A Very Snobbish Chapter.
"I've got a little list."--_The Mikado_.
Captain Hawley Smart, at the Garrick one day, at lunch, gave me a
valuable friendly warning.
"In your book," said he, "do not fall into that diary mistake,
characteristic of most autobiographers; and some autobiographers
indulge in it very badly. I mean writing: 'May 14th.--Dined at the
Duke of A----'s: present, Lord and Lady B----, Count C----, Marquis
of D----, &c.' Much better write down a list of all the people you
_have_ met, and say: 'Dined with, or met, this lot some time or
other.'"
Unfortunately, I do not keep a diary, and have no list of "people I
have known;" but I can truthfully say that during the last twelve or
fourteen years I have had the privilege of meeting what the Society
papers repeatedly call "everybody, who is anybody." What! everybody?
Well, nearly everybody! I have met Royal Princes in their palaces,
and Republicans in their republic houses. I am personally acquainted
with Bishops and Bradlaugh. I have shaken hands with Sarah Bernhardt
and Miss Bessie Bellwood. I have been visited by millionaires who
are nobodies, and by beggars who are somebodies. I have exchanged
courtesies with Gustave Dore, and another celebrated painter has
exchanged umbrellas with me. I know Sims Reeves and "Squash." I
manage to get on with peers and peasants; I talk a little about the
weather to the former, and a little (very little) about the crops to
the latter.
I believe I am a Conservative, but I own to a great admiration for
Gladstone. I am not alone in that respect, except that I "own up" to
my admiration, and other Conservatives do not. I regret exceedingly
that I never met Lord Beaconsfield; but when I commenced to "go
out," he had almost ceased doing so. I met Mr. Gladstone at a garden
party as recently as the autumn of 1887, and was asked to meet him
in June, 1888. It is a pleasure to converse with him, or, rather, to
hear him converse with you. At the former party, a lady said to me,
"If that horrid man comes here, I shall walk through that window on
to the lawn. I would not stay under the same roof with him." She
evidently thought there was no chance of his coming; in point of
fact, she afterwards admitted as much to me. When he _did_ arrive,
she followed him about, curtsied as he passed, as if he were the
Queen, repeatedly offered him her chair, and indulged in that
particular kind of adoration in the _presence_ which is usually
indulged in by people who are ultra-bitter during the _absence_.
But though I have not kept a list of the notable people I have met,
I have kept the letters of those who have written to me as a friend
or acquaintance. I cannot count myself as one of the "pestilential
nuisances who apply for autographs," as Gilbert describes them in
_The Mikado_; still, I must plead guilty to pasting in a book, or
keeping in my desk, every letter addressed to me personally that has
a good name attached. When I say every letter, I do not include
letters addressed to me professionally or purely on business
matters: those are merely of passing value to me. I simply treasure
the letters of those with whom I have become actually acquainted.
This collection is the collection of a Snob, no doubt; and I can
only beg of those of my readers who sensitive to Snobbish actions to
pass this chapter over, for my sake as well as theirs.
I would add that my wife and I do not possess a card-basket, where
the only countess's card will keep shifting to the top, of its own
accord, in the most remarkable fashion; nor do we advertise our
evening parties in the _Morning Post_, nor publicly announce that we
have removed to a hired cottage at Datchet during the fixture of a
telephone pole to the roof of our family mansion in Dorset
(pronounced Dossit) Square.
I will take the letters as they come, simply calling attention to
the contents or the writers as I imagine they may interest or amuse
the readers. The first--the most interesting to me, perhaps, as it
turned the tide of my professional life--is the letter from Arthur
Sullivan, asking me to go on the stage, which has already appeared
in a former chapter. The next is from J. R. Planche, whom I shall
always remember with the greatest pleasure, and whose little parties
were delightful.
The following is characteristic of J. R. Planche's well-known
courtesy:
6 Royal Avenue,
Chelsea, S.W.,
_5th August_, 1875.
Dear Mr. Grossmith,--Nothing could give me more pleasure than doing
anything which is agreeable to you. I estimate highly your talent,
and am flattered by your friendship. With kindest regards from all
of us to you and your amiable and gifted wife,
Believe me,
Very sincerely yours,
J. R. PLANCHE.
The above is very flattering, and so is the following from Frederic
Clay; and if I were a truly modest man, I should publish neither:
64 Seymour Street,
Portman Square.
Dear Grossmith,--Miss Kate Santley has asked me to write her a light
song for the piece she is now playing. Since Miss Santley
immortalised "Nobody knows as I know" for me, my humble pen has
always been at her disposal--in fact, I have composed a couple of
operas for her--but just now I am night and day at work on this
Brighton Cantata; nor can I dream where to find words without being
vulgar.
As you were good enough to give me more real amusement and enjoyment
at Arthur Blunt's than I have known for many a long day, I could not
help suggesting your name to Miss Santley, telling her that, if you
can find time for the purpose, she could not be in safer or more
accomplished hands than yours. . . .
Yours very sincerely,
FREDERIC CLAY.
I afterwards became very intimate with Frederic Clay; and a great
portion of one of his subsequent works (the _Black Crook_, I think)
composed while he was staying with my wife and myself at a tiny
cottage which we rented during the autumn each year at Datchet. His
last work of all he chiefly did at Datchet. It was called, I think,
_The Golden Ring_, and the book was by G. R. Sims. He hired a
cottage a few doors from mine, and as I passed to and fro of a
morning I used to see him writing hard at his desk in front of the
open window, and invariably greeted him with "Good-morning, Freddy;
do you want any of your harmonies corrected?"--"Shall I score the
drum parts for you?"--or some such nonsense. It will be remembered
that he was seized with a serious illness after the production of
the piece at the Alhambra. I grieve to say I seldom see him now, as
he lives away in the country very quietly. He wrote a charming
letter in pencil some months ago respecting a favourable notice he
had seen of the pianoforte-playing of my little girl Sylvia at a
"pupils'" concert. I have kept many of his letters, and value them.
