The Palace of Truth.' 
 
 " Leaving the recollections of a play-goer for those 
 of a play-actor, I fear the only thing which stays to 
 me that could by any possibility interest other people 
 is an infinitesimal reminiscence of the hundred nights 
 during which I played the ' gravedigger ' in Hamlet, 
 when the Haymarket was under the management of 
 my old friend Mr. Tree. He and I had been first and 
 second gravediggers in an amateur massacre of the 
 tragedy more than twenty years ago, when, by the 
 way, I went on at an hour's notice because the amateur 
 cast for the part, who had not attended a single re- 
 hearsal, sent a telegram during the evening to say 
 that he was unfortunately unable to appear. 
 
 157 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " This, however, is not my little reminiscence, which 
 is a tiny criticism showing Mr. Tree's curious quickness 
 and, so to speak, neatness of mind. I told our admir- 
 able Ophelia that I had thought out a new reading in 
 my part. It had always, I take it, been supposed that 
 the words, * Good man delver " addressed to his com- 
 panion, meant simply ' Good man digger ' as who 
 should say ' My dear doctor ' or the like. But I 
 maintained that a more plausible reading was with an 
 added capital ' Goodman Delver ' since Shakespeare 
 probably named his character after the character's 
 profession, and so called the gravedigger ' Mr. 
 Delver,' as he called a serving-man Potpan and a 
 musician Soundpost or Roebeck (as the scene-painter 
 in a modern pantomime still puts down his chemist as 
 Mr. Pill). 
 
 " ' Very ingenious,' said Mr. Tree, ' but isn't yours 
 a new writing rather than a new reading ? ' 
 
 Apropos of Mr. Edward Rose's remarks, every one may 
 not remember that the late Henry Howe was a Quaker. 
 One day an uncle of his came to see him, but as Howe 
 had a rehearsal to attend he had to leave his relative 
 to look after himself until dinner-time. Dinner over, 
 Howe had again to excuse himself, having to play in 
 the evening performance. 
 
 " What, Henry ! " exclaimed the astonished uncle, 
 " dost make a fool of thyself twice a day ? " 
 
 By the way, when Buckstone produced his first 
 pantomime, " The Three Bears," at the Haymarket he 
 was at a loss to find a little girl with natural fair hair 
 to play the part of Silverhair. Harry Marshall, the 
 clown, suggested that " Lyd over the way " was a very 
 capable young person and had the necessary physical 
 qualification. " Lyd " was the famous Miss Lydia 
 Thompson. But I must let Miss Thompson tell 
 
 158 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 the story of her engagement herself, just as she has 
 told it to me. 
 
 " Harry Marshall said to me, ' Do you think you 
 could play on the stage ? ' I said I didn't know, 
 but I'd like to try. I was taken down to see Buck- 
 stone and Mrs. Fitzwilliam, and was again asked the 
 same question, ' Would you be afraid to speak on 
 the stage ? ' and again I gave the same answer, ' I 
 don't know, but I'll try.' Mrs. Fitzwilliam said, 
 ' Unplait your hair, dear.' It was in a pigtail. I 
 undid it, and the hair was very satisfactory. Then 
 ' Bucky ' said, ' Pull your dress back and let us see your 
 legs.' They also were considered very satisfactory. 
 So I was engaged at 2 a week for the pantomime. 
 Old Chippendale was the stage -manager. He was 
 very strict, and many were the tears I shed. The 
 first night I was dreadfully nervous. ' Bucky ' stood 
 in the wings and shouted ' Louder, louder.' I spoke 
 louder, and made a big success. After the pantomime 
 was over ' Bucky ' picked me up in his arms, and kissed 
 me, and said, ' My dear little girl, you have made my 
 pantomime.' ' 
 
 In the " Three Bears," by the way, there was a 
 little girl dancing named Laura Morris. She was 
 about thirteen or fourteen years old. A young man 
 fell in love with the child, and came night after night 
 in a box and watched her. Finally he got to know 
 her, sent her to school for a year, and married her 
 when she was about fifteen. She came one night the 
 next year and sat in a box in front, covered with 
 diamonds. Later she went into grand opera as Madame 
 Florence Lanza ! 
 
 Eight or nine years before "Bucky's" death the 
 prosperity he had so long enjoyed at the Haymarket 
 was abruptly checked. Age and infirmity prevented 
 
 159 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 his bestowing all the attention to the management 
 that he would have wished, and more than one un- 
 successful play was produced. In 1877, finding he 
 could not continue to manage the theatre save under 
 conditions with which he found it impossible to comply, 
 he withdrew into private life, and died two years after. 
 
 Apropos of the Chippendales, a good story is told 
 of them when on tour. On reaching Worcester, 
 J. C. King, the then manager, suggested that a per- 
 formance of "Black-eyed Susan" would be a good 
 idea for a benefit. There were, however, but nine 
 members of the company and four supers, but by 
 judiciously doubling and trebling the parts all the 
 characters were played. The orchestra of five per- 
 formers were given strict instructions regarding the 
 music cues, but on the benefit night they played on 
 the dances to the tune of " Hearts of Oak," and sent 
 William to his death with a hornpipe, much to the 
 disgust of old Chippendale, who sentenced William to 
 death by saying : 
 
 " You must be hanged at the yardarm until you 
 are dead and be damned to you ! " 
 
 Hendrie, by the way, tells a capital story of when 
 he was playing in the Chippendales' company. He 
 had just reached the important age of twenty-one, 
 and had dined with his managers previous to the per- 
 formance of "She Stoops to Conquer," in which he 
 played Tony Lumpkin. During the piece he had 
 to say : " Father, am I twenty-one years of age 
 to-day ? " 
 
 " Of course you are," replied Chippendale ; " didn't 
 you tell us so at dinner to-day ? " 
 
 As I have already said, it is practically impossible 
 within a limited space to deal adequately with so long 
 and important a management as Bucks tone's. Not 
 
 160 
 
JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE AS "SCRUB" 
 
 PLATE XII 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 only did he include in his company many of the most 
 famous actors who have passed away, but more than 
 one living " star " also served under his banner. Chief 
 among those was dear old John L. Toole, who made his 
 first appearance at the Haymarket as Simmons in " The 
 Spitalfields Weaver " at twenty to one in the morn- 
 ing, in 1851. 
 
 " Who's Toole ? " Compton asked Webster one night 
 at a " Court " dinner. 
 
 " Well," replied Webster, " Toole's a man I engage 
 at 20 a week at the Adelphi, who won't engage unless 
 he has three months for himself to go into the country, 
 where he makes 50 a week or more." 
 
 The late Mr. Sims Reeves was another member of 
 Buckstone's company, so was Mr. Sidney Cooper in 
 the capacity of scene-painter at a pound a week ! 
 while Sir Charles Wyndham made an appearance during 
 the Buckstone regime as an amateur in a performance 
 of " The Serious Family," given by Mr. Coe's pupils, 
 in which he played Captain Murphy Maguire. 
 
 I need hardly say that during the years in which 
 Mr. Buckstone managed the Haymarket Theatre there 
 were periods when it was sublet. Of two of those 
 periods I would make mention here. One relates to 
 the appearance of Madame Janauchek, another to an 
 old and much respected friend, Mr. Clark Russell. 
 
 Madame Janauchek opened at the Haymarket, just 
 after a most brilliant season by Miss Adelaide Neilson, 
 in a play called " Medea." The title role was one in 
 which she had made enormous successes in Germany, 
 Austria, and Russia ; indeed the gifts showered upon 
 her by emperors and kings, in the way of jewels and 
 orders of merit, were a sight to gaze upon. She had 
 never before appeared in England, but her reputation 
 as a great actress had preceded her. America had 
 
 161 L 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 received her with open arms, and she was acknow- 
 ledged as one of the greatest actresses that had ever 
 crossed the boards of the American stage. Charles 
 Warner, who acted with her in " Medea," has told me 
 that to him her acting was a revelation. Her com- 
 mand of pathos and passion was greater than any- 
 thing he had ever seen, or was ever likely to see again. 
 She was called and recalled after the great act, but 
 the critics did not appreciate her. Warner has told me 
 how well he remembers the morning after the first 
 performance. He was with Madame Janauchek at 
 the theatre. She opened a London paper of standing, 
 and after reading a few lines turned deadly pale, and 
 would have fallen had he not been near to support her. 
 Her season was a failure, and very short indeed. This, 
 however, is no more inexplicable than Salvini's re- 
 turning to London after his enormous success as Othello, 
 and playing to empty benches in a West End theatre. 
 As Janauchek left London she said, " I came to this 
 country so full of joyful expectation : I leave it with 
 a saddened heart. Strange that my acting has been 
 appreciated in almost every country in Europe save 
 London. Why, I wonder ? " 
 
 Mr. Clark Russell's experience of the Haymarket 
 Theatre I tell in his own words, copied from a letter 
 he wrote me not long ago : 
 
 " When I was coming home from Australia as a 
 sailor in my last voyage I came across Tom Moore's 
 works and began to make rhymes, and in short dropped 
 the sailor and started as a poet. I brought this 
 imbecile ambition ashore with me, and when staying 
 at Deal in 1865 or thereabouts, I studied Shelley and 
 fell so passionately in love with * The Cenci,' that I 
 resolved to write a drama like it ! Figure a sailor 
 with his imagination charged with the inspirations 
 
 162 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 of the biscuit- worm ' that dieth not/ and fired by 
 experiences of stinking water and a tot of rum at 
 noon, hoping to write a drama like ' The Cenci ! ' 
 
 " I went to work. I forget the plot. I suspect 
 there was none. I wrote the thing in blank verse. 
 It was in five acts, and I called it ' Fra Angelo.' I 
 printed it at Deal, and returned to London and showed 
 the masterly production to John Brougham, who 
 advised me to send one copy to Miss Marriott, who 
 was then at Sadler's Wells Theatre, and another copy 
 to Walter Montgomery, who was living in Langham 
 Street, apparently without anything to do. Miss 
 Marriott took no more notice of me than if I had been 
 one of the bread-worms afore-mentioned, but almost 
 by return of post I received a letter from Walter 
 Montgomery asking me to call upon him. I long ago 
 lost that letter. It glowed with admiration. I was 
 afterwards told that at the Garrick Club Montgomery 
 was telling everybody that he had discovered a sucking 
 Shakespeare. We met not in a crowd, but in his 
 rooms in Langham Street and he told me that he 
 would produce my play and hire the Haymarket 
 Theatre for that purpose. The time was the height 
 of the dog-days, but he was intrepid, and we all know 
 that Hamlet was something mad ! He gave me a 
 cheque for seven pounds ten for the play, and being 
 then about twenty-two years of age, I considered his 
 treatment of me exceedingly handsome. 
 
 " The cast so far as I can remember included Walter 
 Montgomery, Vollaire, Fitzj ames, Fernandez, Raymond, 
 Kate Rodgers, Louisa Moore, Mrs. Marston, and I have 
 some memory of a ballet girl. Burnand's * Ixion ' ran 
 conjointly with it. 
 
 " On the first night I occupied a box. In the next 
 box was a white-haired old man who chatted to two 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 ladies all through my play. I was so incensed to 
 think that my merits were being neglected, that I 
 peered round and in a gruff sea-note intimated that 
 talking was very objectionable. The white-haired old 
 man proved to be John Oxenford, the dramatic critic 
 of the Times, and, strange to relate, of the many notices 
 that followed his proved the least depreciatory. There 
 was the usual cry for the author when the curtain fell. 
 I bowed from my box, but the whole applause of the 
 house was showered upon Mr. Vollaire, who stepped 
 forward on the stage dressed in a frockcoat and bowed 
 like a mandarin with his hand on his heart. What 
 the deuce he did there, I don't know. A lady gave 
 me a magnificent bouquet to take round to Kate 
 Rodgers. Half-way up the wooden staircase I met 
 Ada Cavendish, dressed in very little to speak of for 
 the burlesque. She asked me to give her the bouquet, 
 but I pursued my upward path doggedly, knocked on 
 Kate Rodgers's door, and handed the flowers to a lady 
 whom I shall always remember as a very pretty woman 
 and a very piquant e actress. Her husband was box- 
 keeper. I then went round to Walter Montgomery, 
 whose tights were being drawn off by his dresser. He 
 exclaimed in the surliest tone : 
 
 " ' I thought it was understood between us that I 
 was to lead you on to the stage and announce the 
 repetition of the play.' 
 
 " I answered that I did not remember. He did 
 not again speak to me ; he would not even look at 
 me. I addressed one or two sentences to him, and 
 then, disgusted and perplexed by the conduct of a 
 man who afterwards solved the enigma of his own 
 career by blowing out his brains, I left the room. I 
 frequently met him afterwards at the Cafe de L' Europe 
 next door, but we never spoke. 
 
 164 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " In this cafe, whilst the play was running, I was one 
 night sitting with John Brougham. A tall, military, 
 good-looking man entered. He nodded to Brougham. 
 
 " ' Been next door ? ' asked Brougham. 
 
 " ' Yes.' 
 
 " ' What do you think of the play ? ' 
 
 " ' Utter, unmitigated rubbish,' was the reply. 
 
 " * This is the author,' said Brougham with a bland 
 gesture and a blander smile. 
 
 " The tall, military-looking man coloured up with a 
 fine gentlemanly air of confusion, and said smiling 
 with difficulty at me, ' It is so very easy to criticise,' 
 and then darting a look at Brougham which should 
 have kept that gentleman thirsty for the remainder of 
 the night, he walked off. 
 
 " Here in this tavern, as the so-called caf should be 
 termed, used to assemble after their several perfor- 
 mances nearly all the chief actors of the day. In- 
 deed the traditions of this place must always form a 
 portion of the story of the Haymarket Theatre. Here 
 I have seen Mr. Toole, John Ryder, John Clarke, 
 Sothern, Mr. Kendal, Charles Harcourt (one of the 
 pleasantest fellows I ever met : an airy and charm- 
 ing Mercutio), and many others. Arthur Sullivan 
 was often here. One night he said to me proudly : 
 ' What do you think ? I have been made musical 
 Editor of the Glow-worm I ' " 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE 3ist of January 1880 saw the first appearance of 
 the then Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft at the Haymarket 
 Theatre. My pen is far too inadequate to express 
 in due manner the thanks owed by actor and 
 playgoer alike to this brilliant couple, who, though 
 now enjoying a well-earned rest from their theatrical 
 labours, are still untiring in the cause of doing 
 good to others ; who are the most encouraging 
 and helpful of friends ; and to whom we of the 
 Haymarket Theatre owe a specially deep debt of 
 gratitude, in that it was through them alone that it 
 assumed its present attractive shape and style, while 
 at the same time they added in no small manner to 
 its honour and glory. 
 
 Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft's theatrical life has 
 ever been characterised by good judgment and good 
 taste, but when in taking over the management of 
 the Haymarket Theatre they determined, with a 
 determination that none could shake, to " gut " it 
 to use a vulgarism and in the " gutting " to abolish 
 its then famous pit, the wiseacres declared that they 
 must be theatrically mad. Before Sir Squire and his 
 wife ascended the Haymarket throne there was no 
 better pit in all London than that of the Haymarket 
 Theatre. Roomy it was and comfortable, while it 
 afforded a better view of the stage than that of any 
 other theatre. Truly it seems difficult to-day even to 
 
 166 
 
From a photograph by Russell ' <&* Sons, Baker Street, W. 
 LADY BANCROFT 
 
 PLATE XIII 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 realise how the plucky management could have been 
 bold enough to abolish it. But it meant either the 
 abolition of the pit or not running the theatre, and 
 Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft knew what they were 
 doing when they took the Haymarket. Full well, 
 too, did they realise that, in taking away the pit, 
 they might look forward to no little opposition ; 
 though they never for one moment expected to raise 
 the storm that burst upon them on their memorable 
 " first night." 
 
 In anticipation of some trouble Sir Squire issued 
 the following advertisement : 
 
 "As some disappointment may be felt at the abo- 
 lition of the pit, Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft deem it 
 necessary to explain the alteration. With the present 
 expense of a first-class theatre it is impossible to give 
 up the floor of the house its most remunerative 
 portion to low-priced seats, and the management, 
 being unwilling to place any part of the audience in 
 close and confined space under the balcony, the only 
 alternative was to allot the frequenters of the pit the 
 tier usually devoted to the upper boxes, and now 
 called the second circle. In carrying out the structural 
 alterations of the theatre Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft 
 have, they hope, specially attended to the comfort of 
 visitors to these seats, by raising the ceiling, build- 
 ing a new stone staircase, a refreshment room, and 
 by removing all obstacles to a clear view of the 
 stage." 
 
