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 MY THEATRICAL AND MUSICAL 
 RECOLLECTIONS
 
 IRED 
 
 EXHAUSTED 
 PEOPLE 
 
 Find a refreshing, invigorating isstorative in the life- 
 giving, blood-purifying properties of PHOS FERINE. 
 
 It nourishes the whole body, feeds the tired brain, 
 induces sleep and improves the appetite. 
 
 By its aid the depleted blood of pale anremic women 
 and children is enriched and the i npurities eliminated, 
 thus imparting health and cheerfulness and vanquishing 
 
 that miserable "all gone feeling," the natural result of poor thin 
 
 blood or deficient vitality. 
 
 HOSFERINE 
 
 TRADE MARK,... 
 
 Has renewed the health of an almost countless number 
 of broken down overworked men and women and restored 
 rickety children to strength and activity. 
 
 The exhausted student and all who have brain work or 
 mental worry find it an excellent reviver. 
 
 It is the only safe and certain remedy for general debility, spinal 
 exhaustion, physical decay, loss of memory and nerve power. A 
 short course of treatment promptly restores the energy of manhood 
 and renews the vigour of youth, sleepless nights are prevented and 
 the body regains its natural elasticity and buoyancy. 
 
 "THE FAMILY DOCTOR," speaking of PHOSFERINE in the 
 issue of February i^th, 1897, says: 
 
 " This preparation maybe safely recommended as a good tonic 
 in debilitated states of the system. For those who suffer from 
 loss of appetite it will be found an excellent stomachic, and for 
 nervous conditions it will serve as an excellent nerve tonic and 
 sedative. In cases of mental exhaustion, melancholia, and sleep- 
 lessness especially, it will be found valuable The compound is 
 put up in convenient quantities and in popular form, full directions 
 as to its use being enclosed." 
 
 Price (in Great Britain), Bottles, 1/1-1, 2/9, and 4/6; 
 Post Pree, 1/3, 3/-, and 4/9. 
 
 Proprietors : ASHTON & PARSONS, Ltd 
 
 17, FARRINGDON ROAD, LONDON, E.G.
 
 MY 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 BY 
 
 EMILY SOLDENE 
 i 
 
 or "I'ocsQ MBS. STAPLES" 
 
 NEW EDITION 
 
 DOWNEY & CO., LIMITED 
 
 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON 
 1898
 
 TBIKTEO B? GII.DKKT AM) IUVIXGTOS U)., 
 BT . JOHN'S HOL-S.E, tXKRKENWELL ROAD; E.C*
 
 WL 
 
 MY THEATRICAL AND MUSICAL 
 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 UNDER the shadow of the Southern Cross, 13,000 
 miles from that bright little, tight little, island 
 the remembrance of which produces a lump in the 
 throat, and spoils one's favourite effect when 
 singing " Home, Sweet Home " in this land 
 within whose vast and illimitable gates stands 
 with wide open, welcoming arms, the young, and 
 lovely, and laughing, and robust figure of 
 a great and mighty future ; this land of 
 silent, immeasurable, undiscovered mysteries and 
 treasures, of wingless birds and walking fishes, 
 of giant, feathery, fluttering ferns, of huge 
 fruits and wonderful flowers, of everlasting light 
 and warmth and sunshine ; a land whose 
 prodigal and riotous profusion brings for*h the 
 red and shining gold, and gleaming, glittering 
 gems ; a land where nature soothes, and you 
 dream dreams, fairy dreams, and realise them, too,
 
 2 Introductory 
 
 sometimes well, in this far-off land "I shut 
 my eyes," as the Baillee in " Les Cloches de 
 Corneville " observes, and try to call up recol- 
 lections of bygone days. What a formidable 
 undertaking ! To creep back over the years that 
 are past with soft and furtive footstep, lest the 
 awakened and misty thoughts flee, fade away, and 
 disappear back into the tiny and hidden chambers 
 of the brain, to try and open the jewelled caskets 
 of the memory; back, back to the days of 
 childhood, when all the world was a Fairy Tale ; 
 back to the days when the spotted sea-shell on 
 the parlour table whispered to listening baby 
 ears of distnnt lands and distant delights, of 
 surging seas and roc's eggs, of genii, and gnome ; 
 back to the days when the tangled thoughts, 
 intricate as any spider's web, tired the childish 
 brain, and brought the restful " Dustman " to 
 the wondering, half-closed childish eyes ; back 
 to the days of painfully acquired, prosaic " one, 
 two and three " syllables ; back to the days, the 
 joyous days of first heard music, when the winds 
 to each separate tree sang a different tune ; back 
 to the veritable distractions that fell upon the 
 ardent but stumbling student of " five lines and 
 four spaces," the impatient inquirer into the 
 mysteries of " Do-re-mi-fa " ; back to the 
 memories of mighty artistes, to the memories of 
 the Grand Opera, memories that, impalpable and 
 gauze-like, elude one, and get mixed up with the 
 gay and festive Mueic Hall ; back way back 
 back to the days when Plancus was Consul, when 
 we were all young ; back to the birth of that 
 gilded, glittering, tinselled glory, "The Opera
 
 Introductory 3 
 
 Bouffe " stage. Ah ! the days when we went 
 gipsying, a long time ago. 
 
 I don't remember when I learned to read. 
 It seems to me I could always read. For 
 eleven years I was an only child. My parents 
 were conservative, and my sources of information 
 limited, but a wilful child will have its way, and 
 my earliest studies, in spite of supervision, were 
 quite mixed ; my personal (most of it concealed) 
 library consisting of the Bible, several ragged 
 volumes of Harrison Ainsworth, " Old St. Paul's,'* 
 " Tower of London," &c., " The Arabian Nights," 
 " Robinsoe Crusoe," " St. Clair o i the Isles ; " 
 how I did love Ambrosine (I remember she used 
 to carry round her neck a little bag in which 
 were the parings of St. Bridget's nails) "A 
 Casket of Literary Gems," " Rasselas, or the 
 Happy Valley," a small *' Beauties of Shake- 
 speare," " The Pilgrim's Progress," Byron's " Don 
 Juan," and, dreadfully shabby and covered 
 with a bit of scrubby Scotch plaid, Gibbon's 
 " Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." All 
 these books, except the Bible, were read with 
 much difficulty and danger, and in defiance of 
 maternal prohibition of the most pronounced and 
 severe description, fiction of any kind being 
 ex purgatoris and regarded as the work of the 
 Devil. Naturally, being cut off from the 
 legitimate enjoyment of these interesting and 
 instructive works, private study was the inevitable 
 result private study conducted in secret places, 
 with bolted door, bated breath, palpitating heart, 
 and wide open, alert ears. These studies resulted 
 in a sonnet to "The North Star," printed all
 
 4 Introductory 
 
 in capitals (I could not write) in an old Letts' 
 Diary, and a play a real play called " Rosa- 
 mund." I am afraid it was an awful crib. I 
 was author, stage- manager, and cast combined. 
 As the King, I, with a reel of silk, and the bed- 
 room chairs, constructed a maze, winding in and 
 out, and round about, and in its innermost 
 recesses I hid my darling, my Rosamund. . Then, 
 as the revengeful Queen Eleanor, I discovered the 
 clue, folloAved it to the centre, and stabbed my 
 rival in the heart and the big arm-chair, or made 
 her drain the poisoned bowl. I varied the enter- 
 tainment, sometimes despatching the wicked one 
 with the poison, sometimes with the dagger, 
 sometimes, with an over elaboration not to be 
 entirely commended, with both. Having a pretty 
 and practical idea of theatrical effect, I conducted 
 a very successful and strictly private season in an 
 old cane chair, where, with a sheet of paper over 
 the back, and a piece of rushlight (purloined, I 
 am afraid) on the seat, I produced a thrill- 
 ing drama entitled, <( The bridge is broke 
 and I can't get over." I do not claim origin- 
 ality for this production (I recollect distinctly 
 seeing it in a " gallanty " show in Goswell 
 Road), I simply availed myself of its sug- 
 gestions. . Greater than I have done this 
 thing before, and since. I cut my scenery 
 and dramatis personse from paper. There was a 
 bridge of abnormal elevation in the centre Early 
 Norman over which was travelling an old man 
 with a horse and cart, and under it swam a lot of 
 ducks. I fancy the bridge broke, and the old 
 man fell through. But I certainly recollect
 
 Introductory $ 
 
 having considerable trouble in arranging the 
 dialogue unparliamentary language from the 
 old man, quacks of alarm from the ducks, and 
 neighs of dissatisfaction from the horse, being 
 some of the effects which I found a difficulty in 
 carrying out simultaneously. I had better say 
 "right here" that my mother, discovering the MS. of 
 the " North Star " and " Rosamund," incontinently 
 seized and destroyed them, rewarding the daring 
 author with smart slaps on the bare back and 
 arms, low bodices and short sleeves (the mode in 
 those days) making this process exceedingly 
 practicable. I cannot understand myself 
 perhaps Mr. Ibsen could explain from whence 
 I derived my theatrical proclivities. Not 
 from my immediate progenitrix, who thought 
 the theatre the ante-room to hell (of course, I 
 did not know that then, but I do now). When 
 about eight years old, I was discovered with the 
 unlawfully requisitioned rushlight behind me, 
 dancing to my own shadow on the wall. My 
 mother and a favourite uncle of mine, just up 
 from the country, stood unobserved watching 
 the performance with horror. Suddenly my 
 practice was interrupted by the voice of my uncle : 
 " Good God, Priscilla, you have let that child go 
 to a playhouse." Well, I never had been in a 
 playhouse, and when in after years I played 
 my first part, Azucena, in " II Trovatore," at 
 the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, I had not 
 been inside half a dozen theatres in my life. 
 
 Did I say I was born in Islington ? No ? Well, 
 I was, and though not exactly the " Bailiffs 
 Daughter of Islington," still, my father having
 
 6 Introductory 
 
 been a lawyer, I am something like it. I must 
 tell that I could always sing. It was a dreadful 
 thing for me when people came to drink tea at 
 our house. My reputation had spread, and I 
 would be asked to favour the company. " Now, 
 Emily, be a good girl, and do as you're bid." 
 And so, behind my mother's black silk apron, I 
 sat, a tiny trembler, and trilled out my little 
 stave, and many kisses and caresses (which I 
 hated) were my reward. The only theatre I ever 
 went to as a child was " Sadler's Wells." These 
 were solemn events and much discussed for 
 months beforehand. Every day, sometimes twice 
 or thrice a day, Mr. Phelps, going to and 
 from his home in Canonbury Square to the 
 theatre, would pass along Duncan Terrace. He 
 was a familiar and revered figure to me sad and 
 sedate, his hands clasped behind him, his head a 
 little bent, his black hair rather long, and turned 
 under at the ends. I regarded him with the 
 greatest awe, wonderment, and envy, and stood 
 aside, and watched, and sometimes followed close 
 at his heels, and felt I would like to touch him, 
 or, running on in front, turned and came slowly 
 back, so that I could look up in his face. Another 
 gracious figure for me was Mr. Henry Hoskins. 
 I thought him nearly as handsome as my own 
 father, and when I saw him at " Sadler's Wells " 
 play " Cassio," I felt ! Ah, what would I not 
 give if he could only be one of my uncles. These 
 were the days when the New River ran, bright 
 and sparkling, through the Terrace, and the big 
 trees as you crossed the City Road were full of 
 birds, busy, chattering, singing sparrows, sing,
 
 sing, singing, always singing with full, tuneful, 
 bursting throats. Such nights of them, such a 
 chorus. How they flew and fought, and chirped 
 and chipped and cheeped, and preened their 
 brown, glossy wings, and hid themselves among 
 the thick leaves, and peeped out with bright, 
 black, beady eyes, so pretty. Then under the 
 shadow of the trees, at the corner, sat a delightful 
 person, a fruit-seller, with a big basket full of 
 big cherries, ripe, rosy, juicy cherries, and stuck 
 all round the basket were tall sticks, on which 
 were tied with cotton more cherries, beautiful 
 cherries, sometimes white-hearts, sometimes 
 black-hearts, all lovely and shining. She used to 
 breathe on and then polish them with a soft 
 and tender, very tender, rag. I saw her, and 
 sometimes she would have strawberries, ripe 
 strawberries, pottles of strawberries, " Fourpence a 
 pottle, strawberries." But there was more paper in 
 the pottles than strawberries. I know, I had 
 practical experience. Ah, well ! the shining river, 
 the actor, the strawberries, the cherries, the cherry- 
 seller, the birds, the child, are all gone, and the 
 trees are old, leafless, and dusty, and nothing is left 
 but a woman and her memories. 
 
 SYDNEY, NEW SOUTH WATT.3,
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I hear Santley Adelina Patti's first appearance Her portrait 
 in Weippert's window I am articled to Mr. Howard 
 Glover Anecdotes of his mother, the great Mrs. Glover 
 Mr. Glover's terms His teaching My dt'but at a concert, 
 St. James's Hall, 1864 My first appearance on the stage, 
 Drury Lane, January, 18(55 My nervousness My first 
 impression of the Canterbury Hall Engaged as Miss Fitz- 
 Henry to sing at the Oxford Music Hall, ISGu. 
 
 WHEN quite young, I heard Santley. Never shall 
 I forget it. I felt I would give the world to sing, 
 to study, to be an artist. I attacked the home 
 authorities with vigour, and demolished all objec- 
 tions triumphantly. How well I remember the 
 day I was taken to Chelsea, to Mr. Alfred Mellon, 
 to have my voice tried. It was the day after 
 Patti's debut, 1861. 
 
 I had read in the morning paper how she, an 
 unknown singer, had appeared at Covent Garden 
 the previous night, in " La Somnambula," to a 
 frigid audience, which, before the opera was half 
 through, became an enthusiastic one. 
 
 At the corner of Regent Street (Oxford Circus)
 
 IO My Theatrical and 
 
 stood at that time Weippert's music shop, and, 
 while waiting for the Chelsea 'bus, I saw in their 
 window a picture of the new Diva. She was not 
 pretty in those days, but her eyes were fine, 
 large, dark, velvety and sympathetic. Her face 
 was long and thin, her chin, too, was long 
 very long and underhung ; she wore her hair 
 in plain bands, a dark dress high to the throat, 
 and a broad linen collar. 
 
 No appointment having been made with Mr. 
 Mellon, when we arrived at Chelsea we found him 
 "not at home," and I returned to Islington a 
 disappointed, sad-faced girl. 
 
 Three years after I was articled for two years 
 to Mr. Howard Glover, an accomplished musician 
 and linguist, a cultured gentleman, musical 
 critic of the Morning Post, and son of the 
 celebrated actress, Mrs. Glover. My master was 
 very fond and proud of his mother, and often 
 talked about her, and what a wonderful artistic 
 life hers had been, though, from a domestic point, 
 it was a failure. 
 
 Mrs. Glover was a Betterton, her marriage was a 
 not particularly fortunate one. Her husband used 
 to draw and squander her salary, until it was 
 arranged she should draw it herself in advance. 
 She had rooms over JelTery's, the musir shop in Soho
 
 M^tsicat Recollections 1 1 
 
 Square, on the site of which now stands the Roman 
 Catholic Church of St. Patrick. Among her most 
 cherished belongings was a valuable oil-painting, 
 a portrait of herself. When Mrs. Glover went 
 starring in the provinces, Mr. Glover's favourite 
 diversion was pawning his wife's picture, which 
 Mrs. Glover would on her return redeem. Mrs. 
 Glover had the privilege of supporting all her 
 family ; charming artiste, lovely woman and loving 
 mother, these responsibilities did not disturb her 
 to any great extent. Still, she would sometimes 
 jump over the traces, and I heard one very funny 
 story of maternal revolt. It seems that during 
 her frequent absences the housekeeping was 
 carried on by running accounts with the trades- 
 men, and that on one occasion, after a dreadful 
 journey in the winter from Dublin, on looking 
 over the bills, she, with a loud exclamation, threw 
 them from her, and lifting her eyes and arms to 
 heaven, broke forth with tragic violence : " Oh, 
 my God," cried she, " that I should cross that 
 
 d d Irish Channel to pay a thieving fishmonger 
 
 twenty-four shillings for winkles ! " 
 
 Mrs. Glover was a very domesticated woman, 
 and when she came home from a country engage- 
 ment, the first thing she did was to pin up her 
 skirts, call for a broom, and, as she said, " sweep
 
 i2 My Theatrical and 
 
 out the devil's corners." During some part of 
 her career she received pupils, among them being a 
 Miss Nathan now Mrs. J. B. Howard, of the Edin- 
 burgh and Glasgow Theatres Miss Adams, and 
 Miss Fortesque, and the great Mrs. Nesbitt would 
 occasionally come and go through a new part 
 with her. Mrs. Glover only admitted two classics 
 to her classes Walker's Dictionary and Shake- 
 speare. Shakespeare was not Bowdlerized in those 
 days, and whole pages of our divine William 
 would be carefully pinned together. Of course, 
 the pupils took the first opportunity of pulling 
 the pins out, reading the passages, and replacing 
 the pins in the original holes. Mrs. Howard told 
 me, " Mrs. Glover was a patient teacher arid full 
 of good-humour." Her first step was to make the 
 aspiring pupil read something from Shakespeare 
 not the usually hackneyed selections but 
 something not generally known. At the lessons 
 Mrs. Glover would hear each pupil separately, 
 correct them, and then go over it herself, giving 
 the proper inflections and action. 
 
 Mr. Howard Glover told me how particular 
 they were in his mother's day about the stage 
 business, and how all the situations and positions 
 of everyone engaged in the scene (the " star " 
 cxcepted) were marked on the floor with chalk.
 
 Musical Recollections 1 3 
 
 In those times they worked the artistes pretty well. 
 For instance, Mrs. Glover would appear in the 
 opening farce, sing and dance between the pieces, 
 and finish up with a three or four or five act drama. 
 
 My terms with Mr. Glover were 2.001. in cash and 
 half my earnings during my articles. Strange to 
 say, I took my first lessons in the drawing-room 
 over Jeffery's shop in Soho Square, the same 
 room (Mrs. Howard has since told me) in which 
 the girls in Mrs. Glover's time had their lessons. 
 Mr. Glover was a careful and conscientious 
 teacher, he not only attended to the musical part 
 of the lesson, he cultivated my intellect, making 
 me read, and recite, and comprehend, and under- 
 stand the words of each study before commencing 
 the notes. He was very particular about sounding 
 all the consonants, more especially the finals. I 
 remember, with reference to those troublesome 
 finals, saying to him : " Isn't it dreadfully difficult 
 to say * ham and eggs ' ? " 
 
 To which he replied, " Well, I should think it 
 dreadfully difficult to say anything else." 
 
 With all his goodness, he was impatient, and 
 when I sang a wrong note at one lesson, and was 
 corrected sharply, at the next (though knowing it 
 perfectly at home) I would repeat the error through 
 sheer fright.
 
 14 My Theatrical and 
 
 A great and invariable text of my master's, and 
 from which he preached innumerable sermons, was 
 " The foundation of all art is nature." 
 
 In 1864, I made my debut at a morning concert 
 at St. James's Hall, at which Adelina Patti, Mme. 
 Grisi, Mme. Albani, Sims Reeves, Mme. Guerra- 
 bella (now Miss Genevieve Ward), and most of the 
 great foreign artistes, in London for the season, 
 appeared. Mr. Glover accompanied me ; I stood in 
 front of the piano close to his right hand, and, when 
 I saw the audience, felt paralysed. The symphony 
 (rather a long one) was played, but I, frozen rigid, 
 could not force a sound from my lips. My master, 
 leaning forward, whispered with suppressed rage, 
 " Go on." I was afraid of him, the whisper struck 
 me like a blow, and I went on. I sang a composi- 
 tion of Mr. Glover's, " The strain I heard in happier 
 days." My voice was good, I was a natural singer 
 with sensibility. I made a good impression and 
 got good notices (not entirely uninspired probably). 
 During the season 1 sang at several concerts (for 
 nothing), and it was at the Crystal Palace, under 
 the baton of M. August Manns, I earned my 
 first five-pound note, singing " Nobil Signor," 
 from Meyerbeer's " Huguenots," with great 
 success. 
 
 In January, 1865, 1 made my first appearance on
 
 Musical Recollections 1 5 
 
 any stage, playing at a morning concert of Mr. 
 Glover's, given in Drury Lane Theatre, the part of 
 Azucena in the second act of " II Trovatore." The 
 Manrico was the late Mr. Swift. Mr. Glover 
 conducted. The Daily Telegraph was particularly 
 good to me. Here is what it said : 
 
 " The matine*e, however, was marked by a de"but 
 which deserves some special notice. It is so seldom, 
 indeed, that we find histrionic talent in our English 
 vocalists, that we are bound to call attention to 
 every instance in which a young singer evinces any 
 capacity for acting. That Miss Emily Soldene, a 
 pupil of Mr. Howard Glover, has dramatic stage 
 capability of a high order, was abundantly 
 manifested in the long scene from ' II Trovatore ' 
 in which she, on this occasion, made her first 
 appearance on any stage. That she possesses, too, 
 the physical advantages of a handsome face and 
 tall well-proportioned figure was sufficiently per- 
 ceptible through the dusky disguise of Azucena. 
 In voice she is almost equally well gifted, and she 
 has evidently been carefully trained." 
 
 I must have been a very emotional person in 
 those days. 
 
 In the first flush of delight, finding by the 
 papers I was not a failure, but rather the other 
 thing, I forgot my fear of him, became effusive,
 
 1 6 My Theatrical and 
 
 and sent off post haste the following note to Mr. 
 Glover. 
 
 " CARO MAESTRO, I lay my success at your feet. 
 Accept the offering of 
 
 " Your grateful pupil, 
 
 "EMILY SOLDENE." 
 
 I went on for this part without any actual stage 
 preparation. Mr. Glover was anxious about the 
 vocal rendering, but said he would trust the acting 
 to my dramatic instinct. One morning he took 
 me on the stage at Drury Lane to show me how 
 to " throw " my voice. " Now," said he, " I want 
 you to realise that at the back of that top gallery," 
 pointing upwards into the huge dark space, " there 
 is a small boy anxious to hear what you will sing 
 to him pianissimo, mind in fact, a whisper. 
 Come, try, let him hear, a pure sound, mouth well 
 open, words clear, distinct but pian-is-simo." 
 
 And that is how I learnt to get at the man in 
 the back row, no matter how big the theatre may 
 be. In connection with this event, for of course 
 (to me) it was an event, I must mention the great 
 aid and assistance I got mentally, morally, and 
 physically, from two dear, good, kind friends, the 
 late Miss Lavine, of the Strand Theatre, and one 
 of the original members of Miss Marie Wil ton's
 
 Musical Recollections \ 7 
 
 Company, when she opened the Prince of Wales 
 Theatre, Tottenham Court Road, and the late Miss 
 Harriet Coveney. They believed so thoroughly in 
 me, that presently I began to believe in myself. 
 They went to the theatre with me, made me up, 
 dressed me, lent me courage, and certain mystic 
 amulets, which, worn upon my arms and round 
 my neck, should bring me luck. 
 
 After this I made decided progress, singing in 
 public frequently, but always suffering exceedingly 
 from nervousness ; a nervousness distressing on 
 the stage, but absolutely paralysing on the plat- 
 form. Mr. Glover said if I did not get into 
 regular work I should never do justice to myself 
 or to him. At this time the only form of musical 
 entertainment outside the Royal Italian Opera, 
 an intermittent season of English Opera at Covent 
 Garden, and the big concerts at St. James's Hall, 
 were little musical burlettas and farces at the 
 Haymarket. Mr. Glover tried, but unsuccess- 
 fully, to place me at the Haymarket. Then he 
 had what he considered a " happy thought." I 
 should go to Mr. Charles Morton at the Oxford, 
 get, if possible, an engagement, sing every night, 
 and conquer my emotional enemy, instead of 
 allowing it to conquer me. 
 
 At this period I had never been inside a music
 
 1 8 My Theatrical and 
 
 hall, had very lofty ideas, great ambitions, highly 
 strung aspirations, great dreams of future glory 
 and achievements. Going to sing at a music hall 
 was indeed a come-down. It hurt my " artistic 
 pride." But I swallowed my artistic pride, and 
 armed with a letter from Mr. Glover (written on 
 Morning Post official paper), I presented myself 
 under the nom du theatre of Miss FitzHenry 
 to Mr. Morton. That arbiter of my immediate 
 destiny was pleased to look upon me with favour, 
 and Mr. Jongmanns, the conductor, was instructed 
 to hear me sing, and an appointment was made ; 
 I was to go to the Canterbury for that ordeal. 
 
 Going to the Canterbury was dreadful. I 
 remember the shock I got when I went under the 
 railway arch, down the dingy, dirty, narrow street, 
 the greasy sidewalk, the muddy gutter, full of 
 dirty babies, the commonplace-looking public- 
 house. I felt I could not go in ; but I did. The 
 people were polite, and showed me upstairs ; there 
 was lots of sawdust. Soon I found myself in a 
 long picture-gallery, at the other end of which a 
 rehearsal was being held. The pictures delighted, 
 but the smell of beer and stale tobacco smoke 
 revolted me. I have since been told that on that 
 day I carried my head very high, and by my 
 manner conveyed the utmost scorn for the
 
 Musical Recollections 19 
 
 Canterbury and all its surroundings. "Why, 
 what's this, Ferdy?" asked Mr. William Morton, 
 as I appeared in the dim distance and proceeded 
 to sail up the gallery. " Dashed if I know," said 
 Ferdy (Mr. Jongmanns), " sent on by der governor ; 
 but it's all right if it can sing." 
 
 I sang. Mr. Jongmanns approved my vocal 
 capabilities. I was engaged to the Oxford to 
 sing " a turn " of songs ; also in the " selections," 
 at a salary of well, never mind. I made my 
 appearance, was a success, and within a year of 
 signing my articles, began earning a regular 
 salary.
 
 20 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 My musical surroundings prior to 18G6 The great artistes of 
 the Italian Opera Houses at that time Debut of Christine 
 Nilsson Debut of Carlotta Patti First appearance of 
 Miss Minnie Hauk First appearance of lima di Murska 
 Gounod's " Ave Maria " first sung at Her Majesty's 
 First season of Mme. Lucca First performance of 
 Meyerbeer's " L'Africaine " Naudin and Lucca Little 
 personalities of great artistes Mme. Sherrington's stage 
 curtsey. 
 
 To excuse my seeming impertinence towards my 
 Canterbury surroundings, I must explain the 
 musical environments that for a few months I had 
 been accustomed to, and the sort of glamour that 
 formed a part of my professional education. 
 
 As musical critic of the Morning Post, Mr. 
 Glover had at his disposal a box at each of the 
 opera houses Her Majesty's, then under the 
 management of Mr. Mapleson ; conductor, Signor 
 Arditi ; and Covent Garden, manager, Mr. Gye ; 
 conductor, Michael Costa. Mr. Glover, considering 
 it to my advantage to hear as much good music 
 as possible, sent me to one or the other of the
 
 Musical Recollections 21 
 
 opera houses every night of the season. There 
 my taste was formed and nourished by the greatest 
 artistes of the dav. Then for the first time I heard 
 
 / 
 
 Mme. Tietjens, that grand singer to whom time 
 has brought no successor, before whose greatness 
 I could have fallen down to kiss the hem of her 
 garment ; Trebelli, Mongini, Guiglini. and Mario. 
 Mario was then beginning to sing out of tune, but 
 five minutes of perfect music, which we got now 
 and then, was compensation for all the false intona- 
 tion. Then his enunciation was clear, distinct, 
 every syllable full and round, plain, and pure. 
 At this moment I can see him as the Duke in 
 " Rigoletto," making his exit over the bridge, 
 debonair, elegant, and hear his exquisite voice 
 dying in the distance, " La don-na-e mo -bile." 
 The last time I heard him was in that role, and it 
 lingers on my memory still. And Delle Sedie, 
 there was a singer! When he sang "Eri Tu," 
 big tears tumbled out of my eyes, I could not help 
 it. Such moments are impossible to describe. 
 They can only be remembered. When I listened to 
 all this passion, and pain, and joy, and ecstasy, a 
 sort of despair came over me as I realised that such 
 heights were only for the divine few. I heard Tam- 
 berlik and Viadot Garcia in " Le Prophete " ; Grisi 
 in" Norma " and " Lucrezia Borgia"; Patti in " II
 
 22 My Theatrical and 
 
 Barbiere," " La Gazza Ladra," also in " II Trova- 
 tore," in which she was not good, as it was rather 
 out of her line. I was present when Christine 
 Nilsson, then a tall, slender girl, with wonderful pale 
 eyes, made her debut. It was between the acts of 
 the opera she sang, if I mistake not, u Ophelia's 
 Mad Scene," and Eckert's" Echo Song," to the piano- 
 forte accompaniment of Mr. Benedict. I heard 
 Carlotta Patti on the occasion of her first appearance 
 in England. She also sang between the acts of 
 the opera. Mr. Benedict accompanied her. He 
 brought her on from the O.P. side. She did not 
 show her lameness much, as she did not come to the 
 centre of the stage, but stood on the left of the 
 people, looking from the front. She sang the 
 "Queen of Night" song from Mozart's "Magic 
 Flute " and the " Laughing Song " from " Manon 
 Lescaut." I assisted at the first appearance of Miss 
 Minnie Hauk, an American prima donna. The 
 over-refined and blase habitues of Her Majesty's 
 were not then educated up to the English- 
 speaking singer. Miss Hauk had rather hard 
 luck, and no success. Some years afterwards 
 she became, and still is, a celebrity. I remember 
 the first appearance of Mme. lima di Murska. 
 It was at Her Majesty's. On the night previously 
 to her debut she occupied a little box very
 
 Musical Recollections 23 
 
 near the ceiling, wearing a black velvet dress, 
 and was decidedly insignificant. She appeared in 
 " Lucia di Lammermoor," looking painfully thin, 
 undecided, and straAV-coloured, wearing a white 
 muslin skirt, black velvet bodice, Scotch cap with 
 eagle's- feather, and a plaid fastened on the 
 shoulder with a big buckle ; she had a huge 
 crinoline, and as she came down the rake of the 
 stage the crinoline wobbled, and her skirt being 
 rather long in the front, she stepped on it and 
 stumbled forward in the most awkward embar- 
 rassing manner. She had no reception, her opening 
 recit was half a note sharp, making everybody 
 shiver ; but when she came to the cadenza she 
 executed a tour de force of the most startling 
 description coruscations, cascades, a flight of 
 sparkling fireworks ; such daring, dashing, success- 
 ful staccato passages had never been heard before. 
 The whole house rose and raved their applause. 
 Her triumph was complete, and the next night 
 Mme. di Murska did not occupy a box on the sky 
 line, but a large one on the grand tier, and 
 received the congratulations of a titled and 
 dilettanti crowd. 
 
 The first time Gounod's air on Bach's first 
 prelude (Ave Maria) was publicly heard in 
 England, I was present. It was at Her Majesty's.
 
 Mme. Tietjens sang it, and Mme. Arditi, sister of 
 the conductor, played the violin obligate. 
 
 I remember the first season of Mme. Lucca a 
 beautiful woman, with lovely blue eyes and black 
 lashes. She was the first brunette Marguerite 
 Covent Garden had ever seen. There was a great 
 movement of surprise, and conservative people 
 were quite shocked when she came on with un- 
 orthodox long, black braids nearly down to her 
 heels. She was a great fact, and London, at least 
 opera-going London, mourned dreadfully when 
 one morning the wilful prima donna was missing. 
 She had run away to the Continent; she 
 couldn't stand the English fog. 
 
 About this time, too, I used to see a good deal 
 of a well-known amateur singer. He was tall, 
 good-looking and very Byronic about the throat, 
 wearing a turn-down collar and a loose black tie 
 with flowing ends. His dark hair was thrown 
 back from his high forehead in a very degagt style. 
 I am afraid I used to admire him a little, I think 
 I should have admired him more if he had not 
 been a trifle knock-kneed. His name was Mr. 
 Tom Hohler ; he subsequently married her Grace 
 the present Dowager Duchess of Newcastle. 
 
 1 was at the first representation of " L'Afri- 
 caine," at Covent Garden. The house was
 
 Musical Recollections 25 
 
 magnificent overflowing. No boxes for the 
 critics that night. Mr. Glover gave me his stall, 
 and he, with Mr. J. L. Davidson, musical critic of 
 the Times, went into the gallery. Mme. Arabella 
 Goddard (Mrs. Davidson) had the next stall to 
 me. It was a night of nights. Mme. Lucca was 
 " Selika," and M. Xaudin " Nelusco." The sensa- 
 tion created by the unison passage for the violins 
 in the last act is almost incredible. Everybody 
 stood up, the enthusiasm was marvellous ; and the 
 roar of applause was like the booming of the sea. 
 
 Then, at Her Majesty's, an immense success was 
 made by the Sisters Marchisio, whose duet-singing 
 has never been approached I don't know about 
 before, but certainly not since. Their piece de resis- 
 tance was " Semiramide." The " Giorno d'Orrore " 
 was worth walking ten miles to hear such equality 
 of time, such perfection of tone. They breathed 
 identically together, every two notes beautifully 
 blended two voices of one perfect, and exquisite 
 concord. 
 
 All these things filled me with impossible 
 ambitions, producing sometimes an exaltation of 
 feeling positively painful. This was the sort of 
 Fool's Paradise I dwelt in when I went to " have 
 my voice tried " at the Canterbury such sublime 
 imaginings, such sordid realities. Still, I was not
 
 26 My Theatrical and 
 
 always in the clouds, and during intervals of my 
 hero-worship could not help noticing (as girls will 
 do) that the greatest of people are not without 
 their little personal peculiarities. For instance, 
 there was Mme. Artot, a chic, piquant, pretty 
 little French lady, and perfectly adorable as the 
 Page in the " Ballo in Maschera." She was very 
 conscious and very proud of what to my un- 
 sophisticated, ignorant eyes, was a dreadfully 
 disagreeable and undesirable decoration the 
 longest finger-nails I had ever seen then, or have 
 ever seen since, except on the fingers of a Chinese 
 bank-teller in the Shanghai Bank, San Fran- 
 cisco, or an American millionairess of the first 
 generation. 
 
 Then I could not help seeing, and hating myself 
 for doing so, that Mme. Tietjens' corsets were 
 dreadfully stiff, laced dreadfully tight, and 
 audibly creaked ; that she never appeared without 
 a lace pocket-handkerchief, princess or peasant, 
 it was all the same ; that alike in the agonies of 
 Donna Anna, in the grandeur of Fidelio, in the 
 dungeon of Marguerite, clinging to the Cross in 
 " Robert le Diable," or frantically entreating her 
 lover in the " Huguenots," she carried her costly 
 mouchoir, and her coiffure under any stress 
 of emotion or danger, was always perfect, not a
 
 Musical Recollections 27 
 
 hair disturbed. On the other hand, Mme. Grisi, 
 so inimitable and careful in her art, was careless 
 to a fault as to her personal appearance, and 
 never, even at a morning concert, had her bonnet 
 quite straight. I was much attracted by Mme. 
 Sherrington, a charming artiste, but artificial 
 and perfect to faddishness in deportment. From 
 her, by close observation, I acquired the effective 
 stage curtsey. When you find your audience 
 flabby and not inclined to rise to the occasion, 
 this is how you manage them. You finish your 
 aria, you bow slightly. They, rather bored, 
 applaud slightly, you bow somewhat deprecatingly 
 right and left, then a little lower full front. They 
 applaud more, you repeat the manoeuvre, but show 
 no signs of going off. They applaud rather 
 vigorously, you convey by gesture how utterly 
 unworthy you are of so much distinction. , They 
 appreciate such delicacy of feeling, and applaud 
 vociferously, loudly, continuously, rapturously. 
 Now is your time to retire, you bow and bow, 
 and, always keeping your face to the audience, 
 slowly exit, kissing your hands and overcome. 
 Thunders of applause and acclamations " Brava," 
 " Brava," Bravissima," " Bis," " Bis." Of course 
 you take your call and your encore, you have 
 earned it.
 
 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 My first bits at the Oxford, " Up the Alma's Heights '* and 
 " Launch the Lifeboat " Mr. Charles Morton, his early 
 career The old Canterbury of 1848 and 1850 The new 
 Canterbury of 1854 The picture gallery Haydon the 
 painter His disappointment^ His death The Canterbury 
 Company in 1854 Operatic selections Visit of Mme. 
 Tietjens Who Cora Pearl was Engagement of Sam 
 Cowell Sam Collins and Mackney The Oxford Organi- 
 sation Artistes engaged there, 1866-1867 Burning of 
 Her Majesty's Theatre, December, 1867. 
 
 I WENT to the Oxford in the autumn of 1865, and 
 "Up the Alma's Heights," a declamatory song, 
 written by Capt. G. W. Colomb, was my first 
 real hit. All the military men in London came to 
 hear it. " Launch the Lifeboat," by Alfred Plump- 
 ton, was the second. All the naval men in London 
 came to hear that. I soon got used to the people, 
 the place, the management, and the manager. 
 Mr. Charles Morton, as he has subsequently told me, 
 is a self-made man risen from the ranks, and his 
 career has been and is an active and interesting 
 one. In 1840 he was employed at the St. George
 
 Musical Recollections 29 
 
 Tavern, Belgrave Road, a sporting house, where 
 sweepstakes of three or four hundred pounds were 
 often made up. Among the constant visitors 
 and most interested in the drawings, were Mr. 
 George Hogarth, the eminent critic, and Mr. 
 Pierce Egan, the author of " Tom and Jerry." 
 It was the house of call for the Royal servants 
 from Buckingham Palace, who frequently had " a 
 bit on." " I often dined at the Palace," said Mr. 
 Morton. Seeing me speechless with astonishment, 
 he kindly explained, " With the cooks, I mean. 
 And many a time after a great extra spread have 
 I very early in the morning passed the door of 
 Her Majesty's private apartments, laden with 
 a table-cloth full of delicacies from the Royal 
 table to take home to the wife and family." 
 In 1848, he took the Canterbury Tavern, where, 
 in the rear, was held every Saturday a " free and 
 easy." Mr. Morton introduced an innovation he 
 engaged a professional singer. The business grew 
 too big for its place, so he built a hall on the 
 ground level, the first stone of which was laid in 
 1850 by two children Lily, daughter of Mr. 
 Morton, and Marie Grey, daughter of the landlord. 
 The business still grew, and in 1854, out of the 
 pothouse of 1848, he raised a temple to music 
 and the arts by building over the first hall a 
 
 B
 
 30 My Theatrical and 
 
 second, and adding to it a picture gallery, which, 
 being quickly filled with statuary and oil-paintings, 
 made a great sensation, and was christened by 
 George Augustus Sala, and known ever after as 
 " The Royal Academy over the water." 
 
 The first lot of pictures were lent by Mr. 
 Gambart, then of Berners Street, Mr. Morton 
 subsequently purchasing the greater part of them. 
 The most important work in the gallery was 
 Haydon's " Martius Curtius," which now hangs 
 in Gatti's Restaurant, Villiers Street, down by 
 the side of Charing Cross Station. Mr. Morton 
 knew Haydon intimately, and told me the painter 
 considered the " Martius " his masterpiece. 
 When the picture was first painted, the position 
 of the horse was much criticised, and occasioned 
 so much controversy that Haydon took a room 
 at the Egyptian Hall, and exhibited his work 
 publicly. For a time all went well, artists, 
 critics, and the public flocked to see the much- 
 discussed " Gee-gee." But there came along an 
 American man, Mr. Phineas T. Barnum, who, 
 renting the next room to "Martius Curtius," 
 introduced to an admiring British public 
 General Tom Thumb. Thousands rushed to 
 see the midget, nobody ever thought of 
 " Martius," the noblest Roman of them all drew
 
 Musical Recollections 31 
 
 no more shillings, and the poor painter, disap- 
 pointed and disgusted, shot himself. 
 
 Soon after the completion of the big Canterbury 
 Hall, came the operatic selections. The first one 
 given was from " II Trovatore," with Miss Russell, 
 Mr. Augustus Braham, and Signor Tivoli. At the 
 Canterbury Gounod's "Faust" was first heard in 
 England, and so uncertain were people as to its 
 merits, that Mr. Mapleson and Mme. Tietjens went 
 there to hear it previously to its production at Her 
 Majesty's. Among the singers engaged was Mr. 
 Alberto Lawrence, an excellent baritone, who 
 afterwards joined the Pyne and Harrison Company, 
 and sang the title role in " Helvellyn," produced 
 at Covent Garden Theatre. Mr. Lawrence is now 
 a much appreciated vocal professor in New York. 
 There too Mrs. Johnson (who in 1871 was chorus 
 mistress at the Philharmonic) sang ballads with 
 conspicuous ability and success. To the new hall, 
 from the " Grecian Saloon," where, associated with 
 Robson and Wilson (a well-known Scotch tenor), 
 he was singing the comedy parts in English opera, 
 came Sam Cowell. This was his first music hall 
 engagement, and "Vilikins and his Dinah," and 
 " The Ratcatcher's Daughter " made themselves 
 an abiding home, and became the classics of the 
 New Cut. Mackney and Sam Collins were also
 
 32 My Theatrical and 
 
 engaged, and the place became the talk of London. 
 But these artistic successes of Mr. Morton's man- 
 agement did not deter him from seeing that the 
 hungry supperer's chop was done to a turn. And 
 with his own hands (protected by a dainty serviette) 
 he would break the succulent baked potato on to 
 the customer's plate, where it fell in a snowy 
 shower, sweet-smelling, soft, floury, and hot, ye 
 gods, so hot ! 
 
 Many people whose names have since become 
 famous strutted their little hour on the Canterbury 
 stage. In the sixties, Miss Louie Crouch, daughter 
 of the composer of "Kathleen Mavourneen " (who 
 died in Baltimore, U.S.A., August, 1896, aged 
 ninety-eight), sang there. Miss Crouch was a 
 pretty girl, and, going to Paris on a visit, never came 
 back, but became one of the most celebrated demi- 
 mondaines of the Second Empire, the notorious Cora 
 Pearl. That was in the sixteen-button boot days, 
 and though Cora's name was Pearl all her buttons 
 were diamonds. 
 
 Miss Turpin, who married Mr. James TVallack, 
 of Wallack's Theatre, New York, was a favourite 
 soprano at the Canterbury, and among the company 
 engaged at the old original was a little lady, a 
 ballad singer, named Miss Kate Somers. Miss Kate 
 Somers is now the second Mrs. Charles Morton.
 
 Musical Recollections 33 
 
 When, in 1865, I went to the Oxford, selections 
 were given every evening from the works of Verdi, 
 Flotow, Adam, Bellini, Bishop, Donnizetti, and 
 others. There were glees, catches, and concerted 
 numbers from the old English masters. Locke's 
 music to " Macbeth " was a standing dish, and put 
 on at any and all times, when somebody was 
 ill or got in a passion, and couldn't or wouldn't 
 appear, for any or no reason. For even at the 
 Oxford little contretemps would occur, and the 
 tantrums associated with the greatest of prime 
 donne were reproduced by smaller folk, with 
 much success. In the " Macbeth " music, a little 
 lady named Miss Kitty Tyrell distinguished herself 
 greatly ; she had a lovely high soprano voice and 
 excellent execution. With 1867 came Offenbach's 
 " Orphee aux Enfers," " 66," and lots of other 
 jingling ear-catching melodies. 
 
 The conductor and prima donna for both the 
 Oxford and the Canterbury were Mr. Jongmanns 
 and Miss Russell, the latter an artiste of exceptional 
 ability, possessing a splendid voice, soprana dram- 
 matica, and singing with the ease, cultivation and 
 effect of the real Italian school. 
 
 Miss Russell is a niece of the celebrated Henry 
 Russell, the composer. She told me she was in the 
 room when " Cheer, boys, Cheer," was written,
 
 34 My Theatrical and 
 
 and sent off to Shead's, the publisher, to dispose 
 of, "And bring back the money," was an im- 
 perative condition. Taken altogether the musical 
 organisation of the Oxford was a very 
 complete one. Mr. St. Aubyn, formerly of the 
 Pyne and Harrison Company, was the tenor; 
 Mr. Green, the bass ; Miss Walmisley the con- 
 tralto, and Miss FitzHenry the mezzo. Alfred 
 Plumpton (now the conductor at the Palace 
 Varieties) and Johnny Caulfield, junior, were 
 the pianists ; Tom Melliug presided at the har- 
 monium (poor fellow, he was drowned at York) 
 Tom Melling, senior, beat the drums, and was 
 also librarian. Mr. Goff played the double bass ; 
 principal flute was Drew Dean, and principal 
 cornet M. Paque ; Mme. Charlotte Tasca, R.A.M., 
 assisted vocally, and was solo pianiste. The 
 chorus was small, but good, and among its 
 members were Mrs. Bartleman, widow of the 
 celebrated Tom Bartleman ; Mr. Husk, who had 
 been associated with some of the greatest artistes 
 of his day, and Mr. Nolan, now the respected 
 proprietor of a Musical and Dramatic Institute. 
 Mr. John Caulfield, senior, formerly of the 
 Haymarket Theatre, was the chairman. We 
 had a ballet, the premieres of which were the 
 Misses Gunniss. I can always remember Tessie,
 
 Musical Recollections 35 
 
 with the wonderful hair. It was not golden, but 
 it was " hanging down her back." " In the front 
 row" were two beautiful girls, Miss Alice 
 Dunning, afterwards celebrated (particularly in 
 the States) as Miss Alice Dunning Lingard (Mrs. 
 Horace Lingard) ; and Miss Wilson, subsequently 
 known to fame as " Lardy " Wilson. At the 
 Oxford the original " Hanlon Brothers " made 
 their first appearance in England, producing an 
 immense sensation in the double somersault from 
 the shoulders of one on to the other, a feat never 
 previously seen in this country. 
 
 Here " Jolly Nash " made his debut, got stage 
 fright and came off, but pulling himslf together, 
 went on again and won. At the Oxford " The 
 Kiralfys," Imrie, Bolossy, and Aniola, made their 
 first bow to an English public, creating a furore 
 in their Hungarian dances. Previously to their 
 " turn " Aniola would hold on to a door-post, 
 and Imrie and Bolossy would take it in turns to 
 work her legs up and down like a pump handle. 
 All this was new to me, and I thought 
 it very wonderful. Mme. Louise produced a 
 juvenile ballet, and in it danced a wee thing, who 
 became the celebrated " high kicker," Mdlle. Sara. 
 Nellie Power, a pretty young girl, who had a nice 
 mother, did a very fetching jockey song and
 
 36 My Theatrical and 
 
 dance. Miss Kate Santley ah ! so slender and 
 so slim bewitched all beholders in "The bell 
 goes a-ringin' for Sarah." There were the 
 " D'Aubans and "Wardes ; " Mr. and Mrs. Riley 
 (Marie Barnum), " The Dancing Quakers ; " 
 Arthur Lloyd, then in his prime ; John and Katie 
 King, children of Tom King, the tragedian Katie, 
 such a pretty, dark- eyed, demure little Katie, after- 
 wards became Mrs. Arthur Lloyd ; Harry Rickards, 
 Harry Randall, Edward Marshall, of " Enchanted 
 Hash " fame ; Eugene and Uns worth, u Am I 
 right, or any other man ? " Stead, " The perfect 
 Cure ; " Fred French, the great Vance, " Cham- 
 pagne Charlie is my name ; " George Leybourne, 
 " Up in a balloon, boys ; " Louie Sherrington, 
 Tom Maclagan, Mr. and Mrs. Brian, "The mad 
 Butcher," and others. The first Christmas I was 
 at the Oxford, Herr Meyer Lutz wrote especially 
 for Mr. Morton a " Christmas Cantata." It was 
 a great success. I had a lovely song and made 
 an effect. The production of " Orphee aux 
 Enfers " was a landmark, Mr. Green and myself 
 getting great kudos out of the " Laughing " 
 couplets. The operatic selections sung at the 
 Oxford were carried off bodily to the Canterbury 
 in broughams, where, when we arrived, being 
 " called over the coals " was not an expression,
 
 Musical Recollections 37 
 
 but a fact ; for over the coals, through a long 
 ill-lighted underground cellar (the original old 
 Hall of 1850) we had to go. Though not engaged 
 for both places, when asked "to oblige," I 
 did. 
 
 One night, in December, 18G7, the carriages 
 were stopped at the Trafalgar Square end of 
 Parliament Street, and we saw a magnificent 
 sight the burning of Her Majesty's Opera 
 House. To me it was dreadful, I hnd been there 
 so much.
 
 38 My Theatrical^and 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 My experience as a singer with two names At Exeter Hall 
 Kindness of Mr. Santley Herr Molique Herr Reichardt 
 Mr. and Mrs. Weiss " The Village Blacksmith" 
 My impressions of Mr. Jules Benedict When he accom- 
 panies me A disagreeable conundrum Answered by a 
 disagreeable pupil. 
 
 I MUST mention that while engaged in over- 
 coming my nervousness at the music hall, I did 
 not neglect my more aristocratic chances, and 
 in the afternoon Miss Emily Soldene would 
 appear at St. James's Hall, Hanover Square, or 
 Willis's Rooms, and in the evening Miss Fitz- 
 Henry would clamber " Up the Alma's Heights " 
 to a top A at the Oxford. Also I was not 
 without my Exeter Hall experiences, for being per- 
 sonally approved of by Sir Michael Costa, I sang 
 in " Elijah " and the " Messiah " in company with 
 Mr. Sims Reeves and Mr. Santley (I forget the prima 
 donna's name). My nervousness still pursued 
 me, and when Mr. Santley took me up on the 
 platform, I felt a ;ort of comfort in confiding
 
 Musical Recollections 39 
 
 to him my miserable and trembling state. 
 11 Nervous," said he, " "What for ? You see that 
 crowd of people in front ; well, little as you know, 
 they know less." 
 