I wanted to see him about something, and suggested we should meet at
the Beefsteak Club. This was his reply:
[image]
At the old Gallery of Illustration, in 1875, Corney Grain was
suddenly indisposed, and I sang for him; and I was very pleased at
the thought of giving a sketch at the very piano on which John Parry
had played. Subsequently I received the following letter from Mrs.
German Reed:
. . . Please accept my best thanks, and with them a handkerchief
which Mr. John Parry used in his song, "Mrs. Roseleaf's Evening
Party." You said you would be pleased to have it. The little piece
of cotton in the middle he always had tied to prevent confusion in
folding while singing.
With kind compliments to your wife,
Sincerely yours,
PRISCILLA REED.
I sang and acted at the Gallery of Illustrations on another
occasion. Corney Grain was required to give his "Sketches at a
Country House," where he was to meet the Prince of Wales; and I
undertook, besides giving my sketch "Theatricals at Thespis Lodge,"
to act the part of the young lover (Grain's part) in _Very
Catching_, an excellent little piece by F. C. Burnand, and music by
Molloy. In this, both Mrs. German Reed and Arthur Cecil played. I
had to sing a sentimental duet with Miss Fanny Holland, "O'er the
stones go tripping," during which she had to rest on my shoulder as
I led her from stone to stone. But there happened to be a great
difference in the height of Grain and myself; and when Miss Holland
found that she could not stoop low enough to reach my shoulders, and
that the strip of artificial water, which was arranged to well cover
Grain's ankles, was up to my knees, she fairly burst out laughing on
the stage.
Next come rather amusing letters from the late Duchess of
Westminster and Lady Diana Huddleston. The former concludes her
letter thus:
If you have any of the Philtre to spare, there is nothing I can
think of I should like much better!
Believe me, dear Mr. J. W. W.,
Yours sincerely,
CONSTANCE WESTMINSTER.
The initials had reference to John Wellington Wells, the part in
_The Sorcerer_ I was playing at the time.
I had sent Lady Diana the name of a professional spiritualist, and
here is an extract from her reply:
Thank you so much for writing to E----. I am all for a medium who
stands no nonsense with the spirits, but has them up there and then.
I fear W---- lets his ghosties give themselves airs, as both "Petre"
and also "John King" have always thrown me over. Who was John King?
. . .
Yours very sincerely,
DI. HUDDLESTON.
Letters of invitation follow from Frank Holl, R.A., George du
Maurier, Nita Gaetana (Mrs. Moncrieff), Kate Field, and Earls of
Fife and Wharncliffe. Then comes a letter from F. C. Burnand,
respecting my proposer for the Beefsteak Club. He suggested Sir
Arthur Sullivan; but eventually Corney Grain proposed me. I think
Frank Burnand is the most amusing man to meet. He is brimful of good
humour. He will fire off joke after joke, and chaff you out of your
life if he gets a chance. His chaff is always good-tempered. No one
minds being chaffed by Burnand. I will not sing a song when he is in
the room if I can possibly help it. He will sit in front of me at
the piano, and either stare with a pained and puzzled look during my
comic song, or he will laugh in the wrong places, or, what is worse
still, take out his pocket-handkerchief and weep.
A short time ago we were dining at Mrs. Lovett Cameron's, and were
seated on either side of her. Throughout the dinner I had purposely
been making some rude observations respecting the dishes, with which
Mrs. Cameron was immensely amused. Eventually a "sweet" was handed
round, consisting of little hard cakes of something resembling
dark-brown toffee or hardbake, with cream piled on. Mrs. Cameron
said to me, "You must not pass this dish--_do_ have some." I
replied, "Well, I won't have any of the cream--only some of the
_glue_," which the sweet certainly resembled. Burnand promptly
replied, "Oh, are you going to _stick_ here all night?"
Burnand's parties are to be envied, and not forgotten. At one of his
evening entertainments in Russell Square, he suggested we should get
up a "bogus" band. I fell in with his idea at once, and it was left
to me to arrange. I decided upon the overture to _Zampa;_ and, to
give a semblance of reality to the performance, arranged with Mr.
Charles Reddie to preside at the piano; and, chaos or no chaos, he
was to go steadily on. Frederic H. Cowen was the violoncello; the
first violins were played by Mr. Samuel Heilbut, a capital amateur
violinist, and by my brother, who was nearly as good. I played
second violin, and was simply awful. Rutland Barrington played the
piccolo; but as he could only play in one key, which, unfortunately,
was _not_ the one we were playing, the effect can be imagined. Last,
but not least, Corney Grain conducted.
The time arrived for the performance, and the music-stands were
placed in a circle in the crowded drawing-room; and, in order that
there should be no jumble at the commencement, we decided to take
the overture at exactly half its proper time.
I shall never forget the surprised look on the faces of Sir Julius
Benedict and Mr. W. G. Cusins when we began. There was no idea, at
first, it was a joke. We played the next _andante_ movement with
sublime expression and perfectly correctly, with the exception of
Barrington's piccolo, which was here more terribly conspicuous than
before. This was rendered all the more ridiculous by the sweet,
satisfied smile which Grain was assuming, after the fashion of an
affected conductor.
The audience began to suspect something was up; but their suspicions
were soon set at rest when the subsequent quick movement arrived.
Reddie played on, and Heilbut stuck to it. Fred. Cowen, Weedon
Grossmith, and myself put down our instruments and stared up at the
ceiling, as if we had a few bars' rest. Barrington played a tune of
his own; and Grain, in an excited manner and in the German tongue,
demanded him to desist. Barrington, who also speaks German,
retaliated.