 But this admirably worded advertisement had un- 
 happily but little or no effect, and the first night of 
 the Bancroft management was one of the stormiest in 
 the annals of theatrical history. The very elements 
 themselves seemed against the brilliant couple. A 
 fog, " the densest, cruellest fog that perhaps even 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 London ever knew" (I quote from Sir Squire and 
 Lady Bancroft's altogether admirable book " On and 
 Off the Stage," to which I owe the better portion of 
 this chapter), chose to wrap London in its cloak 
 that night and to make access to the theatre a 
 matter of no little difficulty, if not of danger. Still 
 despite the efforts of nature the house was crowded. 
 The overture was played amid silence. Then the 
 curtain went up and the theatre was turned into a 
 highly-coloured imitation of the lion house at the 
 " Zoo " at feeding time. They I refer to the cheaper 
 portion of the house hooted, and howled, and groaned 
 like ten thousand demons. Screams of " Where's the 
 pit ? " were mingled with shouts that did credit to the 
 malcontents' lungs if to no other part of the anatomy, 
 and for full twenty minutes did Sir Squire in the 
 character of Sir Frederick Blount in "Money" stand 
 awaiting their pleasure. Never for a second did he 
 lose his temper. Old and valued friend of the 
 playgoer as he was, hard as he had tried to please his 
 patrons, so far as lay in his power consistent with 
 common-sense, he never "turned a hair" while they 
 greeted him like any murderer. Lady Bancroft has 
 graphically described the agony she went through 
 as she watched everything through a hole in her 
 dressing-room wall. She was just upon the point of 
 rushing upon the stage and addressing the malcontents 
 herself, appealing to them to listen to her for the 
 sake of " Auld Lang Syne," when just as suddenly as 
 it had begun the uproar ceased. The rowdy element 
 were tired out. Twenty minutes of continuous groan- 
 ing had finished them. They had exhausted their 
 ill-temper, to show which, indeed, there had been little 
 or no cause, and when Lady Bancroft stepped upon 
 the stage it was to be greeted with one of the heartiest 
 
 168 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 welcomes with which an English actress has ever met. 
 The rest of the evening told a tale of triumph, 
 managerial as well as artistic, for no more was heard, 
 in the theatre at any rate, of the abolished pit. 
 
 An amusing incident, by the way, occurred on this 
 memorable and in many ways awful night. Among 
 those who had seats allotted to them for the first night 
 was Mr. J. S. Clarke, whom Sir Squire and Lady 
 Bancroft succeeded in the management. Mr. Clarke 
 had arranged to meet his son outside the theatre, but 
 the elements compelled a late arrival. His son, upon 
 reaching the theatre, at once went to his father's box, 
 but found on looking through the window in the door 
 that it was empty. He also saw Sir Squire on the 
 stage facing the audience, and heard what seemed to 
 him to be one long roar of applause. After watching 
 for a while he went back to the front of the house to 
 await his father, but after a few minutes returned to 
 the box to find Sir Squire still facing the audience. 
 Backwards and forwards he went from the box to the 
 portico of the theatre, and each time he came to the 
 box it was to find Sir Squire still in the same position. 
 At last his people arrived at the theatre in a cab. 
 Rushing up to his father in great excitement he pulled 
 him by the arm. 
 
 " Come on, come on," he cried, " or you'll miss the 
 most wonderful ovation. Bancroft, to my certain 
 knowledge, has been bowing to the audience for the 
 last twenty minutes. No actor in this world ever had 
 so magnificent a reception." 
 
 *;f As Sir Squire dryly remarked, " When they entered 
 their box they could hear as well as see my greeting." 
 ('f^The abolition of the Hay market pit was by no means 
 the only benefit conferred upon the theatre by Sir 
 Squire and Lady Bancroft but architectural details 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 are seldom interesting save to the initiated, and I 
 will spare my readers a catalogue of the improve- 
 ments. It is quite sufficient to say that the theatre 
 was transformed into one of the most perfect, and 
 certainly the most comfortable, in the whole of London. 
 A passage from a letter written to Sir Squire by a 
 cultured acquaintance, which I venture to quote, 
 gives nothing but bare facts. 
 
 " Having seen the interior of many theatres in 
 Europe, I feel convinced that there is nothing either in 
 design, decoration, comfort, and tout-ensemble to equal 
 the Haymarket Theatre. It would be ridiculous, of 
 course, to compare or contrast your house with those 
 of magnitude like the Scala at Milan, but viewing it 
 as a house of comedy, it has not in my humble judg- 
 ment a rival." 
 
 I will make no attempt here to give anything ap- 
 proaching a detailed account of Sir Squire and Lady 
 Bancroft's management of the Haymarket Theatre, 
 interesting, progressive, and eminently artistic as it 
 was. A few incidents of that management must 
 suffice. As a matter of fact, my chief reason for de- 
 voting such an inadequate amount of space to Sir 
 Squire and Lady Bancroft lies in the fact that in their 
 own book they have " covered the ground " more than 
 thoroughly. He, therefore, who would read of the 
 Bancroft regime must invest in a copy of " On and Off 
 the Stage " a good investment I'll warrant him. 
 
 Among the amusing incidents of the years 1880- 
 1885 was the playing of the Bancroft company one 
 night to what was probably the smallest audience to 
 whom a curtain had risen since the Haymarket first 
 opened its doors. To be strictly accurate for once 
 during this book, there were exactly seven people in the 
 stalls, and scarcely a li ving soul in the dress circle ! The 
 
 170 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 reason for this scanty audience was not lack of ap- 
 preciation on the part of the public, but the terrible 
 weather that January of 1881 brought with it. On one 
 side of Regent Street every shop had perforce to close 
 its doors, and how every member of the company 
 managed to reach the theatre still remains little short 
 of a mystery. Lady Bancroft very truly remarks of 
 the audience, " How they must have loved the drama 
 to come at all ! I could not proceed for a moment," 
 she goes on to say, "for I saw at once the comic 
 aspect of the situation. When my gaze went to the 
 expression of the faces of the stall occupants I could 
 not restrain my laughter any longer. I should have 
 much liked to have invited them to tea in the green- 
 room, and have had no performance at all." It was 
 during that severe winter, by the way, that poor 
 Sothern breathed his last. 
 
 Among the chief points of interest that succeeded 
 this extremely frosty evening "frosty" in more 
 senses than one was the dbut of Mrs. Langtry, who 
 made her first theatrical bow under the generous 
 auspices of Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft at a 
 matinee given for the benefit of the Royal General 
 Theatrical fund, at which the beautiful actress appeared 
 as Miss Hardcastle in " She Stoops to Conquer," 
 Mrs. Labouchere having been her coach. It was a 
 memorable dbut, for seldom has a theatrical box- 
 office been so besieged with applications for seats, and 
 public excitement prior to the performance positively 
 reached fever heat. 
 
 The performance, if not a furore, was at any rate 
 a great success. The Prince and Princess of Wales 
 honoured it with their presence, and 430 was handed 
 over to the secretary of the theatrical fund as the 
 result of the afternoon's proceedings. Another result 
 
 171 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 was the engagement for a season of Mrs. Langtry by 
 Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft, and she made her 
 first professional appearance as Blanche Haye in 
 " Ours," a production in which my friend Pinero also 
 figured, as well as poor Arthur Cecil. 
 
 Apropos of Arthur Cecil, there are two good stories 
 told of him which, I believe, will well bear repetition. 
 One night Cecil was invited to dine with the Guards 
 at the St. James's mess, Mr. George Nugent being his 
 host. Cecil duly turned up at the appointed hour, 
 but by the time dinner was announced Mr. Nugent 
 had not arrived. Cecil, however, went in with the 
 others, sat down, and began eating. After the fish 
 Cecil turned to his next-door neighbour and remarked 
 that his host was a little late. 
 
 " Who is your host ? " he was asked. 
 
 " Mr. George Nugent," replied Cecil. 
 
 " Oh, but he's on guard at the bank," remarked 
 the officer. 
 
 Up jumped Arthur Cecil full of apologies ; in two 
 minutes he was on his way to the Bank of England, 
 where he finished his dinner in Mr. Nugent's company. 
 
 Poor Arthur Cecil was very fond of driving in 
 London. One day he hired a victoria, which happened 
 to be driven by an Irish coachman. Cecil told him 
 to take him round Hyde Park. Pat said not a word, 
 but not wishing to go to Hyde Park himself for some 
 reason or another, drove straight to Regent's Park 
 instead. 
 
 The next day Pat came round to Cecil's house 
 again with the victoria, 
 
 " And where will I take you to-day, sorr ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Well, I really don't know," replied Cecil, " but I 
 know where I want you to take me." 
 
 172 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft's next production 
 was Sardou's " Odette," in which Madame Modjeska, 
 whom my wife at one time had the honour of under- 
 studying, returned to the London stage. It was un- 
 fortunately but a moderate financial success, though 
 its artistic triumph was undoubted. But I have, I 
 regret, no space in which to record the various pieces 
 with which Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft delighted 
 audiences at the Haymarket Theatre. Sufficient must 
 it be to say that every one of them was marked by 
 extreme artistic care in the production and extra- 
 ordinarily well selected casts. Indeed, I doubt whether 
 any management of any theatre ever cast their plays 
 more perfectly than this brilliant couple, whom 
 Harrison and myself have had the honour of succeed- 
 ing. Under their banner played many a famous 
 actor. Arthur Cecil and Pinero I have mentioned : 
 Brookfield, too, was often with them, as well as Forbes 
 Robertson, dear old Lai Brough, Mrs. Bernard Beere, 
 who made such a brilliant success in " Fedora," Mrs. 
 Stirling, Miss Calhoun, and last, but not least, Mrs. 
 John Wood. 
 
 Lai Brough, by the way, has ever been among the 
 most conscientious of actors. When the Bancrofts 
 produced "The Rivals" Brough was the Bob Acres. 
 In the street scene was a stage cloth painted to re- 
 present cobble stones, with a gutter running down the 
 centre of it. Brough, faithful to detail, conceived the 
 notion of skipping across it. The audience, however, 
 did not in the least understand Brough's little skip, 
 and appeared to think that something was the matter 
 with him, so he cut it out. Such is the value of 
 realism in this profession of ours ! 
 
 In speaking of Mrs. Langtry, I forgot to mention 
 that I had the pleasure of playing under her manage- 
 
 173 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 ment in the days when the idea of becoming a manager 
 myself, and least of all at the Haymarket Theatre, 
 never occurred to me. A very jolly management it 
 was, that of Mrs. Langtry; and I was not long in 
 discovering the secret of her popularity with those 
 who worked under her, for she always had a good 
 word for every one, even the least important members 
 of her company. 
 
 It was in 1885 that Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft, 
 much to the distress of their innumerable admirers, 
 made up their minds to give up the cares of manage- 
 ment and retire into private life, but it was not until 
 July 2oth that they gave their farewell performance 
 one of the most remarkable, affecting farewells 
 in the whole history of the English stage. The Prince 
 and Princess of Wales occupied the Royal Box, 
 Prince and Princess Christian took another, and 
 there was such an enormous application for seats, 
 that to say that the box-office was besieged would be 
 to put it very mildly indeed. The difficulty of allotting 
 seats I can well appreciate, and in order to make 
 the seating capacity of the house as great as possible 
 Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft wisely removed the stall 
 and balcony armchairs and had smaller ones put in 
 their place. Needless to say, every sort of effort was 
 made to obtain seats by people who really had no 
 claim to them. As much as twenty guineas was 
 freely offered, but the management were determined 
 that every place in the theatre should be sold at 
 the ordinary charge or given away a determination 
 which was strictly carried out. 
 
 Needless to say, the rush for the unreserved parts 
 of the house was literally tremendous. Many arrived 
 early in the morning with camp-stools and sandwiches, 
 and at last the numbers outside the door grew so 
 
 174 
 
/><>;;/ a photograph by The London Stereoscopic Co. 
 SIR SQUIRE BANCROFT 
 
 PLATK XIV 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 great that the police had to divert the traffic and send 
 it by other thoroughfares. The programme was a 
 splendid one. It began with the first act of Lytton's 
 " Money," which was followed by a scene from " London 
 Assurance." Then came the second and third acts of 
 " Masks and Faces," in which the Bancrofts appeared. 
 This over, Sir Henry Irving spoke a farewell from the 
 pen of Mr. Clement Scott, dear old Toole made a 
 humorous affectionate speech, and the evening ended 
 with the few farewell words of Sir Squire Bancroft. 
 
 Among those who played at this remarkable perform- 
 ance, besides those I have mentioned, were Hare, 
 Wyndham, Terriss, Coghlan, Kendal, John Clayton, 
 Forbes Robertson, Kyrle Bellew, David James, poor 
 Blakeley, Charles Collette, Brookfield, Kemble, Ellen 
 Terry, Mrs. Stirling, Mrs. John Wood, Mrs. Langtry, 
 Mrs. Kendal, and Carlotta Addison, all of whom had at 
 various times been under the Bancroft management. 
 
 All the great world and his wife were present of 
 course, and the enthusiasm was literally overwhelming. 
 Seldom I suppose in the annals of the stage has actor 
 or actress had such a reception as was accorded to Sir 
 Squire and his wife that night. 
 
 I cannot forbear quoting a passage from Sir Squire's 
 farewell speech. It serves as no mean model : 
 
 " We feel how far beyond our merits are the honours 
 and compliments which have been showered upon us 
 from every side, and I am deeply conscious of my 
 poverty of attempt to acknowledge them. Robbed 
 now of the actor's art, I must ask you to clothe my 
 words with all the eloquence and wealth of thanks I 
 mean them to convey ; but I almost think the sympathy 
 between us at this moment is beyond words. If it 
 has been my privilege to spare Mrs. Bancroft such 
 labours and anxieties as should not be a woman's lot, 
 
 175 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 how amply have I been a thousand times repaid. 
 Most of us, I think, owe Mrs. Bancroft something, but 
 I am by far the heaviest in her debt. I alone know how 
 she has supported me in trouble, saved me from many 
 errors, helped me to many victories, and it is she who 
 has given to our work those finishing touches, those 
 last strokes of genius, which, in all art, are priceless. 
 And so, ladies and gentlemen, we worked together 
 until we earned, very gradually, our proud possession, 
 the confidence of the public. Whatever that work 
 may be worth, it has been thorough and honest, for 
 neither of us have bought any man's favour. It would 
 ill become me to talk of what we have tried to do, but 
 should we be remembered as humble pioneers of any- 
 thing that may have advanced the art we love, if 
 we should be thought in some way to have helped to 
 make its position better than we found it, it would be 
 a high distinction. 
 
 " No general can succeed without a staff and an 
 army. In every branch our fellow-workers from 
 those distinguished authors and actors, those masters 
 of the craft whose names will spring at once to your 
 memories, to the humblest member of our ranks have 
 been so loyal and so forbearing to us, that we shall 
 feel for ever in their debt. Indeed it is but the simple 
 truth to say that all we have earned of fame and 
 fortune we owe to the calling we have followed, and 
 it would be a poor return not to give it back the 
 brightest feelings of our natures." 
 
 At the close of this address, from which I have but 
 made an extract, the enthusiasm knew no bounds, and 
 while the band played " Auld Lang Syne," the whole 
 audience rose and cheered to the echo. 
 
 The Bancrofts were sent for by the Princess of 
 Wales, who gave Mrs. Bancroft the bouquet she was 
 
 176 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 carrying. When the heroes of the evening at last 
 left the theatre to go to a party at Mr. Alfred de 
 Rothschild's the crowd completely blocked the whole 
 of Suffolk Street, and the carriage had no little 
 difficulty in making its way through the throng. " It 
 mustn't be good-bye," cried many a voice. " Stay with 
 your friends ! " 
 
 The floral offerings were so many in number on this 
 memorable night that when they were sent to the 
 Bancrofts' house the next day in a van there was not 
 room enough for them in the house, and the balcony 
 was filled with them. A crowd of course collected. 
 
 " 'Oo lives 'ere ? " asked a bystander. 
 
 "Why, it's the Bancrofts' 'ouse," said another. 
 " They've just 'ad a 'eap of money left them by a 
 relation, wot insists on their leaving the stage." 
 
 By the way, before I conclude this chapter I would 
 mention that in Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft's de- 
 lightful book I can find no mention of the Hay- 
 market ghost. Yet a real ghost has been supposed to 
 have haunted the theatre for many years. Personally, 
 I have never seen it, but two firemen, of whom I 
 know, declare positively that they have seen a face 
 staring through a window. Our valued business - 
 manager, Mr. Horace Watson, is also inclined to believe 
 in the existence of the Haymarket ghost, for he 
 declares that he distinctly saw the door of his office 
 open and shut, but upon looking about could find no 
 trace of any human being who could have done it. 
 