 In these days I had a great friend in Herr 
 Molique, such a dear old man, wearing such an 
 impossible wig, which he had outgrown. It 
 was rusty brown, and half up the back of his 
 head between the edge of his wig and the tall 
 collar of his old-fashioned coat was a vast red, 
 wrinkled, crinkly, and uncovered expanse. But 
 all that did not stop me liking and admiring him. 
 
 Another celebrity I used to see very often 
 was Herr Reichardt, the composer of " Thou art 
 so near and yet so far," a song he had written 
 ages before, but from which he was still drawing a 
 royalty of 400Z. a year at least, so people said. 
 He was a nice, handsome, well-preserved man, with 
 a frock coat buttoned up like a diplomat, and a soft, 
 melancholy manner. This season I heard Mr. Weiss 
 electrify people by singing his own song, " The 
 Village Blacksmith," with such an immense bass 
 voice, and such a splendid delivery. I heard him 
 sing many times after, but cannot seem to recollect 
 anything but " The Village Blacksmith." Mme. 
 Weiss was a tall, thin lady, with a very perfect 
 coiffure and an immaculately cold manner. She
 
 4O My Theatrical and 
 
 sang very high toned German Lieder, in a very 
 high-toned voice. Somehow she did not get so 
 close to one's heart as the Blacksmith, particularly 
 when he fancied he could hear his dead wife's voice 
 in the village choir. 
 
 Mr. Jules Benedict, to oblige my master, would 
 sometimes consent to accompany me at these 
 fashionable and blood-curdling entertainments 
 called " morning concerts." To be accompanied 
 by that all-potent person gave a cachet, a sort of 
 diploma of merit, to a young singer. He used to 
 take me up on the platform with an ill grace, his 
 head bent down, his under lip protruding. I was 
 dreadfully frightened of him, and at such moments 
 felt I would like to sink through the floor. He 
 was very impatient, always in a hurry ; and when 
 your hands shook and you mixed up the copies, 
 he would say, " Um," " Um," in such a tone that 
 the chances were you dropped the lot. He was a 
 great artist and musician, but liked to make 
 money, I think. He had heaps of pupils. One 
 day somebody said, " Can any one tell me when 
 Benedict goes to sleep?" " Why, of course, 
 didn't you know ? " replied one of the dis- 
 agreeables. " When he's giving a professional 
 rate lesson, to be sure."
 
 Musical Recollections 4 1 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Oxford Music Hall, 1866-1867 The Chappies and the 
 Johnnies The table of the chairman The racing men 
 My tip for the Derby, 1867 How and why the Marquis 
 of Hastings was ruined Pony Moore and Mrs. Moore, of 
 the Moore and Burgess Minstrels His benefit Her 
 diamonds His ball "Happy be thy dreams" Mr. 
 Howard Glover Visits the Oxford Miss Russell's anxiety 
 as to what he thinks I sing afe Glasgow Total Abstainers' 
 Saturday Night Concerts The City Fathers' remarks on 
 my dress " Davie Brown's " A visit to Loch Lomond 
 A Scotch mist " Braxey " mutton Mr. John Ryder at 
 the Queen's Theatre His tears The Oxford burnt, 
 February, 1868. 
 
 THE Oxford was a cosmopolitan place, and the 
 audience also was cosmopolitan, and various in its 
 tastes and tendencies. 
 
 The Hall, a magnificent structure in the Italian 
 style, was beautifully decorated with frescoes, gild- 
 ing, and lots of light. Bars down the side were 
 dressed with plenty of flowers, coloured glass, and 
 any amount of bright, glittering, brass-bound 
 barrels, and bottles. . But, after all, the brightest, 
 most glittering, and most attractive thing about
 
 42 My Theatrical and 
 
 the bars (of course, not counting the drinks) were 
 the barmaids. 
 
 Rows of little tables, at which people sat and 
 smoked, and drank, filled the auditorium, and in 
 and out the tables circulated the peripatetic, faded, 
 suggesting, inquiring, deferential waiter, and 
 the brisk, alert, " cigar," " programme," and 
 " book of the words " boy. The cigar boy of my 
 time is now the respected manager of the Holborn 
 Restaurant, Mr. "Tommy" Hamp. 
 
 Of course there was a certain amount of " gay " 
 society, the "Chappies" and "Johnnies" of that 
 period. And the " Daughters of Joy " were not 
 conspicuous by their absence. No doubt most 
 good people think that excess of fortune and lots 
 of drink may induce ossification of the heart and 
 memory in these poor girls. They are wrong, and 
 many a night have I, "by request," sung "Home, 
 Sweet Home," because " I made 'em cry." I 
 daresay these were " off nights," but there is the 
 fact for what it is worth. 
 
 The table of the chairman was a sacred place 
 sacred to a certain and profitable clique, and to 
 win the applause of these quidnuncs was the 
 direct aim of every one appearing on the stage. 
 Winning it, one felt one's position assured. 
 Then with the clique went the hammer of the
 
 Musical Recollections 43 
 
 chairman, a most stimulating and directing factor 
 in giving " a lead " to public opinion and applause. 
 
 The Oxford was a great rendezvous for racing 
 men. Every night there would congregate such 
 horsey lights as Charlie Head, Charlie Bush, 
 John Ambrose, Billy Foster, Tom King, Jimmy 
 Maynard, Harry Beard, Tom Cook, Ted Baylis, 
 Teddy Brayley, Chippy Norton, Sam Belasco, 
 Johnny Gideon, Dick Dunn, and many others. On 
 the eve of, or after a big race, the busy hum of the 
 betting men was nearly as loud as the voices of 
 the singers. Down would come the hammer of 
 the chairman, <( Order, gentlemen, order." To do 
 the gentlemen justice, they did order, and much 
 business was the result. So you see, music was 
 not the only thing heard at the Oxford. Some- 
 times one got the " correct tip," and " pulled it 
 off." But it was not always so. 
 
 In 1866, I was a good bit to nothing on Lord 
 Lyon, and the next month relieved the monotony 
 by coming " a cropper" over a fancy of my own. 
 One morning in the early part of 1867, leaving the 
 Hall after a rehearsal, the glass doors of the Oxford 
 Street entrance were opened from the outside by a 
 very polite and exceptionally big man. " Thank 
 you," said I. " What are you backing for the 
 Derby ? ' said he, " Nothing," said I. " Put your
 
 44 My Theatrical and 
 
 money on Hermit," said he. I told Mr. Morton, 
 I told everybody. Mr. Morton and everybody 
 particularly everybody thought it the funniest 
 thing they had ever heard. " Hermit," " broken 
 down," " hundred to one," " absurd." When 
 anyone wanted to chaff me terribly, they 
 would say: "Well, how's Hermit getting on?" 
 This was weeks before the race. The thing must 
 have worried me, for, more than once, in my 
 dreams I went a-racing (I had never been to a 
 race, only heard people talk of them), and more than 
 once came the sound of shouting voices, " Hermit 
 wins ! Hermit wins ! " As all the world knows, 
 Hermit did win (in a snow-storm), hands down, 
 J. Daley up. I afterwards heard that the big 
 man who gave me the " tip " was Mr. " Bobby " 
 Phillips, the owner's " reputed " commissioner but 
 of course there is always a certain amount of 
 personal mystery attaching to the operators in 
 those delicate and deluding manipulations inci- 
 dental to a racing life. 
 
 With the tidings of Hermit's win came the 
 information that " The Marquis of Hastings was 
 ruined." Soon I heard hints of a tragedy. 
 Somebody said, " Chaplin swore he'd * break ' 
 Hastings, and now he has done it ! " " Break 
 him," said I "why?" "Why? Because the
 
 Musical Recollections 45 
 
 marquis ran away with his sweetheart, Lady 
 Florence Paget. One day she went shopping with 
 Mr. Chaplin to Swan and Edgar's. He stopped 
 in the trap outside the Regent Street entrance, 
 where she went in, but didn't come out. The 
 Marquis of Hastings was waiting for her at the 
 Piccadilly entrance, and off they went." 
 
 Goodness knows whether it was true, but it's 
 what people said ! 
 
 These were the halcyon days of Pony Moore, 
 " Moore and Burgess Minstrels," St. James's Hall. 
 Once a year Pony had a benefit. Two perfor- 
 mances, at which everybody appeared, and among 
 the " everybodies " were Miss Russell and Miss 
 FitzHenry. At night, after the show, Mrs. Pony 
 Moore, wearing diamonds worth a king's ransom, 
 would " receive." Then came a ball and a supper. 
 Such a supper ! and such a company, all the 
 prettiest women in London, and all the best men. 
 Dukes, earls, marquises, and lords intrigued for 
 invites. About 4.30 a.m., Pony, mounting the 
 table, would make a speech welcoming his guests, 
 and finish up by telling them he was a free- 
 born American, and what he had paid for the 
 champagne. 
 
 One night he handed me on to the table and 
 begged as a great favour that I would sing a song,
 
 46 My Theatrical and 
 
 " Happy be thy Dreams." I said I would. Then 
 he sent for all his minstrels to come and take a 
 lesson in ballad singing. When I'd finished, Pony 
 addressed the crowd. " Great God," said he, " if 
 that gal 'ud only sing that song in New York, in 
 Wood's ' Muse-urn,' she'd knock 'em. Great Caesar's 
 ghost, she'd knock 'em ! " This was not very 
 refined, but, all the same, Pony Moore's ball was 
 one of the features of the London season, and every- 
 body, who "by hook or by crook" could, went. 
 
 Mr. Glover, naturally anxious about my pro- 
 gress, would sometimes have a box and sit out 
 the " selection." He brought back all my ner- 
 vousness, and I used to be dreadfully glad 
 when he went out. The first time he came Miss 
 Russell was very anxious about his opinion, and 
 the next night asked me, not " What did he think 
 of my singing ? " but " What did he think of my 
 bust?" 
 
 During my engagement at the Oxford I, by 
 permiision of Mr. Morton, sang at Canterbury 
 for the " Canterbury Catch Club," and went to 
 Glasgow to the " Total Abstainers' Saturday Night 
 Concerts." Signor Foli was singing at the same 
 series. It was the first time I had met him, but 
 we soon became good friends. When I told him I 
 was married, he looked at me with the greatest
 
 Musical Recollections 47 
 
 astonishment, and said, "What a pity." He did 
 not explain whether it was a pity for my husband 
 or for myself. At that time everybody wore huge 
 crinolines. I never allowed one near me, at least 
 not nearer than my neighbour's skirts. The " City 
 Fathers " had seats on the platform at the City 
 Hall, and regarded me with much attention when 
 1 made my appearance, dressed in white satin 
 and no petticoats to speak of. After the concert 
 I got a message. The committee approved of 
 "ma seenging," but thought I "deesplayed ma 
 feegure ower much." Mr. and Mrs. Morton were 
 in Glasgow at the same time, and we all went to 
 " Davie Brown's " music hall. The smoke was so 
 dense one could not see the stage at all 'til the 
 clouds rolled by a bit. But " Davie Brown" 
 gave us stewed rabbit for supper and a huge 
 welcome. During the week we went to Balloch, 
 up the loch. Of course there was a Scotch mist. 
 I had a plank to stand upon, the deck of the boat 
 being a baby river. Arrived at the head of the 
 loch we struggled up a hillside, over the heather, 
 the moist heather. The water ran doAvn our necks 
 and squelched out of the top of our boots with 
 little sharp squeaks of remonstrance. Presently 
 we came to a shepherd's hut, where the walls were 
 like a ship's cabin lined with beds. The "bit place "
 
 48 My Theatrical and 
 
 was full of smoke, delicious peat or burnt wood 
 smoke, and the wash-basin full of lovely cream- 
 laden milk. I drank some, and it was so refreshing. 
 My companion was horrified. " A wash-basin ? 
 Oh ! she really, really could not." While there we 
 learnt what " braxey " mutton meant. When 
 a sheep dies on the hillside, the person finding it 
 takes it by the head and swings it round and 
 round. If the body does not fly off into space it 
 is all right. If it does, why it's " braxey." When 
 the merry Highlander wants to be hideously funny 
 at the expense of the Saxon, he says, " Braxey's 
 good enough for the Southerner." We got fear- 
 fully wet that day, but returning to the hotel had 
 " whusky " inside and out, and no harm done. 
 
 So many people at this time thought me dread- 
 fully dramatic, and said I ought to study and 
 go on the stage, and one day, it was February 10th, 
 1868, I, by appointment, met Mr. Jolm Ryder on 
 the stage of the Queen's Theatre, to hear his 
 opinion. He asked me, " What could I do ? " I 
 said, " Nothing." He gave me the Portia speech, 
 " The quality of mercy, &c.," to read. After I 
 got through, he walked up and down for a minute 
 or two, then stopped : " You have tears in your 
 voice," he said ; " are your tears near the surface ? 
 can you cry easily ? " I could not tell him.
 
 Musical Recollections 49 
 
 " Look at me," said he, smiling, and, reciting a few 
 lines, the tears ran down his face as freely and as 
 miserably as possible. Of course I was astonished. 
 " Come to-morrow, same time," said he ; " we will 
 have a serious lesson." But to-morrow never 
 came. That evening I sang the last " turn " on the 
 programme, and in the middle of the night the 
 Oxford was burned. I sang the last song sung 
 in it, and that song was, " Launch the Lifeboat."
 
 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 At the Alhambra Mr. Frederick Strange, manager Mr. 
 John Hollingshead, general manager Mr. Riviere, con- 
 ductor Mme. Pitteri, the premiere danseuse, and her 
 appurtenances Annie Adams Her " Indian Drum " 
 Her dresses Her husband The Yokes family The 
 canteen The habitues Mabel Grey Pen picture of a 
 person I have an offer to play the " Grand Duchess " 
 Kirflness of Mme. Pitteri Her sad end. 
 
 AFTER the Oxford fire, I was engaged at the 
 Alhambra, which was then a music hall, with grand 
 ballet, and varieties. These were the palmy days 
 of Frederick Strange. Mr. John Hollingshead 
 was the general manager, M. Riviere the con- 
 ductor, and Mme. Pitteri, a magnificent creature 
 and great artiste, was the premiere danseuse. 
 Her hair, naturally dark, was dyed a beautiful 
 gold, quite an up-to-date proceeding then. She 
 had a deliciously white, soft, satiny-looking skin. 
 She told me she bathed in warm milk every day. 
 Her dressing-room was gorgeous, decorated with 
 bric-a-brac and silken hangings. She had a French
 
 Musical Recollections 51 
 
 maid, and an Englishwoman to wait on the maid, 
 also a toilette service of solid silver, and magnificent 
 presents from many persons, some of them princes. 
 Among the variety people playing then was Annie 
 Adams, a loud-voiced and commanding serio-comic, 
 who sang with much vigour and more applause : 
 
 " He played on the Indian drmn-drum-drum, 
 
 All down the street he would come-come-come, 
 He played on the Indian drniu-drum-drum, 
 And made a most terrible noise." 
 
 She was a very big woman, with a fine figure, a 
 pretty face, and always splendidly dressed. Her 
 husband, Mr. Harry Wall, of copyright fame, used 
 to wait in the first entrance with his mouth full of 
 pins, and when she came off pinned up her skirts 
 to keep them out of the dust. The " Yokes 
 Family " were also of the company. They played 
 The Belles of the Kitchen." The family were 
 all together then, Barbara, Victoria, Fred, Fawdon, 
 and pretty, moonfaced, piquant, kittenish, mis- 
 chievous Rosina. These were the days of " The 
 Canteen," and the business was enormous. Among 
 the regular habitues of the theatre was a beautiful 
 creature, who, accompanied by her maid and half 
 concealed by the hangings of her box, sat every 
 night and received her courtiers ; she was tall, 
 slender, fragile, elegant, refined, and wore out-
 
 52 My Theatrical and 
 
 rageously costly, but perfect toilettes, and some 
 of the best diamonds in London. It was the 
 celebrated Mabel Grey, the most notorious, 
 extravagant, vampirish demi-mondaine of the day, 
 and the original of " Skittles." 
 
 "We used to have some not many visitors 
 behind the scenes, and nearly every night, about 
 9.30, came a tall, gaunt old gentleman ; his 
 long hair was sleek and iron grey, his beard 
 rather short, and pointed (Francois premiere), 
 and his shoulders a little bent. He wore his hat 
 at the back of his head, and two noticeable features 
 of his attire were his long coat and his rich, broad, 
 black satin neck scarf, so broad as to nearly conceal 
 the shirt front. In this scarf glittered a priceless 
 gem, sometimes a ruby, sometimes a pearl, some- 
 times an emerald set round with diamonds. On his 
 fingers were one or two other gems, also priceless ; 
 in them he always carried a huge cigar, which he 
 sometimes smoked (the smoking was not allowed 
 behind the scenes). He talked (with a nasal accent) 
 to the ballet a good deal, but it was understood 
 always for their good. Indeed, he was looked upon 
 as a regular father to the ballet, but perhaps an 
 irregular one would be nearer the mark. If the 
 girls admired (which they generally did) the 
 emerald, ruby, or pearl, he told them gently it
 
 Musical Recollections 53 
 
 should be theirs, but for one thing : It was " a gift 
 from a dead friend ; he could never part with it." 
 I will not record the subsequent and disrespectful 
 remarks of the ladies. He was quite the equal of 
 Mr. Gilbert's Englishman in asserting his supe- 
 riority to temptation of every kind, and was 
 never weary of proclaiming his infallibility in the 
 way of personal virtue (notwithstanding all and 
 many inducements to the contrary), and his faith- 
 fulness to his domestic obligations. In spite of 
 which, when unprotected female folk (especially if 
 they were plump), came in a cab to do a " turn," 
 he would, when they were through, offer them the 
 accommodation of his brougham and his personal 
 attendance. He had a great penchant for a night 
 or two at Brussels, and on his return would present 
 the ballet with phi boxes, card cases, and little 
 nicknacks made of tortoise-shell, inlaid with silver. 
 Also he brought back lots of kid gloves, "job" 
 lots, I fancy, " reduction on taking a quantity." 
 This old gentleman was a son of Israel, and if not 
 universally beloved, was universally benevolent, 
 for his ear and his purse were always open to the 
 necessities (and the collaterals) of the upper class 
 and impecunious Gentile. 
 
 One night he brought with him a tall, slender 
 youth (also slightly bent about the shoulders), with
 
 54 My Theatrical and 
 
 a face of the highest Semitic type (beautiful, 
 sending one's mind back to the days of the 
 Nazarene), and a profusion of glorious, waving, 
 bright, chestnut hair (he's not so good-looking 
 now). His appearance was altogether perfect, 
 so were his manners. The old gentleman said, 
 " Miss FitzHenry, allow me to present to you 
 my younger son ; Miss FitzHenry, my son 
 Alfred." The old gentleman was Well, now, 
 who was it ? Don't all speak at once. 
 
 One night Mr. John Russell, of Covent Garden 
 Theatre, called on me at the Alhambra. He had 
 a company out on tour with Offenbach's " Grand 
 Duchess " (originally produced at Covent Garden 
 by Mr. Augustus Harris, with Mrs. Howard Paul 
 as her eccentric highness). Miss Julia Mathews 
 was Mr. Russell's prima donna, and I think pulled 
 the prima donna string somewhat tightly. Any- 
 way, Mr. Russell wanted a second possible Duchess, 
 and asked me if I would join him. Of course I 
 jumped with joy ; anything to get out of the music 
 hall into a theatre, a real theatre, with no smoke, 
 no beer, no varieties, no well, never mind. But 
 I had a contract with the Alhambra, and Mr. 
 Strange would not release me. It was like death 
 losing such a chance. I went to Mme. Pitteri, 
 whose word was law, and begged her to get me
 
 Musical Recollections 55 
 
 off, and she, like the lovely, kind, splendid, big- 
 hearted woman she was, did it, and I was free to 
 take my step. Years afterwards, asking an agent 
 who had made much money out of the danseuse 
 (and who licked the dust from her feet in the 
 days of her prosperity) for news of her, he told 
 me indifferently " she was dead." Dead in poverty 
 and distress ; died while filling an engagement in 
 a low dance house among the sailors at Marseilles. 
 She had spent all her money ; the presents were 
 gone, so were the princes.
 
 56 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I am engaged for the " Grand Duchess " by Mr. John Russell, 
 of Covent Garden Theatre Managers won't have me 
 Miss Julia Mathews Falls ill I am fetched to the 
 Standard I play Duchess My costumes My tenor I 
 play Boulotte in " Barbe B!eu," first time in English The 
 company Mr. Augustus Harris, sen., as a singing master 
 We go on tour My salary that is not a benefit My 
 benefit which is not a salary I play " The Duchess " at the 
 Crystal Palace Messrs. Mansell engage me for the Lyceum 
 Theatre. 
 
 MR. JOHN RUSSELL engaged Miss Emily Soldene 
 to play the Grand Duchess, and I ascended 
 into the seventh heaven but soon canie down 
 again. The provincial managers would not have 
 me at any price ; they would have Miss Julia 
 Mathews. Ah ! what tears, what snubs, after I 
 had begged out of the Alhambra and learnt the 
 Opera in six days. For some weeks I had a 
 dreadful time of despair, arid began to think that 
 after all there were worse things than music halls 
 and regular salaries. 
 
 One morning Mr. Russell came in a great 
 hurry and a cab to fetch me to rehearsal at the
 
 Musical Recollections 57 
 
 Standard Theatre. Miss Mathews was ill, I must 
 play that very night. When we arrived Mr. 
 Douglass pooh-poohed me and my pretensions. 
 "Too young," "no experience," "knew nothing 
 about it," " would break down." The tenor re- 
 fused to rehearse with me. But my temper, un- 
 broken, was up to concert pitch, and I went through 
 it without him. Then came the costume question. 
 I had to wear Miss Mathews' dress ; the skirts 
 were considerably too short, so bands of velvet 
 were sewn on. In the middle of the lap of the 
 pale-blue satin military dress was a huge and 
 highly descriptive grease spot. " Lor," says the 
 dresser, " that hain't nothin', onny w'ere Miss 
 Mathews puts 'er fried fish at night ; she 'ave hit 
 hafter he very hact ; nobody 'ull see hit from th' 
 front." In the delicate " business " of the second 
 act, Fritz, lying back in my lap, made many 
 piano and extraneous observations calculated to 
 break me up with either rage or tears. But he 
 might as well have tried to disturb Lord Nelson on 
 the top of his Trafalgar Square column. I made 
 a success, converted Mr. Douglass, and delighted 
 Mr. Russell. 1 know I sang and acted remarkably 
 well, considering the circumstances, and after four 
 days the tenor (I was not his " Sweetheart whei\ 
 a boy " but no matter), knelt on the stage, kissed
 
 58 My Theatrical and 
 
 my hand, and begged the Grand Duchess to 
 forgive him. I am glad to say her highness, taking 
 a lenient view of the case, pardoned him on the 
 spot ; but Miss Emily Soldene has consistently 
 disliked him ever since. 
 
 Mr. Russell was under contract to Mr. Douglass 
 to produce in English during this engagement 
 Offenbach's "Barbe Bleu." When I had sung 
 ten nights, he gave me the part of Boulotte, 
 which was my first eriginal creation. This time 
 Mr. Douglass did not "pooh-pooh" me. Mr. 
 Desmond Ryan, the adapter, and the nicest man in 
 the world, Backed me up, took my part, and helped 
 me with it. The opera and all of us were a great 
 success. Mr. Wilford Morgan played Barbe 
 Bleu ; Mr. Aynesly Coek, Popolani ; Mr. 
 " Jimmy " Stoyle, the King ; Mrs. Aynesly 
 Cook, Queen Clementina (she was so funny, 
 and when the king was naughty, carried him 
 off, kicking in her arms like a baby) ; Mdlle. Alber- 
 tazzi Avas the Princess, and myself Boulotte. In 
 the cast were also : Mr. W. H. Payne, his sons 
 Fred and Harry, and Mr. and Mrs. Oliver-Somers. 
 The dresses were lovely, made by Mr. Augustus 
 Harris, who, by-the-bye, had given me the most 
 wonderful singing lesson in the " Dites lui." On 
 the fateful morning of my first appearance at the
 
 Musical Recollections 59 
 
 Standard in the evening, while I was rehearsing 
 with the band the second act of the Duchess, Mr. 
 Harris came on the stage, and standing in front of 
 me, with his back to the orchestra, his hat tipped 
 well over his eyes, his legs far apart, and both his 
 hands in his trousers pockets, extending to their 
 full extent his up-to-date "peg tops," said, irri- 
 tably : " Don't sing it like that. It is not ' Say 
 to him/ but ' Sa y to him,' " and he sang the 
 passage with a portando della voce, a caressing 
 and insinuating inflection, a sigh, a pause, a catch- 
 ing of the breath, an intention, and (pulling his 
 hands out of his pockets) a grace of action, that I, 
 finding irresistible, caught on to, assimilated, and 
 reproduced with the greatest success. It does not 
 sound much, but it made no end of difference to 
 the song. After the season at the Standard we 
 went on tour. We were reinforced by Mme. 
 Fanny Huddart (Mrs. John Russell), to play in 
 " Nine Points of the Law," and Miss Lizzie Russell, 
 to appear in the " Little Treasure." 
 
 We visited lots of places which I forget, but 
 remember Bath, for there I had my portrait taken, 
 also my watch. Then we went to Bristol, Chelten- 
 ham, and I got lots of experience, much glory, but 
 little money. Not that the business was bad, but 
 the treasurer was elusive, and if you wanted a
 
 60 My Theatrical and 
 
 little cash you had to run half over the town to 
 always find "he'd just stepped out.". And Mrs. 
 Russell was the nicest woman, always " so sorry," 
 and " it was too bad of John," and " I'd ask you 
 to come in, dear, and wait, but I'm just going to 
 bed." 
 
 It seems in those days it was the exception for 
 people in travelling companies (and indeed in some 
 that did not travel), to get their salaries. They 
 got a little on account, and managers looked much 
 astonished when it was darkly suggested by an inex- 
 perienced one that they should " settle up." Cer- 
 tainly, financially, things were much better arranged 
 in music halls. I had a " benefit " at Cheltenham. 
 The Assembly Rooms were crammed, and all 
 the chairs for a mile round pressed into the service, 
 but I did not touch a red cent. Still money did not 
 trouble us (my sister travelled with me), so long as 
 the board bill was paid. It was perfectly lovely for 
 us two to be alone on tour ; independent, with no- 
 body to contradict or control us. In Bristol we had 
 large rooms, such large ones, in a grey stone house, 
 in a dismal grey stone square, near the theatre. 
 How we did enjoy ourselves. Came home from 
 the performance at such hours, 10.30 at least ; had 
 hot coffee and toast, and raw tomatoes, and onions 
 sliced in vinegar ; sat up reading novels as late as
 
 Musical Recollections 61 
 
 we liked, stopped in bed, reading novels as late as 
 we liked ; read novels at breakfast, dinner, tea and 
 supper, a proceeding which, at home, was much 
 discouraged and attended with penalties. There 
 is no other word for such a state of things but 
 " lovely." I had another benefit at Bristol, same 
 financial result for me, but how I did luxuriate 
 and revel in seeing my name in large letters on 
 the top of the play bill, a real play bill of a 
 real play house. The dear old Royal. No matter 
 whatever direction I went for a walk, my willing 
 feet always led me past the bill" Benefit of Miss 
 Emily Soldene The Grand Duchess." 
 
 After wandering about the provinces for some 
 time, we appeared at the Crystal Palace. It was 
 there Mr. Mansell saw me play Her Highness of 
 Gerolstein, and engaged me for Marguerite, in 
 the forthcoming production of u Little Faust " at 
 the Lyceum, music by M. nerve", adapted from 
 the French by Mr. Henry Brougham Famie.
 
 62 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 My first impressions at the Lyceum The part the Daily Telc- 
 yvapli played in the toilettes of the ladies Miss Love and 
 her mother The Misses Egerton Mr. and Mrs. Clarkson 
 and their little boy Mr. Clarkson in his " Shay " 
 Herve as " Chilperic " How he fascinated the ladies, not 
 omitting the principal cleaner His sensitiveness What 
 he died of Mr. H. B. Farnie's devotion to the chorus 
 (feminine) How Mr. Dion Boucicault sought to lighten 
 H. B.'s labours The result thereof. 
 
 FIRST impressions, I think (at least, it is so with 
 me), are always vivid. For instance, I recollect 
 distinctly my first visit to the Lyceum. Being a 
 member of the company, I went to see the show 
 " Chilperic " and a very fetching kind of show 
 I found it. I got in during the second act. The 
 ballet was on, and exceedingly nice the ballet 
 looked, in graceful and classical and rather 
 diaphanous draperies, but perfectly proper the 
 sort of thing one might take one's mother, or, in 
 fact, one's mother-in-law, to see. They were 
 indulging in a wavy, dreamy, mystical movement, 
 when suddenly, " Bing-bang-boom ! " on the 
 drums and cymbals, and to everybody's astonish-
 
 Musical Recollections 63 
 
 merit four-and-twenty legs shot out on the O.P. 
 side as far as possible, and as undressed 
 as possible, and, before we had recovered from 
 this severe shock, four-and-twenty other legs 
 shot out on the P. side, just as far and quite 
 as nude. The dresses were worse than deceptive, 
 they were slit up to the waist. But if the ballet 
 was fetching, what about the Pages ? Such 
 pages ! such figures long and straight in the 
 limbs, and soft and supple and well, simply 
 darlings. And their costumes ! It did not take 
 you long to see them. And one realised that with 
 obvious advantage brevity could be applied to 
 more things than wit. They were a bunch of 
 graded Venuses, from the adorable five-foot-ten 
 " Lardy " Wilson, in the centre, to the piquant 
 and pert four-foot-nothing Jennie Lee (" Jo ") 
 in the corner. They looked very natty, for those 
 were bustling days, and everybody's trunks had to 
 stand out then, as everybody's sleeves do now, and 
 the exact and particular effect could only be arrived 
 at by utilising a newspaper. And so every girl 
 regarded her Daily Telegraph, not only as a source 
 of information, but as a necessary and not- to -be- 
 done- without adjunct to her nightly and personal 
 charms, and having got through her own favourite 
 column, she made no more to do, but tucked the
 
 64 My Theatrical and 
 
 " Largest Circulation " into the most conspicuous 
 part of her costume, and " went on," rustling and 
 rattling, and pluming and preening herself like 
 the proud young bird of paradise she was. 
 
 There was a particularly beautiful girl there a 
 Miss Love. She was a great swimmer, and she 
 had a particularly beautiful mother, who used to 
 be behind the scenes very frequently. I don't 
 know whether she was a swimmer, too, but if she 
 were, judging from her elegant appearance, she 
 kept above water all the time. This lovely lady 
 perpetuated her loveliness, for the lovely present 
 Mabel Love is the lovely granddaughter of this 
 lovely grandmamma. 
 
 Then there were the beautegus Egertons 
 delicious and such a lot of them. All the girls 
 
 were fair and good . Good ? Why, of course 
 
 I wish you would not interrupt I was about to 
 say " good gracious, wore such a lot of hair." In 
 those days, no matter how bountiful Nature had 
 been, if you possessed any proper pride in your 
 profession, or the slightest spark of self-respect, 
 you had to troop round to Clark son's and buy 
 a bunch of curls at least a yard long. Mr. 
 Clarkson, sen., was alive then, short-winded and 
 puffy, rather gruff and Hogarthian in manner and 
 appearance ; but it was all and only appearance,
 
 Musical Recollections 65 
 
 for his voice was soft and his disposition delight- 
 ful. He used to go about with a little pony 
 dragging him in a little cart or chaise, which was 
 so small that you feared with every jolt he would 
 fall off, not out, for he never seemed to be quite 
 in. And Mrs. Clarkson was such a pretty woman, 
 a blonde with a limited embonpoint, a lovely skin, 
 and a pretty curly-headed boy. They say good- 
 looking babies grow up plain, but when one 
 regards Mr. Clarkson, jun., one realizes that the 
 saying is an old-fashioned fallacy. 
 
 What a cast it was for " Chilperic." Herve, in 
 
 the title part, such an elegant, charming artist ; 
 
 such gaiety, such grace, such distinction, such 
 
 perfection of style, such expressive hands, they 
 
 were, if possible, more expressive than his face ; 
 
 not much voice, but what wonders he did with it ! 
 
 And then his delightfully broken English, not too 
 
 broken, just broken enough, and the charming 
 
 way he carried off Fredegonde, and promised to 
 
 love her for ever and ever in the first act, and 
 
 didn't love her at all in the second, but danced 
 
 the cancan, and chaffed and aggravated her till 
 
 she had hysterics, and threw her shoe at him ; 
 
 not a nasty, awkward, raw-hide sandal as befitted 
 
 the period, but a delicious Parisian pink satin 
 
 confection Xo. 1, with a Louis Quatorze heel.
 
 66 My Theatrical and 
 
 No wonder the women went down in regiments 
 before this redoubtable foreign fascinator ; at 
 least, that's what they used to say. It was even 
 whispered that the principal cleaner, aet. 67, was 
 not entirely unaffected by his magnetic influence. 
 I, of course, have no personal knowledge of such 
 things, but I recollect congratulating myself on 
 the fact of being engaged to sing and act with 
 this accomplished creature. No doubt he was a 
 charming man, but with all his pretty ways he 
 had a great idea of his own dignity, and would not 
 allow anyone to infringe upon it. 
 
 Once, in particular, a little lady, with a pinched- 
 in waist, a triple-expansive bust, and a manner at 
 once insolent and aggressive, made at rehearsal an 
 impertinent reply to some stage direction of M. 
 Hers^ 's. *' Come here, ma fille," said the maestro, 
 in a gentle, beseeching tone. " Ma fille " marched 
 up, posing like an angry pouter pigeon. " Ah ! " 
 said he, touching the bust delicately and inquir- 
 ingly with the tip of his delicate finger, " One can 
 buy that, mais, ma foi, one cannot buy this," 
 tapping his forehead violently, " buy this ; corn- 
 prenez, ma fille ? understand ? " * 
 
 There was a good deal of French spoken in the 
 
 1 He vras an excessively sensitive man, and died in '92 of an 
 adverse newspaper criticism.
 
 Musical Recollections 67 
 
 theatre, which gave a cachet and elegance to any 
 little eccentricities of expression that might in 
 fact, that did occasionally intrude themselves into 
 the Green Room conversazione. The late Mr. Far- 
 nie was very constant in his attendance, and was 
 generally to be found in one of the upper en- 
 trances very much engaged with the chorus 
 the feminine chorus. He never allowed anything 
 in the way of a deputy or anything else, if he could 
 possibly help it, to come between him and the 
 chorus. He had a very keen feeling for the 
 beautiful, and most especially affected the Burne- 
 Jones style of beauty, but was not bigoted. 
 Indeed, I may mention, as showing the broad and 
 catholic view he took of these aesthetic differences, 
 that the best-looking girls in the theatre, even 
 if they were a little plump, were never allowed to 
 appeal to him in vain. As a rule, their intelligence 
 was not on a par with their physical perfections, 
 but this did not affect the benevolence of his 
 intentions. And he would call a rehearsal at any 
 extraordinary hour, and if the girls were very 
 good-looking indeed would stop with them any 
 length, or even give them lessons privately one at 
 a time ; but there his consideration ended, it did 
 not extend to ordering any refreshments ; that's 
 where he drew the line, except on one occasion, 
 
 r 2
 
 68 My Theatrical and 
 
 when a very pretty girl (who had not had a 
 private lesson) was shivering with the cold, he sent 
 the call-boy for some hot brandy and water. 
 " Oh, Mr. Farnie," said she, sniffing and aiiggsring, 
 " hi'm hafraid hit will git hin me 'ead.'* . " Prob- 
 ably," replied H. B., "Nature abhors a vacuum." 
 Then he rubbed his chin and looked round for all 
 of us to laugh. And we did. Nice cads, weren't 
 we ? .Of course, this sort of thing was a great tax 
 on his time and patience, and sometimes he would 
 be assisted in the work by the late Mr. Dion 
 Boucicault, who came to the theatre pretty 
 frequently, and was understood to take a good 
 deal of paternal interest in the young ladies' 
 progress ; of course, purely from an artistic point of 
 view. But Mr. Farnie must have had a real regard 
 for Mr. Boucicault, and would not allow him to be 
 worried with the woes of the chorus, for no sooner 
 did the girls surround this charming author-actor, 
 and most interesting man of his day, than Farnie 
 would clap his hands together violently, and cry 
 out, " Now, girls, to your places ; you'll get your 
 cue in a moment. And, mind ! I'll fine every one 
 that's late. Do you hear ? " And they did hear, 
 and fled.
 
 Musical Recollections 69 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 [ play " Chilperic " Mrs. Maitland's views on riding a la 
 Amazon A true story of Mr. Hengler The principal 
 ladies in '' Chilperic " Miss Emily Muir Miss Selina 
 Dolaro Marius as Landry His voice, and what he did 
 with it Mr. Frank Musgrove as musical director Mr. 
 " Johnny " Milano as stage manager. 
 
 AFTER a long run of " Chilperic " M. Herve got 
 fatigued finding the evening performance and 
 the daily rehearsals for the production of " Little 
 Faust" too much for him; so it was suggested 
 that I should play Chilperic. I commenced the 
 study at once, and went through the part with 
 M. Herve\ Chilperic makes his first entrance 
 on horseback, and the one thing that troubled 
 me was having to ride on to the stage d la 
 Amazon. One day, talking over the matter with 
 Mrs. Maitland (the mother of Messrs. Mansell), she 
 soon put me at my ease. " Me dear Soldene," 
 said she, with the least taste in life of the brogue, 
 " It is nothing ; when I used to hunt in Ireland 
 and came to a bit of stiff country, we women 
 simply picked up our habits (long in those days) so
 
 7<3 My Theatrical and 
 
 threw our right leg over, so and there you are. 
 It's nothing in the world, I assure you, nothing 
 in the world, me dear ! " Mrs. Maitland was a 
 charming lady, a fascinating woman, a, bit of a 
 Bohemian, and a tremendous smoker, not of cigar- 
 ettes but cigars. Her hands and arms were 
 exceedingly white and well formed, she wore loose 
 sleeves falling back from the elbow, and the smoking 
 business showed her off to great advantage. 
 
 Reassured by such counsel, I rode on the stage 
 in such style, that the men in the front forgot I 
 was a girl, and also forgot to laugh. Apropos of 
 the riding, when afterwards I went to Dublin 
 with '' Chilperic," Mr. Hengler was playing there, 
 and we sent to the circus to borrow a horse. He 
 had a beautiful creature, pure white, and full of 
 action. The terms were 3/. 3s. per week, and 10s. 
 for the groom. " But," said he to my stage- 
 manager, " I will come to the Gaiety to-night, and 
 if Miss Soldene mounts the horse properly on the 
 stage, tell her it shall cost her nothing." And it 
 did cost me just nothing. That horse was a dar- 
 ling, and learnt his cue two trumpet calls in two 
 rehearsals. After the third performance, he would 
 anticipate it and pull so desperately, that when we 
 did get it, we went on with a rush. Chilperic 
 has to dismount at the end of the act (during the
 
 Musical Recollections 71 
 
 celebrated umbrella dance), mount again and ride 
 off. This was the crucial point alluded to by 
 Mr. Hengler. It was rather a difficult thing to 
 do ; what with the lime-light, the lightning, the 
 rain box, the blare of the brass, the banging of the 
 drums, cymbals, and the whirling round and up 
 and down of forty umbrellas, my Arab steed had 
 all his work to do to keep quiet, and I had all 
 my work to get on his back. But I did it. To 
 play Chilperic at the Lyceum after Herve was 
 rather an undertaking, but I came out all right, 
 and made a dashing lady-killer. The dresses 
 suited me personally, the music suited me vocally. 
 It was a delightful part, and I had a delightful 
 time. The people in the theatre made no end of 
 a fuss over my success, and the principal ladies 
 
 were so kind that But coming to the principal 
 
 ladies in the original cast of " Chilperic," we have 
 to tread with soft and tender and halting footsteps, 
 with finger on lip and bated breath, for theirs is 
 the dignity of silence, theirs the effacement of 
 " Oh ! ah ! " " Oh, yes !" " Now I recollect ! " theirs 
 the sanctin cation of being only a memory. They 
 have the advantage of us later lagging ones. They 
 have solved the great problem, have crossed the 
 dark and sometimes troubled river, have joined 
 the majority, have gone to that bourne they
 
 72 My Theatrical and 
 
 are dead. "Will you believe me when I tell you 
 that, thinking of them, the quick, unbidden tears 
 fill up to the brim my too- well remembering eyes ? 
 After all these years I can see them so plainly. 
 They stand, where ? why there before me, alive 
 and breathing. Emily Muir was the Fredegonde, 
 a medium-sized girl, a cousin of Agnes Robinson, 
 Mrs. Dion Boucicault. Her face was decidedly 
 Scotch in character. It was a nice face, with 
 bright, merry, and inquisitive grey eyes. She had 
 a good deal of smart and dry humour. Once upon 
 a time we went to St. James's Theatre. The per- 
 formance was operatic, " Maritana " by-the-bye, 
 did you know that " Maritana " was an Australian 
 opera ? Everybody, at least every Australian 
 body, believes in the local legend, which says that 
 Vincent Wallace wrote this work in a small house 
 or lodging in Castlereagh Street, Sydney, N.S.W. 
 Well, on this occasion the immoral and in- 
 vertebrate King of Spain was played by a son of 
 the late Mr. Henry Hersee. Did anyone ever 
 hear of anybody who ever made a success of that 
 particular King of Spain? I never did. Well, 
 anyway, young Hersee did not, and one of our 
 party made some up-to-date and not too flattering 
 remark. " Oh," said Fredegonde, " I don't think 
 he's so bad, see how hard he works ; " and
 
 Musical Recollections 73 
 
 that was the exact expression to fit the case, he did 
 work hard. As Fredegonde, she was picturesque 
 and rather spirituelle-looking, wearing a short 
 white cashmere dress, with a sheepskin slung across 
 her shoulders, and her hair (the inevitable and 
 impossible hair), a perfect fleece, a golden -yellow- 
 glittering glory, long and wavy, and tously, and 
 getting into her eyes and out again in quite the 
 most too-sweet-for-anything and fetching style. 
 This was in the pre-Minnie-Palmer days, and 
 Emily's " business " was original " all her own." 
 That fleece fell rippling down her back, in fact all 
 round her ; it was curly at the ends, and they 
 touched the bottom of her skirts and nearly the 
 tops of her boots, which were high red ones, laced 
 up the front. She had nice little tootsicums, real 
 tootsicums, one could not call them feet, they were 
 too small. Her voice was a light soprano (soprana 
 leggiera), and having gone through a long course 
 at the Conservatoire, Paris, she sang in quite the 
 French manner; and, if the truth must be told, 
 with a good deal of tremolo. She was gay, and 
 bright, and chippy, and charming, but on occasion 
 could be very earnest.-. She had a certain amount 
 of finesse, and I also certainly think she recognised 
 the fact that two and two make four. 
 
 Then there was Dolaro. Selina Dolaro, as the
 
 74 My Theatrical and 
 
 Spanish princess, with her dark Moorish face, her 
 truly wonderful eyes, her ivory-coloured skin and 
 red lips, carrying a flower in her mouth years 
 before Bizet's " Carmen " was created, or even 
 thought of. What an inimitable and Spanish and 
 coquettish, and altogether "too too, don't you 
 know " shake she would give to her petticoats, as 
 she tripped down the stage. What a blaze of 
 colour, red and yellow, and black satin, and gold 
 spangles, and a high brass comb such a comb was 
 never seen before with spangled mantilla, a red 
 rose in her hair, and all over her little knots and 
 fluttering bows of ribbon, and little metal tips and 
 tabs that tinkled again, and black silk spangled 
 stockings, and tiny shoes embroidered with gold, 
 and a tambourine with long and sweeping ribbons 
 all the colours of the rainbow and little bobs of 
 colour at the edges of her skirts. On she would 
 come, wearing all these things, and a mixed expres- 
 sion which was supposed to be at once Spanish and 
 demure, and you believed in it, until she, lazily 
 lifting her white heavy eyelids, you were, suddenly 
 and certainly and completely, convinced that 
 " demure " used in association with her was not 
 the appropriate expression. 
 
 The Selina Dolaro of those times was not the 
 fashionable " Dolly " that was subsequently
 
 Musical Recollections 75 
 
 evolved. In the days I am speaking of, she 
 would, after the performance, make haste and get 
 dressed (she invariably wore black), and wait on 
 the stage in the semi-darkness for her father, Mr. 
 Simmons, who was one of the first violins. He 
 always came up quickly, and, catching hold of her, 
 out they would go out into the night so attached, 
 they seemed all in all to each other, the father 
 with his daughter in one hand and his fiddle-case 
 in the other. 
 
 There was another member of the cast who 
 absolutely divided the palm of loveliness with the 
 ladies. This was a masculine (< masher," Marius, 
 then young and beautiful, and slender, and sleek, 
 and sly, and so elegant. An ideal Cherubino, but, 
 I am afraid, even more susceptible than that 
 operatically historical and love-stricken young 
 person. He played Landry, and made love to 
 Fredegonde or Brunehant, he didn't care which, 
 with an ardour that was not only particularly 
 French, but particularly pleasing, and particularly 
 successful, so successful, indeed, that every girl in 
 the front of the house was seized with a wild desire 
 to understudy those two erratic, not to say impru- 
 dent characters. He certainly looked awfully nice, 
 his figure being perfection. And how clever he 
 was ! and how he managed what he was pleased to
 
 76 My Theatrical and 
 
 call " his voice " ! It was not singing, but " he 
 got there all the same." He had a solo in the 
 second act, and at the finish there was a top A. 
 To see with what grace and energy he worked up 
 to the climax, and then, at the supreme moment, 
 rushed to the front, opened his mouth (such a 
 pretty one, with a tiny, soft, dark line, masquerad- 
 ing as a moustache) as wide as possible, lifted his 
 right arm to Heaven, looked the gallery full in the 
 face, and sang straight from the chest what ? 
 nothing not a sound ; and the orchestra sustained 
 him with a big, long, tremolando chord ; and the 
 public always encored him with acclamation, and 
 he he always did it again. 
 
 Frank Musgrove was the musical director ; an 
 excellent musician and charming conductor, 
 sympathetic, and always " wid you." " Johnny " 
 Milano was the stage manager ; a good man and 
 clever artist. In every scene and every ensemble 
 he was on the stage, now in one costume, now in 
 another. Under such direction it was impossible 
 for the "business" to go wrong. Speaking from 
 my own personal knowledge, from what up to that 
 time I had myself seen, " Chilperic " was the most 
 perfectly mounted and managed piece in the Opera 
 Bouffe line that had as yet been placed upon the 
 English stage. And speaking from my own deep
 
 Musical Recollections 77 
 
 sense of obligation, I must say that M. Herve 
 more than helped to form a style that has met 
 with approbation for more years than it is wise or 
 ladylike to remember ; the style that rendered 
 an English Chilperic possible, that made an 
 English Drogan, so I have been told, irre- 
 sistible.
 
 78 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Mr. Tom Maclagan in Herve's "Little Faust" His musical 
 eccentricities Mdlle. Marguerite Debreux as Mephisto 
 Her voice What she did with it Professional (floral) 
 amenities Mr. Aynesly Cook as Valentine Miss Lennox 
 Grey as Wagner How she whistled Miss Jennie Lee as 
 the Street Arab The nebulous "Jo" Mr. Chnrles 
 Wihnot, " The man from New Zealand," as the Cabby 
 Miss Laura Morgan as the Tiger Mr. Odell as Martha 
 Myself as Marguerite Mr. Boucicault again The girls, 
 and how they played in school Marias as Seibel How 
 he went to the Franco-German War Mr. Hollingshead at 
 the premiere His behaviour How I kept the stage wait- 
 ing People who came behind the scenes Captain Harry 
 Larkin How he died Where he is buried. 
 
 DID you ever dream that you fell from sunny, 
 bright, and inaccessible heights, down down 
 down for days and days and days into vast and 
 deep and dark and unfathomable space ? Well, 
 that's the sort of fall I got when I heard that I was 
 to play Marguerite, not to the poetical Faust of M. 
 Herve, but to the prosaic Faust of Mr. Maclagan, 
 Mr. "Tom" Maclagan, who looked lovely in 
 a kilt, and was simply perfect as a " Geordie," 
 a "Robbie," a " Donald," or a " Sandy," but in
 
 Musical Recollections 79 
 
 tights, and as a substitute for Herve\ unaesthetic 
 and awful. He had a lovely tenor voice, but was 
 no musician, and would always "come in" in the 
 wrong place a bar too soon or a bar too late. 
 One night during the performance, Mr. Musgrove, 
 getting really angry, rapped the desk loudly with 
 his baton, and Thomas, in a rage, rushed down 
 to the footlights, and leaning over, shouted to 
 the conductor, "It's a' vera weel fer you tae 
 sit doun there awaggin' yer stick, jes' come 
 up here an' du it yersel'." Imagine the roar of 
 laughter that went up from the audience. Poor, 
 dear Maclagan, such a good fellow, and such 
 an out and out admirer of me, his traducer ! 
 
 But if our Faust was awkward, the public were 
 more than compensated by our Mephisto, our 
 specially imported Mephisto, the beauteous Mdlle. 
 Debreux. Chic and shapely, full of brand-new 
 bouffeisms, she brought the air of the Boulevards 
 with her, and came on tiny tripping toes, armed 
 with diabolical devices to break up all the women 
 and capture all the men, with a perfect figure, no 
 corsets, and a svelte waist that waved and swayed 
 with every movement, with manicured pink nails 
 an inch long, with a voice that cracked and 
 creaked like a rusty sign-board in half a gale of 
 wind, and was never exactly there when wanted.
 