This German row was most natural and funny, and created roars of
laughter. J. L. Toole, who was in the audience, and who did not see
why he should not join in, forced his way through the people and
seized hold of Weedon's old Italian violin, and was about to bang it
on the back of a chair. Weedon had a genuine fight to recover his
fiddle, and had to remind Toole that it was not one of his own
"properties." Reddie and Heilbut still seriously stuck to the piano
and violin. Grain then bullied me for not playing. A general
altercation ensued; and as the final chords of the shortened
overture were played, Grain seized me up under his arm, as if I had
been a brown-paper parcel, and marched out of the room with me.
After supper there was an extemporised Christmas Pantomime, in which
Grain, Arthur Cecil, Fred. Leslie, Chas. Colnaghi, William Yardley,
the brothers Grossmith, and Mrs. Cecil Clay (Miss Rosina Vokes) took
part. It was great fun for audience and performers, and Miss Vokes
was excellent. At the final tableau, Fred. Leslie and myself struck
two matches to represent coloured fire. I daresay all this seems
silly; but I have seen many very serious people silly after a jolly
supper with jolly people, so I hope some allowance will be made for
the Society Clown.
A little pencil sketch, by W. S. Gilbert, comes next in my book;
"Bab" is an excellent draughtsman, as everyone knows. Next on the
list are Annie Thomas (Mrs. Pender Cudlip) and Florence Marryat. The
latter often signed herself "The Ship," because one of the
Birmingham papers, speaking of the "Entre Nous" entertainment,
described her as "of pleasant appearance, with bright, frank
features, somewhat massively moulded, unaffected manners, and with a
carriage reminding one of the stately motion of one of those noble
vessels of which the glorious old Captain loved to write." The same
paper, continuing, observes: "In the second costume recital of 'Joan
of Arc in prison,' she appeared in the usual grey tunic and with
massive manacles on her waist; Mr. Grossmith, sitting at the piano
as a sort of mute but comical gaoler, ready to accompany her in a
musical scena at the end."
I have before said that Arthur Cecil took a kind interest in me, and
favoured me with many a valuable hint. I therefore print a letter of
his (dated 1878, when I knew him only slightly) in full, with the
assurance, from experience, that jealousy in the theatrical
profession is the exception and not the rule:
Beefsteak Club,
King William Street,
Strand, W.C.
My dear Grossmith,--I am so delighted to hear you "obliged again" on
Wednesday, at Grosvenor House, after I left.
I was most anxious that you should be at your best before the Prince
and Princess, and only regretted I could not stop to suggest the
things that I consider your happiest efforts. I am sure "The Muddle
Puddle Porter" must have been all right.
Yours ever,
ARTHUR C. BLUNT.
It was a charity concert, and I may incidentally remark that I had
to appear early in the programme, and when my turn came their Royal
Highnesses had not arrived. Arthur Cecil, who was announced later
on, said: "The Prince and Princess have heard my song, so you take
my place."
The above voluntary suggestion on his part needs no comment.
This letter is followed by ordinary letters from Irving, Toole, A.
W. Pinero, Countess of Charlemont (the late), Viscountess
Combermere, Herbert Herkomer, A.R.A., Earls of Londesborough and
Dunraven, Mrs. Charlie Mathews, Mrs. Kendal, the Hon. Lewis
Wingfield, Emily Faithful, and Kate Terry (Mrs. Arthur Lewis). Then
comes a letter from Thomas Thorne, which is interesting because it
is an invitation to dine with him to celebrate the thousandth night
of _Our Boys_. Then follow Robert Reece (he persuaded me to set to
music one of his songs, "A Peculiar Man," which he need not have
done, for he is a most excellent musician himself), John Oxenford
(dated 1868--a birthday congratulation), J. Ashby Sterry (who always
addresses me, "dear young Jaarge"), R. Corney Grain, Herman Vezin,
Lord Otho Fitzgerald, and Viscountess Mandeville. The letter from
Lady Mandeville, referring to some of my songs, is amusing--an
extract from which I give:
Thanks a thousand times for the songs, which were delightful. We
tried them all last night and I am sure some of the neighbours
wished us at the North Pole. . . . I have sent to America for a
charming pathetic song for you; the last line is "Let me hit my
little brother before I die."
A letter from J. B. Buckstone, giving me permission to play Paul Pry
(_en amateur_); a most amusing letter from Howard Paul, describing
his futile attempt to learn "The Muddle Puddle Porter" while "going
up and down the Lake of Lucerne, under the shadow of the Rigi, and
within sight of the historical Tell's Platte;" a most flattering
letter from Sir Julius Benedict, which modesty, &c., will not permit
of my reproducing; Jacques Blumenthal (he simply had "a message to
send me" inviting me to dine) and Henry J. Byron. I knew Byron when
I was a boy, and I loved him because he was not above playing
cricket with me on the sands at the seaside, when I was in trousers,
or rather knickerbockers, which they resembled through my having
outgrown them. In 1878 I wanted to purchase some clever words of his
with a refrain, "Yeo, heave ho." He wrote back from the Haymarket
Theatre:
Dear George,--I wrote to you, saying you might have the song gratis,
and posted the letter to J. S. Clarke instead of you.
Yours ever sincerely,
H. J. BYRON.
Everybody knows Byron was about the best punster existing. He was
also the worst. I heard him make this observation at Margate: "I
don't like _cock_roaches because they '_en_croaches."