 177 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IT was a good day for the Hayrnarket Theatre when 
 Mr. Tree followed Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft and 
 took over the reins of management. For Tree is not 
 only, if he will allow me to say so, a fine actor, but 
 he has also the truest love for his art, the highest 
 respect for it, and the keenest desire to encourage 
 and improve upon it in every possible direction. 
 Consequently, when he embarked upon the risky 
 career of management those who knew and under- 
 stood him felt sure that the reputation of the 
 Hayrnarket was in safe hands, and that, whether 
 attended by success or failure, Tree would do 
 nothing to destroy the character of a house whose 
 name had risen so high in the ranks of the London 
 theatres. 
 
 As it turned out, Tree if anything added to the good 
 name the theatre had acquired. His productions were 
 always artistic and of the highest order ; he surrounded 
 himself with companies that were second to none in 
 London, and he encouraged young and untried writers, 
 who owe no little of their reputation to him. He 
 has always been an enthusiast, and his enthusiasm 
 has always been for good. Let us hope that he may 
 be spared to the English stage for many a long year 
 to come to add brilliance to its acting, to give en- 
 couragement to its dramatists, and to increase the 
 
From a photograph by Langfier, 23A Old Bond Street, W. 
 HERBERT BEERBOHM TREE 
 
 PLATE XV 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 artistic beauty of its productions. People have been 
 known to chaff Mr. Tree for his enthusiasm, but in the 
 end he has always had the laugh of them. They may 
 have come to scoff, they have nearly always remained 
 to pray. 
 
 If I were asked to pick out an adjective from the 
 dictionaries to describe Mr. Tree's management of the 
 Haymarket Theatre, nay, indeed for his whole career, 
 I should hesitate between " brilliant " and " plucky," 
 and should end by choosing both of them. The 
 brilliance no playgoer could deny ; the pluck a brother 
 manager can best appreciate. Nothing has ever de- 
 terred Mr. Tree from carving out his artistic career as 
 he has thought best, and his presence on the pinnacle 
 has proved how well he knows his business. He has 
 made mistakes of course; we all must. But when 
 the wiseacres thought he was most in error he was 
 often most in the right. 
 
 As a producer of plays Mr.Tree stands second to none. 
 His capacity for hard work is little short of extra- 
 ordinary, and I have often wondered how he has stood 
 the strain of his tremendous productions productions 
 over every detail of which he has kept watch, though 
 his own parts in the play have been exhausting in 
 the extreme, and have made the greatest demands upon 
 brain and body too. 
 
 I may be excused at having spoken at some length 
 of Tree's obvious excellencies when it is remembered 
 that he did me the best turn any man ever did another. 
 I refer to the day when he built his present magnificent 
 theatre and left the Haymarket to my friend Harrison, 
 who, by the way, was at one time his business manager 
 and understudy, and to myself. For that deed alone 
 I owe Tree a deeper debt of gratitude than I can ever 
 repay. And not only did he leave us the Haymarket 
 
 179 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Theatre, but he left it with an enhanced reputation 
 and an increased popularity. 
 
 So much have I admired many of Tree's produc- 
 tions while he managed the Haymarket Theatre that 
 I should like to write fully of them did space allow. 
 But under the circumstances I can but dismiss them 
 with my humble word of praise. They probably ex- 
 ceeded in variety, though not in number, the pro- 
 ductions made under any Haymarket management 
 save perhaps Buckstone ; but then Tree was at the 
 Haymarket but a few years, while the ever-lamented 
 " Bucky " looked after it for a quarter of a century. 
 
 Among other legacies bequeathed to me by Tree 
 was old Oliver Wales, who had been stage-carpenter 
 with Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft, and was a great 
 character quite famous in a way with us people of 
 the theatrical world. A story is told, but for its 
 accuracy I will not vouch, of how Wales's name led 
 to an amusing incident. The Prince of Wales, now 
 King Edward VII., paid the Haymarket a visit one 
 night, and, after enjoying the show, begged Mr. Tree to 
 take him " round behind." The Prince had lit a cigar, 
 which he smoked while Mr. Tree explained the various 
 features behind the scenes. When they got to the 
 back of the stage who should the manager espy but 
 old Oliver Wales quietly enjoying a pipe in a corner. 
 One can imagine his Royal Highness' s consternation 
 when Tree called out peremptorily : 
 
 " How dare you, Wales ; stop smoking at once ! " 
 
 Sir Squire Bancroft, too, had an amusing instance 
 of this kind. He, also, was conducting the Prince 
 round the theatre soon after the great alterations had 
 been made. In reference to some question or other 
 Sir Squire turned to the carpenter and asked, " Which 
 way, Wales ? " His Royal Highness was much amused. 
 
 180 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Old Oliver Wales was once the subject of a joke to 
 which he never afterwards referred for reasons not 
 far to seek. Tree was producing " The Tempter," in 
 which, in the character of his Satanic majesty, the 
 actor had to be lowered from the flies by means of a 
 rope. It was Wales's business to test the rope to see 
 that all was accurate, so one morning he duly affixed 
 himself to it, and bade his son raise him to the flies. 
 This young Wales did, and having got his father well 
 up to the fly-rail, shouted at the top of his voice : 
 
 " Beer time, boys ! " 
 
 At this welcome sound the whole of the stage hands 
 left the theatre in a body, young Wales among them, 
 leaving the unfortunate master-carpenter hanging in 
 mid-air with no earthly chance of escape. It is on 
 record that the stage hands took half-an-hour to con- 
 sume their liquid refreshment that day, and not until 
 the end of that time did the old gentleman return 
 to terra firma ! It is said that his language was a 
 thing not to be forgotten by students of our complicated 
 native tongue. 
 
 Among his other many accomplishments Oliver 
 Wales included the one of romance to a greater degree 
 than I have ever encountered before or since. Though 
 he was practically never known to leave the neighbour- 
 hood of Suffolk Street during the summer vacation, he 
 invariably had a long list of adventures to recount at 
 the end of the holidays. The following is typical of 
 his yarns. I give it in what I feel sure is but a feeble 
 imitation of his style, but I am no romancer : 
 
 " I was going along, sir, aboard the Marguerite. We 
 was just off Sheerness when I sees the Sunbeam 
 a-'eavin in sight, and I says to the captain of the 
 Marguerite : 4 'Old 'ard, captin,' I says, ' 'ere's my old 
 friend Brassey. I want to 'ave a word along with 
 
 181 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Brassey. 'E comes to the 'Aymarket, and I knew 'im 
 well in Bancroft's time ! ' Well, the captin 'e 'ove- 
 to, and the Sunbeam comes alongside looking bright 
 and pretty as ever a yacht did on a summer sea. I 
 'oilers out, 'Is Brassey aboard? ' 'Yes,' says the steward. 
 ' I'll fetch 'im, Mr. Wales ; I know as 'ow Vd be glad 
 to see you.' So up comes Brassey. ' Is that you, 
 Oliver ? ' 'e says ; ' 'ow are yer ? And 'ow's the 'Ay- 
 market doing ? , All going strong, I 'ope ? ' " 
 
 Inquiry following upon this remarkable encounter 
 resulted in the discovery that Mr. Wales had not left 
 London at all. 
 
 One summer I remember asking him myself where 
 he had spent his time. 
 
 " Well, guvnor," was the reply, " being a member 
 of the British Association of Deep-Sea Anglers, I spent 
 my time on a barge between Trouvillery and Deauvilly." 
 
 " Was Wales really off fishing ? " I asked my dresser 
 late in the evening. 
 
 " Don't you believe it, sir," was the reply. " He 
 never left Suffolk Street." 
 
 I forgot to mention, by the way, that Wales was not 
 a little proud of the connection between his name and 
 the Royal title. One night when the Prince of Wales 
 visited the theatre I said something about his name- 
 sake being in front. 
 
 " Yes, sir," Wales promptly said, " I thought I'd 
 let him 'ave the title." 
 
 Another legacy left by Mr. Tree, and one far less de- 
 sirable than poor old Oliver Wales, was an extremely 
 objectionable and offensive beggar who haunted the 
 stage door so consistently that he became an abominable 
 nuisance. At last he was quietly informed by some 
 one in authority that if he did not desert his favourite 
 haunt strong measures would have to be taken. 
 
 182 
 
THE HAYMARKET .THEATRE 
 
 " Very well," said the beggar, " if you will 'ave it so. 
 But," he added threateningly, " I'll tell you what I'll 
 do, I'll go over to Mr. Tree's." 
 
 Friend and admirer as I am of Mr. Tree, I thank 
 Heaven that the beggar carried out his threat. 
 
 I daily dread a reversal of the procedure ! 
 
 I have already referred to Mr. Tree's indomitable 
 pluck. An incident in his career illustrates itwell. When 
 " The Dancing Girl " was put on at the Haymarket 
 Tree fell seriously ill, and was totally unable to appear 
 on the first night of the production, Harrison having 
 to immediately study and play the part of the Duke of 
 Guisebury, which, as a matter of fact, he acted for 
 many nights subsequently. But ill though Tree was, 
 nothing would keep him away from the theatre for 
 long, and he simply insisted on playing despite the 
 doctor's remonstrances. So the theatre was expressly 
 warmed up to a certain temperature, and Tree wore 
 cotton wool next to his skin, and was followed about 
 during the performance by hospital nurses ! 
 
 It was during the run of " The Dancing Girl," by 
 the way, that an extremely amusing incident occurred. 
 At the end of the third act came the dramatic de- 
 parture of all the Duke of Guisebury's guests, who had 
 to leave Tree standing alone on the stage, a ruined man 
 determined to commit suicide. The departure of the 
 guests and the calling of the carriages had to be done 
 with the greatest possible care so as not to interfere 
 in any way with the dramatic effect of the end of the 
 act. Fred Kerr, who was playing one of the guests, 
 told one of the stage servants under his breath to call 
 him a hansom, just as a joke. Imagine his horror when 
 the said stage servant roared out in stentorian tones : 
 " 'Ansom up there for Mr. Slingsby." 
 
 Needless to say that the curtain fell amid roars of 
 
 183 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 laughter from the whole house. Tree was furious, and 
 pursued the luckless stage servant all over the flies 
 and out on to the roof. Rustication from the bill for 
 a few nights was his eventual punishment. 
 
 I always think that one of the best stories about my 
 friend Tree is what, I fear, the critics will instantly 
 dub a " chestnut." But chestnut or no chestnut, 
 I cannot resist the telling of it. It was during the 
 run of " The Village Priest," and the booking was 
 extremely good. One night when Tree was leaving 
 the theatre he stopped to speak a word with one of 
 the commissionaires, an Irishman, who promptly gave 
 expression to his joy over the success with which the 
 piece had met. 
 
 " Carriages roll up all day long, and the booking is 
 tremenjous," went on the voluble Irishman. " And, 
 Mr. Tree, sorr, if I may say so, it proves to me con- 
 clusively that you are one of the first twenty leading 
 actors in London, sorr, and there's no getting away 
 from the fact, sorr ! " 
 
 My friend Charles Allan, who like myself is proud 
 of being an old Carthusian, tells one or two good 
 stories of his connection with the Haymarket Theatre 
 under Tree's management. One night, he, Kemble, 
 and Charles Collette were playing " Done on Both 
 Sides " as a first piece, and during the struggle for 
 the possession of the property haunch of venison Allan 
 somehow or another managed to fling it into the stalls. 
 A programme-girl, who was ushering in some visitors, 
 saved the situation by politely handing the venison 
 back amid roars of laughter and applause from the 
 gallery. " Done on Both Sides " probably never went 
 better in all its long life. 
 
 In " A Man's Shadow," one of Tree's early and most 
 successful productions, Allan had to play the banker, 
 
 184 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 who, many playgoers will doubtless remember, had to 
 be murdered by Tree behind a gauze. The deadly 
 deed was supposed to be effected by pistol shot, but 
 one night something went wrong with the revolver, 
 and it stubbornly refused to go off. Tree, ever prompt 
 and ready in an emergency, at once seized the pistol 
 by the barrel and proceeded to brain the luckless 
 Allan with the butt-end. Allan assures me, however, 
 that Tree's fell purpose was accomplished extremely 
 gently. Nor was my old schoolfellow long in dying, 
 lest further complications should result ! 
 
 Among Allan's treasured possessions, by the way, is 
 a little Japanese doll, which was given to him by his 
 manager at a rather original moment in a flying 
 matinee at Brighton during the run of " The Charlatan." 
 Allan was playing a dean, who had to be introduced 
 to Tree in one of the scenes. Upon this introduction 
 being made Tree shook Allan's hand heartily, leaving 
 in it a little Japanese doll which he found in the green- 
 room. 
 
 It was during the run of " The Red Lamp," one of 
 Tree's greatest successes, that an awkward contretemps 
 occurred. At one of the matinees that clever actress 
 Miss Rosina Filippi failed to turn up, and the situation 
 was made more awkward by the fact that she had no 
 understudy. Something had to be done, however, and 
 an extra lady was bidden to go on for the part and be 
 word perfect. The scene that followed can be better 
 imagined than described. The orchestra was busy 
 with the overture, and there in a corner of the stage 
 was the unhappy " extra lady " crying and sobbing 
 and studying aloud all at the same time ! The part 
 was a long one, and she had but a few minutes in which 
 to learn the words, but she was plucky enough to 
 believe that she could perform what was really the 
 
 185 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 impossible. Luckily, however, a minute or two before 
 the raising of the curtain in walked Miss Fillipi and 
 saved the situation. 
 
 When Mr. Tree produced " Henry IV." a comical 
 little incident occurred one night. As all those who have 
 seen or read the immortal work will remember, one 
 of the scenes ends with the stage being strewn with 
 dead soldiers. On the occasion of which I write some 
 of the scene shifters who were in the flies having to 
 walk across a beam to get to their places, managed 
 to knock off a quantity of dust in passing. The dust 
 fell upon the faces of the annihilated warriors, more 
 than one of whom promptly began to sneeze. The 
 effect of the scene for the one night was irretrievably 
 ruined. This reminds me of the story of the super 
 who, taking considerable interest in stage affairs, went 
 up into the " flies " one night to see the effect of the 
 scene from that lofty position. No sooner had he 
 reached the elevated spot, however, than he heard his 
 cue given on the stage. " Lawd 'elp me," he cried 
 aloud, " will nobody chuck me down ! " 
 
 Charlie Brookfield, of whom I suppose I can safely 
 say that he is one of the wittiest men alive, was a 
 favourite member of the Haymarket company while 
 Tree was its lessee and manager, and many were the 
 laughs he raised off the stage by his funny sayings 
 and doings, quite apart from his always admirable 
 acting. One morning, a very hot morning if I re- 
 member rightly, he was rehearsing a rather important 
 scene with Tree, one that required the closest possible 
 attention. In the middle of it a peripatetic nigger 
 struck up a lively tune on his banjo in Suffolk Street 
 and started to sing the latest popular tune. Tree 
 stood this for a while, but at last became exas- 
 perated. 
 
 186 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, go and stop that fellow, Brook- 
 field," he exclaimed ; " I simply can't rehearse." 
 
 Brookfield at once rushed out only to return with 
 the nigger, whom he formally presented to his manager. 
 
 I referred just now, by the way, to my old friend 
 Harry Kemble. Perhaps I may be permitted here 
 to tell a rather good story about him. He, George 
 Giddens, and I went one autumn not many years ago 
 to fish in Shetland. Among the people staying at 
 the hotel with us was a man who took the greatest 
 interest in us and all our doings, and especially Kemble. 
 At last one day he managed to get into conversation 
 with me and questioned me eagerly about my friends. 
 
 " And who," he asked, " is that stout gentleman ? " 
 
 " Mr. Henry Kemble," I said. 
 
 " Ah, I thought I knew his face," was the reply. 
 " How stupid of me ; of course he was Cissie in last 
 year's pantomime at Drury Lane." 
 
 He had mistaken my dear old friend for that other 
 clever comedian, Mr. Herbert Campbell. 
 
 Talking of Shetland reminds me that from those 
 distant isles I imported a servant whose admirable 
 waiting at table had much impressed me. Importa- 
 tion, however, did not improve him, and he had 
 before long to return to his native land. One night 
 I asked whether he would not like to go to the Hay- 
 market. He betrayed no enthusiasm. 
 
 " But wouldn't you like to see me act ? " I asked, 
 rather nettled. " I'll go if you want me to," was his 
 only reply. 
 