 8o My Theatrical and 
 
 But these vocal eccentricities were accompanied 
 by such grace and gesture and perfect insinua- 
 tion that a little thing like C sharp for D natural 
 was considered quite the finest art. She was 
 an immense success, and made us English girls just 
 " sit up," and we felt very sick indeed. I had 
 great fun one night. In the trio of the second 
 act, sung by Marguerite, Mephisto and Faust, a 
 magnificent bunch of darkest damask roses fell at 
 my feet, lovely for me. Of course I picked them 
 up ; terrific applause, trio repeated. When we 
 got off, fearful scene. " Ah, mon Dieu," screamed 
 Mephisto, jumping off both feet at once ; " How 
 dare you ? dey are mine, mine, de roses ; give them 
 to me." " Oh, yours, are they ? " said T, " all right, 
 take them," and I threw the flowers at her. " Dis 
 done, Dick ! " cried my fair Satanic friend, and 
 flew off to the managerial sanctum sanctorum in 
 quite the most sulphurous way. 
 
 "We had Aynesly Cook for Valentine, a fine 
 artist, with a grand voice, but always grumbling 
 except when engaged with the chorus or seeing if 
 the skirts of the ballet hung quite right. There 
 is no doubt that the young ladies had a most 
 ameliorating effect on a somewhat erratic tempera- 
 ment, that was never so perfectly under control as 
 when in the presence of Mrs. Aynesly Cook.
 
 Musical Recollections 8 1 
 
 Wagner was played by Miss Lennox Grey, just 
 returned from India, with a mysterious brown 
 Ayah, and lots of spangled muslins and beetles and 
 cedar- wood boxes, and attar of roses, and no end of 
 airs and graces. Miss Grey was the daughter of 
 Mrs. Caulfield of the Haymarket, and sister to 
 " Johnny " Caulfield of the Oxford. Well, she was 
 a lovely woman, and as " a boy " created no end 
 of a flutter in the front rows of the stalls. She was 
 the first lady whistler I had ever heard, and would 
 have run Mrs. Shaw very close indeed. 
 
 It was as the Street Arab in " Little Faust " that 
 Miss Jennie Lee gave us a first taste of that 
 peculiar quality which developed into the un- 
 approachable glory of "Jo." She was dressed in 
 fluttering silken rags, and carried a gilded besom, 
 with which she brushed the dust from the path of 
 our magnificent Mephisto, and her " Copper, yer 
 'onour ! copper ! " was one of the landmarks of 
 the representation. 
 
 Then the Cabman. We had a real hansom and a 
 real horse driven by the late Mr. C. Wilmot, of the 
 Grand Theatre, Islington. In those days I used to 
 regard him with much curiosity, for somebody told 
 me he was " The Man from New Zealand." There 
 was also a Tiger, I forget who the gentleman 
 belonged to. He was a real smart article, very
 
 82 My Theatrical and 
 
 tight in the boots and hat, his small-clothes and 
 
 O ' 
 
 " tops " were irreproachable, his collars and cuffs 
 immaculate. The way he used to shoot his linen 
 was irresistible, his nez was retrousse*, and his 
 cheek superb so was his figure. Miss Laura 
 Morgan portrayed with much success the pecu- 
 liarities of this distinctly up-to-date young person. 
 And there was Martha, good old Martha, played 
 by Mr. Odell with such an air a long and lean 
 and sighing and languishing air. 
 
 And Marguerite : well, she was " a girl of the 
 period," and wore all sorts of outre costumes. 
 One was made of satin, striped, a short skirt, and 
 so narrow you could scarcely walk ; it had immense 
 panniers. With this went a tiny hat, upon which 
 sat upright a large squirrel, with bright shining 
 eyes and a bushy tail. But the first dress was 
 the traditional Gretchen of Goethe, and I much 
 fancied myself in it. Cut d la Princesse, and 
 fitting pretty snug, mine was, as the Americans 
 say, like the paper on the wall. One evening while 
 smoothing myself with both hands to remove 
 any possible wrinkle, suddenly I felt a soft, 
 firm hand travelling with gentle pressure from 
 the nape of the neck down right down my back. 
 The sensation gave me what is called " goose's 
 flesh." "Very nice," murmured a soothing voice.
 
 Musical Recollections 83 
 
 I turned quickly, with a little shiver. The occasion 
 was justified. I am afraid I was pleased when I 
 found the " sensationer " was the author of 
 " London Assurance." 
 
 But the girls, the school girls Faust kept a 
 Board school. I think, by-the-bye, Camiile Dubois 
 was in the chorus. She afterwards married 
 Wyndham Stanhope, one of the sons of the then 
 Earl of Harrington. Well, the girls, such girls, 
 every size, sort, shape and colour, plump 
 and petite, and blonde and brunette, cheeky 
 and modest, forward and retiring, and all and 
 every one of them pretty so pretty ; you should 
 have seen and heard the school -room scene, such 
 chatter chatter chatter. And what a high old 
 time that arch impostor Faust had when we all 
 went up to get " two slaps " for insubordination, 
 " telling a funny story," and other iniquities. 
 All the girls wore short frocks and pinafores 
 tied at the shoulders with ribbons, broad sashes, 
 and open-work socks, and baby shoes with straps. 
 There were two prize girls, five feet ten inches in 
 their stockings such beauties and we had slates 
 and pencils, and the girls would pick off Jack, 
 or Percy, or Bert, or Reggie in the stalls, and 
 made some really most original studies. Well, 
 perhaps not quite for exhibition.
 
 84 My Theatrical and 
 
 Marius was Siebel. Thank goodness, I had 
 some love scenes with him, which consoled me 
 somewhat for my elephantine Faust. I used to 
 think him particularly fetching when giving a 
 falsetto rendering of " Where shall I take my 
 Bride ? " My part was really very satisfactory, I 
 had an elopement in every act, and there were 
 three. 
 
 Siebel turned out to be a real hero when war 
 was declared between Germany and France. On 
 that fateful morning we were on the stage re- 
 hearsing, and when the news got into the theatre 
 everybody was in a state of excitement, and 
 Marius was boiling over wild with the desire to 
 fight and die " pour la patrie." And, like the 
 brave boy he was, he went to his duty went, 
 laden with everybody's good wishes, and his ears 
 were deafened with the cheers of the coryphees 
 and the chorus. Then came the terrible time, and 
 soon it was told that Marius was lying, not with 
 poetical propriety among the ruins of Carthage, 
 but dead killed outside the walls of Metz. And 
 this broke up everybody. And his body was 
 (metaphorically) bathed with the tears of the 
 ballet. 
 
 But the rumour as usual was false, and he came 
 back, which was all very well from a material
 
 Musical Recollections 85 
 
 point of view, but from an art point was all 
 wrong. 
 
 When I think of " Little Faust," two occurrences 
 always crop up in my memory. One was, that on 
 the first night of the piece, when I made my first 
 entrance in all the distraction of the scene, the 
 only person I seemed to see in front (and he was 
 at the side) was Mr. John Hollingshead ; he sat in 
 an extra stall, with his back to the stage box on 
 the P.S., and was no more general manager of the 
 Alhambra Music Hall, but absolute manager of 
 the Gaiety Theatre, where they were playing 
 " The Princess of Trebizond," with Mr. J. L. Toole, 
 Miss Nellie Farren, and I think Miss Annie Tre- 
 maine (Mrs. George Loveday) in the cast. Mr. 
 Hollingshead, always highly superior and sphinx- 
 like in his demeanour, certainly on this occasion 
 did not unbend or depart from his general habit. 
 The other occurrence is, that one night while 
 walking up and down at the back of the stage, 
 waiting for my cue (a musical one), I heard some 
 music repeated, once, twice, three times. " What's 
 that ? " said I to myself, " Some idiot keeping the 
 stage waiting ? " A scurry of feet behind me, the 
 call-boy and Milano breathless : " Oh, for God's 
 sake, go on, they've played your music over and 
 over." I was the idiot.
 
 86 My Theatrical and 
 
 In those days, one of our constant visitors 
 behind the scenes was Lord Wallscourt, a 
 charming little man, so elegant, amiable, 
 wearing a debonair air and the most per- 
 fectly cut waistcoats, which he assured us he 
 bought at Kino's for 10s. Qd. Leonide Leblanc 
 was in London that season, and would often come 
 and stand in the prompt entrance. The first time 
 I saw her she wore a lovely black lace dress over 
 lavender silk, and such diamonds. Amy Sheridan, 
 too, used to come. Captain Harry Larkin was 
 largely interested in the show, and also a little in 
 her, I think. Poor fellow, he went to the Franco- 
 German war, got wounded, and came back lame. 
 One day, to my astonishment, he turned up at my 
 house in Wood Green. We had a long and rather 
 sad talk. He had fallen on evil days. Afterwards 
 he went to San Francisco, and stupidly took Mrs. 
 Muybridge on a little excursion into the country, 
 which seemed to irritate Mr. Muybridge, for that 
 celebrated scenic photographer (the first man, by- 
 the-bye, to photograph the horse in action) struck 
 the trail, and shot the gallant major, but that time, 
 1 think, "on sight," and the soft winds of the 
 Sierras are his perpetual Requiem.
 
 Musical Recollections 87 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 The Philharmonic in 1870 Mr. Charles Head, proprietor, Mr. 
 Charles Morton, manager The betting contingent 1 
 make a coup Operas in costume and twenty-five minutes 
 First appearance of Miss Clara Vesey How to form a 
 comic opera chorus An evening party at Mi'. Head's My 
 first view of Mr. Henry Irving Pantomime at tho East 
 London Theatre A Sartorial fix A fire behind the 
 scenes A lesson in depoi'tment from Mr. Isaac Cohen 
 The " Clodoche Quadrille " from Paris appear at the "Phi] " 
 M. Alias Where he came from Whom, he married 
 Mr. " Johnny " Gideon His house at the Rond Point 
 The Alhambra closed on account of the " Colonna 
 Quadrille " They are engaged for the "Phil" The 
 apotheosis of " Wiry Sal." 
 
 IN the autumn of 1870 Mr. Charles Head acquired 
 the Philharmonic Music Hall, Islington, then known 
 as the " Dustbin," the " Spittoon," and by other pic- 
 turesque and pleasing titles. Mr. Head arranged 
 with Mr. Charles Morton, late of the Oxford and 
 Canterbury, to manage it, and Mr. Charles Morton 
 considered that condensed versions of comic operas, 
 produced and played under the direction of Miss 
 Emily Soldene, late of the Lyceum, would be 
 attractive, an opinion fully shared by that aspiring
 
 88 My Theatrical and 
 
 young person. And the run of "Little Faust" 
 having come to an end, I was at liberty to avail 
 myself of the offer. In a very short time the 
 dirty old " Phil" evoluted into a bright, gay little 
 theatre, with quite an important stage, private 
 boxes, blue satin curtains, and a magnificent bar, 
 extending the whole length of the corridor, with 
 magnificent barmaids, doing a magnificent business. 
 All the racing men flocked north to back up the 
 " two Charlies," little tips were again procurable 
 and lots of little fivers landed. I opened the 
 season with a grand coup. 
 
 On the Monday before the Leger I was told to 
 back Hawthornden. u It's all right, send two 
 sovs. up to the Victoria Club.' ' I took the advice 
 the horse was thirty-three to one and won, and 
 on "Wednesday or Thursday, being ready money 
 betting, I drew my merry little 66/. I did not 
 see my tipster for at least six months ; when we 
 did meet I thanked him. " What do you mean ? " 
 said he; "Why, I lost 700Z." It turned out I 
 ought to have backed him for Tuesday, when he 
 lost ; but I, who only knew of one race, backed 
 him for the Leger and brought it off. The 
 gentleman who gave me the tip was Mr. Rymill. 
 
 Our first operatic venture was " Chilperic, in 
 twenty-five minutes," condensed by Mr. W. Van-
 
 Musical Recollections 89 
 
 devell. Miss Charlotte Russell played Fredegondc 
 to my Chilperic, and among the company 
 was Mr. "W. Carlton, the now well-known im- 
 pressario of English opera in America, and brother 
 to Mr. Frank Celli and Mr. Herbert Standing. 
 
 On this occasion an interesting young lady made 
 her debut, playing Brunehant. She was pretty, 
 and had a charming figure ; her stage name was 
 Miss Clara Vesey my sister. Mr. Morton was 
 Clara's theatrical sponsor and selected the name 
 of " Vesey " from the comedy of " Money " a not 
 inappropriate derivation considering that she soon 
 developed into a great personal attraction, occupy- 
 ing a front place in the first flight of photo' d 
 professional beauties, and proving consequently a 
 financial fact both to her manager and her photo- 
 grapher. 
 
 From the first moment of going into manage- 
 ment recognising the attractive force of female 
 beauty I surrounded myself with the best-look- 
 ing a\td best set-up girls that could possibly be 
 found. I selected my chorus from the ballet. The 
 result, a minimum of voice, perhaps, but certainly 
 a maximum of good looks and grace. Nobody 
 ever saw my chorus still, immovable, wooden. No, 
 they felt the music, were full of life, and, like a 
 blooded horse, were anxious for a start. Then they
 
 90 My Theatrical and 
 
 understood how to " make up," which is not an 
 accident, but an art. 
 
 During these first Philharmonic days, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Head, on the occasion of the twenty- 
 first birthday of " young Charley," gave an even- 
 ing party at their private residence. Among the 
 company was a distinguished-looking gentleman, 
 of a most delightful and affable turn, who would 
 do anything to amuse or oblige. Just when 
 I arrived, he was giving a recitation : " And four 
 and twenty happy boys came bounding out of 
 school," quoth he, with a mannerism I muchly 
 admired. " Who is it ? " said I to a friend. " Don't 
 you know ? " said he. I shook my head. After a 
 few minutes our host brought the gentleman up : 
 " Let me introduce Mr. Irving." There was 
 also another bright and entertaining luminary 
 present, Mr. George Grossmith, who gave us a 
 sketch from his " Penny Readings," and sang, " 1 
 am so volatile." Lots of professional people were 
 among the guests : Mr. D'Oyly Carte, Mr. J. L. 
 Toole, Fred and Harry Payne, and Mr. Addison, 
 the father of Fanny and Carlotte ; we were a very 
 merry and representative crowd. 
 
 The " condensed " opera at the " Phil " did not 
 come on till about 10.15, and at Christmas I had 
 plenty of time to appear in the opening of the panto-
 
 Musical Recollections 9 1 
 
 mime (for which I had been for a long time engaged) 
 at the East London Theatre, then under the manage* 
 ment of Mr. Morris Abrahams, who played in the 
 pantomime too ; he had a very good voice, and we 
 used to burlesque the grand duet from " II Trova- 
 tore." I was the Prince, and evidently fancied 
 myself and my costume, for every time I went to 
 the dressing-room I looked at myself in the glass, 
 and took an extra reef in my tights. In a moment 
 of self- absorption I must have forgotten to button 
 my trunks, for in the middle of the duet there went 
 up a mighty shout of laughter. Mr. Abrahams 
 jogged my elbow ; I looked down, and there were 
 my trunks falling over my knees ! I stooped, 
 grabbed them, and fled off, *' never " (as I promised 
 myself with tears of rage) " to go on again." But 
 somebody buttoned the dreadful things up. Mr. 
 Abrahams took me on, the people overwhelmed 
 me with applause, and I soon forgot it. One night, 
 in the Ballet scene, the " Islands of perpetual 
 Delight," or words to that effect, my Princess 
 lay sleeping on a mossy couch just about the 
 second entrance, and I, in ecstasy, was singing 
 " Happy be thy Dreams," when Mr. Isaac Cohen, 
 the stage manager, came into the prompt and spoke 
 through the symphony : " We are going to let a 
 scene down behind you ; don't be afraid ; go on,
 
 9 2 My Theatrical and 
 
 get an encore and sing it. It will be all right." 
 The scene came down in " two," and presently, from 
 under the canvas, trickled tiny rills of water, 
 running down round and under my feet. I obeyed 
 orders, won my encore, and sang it. The theatre 
 had been on fire at the back ; but the discipline 
 was excellent, and it was got under in no time and 
 with no noise, During this engagement I was very 
 much indebted to Mr. Cohen for a lesson in de- 
 portment. As a boy I swaggered about a good 
 deal, generally having one foot on the P.S. and the 
 other on the O.P.S. "Don't do that," said he, 
 " Men don't walk like that, they walk like this." 
 
 Somewhere about this time we imported from 
 Paris for the Philharmonic a " Quadrille Excen- 
 trique," the famous '* Clodoche Troupe." With 
 them, as their personal attendant, came a little 
 gentleman named Alias. At the conclusion of 
 their engagement the Clodoche party returned 
 to La Belle France, but M. Alias remained 
 in England, a captive to the charms of Miss 
 Price, the Philharmonic resident costumiere. 
 They were married, and M. et Mme. Alias have 
 gone on costuming merrily ever since. Talking 
 of Paris, over from that gay city would flit every 
 few weeks Mr. " Johnny " Gideon, " bookmaker " 
 and boiler-down of effective French melodrame.
 
 Musical Recollections 93 
 
 He would pop into the "Phil" on his way to 
 Mrs. Sarah Lane and the " Brit " at Hoxton, his 
 pockets bulging with MS., the latest sensational 
 development at the Chatelet or Porte St. Martin 
 a very clever, cheery, chatty man. The last 
 time I saw him was in Paris, in 1888, in his rooms 
 at the Rond Point, where he lived like a prince, 
 surrounded by objets d'art, fine tapestry, priceless 
 mosaics, magnificent brocades, statuary, bronzes, 
 black oak furniture, &c., &c., not the least 
 attractive of the adjuncts being a capital wine- 
 cellar and a capital chef. 
 
 The new " Phil " was such a success, that Mr. 
 Morton, at the instigation of Messrs. Buckstone 
 and Webster, was summoned twice and fined for 
 giving stage plays without a licence. Then he 
 applied for a theatrical licence, and got it. I 
 suppose they subsequently buried the hatchet, for 
 in 1871 Mr. Buckstone appeared for Mr. Morton's 
 benefit, and later on played a regular engagement 
 at the " Phil," and every evening after the perfor- 
 mance " Bucky " would sit in the office sipping a 
 little cold gin and water, and keeping us in fits 
 of laughter with all sorts of droll stories and 
 anecdotes. He was jolly, genial, cheerful, but 
 rather testy and dreadfully deaf. At Islington 
 we certainly did not allow the grass to grow
 
 94 My Theatrical and 
 
 under our feet. Just before we got our theatrical 
 licence the risque number on the programme at the 
 Alhambra was the "Colonna Quadrille," danced 
 by Mme. Colonna, two ballerines, and a wispy 
 slip of a girl, Sarah Wright, a pupil of Mme. 
 Louise, a daughter of an old waiter of Mr. Morton 
 (the little girl previously mentioned in the list of 
 people at the Oxford). Sarah had got on since the 
 Oxford days ; Sarah was the sensation of the 
 performance. The verb "to kick" had never 
 been so actively conjugated before, and the 
 Middlesex magistrates were so horrified, they took 
 aAvay the licence, shut up the Alhambra, and 
 threw four hundred people out of employment. 
 I at once engaged the " Colonna Troupe," and 
 introduced the dance in my " condensed " opera. 
 Subsequently the quartette was reconstructed, and 
 we put on " The Parisian Quadrille," and boomed it 
 with a mighty boom. Mme. Sara Ber nhardt, the New 
 Woman of that period, had just begun to shake the 
 artistic world ; so I named my premiere danseuse 
 after her, " Mdlle. Sara." She was supported by 
 Miss Gerrish, who afterwards became "the first 
 Mme. Marius," Miss White, and Miss Lily Wilford. 
 " Mdlle. Sara " (who had shorter skirts and 
 longer legs than most girls), to the great delight 
 and satisfaction of herself and all London, kicked
 
 Musical Recollections 95 
 
 up her agile heels a little higher than had pre- 
 viously been deemed possible, and was equally 
 successful in dusting the floor with her back hair. 
 Goodness knows what awful suffering was endured 
 by the Middlesex magistrates, for while the 
 Alhambra languished in outer and inner darkness, 
 making Leicester Square a hideous, howling 
 wilderness, filled with the sighs of the unemployed 
 four hundred, up at the "Little Phil" in 
 merrie Islington, safe under the shield of the 
 Lord Chamberlain's licence, that wicked, wicked 
 dance was danced every night. The theatre was 
 crammed, and " Wiry Sal " was the toast of the 
 London clubs.
 
 96 Afy Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 An original burlesque, " Nightingale's Wooing," produced at 
 the " Phil." Easter, 1871 The cast : a musical Curtius 
 What Sunday was made for My first visit to 
 Liverpool " Chilperic " at the Prince of Wales Mr. 
 Mallandaine as manager and conductor Mrs. Mallandaine 
 as a Page What Mrs. Kendall did not like Mr. J. L. 
 Toole and Mr. Justice Hawkins Lydia Thompson on 
 her way to America Mr. H. B. Farnie A new comic 
 opera Ordering a manager off his own stage Mr. 
 Downey, the photographer of Newcastle-on-Tyne 
 Glasgow on Sunday What a good place it Avas Mr. 
 William Glover The Theatre Royal The ballet Where 
 it came from At Doiicaster '" The Baron " wins the Leger 
 with Hannah. 
 
 AT Easter, 1871, the entertainment at the " Phil " 
 was a condensed " Grand Duchess," and an original 
 burlesque, " Nightingale's Wooing," by Frank 
 Arlon and Arthur Rushton, the noms de theatre of 
 A. D. Dowty and John Plummer; the music, 
 original and selected, by "W. C. Levey, of Dmiy 
 Lane ; the scenery by Mr. Calcott, the dresses 
 by Mr. Augustus Harris, the piece rehearsed by 
 Mr. George Honey ; P. W. Halton was the con- 
 ductor, and there was a big ballet led by the Sisters
 
 Musical Recollections 97 
 
 Smithers; Miss Clara Vesey played Princess 
 Rosebud in a much abbreviated and nothing-to- 
 speak-of skirt, but this was compensated for by the 
 length of her train, a transparent one. Miss Hetty 
 Tracy, of the Vaudeville Theatre, was Prince 
 Nightingale ; Mr. Levey had written a delightful 
 ballad, to be sung by the Prince off the stage, a 
 sort of " avant courier.'* At the rehearsal the 
 Prince was physically lovely, and in those classic 
 gems, " If ever I cease to love," and " After the 
 opera is over " vocally perfection, but came a 
 cropper at the ballad. Dear Mr. Levey was in 
 despair, so much depended on the ballad. What 
 was to be done ? " I will sing it," said I, leaping 
 into the gulf like another Curtius, " No one will 
 ever know." The night came, and her Serene 
 Highness La Grande Duchesse de Gerolstein stood 
 in her robes of state and the seclusion of the fourth 
 entrance O.P. side and sang it. Splendid success, 
 big encore. " Sing it again, Miss Soldene ; sing it 
 again," said the stage manager. And I did it. 
 " Go on," said the stage manager to the Prince, and 
 the Prince went on, got an ovation, and stood for a 
 solid five minutes, modestly acknowledging salvoes 
 of applause. Next morning guying notices; 
 " No idea Miss So-and-so had such a lovely voice," 
 ' Sings like an artiste," "Must come off out of
 
 98 My Theatrical and 
 
 burlesque at once," " An artistic sacrilege that 
 such talent should be so employed," " What is the 
 management of a theatre about when it keeps in 
 the dark gifts like this?" &c., &c. They set her 
 up side of Patti. Need I say that song was " cut " 
 after the first night ? 
 
 In the summer of this year Mr. Mallandaine, 
 musical director of the Haymarket Theatre, 
 backed by a financier, Mr. Harry Schofield, who 
 was young, provincial, and probably did not 
 know any better, arranged with M. Herve to 
 take " Chilperic " on tour, and engaged me to 
 travel for three months. A provincial tour in 1 87 1 
 was an undertaking, an event. Careful people, 
 especially those who had nothing to leave (except 
 experience) drew three weeks' salary in advance 
 and made their wills. Travelling troupes were few 
 and far between; and Mr. Hollingshead, who 
 always wondered what Sunday was made for, had 
 not then discovered that the particular motive 
 for its creation was the convenient moving of 
 theatrical companies from one given point to 
 another. We opened at the Prince of Wales 
 Theatre, Liverpool, then under the management 
 of a limited company, the only outward and 
 visible exponents of which to our eyes were 
 Mr. Bolt, Colonel Mum, and Mr. Tom Peers.
 
 Musical Recollections 99 
 
 Mr. John Rouse was our stage manager, and 
 played Dr. Senna. He was a cranky, cantan- 
 kerous, contradicting dear old thing, full of self- 
 satisfaction and ancient personal conceits, but a 
 really splendid comedian so quaint, so original, 
 so natural. I remember one morning at rehearsal 
 he spoke some lines in a perfectly conversational 
 tone. The intonation caught my attentive - ear 
 as being thoroughly appropriate to that particular 
 situation. I followed his lead. The scene at night 
 went well, and so, without knowing, he gave me 
 a lesson I never forgot. Miss Augusta Thompson 
 was Fredegonde, Miss Emily Pitt Galsuinde, 
 Mr. Alfred Bishop Nervoso. I of course played 
 Chilperic, and Miss Clara Vesey was Brunehant. 
 
 The chorus was a capital one, and thpugh Mr. 
 Mallandaine, our manager and conductor, valued 
 voices more than female physical perfection (one 
 would have thought his aesthetic taste should have 
 controlled his scientific judgment, but it didn't) 
 still they were a showy string, with plenty of pace, 
 Mrs. Mallandaine played the principal Page Alfred, 
 with a song. Mrs. M. was not exactly an ideal 
 page ; like Cassio, she was lean, also, more than 
 common tall. Nature had distinctly qualified her 
 for petticoats, and I think it a pity to go against 
 nature, unless in an emergency, and Mrs. Hopewell
 
 IOO My Theatrical and 
 
 on the spot. We had a splendid band, and Mr. 
 Mallandaine was dreadfully conscientious, and 
 restored all the " cuts " made by the iconoclastic 
 crew of the saucy Philharmonic. Fortunately, his 
 idea of lengthy things in general did not extend to 
 the skirts of the ballet, or the trunks of the pages. 
 
 While we were rehearsing in the theatre during 
 the day, the evenings were devoted to comedy. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Kendall were playing a season at the 
 Prince of Wales. They were only recently married, 
 and it was not considered good form to look at 
 "Willie" too much, because it was understood 
 Mrs. K. "did not like it." The production of 
 " Chilperic " was an immense success, the chic 
 and sparkle just suiting a cosmopolitan place like 
 Liverpool. I think we played there for a month 
 or five weeks. Herve came down and feted us, 
 and gave a decidedly continental cachet to the 
 affair. He treated everybody en grand seigneur, 
 and dined us and wined us in most recherche style. 
 
 Apropos of Liverpool, Mr. McConnell, the then 
 Revising Barrister of that city, the now chairman of 
 the Cierkenwell Sessions, told me a capital story 
 of Mr. J. L. Toole and Mr. Justice Hawkins. 
 Mr. Justice Hawkins was sitting in a cause 
 celebre at the Liverpool Assizes, and Mr. Toole 
 was playing at one of the Liverpool theatres,
 
 Musical Recollections 101 
 
 The Justice sent across to say he was sitting late, 
 and would Mr. Toole come over after the per- 
 formance, and have supper with him. Mr. Toole 
 accepted the invitation. During supper, talking 
 over the events of the day, Mr. Justice Hawkins 
 said he should next day "give his man fifteen 
 years," he " deserved it." " Oh," said Toole, on 
 leaving, " would you mind me calling at the 
 different morning newspaper offices, and telling 
 them about the ' fifteen years ' ? It will be a tip 
 for them, and do me no end of good with the Press, 
 exclusive information, you know, and so on." 
 " Good God ! no, sir," thundered the judge, and 
 walked with Toole to his hotel, and tucked him 
 up, and waited till he was fast asleep, and saff 
 from temptation. 
 
 One night, towards the end of our engagement, 
 Lydia Thompson, Mr. H. B. Farnie, and a large 
 party just arrived from London were in front. 
 They were to sail next day for America. After 
 the performance Farnie came to my dressing- 
 room, and said I was " the one woman he had been 
 looking for." He had an opera bouffe that " would 
 make our fortunes." If I would guarantee that 
 Mr. Morton should produce it at the Philharmonic, 
 he would not go to America, but stop in England, 
 and prepare it for the autumn season. With the
 
 IO2 My Theatrical and 
 
 temerity of ignorance and inexperience, I promised. 
 The opera was " Genevieve de Brabant," the first 
 anglicised and adapted opera bouffe to make 
 money. 
 
 After Liverpool, we went to Newcastle-on-Tyne, 
 to the Theatre Royal, then under the management 
 of Francis and Glover. I distinguished myself 
 very much indeed at the first performance there. 
 Seeing a gentleman after the first act disporting 
 himself in the centre of the stage, and gazing 
 with cool curiosity, not only at the girls scamper- 
 ing off for their " change," but also at my imperial 
 self, I, in my severest manner, and a distinct and 
 audible voice, said, " Tell that person no one is 
 allowed behind the scenes, he must leave imme- 
 diately," and he did. It was Mr. Francis, the 
 manager. Such a huge joke for him ! He told all 
 Newcastle next day how I ordered him off his own 
 stage. But we were the best of friends after. 
 
 In those benighted days the local aristocracy 
 went to the theatre only on a Friday, and on the 
 preceding Tuesday, if the fiat of the " Fourth 
 Estate " were favourable, the dress circle booking- 
 sheet would be by the afternoon all filled up. If 
 not favourable well, I don't know. The papers 
 and the people were all good to me, and soon 
 learned to look out for " Our Em'ly."
 
 Musical Recollections 103 
 
 Mr. Henry Egerton, the acting manager, was a 
 capital man of business, and a most lively and 
 entertaining companion. He had a funny habit, 
 when more than usually bothered, of standing on 
 his head, "To rest his brains," said he. Poor 
 fellow ! he was lost in the fire that destroyed the 
 Theatre Royal, Dublin, February, 1880. " Chil- 
 peric " was musically a great " go " in Newcastle, 
 and on the first Sunday, the organist, Mr. Leggett, 
 out of compliment, played " The Prayer " for the 
 voluntary, and everybody said " How delightful ! " 
 and verily it was "kept dark/' and nobody 
 revealed that it was from the wicked Opera Bouffe 
 running at the Royal. "VVe used to have high 
 jinks and junketings and go for long drives 
 over the moor and through the lovely Jesinond 
 Dene. 
 
 It was in this city I first made the acquaintance 
 of Mr. Downey, the photographer. Even at that 
 remote period he was distinguished by royal 
 patronage, and used to be sent for and stay a 
 week at Balmoral. Mr. Downey photo'd the 
 whole crowd and gave us lots of copies. 
 
 After Newcastle -on-Tyne, to Glasgow. The 
 Theatre Royal impressed me as being the most 
 gloomy place I had ever been in. I remember 
 on my arrival seeing Mr. William Glover hard at
 
 IO4 My Theatrical and 
 
 work painting a panorama, for the " Lady of the 
 Lake," I think. Mr. Glover was a picturesque, 
 artistic, dark and satisfy ing-looking person- 
 age. He had the head of a lion, or a brigand, 
 or a pirate, or a bushranger, or a Revivalist 
 preacher. He would have made a lovely " Mour- 
 zouk "or " Moses," without any make up. We 
 admired his ensemble very much indeed. When 
 I was in Glasgow, 1883 or 1884, I got a terrible 
 shock. Mr. Glover had shorn his leonine locks, 
 and the imposing beard had disappeared. 
 
 Glasgow was a terrible place for the " Sawbath "- 
 breaking, wicked, exploring and picnicing thea- 
 trical person. On Sunday, to get a carriage out of 
 the city one had to start at 8 a.m. and walk the 
 horses over the stones. The coaches, " machines " 
 they called them, were "mourning" ones, 
 funereal and dolorous ; but the proprietors were 
 kind enough to remove the feathers. Once free 
 of the city the carriage was opened, and 
 on you went through lovely lanes and delicious 
 country, where the breezes blew and the birds 
 sang and the flowers bloomed just as if it wasn't 
 Sunday. But on the way to these delightful 
 places one had to pass many villages, where the 
 open windows of stone huts were full of ladies hang- 
 ing out in the most astonishing state of deshabille,
 
 Musical Recollections 105 
 
 and whose beauty did not compensate for their 
 lack of clothes. There is no doubt that Glasgow 
 proper was, at this period, as proper as proper 
 could be ; but for all that one heard funny local 
 stories, but of course not true. . . For instance, 
 the " extra " girls at the Theatre Royal were 
 exceptionally gifted with looks and exceptionally 
 fine in physique, could move about and were 
 well trained ; a condition of things unique in 
 those days. To explain this perfection we were 
 told they were not ordinary "extras," but 
 " ballet," and were always " kept on " at 
 the theatre. Also that the Royal ballet was 
 never recrujted from outside, " They grew it on 
 the premises." 
 
 That autumn we went to Doncaster for the race 
 meeting, playing at the Theatre Royal. It was a 
 most delightful jaunt picnic, in fact. I had never 
 been on a racecourse before such a lovely road, 
 such trees, such excitement, such weather, such a 
 lovely old-fashioned hotel, such troops of friends. 
 We went every day to the course. Every day 
 Clara (my sister) and I asked Mr. Head for a tip, 
 and every day he gave us a fiver instead, which 
 we most successfully lost. What a sight it was, 
 with the armies of people trooping along the road. 
 Then the Leger what a day of days | I could
 
 io6 My Theatrical and 
 
 not keep still, but must shout loud with the loudest. 
 I don't recollect any horse hut Hannah. After 
 the race, the Baron led her slowly along through 
 the crush, one hand holding the bridle, the other 
 round her neck. The people hurrahed and 
 applauded, and when the Baron, stooping, pressed 
 his face against her soft velvety muzzle, and kissed 
 her, the crowd screamed with delight. And I, 
 like the emotional idiot I was, found the tears 
 were running down my cheeks. I could not help 
 it. Such moments are worth years of ordinary 
 things.
 
 Musical Recollections 107 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Genevieve de Brabant " produced at the Philharmonic, 
 November 10th, 1871 Mr. Morton's financial faddishness 
 The cast The girls The lime-light The rehearsals 
 A dress rehearsal The sins of the costumiers What a 
 dress rehearsal does for the performance Our dress 
 rehearsal Mr. Morton's opinion of the piece Flight of 
 Mr. Farnie Production of the opera Mr. Clement Scott's 
 opinion of the piece Oar realistic detail Return of Mr. 
 Farnie. 
 
 DE BRABANT," Opera Bouffe, 
 Libretto, adapted from the French by Henry Broug- 
 ham Farnie, music adapted from Offenbach e 
 tutti quanti maestri by ditto, ditto, ditto, produced 
 at the Philharmonic Theatre, Islington, November 
 10th, 1871, under the management of Mr. Charles 
 Morton, and the direction of Miss Emily Soldene, 
 was the sort of success that waits upon one once 
 in a lifetime. There was much trial and tribula- 
 tion to be gone through before the production, 
 and much curiosity was exhibited by the profession 
 when it was known a new opera bouffe was on 
 the stocks of that " out-of-the-way-place," up in
 
 My Theatrical and 
 
 the north. Many western magnates (when they 
 thought of such an insignificant establishment at 
 all) considered the whole proceedings an imper- 
 tinence that would certainly reap the reward of 
 its daring in utter annihilation. The opera being 
 non-copyright, and Farnie not wishing to be 
 anticipated or forestalled, the title was kept a 
 profound secret, many fictitious names and won- 
 derful and varied aliases being inscribed on the 
 parts used for study. 
 
 In the beginning, I had great difficulty in bring- 
 ing Mr. Morton up to the scratch. He jibbed, 
 and was financially faddy. Besides, he did not 
 like Farnie said " Farnie and Failure " were 
 synonymous, and added many more alliterative 
 and aggravating arguments. But Farnie was 
 finesseful constant dropping wears away a stone 
 so ultimately matters were arranged, and the 
 work went into rehearsal. 
 
 The following people were in the original 
 cast : Miss Selina Dolaro played the Duchess 
 (Genevieve) ; Mr. John Rouse, the Duke ; Miss 
 Clara Vesey Oswald (the Duke's pet page) ; 
 Mr. Edward Marshall and M. Felix Bury, the 
 immortal gendarmes, Graburge, and full 
 private Pitou ; Mr. J. B. Rae, the Burgo- 
 master ; Mr. Lewens, Golo ; Mr. " Charley "
 
 Musical Recollections 109 
 
 Norton, the Hermit ; and Alfred, the potman, 
 made a great success as the Rooster, crowing 
 brilliantly, and disgusting all the gone-to-bed- 
 early-chanticleers in the neighbourhood. Miss 
 Vaughan (not Kate) played Brigette ; Miss 
 Ada Leigh, Philibert, and Miss Emily Soldene, 
 Drogan (a pastry cook). With these artists 
 were associated numberless and bewitching 
 beauties, disguised as maids of honour, as pages, 
 as citizen boys, as citizen girls, as Watteau 
 shepherds, or as Watteau shepherdesses. 
 
 There was considerable friction and many fights 
 among these lovely ones, each being convinced of 
 her own peculiar fitness for (in every scene and 
 tableau) standing at the corner of the stage, 
 basking in the bold advertisement of the footlights, 
 the admiring curious gaze of the public, and the 
 occasional and furtive and fitful, and not to be 
 relied upon, gleams of the lime-light. The lime- 
 light in those days was an uncertain quantity, 
 and would " fizz " and " sis ss " and fi sparkle," 
 and "splash "and "splutter," and finally, at the 
 critical moment, with a loud and alarming " swish," 
 would disappear altogether. 
 
 We rehearsed the piece for six weeks, and no 
 end of changes were made in the cast, especially 
 in the small and " it-don't-much-matter-if-the-
 
 no My Theatrical and 
 
 girl's-good-looking " parts. Mr. Farnie was most 
 exigent in this department, and a new and 
 handsome girl received with enthusiasm and 
 declared by him to be the exact thing for the part 
 to-day, would frequently (after a private interview) 
 be pronounced by the same authority on the 
 morrow totally unfitted for the proposed position. 
 At last came the great, the crucial, day or night 
 the dress rehearsal. A dress rehearsal twenty-five 
 years ago was a nearly unheard-of thing in 
 England. 
 
 As a rule, the costumier brought the costumes 
 into the theatre on the night of the first per- 
 formance, at five minutes to eight, and considered 
 you ought to be awfully obliged at their arriving 
 at all. 
 
 Everybody's dress would be too tight in the 
 bust and too loose in the waist, or vice versa; 
 general confusion and disgust prevailed, and 
 productions suffered. When the papers next 
 morning noticed that a favourite artiste was 
 " evidently handicapped by excessive nervousness," 
 it would probably be an affair of hooks-and-eyes. 
 The rages and storms, and, if it had not been for 
 spoiling one's make up, the tears of a first night ! 
 The distracted stage manager ! " Look a'ere, Mr. 
 Smith," says the prize beauty of the theatre, by the
 
 Musical Recollections 1 1 1 
 
 side of whose effulgence tke prima donna pales into 
 insignificance ; " Hi won't go on ; wy hi'm a reg'lar 
 sight, I ham." " You look lovely, Miss Vere de 
 Vere," swears the diplomatic and sorely tried one. 
 " Go on, my dear, and save the piece." The show 
 prize girl (5ft. llfins.) strolls leisurely down to 
 the first entrance. " Why ain't you in your right 
 place?" screams the exasperated man ; "You know 
 you go on with the King, up in four ; you'll get 
 your cue in a minute." The magnificent creature 
 turns round slowly, her back is open five inches. 
 " Oh, for God's sake," calls he to the rushing- about, 
 breathless, and nearly " hout hof 'er mind" ward- 
 robe mistress; ''fasten Miss de la Chandos's dress: 
 she'll be on in a second." The dress is inspected, 
 and found to be so undeveloped and so deficient 
 in details, that, though ostensibly built for the 
 finest girl in the theatre, it is an aggravating and 
 very open question whether it is meant to fasten 
 in the front or the back. Then the shoes (when 
 they arrived at all) were always damp, and so 
 beastly short, they made one limp, or so disgust- 
 ingly long, that you fell over your own toes. And 
 the buttons, language fails when you come to the 
 buttons, which invariably (more invariably in a 
 "quick change") flew up to the ceiling at the mere 
 sight of a button-hook. Mais, nous avons change
 
 H2 My Theatrical and 
 
 tout cela. Farnie, with his foreign ways, which 
 were nearly all good, introduced the dress rehearsal, 
 and the benefit to first performances cannot bo 
 overestimated. 
 
 In the first place, when you get into your 
 costume, it fills your mind with ideas that some- 
 how do not seem to evolute in your private dress. 
 I am talking of the natural and impressionist school, 
 that takes its thoughts and feelings from surround- 
 ing circumstances, and absorbs local colour and 
 expression from its environments ; not of the 
 Delsartian and wooden cult formed on the sema- 
 phore signal basis, and the presumed entire 
 absence of impulse and emotion. 
 
 Then, in the second place, it gives you confidence ; 
 you know your appearance is all right, you do not 
 experience that horrid ''new clothes" feeling, you 
 have worn and gone through the part in them ; 
 the sartorial arrangements are perfect, and there 
 is nothing to distract your mind from the exposi- 
 tion of your art. Our dress rehearsal was the sort 
 of thing you can remember for a long time a tale 
 of woe, of disaster, of profane language, of offensive 
 and personal remarks, of bursting buttons, and lost 
 and misapplied and " impossible to recollect " lines, 
 of wrong notes in the band parts, generally in the 
 double bass and clarionet. " Good God, sir, here
 
 Musical Recollections 113 
 
 we've rehearsed for a fortnight, and now you find 
 you've got a wrong note; pass over that part, Jones; 
 no, never mind." And the conductor climbs over 
 the musicians, and the music-stands shiver and 
 totter on their uncertain bases, and all the parts 
 (most of them loose sheets) fall to the ground. 
 Then the scenery won't go right, but will go 
 wrong, and Miss Somebody, in an access of nerves, 
 forgets her cadenza. " Cut it out," roars Farnie, 
 with sulphurous adjectives. " But," remonstrates 
 the tearful girl. " Cut it out," and language 
 unfit for Her Majesty's Drawing-room dies away 
 at the back of the pit. 
 
 Mr. Morton sits in a front seat and severe judg- 
 ment. At the end of the first act he pats his tidy 
 little neck-tie several times, and confides to me, 
 " There's nothing in it, simply nothing in it ; 
 utter failure. And, as for your part, why, you do 
 nothing." 
 
 These frank expressions exactly reflect my own 
 feelings, and no words can do justice to my 
 depression. 
 
 The second act was even worse than the first. 
 The band parts for my " Sleep Song " were not 
 ready. The lime-light "medium" was wrong, 
 and converted my Rimmels complexion into a 
 coat of many and unbecoming colours. Every-
 
 ii4 My Theatrical and 
 
 thing was too dreadful. The only satisfying ones 
 were the gendarmes, who seemed to have funny 
 lines, and, mirabile dictu, knew them too. 
 
 I had a sick headache, and Mr. Morton and the 
 distinguished adapter had a few words, after which 
 Farnie and I adjourned to the theatre front door- 
 step, and he eased his mind by saying sultry and 
 irreverent things about people in general and the 
 management in particular. Then we two weary 
 ones, partners in this great breakdown and 
 unequalled frost, shook hands in dull and doleful 
 and downcast commiseration with each other, and 
 went our respective ways, chewing the cud of 
 bitter and sorrowful reflections. 
 
 Next morning it was on a Saturday, a 
 memorable Saturday, the Saturday we all expected 
 the Prince of Wales would die at ten o'clock 
 there came a messenger in hot haste, with a letter 
 from Mr. Morton. A terrible thing had happened ; 
 Famie had gone fled disappeared packed his 
 carpet-bag for parts unknown, leaving the dis- 
 consolate " Genevieve " to her deserved and 
 dreadful and disgraceful fate. What was to be 
 done ? " Would I come to the theatre at once ? " 
 I went, taking my unimpaired headache with me, 
 and found everything in a fearful confusion. 
 During the rehearsals Mr. Farnie had conducted
 
 Musical Recollections 115 
 
 everything viva voce scenes, lights, gas, and lime- 
 light. He was gone, and there were no " plots," 
 the men could not work. From 10.30 a.m. till 
 6.30 p.m. the people rehearsed, and I went 
 through the opera with them and made out all the 
 plots for scenes, lights, and everything. 
 
 Fortunately everybody was too much on the 
 alert to need " calls," and that trouble was spared. 
 But all the music cues had to be written in, and 
 at 7 p.m. I was sitting on the floor no, on the 
 green baize stage cloth cross-legged like a Turk, 
 cross-tempered like a Turk, tired to death, voice- 
 less, hopeless, but going to " try," if I died for it, 
 rehearsing in a whisper the " Sleep Song." 
 
 The success of that night was a record-breaker. 
 The enthusiasm, the applause, the crowded house ! 
 The piece went with a snap and " vim." Every- 
 body recollected every word and made every point. 
 The gaiety of the audience was infectious. 
 Every line, every topical allusion was given with 
 dash and received with shouts of laughter. How 
 the Burgomaster blew his nose like a trumpet, 
 " toot-ti-ti-toot-ti-ti-too," and never got any 
 further with his speech than "In the year one." 
 How the gendarmes sang their "We'll run 'em 
 in," seventeen times. How everybody worked 
 for the general good. (It is impossible to overpraise
 
 n6 My Theatrical and 
 
 their loyalty.) How Mr. Morton came on the stage 
 and "took it all back," and congratulated and 
 thanked and treated everybody. How a certain 
 gentleman, named Clement Scott, sat in the front 
 and was good to us, and wrote a half- column 
 notice, which, appearing next morning in the 
 Observer, made a certain singer famous as Drogan, 
 and grateful for ever. All these things live fresh 
 and remembered in some hearts. The opera was 
 well put on at the " Phil," everything was done 
 very thoroughly, great attention being paid to 
 realistic detail. Of course, as everybody has known 
 for hundreds of years, the Duchess Genevieve's 
 situation at a certain period in history, and also 
 in the opera, was more interesting than correct 
 or proper. And as an instance of the sort of 
 carefulness that was exercised to provide a perfect 
 ensemble, I may mention that five months after 
 the production, Madame Selina Dolaro presented 
 to an admiring world a girl baby, and it was 
 called " Gencvieve." 
 
 On the Monday folio wing the eventful and 
 never-to-be-forgotten first night, Mr. Famie 
 reappeared at the theatre. He had "Been to 
 Brighton, he had read the papers. Of course he 
 knew it would be a success, in spite of the wooden- 
 headed management." Mr. Farnie was constitu-
 
 Musical Recollections 117 
 
 tionally shy, not to say afraid of the Press, and, 
 when " Gene vie ve de Brabant " was announced, 
 would not allow his name to appear in any 
 advertisement or bill ; but with the second issue he 
 had no such scruples, and gave up his incognito, 
 as an eminently eligible thing to get away from. 
 
 The second performance was good, big house, 
 lots of enthusiasm. H. B. F. sat in a private box, 
 watching it from beginning to end. At the finish 
 he came on the stage. The people flocked round, 
 expecting a little speech, thanking them for 
 pulling it through so splendidly. What he said 
 was, " Everybody to-morrow morning, eleven 
 sharp."
 
 n8 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Continued success of " Genevicve " My picture over the 
 prize pig pen Visit of the Prince of \Yales to the Phil- 
 harmonic Mr. Charles Morton as a connoisseur of cigars 
 The Islingtonites as a guard of honour An offer to sing 
 in "Babil and Bijou " Return of Marius Plays Charles 
 Martel in the opera A distinguished super Our habitues 
 Lord Dunraven's idea of the highest form of happiness 
 Huddleston, Q.C., and Mrs. Broad wood A strike in 
 the orchestra Sergeant Ballantine M. Adolph Lindheim 
 appointed Chef d'Orchestre What the learned Sergeant 
 would have done " If he'd only known it sooner." 
 
 " GENEVIEVE DE BRABANT," at the end of a year's 
 run, was still the rage. Up to the little theatre at 
 Islington nocked all the world, and duchesses were 
 glad to sit in the stalls because there were no 
 boxes for them. 
 
 The Philharmonic was the mode, both sides of 
 the High Street were lined with carriages, and the 
 local livery stables were filled to overflowing by 
 the carriages of people coming from a distance. 
 Everybody, from H.R.H. downwards, visited us. 
 In 1872 the Prince went to the Cattle Show. Over 
 the pen of the prize pigs hung a framed picture.
 
 Musical Recollections 119 
 
 "When His Highness was through with the pigs, 
 he took in the picture. " What is that ? " he 
 inquired. " That, Sir, is the portrait of Miss 
 Emily Soldene as Drogan, in * Genevieve de 
 Brabant/ now being played at the Philharmonic 
 Theatre." u Where is the Philharmonic ? " 
 inquired the Prince. " Near the ' Angel,' your 
 Highness." H.R.H. smiled. " A very good 
 position indeed," said he. 
 
 A day or two after came an order from Mitchel's 
 for a Royal box. That was a great night at the 
 "Phil." A large box and retiring-room were 
 especially fitted up, and Mr. Morton provided 
 some wonderful cigars for the occasion. Mr. 
 Morton has never smoked a pipe or cigar in hia 
 life, and consequently is considered an accom- 
 plished and cultured connoisseur of tobacco in all 
 its forms. 
 
