_Mr. Keeley_ By himself.
_Mr. Buckstone_ By himself.
* * * * *
To conclude with the laughable farce,
THE SPITALFIELDS WEAVER.
_Simmons_ Mr. John L. Toole.
(_His first appearance on any stage_).
Many a white satin programme is about, and the tenant of the little
dressing-room of King William-street is represented in many parts. Just
by the door is Mr. Liston as _Paul Pry_, arrayed in bottle-green coat,
big beaver hat, and armed with the inevitable umbrella--"just called to
ask you how your tooth was."
An excellent portrait represents John Billington as _John Peerybingle_
in "Dot," underneath which are penned some noteworthy lines: "I don't
want anybody to tell me my fortune. I've got one of the best little
wives alive, a happy home over my head, a blessed baby, and a cricket on
my hearth."
* * * * *
Certainly what Mr. W. S. Gilbert would term "a highly respectable"
entrance is that which leads to Mr. Beerbohm Tree's dressing-room. The
stage door is in Suffolk-street, and until Mr. Tree's tenancy of the
Haymarket Theatre, there was an old clause in the lease setting forth
that whenever Royalty visited the theatre they should have the right to
enter by that way. Buckstone lived here--his dressing-room still
remains. It is a quaint corner near the stage, now used by the actors as
a smoking-room. The walls are covered with red paper, relieved by one or
two decidedly ancient paintings. Buckstone's iron safe--wherein the
renowned comedian was wont to store his money--is still visible; but the
money-bags are there no longer; their place being occupied by sundry
jars of tobacco and a churchwarden or two. Only on one occasion has Mr.
Tree found it necessary to use this room. The corpulency of the bibulous
_Falstaff_ prevented the actor from conveniently coming down the stairs
which lead from his own room to the stage--hence _Falstaff_ was attired
in this apartment.
The sound of the overture is just beginning as we hurriedly follow Mr.
Tree in the direction of his room. Though he has been singled out as a
very master of the art of transferring the face into the presentment of
character, it is a fact that Mr. Tree never sits down to dress until the
overture has started, and attaches less importance to his make-up than
to any other portion of the actor's art.
[Illustration: MR. BEERBOHM TREE'S DRESSING-ROOM.]
He throws himself into a chair of a decided "office" pattern, in front
of a triple glass which reflects all positions of his face. The sticks
of paint are arranged on a small Japanese tray, and the various powders
in tin boxes. Everything about the room is quiet and unassuming--a
washstand near the window, a few odd wooden-back chairs. The room is
regarded rather as a workshop than a lounging-room, and it certainly
possesses that appearance, though not without a certain pleasant
cosiness.
The actor's fingers have evidently been recently at work on the lengthy
pier-glass. Young Mr. Irving has just been in. He wanted some idea of a
make-up for _King John_. Mr. Tree gave him one by taking a stick of
grease paint and sketching it in outline on the glass. A number of still
unanswered letters are lying about--some of them delightfully humorous
missives from "stage-struck" young people. One is positively from a
footman. It runs:--
"DEAR SIR,--I want to be an actor, so thought I would write to you. I am
tall and dark, and have been a footman for five years in a nobleman's
family. I have just had a hundred pounds left me, and if you will give
me a part in one of your pieces I will give you fifty pounds of it.
Write by return, as I have already given notice.--Your obedient servant,
----.
"P.S.--Mark the letter private."
[Illustration: MR. HARE'S DRESSING-ROOM.]
In a corner lies the peak cap worn as _Demetrius_ in "The Red Lamp";
here the cloth cap, gaily decorated with poppies, corn and feathers,
used in "The Ballad Monger." Over the door is a gigantic horseshoe,
measuring at least a couple of feet from top to bottom. This was placed
here by Mrs. Bancroft.
Just at this moment a magnificent bull-dog--whose appearance we had not
previously noticed--turns lazily on a mat under the dressing-table. This
is "Ned," rechristened "Bully Boy." The dog plays a prominent part in
the piece now running at the Haymarket.