 Tree, as all who know him well are aware, can be 
 extremely amusing when he likes, and often keeps 
 the supper table at the Garrick in roars of laughter 
 on Saturday nights " after the show." His wit, too, 
 is very ready. I always laugh when I remember his 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 reply to an extremely tiresome person who was for 
 ever haunting his stage door, and endeavouring to 
 obtain an interview with him on some absurd pretext 
 or another. One night this human nuisance managed 
 to pass the stage doorkeeper and was half-way up 
 the stairs to Tree's dressing-room when whom should 
 he run into but the manager himself, ready " dressed " 
 for his part, and on the way to take his cue. 
 
 " Oh, I'm so sorry to trouble you, Mr. Tree," began 
 the unfortunate visitor, " but of course you'll re- 
 member " 
 
 " Remember ! " interrupted Tree in his best manner, 
 " remember ! I never remember anything when I've 
 got my ' make-up ' on." 
 
 And he went on the stage without another word. 
 
 On one occasion Tree was in a somewhat awkward 
 predicament. He had run down to the provinces to 
 play a matine'e, and the town being some considerable 
 distance from London, there was nothing for him to 
 do but to dress and " make-up " for the evening per- 
 formance at the Haymarket in the railway carriage 
 during the return journey. The guard personally 
 ushered him into a carriage at the provincial station, 
 and the moment the train was well in motion Tree 
 made-up and dressed with his usual care, transforming 
 himself from his usual charming self into a Svengali 
 or some such objectionable personality. The guard, 
 as guards will, being like other of their fellow-creatures 
 seldom adverse to a tip, came to the carriage door at 
 the end of the j ourney to release his passenger. Imagine 
 his astonishment when, instead of the clean shaven, 
 immaculate gentleman, on whom he had shut the door 
 at the county town, he was confronted by a desperate 
 villain of a murderous type. Scenting a ghastly 
 tragedy the guard refused to let the villain pass, 
 
 188 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 despite his urgent protestation that he would be 
 infernally late. 
 
 " That won't do, my man," he said ; " you've got 
 to come along with me." 
 
 Tree, realising the awful possibilities of a sojourn 
 in a police station pending investigation of his sup- 
 posed crime, used all his eloquence to explain matters, 
 but it was some considerable time before the guard 
 would be convinced that his captive was the popular 
 manager of the Haymarket Theatre. Luckily the 
 adventure ended in Mr. Tree being but a few minutes 
 late for the performance. 
 
 Tree's biggest success during his management of 
 the Haymarket was undoubtedly " Trilby," which he 
 played for many weeks to the comfortable profit of a 
 thousand pounds a week, some twenty thousand 
 pounds having been cleared by the end of the run. 
 
 Tree gave his last performance at the Haymarket 
 on the I5th of July 1896, the programme consisting of 
 selections from the most successful plays in his reper- 
 toire. Immediately after the audience had left the 
 house, the stalls were cleared away and four separate 
 supper parties were given in the building one on 
 the stage for the company, another on the floor of 
 the auditorium to the stage staff, a third in the 
 foyer to the attendants, and a fourth in the refresh- 
 ment saloon to the orchestra. Yet another party of 
 nearly a hundred of Mr. and Mrs. Tree's friends were 
 entertained at the Savoy. 
 
 189 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MY excuse for devoting so much of this book to 
 Harrison's and my own management is, I venture 
 to think, a good one, for it is practically only of the 
 days since we first put our joint names on the 
 bills and programmes that I can write intimately 
 of the Theatre Royal Haymarket. Hitherto I have 
 had to depend upon old records and the help of 
 no end of good friends, without whom I could never 
 have attempted a work of this description ; now 
 I can write largely from personal knowledge and 
 experience, and with greater confidence in the accu- 
 racy of my facts. 
 
 At any rate I will allow no one to call in question 
 the accuracy of my statement when I say that the 
 days and the hours that immediately preceded our 
 first nights were some of the very worst I have ever 
 spent and an actor's life is never a bed of roses. 
 Had it not been for my association with one to whose 
 sound advice and perfectly even temperament I would 
 pay special tribute here, I sometimes doubt whether 
 that curtain would have risen on anything but my 
 corpse. But my partner's calm reliance and unfailing 
 belief in our success pulled me through, though my 
 gratitude to him in those trying days was no greater 
 than it is in these pleasanter hours. I have been 
 accused of being lucky, and there is some truth in the 
 accusation, but in no instance have I been luckier 
 
 190 
 
FREDERICK HARRISON, LESSEE AND CO-MANAGER OF 
 THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 PLATE XVI 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 than in my association with a partner from whom I 
 hope never to be separated. 
 
 But to go back to the troubled waters of those early 
 days. To this hour they haunt me in my dreams 
 the worries, the anxieties, the fears, and the thousand 
 and one little hitches inseparable from this business 
 of ours. One day in particular I shall never forget. 
 Harrison and I had just completed our arrangements 
 to open as joint-managers when I was invited by my 
 kind friends the Gilberts to lunch at their delightful 
 place near Harrow, Grim's Dyke. I remember I felt 
 more cheerful that morning. After all, I thought, 
 others have succeeded at the Haymarket before, why 
 should I anticipate failure ? My good friends' hearty 
 welcome cheered me still more, and I can remember 
 few pleasanter lunches. But lunch over, Sir Squire 
 Bancroft suggested a stroll in the gardens while finishing 
 our cigars. I confided to him that my arrangements 
 to follow in his footsteps were completed, adding that 
 I dreaded the first night. Whereupon he proceeded 
 to give me at some length a description of his first 
 night at the Haymarket how, after spending 20,000 
 on the alterations of the new theatre, the first night 
 turned out to be foggy, and how he himself had been 
 hooted and yelled at for removing the pit. Never 
 shall I forget that description ! Night after night 
 after hearing it I lay awake thinking of the awful 
 nights to come. 
 
 The day after my lunch at Grim's Dyke, Harrison 
 and I went down to look at our new possession, with 
 some pride I must confess. But when we got inside our 
 pride was to receive a rude shock. The County Council 
 had stretched out its inexorable, all-changing hand, 
 and chaos reigned supreme. The old wooden stair- 
 case behind the scenes was gutted, as concrete stairs 
 
 191 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 had to be erected in its stead ; and a fireproof wall 
 between the dressing-rooms and the stage was in the 
 building. The din and dust were awful, and a scene 
 cloth was nailed tightly across the proscenium to keep 
 the dust from penetrating to the front of the house. It 
 was in such charming surroundings that we rehearsed 
 " Under the Red Robe " for six weeks. 
 
 At last came the awful first night. Everything was 
 late owing to unforeseen circumstances. The scenery 
 was unfinished ; and the front of the house was in 
 the possession of no less than one hundred workmen 
 and workwomen, who streamed out of the stage door 
 just as we opened the doors giving on to the street. 
 While the pitites were settling themselves in their 
 seats, the scenic artists were putting the finishing 
 touches to their work, and every one was busy doing 
 some job or another. I was in the theatre from eleven 
 until seven, until at last I could stand the anxiety no 
 longer and went out to meditate on Sir Squire Ban- 
 croft's words at Grim's Dyke. However, the night 
 had to be gone through somehow, so back I went to 
 dress, my thoughts for the first time on a first night 
 being busy with the piece, and not with my own part, 
 which was, I confess, scarcely congenial to me. 
 
 Of what followed I have no need to write. " Under 
 the Red Robe " was a big success for all connected 
 with it, and ran some 250 nights, but few who saw it 
 ever thought of the agony we went through until the 
 curtain came down for the last time on that, to me, 
 very memorable first night. 
 
 By the way, my friend Edward Rose, who 
 adapted the play from Mr. Stanley Weyman's capital 
 novel, has reminded me that it was not only in the 
 Haymarket we rehearsed. In a letter sent to me not 
 many weeks ago the writer says : 
 
 192 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " Before our poor romantic drama saw the foot- 
 lights it had a vagabond life of rehearsals, such as 
 surely was never known to any play produced by a 
 first-rate management at the re-opening of a first-rate 
 theatre. The Haymarket was being largely rebuilt, 
 and we rehearsed one day on the huge Adelphi stage, 
 and the next at the tiny Vaudeville, and the day 
 after at the Lyric a beautiful theatre, when you are 
 not turned off the stage, and reminded of amateur 
 days and the Theatre Royal back drawing-room, by 
 a rehearsal among the comfortable lounges of the 
 saloon. I have no doubt that we tried several other 
 stages, but their memory has faded: the only one 
 that I can never forget, as upon it the only entirely 
 useless and disagreeable rehearsals took place, was 
 that of the Haymarket itself. Why the builder, the 
 stage-carpenter, and every other mechanic who sets 
 his foot in a theatre feels it his duty to begin to 
 hammer as soon as the actor begins to speak is a 
 mystery which has always been unfathomable. I 
 would only point out to the scientific that, though 
 there is no explanation of this strange fact, it has its 
 analogy in the animal world the caged canary con- 
 ducts his conversation, to quote Mr. Weller, Sen., 
 * on the same genteel principle.' " 
 
 I had almost forgotten another incident in connec- 
 tion with our first night. Amid the hubbub and dust 
 came, to our mingled joy and consternation, a com- 
 mand from the Princess of Wales for the Royal Box. 
 Seeing the condition that everything was in, and our 
 doubts as to whether we should be able to open at 
 all that night, our feelings at the receipt of the 
 gracious message may be excused for being mixed. 
 However, Harrison at once set to work to make 
 everything right for the Royal party, and I have 
 
 193 N 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 reason to hope that the occupants of Box 4 were 
 never conscious of our difficulties that night. 
 
 My first introduction to Royalty, by the way, pro- 
 voked rather a funny incident. Being no great con- 
 versationalist, I was, I confess, a little nervous, and 
 on making my bow, fidgeted awkwardly with my 
 opera hat, which I carried squashed up against my 
 agitated breast. Scarcely had I got my head to what 
 I supposed to be the right incline, when pop went 
 my hat with a loud report. My confusion was covered 
 by a hearty laugh from the Royal party. 
 
 One other Royal incident connected with our manage- 
 ment is, perhaps, worth describing. His Majesty 
 King Edward, then of course Prince of Wales, was 
 in the Royal Box one night with Princess Maud of 
 Wales. It was during the run of " The Marriage of 
 Convenience," in which poor Terriss played so splen- 
 didly ; it was his last engagement but one, by the way. 
 Between the acts his Majesty sent for my wife, poor 
 Terriss, and myself, being desirous of expressing his 
 gracious approval of our efforts to amuse. I must 
 confess that I was not a little nervous, and my con- 
 versational powers were at their very worst. 
 
 Things were going distinctly stiffly when Terriss 
 said in his cheery, sailor-like manner : 
 
 " We all hope Persimmon will win the Gold Cup to- 
 morrow, sir ! " 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Terriss," replied his Majesty, " it 
 is most kind of you to say that. So you are all in- 
 terested in my horse ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, sir," was Terriss's reply, " we've all got 
 our shirts on him ! " 
 
 Needless to say the king was enormously amused, 
 and all signs of stiffness disappeared after that. 
 
 Poor Terriss, it is interesting to remember, was 
 
 194 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 always fond of talking about death, though a heartier, 
 cheerier man surely never stepped. One of his 
 peculiarities was that he was very fond of lying on 
 the floor of his dressing-room between the shows 
 absolutely stark naked. Possibly his splendid health 
 was in part attributable to these air-baths. I re- 
 member another actor who has passed .away who 
 always swore by them. He took his baths by wander- 
 ing about in his " birthday suit " as a friend of 
 mind calls it before any one else in the house 
 was up. 
 
 Yet another Royal story and I will descend to 
 lowlier mortals. The Royalty of this anecdote was an 
 Eastern potentate, who was a great friend of a 
 member of our company and often used to come be- 
 hind the scenes between the acts. One night he 
 honoured me with a visit in my dressing-room. He in- 
 formed me that he was shortly going to appear in some 
 theatricals himself. Visions of Othello and other 
 Orientals at once flashed through my mind. Judge of 
 my astonishment when he replied : 
 
 " Oh no, I am going to play Old Hardcastle in ' She 
 Stoops to Conquer ' at St. Petersburg ! " 
 
 Talking of amateur theatricals reminds me of our 
 Charterhouse matinee given some four years ago in 
 aid of the Charterhouse mission. The matin e"e was not 
 altogether amateur, but one of the " stars " that 
 afternoon was General Baden-Powell, who, I suppose, 
 can scarcely be called a professional. Our programme 
 consisted of a scene from " The School for Scandal," 
 a translation of " Gringoire," a one-act play by Mr. 
 Hartley Manners, entitled " A Queen's Messenger," and 
 last, but not least, a special Charterhouse burlesque, of 
 which " B. P." was the leading feature. He was just 
 as keen a worker on the Haymarket stage as on the 
 
 195 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 South African veldt ; in fact I don't think I ever saw 
 an actor, amateur or professional, work with greater 
 good will. No one who saw him skipping about 
 dancing a. pas seul one moment, singing a song with 
 me the next, and ending up with a long declaration 
 speech to the ghosts of past distinguished Carthusians 
 dressed as an imaginary headmaster of Charterhouse, 
 would have believed that he was anything else but 
 an actor by profession. The only thing that might 
 have made them change their opinion was that he 
 had to come to rehearsal more than once in a cavalry 
 colonel's full uniform ! It was distinctly funny to see 
 him dancing about the stage in full kit to a tune which 
 has now become quite a standing dish at our own 
 theatre, is always played whenever "B.P." honours 
 us with a visit, and which we have dubbed " B. P.'s 
 anthem." 
 
 Among the other ghosts that General Baden-Powell 
 had to address in the Charterhouse burlesque was that 
 of Havelock. A few days after the performance he 
 was walking down Piccadilly when he ran into Lord 
 Wolseley. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " asked the then Com- 
 mander-in-chief. 
 
 " I have just got back from India on leave, sir,'* 
 replied " B. P." 
 
 " You are just the man I want," said Wolseley, 
 and off he packed him to Mafeking. 
 
 I need hardly say that it was with no little pride 
 and affection that we of the Haymarket Theatre 
 watched " B. P.'s " career throughout the war. On 
 Mafeking night the whole staff collected on the stage 
 after the performance to drink his health. To our 
 great delight Canon Haig-Brown, the former head- 
 master of Charterhouse, and the present Master of the 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Charterhouse (under whom both I and my collaborator 
 had the pleasure of working, as boys) was present, and 
 made a little speech. He had not intended to say 
 anything, and as a matter of fact I was just going to 
 say something myself, when one of the stage hands 
 called out : 
 
 " S-sh, s-sh, we want to hear what the old school- 
 master has to say ! " 
 
 Those who know Canon Haig-Brown will not need 
 my assurance that what " the old schoolmaster " had 
 to say was full of real feeling and very much to the 
 point. Surely no headmaster who ever lived had, 
 and has, more real regard for the school of which he 
 was so splendid a head, or for the boys who worked 
 under him. 
 
 We do not often have festive gatherings on the stage 
 of the Haymarket Theatre such as our celebration of 
 Mafeking night, but on the night preceding Christmas 
 Eve we keep up the festive season in right royal 
 fashion. The whole of the company, together with 
 some others connected with the theatre, join us in 
 presenting every member of our working staff, both 
 in front and behind the scenes, with either a goose or 
 turkey or a joint of beef or pork. The presents are 
 laid out on big long tables, and the stage is decorated 
 in the Christmas fashion with holly and mistletoe and 
 hanging lights, which give it a most festive appearance. 
 In fact I am almost inclined to assert that one of the 
 best " sets " at the Haymarket is to be seen at Christ- 
 mas-tide. Our sergeant who presides over the stage 
 door blows a call on the trumpet, and on to the stage 
 we troop, some two hundred and fifty strong. One 
 of us calls out the names of those who are to receive 
 presents, while the other takes a piece of paper, on 
 which the description of the particular article to which 
 
 197 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 the person is entitled is written, out of a bowl. The 
 distribution of presents over, great bowls of punch are 
 brought in, and we wish each other a merry Christmas 
 in bumpers. The evening winds up with a perform- 
 ance by the junior members of the company, which 
 takes the form of either a revue, or of a good old- 
 fashioned knockabout harlequinade. 
 
 During the run of " The Little Minister " we were, 
 I need scarcely say, very Scotch, and it was generally 
 agreed that at our Christmas gathering the bagpipes 
 must be a feature of the entertainment. A piper from 
 the Scots Guards was duly engaged. He strutted 
 about playing some tune that delighted us enormously, 
 and we gave him a tremendous reception. But a very 
 old friend of ours, then a member of our company, and 
 a keen soldier, was not satisfied. 
 