 His Royal Highness was treated with the 
 greatest respect and consideration by her 
 Majesty's lieges of Islington. When he left the 
 theatre after the performance, the corridor was, of 
 course, crammed, but the audience " ranged " 
 themselves. There was no crowding, or pushing, 
 or policemen, and a broad path was kept for the 
 Prince by the People. 
 
 During the run of " Genevieve " I had an offer
 
 120 My Theatrical and 
 
 from Mr. Dion Boucicault to play at Covent 
 Garden in " Babil and Bijou," at 15/. per week, 
 more than I was getting at the " Phil," but Mr. 
 Morton would not release me. " Babil and 
 Bijou " was magnificent, but financially a failure. 
 In it Mr. Joseph Maas sang. Miss Helen Barry 
 made her first appearance, also a great sensation. 
 She led the army of Amazons. And I think 
 " Spring, Spring, Beautiful Spring," was first 
 sung in this piece. 
 
 After the Franco-German War, Marius came 
 back to England covered with glory, but wearing 
 his unbleached regimental shirt. He was stony 
 broke. That did not matter. He came up to the 
 " Phil," and I got Farnie to write him in a part 
 Charles Martel, with a fencing song "Sa-ha- 
 carte-tierce-circle, octave-prinz-quinze." 
 
 Among our " supers " at this time was a man 
 who had immortalised himself, and in his time 
 earned much money G. H. Ross, the original 
 singer of that dreadfully unpleasant and blas- 
 phemous ditty, " Sam Hall." 
 
 One astonishing circumstance about the run of 
 " Genevieve " was that the same people came over 
 and over again, came, in fact, every night ; and 
 at last it seemed to us folk on the stage that 
 the opera went flat unless the usual clientele
 
 Musical Recollections 121 
 
 turned up. Amongst our habitues was the late 
 Sir James Farquharson (Piccadilly Jim). He was 
 a little peculiar. One night, when " Sara the 
 Kicker " was electrifying everybody, I said to him 
 (he was standing by my side in the wing, looking 
 very solemn), " Isn't she wonderful ? " " Umph, 
 yes," said he ; " but I was thinking of her people ; 
 it must be very disagreeable to have anyone 
 belonging to you gifted like that." Then there 
 was Mr. Hector Tennant, Mr. (now " Lord ") 
 Gerard, Mr. (now " Sir ") Horace Farquhar, 
 and his brother, the well-known actor, Gillie 
 Farquhar, Sir George Wombwell, Lord Gifford, 
 Lord Rodney, Lord Mayo, just home from India, 
 Lord St. Leonards, " Johnny " Woodhouse, diplo- 
 mat, Ralph Milbanke, ditto, and lots of people 
 that nowadays one meets in all comers of the 
 earth, and who say, " Don't you remember ? I used 
 to come to the Philharmonic, don't you know ? " 
 Then everybody always finishes up with "Ah! 
 those were jolly times." Lord John Hay was a 
 frequent and delightful visitor ; so fond of sitting 
 in a box and criticising the girls' skirts an inch 
 wrong this way or that, gathers not properly 
 distributed, or not correctly graduated, one skirt 
 longer than the other. Nothing in that way 
 escaped his observant and nautical eye. He
 
 122 My Theatrical and 
 
 explained his familiarity with his subject by 
 saying that as a boy he always was on hand when 
 the flannel and warm winter petticoats were made 
 by his mother for her poor parishioners. General 
 Fleury and his sons used to come nearly every 
 night. The General was all right, but the sons 
 were well, not so all right. But, after all, our 
 jolliest constant visitor was Lord Dunraven gay, 
 bright, clever, full of life ; and who after the opera 
 would walk home with us, cut the cold beef, and 
 open the oysters and stout with the unconventional 
 facility of the man who has been everywhere, done 
 everything, and who had (as he told us) found the 
 most perfect form of happiness when lying on his 
 back, kicking up his heels, and shouting at the top 
 of his voice on the loftiest peak of the Rockies. 
 Such a sportsman too. One night he offered Mr. 
 Morton a blank cheque, to allow two of the 
 principal ladies "a night off" for the purpose of 
 attending the Italian Opera, on some swell and 
 out of the common occasion. Need \ say that 
 "The Governor" put on no end of official frills, 
 and would have nothing to do with the cheque, 
 the proposal, or the proposer. 
 
 Handsome Huddleston, Q.C., came sometimes; 
 not alone, but always with a duke, a marquis or an 
 earl. He had an immense reverence and weakness
 
 Musical Recollections 123 
 
 for the aristocracy. I was told a funny and quite 
 true story about him. One season at Baden, on 
 arrival he entered his name on the hotel register 
 " Huddleston, Q.C., London ; " immediately after 
 him came Mrs. Broadwood, who added to his entry, 
 making it read " Huddleston, Q.C., London, Toady, 
 and Tufthunter." The German hotel keeper, not 
 understanding English, had the entry printed in 
 the Fremden Blatt (visitors' list) ; it went every- 
 where, and was a great joke for everybody except, 
 of course, Huddleston. Sergeant Ballantine, too, 
 came very frequently, and one night came in the 
 nick of time. During the troubled days of the 
 Franco-German War, M. Lindheim, the Chef 
 d'Orchestre of the Varieties at Paris, was staying 
 in London on a visit to his daughter. Mr. Farnie 
 recognising the value of such co-operation, offered 
 him an engagement as conductor at the Phil- 
 harmonic. And Mr. Blank, who had been ap- 
 pointed by Mr. W. C. Levey, was given a fortnight's 
 notice. On the Saturday evening that Mr. Blank 
 received the notice, the house was crammed. . Five 
 minutes past eight came. The artistes were on 
 the stage, ready, waiting ; the feet of the audience 
 began beating impatiently. Ten minutes past eight, 
 and no orchestra in. Mr. Morton rushed down 
 into the band-room. The band had struck. They
 
 124 My Theatrical and 
 
 would not enter the orchestra unless Mr. Blank's 
 notice was recalled, unk/ss he was reinstated, and 
 given six months' engagement certain. It was an 
 awful position. The audience were making them- 
 selves still more audible. Mr. Morton argued with 
 the men in vain. They were immovable. Just 
 then Sergeant Ballantine put in an appearance. He 
 heard the men's demands, then said, "You persist 
 in refusing to play for Mr. Morton to-night, unless 
 he gives Mr. Blank a re- engagement. Is that 
 it ? " " Yes," answered they. " Very well," said 
 the learned Sergeant, " then there is nothing 
 else to do. Mr.. Blank must have his engagement." 
 They adjourned to the office, where an agreement 
 was hurriedly draAvn up, signed and sealed. 
 "There, Mr. Blank," said the Sergeant, " I think 
 that is all you require." " Thank you," said Mr. 
 Blank, jubilantly. The band rushed into the 
 orchestra, and all went merry as a marriage 
 bell. 
 
 On Monday morning there was a call at eleven 
 o'clock, for " the band with M. Lindheim." In 
 forty hours the orchestra had been reconstructed, 
 and not one of the men who struck or the con- 
 ductor were allowed to re-enter the theatre. Mr. 
 Sergeant Ballantine advised Mr. Morton that 
 Mr. Blank's contract was not worth the paper it
 
 Musical Recollections 125 
 
 was Avritten upon, being obtained from Mr. 
 Morton in terror em. 
 
 Ballantine was full of fun. One day, some 
 one meeting him, said, "Well, I see Walter" 
 (Ballantine's son) " has married a widow with lots 
 of money." "Yes," said the learned Sergeant, 
 " and if I'd only known it sooner, I'd have married 
 her myself." 
 
 E
 
 Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 de Lis," by Leo Delibes, produced Mr. Head and Mr. 
 Morton have a lawsuit I am a witness Mr. Fred Stan- 
 ley's bon-mot " Genevieve " on tour Gaiety Theatre, 
 Dublin, manager, John Gunn A picnic to the " Valley of 
 the Thrush " A talk over the old Queen's Theatre, Dublin, 
 and Mr. Harry Webb A missing witch At the Prince's, 
 Manchester Boston Brown and breakfast at the Queen's 
 Hotel Mr. Charles Calvert and my sister's boots A Man- 
 chester " Peeping Tom" In Edinburgh Theatre Royal 
 Mr. and Mrs. J. B. Howard's first season Row by the 
 pittites, Birmingham Prince of Wales Theatre AVith 
 "Jimmy" Rogers I visit the Philharmonic Theatre, 
 Islington, London A demonstration. 
 
 IN March, 1873, " Fleur de Lis," music by Leo 
 Delibes, book by Mr. Farnie, was produced, with 
 iiot much success, but ran to the end of the season. 
 I am sorry to say we were all so happy and 
 fortunate that Mr. Morton and Mr. Head fell out, 
 and a lawsuit was the result. Mr. Morton had 
 arranged with Mr. Hollingshead to give some 
 matinees at the Gaiety Theatre which were a 
 great success, and quite an eye-opener after the 
 usual " Corporal's Guard " which attended matinees 
 in those prehistoric days. When I sang at the
 
 Musical Recollections 127 
 
 Gaiety Theatre on Saturday morning, I would not 
 sing at the Philharmonic Theatre on Saturday 
 evening, considering one performance a day quite 
 sufficient. Mr. Head, among other things, said 
 such goings on injured his property. There 
 was a trial at the Guildhall. Mr. Justice 
 Brett was the judge. I was a witness, and 
 had a new black velvet cloak trimmed with 
 chinchilla, and went into the box very satisfied 
 with myself. The counsel argued pro and con. 
 When they got through, the judge turned to me, 
 standing patiently in the box. " And what do you 
 think, Miss Soldene ? " said he. I said I thought 
 the performance given with such success by the 
 Philharmonic Company at a first-class West-end 
 house like the Gaiety was calculated to give an 
 esprit to the Philharmonic. Verdict for Mr. 
 Morton. Mr. Fred Stanley, Mr. Morton's solicitor, 
 thought I was a very first-class witness indeed. 
 
 By-the-bye, Mr. Stanley said a good thing the 
 other day. He had a clerk who robbed him and 
 absconded. Talking the matter over with his son- 
 in-law and partner, Mr. Hedderwick, Mr. Hedder- 
 wick remarked : u Did you ever hear So-and-so " 
 (naming the culprit) " was an excellent violinist ? " 
 " Never," replied Mr. Stanley ; " but I know he 
 was a great fiddler,"
 
 128 My Theatrical and 
 
 The first tour of {< Genevieve de Brabant" was a 
 triumphal promenade. One of the most delightful 
 places visited was the Gaiety Theatre, Dublin. 
 John Gunn was the manager. He made no end of 
 a fuss with us, and was particularly pleasant and 
 complimentary to me, saying I " Was such a good 
 finisher and always left off with a bit in hand." 
 The audience were always demonstrative, and on 
 the first night, after any number of calls, I had to 
 sing my favourite song, " The Minstrel Boy." 
 
 There was an old woman who sold apples under 
 the gateway near the stage door. When I came out 
 she insisted on shaking hands with me. " Och, 
 the blessin' of God and th' blessed Vergin be on 
 you," says she. " Sure you've got Irish blood in 
 yer heart, or you cudn't sing ' Th' Minstrel B'y 5 
 like that." 
 
 On the Sunday we were there we had a lovely 
 outing. Mr. John gave the boys and girls a picnic 
 up in the Wicklow Mountains, in " The Valley of 
 the Thrush." Handsome Michael Gunn was just 
 then back from Italy, and the ladies found him no 
 end of an acquisition. I drove with old Mrs. Gunn 
 in a mourning coach, drawn by two thin black 
 horses, with excessively long, but thin, tails. 
 When the path was very steep they jibbed and 
 went sideways, and wanted to turn round and go
 
 Musical Recollections 129 
 
 back. I would if I had been they. We had 
 dinner at the Monastery, and got lovely (i praties " 
 boiled in their jackets, which were brought smoking 
 and steaming in an iron pot by two young monks, 
 the most picturesque things in religion I had ever 
 seen ; they were very tall and straight, and wore a 
 grave expression, and black serge gowns tied with 
 a rope. They had bare sandalled feet and such 
 eyes. The Superior being away, we went into his 
 cell to take off our bonnets. It was all cold and 
 stony and dark, with a little window high up in 
 the wall, through which the sun never crept. We 
 were dreadfully wicked, and sat upon the good 
 man's bed, and shook up his bolster, such a hard 
 one. 
 
 During our stay in Dublin, a party of us went 
 over the old Queen's Theatre, and Mr. Edward 
 Marshall, one of our " gendarmes," was full ot 
 anecdotes of when he, as a young man, played 
 an engagement under the management of Mr. 
 Harry Webb (of Two Dromios' fame). At the 
 back of the stage ran the roadway of a livery 
 mews, and in those days, when they required 
 realistic effects, as, for instance, in the " Courier 
 of Lyons," the stage was thrown open and the 
 roadway utilised for real coaches and horses. 
 Mr. Harry Webb was at once manager, actor.
 
 130 My Theatrical and 
 
 acting manager, and money taker, and equally 
 energetic in all these departments. One night 
 (the bill was " Macbeth "), during a lull at the 
 receipt of custom, he ran up, and peeped through 
 the bull's-eye window of the centre boxes to have 
 a look at the " Witches Scene." Horror ! he 
 could only see two witches. Rushing round to the 
 stage, he shouted, " Where's the third witch ? 
 Where the h 1's the third witch? Fine 
 him, fine him." " You're the third witch, 
 sir," replied the stage manager. Mr. Marshall 
 was the " first witch " and Mrs. Harrington " the 
 second." During that season " The Tempest " 
 was produced, with Mrs. German Reed (Priscilla 
 Horton) as Ariel, Mr. Marshall as Trinculo, 
 and Mr. Harry Webb as Caliban. " I have never 
 seen anyone approach him in that part," said Mr. 
 Marshall. Mr. Webb was also very fond of 
 playing the " Courier of Lyons," and in 1861 
 appeared at the Tkeatre Royal, Manchester, in 
 the dual role of Dubosc and Lesurques, supported 
 by a young actor named Henry Irving. 
 
 In Manchester we played at the Prince's. That 
 was in " Boston Brown's " time. We breakfasted 
 with him at the Queen's Hotel ; such a breakfast, 
 real American ; lobsters, and lots of fruit, steaks 
 and fried oysters, hut rolls and com bread, tea,
 
 Musical Recollections i 3 1 
 
 coffee, and iced water, hot cakes and molasses. 
 Mr. Calvert was the Shakesperian manager, 
 and looked upon opera bouffers with a severe, not 
 to say a cold and critical eye. That was in the 
 morning ; hut in the evening, when I went off my 
 first exit, I saw him examining with much 
 interest the fashion of Miss Yesey's (the pet Page) 
 boots. She wore them particularly high, and had 
 one foot on a stool, so he could make sure, exactly, 
 how they were trimmed. When he saw me, 
 he murmured something about he " had not 
 noticed anything precisely like that before." 
 Up to this day I am not certain whether he 
 meant the boot or the wearer. 
 
 During our stay in Manchester I had a little 
 adventure with a local " Peeping Tom." My 
 dressing-room was down stairs, and next it was 
 the carpenter's shop or stores. One night, having 
 sent my dresser out, I was alone drawing on my 
 tights, when I had the strange feeling that every- 
 one has felt, the feeling that there is someone in the 
 room, or that someone is looking at you. I turned 
 round, the room was empty, but the impression 
 remained. The dressing-table was a plain deal 
 one, about two feet wide, and extending the 
 whole length of the room. On it were no fallals 
 or frills, simply a toilet cover, and between
 
 132 My Theatrical and 
 
 the table and the floor the space was open. As 
 I sat in front of the glass, " making up," the 
 impression was repeated more strongly than 
 before. I pushed my chair back, and in doing so 
 looked beneath the table, where, immediately 
 opposite to me, in the dark shadow, my eye 
 encountered another eye. I could not actually 
 see, but I knew, I felt it. I finished dressing, 
 and when going out turned down the gas. Then, 
 after a few minutes, we opened the door 
 cautiously, and from a hole in the skirting- 
 board came a faint gleam of light. 
 
 When I was changing for the second act, the 
 man was caught on the other side of the wooden 
 partition, with his eye glued to a gimlet hole. 
 I need not say he was kicked out of the theatre 
 there and then. He was an old hand, and, in the 
 course of years, had probably acquired more 
 knowledge than he knew what to do with. 
 
 I had a similar experience in Denver, Col., 
 U.S.A. One night I got the same feeling, and, 
 looking up, saw the face of a gigantic negro in a 
 space left between the wooden shutter of the 
 window and the ceiling. He also was caught, and 
 enjoyed the soundest thrashing he'd had for a 
 long time. 
 
 In Edinburgh we played, at the Theatre
 
 Musical Recollections 133 
 
 Royal, Mr. and Mrs. J. B. Howard's first summer 
 season of management. Our arrival had been 
 much anticipated, and many stalls had been niched 
 from the pit, and when the doors were opened 
 there was a rush of pittites, who jumped the 
 claim, and sat in the seats they had been 
 accustomed to. There was much hubbub,' but 
 things soon quieted down. We did great business, 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Howard always told people I 
 was their " Mascot," and set them going in their 
 first venture. 
 
 We had splendid houses at Glasgow, Newcastle- 
 on-Tyne, and Liverpool, also at Birmingham, 
 where we played at the Prince of Wales's, manager, 
 Mr. "Jimmy" Rogers. The first Saturday night 
 we were there, the local stage manager said, " If 
 there's any disturbance, shall I let down the 
 curtain?" "Let down the curtain," said I; 
 " What for ? " " Well, Saturday nights there's 
 generally a bit of a row. Last week, Miss Holt's 
 burlesque company were here. They threw 
 cabbages and carrots, and we had to lower the 
 drop.'* " Well, you won't send down the cur- 
 tain, except at the proper time, while I'm here," 
 said I, " and they won't throw cabbages and 
 carrots to-night." And they didn't. I must say 
 though I felt rather surprised to see the whole
 
 134 My Theatrical and 
 
 gallery in its shirt-sleeves, cuddling big bottles of 
 beer. 
 
 We did an enormous business in Birmingham. 
 People used to stand for hours waiting for the 
 doors to be opened, and blocking the street. But 
 they were a bit scandalised at " Sara." 
 
 I have since been told that " advance booking " 
 had never been indulged in at the Prince of 
 Wales' s till the advent of the " Genevieve de 
 Brabant " company. 
 
 When I returned to London, Mr. Head, who 
 was now running the Philharmonic on his own 
 account, had just produced " Madame Angot," 
 with Miss Julia Mathews as Lange, and Miss 
 Selina Dolaro as Clairette. I had a box 
 booked, and, accompanied by Mr. Morton, Mr. 
 Hollingshead, and party, visited the theatre I con- 
 sidered I had created. I went to see the opera, 
 not to occasion a demonstration. But a demon- 
 stration took place that stopped the performance. 
 Directly the audience caught sight of me they 
 commenced to cheer, and before they would be 
 quiet I had to bow from the box, like H.R.H., or 
 any other great swell, and I found it very nice 
 indeed. It is a legend (why, I don't knoAv) that 
 I am the original Lange, in English, but it is 
 not so. That distinction, if it is any, belongs to 
 Miss Julia Mathews.
 
 Musical Recollections 
 
 135 
 
 Production of " Mme. Angot " at the Gaiety Theatre, November 
 1873 The cast The dress rehearsal A baby (a Royal 
 baby) show in the Green-room My benefit The fog 
 that killed the bullocks Mr. Morton's benefit Mine. 
 Desclauzes and the baggage man Mr. "Levey" Lawson 
 Moore, the stage-door keeper People who came behind 
 at the Gaiety " Mme. Atigot " at the Opera Comique in 
 1874 Inauguration of the 10s. GtZ. stall Visit of their 
 Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales Visit 
 of the Prince Imperial A Violet night The first man in 
 Coomassie. 
 
 " LA FILLE i E MADAME ANGOT/' music by Charles 
 Lecocq, book adapted from the French by H. B. 
 Farnie, was produced at the Gaiety Theatre, 
 November, 1873, under the joint management of 
 Messrs. John Hollingshead and Charles Morton, 
 with the folio win sr cast: 
 
 Ange Pitou 
 
 Larivaudiere 
 
 Louchard . 
 
 Pompounet . 
 
 Trenitz 
 
 Amaranthe 
 
 Estelle 
 
 Hersilie 
 
 Clairette 
 
 Mdlle. Lange 
 
 Mr. E. D. Beverly. 
 Mr. R. Temple. 
 Mr. E. Marshall. 
 Mr. F. Bury. 
 Mr. J. G. Taylor. 
 Mrs. Leigh. 
 Miss Ewell. 
 Miss Clara Vesey. 
 Miss Annie Sinclair. 
 Miss Emily Soldeae.
 
 136 My Theatrical and 
 
 Tn the Conspirators' Chorus was Mr. Ludwig, the 
 now celebrated bass, and Mr. George Appleby, 
 since principal tenor in the American Opera Com- 
 pany, " The Bostonians." The last time I saw 
 him was in Buffalo, U.S.A. He was playing 
 Jose to the " Carmen " of Miss Zelie de Lusan. 
 
 I was nearly out of " Mme. Angot," I did not 
 like playing Mdlle. Lange. But the manage- 
 ment was persuasive, and, as it turned out, the 
 part suited me, and I made both reputation and 
 money out of it. We rehearsed and produced 
 the opera in one week, playing " Genevieve de 
 Brabant " every evening. On the first perfor- 
 mance, I only got my verse of the *' Quarrelling 
 Duett" as I came oifthe second act. I learnt it 
 while changing for the third, and remembered it all 
 right. Miss Annie Sinclair was a charming 
 Clairette, the opera went splendidly, and even 
 Meyer Lutz complimented us. 
 
 At the dress rehearsal there was a terrible 
 sensation. Moustachios not being admissible in 
 conjunction with white wigs, the gentlemen of 
 the chorus were directed to shave. Much afflic- 
 tion and great resistance resulted from this 
 autocratic order. There were many prize 
 specimens of moustachios in the company, military 
 and magnificent. But the costumier, Mr. A.
 
 Musical Recollections 13" 
 
 Harris (father of Sir Augustus), and the manage- 
 ment were firm, the hirsute appendages sacrificed, 
 and the artistic unities preserved. All the feminine 
 belongings of the male chorus resented this dese- 
 cration dreadfully, and Mrs. Quinton, my ward- 
 robe mistress, whose husband was super-master, also 
 a fine-looking man, and had to " go on," came 
 to me with tears in her eyes : " I'd rather throw 
 up the engagement," said she, " than my William 
 should lose his moustachios." 
 
 One day, when we were rehearsing, there was a 
 great fuss and rushing about, and giggling of the 
 girls. Somebody said, " There was a Baby Show 
 in the Green-room, sixpence admission, and with 
 the money the stage hands were to drink the 
 baby's health." " What baby ? " said I, " and why 
 sixpence?" "Oh my, Miss Soldene; what, don't 
 you know ? why, it's a Royal baby." " Royal 
 rubbish," said I. "It's true," said little Miss 
 Brown, " I know all about it, Lardy told me. 
 Why, it's the Duke of" " Miss Brown called," 
 shouted call boy. Miss Brown flew, and the 
 secret is still unrevealed, at least, unrevealed by 
 Miss Brown. 
 
 At the end of the season, Messrs. Hollingshead 
 and Morton kindly placed the theatre at my dis- 
 posal for a matinee. Fortunately for me, the house
 
 138 My Theatrical and 
 
 was sold out before the day, for at the performance 
 the theatre was filled, not with people, but with 
 fog, the fog that killed the cattle at the show 
 that year. 
 
 Mr. Morton also had a benefit at the Gaiety, 
 on which occasion the celebrated Mme. Desclauzes, 
 the Parisian Mdlle. Lange, appeared. Madame was 
 a remarkably fine, handsome woman, very tall and 
 perfectly proportioned. I placed my dressing-room 
 at her disposal, the one on the stage, the window 
 of which looked out over the stage door into 
 Wellington Street. 
 
 After the performance I went in to have a little 
 chat with her. She was sitting in front of the 
 toilet table, in a very neglige costume, wearing in 
 fact only one garment of a delicious and delicate 
 fineness, profusely trimmed with lace. Under the 
 table stood a tin box containing her stage costume. 
 A knock at the door. I opened it. The baggage 
 man for the box. " Entrez, entrez," said Des- 
 clauzes. <{ Mais, Madame," said I, pointing to her 
 limited lingerie. " Ce m'est egal, entrez." The 
 man shufHed in. " La ! " and, shoving back her 
 chair, she pointed to the box with her two bare, 
 pretty pink feet. 
 
 One of the nicest men I ever met within a 
 theatre was Mr. Lionel La\vson, most kind, genial
 
 Musical Recollections 139 
 
 and even-tempered, the best and most stimulat- 
 ing of audiences, and to hear that " Lawson's in his 
 box/ ' was the signal for everybody to put their best 
 leg first, though being all so good, it was difficult 
 to discover the best. Nothing bothered him but 
 disagreeables and discussions. 
 
 One day I was, I am afraid, rather inclined to 
 fight over some question. " My dear child," said 
 he, " take the theatre and all that is in it, but don't 
 get angry." His sudden death was a great loss 
 to all who had ever had the good fortune to be 
 associated with him. 
 
 My recollections of the Gaiety would not be com- 
 plete if I did not remember Moore, the stage-door 
 keeper, who died suddenly and alone, one Sunday, 
 while at his post. Mr. Hollingshead told me 
 there was no reason for him to be there on a Sunday, 
 but no persuasion could keep him away. He 
 evidently thought the theatre would come to grief 
 or disappear if he were not there. Moore was not at 
 all a modern Cerberus, for while attending strictly 
 to his duties, he had a polite answer to every ques- 
 tion, and to charge his memory with a particular 
 message did not necessarily cost half a sovereign. 
 The stage entrance to the Gaiety was different in 
 those days, and one had to go down several steps 
 to his sanctum sanctorum, decorated with pretty
 
 140 My Theatrical 'an 'd 
 
 pictures of the pretty chorus and ballet girls, and 
 his favourite artistes. He died while I was abroad, 
 but the news brought him back to my mind so 
 vividly, sitting in his chair, bending over the fire, 
 rubbing his hands, and turning round with a 
 pleasant smile: " Oh, yes, he's up in his offis. The 
 guv'nor 'ull always see you, miss." 
 
 Not many people came behind at the Gaiety, 
 but among them were : The Marquis of Blandford, 
 Lord Rosebery, Lord Macduff, the Marquis of 
 Anglesea, Mr. (now Sir) Douglas Straight, Lord 
 Alfred Paget, Lord Dudley, Lord Londesborough, 
 Sir George Wombwell, Sir James Farquharson, and 
 the Posnos. 
 
 After the Gaiety season we went to the Prince's, 
 Manchester. " Mme. Angot " was non-copyright, 
 and already three companies had invaded Cotton- 
 opolis, but Cottonopolis did not respond. We had 
 been billed a month ahead. The public waited for 
 us, and a magnificent business was the result. At 
 Christmas, 1873, Messrs. Morton and Hollingshead 
 rented from Lord Dunraven the Opera Comique, 
 and put on " Mme. Angot " there. The business 
 was enormous. During this time the 10s. Qd. 
 stall was inaugurated, and booked weeks and 
 weeks in advance. Miss Patty Laverne had 
 replaced Miss Annie Sinclair as Clairette, and
 
 Musical Recollections 141 
 
 was without doubt (up to that time) the best 
 English representative of the character. 
 
 The Princess of Wales, as every one knows, is a 
 very placid great lady, especially at the theatre ; 
 and while H.R.H. would, leaning on the front of the 
 box, enjoy the play and lead the applause, the 
 princess presided in severe rigid, decorous, and 
 unmoved dignity. The only time I ever saw her 
 laugh was at the "Quarrelling Duett" in the third 
 act of " Angot." Bending slightly forward, Her 
 Royal Highness regarded the pugilistic ladies at 
 first with curiosity, then, finally appreciating the 
 situation, sank back in her chair laughing and 
 applauding heartily, and nodding to the Prince as 
 if in approbation. That night we sang the duet 
 four times. 
 
 The first place of amusement the late Prince 
 Imperial visited after the death of the Emperor 
 was the Opera Comique. When I heard His 
 Imperial Highness was coming, I bought up all 
 the violets in Covent Garden Market, and deco- 
 rated the Prince's box. It was a bower of violets, 
 and every member of the company band in- 
 cluded wore a bouquet of violets. 
 
 " Mme. Angot " is full of dreadful republican 
 sentiments, and I hated to repeat them before 
 the prince, so young, so unfortunate ; such a nice
 
 142 My Theatrical and 
 
 face too, oval, distinguished, rather melancholy, 
 with beautiful eyes, like his beautiful mother. 
 
 Not the least pleasant episode about February, 
 1874, was getting the news that Lord Gifford, 
 one of " the boys " at the Philharmonic, who 
 had gone out to Ashantee, was the first man 
 in Coomassie. 
 
 In the summer of this year we went another 
 provincial tour-
 
 Musica I Recollections \ 4 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Practical Mr. Bateman My season at the Lyceum J< Tiie 
 Grand Duchess " Miss Clara Vesey as Wanda 
 Revival of "La Fille de Mme. Angot" Mme. Selina 
 Dolaro as Clairette A little contretemps A remem- 
 brance of Captain Burton, the African ti-aveller, and Mr. 
 Holms, the spiritualist Our engagement at Portsmouth 
 Our sea experiences What the youngest Home Ruler 
 in the House of Commons said. 
 
 BEING under contract to go to America in the 
 following October, I thought I should like a 
 two months' London season previous to starting. 
 The Lyceum was advertised to let. I wrote to 
 Mr. Bateman. He wanted 90Z. per week. Well, 
 of course, the rent of a theatre is only a small part 
 of the expenses, and it seemed an immense respon- 
 sibility to assume, so I played about and fiddled 
 and faddled, and was altogether uncertain and 
 undecided. This was in the pre-syndicate days, 
 and taking a theatre was a serious matter. How- 
 ever, one evening practical Mr. Bateman ap- 
 peared at my lodgings in Birmingham, where I 
 was then playing, and talked to me in so exceed-
 
 144 My Theatrical and 
 
 ingly practical a fashion, that when he drove me 
 down to the theatre he carried in his waistcoat 
 pocket my cheque for 300L, the first month's 
 rent in advance. It was decided to produce the 
 u Grand Duchess," and we did so in splendid style. 
 Mr. Jolly, of the u Fantasies Parisiens," Brussels 
 (who had made such a great impression the previous 
 year in London by his performance in " Girofle 
 Girofla," " Je vous presente un Pere," &c.), was en- 
 gaged at 60/. per week to put it on the stage. Mine. 
 Auguste (Mrs. A. Harris) made the costumes, which 
 were exceedingly correct and exceedingly elegant. 
 My dresses were magnificent, and my train of 
 embroidered pale-green satin was a veritable 
 antique, and had belonged to the Empress Jose- 
 phine. Everything was very lavish, and my sister, 
 Miss Clara Vesey, covered herself with glory and 
 the " Jeunesse Doree " of that period with enthu- 
 siasm by her performance of Wanda. And when 
 Mr. Beverly, as Fritz, sang " D the regula- 
 tions," and kissed Clara full on the mouth and the 
 stage, there was a fearful nutter and movement 
 in at least the four front rows of the stalls, and 
 Mr. Beverly was considered to be an envied and 
 enviable fellow for some considerable time. Per- 
 sonally I had a great success as the Duchess. My 
 voice was in capital order, my appearance suited
 
 Musical Recollections 145 
 
 the character, and my acting was pronounced equal, 
 if not superior, to all previous Duchesses of 
 Gerolstein. But strange to say, and I don't mind 
 recording it now, I never cared for the part. All 
 the kind and good notices and praise I received 
 was as dust and ashes in my mouth. I never 
 believed in myself; I never got (as the foreigners 
 say) " dans le peau " of the role, and, in spite of 
 pleasing my critics, failed to please my own inner 
 consciousness. We got an exceedingly good 
 month's business out of the Duchess, and 
 arranged for the second month a revival of " La 
 Fille de Mnie. Angot." By this time Mme. 
 Selina Dclaro was an artiste of importance, and 
 I, wishing to give every eclat to these farewell 
 performances, engaged her at a large salary to 
 sing " Clairette," and out came the " ad." : 
 
 " Miss Emily Soldene has much pleasure in 
 announcing she has secured the valuable assis- 
 tance of 
 
 MME. SELINA DOLARO, 
 
 who will appear in her original character of 
 
 CLAIRETTE 
 
 in 
 ' MME. AXGOT.' " 
 
 Then there was a little contretemps. As a
 
 146 My Theatrical and 
 
 matter of fact the concluding verse of the Opera 
 belongs to Clairette, and she ought to sing it. 
 But I, having the might instead of the right, I 
 suppose, had always appropriated it to myself, and 
 brought down the curtain with me in the centre 
 of the stage en tableau, as is the wont of prime 
 donne in power to do on every possible occasion. 
 When we came to rehearse the scene, Mme. Dolaro 
 positively refused to appear unless she sang the 
 role as it stood in the score. Of course she was 
 perfectly right, and, as for me, I can only say " inea 
 culpa." 
 
 The upshot of this was that next morning the 
 " ad." said : 
 
 " Miss Emily Soldene begs to announce that in 
 consequence of a misunderstanding 
 
 MME. SELINA DOLARO 
 
 will not appear in her original character of 
 
 CLAIRETTE 
 
 in 
 * MME. ANGOT.' " 
 
 That afternoon a neat little coupe bowled up 
 to the Lyceum stage door, a neat little tiger threw 
 open the carriage door, and a neat little lady 
 stepped into the theatre and made a neat little
 
 Musical Recollections 147 
 
 speech, and "was so sorry to upset the arrange 
 ments," &c., and next morning the "ad." said : 
 
 " Miss Emily Soldene has much pleasure in 
 announcing that, the misunderstanding having 
 been arranged, 
 
 MME. SELINA DOLARO 
 
 will appear in her original character of 
 
 CLAIRETTE 
 
 in 
 *MMB. ANGOT.'" 
 
 Such lots of notable people came to see us 
 during these two months to say " bon voyage " 
 and " au revoir ! " Among them two stand out in 
 my memory, strongly, distinctly. One, Captain 
 Burton, the African traveller, tall, dark, bronzed, 
 masterful, and much addicted to long conversa- 
 tions with the ladies of the ballet and the pages. 
 I, an untravelled one, with the bump of veneration 
 largely developed, regarded him with the greatest 
 awe, admiration and respect. Still, I could not 
 get away from the fact that he was artistically 
 made up ; the cheeks rouged a little and the eyes 
 Indian-inked a lot, just as if he were going on the 
 stage. 
 
 The other was Mr. Holms, the spiritualist. 
 Thin, fair, fragile, with beautiful, soft, silky, wavy
 
 148 My Theatrical and 
 
 pale hair, long delicate hands, aesthetic in ap- 
 pearance and charming in manners. People used 
 to say he had been in the inmost confidence of the 
 late Emperor Napoleon, and was still so with the 
 Czar of All the Russias. This gave him much 
 mysterious interest in my eyes. 
 
 The very last engagement we played before 
 leaving England was at Portsmouth. Our business 
 was so big, that one night a whole boat-load of 
 people in full dress from Ryde had to return home 
 disappointed. Their seats not having been booked 
 in advance, when they arrived at the theatre 
 there were none available. At Portsmouth we 
 commenced our sea education. A friend of ours 
 brought round his steam yacht, and every day, 
 wet oi fine, rough or smooth, we used to go a- 
 yachting to get ourselves familiar with the sea and 
 all its nasty ways. We were dreadfully afraid of 
 crossing the Atlantic, not thinking of danger, but of 
 being sick. One very stormy day we crossed to 
 Ryde, got drenched in the yacht, and dried in 
 the hotel, returning through a high sea and 
 a thick, cold, drifting mist. We were close to 
 Southsea, when a huge shadow fell across the boat. 
 Looking up, we saw an immense vessel. It was the 
 troopship Serapis, coming out slowly, but with 
 a way on her. For a moment it seemed we must
 
 Musical Recollections 149 
 
 go under. But a voice on our little craft was 
 heard, loud and clear. " Shove her along like h 1 1 " 
 sang out the youngest Home Ruler in the then 
 House of Commons. These explicit directions 
 were obeyed, and we were safe. But it was a 
 close shave.
 
 150 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 We sail for New York October, 1 874 Mr. Morton leaves his 
 umbrella, behind Queenstown, the lovely The perfume 
 of the ship The clergy The weather A gentleman's 
 opinion of the ship The donkey engine The donkey 
 lady The wreck The gallant captain who changed his 
 shirt at sea. 
 
 HAVING previously made our wills, increased our 
 life insurance, and sunk no end of capital in the 
 accident insurance, the Soldene Opera Bouffe Com- 
 pany, under contract to Messrs. Maurice Grau and 
 Carlo Chizzola of New York, started for the United 
 States by the good ship Celtic (White Star 
 Line), under the command of Captain Kennedy. 
 Of course such a voyage was not to be without 
 incident, the first thrilling event being the dis- 
 covery that Mr. Morton had left his umbrella 
 behind. I had the Captain's cabin on deck. 
 Speaking from experience, deck cabins on ocean 
 voyages are a mistake. Everything on this, my 
 first sea journey, appeared to me novel and 
 wonderful. The big ship was very full, and we
 
 Musical Recollections 151 
 
 had at least half a dozen of the clergy on board. 
 At this period I was not aware that their presence 
 settled the question of the weather for the trip. 
 But it did. 
 
 When we steamed into Queenstown, we were en- 
 chanted with the lovely view the soft green hills 
 fading into the distance, the pretty white houses 
 clustering and climbing up their grassy-terraced 
 sides. Such a busy scene, such a bustle, such a rush, 
 such a lot of babies, such a tearing and a howling ; 
 boats coming off with nice Irish emigrants, like the 
 song ; boats coming off with nasty Irish emi- 
 grants, not at all like the song. Bawling old apple- 
 women, smoking short black pipes, rolled up in 
 voluminous shawls, with a profound belief in the 
 superior excellence of their recently polished and 
 rosy-cheeked apples ; " Broths of b'ys " who sold 
 ancient newspapers, and fled with the price 
 before the date was discovered. Such shouting 
 and swearing and rushing, such weeping, such 
 shrieks and whistles from the engine, such sudden 
 gusts of explosive and impatient steam, such 
 squeaks from circling flocks of sea-gulls. And, oh, 
 goodness gracious ! when we stopped, such a 
 smell, horrid ! made up of pea-soup, burning rancid 
 oil, and hundreds of other indescribable abomina- 
 tions. I asked a gentleman what could possibly
 
 152 My Theatrical and 
 
 produce such results. " Mitltum in parvo, 
 madame," said he, with solemnity ; lt multum in 
 parvo" and I wished such a disagreeable thing 
 had never been invented. 
 
 Up to this the weather and my digestive organs 
 had behaved beautifully, but no sooner had we 
 turned " first to the right " out of Queenstown, 
 than the sea went up (the ship with it), the sky 
 came down. And this performance being re- 
 peated ad lib. t I retired to my cabin, a dead thing, 
 or words to that effect. What horrors ! what 
 suffering ! Ah ! if the ship would only be still 
 for five minutes ! Neither the ship nor anything 
 else would be quiet for five minutes. All the 
 company were prostrate, and my sister Clara soon 
 dangerously so. The wind for days blew and 
 howled. The sea ran after us in high mountains, 
 and catching us up, fell on the deck in great floods. 
 The sky was grey and the clouds rushed along in 
 dark gusty masses. 
 
 Every now and then the ship took a header, 
 then sprang up with a sickening bound, skimmed 
 the tops of the waves like a swallow, shook, 
 shivered, vibrated, and, shaking the water from her 
 shining sides, down she went again. In a moment 
 of confidence a gentleman kindly informed me 
 she would certainly " break her back one of these
 
 Musical Recollections 153 
 
 days." There seemed no peace, no quiet, and the 
 donkey-engine at night was dreadful rattling, 
 groaning, heaving, hissing, banging. But some- 
 times I forgot my miseries, lying in the dark, 
 listening to the song of the sailors a nice tune, 
 with lots of " ahoys " and things I could not 
 understand. But I heard that one of the pas- 
 sengers denounced it as improper something 
 about a " waist " or a " stays " or a " knee " and 
 his wife desired that this particular ditty should be 
 discontinued. 
 
 After a day or two some of the girls crawled 
 on deck. They were dilapidated, but in spite of 
 that were attended assiduously by the officers 
 of the ship Dr. Neale and Purser Harbord. 
 The male passengers, too, were most kind, and 
 insisted upon dividing their arduous duties 
 with the official departments. Somehow the 
 lady passengers did not seem to share this 
 anxiety. 
 
 One morning, endeavouring to look through my 
 port, I found it blocked by the broad back of 
 one of the clergy (they were from France bound 
 for Canada). Peeping over his shoulder, 1 saw he 
 was reading a book "A French and English 
 Conversation." His reverence was diligently 
 studying the language of the " Coulisse,'*
 
 1 54 My Theatrical and 
 
 About the fifth day we sighted a small ship a 
 wreck. Instantly all was bustle and excitement. 
 Away went my mat de mer. I flew out on deck. 
 Yes, there she was, not very far off a little French 
 brig, no sails, only a rag flying, no masts, nothing 
 but a hulk, and one of our boats already pulling 
 to her help. The sea was dreadfully high, but we 
 could plainly see a white flag flying ? No, it was 
 the captain drawing over his head a clean white 
 shirt, to receive our officer in a manner worthy of 
 the politest nation on earth. The little ship was 
 the Holier, of Marseilles, out goodness knows how 
 many days from New York. 
 
 The captain, who was also the owner, would not 
 abandon her. On board was all he cared for in 
 the world his wife, his boy, his dog, his cargo, 
 and his crew of six. Our captain sent out what 
 he asked for provisions, oil, masts, spars and 
 sails. 
 
 As we steamed quickly, swiftly away, all hands 
 mustered on deck, and gave one great cheer for 
 the brave captain, his brave wife, his boy, his dog, 
 his cargo, and his crew of six. And then we 
 women watched (as well as we were able through 
 our falling tears) watched the little black tossing 
 hulk, outlined against the grey and cold and cruel 
 sky, watched her disappear down over the horizon,
 
 Musical Recollections 155 
 
 into the dark night into the pitiless solitude of 
 the raging, hungry sea. But she " got there all 
 the same," paid for all she had, and sent a present 
 for the captain. This news we heard months after 
 in Philadelphia.
 
 156 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A New York fog The New York air The New York 
 roads The New York Hotel coach The American lady 
 of 1874 The American lady of 1896 Oysters and 
 champagne at Delmonico's Fourteenth Street in 1874 
 The Fifth Avenue Hotel A five days' bill The cockney 
 sparrows in New York The New York theatres and their 
 managers in 1874 The ' ' Soldene " boom Our first 
 appearance Harry Montague Dion Boucicault and 
 George Kignold in New York Where the married ladies 
 went Where the unmarried ladies went Where the meri 
 went Press opinions. 
 
 ENTERING New York harbour, we ran into a thick 
 white fog, also, as nearly as possible, into a fishing 
 boat. For a few minutes there was much rushing 
 about, fog horns blowing, and steam whistling, but 
 fortunately for the poor fishermen, we just missed 
 them. We were all very much astonished at the 
 fog. We had been told by Americans, and they 
 ought to know, there was no fog in America, only 
 in England. The first thing that struck me on 
 landing was the delightful air brisk, sharp, ex- 
 hilarating, invigorating. The second thing that
 
 Musical Recollections 157 
 
 struck me (badly, too) was the roads, made of big 
 stones and bigger holes. The carriage bumped 
 and bumped, worse than the ship. In those " arks 
 upon wheels," the public coaches, sent down from 
 the principal hotels, the passengers had to be 
 strapped to the seats to keep them from being 
 hurled out like bolts from a catapult. The streets 
 were gay with painted advertisements, hung over- 
 head upon stretched wires. The ladies were most 
 extravagantly dressed for the street, wearing long 
 bright-coloured silk, brocade, and moire skirts, 
 dragging on the ground, from under which trailed 
 in the dust dainty white petticoats, that somehow 
 suggested Leicester Square. The American lady 
 of 1874 was of an entirely different physique to the 
 American lady of 1896. She was fragile, more 
 than fragile, painfully thin, with tiny hands carried 
 affectedly in front of her (like the performing poodle 
 carries his fore paws when travelling on his hind 
 legs), tiny feet, flat feet, and no instep. She was 
 made up to an alarming extent, not only her face 
 but her figure. Those were the days of the Princesse 
 robe, and the New York elegante, a thin, wiry, 
 contouiiess being, by the aid of a wash-leather 
 combination, padded and shaped from the neck to 
 the ancle, appeared a thing of beauty, if not a joy 
 for ever. The ladies of New York were aristocratic
 
 158 My Theatrical and 
 
 in features, delicate and refined, with beautiful 
 eyes, fine hair, fine teeth (when not their oAvn). 
 They wore diamonds at the breakfast table, and 
 cut through the vast space of the hotel dining-room 
 with elevated, thin, nasal, metallic voices, that 
 made one's skin creep. They lived on huge under- 
 done " porterhouse " steaks, roast beef " rare," ice- 
 creams, iced water, candies, hot cakes, and molasses. 
 They never drank anything strong, except in the 
 seclusion of their sleeping apartments, and then, 
 with the intelligence of the ostrich, they stood the 
 empty bottles outside the door. They were always 
 chilly, passing their days in rocking chairs, with 
 their feet well up to the stove, and could not 
 venture into the overheated corridors of the hotel 
 without a small shawl over their shivering 
 shoulders. They had a bad habit of looking 
 strange people over from head to foot, and back 
 again, and making audible remarks. " Mais nous 
 avons change tout cela," and now there is no more 
 delightful person on earth, than the plump and 
 athletic, swimming, boating, batting, golfing, 
 riding, climbing, bykeing, tailor-clad, trainant- 
 voiced, cultivated, cultured, American lady of 
 to-day. In making these remarks after this long 
 period of time, I am justified. These ladies in 
 those days used to call us beefy Britishers. Of
 
 Afusical Recollections 159 
 
 course, at the time we could not retaliate, but some 
 women can wait. 
 
 The first thing I had to eat in New York was at 
 Delmonico's in 14th Street, oysters and champagne. 
 Fourteenth Street was smart then, and no stores dis- 
 turbed its aristocratic calm. We put up at the Fifth 
 Avenue Hotel, which was rather expensive, and our 
 first bill 255 dollars for five days and three persons. 
 
 On our way " up town," we heard the cheep, 
 cheep, cheep, of the cockney sparrow, specially 
 imported to exterminate the American caterpillar, 
 which had a nasty weakness for dropping off the 
 trees, and down one's back. The sparrows were 
 luxuriously lodged in little wooden boxes nailed 
 to the trees. We found New York quite Parisian 
 in aspect and gaiety. The principal theatres were : 
 Booth's, under the management of Palmer and 
 Jarrett ; Wallack's, manager Mr. J. Wallack ; the 
 Lyceum, managers Messrs. Grau and Chizzola, 
 and Union Square, manager I forget. The most- 
 talked- of beauties of the stage were Miss Fanny 
 Davenport and Miss Bessie Sudlow. My first 
 evening in New York was passed at the Union 
 Square. They played "The Hunchback," in 
 which Miss Clara Moms, the Bernhardt of America, 
 and Mr. Stuart Robson appeared. 
 
 We opened at the Lyceum Theatre, 14th Street-
 
 My Theatrical and 
 
 about the second week in November, 1874, and, 
 in spite of our " beefiness," caught on. Soon 
 everything "Soldene"was the rage: " Soldene " 
 shoes, " Soldene " stockings, " Soldene " hats, 
 "Soldene" gloves, "Soldene" fans, "Soldene" 
 coiffure. But the greatest sensation was the 
 " Soldene " girl. Never had been seen such girls, 
 real girls, with fine limbs, complexions nearly all 
 their own, beautiful creamy (Maintenon) white 
 skins, figures perfect, gay, bright, healthy, laughing 
 girls, blonde girls, blonde girls with blue eyes, with 
 demure dreamy grey eyes, soft brown eyes, bright 
 hazel eyes, but they all had black lashes. Then 
 their hair, wonderful hair, running the pro- 
 fessional long-haired sisters very closely indeed 
 yellow, flaxen, red, bronzy, long, wavy, crispy, 
 curling and rippling. I don't think the colour of 
 the hair was warranted, and I don't think people 
 expected it. " The Boys " simply went crazy 
 over this crowd of imported loveliness. 
 
 Our first opera was " Genevieve de Brabant," 
 with the following cast : 
 
 Emily Soldene. 
 Agnes Lyndhurst. 
 Lizzy Robson. 
 John "Wallace. 
 Laura Cartkew. 
 H. Lewens. 
 J. B. Kae. 
 
 Drogan . 
 Genevieve 
 
 
 
 
 Brigitte . 
 Cocorico . 
 
 
 
 
 Oswald . 
 
 
 
 
 Golo 
 
 
 
 
 The Burgomaster 
 

 
 Musical Recollections 
 
 Charles Marfcel 
 
 Philibert . 
 
 Grabuge . 
 
 Pitou 
 
 The Hermit 
 
 Pip 
 
 Peterkin . 
 
 E. Laurant. 
 Miss E. St. Clair. 
 Edward Marshall. 
 E. D. Beverly. 
 C. Gibbons. 
 Miss Nichols. 
 Una Brooke. 
 
 Maids of Honour. 
 
 Marie Williams. 
 Ruth Reid. 
 Laura Carthew. 
 Helen Travors. 
 Beaumont. 
 Julia Roberts. 
 Jessie Lofius. 
 Nellie Reid. 
 Clara Grav. 
 
 Christine . 
 
 Gudule 
 
 Isoline 
 
 Gretchen . 
 