Then come Arthur a Beckett, Countesses of Wharnecliffe and Bantry,
S. B. Bancroft, Lionel Brough, Viscounts Hardinge and Baring; a
charming letter from Clement Scott, asking me for a contribution to
a collection of theatrical stories; Sir Algernon Borthwick, Duke of
Beaufort, Earl of Hardwicke, and Mrs. Keeley. The letter (dated
1882) from the latter lady, I value most highly, of course:
10 Pelham Crescent, S.W.
Dear Mr. Grossmith,--I was at the Savoy on Thursday evening with
Miss Swanborough, and delighted we were with the performance.
Trusting yourself and Madame are well, and with kind regards,
Ever yours sincerely,
MARY ANNE KEELEY.
------
17 Finchley New Road,
_Thursday_.
Dear Mr. Grossmith,--I am not going to use any flourishing phrases,
but simply ask you if you would be so extremely good as to appear in
the concert I arrange for the poor exiles at Walmer. It is to be on
the 15th or 18th of this month, in the house of Lord Denbigh. I am
going to play a little French piece with M. Berton, and I asked some
artists to play and sing. I hope you will frankly tell me if you can
do it or not, as I certainly should not like you to put yourself to
any inconvenience for my sake. I know how busy you are, and it is a
great impudence on my part to give you some more work. With many
kind regards,
I remain, always sincerely yours,
HELENA MODJESKA.
"Next, please," as Mr. T. Thorne would say, as Partridge.
H.S.H. the Duke of Teck, Countess of Kenmare, James Albery (author
of _The Two Roses_), Henry Labouchere, Miss E. Braddon, Joseph
Hatton (a very old and esteemed friend of mine) and Professor
Pepper.
The following is interesting to me, coming, as it does, from the
most successful entertainer of his day. His songs, "A Life on the
Ocean Wave," "Cheer, Boys, Cheer," "The Ivy Green," "The Ship on
Fire," etc., will be ever remembered:
Hanover Square Club,
_Nov. 22nd_, 1883.
My dear Grossmith,--Many thanks for your kind letter. I leave for
Boulogne to-morrow (Friday), or I should be only too glad to avail
myself of your generous offer. I have been for years one of the
warmest admirers of the great talent you possess; and all I can say
is, that if you want to confer a favour on me, you will, without
hesitation, jump on board the Boulogne boat, and, after two hours of
"a life on the ocean wave," come direct to the Hotel du Nord, where
I reside, and where you shall have a good dinner, a glorious weed, a
first-class bottle of Chateau Margaux, a shake-down, and a sincere
warm welcome from your old friend,
HENRY RUSSELL.
------
Grand Hotel, Stockholm,
_June 13th_, 1882.
Dear Grossmith,--I have just remembered you have received no reply
to your invite for the "small and early." . . . We left London on
the 6th, and since then have visited Hamburg and Copenhagen.
To-night we start for Christiania on our way to the North Cape.
Should any friends ask my address, tell them for the next three
weeks, "Arctic Ocean."
Kind regards from Mrs. and self to Mrs. G. and self.
Yours sincerely,
EDWARD TERRY.
The following is from Nellie Farren:
Gaiety Theatre, Strand,
_Friday_.
Dear George,--Will you repeat yesterday's performance on the 23rd of
this month for your old friend,
NELL.
Alfred Scott Gatty, Hamilton Aide, Duke of Abercorn, Earl of Onslow,
William J. Florence (the popular American comedian), John Hare, W.
Kuhe, W. Maybrick (his "Nancy Lee" still haunts me), Chas. Wyndham,
W. J. Hill, Oscar Wilde, and J. McNiel Whistler, from whose epistle
I give an extract:
"Je tu savois brave--mais je ne tu savois pas plus brave que moy!"
Ton roy, HENRI.
Which means, my dear Bunthorne, that "I knew you amazing!--but I did
not know you more amazing than I"!
Thine
Then appears the well-known "butterfly" signature.
Madam Dolby, Madam Liebhart, Viscountess Folkestone, Lady Coutts
Lindsay (whose charming collections of people at the Grosvenor
Gallery some years ago will not be easily forgotten), Beatty
Kingston, Frederick Boyle, Manville Fenn, Lady Chas. Beresford,
Marchioness of Ormond, Lady Chesham, G. H. Boughton, A.R.A., Pro.
Ray Lankester, Sir Coutts Lindsay, Earl and Countess of Donoughmore.
Her ladyship writes:
. . I am afraid we cannot go to London this season. There is an idea
that digging turnips at Knocklofty would be a pleasing change. I
should not mind the turnips if kind friends would come and help dig
them. Have you and Mrs. Grossmith any sharp spuds, and would you
like to race me in a drill? (I don't know if turnips are planted in
drills--potatoes are.) Are you afraid of the sea? It's not very
rough, and your chicks could play and fight with mine all day, and
we would have a good time somehow.
Mrs. Alfred Wigan, Carlotta Leclercq, Viscountess Pollington, Harry
Furniss, E. Willard, Sir Morell Mackenzie, Duchess of Abercorn (a
kind letter referring to my severe illness in Jan., 1887), Harry
Payne (certainly the best clown in my time), Rutland Barrington,
Fred. Leslie, Meyer Lutz, Earl of Clarendon.
Pro. Hubert Herkomer, A.R.A., writes, in reply to my enquiry whether
he was busy:
I am now at work on my thirty-first portrait this year--which does
not count water-colour subjects. Can't you spend a Sunday with me?
Milton Wellings, Lord Hay of Kinfauns, Arthur Stirling.
_July 15th_, 1887.
Dear Grossmith,--We are looking forward with great pleasure to
lunching with you next Monday.
My duty to your wife.
Yours ever,
DOUGLAS STRAIGHT.
------
11 Melbury Road, W.
_20th April_, 1887.
My dear Grossmith,--No congratulations I have received have given me
more pleasure than those coming from old friends, and among them I
was gratified to have yours; for we have known each other a long
time, and I believe with corresponding regard. Accept my very best
thanks for your nice letter; and with best wishes for yourself and
your wife,
I am, sincerely yours,
LUKE FILDES.