 " Wait a moment, boys," said he, full of the memory 
 of Dargai, which was uppermost in most men's minds 
 just then, "I'll get him to play the ' Cock o' the North.'" 
 
 " Hear, hear," came from all sides. 
 
 Our old friend walked up to the piper and patted 
 him on the shoulder. 
 
 " That's very good, my man," he said, " but give us 
 a taste of ' The Cock o' the North.' " 
 
 The piper's face was a study as he replied : 
 
 " Mun, a've bin playin' it for the last quarter of 
 an oor." 
 
 But my recollections of the few years that have 
 passed since Harrison and I first became managers of 
 the Haymarket fortunate as those years have been 
 are, as must needs be, not unmixed with sadness. 
 Apart from the death of poor William Terriss, who, I 
 venture to think, made one of his greatest successes 
 under our management, another great player who was 
 one of the most brilliant members of our company, 
 
 198 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 and was beloved by all who came in contact with 
 her, has passed away. Need I say that I refer to my 
 dear old friend, that sweet and gentle lady, Rose 
 Leclercq ? So far as my short recollection goes, she 
 never had an equal in her own line, and it will be 
 long indeed before her place is filled. No queen had 
 manners so exquisite ; she was indeed a grande dame 
 jusqu'au bout des angles, and a grande dame in more 
 senses than one. Yet she was always full of fun, 
 always genial, never complaining. I have even heard 
 a lady well known in London society say that she 
 would have given anything to have been able to engage 
 Rose Leclercq to receive her guests at her big 
 receptions! 
 
 Poor Rose Leclercq had a most extraordinary sneeze, 
 at least it could hardly be called a sneeze it was a 
 sharp piercing scream that could be heard all over 
 the theatre. She was well aware of this failing if 
 failing it could be called and often used to joke about 
 it. One of her chief peculiarities was an intense dis- 
 like to being talked to just before she had to go on 
 the stage, and those who ventured to approach her at 
 such a moment would find themselves waved away 
 with that wonderful queenly air that has surely had 
 few equals. This queenly air, by the way, sometimes 
 had a distinctly terrifying effect upon those who were 
 unaware of Rose Leclercq's ways. One night I re- 
 member my dresser went to her with some message or 
 another. In a moment or two he returned, much 
 crestfallen. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " I asked. " I don't know 
 sir," was the reply, " but I'm afraid Miss Le- 
 clercq's taken a dislike to me. She won't let me go 
 near her." 
 
 Rose Leclercq's great pet was a little dog, whose 
 
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THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 parents may possibly, at some time or another, have 
 had something to do with the dachshund species. 
 Nothing amused the animal's mistress more than to sing 
 a short piece of operatic recitative to him, at the end 
 of which performance he would gaze piteously at the 
 sky and emit a fearful howl. The effect was really 
 ludicrous in the extreme. 
 
 I remember a good story that Rose Leclercq was fond 
 of telling. She was touring with " East Lynne," and 
 the Little Willie in the company fell sick and had to 
 be sent away. Rose Leclercq was in despair of finding 
 a substitute, when a lady of her company came up 
 and said : 
 
 " Oh, dear Miss Leclercq, do let me have my little 
 boy with us. He has been for a couple of years on 
 a farm in Devonshire, but he is wonderfully clever and 
 bright, and he knows Little Willie well, because Fve 
 told him about the play and sent him the part to 
 study to amuse him. The people at the farm say he's 
 so clever at it ! " 
 
 Little Willie was duly sent for, but Rose Leclercq, 
 who was seedy at the time, left him to be rehearsed 
 by his mother, and did not see him until she came on 
 the stage. Imagine her horror when she found that 
 he was possessed of a peculiarly strong Devonshire 
 accent, which scarcely gave point to the line " I want 
 to see my motherrr." Nor were matters improved 
 when he gave vent to " Put me down aside the 
 firre." 
 
 This reminds me of another story which can hardly 
 be said to belong to the Haymarket. When Harrison 
 was joint-manager of the Lyceum with Forbes Robert- 
 son, Mr. Horace Watson was business-manager, just 
 as he is our very excellent business-manager to-day. 
 Among the attendants under Watson's care were a 
 
 200 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 number of boys in Eton jackets, whose business was 
 the dispensation of programmes. One night one of 
 the boys came up to Watson's office in a flood of tears. 
 On being asked what was the matter, he explained 
 that his finer feelings had been hurt by another boy 
 spitting on him. Watson promptly sought out the 
 offender and charged him with his crime. 
 
 " I didn't spit, sir," said the alleged offender, " I 
 dribbled. I always do dribble." 
 
 Two more stories which have little to do with the 
 Haymarket and I will return to the theatre. They 
 are both connected with Charles Brookfield, in whose 
 clever literary footsteps I follow, I confess, with 
 trembling gait, and both have to do with that clever 
 little piece " The Burglar and the Judge," which we 
 played with some success at the Haymarket. One 
 afternoon we gave it at a benefit at a particularly 
 large and well-known theatre. The stage-manager, a 
 cheery fellow and a great personal friend of mine, was 
 possessed of a peculiarly large nose, and his features 
 generally were what in all fairness might be called 
 " striking." As Brookfield and I came out of our 
 dressing-rooms the stage-manager met us and com- 
 plimented me very kindly on my make-up as the old 
 Judge. I thanked him heartily, and without really 
 thinking of what I was saying congratulated him on 
 his make-up. 
 
 " My make-up as what ? " he asked rather surprised. 
 
 " Why, as stage-manager, of course," said I. 
 
 " And not a bit too heavy for this theatre," whispered 
 Brookfield. 
 
 One night Mrs. Beer asked us to give " The Burglar 
 and the Judge " at her house in Chesterfield Gardens. 
 As we had not played the piece for some little time 
 Brookfield suggested a rehearsal in the drawing-room, 
 
 201 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 to which I readily agreed. So, on the morning of the 
 day of the performance we arrived at Mrs. Beer's 
 house, and the drawing-room was placed at our disposal. 
 As the Burglar, Brookfield had to make his entrance 
 through a window, and as, of course, there was no 
 scenery, there was nothing for him to do but to hide 
 behind the drawing-room blinds and curtains and come 
 in that way. He had just begun to rehearse the 
 entrance when we were disturbed by a violent ringing 
 of the bell. This was closely followed by the breath- 
 less appearance of the butler. 
 
 " Mrs. So-and-so from over the way presents her 
 compliments, ma'am," he gasped, " and do you know 
 there's a burglar hiding behind your drawing-room 
 curtains ? " 
 
 At night after the performance, as Brookfield and I 
 were hurrying away, we were stopped by the butler, 
 who begged us to go in and have some supper, ex- 
 plaining that his mistress would be very hurt if we 
 went without taking anything. I pleaded an excuse 
 and bolted, but Brookfield begged the butler to take 
 him round by a side door as he was anxious not to mix 
 with the guests just after the performance, being, I 
 suppose, doubtful as to whether he had got all his 
 make-up off. 
 
 The butler led the way to an entrance to the dining- 
 room on the servant's staircase, begging Brookfield to 
 wait there while he fetched him something. 
 
 Brookfield found the place already occupied by a 
 stout and very charming elderly member of society, 
 who greeted him most heartily. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Brookfield," she said, " is that you ? How 
 delightful. This is the way I always get my supper 
 at squashes. I stand at the side door and get the 
 servant to fetch me something." 
 
 202 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 " THE Little Minister " has been the most important 
 and not the least successful of our fortunate series of 
 plays since Harrison and myself first took up the well- 
 named cares of management. Many things contri- 
 buted to that success the brilliance of the piece itself, 
 the beautiful stage pictures contributed by our scenic 
 artists, and the delightful music specially composed by 
 our friend Sir Alexander Mackenzie. But I take a 
 pardonable pride in believing that " The Little 
 Minister " would not have drawn such large congre- 
 gations for so great a number of nights had it not been 
 for my wife's performance of " Babbie." In saying 
 which I am, after all, only quoting the greater critics 
 and Mr. Barrie himself ; though I may be accused 
 of unpardonable sin in introducing the subject at all 
 into this book. Yet, while still on my defence, I 
 venture to think that that patient historian of the 
 Haymarket, who shall surely follow some day in my 
 inadequate footsteps, will include my wife's " Babbie " 
 in his list of the many great acting triumphs associated 
 with the theatre. 
 
 For " Babbie " is a part worthy of even higher con- 
 sideration than has yet been accorded it a part to 
 test an actress's capabilities to the highest limits. It is 
 not Shakespeare I admit, but it is pure comedy, and 
 pure comedy is harder to play than many would believe 
 
 203 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 who never essayed it. I would apologise for referring 
 to my wife's acting at all, were it not that I find some 
 difficulty in ignoring her when I come to those chapters 
 that connect our management of the Haymarket 
 Theatre. It would have been tantamount to writing 
 of the years of Foote's regime and ignoring Samuel 
 Foote. For it needs no argument of mine to prove 
 that without Samuel Foote, Foote would never have 
 managed the Haymarket Theatre, and I dare swear 
 that without Winifred Emery the partnership of 
 Messrs. Harrison & Maude would never have come 
 even within the range of possibilities. We may have 
 been fortunate in the selection of our plays, careful 
 in the selection of our casts, happy in the choice of 
 our performers. But our management and I speak 
 with a husband's pardonable pride would never have 
 been launched on successful voyages without her who 
 was the mainstay of it until illness laid her low not a 
 few months since. I write, though none will believe 
 it, from the hard, brutal heart of a joint-manager in 
 natural gratitude to one who has all through been an 
 ideal leading lady. By the way, it is a curious coin- 
 cidence that it was in a box at the Haymarket that I 
 first made my wife's acquaintance. 
 
 Our good friend Barrie, to the reappearance of whose 
 name on our play-bills we are eagerly looking forward, 
 cherishes, I hope, many pleasant recollections of our 
 production of " The Little Minister," but I know that 
 it left him with one unpleasant souvenir. It was while 
 we were rehearsing the piece that this souvenir was 
 brought about. Barrie and I were sitting as usual 
 on a sort of little platform, built on to the front of 
 the stage, from which we could conduct the rehearsal 
 without interfering with the movements of the char- 
 acters. Unhappily the railing that surrounded the 
 
 204 
 
^ 
 
 } 
 
 
 From the miniature by Mr. Simpson 
 
 MISS WINIFRED EMERY (MRS. CYRIL MAUDE) 
 AS "LADY TEA/LK" 
 
 PLATE XVII 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 little platform was not of the strongest, and Barrie, 
 who, as all his intimates know, is fond of lolling about 
 on chairs in the most extraordinary attitudes, leant 
 heavily against it with his seat half tilted. Suddenly, 
 without a second's warning, smash went the railing, 
 and over fell our author with a crash. The fall was 
 of some six or seven feet, and imagine our horror 
 when on going to pick up Barrie we found him appa- 
 rently lifeless. We carried him as gently as possible 
 up to my office, laid him on the sofa, and dismissed 
 the rehearsal. Happily in a very few moments he 
 revived, and even regained his usual spirits ; but then, 
 every one who knows Barrie is well aware of how 
 plucky he is, and what a thorough little sportsman 
 he is in every way. 
 
 There must, I imagine, have been a pressman among 
 our " extra gentlemen," or, at any rate, some one 
 who was glad to earn five shillings by giving news 
 of the event ; in any case, in a very short time the 
 news boys were running about with contents' bills 
 on which "Accident to Mr. J. M. Barrie" was 
 printed in large letters. These bills were shortly 
 afterwards followed by the card of a reporter on a 
 well-known evening paper of the " Yellow Press " 
 distinction. 
 
 " Well, this is quick work with a vengeance," laughed 
 Barrie. " Do for goodness' sake prevent their making 
 a fuss about it. Tell them it's nothing much." 
 
 The reporter was shown into my dressing-room 
 which leads into the office, so that Barrie could hear 
 every word that we said. 
 
 " I hear," began the reporter, " that Mr. Barrie has 
 met with an accident." 
 
 " Oh no, it's nothing," I replied cheerily ; " he's all 
 right now, merely a severe shock." 
 
 205 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed the disappointed reporter ; 
 " not a really bad accident ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear no," I said. 
 
 " What ! " This time the journalist's tones were 
 literally tragic in their disappointment. " No blood ? " 
 
 I fancied I heard a chuckle from the sofa next door, 
 but thinking I might be mistaken I went on to 
 impress the reporter with the triviality of the 
 accident. 
 
 " I must beg you not to exaggerate the matter in 
 any way," I wound up. 
 
 " Certainly not, Mr. Maude," was the dignified reply. 
 " We never exaggerate on our paper." 
 
 The necessary suppression of .the paper's name 
 detracts, I admit, from the point of the story ! 
 
 Sir Alexander Mackenzie, I fear, found the rehearsals 
 of his charming music not a little trying. All rehearsals, 
 let me hasten to add, are tests of temper, and musical 
 rehearsals especially so. What made our musical 
 rehearsals particularly tedious was that, our orchestra 
 being under the stage, it was extremely difficult to 
 get the proper effect, and very hard for Sir Alexander 
 to explain what he wanted to our conductor. 
 
 One day the great composer was especially exasper- 
 ated. He came up to me, despair written all over 
 his face. 
 
 " I say, Maude," he stammered, " do you, do you 
 damn it, do you mind if I smash my hat ! " 
 
 The objection to having an orchestra under the 
 stage (it has its advantages, let me managerially 
 confess) was proved one night by the visit of a 
 student of the Royal Academy of Music to " The 
 Little Minister." 
 
 " What did you think of the Principal's music ? " he 
 was afterwards asked. 
 
 206 
 
THE H;AYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " Principars music ? " was his astonished reply. 
 " Did he write music for it ? I never heard any ! " 
 
 There is one more story of Sir Alexander Mackenzie 
 that I cannot forbear telling. At the end of the run 
 of " The Little Minister " we sent him a slight token 
 of our gratitude. Sir Alexander is possessed of a 
 faithful and privileged domestic, and on the arrival 
 of the little present she was sent for to inspect it. 
 Her only comment was : 
 
 " Lord ! what a waste of money ! " 
 
 A year or two after the production of " The Little 
 Minister " I made my summer holiday in Scotland. 
 Naturally I was much interested in Scotch ministers, 
 and on arrival at a small out-of-the-way place in the 
 north I asked the lady with whom I was staying what 
 the minister of the Auld Lichts was like in appearance. 
 
 " Well," replied she, " I am not quite sure that he's 
 particular acceptable from the stage point of view. 
 It was only the other day at a picnic that I saw him. 
 Among the people was a young man in a flaring 
 check suit, smoking a very large cigar, and flirting 
 something terribly with the girls. ' Who is the young 
 man ? ' I asked a friend. ' Don't you know ? ' she re- 
 plied ; ' why, it's the new Auld Licht Minister.' " 
 
 While we were playing " The Little Minister " some 
 real Auld Licht Kirk elders from Kirriemuir (of "A 
 Window in Thrums " fame) came round behind to pay 
 us a visit. They were intensely interested in their 
 prototypes (those excellent prototypes, Mr. Brandon 
 Thomas, Mr. Mark Kinghorne, and Mr. Holman Clark), 
 and were delighted when I introduced them one to 
 another. It was a meeting of Church and Stage with a 
 vengeance ! 
 
 The production of a play, no matter of what kind, 
 is a far more serious and difficult matter than the 
 
 207 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 uninitiated imagine. Unless one has actually pro- 
 duced a play oneself it is almost impossible to realise 
 the enormous mass of detail, and, in historical pieces, 
 the quantity of research required. Those who see the 
 finished picture often have no idea of the weeks of 
 work we managers have devoted to what may seem 
 trivial enough. Yet in such case if care were not 
 taken I doubt whether any but the most extraordinarily 
 brilliant of plays would last long in these exacting 
 days. But while I would not for one moment deny 
 that the production of plays has its interesting 
 moments, at the same time it can prove most em- 
 barrassing, though I confess that I only found it 
 embarrassing once. That was the production of 
 " Frocks and Frills." 
 
 Harrison and I being naturally anxious to get as 
 much real " local colour " into the piece as possible, 
 arranged to visit the various important dressmaking 
 establishments. Never shall I forget these pilgrimages 
 in search of the true modiste's atmosphere. The first 
 time a bevy of gorgeous ladies in magnificent costumes 
 were paraded before our mere male eyes, we sat and 
 looked at them as shy as a pair of blushing schoolboys, 
 and never before or since have I felt so absolutely at 
 a loss as to what to say. For the life of me I could 
 not conjure up one single appropriate remark. 
 