 Faroline 
 
 Gertrude 
 
 Houlbionne 
 
 Yolande . 
 
 Brandamante 
 Musketeers of the Guards : Messrs. Mayiiard, Cullen, Cooper, 
 
 Quine, Hillier, Quinton and Cottrell. 
 Members of Council, apprentice cooks, citizens of Curacao : 
 
 Misses Rose Roberts, Kat'3 Chorley, &c. 
 
 The conductor was Mr. George Richardson, a 
 nice man, but dreadfully bilious, especially at 
 rehearsal, hurrying over each number at a dread- 
 ful pace, and catching on to each cue with a sharp 
 " Next.'' When anything went wrong, he invariably 
 remarked, "What 'er yer a doin' of?" I after- 
 wards heard that he made much money, buying and 
 selling public-houses, which, of course, must have 
 interfered somewhat with his artistic instincts. 
 
 We had a splendid reception. The Press spoke 
 of us in the most delightful terms. I was found 
 to be "magnificent," magnetic (I am afraid they
 
 1 62 My Theatrical and 
 
 also said " massive "), possessing " vim," a grand 
 voice, and, better than all, knew what to do with 
 it. The vocalisation of the other principals, also 
 the chorus, was " good." The comedians were 
 not too funny, just funny enough. . The dresses 
 were " out of sight," and the whole show was 
 pronounced " real elegant." But after all it was 
 the " female youth and beauty " that fetched 
 them. Ail the critics found these " indescribable," 
 " irresistible." During the season we produced 
 " Chilperic," " La Fille de Mme. Angot," " La 
 Grande Duchesse," and " Mme. 1'Archiduc," 
 which had just appeared in Paris. A friend of 
 M. Chizzola's brought over a vocal score, and in 
 one week it was translated, scored, studied, learnt, 
 rehearsed, and produced. 
 
 While we were in New York, Mr. Dion Bouci- 
 cault, at Wallack's Theatre, produced and played 
 " The Shaughran," first time on any stage. Mr. 
 Harry Montague appeared as the English officer. 
 At the same time, Mr. George Rignold was 
 playing at Booth's Theatre, " Henry the Fourth," 
 with great success. The married and middle-aged 
 ladies of New York worshipped at the Rignold 
 shrine. The young and unmarried ladies bowed 
 down before the agsthetic beauty of Montague, and 
 haunted Mora's galleries, absorbed in the photo-
 
 Musical Recollections 163 
 
 graphed presentment of the artist. They stood 
 two deep on doorsteps and stools to catch a 
 glimpse of him on the Broadway. It was a 
 Montague delirium. Both these gentlemen drew 
 crowded houses all feminine, no men. Why? 
 Because all the men had gone to the Soldene 
 show. 
 
 Though not as a rule approving of the exhibi- 
 tion of testimonials, I think I may with propriety 
 insert the following, one charm of it being, as the 
 gentleman said on the steamer, " Multum in 
 parvo." 
 
 Tlie Play, New York, November 10th, 1874. 
 "SOLDENE ENGLISH OPERA BOUFFE. 
 
 " The brightest anticipations in respect of 
 the immediate and marked success of the Soldene 
 English Opera Bouffe Company have been 
 realised. Miss Soldene and her artists have won 
 a victory of which the results are destined to be 
 enduring, and English Opera Bouffe, thanks to 
 their complete, artistic and effective interpreta- 
 tion, is now accepted as a standard amusement. 
 Monday's performance at once established . this 
 form of entertainment in the foremost rank of 
 representations of the period. The rendering of 
 1 Genevieve de Brabant ' is well fitted to swiftly
 
 1 64 My Theatrical and 
 
 . 
 
 secure so desirable an end. It combines the fun 
 of Opera Bouffe with the elegant wit of English 
 comedy ; the lyric beauty of Italian Opera with 
 the tunefulness and dash of Burletta music ; the 
 comicalities of satire with the splendour of spectacle. 
 So rare a grouping of excellences in one enter- 
 tainment is seldom, if ever, brought about, and 
 as a consequence, the immediate decision of the 
 French ' nerve ' of the acting, the charm and 
 beauty of the singing, and the magnificence of the 
 stage costume, was of the most favourable kind. 
 Under these circumstances it is almost unneces- 
 sary to say that the programme with which the 
 season of Opera Bouffe at the Lyceum Theatre 
 was so felicitously inaugurated, is to be retained 
 throughout this week. ' Genevieve de Brabant,' 
 with its melodious songs, its rattling finales, its 
 wealth of drollery a most important element of 
 which is the ' Gendarmes Duet,' greeted invaria- 
 bly with a delight which finds expression in half a 
 dozen encores remains upon the bills until ' The 
 Daughter of Madame Angot ' is in readiness. 
 Meanwhile, although everybody in New York 
 seems likely to form an opinion, from personal, 
 impressions, of the Soldene English Opera BoufFe 
 Company and its achievements, it may be men- 
 tioned here that the Metropolitan Press has given
 
 Musical Recollections 165 
 
 C 
 
 voice to its views, and clothed them in words of 
 which there is no mistaking the force. The 
 Tribune speaks of the new attraction at the 
 Lyceum Theatre as a simple and charming 
 amusement, placed amidst artistic and refined 
 conditions, within the reach of the public. The 
 Herald remarks that ' Nothing approaching to the 
 completeness of the mise-en-scene has been wit- 
 nessed.' The Times says : * So vivacious, bright, 
 and inoffensive an entertainment is rarely offered.' 
 The Sun observes that the ' company far surpasses 
 all former ones in point of musical accomplish- 
 ment.* We might quote additional phrases of 
 similar import, did not crowded houses and enthu- 
 siastic applause prove, nightly, that the high 
 character of English Opera Bouffe and the per- 
 fection of its recital by Miss Soldene and her 
 artists are already understood and appreciated."
 
 t66 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 My sister's illness A successful hypnotic suggestion We say 
 things we don't mean So do the Americans A eolhvr- 
 making colonel At the Metropolitan Hotel The bullets 
 that killed Jim Fisk- At the Belvedere Hotel In the 
 rooms of Parepa Rosa Parepa's -wonderful success 
 Parepa's wonderful appetite The farewell of Charlotte 
 Cushman At Booth's Theatre New Year's Day in New 
 York Arrival of Stephen Fisk from England. 
 
 IN the midst of the rush, hurry and worry of the 
 first appearances, there came to me a terrible fear. 
 My sister, who had been so ill on the ship (so ill 
 that she had to be carried ashore), instead of getting 
 better on land got worse, and soon developed 
 gastric fever. She was exceedingly weak and low, 
 and the fear that possessed me was the fear that 
 she would die. At last came a crisis, with con- 
 tinued insomnia. The doctors tried everything ; 
 the more sleeping draughts the less sleep ; there 
 she lay awake, always wide-awake. Then came 
 the expressed opinion that if she did not get sleep, 
 her recovery was very uncertain. 
 
 In these days of " Trilby" fads, "hypnotic
 
 Musical Recollections 167 
 
 suggestion," &c., &c., I think the record and 
 outcome of my successful experience may prove 
 interesting. 
 
 I knew nothing of animal magnetism, or 
 scientific theories of any kind. The impulse and 
 power that came to me, came from the love and 
 affection I bore her. The night the doctors had 
 given me such serious news I came back from the 
 theatre tired, weary, worn out with anxiety. I 
 took some supper, sat down quietly and read a little, 
 in fact rested and recuperated myself, mind and 
 body. Then going to bed, I lay down beside my 
 sister, and, taking her in my arms, held her close 
 and petted and patted her like a baby, and 
 "hushed " her, and prayed in my heart, as I had 
 never prayed before, that she might sleep. And 
 after a bit she dozed for five minutes, then woke up 
 wondering, "where was she?" "Hush," said I, 
 sharply, " Go to sleep," and she did ; slept for six 
 hours. When she awoke I was exhausted, stiff, 
 cramped, all the strength had gone out of me, I 
 could not move, but she was saved. From that 
 night she got better, and in about three weeks 
 appeared, looking lean and rather like a young 
 stork, but safe. We heard subsequently that the 
 very night of my experiment, " Death of Miss 
 Clara Vesey " had been cabled to England.
 
 1 68 My Theatrical and 
 
 Socially there were lots of things in New York to 
 amuse us Britishers. The dreadful disgraces we 
 got into by using English expressions that to 
 American ears conveyed all sorts of things we 
 did not mean ! Then some American locutions and 
 customs more than surprised us. One day a 
 gentleman called at the hotel. I informed him that 
 he could not see Clara : she was out. Presently he 
 electrified me. " How long has your sister been on 
 the street ? " said he. Then a charming person 
 was introduced to us, a Colonel Somebody. He 
 made several calls, had a box at the theatre, and 
 sent flowers, &c., and he was an exceedingly nice 
 man. After a few days the " Colonel " came to 
 say " good-bye." " Would we allow him to send 
 us each a little present as a remembrance of a very 
 pleasant time?" We were " delighted." In due 
 course the present arrived ; two boxes full of 
 " collars," " cuffs," and " dickeys." Our Colonel 
 was a wholesale collar manufacturer of Troy, N. Y. 
 We changed our hotel twice during our stay in 
 New York, going first to the Central, where I had 
 a suite of rooms, in one of which James Fisk 
 died, when he was shot by Edward Stokes in 1872. 
 To these rooms there was a private stair ; and in 
 the wall on the left-hand side as you went up 
 could still be seen the bullet marks. We finally
 
 Musical Recollections 169 
 
 settled down at the Hotel Belvedere, Fourteenth 
 Street and Fourth Avenue. 
 
 The general sitting-room was full of portraits of 
 artists of all countries who had coine to America, 
 and the proprietor was full of anecdote. The rooms 
 I had were occupied by Mine. Parepa Rosa when she 
 first went to America, where she created an im- 
 mense furore and made much money. Mr. Wehrle 
 told me how nervous she was before she appeared, 
 and how she sat in " that chaii " sewing the bows on 
 the dress she was to make her debut in. " Ah," 
 said he, " madame never sewed her own bows on 
 any more, somebody else did it." He told me she 
 had a lovely disposition, and a wonderful appetite. 
 She would eat a chicken before she went to her 
 concert, and two when she came back. 
 
 About this time there was a great sensation in 
 the art world. Charlotte Cushman was about to 
 retire. " Her farewell appearance " was to take 
 place at Booth's Theatre. All the city was up in 
 arms ; all the great people, the mayor, the head of 
 the police, the chief of the fire-brigade. Vv There was 
 to be a parade of all the societies in the city, torch- 
 light processions, flowers, flags, bands, cannons, 
 bells ringing, &c. Miss Cushman was to play Meg 
 Merrilies. Mr. Howard Glover had told me in 
 England of Miss Cushman's "Meg," her wonderful
 
 170 My Theatrical and 
 
 performance, her appearance, realistic and frightful, 
 her hands and arms alone taking her an hour and 
 a half to <c make up." And when she was finished, 
 nothing quite so terrible as this terrible "Meg" 
 had ever been seen. 
 
 I am afraid I was disappointed. I suppose I had 
 expected too much ; but anyway, she looked and 
 was a very dreadful old woman indeed. After 
 the performance, Miss Cushman received the 
 Profession on the stage, and took leave of the 
 public. What a scene ! The vast theatre was 
 crammed ; every box was decorated with flags 
 (American), palms and flowers. The people raved 
 and roared themselves hoarse. The band played 
 " Hail, Columbia," and the whole audience stood 
 up and sang it. All the ladies of the New York 
 Theatres carried baskets of flowers, which they laid 
 at the feet of this idol of many years. Everybody 
 was trembling, shaking with emotion, tears were 
 plentiful, and in that vast assembly there was but 
 one person unshaken, unmoved that one was 
 Charlotte Cushman. She walked down the centre 
 of the stage, down the flower-strewn path an 
 imposing, majestic figure clad in a plain dark 
 dress, with plain collar and cuffs, her grey hair 
 drawn back in plain bands. She stood firm, 
 composed, not a tremor. " Ladies, gentlemen, and
 
 Musical Recollections 171 
 
 the public,"^ said she ; then, going close to the 
 footlights, extended her right hand, and clenching 
 it tightly as if holding something very precious, 
 her eyes blazed out with the triumph of possession, 
 and in a tone the exultation of which it is im- 
 possible to convey in words, she said, " My 
 Public," "AT// Public! " 
 
 New Year's Day used to be great business in 
 New York. All the ladies stayed in and received 
 the gentlemen ; everybody went everywhere, and 
 everybody was " so glad " to see them. On the 
 big tables stood bowls of punch, cake, sandwiches, 
 pie and fruits of all kinds. All the men one knew 
 brought all the men they knew, and people got 
 pretty lively by the evening. 
 
 I received, of course ; and the great surprise of 
 the first day of 1875 to me, was the call of Mr. 
 Stephen Fisk, " just arrived from England."
 
 172 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 No lime-light men outside of New York The city of brotherly 
 love Precept and practice Dry-cupped by a barber 
 Brooklyn and its miseries The opera ball at the Academy 
 of Music, New York Globe Theatre, Boston, and the 
 Harvard students At Ford's Theatre, Washington 
 Visit to General Robert Lee's old home Baltimore mules 
 Buffalo Niagara, 10 below zero A Canadian B. 
 and S. " God save the Queen " Chicago, remains of 
 the great fire Clarke Street, Chicago Louisville The 
 " Equal Rights " Law in operation St. Louis " Yours 
 merrily, John R. Rogers " A catarrh Going to Galveston 
 Tom Ochiltree The fighting sheriff of Texas Sail 
 for New Orleans The captain's musical box The niggers 
 The ladies The babies The races and the gambling 
 houses of the Crescent City Why the ghost did not walk 
 We sail for England. 
 
 I MUST say here that America at that time was 
 rather behind in the lime-light business, and 
 when we left New York we had to take our lime- 
 light man with us. 
 
 From New York we went to Philadelphia. We 
 stayed at the Continental Hotel, and played at 
 Mrs. Drew's Theatre. 
 
 The cold was intense, and after one night I was 
 down with incipient pneumonia. Mr. Morton
 
 Musical Recollections \ 73 
 
 went for a doctor, and, in this stronghold of 
 brotherly love, was hours before he could get one. 
 They would " not attend any person connected 
 with the theatre." At last he returned with the 
 greatest in the city, Professor Pancoast. The 
 treatment was heroic, very. I was cupped dry- 
 cupped by a barber. I felt I had tumbled back 
 into past centuries. The Professor pulled me 
 through though, and in two days I was able to 
 sing. From Philadelphia we went to Brooklyn. 
 There was no famous Brooklyn Bridge then, and, 
 living in NCAV York, one had to cross the ferry 
 every night to the theatre cross in a carriage, 
 of course, which drove bodily on to the ferry 
 boat. The cold, the ice, and the snow were 
 dreadful. The ferry boats crunching and crashing 
 through miniature icebergs, and the stamping 
 of the startled horses, gave us no inconsider- 
 able amount of fright, and the theatre the 
 " Academy of Music " was a great, gloomy, barn 
 of a place. The streets, half lit, were piled up 
 with dirty snow, and the side walks were one sheet 
 of slippery ice. When I arrived, I found my 
 dresser, Mrs. Quinton, had fallen down and broken 
 her arm, but, having had it set, was waiting to 
 dress me ! I always thought people with broken 
 bones went to bed right away ; but not she. She
 
 174 My Theatrical and 
 
 was at once one of the smallest and pluckiest 
 women in the world. 
 
 At this time, Madame Aimee, the French 
 Opera Bouffe prima donna, was due in New 
 York. The " Aimee " and the " Soldene " com- 
 panies were both under the same management, 
 " Grau and Chizzola " ; so said management 
 resolved to give a grand ball at the Academy 
 of Music, New York, at which ifc was an- 
 nounced that Mme. Aime'e and Miss Emily 
 Soldene would receive their friends. The affair 
 was an immense success ; the tickets were 5 dols., 
 and the receipts over 5000 dols. The ball proved 
 interesting to me, for there I met Mr. Charles 
 Thome, the well-known actor, a handsome man, a 
 charming artist, and an impertinent person, but his 
 was impertinence that could be forgiven. He, it 
 will be remembered, in conjunction with Mr. Stuart 
 Robson, came over to the Gaiety Theatre and 
 played in Dion Boucicault's " Led Astray." The 
 cast included the late Miss Amy Roselle (Mrs. 
 Arthur Dacre) and Miss Helen Barry. The play 
 bills used to read so funnily: "Miss Helen 
 Barry ' Led Astray ' every night by Dion 
 Boucicault." 
 
 After Brooklyn, we visited the principal cities 
 of the States. In Boston, beautiful, bald-headed
 
 Musical Recollections 175 
 
 Boston, we played at the Globe Theatre, and 
 the great Harvard University supplied us with 
 supers. The up-to-date students thereof bribed 
 the real supers with dollars to get out of the 
 theatre, and filled their places. One night they 
 assisted in the performances ; the next, in faultless 
 evening dress, they occupied the front rows of the 
 fauteuils, their places on the stage being taken by 
 another contingent. 
 
 On our last night the whole college turned out, 
 and they set up a barrel of beer in the Green- 
 room for the chorus. Never was such a scandal. 
 Afterwards we heard dreadful stories of " rusti- 
 cation " and other terrible penalties. 
 
 At Washington we played in Ford's Theatre, 
 where President Lincoln was shot ; and on a snowy 
 day we crossed the Potomac to General Robert 
 Lee's beautiful home, confiscated to the State, in 
 whose gardens and grounds lie, taking their rest, 
 24.000 American soldiers, " Union " and '* Con- 
 federate." To Baltimore, where our train was 
 drawn through the streets from one depot to 
 another by sixty mules, driven by mounted men 
 with long stock whips, blowing horns, where 
 we sampled the sort of oysters talked about by 
 Charles Dickens, and where we had chicken, 
 " Maryland style," and found it delicious. To
 
 1 76 My Theatrical and 
 
 Buffalo, where in the evening the streets were 
 dark, dismal, deserted, and we looked vainly for 
 " Buffalo gals comin' out to-night out to-night," 
 &c., and while there we of course visited Niagara 
 on a Sunday, with the glass ten degrees below zero. 
 There was an ice bridge over the river, and a tall 
 cone-shaped ice mountain one hundred feet high, 
 made of the spray which froze as it flew, and 
 hiding behind the fleecy mist were hundreds of 
 rainbows laughing, dancing, iridescent rainbows. 
 Columns of ice glittered in the sun, and every 
 branch of every tree was hung with strings of 
 flashing diamonds. 
 
 There was no wind, and though the cold was 
 intense, we did not feel it. We drove across the 
 iron bridge (the toll for the carriage, if I mistake 
 not, being six dollars) into Canada, sang " God 
 save the Queen," and drank many S.'s and B.'s 
 at " 25 cents " each. A brandy and soda in the 
 " States" costs you 50 cents. 
 
 Cincinnati was a wonderful place. They 
 " boarded " the car horses upstairs on the second 
 floor, and the dears hung their heads out of the 
 windows to get a little fresh air, and to see what 
 was going on below ; they only wanted a pipe in 
 their mouths to make the picture perfect. And 
 when we walked home from the theatre at night,
 
 Musical Recollections 
 
 '77 
 
 the rats, as big as kittens, ran down the grain- 
 choked gutters in squeaking crowds. 
 
 At Chicago we played in a horrid theatre, at the 
 wrong side of the city, the " Academy of Music." 
 There we had great business, and very nearly a 
 tragedy. One of the girls poisoned herself for the 
 love of Mr. J. B. Rae, the " Burgomaster." But 
 a stomach-pump and much admonition averted 
 a fatal result. 
 
 In 1875 Chicago bore many traces of the great 
 fire of 1871. Whole streets were in ruins, and 
 tall, gaunt trees, burned and black and cindering, 
 stood along the lake front and on each side of 
 every thoroughfare. I went to a lake- side 
 cemetery, three miles from town, and all the way 
 there walked on the charred remains of the 
 wooden sidewalk. We found the granite tombs 
 with their plate glass tops melted and fused (the 
 granite and glass together), lying around in huge 
 confused heaps. The melted stone had run along 
 in streams like lava. One of the sights of Chicago 
 at that time was Clarke Street : all Dime 
 museums, Dives restaurants and gambling saloons. 
 
 We visited one of the Museums, saw the Fat 
 Lady, and the Living Skeleton, who was going to 
 marry (up in a balloon) the belle of the city ; 
 the man who fasted for a fortnight ; the man
 
 178 My Theatrical and 
 
 who won the great wager by eating two quails 
 every day for a month (I am told this feat is 
 impossible) ; a Mormon who arrived one morning 
 with six wives six wives being against the city 
 ordinance, they locked him up, and when he got 
 out of jail, the Dime proprietor gave him (and 
 the wives) a big engagement ; the boy who lived 
 on nails (tenpenny ones preferred). There were 
 two Aztec idiots, with long, squeezed- up heads 
 and tiny faces, who jabbered and spat upon and 
 polished a tin can all day. The girl made a rush 
 at every man and wanted to kiss him ; we were 
 afraid the boy might be troubled with a similar 
 complaint, so retired. 
 
 When we got to Louisville, the law conferring 
 on coloured people equal rights with white people 
 had just come into operation. Previously to this, 
 no coloured person could ride in the same car or 
 eat in the same restaurant with a white person ; 
 no coloured person could take a room in any 
 hotel. In the theatre coloured people had to sit 
 in the place (a top gallery) set apart for them. 
 All this was now to be changed, and white 
 Louisville was in a ferment of fury and rage. 
 Dreadful trouble was expected. There was a 
 rumour that some coloured men were coming into 
 the " Parquet " (stalls), and the white gentlemen
 
 Musical Recollections 179 
 
 swore that if they did they'd shoot them "on 
 sight." The trouble came one evening I was on 
 the stage two fine-looking, well-built, coloured 
 men in evening dress walked down the aisle, when, 
 up rose the white men, and covering them with 
 their revolvers, said one word, " Git." They 
 went, and there was no shooting till they got to 
 the street, but we had no more coloured men in 
 the stalls. 
 
 At St. Louis we played at the Olympic 
 Theatre, where, " yours merrily, John Rogers," as 
 he has since told me, had his ears boxed for 
 looking at the Soldene girls instead of attending 
 to his business, which was that of selling pro- 
 grammes. In the second week of this engage- 
 ment I was down with unmitigated American 
 catarrh, an inflammation of the soft bones of the 
 head, attended with fever arid ague ; a horrible 
 complaint ; but, in spite of three doctors, I did 
 not die no, I was earned into the train, and we 
 started for Galveston. 
 
 When we left St. Louis, the streets on each 
 side were banked up with walls of dirty snow tit 
 least ten feet high. We turned our faces due 
 south, and in twenty-four hours were among the 
 flowering peach trees, miles and miles of them, 
 warm summer sun and roses. Straight on we flew
 
 i8o My Theatrical and 
 
 over the balmy scented plains ; and at night out 
 came the fire-flies in millions, the voice of the bull- 
 frog was heard in the land, and my catarrh dis- 
 appeared as if by magic. Over more plains, where 
 wild horsemen were rounding up and lassoing live 
 cattle, and busy buzzards were picking out the 
 eyes of dead ones ; on into the land of the orange, 
 magnolia and myrtle. The commissariat had to 
 be carried on board the train. There were no 
 dining-cars tacked on in those days a thousand 
 miles and no refreshment bar ! Think of that, 
 ye shades of " Shorts." The girls got lots of fun 
 out of the cooking ; they had little alcohol stoves, 
 and sausage-frying, tea-making, spluttering fires 
 and unparliamentary language went on from early 
 morn till dewy eve. 
 
 We came to Houston, Texas, just as the sun 
 was rising ; the pretty town was bathed in gold 
 and rosy pink. Houston was fast asleep, except 
 for a lot of yawning, grinning niggers, and flocks 
 of black birds with yellow beaks. 
 
 Here we had breakfast a fawn-coloured steak, 
 about as thick as the sole of one's boot, and 
 resembling it in more ways than the thickness ; 
 a sweet cake to eat with it, muddy coffee, con- 
 densed milk and a Chinese paper serviette. Off 
 again, past lots of places, and lots of loafing Texan
 
 Musical Recollections 1 8 1 
 
 men, tall, nearly too tall, with long legs, graceful 
 figures, dark blue eyes, black hair, and big slouch 
 hats sombreros, I suppose. 
 
 At last we came to Galveston and gazed 
 upon the sea. How delightful to feel the soft, 
 warm ocean breeze ! Harry Greenwall, the 
 manager of the theatre, did all in his power to 
 make us happy and comfortable, and succeeded, 
 even to having " 14 " painted on the door of my 
 room in the hotel, when he by chance heard I was 
 superstitious about " 13." The theatre was not 
 exactly Drury Lane, and stinging nettles grew up 
 close to the stage door. The public was pleased 
 with us. The Press, rather chaste and faddy, 
 found us " improper," which we were not, also 
 " beefy," which perhaps we were ; everybody can't 
 be as fat as a stoat nailed on a barn door. Anyway, 
 every night the theatre was crowded. We had 
 a real good time, beautiful drives on the beautiful 
 beach, and saw wonderful things and people, 
 not the least wonderful being the famous Tom 
 Ochiltree, the fighting sheriff of Texas, now a 
 New York dude, and the, as nearly as possible, 
 successor of Ward McAllister. He told us stories, 
 and everybody knows what steep stories Tom 
 Ochiltree can tell. On the last day of our stay 
 we had an early matinee, twelve o'clock noon, and
 
 My Theatrical and 
 
 afterwards, escorted by the mayor, the citizens and 
 the city band, went down to the wharf and took 
 the steamer for New Orleans. They gave us a 
 splendid send off, and the last thing I recollect 
 of Galveston is that as we steamed out into the 
 Gulf of Mexico, the band (all brass) struck up " God 
 save the Queen " in five different keys, one for 
 each instrument. Our voyage was monotonous 
 all deadly sick. Mr. Morton, going to get me a 
 cup of tea, never came back, and after some hours 
 was discovered in the scuppers wet through, 
 prostrate, collapsed, his hat spoilt, doubled up. 
 He always went on a voyage in a frock coat and a 
 tall silk hat. My sister and I had the captain's 
 cabin. The captain was very polite. It was a big 
 room, and when the ship rolled and you didn't 
 like that, you could lie one way ; and when she 
 pitched and you didn't like that, you could lie the 
 other way. The captain had a musical-box, and 
 when we had a more than common attack he came 
 in and wound it up to " amuse as. ' 
 
 We got into New Orleans at 7.30 Sunday even- 
 ing, and at eight were on the stage. We opened 
 with " Genevieve," at Ben de Bar's Theatre. The 
 house was packed, the audience enthusiastic. We 
 stayed at the St. Charles Hotel. 
 
 New Orleans is a lovely city, oranges growing in
 
 Musical Recollections 183 
 
 the front garden, the sun always shining, the sea 
 always glittering. We saw everything, including 
 alligators, and the races. All the jockeys were 
 coloured boys. The big ones wore the little ones' 
 clothes, and the little ones wore the big ones' 
 clothes. The coloured people in New Orleans are 
 not only first-rate servants, they are first-rate 
 enter tainers. One morning at the hotel, my boy, 
 leaning over my shoulder, said, " Yours berry 
 bang-up costume las' night, missie. I jes' like ter 
 git dat ar pattern. Ise goin' ter play a lady 
 myself der Lady ob der Camillas at der club 
 nex' week." 
 
 I had two women to wait in my dressing-room, 
 both as black as the ace of spades. When any- 
 thing went wrong, or was lost, one in the absence 
 of the other would shake her head and say, " Not 
 me, missie, der dark gal did it." Then, if my 
 " wash " did not arrive in time they would be in a 
 fearful state, and make remarks not at all flattering 
 to their sister help, " Dem dam yaller trash, dey 
 jes' goes aroun' in der madame's clothes, den dey 
 wash 'em up an' bring 'em back ter de hotel 
 late." The expression " goin' aroun' " involves 
 possibilities which one does not care to contem- 
 plate in association with one's own lingerie. 
 I asked a bright-eyed black and laughing wench
 
 I 4 My Theatrical and 
 
 which she liked best, these times or the old ones. 
 She showed all her white teeth, an' guessed " she 
 like de ole times best berry nasty missie, but 
 berry nicemassa." These people are passionately 
 fond of dress and flowers, and my women decked 
 themselves in the roses sent to my room, and 
 powdered and rouged their faces, and looking in 
 the glass, "Yah yah'd" themselves nearly into 
 hysterics with delight. 
 
 We had ten performances a week, playing every 
 evening, including Sunday, and three matinees 
 commencing at noon. Siesta at 3 p.m. The 
 theatre at the matine'e was always a picture 
 such lots of children, most extravagantly and 
 beautifully dressed. Nearly all the New Orleans 
 ladies at this time were in deepest mourning, and 
 those that were not wore black ; lovely ladies, too 
 beautiful, graceful. They brought heaps of 
 flowers and threw them on the stage a la Anglais. 
 
 The city of New Orleans is full of gambling 
 dens, open to the street, and people gamble there 
 all day and all night. One day an awful thing 
 happened. > The "ghost did not walk." Some- 
 body (old enough to know better) on his way to 
 the theatre to pay salaries, went into one of these 
 places with the dollars, but came out without 
 them.
 
 Musical Recollections 185 
 
 In May, 1875, we sailed from New York for 
 England, and on the voyage I made a friendship 
 that has lasted ever since Miss Annie Wood, of 
 New York, the well-known actress, being kindness 
 itself. My sister and I were very ill, and Miss 
 Wood was the nicest and most practical Samaritan 
 I ever met.
 
 1 86 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " .Fleur de The " Miss Bessie Sudlow at the Criterion Mr. 
 James Mortimer of the Figaro, howled at by the gallery 
 Mr. D'Oyly Carte's dilemma Miss Bessie at Manchester 
 My season at the Park Theatre My benefit Lady 
 Gregory's opinion of Opera Bouffe A visit to Paris 
 People met there Miss Kate Monroe's pretty feet Pro- 
 duction of " Mme. 1' Archiduc " at the Opera Comique 
 Miss Kate Santley Our aristocratic clientele An 
 embarras de richeese of Dukes Mr. Frederick Clay 
 " Trial by Jury," with Miss Clara Vesey as the 
 Plaintiff. 
 
 IN 1876, at the Criterion Theatre, under the 
 management of Mr. D'Oyly Carte, was produced a 
 new comic opera, called " Fleur de The." I went 
 to the first performance, curious to see Miss Bessie 
 Sudlow, of whom I had heard so much in New 
 York. Those were the days when the gallery 
 howled at Mr. James Mortimer of the Figaro 
 every time he entered a theatre. They howled 
 that night, but did not disturb the equanimity of 
 James, who, turning his back to the stage, took 
 through his opera glasses a prolonged and very 
 exhaustive survey of his tormentors. When the
 
 Musical Recollections 1 8 7 
 
 gods had finished with, him, they turned their 
 attention to me. " Hall right, Em'ly, we're a 
 cummin a Saturday night," alluding to my forth- 
 coming engagement at the Park Theatre. 
 Miss Bessie Sudlow, as " Ca3sarine," made an 
 immediate success under peculiar and adverse 
 circumstances. It seems the Lord Chamberlain at 
 the last moment objected to the original cast, and 
 said unless a certain character was cast differently 
 the piece could not be played. Mr. D'Oyly Carte, 
 in agony, wired Mr. Michael Gunn of Dublin. 
 Mr. Michael Gunn sent on Miss Sudlow. She 
 studied the part in twenty-four hours, played it in 
 boots damp from Davis, in dresses that had to be 
 pinned on her. She sang songs she did not know 
 to tunes she had never heard, wedded to words 
 improvised as she went along. But she was all 
 right, " pulled through," as she says, by " that dear 
 Goossens," the conductor. When the notices came 
 out, Miss Bessie Sudlow found herself famous ; she 
 had captured the town. Miss Sudlow was a 
 capital hand at playing parts on the shortest 
 notice, and at Manchester repeated as nearly 
 as possible the " Criterion " coup. . She was 
 travelling with Mr. Carte's company, and the 
 opera was " Mme. Angot." Miss Patty Laverne, 
 Clairette ; Miss Selina Dolaro, Lange. At
 
 1 88 My Theatrical and 
 
 rehearsal these ladies disagreed as to the tempi 
 of the duet, " Happy days of childhood." Dolly 
 wanted it one way, Patty wanted it another. The 
 end of it was Miss Dolaro refused to play. More 
 agonies for Mr. Carte. He rushed off to the 
 lodgings, Mrs. Brown's, Ducie Street, Oxford 
 Road (Dear dear, what a lot of us recollect Mrs. 
 Brown, and Charlotte, good old Charlotte) where 
 Mr. and Mrs. Carte, Miss Bessie Sudlow, and Miss 
 Haidee Crofton were staying. " My God, Bessie," 
 said he, bursting in, " you'll have to play Lange 
 Monday night." " Why, I'd never seen Lange, 
 except you one night at the Lyceum, before you 
 went to the States," said she to me, when telling 
 the tale. Well, she had the clothes pinned on. Still 
 she " got there" all the same, received an ovation 
 from her audience, and a diamond bracelet from 
 Boston Brown. Then, as all the world knows, not 
 long after she played the most important part of 
 her life, and became Mrs. " Mike" Gunn. 
 
 The season at the Park Theatre, under the 
 management of Parravicini and Corbyn, was a 
 success. We woke up the Camden Town people 
 with " Chilperic," and in the Pages' chorus was 
 Miss Maud Branscombe, the most photographed 
 young person of the period. Kate Paradise and her 
 troupe danced^; Mdlle. Sara and her troupe danced.
 
 Musical Recollections 189 
 
 At the conclusion of the engagement I took 
 a benefit, at which the late Lady Gregory (Mrs. 
 Stirling) appeared. I held a great reception in 
 the Green-room, and she regretted she had not 
 come in contact with Opera Bouffe before. She 
 had " no idea we had such a good time." For 
 that night " Trial by Jury " was sent up from 
 the Royalty. Rose Stella sang the Plaintiff 
 (originally played by Miss Nellie Bromley). Fred 
 Sullivan was the Judge, and Mr. Penley the 
 Foreman of the Jury. ' 
 
 Some little time after, my sister and I went 
 to Paris to see an opera of Herve's, called 
 " Poulet et Poulette," in which Schneider 
 appeared. On arriving at the theatre, the 
 Varieties, I think, the first person we saw was 
 a gentleman we knew, a Scotch gentleman, who 
 was then only {< a Peer," but who is now " a 
 personage." "How long shall you stay here ? " 
 asked I. " God knows," said he ; "I never 
 leave home more than twenty-four hours without 
 getting a telegram to come back immediately : 
 * One of my sisters bolted.' ' 
 
 Miss Kate Munroe was in a box that night, 
 looking particularly pretty. A box in a French 
 theatre is too awful stuffy, hot, no room to move. 
 Miss Munroe had the smallest feet (with the ex- 
 
 Q
 
 Theatrical and 
 
 ccption of Mrs. Judge Russell's, of New York) I 
 had ever seen. " Why, Kitty," said I, " give tlie 
 boys a treat and yourself a little comfort ; hang 
 your toes outside, instead of keeping them inside 
 this band-box." 
 
 "When I returned to London I arranged with 
 Mr. Morton to go to the Opera Comique, to play 
 Marietta in "Mme. I'Arehiduc." Miss Kate 
 Santley was engaged for Fortunato, and though 
 people prophesied we should not get on together, 
 we did, excellently, and sometimes talked over 
 the " Bell goes a-ringing for Sarah," and " Up the 
 Alma's height" days at the Oxford. 
 
 Our regular clientele this season was much more 
 aristocratic than it had ever been : The Duke of 
 this, and His Grace of that. The late Duke of 
 Sutherland was very fond of coming, and times 
 out of number we, from the stage, would see the 
 audience a wee bit agitated, and His Grace disap- 
 pearing in a flurry, " fetched to a fire." The late 
 Duke of Newcastle occupied one particular stall 
 every evening during the entire season. Dukes, 
 with us, were remarkably plentiful, and one of our 
 principal ladies could not eat her dinner unless her 
 particular duke cut it up. Dr. Lennox Brown 
 was our throat specialist. For myself, I did not 
 need professional attendance. But he made it up
 
 Musical Recollections 191 
 
 to me by sketching pretty pictures on the walls of 
 my dressing-room. Mr. Frederick Clay, the com- 
 poser, a most charming person, came very fre- 
 quently ; he wore very fetching open-work shirt- 
 fronts, with coloured silk beneath, one night pink, 
 another night blue. Sir George Armitage, too, 
 dear old man ; like poverty, he was always with 
 us. " Mme. 1'Archiduc " did not "catch on" to the 
 amount expected. The real success of this short 
 season was " Trial by Jury," in which Miss 
 Clara Yesey sang the Plaintiff with much dis- 
 tinction.
 
 1 93 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Return visit to America, October, 1876 " Tidal by Jury " A 
 sensation in Boston Booked for Brooklyn Get Kate 
 Clarton to take the date The Brooklyn Fire, December 5th, 
 1876 Loss of 326 lives H. M. Stanley How history 
 is manufactured Kate Claxton The " Fire Queen " The 
 Chicago Times finds my mouth too large Shaking hands 
 with " Sitting Bull " My principal tenor's notorious wife 
 San Francisco l)r. Cornelius Hertz At home A visit 
 to Chinatown Chinese Johnnies Dr. Hertz makes a 
 present A 1250 dollars seal-skin jacket Mr. and Mrs. 
 J. C. Williamson, in "Struck Oil" Maggie Moore 
 "Jimmy" Moore's pants Debut of Mme. Modjeska 
 Robbery of the Modjeska diamonds A Chinese weapon 
 Sail for Australia July, 1877 The Southern Cross 
 Auckland, New Zealand Miles Paget Where the Maori 
 ladies carry their husbands' pipes Auckland oysters 
 Where the hens sleep Sail for Australia My sister as 
 R poker- player We land in Sydney, New South Wales, 
 September, 1877. 
 
 AT the end of October, 1876, the Soldene Opera 
 Bouffe Company, under the management of Mr. 
 Chizzola, sailed again for the States. On 
 November 19th we opened in Boston at the 
 Globe Theatre, playing " Mme. 1'Archiduc " 
 and "Trial by Jury " to an immense house. 
 " Trial by Jury " was a sensation in Boston,
 
 Musical Recollections 
 
 193 
 
 where it had been previously played by the Alice 
 Gates Company, but made no particular impres- 
 sion ; no pains being taken with the presentation, no 
 mise-en-scene, and none of Mr. Gilbert's ' ' busi- 
 ness." We gave it, with the scenery, costumes and 
 effects, as in London, and this burlesque of British 
 institutions (burlesque, which afterwards found 
 fuller expression in H.M.S. Pinafore) caught on 
 with the Americans to an unprecedented extent. 
 Boston simply went wild, and every night " Trial 
 by Jury " was played twice, every number being 
 encored and repeated. What havoc the brides- 
 maids created ! and there was a movement all over 
 the house when the fair Plaintiff appeared. The 
 cast was : The Defendant, Mr. Knight Aston ; 
 Counsel for the Plaintiff, Mr. C. Campbell ; the 
 Judge, Mr. J. Wallace ; Usher, Mr. Dalton, and 
 the Plaintiff, Miss Clara Vesey. 
 
 On Monday, December 5th, 1876, a memorable 
 date, we were due at the Brooklyn Theatre. I did 
 not wish to play in Brooklyn ; I hated the place. 
 So Mr. Chizzola got Miss Kate Claxton, who was 
 then travelling with the " Two Orphans," to fill the 
 date, and we went to Providence, Rhode Island. 
 How well I remember seeing the announcement 
 next morning : " Brooklyn Theatre burned, seven 
 lives lost." That seemed horrible enough, but the
 
 Theatrical and 
 
 number went up every hour, till it reached tlio 
 frightful total of 326. It was too terrible. Of 
 course the excitement was intense, but everything 
 in America is on a large scale, and life and death 
 there are not regarded as a matter of so much 
 importance. 
 
 Some years ago, at the time Mr. H. M. Stanley 
 was elected Member for North Lambeth, I came 
 across an anecdote told by an American editor. 
 " It was the night of the great Brooklyn Theatre 
 fire," said he ; " myself, three reporters and 
 Stanley, who was a special reporter, were coming 
 home from the fire, hurrying through the crowds 
 and each getting ready to get in his share of copy 
 for the first edition. ' I will treat of the street 
 scenes, the present condition of the fire and the 
 estimated loss,' I said to one of the reporters, 
 ' and you tell the incidents of the fire.' To 
 another I said, * write of the origin,' to the other, 
 ' get a list of the burned-out people. "We shall 
 get our copy together quicker in that way.' 
 
 " Stanley had shifted away as I was speaking. 
 4 You can count mo out,' he snapped in his 
 peculiar hound-like way. ' You are going to write 
 that all have escaped from the fire. I know better. 
 I am going back to explore the hot ruins. There 
 are ten people killed if there was a stick burned,'
 
 Musical Recollections 195 
 
 " Back he went on a keen run, and next morning 
 my newspaper had the distinction of being tho 
 first one to proclaim a death list of what was the 
 greatest loss of life ever known in a fire in New 
 York State." 
 
 This is how H. M. Stanley looked at that time : 
 " A tall, lean young man with a strong face. Dark 
 hair set on a good rounding forehead, and tho 
 clearest pair of keen blue eyes shone under heavy 
 brows." 
 
 I told you everything was on a large scale in tlio 
 States. At the time mentioned by this gentleman 
 in this very circumstantial account, Mr. Stanley 
 was in the middle of Africa, busily engaged in 
 identifying the "Lualaba" with the " Congo" River, 
 which he afterwards reported had an uninterrupted 
 course of 14.00 miles ! Stanley disappeared into 
 Africa from August, 1876, to August, 1877. 
 
 For months during that torn' by some myste- 
 rious chance Kate Claxton and I continued close 
 together, and wherever she went, " Fire ! Fire ! " 
 was the cry. They called her the " Fire Queen/' 
 and we got afraid of her. 
 
 We broke our journey also at Chicago, playing 
 a fortnight in Haveley's Theatre to great busi- 
 ness. During this engagement, the Chicago Times 
 came out one morning with a column about
 
 196 My Theatrical arid 
 
 my mouth. My mouth was so big, they thought 
 it would take " two men to kiss me." That 
 night I had great fun and an immense fan. I 
 was playing the " Grand Duchess." Every time 
 I had anything to say or sing, I said or sang it, 
 then up over my mouth went this large fan. 
 The people soon caught on, and the opera went 
 with screams of laughter from beginning to end. 
 There was a nice article in another paper the next 
 morning, saying, if I had a large mouth, I had also 
 a good temper. 
 
 While staying in Chicago the proprietor of the 
 Palmer House, then recently built (and the 
 "barber's shop" of which is paved with silver 
 dollars), asked me, would I like to see " Sitting Bull 
 and his chiefs," who were then on their way from 
 the Black Hills reservation to Washington, to ask 
 their Great Father, the President, to turn the gold- 
 hunting white man out of their (the Indian) 
 country. The Indian warriors were on the top 
 floor of the hotel, in a suite of rooms entirely 
 destitute of furniture. When we entered we saw 
 thirty or forty mysterious-looking forms squatting 
 on the floor enveloped in gay coloured blankets. 
 Their long, straight, black hair, parted in the 
 centre, hung to below their waists and, falling over 
 the high cheek-bones, nearly concealed their faces.
 
 Musical^ Recollections 197 
 
 Through the dark greasy masses gleamed cold, 
 uninquisitive, impassive, black eyes, and dabs of red 
 and yellow ochre. Their sangfroid was perfect. At 
 our entrance they never moved, and scarcely seemed 
 to see us. The interpreter spoke, and " Sitting 
 Bull " replied, with a not over-polite . grunt, 
 "Ugh, Ugh." " Shake," said the interpreter to 
 me. " Sitting Bull " put out his hand. I laid 
 mine in it. And his closed with a grip, a slow, 
 steady, unrelenting grip of steel. Presently a pain 
 ran up my arm, I felt my bones would certainly 
 crack. But with a desire to emulate the Indian 
 calm, I stood it. And at last his grasp slowly 
 relaxed. I was free. But I made up my mind 
 that there should be no more shaking of hands 
 with Indian chiefs for me. 
 
 We played two weeks at St. Louis (which was 
 at that time the real starting point for California), 
 where we were joined by Mrs. Knight Aston, just 
 out from England, a tall, handsome, distinguished- 
 looking woman. She brought her husband the 
 most wonderful presents : a gold-mounted dressing- 
 case, a diamond ring, diamond studs, &c., &c. I 
 am sony to say this magnificent lady turned out 
 to be the notorious Mrs. Gordon Bailie, who, 
 escaping (with much spoil) from London, left 
 her faithful female servant to suffer three years'
 
 198 My Theatrical and 
 
 " hard " in her stead. " The presents " were part 
 of the loot. 
 
 We arrived (a company of thirty-five, with a 
 repertoire of ten operas) at San Francisco, May, 
 1877, put up at the Palace Hotel, and opened at the 
 California Theatre, then under the management of 
 John McCulloch. Our reception was most cordial 
 and our success complete. The Press was with us 
 all the time, the only adverse journalist being a par- 
 ticularly lively lady, the late lamented " Betsy B." 
 I must say she went for me personally with a 
 persistence worthy of a better cause, and asked 
 " the Lord " continually what this earth had done 
 that I should be placed upon it. 
 
 Everybody (especially the men everybodies) 
 came to the theatre, and there was a beauty boom, 
 like unto that of our first visit to New York, Miss 
 Vesey, Miss Rose Stella, and Miss Cissy Durant, 
 being especial pets, while Miss Florence Slater, 
 who danced the Priestess in " Chilperic," nearly 
 sent the boys crazy, as now and again, with 
 vigorous kick, she sent her slipper up into the 
 gallery. Strange to say, Mdlle. Sara, our prize 
 kicker at 50Z. per week, did not meet with 
 universal approbation. The men liked Slater 
 best, and the ladies professed themselves " real 
 shocked," Whether it was her short ballet
 
 Musical Recollections 199 
 
 skirts (Slater wore long ones, to lier toes) or 
 well, there is no knowing what it was. A 
 theatrical audience is so difficult. In one city 
 something will be hailed with acclamation by 
 excited crowds, which in another is left severely 
 alone, unseen a horror. 
 
 Among the most prominent citizens of San 
 Francisco, at that time, was Dr. Cornelius Hertz 
 (of present " Panama " and Bournemouth fame), 
 a member of the " Board of Health," one of the 
 leading lights of society, the most fashionable 
 physician and well-known " man about town " on 
 the Pacific slope, intellectual, clever, and celebrated 
 for his electrical cures. He treated Keene, the 
 great ""Wall Street'* operator (once the friend, 
 subsequently the victim of Jay Gould), and gave 
 him so much electricity, also satisfaction, that 
 Keene returned the compliment by giving Hertz 
 10,009 dols. He was profuse, extravagant, gene- 
 rous to a fault, and a regular godsend to the girls. 
 Personally I liked him. He, in his official capacity 
 and accompanied by some policeman very high up 
 indeed in the city government, took us to China- 
 town, where we saw everything the opium dens, 
 the tiny-toed demi-monde, the gambling, and the 
 Fan Tan. We went into cellars, and cupboards, 
 and down corridors, into which the nasty smells of
 
 2oo My Theatrical and 
 
 centuries had strayed and never got out any more ; 
 to a Chinese restaurant, where gay young Chinese 
 "swells" were drinking tea and playing a game that 
 looked like "Thumbs up," " thumbs down "; to 
 the Chinese Theatre, where a great Chinese star had 
 just arrived. This was a striking entertainment, 
 but appealed more particularly to the olfactory 
 and auricular senses than to the artistic. 
 
 Dr. Hertz was the life and soul of everything, 
 and when we left he immortalized himself by pre- 
 senting one of the ladies with a beautiful plush 
 bag, lined with wash-leather. On the outside 
 was inscribed " Souvenir of the Golden State," 
 inside was 1000 dols. in double eagles. This 
 was not the only coup made by the members of 
 the "Soldene" company. Abonarzi king and 
 big racing man presented one of the ladies with 
 a 1250 dols. sealskin jacket, which jacket, to the 
 best of my belief, is in New South Wales to this 
 very day. 
 
 A.t this time, Mr. and Mrs. C. J. "Williamson 
 (Miss Maggie Moore) were playing " Struck 
 Oil " in San Francisco. Maggie was the bright 
 particular idol. I went to see the piece, and 
 found her charming, chic, full of fun, but also 
 sympathetic. 
 
 I always thought Mrs. Williamson was Irish,
 
 Musical Recollections 201 
 
 but she tells me she is Irish-American, born in 
 'Frisco a 'Frisco girl who always wanted to be 
 a 'Frisco boy stage-bitten from when, as a tiny 
 tot, she used "ter git inter" Jimmy's pants and 
 go " wid Jimmy " into the " cullered pussun's 
 Paradise " the top gallery of the theatre. And 
 when she first played parts, she wore " Jimmy's 
 pants" till "Jimmy's pants'* fitted "too snug," 
 and she had to have a pair of her own. " And 
 who's Jimmy? " says I. " My ! don't you know 
 Jimmy ? " says she. " Why, me brother, to be 
 sure. I thought everybody knew Jimmy Moore." 
 
 "While I was in the city, Mme. Modjeska came in 
 from the Ranch, and made a most successful debut, 
 playing in English, with a pretty, fetching foreign 
 accent. Madame was clever, also unfortunate, for 
 within a short period of her first appearance she 
 had her jewellery stolen. Of course the news 
 was flashed from one end of the Union to the 
 other. " Robbery of the Modjeska Diamonds 
 100,000 dols." " Unreplaceable Heirlooms." 
 " Heirlooms of the Polish Kings," and so forth. 
 This, one of the most clever and successful 
 advertisements at that time, has been worked to 
 death since. 
 