Sir Edward Sieveking, Baroness Burdett Coutts (a kind invitation for
my wife and myself to see the Jubilee procession), Paul Rajon (the
French etcher), E. Gibert (whom the _Daily Telegraph_ flattered me
by designating the French Grossmith).
The following, from Hamilton Clarke, had reference to a small
theatre work of mine which I had to score for an exceedingly limited
orchestra:
Dear George,--Yardley tells me to send you a list of the band
at ---- theatre.
I regret to say that, owing to the fact that the accommodation for
the musicians is about the dimensions of a third-class railway
compartment (I believe the trombone-player has to play lying down),
the "orchestra" is limited to the following list: . . . No chance of
the slightest delicacy or fancy! Only plain, straightforward English
slogging.
Long live the cornet and side-drum--Briton's boast!
Yours sincerely,
HAMILTON CLARKE.
------
33 Longridge Road,
Earl's Court,
_December 20th_.
Dear George,--£3, if you don't mind; and I am so sorry for the poor
lady. I've just come back from Paris, and your letter had been sent
there and back here after me, or you would have heard from me
before. Hope you are very well. With love to you both,
Yours ever,
ELLEN TERRY.
I'm having a lovely Christmas holiday.
Percy Fitzgerald (I shall naturally look forward to his _Chronicles
of Bow Street_ with special interest), Emily Lovett Cameron, Joseph
Hollman, Duchess of Westminster (the present), H. S. Marks, R.A.,
Arthur Roberts, C. D. Marius, Wilford Morgan, George Giddens, Dr.
Anderson Critchett, Bottesini, H.S.H. Prince Leiningen, Sir
Frederick Leighton, P.R.A.
White Lodge,
Richmond Park,
_January 7th_.
Dear Mr. Grossmith,--I thank you for sending me your photos; it was
a very kind thought of you. I trust Ko-Ko and yourself to be in the
best of spirits. I must go to the Savoy again, and I hope you will
from thence proceed with me to the Bachelor's and have some supper.
Yours sincerely,
TECK.
------
33 Untere Promenade,
Homburg,
_Saturday_.
Dear Grossmith,--The Prince of Wales hopes that Mrs. Grossmith and
you will dine with him at the Kinsaal on Monday evening, at 7.15.
Yours truly,
H. TYRWHITT-WILSON.
I had promised to write David James a song for _Little Jack
Sheppard_, at the Gaiety,--a promise which I failed to keep. U had a
good "intention," but not an "idea." The reward for my failure was
this amusing letter:
14 Buckingham Street,
Adelphi,
_May 2nd_, 1886.
Dear Grossmith,--The _song_ you wrote for me for Blueskin goes
IMMENSELY every night, and everybody is asking who is the _author_
and _composer_. Now, as you cannot come and bow your acknowledgments
at _night_, you might as well come and do so in the _morning_; and
what better morning than Thursday, the 20th of May, at my _matinee_
benefit at the Gaiety? I want all my old pals to be there. . . .
Like a good boy, come and sing and play, and very much oblige
Your old "partic.,"
DAVID JAMES.
A. Goring Thomas, Percy Reeve, Sir Percy Shelley, Fred. Barnard
(with humorous sketch), John T. Bedford (author of "Robert," in
Punch).
Lyceum Theatre,
_16th February_, 1887.
Dear Grossmith,--Greeting! Right hearty congratulations on your
recovery and reappearance this evening.
Sincerely yours,
H. IRVING.
A letter from Lady Freake reminds me of (to me) a memorable
performance at Cromwell House. The musical triumviretta, _Cox and
Box_, formed part of the programme:
Box ... ... ... ... ... ... Mr. ARTHUR CECIL.
Cox ... ... ... ... ... ... Mr. GEORGE GROSSMITH.
Serjeant Bouncer... ... ... Mr. CORNEY GRAIN.
Piano ... ... ... Mr. ALFRED CELLIER.
Harmonium ... ... Sir ARTHUR SULLIVAN.
I remember seeing at this entertainment the Dowager Countess of
Waldegrave, who was the daughter of John Braham, the celebrated
singer. But what most impressed me was an incident at the first
rehearsal. Cecil, Grain, and I were under the impression that we had
the well-fitted little theatre to ourselves; but suddenly two
elderly and very prim ladies came and sat in the front row and
watched us. There is nothing so disconcerting to actors as to
watched at the preliminary rehearsal. I cannot bear it even at the
dress rehearsal. In the present instance we grumbled to ourselves
and delayed commencing, hoping the two ladies would take the hint
and depart. No such luck. One of them, the mother of an exceedingly
clever amateur who has played _Cox and Box_ all his life (I believe
he was born playing it), suddenly said in a loud voice:
"Why don't they begin? Don't they know what to do? I wish Johnnie
were here; he could show them at once."
Royal Princess's Theatre,
_March 23rd_, 1886.
Dear Grossmith,--I know one "little piece" only, "Gone with a
handsomer man." If that will do, I am ready to help you; unless it
should be the date on which _Clito_ is produced. I expect to play it
earlier than that. Kind regards.
Faithfully yours,
WILSON BARRETT.
Miss Hope Glen, Isidore de Lara, Wilhelm Ganz, Linley Sambourne,
Charles Warner, Fred. H. Cowen, E. W. Royce, Miss Fortescue
(informing me of the breaking off of the engagement between herself
and Lord Garmoyle, now Earl Cairns), John Clayton, Lady Mildred
Denison, Lady William Lennox, Lady Ventry, Lady Ardilaun, M.
Riviere, Sir John Bennett, Madame Lemmens-Sherrington.