 Happily we got all the " local colour " we wanted 
 from outside, but to make our stage pictures more 
 perfect we persuaded the manageress of a famous 
 couturiere to come down to rehearsal once or twice 
 in order to see that our " model ladies " in the shop 
 scene paraded after the strictly orthodox manner. At 
 the first rehearsal, after watching the ladies for some 
 little time, the manageress came up to me and said : 
 
 " May I say just one word, Mr. Maude ? " 
 208 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 " Of course," I replied, " that is exactly why I 
 wanted you to come here." 
 
 " Very well then," she called out to a young lady 
 who was ambling about in a gorgeous ball-gown. 
 "That is very nice, very nice indeed, but, please, 
 walk more slowly, and put up your hand to stroke 
 your nose or anything to show the sleeve." 
 
 At one great dressmaker's, after a charming 
 young lady had exhibited some particularly lovely 
 costumes to our uncultured eyes, the manageress 
 said: 
 
 " Did you notice that young lady's figure ? Parti- 
 cularly graceful, was it not ? But I assure you she 
 was nothing till she came to us." 
 
 Talking of young ladies reminds me of when we 
 were engaging " extra ladies " for the big scene in 
 " The Black Tulip " an applicant for the post made 
 her appearance and was shown in to the stage-manager, 
 who decided that she would not do, and politely de- 
 clined her offer. The young lady not understanding the 
 reason for the refusal promptly went home, changed 
 her hat, and returned with all speed to the theatre. 
 Poor young lady! she thought it was her hat that 
 had been the cause of her failure to please ! 
 
 One of the very important people in connection 
 with our productions is our incomparable perruquier, 
 Mr. William Clarkson. The importance of his art to 
 the success of a play can be best explained by the 
 following story, for which I will not vouch. 
 
 It was soon after the first night of a new play at 
 what theatre I will not say. The people were stream- 
 ing out, and among them Clarkson, who is seldom, if 
 ever, absent from first nights. To him came an 
 interested player from a rival theatre eager for the 
 news of the play. 
 
 209 o 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 "How did the piece go?" he asked. "Was it a 
 success ? " 
 
 "Certainly," replied Clarkson ; "couldn't see a join." 
 I must now crave the indulgence of my readers, 
 and beg his and her leave to address them. It is in 
 reference to the next chapter of this book. On the 
 face of it it would seem that it were written by me. 
 I deny the impeachment absolutely. In the first 
 place, I would not for one moment lay claim to such 
 knowledge of style as is therein betrayed; in the 
 second, I would not aspire to the bluntness, to put it 
 mildly, therein shown. The chapter was sent to me 
 as an aid to the completion of this work. It professes 
 to deal with that period of our management when we 
 rehearsed a piece by the brilliant Mr. Bernard Shaw. 
 The writer, I am assured, is well fitted to deal with 
 that period. I leave it to the reader to judge, and 
 to guess its authorship. Were I the proprietor of a 
 popular penny journal I would offer a prize in this 
 connection ; but, unhappily, I am only part-manager 
 of a theatre. With the supposed facts, the senti- 
 ments, the whole trend of this chapter I and my 
 collaborator entirely dissociate ourselves. But we 
 confess that we have heard it whispered that we 
 would never print it. 
 
 210 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 I NOW come to an episode in the history of the theatre 
 which might have wrecked our enterprise had not 
 Providence, which has never yet disappointed our 
 humble trust in it, caused the danger into which we 
 had stumbled to withdraw itself at the eleventh 
 hour. 
 
 I think it must have been in the year 1895 that 
 the devil put it into the mind of a friend of mine to 
 tempt me with news of a play called " Candida " by 
 a writer named Bernard Shaw, of whom until then I 
 had never heard. I wrote to him suggesting thai he 
 should let me see the play. He instantly undertook 
 the management of our theatre to the extent of in- 
 forming me that " Candida " would not suit us, but 
 that he would write a new play for us which I pro- 
 test I never asked him to do. As I learnt subse- 
 quently, he then took a chair in Regent's Park for 
 the whole season, and sat there in the public eye 
 writing the threatened play. 
 
 In the winter of 1897 this play, which was called 
 " You Never Can Tell," came to hand. Some of our 
 friends thought well of the author, and Harrison 
 (who, as my readers have doubtless already gathered, 
 is a perfect ignoramus in all matters connected with 
 plays and acting) liked the play. In short, I 
 allowed myself to be overpersuaded, and we actually 
 put the play into rehearsal. 
 
 211 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 From the first the author showed the perversity of 
 his disposition and his utter want of practical know- 
 ledge of the stage. He proposed impossible casts. He 
 forced us into incomprehensible agreements by tor- 
 turing us with endless talk until we were ready to 
 sign anything rather than argue for another hour. Had 
 I been properly supported by my colleagues I should 
 not have tolerated his proceedings for a moment. I 
 do not wish to complain of anybody, but as a matter 
 of fact I was not so supported. I expected nothing 
 better from Harrison, because with all his excellent 
 qualities he is too vain I say it though he is my best 
 friend to be trusted in so delicate an undertaking 
 as the management of a theatre. The truth is, Shaw 
 flattered him, and thus detached him from me by play- 
 ing on his one fatal weakness. 
 
 The world knows, I think, that whatever my faults 
 may be, I am an affectionate and devoted husband. 
 But I have never pretended that my wife is perfect. 
 No woman is, and but few men. Still, I do think 
 she might have supported me better than she did 
 through our greatest trial. This man from the first 
 exercised a malign influence over her. With my full 
 consent and approval she selected for herself a certain 
 part in his play. He had privately resolved out of 
 mere love of contradiction that she should play 
 another. When he read the play he contrived to 
 balance the parts in such a way that my unfortunate 
 and misguided wife actually there and then gave up 
 her part and accepted the one he had determined to 
 throw upon her. I then recognised for the first time 
 that I had to deal with a veritable Svengali. 
 
 Our mistake in admitting an author of this type 
 to our theatre soon become apparent. At the reading, 
 that excellent actor, Jack Barnes, whose very name 
 
 212 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 calls up the idea of sound judgment, withdrew, over- 
 powered by fatigue and disgust, at the end of the 
 first act, and presently threw up the part with which 
 we proposed to insult him and I now publicly apologise 
 to him for that outrage. Miss Coleman soon followed 
 his example, with a very natural protest against a 
 part in which, as she rightly said, there were " no 
 laughs and no exits." Any author with the slightest 
 decency of feeling would have withdrawn in the face 
 of rebuffs so pointed as these. But Mr. Shaw 
 encouraged, I must say, by Harrison persisted in 
 what had now become an intolerable intrusion. 
 
 I can hardly describe the rehearsals that followed. 
 It may well be that my recollection of them is con- 
 fused ; for my nerves soon gave way ; sleep became 
 a stranger to me ; and there were moments at which 
 I was hardly in possession of my faculties. I had to 
 stage-manage as well as act to stage-manage with 
 that demon sitting beside me casting an evil spell on 
 all our efforts ! 
 
 On one occasion Mr. Shaw insulted the entire pro- 
 fession by wanting a large table on the stage, on the 
 ground that the company would fall over it unless 
 they behaved as if they were coming into a real room 
 instead of, as he coarsely observed, rushing to the 
 float to pick up the band at the beginning of a comic 
 song. This was a personal attack on me, as my 
 vivacity of character and diable au corps make me 
 specially impatient of obstacles. 
 
 Mr. Shaw was one of those persons who use a certain 
 superficial reasonableness and dexterity of manner to 
 cover an invincible obstinacy in their own opinion. 
 We had engaged for the leading part (I myself having 
 accepted an insignificant part as a mere waiter) no 
 less an artist than Mr. Allan Aynesworth, whose re- 
 
 213 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 putation and subsequent achievements make it un- 
 necessary for me to justify our choice. Mr. Shaw had 
 from the first contended that one of the scenes lay 
 outside Mr. Aynesworth's peculiar province. There 
 can be no doubt now that Mr. Shaw deliberately used 
 his hypnotic power at rehearsal to compel Mr. Aynes- 
 worth to fulfil his prediction. In every other scene 
 Mr. Aynesworth surpassed himself. In this he became 
 conscious and confused ; his high spirits were suddenly 
 extinguished ; even his good-humour left him. He 
 was like a man under a spell as no doubt he actually 
 was and his embarrassment communicated itself most 
 painfully to my dear wife, who had to sit on the stage 
 whilst Svengali deliberately tortured his victim. 
 
 At the same time I must say that Mrs. Maude's 
 conduct was not all I could have desired. I greatly 
 dreaded an open rupture between her and the author ; 
 and the fiend somehow divined this, and used it as a 
 means of annoying me. Sometimes, when he had 
 cynically watched one of her scenes without any 
 symptom of pleasure, I would venture to ask him his 
 opinion of it. On such occasions he invariably rose 
 with every appearance of angry disapproval, informed 
 me that he would give his opinion to Miss Emery 
 herself, and stalked up the stage to her in a threatening 
 manner, leaving me in a state of apprehension that 
 my overstrained nerves were ill able to bear. Not 
 until afterwards did I learn that on these occasions 
 he flattered my wife disgracefully, and actually made 
 her a party to his systematic attempt to drive me 
 out of my senses. I have never reproached her with 
 this, and I never shall. I mention it here only be- 
 cause it is the truth ; and truth has always been with 
 me the first consideration. 
 
 At last Aynesworth broke down under the torture. 
 
 214 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 Mr. Shaw, with that perfidious air of making the best 
 of everything which never deserted him, hypnotised 
 him into complaining of the number of speeches he 
 had to deliver, whereupon Mr. Shaw cut out no less 
 than seventeen of them. This naturally disabled the 
 artist totally. On the question of cutting, Mr. Shaw's 
 attitude was nothing less than Satanic. When I sug- 
 gested cutting he handed me the play, begged me to 
 cut it freely, and then hypnotised me so that I could 
 not collect my thoughts sufficiently to cut a single 
 line. On the other hand, if I showed the least pleasure 
 in a scene at rehearsal he at once cut it out on the 
 ground that the play was too long. What I suffered 
 from that man at that time will never be fully known. 
 The heart alone knoweth its own bitterness. 
 
 The end came suddenly and unexpectedly. We 
 had made a special effort to fulfil our unfortunate 
 contract, of which even Harrison was now begin- 
 ning to have his doubts. We had brought back Miss 
 Kate Bishop from Australia to replace Miss Coleman. 
 Mr. Valentine had taken the part repudiated by Mr. 
 Barnes. The scenery had been modelled, and a real 
 dentist's chair obtained for the first act. Harrison, 
 whose folly was responsible for the whole wretched 
 business, came down to the rehearsal. We were 
 honestly anxious to retrieve the situation by a great 
 effort, and save our dear little theatre from the dis- 
 grace of a failure. 
 
 Suddenly the author entered, in a new suit of clothes ! ! 
 
 I have little more to say. Nobody who had not 
 seen Mr. Shaw sitting there day after day in a costume 
 which the least self-respecting carpenter would have 
 discarded months before, could possibly have under- 
 stood the devastating effect of the new suit on our 
 
 215 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 minds. That this was a calculated coup de theatre I 
 have not the slightest doubt. That it fulfilled its 
 purpose I cannot deny. With distracted attentions, 
 demented imaginations, and enfeebled reasons we made 
 a bewildered effort to go through the first two acts. 
 I saw with inexpressible aggravation that Harrison's 
 face grew longer and longer as he contemplated our 
 company blundering through a rehearsal like dis- 
 concerted amateurs (as if it were anybody's fault but 
 his own). Talma himself would have broken down 
 before the famous pit of kings if that new suit had been 
 in the house. 
 
 I neither know nor care how it all ended. I re- 
 member Svengali privately informing Harrison and 
 myself that he felt that our ruin and disgrace could 
 only be averted by a heroic sacrifice on his part. If 
 Harrison had had a spark of manhood he would have 
 kicked him then and there into the Haymarket. But 
 Harrison's deplorable weakness of character again 
 allowed our enemy to pose as our benevolent rescuer. 
 As for me, the man was in some sort my guest ; 
 besides, I was too unspeakably relieved by the pros- 
 pect of being rid of him and his absurd play to make 
 any difficulties. 
 
 In concluding this sickening record of a disastrous 
 experience I desire to say that I have the greatest 
 admiration for Mr. Shaw's talents and the sincerest 
 esteem for his personal character. In any other walk 
 of life than that of a dramatic author I should expect 
 him to achieve a high measure of success. I under- 
 stand that he has made considerable mark as a vestry- 
 man, collecting dust with punctuality and supervising 
 drainage with public-spirited keenness. I do not blame 
 him for imposing on Harrison, for Harrison's credulity 
 simply invites imposture. I wish him well in every 
 
 216 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 way, and I am glad to hear from time to time that he 
 is prospering. I met him in Garrick Street not long 
 ago, and noticed that he still wore the suit which he 
 purchased in 1897 in anticipation of the royalties on 
 " You Never Can Tell." 
 His name is never mentioned in my household. 
 
 217 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THERE are so many "oddities" connected with theatrical 
 management of which the outside world scarcely ever 
 hears anything that it may prove amusing to set down 
 one or two of them here. Some day I feel sure that 
 an enterprising box-office keeper, or a business- 
 manager who can spare the time, will produce a 
 little volume of the humours of the theatre ; if so, 
 these random notes of mine will prove of service 
 to him. 
 
 One of the oddest things in connection with my 
 brief experience of theatrical management is the extra- 
 ordinary number of articles that my patrons are con- 
 tinually being so kind as to leave behind them after 
 paying visits to our theatre. And it is not only the 
 number of these articles that is so surprising, but very 
 often their extraordinary and malapropos nature. 
 Funnily enough the majority of the articles deserted in 
 the various parts of the theatre remain unclaimed, 
 though I need scarcely say that wherever it is possible 
 to trace the owner he is communicated with at once. 
 For the most part such things as gloves, sticks, 
 umbrellas, purses, and handerchiefs are the usual spoil 
 of our lost property office, but its takings are by no means 
 entirely confined to such commonplace necessities. 
 Not very long ago an attendant discovered under one 
 of the stall seats after a matinee performance a lady's 
 bonnet, into which had been comfortably placed a 
 
 218 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 pound of pork sausages ! That luxury was never 
 claimed. On another occasion a very wet night a 
 gentleman, whose mind it could scarcely be impolite to 
 call absent, left behind him his hat and overcoat, 
 umbrella and gloves. Three weeks elapsed before he 
 returned in search of the discarded articles. He turned 
 out to be a smart, good-looking, young fellow, and asked 
 quite casually whether by any chance his things had 
 been found. 
 
 " It doesn't really matter much, don't you know," 
 said he. " But I know I left them behind somewhere, 
 though I can't for the life of me remember where I 
 last wore them." 
 
 Perhaps one of our quaintest discoveries was made 
 under a circle seat on a very hot day in June. It con- 
 sisted of an extremely neat pair of corsets entirely 
 innocent of any covering of any kind, next to which, 
 with rosy, blushing cheeks, lay a large ripe apple. The 
 mystery of those corsets and that apple has never been 
 cleared up, and we have at last given up all hope of 
 solving it. 
 
 Nor have we yet been able to find out why some 
 good lady patroness of our pit was good enough to 
 leave us a souvenir in the shape of an extremely 
 " fetching" pink silk petticoat and a pair of goloshes, 
 size three. A veil of mystery, which we should dearly 
 love to pierce, also hangs over a neat parcel, which, 
 upon opening it, was found to contain a framed 
 photograph of an extremely pretty girl with lovely 
 eyes, around which were carefully wrapped a large pair 
 of what the hosiers technically call " gent's " knitted 
 night socks! Mysterious, too, was an opera-glass 
 case which had lost its glasses and held in their stead 
 five false teeth ! 
 
 But I will forbear from quoting any further from our 
 
 219 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 lost property list, for I fear that a limited warehousing 
 department has compelled the destruction of not a few 
 of its items. At any rate, let me warn the owner of 
 that pound of sausages her property is no more. 
 Necessite\ she may remember, ri*a pas de loi. 
 
 It may scarcely be credited, yet it is a fact well 
 known to theatrical managers, that people frequently 
 get into theatres by mistake. When Mr. Tree first 
 revived "The Merry Wives of Windsor" at his 
 beautiful theatre " across the road " we were attract- 
 ing large audiences with a revival of " Caste." One 
 night after the first act two burly countrymen de- 
 scended from the gallery and demanded an audience 
 of our business-manager. He was sent for, and on 
 arrival politely asked what their grievance was. 
 " Well, look 'ere, mister," said the spokesman of the 
 two, " we want our money back ; Tree ain't been on 
 yet, and as for merry wives, why, those two girls won't 
 be married in their natural ! " 
 
 This reminds me of another capital story of a 
 similar nature. It happened at the Lyric Theatre, where 
 the divine Sarah was electrifying audiences at the time. 
 More than half through the piece the business-manager 
 was informed that two of the audience wanted to see 
 him. {Ie at once went down and found an indignant 
 farmer and his wife. 
 