 In San Francisco Mr. Chizzola engaged Mr. 
 Edward Farley, an Australian, with a beautiful
 
 2O2 My Theatrical and 
 
 baritone voice and an excellent mctliod ; also two 
 Californian girls Miss Le Fevre and Miss Mattie 
 Daniels, the latter a fine, handsome young lady of 
 a rather quick temper, who carried in her work 
 satchel, among her cottons and thimbles, and 
 sometimes up her sleeve, a most formidable and 
 handy weapon on open razor, with the blade 
 firmly bound to the handle by fine whipcord, a 
 much patronised and effective weapon with the 
 Chinese for performing the " Happy Despatch " 
 on themselves or their favourite enemy. 
 
 In July we sailed for Australia on board the 
 Zealandia. We steamed through the Southern 
 Seas, but all too soon had a dreadful disappoint- 
 ment. The Hawaiian Government not having 
 paid the postman, we did not call at Honolulu for 
 the mail, and so missed what had been anti- 
 cipated as a great treat the " Hula Dancers," and 
 lots of other things Lord Pembroke talks about 
 in his book. 
 
 But soon we saw the Southern Cross, the 
 flying fish, the nautilus, a white squall, lots of 
 albatross, the sun drop suddenly into the sea, 
 and the big moon rise, and the big stars shine 
 over the big ship that moved along in stately 
 splendour moved along in seas of silver, and 
 ripples of faint, rosy, phosphorescent flame.
 
 Musical Recollections 203 
 
 In about a month, or thereabouts, we made 
 Auckland, and the first white man that came 
 aboard was Miles Paget. But white folks were 
 at a discount with us just then. We wanted to see 
 the Maoris, and we did not have to want long. 
 There they were, waiting for us on the wharf. 
 Fancy us comic opera cockneys finding ourselves 
 really in New Zealand, face to face with a crowd 
 of coffee-coloured, ox-eyed, tattooed natives ! The 
 ladies carried their babies on their backs, and their 
 husbands' pipes in their ears, where other people 
 carry their earrings. The Maori babies run the 
 little vulgar boy at Margate very close indeed in 
 the way of requiring a pocket-handkerchief, and 
 the entire absence of anything resembling that 
 necessary article. 
 
 Auckland was charming, with Mount Eden 
 towering up into the sky, with tall Calla lilies 
 growing in every crevice of the volcanic rocks, 
 and watercresses (for nothing) waiting to 
 be gathered in the city gutters. Auckland, 
 where they called pheasants " spring chicken," 
 where the hens roosted up in the trees, like 
 blackbirds ; where, on getting up in the morn- 
 ing, and taking a penny roll, a strong-bladed 
 knife, and a walk along the shore, one got one's 
 till of fat fresh oysters ; oysters that grew on the
 
 2O4 My Theatrical and 
 
 roots of trees ; oysters that yawned in tiny shining 
 sea pools ; oysters that lived in the crevices and 
 on the tops of rocks, over which the tide came 
 splashing in white curly foam and feathers you 
 could take your choice, they were all there; 
 Auckland, green and mossy and Scotch ; so 
 Scotch shut your eyes and open your ears you 
 are in the " Cowcaddens." 
 
 Well, I fell in love with New Zealand lovely 
 New Zealand with its opals, its fleecy flocks, its 
 Kauri gum, its gold dust, its green stone, its filmy 
 skies, its hills and dales, its locks and bays, its 
 sands and caves. 
 
 On the day we landed there I went for a drive 
 in a cab ; the wheel came off, and out we got, 
 when up came the local manager, Mr. de Lias, 
 and persuaded Mr. Chizzola to break our journey 
 to Sydney and play in Auckland. And we did, 
 played for a month, to the capacity of the house. 
 Then the August mail came along, and bidding 
 " good-bye " to our New Zealand friends, we 
 sailed for Australia. 
 
 My sister, like some of Mr. W. S. Gilbert's people, 
 was always "very, very sick at sea," and the only 
 thing that pulled her together was a game of cards. 
 Clara was and is a born gambler, and with nothing 
 in her hand will go 5Z. better, and rake in the "pot,"
 
 Musical Recollections 205 
 
 without turning a hair. Of course, coming up 
 Sydney Harbour for the first time in one's life is 
 an event. The scenery had to be (for future 
 reference) looked at. Clara was on deck, packed 
 up with pillows, playing " poker." " Do look," 
 said I, " isn't it beautiful ? " But she was ab- 
 sorbed. Afterwards I said, " Why didn't you 
 look at those lovely places ? " " How could I ? " 
 said she, " I had a full hand." " Well," said I, " it's 
 something disgusting, you missed all the fine 
 points." "Oh, did I?" said she, " Look here," 
 and, lifting up her handkerchief, in her lap lay a 
 little pile of shining sovereigns. 
 
 We landed in Sydney, the capital of sunny New 
 South Wales, September, 1877.
 
 2o6 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Sydney in 1877 Sir Hercules Robinson (late Lord Rosmead) 
 and Lady Robinson going to church A nice-looking aide 
 Our hotel The Oxford My next-door neighbour, Miss 
 Ada Ward Julian Thomas, " The Vagabond " Our four- 
 in-hand Botany Bay Botany Bay heaths Open at the 
 Theatre Royal " Genevievo de Brabant " Theatre prices 
 as contrasted with the States The good memories of 
 the Sydney folk A House of Call for actors My full- 
 length portrait in soap The beautiful harbour The 
 nostalgic ones in Australia The station Damper 
 Mutton and tea Mr. "Ted" Lee A little orphan My 
 farewell benefit Presentation Departure for Melbourne. 
 
 SYDNEY in 1877 was not like Sydney in 1892. I 
 do not seem to remember much about the city. 
 My retrospective impressions are bounded by 
 George Street, King Street, the stage door of the 
 Theatre Royal and "Lady Macquaire's Chair." 
 We put up at the Oxford Hotel, the proprietor 
 then being Mr. Curran, who gave 5000Z. to the 
 Home Rule fund, and is now M.P. for Sligo. 
 We had rooms opening on to a balcony, and 
 looking straight over to St. James's Church, the 
 oldest one in Sydney. I used to watch Sir
 
 Musical Recollections 207 
 
 Hercules and Lady Robinson going to the morn- 
 ing service. Sir Hercules always stood on one 
 side to let " me lady " pass ; you see, the door was 
 narrow, and her ladyship was not. There was a 
 nice-looking aide too a Captain St. John. 
 
 Next to the hotel, where the St. James's block 
 now stands, was a pretty cottage, covered with 
 green creepers, standing in a garden full of 
 gorgeous flowers. 
 
 The next suite of rooms to ours at the hotel 
 was occupied by Miss Ada Ward, the tragedian, 
 and that well-known writer the "Vagabond" 
 seemed to find a good deal of attraction there. 
 He was a very frequent caller. 
 
 I remember King Street so well, because we had 
 a four-in-hand, and every day went driving, and 
 we always went down King Street and turned to 
 the left up George Street ; George Street seemed 
 to lead everywhere. 
 
 We found the city very hot, and our first Sunday 
 was passed at Botany Bay. We dined or lunched 
 at the hotel, and lounged about the grounds in the 
 afternoon. Botany Bay had never previously asso- 
 ciated itself in my mind with anything floral but 
 with other things distinctly disagreeable. When I 
 saw the ground covered with heaths of the most rare 
 description ; heaths, white, pink, yellow, purple,
 
 208 My Theatrical and 
 
 red, large waxy blooms, that in Covent Garden 
 cost from Is. to 25. 6d. per spray, and big flowers 
 as big as pint pots and quite as useful, and hedges 
 of geraniums, and trees of fuchsias, then I began 
 to understand that Botany Bay meant flowers 
 not convicts. That was a day to be remem- 
 bered, for as we drove home the sun went down 
 suddenly ; there was, to our surprise, no twilight, 
 no moon, all dark, four horses pretty fresh, a 
 driver new to the country. We were nearly lost. 
 But we got home to the hotel all right. 
 
 "We opened at the Royal and a royal time we had. 
 We began with " Gene vie ve de Brabant," but 
 during our stay played the repertoire. I 
 personally made a furore with " Silver threads 
 among the Gold," " I love him so," and "Marriage 
 Bells." The Theatre Royal was not too lovely, 
 and the walls of the pit were greasy from much 
 leaning against. Coming from an American 
 theatre this was the more noticeable. The theatre 
 was crowded every night, but the receipts seemed 
 small after the States, where, in the class of house 
 we played in, the lowest price was fifty cents. 
 Coming to Australia, we found that people thought 
 as much of a shilling as the Americans thought of 
 a dollar. 
 
 Our ladies made the same old sensation. All the
 
 Musical Recollection* 209 
 
 boys lost their heads over them, and Miss Clara 
 Vesey, Miss Stella, Miss Slater, Miss Durant, and 
 Mdlle. Sara had great times. There were many 
 husbands in the company, but they were kept in 
 the background. We only played in Sydney six 
 weeks, but the people were delighted with us, 
 awfully good to us, and the impression we made 
 was a lasting one. Why, in Sydney to this very 
 day, people say, " Don't you remember, Madame 
 Soldene, when you were at the old Royal ? when 
 you played c so-and-so ? * You used to do ' so-and- 
 so,' and then you sang 'so-and-so.' I never forgot 
 that song; I've got a copy of it now, some- 
 where." 
 
 Opposite the stage door of the theatre was a 
 tavern, a regular theatrical house. In the win- 
 dows, or rather on the windows, of that tavern, 
 I could always see my portrait in every new part, 
 nearly full-length, drawn with soap on the glass. 
 I was very dignified in those days, and I am not 
 quite sure I liked it. But it was life-like the 
 artist was decidedly clever. But it was not till I 
 returned to Sydney in 1892 that I knew it was the 
 work of the late Gus Wanganheim, a man I had 
 heard spoken of as " such a good fellow," ready to 
 help anybody or everybody to the extent of his 
 ability.
 
 2IO My Theatrical and 
 
 In Sydney I played for the first time Barbe Bleu, 
 and Miss Stella played Boulotte. 
 
 Lots of people came into town to see " Soldene." 
 They " knew me in London." They had been to 
 the "Phil" " hundreds of times." They had seen 
 me play Drogan " every night." They had 
 sent me bouquets " in the old days." Ah ! those 
 old days, "when they ran through all their 
 money ! " "We were a long way from home, and 
 these were emotional recollections. Fancy ! no 
 more money, no more bouquets. So many 
 " stony broke " ones, too. It seemed terrible 
 when people one knew said they had been " up 
 country "in the "back blocks," in "the bush" 
 for six months at a time, solitary, no letters from 
 home, forgotten, never seeing anything but sheep, 
 never eating anything but mutton and damper, 
 never drinking anything but tea. 
 
 Well, I've had experience since, and I am afraid 
 many of my reminiscent friends were, as the 
 Americans say, "getting at me." I must have 
 altered since then, for what sounded so dreadful 
 at that time, " Life on a station," seems to me now 
 most delightful. 
 
 "We made lots of friends, and a most particu- 
 larly nice one was Mr. "Ted" Lee. He told me 
 many interesting things about the country, and how
 
 Musical Recollections , 211 
 
 his father was one of the first men to get through 
 the " Blue Mountains " to Bathurst, and what a 
 Avonderful sight it was when they first saw the 
 plains. Like the rest of us, he was a wee bit 
 sporty. I remember he went to Melbourne for 
 " The Cup." I wired him to put me a fiver on his 
 fancy. He did it, and I won 50Z. Why can't I 
 do it now ? 
 
 "We had lots of little outings, and I loved to go 
 to " Coogee " Bay, to sit on the soft sands, to listen 
 to the sighing of the soft winds, and to pick up 
 shells, and pack them in little boxes to take home. 
 No dirty, fussing, puffing, smoky trams in those 
 days ; no hotels, no houses, no Aquarium, no 
 Embankments, no terraces, no improvements ; 
 nothing to be seen but the sheep-track, white on 
 the farthest hill; nothing to be heard but the 
 silver seas running up the silver sands. Then on 
 Sundays we went to " Sandringham," or " Sans 
 Souci," and had such good times. I made 
 collections of shells, enough to fill two scuttles, or 
 dust-bins. I suppose that's what they did do 
 eventually. 
 
 Mr. Chizzola went one day on a kangaroo hunt 
 with some Sydney gentlemen. When he came 
 back he laid in my lap the prettiest, softest, 
 dearest Uttle grey darling, with bright ghining
 
 2 i 2 My Theatrical and 
 
 eyes, a pretty black nose, tall ears, two short legs, 
 like a rabbit, and two long ones, like well, I 
 don't know (I had never seen such legs before), 
 and a very long tail ; it was a wallaby, a baby 
 wallaby. Such a tragedy ! When he shot the 
 mother at the hunt she had two little ones in her 
 pocket, and so to keep the babies warm they laid 
 the dead mother in the front of the fire, and there 
 the " two orphans " slept all night. 
 
 The season finished up with my benefit. Patron- 
 ized by the Governor and Lady Robinson, and the 
 entourage, the suite and the elite, and all the city. 
 It was really delightful, and Mr. Sam Lazaar, the 
 local manager, made a speech, and presented me 
 with a jewel casket made of an emu's egg and 
 mounted in Australian silver. It was beautiful, 
 and I appreciated it very much. We left Sydney 
 with a good deal of regret and some apprehension, 
 for people said, "What went in Sydney was a 
 dead frost in Melbourne," and we had been so 
 successful in New South Wales that we felt we 
 should be an utter failure in Victoria.
 
 Musical Recollection 
 
 2 1 3 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Overland to Melbourne on Cobb's coach The driver Tha 
 nobbier The cockatoos The laughing jackass Gundagai 
 in 1877 The approach Holes in the ground A deserted 
 gold-field The patient Chinaman What the goats live 
 on What we had for dinner What I left behind Open 
 at the Opera House, Melbourne " Genevieve de Brabant " 
 My landlady at St. Kilda The Duke of Edinburgh's 
 furs A pretty house close to the sea Mr. Creswick An 
 accident to Eichard the Third Why he married his 
 Australian wife " La Perichole " and the carpenter's dog 
 Old friends I meet Dr. Neild, the eminent critic A 
 letter from Brandy Creek Arrival of Mr. " Johnny " 
 Caulfield A visit to Mr. and Mrs. Saurin Lyster at Fern 
 Tree Gully. 
 
 MOST of the company went to Melbourne by 
 steamer, and got stuck in the mud outside that 
 charming city, but four of us went overland. 
 Such a journey, on a " Cobbs " coach, drawn by 
 six young horses, who galloped up mountains and 
 flew down them, driven by coachmen more or less 
 under the influence of the weather. One told us 
 he had been out on a " burst to a wedding, not 
 slept for three nights," but should be all right 
 i\ hen he had had a " nobbier." "We looked forward
 
 214 My Theatrical and 
 
 with much pleasurable anticipation to the " nob- 
 bier," but were horrified when we saw it " half 
 a tumbler of whisky." Our driver tossed it off. 
 He had not overstated its merits. It pulled him 
 together splendidly, not that it made any differ- 
 ence in his driving, which was dare-devil and per- 
 fect, as was that of all the other boys. Fancy a 
 track of soft sand, cut into deep ruts, piled up high 
 in banks, winding in and out huge trees, sharp cor- 
 ners, unexpected fallen trunks, monster upturned 
 roots, every kind of obstacle, six horses always 
 galloping, the coach banging, creaking, swaying 
 from side to side ! then suddenly down we go, down 
 over a mountain as steep as the side of a house, 
 down into and through a rushing, roaring, tumbling, 
 bumping, yellow river ! Splash, dash. Then with 
 a " Houp ! " " Hi ! " and a big lurch, out again 
 and up the opposite side, galloping, always gallop- 
 ing, breathless ; the driver shouting, cracking his 
 whip, and the horses shaking the water from their 
 sides, tossing their heads, and jingling their harness ; 
 then out on to the level, soft and springy, covered 
 with mossy turf and beautiful trees like an English 
 park ; away over more sand, and leaving the mossy 
 turf, and plunging through sharp, cutting, stiff, 
 rusty-looking, tall grass, growing in huge tufts, 
 far apart. At last we come to a hut, full gallop,
 
 Musical Recollections 215 
 
 and the driver, without any preparation, pulls the 
 cattle up on their haunches, and you might cover 
 them with a blanket, as the saying is. It was all 
 lovely except for the jolting, and my hands were 
 blistered with holding on. I liked to sit on the 
 box, though it made one sick, not with fright 
 exactly, but with excitement and the anticipation 
 of some possible calamity. 
 
 My first flock of flying cockatoos disappointed 
 me dreadfully. They looked exactly like a flock of 
 pigeons. The driver told me that when one was 
 wounded or hurt, and could not go on, the others 
 despatched him, pecked his eyes out and tore him 
 to pieces. I fancy I have seen something like that 
 in more civilised regions. We went through groves, 
 forests of gum trees, where there was no shade, but 
 a delicious perfume. At night we heard the laugh- 
 ing jackasses, making an awful noise, but they 
 laughed so well, that we joined in. That's another 
 circumstance I've noticed in more civilised regions. 
 At Gundagai there is an immensely long bridge, and 
 we galloped over it in fine style. The approach 
 to Gundagai, like every other mining town I have 
 ever seen, was distinguished by a marvellous 
 display of rubbish of all sorts, old boots, tin cans of 
 every description (they do say the goats live on tin 
 cans), meat cans, milk cans, oil cans, fish cans, fruit
 
 216 My Theatrical and 
 
 cans, old stays, old bonnets, old hats, old stockings, 
 heaps of more cans, strewn for miles. It takes all 
 the romance out of the scene. Gundagai was sur- 
 rounded by large, middling, and small heaps of 
 pale red sand ; the place was full of " Holes in the 
 ground," empty holes in the ground, as if herds of 
 gigantic fox-terriers had been hunting out their 
 best rabbits. This is the sign of deserted gold- 
 diggings. Can anything be more lonely or more 
 miserable ? Nothing. I have seen them in gullies 
 in America, in gullies and plains in Australia, in the 
 heart of the mountains of California, in secret 
 places of the Sierras, in little desert places in 
 Nevada. But they are all alike miserable, lonely, 
 deserted, except by the wily, patient Chinaman, 
 who goes over again the much gone over ground, 
 making a Celestial's fortune out of the white devil's 
 leavings, and disputing with the thin-legged, big- 
 bellied, bearded goats, the abandoned tin cans. 
 Still, at Gundagai there was a nice hotel. We had 
 boiled fowls for dinner, and I left behind something 
 I prized very much, a 5 -cent palm leaf fan I had 
 carried all the way from Cincinnati. 
 
 We opened at the Opera House, Melbourne, in 
 " Genevieve de Brabant," and falsified our anti- 
 cipations by making a big success. We lived at 
 St. Kilda, at Mrs. Gardiner's. She was a furrier
 
 Musical Recollections 2 1 7 
 
 by trade, had a business in Melbourne, had pre- 
 pared the furs for His Royal Highness the Duke of 
 Edinburgh when he visited there (1868), and 
 related the episode every day, sometimes twice a 
 day. Some days it was very interesting, other 
 days one found it monotonous ; after many days 
 it made one sick. She had a daughter named 
 " Mary Jane." I remember it, because, when that 
 young lady made any juvenile faux pas and she 
 was rather successful with that sort of thing Mrs. 
 Gardiner would observe (with a decided inflexion 
 of the voice, signifying determination), " I'll warm 
 you, Mary Jane Gardiner ; I'll warm you." 
 
 The St. Kilda residence was a pleasant one a 
 long low house of one story, built on piles, with a 
 broad passage running down the centre, and ten 
 or twelve rooms opening off on each side. St. 
 Kilda is close to and looking over the sea, so 
 close to the sea, in fact, that a man-o'-war practis- 
 ing miles away had sent a big shot through the 
 local pianoforte shop just before we arrived. It 
 was a delightful place, but we seemed to have a 
 good many hot winds there. They always gave 
 me a horrible headache. In the same house lived 
 Mr. Creswick, the Tragedian, who had just hit them 
 very strongly in Melbourne, and was doing a great 
 business. One night he came home in a terrible
 
 218 My Theatrical and 
 
 state. He had been playing " Richard the Third," 
 and in the combat got cut on the head and had his 
 teeth damaged. He was old, feverish, and fidgety. 
 But we bathed his head, put him to bed, got his 
 teeth mended, and he soon pulled round. During 
 his stay in Australia he married the widow of a 
 well-known Sydney professor. She, by the force 
 of circumstances, had descended to keeping a 
 lodging or boarding house. Mr. Creswick lived 
 at her establishment in Sydney, and she first 
 attracted his attention by bringing in his tea in 
 silence, setting it down the same, and retiring 
 ditto. Such a woman, to a studious man, was 
 invaluable. He felt he must possess her for his 
 very own, and they were married. 
 
 At Melbourne we added two operas to our 
 repertoire " La Perichole," with the expurgated 
 last act, and " Girofle-Girofla." During the 
 rehearsals of " La Perichole," when Mr. Campbell 
 and I made our first entrance, the carpenter's dog, 
 a fox-terrier, always accompanied us, and, wagging 
 his tail, sat down with much gravity in the centre 
 of the stage, with his back to the footlights, and, 
 at one particular part of my opening song, lifted up 
 his voice and gave a gruesome and most dismal howl, 
 This went on for several mornings, the dog always 
 howling at the same place, always paying the sama
 
 Musical Recollections 219 
 
 tribute to my vocalisation. It was very funny 
 and I thought we might utilise it. So for the 
 performance we had a " Toby " frill made for my 
 appreciator. We went on as the street singers, 
 spread our carpet, tuned our mandolins, and com- 
 menced to sing. Directly I began doggy took up 
 his cue beautifully, howling long and loudly. It 
 was great terrific applause and encore. Every- 
 body said, " How clever ! Who trained the dog ? " 
 Perhaps Mr. Gr. R. Sims, or The Spectator, or one 
 learned in dog lore will explain why this dog at 
 that particular part howled in misery and rage, 
 and was a silent and sniffing and sympathetic angel 
 during the rest of the performance. 
 
 Among the many old friends we met in Mel- 
 bourne were Mr. and Mrs. Plumpton (Mme. 
 Charlotte Tasca), and Mr. and Mrs. Bracy, and 
 among the friends we made was Dr. Neild, who was 
 excessively kind, and wrote most charming notices 
 of our performances. He had a young son (not in 
 the best of health), who took quite a fancy to me, 
 and we used to go out driving together. 
 
 During my stay in Melbourne, one day I got a 
 letter from a place called "Brandy Creek." It 
 was from Mr. Weippert, once upon a time of Regent 
 Street, London. It was very sad. He said he was 
 there in that God-forsaken place in distress, and
 
 22O My Theatrical and 
 
 needed help to buy a piano to get his living. 
 From his description " Brandy Creek " seemed to 
 mo to be about the last place in the world in 
 which a professor of the pianoforte should set up 
 his tent. 
 
 One night I had a most delightful surprise. 
 " A gentleman would like to see me a gentle- 
 man from England." It was "Johnny" Caul- 
 field, one of the old Oxford chums, who since 
 those days had married Miss Constance Loseby. 
 But his health failing, he had come out in a sailing 
 ship to Melbourne in search of a fresh fit out. 
 I thought he was a ghost, but taking him home 
 to supper we found he was not. 
 
 We had a good time in Melbourne. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Saurin Lyster made us socially very welcome. 
 We went out to their delightful place at " Fern 
 Tree Gully," drove in a four-in-hand down a 
 " corduroy " road constructed at an angle of 45, 
 had a lovely dinner and a lovely day, crept down 
 the gully and saw the huge fern trees, rode bush 
 ponies over stumps, through and over and under 
 the trees, emulating and nearly sharing the fate of 
 Absalom ; saw heaps of cows milked mechanically, 
 and the fine horses sent out to sleep in the paddock 
 instead of in stables. Thm in the evening we 
 played halfpenny nap. I lost eleven shillings.
 
 Musical Recollections 2 2 1 
 
 Of course ; what can one expect, playing cards 
 on a Sunday ? We drove home to St. Kilda by 
 the light of the moon, and very nearly had an 
 awful spill. But a miss is as good as a mile, 
 they say. 
 
 ii
 
 22 2 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Miss Rose Stella and Miss Cissy Dnrant elopo to Sydney 
 Miss Minna Fischer and Miss Maggie Liddell are engaged 
 A crossing to New Zealand Killing an albatross The 
 chorus singer and his mother Christmas Day at " The 
 Bluff " Dinner out of doors What the imported girl 
 thought of God and "The Bluff " Christchurch the 
 weeping willows and black swans The manager of the 
 theatre Sir Craycroft Wilson on the Indian Mutiny 
 Wellington, N.Xi. Where all the wind in the world 
 goes to A terrible return voyage to Australia The 
 psychological effect of the murdered albatross The new 
 Theatre Royal, Adelaide, opened March, 1878 An 
 Australian magpie What he did to the cat What he 
 did when he got to Putney The chorus on horseback A 
 departure into the desert At the gold mines The Duke 
 of Edinburgh's nugget W^here he got it What he did 
 with it Visit to the exiles of St. Kilda Farewell to 
 Melbourne Return to England August, 1878 What was 
 going on when I arrived. 
 
 AT Christmas we left Melbourne for Kcw Zealand, 
 and just before we started Miss Rose Stella, 
 yielding to the blandishments of Mr. Sam Lazaar, 
 eloped (accompanied by Miss Cissy Durant) to Syd- 
 ney, to appear in the forthcoming pantomime there. 
 This troubled the management a good deal, but we 
 pulled through, Mr. Chizzola engaging two local
 
 Musical Recollections 223 
 
 and well-known artistes, Miss Maggie Liddell and 
 Miss Minna Fischer for some of the parts, Miss 
 Clara Vesey and myself undertaking others. Miss 
 Maggie Liddell was most entertaining, and told 
 us many interesting stories of how on the west 
 coast of New Zealand she had often gone through 
 all sorts of difficulties to keep a concert engage- 
 ment, riding alone through mountain passes, 
 swimming her horse across foaming rivers, carry- 
 ing her baby, placing herself full length along the 
 horse's back and placing the baby along his crest to 
 keep them both as dry as possible. We had a very 
 good crossing, but on the way an albatross was 
 caught and killed ; this rather alarmed me, for I 
 remembered the fate of the " Ancient mariner." 
 The bird measured sixteen feet from tip to tip 
 of his wings, and weighed goodness knows how 
 much. He ultimately absorbed all the alum there 
 was on the ship. 
 
 During the voyage there were some concerts in 
 the saloon, and I, lying in my berth, heard a lovely 
 tenor voice. " Who's that ? " I asked, and was 
 told it was one of the new chorus men engaged in 
 Melbourne. He was quite young, and said his 
 mother had instructed him he might join the com- 
 pany and take the salary, but must not sing in 
 the choruses for fear of spoiling his voice.
 
 224 My Theatrical and 
 
 We landed at "The Bluff" on Christmas Day, 
 and I had a chop, a delicious mutton chop, and 
 sat in the shining sun out on the grass to eat it. 
 The young woman who waited on me was not 
 exactly in love with her location, and expressed 
 her opinion that "'The Bluff' was the end of 
 the world and God had forgotten to finish it." 
 
 We opened at Dunedin (Dunedin is all Scotch) 
 on Boxing Day to a great audience. " New Year's 
 Eve " was a sensation, the streets impassable 
 (nearly as bad as the " Salt Market," Glasgow), 
 and we were taken home from the theatre by two 
 or three policemen. Looking out of the hotel 
 windows, one could have walked on the heads of 
 the people, and the city was all alight with fire- 
 works. 
 
 From Dunedin we went to Christchurch, a 
 delightful place, full of weeping willows over- 
 hanging rippling streams, on which were floating 
 beautiful, graceful, shining, Mack swans. The 
 manager of the theatre was Mr. Hoskins, the ideal 
 being I had such a passion for when a child, the 
 Adonis of Sadler's Wells, whom in those pre- 
 historic days I had longed to appropriate as an 
 "Uncle." ' 
 
 At Christchurch we made great friends with 
 Sir Craycroft Wilson, an old gentleman having a
 
 Musical Recollections 225 
 
 fine estate a little way out of town. He had been 
 a magistrate in India during the Mutiny, and said 
 he never got over the shock and the horrors of 
 those times. % 
 
 From Christchurch we went to "Wellington. 
 They say all the wind in the world goes to New, 
 Zealand, and all the wind in New Zealand goes 
 to "Wellington ; and everybody knows a man 
 from Wellington, because, no matter what part of, 
 the earth he is on, he always ducks and claps his 
 hand to his hat when turning a corner. I 
 
 We had a terrible voyage back to Australia, 
 which I privately put down to the albatross 
 business. There were storms, the hatches were 
 battened down, and everybody was saying their 
 prayers in the saloon, kneeling in a foot or two 
 of water. I performed my devotions in my 
 cabin (still pursued by the albatross). I made 
 sure it was our last voyage. But, however, we 
 made Melbourne, a bit battered, perhaps, but 
 otherwise all right. 
 
 In March, 1878, we opened the new Theatre 
 Royal, Adelaide, built and managed by Mr. J. 
 Allison. I had to " speak a piece." I never was so 
 nervous in my life. We sang " Girofle-Girofla." 
 The theatre, a very fine one, was provided with 
 every comfort, not only for the audience but for
 
 226 My Theatrical and 
 
 the artists hot and cold baths, commodious 
 dressing-rooms and other luxuries. 
 
 We found Adelaide dreadfully hot, but it was 
 a beautiful city, the principal street a magnifi- 
 cently wide one, with an imposing Town Hall, 
 and I think post-office. The houses were pretty, 
 and it all struck one as being very clean. 
 
 At Adelaide I saw for the first time groves of 
 olive trees. The grapes too were wonderful. I had 
 a bunch weighing fourteen or fifteen pounds hung 
 by a stout string in my dressing-room ; every time 
 I passed that bunch it grew smaller. Then there 
 were tiny grapes, fairy ones, like the smallest of 
 black currants. We went down copper mines and 
 up mountains, especially the Eagle Mountain, 
 driving up tremendous heights, at the edge and 
 on the verge of hair-lifting precipices. When our 
 buggy met another buggy we had to get out, and 
 our buggy was hoisted on the side of the mountain 
 to allow the other buggy to pass. 
 
 At the hotel on the summit we were introduced 
 to an Australian magpie, with great gifts in the 
 way of language. When we first saw him he was 
 perched on the back of a sleepy black cat ; occa- 
 sionally the magpie woke the cat by pulling the 
 longest hairs out of the inside of pussy's ears. We 
 bought that magpie for 5L, and when he got to
 
 Musical Recollections 227 
 
 Putney he sang the national air of Australia, 
 "Pop goes the "Weasel," for all it was worth, The 
 littleboysof that riparian retreat clustered round my 
 gates to listen to this wonderful bird from over the 
 seas, and when I crossed Putney Railway Bridge, on 
 my way to town, saluted me with " Pop goes the 
 Weasel," so that I shouldnot suffer underany misap- 
 prehension as to my identity being fully established. 
 Poor, dear old magpie ; he died of consumption, 
 and lies in a sunny corner of the sunny old-time 
 Putney garden. 
 
 The company enjoyed themselves at Adelaide, 
 went fishing and boating, had picnics, and 
 driving and riding parties. We were continu- 
 ally meeting strings of mild " gee-gees," with the 
 girls and boys of the chorus riding and having a 
 good time. During my stay here, I saw a caval- 
 cade depart from the city. It was like a picture out 
 of the Bible. Hundreds of sheep and oxen, droves 
 of horses, waggons, carts, and lots of men, an 
 expedition into the interior, fitted out for three 
 years. A pretty sight in Adelaide were the 
 hundreds and hundreds of green love-birds flying 
 about " chatter," "chatter," "chatter." 
 
 We returned to Melbourne, visited Geelong 
 (where, in the railway station, I saw a creaking, 
 rusty old sign-board, with " Spiers and Pond " on
 
 228 My Theatrical and 
 
 it), Bathurst, Ballarat, Sandhurst, and other places. 
 At Ballarat (which seems to lie in a basin) I went 
 with a Government mine inspector down mines, 
 into dead and gone river beds muddy, soft, 
 sticky and it seemed to me miles under the 
 earth ; and looked down mines, dark, unused, in- 
 significant in appearance, out of which had come 
 the treasures of the earth in prodigal profusion, 
 and listened to the crushing machines, the stamps 
 such a dreadful, thumping, horrible, brain- 
 destroying noise and did and saw everything 
 except " a piece of gold." And I told my inspec- 
 tor I was curious, and would like to see that ; 
 he apologised, and, after a long search, found a 
 bit in the bottom of a crucible, about as big as a 
 coachman's button. The day before had been 
 " cleaning-up day," and all " the stuff" had been 
 sent away. I went to the mine where the Duke 
 of Edinburgh had picked a big nugget out of the 
 just ascended trolly of wet earth. Of course, the 
 managers and great guns begged His Royal 
 Highness's acceptance of his find, and His Royal 
 Highness graciously put it in his pocket. They 
 told me the load had been " salted " for the 
 occasion. I noticed they did not salt one for 
 me. 
 
 On m y return to Melbourne in June, I went to
 
 Musical Recollections 229 
 
 say "Good-bye" to the "exiles of St. Kilda," 
 expatriated by the " family " for marrying in haste, 
 only, I am afraid, to repent at leisure. They were 
 the Honourable Mr. and Mrs. "Wyndham Stan- 
 hope, Miss Camille Dubois, of the Lyceum 
 " Little Faust " days. The pair were rather impe- 
 cunious, and not provided with passage money, 
 but lived in a pretty little flower-decked house, 
 also in hopes of being " cabled " home ; and, as 
 a matter of fact, I think they returned to England 
 very soon after we did. 
 
 My farewell engagement and benefit at Mel- 
 bourne was a gratifying success, and I cannot do 
 better than introduce a Press notice of my last 
 appearance, a notice cut from The Illustrated 
 Sporting and Dramatic News, of London, dated 
 December 21st, 1878. 
 
 " Before leaving for Europe, Miss Soldene was 
 tendered a ' farewell benefit,' which took place 
 at the Theatre Royal, Melbourne, - under the 
 patronage of the Governor and Lady Power, and 
 the mayor and corporation of the City of Mel- 
 bourne, and was presented with a testimonial by 
 Mr. Coppin in the following terms : c Madame 
 Soldene, I have been requested by a few of your 
 friends to present you with a small token of their 
 esteem and admiration upon the occasion of your
 
 230 My Theatrical and 
 
 farewell benefit and departure from the colonies. 
 Although this cup and salver are intrinsically of 
 little value, I trust that they will serve to remind 
 you of the high estimation in which you are held 
 as an accomplished artist, whilst they revive some 
 agreeable recollections of your visit to the 
 Australian colonies. I have also the gratification 
 to inform you that you have been elected a life 
 governor of the Dramatic and Musical Association 
 of Australasia, and that an illuminated tablet has 
 been voted by the council, with the following 
 inscription : " Testimonial presented to Miss 
 Emily Soldene in acknowledgment of valuable 
 services rendered for the benefit of the Dramatic 
 and Musical Association of Australasia at the 
 Theatre Royal, Melbourne, on Saturday afternoon, 
 May 26th, 1878." I can assure you that you will 
 take with you the sincere gratitude of the entire 
 profession, and our best wishes for your health, 
 happiness, and future prosperity.* Miss Soldene 
 sailed for home the next morning in the steamship 
 Chimborazo, which, under the command of Captain 
 Herbert Brown, made the quickest passage on 
 record, the distance being accomplished in thirty- 
 seven days twenty-one hours." 
 
 I don't mind mentioning in strict confidence 
 that from that day to this, September 15th, 1896,
 
 Musical Recollections 231 
 
 I have never set eyes on the " Illuminated 
 Tablet." 
 
 When I arrived from Australia, August 12th, 
 1878, Mrs. Langtry was the reigning beauty ; 
 Sheil Barry was a sensation at the Charing 
 Cross Theatre, as Gaspard the Miser, in " Les 
 Cloches de Corneville ; " the Alhambra was play- 
 ing to empty benches, and " H.M.S. Pinafore " at 
 the Opera Comique to half salaries.
 
 232 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 -Reappearance in London, September 16th, 1878 At the Alham- 
 bra " Genevieve de Brabant " How many persons paid 
 at the doors that night The cast M. Jacobi as a con- 
 ductor The mise-en-scene The premieres of the ballet 
 Maharajah Dhuleep Singh His diamonds His caviare 
 The Alhambra directors The Alhambra manager 
 Sir Augustus Harris in 1878 Sir Gordon Cum- 
 ming The " Crutch and Toothpick Ball " Purchase of 
 " Carmen " Production, Theatre Royal, Leicester, May, 
 1879 Miss Florence St. John " Carmen " in Liverpool, 
 Prince of Wales's Theatre " Carmen " in Dublin Gaiety 
 Theatre What the car-drivers said What ihe flute- 
 player wrote in the flute part " Carmen " in Glasgow 
 A lunch with Admiral Popoff What we all came away 
 with. 
 
 ON Monday, September 16th, 1878, I made my 
 reappearance in London at the Alhambra Theatre, 
 then under the management of Mr. Charles 
 Morton, playing Drogan in " Genevieve de 
 Brabant." That night 4000 persons paid at the 
 doors. In the cast were Miss Constance Loseby as 
 the Duchess ; Messrs. Marshall and Bury, the two 
 Gendarmes ; Miss Clara Vesey, the Pet Page ; Mr. 
 AyneslyCook, the Duke ; Mr. J.B. Rae, the Burgo- 
 master ; Miss Rose Lee, Brigette ; Mr. Lewens,
 
 Musical Recollections 233 
 
 Golo ; Mr. Dallas, the Hermit ; Mr. Kelleher, 
 Charles Martel. Among the maids of honour 
 were the Misses Bertie, Stuart, Barber, Norton 
 Rivers, Devine, Vito, and others. 
 
 M. Jacobi was the conductor for me, an ideal 
 one. Of course, everybody can see how he con- 
 ducts for the ballet. But to fully appreciate 
 him you must be a vocalist. It does not matter 
 whether you are full of sentiment, or full of devil- 
 ment (a singer is a capricious creature, and not 
 always under control), in good form or bad form, 
 ill or well, he is always with you, waiting, coax- 
 ing, supporting, giving way to little unexpected 
 fads of expression, phrasing, or breathing. 
 Attentive to every movement, to every sigh, he 
 anticipated what you were going to do, and let you 
 do it. The result was a delightful unanimity, and 
 perfect success. 
 
 The return of " Genevieve " was a triumph, the 
 business abnormal, the notices good and con- 
 gratulatory. As for me, personally, they thought 
 I was a little better than when I went away. 
 
 The opera was mounted splendidly, the dresses 
 being superb. There was a row of maids of 
 honour, who looked like medieval duchesses, stiff 
 and magnificent, in brocade, embroidery and fur. 
 I need scarcely say the pages were extremely well
 
 234 My Theatrical and 
 
 looked after, and got as little clothes as possible. 
 All the principals were radiant. There was only 
 one old costume on the stage, that was mine. Call 
 it superstition, perhaps it was ; but nothing 
 would induce me to put on a new dress. Re- 
 trimmed and spangled, I glittered beautifully, and 
 passed among the crowd. In the second act was 
 danced a " Bohemian ballet," in which Mdlle. Eosa 
 distinguished herself. At this time Mme. Per- 
 toldi was the premiere danseuse, and Mdlle. 
 Gillert the premiere mime. Our most constant 
 visitor behind the scenes was the Maharajah 
 Dhuleep Singh, very amiable and nice. He wore 
 some wonderful diamond rings, and would often 
 insist upon my wearing them for the stage. I was 
 always glad to get off, and return them. One 
 Sunday he gave a swell dinner at Vevey's, and, in 
 introducing to my notice some very fine caviare, 
 said he always sent his own man to Russia, who 
 brought it right through no intermediate parties. 
 In the Alhambra chorus was one very tall, elegant 
 girl. She filled the ideal bill, got twenty-five 
 shillings a week, wore sealskin, sable, and magnifi- 
 cent diamonds, came in her carriage and pair, 
 and her footman waited at the stage-door with 
 her cloak. She could go into the directors' room 
 at any time without knocking at the door, and
 
 Musical Recollections 235 
 
 sometimes gave His Highness the Maharajah a 
 lift. Her portrait as *' Mrs. Marini " figured in 
 all the photographers' windows, and, taken alto- 
 gether, she was a very fashionable person indeed. 
 The girls used to coax her and say, " Hi say, 
 Mareenee, send hus hup er bottle er fizz ; won't 
 yer, Mareenee ? " And " Mareenee," who was 
 charming and splendid and good-natured, did it. 
 
 Among the directors of the Alhambra was Mr. 
 Winder, a nice gentlemanly man, a good manager, 
 and connected with music halls, notably the 
 Metropolitan, for a number of years ; Mr. Leader, 
 always associated in my mind with the box office 
 of the Italian Opera, Her Majesty's Theatre 
 (under the colonnade), who, when in the Green- 
 room, invariably forgot he was not in the smoking 
 room ; Mr. Nagle, the champion bill poster ; Mr. 
 Sutton was the chairman, bumptious and impor- 
 tant. Mr. Morton, deferential and self-effacing, 
 got along very nicely with these gentlemen. 
 Sometimes after the performance, going through 
 the directors' box to get out the front way quickly, 
 we met a young slim gentleman (good-looking too) 
 just coming in, with whom we would have a 
 parting B. and S. Sometimes the young gentle- 
 man walked across with us to our lodgings in 
 Charles Street, Haymarket, and shared our modest
 
 236 My Theatrical and 
 
 little supper. The young slim gentleman was 
 Mr. Augustus Harris, of the Criterion Theatre. 
 
 During the season, a committee of gentlemen 
 (prominent among whom was Sir Gordon Gum- 
 ming) connected with a prevailing and fashionable 
 fud, just then in its first days, wishing to give a 
 very select and exclusive ball, approached me with 
 the request that I would make out a list and invite 
 those ladies of the professional world I preferred. 
 I did so. And " The Crutch and Toothpick Ball," 
 at Willis's Rooms, was remarkable for the beauty 
 and chic of the women, and the undeniable and 
 exceedingly good form of the men. 
 
 Early in 1879, having secured from Messrs. 
 Chondens of Paris the provincial rights of " Car- 
 men," I, in May, produced it at the old Theatre 
 Royal, Leicester. The interest taken by the town 
 was immense, and the patient audience stood in 
 the streets for hours before the doors opened. 
 
 One day, while at Parravicini's office in Duke 
 Street, engaging the company for this tour, I saw a 
 young lady who, I had been told, was a good artiste 
 and a fine musician. The young lady was de- 
 cidedly pretty, charming in manner, but fragile 
 in appearance. I did not engage her, consider- 
 ing that she had not sufficient physique to sing 
 every evening in a heavy repertoire. In acting on
 
 Musical Recollections 237 
 
 this opinion, I missed a good artiste, but she found 
 her opportunity a little later on, which she would 
 not have done had she been travelling with me. 
 " Mme. Favart " was being rehearsed at the Strand. 
 Miss Fanny Josephs was to play the part, but that 
 fell through ; she gave it up ; my young lady was 
 sent for. She sang, and caught the town. The 
 young lady was Miss Florence St. John. 
 
 It was generally conceded that my " Carmen " 
 was a good one. I had a natural turn for the 
 tragic, and my acquired taste and experience in 
 comic opera enabled me to give many little 
 touches which had not been thought of before. 
 It was a very difficult opera to produce ; and 
 there was no end of bother with the orchestra. 
 Fancy, three trombones all wanting 61. per week 
 each ! The work was extremely exhausting for 
 the principal singers. But at the Prince of Wales' a 
 Theatre, Liverpool, Mr. Lely and I made a record, 
 which is still unbroken, singing " Carmen " every 
 night for three consecutive weeks to crammed 
 houses. 
 
 In Dublin, when the bills and announcements 
 came out, there was great excitement among the 
 car-drivers. They said, " See that now, see what 
 Soldene is bringing us, an opera of our own, the 
 opera of ' The Carmen.' ' We had matinees
 
 238 My Theatrical ard 
 
 at the Gaiety, Dublin ; rather an innovation 
 in those days ; and in the book of the flute -player 
 is the following lyric, written in pencil : 
 
 " Soldene'a collaring all the chips, 
 
 Bizet's gone to heaven, 
 And I sit here a playing the flute 
 For a paltry three-and-elevea." J 
 
 In the autumn of 1879 we went to Glasgow, 
 playing " Carmen," of course. But the principal 
 event of this visit was being invited by Admiral 
 Popoff, the chief constructor to the Russian Navy 
 (and who, since that time, has constructed a 
 circular ship, which in the Baltic went round and 
 round and never stopped) to lunch with him on 
 board the Tsar's new and magnificent yacht, 
 the Livadia, then being built at Messrs. Elders' 
 yard at Gourock. Of course an invitation from 
 such a personage was a great honour, and we 
 " toiletted " accordingly. Fancy our disgust 
 when, on getting out of the train, we were 
 met by a dirty, dusty, snuffy old man, buttoned 
 up to his chin in a military, but fearfully 
 wine-stained, coat, with dabs of grease all down 
 the front it was the Admiral. But our disgust 
 was intensified when he led the way, not to an 
 Imperial carriage, as we had fondly pictured, but 
 
 1 Morning performance, half salary.
 
 Musical Recollections 239 
 
 to the tram ; such a dirty tram, too. Still, when 
 we got to the yard we found the yacht was 
 magnificent, so were the officers, so was the lunch, 
 which was lavish and extravagant to a degree. So 
 was the Admiral, when we got used to him ; and 
 we all came away with a little present.
 
 240 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXYII1. 
 
 On the Plains A ride on the train The oasis Archibald 
 Forbes Anecdote of Forbes, D'Oyley Carte, and P. T. 
 Barnuna Barnum appears for my benefit Salt Lake City 
 in 1881 People I meet The cornet-player of the Crystal 
 Palace Orchestra- An " extra girl " frae Glaskie How the 
 Salt Lake girls wore their tights How many wives each 
 Mormon brought to the show How the ladies of the 
 opera company went to their hotel The legend written 
 on the rocks and boulders of Salt Lake The City of 
 Eureka Its theatre Its men, manners, ways and means 
 The chorus girl that played the piano in the gambling 
 saloon and what she got for it Why she did it Who she 
 was" Colorado Springs " " Pike's Peak " " The Garden 
 of the Gods" B. and S. "Leadville" The gambling 
 Baloon The shooting "Fork's Creek" The suicide of 
 Henry Hcrsee, junr. Where and when they found the 
 remains. 
 
 *~* 
 
 IN the autumn of 1880 once more to America, 
 and in 1881, crossing the Plains on my way to 
 'Frisco, I heard that the engine and driver on 
 ojij: train were the same with whom the Duke of 
 Manchester had done a long ride when going 
 "West. Instantly I wished to follow the illustrious 
 example of his Grace. Into the cab I clambered 
 and rode for thirty miles ; but never again !
 
 Musical Recollections 24 1 
 
 There was such swaying to and fro, not to 
 say pitching and rolling, and such vibration 
 that every revolution of the wheels seemed to 
 pass through my body. At last, when I was 
 quite black and blue, we stopped at a little 
 place called Humboldt an oasis in the desert, 
 not only a disagreeable, sandy, sage-bush desert, 
 but a saline, pickling, prickly desert, that 
 covered one's lips with sharp acrid salt, and filled 
 one's eyes with sharp acrid tears. Humboldt 
 was green, and soft, and pleasant to look upon, 
 with waving shade trees, and a fountain in which 
 were gold-fish who jumped and seemed to sparkle 
 and crackle in the sun. We had nice tea and coffee, 
 and custard pies, mirabile dictu, "without any flies." 
 The east-bound train was there at the same time, 
 and on the platform stood a gentleman wearing 
 tweeds and a Norfolk jacket. About him there 
 was that unmistakable something that marks the 
 Englishman all over the world. " I wonder who 
 that is," said I to somebody ; " I seem to know 
 his face." " Of course, everybody knows his 
 face," replied somebody ; " it's Archibald Forbes, 
 the great war correspondent." It has always 
 been a matter of regret to me that I did not go 
 up to him and have a talk ; I certainly should if 
 I were to meet him now.
 
 242 My Theatrical and 
 
 Michael Gunn told me a funny story of 
 Archibald Forbes and D'Oyly Carte being in 
 New York, and P. T. Barnum inviting them to 
 visit him at Bridgeport, Conn. The celebrated 
 showman was a total abstainer, and more pictu- 
 resque than particular in his expressions. " You 
 boys can cum an' stay I guess yer can cum stay 
 fer a month ; but mind, no c bug juice.' " 
 
 Barnum had a daughter married and settled in 
 Southport, Lancashire, and the old man came over 
 every year and had a good time with her. I was 
 playing at the Winter Gardens during one of 
 these visits, and when my name went up for the 
 usual Friday night benefit, he " guessed he'd 
 come and speak a piece." Of course, I was more 
 than delighted, and big bills announced the fact 
 that the world-renowned showman, Mr. P. T. 
 Barnum, would address the audience on the 
 auspicious occasion. There was a tremendous 
 house, and in the middle of the evening he went 
 on, and had a grand reception. But having got 
 on, he would not come off, and there he stood and 
 talked for one hour and fifteen minutes. 
 
 In April, 1881, coming east from San Francisco, 
 I visited for the first time Salt Lake City, a beautiful 
 place, full of fruits and flowers. On each side of the 
 streets are tall shade trees, and a tiny running
 
 Musical Recollections 243 
 
 streamlet tinkling all the time. In the distance 
 are the mountains covered with snoAV ; there are 
 fine hotels, fine houses, fine stores. " Latest Paris 
 fashions for the opera season " struck me as being 
 remarkably appropriate. I went to see tho 
 " Tabernacle." At the door a man lifted his hat. 
 " How do you do, madame ? You don't recollect 
 me ? I was the cornet in the orchestra when you 
 played at the Crystal Palace last year." 
 