I am frequently asked, when singing professionally in private
houses, if I am friendly with Mr. Corney Grain. Here is an extract
from one of his letters. I had been suffering from sore throat, and
could not fulfil a certain engagement, and he kindly sang in my
stead. In return, I sent him a small souvenir in the shape of a
"Tantalus."
Dear George,--Thank you very much for your very handsome--and,
moreover, very useful--present. It shall be entirely at your service
from March 21st till the 6th April, when I hope, barring accidents,
to be at The Willows, Datchet, where you have, not a general, but a
particular invitation during that period.
Another of his letters terminates thus:
Then farewell my trim-built wherry.
From that sheer hulk,
R. CORNEY GRAIN.
Countess of Bective, Marshall P. Wilder (the American humorist),
Gordon Thomson, Sir John Millais, John Hollingshead, Earl of
Hopetoun.
At a party at Sir Arthur Sullivan's one evening, I was asked to sing
the Lord Chancellor's enormous patter song. I could not remember it;
so Lord Hopetoun, himself a most excellent humorous singer,
volunteered to prompt me. The effect was most ludicrous; for Lord
Hopetoun had really to sing quickly the whole of the song about one
bar ahead of me. After this, Arthur sat at the piano, and Lord
Hopetoun and myself arrayed ourselves in a few antimacassars and
performed a graceful ballet; that is to say, as graceful as the
circumstances would permit.
A kind letter from my old friend, Alfred Cellier, respecting the
death of my father, reminds me of another evening at Sir Arthur
Sullivan's. We had been previously to a dinner-party and subsequent
reception at Lady Sebright's, where I was introduced to Mrs.
Langtry--it being, I believe, her first introduction to London
Society.
Subsequently, Sullivan persuaded Cellier, Arthur Cecil, and myself,
and I fancy a few others, including Archibald Stuart Wortley, to
return to his rooms at 9 Albert Mansions, where the gifted composer
was then residing. We stayed very late--much later than I would dare
stay up now. I left with Alfred Cellier, and he asked me if I could
drop him in Park Lane, as he had another party to go to. There was
every excuse for my being astonished, considering it was half-past
four in the morning and the beautiful daylight had long since
appeared. I acquiesced, and the next day asked Cellier if he did not
find that everybody had gone.
"No, indeed," replied Cellier; "in fact, I was the _first arrival_."
Rather an early card party!
Speaking of Mrs. Langtry, recalls to my mind a curious incident
affecting both of us. I was asked to a musical party in Prince's
Gardens, and proceeded there after my work at the theatre. On
arriving in the locality, and seeing the awning out, and the usual
line of footmen, and the will-o'-the-wisp linkman, I shouted to the
cabman, who was passing the door, to stop. I gave up my coat and
walked into the drawing-room, being announced in the usual way. I
found, however, that a ball was in full swing. I could not discover
my host or hostess, although I met many people I knew. I soon
ascertained that I had come to the wrong house, and, instead of
being at Mrs. G----'s musical party, was at Sir William D----'s
ball. I slipped downstairs--having ex-explained the matter to a
friend of Sir William's--got my coat, and went to Mrs. G----'s,
which was a few doors off. As I was proceeding upstairs I met Mrs.
Langtry coming down, and she said:
"Oh, Mr. Grossmith, I've made _such_ a mistake! I've come to the
wrong house. I ought to be at the ball at Sir William D----'s. I
couldn't understand how it was there was singing and no dancing
upstairs, and have only just discovered my mistake."
I replied, "You maybe comforted; I have been to Sir William D----'s
by mistake, when I ought to have been here.
Lady Greville, Madame de Fonblanque, Brindley Richards, Henry S.
Neville (asking me to play "Paul Pry" at the Crystal Palace), Earl
of Desart, who, in kindly sending me an invitation, described the
whereabouts of his house thus:
"There's a place called Victoria Lodge,
It lies in Victoria Street;
To find it, I'll tell you the dodge--
Ask ev'ry policeman you meet."
H. Beerbohm Tree, Countess of Wilton, Miss Millward, Dr. Louis
Engel, H. Bracy, Kate Vaughan.
Marlborough House,
Pall Mall, S.W.,
_June 30th_, 1885.
Dear Mr. Grossmith,--By direction of the Prince and Princess of
Wales, I send you the accompanying pin, which their Royal Highnesses
hope you will accept as a small souvenir of your visit to
Marlborough House on the evening of the 14th inst.
Believe me, yours truly,
D. M. PROBYN.
------
Court Theatre,
Sloane Square, S.W.,
_March 30th_.
My dear George,--Many thanks for your kind letter. The play, so far,
promises to exceed _The Magistrate_.
Yours truly,
JOHN CLAYTON.
------
145 Harley Street, W.,
Dear Mr. Grossmith,--I have been asked by people right and left; but
put my name down, and if I can recite--I will.
Yours faithfully,
MADGE KENDAL.
------
156 Cambridge Street,
Warwick Square, S.W.
My dear Grossmith,--One line to say "Thank you;" another from my
mother to repeat the "Thank you." The two joined make the words bear
their fullest measure of truth, and your kindness is very pleasant
to
Yours sincerely,
CLIFFORD HARRISON.
------
Dear Mr. Grossmith,--I will (D.V.) be there on the 4th. Many thanks.
Yours ever truly,
M. E. BANCROFT.
------
46 Russell Square,
_March 19th_, 1884.
Dear Gee Gee ("I've spotted you"),--You'd do much more good if you'd
just leave _Cox and Box_ alone, and stick to writing what I ask you
to. I chuckled over this week's _Very Trying_, No. VIII. _Capital_.
I've written to Committee, and told 'em Weedon is a _much better_
fellow than you are. _Ergo_, if they like _you_, they'll elect
Weedon; if they _don't_ like you, _still_ they'll elect Weedon.