 " This ain't fair at all, sir," blurted out the old man. 
 " We paid five shillings for our two seats ; we've been 
 'ere for two hours and ain't understood a blooming 
 word ; and Arthur Roberts airft been on yet! " 
 
 A business-manager has awkward as well as amusing 
 duties to perform in connection with the audiences 
 that nightly visit his theatre. One of his chief diffi- 
 culties is in connection with the exclusion of babies, 
 who, naturally enough, are not welcome guests in first- 
 
 220 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 rate theatres. Many and varied and subtle are the ex- 
 cuses offered by eager custodians to induce the business- 
 manager to relax his rule for the exclusion of infants. 
 
 " Mother would 'ave 'ad 'er," one will say, " but she 
 was suddenly called to Mrs. Muggeridge's, who 'as been 
 took hill with 'er forth, pore dear, and 'er 'usband's 
 on the drink agin, though 'ow 'e does it wivvout no 
 money is a licker to me, as the saying goes, and so 
 we thought, young gentleman, as 'ow you'd per'aps let 
 biby in ? " 
 
 "Well," replies the polite "young gentleman," 
 "but how am I to know that the baby won't start 
 crying during the performance ? " 
 
 " Lor bless yer kind 'eart, sir," replies the infant's 
 guardian, thinking to score a heavy point, " I know 
 she won't. She was as quiet as a mouse at grandpa's 
 funeral last Thursday." 
 
 But the attempted introduction of the baby is 
 not the worst of the business-manager's troubles. His 
 pet aversion is the gentleman who has looked upon the 
 wine when it is red. Obviously it would be dangerous 
 to the good reputation of the house to admit the un- 
 wise diner ; at the same time the greatest care must 
 be taken not to offend him. Besides, your wine- 
 bibber is not invariably easy of conviction. The 
 usual plan is to inform him politely that there has 
 been some mistake over his ticket and return him 
 his money. But even this admirable plan does not 
 invariably succeed. One night a gentleman who had 
 certainly not been sparing the wine turned up at the 
 theatre, and, upon the usual excuse about a mistake 
 having been made about his seat, promptly produced 
 two tickets bought at two different libraries. 
 
 "I (hie) thought you'd shay that," he chuckled 
 amiably, " so I bought (hie) another ! " 
 
 221 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 I never shall forget another bibulous patron of our 
 theatre who at intervals during the first act insisted 
 on shouting with great good-humour: "Good old 
 Maude ! God save the King ! " During the first 
 interval he was severely reprimanded and, upon dis- 
 covery that he was hopelessly intoxicated, " chucked." 
 His indignation was tremendous. He abused every- 
 body connected with the theatre, and it required no 
 little effort to remove him. 
 
 The following night he turned up again, but this 
 time perfectly sober and extremely apologetic for his 
 conduct of the night before. So eager was he to 
 prove his regret that he wanted to treat my whole 
 staff to refreshment. Later in the evening, meeting 
 our assistant business-manager in the passage, he 
 took him aside and confided to him that for years 
 past it had been his custom to get drunk on the 
 anniversary of his wedding day ! 
 
 Poor fellow, perhaps he was justified ! 
 
 But those who watch audiences night after night 
 see many funny things. It is, I believe, no extra- 
 ordinarily unusual thing to see an absent-minded 
 cavalier mistake his topper for an opera hat and 
 crush it flat against his manly bosom. Nor is it 
 unusual to find the gentleman who removes his 
 overcoat in full view of the audience, take off his 
 dress-coat at the same time, only to display a con- 
 siderable quantity of blue flannel shirt. But I have 
 only heard of one good lady who has, I believe, been 
 an ardent playgoer for years and invariably brings a 
 marketing bag made of matting with her, full to the 
 brim with various purchases. From the same bag 
 the lady never forgets to take out two pieces of 
 thick brown paper, upon one of which she sits, while 
 on the other she rests her feet. 
 
 222 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 The most extraordinary playgoer, however, of 
 whom I have ever heard was a mysterious old gentle- 
 man who was a frequent attendant during the late 
 Mr. Buckstone's management. He would come in at 
 the beginning of the performance (the performances 
 were very long in those days, it will be remembered), 
 seat himself against the wall and take a large old- 
 fashioned watch out of his pocket, and carefully de- 
 posit it on the seat beside him. He would then turn 
 his back upon the stage, and so sit throughout the 
 entire entertainment. At the end of the performance 
 he carefully consulted his watch, restored it to his 
 pocket, and rising with a sigh left the theatre without 
 a word to a single soul. This extraordinary pro- 
 gramme he would repeat night after night for weeks 
 together, but no one ever discovered the reason for 
 his eccentric behaviour. 
 
 Talking of eccentricities reminds me of a dear old 
 lady who was once a member of our company and 
 displayed the most remarkable faculty for swallowing 
 anything that might be told her. Another member 
 of our company at the same time was a young man 
 with a great love for " greening," and the lies he used 
 to make that poor old lady swallow were positively 
 enormous ! One day she was intensely interested to 
 learn that English race-horses were invariably trained 
 with express trains running beside them ; and on the 
 eve of Boat-race day, on inquiring where the race 
 was rowed, she was informed that they rowed it 
 alternately from Cambridge to Oxford and from 
 Oxford to Cambridge ! On another occasion, when an 
 important cricket match was in progress, she was 
 told that in the first innings one of the two Elevens 
 had made no less than 3845, with five wickets still to 
 fall. And still her credulity held out ! 
 
 223 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 But the best joke of all was when some one solemnly 
 went to the dear old lady and assured her that a near 
 relation of Mr. Tree was shortly going to fly down the 
 Haymarket from the top of His Majesty's Theatre on 
 a wire. So fully did she believe the story that she 
 actually went to her room and wrote straight off to 
 Mr. Tree asking him for a seat at a window from 
 which she might view his relation's remarkable feat ! 
 
 " Spoof," somehow, seems inseparable from a 
 theatre, but the " spoof " is nearly always good- 
 humoured. This book, by the way, was responsible 
 for an incident which gave us all a good laugh not 
 many months ago. We were rummaging in some of 
 the old Haymarket boxes in search of some old 
 records, when, at the bottom of one, we came upon 
 some very ancient music in manuscript, upon which 
 time has laid so heavy a hand that it crumbled to 
 pieces when we touched it. Our stage-manager was 
 struck with an idea, and so, picking out one of these 
 pieces, he sent it to be carefully framed. A couple of 
 days afterwards he went to our musical-director with 
 a face upon which was nothing but solemnity, and in- 
 formed him that, knowing him to be a lover of musical 
 curiosities, he would be glad to hear that he had come 
 across an original piece of Beethoven's music, which 
 was for sale at the extremely low price of half a 
 guinea. Our enthusiastic musical-director would not 
 rest until he had seen the treasure, which he instantly 
 purchased, declaring it to be an undoubted specimen 
 of the great master's original work ! 
 
 He was not particularly pleased to learn, a few days 
 later, that it was a piece of an old band part used in 
 the younger Colman's day. 
 
 This reminds me of a piece of " spoof " that dates 
 back many years. It was during Benjamin Webster's 
 
 224 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 management. Some one " greened " Fred Webster 
 that Sir John Franklin, about whom there was 
 much public excitement at the time, had been dis- 
 covered. Fred Webster went on the stage and 
 announced the discovery amid wild enthusiasm, and a 
 Government official came round to the stage door to 
 inquire where the news had come from ! 
 
 225 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 " THE Second in Command " has, so far, been the 
 most successful of all our productions, as it has been 
 the most popular of all my friend Robert Marshall's 
 clever plays. To him we owe much, and I would 
 fain offer him a word of thanks here, not only for 
 the pieces with which he has provided us, but for his 
 unfailing good-humour and his readiness to fall in with 
 any views we might express. We have been very 
 lucky in our authors, but in no case luckier than in that 
 of Marshall. 
 
 At the dress-rehearsal of " The Second in Command " 
 a junior officer of cavalry was present and watched 
 the proceedings with much interest. At the end of 
 the evening he was questioned as to his opinion of 
 the piece. 
 
 " My dear fellow," he said, " if you only tone down 
 the yellow stripe on the orderly's overalls the piece 
 will go like beans." 
 
 At this same dress-rehearsal was a Semitic gentleman, 
 who was so delighted with the play that he was heard 
 to whisper : 
 
 " Gawd for the provinces ! " 
 
 " The Second in Command," by the way, was pro- 
 ductive of one of the most remarkable letters I have 
 ever received. I give it in extenso : 
 
 " DEAR SIR, I have written a play, and for some 
 weeks I was unable to decide whether to send it to 
 
 226 
 
Front the portrait by Daniel Wehrschmiilt 
 CYRIL MAUDE 
 
 PLATE XVIII 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 you or to Mr. Tree. Finally, however, as I hope you 
 will be glad to hear, I decided on you. 
 
 " Considering the recent great success you had with 
 ' The Second in Command,' I cannot but anticipate 
 a similar success with mine. It is a naval play, and 
 
 I was well qualified to write it, having been a surgeon 
 in the navy, addicted to writing, a keen amateur actor, 
 and a persistent playgoer. 
 
 "The leading part (your part) is that of a naval 
 officer, who is supposed to be the son of a bishop by 
 a woman who had been in the ballet. But nothing 
 is definitely known. Anyhow, your two charac- 
 teristics are, a passion for practical joking and fitful 
 moments of religious devotion. In Act I., owing to 
 one of your jokes, a midshipman is killed, which so 
 works on you that you resign your commission and 
 in an ecstasy of religious enthusiasm enter a monas- 
 tery. Here all goes well for a time, but eventually 
 your inbred love of practical joking reasserts itself, 
 and in a sudden fit you play pranks in the 
 monastery, and again accidentally kill a young 
 monk. It now transpires that you are the son of 
 the Father Superior, and you learn this in a highly 
 dramatic scene. * Who then,' you demand, ' is my 
 mother ? ' Upon this the Mother Superior (hither- 
 to of unsuspected virtue) comes forward and says, 
 
 I 1 am / ' (Sensation.) 
 
 "This, of course, alters things, and your child 
 (you have a young illegitimate son) appears on the 
 scene, and the action becomes both exciting and 
 involved. 
 
 " This is only a crude character sketch, but if you 
 feel the idea, will you kindly suggest what fees I should 
 receive ? 
 
 " The writing is if I may say so of extraordinary 
 
 227 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 brilliance, and in the words of the company manager, 
 * There's money in it.' Yours faithfully." 
 
 The name I suppress. If ever comment were 
 superfluous, surely it would be so in this case. I sent 
 the letter, by the way, to my friend Mr. W. S. Gilbert. 
 His reply was very characteristic : 
 
 " DEAR MAUDE, Delightful ! This play must be an 
 admirable type of the ' illegitimate ' drama. Always 
 truly yours, W. S. GILBERT." 
 
 Apropos of the above letter, I cannot forbear quoting 
 one or two other remarkable epistles that I have taken 
 from my files. 
 
 One of these is of quite recent date. 
 
 " SIR, I understand from the Era of even date that 
 your next production will be the ' Clandestine Mar- 
 riage.' I believe in taking time by the forelock, and 
 to that end I now write to ask for the part of Brush 
 or Mr. Sterling's servant. Your knowledge of Old 
 English comedy is too profound for me to remind 
 you that the servants of Garrick's period were invari- 
 ably black men, or at any rate coloured, such being the 
 fashion of the day. Under these circumstances I do 
 not feel that you can justly consider my request ill- 
 timed. Besides this, the additional attraction that 
 must of necessity obtain from the introduction of 
 a coloured actor in your cast must not be overlooked. 
 Thanking you in anticipation, I have the honour to> 
 be your most humble servant." 
 
 Another letter from a coloured comedian affords 
 such an interesting example of the English language 
 
 228 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 that I give it just as I received it. The orthography 
 is striking, to say the least of it. I would explain 
 that we were able to do the writer some trifling 
 service. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, I hope you did nont think I did nont 
 received the most thankfull gift. 
 
 " That during all my troubles scince December when I 
 went home with a teriable illness from i of the Principal 
 Theatres in the S.E. of London of course, if a first 
 Physsion order you to save your master's company 
 from a dangerous feever. Well. I will say no more 
 the above mater but thanking you for the 
 
 * Gift ' 
 
 and your servant for running Round looking for me. 
 The when was he was Doing This I was trying to 
 get out of a Beautifull pair of Rhumattic betwin 
 my two knees and from the Keens to the Big-toes, 
 cause by a friendly landlady whom put me in a room 
 at the rate of 6/6 per week, and under my bed the 
 Pleasant Water-Tank, which remain not to lecture 
 one. I have wrote to every manager. Only and 
 servante took the Trouble of 
 
 Yoursel.' 
 
 " Giving. To Sir I am well quaite with the Am- 
 bassider of Japan. 
 
 "MR. DIOSIE 
 
 " Hanover Square. 
 
 " You are the only person I have told. Excuse these 
 mistakes as the above is a very big free and accepted 
 free mason of Elu Baker Caba of Jerusalem and I 
 
 229 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 hapen to be in the same Loge, and Hold Big Position. 
 I Beg to Remain, Sir, your Fraturnally." 
 
 Among the most touching of the many epistles 
 I have received in my time is one from, I presume, 
 a young lady, whose acquaintance I have never had 
 the honour of making. It contains between its leaves 
 a crushed spray of tiny artificial flowers that once, 
 no doubt, formed part of an evening gown's adorn- 
 ment. The letter runs : 
 
 " DEAR Mr. MAUDE, I thought before leaving town 
 I would write you a farewell letter and say that 
 should you ever be looking out for ' talented people ' 
 I shall be glad if you will remember me. Finding 
 photos and letters useless in softening your heart, I 
 now send you a ' faded flower,' an example of what 
 I am through the constant worry of ' theatrical 
 managers.' Faithfully yours." 
 
 To show the deep interest taken by some members 
 of the public in us poor players, I cannot resist print- 
 ing the following. The name of the maker of the 
 belt I suppress : 
 
 "DEAR SIR, I have just been reading the interview 
 with your wife in The Golden Penny, and in refer- 
 ence to the remarks about feeling cold on the stage, 
 I thought the following item of information might 
 not be without some interest to ' Babbie ' and 
 ' Micah Dow.' I dislike wearing an overcoat myself, 
 
 and instead I wear one of 's Galvanic belts, for 
 
 the reason alone that it gives me an equal amount of 
 warmth and does not hinder my freedom of move- 
 ment. I am only interested in the matter to the 
 
 230 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 extent that this letter implies, but Messrs. know 
 
 that I am in the habit of talking to my friends and 
 acquaintances in this strain. Yours respectfully." 
 
 The politest letter that either my wife or myself 
 has ever received was addressed to us jointly. It 
 refers to a charity matinde, at which we played some 
 small piece. So polite is it, that I quote it as a per- 
 fect example of extreme courtesy : 
 
 " DEAR SIR AND MADAM, We pray permission to 
 crave your courtly commands as to what time we may 
 have the honour and pleasure of reserving for you 
 
 on at the matine'e in aid of the , at which 
 
 matine'e, with that characteristic generosity so pre- 
 valent in your natures, you have so nobly consented 
 to lend your indescribable assistance. 
 
 " We earnestly implore your permission to be allowed 
 to convey to you how much you have assisted and 
 aided the cause in whose interests we have laboured. 
 
 "You were very kind enough to convey to us the 
 courtly intimation you would probably select a dia- 
 logue as your important contribution to the programme, 
 and may we pray permission to appeal to you now 
 for further particulars for the programme ? 
 
 "We venture to crave the honour and privilege of 
 your gracious co-operation in making the matine'e that 
 brilliant success every one is combining to bring 
 about. Yours to command." 
 
 Searching among old letters and papers I came 
 across an envelope containing a few grains of earth, 
 and marked on the outside, " Earth from Mr. Glad- 
 stone's grave." I happened to be present at the 
 great statesman's funeral. Present also was a fire- 
 
 231 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 man, whose regular employment was at one of the 
 leading London theatres, and seeing me there he was 
 so good as to collect a small quantity of earth and 
 bring it to me at the Haymarket Theatre. But I, as a 
 member of what some would call a rabid Tory family, 
 and the son of one of the keenest Conservatives I have 
 ever met, was, I fear, but an unworthy recipient. 
 