 The theatre was large, shaded with lime trees, 
 smelling deliciously. When I went on the stage, the 
 stage manager was looking over the most likely 
 candidates for the important role of " extra girls." 
 Among them was one with remarkable hair, red, 
 and most abundant. I recognised her at once. 
 She had been with me at the Gaiety Theatre, 
 Glasgow, the Christmas of 1879. " Why, Maggie," 
 said I, *' How in the world did you get here?" 
 "Well," said she, "I come with mother and 
 father, an' father's got a new wife." "A new 
 wife ! and what's your mother say to that ? " 
 " Ah, weel, she's a* richt ; she had ter ' seal ' her 
 to father. It's th' law." "And how old are 
 they?" "Father's seventy-two, mithsr's sixty- 
 eight, an* th' new wife's tew years younger than 
 me. I'm ter be ' sealed ' masel' soon." 
 
 That night, about a quarter of an hour before
 
 244 My Theatrical and 
 
 the curtain was to go up, Mrs. Quincon, my 
 wardrobe mistress, said, " Can I bring in some of 
 the local girls for you to see ? " " Yes," said I, 
 " What's the matter ? " She brought them in. 
 These daughters of the desert had got into tights 
 with all their petticoats on, and when they turned 
 round presented a most extensive and wonderful 
 sight. The house was filled to its capacity, 
 almost entirely with women, who had evidently 
 paid a visit to the " Paris latest fashions," and 
 there were nodding feathers and flowers all 
 over the place. I learned that, this being 
 the first night, the audience was most wealthy, 
 aristocratic, and select, and each man had brought 
 from ten to twelve wives. The members of our 
 company had great fun, the gentlemen taking the 
 ladies home in Mormon fashion. Mr. Marshal], 
 the stage manager and doyen of the crowd, 
 marched at the head. All the girls followed in 
 Indian file, some gentlemen brought up the rear, 
 and the ladies were seen safely into their respective 
 hotels. 
 
 On returning to Ogden, en route for Denver, we 
 were much cheered by seeing painted on the rocks 
 and boulders that historic and heart-stirring 
 legend, " Woa, Emma." During this tour we 
 visited " Eureka," a mining town, the only one I
 
 Musical Recollections 245 
 
 ever saw in the States without a church. The 
 theatre was built of weather-boards, sawdusted, 
 and lit with petroleum lamps. The lime-light was 
 the head-light of an engine, lent by the railway 
 company and placed in the wings. The dressing- 
 rooms were calico screens. The lowest admission 
 was five dollars, and the air was so full of sulphur 
 you had to walk about with a pocket handkerchief 
 to your mouth. Eureka was a dreadful desert of 
 dry, sandy mountains ; on each side of the narrow 
 road were gambling saloons, and down it ran little 
 streams bordered with green. The little streams 
 came from the reducing works, and the green was 
 a mineral deposit from the same source. One of 
 the gambling saloons captured a chorus girl of ours. 
 She could play the piano well ; she got eight 
 dollars per day, and a percentage on the drinks. 
 
 We left Eureka at 4 a.m., and, as we walked 
 past the saloon, heard through the thick and 
 poison-laden air the tinkle of the piano played 
 
 by Alice C . I saw her afterwards in San 
 
 Francisco in 1891. She brought me as a present, 
 a lovely canary in a lovely cage, and was in great 
 form ; had married the proprietor of the Eureka 
 Saloon, with whom she was now keeping one in 
 'Frisco. " Oh, Alice," said I, " I was so sorry when 
 you stopped in that dreadful place." " Well, you
 
 246 My Theatrical and 
 
 gee, madame," said slic apologetically, " I had my 
 child to keep." Alice was the widow of poor Tom 
 Melling, the Oxford harmonium player, who was 
 drowned in the river at York, leaving a young wife 
 and baby. 
 
 We went to Colorado Springs, the country of 
 health, where every consumptive patient is cured, 
 where you sleep under tents high up in the moun- 
 tains, where the air is so dry that your bucket of 
 water evaporates in the night, where soda-water, 
 bright and sparkling, springs from the earth, and 
 nothing is wanted to complete your happiness 
 but a little Hennessy to go with it ; where every 
 morning we looked up to " Pike's Peak," and every 
 afternoon drove out to Manitou " The Garden of 
 the Gods." 
 
 We played at Denver, then went on to Lead- 
 ville ; Leadville 10,000 feet above the level of 
 the sea, where there are no horses, no cats, no 
 dogs, and you have to walk slow ; Leadville the 
 Silver City of the West, where the walls of my 
 dressing-room glittered with the precious stuff, 
 and the roads were paved with it ; where cabbages 
 cost half a dollar, and radishes are five cents each. 
 At Leadville we saw some shooting. It was 
 5 a.m. ; we were walking to the depot, passing 
 through the principal street, lined on each side
 
 Musical Recollections 247 
 
 with gambling saloons. The dawn was just 
 breaking, when out from one of the houses tum- 
 bled a little crowd Bang-bang-bang. . Two 
 were left in the road, the others went back to their 
 game. 
 
 Then, on our way to " Golden " City, at a 
 place called " Fork's Creek " the junction of 
 North and South Clear Creek, and twenty-eight 
 miles west of Denver we had to wait for a train, 
 and young Henry Hersee threw himself from the 
 trestle bridge of the railroad into the rocky chasm 
 below, filled with a rushing mountain torrent, 
 storming from a recent waterspout, running twenty 
 miles an hour. I can see his blue eyes now, 
 looking straight out of the water up to the sky. 
 Then his head went " bash " on a big rock, and 
 we saw him no more. Six weeks afterwards his 
 remains were found at a place called " Beaver 
 Brook," twenty-two miles west of Denver ; hia 
 body was ground by the rocks to a pulp, and his 
 clothes had disappeared.
 
 248 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX, 
 
 My adventure with a St. Louis Sheriff How he arrived 
 twenty minutes late. 
 
 DURING this 1880-81 tour, I had many interviews 
 with many sheriffs, and was being continually 
 " arrested " or " attached." My managers, Messrs. 
 Jarvis and Froom, made contracts for me to appear 
 at certain places, then made other contracts for me 
 to appear on the same night at certain other places 
 500 miles away. My name being at the head 
 of the bill, I was held responsible. The conse- 
 quence was that we were always arriving at 
 places where the sheriff turned up about 8.30 
 p.m., and sequestered the receipts at the suit 
 of Messrs. So-and-so, for breach of contract. 
 When they had got all the cash they could, 
 they would attach the wardrobe, which was 
 my private property, lent to my managers at a 
 certain sum per week, which I never got. This 
 was all very worrying, and under the advice of a 
 lawyer at St. Louis, I, for valuable consideration,
 
 Musical Recollections 249 
 
 made over the whole of my wardrobe, both 
 personal and professional, to my wardrobe master, 
 Mr. Quinton, who, with his wife, had been with 
 me many years and could be trusted. And one 
 day the sheriff came off second best. A deed was 
 drawn up and executed at St. Louis, but to 
 make the deed valid it must be filed at the City 
 Hall. No sooner had the paper been signed and 
 carried off by Quinton, than a sheriff (a most 
 polite person), waited on me at my hotel, The 
 Planters' House, and " regretted " he had a claim 
 against me for 2000 dols., " breach of contract," 
 &c. ; that he proposed attaching my baggage and 
 me personally ; that I must consider myself under 
 arrest, and I must on no account leave my rooms. 
 I asked him had he been to the theatre. He 
 said, " No," he was on his way there, and should 
 attach the wardrobe, till the claim was settled. 
 " Well," I said, " I thought it would be better if he 
 would stay with me, while I sent a messenger for the 
 manager to come right along." He didn't mind. 
 So I rang the bell for some whisky and cigars, 
 and asked the sheriff would he pass me the 
 writing materials. He did so. I wrote a note to 
 Quinton to rush off to the Town Hall and file the 
 deed at once, fastened it up, rang the bell. The 
 bell-boy came, I passed the note over the table to
 
 250 My Theatrical and 
 
 my friend. He was too much of a gentleman 
 to look at the direction and passed it to the boy. 
 My arrest was not very painful. My arrester sat 
 and talked, drank his whisky, and smoked his 
 cigars. Quinton made no reply to my note. 
 Time was getting on, and I was getting in agony. 
 Conversation flagged a bit, and I brought out some 
 albums of celebrities. Two hours passed, and my 
 visitor " guessed " as the manager didn't come he 
 must be off to the theatre. At last I could not keep 
 him any longer. He went, but before going put 
 me on my parole not to leave the hotel. I broke it 
 and rushed off to the Barnum House where Quinton 
 lived. Mrs. Quinton was in a dreadful state. " Oh, 
 madame, we've been out ; "William only just got 
 your note and has gone to the City Hall now." I 
 fled back to the Planters' House, and threw off my 
 things. Close behind me arrived Quinton, breath- 
 less. ," Just in time, madame," panted he, " I filed 
 the deed five minutes before the office closed." 
 
 My friend the sheriff arrived at the theatre 
 twenty minutes too late. The deed had been 
 registered quite fifteen minutes.
 
 Musical Recollections 2 5 1 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 At Chester The detectives Tho Irish troubles A letter from 
 Mr. Gladstone The old Theatre Royal, Southampton 
 An old artist's memories of it in 1846 The manager in 
 those days Miss Fanny Vining (Mrs. John Wood) Her 
 conquests Her marriage The sisters Cushman The 
 company Where the walking gentleman was in 1878. 
 
 IN May, 1883, I visited Chester with " Carmen." 
 Mr. Gladstone was staying at the Rectory, Ha- 
 warden, and I drove out to ask him to give his 
 personal patronage on the following Friday night. 
 It seemed a strange thing to me that as I drove 
 through the country lanes I noticed so many people 
 about ; every fifty or a hundred yards there was 
 a man sauntering along, coming or going from 
 Ilawarden way, and they all looked hard at me and 
 the carriage and the driver. Every now and then 
 n face would appear above the hedge, another would 
 be regarding with much interest the bursting 
 blooms of the already blossoming May; another 
 with vacant eye stood stock still while we passed 
 him. Somehow these people aroused and irritated
 
 252 My Theatrical and 
 
 my theatrical instincts they were out of the 
 picture they did not agree with the situation, and 
 they had no local colour, and were out of tone 
 with their environment. When about half a mile 
 from the Rectory, a man stopped the carriage 
 (an open one), and, glancing at me, said 
 something in a low tone to the driver, who, 
 replying, nodded his head and went on, but 
 rather slowly. "What did that man want?" 
 said I, leaning forward. " He wanted to 
 know your name, mam." What impudence, 
 thought I. W T hen we got within sight of tho 
 Rectory, another man stopped us, and said we 
 could not go any further. " Why ? " said I. 
 "Orders, mam," said he. "But," said I, "I 
 want to see Mr. Gladstone." " Sorry, mam ; not 
 possible." "Why?" "Can't tell you, mam." 
 " Well, can I send a note ? " " Yes, mam." I had 
 one prepared and the man took it. Then he 
 came back. " I gave it to the butler, mam ; he will 
 bring an answer." Presently a middle-aged man, 
 wearing indoor livery, came to the gate. T3ie 
 man on duty went to him, and returned with the 
 message : " Mr. Gladstone's compliments to Miss 
 Soldene, and he will write." " I'm so sorry, Miss 
 Soldene," said our detainer, " I could not let you 
 pass, but our orders are strict nobody can pass.".
 
 Miisical Recollections 253 
 
 " But why ? " " Well, you must ask someone else 
 that." This was in the time of the Irish troubles, 
 and Mr. Gladstone was strongly guarded by 
 detectives. These were the men I had seen 
 sauntering and interested in the general agri- 
 cultural progress of the land around Hawarden. 
 Mr. Gladstone did not visit the theatre, but that 
 evening I got a letter from him, not written by a 
 secretary, but by himself. The letter was as 
 follows : 
 
 " Hawarden Castle, 
 
 " Chester. 
 
 " Mr. Gladstone presents his compliments to 
 Madame Soldene, and is sincerely sorry, as is 
 Mrs. Gladstone, that they are not able to come 
 into Chester for the purpose of attending at the 
 Royalty Theatre. They wish well to Madame 
 Soldene's enterprise, and she is at liberty to make 
 use of their name this week, if she thinks fit. 
 
 "May 17th, 1883." 
 
 A little later in the year, or it may have been 
 perhaps in 1884, I played a week at Southampton, 
 at the old Theatre Royal, and found that for Mr. 
 Edward Marshall, my stage manager and principal 
 comedian, the place was full of memories. " Ah," 
 
 said he, looking round the dingy little Green-room, 
 
 i
 
 254 My Theatrical and 
 
 " it was just there," pointing to an old settle, " I 
 first saw Mrs. John Wood." "How delightful," 
 said I, "tell me all about it." " Well," he went 
 on, "in in yes in 1846, the theatre was under 
 the management of Mr. W. Parker, a local professor 
 of dancing, and not at all a bad actor. I was 
 engaged for second low comedy, and to sing and 
 dance between the pieces. Soon after I joined, 
 there arrived a Miss Fanny Vining and her sister, 
 daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Vining, who I 
 think at that time were members of Mr. Osbaldis- 
 ton's company, at the Royal Victoria Theatre, New 
 Cut, Lambeth. Miss Fanny," said Mr. Marshall 
 with a sigh, " made a great sensation. She was a 
 perfect little beauty deep, dreamy eyes, curled 
 lashes, peachy cheeks, and a dewy rosebud for a 
 mouth. She played the mischief in the theatre. 
 All the boys were in love with and laid siege to 
 this charming fortress. But John Wood, principal 
 comedian, was the lucky dog. And at the end of 
 the season they were married. I think," said he 
 hesitatingly, " but am not quite sure, I think they 
 ran away." " I believe you were in love with her 
 yourself," said I. " Well, Madame," said he, " upon 
 iny word there are more unlikely things than that." 
 Then he went on : " The sisters Cushman were here 
 in my time, singing duets. Charlotte had a very
 
 Musical Recollections 255 
 
 fine voice, and much musical taste. Mrs. Nisbet 
 and Miss Patty Oliver were members of the 
 company ; Tom King played the lead, and Tom 
 Bellairs was our walking gentleman. Do you 
 know, when we were in Australia in 1878 after 
 all those years I saw Bellairs. He was the 
 proprietor of the principal hotel, a sort of Tat- 
 tersall's, attached to the racecourse at Melbourne, 
 and mayor of a suburban township."
 
 256 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 " Frivoli " at Drury Lane, 1886 The company A sensation 
 The two Ctesars Mr. Augustin Daly and Mr. Augustus 
 Harris Lord Alfred Paget A dried haddock and a bottle of 
 brown sherry Tea with the girls Lord Alfred's sartorial 
 eccentricities Lord Alfred as a city man Lord Alfred 
 introduces the bangle cult in the ballet The last time I 
 saw him " Good-bye" What the ballet said when his will 
 was published A card from " Jack the Kipper " A 
 midnight walk in London The white arrow Lord 
 Mandoville Bessie Bellwood " Wot Cheer, 'ilia?" 
 
 IN March, 1886, Mr. Augustus Harris engaged 
 me to play in M. Herve's opera "Frivoli," to 
 be produced at Drury Lane. In the cast were 
 Mme. Rose Hersee> Miss Marie Tempest, Mr. 
 Harry Nichols, and Miss Kate Munroe, beautiful, 
 pleasant, perfectly- dressed Kitty. Mr. Harris 
 (assisted by Mr. Charles Harris) conducted the 
 rehearsals. 
 
 One morning there was a sensation. So 
 many people being engaged in the spectacle, Mr. 
 Harris had a chair placed in the centre of the 
 stage, standing on which he could more effectively 
 arrange the disposition of his forces. During
 
 Musical Recollections 
 
 257 
 
 the rehearsal a card was brought in. Of 
 course, the moment his attention was turned 
 everybody's tongue went loose, a regular " chatter," 
 " chatter," like a big school. " Silence, ladies and 
 gentlemen," said the chief sharply ; then mount- 
 ing the chair and addressing the man who had 
 brought the card, said : " What was the message ? " 
 
 O 7 O 
 
 " Mr. Augustin Daly's compliments, sir, and he 
 and his friends would like to look over the 
 theatre." Mr. Harris stretched out his arm, and 
 pointing over the heads of the people to the swing 
 door through which one came from the stage 
 entrance on to the stage, and at which door a 
 little group of gentlemen could be seen, said in 
 a very distinct and determined tone : " Show 
 Mr. Augustin Daly and his friends out." 
 
 I afterwards heard that one of Mr. Hams' s 
 companies had been playing at the Theatre Royal, 
 Brighton, and Mr. Augustin Daly on the Saturday 
 gave a matinee there. A number of Mr. Augustus 
 Harris's people went into the pit before the doors 
 were opened, and Mr. Daly had them removed, 
 and there you have the casus belli. 
 
 One day after a long, fatiguing rehearsal, going 
 out at the stage door, I met Lord Alfred Paget 
 coming in. He was carrying a rather large rush 
 basket, a fishmonger's basket. " What have you
 
 258 My Theatrical and 
 
 got there ? " said I. "Well," said he, "it's 
 haddocks, dried haddocks, and a bottle of brown 
 sherry. I am going to have tea with some of the 
 girls. Will you come ? " 
 
 Lord Alfred was peculiar, but pleasant, agree- 
 able, and more than interested in the theatre and 
 theatre folk, by whom he was much respected. 
 Some people thought him rather awful, and Mrs. 
 Nye Chart would not allow him behind the scenes 
 at her theatre. But for my own part I must say 
 I found him anything but terrible. He was 
 always busy, and invariably shabby, wearing 
 a frock coat that had seen no end of better 
 days, and round his neck a large silk and 
 rather greasy handkerchief (generally a " birds- 
 eye") tied like an old-fashioned stock. His hat 
 was picturesque old and dreadful with the nap 
 always the wrong way, and in a state of violent 
 remonstrance. He was director of any number of 
 companies, and as a rule he carried a bag, a carpet 
 bag, and rather a large one, too. He often popped 
 into the theatre at rehearsal, but only for a 
 moment, being " Eastward- bound," so he would 
 say, " going to the city " in fact, to which he 
 travelled on top of the " 'bus." After one of my 
 American journeys (not having seen him for a year 
 or two) I met him in the Strand. He was still
 
 Musical Recollections 
 
 carrying the bag, and came to the point at once. 
 " Dear Emily," said he, " dear old friend ; where 
 can I buy some long black silk gloves ? There's 
 a girl can't go on to-night till I get them for her." 
 
 Lord Alfred introduced the bangle cult among 
 the ballet. When he returned from India, where 
 he accompanied the Prince in 1875, he brought 
 home a sack full of bangles, none of them too 
 expensive, and the dancing girls and the chorus 
 went " tinkle, tinkle, tinkling," about the theatre 
 and shaking little tiny silver bells, till it got on 
 one's nerves. Every girl had a dozen bangles on 
 her wrists, and it was only by the practical remon- 
 strances of the stage manager, who murmured some- 
 thing about " fines," that they were kept off their 
 ankles. 
 
 The last time I met Lord Alfred was at the 
 Waterloo Station, a few months before his death. 
 I was waiting for my train to Barnes. He was, he 
 told me, waiting for some members of his family 
 who were coming from I forget where. Anyway, 
 the train arrived, but no family. He was vexed : 
 " One hour and a half," said he, " have I been here ; 
 waited two trains. Now I shall go. Good-bye." 
 " Good-bye," said I. 
 
 It was the final good-bye. I never saw him 
 again. Everybody was very surprised when they
 
 260 My Theatrical and 
 
 heard lie had left 100,000. " Fancy ! " said the 
 ballet, rattling their bangles, " with that coat too." 
 
 During the run of u Frivoli," we got a great 
 fright. Mr. Harris received through the post a card, 
 a threatening card, from " Jack the Ripper," and 
 that deadly persuasive person not only expressed 
 himself in very definite and distinct terms, but 
 endorsed his views by impressing upon the docu- 
 ment a bloody thumb and finger. Mr. Harris 
 was kind enough to show us the card, and how we 
 crowded round and gloated over the horrid thing, 
 and the fascination of the bloody sign was 
 irresistible. 
 
 Talking about *' Jack the Ripper," one night, 
 it must have been in 1888, I had been to Drury 
 Lane on some business, and left there late, after 
 twelve o'clock. The rush from the theatres was 
 over, the public-houses were closed, the streets were 
 quiet and empty. There was a moon, with dark 
 scudding clouds, but altogether pretty clear, so I 
 concluded to walk to Charlotte Street, Bedford 
 Square, where I was then living. In the next 
 house to me Lord Mandeville had rooms, and, 
 strange to say, so had the Lady Elizabeth Bell wood. 
 I walked down Russell Street, from the stage door 
 of Drury Lane, and as I turned into Bow Street 
 saw drawn on the pavement in chalk, an arrow, a
 
 Musical Recollections 261 
 
 broad white arrow, pointing north. I had not gone 
 a hundred yards before there was another, and at 
 Merry weather's corner was still another, pointing 
 slightly to the left. I crossed over to the west side 
 of Endell Street, and had not gone far before I saw 
 another, still pointing straight ahead. By this time 
 I felt creepy and seemed to understand the arrows 
 were a direction, also that I must follow tliat direc- 
 tion. I walked to the end of Endell Street, and 
 then could see no more, they were finished. I was 
 glad I had distanced them. It was nothing, only 
 my fancy, but crossing the road to Bellew's Chapel 
 I came on the direction again, broad, white, decided 
 it pointed to the north. At this moment of my 
 midnight walk, to have had my head suddenly 
 pulled back and the gleam of a razor flashed across 
 my eyes would not have surprised me. " Jack the 
 Ripper " was in the air. I stood still and looked 
 round with apprehension, nobody, not a foot- 
 step, only the sound of a distant cab. I 
 walked quietly across Oxford Street. There was 
 the confounded thing, against the doll shop, bright, 
 shining, pointing straight ahead. I crossed over 
 into Charlotte Street. There it Avas again, at the 
 side of the house of Forbes Robertson. I felt a 
 temptation, a dreadful curiosity, I must follow it, 
 and went on opposite and past the house where I
 
 262 My Theatrical and 
 
 lived, on till I came to the Square, crossed over to 
 the enclosure, and then, close to the railings, there 
 it was again, palpable, commanding. " Come," it 
 said, " follow." Then suddenly I got a panic and 
 ran back, fancying a step behind me, ran back as 
 fast as my legs \\ould carry me, to No. , and, 
 standing on the doorstep, breathless, shaking and 
 trembling, had the unspeakable happiness of 
 hearing the mellifluous voice of the celebrated 
 Bessie, making the equally celebrated inquiry, 
 "Wot cheer,' Ria?" What could the arrow 
 have meant ? Somehow, I felt that nig] it I had 
 been very close to a rat-trap.
 
 Musical Recollections 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 1886 In New York with the McCaul company " Josephine sold 
 by her Sisters " Mrs. Brown Potter and Mrs. Langtry 
 Bishop Potter of New York His views of the stage The 
 McCaul company Eugene Oudin Miss Louise Parker 
 The marriage of " Gene " and Louise Married at midnight 
 in her stage dress I give her away Chicago in 1887 
 The anarchists in gaol A visit to the condemned men 
 A picturesque bomb-thrower The gaol arrangements 
 Behind the iron bars Mr. and Mrs. Parsons " Annie 
 Laurie" The execution The funeral Encore "Annie 
 Laurie " The mourning multitudes Chicago under con- 
 cealed surveillance Not a drink for forty- eight hours. 
 
 IN July, 1886, 1 sailed for New York, under con- 
 tract to Colonel McCaul to play in " Josephine sold 
 by her Sisters." On the steamer was an elderly 
 gentleman whose name I did not know. But we 
 used to talk talk about theatres, too. " What do 
 you think of the relative artistic claims of Mrs. 
 Brown Potter and Mrs. Langtry ? " said he one 
 day. " Well," said I, " I think Mrs. Brown Potter 
 has more dramatic instinct in her little finger 
 than Mrs. Langtry has in her whole body." " I 
 am very glad to hear you say so," replied the
 
 264 My Theatrical and 
 
 gentleman. " I am Bishop Potter of New York, a 
 relation of Mrs. Brown Potter, and though I don't 
 exactly hold with her adopting the stage, still I 
 hold that what is worth doing, is worth doing 
 well, and I say again I am glad to hear you think 
 she has, in your opinion, a chance of success." 
 
 During my engagement with the McCuul 
 company, I met one of the most interesting artists 
 I have ever known Eugene Otidin, whose early 
 death in November, 1894, was a distinct loss to art, 
 and a dreadful misfortune to all who loved him. 
 The prima donna of the company was a young 
 American lady, Miss Louise Parker, of Providence, 
 Rhode Island, just returned from Paris, where 
 she had studied with Mme. Merchesi and Mine. 
 La Grange ; the tenor was Signor Perugini, 
 an American of Italian extraction and a very 
 popular singer in the States. He made his first 
 public appearance when very young, as a baby, 
 at a " baby show ; " he was successful, and won a 
 prize. Perugini took more pains and time in his 
 " make up " than any artist I ever knew, and once 
 upon a time told me, with conscious pride, that he 
 used ninety-six several pigments in the process. 
 Some two or three years ago he had the happiness 
 of becoming the husband of the lovely Miss Lilian 
 Russell fine artiste, magnificent woman, and the
 
 Musical Recollections 265 
 
 pet of the American public from the Atlantic to 
 the Pacific. 
 
 Mr. De Wolf Hopper was the principal comedian; 
 and among the chorus was a bright, sparkling, 
 pretty, piquante little brunette, who had a wonder- 
 ful contralto voice. Her name was Miss May Yohe, 
 now Lady Francis Hope. 
 
 Eugene Oudin was of a modest disposition, and 
 always considered he could not act. To tell the 
 truth, at this time, September, 1886, his histrionic 
 gifts were not great, but his voice was beautiful 
 and his method perfect. 
 
 He was a prejudiced boy, prejudiced in my 
 favour, thought I knew everything about the stage, 
 and begged me to watch him from the side and 
 tell him where he was "dreadful" and "would I 
 help him to alter it." And I did, and after a 
 bit Louise came and looked and criticised him 
 too. After the New York season we travelled, 
 our ultimate destination being Chicago. 
 
 On this journey, in the different theatres Miss 
 Parker and I shared the same dressing-room, 
 and somehow it did not seem long before we two, 
 between ourselves, got to talk about " Gene." 
 Then in a little time she told me they were 
 " engaged,'' and one Saturday, in Detroit, after 
 the matinee, " Gene " electrified me by asking,
 
 266 My Theatrical and 
 
 " Would I give Louise away ? They were going 
 to be married that very night, after the perform- 
 ance." And so they were. The bride was mar- 
 ried in the stage costume she had been playing in. 
 It was all very sudden and delightful, and I, like an 
 idiot, cried my eyes out. You see I had no expe- 
 rience, had never been a bridesmaid, and only once 
 a bride. The only wedding I had ever attended was 
 my oAvn (a runaway one). There was a terrible 
 dearth of wedding presents. De Wolf Hopper, by 
 superhuman and wonderful means, got some silver 
 forks and spoons. And I I had some Australian 
 nuggets in my dressing-bag, and I sent one to the 
 bride : " A piece of virgin gold, emblematic of 
 herself." We had some supper and champagne, 
 and at 2 a.m. the bride and groom and the bridal 
 company boarded the train for Chicago West- 
 ward Ho. Everybody said " Gene " was to be a 
 great artist, and his subsequent career justified 
 their opinion. Seldom has a finer performance been 
 seen than his Sir Brian de Bois Guilbert in Sir 
 Arthur Sullivan's Opera of " Ivanhoe," produced 
 at the Royal English Opera House, January 
 31st, 1891. 
 
 In the fall of 1887 I was again in Chicago. At 
 this time the anarchists lay under sentence of 
 death for dynamite outrage and murder of
 
 Musical Recollections 267 
 
 policemen in the Haymarket. Their counsel, 
 Colonel Black, had gone to Washington or New 
 York, I forget which, to move the Supreme Court 
 to try to get the sentences altered, or the prisoners 
 respited. I had a great desire to see the men, and 
 by the exercise of some Press influence succeeded 
 in getting into the prison when the general public 
 were excluded. 
 
 I was taken through a small room, where 
 warders, keepers, and other officials were lounging 
 on tables and chairs round the stove, smoking, 
 talking, laughing, and jesting, into an immense 
 lofty stone hall or corridor, down the centre of 
 which was an iron grating, extending the whole 
 length of the chamber, and reaching from the 
 floor to the ceiling the sort of grating one sees 
 in front of the lion's den. Behind this grating 
 were two rows of cells, one above the other, the 
 condemned cells, two tiers, communicating with 
 each other by a flight of iron steps. While I stood 
 looking, down the steps from the upper tier ran one 
 of the handsomest young men I have ever seen. He 
 was in his shirt sleeves, a white shirt wide open at 
 the throat, and under the rolling collar was a blood- 
 red silk handkerchief, tied loosely in a broad bow, 
 with flowing ends. His sleeves were turned up 
 to the elbow, and his arms were white and strong,
 
 268 My Theatrical and 
 
 his trousers were pulled in tight to the waist with 
 a broad strap, for he wore no braces. He was fair, 
 with a profusion of long, bright, waving, chestnut 
 hair thrown off the forehead. His eyes were blue, 
 fearless, and bright, and he ran down the steps 
 smiling, and smoking a big cigar. In his hand 
 was an empty basket, and as he reached the grat- 
 ing, a woman, with a basket of fine fruit, pushed 
 past me. The officer on duty unlocked a door in 
 the grating, the baskets were exchanged, the door 
 relocked, and the woman and the smiling prisoner 
 stood laughing and talking through the bars. They 
 spoke German. Presently a man oame along, and 
 gave him (through the bars) a handful of big 
 cigars. The condemned anarchists numbered six, 
 but somehow the others did not impress me, only 
 this one, and one other, Parsons, a mean, dark, pallid, 
 dingy person, wearing a greasy frock coat, who 
 was looking anxiously at the door by which I had 
 entered. Sometimes he stood grasping the iron 
 bars, and, laying his pale face against them, rested 
 a ad waited. Then he would walk up and down, 
 rip and down. Then, stopping, he grasped the 
 oars, shaking them violently, like a wild thing. 
 At last, arrives what he is waiting for a man 
 and a woman, both deadly pale. The man halts, 
 and stops to speak to an inquiring officer, to whose
 
 Mrisical Recollections 269 
 
 question he replies by a shake of the head. The 
 woman, thin, mean, sallow, ascetic, dressed in shabby 
 black, beckons Parsons. They both go down to 
 the end of the corridor, down, out of earshot, but 
 one can see, and to save my life, I cannot help 
 it, I have to look. She puts her arms through 
 the bars, and takes him by the shoulders. , He 
 does the same to her, they press their faces close, 
 and kiss each other, once, twice, thrice ; then she 
 sighs, and rests her face sideways on the bars. 
 And the man stands back a bit, looks up, and 
 is, if possible, more deadly white than before. 
 'Who are they?" I ask the officer. "The man 
 is Parsons, the anarchist, and the woman is his 
 wife. Colonel Black, their counsel, is just back 
 from Washington." " No hope ? " said I. " No," 
 said he. 
 
 Within a day or two the six criminals were 
 executed ; they were all hung just round the corner 
 of the corridor (a bungling business, the ropes went 
 wrong), but not before my blonde friend had 
 spoilt his beauty by trying to blow himself up 
 with a dynamite cartridge, got from goodness 
 knows where. 
 
 On the night before the execution, one of the 
 prisoners woke the whole jail, and made hardened 
 sinners weep and ciy and sob, by starting to
 
 270 My Theatrical and 
 
 sing, at 1 a.m., in a lovely tenor voice, " Annie 
 Laurie." They hanged them on a Saturday, 
 their bodies were given to their friends, who 
 conveyed the remains to " Undertaking Parlours," 
 and all Chicago took a farewell look. They were 
 buried on Sunday, taken to their graves, covered 
 with mantles of white flowers. Each hearse was 
 accompanied by a brass band, and as the procession 
 passed my hotel the strains of "Annie Laurie" 
 mingled with the tramp of many feet, and the 
 moan of muffled drums stole along, slow and sad. 
 No wonder the tears ran down the cheeks of the 
 waiting multitudes, men and women alike. Who, 
 hearing and seeing, could help it ? I couldn't. 
 
 At the time of these executions, Chicago was a 
 city of many terrors. The grip of the law was on 
 her throat, thousands of soldiers were concealed 
 in various buildings. The cellars of many blocks 
 round the prison were filled with the police. The 
 theatres were open, but the saloons were closed. 
 Not a drink to be got for forty -eight hours.
 
 Musical Recollections 2 j i 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Meeting with Mrs. Boucicault in Louisville, 1887 New 
 York in 1888 Sophie Eyre Where she is buried 
 A matinee at Wallack's Mr. Dion Boucicault and his new 
 wife The last days of Selina Dolaro Mrs. Boucicault 
 kindly supplies me with material for a Boucicault chapter 
 Mr. Boucicault at the Lyceum Theatre with his son 
 Willie in 18G9. 
 
 IN 1887 in Louisville I had the pleasure of 
 making the personal acquaintance of Mrs. Dion 
 Boucicault and her little dog, such a pretty black- 
 and-tan King Charles. We were two lonely 
 Englishwomen staying at the same hotel, The 
 Gait House, and naturally had much to talk 
 about. 
 
 At the end of the season everybody gravitates 
 to New York, and it was there, in 1888, 1 renewed 
 a friendship with one of the most charming women 
 I ever met, Sophie Eyre. Beautiful she was in 
 my eyes, and with an attraction about her (for me) 
 that up to this moment I cannot exactly under- 
 stand or explain. She was staying in Brooklyn 
 at the finest hotel, where nothing would do but
 
 272 My Theatrical and 
 
 I must come over quite often, and she entertained 
 me like an empress. Fruit, flowers, choice dishes, 
 unique wines, nothing was too good or too expen- 
 sive for her guest. Poor Sophie. She sleeps 
 her last sleep at Capri, lulled by the musical 
 murmuring seas of the Medi terre. 
 
 In New York, too, I again met Mrs. Boucicault, 
 this time accompanied by her son Aubrey. One 
 day we three went to a matinee at Wallack's. 
 We sat in the front row of the stalls. Presently 
 Mrs. Dion nudged me. " Look there," said she, 
 lifting her eyes to a box just above us on my left. 
 In the box were seated Mr. Dion Boucicault and 
 his new wife, Louise Thorndyke Boucicault. We 
 were very close, and could have shaken hands all 
 round, but we didn't. About this time Mrs. 
 Boucidault and I went to see Selina Dolaro. She 
 was living in 24th Street had some millinery 
 parlours there. She was looking delicate and 
 fragile ; but was not badly off, having recently 
 had a benefit, got up by the " Lambs' Club " of 
 New York, at which something like 4000 dols. 
 was cleared. The idea was to send her to Florida 
 to recuperate, but she would not go. " Rather 
 die in New York," said she, " than live in Florida." 
 She was gay and bright, and walked down Broad- 
 way a bit with us. The next day I sailed for
 
 Musical Recollections 273 
 
 England, and three weeks after poor Dolly was 
 dead. 
 
 Mrs. Dion Boucicault has kindly given me many 
 interesting items of her own career, also of Mr. 
 Boucicault's two lives, as she herself says, full of 
 romance and adventure. 
 
 Mr. Boucicault to me personally was always a 
 most interesting man. The first time I saw him 
 (except when he was acting) was one morning at 
 the Lyceum, during the " Chilperic" season. "We 
 were rehearsing, and through the door from the 
 stalls came Mr. Boucicault and his son Willie. The 
 father, wearing an Inverness cape thrown back 
 from the shoulders, had his left arm round the 
 neck of his son. I said to. him afterwards, "How 
 fond you are of that boy." " Yes," he replied ; 
 " if anything happened to him I should die."
 
 274 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Mr. Boucicault "Where born His family originally from 
 Tours His father His mother cousin to present Lord 
 Chief Justice of New South Wales Where I first saw Mr. 
 and Mi's. Boucicault First appearance of Miss Marie 
 Litton The genesis of the " Colleen Bawn " Its pro- 
 duction The original cast The " Colleen " in London 
 The Queen at the theatre The Queen's appreciation of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Boucicault The Princess Alice Production of 
 the " Octoroon," New York, 1859, the day John Brown 
 was hung Public excitement Threats to shoot Mrs. 
 Boucicault The piece Revised by the public Production 
 of " Arrah na Pogue," Princess's Theatre The Clerkeiiwell 
 explosion The Prince of Wales and Mr. Boucicault. 
 
 MR. BOUCICAULT was bom in Lower Gardiner 
 Street, Dublin, 1822, and was the son of Samuel 
 Boucicault. The family were originally of Tours 
 in the South of France, but on the Revocation of 
 the Edict of Nantes, they emigrated to Ireland, 
 finally settling in Dublin. His mother was the 
 beautiful Miss Darley, cousin of the now Sir 
 Frederick Darley, Lord Chief Justice of Sydney, 
 N.S.W. 
 
 " Do you know the first time I saw you both on 
 the stage?" said I, interrupting. " It was at the
 
 Musical Recollections 2/5 
 
 Princess's, in 'Jeannie Deans.' Your liair was 
 parted in the centre, and your feet I thought the 
 most beautiful feet I had ever seen were bare." 
 " No," said she, " they were not bare. I wore 
 canvas ballet shoes, loosely bound, so they should 
 not mark the side of the foot ; over them were 
 drawn silk fleshings, on which were traced the out- 
 lines of the toes : the effect was perfect. Yes," she 
 went on, musingly, "Mr. Boucicault was Counsel 
 for the Defence, and Miss Marie Litton made her 
 first appearance on the stage as Erne Deans. Dion 
 coached her in the part." 
 
 During our conversation, I learnt that "The 
 Colleen Bawn," produced at the Olympic Theatre, 
 New York, 1858 or 1859, under the management 
 of the celebrated Laura Keene, was an experi- 
 ment, and the first Irish drama written by Dion 
 Boucicault. 
 
 The run of " Jeannie Deans " had been wonder- 
 fully successful, and much money had been made. 
 After that came " Vanity Fair," an adaptation 
 from the French, by Mr. Boucicault. It was a 
 failure, and after a managerial consultation there 
 was a talk of closing the theatre. Mrs. Boucicault 
 suggested that as the Scotch drama had gone so 
 well, why not write an Irish piece. But Dion did 
 not believe in Irish drama, and said, " No." After
 
 276 My Theatrical and 
 
 the consultation, walking up Broadway on their 
 way to the hotel, they passed a second-hand 
 bookstall. It was in the basement at the bottom 
 of five or six steps. Dion liked hunting second- 
 hand bookstalls, so down he went, and Mrs. 
 Boucicault waited at the top. After a few minutes, 
 holding a book up, he asked, " Do you know any- 
 thing about this?" "What is it?" said Mrs. 
 Boucicault. " Gerald Griffin's 'Collegians,'" 
 answered Mr. Boucicault. '* Don't know much 
 about it," was the reply, " but I think it is founded 
 on the ballad of '"Willie Riley and his Colleen 
 Bawn.' " " Well, I'll have it," said Dion, paying 
 the price, ten cents. 
 
 He read the book that afternoon, and remarked, 
 " I think I can make something of this." " You 
 see," said Mrs. Boucicault, "he saw me as the 
 Colleen Bawn from the very beginning." 
 
 That night, after the theatre, Mrs. Boucicault, 
 tired to death, threw herself on the outside of 
 the bed, and Dion, sitting down to his desk, 
 made notes and scenario of the first act. By 
 twelve next day the scene plots were in the 
 theatre. The piece was written, rehearsed, 
 and produced in nine days, and made a tre- 
 mendous hit. 
 
 The "dive" and "rescue" were not in the
 
 Musical Recollections 277 
 
 original drama, but were added after a week or 
 two. In the New York cast were : 
 
 Anne Chute 
 
 The Colleen Bawn 
 
 Sheda 
 
 Myles na Coppaleen 
 
 Danny Man 
 
 Corrigan . 
 
 Father Tom 
 
 Miss Laura Keene. 
 Miss Agnes Robertson. 
 Miss Mary Wells. 
 Mr. D. Boucicault. 
 Mr. Charles Wheatley. 
 Mr. Burnett. 
 Mr. Dan Leeson. 
 
 Mr. Dan Leeson came over with the Bouci- 
 caults, and was the original Father Tom 
 here. 
 
 When "The Colleen Bawn " was produced at the 
 Adelphi Theatre, London, September 10th, 1860, 
 it repeated the New York furore. The Queen was 
 so delighted she went three times in one fortnight, 
 and was in the theatre when she got the news 
 of the (subsequently fatal) illness of the Duchess 
 of Kent. She took such an interest in the play 
 that the expedition to Kiilarney was the direct 
 consequence. 
 
 A special copy of the drama was by request 
 made for her Majesty, with the pictures of 
 " Myles na Coppaleen " and his " Colleen Bawn." 
 The Princess Alice appropriating this, another 
 one had to be made for the Queen. 
 
 Corbould, the Royal Academician, " by com- 
 mand" painted in oil the portraits of Mr. and
 
 278 My Theatrical and 
 
 Mrs. Boucicaultj and they were hung in Windsor 
 Castle. " And where are they now ? " said I. 
 " Why, hanging there still, I suppose," said Mrs. 
 Boucicault. 
 
 " The Octoroon " was produced at the Winter 
 Garden, New York, Dec. 2nd, 1859, on the very 
 night John Brown was hung. There was plenty of 
 excitement attending the iirst performance. New 
 York was up in arms against the Southerners 
 and their peculiar institution. The idea was 
 abhorrent to them, and threats were made that 
 if Mrs. Boucicault dared to stand up in the 
 slave scene to be sold, she would be shot 
 on sight. But she did dare, looking lovely 
 all in white. The theatre was packed with 
 police, and Mrs. Boucicault still lives to tell 
 the tale. 
 
 The piece was an enormous success. Men, 
 women, and girls sat and cried and sobbed their 
 hearts out, without any idea of concealing their 
 emotions. The play originally ended with Zoe 
 dying, poisoned. But the public would not stand 
 that, and insisted that she should "live," so the 
 author wrote another act, and announced " The 
 Octoroon," "written by Dion Boucicault and 
 revised by the public to whom it is dedi- 
 cated."
 
 Musical Recollections 
 
 279 
 
 Here is the original cast : 
 
 Salem Scndder Joe J. Jefferson. 
 
 McClosky . 
 Wah no tee . 
 Guy Paton . 
 Pete . 
 Zoe 
 
 J. B. Johnston. 
 Dion Boucicault. 
 Dolly Davenport. 
 Jamieson. 
 Miss Agnes Eobertson. 
 
 " Arrah na Pogue," the third of this celebrated 
 cycle was,, by a strange coincidence, produced at the 
 Princess's Theatre, London, on the very night of the 
 Clerkenwell explosion, December 13th, 1867. It 
 had been arranged to sing in it " The wearing of 
 the Green," but on hearing of the dreadful 
 catastrophe they substituted " Shan van Voght." 
 The Prince of Wales was present at the production, 
 and after the performance went round to Mr. 
 Boucicault's dressing-room, and while sitting on a 
 table, smoking a cigar, said, " Boucicault, are you 
 a Fenian ? " Dion replied, " No, sir, I am not a 
 Fenian, but I am an Irishman.'*
 
 2 So My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Miss Agnes Robertson as an Infant Prodigy Her first appear- 
 ances Plays Tyrone Power's parts The first person to 
 dance the polka in Dublin Comes to London A. member 
 of the Princess's company Resides with Mr. and Mrs. 
 Charles Kean The young actress a particular favourite 
 with the Queen Mr. Charles Kean The " Master of the 
 Revels " The Queen always gay and laughing The 
 Prince Consort grave and dignified A royal visit to the 
 Princess's Theatre Mr. Emden receives her Majesty 
 A terrible fall Three little maids looking through a fan- 
 light What they saw A dramatic incident in the private 
 life of Mr. and Mrs. Boucicault. 
 
 Miss AGNES ROBERTSON was an "infant prodigy." 
 She did not like the title, neither did her maternal 
 grandfather, the Rev. Dr. Dunsmore-Muir, Grand 
 Master of the St. Mary's and Kilwinning Lodge of 
 Freemasons, .Professor of Greek, . Hebrew, and 
 Astronomy at the High School of Edinburgh. 
 At a testimonial concert given to Morris Barnett, 
 the well-known musician and composer, in the Free 
 Trade Hall, JSTewcastle-on-Tyne, a tiny girl stood on 
 a stool and sang, " Love is a mischievous boy," and 
 made such a sensation, that she was offered a pro- 
 fessional engagement, which was accepted. The
 
 Musical Recollections 281 
 
 tiny one was Agnes Robertson, and at Aberdeen, 
 when she was ten years old, she played her first 
 part, " The spoilt Child," for the benefit of Mr. 
 Ryder, the manager of the Theatre Royal, who had 
 been mentally afflicted. Afterwards she visited 
 Glasgow, Belfast, then on to Dublin, playing 
 Tyrone Power's parts, Paddy Murphy, in "The 
 Happy Man," and Dr. O'Toole in "The Irish 
 Tutor," and singing in costume, between the acts, 
 "The Ladies' Man." She stayed in Dublin, 
 studying ballet dancing, with Mme. Duelin, and 
 was the first person to dance the "polka" in 
 that city. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean took a great 
 fancy to her. She came to London, lived with 
 them, and became a member of the Princess's 
 company. She was always a particular favourite 
 with the Queen. 
 
 Mr. Charles Kean, being " Master of the Revels," 
 superintended all the performances at the Castle, 
 but the " casts " were invariably submitted for the 
 Royal approval. One day, her Majesty, on looking 
 over the proposed bill, said, " Well, but Mr. Kean, 
 where is little Miss Robertson ? I don't see her 
 name." Mr. Kean explained that the piece was 
 not being performed by the Princess's company. 
 "Never mind that," said the Queen, "you must put 
 her in, we like her to be always included." Mrs.
 
 282 My Theatrical and 
 
 Boucicault said in those days the Queen was 
 always gay and laughing, but the Prince Con- 
 sort was grave and dignified. 
 
 One night, on the occasion of a Royal visit to 
 the Princess's, a very funny incident occurred. 
 When Charles Kean was not in the bill he 
 received her Majesty himself, but when he was 
 playing, this duty devolved on the acting manager, 
 Mr. Emden. 
 
 In order to get to the Royal box, one had 
 to walk down a long corridor, and then to 
 ascend some five or six treacherous steps. 
 Opening on to this corridor, close to the steps, 
 was the fanlight of one of the dressing-rooms. 
 In this dressing-room, on the evening of the 
 Royal visit, were three girls Lottie Leclerq, 
 Polly Keeley, and Agnes Robertson. When 
 the Royal party came along, the three girls 
 clambered on a table and peeped through the 
 fanlight. The sight of their acting manager, 
 carrying two candles, and walking backwards 
 up the steps, of which he was naturally ner- 
 vous, proved too much for the peeping girls. 
 They began to giggle audibly, and vainly 
 trying to stifle the sound of their giggles, 
 they snorted loudly. Mr. Emden was over- 
 whelmed with dismay, missed his footing and sat
 
 Musical Recollections 283 
 
 down on the top step in the presence of her 
 Majesty, covered with confusion and candle -grease. 
 The Queen, following Emden's gaze, lifted her 
 eyes to the fanlight, and discovering the culprits, 
 pointed them out to the Prince Consort, and leaning 
 against the wall, laughed long and loudly. But 
 his Royal Highness was shocked at such levity, 
 and looked it. 
 
 Mrs. Boucicault related to me a very dramatic 
 incident in her private life. It was a Saturday 
 night, the last night of the " Shaughran " at the 
 " Princess's." Her son Willie had a few days before 
 left London to visit some friends in the country. 
 His father was to buy him a farm '* out West," and 
 the boy had gone down to Huntingdonshire to 
 pick up agricultural points. On this particular 
 Saturday Mrs. Boucicault fancied there was 
 something strange in the manner of the people 
 about her, and no newspapers came to the house, 
 but did not take much notice. At night, 
 near the end of the performance, she saw her 
 brother-in-law standing in the wings, looking 
 very white and distressed. Then she saw him 
 talking to Dion. After the curtain was down Mr. 
 Boucicault said : " I am going directly, the carnage 
 will come back for you." In her dressing-room 
 was Emily Muir, looking dreadfully ill. " What's
 
 284 My Theatrical and 
 
 the matter?" asked Mrs. Boucicault. "No- 
 thing," said Emily ; "I don't feel quite well." "I 
 wonder," said Mrs. Boucicault, " what," naming 
 her brother-in-law, " was behind for? and, fancy, 
 Dion has taken the carriage. I sha'n't wait ; 
 come along, we'll have a cab." They went home 
 to Regent Street. When the door opened she 
 found the hall full of servants and people. 
 " What is it ? " said she ; but nobody an- 
 swered. She ran upstairs, and in the drawing- 
 room found her brother-in-law and Dion. Dion 
 was sitting on a couch, his head buried in 
 his hands. " What's the matter?" Nobody 
 answered. " I know something's the matter with 
 Willie. Something has happened. Where's the 
 carriage? I must go to him at once." Dion 
 started up, and shaking his right hand at her, 
 cried out violently : " You can't go to him, 
 woman. He is dead."
 
 Musical Recollections 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 At Salem, Massachusetts In the graveyard. 
 
