Behind the Footlights

dal to Act—First-nighters on Camp-stools—Different Styles of Mrs. Kendal and Miss Terry—The Fun of the Thing

ne was

engraven on my mind as the most important Sunday in 1902. It was a warm summer’s evening as I drove down Harley

who had just completed his portrait of the King, Mr. Orchardson, R.A., Mr. Lewis Coward, K.C., and their wives, Mr. and

g

ard the news

guessing by his face it w

officially signe

ay. Sunday is more or less a dies non in London, but as the tape is always working at the theatre, Mr. Tree had instructed a clerk to sit and watch the precious instrument all day, so as to let him have the earliest i

, as among the twenty people round that table sat four of the chief performers in The Merry

ndefatigable first-nighter, and being an excellent raconteur, knows many amusing stories of actors of the day. In his early years an exceptional

art of Beerbohm Tree, to invite the two leading actresses o

at the Lyceum—going on in London during the Coronation month. Of course London without Shakespeare is like Hamlet without the Dane to visitors from the Colonies and elsewhere. Something must be done. He decided what. A good all-round represent

is Majesty’s for the Coronation month. You

ot played under any management save her husband’s for so

r, and stands ahead of[Pg 176] me in the profession. She has not y

r discussion, till finally Mr

Terry to act, I will play

d to play if Sir Henry Irving would allow her. This permission was quickly obtained, and two hours after leaving Portland Place Mr. Tree was back to claim Mrs. Kendal’s promise. It was sharp work; one morning overcame what at the outset seemed insurmountable obstacles, and thus was arra

Wives is by no means one of Shakespeare’s best. It is said he wrote it in ten days by order of Queen E

ereoscopic Co., Lt

HM TREE AS

g

who had been waiting from 5 a.m. to get into the pit and gallery that evening. They had a long wait, over twelve hours some of

his wife. Mr. and Mrs. Beerbohm Tree’s daughter—showing a strong resemblance to both parents—was in a box; Princess Colonna was likewise there; together with some of the most celebrated doctors, such as Sir Felix Semon, learned in diseases of the throat, Sir Anderson

d called for the feminine “stars” at one of the rehearsals, Mrs. K

d be more appropriat

s the p

NE 10th, 19

PEARE’

y wives

f

(Cousin to Shallow)

entlemen dwelling at

indsor Mr. F.

(a Welsh Parson)

(a French Physician)

er” Inn

olph

. Alle

of Falstaff

Mr. Jul

e to Falstaff)

rvant to Slender)

vant to Dr. Caius)

tesy of Sir

(Daughter to Mr

(Servant to Dr. Caius

tesy of Mr.

htfully jovial. Every one seemed in the highest spirits, and all those sedate actors and actresses thoroughly enjoyed a romp. When the two[Pg 179] ladies of the eveni

d over Ellen Terry’s head since those young days she has developed into a Shakespearian actress of the first rank. Her life has been spent in declaiming blank ve

s seldom attacked blank verse; therefore, the two leading actresses of England are distinctly dissimilar in training and style. No stronger contrast could have been imagined; and yet, although neither part actua

rise it satisfactorily; but that did not matter in the least. She looked charming, she was charming, the prompter was ever ready, and if she did repeat a line a second time while waiting to be helped with the next, no one seemed to

your cue,” which of cours

rily all stuff and nonsense. He is a tall man, and in his mechanical body reaches enormous girth. Falstaff and the Merry Wives had a regular romp over

ed the change: it was too much for her feelings. With the light-hearted gaiety of a child she was convulsed with mirth. She pointed out the phenomenon to Mrs. Kendal, who at once saw the humour of it, as did the audience, but th

any danced hand in hand across the stage in front of the curtain. Even that was not enough, although poor Mrs. Kendal lost her enormous horned head-dress during the dance. The curtain had to be rung up again and again

ever anything more disconcerting than to see an actor who has just died before us in writhing agony, spring forward to bow at the end of some tragedy—to rise from the dead to smile—to see a man who has just moved us to tears and evoked our sympathy, stand gaily before us, to laugh at our sentiment and cheerily mock at our enthu

mself, and he once related an amusing experience in connecti

bing the trunk of a huge tree. In order to render this possible the manager had ordered some pegs to be inserted in the bark, but on the night of the fina

gs! No

s the climb by which he hoped to create much amusement. On the fall of the curtain the delinquent was again called

? ’No pegs,’ you said—’no pegs’—well, there ain’t none,” and he gave[Pg 183] a kn

h brains. When he first essayed the character of Falstaff he relied for his effect on cotton wool and wig-paste. Even now his nose is deftly manipulated with paste to increase its size and shape, an

e saw that the padding had slipped from his right leg, leaving him with one lean shank while the other leg still assumed gigantic proportions. He looked down in horror. The audience were not laughing with him, but at him. He endeavoured t

es incumbent on a cha

g

ors, but to all interested in the English theatre, the English language, and English oratory, men whose talents are occupied in public life, in politics, in the pulpit, or at the Bar. Unle

we can follow every word of what they say, which at present we often cannot do, he will confer a vast boon on English playgoers,

rst-night performance, it shall

all hypercritical

ow & Grove, B

ERRY AS QUEE

worn out with rehearsals and nervousness: property men, wig-makers, scene-painters, and fly-men are all in a state of extreme tension. The front of the house little re

l let them, and surely we in the audience should not expect a perfect or

one of a number; but the poor author has to bear the brunt of everything. If his play fail the whole thing is a fiasco. He is blamed by every one. It costs more to put on another play than to change a single actor. The author stands alone to receive abuse or praise; he knows that, not only may failure prove ruin to hi