A tap at the door. A voice cries, "Mr. Tree"--and hurriedly applying a
line here and there about the eyes, as we accompany the actor to the
stage, he has something interesting to say regarding "making-up." He
rather laughs at the idea, and is perplexed to understand the reason why
his facial paintings are so commented upon. He is always the last to
reach the theatre. "The less make-up, the better," he observes. "The art
of acting is not a matter of painting the face, for a very plain person
can in a few seconds become extremely good-looking and _vice versâ_; it
is what comes from within--what the player feels. It is his imagination
which really illuminates the face, and not what he has put on it with
hare's foot and pencil."
* * * * *
A peculiar interest is attached to the visit which we made to Mr. John
Hare's room at the Garrick Theatre. Mr. Hare has been on the stage for
twenty-six years, and previous to our finding him seated in his great
arm-chair by the fireplace, had never been interviewed. Hence the few
words he said, as he played with a cigarette, become particularly
notable.
"I have been acting now for twenty-six years. I was for ten years with
Mrs. Bancroft at the Prince of Wales's, and have been some twelve or
thirteen years in management."
"What is your favourite part, Mr. Hare?"
"The present one in 'A Pair of Spectacles,'" is the reply. "I take about
a month to study up a character. I always wear the clothes I am going to
play in for some time previously, so as to get them to my figure. The
longest time I ever bestowed on a make-up was in 'The Profligate.' I
took half an hour over it."
Mr. Hare has really two rooms. The big one is used for an office as
much as possible, where the actor does all his correspondence. Note the
old-fashioned high wire fender, the heavy plush curtains, and elaborate
rosewood furniture. It is a most artistic apartment. Those
speaking-tubes communicate with the stage door, prompter, box office,
and acting manager.
The pictures which adorn the walls are as varied as they are valuable.
Here may be found Leslie Ward's caricature of Corney Grain and of George
Grossmith, together with an old engraving of Garrick, after R. E. Pine,
published in 1818. Just by the glass is one of the few photos of
Compton, in frock coat and plaid tie. Many a reminiscence of the Hare
and Kendal management is about, and on the mantel-board of ebony and
gold--over which rests the customary horse-shoe with the initials J. H.
in the centre--portraits in silver frames of members of Mr. Hare's
family are to be seen.
[Illustration: MR. HARE'S INNER ROOM.]
But by far the most attractive corner is a little room, scarcely large
enough for two people to stand in, which branches off from the more
spacious apartment. There, hanging up, is the light suit worn as
_Benjamin Goldfinch_, with the long black coat which flaps about so
marvellously--the actor finds plenty of "character" even in a coat--and
the shepherd's-plaid trousers.
The looking-glass is of walnut, with electric lights on either side
shaded with metal leaves. In front of this he sits, amidst a hundred
little oddments. Here are tiny bottles of medicine and quinine--for the
actor being is a firm believer in the properties of this traditional
strength-reviver. The little room is as comfortable as it well can be,
and has a thoroughly domesticated air about it.
* * * * *
There are many things to notice as we pass through the passages on our
way toward Mr. Charles Wyndham's room at the Criterion; programmes and
play-bills in German and Russian of "David Garrick"--in fact the
passages are literally decorated with mementoes of the clever comedian's
admirable impersonation of this character. A bronze of the actor as
_Davy_ raising the glass on high, and a massive silver loving cup,
engraved "Garrick," is mounted on a pedestal bearing the inscription
"Charles Wyndham, Von Direktor Lautenberg, Residenz Theatre, Berlin,
December, 1887." Prints and pictures typical of Russian life are freely
displayed. And here is an exceptional curiosity, and one which is
doubtless highly treasured. In a modest oak frame is a piece of paper
which once served to settle a little dispute, which is historical among
things theatrical:--
"Mr. Bedford wages two gallons of claret with Mr. Williams, that Mr.
Garrick did not play upon ye stage in ye year 1732 or before."