 This gift reminds me of one of the most extraordi- 
 nary instances of real sense of honour that I have 
 ever encountered. As a youth I was not of the 
 strongest, so my parents wisely decided to send me 
 to Australia in a sailing ship in order to thoroughly 
 recruit my health. I booked a passage, and a very 
 health-giving, though somewhat monotonous, voyage 
 I had. I was then, as I have said, a youth of about 
 seventeen ; to-day I am a careworn manager of forty. 
 Yet only last year I received the following letter : 
 
 " DEAR Mr. MAUDE, I dare say you will hardly re- 
 member me, but some years ago I was third mate 
 
 on the when you were, I believe, passenger with 
 
 Captain and . I think I made a bet with 
 
 you that when Captain married his wife was a 
 
 widow. I propose now to pay this long-standing 
 debt. Will send you i if I am right in supposing that 
 you were with us on that voyage. Yours sincerely." 
 
 One more letter and I have done with my curious 
 correspondence. Some little while ago I wrote to my 
 former housemaster at Charterhouse and excellent 
 friend Mr. Davies, asking him if he would care for a 
 box at the theatre one night. To my intense astonish- 
 ment I received in reply a letter beginning, " Dear 
 Sir," and saying that he was not sure whether he 
 wanted the old box, but would have the two stools, 
 
 232 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 provided they were not " stained, varnished, or other- 
 wise befooled." In great fear lest my good friend 
 had suddenly lost his senses, I wrote in haste to say 
 that I was afraid that there must be some mistake 
 in his letter. The following was the reply : 
 
 ' VERITKS, CHARTERHOUSE, 
 " GODALMING. 
 
 "DEAR MAUDE, I haven't laughed so much for many 
 days as when I got your letter. The comedy of errors 
 is too deliciously complete to be true. 
 
 " First of all, the letter you got was meant for an old 
 furniture man who had shown us two old oak cottage 
 stools, but as he had often sinned against me by stain- 
 ing, varnishing, and ' otherwise befooling ' my old 
 oak before he sent it home, I sternly forbade it. But 
 the mental picture of a portion of your audience 
 arriving with plain unvarnished stools calls up visions 
 of the ticket-taker's astonishment that I haven't got 
 over yet. 
 
 ".But the other side of the story is even more killingly 
 fit. The old furniture man has got a letter beginning 
 " Dear Maude " (I hope to goodness it may not be 
 his wife's name !), in which I express great gratitude 
 for the box, and say how much we are looking forward 
 to sitting in it ! And that's not the end, for the last 
 time we were at his shop, some few days since, he 
 pressed us very hard to buy an old wooden box of 
 no great size, and we left it, like the stools, an open 
 question. What the man must think of our pro- 
 posal to sit in it, I dare not imagine ! 
 
 "Anyhow, whether the seats be varnished or un- 
 varnished, we mean to come and sit on them and 
 enjoy ourselves. Yours gratefully, 
 
 " GERALD S. DAVIES." 
 233 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 I find on looking back upon what I have written 
 that I have made no mention of two of the authors 
 who have provided us with successful and, if I may 
 say so, brilliant pieces. I refer to my friends Mr. 
 Sydney Grundy and Mr. Henry Arthur Jones, in 
 whose plays I hope often to act again before I make 
 my final bow. Let me hope that they will accept 
 this tardy expression of my gratitude and admiration. 
 
 When Grundy first wrote a play for us I noticed 
 that he seemed very restless and unhappy. He could 
 do nothing but fidget about, and was constantly going 
 out and strolling up and down in front of the theatre 
 for ten minutes or so at a time. I was much puzzled 
 as to what could possibly be the matter with him, and 
 neither Harrison nor myself could discover a reason 
 for his apparent discomfort. At last one day after 
 the rehearsals had been some little time in progress 
 Grundy came up to me rather mysteriously, and after 
 talking a few commonplaces said : 
 
 " I say, Maude, by the way I hear Marshall smokes 
 in the theatre when he's rehearsing. Is that so ? " 
 
 " Yes, of course," I replied. 
 
 A look of great joy illumined Grundy' s face. 
 
 " Thank Heaven," he replied ; " then I can smoke 
 my pipe." And forthwith out came a briar. 
 
 From that moment all trace of restlessness and 
 discontent vanished. 
 
 I fear that Mr. Henry Arthur Jones, good friends 
 as we are, has never yet quite forgiven me for " gagging" 
 in my part of Lord Bapchild in his brilliant comedy, 
 " The Manoeuvres of Jane." In vain, I am ashamed 
 to confess, did he reason with me and endeavour to 
 persuade me that I was spoiling his play. I simply 
 could not resist the laughs. Everywhere would Mr. 
 Jones pursue me with his complaints, and even when 
 
 234 
 
THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 
 
 I took my morning ride in the Row would he be on 
 my track. I would be ambling along enjoying the 
 fresh morning air, and happy with the pleasant thoughts 
 induced by a successful run, when I would hear the 
 patter of another horse's hoofs behind me, and a 
 voice would murmur : 
 
 " Yes, it is a very pretty and a very comfortable 
 theatre, with a wonderful record, and a great favourite 
 with the public. But don't you think it's a pity to 
 defile so classic a house with such a vulgar thing as 
 ' gags ' ? Do you really think it advisable to intro- 
 duce lines into a successful comedy that are not in 
 keeping with the rest of the piece ? " 
 
 I would put my cob at a gallop ; but in vain, for 
 sure enough Mr. Jones would be after me like a shot, 
 complaining while we were going full speed round 
 the Row of my mutilation of his work ! 
 
 Is it too late now, I wonder, to tender him my 
 abject apologies now as I ring down the curtain on 
 this my first and, probably, last appearance in the 
 part of author ? 
 
 For I must speak the tag. All I have had to say 
 about the Haymarket Theatre has been said so far 
 as I can say it. As those who have borne with me 
 will have found, its history has, on the whole, been 
 of the happiest so far. What material Fate will give 
 to succeeding chapters of its life-story no man can 
 tell. But I can dare promise that so far as I am 
 concerned there shall be nothing left undone to make 
 them bright and happy. 
 
 235 
 
INDEX 
 
 ABINGTON, Mrs., 15 
 
 Addison, Carlotta, 175 
 
 Alexander, George, 2 
 
 Allan, Charles, 184, 185 
 
 " An American Cousin," 1 52 
 
 Audiences, behaviour of, 36, 37 
 
 Aynesworth, Allan, 213 
 
 B 
 
 BADDELEY, Mr., 30 
 Baden-Powell, General R. S. S., 
 
 195, 196 
 Bancroft, Sir Squire and Lady, 
 
 168-178, 1 80, 191 
 Bannister, Charles, 27, 28, 29 
 Bannister, Jack, 44, 45, 46 
 Barnes, Jack, 212, 215 
 Barrie, J. M., 203-206 
 Bath, Earl of, 47 
 Batty, Mr., 144 
 Beer, Mrs., 201, 202 
 Bellamy, Mrs., 37 
 Belle w, Kyrle, 175 
 Bernhardt, Madame Sarah, 220 
 Beverley, Mr., 115,116 
 Bishop, Kate, 215 
 Boaden, Mr., 6 1, 70 
 Booth, Edwin, 143 
 Brookfield, Charles, 186, 187, 
 
 201, 202 
 
 Brough, Lionel, 173 
 Brougham, John, 165 
 Buckstone, John Baldwin, 125 
 
 CAMDEN, Lord, 42 
 "Candida," 21 1 
 
 1 Caste," 220 
 Cecil, Arthur, 172 
 Celeste, Madame, 118 
 Charke, Charlotte, 9, 10 
 Chesterfield, Earl of, 12 
 Chippendale, Mr. and Mrs., 160 
 Gibber, Theophilus, 9, 13, 15, 
 Cibber, Mrs., II 
 Clark, Holman, 207 
 Clarke, J. S., 169 
 Clarkson, William, 209 
 Coghlan, Charles, 175 
 Coleman, Fanny, 213 
 Collette, Charles, 175 
 Colman the elder, George, 33-54 
 Colman the younger, George, 
 
 34,36,45,51-63 
 Compton, Edward, 139 
 Cooper, Sidney, 161 
 "Court, The," 139 
 Critics of olden time, 6 
 Curious letters, 227-233 
 
 D 
 
 DE CAMP, Miss, 94 
 Derby, Countess o See Eliza- 
 beth Farren 
 Derby, Earl of, 39 
 Digges, Mr., 35 
 "Done on Both Sides," 184 
 Doran, Dr., 73 
 Dowton, Mr., 57, 102, 122 
 Duke of York, the, 58 
 
 EDWIN, John, 35, 43, 83 
 Elliston, Robert William, 5 1, 56, 
 
 88-93, 123 
 
 237 
 
INDEX 
 
 Emery, John, 69, 85-88, 118 
 Emery, Winifred, 203, 214 
 Empress Frederick, the late 
 
 147-149 
 Erskine, Lord, 59 
 
 FARREN, Elizabeth, 35, 38, 43 
 
 Farren, William, 105, 109 
 
 Fielding, Henry, 12 
 
 Filippi, Rosina, 185 
 
 First nights in the olden time, 2 
 
 Fitzwilliam, Mrs., 120, 159 
 
 Foote, Samuel, 17-35 
 
 " Fra Angelo," 163 
 
 " Frocks and Frills," 208 
 
 GARRICK, David, 40, 45 
 Geness, Sam, 137 
 George III., 37 
 George IV., 58 
 Gilbert, W. S., 191, 228 
 Glover, Mrs., 103, 113 
 Gore, Mrs., 118 
 Grundy, Sydney, 234 
 
 H 
 
 HAIG-BROWN, Canon, 196 
 
 Harrison and Maude, manage- 
 ment of Messrs., 190-235 
 
 Hay market Theatre in 1820, as- 
 pect of the, 71 
 
 Catastrophe at the, 73 
 
 Christmas festivities at, 197 
 
 Ghost at the, 177 
 
 Hoax at the, 14 
 
 Log-book, 67-70 
 
 Opening of, i 
 
 Rebuilding of, 64 
 
 Sale of shares in, 56 
 
 Henderson, John, 35, 40 
 
 "Henry IV.," 186 
 
 " Henry V., 8 
 
 Hiffernan, 40 
 
 Honey, Mrs., 112 
 
 Hook, Theodore, 59, 79, 82, 99 
 Howe, Henry, 144, 156, 158 
 Hunt, Leigh, 109 
 
 I 
 
 INCHBALD, Mrs., 48, 60, 97 
 
 Irving, Sir Henry, 175 
 Italian Opera, 9 
 
 J 
 
 JAMES, David, 175 
 Janauchek, Madame, 161 
 Jerrold, Douglas, 117 
 Johnson, Dr., 52 
 Jones, Henry Arthur, 234 
 
 K 
 
 KEAN, Charles, 128-131 
 Kean, Edmund, 75, 76, 91, 95, 
 
 108, 123 
 
 Kelly, Michael, 102 
 Kemble, Charles, 55, 93 
 Kemble, Henry, 187 
 Kemble, John, 87, 93, 97 
 Kendal, Mr. and Mrs., 155, 175 
 Kerr, Frederick, 183 
 King Edward VII., 73, 180, 182, 
 
 194 
 
 Kinghorne, Mark, 207 
 Knight, Joseph, 3 
 
 " LA FlLLE A LA MORTE," 8 
 
 Lamb, Charles, 89, 90, 92, 97, 
 
 101 
 
 Langtry, Mrs., 171 
 Leclercq, Rose, 199 
 "Lend me Five Shillings," 146, 
 
 153 
 
 Licensing Act, passing of, 12 
 Listen, John, 51, 60, 67, 81, 
 
 105 
 
 "Lord Dundreary," 151 
 " Love for Love," 9 
 Lytton, Lord, 117, 175 
 
 238 
 
INDEX 
 
 M 
 
 MACKENZIE, Sir Alexander, 203, 
 
 206 
 
 Macklin, John, 13 
 Macready, William Charles, 122, 
 
 127 
 
 Manners, Hartley, 195 
 Marshall, Robert, 13, 226, 234 
 Mathews the elder, Charles, 51, 
 
 56, 63, 67, 76-82 
 Mathews the younger, Charles, 
 
 I3 I ~ I 34 
 
 Modjeska, Madame, 173 
 "Money," 117, 168 
 Montgomery, Walter, 163 
 Morley, Henry, no 
 Morris, Laura, 159 
 Morris, Mr., no, 113 
 Morris, Mrs., 137 
 Munden, William, 96, 100 
 
 N 
 NENA, Pera, 138 
 
 O'KEEFE, William, 44, 48, 55 
 Oxenford, John, 164 
 
 PAGET, the late Lord Alfred, 149 
 
 Palmer, John, 35, 67, 69 
 
 Parsons, Mr., 35 
 
 "Pasquin," 4, 12 
 
 Paton, Miss, 105 
 
 " Paul and Virginia," 105 
 
 " Paul Pry," 105 
 
 Penley, W. S., 4 
 
 " Pizarro," 86 
 
 Power, Tyrone, 119 
 
 Prince Consort, the late, 146, 
 
 149 
 
 Prince of Wales, the, 73 
 Prince Regent, the, 58 
 Pritchard, Mrs., II 
 Property Club, the, 61 
 
 QUEEN ALEXANDRA, 73, 193} 
 Queen Victoria, the late, 146- 
 
 149, 153 
 Quick, Mr., 31 
 "Quid Pro Quo," 1 18 
 Quin, Mr., n 
 
 REDFORD, George, 12 
 "Richard III.," 143 
 Riots, 15, 57 
 Roberts, Arthur, 220 
 Robertson, Forbes, 175 
 Rodgers, Kate, 163 
 Rogers, Mr., 133, 153 
 Rose, Edward, 154, 192 
 Russell, W. Clark, 162 
 
 SCOTT, Clement, 175 
 Sedgwick, Amy, 138 
 Shaw, Bernard, 210-216 
 Shuter, Edward, 31 
 Sothern, Edward, 142, 150 
 Stirling, Mrs., 175 
 Suett, Dicky, 67, 96 
 Sullivan, Sir Arthur, 165 
 
 TALFOURD, Serjeant, 117 
 Terriss, William, 175, 194, 198 
 Terry, Ellen, 175 
 Terry, Mr., 80, 96, 98, 105 
 Thackeray, William Makepeace, 
 
 155 
 
 "The Armistice," 136 
 "The Black Tulip," 209 
 " The Burglar and the Judge," 
 
 20 1 
 " The Clandestine Marriage," 
 
 46, 1 10, 228 
 
 "The Dancing Girl," 183 
 " The Female Dramatist," 53 
 
 239 
 
INDEX 
 
 "The Female Fop," 8 
 
 "TheHeir-at-Law," 116 
 
 "The Irish Ambassador," 120 
 
 "The Irish Lion," 120 
 
 "The Iron Chest," 55 
 
 " The Little Minister," 203 
 
 " The Merry Wives of Windsor," 
 
 220 
 
 "The Palace of Truth," 156 
 "The Red Lamp," 185 
 " The Rivals," 105 
 "The Tailors," 57, 103 
 " The Tempter," 181 
 "The Three Bears," 158 
 "The Village," 57 
 "The Village Lawyer," 83 
 "The Village Priest," 184 
 "Theatrical oddities," 210- 
 
 225 
 
 Thomas, Brandon, 207 
 Thompson, Lydia, 1 58 
 "Ticket nights," 143 
 "Tom Thumb," 84 
 Toole, John L., 161, 175 
 Tree, Ellen, 113 
 Tree, Herbert Beerbohm, 157, 
 178-189, 220, 224 
 
 U 
 
 " UNDER the Red Robe," 192 
 "Undine," 154 
 "Used Up," 131 
 
 VALENTINE, Sydney, 215 
 Vandenhoff, Mr., no, 113 
 Vestris, Madame, 105-110, 112 
 Vollaire, Mr., 164 
 
 W 
 
 WALES, Oliver, 180 
 Walpole, Robert, 13 
 Warner, Charles, 150, 162 
 Watson, Horace, 200 
 Waylett, Mrs., 112 
 Weathersby, Mr., 138, 141 
 Webster, Benjamin, 114-134,161 
 Webster, Fred, 225 
 Weyman, Stanley, 192 
 "Who Wants a Guinea?" 61 
 Widdicombe, Harry, 126 
 Wilkinson, Tate, 56, 77, 85, 88, 
 
 121 
 
 Wolseley, Lord, 196 
 Wood, Mrs. John, 175 
 Wrench, Benjamin, 121 
 Wyndham, Sir Charles, 161, 175 
 
 " You NEVER CAN TELL," 211- 
 
 217 
 Young, William Charles, 51,67, 
 
 95 
 
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