Q.E.D.
Yours ever,
F. C. BURNAND.
------
6 Hill Street,
_24th May_, 1884.
Dear Mr. Grossmith,--I am very much obliged to you for your note and
the photos sent with it. My daughter will write her own thanks for
your note addressed to her.
I take the liberty of sending you one of my photographs in return
for those you have so kindly sent me.
With many thanks,
I remain,
Very truly yours,
WOLSELEY.
------
_May 14th_.
My dear Grossmith,--I am desired by the Duke of Albany to invite
Mrs. Grossmith and yourself to lunch at Claremont, on Friday next,
before the concert. A train leaves Waterloo for Esher at 12.15, by
which I hope you will come. Please send a line in reply to the
Comptroller of the Household, Claremont, Esher; and
Believe me,
Yours very sincerely,
ALEC YORKE.
------
Sainte Croix,
Upper East Sheen,
Mortlake,
_June 13th_, 1887.
My dear George Grossmith,--I hope there is no doubt about you and
your wife giving us the pleasure of sharing our housewarming on the
6th prox.; for, in addition to the gratification of having you both
with us, I want you to volunteer a song on the occasion. . . . You
mustn't ridicule the idea of my giving a housewarming at my time of
life, for on the 27th inst. I shall have achieved my 70th year; but
the meeting of old friends under a new roof will be a cheery event
to look back upon by an aged pilgrim who is starting a new family
home in his 71st year. With kindest regards to Mrs. Grossmith,
Believe me,
My dear George Grossmith,
Faithfully yours,
T. GERMAN REED.
The following is from the once famous clown, the legitimate
successor to Grimaldi, with whom he played:
51 Upper Lewes Road,
Brighton,
_October 8th_, 1885.
My dear Mr. Grossmith,--Yours to hand. Many thanks for the kind
epistle respecting my birthday and health. I should like to have
seen you. Pray give me a call next time you visit Brighton. God
bless my dear, kind, good old friend, John L. Toole. Excuse my being
brief. Shakespeare says, "Let those who play your clowns, speak no
more than is put down for them."
So I remain,
Very faithfully yours,
TOM MATTHEWS.
Eighty years of age October 17th, 1885.
Excuse all mistakes, my sight is bad.
He does not show it in his letter; for he had sketched, in coloured
crayons, a tiny representation of himself in the motley--head and
shoulders.
Sir Rivers Wilson, Eric Lewis, Lord Garmoyle (now Earl Cairns),
Frank Miles, Herman Merivale, Kyrle Bellew, Jules Lasserre, Brandon
Thomas, Alfred German Reed, Lady Fanny Fitzwygram, Mrs. Arthur
Stirling, Alice Barnett (Lady Jane in _Patience_), Leonora Braham,
Jessie Bond, Jenny Lee (Jo), Carlotta Addison, Alfred Scott Gatty,
Countess of Londesborough (asking me to sit with his lordship and
"cheer him up" at the time of his dreadful accident), Lady Dorothy
Nevill.
Everybody knows that Lady Dorothy Nevill gives very charming
luncheon parties, their chief characteristic being the odd
assortment of celebrities. On one of these occasions the
announcement of the guests, who, somehow or other, arrived in
strange couples, was especially amusing. The servant threw open the
drawing-room doors, and announced "Lord Pembroke and Mr. George
Grossmith." As I am only five-feet-five in height and comic in
appearance, and his lordship is six-feet-six and rather serious, it
is not to be wondered at that those already assembled indulged in a
titter. The next announcement by the servant was "The Earl of
Wharnecliffe and Mr. Justin McCarthy." For political reasons alone,
this was amusing. Then came "The Duke of Wellington and Mr. Corney
Grain." I do not know why, but this sounded very funny. It is only
fair to Lady Dorothy to state that these are not "surprise" parties.
Her guests are always informed whom they are to meet.
The following letter is _apropos_ of my _debut_ at the Opera
Comique:
The Green Room,
10 Adelphi Terrace, W.C.,
_December 10th_, 1877.
Dear George,--Let me congratulate you very heartily on your success.
I read with very great pleasure the good notices about you. I shall
hope to _hear_ you soon; because when at "The Globe" I shall cut a
hole in the wall, and hope to listen to the charming music whilst
I'm going through my own performance.
With kind regards to your wife and self, and all good wishes for
your continued success in your new arena,
I am,
Yours sincerely,
J. L. TOOLE.
Besides being a very old and privileged friend of the famous and
popular comedian, I have had the pleasure of being associated with
him in business, having composed the music for _Mr. Guffin's
Elopement_ and _The Great Tay-kins_, written by Arthur Law, and
produced at Toole's theatre.
Toole is fond of stories about other people. Here is one about him.
Not being a musician, and not being a quick study, it becomes no
easy task to drum a song, or especially duet, into his head. In _The
Great Tay-kins_ there was a "one-line-each" duet between him and Mr.
E. D. Ward. I could not get Toole to get the rhythm right. He kept
saying it was all right, but it was not. This is what it ought to
have been:
[image]
This is how Toole first got it:
[image]
After a dozen rehearsals of these few bars, he got it thus:
The company were in roars of laughter; but Toole struggled on
perfectly seriously until he got it. He was then as pleased as
Punch, and insisted on my lunching with him, an invitation I was not
likely to refuse.
The following is from Sir Algernon Borthwick, who was my proposer
for the Garrick Club:
_Morning Post_,
_February 17th_, 1883.
Dear Grossmith,--You were elected this afternoon, not only
unanimously, but with warmest expressions of welcome and goodwill. I
never saw so cordial and sympathetic an election.
Sincerely yours,
ALGERNON BORTHWICK.
------
_March 29th_, 1882.