 IN the autumn of 1889 I was at Salem, Massa- 
 chusetts, for a day or two. The town was to me 
 full of weird interest, as being not only the birth- 
 place of Nathaniel Hawthorne, the author of the 
 " Scarlet Letter," but also the headquarters of the 
 " Witchfinders " in those dead and gone but un- 
 forgotten devilish days of which we have all 
 heard and read so much. 
 
 Of course the " de-p6t," as our cousins call the 
 railway station, was right up-to-date, full of 
 American go and bustle, but five minutes' walk 
 brought you into a sleepy old English town one 
 hundred years behind the times. 
 
 In Salem there is a delightful old English inn, 
 the "Essex," with stabling and long sheds where 
 the country carts were put up on market days, 
 and loose boxes for the horses. They are all 
 empty now, but I am told that at night you can 
 
 K
 
 286 My Theatrical and 
 
 hear the munching of ghostly steeds getting away 
 with any amount of ghostly " wuts," and ghostly 
 gnawings and nibblings of material mangers, and 
 any doubting Thomas can see the marks in the 
 morning ; but irreverent ones shake their heads 
 and murmur "rats," which is a very comprehensive 
 term in the States. After lunch, which is dinner 
 in these primitive parts, I go on a pilgrimage "down 
 town," the great feature of which, I am given to 
 understand, is the " Natural History Museum," pro- 
 nounced " mwse-em," and which, I am gravely in- 
 formed, is " well worth seeing." Its situation (over 
 a third-rate tailor's store) rather detracts from its 
 dignity. But on the other hand the side of the door 
 bears a legend setting forth that " This museum was 
 bought and done up " (" done up " is superfluous, 
 one can see it at a glance) " and presented to the 
 city of Salem by George Peabody." With the 
 memory of the Peabody millions crowding one's 
 mind, the "muse-em" seems rather a one-horse 
 show for such a Monte Cristo to set upon its (last) 
 legs. Up you go, up one flight of worm-eaten and 
 foot-worn stairs, and enter the sanctuary. It is a 
 long, low, narrow room, with a row of prehistoric 
 cases down the centre. At either end are large 
 old-fashioned windows, the front ones looking on 
 the principal street of Salem, the back ones are
 
 Music a I Recollections 287 
 
 made shady and beautiful with graceful waving 
 trees. There is nobody there and nothing to see, 
 except a few faded whales' bones, and a few cases 
 of moth-eaten birds, decorated with a camphory 
 smell, much dust, and the transparent pale bodies 
 of defunct flies. ; Half way up the room you 
 happen upon a moth-eaten old man the janitor, 
 I suppose. With difficulty and many weary 
 wheezes, he pulls himself out of a deep-seated, 
 moth-eaten old chair. " Anythin' I ken dew fer 
 yew, mam ? " " No, thank you," say I. " Here's 
 a fine specimen of a mummy," coughs he. "It's 
 thousands an' thousands of years old. It's not quite 
 complete, but I reckon it's about the finest mummy 
 in the world," says this breathless and toothless 
 and shameless old gentleman, with a smack of his 
 trembling old lips. " Is that so ? " say I. " Well, 
 I think I've seen finer ones in the British Mu- 
 seum." "Why, yes, mam," says he slowly, and 
 blinking at me with his pink-edged and rheumy 
 eyes ; "of course I meant in the new world, mam ; 
 yes, yes, yes," he goes on, rubbing his hands 
 slowly. " I've bin in th' British Museum. Why, 
 I've bin ter London six times, an' allers went 
 ter the Museum every time. I was a ship's cap'en 
 an' used ter board close ter Paul's Church, an' 
 when I wasn't in th' Muse-em or the ship, I was
 
 288 My Theatrical and 
 
 in Paul's Church. Ah ! they was rare times. An' 
 I was young then young, young." And he sank 
 down in his chair in a tired sort of way. But he 
 was a cheery old chap, and after a minute turned 
 over his " chaw " with renewed satisfaction, and 
 expectoration. I told him I was English, and 
 wanted to see " The house Avith the seven gables." 
 " Ah, yes," he says ; " but it's a mort of a way," 
 and with a mighty effort he pulled himself again 
 out of the moth-eaten chair. *' You want ter see 
 old things, an' old places ; come this way." And 
 we went to the window where the trees waved ; 
 he opened it, and we looked almost directly over 
 a graveyard. The old man stretched out his arm, 
 " You see there," said he, " that's the oldest 
 graveyard in Massachusetts ; you see that house 
 in the corner, the one with the rotten, falling- 
 down green shutters, eh ? yes ? Well, that is 
 Dr. Grimshaw's house. You recollect th^ story, 
 < Dr. Grimshaw's Secret ' ? " I nodded. " Well, 
 he, Nathaniel, married the doctor's daughter, an' 
 that's where they lived, an' that's where th' 
 story's laid." I thanked him, and, following his 
 directions, " down a narrow street by the side of 
 the museum," presently find myself at the grave- 
 yard. You go in at a little white side gate, and 
 the click of the falling latch sounds strangely
 
 Musical Recollections 289 
 
 familiar. Why, the scene is English, quite English, 
 full of trees, such old, old trees, and the chilly 
 and moaning winds creep sadly through them, 
 the dry leaves rustle and rattle, and drop slowly 
 and wistfully and reluctantly to the ground ; 
 there are little heaps of yellow and brown and 
 faded red ones, drifted against the sheltering 
 corners of the crooked and leaning and mossy 
 gravestones, which the tall, rank, tawny and 
 grey coarse grass (tall as harvest ripe wheat) 
 clasps so closely, so lovingly, and to me there seems 
 a movement and a shiver among them, as I, a 
 stranger in the land, intrude on this domain, 
 " Sacred to the memory of ..." There is an 
 immense old oak, originally brought from 
 England ; under it is a slab of stone, on which the 
 minister used to stand to read the Burial Service. 
 What generations of ministers must have stood 
 upon it ; it is quite worn in the centre. 
 
 Out of the silent distant past comes the memory 
 of a grass-grown graveyard in the Midlands, and 
 the words of the minister, bright and clear, " I 
 am the Resurrection and the Life," " Whoso 
 belie veth in Me shall never die." Again I am a 
 little child in the days when they did not 
 decorate the graves with wreaths and flowers, 
 only with the tears and sighs of the mourners.
 
 290 My Theatrical and 
 
 The broken windows of the doctor's deserted house 
 look upon the Ministers' Oak. 
 
 There are lots of people from England buried 
 in this Salem graveyard. Some of the inscriptions 
 go as far back as 1 600, long before the witch days. 
 There is the grave of a young mother who died 
 about that time, " aged 21 years," and the next 
 day her baby died, " aged 24 hours." It seems to 
 me a wonderful thing that this sculptured fact 
 should stare me in the face after all these years. 
 Near the principal gate, and on each side of the 
 principal pathway (now grass-grown), are five or 
 six large, oblong stone tombs, about four feet 
 high, and topped with a heavy slab and cornice. 
 The names are not legible, but the dates are. 
 The first one is 1690, then follows 1695, 1697, 
 1699. I suppose the boys in those days were 
 much like the boys in these, and no doubt demure 
 little Puritans played marbles on the tops of these 
 convenient sarcophagi. But there is no frivolity 
 of that kind now. The place is closed except to 
 " visitors," and " dogs are not admitted." But 
 with that fine disregard of the city ordinance, 
 which characterises most people and things in 
 many places besides the United States, the Salem 
 city dog lies flat on his stomach, creeps under the 
 gate and runs around M sniffing" in a doggy
 
 Musical Recollections 291 
 
 manner and behaving in a doggy fashion. There 
 was one engaged in active investigation when I 
 arrived ; he knew he had no business there, and 
 looked at me with a deprecating "don't you tell" 
 sort of expression (we were the only visitors 
 present), then he hung his head and his tail 
 bent his back, and, slipping out under the gate, 
 fled for his life. You are also requested " not to 
 walk on the grass," but as the grass flourishes 
 plentifully in every possible place, it is difficult to 
 avoid walking on it. I picked up an acorn from 
 " The Ministers' Oak," and putting on the list 
 slippers of a vicarious grief, stole out in that 
 quiet way one naturally adopts when coming from 
 a graveyard. Why should people affect to be so 
 sad at a " transition," which in its heavenly 
 rewards is to make amends for every earthly 
 bliss we have missed or been done out of ? 
 Why?
 
 292 My Theatrical and 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 How many times I have been arrested in the States What it 
 costs How to travel comfortably in America The best 
 hiding places on board ship What it costs The Denver 
 quarantine Barnes Station And how I was taken for 
 Mrs. O'Shea. 
 
 TRAVELLING in the States, especially for public 
 people, is full of possibilities, but fuller of 
 sheriffs. 
 
 I have been arrested on " put-up " claims, 
 " breach of contract," the usual pretext, in nearly 
 every State of the Union, and it generally cost 
 100 dols. to convince the officer the thing was a 
 mistake. To travel comfortably in America, one 
 must have nothing, and give it to someone else to 
 mind. I have been locked up in the bullion room 
 of an Atlantic liner by a purser, who has now 
 joined the majority. I have been behind the 
 door of a large empty cabin at the extreme end of 
 a big steamship, the door held firmly back by the 
 polite chief steward, while three sheriffs' officers 
 glanced round. " Nothin' here. I guess this is
 
 Musical Recollections 293 
 
 the last cabin, ain't it, steward?" "That's so, 
 gentlemen," locking the door behind him. I am 
 locked in, and safe. This " touch and go " job 
 cost 50 dols. 25 dols. to the chief steward, 25 dols. 
 to the chief stewardess. I have had two offers of 
 marriage on the cars, the would-be bridegroom, 
 in one case, offering to find a parson on board the 
 train, and have the thing settled "right away." 
 I have been as nearly as possible " side tracked " 
 by the handsomest cow-boy in Arizona, Colonel 
 Charles Spencer. I have been " snowed in " at 
 Truckee, and " washed out " on the Plains. I 
 have lunched on the summit of the Rockies, and 
 mailed a post-card (which was safely delivered) 
 to London from the summit of the Sierras. I 
 have been down a silver mine in Virginia City, 
 where the temperature was so high you had to take 
 a hot bath before returning to the surface, and I 
 have been up a mountain in the same locality 
 an hour later, gathering ice to eat with the 
 strawberries just arrived from 'Frisco. I have 
 eaten bear's pad in St. Louis, and been intro- 
 duced to native and growling lions at Green 
 River. 
 
 Talking of Green River recalls to me the Denver 
 quarantine. Green River is a mountain station, 
 and derives its name, presumably, from the total
 
 294 My Theatrical and 
 
 absence of anything that could possibly be mis- 
 taken for a river, green, or otherwise. Going east 
 from 'Frisco, in the fall of 1890, we stopped at 
 Green River for breakfast, and to take on the cars 
 from the north-west, timed to arrive about 10 a.m. 
 But they did not do so till 6 p.m., and then we found 
 they had been delayed by a sensation. Somewhere 
 between Portland, Oregon, and Green River, a boy 
 was taken ill. At the first possible place a 
 doctor was fetched, who diagnosed the case as 
 " small-pox," and the authorities of that city would 
 not allow him to be removed from the coach, 
 which, with all the people travelling in it, was 
 placed at the tail of the train, the doors locked, 
 guards placed outside at each end, and no one 
 allowed in or out. We left Green River about 
 8 p.m., the infected car still being placed last. 
 Next day, about noon, when some forty or fifty or 
 sixty miles from Denver, in the middle of a vast 
 and sandy plain, the train came to a standstill, 
 and, as the custom is, the men got out, and began 
 popping at the prairie dogs. But the prairie 
 dogs were more than seven, and simultaneously 
 with the pull of the trigger, the tiny ones, frisking 
 their pretty tails, disappeared into their holes. 
 After about twenty minutes' waiting and some 
 shouting, there was a cry, " All aboard," and off we
 
 Musical Recollections 295 
 
 went. Then someone said, "Why, we've left a 
 car on the track." Everybody rushed to look. It 
 was true enough. The small-pox car was standing 
 on a little siding, the guards were withdrawn, and 
 the doors were evidently locked, for the men, 
 frantic, were jumping out of the windows, shaking 
 their fists and swearing. Of course they were 
 swearing, you could see it, and one man fired his 
 revolver, but we soon lost sight of them. I asked 
 the conductor what was the meaning of it. He 
 said the Denver authorities would not allow the 
 small-pox car within so many miles of the city, 
 that the people were "quarantined." "Well, 
 about provisions, what will they do ? " "A car will 
 be sent along to-night and each morning with a 
 doctor and everything required. The things will 
 be set down on the prairie at a distance, and the 
 passengers will fetch them into the coach.'* 
 " And how long will they be kept there ? " " Two 
 or three weeks, probably. When the doctor 
 certifies the city it is safe, everything in the car 
 will be burned, the car and the people fumigated, 
 disinfected, and the passengers, supplied with fresh 
 clothing, will resume their journey." 
 
 When we arrived at Denver the place was 
 alive with excitement, and big Press boards 
 announced :
 
 296 My Theatrical and 
 
 "TiiE SMALL-POX CLAMOURING AT OUR GATES." 
 
 "THE SMALL-POX FIEND is ABROAD." 
 " DEADLY, DISGUSTING DISEASE." 
 
 DEATH IN THE DESERT." 
 
 And that is how they " quarantine " in, or rather 
 outside, Denver. 
 
 On my return to England, in 1891, I had an 
 odd experience. I stayed with my sister, at " The 
 Cottage," Mill Hill, Barnes Common. I went 
 frequently to London, and the officials at the 
 Barnes Station were more than uncommonly 
 polite ; they carried my little parcel or my um- 
 brella across the bridge, they got my ticket, a 
 porter was always at hand to open the carriage 
 door. I certainly had never before met with such 
 attention, and such a touching of caps, and I appre- 
 ciated it, more especially after so much experience 
 of travel in the States, where one always has to 
 do and carry everything for one's self, and nobody 
 ever touches their cap. One day at the station 
 bookstall I ordered a lot of papers, among them an 
 illustrated one containing a portrait (from a photo) 
 of Mrs. O'Shea, of which I bought four copies,
 
 Musical Recollections 297 
 
 intending to send one to the San Francisco 
 Examiner, which, during the excitement of the 
 O'Shea-Parnell episode, had published as a 
 "portrait of Mrs. O'Shea" a reproduction of a 
 flamboyant " hair-restored " lady, with no clothes 
 on to speak of, only her golden hair was hanging 
 down her back, and the original of which, to my 
 certain knowledge, had been in the front row of 
 the ballet. I told the man to send the papers over 
 to " The Cottage," and went on my way to London. 
 When I returned, my sister showed me the packet 
 of papers ; they were directed to " Mrs. O'Shea." 
 
 " What does this mean ? " said she. 
 
 " Not the slightest idea," said I. 
 
 Off trotted Clara across the common to the 
 station. 
 
 " What do you mean by this ? " said she, show- 
 ing the man the direction. 
 
 " That's right," said he. " The lady told me to 
 send them to < The Cottage.' " 
 
 "What lady?" 
 
 " Mrs. O'Shea/' 
 
 " Mrs. O'Shea, indeed ; that's not Mrs. O'Shea ; 
 that's my sister, Mme. Emily Soldene." 
 
 The man was profuse in his apologies. " Every- 
 body on the station thought the lady was Mrs. 
 O'Shea."
 
 298 My Theatrical and 
 
 But alas ! for me, the spell was broken ; no 
 more extraordinary attention, no more exceptional 
 touching of caps. In the immediate future I 
 carried my umbrella and my small parcel myself, 
 unnoticed, through the crowd. 
 
 I afterwards heard that Mrs. O'Shea was staying 
 with a relative lower down the line, and that was 
 how the mistake arose, and my dearest friends said, 
 " Well, you certainly are like her." 
 
 To tell the truth, I was always very much taken 
 with Charles Stewart Parnell myself, and could 
 have wished the " Uncrowned King " had per- 
 ceived and been impressed with the resemblance.
 
 My Theatrical and 299 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 My ideas on the privileges enjoyed by artistes An experience 
 r.mong the " residuum " The Queen and Prince on 
 Thanksgiving Day Sir John Bennett and his cocked hat 
 Another experience among the " residuum " London 
 music-halls as contrasted with Australia and America 
 How I came to write Charles Dickens and my father-in- 
 law To my readers, " good-bye," or " au revoir " 
 Which ? 
 
 I HAVE often thought that one of the chiefest 
 charms of an artist's life is the personal feeling and 
 recognition, not to say a kind of affection, one gets 
 from the public, more particularly among the 
 lower classes. The singer or player is always 
 bound up in their pleasantest memories, when the 
 cares and troubles were laid aside, and everybody 
 was going to have a good time. It has been my 
 privilege to earn the applause of all ranks, from 
 their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess 
 of Wales to the coster and his wife of Whitechapcl. 
 And let me take this opportunity of saying that my 
 art has been, and still is, the one great delight of 
 my life ; and in whatever direction engaged, or 
 whatever the grade of the audience, I have been
 
 300 My Theatrical and 
 
 always the same. I gave them the best of my 
 ability and all my heart and soul, and could do no 
 more. 
 
 But to return to "personal feeling." When 
 the Prince of Wales went to St. Paul's in 1872 
 (the Thanksgiving), I had a seat engaged for 
 me in a iirst floor over a shop close to old Temple 
 Bar, on the north side of Fleet Street. I forget if 
 it was the fish shop or the hairdresser's. The side 
 door opened on to an alley way that you could 
 enter from some little distance up Chancery Lane. 
 The crush was awful, and I soon was separated 
 from my party. When I got into the alley I found 
 myself in the midst of a dense mass of people, you 
 could not move or breathe. I felt I should be 
 torn to pieces, or drop and be trampled under foot. 
 " 'Old hup, missus ; wot's th' matter ? you're hall 
 right," said a rough-looking man. " I can't bear 
 it," I gasped, " I am afraid." " 'Ere, look a 
 'ere, BiU, 'ere's a lark ; th' gal's hafraid." Bill 
 looked at me, then suddenly burst out, " Blow me 
 hif hit hain't Miss Soldene hat the ' Phil.' Don't 
 yer know me, miss ? Wy, hi 'as my wilk barrcr 
 houtside ev'ry night. Were d'yer want ter go, 
 miss?" I told him. " Wot, that little door hin 
 th' wall hover there ? That's hall right. 'Ere, 
 boys, giv hus er 'and." And before I could get my
 
 Musical Recollections 30 1 
 
 breath, five or six rough men were round me and 
 
 I Tras in the doorway safe and sound got my 
 
 little seat in the little first floor, and saw the sight, 
 
 too Her Most Gracious Majesty, in black silk and 
 
 miniver, and by her .side H.K.H., bareheaded, 
 
 bowing, bowing, all the time. And soon, to our 
 
 sorrow, we saw he was also baldheaded. How the 
 
 people shouted and screamed, and hanging on to 
 
 every possible place, hurrahed themselves hoarse ; 
 
 and the guns boomed, and the bells clashed and 
 
 clanged ; and Sir John Bennett, looking handsome 
 
 and debonair, rode a big spirited white horse that 
 
 capered, and curvetted, and volted and demi- 
 
 volted, and stood on his hind legs, nearly throwing 
 
 off Sir John, and quite throwing off Sir John's 
 
 cocked hat. But the watchmaker of Cheapside sat 
 
 firm like a knight of old, and his beautiful wavy 
 
 white hair streamed out on the breeze and glittered 
 
 and shone like spun glass in the bright sun ; and 
 
 didn't the people cheer when he resumed his gay 
 
 and glorious and unaccustomed headgear, and 
 
 Sir John, who was of a merry humour, raised it 
 
 again and again, saluting his cheerers and laughing 
 
 outright. 
 
 Another time, coming from the theatre alone 
 in a four-wheel cab through the Seven Dials, a 
 pitch-dark night, late and raining, the man driving
 
 3O2 My Theatrical an 
 
 furiously, the cab swaying from side to side, ihe 
 horse stumbled and fell, the cab seemed to run 
 over on to his back, and he began to kick. It was 
 just at the entrance of one of those dark courts 
 which at that time abounded in the neighbourhood. 
 Out rushed a lot of people, dreadful-looking men 
 and women. They opened the cab door, and I 
 alighted. There was a lamp hanging in the sort 
 of archway leading up the court. " Wy, hit's Miss 
 Soldene," said one of the dirty women. u Don't 
 you mind, miss, hi'm one o' th' cleaners hat th' 
 'Lambra. Hit's hall right ; stand 'ere hout o' th' 
 rain ; pull yer cloak hup close an' cover hup yer 
 dimants," said she in a whisper. "Yes," said 
 the other women crowding round, "you're hall 
 right, we'll see hafter yer." And they did. 
 " Git another cab, boys," said one of my protec- 
 tresses ; " hit's Miss Soldene, as sings hat th' 
 'Lambra, you know, ' Silver Threads hamong th' 
 Gold.' " And they got another cabby, a sober 
 one this time, and treated me with the greatest 
 respect and consideration, all because I was an 
 artiste and sang songs to the people. 
 
 And now, as we used to say in " Genevieve de 
 Brabant," I have nearly come to " the end of our 
 expedition." From July, 1892, to July, 1895, I 
 resided in Sydney, New South Wales, whither I
 
 Musical Recollections 303 
 
 had been enticed by a business ignis fatuus, a 
 Will-o'-th'-wisp a Will- o'-th'- wisp, not of the 
 most brilliant kind either. But no matter. When 
 my futile Will-o'-th'-wisp disappeared in splutter- 
 ing and splenetic incapacity, out of the dark- 
 ness rose a gleam of light, which, gradually 
 brightening, disclosed to my interrogative eyes 
 a bottle of ink and a pen, a pen " pointing 
 t' wards me." I seized the chance, also the pen, 
 and for three years pursued the congenial 
 occupation of pulling the beam from my cosmo- 
 politan neighbour's eye, oblivious of the mote in 
 mine own. 
 
 Returning to England after years of absence, 
 one cannot but be astonished at the changes 
 in theatres and music-halls, music-halls especially. 
 Perhaps it will scarcely be credited when I say 
 that on the vast Continent of Australia no such 
 thing as a music-hall exists, not a music-hall 
 as we used to understand it in the Oxford and 
 Canterbury days, a music-hall with its little tables 
 and chairs, a music-hall where a man took his 
 sweetheart or his wife, where he heard some good 
 music, a comic song, and smoked his cigar and 
 drank his B. and S. No, they are all " variety 
 theatres," and if the audience gets thirsty it goes 
 out and has a drink at the contiguous bar. The
 
 304 My Theatrical and 
 
 same thing obtains in America. The only approach 
 
 to an English music-hall I know of in the States 
 
 is the Tivoli, in San Francisco, an opera house, 
 
 open all the year round, admission and seat fifty 
 
 cents (you can book them) ; where Offenbach and 
 
 Sullivan,' Wagner and Adams, Donizetti and 
 
 Boito, Meyerbeer and Bizet, Gounod and Weber, 
 
 Auber and Millocker, interpreted by artistes of 
 
 respectable capacity, a good band and an excellent 
 
 chorus, are successfully run in one continuous 
 
 procession, from year's end to year's end, Sundays 
 
 not excepted. Well, at the Tivoli, the audience can 
 
 and do smoke till all is blue, and can and do have 
 
 their drinks brought to them, and there they sit and 
 
 sip, and the performance goes on amid soft murmurs 
 
 of " Good," and " Bene," and " Bravo," and " Bis," 
 
 for the Tivoli is comfortable and cosmopolitan. 
 
 Travelling eastward through the States to England, 
 
 I find on my arrival that the English music-hall 
 
 has worked up to the " go-ahead " standard set 
 
 by the American Variety theatre. In the States 
 
 originated the practice of continuous turns no 
 
 wait, no dropping of curtains, simply a couple of 
 
 flats drawn off (when I say " flats," I am not 
 
 alluding to artistes, but to two pieces of scenery), 
 
 or a " drop" taken up or down. The old day ol 
 
 the chairman's hammer and the drinks between
 
 Musical Recollections 305 
 
 the turns has disappeared, supplanted by an adap- 
 tation of transatlantic stage management that is 
 undoubtedly effective. 
 
 Of course, no comparison can be instituted 
 between the magnificence of the Empire, the 
 Palace and the Alhambra of to-day, and the 
 American Variety Show. The gorgeous, luxu- 
 rious appointments of the English houses, the 
 light, the gleam, the sparkle, and the gay 
 abandon of the audience, the magnitude of the 
 entertainment, and the ballet ! the ballet crowded 
 with the most beautiful girls in the world, dressed 
 in abbreviated costumes, designed by the finest 
 artists of Europe, dancing to an immense band 
 composed of splendid musicians, playing under 
 the batons of eminent chefsd'orchestre. 
 
 They certainly have ballets in America, but they 
 never look like the English ballet, because the 
 costumes are always second-hand, imported after 
 a year's wear in London ; then the girls' shoes and 
 tights are not properly looked after, and seventy- 
 five per cent, of them don't know how to put 
 their dresses on. 
 
 Then to complete the English ensemble, there 
 are the world-renowned flunkeys, gorgeous in 
 appearance, so gorgeous, that Li Hung, when at 
 the Empire, took them for the directors ; irre-
 
 306 My Theatrical and 
 
 proachable in make-up and manners, indeed, 
 so superlative in manners that sometimes a pin 
 stuck suddenly into their silken-covered calves 
 does not disturb their aristocratic and Vere de 
 Vere calm. 
 
 Turning from these halls of dazzling light, one's 
 mind turns back to those old times, and one 
 cannot help wondering where the great respect- 
 able middle-class married music-hallist and his 
 " Missus " have migrated to. Do they gravitate 
 to the East-end, or do they no longer exist ? 
 Perhaps they have passed away with " Vilikins 
 and his Dinah " and the " Ratcatcher's 
 Daughter," or disappeared like the days of 
 " Champagne Charley is me name," when people 
 were satisfied with a magnificent orchestra of six, 
 two out of the six being cornets. 
 
 So many people have asked me, " What made 
 you think of writing ? " Self-preservation was my 
 first incentive, and when I got a chance of writing, 
 I wrote. As a matter of fact, the first par. I 
 perpetrated was an eloquent tribute to myself, 
 and I am sure no one could have been more fully 
 informed on the subject than I was. 
 
 But independent of this, I had nearly all my life 
 been associated with writing people. When I was
 
 Musical Recollections 307 
 
 very young, but old enough to know better, I ran 
 away and got married. My late husband was a 
 son of Mr. Powell, the first sub-editor of the Daily 
 News when it was founded in 1846, the chief being 
 Mr. Charles Dickens. 
 
 Charles Dickens and my father-in-law were 
 very old friends, and had been in the " gallery " 
 together. 
 
 Mr. Powell, in his young days, lived in the York 
 Road, Lambeth; next door to him lived Mr. 
 George Hogarth, the eminent art and dramatic critic 
 and writer. The girls and boys of the two families 
 were always in and out the two houses. One 
 day, Mr. Dickens, dining with Mr. Powell, met there 
 Miss Catherine Hogarth, the future Mrs. Charles 
 Dickens, and my subsequent connection with the 
 Powell family explains how I crept into a sort of 
 association with a literary circle. 
 
 And if these pages are (as I dare hope) found to 
 be amusing in the slightest degree, why then I 
 shall consider my intrusion justified, and in the 
 words of the song will say to my reading public, 
 not " Good-bye," but " Au revoir." 
 
 THE END.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 ABBAHAMS, Mr. Morria, 91. 
 Adams, Annie, 51. 
 Adams, Miss, 12. 
 Addison, Mr. 90. 
 Aimee, Mme., 171. 
 Albani, Mme., 14. 
 Albertazzi, Mdlle., 58. 
 Alias, M., 92. 
 Ambrose, John, 43. 
 Anglesea, Marquis of, 110. 
 Appleby, George, 146. 
 Arditi, Mme., 24. 
 Arditi, Signer, 20. 
 Armitage, Sir George, 191. 
 Artot, Mme., 26. 
 Aston, Knight, 193. 
 Aston, Mrs., 197. 
 Auguete, Mrs., 141. 
 
 B. 
 
 BAILIE, Mrs. Gordon, 198. 
 Ballantine, Sergeant, 123 aq. 
 Barber, Miss, 233. 
 Barnett, Morris, 280. 
 Barnum, Phineas T., 30, 242. 
 Barry, Helen, 120, 174. 
 Barry, Sheil, 231. 
 Bartleman, Mr. Tom, 3-k 
 Bateman, Mr., 143. 
 Baylis, Ted, 43. 
 Beard, Harry, 43. 
 Belasco, Sam, 43. 
 Bellairs, Tom, 255. 
 
 Bellwood, Boasie, 260, 262. 
 
 Benedict, Jules. 40. 
 
 Benedict, Mr., 22. 
 
 Bennett, Sir John, 30. 
 
 Bertie, Miss, 233. 
 
 Beverly, B. D., 135, 144, 161. 
 
 Bishop, Alfred, 99. 
 
 Black, Colonel, 267. 
 
 Blandford, Marquis of, 140. 
 
 Bolt, Mr., 98. 
 
 Boston. Brown, 130. 
 
 Boucicault, Dion, 68, 120, 161, 272 
 
 sqq. 
 
 Boucicault, Louise Thorndyke, 272. 
 Boucicault, Mrs. Dion, 271 sq. 
 Bracy, Mr. and Mrs., 219. 
 Braham, Mr. Augustus, 31. 
 Branscombe, Maud, 188. 
 Brayley, Teddy, 43. 
 Brett, Mr. Justice, 127. 
 Brian, Mr. aud Mrs., 36. 
 Bromley, Nellie, 189. 
 Brooke, Una, 161. 
 Brown, Davie, 47. 
 Brown, Dr. Lennox, 
 Brown-Potter, Mrs., 263. 
 Buckstone, 93. 
 Burnett, Mr., 277. 
 Burton, Captain, 147. 
 Bury, M. Felix, 108, 232. 
 Bush, Charlie, 43, 135. 
 
 C. 
 
 CALCOTT, Mr., 96. 
 Calvert, Mr., 131.
 
 3io 
 
 Index 
 
 Campbell, 0., 193. 
 
 Carlton, Mr. W., 89. 
 
 Carthew, Laura, 160. 
 
 Canlfield, Johnny, Jan., 34, 220. 
 
 Caulfield, Johnny, sen., 34. 
 
 Celli, Frank, 89. 
 
 Chaplin, Mr., 44. 
 
 Chart, Mrs. Nye, 258. 
 
 Chizzola, Carlo, 150, 159, 192, 201 
 
 sqq., 222. 
 
 Clarkson, sen., Mr., 64. 
 Clarkson, Mrs., 65. 
 Claxton, Kate, 193, 195. 
 Clay, Ned, 191. 
 Cohen, Mr. Isaac, 91. 
 Colonna, Mme., 94. 
 Collins, Sam, 31. 
 Colomb, Capt. G. W., 28. 
 Cook, Aynesly, 58, 80, 232. 
 Cook, Tom, 43. 
 Coppin, Mr., 229. 
 Costa, (Sir) Michael, 20, 33. 
 Coveney, Miss Harriet, 17. 
 Cowell, Sam, 31. 
 Crcswick, Mr., 217. 
 Crofton, Haidee, 188. 
 Crouch, Louie, 32. 
 Gumming, Sir Gordon, 236. 
 Curran, M.P., Mr., 206. 
 Cushman, Charlotte, 169, 254. 
 Cushman, Sisters, 254. 
 
 D. 
 
 DALEY, J., 44. 
 
 Dallas, Mr., 233. 
 
 Dalton, Mr., 193. 
 
 Daly, Augustin, 257. 
 
 Daniels, Mattie, 202. 
 
 Darley, Miss, 274. 
 
 D'Aubans and Wardes, The, 36. 
 
 Davenport, Dolly, 279. 
 
 Davenport, Fanny, 159. 
 
 Davidson, Mr. J. L., 25. 
 
 Davidson, Mrs., 25. 
 
 Debreux, Mdlle., 79. 
 
 Delle, Sedie, 21. 
 
 Desclauze?, Mme., 138. 
 
 Devine, Miss, 233. 
 
 Dhuleep Singh, Maharajah, 234. 
 Dickens, Charles, 307. 
 di Murska, lima, Mme., 22, 23. 
 Dolaro, Selina, 73, 108, 116, 131, 
 
 145, 187, 272. 
 Douglass, Mr., 58. 
 D'Oyly Carte, Mr., 90, 186, 242. 
 Downey, Mr., 103. 
 Dowty, A. D., 96. 
 Drew Dean, 34. 
 Dubois, Camille, 83, 229. 
 Duelin, Mme., 281. 
 Dunn, Dick, 43. 
 Dunning, Miss Alice, 35. 
 Dunraven, Lord, 122. 
 Dunsmore-Muir, Rev. Dr., 280. 
 Durant, Cissy, 198, 209, 222. 
 
 E. 
 
 EDINBURGH, Duke of, 228. 
 Egan, Pierce, 29. 
 Egerton, Henry, 103. 
 Emden, Mr., 282. 
 Ewell, Miss, 135. 
 Eyre, Sophie, 271. 
 
 F. 
 
 FABXEY, Edward, 201. 
 
 Farnie, H. B., 61, 67 sq., 101, 
 
 107 sqq., 135. 
 Farquhar, Gillie, 121. 
 Farquhar, Sir Horace, 121. 
 Farquharson, Sir James, 120, 140. 
 Farren, Nellie, 85. 
 Fischer, Minna, 223. 
 Fisk, James, 168. 
 Fisk, Stephen, 171. 
 FitzHenry, Mies, 18, 34, 38, 45. 
 Fleury, General, 122. 
 Foli, Signer, 46. 
 Forbes, Archibald, 241, 242. 
 Fortescue, Miss, 12. 
 Foster, Billy, 43. 
 Francis, Mr., 102. 
 French, Fred, 36.
 
 Index 
 
 G. 
 
 GAMBAKT, Mr., 30. 
 
 Garcia, Viadot, 21. 
 
 Gardiner, Mr., 216. 
 
 Gerard, Lady, 121. 
 
 Gerrish, Miss, 94. 
 
 Gibbons, C., 161. 
 
 Gideon, Johnny, 43, 92. 
 
 Gifford, Lord, 121. 
 
 Gillert, Mdlle., 234. 
 
 Gladstone, Et. Hon. W. E., 251 
 
 sqq. 
 
 Glover, Mr. Howard, 10 sgq. 
 Glover, Mrs., 10 sqq. 
 Glover, William, 103. 
 Goddard, Mdme. Arabella, 25. 
 Goff, Mr., 34. 
 Gould, Jay, 199. 
 Grau, Maurice, 150, 159. 
 Green, Mr., 34, 36. 
 Green wall, Harry, 181. 
 Gregory, Lady, 189. 
 Grey, Mabel, 52. 
 Grey, Marie, 29. 
 Grey, Miss Lennox, 81. 
 Grisi, Mme., 14, 21, 27. 
 Grossmith, George, 90. 
 Guerrabella, Mme., 14. 
 Gniglini, 21. 
 Gunn, John, 128. 
 Gunn, Michael, 187. 
 Gunniss, Misses, 34. 
 Gye, Mr., 20. 
 
 H. 
 
 H ALTON, P. W., 96. 
 
 Hamp, " Tommy," 42. 
 
 Hanlon, Bros., 35. 
 
 Harbord, Purser, 153. 
 
 Harrington, Mrs., 130. 
 
 Harris, Augustus, 54, 58, 96, 137. 
 
 Harris, Charles, 256. 
 
 Harris, Mr. (Sir) Augustus, 236, 
 
 BODi 
 
 Hastings, Marquis of, 44. 
 Hauk, Miss Minnie, 22. 
 Hawkins, Mr. Justice, 100. 
 
 Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 285. 
 
 Hay, Lord John, 121. 
 
 Haydon, 30. 
 
 Head, Mr. Charles, 43, 87, 105. 
 
 126, 134. 
 
 Hedderwick, Mr., 127. 
 Hengler, Mr., 70. 
 " Hermit," 44. 
 Hersee, Henry, 72, 247. 
 Hersee, Rose, 256. 
 Hertz, Dr. Cornelius, 199. 
 Herve, M., 61, 65, 69 sq., 98. 
 Hogarth, Catherine, 307. 
 Hogarth, Mr. George, 29, 307. 
 Hohler, Mr. Tom, 24. 
 Hollingshead, John, 50, 85. 98. 
 
 126, 135. 
 Holms, Mr., 147. 
 Honey, George, 96. 
 Hope, Lady Frances, 265. 
 Hopper, Mr. de "Wolf, 265. 
 Horton, Priscilla, 130. 
 Hoskins, Henry, 6, 224. 
 Howard, Mr. J. B., 133. 
 Howard, Mrs. J. B., 12, 133. 
 Huddart, Mme. Fanny, 59. 
 Huddleston, Q.C., 122 sq. 
 Husk, Mr., 34. 
 
 I. 
 
 IKVING (Sir) Henry, 90, 130. 
 
 J. 
 
 JACOBI, M., 233. 
 Jamieson, , 279. 
 Jarrett, 159. 
 Jefferson, Joe J., 279. 
 Johnson, Mrs., 31. 
 Johnston, J. B., 279. 
 Jolly, Mr., 144. 
 Jolly Nash, 35. 
 Jongmanns, Mr., 18, 33. 
 
 K. 
 
 KEAN, Mr. and Mrs. Charles, 281. 
 Keeley, Polly, 282.
 
 312 
 
 Index 
 
 Keene, 199. 
 
 Keene, Laura, 275, 277. 
 Kellelier, Mr., 233. 
 Kendall, Mr. and Mrs., 100. 
 Kennedy, Capt., 150. 
 King, Katie, 36. 
 King, Tom, 43, 255. 
 Kiralfys, The, 35. 
 
 LANE, Mrs. Sarah, 93. 
 
 Langtry, Mrs., 231, 263. 
 
 Larkin, Captain Harry, 86. 
 
 Laurant, E. 161. 
 
 Laverne, Patty, 140, 137. 
 
 Lavine, Miss, 15. 
 
 Lawrence, Alberta, 31. 
 
 Lawson, Lionel, 138. 
 
 Lazaar, Sam, 212, 222. 
 
 Leader, Mr., 235. 
 
 Leblano, Leonid e, 86. 
 
 Leclerq, Lottie, 282. 
 
 Lee, General Robert, 175. 
 
 Lee, Miss Jennie. 81. 
 
 Lee, Eose, 232. 
 
 Lee, "Ted," 210. 
 
 Leeson, Dan, 277. 
 
 Le Fevre, Miss, 202. 
 
 Leggett, Mr., 103. 
 
 Leigh, Ada, 109. 
 
 Leigh, Mrs., 135. 
 
 Lely, Mr., 237. 
 
 Levey, W. C., 96, 123. 
 
 Lewens, Mr. H., 108, 160, 232. 
 
 Leybourne, George, 36. 
 
 Liddell, Maggie, 223. 
 
 Li Hung, 305. 
 
 Lindheim, M., 123. 
 
 Lingard, Mr. Horace, 35. 
 
 Litton, Marie, 275. 
 
 Lloyd, Arthur, 36. 
 
 Loseby, Constance, 220, 232. 
 
 Louise, Mme., 35. 
 
 Love, Mabel, 64 
 
 Love, Miss, 64. 
 
 Lucca, Mme., 24. 
 
 Ludwig, Mr., 136. 
 
 Lusan, Zelie de, 136. 
 
 Lutz, Meyer, 38, 136. 
 
 Lyndhurst, Agnes, 160. 
 
 Lyster, Mr. and Mrs. Saurin, 220. 
 
 M. 
 
 MAAS, Joseph, 120. 
 
 McAllister, Ward, 181. 
 
 McCaul, Col., 262. 
 
 McConnell, Mr., 100. 
 
 McCulloch, John, 198. 
 
 Macduff, Lord, 140. 
 
 Mackney, 31. 
 
 Maclagan, Tom, 36, 78. 
 
 Maitland, Mrs., 69. 
 
 Mallandaiue, Mr, 98. 
 
 Manchester, Duke of, 240. 
 
 Mandeville, Lord, 2b'0. 
 
 Manns, M. August, 14. 
 
 Mansell, Mr., 61. 
 
 Mapleson, Mr., 20, 31. 
 
 Marchisio, Sisters, 25. 
 
 Mariui, Mrs., 235. 
 
 Mario, 21. 
 
 Marina, 75, 84, 120. 
 
 Marshall, Edward, 36, 108, 129, 
 
 sq., 135, 161, 232, 244, 253. 
 Mathews, Julia, 54, 56 sq., 134 
 Mavnard, Jimmy, 43. 
 Mayo, Lord, 121. 
 Melling, Alice, 245. 
 Melling, Tom, 34, 246. 
 Mellon, Alfred, 9 sq. 
 Milano, 76, 85. 
 Milbanke, Ralph, 121. 
 Modjeska, Mme., 201. 
 Molique, Herr, 39. 
 Mongini, 21. 
 Moore, 139. 
 Moore, Maggie, 200. 
 Moore, Pony, 45 sqq. 
 Morgan, Laura, 82. 
 Morgan, Wilford, 58. 
 Morris, Clara, 159. 
 Mortimer, James, 186. 
 Morton, Lily, 29. 
 Morton, Mr. Charl,"., 17, 28 sqq., 
 
 87 sqq., 107 sq., 126 sqq., 135, 
 
 150, 182, 232, 235.
 
 Index 
 
 3*3 
 
 Morton, Mr. "William, 19. 
 Muir, Emily, 72. 
 Mum, Col., 98. 
 Munroe, Katie, 189, 256. 
 Musgrove, Frank, 76, 79. 
 Muy bridge, Mr., 86. 
 
 N. 
 
 NAGLE, Mr., 235. 
 
 Nathan, Miss, 12. 
 
 Naudin, M., 25. 
 
 Neale, Dr., 153. 
 
 Neild, Dr., 219. 
 
 Negbitt, Mrs., 12, 255. 
 
 Newcastle, Dowager Duchess of, 
 
 24 
 
 Newcastle, Duke of, 190. 
 Nichols, Harry, 256. 
 Nichols, Miss, 161. 
 "Nilsson, Christine, 22. 
 Norton, Charley, 108. 
 Norton, Chippy, 43. 
 Norton, Miss, 238. 
 
 O. 
 
 DATES, Alice, 193. 
 Ochiltree, Tom, 181. 
 Odell, Mr., 82. 
 Oliver, Patty, 255. 
 Oliver- Somers, 58. 
 Osbaldiston, Mr., 254. 
 O'Shea, Mrs., 297. 
 Oudin, Eugene, 264 
 
 P. 
 
 PAGET, Lady Florence, 35. 
 Paget, Lord Alfred, 140, 257 sqy. 
 Paget, Miles, 203. 
 Palmer, 159. 
 Palmer, Minnie, 73. 
 Pancoast, Professor, 173. 
 Paque, M., 34 
 Paradise, Kate, 188. 
 Parker, Loniae, 264 sqq. 
 Parker, Mr. W., 254. 
 
 Parnell, Charles Stewart, 298. 
 Patti, Mme. Adclina, 9, 14 21r 
 Patti, Carlotta, 22. 
 Paul, Mr. Howard, 54 
 Payne, Fred, 58, 90. 
 Payne, Harry, 58, 90. 
 Payne, W. H., 58. 
 Peabody, George, 286. 
 Pearl, Cora, 32. 
 Peers, Mr. Tom, 98. 
 Pembroke, Lord, 202. 
 Penley, 189. 
 Pertoldi, Mme., 234 
 Perugini, Signer, 264 
 Phelps, 6. 
 Phillips, Bobby, 43. 
 Pitt, Emily, 99. 
 Plummer, John, 96. 
 Plumpton, Alfred, 3k 
 Plumpton, Mr. and Mrs., 219. 
 Price, Miss, 92. 
 Prince Consort, 283. 
 Prince Imperial, 141. 
 Popoff , Admiral, 233. 
 Posnos, The, 130. 
 Powell, Mr., 307. 
 Power, Lady, 229. 
 Power, Nellie, 35. 
 
 Q. 
 
 QUEEN, The, 277, 281 sqq., 301. 
 Quintou, Mr., 249. 
 Quiuton, Mrs., 137, 214 
 
 E. 
 
 EAE, J. B., 108, 160, 177, 232. 
 Randall, Harry, 36. 
 Keed, Mrs. German, 130. 
 Eeichart, Herr, 39. 
 Eichards, Harry, 36. 
 Eichardson, George, 16. 
 Eignold, George, 162. 
 Eiley, Mr. and Mrs., 36. 
 Eiver?, Miss, 233. 
 Eiviere, M., 50. 
 Eobertson, Agnes, 277 sjq. 
 Eobinson, Sir Hercules, 207.
 
 Index, 
 
 Robson, 81. 
 Robson, Lizzy, 160. 
 Robson, Stuart, 159, 174 
 Rodney, Lord, 121. 
 Rogers, " Jimmy," 133. 
 Rogers, John, 179. 
 Rosa, Mme. Parepa, 169. 
 Rosa, Mdlle., 234. 
 Rosebery, Lord, 140. 
 Roselle, Amy, 174. 
 Ross, G. H., 120. 
 Rouse, John, 98, 108. 
 Russell, Henry, 33. 
 Russell, John, 54, 66. 
 Russell, Lilian, 264. 
 Russell, Lizzie, 59. 
 Russell, Miss, 31, 33, 45. 
 Russell, Mrs. Judge, 190. 
 Ryan, Desmond, 58. 
 Ryder, John, 48. 
 Rymill, Mr., 88. 
 
 ST. AUBYN, Mr., 34. 
 
 St. Glair, Miss E., 161. 
 
 St. John, Captain, 207. 
 
 St. John, Florence, 237. 
 
 St. Leonards, Lord, 121. 
 
 Sala, George Augustus, 30. 
 
 Santley, 9, 38. 
 
 Santley, Kate, 36, 190. 
 
 Sara, Mdlle., 35, 94, 120, 134, 188, 
 
 198. 
 
 Scott, Clement, 116. 
 Schneider, 189. 
 Schofield, Harry, 98. 
 Sheridan, Amy, 86. 
 Sherrington, Louie, 36. 
 Sherrington, Mme., 27. 
 Sims Reeves, 14, 38. 
 Sinclair, Annie, 135. 
 Slater, Florence, 198, 209. 
 Smithers, Sisters, 97. 
 Somers, Kate, 32. 
 Spencer, Col. Charles, 293. 
 Standing, Herbert, 89. 
 Stanhope, Hon. Mr. and Mrs. 
 
 Wyndham, 229. 
 
 Stanhope, Wyndham, 83. 
 
 Stanley, H. M., 194. 
 
 Stanley, Mr. Fred, 127. 
 
 Stead, 36. 
 
 Stella, Rose, 189, 198, 209, 210, 
 
 222. 
 
 Stokes, Edward, 168. 
 Stoyle, " Jimmy," 58. 
 Straight, Sir Douglas, 140. 
 Strange, Frederick, 50, 55. 
 Stuart, Miss, 233. 
 Sudlow, Besaie, 159, 186. 
 Sullivan, Fred, 189. 
 Sutherland, Duke of, 190. 
 Sutton, Mr., 235. 
 Swift, Mr., 15. 
 
 T. 
 
 TAMBEELIK, 21. 
 Tasca, Mme. Charlotte, 34 
 Taylor, J. G., 135. 
 Tempest, Marie, 256. 
 Temple, R., 135. 
 Tennant, Hector, 121. 
 Thompson, Augusta, 99. 
 Thompson, Lydia, 101. 
 Thorne, Charles, 174. 
 Tietjens, Mme., 21, 24, 26, 31. 
 Tivoli, Signer, 31. 
 Tom Thumb, Gen., 30. 
 Toole, J. L., 85, 90, 100. 
 Tracy, Hetty, 97. 
 Trebelli, 21. 
 Tremaine, Annie, 85. 
 Turpin, Miss, 32. 
 Tyrell, Miss Kitty, 33. 
 
 V. 
 
 YANCE, 36. 
 
 Vandevell, Mr. W., 89. 
 
 Vaughan, Miss, 109. 
 
 Vesey, Clara, 89, 97, 99, 105, 108, 
 
 121, 135, 152, 166, 191, 193, 204, 
 
 209, 223, 232, 297. 
 Yining, Fanny, 254 
 Yining, Mr. and Mrn. Henry, 254
 
 Index 
 
 315 
 
 Vito, Miss, 233. 
 Yokes Family, 51. 
 
 W. 
 
 WALES, H.E.H. Prince of, 118, 141, 
 
 279, 299 sqq. 
 
 Wales, H.R.H. Princess of, 141. 
 Wall, Harry, 51. 
 Wallace, J., 193. 
 Wallace, Vincent, 72. 
 Wallack, Mr. James, 32, 159. 
 Wallscourt, Lord, 86. 
 Walmisley, 34. 
 Wanganheim, Gas, 209. 
 Ward, Ada, 207. 
 Ward, Mias Geneviove, 14 
 Webb, Harry, 129 sj. 
 Weippert, 10, 219. 
 
 Weiss, Mr., 39. 
 
 Weiss, Mme., 39. 
 
 Wells, Mary, 277. 
 
 Wheatley, Charley 277. 
 
 White, Miss, 94. 
 
 Whitehead, Miso, 52. 
 
 Wilford, Miss Lily, 94. 
 
 Williamson, C. J., Mr. and Mrs., 
 
 200. 
 
 Wilmot, C., 81. 
 Wilson, 31. 
 
 Wilson, Sir Craycroft, 224. 
 Wilson, " Lardy," 35, 63, 137. 
 Wilton, Miss Marie, 15. 
 Winder, Mr., 235. 
 Wood, Annie, 185. 
 Wood, Mrs. John, 254. 
 Woodhouse, " Johnny," 121. 
 Wombwell, Sir George, 121, 140. 
 Wright, Sarah, 94
 
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