My dear Grossmith,--If you are not too tired, and have no better
engagement, will you come up and see my "show"--all portraits
(Chamber of Horrors)--before they go to the R.A. on Friday evening?
The usual business--not dress.
Yours sincerely,
FRANK HOLL.
------
_From_ Mrs. JOHN WOOD.
23 Gordon Square, W.C.,
_July 10th_, Midnight.
My dear George,--I cannot go to rest to-night without thanking you
really and truly for your invaluable help this afternoon, and for
the very graceful courtesy you have shown through the entire affair.
I can only say if at any time I can do anything for you, you will
confer a favour on me by asking it. Your dear little wife cheered me
by saying she and everybody were very pleased with us, and I don't
think she would have said so if she hadn't meant it. So good-night
to you both, and God bless you.
Your faithful friend,
MATILDA WOOD.
The following, from George M. du Maurier, the incomparable _Punch_
artist, has reference to the death of "Chang," the enormous dog
which he possessed, and which he so often immortalised on the pages
of the above periodical:
New Grove House,
Hampstead Heath.
We are all (especially I) much touched by your kind note about poor
old "Chang," whom we miss very much. Although his death was
expected, it was very painful when it came, more so than I should
have thought possible in the case of an animal. His bones have gone
to the museum of the College of Surgeons, and his skin is coming
back to me. He was so big that, having no groom or manservant to
look after him, I had to be his slave, and nothing is so attaching
as voluntary slavery; so that I cannot yet rejoice in my new-found
liberty. Please thank your wife for me for her kind feeling.
------
12 The Terrace,
Kennington Park, S.E.,
_October 1st_, 1885.
Dear Grossmith,--On the 29th inst. I make my last appeal to the
public, and on that occasion I want all the friendly support I can
obtain. May I ask the favour of your vocal assistance? If agreeable
and convenient, the programme will be complete.
Yours faithfully,
WM. CRESWICK.
------
Marlborough House,
_May 16th_, 1888.
Dear Mr. Grossmith,--The Princess has desired me to thank you for so
kindly sending her that prettily-bound collection of your songs.
H.R.H. is delighted to have it, and will value and prize the book
extremely.
Believe me, yours truly,
CHARLOTTE KNOLLYS.
I naturally conclude "my little list" with letters from Gilbert and
Sullivan, to whom I shall ever feel grateful for their many
kindnesses and the opportunities they have offered me of more or
less distinguishing myself:
19 Harrington Gardens,
South Kensington,
_24th February_, 1884.
My dear Grossmith,--Carte tells me you had made some engagement for
to-morrow afternoon. If so, pray don't trouble to come down to the
theatre, as I know _your_ business is all right. But some of the
others have become slack, and want bracing up.
Yours faithfully,
W. S. GILBERT.
During my dangerous illness, Mr. Gilbert never failed a day to come
up and enquire after me. He also came down to Brighton with D'Oyly
Carte, and kept me in roars of laughter the whole time. This was one
of the bright days during an anxious time. But to see Gilbert at his
best, is to see him at one of his juvenile parties. Though he has no
children of his own, he loves them, and there is nothing he would
not do to please them. I was never so astonished as when on one
occasion he put off some of his own friends to come with Mrs.
Gilbert to a juvenile party at my own house.
The following had reference to a mock melodrama, written by myself,
which Barrington, my brother, and I were to act at Sir Arthur's on
an occasion when he was entertaining the Prince of Wales, the Duke
of Edinburgh, and other distinguished guests:
1 Queen's Mansions,
Victoria Street, S.W.
Dear Grossmith,--Are you down in this neighbourhood to-morrow any
time? If so, we might run through the "melos" here, or I could meet
you in town (Chappell's) at 3.30. Send me a wire early, please.
I hope Mrs. Grossmith will come; and, furthermore, that she
understands that I shall never send her a separate invitation, as I
shall always be delighted to see her whenever you come. It does not,
of course, follow that I shall be delighted to see _you_ whenever
_she_ comes.
Yours sincerely,
ARTHUR SULLIVAN.
------
Hotel de Paris,
Monte Carlo,
_28th February_, 1887.
Dear G. G.,--The earthquake knocked me about so much mentally, that
I could not write sooner to you to say how glad I am that you are
all right again--for both our sakes. Don't get ill again, but take
care of yourself. We are all calm again here, but we had a nasty
time of it. I think the suspense afterwards was worse than the shock
itself. . . .
Yours sincerely,
ARTHUR SULLIVAN.
The following is an instance of the good feeling that has always
existed between the authors and actors:
1 Queen's Mansions,
Victoria Street, S.W.,
_15th January_, 1884.
My dear Grossmith,--Many thanks for your very kind letter. It is
pleasant to be thought of when one is ill; and it is also pleasant
to know that one's works are in the hands, not only of artists, but
of _friends_ like yourself, who bring something more than a mere
professional interest to bear on their work. I have had a very sharp
and severe attack; but, fortunately, a short one. I have been out
three times for a drive, and to-day go into the country till Friday.
My kind remembrances to Mrs. Grossmith.
Yours sincerely,
ARTHUR SULLIVAN.
On second thoughts, I will conclude with a letter from myself to the
purchasers of _A Society Clown_:
Dear Readers,--If I have succeeded in amusing or interesting you, I
shall feel myself more than repaid for my trouble. If I have bored
or disappointed you, I beg to offer my apologies; for it was not my
intention to do so.
Your grateful and obedient Servant,
GEORGE GROSSMITH.
28 Dorset Square,
_July_, 1888.
FINIS.
[Transcriber's note: In Chapter VI, the reference to the first
production of _The Sorcerer_ "in 1887" appears to be a misprint.]
[Transcriber's note: The missing first word of the quotation at the
beginning of Chapter VII appears to be a misprint.]